But again, as facility converts pain into pleasure, so it often converts
pleasure into pain, when it is too great, and renders the actions of the
mind so faint and languid, that they are no longer able to interest and
support it. And indeed, scarce any other objects become disagreeable
through custom; but such as are naturally attended with some emotion or
affection, which is destroyed by the too frequent repetition. One
can consider the clouds, and heavens, and trees, and stones, however
frequently repeated, without ever feeling any aversion.
But when the
fair sex, or music, or good cheer, or any thing, that naturally ought
to be agreeable, becomes indifferent, it easily produces the opposite
affection.
But custom not only gives a facility to perform any action, but likewise
an inclination and tendency towards it, where it is not entirely
disagreeable, and can never be the object of inclination. And this
is the reason why custom encreases all active habits, but diminishes
passive, according to the observation of a late eminent philosopher. The
facility takes off from the force of the passive habits by rendering
the motion of the spirits faint and languid. But as in the active, the
spirits are sufficiently supported of themselves, the tendency of the
mind gives them new force, and bends them more strongly to the action.
SECT. VI OF THE INFLUENCE OF THE IMAGINATION ON THE
PASSIONS
It is remarkable, that the imagination and affections have close union
together, and that nothing, which affects the former, can be entirely
indifferent to the latter. Wherever our ideas of good or evil acquire a
new vivacity, the passions become more violent; and keep pace with
the imagination in all its variations. Whether this proceeds from
the principle above-mentioned, that any attendant emotion is easily
converted into the predominant, I shall not determine.
It is sufficient
for my present purpose, that we have many instances to confirm this
influence of the imagination upon the passions.
Any pleasure, with which we are acquainted, affects us more than any
other, which we own to be superior, but of whose nature we are wholly
ignorant. Of the one we can form a particular and determinate idea:
The other we conceive under the general notion of pleasure; and it is
certain, that the more general and universal any of our ideas are, the
less influence they have upon the imagination. A general idea, though
it be nothing but a particular one considered in a certain view, is
commonly more obscure; and that because no particular idea, by which we
represent a general one, is ever fixed or determinate, but may easily
be changed for other particular ones, which will serve equally in the
representation.
There is a noted passage in the history of Greece, which may serve for
our present purpose. Themistocles told the Athenians, that he had formed
a design, which would be highly useful to the public, but which it was
impossible for him to communicate to them without ruining the execution,
since its success depended entirely on the secrecy with which it should
be conducted. The Athenians, instead of granting him full power to
act as he thought fitting, ordered him to communicate his design to
Aristides, in whose prudence they had an entire confidence, and
whose opinion they were resolved blindly to submit to.
The design of
Themistocles was secretly to set fire to the fleet of all the Grecian
commonwealths, which was assembled in a neighbouring port, and which
being once destroyed would give the Athenians the empire of the sea
without any rival Aristides returned to the assembly, and told them,
that nothing coued be more advantageous than the design of Themistocles
but at the same time that nothing coued be more unjust: Upon which the
people unanimously rejected the project.
A late celebrated historian [Mons. Rollin {Charles Rollin, HISTOIRE
ANCIENNE.(Paris 1730-38)}.] admires this passage of antient history, as
one of the most singular that is any where to be met.
"Here," says he, "they are not philosophers, to whom it is easy in
their schools to establish the finest maxims and most sublime rules of
morality, who decide that interest ought never to prevail above justice.
It is a whole people interested in the proposal which is made to
them, who consider it as of importance to the public good, and who
notwithstanding reject it unanimously, and without hesitation, merely
because it is contrary to justice."
For my part I see nothing so extraordinary in this proceeding of the
Athenians. The same reasons, which render it so easy for philosophers to
establish these sublime maxims, tend, in part, to diminish the merit
of such a conduct in that people. Philosophers never ballance betwixt
profit and honesty, because their decisions are general, and neither
their passions nor imaginations are interested in the objects. And
though in the present case the advantage was immediate to the Athenians,
yet as it was known only under the general notion of advantage,
without being conceived by any particular idea, it must have had a
less considerable influence on their imaginations, and have been a
less violent temptation, than if they had been acquainted with all
its circumstances: Otherwise it is difficult to conceive, that a whole
people, unjust and violent as men commonly are, should so unanimously
have adhered to justice, and rejected any considerable advantage.
Any satisfaction, which we lately enjoyed, and of which the memory is
fresh and recent, operates on the will with more violence, than another
of which the traces are decayed, and almost obliterated.
