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unsophisticated regions, which constitutes the chief charm of one of the most charming of his prose works. But how soon he had any definite object before him in his researches, seems very doubtful. He was makin' himsell a' the time,' said Mr. Shortrecd; but he didna ken maybe what he was about till years had passed: at first he thought o' little, I dare say, but the queerness and the fun.'

carcass of the animal. In this Tartar-like habiliment I well remember lying upon the floor of the little parlour in the farm-house, while my grandfather, a venerable old man with white hair, used every excitement to make me try to crawl. I also distinctly remember the late Sir George M'Dougal of Mackerstown, father of the present Sir Henry Hay M'Dougal, joining in the attempt. He was, God knows how, a relation of ours; and I still recollect him in "In those days,' says the Memorandum behis old-fashioned military habit, (he had been fore me, advocates were not so plenty—at least Colonel of the Greys,) with a small cocked-about Liddesdale;' and the worthy Sheriff-subhat deeply laced, an embroidered scarlet waist- stitute goes on to describe the sort of bustle, coat, and a light-coloured coat, with milk- not unmixed with alarm, produced at the first white locks tied in a military fashion, kneel- farm-house they visited, (Willie Elliot's at ing on the ground before me, and dragging his Millburnholm,) when the honest man was inwatch along the carpet to induce me to follow formed of the quality of one of his guests. it. The benevolent old soldier, and the infant When they dismounted, accordingly, he rewrapped in his sheep-skin, would have afford- ceived Mr. Scott with great ceremony, and ined an odd group to uninterested spectators. sisted upon himself leading his horse to the This must have happened about my third stable. Shortreed accompanied Willie, how year, (1774,) for Sir George M'Dougal and my ever, and the latter, after taking a deliberate grandfather both died shortly after that period. peep at Scott, 'out by the edge of the door -Vol. i. pp. 15-17. cheek,' whispered, Weel, Robin, I say, de'il We will glance next into the "Liddesdale hae me if I's be a bit feared for him now; he's raids." Scott has grown up to be a brisk-heart- just a chield like ourselves, I think.' Half-aed jovial young man and advocate: in vaca-dozen dogs of all degrees had already gathertion time he makes excursions to the High-ed round the 'advocate,' and his way of relands, to the Border Cheviots and Northum- turning their compliments had set Willie Elliot berland; rides free and far, on his stout gal- at once at his case. loway, through bog and brake, over the dim moory debatable land,-over Flodden and other fields and places, where, though he yet knew it not, his work lay. No land, however dim and moory, but either has had or will have its poet, and so become not unknown in song. Liddesdale, which was once as prosaic as most dales, having now attained illustration, let us glance thither-ward: Liddesdale too is on this ancient Earth of ours under this eternal Sky; and gives and takes, in the most incalculable manner, with the Universe at large! Scott's experiences there are rather of the rustic Arcadian sort; the element of whiskey not want ing. We should premise that here and there a feature has perhaps been aggravated for effects' sake:

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"According to Mr. Shortreed, this good man of Millburnholm was the great original of Dandie Dinmont." They dined at Millburnholm; and, after having lingered over Willie Elliot's punch-bowl, until, in Mr. Shortreed's phrase, they were 'half-glowrin,' mounted their steeds again, and proceeded to Dr. Elliot's at Cleughhead where (for,' says my Memorandum, folk were na very nice in those days,') the two travellers slept in one and the same bed-as, indeed, seems to have been the case with them throughout most of their excursions in this primitive district. Dr. Elliot (a clergyman) had already a large MS. collection of the ballads Scott was in quest of."

“ Next morning they seem to have ridden a long way for the purpose of visiting one 'auld "During seven successive years,” writes Mr. Thomas o' Tuzzilehope,' another Elliot, I supLockhart, (for the autobiography has long since pose, who was celebrated for his skill on the left us,) "Scott made a raid, as he called it, Border pipe, and in particular for being in posinto Liddesdale with Mr. Shortreed, sheriff-sub- session of the real lik" of Dick o' the Cow. Bestitute of Roxburgh, for his guide; exploring fore starting, that is, at six o'clock, the ballad every rivulet to its source, and every ruined hunters had, just to lay the stomach, a devilpeel from foundation to battlement. At this led duck or twae, and some London porter.' time no wheel carriage had ever been seen in Auld Thomas found them, nevertheless, well the district-the first, indeed, was a gig, driven disposed for breakfast' on their arrival at by Scott himself for a part of his way, when Tuzzilehope; and this being over, he delighted on the last of these seven excursions. There them with one of the most hideous and unwas no inn or public-house of any kind in the earthly of all specimens of riding music, whole valley; the travellers passed from the and, moreover, with considerable libations of shepherd's hut to the minister's manse, and whisky-punch, manufactured in a certain again from the cheerful hospitality of the wooden vessel, resembling a very small milkmanse to the rough and jolly welcome of the pail, which he called Wisdom,' because it homestead: gathering, wherever they went,made' only a few spoonfuls of spiritssongs and tunes, and occasionally more tangi- though he had the art of replenishing it so ble relics of antiquity-even such a 'rowth of adroitly, that it had been celebrated for fifty auld knicknackets' as Burns ascribes to Cap-years as more fatal to sobriety than any bowl tain Grose. To these rambles Scott owed much in the parish. Having done due honour to of the materials of his Minstrelsy of the Wisdom,' they again mounted, and proceeded Bcottish Border;' and not less of that intimate Acquaintance with the living manners of these

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the rest of them, were alive and alert,-whisky sometimes preponderating. But let us now fancy that the jovial young advocate has pleaded his first cause; has served in yeo manry drills; been wedded, been promoted

over moss and moor to some other equally hospitable master of the pipe. Ah me,' says Shortreed, 'sic an endless fund o' humour and drollery as he then had wi' him! Never ten yards but we were either laughing or roaring and singing. Wherever we stopped, how braw-sheriff, without romance in either case; dab bling a little the while, under guidance of Monk Lewis, in translations from the German, in translation of "Goethe's Gütz with the Iron Hand;”—and we have arrived at the threshold of the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," and the opening of a new century. Hitherto, therefore, there has been made

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lie he suited himsell to every body! He aye did as the lave did; never made himsell the great man, or took ony airs in the company. I've seen him in a' moods in these jaunts, grave and gay, daft and serious, sober and drunk-(this, however, even in our wildest rambles, was rare)-but, drunk or sober, he was aye the gentleman. He lookit excessive-out, by nature and circumstance working ly heavy and stupid when he was fou, but he was together, nothing unusually remarkable, yet Bever out o' gude-humour.'" still something very valuable; a stout effecThese are questionable doings, questionably |tual man of thirty, full of broad sagacity and narrated; but what shall we say of the follow-good humour, with faculties in him fit for any ing, wherein the element of whisky plays an burden of business, hospitality, and duty, legal extremely prominent part? We will say that or civic-with what other faculties in him no it is questionable, and not exemplary, whisky one could yet say. As indeed, who, after