CHAPTER XXXIX.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

The celebrated John Bell has said in one of his works, that the sight of an unskilful operation was more serviceable to the spectators than that of the most successful and expert one, inasmuch as those who witnessed the defects of the operator had the opportunity afforded them of profiting by his crrors. The principle of the observation applies to the followers of literary pursuits; there is more evil to be avoided by an acquaintance with the infirmities of genius, than by the observation of the manifold advantages of the best regulated habits, and happily constituted temperaments. Nevertheless, the history of a well-ordered mind, like that of Scott, is not without its lesson; and perhaps, by the encouragement of the example it offers for imitation, exhibits the advantage and the reward of mental management, of moderated enthusiasm, and of the government of imagination, as powerfully as the calamities of Cowper and the errors of Lord Byron tend to persuade their followers to avoid their errors. In our notice of Scott, it will be unnecessary to enter into such minute, or biographical details, as the nature of our enquiry into the infirmities of Cowper and Byron led us into. In these instances the sufferings and the faults of the individuals were wound up with all the circumstances of their lives; but in the case of Sir Walter Scott, his career had the tranquillity of a sum

mer stream, pursuing the even tenor of its way in one undeviating course. It was Sir Walter's good fortune to be born in that country, whose genius, in the language of the Irish Demosthenes," is cast in the happy medium between the spiritless acquiescence of submissive poverty, and the sturdy credulity of pampered wealth: cool and ardent-adventurous and persevering-which wings its eagle flight against the blaze of every science, with an eye that never winks, and a wing that never tires." It was his still happier lot from his earliest years to "have known the luscious sweets of plenty, to have slept with full content about his bed, and never waked but to a joyful morning;" to have had no difficulties to struggle with in his early career, no privations to endure, no extraordinary adventures to encounter, and few disappointments, for a great portion of his life, to sear his feelings, to irritate his temper, or to sour his affections. The rare combination of splendid genius and sober judgment, whether the occasion or the consequence of his fortunate position in social life, must have unquestionately been influenced not a little by the favourable circumstances which attended his career for so long a period; but one thing is certain the result of his temperament, however constituted, or by whatever circumstances confirmed, was the diffusion of an exuberant benevolence over his feelings, which communicated a spirit of general philanthropy to every composition that issued from his pen. This was the great charm, not only of his writings, but of his conversation-the spell by which the mighty magician of romance worked on the feelings of mankind, and bound up the faculties in wonder and enchantment.

The peculiarities of temperament, in no small degree depend upon the health of the individual; irritability of temper, and placidity of disposition, much oftener than people imagine, are questions of bodily ailments, or the absence of them; peevishness and good humour are but too frequently matters that are relative to physical peculiarities, and timidity and resolution are qualities which are determined to a great extent by the condition of the nervous system. This doctrine, like that of phrenology, has been impugned, not because it is untrue, but because its tendency is considered to be dangerous. We, however, believe it to be otherwise; and in asserting it, we war but with the malignity which "tracks the errors of genius to the tomb," not with the morality which visits the depravity of the heart with legitimate censure. Who can peruse the biography of Pope without feeling that the irritability of his temper was the consequence of bodily infirmities, which rendered his life "a long disease?" Who can doubt, but that the moroseness of Johnson's humour, was the result of a "fierce hypochondria," and that Byron's errors and eccentricities were largely influ enced by an hereditary disease, aggravated by alternate extremes of irregular and abstemious habits? And who indeed can doubt but that Scott's happy temperament was mainly indebted for its felicity to long continued health.

If ailing people were to argue from such a doctrine, that the conduct of their tempers, and the government of their passions, (being at certain intervals under the dominion of disease,) had wholly ceased to be under the control of reason—if they imagined that as invalids they were privileged to be as irritable as Pope, as mo

rose as Johnson, as wayward as Byron, as intemperate as Burns, or as melancholy as Cowper, not only without reproach, but with impunity; then indeed there would be danger in the doctrine, and truth itself would not justify its promulgation. But the objection is an idle one, for neither peevishness, nor moroseness, nor morbid sensibility, nor melancholy, can be indulged in with impunity; each carries with it its own punishment, and its votary (if such it could have) would soon become its victim. But even if his health suffered not from the indulgence of his capricious humours, how simple would he be, how little acquainted with the history of genius or the calamities of its children, if he expected that the world would privilege his peevishness, make allowance for his petulance, or pity his infirmities? Fool that he would be to expect its charity; what consideration do the errors or eccentricities of genius ever meet with from it?

Scott and Goethe are two of the most remarkable instances in modern times of genius so divested of its ordinary errors, that the admiration it called forth was scarcely mingled with a sound of literary hostilities. In both, the poetic temperament was seen to greater advantage than we have been accustomed to behold it. It disqualified them for no duties, public or private; it unfitted them not for the tender offices of friendship or affection, and the world for once enjoyed the rare exhibition of two great poets who were good husbands, good fathers, and good citizens. Their works were imbued with a spirit of philosophical philanthropy, which the public taste was luckily in the vein to appreciate; and if their competitors joined in their applause, it was because they had no injuries to complain

of at their hands, no bitter asperity to apprehend from their criticisms, no injustice from their strictures, no ungenerous treatment from the pride of their exalted stations. In each instance a happy temperament enabled its possessor to preserve that station which his genius had attained, and in either the management of that temperament was commensurate with the enjoy. ment of health and vigour. It required, indeed, no ordinary stock of health to enable an author to resist the wear and tear of mind and body, which the incessant application to literary pursuits is productive of; no little vigour, both bodily and mental, to render an individual capable of the immense amount of literary labour which Scott had the courage to encounter, and the persevering industry to get through without seclusion from the world, and apparently without fatigue. By what happy means was he enabled to accomplish so much? Were his days and nights devoted to these labours? Was the midnight oil expended in their performance? Were the hours of composition stolen from his slumbers, and the freshness of the morning devoted to the reparation of exhausted strength? Was the "pale and melancholy cast of thought" spread over his features? Was the fountain of inspiration dried up for a season after his imagination had poured forth a living flood of truth or fiction? Did the enthusiasm of the poet prevail over the sober sentiments of the man? or were they so exalted by the chivalrous exploits he described, that the excitement of his feelings was followed by lassitude and depression? In short, was the enthusiasm of his page so faithful a transcript of the ardour of his breast, that in giving breath to the