gar bit of
claptrap. If any reader will take the trouble to compare De Quincey's
account of a kind of anticipation of the Balaclava charge at the battle
of Talavera, with Napier's description of the same facts, he will be
amused at the distortion of history; but whatever the accuracy of the
statements, one is a little shocked at finding 'the inspiration of God'
attributed to the gallant dragoons who were cut to pieces on that
occasion, as other gallant men have been before and since. The phrase is
overcharged, and inevitably suggests a cynical reaction of mind. The
ideas of dragoons and inspiration do not coalesce so easily as might be
wished; but, with this exception, I think that his purple patches are
almost irreproachable, and may be read and re-read with increasing
delight. I know of no other modern writer who has soared into the same
regions with so uniform and easy a flight.

The question is often raised how far the attempt to produce by one art
effects specially characteristic of another can be considered as
legitimate; whether, for example, a sculptor, when encroaching upon the
province of the painter, or a prose writer attempting to rival poets,
may not be summarily condemned. The answer probably would be that a
critic who lays down such rules is erecting himself into a legislator,
when he should be a simple observer. Success justifies itself; and when
De Quincey obtains, without the aid of metre, graces which few other
writers have won by the same means, it is all the more creditable to De
Quincey. A certain presumption, however, remains in such cases, that the
failure to adopt the ordinary methods implies a certain deficiency of
power. If we ask why De Quincey, who trenched so boldly upon the
peculiar province of the poet, yet failed to use the poetical form,
there is one very obvious answer. He has one intolerable fault, a fault
which has probably done more than any other to diminish his popularity,
and which is, of all faults, most diametrically opposed to poetical
excellence. He is utterly incapable of concentration. He is, from the
very principles on which his style is constructed, the most diffuse of
writers. Other men will pack half-a-dozen distinct propositions into a
sentence, and care little if they are somewhat crushed and distorted in
the process. De Quincey insists upon putting each of them separately,
smoothing them out elaborately, till not a wrinkle disturbs their
uniform surface, and then pre