person composed with art and judgment, is imitated by another with great ease. What a man himself at first composed with pains, becomes by habit so familiar, as to offer itself spontaneously to his fancy afterwards: but nothing that is regular, was ever at first conceived without design, attention, and care.

I shall now make a few reflections upon a theory which has been applied to account for this successive train of thought in the mind. It was hinted by Mr. Hobbes, but has drawn more attention since it was distinctly explained by Mr. Hume.

That author thinks that the train of thought in the mind is owing to a kind of attraction which ideas have for other ideas that bear certain relations to them. He thinks the complex ideas, which are the common subjects of our thoughts and reasoning, are owing to the same cause. The relations which produce this attraction of ideas, he thinks, are these three only, to wit, causation, contiguity in time or place, and similitude. He asserts, that these are the only general principles that unite ideas. And having, in another place, occasion to take notice of contrariety as a principle of connexion among ideas, in order to reconcile this to his system, he tells us gravely, that contrariety may perhaps be considered as a mixture of causation and resemblance. That ideas which have any of these three relations do mutually attract each other, so that one of them being presented to the fancy, the other is drawn along with it, this he seems to think an original property of the mind, or rather of the ideas, and therefore inexplicable.

First, I observe with regard to this theory, that although it is true that the thought of any object is apt to lead us to the thought of its cause or effect, of things contiguous to it in time or place, or of things resembling it, yet this enumeration of the relations of things which are apt to lead us from one object to another, is very inaccurate.

The enumeration is too large upon his own principles; but it is by far too scanty in reality. Causation, according to his philosophy, implies nothing more than a constant conjunction observed between the cause and the effect, and therefore contiguity must include causation, and his three principles of attraction are reduced to two.

But when we take all the three, the enumeration is in reality very incomplete. Every relation of things has a tendency, more or less, to lead the thought, in a thinking mind, from one to the other; and not only every relation, but every kind of contrariety and opposition. What Mr. Hume says, that contrariety may perhaps be considered as a mixture" of causation and resemblance," I can as little comprehend as if he had said that figure may perhaps be considered as a mixture of colour and sound.

Our thoughts pass easily from the end to the means; from any truth to the evidence on which it is founded, the consequences that may be drawn from it, or the use that may be made of it. From a part we are easily led to think of the whole, from a subject to its qualities, or from things related to the relation. Such transitions in thinking must have been made thousands of times by every man who thinks and reasons, and thereby become, as it were, beaten tracks for the imagination.

Not only the relations of objects to each other influence our train of thinking, but the relation they bear to the present temper and disposition of the mind; their relation to the habits we have acquired, whether moral or intellectual; to the company we have kept, and to the business in which we have been chiefly employed. The same event will suggest very different reflections to different persons, and to the same person at different

times, according as he is in good or bad humour, as he is lively or dull, angry or pleased, melancholy or cheerful.

Lord Kames, in his Elements of Criticism, and Dr. Gerard, in his Essay on Genius, have given a much fuller and juster enumeration of the causes that influence our train of thinking, and I have nothing to add to what they have said on this subject.

Secondly, Let us consider how far this attraction of ideas must be resolved into original qualities of human nature.

I believe the original principles of the mind, of which we can give no account, but that such is our constitution, are more in number than is commonly thought. But we ought not to multiply them without necessity.

That trains of thinking, which by frequent repetition have become familiar, should spontaneously offer themselves to our fancy, seems to require no other original quality but the power of habit.

In all rational thinking, and in all rational discourse, whether serious or facetious, the thought must have some relation to what went before. Every man, therefore, from the dawn of reason, must have been accustomed to a train of related objects. These please the understanding, and by custom become like beaten tracks which invite the traveller.

As far as it is in our power to give a direction to our thoughts, which it is undoubtedly in a great degree, they will be directed by the active principles common to men, by our appetites, our passions, our affections, our reason, and conscience. And that the trains of thinking in our minds are chiefly governed by these, according as one or another prevails at the time, every man will find in his own experience.

