show us whatever he pleased, and to stir our hearts' blood with the story of
"old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago,"
was the especial gift of Scott,—of the man whose sympathies were as deep as life itself, whose outlook was as wide as the broad bosom of the earth he trod on. He believed in action, and he delighted in describing it. "The thinker's voluntary death in life" was not, for him, the power that moves the world, but rather deeds,—deeds that make history and that sing themselves forever. He honestly felt himself to be a much smaller man than Wellington. He stood abashed in the presence of the soldier who had led large issues and controlled the fate of nations. He would have been sincerely amused to learn from "Robert Elsmere"—what a delicious thing it is to contemplate Sir Walter reading "Robert Elsmere"!—that "the decisive events of the world take place in the intellect." The decisive events of the world, Scott held to take place in the field of action; on the plains of Marathon and Waterloo rather than in the brain tissues of William Godwin. He
