The Van Buren press., 1860-01-27
For the Van Buyen Press.
De Quincey.

Another brilliant jewel has been torn
from the literary diadem of Great Britain.
Now their bright and shining star has shot
from its high orbit in the armament of
greatness. and the world of intellect seems
to be shroudsd in darkness and gloom
One by one the lights of genius have gone
out in Old England. and we instinctively
ask :" whence can come the like again. The
unrivalled author whose name is now writ
ten upon the monument which now marks
his quiet resting place has niche high up
in the temple Of fame. 1t was his privi-
ilege to be a personal friend of Coleridge,
Wordsworth, Lamb, Hazlit, and the rest of
that clnster of magnificent spirits who
haunted the placid Lake Shore" or mov-
ed about the noisy departments of the In
dia House. They have long since gone
from earth, and he seemed like a towering
oak standing alone all its companions hav-
ing fallen by the unspariny hand.' The
year 1859 seemed to be peculiar in one re-
sp ect, at least, and that was in seeing the
last of SO many distinguished men. The
new world has placed beneath the clod her
favorite sons Choate and Irving the old
world has lost the most learned Naturalist
that ever lived, in the death of Alexander
Won Humboldt. But still deaths eata-
logue of great men was too short, and just
before the old year merged into the eternity
of the past, Thomas DeaQuinccy was sum
moned, and he is gone. May the earth
press lightly upon his noble breast.
1t would properly be the work of vol
ume to give anything like just review of
the many writings of this most erudite,
polished and voluminous author. Some
twenty one volumes (of the Ticknor &
Fields edition) are filled with such lucid
and scholar-like expositions Of philosophy,
poetry, history and fiction, as is contain
ed in the writings OF Kant, Pope, Words
worth, Goldsmith, ETC., in his history Of
"Thc Caesars" in his Household Wreck"
DC. Every line written by this unparalleled
author, in reviewing the writings of philos-
ophers or poets is pregnant with informa-
ton, and exhibits the unmistakable evil
dence of finished scholar. Few persons
in Europe or America, who make any pre-
tensions to scholarship, have not read that
unprecedented and peculiar work, "The
Confessions of an English Opium Eater"
De Quincy is probably better known by
this, than any other of his works. 1t has
more of a popular turn than the others
For he was by no means popular wli:er,
by which mean writer for the populacc
at large. His admirers are but small cir
Gle. lie was scholar in every sense of the
word, and from very nature thought and
wrote as a scholar. Nor did he expect any
but scholars to read his works. He seldom
explains, but leaves the reader to find out
for himself the depths Of thought which
underlie all his productions. No one, there
fore. can understand Dec Quincy without
some thought on his own part. His mean
ing does not always lie on the surface, but
his ideas strike deep root into the very core
of his subject, and we must follow those
roots and 6bres until we find the true soil in
which they germinate. There are few mush-
room ideas in his writings. Some may ap-
pear simple and shallow, but long study
and investigation will show that they are
like the unfathomable Niagara, filled with
ripples and pillows. and apparently of no
depth, but few plummits nave dropped
upon its bottom. For this reason De
Quincy will never become popular author.
The mass of readers especially (I grieve to
say IT'D of this country, are seldom thinkers.
If they do not find the jewels and nuggets
scattered over the SURFACE, they conclude
that there is no wealth of learning there,
and abandon the work rs sterile. Among
those who will read De Quincy thought
fully, he will ever be favorite. We are
not only pleased with De Quincy the ,orit-
err, but we have strong affection for De
Quincy, the mar. He seems to place
himself before us and speak with US. Our
idea of him is Of human being. Of flesh
and blood like unto ourselves. Not buried
chin-deep in manuscripts as Macauly is
In reading Macauly 1 never think for mo-
ment of the man. But as / read De Quin-
cey have continually before me an i,nagi-
nary form of the man. either see him
lettering around the filthy suburbs of Lon.
don, trcading Oxford street, or huddlins
] with the unfortunate and criminal (to hin
pure as an angel outcast in the cold garre
of that horrid old tenement, or flying along