rce through
the surface of society without seeking for interest in its foulest
abysses?

_DE QUINCEY_

Little more than fourteen years ago there passed from among us a man who
held a high and very peculiar position in English literature. In 1821 De
Quincey first published the work with which his name is most commonly
associated, and at uncertain intervals he gave tokens to mankind of his
continued presence on earth. What his life may have been in the
intervals seems to have been at times unknown even to his friends. He
began by disappearing from school and from his family, and seems to have
fallen into the habit of temporary eclipses. At one moment he dropped
upon his acquaintance from the clouds; at another he would vanish into
utter darkness for weeks or months together. One day he came to dine
with Christopher North--so we are told in the professor's life--was
detained for the night by a heavy storm of rain, and prolonged his
impromptu visit for a year. During that period his habits must have been
rather amazing to a well-regulated household. His wants, indeed, were
simple, and, in one sense, regular; a particular joint of mutton, cut
according to a certain mathematical formula, and an ounce of laudanum,
made him happy for a day. But in the hours when ordinary beings are
awake he was generally to be found stretched in profound opium-slumbers
upon a rug before the fire, and it was only about two or three in the
morning that he gave unequivocal symptoms of vitality, and suddenly
gushed forth in streams of wondrous eloquence to the supper parties
detained for the purpose of witnessing the display. Between these
irregular apparitions we are lastly given to understand that his life
was so strange that its details would be incredible. What these
incredible details may have been, I have no means of knowing. It is
enough that he was a strange unsubstantial being, flitting uncertainly
about in the twilight regions of society, emerging by fits and starts
into visibility, afflicted with a general vagueness as to the ordinary
duties of mankind, and generally taking much more opium than was good
for him. He tells us, indeed, that he broke off his over-mastering habit
by vigorous efforts; as he also tells us that opium is a cure for most
grievous evils, and especially saved him from an early death by
consumption. It is plain enough, however, that he never really refrained
for any length of time; and perhaps we should con