There are some prose satirists of the greatest delicacy and wit; the last
of which can never, or should never, succeed without the former. An author
without it, betrays too great a contempt for mankind, and opinion of
himself, which are bad advocates for reputation and success. What a
difference is there between the merit, if not the wit, of Cervantes and
Rabelais? The last has a particular art of throwing a great deal of genius
and learning into frolic and jest; but the genius and the scholar is all
you can admire; you want the gentleman to converse with in him: he is like
a criminal who receives his life for some services; you commend, but you
pardon too. Indecency offends our pride, as men; and our unaffected taste,
as judges of composition: nature has wisely formed us with an aversion to
it; and he that succeeds in spite of it, is,(5) aliena venia, quam sua
providentia tutior.
Such wits, like false oracles of old (which were wits and cheats), should
set up for reputation among the weak, in some Boeotia, which was the land
of oracles; for the wise will hold them in contempt.
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