and Rotherhithe verisimilitude. All men grow dull, and ought to be dull,
that live under a solemn sense of eternal danger, one inch only of plank
(often worm-eaten) between themselves and the grave; and, also, that see
for ever one wilderness of waters--sublime, but (like the wilderness on
shore) monotonous. All sublime people, being monotonous, have a tendency
to be dull, and sublime things also. Milton and Aeschylus, the sublimest
of men, are crossed at times by a shade of dulness. It is their weak side.
But as to a sea captain, a regular nor'-nor'-wester, and sou'-sou'-easter,
he ought to be kicked out of the room if he is _not_ dull. It is not
'ship-shape,' or barely tolerable, that he should be otherwise. Yet, after
all, considering what I have stated about Captain Gulliver's nine voyages
crowding into one pocket volume, he cannot really have much abused his
professional license for being dull. Indeed, one has to look out an excuse
for his being so little dull; which excuse is found in the fact that he
had studied three years at a learned university. Captain Gulliver, though
a sailor, I would have you to know, was a gownsman of Cambridge: so says
Swift, who knew more about the Captain than anybody now-a-days. Cantabs
are all horsemen, _ergo_, Gulliver was fit for any thing, from the
_wooden shoon_ of Cambridge up to the Horse Marines.

Now, on the other hand, you, common-place reader, that (as an old
tradition) believe Swift's style to be a model of excellence, hereafter I
shall say a word to you, drawn from deeper principles. At present I
content myself with these three propositions, which overthrow if you
can;--

1. That the merit, which justly you ascribe to Swift, is
_vernacularity_; he never forgets his mother-tongue in exotic forms,
unless we may call Irish exotic; for Hibernicisms he certainly has. This
merit, however, is exhibited--not, as _you_ fancy, in a graceful