It will be observed that Satchells hesitates here between the title of knighthood which had been bestowed on Scot for a century past on the authority of Hector Boëce, and the more authentic dignity of Master which was really his. He also antedates the philosopher’s lifetime by more than a hundred years; so that plainly what we have in these verses is legend and tradition rather than history. This is probably the latest appearance in literature of the old stories concerning Michael Scot told in the old way. Naudè[319] and Schmutzer[320] presently came on the scene, in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century, with their critical defences of Scot, all too imperfectly informed regarding his real reputation. In our own age the poems of Sir Walter Scott and Rossetti, while serving to show that so great a name has not been forgotten, breathe, it is plain, an entirely different spirit. They are but the romantic and sentimental revival of tales that the poets and their world had already ceased to believe. Changed habits of thought, reaching and affecting every class of society, make it useless now to seek in Scotland for any new developments of the legend of Michael Scot. This is not so certainly true, however, of the South of Europe; of Italy, Sicily, and Spain, where he was once a familiar figure. There the slow progress of education has left the common people still in possession of much legendary lore, and even of the living faculty by which in past ages such tales have been formed. To ascertain what an Italian story-teller in the present year of grace would make of the name and fame of Michael Scot were clearly a curious and interesting inquiry. It is one which, on actual trial, has yielded two tales differing considerably from any hitherto published.[321] As these are certainly the very latest additions to the legend, they deserve a place here at the close of our collection. Freely rendered into English they run as follows: