appropriated to poetry, but because their number is, comparatively speaking, extremely limited.

The scantiness of the French poetical diction is, probably, attended twith the less inconvenience, than the phrases which occur in good prose writing are less degraded by vulgar application than in English, in consequence of the line being more distinctly and more strongly drawn between polite and low expressions in that language than in ours. Our poets, indeed, by having a language appropriated to their own purposes, not only can preserve a dignity of expression, but can connect with the perusal of their compositions, the pleasing impressions which have been produced by those of their predecessors. And hence, in the higher sorts of poetry, where their object is to kindle, as much as possible, the enthusiasm of their readers, they not only avoid, studiously, all expressions which are vulgar, but all such as are borrowed from fashionable life. This certainly cannot be done in an equal degree by a poet who writes in the French language.

In English the poetical diction is so extremely copious, that it is liable to be abused; as it puts it in the power of authors of no genius, merely by ringing changes on the poetical vocabulary, to give a certain degree of currency to the most unmeaning compositions. In Pope's Song by a Person of Quality, the incoherence of ideas is scarcely greater, than what is to be found in some admired pages of our fashionable poetry.

Nor is it merely by a difference of words, that the language of poetry is distinguished from that of prose. When a poetical arrangement of words has once been established by authors of reputation, the most common expressions, by being presented in this consecrated order, may serve to excite poetical associations.

On the other hand, nothing more completely destroys the charm of poetry, than a string of words which the custom of ordinary discourse has arranged in so invariable an order, that the whole phrase may be anticipated from hearing its commencement. A single word frequently strikes us as flat and prosaic, in consequence of its familiarity; but two such words coupled together in order of conversation can scarcely be introduced into serious poetry without appearing ludicrous.

No poet in our language has shewn so strikingly as Milton, the wonderful elevation which style may derive from an arrangement of words, which, while it is perfectly intelligible, departs widely from that to which we are in general accustomed. Many of his most sublime periods, when the order of the words is altered, are reduced nearly to the level of prose.

To copy this artifice with success, is a much more difficult attainment than is commonly imagined; and, of consequence, when it is acquired, it secures an author, to a great degree, from that crowd of imitators who spoil the effect of whatever is not beyond their reach. To the poet who uses blank verse, it is an acquisition of still more essential consequence than to him who expresses himself in rhyme; for the more that the structure of the verse approaches to prose, the more it is necessary to give novelty and dignity to the composition. And accordingly, among our magazine poets, ten thousand catch the structure of Pope's versification, for one who approaches to the manner of Milton, or of

Thomson.

The facility, however, of this imitation, like every other, increases with the number of those who have studied it with success; for the more numerous the authors who have employed their genius in any one direction, the more copious are the materials out of which mediocrity may select and combine, so as to escape the charge of plagiarism. And, in fact, in our own language, this, as well as the other great resource of poetical expression, the employment of appropriated words, has had its effect so much impaired by the abuse which has been made of it, that a few of our best poets of late have endeavoured to strike out a new path for themselves, by resting the elevation of their composition chiefly on a singular, and, to an ordinary writer, an unattainable union of harmonious versification, with a natural arrangement of words, and a simple elegance of expression. It is this union which seems to form the distinguishing charm of the poetry of Goldsmith.

From the remarks which have been made on the influence of the association of ideas on our judgments in matters of taste, it is obvious how much the opinions of a nation with respect to merit in the fine arts, are likely to be influenced by the form of their government, and the state of their manners. Voltaire, in his discourse pronounced at his reception into the French academy, gives several reasons why the poets of that country have not succeeded in describing rural scenes and employ. ments. The principal one is, the ideas of meanness, and poverty, and wretchedness, which the French are accustomed to associate with the profession of husbandry. The same thing is alluded to by the Abbé de Lille, in the preliminary discourse prefixed to his translation of the Georgics. A translation," says he, " of this poem, if it had been un❝dertaken by an author of genius, would have been better calculated "than any other work, for adding to the richness of our language. A "version of the Eneid itself, however well executed, would, in this re"spect, be of less utility; in as much as the genius of our tongue ac"commodates itself more easily to the description of heroic achieve"ments, than to the details of natural phenomena, and of the operations "of husbandry. To force it to express these with suitable dignity, "would have been a real conquest over that false delicacy, which it "has contracted from our unfortunate prejudices."

66

How different must have been the emotions with which this divine performance of Virgil was read by an ancient Roman, while he recollected that period in the history of his country, when dictators were called from the plough to the defence of the state, and after having led monarchs in triumph, returned again to the same happy and independent occupation. A state of manners to which a Roman author of a later age looked back with such enthusiasm, that he ascribes, by a bold poetical figure, the flourishing state of agriculture under the republic, to the grateful returns which the earth then made to the illustrious hands by which she was cultivated." Gaudente terra vomere laureato, et triumphali aratore."*

Plin. Nat. Hist. xviii. 4.

SECTION III.

Of the Influence of Association on our active Principles and on our moral Judg

ments.

In order to illustrate a little farther, the influence of the Association of Ideas on the human mind, I shall add a few remarks on some of its effects on our active and moral principles. In stating these remarks, I shall endeavour to avoid, as much as possible, every occasion of controversy, by confining myself to such general views of the subject, as do not presuppose any particular enumeration of our original principles of action, or any particular system concerning the nature of the moral faculty. If my health and leisure enable me to carry my plans into execution, I propose, in the sequel of this work, to resume these inquiries, and to examine the various opinions to which they have given rise.

The manner in which the association of ideas operates in producing new principles of action has been explained very distinctly by different writers. Whatever conduces to the gratification of any natural appetite, or of any natural desire, is itself desired on account of the end to which it is subservient; and by being thus habitually associated in our apprehension with agreeable objects, it frequently comes, in process of time, to be regarded as valuable in itself, independently of its utility. It is thus that wealth becomes, with many, an ultimate object of pursuit ; although, at first, it is undoubtedly valued merely on account of its subserviency to the attainment of other objects. In like manner, men are led to desire dress, equipage, retinue, furniture, on account of the estimation in which they are supposed to be held by the public. Such desires are called by Dr. Hutcheson* secondary desires; and their origin is explained by him in the way which I have mentioned. "Since we are capa"ble," says he, "of reflection, memory, observation, and reasoning "about the distant tendencies of objects and actions, and not confined "to things present, there must arise in consequence of our original de"sires, secondary desires of every thing imagined useful to gratify any "of the primary desires; and that with strength proportioned to the "several original desires, and imagined usefulness or necessity of the "advantageous object."-" Thus," he continues," as soon as we come "to apprehend the use of wealth or power to gratify any of our origin"al desires, we must also desire them; and hence arises the universality of these desires of wealth and power, since they are the means of "gratifying all other desires." The only thing that appears to me exceptionable in the foregoing passage is, that the author classes the desire of power with that of wealth; whereas I apprehend it to be clear, (for reasons which I shall state in another part of this work,) that the former is a primary desire, and the latter a secondary one.

Our moral judgments, too, may be modified, and even perverted, to a certain degree, in consequence of the operation of the same principle. In the same manner in which a person who is regarded as a model of taste may introduce, by his example, an absurd or fantastical dress; so a man of splendid virtues may attract some esteem also to his imperfec

* See his Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions.

tions, and, if placed in a conspicuous situation, may render his vices and follies objects of general imitation among the multitude.

"In the reign of Charles II." says Mr. Smith,* "a degree of licen❝tiousness was deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was "connected, according to the notions of those times, with generosity, "sincerity, magnanimity, loyalty; and proved that the person who acted "in this manner, was a gentleman, and not a puritan. Severity of man. "ners and regularity of conduct, on the other hand, were altogether un"fashionable, and were connected, in the imagination of that age, with "cant, cunning, hypocrisy, and low manners. To superficial minds, the "vices of the great seem at all times agreeable. They connect them, "not only with the splendour of fortune, but with many superior vir"tues which they ascribe to their superiors; with the spirit of freedom "and independency; with frankness, generosity, humanity, and politeness. The virtues of the inferior ranks of people, on the contrary, "their parsimonious frugality, their painful industry, and rigid adherence to rules, seem to them mean and disagreeable. They connect "them both with the meanness of the station to which these qualities "commonly belong, and with many great vices which they suppose usually accompany them; such as an abject, cowardly, ill-natured, "lying, pilfering disposition."

The theory which, in the foregoing passages from Hutcheson and Smith, is employed so justly and philosophically to explain the origin of our secondary desires, and to account for some perversions of our moral judgments, has been thought sufficient, by some later writers, to account for the origin of all our active principles without exception. The first of these attempts to extend so very far the application of the doctrine of Association, was made by the Rev. Mr. Gay, in a dissertation" concerning the fundamental Principle of Virtue," which is prefixed by Dr. Law to his translation of Archbishop King's Essay "On the "Origin of Evil." In this dissertation, the author endeavours to shew, "that our approbation of morality, and all affections whatsoever, are "finally resolvable into reason, pointing out private happiness, and are "conversant only about things apprehended to be means tending to this "end; and that wherever this end is not perceived, they are to be ac"counted for from the association of ideas, and may properly be called "habits." The same principles have been since pushed to a much greater length by Dr. Hartley, whose system (as he himself informs us) took rise from his accidentally hearing it mentioned as an opinion of Mr. Gay, "that the association of ideas was sufficient to account for all our intel"lectual pleasures and pains."+

It must, I think, in justice, be acknowledged, that this theory, concerning the origin of our affections, and of the moral sense, is a most ingenious refinement upon the selfish system, as it was formerly taught;

Theory of Moral Sentiments.

† Mr. Hume too, who in my opinion has carried this principle of the Association of Ideas a great deal too far, has compared the universality of its application in the philosophy of mind, to that of the principle of attraction in physics. "Here," says he," is a kind of attraction, which in the mental world will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in the natural, and to shew itself in as many and as various forms." Treat. of Hum. Nat. vol. i. p. 30.

and that, by means of it, the force of many of the common reasonings against that system is eluded. Among these reasonings, particular stress has always been laid on the instantaneousness with which our affections operate, and the moral sense approves or condemns, and on our total want of consciousness, in such cases, of any reference to our own happiness. The modern advocates for the selfish system admit the fact to be as it is stated by their opponents; and grant, that after the moral sense and our various affectious are formed, their exercise, in particular cases, may become completely disinterested; but still they contend, that it is upon a regard to our own happiness that all these principles are originally grafted. The analogy of avarice will serve to illustrate the scope of this theory. It cannot be doubted that this principle of action is artificial. It is on account of the enjoyments which it enables us to purchase, that money is originally desired; and yet, in process of time, by means of the agreeable impressions which are associated with it, it comes to be desired for its own sake; and even continues to be an object of our pursuit, long after we have lost all relish for those enjoyments which it enables us to command.

Without meaning to engage in any controversy on the subject, I shall content myself with observing, in general, that there must be some limit, beyond which the theory of association cannot possibly be carried; for the explanation which it gives of the formation of new principles of action, proceeds on the supposition that there are other principles previously existing in the mind. The great question then is, when we are arrived at this limit; or, in other words, when we are arrived at the simple and original laws of our constitution.

In conducting this inquiry, philosophers have been apt to go into extremes. Lord Kaimes, and some other authors, have been censured, and perhaps justly, for a disposition to multiply original principles to an unnecessary degree. It may be questioned, whether Dr. Hartley, and his followers, have not sometimes been misled by too eager a desire of abridging their number.

Of these two errors, the former is the least common, and the least dangerous. It is the least common, because it is not so flattering as the other to the vanity of the theorist; and it is the least dangerous, be cause it has no tendency, like the other to give rise to a suppression, or to a misrepresentation of facts; or to retard the progress of the science, by bestowing upon it an appearance of systematical perfection, to which, in its present state, it is not entitled.

Abstracting, however, from these inconveniences, which must always result from a precipitate reference of phenomena to general principles, it does not seem to me, that the theory in question has any tendency to weaken the foundation of morals. It has, indeed, some tendency, in common with the philosophy of Hobbes and Mandeville, to degrade the dignity of human nature; but it leads to no sceptical conclusions concerning the rule of life. For, although we were to grant, that all our principles of action are acquired; so striking a difference among them must still be admitted, as is sufficient to distinguish clearly those universal laws which were intended to regulate human conduct from the local habits which are formed by education and fashion. It must still be admitted, that while some active principles are confined to particular individuals, or to particular tribes of men, there are others,