that however unprofitably he may have directed his curiosity, the ignorance which he discovers on ordinary subjects does not arise from a want of memory, but from a peculiarity in the selection which he has made of the objects of his study.

Montaigne* frequently complains in his writings of his want of memory; and he indeed gives many very extraordinary instances of his ignorance on some of the most ordinary topics of information. But it is obvious to any person who reads his works with attention, that this ignorance did not proceed from an original defect of memory, but from the singular and whimsical direction which his curiosity had taken at an early period of life. "I can do nothing," says he, "without my memorandum book; and so great is my "difficulty in remembering proper names, that I am forced "to call my domestic servants by their offices. I am ignc"rant of the greater part of our coins in use; of the differ"ence of one grain from another, both in the earth and in "the granary; what use leaven is of in making bread, and "why wine must stand some time in the vat before it fer"ments." Yet the same author appears evidently, from his writings, to have had his memory stored with an infinite variety of apothegms, and of historical passages, which had struck his imagination; and to have been familiarly acquainted, not only with the names, but with the absurd and exploded opinions of the ancient philosophers; with the ideas of Plato, the atoms of Epicurus, the plenum and vas cuum of Leucippus and Democritus, the water of Thales, the numbers of Pythagoras, the infinite of Parmenides, and the unity of Musæus. In complaining too of his want of presence of mind, he indirectly acknowledges a degree of

* Il n'est homme á qui il siese si mal de se mesler de parler de memoire. Car je n'en recognoy quasi trace en moy; et ne pense qu'il y en ait au monde une autre si marveilleuse en defaillance. Essais de MONTAIGNE, liv. i, ch. 9.

memory which, if it had been judiciously employed, would have been more than sufficient for the acquisition of all those common branches of knowledge in which he appears to have been deficient. "When I have an oration to "speak," says he, "of any considerable length, I am reduced "to the miserable necessity of getting it, word for word, by "heart."

The strange and apparently inconsistent combination of knowledge and ignorance which the writings of Montaigne exhibit, led Malebranche (who seems to have formed too low an opinion both of his genius and character) to tax him with affectation; and even to call in question the credibility of some of his assertions. But no one who is well acquainted with this most amusing author, can reasonably suspect his veracity; and, in the present instance, I can give him complete credit, not only from my general opinion of his sincerity, but from having observed, in the course of my own experience, more than one example of the same sort of combination; not indeed carried to such a length as Montaigne describes, but bearing a striking resemblance to it.

The observations which have already been made, account, in part, for the origin of the common opinion, that genius and memory are seldom united in great degrees in the same person; and at the same time shew, that some of the facts on which that opinion is founded, do not justify such a conclusion. Besides these, however, there are other circumstances, which at first view, seem rather to indicate an inconsistency between extensive memory and original genius.

The species of memory which excites the greatest degree of admiration in the ordinary intercourse of society, is a memory for detached and insulated facts; and it is certain that those men who are possessed of it, are very seldom

distinguished by the higher gifts of the mind. Such a species of memory is unfavourable to philosophical arrangement, because it in part supplies the place of arrangement. One great use of philosophy, as I already shewed, is to give us an extensive command of particular truths, by furnishing us with general principles, under which a number of such truths is comprehended. A person in whose mind casual associations of time and place make a lasting impression, has not the same inducements to philosophize, with others who connect facts together, chiefly by the relations of cause and effect, or of premises and conclusion. I have heard it observed, that those men who have risen to the greatest eminence in the profession of law, have been in general such as had, at first, an aversion to the study. The reason probably is, that to a mind fond of general principles, every study must be at first disgusting, which presents to it a chaos of facts apparently unconnected with each other. But this love of arrangement, if united with persevering industry, will at last conquer every difficulty; will introduce order into what seemed on a superficial view, a mass of confusion, and reduce the dry and uninteresting detail of positive statutes into a system comparatively luminous and beautiful.

The observation, I believe, may be made more general, and may be applied to every science in which there is a great multiplicity of facts to be remembered. A man destitute of genius may, with little effort, treasure up in his memory a number of particulars in chemistry or natural history, which he refers to no principle, and from which he' deduces no conclusion; and from his facility in acquiring this stock of information, may flatter himself with the belief that he possesses a natural taste for these branches of knowledge. But they who are really destined to extend the boundaries of science, when they first enter on new

pursuits, feel their attention distracted, and their memory overloaded with facts among which they can trace no relation, and are sometimes apt to despair entirely of their future progress. In due time, however, their superiority appears, and arises in part from that very dissatisfaction which they at first experienced, and which does not cease to stimulate their inquiries, till they are enabled to trace, amidst a chaos of apparently unconnected materials, that simplicity and beauty which always characterize the operations of nature.

There are, besides, other circumstances which retard the progress of a man of genius, when he enters on a new pursuit, and which sometimes render him apparently inferiour to those who are possessed of ordinary capacity. A want of curiosity, and of invention, facilitates greatly the acquisition of knowledge. It renders the mind passive, in receiving the ideas of others, and saves all the time which might be employed in examining their foundation, or in tracing their consequences. They who are possessed of much acuteness and originality, enter with difficulty into the views of others; not from any defect in their power of apprehension, but because they cannot adopt opinions which they have not examined; and because their attention is often seduced by their own speculations.

It is not merely in the acquisition of knowledge that a man of genius is likely to find himself surpassed by others: he has commonly his information much less at command, than those who are possessed of an inferiour degree of originality; and, what is somewhat remarkable, he has it least of all at command on those subjects on which he has found his invention most fertile. Sir Isaac Newton, as we often at a loss, when the

are told by Dr. Pemberton, was

* I mean a want of curiosity about truth. "There are many men," says Dr. Butler, "who have a strong curiosity to know what is said, who have little or no curiosity to know what is true."

conversation turned on his own discoveries.* It is probable that they made but a slight impression on his mind, and that a consciousness of his inventive powers prevented him from taking much pains to treasure them up in his memory. Men of little ingenuity seldom forget the ideas they acquire; because they know that when an occasion occurs for applying their knowledge to use, they must trust to memory and not to invention. Explain an arithmetical rule to a person of common understanding, who is unacquainted with the principles of the science; he will soon get the rule by heart, and become dexterous in the application of it. Another, of more ingenuity, will examine the principle of the rule before he applies it to use, and will scarcely take the trouble to commit to memory a process, which he knows he can, at any time, with a little reflection, recover. The consequence will be, that, in the practice of calculation, he will appear more slow and hesitating, than if he followed the received rules of arithmetic without reflection or reasoning.

Something of the same kind happens every day in conversation. By far the greater part of the opinions we announce in it, are not the immediate result of reasoning on the spot, but have been previously formed in the closet, or perhaps have been adopted implicitly on the authority of others. The promptitude, therefore, with which a man decides in ordinary discourse, is not a certain test of the quickness of his apprehension;† as it may perhaps arise from those uncommon efforts to furnish the memory with acquired knowledge, by which men of slow parts endeavour to compensate for their want of invention; while, on the other hand, it is possible that a consciousness of originality may give rise to a manner apparently embarrassed, by lead

See Note (T.)

Memoria facit prompti ingenii famam, ut illa quæ dicimus, non domo attulisse, sed ibi protinus sumpsisse videamur. QUINCTIL. Inst. Orat. lib. xi. cap. 2.