try, in which the principal recommendations are ease of thought and expression. Hence, too, the facility with which they contract or lose habits, and accommodate their minds to new situations; and, I may add, the disposition they have to that species of superstition which is founded on accidental combinations of circumstances. The influence which this facility of association has on the power of Taste, shall be afterwards considered.

SECTION III.

Of the Power which the Mind has over the Train of its Thoughts.

By means of the Association of Ideas, a constant current of thoughts, if I may use the expression, is made to pass through the mind while we are awake. Sometimes the current is interrupted, and the thoughts diverted into a new channel, in consequence of the ideas suggested by other men, or of the objects of perception with which we are surrounded. So completely, however, is the mind in this particular subjected to physical laws, that it has been justly observed,* we cannot, by an effort of our will, call up any one thought; and that the train of our ideas depends on causes which operate in a manner inexplicable by us.

This observation, although it has been censured as paradoxical, is almost self-evident; for, to call up a particular thought, supposes it to be already in the mind. As I shall have frequent occasion, however, to refer to the observation afterwards, I shall endeavour to obviate the only objection, which, I think, can reasonably be urged against it; and which is founded on that operation of the mind, which is commonly called recollection or intentional memory.

It is evident, that before we attempt to recollect the particular circumstances of any event, that event in general must have been an object of our attention. We remember the outlines of the story, but cannot at first give a complete account of it. If we wish to recall these circumstances, there are only two ways in which we can proceed. We must either form different suppositions, and then consider which of these tallies best with the other circumstances of the event; or, by revolving in our mind the circumstances we remember, we must endeavour to excite the recollection of the other circumstances associated with them. The first of these processes is, properly speaking, an inference of reason, and plainly furnishes no exception to the doctrine already delivered. We have an instance of the other mode of recollection, when we are at a loss for the beginning of a sentence in reciting a composition that we do not perfectly remember; in which case we naturally repeat over, two or three times, the concluding words of the preceding sentence, in order to call up the other words which used to be connected with them in

By Lord KAIMES, and others.

the memory. In this instance, it is evident, that the circumstances we desire to remember, are not recalled to the mind in immediate consequence of an exertion of volition, but are suggested by some other circumstances with which they are connected, independently of our will, by the laws of our constitution.

Notwithstanding, however, the immediate dependence of the train of our thoughts on the laws of association, it must not be imagined that the will possesses no influence over it. This influence, indeed, is not exercised directly and immediately, as we are apt to suppose, on a superficial view of the subject; but it is, nevertheless, very extensive in its effects; and the different degrees in which it is possessed by different individuals, constitute some of the most striking inequalities among men, in point of intellectual capacity.

Of the powers which the mind possesses over the train of its thoughts, the most obvious is its power of singling out any one of them at pleasure; of detaining it; and of making it a particular object of attention. By doing so, we not only stop the succession that would otherwise take place, but, in consequence of our bringing to view the less obvious relations among our ideas, we frequently divert the current of our thoughts into a new channel. If, for example, when I am indolent and inactive, the name of Sir Isaac Newton accidentally occur to me, it will perhaps suggest, one after another, the names of some other eminent mathematicians and astronomers, or of some of his illustrious contemporaries and friends: and a number of them may pass in review before me, without engaging my curiosity in any considerable degree. In a different state of mind, the name of Newton will lead my thoughts to the principal incidents of his life, and the more striking features of his character: or, if my mind be ardent and vigorous, will lead my attention to the sublime discoveries he made, and gradually engage me in some philosophical investigation. To every object, there are others which bear obvious and striking relations; and others, also, whose relations to it does not readily occur to us, unless we dwell upon it for some time, and place it before us in different points of view.

But the principal power we possess over the train of our ideas, is founded on the influence which our habits of thinking have on the laws of Association; an influence which is so great, that we may often form a pretty shrewd judgment concerning a man's prevailing turn of thought, from the transitions he makes in conversation or in writing. It is well known, too, that by means of habit, a particular associating principle may be strengthened to such a des gree, as to give us a command of all the different ideas in our mind, which have a certain relation to each other; so that when any one of the class occurs to us, we have almost a certainty that it will suggest the rest. What confidence in his own powers must a speaker possess, when he rises without premeditation, in a popular assembly, to amuse his audience with a lively or an humorous speech! Such a confidence, it is evident, can only arise from a long experi ence of the strength of particular associating principles

To how great a degree this part of our constitution may be influenced by habit, appears from facts which are familiar to every one. A man who has an ambition to become a punster, seldom or never fails in the attainment of his object; that is, he seldom or never fails in acquiring a power which other men have not, of summoning up, on a particular occasion, a number of words different from each other in meaning, and resembling each other, more or less, in sound. I am inclined to think that even genuine wit is a habit acquired in a similar way; and that, although some individuals may, from natural constitution, be more fitted than others to acquire this habit, it is founded in every case on a peculiarly strong association among certain classes of our ideas, which gives the person who posseses it, a command over those ideas which is denied to ordinary men. But there is no instance in which the effect of habits of association is more remarkable, than in those men who possess a facility of rhyming. That a man should be able to express his thoughts perspicuously and elegantly, under the restraints which rhyme imposes, would appear to be incredible, if we did not know it to be fact. Such a power implies a wonderful command both of ideas and of expressions, and yet daily experience shews, that it may be gained with very little practice. Pope tells us with respect to himself, that he could express himself not only more concisely, but more easily, in rhyme than in prose.*

Nor is it only in these trifling accomplishments that we may trace the influence of habits of association. In every instance of invention, either in the fine arts, in the mechanical arts, or in the sciences, there is some new idea, or some new combination of ideas, brought to light by the inventor. This, undoubtedly, may often happen in a way which he is unable to explain; that is his invention may be suggested to him by some lucky thought, the origin of which he is unable to trace. But when a man possesses an habitual fertility of invention in any particular art or science, and can rely with confidence on his inventive powers, whenever he is called upon to exert them, he must have acquired, by previous habits of study, a command over certain classes of his ideas, which enables him, at pleasure, to bring them under his review. The illustration of these subjects may throw light on some processes of the mind, which are not in general well understood: and I shall, accordingly, in the following Section, offer a few hints with respect to those habits of association which are the foundation of wit; of the power of rhyming; of poetical fancy; and of invention in matters of science.

