complishments, which are so dazzling in the eyes of the bulk of mankind. There seems thus to be no small danger, that, by a too natural association of ideas, the one part of this character may be confounded with the other, and the whole be considered as a proper object of imitation. This is particularly apt to be the case in young and unexperienced readers, who must form here a very large proportion. Every one has heard of the young nobleman, who, having witnessed the representation of a play, called the Libertine destroyed, declared, on leaving the house, that he would be the libertine destroyed, and actually proved so.

This objection acquires still greater force, when we consider, that whatever attention may be paid by the author to what is called the moral of his work, he may depend upon its being little, if at all regarded, by the reader. His mind, while perusing it, will probably be quite otherwise occupied, than in considering the maxims of conduct which may be drawn from it. According to the view, indeed, which has been given above,

such a disposition is not only natural, but perfectly reasonable.

It cannot be denied, that, in the conduct of life, most men are disposed, from motives of interest or vanity, to connect themselves with the prosperous, rather than the unfortunate. But, in regard to narratives, whether real or fictitious, where these passions have no room to operate, I conceive the case to be widely different. Here we feel rather a disposition to attach ourselves to the suffering party. Even where his conduct has been deserving of reproach, we consider it as in a great measure expiated by the attendant punishment. But every generous feeling of our nature rises in arms, at the view of triumphant and successful villany. Far from being seduced into any admiration, we feel our detestation of it increased. No object,. on the contrary, can be more interesting, than that of a virtuous man, who is bowed beneath the weight of misfortune; and even, though the issue be fatal, our sympathy, far from diminishing, is thereby improved and heightened. What is called poetical justice,

may, I suspect, be required rather for the gratification of the reader's wishes, than for the improvement of his moral feelings. This purpose is to be accomplished by other means, which I shall afterwards endeavour to point out.

Upon the whole, we may perhaps conclude, with regard both to this and to the first-mentioned species of fiction, that every purpose for which they are intended, may be better accomplished by the biography of private life. But, in case the public taste be not suf ficiently turned towards this species of reading, these works, provided they keep close to nature and truth, may not be altogether without their use.

We come, now, to that description of fictitious writing, which professes to instruct, by exhibiting examples of conduct, superior to those which are to be met with in ordinary life. And this appears to me to be the purpose for which it is best adapted, and where its place can be completely supplied by no other species of composition. On it, therefore, I

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