templating the resemblances of objects, and their differences: hence, method and classification in science; the mode of arguing by analogy; and the rules laid down for the regulation of common life. It seems to be most probable that all this comes from the strong motive which pain and pleasure communicate to us, for observing the resemblances of matter; for a child that loves sugar, observes the appearances of sugar, and everything white is a resemblance, which is apt to excite his appetite: perhaps he takes up a piece of salt, and the pain which this mistake inflicts, excites him to fresh observation, and makes him more attentive in his classifications. If he got nothing by observing whether objects were alike or unlike, he would never observe or classify at all. I beg leave to observe, that I am only speaking of the origin of contrast, novelty, discernment, and variety; for after the mind has once got the notion, that new things are to be watched, on account of their consequences, the middle term, according to the usual process of association, is soon omitted, and novelty is remarked on account of itself; just as, at last, money is loved for itself. And this is another reason why the cause of the feeling is forgotten, and it is supposed to be original. If this be the history of our attention to change, the next question is, how far is change agreeable? In the first place, we must remember that novelty excites the mind, and that when the mind is in a state of excitement, any passion which falls upon it, becomes stronger than it otherwise would be. Whoever was frightened by a storm at sea, would be more frightened if he were at sea for the first time, because the novelty exciting his mind, would come to the aid of the passion of fear. Whoever saw a beautiful spectacle on the stage, would feel the pleasure rendered much greater by the excitement of novelty. There is also a pleasure in the excitement of mere novelty, though perhaps not a very great one. No one would go out of his way to see a rat, but we should have some pleasure in seeing a white rat; the novelty of the colour would in some measure overcome the disgust which that animal occasions. A Spaniard dressed as an Englishman would excite no curiosity;-if he passed the streets in the dress of his native country, we should turn aside to look upon him. It is not easy to find instances, where we receive much pleasure from mere novelty. What we call the pleasures of novelty, are generally the pleasures of something else. A new cap, or a new gown, is the pleasure of figure, and the pleasure of colour, or the pleasure of fashion, the association with elegance and gaiety: the pleasure of novelty forms but a very small part of it. In contemplating the falls of Niagara, it would be the sublimity and the terror of the scene, that we should call by the general name of novelty: innu merable objects, quite as new, would be infinitely less striking, from their inferior sublimity. In the rage for travelling, the object is not so much to gratify the love of novelty as the love of excellence; not merely to see new things, but new grand things, new beautiful things, new excellence, in which the grand and beautiful will, I should think, upon reflection, be found to have a much greater effect, than the new. This appears very much against the power of novelty; that whenever its effects seem to be very great, it is always found in conjunction with other principles; whenever it is found alone, its influence is very inconsiderable. Nearly the same observations may be made of surprise. Surprise increases pleasure and pain; and in itself is slightly agreeable. If any one were to tell me that in taking a walk in the country, I should find a little seal, or a silver thimble, lying in a pathway where it had been left, nothing could be more indifferent to me than to look upon it; but if I were to light upon such objects all of a sudden, I might derive a faint gleam of satisfaction from the mere surprise. It is only in such little objects that the question can be tried; for when surprise comes to be mingled with great passions, it is very difficult to know what to give to surprise, what to the feelings with which it is conjoined. A man thinks, and hears, that his son is killed in battle, and all of a sudden his son enters into the room where he is sitting, and the father drops down in a swoon; but if a maid-servant, whom he believed to have been dead three years before, had entered his room, no such violent symptoms would have taken place, though the mere surprise, the unexpectedness of the vision, would have been quite as great: therefore, it seems fair to say, that the effect is to be attributed in a greater measure to the conflicting passions within, than to the mere surprise; for, all surprise out of the question, and the father prepared, months before, to meet the son whom he had supposed to be dead, and aware of the very hour and moment of the meeting, yet still the trial would be very dreadful and severe. But, all-important affection out of the question, the mere surprise would not be of much consequence; for if a pointer-dog were to enter the room, whose death had been considered as certain, the effect produced would be quite inconsiderable; and yet in this case the mere unexpectedness is quite as great as in any of the others. But this is curious, that suddenness and admiration, or novelty and admiration in their combined state, produce effects infinitely more powerful than their separate effects, added together, could ever be supposed to produce. It is impossible to look upon York Minster for the first time, without feeling a degree of transport; but these transports are certainly not felt by the mayor or aldermen of York, who see it every week, though even their callousness must be sometimes excited by it. The only circumstance in which they differ from a stranger is, in wanting the feeling of novelty; which feeling by itself I have before shown to be very insignificant; but, add it to admi ration, and the whole effect is very striking. Mere surprise, by itself, produces no very stupendous consequences; the separate power of novelty is not very strong; mere contrast can very well be endured. Admiration, devoid of all these, is comparatively weak; but when a new object is suddenly presented to our view, contrasted with all other objects, and in itself a subject of admiration, it is then, that the strongest sensations which the mind is capable of feeling are always produced. : The same, or nearly the same, observations might be gone over respecting contrast and variety and the result of the inquiry is, that, in all these considerable changes of our ideas, there is a pleasure, arising from the excitement which they produce; and that the desire of occasioning that excitement, is very often a stimulus to action. It is notorious, however, in the instance of novelty, that it is more a stimulus with the young, than with the old. It will be curious to ascertain what are the causes of this remarkable difference between the different periods of life. Experience has taught to old men the danger of change, and the difficulty of foreseeing its effects. They become lazy in the exertion of their faculties, and dislike that strain and excitement of mind, which new things occasion: whereas excitement is agreeable to the young; they have quite a passion for it. Whatever men have done long, it is painful for them not to do; to whatever they have done long, or seen long, they attach the very agreeable notion of self: "I have been accustomed to do so;"-"this was the case in my time;"-" I have always seen this, or that," and such-like references to self; which always establish a pleasing connection of ideas. So that fear, indolence, reason, and habit, are constantly at work to destroy the power of novelty; and the love of what is customary, becomes as much the characteristic of one age, as the love of what is new is that of another: and the reason why the balance is commonly against novelty, is, that so much more power is lodged in the hands of the old, than of the young. Let thirty-five be a middle period, dividing mankind into two classes. The elder of these two classes has infinitely a greater share of power and authority than the other: in the youngest even of this upper class, novelty has lost a great deal of its power, and habit has begun to fix its empire. The young object and complain, and think they can improve; but they are compelled to wait so long before the power comes to them, that they are familiarised by habit, though not, perhaps, convinced by reason. So it happens, and happens, perhaps, very fortunately upon the whole, that the power is lodged in the hands of those who have constitutionally an aversion to innovation; -more fortunately, certainly, than if it were lodged in the hands of those who had a love of it: but the best of all would be, that we should know the bias of every period of life, guard against it, and decide upon questions, not as they are new or old, but as they are good or bad. The pleasure occasioned by the excitement of these emotions, produces, as may be easily seen, the most important effects upon human happiness. Novelty is the foundation of the love of knowledge; which is nothing but the desire of useful novelty. The love of surprise and wonder, have been the parents of poetical fiction, and of all those errors which held such deep hold upon the mind of man ;-witchcraft, demonology, astrology, and the manifold instances of superstition, which depended upon the supposed agency of invisible spirit. Whoever tells anything wonderful, contributes to the pleasure of those who hear him, and therefore enjoys a temporary pre-eminence; but, as the imagination is soon warmed up to this pitch, the next stage of narration must bring with it a new stage of astonishment: and in this way evidence is handed down to succeeding ages, till it requires the greatest efforts of labour, and force of acuteness, to gain a glimpse at the real truth. Mr. Knight has |