wanton insult; that we
can sleep without fear of being burnt in our beds, or travel without
making our wills; that no Amy Robsarts are thrown down trap-doors by
Richard Varneys with impunity; that no Red-Reiver of Westburn-Flat sets
fire to peaceful cottages; that no Claverhouse signs cold-blooded
death-warrants in sport; that we have no Tristan the Hermit, or
Petit-Andre, crawling near us, like spiders, and making our flesh creep,
and our hearts sicken within us at every movement of our lives--ye who
have produced this change in the face of nature and society, return to
earth once more, and beg pardon of Sir Walter and his patrons, who sigh at
not being able to undo all that you have done! Leaving this question,
there are two other remarks which we wished to make on the Novels. The one
was, to express our admiration of the good-nature of the mottos, in which
the author has taken occasion to remember and quote almost every living
author (whether illustrious or obscure) but himself--an indirect argument
in favour of the general opinion as to the source from which they
spring--and the other was, to hint our astonishment at the innumerable and
incessant instances of bad and slovenly English in them, more, we believe,
than in any other works now printed. We should think the writer could not
possibly read the manuscript after he has once written it, or overlook
the press.

If there were a writer, who "born for the universe"--

"----Narrow'd his mind,
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind----"

who, from the height of his genius looking abroad into nature, and
scanning the recesses of the human heart, "winked and shut his
apprehension up" to every thought and purpose that tended to the future
good of mankind--who, raised by affluence, the reward of successful
industry, and by the voice of fame above the want of any but the most
honourable patronage, stooped to the unworthy arts of adulation, and
abetted the views of the great with the pettifogging feelings of the
meanest dependant on office--who, having secured the admiration of the
public (with the probable reversion of immortality), showed no respect for
himself, for that genius that had raised him to distinction, for that
nature which he trampled under foot--who, amiable, frank, friendly, manly
in private life, was seized with the dotage of age and the fury of a
woman, the instant politics were concerned--who reserved all his candour
and co