concatenation of events which we approvingly designate as Providential. The favoring and therefore the rational and commendable happening is an act of special providence. The contrary comes from the malicious mischief of the Aristophanes of Heaven.
In literature the ironic temper has acquitted itself with distinguished success. Among its contributions one recalls The Dinner of Trimalchio, The Golden Ass (and the medieval Burnellus), Letters of Obscure Men, Praise of Folly, Gargantua, Don Quixote, The Gull's Hornbook, Knight of the Burning Pestle, A Modest Proposal, The Shortest Way with Dissenters, Candide, Jonathan Wild, Murder as a Fine Art, Castle Rackrent, Northanger Abbey, The Fair Haven. A glance at the list shows the versatile nature of irony both as to form and idea, though its history taken as a whole has shown more predilection for the romantic than for the realistic method. It is an ingredient in all burlesque and caricature, and is on the other hand least necessary to an explicit presentation of reality, however full this last may be of implicit irony. Its consistent practice is to deceive, and this can more easily be accomplished through fantasy and symbolism. When, however, it is accomplished by more demure and disarming means, the deception is more thorough just because of taking the reader unaware. One is on guard against any form of the symbolic, knowing that some suspicious thing is therein concealed. But who would think of questioning a collection of letters, an essay or a treatise? Yet these are the culprits guilty of ruthlessly hoodwinking the trusting literal mind.
Ulrich von Hutten's Epistolæ were edited by Maittaire, and the edition reviewed by Steele (whom we should not expect to be caught napping), both taking them seriously.