From whence
does this proceed, but that the memory in the first case assists the
fancy and gives an additional force and vigour to its conceptions?
The image of the past pleasure being strong and violent, bestows these
qualities on the idea of the future pleasure, which is connected with it
by the relation of resemblance.
A pleasure, which is suitable to the way of life, in which we are
engaged, excites more our desires and appetites than another, which
is foreign to it. This phaenomenon may be explained from the same
principle.
Nothing is more capable of infusing any passion into the mind, than
eloquence, by which objects are represented in their strongest and most
lively colours. We may of ourselves acknowledge, that such an object
is valuable, and such another odious; but until an orator excites the
imagination, and gives force to these ideas, they may have but a feeble
influence either on the will or the affections.
But eloquence is not always necessary. The bare opinion of another,
especially when inforced with passion, will cause an idea of good or
evil to have an influence upon us, which would otherwise have been
entirely neglected. This proceeds from the principle of sympathy or
communication; and sympathy, as I have already observed, is nothing
but the conversion of an idea into an impression by the force of
imagination.
It is remarkable, that lively passions commonly attend a lively
imagination. In this respect, as well as others, the force of the
passion depends as much on the temper of the person, as the nature or
situation of the object.
I have already observed, that belief is nothing but a lively idea
related to a present impression. This vivacity is a requisite
circumstance to the exciting all our passions, the calm as well as the
violent; nor has a mere fiction of the imagination any considerable
influence upon either of them. It is too weak to take hold of the mind,
or be attended with emotion.
SECT. VII OF CONTIGUITY AND DISTANCE IN SPACE AND TIME
There is an easy reason, why every thing contiguous to us, either in
space or time, should be conceived with a peculiar force and vivacity,
and excel every other object, in its influence on the imagination.
Ourself is intimately present to us, and whatever is related to self
must partake of that quality. But where an object is so far removed
as to have lost the advantage of this relation, why, as it is farther
removed, its idea becomes still fainter and more obscure, would,
perhaps, require a more particular examination.
It is obvious, that the imagination can never totally forget the points
of space and time, in which we are existent; but receives such frequent
advertisements of them from the passions and senses, that however it
may turn its attention to foreign and remote objects, it is necessitated
every moment to reflect on the present. IOt is also remarkable, that in
the conception of those objects, which we regard as real and existent,
we take them in their proper order and situation, and never leap from
one object to another, which is distant from it, without running over,
at least in a cursory manner, all those objects, which are interposed
betwixt them. When we reflect, therefore, on any object distant from
ourselves, we are obliged not only to reach it at first by passing
through all the intermediate space betwixt ourselves and the object, but
also to renew our progress every moment; being every moment recalled to
the consideration of ourselves and our present situation. It is easily
conceived, that this interruption must weaken the idea by breaking the
action of the mind, and hindering the conception from being so intense
and continued, as when we reflect on a nearer object.
The fewer steps
we make to arrive at the object, and the smoother the road is, this
diminution of vivacity is less sensibly felt, but still may be observed
more or less in proportion to the degrees of distance and difficulty.
Here then we are to consider two kinds of objects, the contiguous and
remote; of which the former, by means of their relation to ourselves,
approach an impression in force and vivacity; the latter by reason of
the interruption in our manner of conceiving them, appear in a weaker
and more imperfect light. This is their effect on the imagination. If
my reasoning be just, they must have a proportionable effect on the will
and passions. Contiguous objects must have an influence much superior to
the distant and remote. Accordingly we find in common life, that men are
principally concerned about those objects, which are not much removed
either in space or time, enjoying the present, and leaving what is afar
off to the care of chance and fortune. Talk to a man of his condition
thirty years hence, and he will not regard you. Speak of what is to
happen tomorrow, and he will lend you attention. The breaking of a
mirror gives us more concern when at home, than the burning of a house,
when abroad, and some hundred leagues distant.
But farther; though distance both in space and time has a considerable
effect on the imagination, and by that means on the will and passions,
yet the consequence of a removal in space are much inferior to those of
a removal in time. Twenty years are certainly but a small distance
of time in comparison of what history and even the memory of some may
inform them of, and yet I doubt if a thousand leagues, or even the
greatest distance of place this globe can admit of, will so remarkably
weaken our ideas, and diminish our passions. A West-Indian merchant will
tell you, that he is not without concern about what passes in Jamaica;
though few extend their views so far into futurity, as to dread very
remote accidents.
