shall treat at somewhat greater length than on the two former.

The slightest observation may be sufficient to convince us, that man is, in many respects, an imitative being. His character, undoubtedly, is very much formed after that of those with whom he becomes acquainted, either by reading, or by the intercourse of life. So strong is this propensity to imitation, that it will take place even in regard to persons whom he views with a good deal of indifference, provided they be continually before his eyes. But the effects must be much more striking, when they are the objects of any peculiar degree of respect and admiration. Such is then the proneness to imitation, that it does not confine itself to those qualities which are really brilliant, and estimable; but embraces their most indifferent actions, and even their very defects.

In regard to the choice of associates, this, though a point of the last importance, does not properly belong to the present subject. The question is respecting the comparative merits of real and fictitious history. Now,

though it cannot be denied, that, in the former, we may find persons possessed of great and various excellencies, yet these must always be more or less mixed and imperfect. There is, therefore, the same danger which has been already noticed in a particular species of fictitious composition. The virtues and vices of the character are apt to be confounded together; the one throwing a sort of borrowed lustre over the other. History abounds with examples of men who have been betrayed into follies, and even crimes, by the indiscriminate, imitation of some favourite hero. It becomes desirable, therefore, that, by some other means, a higher standard of moral judgment should be previously formed.

It is true, such a standard may, and ought to be, formed, by the deductions of reason, and the precepts of religion. Still it has long been observed, that example possesses some advantages over these; that it makes a livelier impression, and has a more immediate influence on the active propensities of our nature, It is desirable, that not only reason, but imagination and feeling, should be enlisted in the

cause of virtue; that while reason guides our path, fancy should strew it with flowers. It is the office of the one to discover where virtue lies; of the other to adorn, and render her pleasing and attractive.

It has been asserted by an eminent philosopher, that man is formed capable of conceiving perfection, though not of attaining it. Yet even this, perhaps, cannot be assented to, without great reserve. I suspect, that the powers of man are every way limited; that absolute perfection is as much beyond his conception, as his attainment. Certain it is, however, that he can form an idea of it much higher than he is able uniformly to act up to. And though his conduct cannot equal this standard, yet it will generally be found to bear some proportion to it. Hence the importance of raising the standard as high as possible; of exhibiting characters possessed of the most brilliant virtue, and purified as much as possible from every stain of imperfection. *

The degree, in which a writer will succeed

* See note [B] at the end of the volume.

in these representations must depend both on his own genius and on the refinement which has taken place in the moral taste of the age. If duly qualified, however, for the task he has undertaken, he can seldom fail of drawing models of conduct higher than can be found in the life of any of his contemporaries and this seems to be all that is required.

Such, then, it would appear, are the advantages which may arise from works formed upon this plan, provided they be properly conducted, and not indulged in to excess, Many persons, however, have been of a different opinion; and have condemned all attempts to exhibit characters which rise in any degree above common life. It may be proper to consider some of the arguments which have been advanced in support of this opinion.

Some have thought it sufficient to observe, that no such characters were to be found in real life; that they were 'faultless monsters, which the world ne'er saw.' This argument is evidently founded upon the idea, that the

lanation

proper office of fiction is to give a faithful representation of human life; an idea which I have examined at length, in a former part of the work. Ishall only observe in addition, that, upon this supposition, the art of writing would be placed on a footing inferior to those of painting and statuary. We never reproach the painter for assembling, in one, the beauties of different landscapes; nor the sculptor for drawing finer forms than were ever moulded by the hand of nature. The mere copying of real objects is obviously an inferior department of these arts; while the other is that which has been always occupied by the great masters. But, if external forms may thus be embellished at pleasure, shall the painter of mind alone be reduced to the rank of a mere imitator? One striking difference which exists between them, is completely in favour of the latter. The former are merely objects of taste, and have obviously no tendency to produce any improvement on the form of the spectator. But, in the case of moral painting, a man both possesses a power, and naturally feels an impulse, to form himself to