lifemounting clearly beyond its level; that indeed long inspection, can say what is in any man? charity hopes and conjectures, here may be The uttered part of a man's life, let us always some aggravating of features for effect's sake! repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious "On reaching, one evening, some Charlies- part a small unknown proportion; he himself hope or other (I forget the name) among those never knows it, much less do others. Give wildernesses, they found a kindly reception, as him room, give him impule; he reaches down usual; but, to their agreeable surprise after to the infinite with that so straitly-imprisoned some days of hard living, a measured and soul of his; and can do miracles if need be! orderly hospitality as respected liquor. Soon It is one of the comfortablest truths that great after supper, at which a bottle of elderberry men abound, though in the unknown state. wine alone had been produced, a young student Nay as above hinted, our greatest, being also of divinity, who happened to be in the house, by nature our quietest, are perhaps those that was called upon to take the big ha' Bible,' in remain unknown! Philosopher Fichte took the good old fashion of Burns's Saturday comfort in this belief, when from all pulpits Night; and some progress had been already and editorial desks, and publications, periodimade in the service, when the good man of cal and stationary, he could hear nothing but the farm, whose tendency,' as Mr. Mitchell the infinite chattering and twittering of com says, 'was soporific,' scandalized his wife and monplace become ambitious; and in the the dominie by starting suddenly from his infinite stir of motion nowhither, and of din knees, and, rubbing his eyes, with a stentorian which should have been silence, all seemed exclamation of 'By- here's the keg at churned into one tempestuous yesty froth, and last!' and in tumbled, as he spoke the word, a the stern Fichte almost desired "taxes on couple of sturdy herdsmen, whom, on hearing knowledge" to allay it a little;-he comforted a day before of the advocate's approaching himself, we say, by the unshaken belief that visit, he had despatched to a certain smug- Thought did still exist in Germany; that gler's haunt, at some considerable distance, in thinking men, each in his own corner, were quest of a supply of run brandy from the Sol- verily doing their work, though in a silent way Frith. The pious 'exercise' of the house- latent manner.* Walter Scott, as a latent hold was hopelessly interrupted. With a Walter, had never amused all men for a score thousand apologies for his hitherto shabby of years in the course of centuries and eternientertainment, this jolly Elliot, or Armstrong, ties, or gained and lost, say a hundred thouhad the welcome keg mounted on the table sand pounds stirling by literature; but he without a moment's delay, and gentle and might have been a happy and by no means a simple, not forgetting the dominie, continued useless,-nay, who knows at bottom whether carousing about it until daylight streamed in not a still usefuller Walter! However that upon the party. Sir Walter Scott seldom was not his fortune. The Genius of rather a failed, when I saw him in company with his singular age,—an age at once destitute of faith Liddesdale companion, to mimic with infinite and terrified at skepticism, with little knowhumour the sudden outburst of his old host ledge of its whereabout, with many sorrows to on hearing the clatter of horses' feet, which he bear or front, and on the whole with a life to knew to indicate the arrival of the keg-the lead in these new circumstances,-had said to consternation of the dame—and the rueful des- himself: What man shall be the temporary pair with which the young clergyman closed comforter, or were it but the spiritual comfitthe book."-Vol. i. pp. 195–199. maker, of this my poor singular age, to solace its dead tedium and manifold sorrows a little? So had the Genius said, looking over all the world, what man? and found him walking the dusty outer parliament-house of Edinburgh,

