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whether the speaker had her in mind or not, and whether he ought really
to be so personal, why could not Mr. Morley's _English Men of Letters_
series be used to carry out the scheme proposed; and its proposer said
he had nothing to say against that, except perhaps that the frames might
be too much for the pictures. He would rather choose a critical essay,
as he had intimated, for the frame of each picture; in this sort of
thing we had an endless choice, both new and old. If he had any
preference it would be for the older-fashioned critics, like Hazlitt or
perhaps like De Quincey; he was not sure, speaking without the book,
whether De Quincey treated authors so much as topics, but he had the
sense of wonderful things in him about the eighteenth-century poets:
things that made you think you knew them, and that yet made you burn to
be on the same intimate terms with them as De Quincey himself.

His method of knowing the poets through the critics, the sympathetic
critics, who were the only real critics, would have the advantage of
acquainting the reader with the critics as well as the poets. The
critics got a good deal of ingratitude from the reader generally, and
perhaps in their character of mere reviewers they got no more than they
merited, but in their friendly function of ushers to the good things,
even the best things, in the authors they were studying, they had a
claim upon him which he could not requite too generously. They acted the
part of real friends, and in the high company where the reader found
himself strange and alone, they hospitably made him at home. Above all
other kinds of writers, they made one feel that he was uttering the good
things they said. Of course, for the young reader, there was the danger
of his continuing always to think their thoughts in their terms, but
there were also great chances that he would begin by-and-by to think
his own thoughts in terms of his own.

The more quotational the critics were, the better. For himself the
speaker said that he liked that old custom of printing the very finest
things in italics when it came to citing corroborative passages. It had
not only the charm of the rococo, the pathos of a bygone fashion, but it
was of the greatest use. No one is the worse for having a great beauty
pointed out in the author one is reading or reading from. Sometimes one
does not see the given beauty at first, and then he has the pleasure of
puzzling it out; sometimes he never