"When babit is once gained, nothing is so easy as practice. Cicero writes, that Antipater the Sidonian could pour forth hexameters extempore; and that, whenever he chose to versify, words followed him of course. We may add to Antipater, the ancient rhapsodists of the Greeks, and the modern improvisatori of the Italians."

HARRIS's Phil. Ing. 109, 110.

SECTION IV.

Illustrations of the Doctrine stated in the preceding Section,

I.

OF WIT.

ACCORDING to Locke, Wit consists in the assemblage of ideas; "and putting those together with quickness and variety, wherein can be found any resemblance or congruity."* I would add to this definition, (rather by way of explanation than amendment,) that Wit implies a power of calling up at pleasure the ideas which it combines and I am inclined to believe, that the entertainment which it gives to the hearer, is founded, in a considerable degree, on his surprise at the command which the man of wit has acquired over a part of the constitution, which is so little subject to the will. That the effect of wit depends partly, at least, on the circumstance now mentioned, appears evidently from this, that we are more pleased with a bon mot, which occurs in conversation, than with one in print; and that we never fail to receive disgust from wit, when we suspect it to be premeditated. The pleasure, too, we receive from wit, is heightened, when the original idea is started by one person, and the related idea by another. Dr. Campbell has remarked, that" a witty repartee is infinitely more pleasing, than a witty "attack; and that an allusion will appear excellent when thrown "out extempore in conversation, which would be deemed execrable "in print." In all these cases, the wit considered absolutely is the same. The relations which are discovered between the compared ideas are equally new and yet, as soon as we suspect that the wit was premeditated, the pleasure we receive from it is infinitely diminished. Instances indeed may be mentioned, in which we are pleased with contemplating an unexpected relation between ideas, without any reference to the habits of association in the mind of the person who discovered it. A bon mot produced at the game of cross purposes, would not fail to create amusement; but in such cases, our pleasure seems chiefly to arise from the surprise we feel, at so extraordinary a coincidence between a question and an answer, coming from persons who had no direct communication with each other.

Of the effect added to wit by the promptitude with which its combinations are formed, Fuller appears to have had a very just idea, from what he has recorded of the social hours of our two great English Dramatists. "Jonson's parts were not so ready to run of "themselves, as able to answer the spur; so that it may be truly "said of him, that he had an elaborate wit, wrought out by his own "industry. Many were the wit-combats between him and Shaks46 peare, which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an

Essay on Human Understanding, book ii. chap. 11.

"English man of war. Jonson (like the former) was built far high"er in learning; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakspeare, "with the English man of war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, "could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of all "winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention."*

I before observed, that the pleasure we receive from wit is increased, when the two ideas, between which the relation is discovered, are suggested by different persons. In the case of a bon mot occurring in conversation, the reason of this is abundantly obvious; because, when the related ideas are suggested by different persons, we have a proof that the wit was not premeditated. But even in a written composition, we are much more delighted when the subject was furnished to the author by another person, than when he chooses the topic on which he is to display his wit. How much would the pleasure we receive from the Key to the Lock be diminished, if we suspected that the author had the key in view when he wrote that poem; and that he introduced some expressions, in order to furnish a subject for the wit of the commentator? How totally would it destroy the pleasure we receive from a parody on a poem, if we suspected that both were productions of the same author? The truth seems to be, that when both the related ideas are suggested by the same person, we have not a very satisfactory proof of any thing uncommon in the intellectual habits of the author. We may suspect that both ideas occurred to him at the same time; and we know, that in the dullest and most phlegmatic minds, such extraordinary associations will sometimes take place. But when the subject of the wit is furnished by one person, and the wit suggested by another, we have a proof, not only that the author's mind abounds with such singular associations, but that he has his wit perfectly at command.

As an additional confirmation of these observations, we may remark, that the more an author is limited by his subject, the more we are pleased with his wit. And, therefore, the effect of wit does not arise solely from the unexpected relations which it presents to the mind, but arises, in part, from the surprise it excites at those intellectual habits which gave it birth. It is evident, that the more the author is circumscribed in the choice of his materials, the greater must be the command which he has acquired over those associating principles on which wit depends, and of consequence, according to the foregoing doctrine, the greater must be the surprise and the pleasure which his wit produces. In Addison's celebrated verses to Sir Godfrey Kneller, on his picture of George the First, in which he compares the painter to Phidias, and the subjects of his pencil to the Grecian Deities, the range of the poet's wit was necessarily confined within very narrow bounds; and what principally delights us in that performance is, the surprising ease and felicity with which he runs the parallel between the English history and the Greek mythology. Of all the allusions which the following passage contains, there is not one, taken singly, of very extraordinary merit; and

History of the Wortbies of England. London, 1662,