antiquity is at present not less general in Europe than the advantages of a liberal education, and such is the effect of this admiration, that there are certain caprices of taste from which no man who is well educated is entirely free. A composition in a modern language which should sometimes depart from the ordinary modes of expression, from an affectation of the idioms which are consecrated in the classics, would please a very wide circle of readers, in consequence of the prevalence of classical associations; and, therefore, such affectations, however absurd when carried to a degree of singularity, are of a far superior class to those which are adapted to the fashions of the day. But still the general principle holds true, that whatever beauties derive their original merely from casual association, must appear capricious to those to whom the association does not extend, and that the simplest style is that which continues longest to please, and which pleases most universally. In the writings of Mr. Harris, there is a certain classical air which will always have many adınirers while ancient learning continues to be cultivated, but which to a mere English reader appears somewhat unnatural and ungraceful, when compared with the composition of Swift or of Addison.

The analogy of the arts of statuary and painting may be of use in illustrating these remarks. The influence of ancient times has extended to these as well as to the art of writing; and in this case, no less than in the other, the transcendent power of genius has established a propriety of choice in matters of indifference, and has perhaps consecrated, in the opinion of mankind, some of its own caprices.

66

Many of the ornaments of art," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, "those at least for which no reason can be given, are transmitted to us, are adopted, and acquire their consequence from the company in which we have been used to see them. As Greece and Rome are the fountains from whence have flowed all kinds of excellence, to that veneration which they have a right to claim for the pleasure and knowledge which they have afforded us, we voluntarily add our approbation of every ornament and every custom that belonged to them, even to the fashion of

their dress. For it may be observed, that, not satisfied with them in their own place, we make no difficulty of dressing statues of modern heroes or senators in the fashion of the Roman armour, or peaceful robe; and even go so far as hardly to bear a statue in any other drapery.

"The figures of the great men of those nations have come down to us in sculpture. In sculpture remain almost all the excellent specimens of ancient art. We have so far associated personal dignity to the persons thus represented, and the truth of art to their manner of representation, that it is not in our power any longer to separate them. This is not so in painting: because, having no excellent ancient portraits, that connexion was never formed. Indeed, we could no more venture to paint a general officer in a Roman military habit, than we could make a statue in the present uniform. But since we have no ancient portraits to show how ready we are to adopt those kinds of prejudices, we make the best authority among the moderns serve the same purpose. The great variety of excellent portraits with which Vandyke has enriched this nation, we are not content to admire for their real excellence, but extend our approbation even to the dress which happened to be the fashion of that age. By this means, it must be acknowledged, very ordinary pictures acquired something of the air and effect of the works of Vandyke, and appeared, therefore, at first sight, better pictures than they really were. They appeared so, however, to those only who had the means of making this association."1

The influence of association on our notions concerning language, is still more strongly exemplified in poetry than in prose. As it is one great object of the poet, in his serious productions, to elevate the imagination of his readers above the grossness of sensible objects, and the vulgarity of common life, it becomes peculiarly necessary for him to reject the use of all words and phrases which are trivial and hackneyed. Among those which are equally pure and equally perspicuous, he, in general, finds it expedient to adopt that which is the Reynold's Discourses, p. 313, et seq.

least common.

Milton prefers the words Rhene and Danaw,

to the more common words Rhine and Danube:

"A multitude, like which the populous North

Pour'd never from his frozen loins, to pass

Rhene or the Danaw." 1

In the following line,

"Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,"

how much more suitable to the poetical style does the expression appear, than if the author had said,

"Things unattempted yet in prose or verse."

In another passage, where, for the sake of variety, he has made use of the last phrase, he adds an epithet, to remove it a little from the familiarity of ordinary discourse,

In consequence of this circumstance, there arises gradually in every language a poetical diction, which differs widely from the common diction of prose. It is much less subject to the vicissitudes of fashion, than the polite modes of expression in familiar conversation; because, when it has once been adopted by the poet, it is avoided by good prose writers, as being too elevated for that species of composition. It may therefore retain its charm as long as the language exists; nay, the charm may increase as the language grows older.

Indeed, the charm of poetical diction must increase to a certain degree, as polite literature advances. For when once a set of words has been consecrated to poetry, the very sound of them, independently of the ideas they convey, awakens every time we hear it, the agreeable impressions which were connected with it when we met with them in the performances of our favourite authors. Even when strung together in sentences which convey no meaning, they produce some effect on the mind of a reader of sensibility: an effect, at least, extremely different from that of an unmeaning sentence in prose.

1 Paradise Lost, book i. l. 351.

2 Paradise Lost, book i. 1. 150. See Newton's edit.

Languages differ from each other widely in the copiousness of their poetical diction. Our own possesses, in this respect, important advantages over the French; not that, in this language, there are no words appropriated to poetry, but because their number is, comparatively speaking, extremely limited.

The scantiness of the French poetical diction is, probably, attended with the less inconvenience, that 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 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 passages 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 the 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 for their composition chiefly on a singular, and, to an