pular notion, that the witty buffoon
Aristophanes was the occasion of the death of the philosopher
Socrates. The defence is skilful on the part of Dyson; and we may
easily conceive that on so important a point Akenside had been
consulted. I shall give it in his own words:--

"The Socrates of Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a character as
ever was drawn; but it is not the character of Socrates himself. The
object was perverted, and the mischief which ensued was owing to
the dishonesty of him who persuaded the people that that was the
real character of Socrates, not from any error in the faculty of
ridicule itself."--Dyson then states the fact as it concerned
Socrates. "The real intention of the contrivers of this ridicule
was not so much to mislead the people, by giving them a bad opinion of
Socrates, as to sound what was at the time the general opinion of him,
that from thence they might judge whether it would be safe to bring
a direct accusation against him. The most effectual way of making
this trial was by ridiculing him; for they knew, if the people saw
his character in its true light, they would be displeased with the
misrepresentation, and not endure the ridicule. On trial this
appeared: the play met with its deserved fate; and, notwithstanding
the exquisiteness of the wit, was absolutely _rejected_. A second
attempt succeeded no better; and the abettors of the poet were so
discouraged from pursuing their design against Socrates, that it was
not till ABOVE TWENTY YEARS after _the publication of the play_ that
they brought their accusation against him! It was not, therefore,
ridicule that did, or could destroy Socrates: he was rather
sacrificed for the right use of it himself, against the Sophists, who
could not bear the test."

Thus, then, stands the argument.--Warburton, reasoning on the abuses
of ridicule, has opened to us all its dangers. Its advocate concedes
that Ridicule, to be a test of Truth, must not impose on us
circumstances which are foreign to the object. No object can be
ridiculed that is not ridiculous. Should this happen, then the
ridicule is false; and, as such, can be proved as much as any piece of
false reasoning. We may therefore conclude, that ridicule is a taste
of congruity and propriety not possessed by every one; a test which
separates truth from imposture; a talent against the exercise of which
most men are interested to protest; but which, being founded on the
constituent principl