s authorities, sometimes naming them and sometimes only
indicating, perhaps, that he was "abridging from the best antiquaries."
This, however, was chiefly in connection with the ancient drama. As I
have already remarked, we do not find him referring to recent studies on
the English drama. And though Scott had forgotten all his Greek we
observe that he is bold enough to disagree with "the ingenious Schlegel"
in regard to the comparative value of the Greek New Comedy. In his
treatment of the ancient drama the main point for note is the success
with which he gives a broad and connected view of the subject. His
account of the drama in France needs correction in certain
respects,[137] but it seems to indicate some first-hand knowledge and
very definite opinions. He quotes Moliere frequently throughout his
writings, and always speaks of him with admiration; but with no other
French dramatist does he seem to have been familiar to such a degree.
Judging French tragic poets too much from the Shaksperian point of view,
he was not prepared to do them justice.[138] On the dramatic unities, of
which he remarked, "Aristotle says so little and his commentators and
followers talk so much," Scott wrote, here and elsewhere, with decision
and vivacity. The unities of time and place he calls "fopperies," though
time and place, he admits, are not to be lightly changed.[139] He
connects the whole discussion with the study of theatrical conditions,
and never bows down to authority as such. He says, "Surely it is of less
consequence merely to ascertain what was the practice of the ancients,
than to consider how far such practice is founded upon truth, good
taste, and general effect"; and again, "Aristotle would probably have
formulated different rules if he had written in our time." And though he
adopted and applied to the drama the Horatian dictum that the end of
poetry is to instruct and delight, it was not because Horace and a long
line of critics had said it, but because he thought it was true.
Doubtless his phrase would have been different if he had not taken what
was lying nearest, but his habit was never carefully to avoid the common
phrase. His general opinion of French drama was decidedly unfavorable,
and he thought it was doubtful whether their plays would ever be any
nearer to nature. "That nation," he observes calmly, "is so unfortunate
as to have no poetical language."

His remarks on German drama are general in character, though w