If the mind is at any time vacant from every passion and desire, there are still some objects that are more acceptable to us than others. The facetious man is pleased with surprising similitudes or contrasts; the philosopher with the relations of things that are subservient to reasoning ; the merchant with what tends to profit, and the politician with what may mend the state.

A good writer of comedy or romance can feign a train of thinking for any of the persons of his fable, which appears very natural, and is approved by the best judges.

Now, what is it that entitles such a fiction to approbation? Is it that the author has given a nice attention to the relations of causation, contiguity, and similitude in the ideas? This, surely, is the least part of its merit. But the chief part consists in this, that it corresponds perfectly with the general character, the rank, the habits, the present situation and passions of the person. If this be a just way of judging in criticism, it follows necessarily, that the circumstances last mentioned have the chief influence in suggesting our trains of thought.

It cannot be denied, that the state of the body has an influence upon our imagination, according as a man is sober or drunk, as he is fatigued or refreshed Crudities and indigestion are said to give uneasy dreams, and have probably a like effect upon the waking thoughts. Opium gives to some persons pleasing dreams, and pleasing imaginations when awake, and to others such as are horrible and distressing.

These influences of the body upon the mind can only be known by experience, and I believe we can give no account of them.

Nor can we, perhaps, give any reason why we must think without ceasing while we are awake. I believe we are likewise originally disposed, in imagination, to pass from any one object of thought to others that are

contiguous to it in time or place. This, I think, may be observed in brutes and in idiots, as well as in children, before any habit can be acquired that might account for it. The sight of an object is apt to suggest to the imagination what has been seen or felt in conjunction with it, even when the memory of that conjunction is gone.

Such conjunctions of things influence not only the imagination, but the belief and the passions, especially in children and in brutes; and perhaps all that we call memory in brutes, is something of this kind.

They expect events in the same order and succession in which they happened before; and by this expectation their actions and passions, as well as their thoughts, are regulated. A horse takes fright at the place where some object frighted him before. We are apt to conclude from this, that he remembers the former accident. But perhaps there is only an association formed in his mind between the place and the passion of fear, without any distinct remembrance.

Mr. Locke has given us a very good chapter upon the association of ideas; and by the examples he has given to illustrate this doctrine, I think it appears that very strong associations may be formed at once; not of ideas to ideas only, but of ideas to passions and emotions; and that strong associations are never formed at once, but when accompanied by some strong passion or emotion. I believe this must be resolved into the constitution of our nature.

Mr. Hume's opinion, that the complex ideas, which are the common objects of discourse and reasoning, are formed by those original attractions of ideas, to which he ascribes the train of thoughts in the mind, will come under consideration in another place.

To put an end to our remarks upon this theory of Mr. Hume, I think he has real merit in bringing this curious subject under the view of philosophers, and carrying it a certain length. But I see nothing in this theory that should hinder us to conclude, that every thing in the trains of our thought, which bears the marks of judgment and reason, has been the product of judgment and reason previously exercised, either by the person himself at that or some former time, or by some other person. The attraction of ideas will be the same in a man's second thoughts upon any subject as in his first. Or if some change in his circumstances, or in the objects about him, should make any change in the attractions of his ideas, it is an equal chance whether the second be better than the first, or whether they be worse. But it is certain, that every man of judgment and taste will, upon a review, correct that train of thought which first presented itself. If the attractions of ideas are the sole causes of the regular arrangement of thought in the fancy, there is no use for judgment or taste in any composition, nor, indeed, any room for their operation.

There are other reflections of a more practical nature, and of higher importance, to which this subject leads.

I believe it will be allowed by every man, that our happiness or misery in life, that our improvement in any art or science which we profess, and that our improvement in real virtue and goodness, depend in a very great degree on the train of thinking that occupies the mind both in our vacant and in our more serious hours. As far, therefore as the direction of our thoughts is in our power, (and that it is so in a great measure cannot be doubted,) it is of the last importance to give them that direction which is most subservient to those valuable purposes.

What enjoyment can he have worthy of a man, whose imagination is occupied only about things low and base, and grovels in a narrow field of

mean unanimating and uninteresting objects, insensible to those finer and more delicate sentiments, and blind to those more enlarged and nobler views which elevate the soul, and make it conscious of its dignity.

How different from him, whose imagination, like an eagle in her flight, takes a wide prospect, and observes whatever it presents, that is new or beautiful, grand or important; whose rapid wing varies the scene every moment, carrying him sometimes through the fairy regions of wit and fancy, sometimes through the more regular and sober walks of science and philosophy.

The various objects which he surveys, according to their different degrees of beauty and dignity, raise in him the lively and agreeable emotions of taste. Illustrious human characters, as they pass in review, clothed with their moral qualities, touch his heart still more deeply. They not only awaken the sense of beauty, but excite the sentiment of approbation, and kindle the glow of virtue.

While he views what is truly great and glorious in human conduct, his soul catches the divine flame, and burns with desire to emulate what it admires.

The human imagination is an ample theatre, upon which every thing in human life, good or bad, great or mean, laudable or base, is acted.

In children, and in some frivolous minds, it is a mere toy-shop. And in some, who exercise their memory without their judgment, its furniture is made up of old scraps of knowledge, that are thread-bare and worn out.

In some, this theatre is often occupied by ghastly superstition, with all her train of gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire. Sometimes it is haunted with all the infernal demons, and made the forge of plots, and rapine, and murder. Here every thing that is black and detestable is first contrived, and a thousand wicked designs conceived that are never executed. Here, too, the Furies act their part, taking a severe, though secret vengeance upon the self-condemned criminal.

How happy is that mind, in which the light of real knowledge dispels the phantoms of superstition: in which the belief and reverence of a perfect all-governing Mind casts out all fear but the fear of acting wrong: in which serenity and cheerfulness, innocence, humanity, and candour, guard the imagination against the entrance of every unhallowed intruder, and invite more amiable and worthier guests to dwell!

There shall the muses, the graces, and the virtues, fix their abode; for every thing that is great and worthy in human conduct must have been conceived in the imagination before it was brought into act. And many great and good designs have been formed there, which, for want of power and opportunity, have proved abortive.

The man whose imagination is occupied by these guests, must be wise; he must be good; and he must be happy.

ESSAY V.

OF ABSTRACTION.

CHAPTER I.

OF GENERAL WORDS.

THE words we use in language are either general words, or proper names. Proper names are intended to signify one individual only. Such are the names of men, kingdoms, provinces, cities, rivers, and of every other creature of God, or work of man, which we choose to distinguish from all others of the kind, by a name appropriated to it. All the other words of language are general words, not appropriated to signify one individual thing, but equally related to many.

Under general words, therefore, I comprehend not only those which logicians call general terms, that is such general words as may make the subject or the predicate of a proposition, but likewise their auxiliaries or accessories, as the learned Mr. Harris calls them; such as prepositions, conjunctions, articles, which are all general words, though they cannot properly be called general terms.

In every language, rude or polished, general words make the greatest part, and proper names the least. Grammarians have reduced all words to eight or nine classes, which are called parts of speech. Of these there is only one, to wit, that of nouns, wherein proper names are found. All pronouns, verbs, participles, adverbs, articles, prepositions, conjunctions, and interjections, are general words. Of nouns, all adjectives are general words, and the greater part of substantives. Every substantive that has a plural number, is a general word; for no proper name can have a plural number, because it signifies only one individual. In all the fifteen books of Euclid's Elements, there is not one word that is not general; and the same may be said of many large volumes.

At the same time it must be acknowledged, that all the objects we perceive are individuals. Every object of sense, of memory, or of consciousness, is an individual object. All the good things we enjoy or desire, and all the evils we feel or fear, must come from individuals; and I think we may venture to say, that every creature which God has made, in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth, is an individual.

How comes it to pass then, that in all languages general words make the greatest part of the language, and proper names but a very small and inconsiderable part of it?

This seemingly strange phenomenon may, I think, be easily accounted for by the following observations.

First, Though there be a few individuals that are obvious to the notice of all men, and therefore have proper names in all languages; such as the sun and moon, the earth and sea; yet the greatest part of the things to

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