fame, and finds little to admire in the machinery of Gulliver. They will probably agree that though the Tale yields its treasures only to repeated and careful study, yet after such study, it takes its place without question amongst the greatest products of human genius. They may even doubt whether in perfection of style, in eloquence which produces its effects by absolute simplicity, and in keen logic, and quick rapier-play, some of his political pieces do not take a place higher than Gulliver. They may miss in that the consummate grace of his lighter verse, and the fiery energy by which in his more serious poems, he enthrals and captivates us. But mixed with jealousy of that popularity there may also be some amusement. It is strange indeed that a book animated by consuming hatred of mankind, lenient, where it is lenient, only because contempt sometimes prevails over hatred, should have been largely read for the entertainment of children. But this is really a homage to the greatness of Swift's genius. Imagination was not the distinguishing feature of Swift's power. Rarely indeed can that be combined with a consuming satire: he whom (to parody Swift's own words) "Phœbus in his ire Has blasted with satiric fire," rarely joins to that the gift of constructive imagination. But Gulliver has captivated the fancy by means of that gift of vivid reality—as different as possible from what modern jargon styles realism—which was the special attribute of Swift's age, and was shared to the full by him. In spite of all extravagance, and although all is presented to us through a medium of inverted proportions, we never cease to feel the personages in the book real from beginning to end. We follow their fortunes with interest ; we sympathise with their mishaps ; we feel the inevitableness of their actions. The very inconsistencies of the book are proofs of his genius. Neither the inhabitants of Lilliput nor those of Brobdingnag are in all things good or in all things bad. Both have their good traits—both have their inherent weaknesses—all portrayed, not {we are made to fancy) with the formed design of the satirist, but with the fidelity of the faithful