The cause of this phaenomenon must evidently lie in the different
properties of space and time. Without having recourse to metaphysics,
any one may easily observe, that space or extension consists of a number
of co-existent parts disposed in a certain order, and capable of being
at once present to the sight or feeling. On the contrary, time or
succession, though it consists likewise of parts, never presents to us
more than one at once; nor is it possible for any two of them ever to
be co-existent. These qualities of the objects have a suitable effect on
the imagination. The parts of extension being susceptible of an union to
the senses, acquire an union in the fancy; and as the appearance of
one part excludes not another, the transition or passage of the thought
through the contiguous parts is by that means rendered more smooth and
easy. On the other hand, the incompatibility of the parts of time in
their real existence separates them in the imagination, and makes it
more difficult for that faculty to trace any long succession or series
of events. Every part must appear single and alone, nor can regularly
have entrance into the fancy without banishing what is supposed to have
been immediately precedent. By this means any distance in time causes a
greater interruption in the thought than an equal distance in space, and
consequently weakens more considerably the idea, and consequently the
passions; which depend in a great measure, on the imagination, according
to my system.
There is another phaenomenon of a like nature with the foregoing, viz,
the superior effects of the same distance in futurity above that in the
past. This difference with respect to the will is easily accounted for.
As none of our actions can alter the past, it is not strange it should
never determine the will. But with respect to the passions the question
is yet entire, and well worth the examining.
Besides the propensity to a gradual progression through the points of
space and time, we have another peculiarity in our method of thinking,
which concurs in producing this phaenomenon. We always follow the
succession of time in placing our ideas, and from the consideration of
any object pass more easily to that, which follows immediately after
it, than to that which went before it. We may learn this, among other
instances, from the order, which is always observed in historical
narrations. Nothing but an absolute necessity can oblige an historian to
break the order of time, and in his narration give the precedence to an
event, which was in reality posterior to another.
This will easily be applied to the question in hand, if we reflect on
what I have before observed, that the present situation of the person is
always that of the imagination, and that it is from thence we proceed
to the conception of any distant object. When the object is past, the
progression of the thought in passing to it from the present is contrary
to nature, as proceeding from one point of time to that which is
preceding, and from that to another preceding, in opposition to the
natural course of the succession. On the other hand, when we turn our
thought to a future object, our fancy flows along the stream of time,
and arrives at the object by an order, which seems most natural, passing
always from one point of time to that which is immediately posterior to
it. This easy progression of ideas favours the imagination, and makes
it conceive its object in a stronger and fuller light, than when we
are continually opposed in our passage, and are obliged to overcome the
difficulties arising from the natural propensity of the fancy. A small
degree of distance in the past has, therefore, a greater effect, in
interupting and weakening the conception, than a much greater in
the future. From this effect of it on the imagination is derived its
influence on the will and passions.
There is another cause, which both contributes to the same effect, and
proceeds from the same quality of the fancy, by which we are determined
to trace the succession of time by a similar succession of ideas. When
from the present instant we consider two points of time equally distant
in the future and in the past, it is evident, that, abstractedly
considered, their relation to the present is almost equal. For as the
future will sometime be present, so the past was once present. If we
coued, therefore, remove this quality of the imagination, an equal
distance in the past and in the future, would have a similar influence.
Nor is this only true, when the fancy remains fixed, and from the
present instant surveys the future and the past; but also when it
changes its situation, and places us in different periods of time. For
as on the one hand, in supposing ourselves existent in a point of time
interposed betwixt the present instant and the future object, we find
the future object approach to us, and the past retire, and become more
distant: so on the other hand, in supposing ourselves existent in a
point of time interposed betwixt the present and the past, the past
approaches to us, and the future becomes more distant.
But from the
property of the fancy above-mentioned we rather chuse to fix our thought
on the point of time interposed betwixt the present and the future, than
on that betwixt the present and the past. We advance, rather than retard
our existence; and following what seems the natural succession of time,
proceed from past to present, and from present to future. By which means
we conceive the future as flowing every moment nearer us, and the
past as retiring. An equal distance, therefore, in the past and in the
future, has not the same effect on the imagination; and that because we
consider the one as continually encreasing, and the other as continually
diminishing. The fancy anticipates the course of things, and surveys the
object in that condition, to which it tends, as well as in that, which
is regarded as the present.
