Carlyle, in his somewhat grudging estimate of Scott, declares that “much of the interest of these novels results from contrasts of costume.  The phraseology, fashion of arms, of dress, of life belonging to one age is brought suddenly with singular vividness before the eyes of another.  A great effect this; yet by the very nature of it an altogether temporary one.  Consider, brethren, shall not we too one day be antiques and grow to have as quaint a costume as the rest? . . .  Not by slashed breeches, steeple hats, buff belts, or antiquated speech can romance-heroes continue to interest us; but simply and solely, in the long run, by being men.  Buff belts and all manner of jerkins and costumes are transitory; man alone is perennial.” [38] Carlyle’s dissatisfaction with Scott arises from the fact that he was not a missionary nor a transcendental philosopher, but simply a teller of stories.  Heine was not troubled in the same way, but he made the identical criticism, “Like the works of Walter Scott, so also do Fouque’s romances of chivalry[40] remind us of the fantastic tapestries known as Gobelins, whose rich texture and brilliant colors are more pleasing to our eyes than edifying to our souls.  We behold knightly pageantry, shepherds engaged in festive sports, hand-to-hand combats, and ancient customs, charmingly intermingled.  It is all very pretty and picturesque, but shallow; brilliant superficiality.  Among the imitators of Fouque, as among the imitators of Walter Scott, this mannerism of portraying—­not the inner nature of men and things, but merely the outward garb and appearance—­was carried to still greater extremes.  This shallow art and frivolous style is still [1833] in vogue in Germany as well as in England and France. . . .  In lieu of a knowledge of mankind, our recent novelists evince a profound acquaintance with clothes.” [39]

Elsewhere Heine acknowledges a deeper reason for the popularity of the Scotch novels.  “Their theme . . . is the mighty sorrow for the loss of national peculiarities swallowed up in the universality of the newer culture—­a sorrow which is now throbbing in the hearts of all peoples.  For national memories lie deeper in the human breast than is generally thought.”  But whatever rank may be ultimately assigned to the historical novel as an art form, Continental critics are at one with the British in crediting its invention to Scott.  “It is an error,” says Heine, “not to recognise Walter Scott as the founder of the so-called historical romance, and to endeavour to trace it to German imitation.”  He adds that Scott was a Protestant, a lawyer and a Scotchman, accustomed to action and debate, in whose works the aristocratic and democratic elements are in wholesome balance; “whereas our German romanticists eliminated the democratic element entirely from their novels, and returned to the ruts of those crazy romances of knight-errantry that flourished before Cervantes.” [41] “Quel est Fouvrage litteraire,” asks Stendhal in 1823,[42] “qui a le plus reussi en France depuis dix ans?  Les romans de Walter Scott. . . .  On s’est moque a Paris pendant vingt ans du roman historique; l’Academie a prouve doctement le ridicule de ce genre; nous y croyions tous, lorsque Walter Scott a paru, son Waverley a la main; et Balantyne, son libraire vient de mourir millionaire.” [43]