cumstances of their times were advantageous, and liberated them from the suspicious caution which cramped the natural movements of a Roman mind on the first establishment of the monarchy. Whatever outrages of despotism occurred in the times of the silver writers were sudden, transient, capricious, and personal, in their origin and in their direction: but, in the Augustan age, it was not the temper of Augustus, personally, and certainly not the temper of the writers leading them to any excesses of licentious speculation, which created the danger of bold thinking. The danger was in the times, which were unquiet and revolutionary. The struggle with the republican party was yet too recent; the wounds and cicatrices of the State too green; the existing order of things too immature and critical: the triumphant party still viewed as a party, and for that cause still feeling itself a party militant. Augustus had that chronic complaint of a "crick in the neck," of which later princes are said to have an acute attack every 30th of January. Hence a servile and timid tone in the literature. The fiercer republicans could not be safely mentioned. Even Cicero it was not decorous to praise; and Virgil, as perhaps you know, has, by insinuation, contrived to insult his memory in the Eneid. But, as the irresponsible power of the emperors grew better secured, their jealousy of republican sentiment abated much of its keenness. And, considering that republican freedom of thought was the very matrix of Roman sublimity, it ought not to surprise us, that as fast as the national 'mind was lightened from the pressure which weighed upon the natural style of its sentiment, the literature should recoil into a freer movement, with an elasticity proportioned to the intensity and brevity of its depression. Accordingly, in Seneca the philosopher, in Lucan, in Tacitus, even in Pliny the Younger, &c., but especially in the two first, I affirm that there is a loftiness of thought more eminently and characteristically Roman than in any preceding writers: and in that view to rank them as writers of a silver age, is worthy only of those who are servile to the commonplaces of unthinking criticism.'-xiv. 66. We have now come to the conclusion of that section of his writings which is embraced under the title of Grave.' It remains to say a few words upon the humorous and witty side of his character. Articles which are almost exclusively humorous are 'The Casuistry of Roman Meals,' 'Murder considered as one of the Fine Arts,' and Orthographic Mutineers.' But it is needless to say that almost all his writings, upon whatever topic, are plentifully besprinkled with a comic element. Modern Greece, for instance, and Secret Societies, are full of excellent fun. De Quincey's humour, however, is all his own. We know no writer by likening him to whom we should convey any clearer idea to our readers of what it is really like. It is not sarcastic like Mr. Thackeray's, nor grotesque like Mr. Dickens's, nor sly like Sir Walter Scott's, nor boisterous like Professor Wilson's. De Quincey Quincey has few long 'reaches' of humour. He delights rather in the middle of some perfectly serious disquisition or sober narrative to surprise you with a sudden piece of extravagance, uttered with perfect gravity, and calculated altogether to elude the notice of many simple-minded people. In speaking of the use of dumb-bells, for instance, as a capital exercise, he alludes to their capability of being turned into weapons of offence, as in the case of the unfortunate William Weare, who was destroyed by this means, for which, says he, the late Mr. Thurtell is to be commended. I mean,' he adds, 'for his choice of weapons, for in that he murdered his friend he was to blame.' Speaking of the annoyance which he suffered from the farmers' dogs, when travelling as a pedestrian in Cumberland, he says: "this Many have been the fierce contests in which we have embarked; for, as to retreating, be it known that there (as in Greece) the murderous savages will pursue you-sometimes far into the high road. That result it was which uniformly brought us back to a sense of our own wrong, and finally of our rights. "Come," we used to say, is too much; here at least is the King's highway, and things are come to a pretty pass indeed, if we, who partake of a common nature with the King, and write good Latin, whereas all the world knows what sort of Latin is found among dogs, may not have as good a right to standing-room as a low-bred quadruped with a tail like you." Non usque adeo summis permiscuit ima longa dies, &c.'-xiv. 299. In criticising Walter Savage Landor for his innovations in spelling, De Quincey supposes that when at school Landor, known to be exceedingly pugnacious, was in the habit of settling all cases of disputed orthography by a stand-up fight with the master: Both parties would have the victory at times; and if, according to Pope's expression, "justice rul'd the ball," the schoolmaster (who is always a villain) would be floored three times out of four; no great matter whether wrong or not upon the immediate point of spelling discussed. It is in this way, viz. from the irregular adjudications upon litigated spelling which must have arisen under such a mode of investigating the matter, that we account for Mr. Landor's being sometimes in the right, but too often (with regard to long words) egregiously in the wrong. As he grew stronger and taller, he would be coming more and more amongst polysyllables, and more and more would be getting the upper hand of the schoolmaster; so that at length he would have it all his own way; one round would decide the turn-up; and thenceforwards his spelling would become frightful.'— xiv. 95. Of his own initiation into the art he tells us that he made it through the medium of Entick, famous for the outlandish words which he introduced into his dictionary. 'Among Among the strange, grim-looking words, to whose acquaintance I was introduced on that unhappy morning, were abalienate and ablaqueation-most respectable words, I am fully persuaded, but so exceedingly retired in their habits, that I never once had the honour of meeting either of them in any book, pamphlet, journal, whether in prose or numerous verse, though haunting such society myself all my life.'-xiv. 96. We might multiply these instances to any extent, and especially out of the article upon Murder. But this is the best known of all De Quincey's works to the general public; and we prefer to take instances with which they are probably less familiar. The above extracts are sufficient to give them the flavour of De Quincey's humour. But inasmuch as its chief merit frequently consists in the mode of its introduction, we could not do full justice to it without quoting entire essays. Such is a brief outline of De Quincey's contributions to Theology, to History, and to Belles Lettres, and of his other miscellaneous writings. If it has occasionally partaken rather more than we could desire of the nature of a catalogue, it was because we desired that nothing should be wanting to show the extraordinary breadth of his sympathies, and the equally wonderful versatility of his intellectual powers. We trust that these qualities, together with his incisive logic, his rare delicacy of discernment, his imagination, and his humour, have now been made sufficiently apparent to justify us in adding his name to the stars of English literature. But such being the case, it becomes interesting and important to obtain a whole view of the man, and to put our readers on their guard against his faults, as well as to awaken them to his merits. Now one fault De Quincey had, and we must add to a very considerable extent. That was, a love of paradox ; a propensity which has vitiated some of his most valuable literary judgments, and has, we believe, deterred not a few readers from prosecuting their acquaintance with his works. The essay in which this fault is perhaps most conspicuous is that upon Pope; and leaving out of question two out of the three charges which are brought against him, we propose to say a few words upon the third, which is, that Pope was not truly a satirist, and that his moral indignation was affected. The other two charges are both parts of the one great question of Pope's 'correctness,' which we shall not discuss in this place; partly because to do so would exceed our limits; partly because the objection is not peculiar to De Quincey. Pope then, we are to understand, was no satirist. 'Pope had neither the malice (except in the most fugitive form) which thirsts for leaving wounds, nor, on the other hand, the deep moral indignation which burns in men whom Providence has from time to time armed with scourges for cleansing the sanctuaries of truth or justice. He was contented enough with society as he found it: bad it might be; but it was good enough for him; and it was the merest self delusion if at any moment the instinct of glorying in his satiric mission (the magnificabo apostolatum meum) persuaded him that in his case it might be said-Facit indignatio versum.' Now we did not require to be told that the satire of Pope was not the satire of Juvenal. But, after all, what more does this passage really amount to? Had Mr. De Quincey been prepared with an entirely new definition of satire, which should exclude all writings that were not prompted either by deep malice or deep moral indignation, he would have occupied a fair position. But it is rather too bad to judge Pope by a canon which he knew perfectly well would be fatal to a great number of other writers, without so much as glancing at its legitimate consequences. He has let loose upon us a dictum which drums out of the regiment of satirists some of the best soldiers in its ranks, without so much as a single word to show that he knew what he was doing. For, first and foremost, what becomes of Horace under this new literary law? Where is his deep malice or his deep moral indignation? If the ridicule of folly be not satire, as well as the denunciation of vice, we must, we repeat, have a new definition of the word. We are ready to admit that there is a certain amount of unreality in the 'Imitations of Horace.' But it is questionable if they are a fair criterion. In the Moral Essays all that is satirical seems to us bona fide satire; such for instance as the characters of Wharton, Addison, and Lord Hervey. Pope's characters of women are, no doubt, pointed with less personal acrimony. Many of them are little more than the prose banter of the 'Spectator' thrown into verse. But the character of Atossa is not only full of moral indignation, but also of deep feeling. Surely, even on De Quincey's own showing, this is satire. Genius, wealth, high position, with the opportunities of doing good which these gifts carry with them, all rendered useless by violent and uncontrolled passions, are a fit theme for satire, if any human frailty can supply one. Take again the character of Sappho. There is personal malice enough to float a whole college of satirists. But in order to do full justice to Pope on this entire question we must bear steadily in mind the condition of aristocratic society in the reigns of the two first Georges. The Revolution of 1688, with all its benefits, had not been purchased for nothing. The means by which it was accomplished inflicted a severe blow upon the chivalrous, high-toned sentiment of the seventeenth century. The personal 'Yes, I am proud: I must be proud to see A companion paradox to the assertion that Pope was no satirist is the equally bold statement that Junius was no rhetorician. Here again we are thrown back upon the inquiry, what is Rhetoric? Nor can we find in the essay in which this opinion is broached any satisfactory answer to it. Rhetoric has many instruments which are seldom all at the command of the same author. That Junius did not employ those which are most in favour with De Quincey, is quite possible. But in the majority of those which are specified by Aristotle he was not only a proficient himself, but the cause of proficiency in others. De Quincey was at liberty to give the world a new definition of Rhetoric, if he chose, which should shut its gates against the Letters of Junius, as he was at liberty to frame a new definition of Satire to |