A Treatise of Human Nature. David Hume
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to which we assent, are more strong, firm and vivid, than the loose reveries of a castle-builder. If one person sits down to read a book as a romance, and another as a true history, they plainly receive the same ideas, and in the same order; nor does the incredulity of the one, and the belief of the other hinder them from putting the very same sense upon their author. His words produce the same ideas in both; though his testimony has not the same influence on them. The latter has a more lively conception of all the incidents. He enters deeper into the concerns of the persons: represents to himself their actions, and characters, and friendships, and enmities: He even goes so far as to form a notion of their features, and air, and person. While the former, who gives no credit to the testimony of the author, has a more faint and languid conception of all these particulars; and except on account of the style and ingenuity of the composition, can receive little entertainment from it.
SECT. VIII. OF THE CAUSES OF BELIEF.
Having thus explained the nature of belief, and shewn that it consists in a lively idea related to a present impression; let us now proceed to examine from what principles it is derived, and what bestows the vivacity on the idea.
I would willingly establish it as a general maxim in the science of human nature, that when any impression becomes present to us, it not only transports the mind to such ideas as are related to it, but likewise communicates to them a share of its force and vivacity. All the operations of the mind depend in a great measure on its disposition, when it performs them; and according as the spirits are more or less elevated, and the attention more or less fixed, the action will always have more or less vigour and vivacity. When therefore any object is presented, which elevates and enlivens the thought, every action, to which the mind applies itself, will be more strong and vivid, as Tong as that disposition continues, Now it is evident the continuance of the disposition depends entirely on the objects, about which the mind is employed; and that any new object naturally gives a new direction to the spirits, and changes the disposition; as on the contrary, when the mind fixes constantly on the same object, or passes easily and insensibly along related objects, the disposition has a much longer duration. Hence it happens, that when the mind is once inlivened by a present impression, it proceeds to form a more lively idea of the related objects, by a natural transition of the disposition from the one to the other. The change of the objects is so easy, that the mind is scarce sensible of it, but applies itself to the conception of the related idea with all the force and vivacity it acquired from the present impression.
If in considering the nature of relation, and that facility of transition, which is essential to it, we can satisfy ourselves concerning the reality of this phaenomenon, it is well: But I must confess I place my chief confidence in experience to prove so material a principle. We may, therefore, observe, as the first experiment to our present purpose, that upon the appearance of the picture of an absent friend, our idea of him is evidently inlivened by the resemblance, and that every passion, which that idea occasions, whether of joy or sorrow, acquires new force and vigour. In producing this effect there concur both a relation and a present impression. Where the picture bears him no resemblance, or at least was not intended for him, it never so much as conveys our thought to him: And where it is absent, as well as the person; though the mind may pass from the thought of the one to that of the other; it feels its idea to be rather weekend than inlivened by that transition. We take a pleasure in viewing the picture of a friend, when it is set before us; but when it is removed, rather choose to consider him directly, than by reflexion in an image, which is equally distinct and obscure.
The ceremonies of the Roman Catholic religion may be considered as experiments of the same nature. The devotees of that strange superstition usually plead in excuse of the mummeries, with which they are upbraided, that they feel the good effect of those external motions, and postures, and actions, in enlivening their devotion, and quickening their fervour, which otherwise would decay away, if directed entirely to distant and immaterial objects. We shadow out the objects of our faith, say they, in sensible types and images, and render them more present to us by the immediate presence of these types, than it is possible for us to do, merely by an intellectual view and contemplation. Sensible objects have always a greater influence on the fancy than any other; and this influence they readily convey to those ideas, to which they are related, and which they Resemble. I shall only infer from these practices, and this reasoning, that the effect of resemblance in inlivening the idea is very common; and as in every case a resemblance and a present impression must concur, we are abundantly supplyed with experiments to prove the reality of the foregoing principle.
We may add force to these experiments by others of a different kind, in considering the effects of contiguity, as well as of resemblance. It is certain, that distance diminishes the force of every idea, and that upon our approach to any object; though it does not discover itself to our senses; it operates upon the mind with an influence that imitates an immediate impression. The thinking on any object readily transports the mind to what is contiguous; but it is only the actual presence of an object, that transports it with a superior vivacity. When I am a few miles from home, whatever relates to it touches me more nearly than when I am two hundred leagues distant; though even at that distance the reflecting on any thing in the neighbourhood of my friends and family naturally produces an idea of them. But as in this latter case, both the objects of the mind are ideas; notwithstanding there is an easy transition betwixt them; that transition alone is not able to give a superior vivacity to any of the ideas, for want of some immediate impression. [FN 6.]
[FN 6. NATURANE NOBIS, IN QUIT, DATUM DICAM, AN ERRORE
QUODAM, UT, CUM EA LOCA VIDEAMUS, IN QUIBUS MEMORIA DIGNOS
VIROS ACCEPERIMUS MULTURN ESSE VERSATOS, MAGIS MOVEAMUR,
QUAM SIQUANDO EORUM IPSORUM AUT JACTA AUDIAMUS, AUT SCRIPTUM
ALIQUOD LEGAMUS? VELUT EGO NUNC MOVEOR. VENIT ENIM MIHI
PLATONIS IN MENTEM: QUEM ACCIPIMUS PRIMURN HIC DISPUTARE
SOLITUM: CUJUS ETIAM ILLI HORTULI PROPINQUI NON MEMORIAM
SOLUM MIHI AFFERUNT, SED IPSUM VIDENTUR IN CONSPECTU MEO HIC
PONERE. HIC SPEUSIPPUS, HIC XENOCRATES, HIC EJUS AUDITOR
POLEMO; CUJUS IPSA ILLA SESSIO FUIT, QUAM VIDEAMUS. EQUIDEM
ETIAM CURIAM NOSTRAM, HOSTILIAM DICO, NON HANC NOVAM, QUAE
MIHI MINOR ESSE VIDETUR POST QUAM EST MAJOR, SOLE BARN
INTUENS SCIPIONEM, CATONEM, LACLIUM, NOSTRUM VERO IN PRIMIS
AVUM COGITARE. TANTA VIS ADMONITIONIS INEST IN LOCIS; UT NON
SINE CAUSA EX HIS MEMORIAE DUCTA SIT DISCIPLINA. Cicero de
Finibus, lib. 5.
{"Should I, he said, "attribute to instinct or to some kind
of illusion the fact that when we see those places in which
we are told notable men spent much of their time, we are
more powerfully affected than when we hear of the exploits
of the men themselves or read something written? This is
just what is happening to me now; for I am reminded of Plato
who, we are told, was the first to make a practice of
holding discussions here. Those gardens of his near by do
not merely put me in mind of him; they seem to set the man
himself before my very eyes. Speusippus was here; so was
Xenocrates; so was his pupil, Polemo, and that very seat
which we may view was his.
"Then again, when I looked at our Senate-house (I mean the
old building of Hostilius, not this new one; when it was
enlarged, it diminished in my estimation), I used to think
of Scipio, Cato, Laelius and in particular