Pirates & Revolutionaries: Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, Book 1, Part 3, Sect 10 Of the Influence of Belief §§264-274

by Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

[Central Entry Directory]
[Hume, Entry Directory]
[Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, Entry Directory]

[The following is summary, up to the end where I reproduce this section in full. My commentary is in brackets. Paragraph headings are my own.]

David Hume

A Treatise of Human Nature

Book I: Of the Understanding

Part III: Of Knowledge and Probability

Section X: Of the Influence of Belief

§264 Teaching Passion and Beauty

To recall what Hume means by "education," let's take one of his examples. Someone lives most his life healthy and well. But after an injury, he must have his legs amputated. For the first couple months after the surgery, he had to adjust. Every morning upon awaking, we would turn himself to the edge of the bed as though his legs would swing out to the floor. When sitting at a table and someone comes to sit across from him, he shifts his position as if he needed to make room under the table for the other person's legs. All his life up to that tragic event, he would have sense impressions of his legs. These were often direct and unprovoked. If a muscle in his leg cramped, he became all too aware of the presence of his legs. But in such cases, nothing outside his legs caused him to infer their existence. This is one of Hume's illustrations for how a certain idea might appear in our minds without it being evoked by a causally related impression. Hume says that these repeating unprovoked ideas "educate" us of certain things. But also consider how some racial prejudices are perpetuated. When young, a parent might say something disparaging about a person of another nationality or region. That idea might recur in the child's head occasionally. And it might recur through adulthood. This person might come to be of the opinion that people of that nation or region are unlikable in some way. Now, notice that this person does not obtain his belief by rational inferences. It is not based on experience. Hume considers these unreasoned opinions to be products of "education." [Perhaps Hume means "education" as in formal schooling, but the text does not yet suggest that interpretation to me.]

Given its unreasoned basis, philosophy does not accept education as grounds to assent to any argued position or opinion. Nonetheless, the majority of people in the world often come to their opinions in ungrounded ways. As well, because people become familiar with these non-inferred ideas, they reject philosophical systems merely because they are new and unusual.

Hume says that some might reject his ideas for the above reason. Such people will never come to realize that most of our reasonings result from our customs and habit. To defend from these objections, Hume will say something about our passions and sense of beauty.

§265 The Action of Pain and Pleasure

We perceive pain and pleasure. They appear in the mind and they become planted there. Then they serve as our mind's "chief spring and moving principle." (118c)

Pain and pleasure appear in our mind in two ways:

1) as an impression of the actual pain or pleasure, and

2) as an idea.

Their effects differ widely.

Pain and pleasure impressions compel us to act. But ideas of these feelings may not have us much compulsive force.

There are two extremes of response that nature avoids by having both impressions and ideas of pleasure and pain.

1) if we only were compelled to act from present impressions of pleasure and pain, then we would not be compelled to act when we foresaw future causes for us to feel pleasure or pain. Hence we could foresee the greatest calamity, and not be unable to act with any urgency.

2) Our minds tend to wander. They frequently happen upon ideas regarding things that cause us pleasure and pain. If we were moved to act every time our mind wandered upon such an idea, we would be moved to action far too frequently and at inappropriate times. Hence our mind "would never enjoy a moment’s peace and tranquillity." (119b)

§266 Belief's Passionate Intensity

To avoid these extremes, we naturally find a medium path. For,

a) we often think of good or evil ideas; nonetheless

b) we only sometimes let these thoughts move us to action.

We frequently contemplate fictional ideas. Some of them are ideas of objects that cause us pleasure or pain. Like the ideas of real objects, these fictional ideas influence our passions. However, fictions influence our minds far less than ideas we believe. And such ideas we believe are ones made more vivid by present impressions. This causes the believed idea to increase in force and vivacity almost to as much as impressions have.

Belief, therefore, since it causes an idea to imitate the effects of the impressions, must make it resemble them in these qualities, and is nothing but A MORE VIVID AND INTENSE CONCEPTION OF ANY IDEA. (119-220)

§267 Passion, Confidence Arts, and the Intense Ideas We Believe

So for an idea to move our passions, it must be intensely vivid. For it to be so, we must believe it. Hence belief is absolutely necessary for exciting our passions.

A coward, whose fears are easily awakened, readily assents to every account of danger he meets with; as a person of a sorrowful and melancholy disposition is very credulous of every thing, that nourishes his prevailing passion. (120b)

[We fear spiders. One appears. Passionate terrors consume us.]

