And conversely, institutions and types, being abstractions, must be made concrete to get them into workable shape. "The position of the satirist," says Lowell, in The Bigelow Papers, "is oftentimes one which he would not have chosen, had the election been left to himself. In attacking bad principles, he is obliged to select some individual who has made himself their exponent, and in whom they are impersonate, to the end that what he says may not, through ambiguity, be dissipated tenues in auras." Lowell was of course not unaware that the satirist's obligation might be met and fulfilled through the method of dramatic disguise, but it is evident that the author of the Fable for Critics had his leanings toward the personal type. Yet he confirms the pious English tradition by adding,—
"Meanwhile let us not forget that the aim of the true satirist
is not to be severe upon persons, but only upon falsehood.
- * * Truth is quite beyond the reach of satire.
- * * The danger of satire is, that continual use may
deaden his sensibility to the force of language."
The real secret is that our primitive impulses clamor for
the delectable diet of personalities, and must be appeased
by a little judicious indulgence. Under pristine conditions,
before we learned to be apologetic for our instincts, we
could enjoy our Fescinnine gibings without a qualm. As
we grew in poise and culture, we began to feel the need of
a finer diet for Cerberus, to gratify his acquired taste.
Such a sop was found in the altruistic motive, inexpensive
and immediately satisfying.
But, since motives are rarely single, there is frequently in this unconscious pose an admixture of genuine idealism, most often of the patriotic sort. La Satire Menippée, for instance, was said to have been worth as much to Henry
