that in his opinion
Ricardo is a 'model of perspicuity,' we suspect that few will agree with
him, as his thought is always subtile and sometimes perplexed; but De
Quincey--while not at all inferior in acuteness and power of thought, in
perception of shy differences and resemblances between contrasted
objects, winning at this point even the praise of John Stuart Mill--in
elasticity, force, and elegance of style, infinitely surpasses the whole
race of political economists. We know of nothing throughout the vast
range of economic investigation more admirable, being at once clear and
conclusive, simple and profound, culminating in the utter razing and
dismantling of the Malthusian theory, than the discussion of value in
the 'Templars' Dialogues.' There is no faltering, no hesitation, no
discursiveness; the arrow flies swiftly and fatally to the mark. It is
not possible, or desirable, at the present time, to discuss minutely De
Quincey's achievements as exhibited in his 'Logic of Political Economy'
and 'Templars' Dialogues:' in these works he laid the foundation of a
colossal structure, which the distraction of nervous misery never
allowed him to complete. He had laboriously gathered the materials out
of every nation and tongue; he had painfully perfected the vast design;
but, when standing on the very verge of triumph, he was doomed to see
life-long hopes extinguished forever, success slipped from his nerveless
grasp in the moment of victory. Surely he might join in the passionate
lament:
'I feel it, I have heaped upon my brain
The gathered treasures of man's thought in vain.'
The subjects which De Quincey has critically investigated are very
numerous, and it cannot be expected that our limits will permit any
exhaustive enumeration of them. We propose to select a few of the more
prominent, which will serve as exponents of the whole.
De Quincey's views on war will doubtless be astounding to most persons
who have never given the subject any very particular attention. Deluded
by the false doctrines of peace societies, they doubtless regard war as
an evil, at once inhuman and unnecessary. Altogether hostile to this
idea is the position of De Quincey; he solemnly declares that war
neither can be abolished nor ought to be. 'Most heartily,' says he, 'and
with my profoundest sympathy, do I go along with Wordsworth in his grand
lyrical proclamation of a truth not less divine than it is mysterious,
not less triumphant
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