difying. He is decent or coarse, just as he is
dull or amusing, without knowing the difference. The details about the
different connections formed by Roxana and Moll Flanders have no atom of
sentiment, and are about as wearisome as the journal of a specially
heartless lady of the same character would be at the present day. He has
been praised for never gilding objectionable objects, or making vice
attractive. To all appearance, he would have been totally unable to set
about it. He has only one mode of telling a story, and he follows the
thread of his narrative into the back-slums of London, or lodging-houses
of doubtful character, or respectable places of trade, with the same
equanimity, at a good steady jog-trot of narrative. The absence of any
passion or sentiment deprives such places of the one possible source of
interest; and we must confess that two-thirds of each of these novels
are deadly dull; the remainder, though exhibiting specimens of his
genuine power, is not far enough from the commonplace to be specially
attractive. In short, the merit of De Foe's narrative bears a direct
proportion to the intrinsic merit of a plain statement of the facts;
and, in the novels already mentioned, as there is nothing very
surprising, certainly nothing unique, about the story, his treatment
cannot raise it above a very moderate level.

Above these stories comes De Foe's best fragment of fictitious
history.[1] The 'Memoirs of a Cavalier' is a very amusing book, though
it is less fiction than history, interspersed with a few personal
anecdotes. In it there are some exquisite little bits of genuine Defoe.
The Cavalier tells us, with such admirable frankness, that he once left
the army a day or two before a battle, in order to visit some relatives
at Bath, and excuses himself so modestly for his apparent neglect of
military duty, that we cannot refuse to believe in him. A novelist, we
say, would have certainly taken us to the battle, or would, at least,
have given his hero a more heroic excuse. The character, too, of the old
soldier, who has served under Gustavus Adolphus, who is disgusted with
the raw English levies, still more disgusted with the interference of
parsons, and who has a respect for his opponents--especially Sir Thomas
Fairfax--which is compounded partly of English love of fair play, and
partly of the indifference of a professional officer--is better
supported than most of De Foe's personages. An excellent Dugald Dal