I trust, that soon a conjuring band, To their infernal home: For in this haunted den, I trow, All night they trampled to and fro." Canto IV. St. 3. The condition of poor Isaac in Front-de-Bœuf's dungeon is described in this far-fetched strain by the Templar: 6 66 "'—But know, bright lily of the vale of Bacca! that thy father is already in the hands of a powerful alchemist, 'who knows how to convert into gold and silver even the rusty bars of a dungeon grate. The venerable Isaac is 'subjected to an alembic, which will distil from him all he holds dear, without any assistance from my requests or thy entreaty. Thy ransom must be paid by love and beauty, ' and in no other coin will I accept it.''-Ivanhoe, vol. ii. ch. 10. To make their characters discourse by the book is a fault which many novelists commit through barrenness of fancy, or ignorance of the world. It cannot be imputed to either of these causes that the authors of Waverley and Marmion sometimes impart a tinge of their own archæological erudition to the sallies of playful gallantry and of homely humour. Thus in the Lady of the Lake, Fitz-James and Ellen grow absolutely pedantic in their continued allusions to the old romances*. Fitz-Eustace in Marmion touches on the same extreme, but the nature of his character allows, or indeed requires, it. Roland Græme and Catherine Seyton, in the Abbot, carry the humour farther, and with less ex * Canto I. St. 23, 24, 26, 28, 30. cuse. An heraldic pleasantry on the cognizance of the Douglas family appears to be somewhat too much in favour, for it occurs both in The Lady of the Lake "O might I live to see thee grace, In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place, * * * The cause of every gallant's sigh, The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!” Canto II. St. 10. And in the Abbot: "Who would have said the young sprightly George Douglas would have been contented to play the locksman 'here in Lochleven, with no gayer amusement than that of turning the key on two or three helpless women ?-a 'strange office for a Knight of the Bleeding Heart!''Vol. ii. ch. 8. The following passage very palpably betrays its bookish origin. When Ellen Douglas and Allan-bane the harper arrive at Stirling, escorted by a soldier, his comrade asks— "But whence thy captives, friend? such spoil As theirs must needs reward thy toil. Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp, The leader of a juggler band." Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 6. It may be answered, that although the glee-maiden, ape, and harper, of an ancient juggler's troop, are known to us only by the aid of antiquarian research, they were common and familiar enough in the time of James the Fifth, to be a subject of popular raillery. But the qualities of all dialogue must be estimated by the effect it produces on the reader or hearer. Now it is true that, within a certain limit, allusions proper to the age or place in which the scene is laid, tend powerfully to strengthen the dramatic effect, and assist us in imagining that we listen to a real conversation, or at least hear it reported by a witness bearing all the passages freshly in his memory. But when, in the midst of a flowing and easy colloquy, we encounter some pointed reference, and that not inevitably suggested by the occasion, to an object or custom with which even well-educated persons are not universally familiar, a momentary pause ensues, while we recur in mind to the learned sources whence the author derived his information; meanwhile our fancy drops from its flight; the illusion of the scene forsakes us; and after the charm is dissolved, we care but little for being convinced that we ought still to have remained under its dominion. When Arruntius, in Jonson's tragedy of Sejanus, satirically tells the courtiers to 'run a lictor's pace,' and bids one get 'Liburnian porters' to bear his 'obsequious fatness*,' I suppose every reader's imagination is transported instantly from the streets of Rome to a college library; yet lictors and their paces, and Liburnian porters, were as well known to the fellow-citizens of Sejanus as glee-maidens and jugglers to the garrison of Stirling. Another practice which I think materially injures the vraisemblance of a scene, is to represent persons celebrated in history as indulging in idle and sportive allusions to their own and each other's most famous adventures and sayings. This is so much the error of a novice, and therefore so sur prising in the authors of Waverley and Marmion, that, however rare in its occurrence, it cannot pass wholly unnoticed. When the meteor which had lured Bruce and his followers from Arran to the coast of Carrick, sank down and left them in darkness, "Ronald to Heaven a prayer address'd, And Douglas cross'd his dauntless breast; Or would thy dauntless heart endure Once more to make assurance sure*?'" The Duke of Argyle's prattle with his children, in the presence of Jeanie Deans, about Sheriff-muir and the Bob of Dumblane†, is still more inartificial, and, indeed, falls so much below the author's usual style, that I have no inclination to extract the passage. I know not whether it is owing to any perverseness of our nature, that a fictitious conversation, presenting these broad references to the recorded history of the speakers, awakens incredulity, and arms us against illusion. It certainly is not impossible that a statesman or warrior should at a given time be heard familiarly discoursing on his own most celebrated exploit or memorable saying; neither is it * Lord of the Isles, Canto V. St. 14. I need not repeat the well-known circumstances of Comyn's assassination here alluded to. + Heart of Mid-Lothian, vol. iv. ch. 3. N e absolutely incredible that a portrait-painter should surprise a member of parliament musing over a favourite bill, or an officer unrolling the plan of a boasted position or manœuvre ; yet the limner obtains small credit for his ingenuity in choosing such situations, and the novelist and poet, in my opinion, achieve as little for the honour of their art by their direct and palpable appeals to our commonest historical recollections. Experience, I think, tells us, that most persons, during the active season of life at least, are sparing of allusions to great and momentous incidents in their own past career, partly from natural reserve, and partly, it may be, because such events, at the time of their occurrence, so entirely fill the thoughts, and exhaust every sensation they are capable of producing, that they do not afterwards, on common occasions, recur to the mind with that freshness which prompts the tongue to utterance. If this observation should appear unfounded, it is at least certain, that when the celebrated characters introduced in a fictitious tale seem over-forward in reminding us of their own deeds and sayings, the propriety of the scene is almost as much violated as if they announced themselves like Holofornes's nine worthies: My scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander." Or, "I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Great, That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat." Ibid. Little, I believe, can be added to this catalogue of faults, which has been thus prolonged, not because the enumeration gave me any pleasure, but that corresponding blemishes are |