ELEMENTS

O F

CRITICIS M.

CHAPTER I.

PERCEPTIONS AND IDEAS IN A TRAIN,

A

MAN while awake is confcious of a continued train of perceptions and ideas paffing in his mind. It requires no activity on his part to carry on the train nor can he at will add any idea to the train*. At the fame time we learn from daily

For how fhould this be done? what idea is it that we are to add? If we can specify the idea, that idea is already in the mind, and there is no occafion for any act of the will. If we cannot specify any idea, I next demand, how can a perfon will, or to what purpose, if there be nothing in view? We cannot form a conception of fuch a thing. If this argument need confirmation, I urge experience whoever makes a trial will find, that ideas are linked together in the mind, forming a connected chain; and that we have not the command of any idea independ ent of the chain.

VOL. I.

B

experience,

experience, that the train of our thoughts is not regulated by chance: and if it depend not upon will, nor upon chance, by what law is it governed? The question is of importance in the science of human nature; and I promise beforehand, that it will be found of great importance in the fine

arts.

It appears, that the relations by which things are linked together, have a great influence in directing the train of thought. Taking a view of external objects, their inherent properties are not more remarkable, than the various relations that connect them together: Cause and effect, contiguity in time or in place, high and low, prior and pofterior, refemblance, contraft, and a thousand other relations, connect things together without end. Not a fingle thing appears folitary and altogether devoid of connection; the only difference is, that fome are intimately connected, fome more flightly fome near, fome at a distance.

Experience will fatisfy us of what reason makes probable, that the train of our thoughts is in a great measure regulated by the foregoing relations: an external object is no fooner presented to us in idea, than it fuggefts to the mind other objects to which it is related; and in that manner is a train of thoughts compofed. Such is the law of fucceffion; which must be natural, because it governs all human beings. The law however seems not to be inviolable: it fometimes happens that an idea

arifes in the mind without any perceived connection; as for example, after a profound sleep.

*

But though we cannot add to the train an unconnected idea, yet in a measure we can attend to fome ideas, and difmifs others. There are few things but what are connected with many others; and when a thing thus connected becomes a fub ject of thought, it commonly fuggefts many of its connections: among thefe a choice is afforded; we can infift upon one, rejecting others; and fometimes we infift on what is commonly held the flighter connection. Where ideas are left to their natural courfe, they are continued through the ftricteft connections: the mind extends its view to a fon more readily than to a fervant; and more readily to a neighbour than to one living at a diftance. This order, as obferved, may be varied by will, but ftill within the limits of related objects; for tho' we can vary the order of a natural train, `we cannot diffolve the train altogether, by carrying on our thoughts in a loose manner without any connection. So far doth our power extend; and that power is fufficient for all useful purposes to have more power, would probably be hurtful instead of being falutary.'

Will is not the only caufe that prevents a train of thought from being continued through the ftricteft connections: much depends on the prefent tone of mind; for a fubject that accords with that tone is always welcome. Thus, in good fpirits,

B 2

1

rits, a chearful fubject will be introduced by the slightest connection; and one that is melancholy, no less readily in low fpirits: an interesting subject is recalled, from time to time, by any connection indifferently, ftrong or weak; which is finely touched by Shakespear, with relation to a rich cargo at fea :

My wind, cooling my broth,

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at fea.
I should not fee the fandy hour-glass run,
But I fhould think of fhallows and of flats;
And fee my wealthy Andrew dock'd in fand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kifs her burial. Should I go to church,
And fee the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks?
Which touching but my gentle veffel's fide,
Would scatter all the fpices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my filks;
And, in a word, but now worth this,
And now worth nothing.

Merchant of Venice, aƐt 1. fc. 1.

Another caufe clearly distinguishable from that now mentioned, hath also a confiderable influence to vary the natural train of ideas; which is, that in the minds of fome perfons, thoughts and cir. cumstances crowd upon each other by the flightest connections. I ascribe this to a bluntness in the difcerning faculty; for a perfon who cannot accu

rately

rately diftinguish between a flight connection and one that is more intimate, is equally affected by each: fuch a perfon must neceffarily have a great flow of ideas, because they are introduced by any relation indifferently; and the flighter relations, being without number, furnish ideas without end. This doctrine is, in a lively manner, illustrated by Shakespear:

Falstaff. What is the grofs fum that I owe thee?

Hoftefs. Marry, if thou wert an honeft man, thyfelf and thy money too. Thou didst fwear to me on a parcel-gilt goblet, fitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a fea-coal fire, on Wednesday in Whitfun-week, when the Prince broke thy head for likening him to a finging man of Windfor, thou didst fwear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my Lady thy wife. Canft thou deny it? Did not Goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me Goffip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar; telling us fhe had a good dish of prawns; whereby thou didst defire to eat fome; whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound. didst not thou, when she was gone down stairs, defire me to be no more fo familiarity with such poor people, faying, that ere long they fhould call me Madam? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty fhillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath, deny it if thou canft? Second part, Henry IV. act 2. fc. 2.

And

On the other hand, a man of accurate judgement cannot have a great flow of ideas; becaufe