But of these two, the last succeeded best,
As men aim rightest when they shoot in jest.”[5]
The spokesman of the eighteenth century on this point is Young.
“No man can converse much in the world but, at what he meets with, he must either be insensible, or grieve, or be angry, or smile. Some passion (if we are not impassive) must be moved; for the general conduct of mankind is by no means a thing indifferent to a reasonable and virtuous man. Now, to smile at it, and turn it into ridicule, I think most eligible; as it hurts ourselves least, and gives Vice and Folly the greatest offense.
“Laughing at the misconduct of the world will, in a great measure, ease us of any more disagreeable passion about it. One passion is more effectually driven out by another than by reason.”[6]
And about the same time our first satirical novelist was avowing his own creed and performance:
“If nature hath given me any talents at ridiculing vice and imposture, I shall not be indolent, nor afraid of exerting them.”[7]
Again: “I have employed all the wit and humour of which I am master in the following history; wherein I have endeavoured to laugh mankind out of their favorite follies and vices.”[8]
The self-conscious nineteenth century is full of comments on this topic, as on all others, but two or three representative ones will suffice as examples.
It is not really the great Greek satirist but his modern interpreter who utters this explanatory sentiment: