The Literature of Power and the Imperial Will: De Quincey's Opium War Essays

Abstract

Though Thomas De Quincey made no secret of his indebtedness to Wordsworth for the distinction between the literature of and the literature of knowledge,1 the idea is generally, and with justice, attributed to him. It was he who first introduced the concept of literary to a wide readership and made it one of the touchstones of his own criticism. Wordsworth's pronouncements took root in soil upturned by the sibling power-struggles of De Quincey's childhood, and the concept eventually cast its shadow over the opium-eater's commentaries on current events in politics and diplomacy. Indeed, De Quincey's version of literary power is thoroughly imbued with the dynamics of international competition. Perhaps this should come as no surprise. As Alan Liu has recently observed, when we speak of language we necessarily speak of belonging to a nation-to a particular people at a particular time,2 and the opium-eater came to promote the identification of real literature with power during the period of England's greatest military triumphs and most vigorous colonial exploits. Inversely, to speak of the nation is to speak of language in its largest sense, to invoke the full range of cultural codes that distinguish one people from another. Living in our own imperial twilight should make us especially sensitive to the nuances of such invocations. In December 1989, the Boston Globe reported Democratic opposition to the Bush administration's mission to China in the following terms: 'I condemn . . . this weekend's embarrassing kowtowing to the Chinese government,' said Senate majority leader George Mitchell. . . . 'Those actions make a mockery of our profession of concern for human rights and are inconsistent with America's stated ideals.''3