When any affecting object is presented, it gives the alarm, and excites immediately a degree of its proper passion; especially in persons who are naturally inclined to that passion. (120b)

Our terror is conveyed to our idea of the spider. This idea now has greater force and vivacity. And for that reason, it is more "real" to us.

We believe it.

We assent to it.

Admiration and surprise also cause our ideas to vivify. This is why con artists tell magnificent stories. They cause our ideas to have greater force and liveliness. And hence we more readily believe them.

§268 The Poetics of Truth

We just discussed belief's influence on our passions. We turn now to its influence on our imagination.

We talk, and take pleasure in our discourse. But it is only pleasurable when our judgment assents to the images presented to our imagination.

The conversation of those who have acquired a habit of lying, though in affairs of no moment, never gives any satisfaction; and that because those ideas they present to us, not being attended with belief, make no impression upon the mind. (121a)

But poets make-up things. So in order to sway our minds, they must at least give us the impression they speak the truth.

Poets themselves, though liars by profession, always endeavour to give an air of truth to their fictions; and where that is totally neglected, their performances, however ingenious, will never be able to afford much pleasure. (121a)

The poet evokes ideas in our minds. But these ideas might not influence our will or passions. Nonetheless, for them to be enjoyable to our minds, they must be mixed with truth and reality. Otherwise they would not "register" in our imaginations.

§267 Allusions' Persuasive Power in the Arts

So in the arts, the sole role of truth is "to procure an easy reception for the ideas, and to make the mind acquiesce in them with satisfaction, or at least without reluctance." (121b)

We also noted before that causally related ideas also have this "solidity and force." Hume's system, then, explains all of belief's influences on the imagination.

So artists do not always need truth to impress our imaginations. They may allude to ideas that already have force in our minds. Thus poets often evoke the names of gods. And tragedians borrow their stories and characters from well-known historical events or folk fables. These accounts already evoke in our minds ideas that we have often imagined.

§268 Dispersing Beliefs

Shakespeare's King Richard III is not an accurate historical account. But its characters are the royal family of that time. And the events are loosely based around history. So we are familiar with certain elements in the play. These intensify the ideas that the play evokes. But there are also original events and characters we do not know. Yet, the added force from the familiar parts spills over to these unfamiliar elements.

The several incidents of the piece acquire a kind of relation by being united into one poem or representation; and if any of these incidents be an object of belief, it bestows a force and vivacity on the others, which are related to it. The vividness of the first conception diffuses itself along the relations, and is conveyed, as by so many pipes or canals, to every idea that has any communication with the primary one. (122c)

But because the story is not entirely real, the union among some of its ideas is accidental. However, as a whole, the adapted story has nearly the original's influence.

Forceful and vivacious ideas befit our imaginations. And we believe forceful and vivacious ideas. Hence to believe what is in our imaginations, ideas must have this potency.

§269 Believing a Genius' Fiery Fancy

Hume will confirm the mutual influence of belief and imagination:

1) Our passions reflect the strength of our beliefs.

Our judgments are based on the ideas we imagine. And our judgments are influenced both by our passions (beliefs) and ideas (imagination).

2) Belief strengthens ideas in the imagination, and a vigorous imagination produces beliefs.

'Tis difficult for us to withhold our assent from what is painted out to us in all the colours of eloquence; and the vivacity produc'd by the fancy is in many cases greater than that which arises from custom and experience. We are hurried away by the lively imagination of our author or companion; and even be himself is often a victim to his own fire and genius. (123a)

§270 Mad Believers

Hume notes that often people with lively imaginations may fall into madness or commit foolish errors. For, they come too much to believe what they imagine.

When the imagination, from any extraordinary ferment of the blood and spirits, acquires such a vivacity as disorders all its powers and faculties, there is no means of distinguishing betwixt truth and falshood; but every loose fiction or idea, having the same influence as the impressions of the memory, or the conclusions of the judgment, is receiv'd on the same footing, and operates with equal force on the passions. (123bc)

Normally we need an actual immediate sense-impression to vivify our ideas. But when our minds descend into madness, any fiction we conceive seems as real as any sense-impression. In this way, we "lose our senses." Without the ability to discern fiction from reality, we can no longer draw realistic conclusions.