Fichte, Ueber das Wesen des Gelehrten.

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From which Liddesdale raids, which we here, like the young clergyman, close not without a certain rueful despair, let the reader draw what nourishment he can. They evince satisfactorily, though in a rude manner, that in those days young advocates, and Scott, like

with his advocate-gown on his back; and ex- | Do they turn out well? What boots it that a claimed, That is he! man's creed is the wisest, that his system of The "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border" principles is the superfinest, if, when set to proved to be a well, from which flowed one work, the life of him does nothing but jar, and of the broadest rivers. Metrical romances, fret itself into holes? They are untrue in that, (which in due time pass into prose romances ;) were it in nothing else, these principles of the old life of men resuscitated for us; it his; openly convicted of untruth;-fit only, is a mighty word! Not as dead tradition, shall we say, to be rejected as counterfeits, but as a palpable presence, the past stood be- and flung to the dogs? We say not that; but fore us. There they were, the rugged old we do say that ill-health, of body or of mind, fighting men; in their doughty simplicity and is defeat, is battle (in a good or in a bad cause) strength, with their heartiness, their healthi- with bad success; that health alone is victory. ness, their stout self-help, in their iron bas- Let all men, if they can manage it, contrive to nets, leather jerkins, jack-boots, in their be healthy! He who in what cause soever quaintness of manner and costume; there as sinks into pain and disease, let him take they looked and lived; it was like a new dis- thought of it; let him know well that it is not covered continent in literature; for the new good he has arrived at yet, but surely evil,— century, a bright El Dorado,—or else some fat may, or may not be, on the way towards good. beatific land of Cockaigne, and Paradise of Scott's healthiness showed itself decisively Donothings. To the opening nineteenth cen- in all things, and nowhere more decisively tury, it is languor and paralysis; nothing could than in this: the way in which he took his have been welcomer. Most unexpected, most fame; the estimate he from the first formed of refreshing, and exhilarating; behold our new fame. Money will buy money's worth; but El Dorado; our fat beatific Lubberland, where the thing men call fame what is it? A gaudy one can enjoy and do nothing! It was the emblazonry, not good for much,-except indeed time for such a new literature; and this Wal- as it too may turn to money. To Scout it was ter Scott was the man for it. The Lays, the a profitable pleasing superfluity, no necessary Marmions, the Ladys and Lords of Lake and of life. Not necessary, now or ever? SeemIsles, followed in quick succession, with ever-ingly without much effort, but taught by nature, widening profit and praise. How many thou- and the instinct which instructs the sound sands of guineas were paid down for each heart what is good for it and what is not, he new Lay; how many thousands of copies felt that he could always do without this same (fifty and more sometimes) were printed off emblazonry of reputation; that he ought to then and subsequently; what complimenting, put no trust in it; but be ready at any time reviewing, renown, and apotheosis there was; to see it pass away from him, and to hold on all is recorded in these seven volumes, which his way as before. It is incalculable, as we will be valuable in literary statistics. It is a conjecture, what evil he escaped in this history, brilliant, remarkable; the outlines of manner; what perversions, irritations, mean which are known to all. The reader shall re- agonies without a name, he lived wholly apart call it, or conceive it. No blaze in his fancy from, knew nothing of. Happily before fame is likely to mount higher than the reality did. arrived, he had reached the mature age at At this middle period of his life, therefore, which all this was easier to him. What a Scott, enriched with copyrights, with new strange Nemesis lurks in the felicities of men! official incomes and promotions, rich in money, In thy mouth it shall be sweet as honey, in thy rich in repute, presents himself as a man in belly it shall be bitter as gall? Some weaklythe full career of success. "Health, wealth, organized individual, we will say at the age and wit to guide them," (as his vernacular of five-and-twenty, whose main or whole talent proverb says,) all these three are his. The rests on some prurient susceptivity, and nothing field is open for him, and victory there: his under it but shallowness and vacuum, is own faculty, his own self, unshackled, victori-clutched hold of by the general imagination, is ously unfolds itself, the highest blessedness whirled aloft to the giddy height; and taught that can befall a man. Wide circle of friends, to believe the divine-seeming message that he personal loving admirers: warmth of domes- is a great man: such individual seems the tic joys, vouchsafed to all that can true-heart- luckiest of men: and is he not the unluckiest? edly nestle down among them; light of radi- Swallow not the Circe-drought, O weakly ance and renown given only to a few: who organized individual; it is fell poison; it will would not call Scott happy? But the happi- dry up the fountains of thy whole existence, est circumstance of all is, as we said above, and all will grow withered and parched; thou that Scott had in himself a right healthy soul, shalt be wretched under the sun! Is there, for rendering him little dependent on outward cir- example, a sadder book than that "Life of cumstances. Things showed themselves to Byron," by Moore? To omit mere prurient him not in distortion or borrowed light or susceptivities that rest on vacuum, look at gloom, but as they were. Endeavour lay in poor Byron, who really had much substance him and endurance, in due measure; and in him. Sitting there in his self-exile, with a clear vision of what was to be endeavoured proud heart striving to persuade itself that it after. Were one to preach a Sermon on despises the entire created universe; and afar Health, as really were worth doing, Scott off, in foggy Babylon, let any pitifullest whipought to be the text. Theories are demon- ster draw pen on him, your proud Byron strably true in the way of logic; and then in writhes in torture,-as if the pitiful whipster the way of practice, they prove true or else were a magician, or his pen a galvanic not true: but here is the grand experiment, wire struck into the Byron's spinal marrow?

