"The rank is but the guinea stamp,
The man's the gowd, for a' that."


* * * * *

Scott, is not, we apprehend, justly liable to the charge of wanting a
sound moral--even a great _political_ moral--(and political morals
are the greatest of all)--in the general tenor of works which have
compelled the highest classes to examine and respect the lowest. In
this, with far less learning, far less abstract philosophy, than
Fielding, he is only exceeded by him in one character--(and that,
indeed, the most admirable in English fiction)--the character of Parson
Adams. Jeanie Deans is worth a thousand such as Fanny Andrews. Fielding,
Le Sage, and Cervantes are the only three writers, since the world
began, with whom, as a novelist, he can be compared. And perhaps he
excels them, as Voltaire excelled all the writers of his nation, not by
the superior merits of one work, but by the brilliant aggregate of many.
_Tom Jones, Gil Blas, Don Quixote_, are, without doubt, greater,
_much_ greater, productions than Waverley; but the _authors_
of _Tom Jones, Gil Blas_, and even of _Don Quixote_, have not
manifested the same fertile and mighty genius as _author_ of the
Waverley Novels.

And _that_ genius--seemingly so inexhaustible--is quenched at
length! We can be charmed no more--the eloquent tongue is mute--the
master's wand is broken up--the right hand hath forgot its cunning-the
cord that is loosened was indeed of silver--and the bowl that is broken
at the dark well was of gold beyond all price.