SECT. VIII THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUed Thus we have accounted for three phaenomena, which seem pretty
remarkable. Why distance weakens the conception and passion: Why
distance in time has a greater effect than that in space: And why
distance in past time has still a greater effect than that in future. We
must now consider three phaenomena, which seem to be, in a manner, the
reverse of these: Why a very great distance encreases our esteem and
admiration for an object; Why such a distance in time encreases it
more than that in space: And a distance in past time more than that in
future. The curiousness of the subject will, I hope, excuse my dwelling
on it for some time.
To begin with the first phaenomenon, why a great distance encreases our
esteem and admiration for an object; it is evident that the mere view
and contemplation of any greatness, whether successive or extended,
enlarges the soul, and give it a sensible delight and pleasure. A wide
plain, the ocean, eternity, a succession of several ages; all these are
entertaining objects, and excel every thing, however beautiful, which
accompanies not its beauty with a suitable greatness.
Now when any very
distant object is presented to the imagination, we naturally reflect on
the interposed distance, and by that means, conceiving something great
and magnificent, receive the usual satisfaction. But as the fancy passes
easily from one idea to another related to it, and transports to the
second all the passions excited by the first, the admiration, which is
directed to the distance, naturally diffuses itself over the distant
object. Accordingly we find, that it is not necessary the object should
be actually distant from us, in order to cause our admiration; but that
it is sufficient, if, by the natural association of ideas, it conveys
our view to any considerable distance. A great traveller, though in
the same chamber, will pass for a very extraordinary person; as a Greek
medal, even in our cabinet, is always esteemed a valuable curiosity.
Here the object, by a natural transition, conveys our views to the
distance; and the admiration, which arises from that distance, by
another natural transition, returns back to the object.
But though every great distance produces an admiration for the distant
object, a distance in time has a more considerable effect than that in
space. Antient busts and inscriptions are more valued than Japan tables:
And not to mention the Greeks and Romans, it is certain we regard with
more veneration the old Chaldeans and Egyptians, than the modern Chinese
and Persians, and bestow more fruitless pains to dear up the history and
chronology of the former, than it would cost us to make a voyage, and
be certainly informed of the character, learning and government of the
latter. I shall be obliged to make a digression in order to explain this
phaenomenon.
It is a quality very observable in human nature, that any opposition,
which does not entirely discourage and intimidate us, has rather a
contrary effect, and inspires us with a more than ordinary grandeur
and magnanimity. In collecting our force to overcome the opposition, we
invigorate the soul, and give it an elevation with which otherwise it
would never have been acquainted. Compliance, by rendering our strength
useless, makes us insensible of it: but opposition awakens and employs
it.
This is also true in the universe. Opposition not only enlarges the
soul; but the soul, when full of courage and magnanimity, in a manner
seeks opposition.
SPUMANTEMQUE DARI PECORA INTER INERTIA VOTIS OPTAT
APRUM, AUT FULVUM
DESCENDERE MONTE LEONEM.
[And, among the tamer beasts, [he] longs to be granted, in answer to his
prayers, a slavering boar, or to have a tawny lion come down from the
mountain.]
Whatever supports and fills the passions is agreeable to us; as on the
contrary, what weakens and infeebles them is uneasy. As opposition
has the first effect, and facility the second, no wonder the mind, in
certain dispositions, desires the former, and is averse to the latter.
These principles have an effect on the imagination as well as on the
passions. To be convinced of this we need only consider the influence
of heights and depths on that faculty. Any great elevation of place
communicates a kind of pride or sublimity of imagination, and gives
a fancyed superiority over those that lie below; and, vice versa, a
sublime and strong imagination conveys the idea of ascent and elevation.
Hence it proceeds, that we associate, in a manner, the idea of whatever
is good with that of height, and evil with lowness.
Heaven is supposed
to be above, and hell below. A noble genius is called an elevate and
sublime one. ATQUE UDAM SPERNIT HUMUM FUGIENTE PENNA.
[Spurns the dank
soil in winged flight.] On the contrary, a vulgar and trivial conception
is stiled indifferently low or mean. Prosperity is denominated ascent,
and adversity descent. Kings and princes are supposed to be placed at
the top of human affairs; as peasants and day-labourers are said to be
in the lowest stations. These methods of thinking, and of expressing
ourselves, are not of so little consequence as they may appear at first
sight.
It is evident to common sense, as well as philosophy, that there is no
natural nor essential difference betwixt high and low, and that this