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Lamentable, despicable,-one had rather be a | and buttoned into the breeches-pocket. Some kitten and cry mew! O, son of Adam, great what too little of a fantast, this vates of ours! or little, according as thou art loveable, those But so it was: in this nineteenth century, our thou livest with will love thee. Those thou highest literary man, who immeasurably belivest not with, is it of moment that they have yond all others commanded the world's ear, the alphabetic letters of thy name engraved on had, as it were, no message whatever to detheir memory with some signpost likeness of liver to the world; wished not the world to thee (as like as I to Hercules) appended to elevate itself, to amend itself, to do this or to them? It is not of moment; in sober truth, do that, except simply pay him for the books not of any moment at all! And yet, behold, he kept writing. Very remarkable; fittest, perthere is no soul now whom thou canst love haps, for an age fallen languid, destitute of freely, from one soul only art thou always faith and terrified at skepticism? Or, perhaps, sure of reverence enough; in presence of no for quite another sort of age, an age all in soul is it rightly well with thee! How is thy peaceable triumphant motion? But, indeed, world become desert; and thou, for the sake since Shakspeare's time there has been no of a little babblement of tongues, art poor, greater speaker so unconscious of an aim in bankrupt, insolvent not in purse, but in heart speaking. Equally unconscious these two and mind. "The golden calf of self-love," utterances; equally the sincere complete prosays Jean Paul, "has grown into a burning ducts of the minds they came from: and now Phalaris' bull, to consume its owner and wor- if they were equally deep? Or, if the one was shipper." Ambition, the desire of shining and living fire, and the other was futile phosphoresoutshining, was the beginning of sin in this cence and mere resinous firework? It will world. The man of letters who founds upon depend on the relative worth of the minds; for his fame, does he not thereby alone declare both were equally spontaneous themselves, himself a follower of Lucifer (named Satan, unencumbered by an ulterior aim. Beyond the Enemy,) and member of the Satanic drawing audiences to the Globe Theatre, school?Shakspeare contemplated no result in those It was in this poetic period that Scott formed plays of his. Yet they have had results! his connection with the Ballantynes; and em- Uuer with free heart what thy own demon barked, though under cover, largely in trade. gives thee: if fire from heaven it shall be To those who regard him in the heroic light, well; if resinous firework, it shall be as well and will have vates to signify prophet as well as it could be, or better than otherwise! The as poet, this portion of his biography seems candid judge will, in general, require that a somewhat incoherent. Viewed as it stood in speaker, in so extremely serious a universe as the reality, as he was and as it was, the enter- this of ours, have something to speak about. prise, since it proved so unfortunate, may be In the heart of the speaker there ought to be called lamentable, but cannot be called un- some kind of gospel-tidings burning till it be natural. The practical Scott, looking towards uttered; otherwise it were better for him that practical issues in all things, could not but he altogether held his peace. A gospel somefind hard cash one of the most practical. If, what more decisive than this of Scott's,by any means, cash could be honestly pro- except to an age altogether languid, without duced, were it by writing poems, were it by either skepticism or faith? These things the printing them, why not? Great things might candid judge will demand of literary men ; yet be done ultimately; great difficulties were at withal will recognise the great worth there is once got rid of-manifold higglings of book- in Scott's honesty, if in nothing more, in his sellers, and contradictions of sinners hereby being the thing he was with such entire good fell away. A printing and bookselling specu- faith. Here is a something not a nothing. If lation was not so alien for a maker of books. no skyborn messenger, heaven looking through Voltaire, who indeed got no copyrights, made his eyes; then neither is it a chimera with his much money by the war commissariat, in his systems, crotchets, cants, fanaticisms, and “last time; we believe by the victualling branch of infirmity of noble minds,"-full of misery, unit. Saint George himself, they say, was a rest, and ill-will; but a substantial, peaceable, dealer in bacon in Cappadocia. A thrifty man terrestrial man. Far as the Earth is under the will help himself towards his object by such Heaven, does Scott stand below the former sort steps as lead to it. Station in society, solid of character; but high as the cheerful flowery power over the good things of this world, was Earth is above waste Tartarus does he stand Scott's avowed object; towards which the pre-above the latter. Let him live in his own cept of precepts is that of Iago: Put money in fashion, and do honour to him in that. thy purse.

Here, indeed, it is to be remarked, that, perhaps, no literary man of any generation has less value than Scott for the immaterial part of his mission in any sense; not only for the fantasy called fame, with the fantastic miseries attendant thereon; but also for the spiritual purport of his work, whether it tended hitherward or thitherward, or had any tendency whatever; and indeed for all purports and results of his working, except such, we may say, as offered themselves to the eye, and could, in

It were late in the day to write criticisms on those Metrical Romances: at the same time, the great popularity they had seems natural enough. In the first place, there was the indisputable impress of worth, of genuine human force, in them. This, which lies in some degree, or is thought to lie, at the bottom of all popularity, did to an unusual degree, disclose itself in these rhymed romances of Scott's. Pictures were actually painted and presented; human emotions conceived and sympathized with. Considering that wretched

one sense or the other be handled, looked at, | Della-Cruscan and other vamping-up of old

worn-out tatters was the staple article then, it may be granted that Scott's excellence was superior and supreme. When a Hayley was the main singer, a Scott might well be hailed with warm welcome. Consider whether the Loves of the Plants, and even the Loves of the triangles, could be worth the loves and hates of men and women! Scott was as preferable to what he displaced, as the substance is to wearisomely repeated shadow of a substance. But, in the second place, we may say that the kind of worth which Scott manifested was fitted especially for the then temper of men. We have called it an age fallen into spiritual languor, destitute of belief, yet terrified at skepticism; reduced to live a stinted half-life, under strange new circumstances. Now vigorous whole-life, this was what of all things these delineations offered. The reader was carried back to rough strong times, wherein those maladies of ours had not yet arisen. Brawny fighters, all cased in buff and iron, their hearts too sheathed in oak and triple brass, caprioled their huge war-horses, shook their death-doing spears; and went forth in the most determined manner, nothing doubt ing. The reader sighed, yet not without a reflex solacement: "O, that I could have lived in those times, had never known these logiccobwebs, this doubt, this sickliness; and been and felt myself alive among men alive!" Add lastly, that in this new-found poetic world there was no call for effort on the reader's part; what excellence they had, exhibited itself at a glance. It was for the reader, not the El Dorado only, but a beatific land of a Cockaigne and Paradise of Donothings! The reader, what the vast majority of readers so long to do, was allowed to lie down at his ease, and be ministered to. What the Turkish bathkeeper is said to aim at with his frictions, and shampooings, and fomentings, more or less effectually, that the patient in total idleness may have the delights of activity, was here to a considerable extent realized. The languid imagination fell back into its rest; an artist was there who could supply it with highpainted scenes, with sequences of stirring action, and whisper to it, Be at ease, and let thy tepid element be comfortable to thee. "The rude man," says the critic, "requires only to see something going on. The man of more refinement must be made to feel. The man of complete refinement must be made to reflect."

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We named the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border" the fountain from which flowed this great river of Metrical Romances; but according to some they can be traced to a still higher, obscurer spring; to Goethe's Götz von Berlichingen with the Iron Hand" of which, as we have seen, Scott in his earlier days executed a translation. Dated a good many years ago, the following words in a criticism on Goethe are found written; which probably are still new to most readers of this Review:

"The works just mentioned, Götz and Werter, though noble specimens of youthful talent, are still not so much distinguished by their intrinsic merits as by their splendid fortune.

It would be difficult to name two books which have exercised a deeper influence on the subsequent literature of Europe than these two performances of a young author; his first fruits, the pr duce of his twenty-fourth year. Wer er appeared to seize the hearts of men in all quarters of the world, and to utter for them the word which they had long been waiting to hear. As usually happens, too, this same word, once uttered, was soon abundantly repeated; spoken in all dialects, and chaunted through all notes of the gamut, till the sound of it had grown a weariness rather than a pleasure. Skeptical sentimentality, view-hunting, love, friendship, suicide, and desperation, became the staple of literary ware; and though the epidemic, after a long course of years, subsided in Germany, it reappeared with various modifications in other countries, and everywhere abundant traces of its good and bad effects are still to be discerned. The fortune of Berlichingen with the Iron Hand, though less sudden, was by no means less exalted. In his own country, Götz, though he now stands solitary and childless, became the parent of an innumerable progeny of chivalry plays, feudal delineations, and poetico-autiquarian performances: which, though long ago deceased, made noise enough in their day and generation: and with ourselves his influence has been perhaps still more remarkable. Sir Walter Scott's first literary enterprise was a translation of Göz von Berlichingen: and, if genius could be communicated like instruction, we might call this work of Goethe's the prime cause of Marmion and the Lady of the Lake, with all that has followed from the same creative hand. Truly, a grain of seed that has lighted in the right soil! For if not firmer and fairer, it has grown to be taller and broader than any other tree; and all the nations of the earth are still yearly gathering of its fruit."

How far "Götz von Berlichingen" actually affected Scott's literary destination, and whether without it the rhymed romances, and then the prose romances of the Author of Waverly, would not have followed as they did, must remain a very obscure question; obscure, and not important. Of the fact, however, there is no doubt but these two tendencies, which may be named Cözism and Wer terism, of the former of which Scott was representative with us, have made, and are still in some quarters making the tour of all Europe. In Germany, too, there was this affectionate half-regretful looking back into the past; Germany had its buff-belted watchtower period in literature, and had even got done with it, before Scott began. Then as to Werterism, had not we English our Byron and his genius? No form of Werterism in any other country had half the potency: as our Scott carried chivalry literature to the ends of the world, so did our Byron Werterism. France, busy with its Revolution and Napoleon, had little leisure at the moment for Götzism or Werterism; but it has had them both since, in a shape of its own: witness he whole "Literature of Desperation" in our own days, the beggarliest form of Werterism

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