A present impression and a customary transition are now no longer necessary to enliven our ideas. Every chimera of the brain is as vivid and intense as any of those inferences, which we formerly dignifyed with the name of conclusions concerning matters of fact, and sometimes as the present impressions of the senses. (123c)

§271 Poetic Forces

[Appendix Addition D]

We know that our sense-impressions cause our minds to refer associatively to other ideas. Because the transition began in concrete sensation, the evoked idea will be more vibrant. And for that reason we will tend to believe it more. In cases of madness, the vivacity of imagined ideas cause us to believe they are as real as our sense impressions. So any thought or image that makes its way into a mad mind will press upon it with the same force as the external objects impressing his senses. Now, the mad person will still find himself surrounded by things that he senses. And these objects will cause his mind to infer ideas that are usually connected with those objects. Normally if the connection between the sensed object and its associated idea is strong, and if the sensation itself is intense, then the evoked idea will be all the more vibrant and seemingly real. But when someone is insane, these factors no longer are the sole determiner of his ideas' vivacity. If he is ravingly mad, then his imagined ideas will be extraordinarily vibrant and forceful. So in cases of madness, the potency of one's ideas are derived not "from the particular situations or connexions of the objects of these ideas, but from the present temper and disposition of the person." (123c)

Now consider also when we read poetry written with colorful and vibrant imagery and with strong allusions to myths and characters we have fantasied since childhood. Here, we are reading words. The ink does not impress upon us very strongly. And yet we may be passionately moved by a poem. This is because poetry causes our mood and disposition to change into one that more readily believes the images it evokes. Hence poetry has a similar effect as madness, but to a lesser degree.

[We arise in the dark and wander the night. Overwrought with worries, we care nothing of time. Soon the eastern horizon shows a glimmer of light. 'Dawn is coming,' we believe. We have not experienced today's morning yet. But we know from many past experiences that dawn is preceded by a slight light along the horizon. We infer the effect from the cause, based on constant connections between previous impressions and ideas. This is inference by probability. Because the connection has so frequently been demonstrated, this sort of inference has a potent influence on our beliefs.]

Both poetry and probable inferences compel us to believe the ideas they evoke. But the two give us different feelings.

The mind can easily distinguish betwixt the one and the other; and whatever emotion the poetical enthusiasm may give to the spirits, it is still the mere phantom of belief or persuasion. us to believe more in evoked ideas. (630c)

[Now imagine we've been mistaken for a terrorist. The U.S. secret police capture us at night. They blindfold us. We fly to a secret prison camp. Never did we dream of the fearsome sophistication of their interrogation techniques. Sleep deprivation causes our minds to mistake fancy for reality. And because we are never told where we are, or why we are there, anything is possible. And always it seems to be the worst possibilities. Their water-boarding technique has us at times believing that we are in fact facing our life's end. These unspeakable terrors are the absolute worst experiences any human could undergo.

When young, we read Dante's Inferno. We were drawn to its forbidden topics. We were terrified then by images of human torture. But that was precisely why we so raptly read it. Dante's poetic imagery puts us in a state where we almost feel as though Beatrice is guiding us through hell's circles. We see that we too are guilty of many of these crimes. We imagine ourselves receiving these horrific punishments. It's frightening. Yet we thrill at every detail.

What then is the difference between

a) the emotions that the poem evokes when we imagine being tortured, and

b) the emotions that our sense-impressions evoke when we are actually being tortured?]

Any passion that poetry provokes is an emotion we are capable of feeling without reading poetry. And yet, we experience poetic passions a different way. So they are the same as normal emotions, but we just feel them differently. This is why

a passion, which is disagreeable in real life, may afford the highest entertainment in a tragedy, or epic poem. (631a)

The passions that epic poems evoke feel less firm and solid than those brought about by actual sense impressions. Thus they do not move us to act. Rather, they have "no other than the agreeable effect of exciting the spirits, and rouzing the attention." (631b)

Both poetry and sense-impressions evoke ideas. Neither one necessarily will cause us to act, even though both press upon our minds. But we may distinguish them according to their potencies. Ideas inferred from sense-impressions have greater force on our imaginations, and give us a greater sense for their reality. The give us stronger tendencies. We might not act on such inferred ideas, but we feel the impulsion. Yet in many cases poetry does more to add vivacity to our ideas.

