makes antiquarian discourses repellent. His polished expositions have
the charm that comes from a gentle soul and an exquisite intellect,
while his criticism is so luminous and just that even Mr. Ruskin
could hardly improve upon it. Then there were Mr. Skene, Joanna
Baillie--alas, poor forgotten Joanna!--Erskine, the Shepherd, the
Duke of Buccleuch, Wilson, and so many more that we grow amazed to
think that even Scott was able to rear his head above them. All the
school were alike in their love and enthusiasm for literature; and
really they seemed to have had a better mode of living and thinking
than have the smart gentlemen who think that earnest and conscientious
study is only a heavy species of frivolity. And let it be marked that
this wide-spread company of private citizens and public writers by no
means formed a mutual admiration society, for they criticised each
other sharply and wisely; and the criticism was taken in good part by
all concerned. When Ellis wrote a sort of treatise to Scott in
epistolary form, and complained of the poet's monotonous use of the
eight-syllable line, Scott replied with equanimity, and took as much
pains to convince his friend as though he were discussing a thesis for
some valuable prize. On one occasion a few of the really great men
found themselves in the midst of a society where the practice of
mutual admiration was beginning to creep in. The way in which two of
the most eminent guests snubbed the mutual admirers was at once
delightful and effective. One gentleman had been extravagantly
extolling Coleridge, until many present felt a little uncomfortable.
Scott said, "Well, I have lately read in a provincial paper some
verses which I think better than most of their sort." He then recited
the lines "Fire, Famine, and Slaughter" which are now so famous. The
eulogist of Coleridge refused to allow the verses any merit. To Scott
he addressed a series of questions--"Surely you must own that this is
bad?" "Surely you cannot call this anything but poor?" At length