"We seem to treat the thoughts that present themselves to the fancy in crowds," it has been said, "as a great man treats those [courtiers] that attend his levee. They are all ambitious of his attention-he goes round the circle, bestowing a bow upon one, a smile upon another; asks a short question of a third, while a fourth is honoured with a particular conference; and the greater part have no particular mark of attention, but go as they came. he can give no mark of his attention to those who were not there; but he has a sufficient number for making a choice and distinction."* Of this selection I may remark, in the first place, as, indeed, I have already repeatedly remarked,-that when many images are together in our mind, we cannot combine two of them, with the view of forming a third, because this would be, in truth, to have already formed that third which we are supposed to will to form. In the second place, I may remark, that we cannot, by any direct effort of will, banish from our mind any thought which we may conceive to be incongruous to our subject, so as to retain only such as are congruous. To desire to banish, is, in truth, effectually to retain; the very desire making the particular thought more vivid than it otherwise would have been. "We vainly labour to forget What by the labour we remember more." We cannot select any two images, therefore, out of many, with the express design of forming that third which results from them, since the design itself would imply their previous combination. We cannot banish a third, fourth, or fifth image, co-existing with these two, from our feeling of their incongruity with the plan already conceived by us, since the wish of banishing them would only give to them a firmer place. We do not truly separate the two images from the group by any direct effort of our will-for our will could have no power of producing the separation; but Nature, by certain principles with which our mind is endowed, forms the separation for us, and consequently, the new assemblage which remains after the separation of the rejected parts. This it does for us, according to the simple theory which I have been led to form of the process, in consequence of our feeling of approbation-the feeling of the congruity of certain images with the plan already conceived by us; for this feeling of approbation, and therefore, of increased interest, cannot arise and continue, without rendering more lively the conceptions to which it is attached, producing, in short, a prominence and vividness of these particular conceptions; in consequence of which, they outlast the fainter conceptions that co-existed with them. This vivifying influence of our mere approbation, operates very nearly in the same way as, in the process of attention formerly considered by us, we found, that of a multitude of objects, all equally present to our eye, and all producing, or at least capable of producing, an impression of some sort on the sentient mind, the mere feeling of interest, and the consequent desire of further knowledge, rendered some, in a single moment, more prominent than others, as if almost annihilating the others that were equally before our view, but which faded more rapidly from their comparative indistinctness. The vividness of our mere approbation, then, might be sufficient of itself to vivify, in some degree, the conceptions with which it harmonizes, as our Reid on the Intellectual Powers, Essay iv. chap. 4 desire in attention renders more vivid the perceptions to which it directly relates. But it is not merely as approbation that it operates,-it operates also indirectly by inducing that very feeling, or combination of feelings, which we term attention; and adding, therefore, all the vivacity, which attention gives, to the relative and harmonizing image. When a conception arises to the poetic mind that seems peculiarly related to the primary conception of the subject, there is of course an instant approbation of it; and, in consequence of this approbation, an almost instant desire of considering the image more fully, and developing or embodying, in the most powerful language, that beautiful relation which is perceived. There arises, in short, as I have said, that complex feeling of attention, which consists in the union of a certain desire with a certain perception or conception; and when attention is thus excited, it is not wonderful that all the usual consequences of attention should follow, in the increased vividness of the conception to which we attend, and the lessened vividness, and therefore more rapid decay of the co-existing images that have no relation to our desire. Of the various images that exist in the mind of the poet, in those efforts of fancy which we term creative, because they exhibit to us results different from any that have been before exhibited to us, he does not, then, banish by his will, because he is not capable of thus directly banishing a single image of the confused group; but he has already some leading conception in his mind he perceives the relation which certain images of the group bear to this leading conception; and these images instantly becoming more lively, and therefore more permanent, the others gradually disappear, and leave those beautiful groups which he seems to have brought together by an effort of volition, merely because the simple laws of suggestion that have operated without any control on his part, have brought into his mind a multitude of conceptions, of which he is capable of feeling the relation of fitness or unfitness to his general plan. What is suitable remains-not because he wills it to remain, but because it is rendered more vivid by his approval and intent admiration. What is unsuitable disappears-not because he wills it to disappear for his will would, in this case, serve only to retain it longer; but simply because it has not attracted his admiration and attention, and therefore fades like every other faint conception. Nature is thus, to him, what she has been in every age, the only true and everlasting muse the Inspirer to whom we are indebted as much for every thing which is magnificent in human art, as for those glorious models of excellence, which in the living and inanimate scene of existing things she has presented to the admiration of the genius which she inspires. LECTURE XLIII. REDUCTION OF CERTAIN SUPPOSED FACULTIES, TO SIMPLE SUGGES TION-IV. HABIT-ADVANTAGES DERIVED FROM THE ACCURATE REFERENCE OF THE PHENOMENA OF SUGGESTION TO LAWS WHICH OPERATE ON THE TIME OF THE SUGGESTION ONLY, IN THE REFUTATION OF MECHANICAL THEORIES OF ASSOCIATION-REFUTATION OF HARTLEY'S THEORY. GENTLEMEN, we were engaged yesterday in considering and analyzing the complex phenomena, usually referred to a distinct intellectual faculty, which has been termed the Power of Imagination or Fancy; and particularly, in tracing the most important elements of these complex states, or successions of states of the mind, to that principle of simple suggestion which has been the subject of our late examination. The various analyses into which we were led, in considering imagination, first, as it occurs without desire, in the short reveries of every hour, and afterwards, as it occurs in combination with desire, in the intentional processes of composition, were too long to admit of minute recapitulation; and, I flatter myself, that you do not need any recapitulation to bring their results at least, fully before you. That in those short reveries which, intermingled as they are with our perceptions of actual things, and often giving their own colours to them, form so much of human happiness, and often too so much of human misery-imagination, the producer of new forms, does not imply any new or peculiar faculty distinguishable from common suggestion, was made, I hope, sufficiently apparent; and I trust you were equally convinced, that in the longest process of intentional composition, the new combinations that arise to us are as little capable of being directly willed;-that they do not imply in us any power of combining by our will various conceptions, or of banishing from our mind, by any effort of our mere will, other conceptions which appear to us inappropriate. As we cannot will the existence of any group of images, or of any image in a group, since this very will to produce it would imply its actual present existence as an object of our will; so, what we call selection, cannot single from the group an image to the direct exclusion of others, since the operation of the mere will to exclude any image, by rendering it more vivid as an object of our desire, would tend more effectually to retain it. But there are, in that selection of which we speak, a feeling of the relation of certain parts of a complex group, to one leading conception of a particular subject—a consequent approbation of them, as in preference fit for our purpose, and a continued exclusive attention to them; or, in other words, a continued desire of tracing and developing and embodying, in the fittest language, the peculiar relations which these parts of the complex group are felt by us to bear to the plan which we had primarily in view. The common effects, therefore, of attention or desire, take place in this, as in every other instance. The particular images to which we attend, become instantly more vivid, and, therefore, more prominent, so as to separate themselves, by their mere permanence, from the fainter conceptions that fade more rapidly; the remaining 433 images, which were all that seemed to us to harmonize in the wider group, thus mingling together, as if we had formed by our very will the direct combination, and excluded by our very will those incongruous parts, which our will, if we had vainly attempted to make the experiment, could have served only to render more vivid, and therefore, more lasting. It is thus, without any exertion of faculties, different in kind from those which are exercised in the humblest intellectual functions of vulgar life,— by the mere capacity of simple suggestion, which, as long as the conception of any subject, or part of a subject remains,-presents, in accordance with it, image after image, by the capacity of feelings of relation in the perceived fitness or unfitness of certain images for a particular design,-by that primary general desire, which constituted, or gave birth to the design itself, and other more particular and subordinate desires, which form the chief elements of the varying process of attention to the varying images in the train of thought, -all those miracles of human art have arisen, which have not merely immortalized their authors, but which confer a sort of dignity,-and a dignity of no slight species, even on those who are capable merely of admiring them, Indeed, next to the with an admiration that feels their real excellence. glory of producing them, and perhaps, not inferior to it in happiness, is the pleasure of being able thus to appreciate and admire. Simple as the faculties may be, however, which are concerned in the complex process of imagination, to the fancy itself, by which these miracles are produced, there are truly no limits,-not in external things, for these it can mingle at pleasure,-not in the affections of the soul, for these, in its spiritual creations, are as obedient to it as the mere forms of matter,-not even in infinity itself, for after it has conceived one infinity, it can still, in its speculations add to it another and another, as if what would be impossible in nature, were possible in it. "What wealth in souls, That, scorning limit, or from place or time, Souls that can grasp whate'er the Almighty made, Young. The conceptions which rise and mingle in our living pictures of fancy, being derived, not merely from the various climes of the earth which we inhabit, but from every part of the immensity of the universe, give to our imagination, if we consider it relatively to the objects of conception, a species of virtual omnipresence, or a rapidity of passage almost as wonderful as omnipresence itself. "Tot virtutes accepimus, tot artes, animum denique," says Seneca, "animum denique, cui nihil non eodem quo intendit momento pervium est, sideribus, velociorem, quorum post multa sæcula futuros cursus antecedit."* To the same purpose, but more quaintly, says an ingenious French writer, comparing the velocity of our thought with that of the swiftest of material things. "Whatever rapidity we may give to light, what is it to that of my imagination? I wish to rise to the planet Saturn, at the distance of three hundred millions of leagues from the earth. I am there. I will to ascend still higher, to the region of the fixed stars, at a distance from the earth, which is no longer to be counted by millions of leagues, but by millions * De Beneficiis, Lib. II. c. xxix 55 VOL. I. of millions. I have already passed over all this immensity that intervenes. Would I explore the twelve famous constellations of the Zodiac? The Sun takes twelve months to journey through them. I have already traversed them all, in less time than it would have taken for me to pronounce their names." "Adde quod in terris nihil est velocius illa, Et formas subit extemplo quascunque, locosque, The next class of phenomena to which, as in their chief circumstances, modes of the principles of suggestion, I would direct your attention, are the phenomena of Habit. The effects of habit are, by Dr. Reid, ascribed to a peculiar ultimate principle of the mind; and though I flatter myself, after the discussions which have engaged us, you are not very likely to fall into this error, it may be proper to enter into some fuller illustration and analysis of an influence, which is unquestionably one of the most powerful in our mental constitution. In treating of the secondary laws of suggestion, I before considered the effect of general habit, if it might so be termed, in modifying the suggestions of mere analogy. The habit which we are now to examine, however, is that in which the effects are not analogous merely, but strictly similar, in a tendency to the repetition of the same actions. The nature of habit may be considered in two lights; as it thus produces a greater tendency to certain actions, and as it occasions greater facility and excellence in those particular actions. The first form of its influence, then, which we have to consider, is that by which it renders us more prone to actions that have been frequently repeated. That the frequent repetition of any action increases the tendency to it, all of you must have experienced in yourselves, in innumerable cases, of little importance, perhaps, but sufficiently indicative of the influence; and there are few of you, probably, who have not had an opportunity of remarking in others the fatal power of habits of a very different kind. In the corruption of a great city, it is scarcely possible to look around, without perceiving some warning example of that blasting and deadening influence, before which, every thing that was generous and benevolent in the heart, has withered, while every thing which was noxious has flourished with more rapid maturity; like those plants, which can extend their roots, indeed, even in a pure soil, and fling out a few leaves amid balmy airs and odours, but which burst out in all their luxuriance, only from a soil that is fed with constant putrescency, and in an atmosphere which it is poison to inhale. It is not vice, Heinsius de Contemptu Mortis, Lib. II. |