vice and folly such as prevail in our country, corrupt
our manners, deform even social life, and contribute
to make us ridiculous as well as miserable, will claim
respect for the sake of the vicious and the foolish.
It will be then no longer sufficient to spare persons;
for to draw even characters of imagination must become
criminal when the application of them to those of
highest rank and greatest power cannot fail to be
made. You began to laugh at the ridiculous taste
or the no taste in gardening and building of some
men who are at great expense in both. What a
clamour was raised instantly! The name of Timon
was applied to a noble person with double malice,
to make him ridiculous, and you, who lived in friendship
with him, odious. By the authority that employed
itself to encourage this clamour, and by the industry
used to spread and support it, one would have thought
that you had directed your satire in that epistle to
political subjects, and had inveighed against those
who impoverish, dishonour, and sell their country,
instead of making yourself inoffensively merry at
the expense of men who ruin none but themselves, and
render none but themselves ridiculous. What
will the clamour be, and how will the same authority
foment it, when you proceed to lash, in other instances,
our want of elegance even in luxury, and our wild
profusion, the source of insatiable rapacity, and almost
universal venality? My mind forebodes that the
time will come—and who knows how near it
may be?—when other powers than those of
Grub Street may be drawn forth against you, and when
vice and folly may be avowedly sheltered behind a
power instituted for better and contrary purposes—for
the punishment of one, and for the reformation of
both.
But, however this may be, pursue your task undauntedly,
and whilst so many others convert the noblest employments
of human society into sordid trades, let the generous
Muse resume her ancient dignity, re-assert her ancient
prerogative, and instruct and reform, as well as amuse
the world. Let her give a new turn to the thoughts
of men, raise new affections in their minds, and determine
in another and better manner the passions of their
hearts. Poets, they say, were the first philosophers
and divines in every country, and in ours, perhaps,
the first institutions of religion and civil policy
were owing to our bards. Their task might be
hard, their merit was certainly great. But if
they were to rise now from the dead they would find
the second task, if I mistake not, much harder than
the first, and confess it more easy to deal with ignorance
than with error. When societies are once established
and Governments formed, men flatter themselves that
they proceed in cultivating the first rudiments of
civility, policy, religion, and learning. But
they do not observe that the private interests of
many, the prejudices, affections, and passions of
all, have a large share in the work, and often the
largest. These put a sort of bias on the mind,