s spirit than the
giving of secret stabs to a man's reputation. Lampoons and satires, that
are written with wit and spirit, are like poisoned darts, which not only
inflict a wound, but make it incurable. For this reason I am very much
troubled when I see the talents' of humour and ridicule in the possession
of an ill-natured man. There cannot be a greater gratification to a
barbarous and inhuman wit, than to stir up sorrow in the heart of a
private person, to raise uneasiness among near relations, and to expose
whole families to derision, at the same time that he remains unseen and
undiscovered. If, besides the accomplishments of being witty and ill-
natured, a man is vicious into the bargain, he is one of the most
mischievous creatures that can enter into a civil society. His satire
will then chiefly fall upon those who ought to be the most exempt from
it. Virtue, merit, and everything that is praiseworthy, will be made the
subject of ridicule and buffoonery. It is impossible to enumerate the
evils which arise from these arrows that fly in the dark; and I know no
other excuse that is or can be made for them, than that the wounds they
give are only imaginary, and produce nothing more than a secret shame or
sorrow in the mind of the suffering person. It must indeed be confessed
that a lampoon or a satire do not carry in them robbery or murder; but at
the same time, how many are there that would not rather lose a
considerable sum of money, or even life itself, than be set up as a mark
of infamy and derision? And in this case a man should consider that an
injury is not to be measured by the notions of him that gives, but of him
that receives it.

Those who can put the best countenance upon the outrages of this nature
which are offered them, are not without their secret anguish. I have
often observed a passage in Socrates's behaviour at his death in a light
wherein none of the critics have considered it. That excellent man
entertaining his friends a little before he drank the bowl of poison,
with a discourse on the immortality of the soul, at his entering upon it
says that he does not believe any the most comic genius can censure him
for talking upon such a subject at such at a time. This passage, I
think, evidently glances upon Aristophanes, who writ a comedy on purpose
to ridicule the discourses of that divine philosopher. It has been
observed by many writers that Socrates was so little moved at this piece
of