sound
defence of persecution to say that the Dissenters had been cruel when
they had the upper hand, and that penalties imposed upon them were
merely retaliation for injuries suffered under Cromwell and from
Scottish Presbyterians; but it was one of those topics upon which a
hot-headed persecutor would naturally dwell, though De Foe gives him
rather more forcible language than he would be likely to possess. It is
only towards the end that the ironical purpose crops out in what we
should have thought an unmistakable manner. Few writers would have
preserved their incognito so long. The caricature would have been too
palpable, and invited ridicule too ostentatiously. An impatient man soon
frets under the mask and betrays his real strangeness in the hostile
camp.

De Foe in fact had a peculiarity at first sight less favourable to
success in fiction than in controversy. Amongst the political writers of
that age he was, on the whole, distinguished for good temper and an
absence of violence. Although a party man, he was by no means a man to
swallow the whole party platform. He walked on his own legs, and was not
afraid to be called a deserter by more thoroughgoing partisans. The
principles which he most ardently supported were those of religious
toleration and hatred to every form of arbitrary power. Now, the
intellectual groundwork upon which such a character is formed has
certain conspicuous merits, along with certain undeniable weaknesses.
Amongst the first may be reckoned a strong grasp of facts--which was
developed to an almost disproportionate degree in De Foe--and a
resolution to see things as they are without the gloss which is
contracted from strong party sentiment. He was one of those men of
vigorous common-sense who like to have everything down plainly and
distinctly in good unmistakable black and white, and indulge a voracious
appetite for facts and figures. He was, therefore, able--within the
limits of his vision--to see things from both sides, and to take his
adversaries' opinions as calmly as his own, so long, at least, as they
dealt with the class of considerations with which he was accustomed to
deal; for, indeed, there are certain regions of discussion to which we
cannot be borne on the wings of statistics, or even of common-sense. And
this, the weak side of his intellect, is equally unmistakable. The
matter-of-fact man may be compared to one who suffers from
colour-blindness. Perhaps he may have a power of