Sir Walter Scott as a Critic of Literature | Page 7

and
well-educated society."[16] He phrased the same matter differently
when he said: "'I'd rather be a kitten and cry, Mew!' than write the best
poetry in the world on condition of laying aside common-sense in the
ordinary transactions and business of the world."[17] "He thought,"
said Lockhart, "that to spend some fair portion of every day in any
matter-of-fact occupation is good for the higher faculties themselves in
the upshot."[18] Whether or not we consider this the ideal theory of life
for a poet, we find it reasonable to suppose that a critic will be the
better critic if he preserve some balance between matter-of-fact
occupation and the exercise of his higher faculties. Sir Walter's maxim
applies well to himself at least, and an analysis of his powers as a critic
derives some light from it.

The thing that is waiting to be said is of course that his criticism is
distinguished by common-sense. Whether common-sense should really
predominate in criticism might perhaps be debated; the quality
indicates, indeed, not only the excellence but also the limitations of his
method. For example, Scott was rather too much given to accepting
popular favor as the test of merit in literary work, and though the
clamorously eager reception of his own books was never able to raise
his self-esteem to a very high pitch, it seems to have been the only
thing that induced him to respect his powers in anything like an
appreciative way.[19] His instinct and his judgment agreed in urging
him to avoid being a man of "mere theory,"[20] and he sought always
to test opinions by practical standards.
More or less connected with his good sense are other qualities which
also had their effect upon his critical work,--his cheerfulness, his sweet
temper and human sympathy, his modesty, his humor, his
independence of spirit, and his enthusiastic delight in literature. That
his cheerfulness was a matter of temperament we cannot doubt, but it
was also founded on principle. He had remarkable power of
self-control.[21] His opinion that it is a man's duty to live a happy life
appears rather quaintly in the sermonizing with which he felt called
upon to temper the admiration expressed in his articles on Childe
Harold, and it is implicit in many of his biographical studies. His own
amiability of course influenced all his work. Satire he considered
objectionable, "a woman's fault,"[22] as he once called it; though he did
not feel himself "altogether disqualified for it by nature."[23] "I have
refrained, as much as human frailty will permit, from all satirical
composition,"[24] he said. For satire he seems to have substituted that
kind of "serious banter, a style hovering between affected gravity and
satirical slyness," which has been pointed out as characteristic of
him.[25] Washington Irving noticed a similar tone in all his familiar
conversations about local traditions and superstitions.[26]
He was really optimistic, except on some political questions. In his
Lives of the Novelists he shows that he thought manners and morals had
improved in the previous hundred years; and none of his reviews
exhibits the feeling so common among men of letters in all ages, that

their own times are intellectually degenerate. It is true that he looked
back to the days of Blair, Hume, Adam Smith, Robertson, and
Ferguson, as the "golden days of Edinburgh,"[27] but those golden
days were no farther away than his own boyhood, and he had felt the
exhilaration of the stimulating society which he praised. One of his
contemporaries spoke of Scott's own works as throwing "a literary
splendour over his native city";[28] and George Ticknor said of him,
"He is indeed the lord of the ascendant now in Edinburgh, and well
deserves to be, for I look upon him to be quite as remarkable in
intercourse and conversation, as he is in any of his writings, even in his
novels."[29] But he could hardly be expected to perceive the luster
surrounding his own personality, and this one instance of regret for
former days counts little against the abundant evidence that he thought
the world was improving. Yet of all his contemporaries he was
probably the one who looked back at the past with the greatest interest.
The impression made by the author of Waverley upon the mind of a
young enthusiast of his own time is too delightful to pass over without
quotation. "He has no eccentric sympathies or antipathies"; wrote J.L.
Adolphus, "no maudlin philanthropy or impertinent cynicism; no
nondescript hobby-horse; and with all his matchless energy and
originality of mind, he is content to admire popular books, and enjoy
popular pleasures; to cherish those opinions which experience has
sanctioned; to reverence those institutions which antiquity has hallowed;
and to enjoy, admire, cherish, and reverence all these with the same
plainness, simplicity, and sincerity as our