He learned Italian and read Ariosto.

Later he learned Spanish and devoured Cervantes, whose "_novelas_," he said, "first inspired him with the ambition to excel in fiction;" and all that he read and admired he remembered.

Scott used to illustrate the capricious affinity of his own memory for what suited it, and its complete rejection of what did not, by old Beattie of Meikledale's answer to a Scotch divine, who complimented him on the strength of his memory.

"No, sir," said the old Borderer, "I have no command of my memory.

It only retains what hits my fancy; and probably, sir, if you were to preach to me for two hours, I would not be able, when you finished, to remember a word you had been saying." Such a memory, when it belongs to a man of genius, is really a sieve of the most valuable kind.