As the field which is thus opened to me is almost unbounded, I
will confine myself to two of the most striking examples, in Tristram
Shandy, and the Rosciad of Churchill.
In the Monthly Review, vol. 24, p, 103, I find these words:
"But your indiscretion, good Mr. Tristram, is not all we complain of in
the volumes before us. We must tax you with what you will dread above
the most terrible of all insinuations--nothing less than DULLNESS. Yes,
indeed, Mr. Tristram, you are dull, _very dull_. Your jaded fancy seems
to have been exhausted by two pigmy octavos, which scarce contained the
substance of a twelve-penny pamphlet, and we now find nothing new to
entertain us."
The following epithets are selected at random. "We are sick--we are
quite tired--we can no longer bear corporal Trim's
insipidity--thread-bare--stupid and unaffecting--absolutely
dull--misapplication of talents--he will unavoidably sink into
contempt."
The Critical Review, vol II, p. 212, has the following account of the
Rosciad:
"It is _natural_ for young authors to conceive themselves the
cleverest fellows in the world, and withal, that there is not
the least degree of merit subsisting but in their own works: It
is _natural_ likewise for them to imagine, that they may conceal
themselves by appearing in different shapes, and that they are
not to be found out by their stile; but little do these
_Connoisseurs_ in writing conceive, how easily they are
discovered by a veteran in the service.
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