A poetical description may have a more sensible effect on the fancy, than an historical narration. It may collect more of those circumstances, that form a compleat image or picture. It may seem to set the object before us in more lively colours. (631c)

However, our poetically inspired impulsions and tendencies have less vigor than ones inferred from actual sense-impressions.

But still the ideas it presents are different to the feeling from those, which arise from the memory and the judgment. There is something weak and imperfect amidst all that seeming vehemence of thought and sentiment, which attends the fictions of poetry. (631c)

§272 Poetry's Inferior Vigor of Conception

Appendix Addition D cont.

Hume later will detail the differences and similarities between poetic enthusiasm and serious conviction. For now he will note some generalities regarding the difference in feeling that each produces.

The ideas that both poetry and sense-inference evoke are mostly the same sort. But the connections between sense-impressions and their evoked ideas are constantly connected. This leads us to treat them as having a necessary connection.

Poetry presents our imagination with images. These evoke our passions. But the connection between the images and our emotions is not the result of constant connections. So they are not necessary like sense-inferences. And they are not connected well to reality.

We observe, that the vigour of conception, which fictions receive from poetry and eloquence, is a circumstance merely accidental, of which every idea is equally susceptible; and that such fictions are connected with nothing that is real. (361c)

Poetic ideas and inferred ideas are both nonetheless mental perceptions. But poetic ideas are less concrete than sense-impressions. And our belief in poetic ideas is much less as well.

§273 Rules of Perception

Appendix Addition D cont.

Imagine that we are looking at two trees. In our field of vision, the top of the one aligns-with the top of the other. But we happen to know that one stands 20 feet behind the other. Neither one impresses our senses in a way that causes us to infer that either is taller than the other. However, we reason that the one further away must stand higher. So our reasoned conclusion is not as vivacious as the ideas evoked by our sense-impressions. However, we believe our reasoning more than our eyes. In this example, we used a general rule: objects appear smaller with distance. From this we rationally infer the idea that the more distant tree is larger. Hence our consideration of "general rules keeps us from augmenting our belief upon every encrease of the force and vivacity of our ideas." (632a)

§274 Blazing Poetic Images

So in these cases of general rules, further reflection on what we perceive can rectify any sense-illusions. Now when we read poetry, it will affect us more if we just passively let it influence our imaginations. But as soon as we stop and reflect on its imagery, we find that clearly it is unreal. So it loses much of its effect. Nonetheless, fantastic imagery can enhance the vivacity and hence also the believability of a poem.

It is however certain, that in the warmth of a poetical enthusiasm, a poet has a counterfeit belief, and even a kind of vision of his objects: And if there be any shadow of argument to support this belief, nothing contributes more to his full conviction than a blaze of poetical figures and images, which have their effect upon the poet himself, as well as upon his readers. (123d)

[Next entry in this series.]

[Directory of other entries in this series.]

From the original text:

