a fastidious contempt for the ordinary
business of the world, and gradually to render us unfit for the exercise
of the useful and domestic virtues which depend greatly upon our not
exalting our feelings above the temper of well-ordered 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 i