Sect. x. Of the Influence of Belief.
But though education be disclaimed by philosophy, as a fallacious ground of assent to any opinion, it prevails nevertheless in the world, and is the cause why all systems are apt to be rejected at first as new and unusual. This perhaps will be the fate of what I have here advanced concerning belief, and though the proofs I have produced appear to me perfectly conclusive, I expect not to make many proselytes to my opinion. Men will scarce ever be persuaded, that effects of such consequence can flow from principles, which are seemingly so inconsiderable, and that the far greatest part of our reasonings with all our actions and passions, can be derived from nothing but custom and habit. To obviate this objection, I shall here anticipate a little what would more properly fall under our consideration afterwards, when we come to treat of the passions and the sense of beauty.
There is implanted in the human mind a perception of pain and pleasure, as the chief spring and moving principle of all its actions. But pain and pleasure have two ways of making their appearance in the mind; of which the one has effects very different from the other. They may either appear in impression to the actual feeling, or only in idea, as at present when I mention them. It is evident the influence of these upon our actions is far from being equal. Impressions always actuate the soul, and that in the highest degree; but it is not every idea which has the same effect. Nature has proceeded with caution in this came, and seems to have carefully avoided the inconveniences of two extremes. Did impressions alone influence the will, we should every moment of our lives be subject to the greatest calamities; because, though we foresaw their approach, we should not be provided by nature with any principle of action, which might impel us to avoid them. On the other hand, did every idea influence our actions, our condition would not be much mended. For such is the unsteadiness and activity of thought, that the images of every thing, especially of goods and evils, are always wandering in the mind; and were it moved by every idle conception of this kind, it would never enjoy a moment’s peace and tranquillity.
Nature has, therefore, chosen a medium, and has neither bestowed on every idea of good and evil the power of actuating the will, nor yet has entirely excluded them from this influence. Though an idle fiction has no efficacy, yet we find by experience, that the ideas of those objects, which we believe either are or will be existent, produce in a lesser degree the same effect with those impressions, which are immediately present to the senses and perception. The effect, then, of belief is to raise up a simple idea to an equality with our impressions, and bestow on it a like influence on the passions. This effect it can only have by making an idea approach an impression in force and vivacity. For as the different degrees of force make all the original difference betwixt an impression and an idea, they must of consequence be the source of all the differences in the effects of these perceptions, and their removal, in whole or in part, the cause of every new resemblance they acquire. Wherever we can make an idea approach the impressions in force and vivacity, it will likewise imitate them in its influence on the mind; and vice versa, where it imitates them in that influence, as in the present case, this must proceed from its approaching them in force and vivacity. Belief, therefore, since it causes an idea to imitate the effects of the impressions, must make it resemble them in these qualities, and is nothing but A MORE VIVID AND INTENSE CONCEPTION OF ANY IDEA. This, then, may both serve as an additional argument for the present system, and may give us a notion after what manner our reasonings from causation are able to operate on the will and passions.
As belief is almost absolutely requisite to the exciting our passions, so the passions in their turn are very favourable to belief; and not only such facts as convey agreeable emotions, but very often such as give pain, do upon that account become more readily the objects of faith and opinion. A coward, whose fears are easily awakened, readily assents to every account of danger he meets with; as a person of a sorrowful and melancholy disposition is very credulous of every thing, that nourishes his prevailing passion. When any affecting object is presented, it gives the alarm, and excites immediately a degree of its proper passion; especially in persons who are naturally inclined to that passion. This emotion passes by an easy transition to the imagination; and diffusing itself over our idea of the affecting object, makes us form that idea with greater force and vivacity, and consequently assent to it, according to the precedent system. Admiration and surprize have the same effect as the other passions; and accordingly we may observe, that among the vulgar, quacks and projectors meet with a more easy faith upon account of their magnificent pretensions, than if they kept themselves within the bounds of moderation. The first astonishment, which naturally attends their miraculous relations, spreads itself over the whole soul, and so vivifies and enlivens the idea, that it resembles the inferences we draw from experience. This is a mystery, with which we may be already a little acquainted, and which we shall have farther occasion to be let into in the progress of this treatise.
After this account of the influence of belief on the passions, we shall find less difficulty in explaining its effects on the imagination, however extraordinary they may appear. It is certain we cannot take pleasure in any discourse, where our judgment gives no assent to those images which are presented to our fancy. The conversation of those who have acquired a habit of lying, though in affairs of no moment, never gives any satisfaction; and that because those ideas they present to us, not being attended with belief, make no impression upon the mind. Poets themselves, though liars by profession, always endeavour to give an air of truth to their fictions; and where that is totally neglected, their performances, however ingenious, will never be able to afford much pleasure. In short, we may observe, that even when ideas have no manner of influence on the will and passions, truth and reality are still requisite, in order to make them entertaining to the imagination.
But if we compare together all the phenomena that occur on this head, we shall find, that truth, however necessary it may seem in all works of genius, has no other effect than to procure an easy reception for the ideas, and to make the mind acquiesce in them with satisfaction, or at least without reluctance. But as this is an effect, which may easily be supposed to flow from that solidity and force, which, according to my system, attend those ideas that are established by reasonings from causation; it follows, that all the influence of belief upon the fancy may be explained from that system. Accordingly we may observe, that wherever that influence arises from any other principles beside truth or reality, they supply its place, and give an equal entertainment to the imagination. Poets have formed what they call a poetical system of things, which though it be believed neither by themselves nor readers, is commonly esteemed a sufficient foundation for any fiction. We have been so much accustomed to the names of MARS, JUPITER, VENUS, that in the same manner as education infixes any opinion, the constant repetition of these ideas makes them enter into the mind with facility, and prevail upon the fancy, without influencing the judgment. In like manner tragedians always borrow their fable, or at least the names of their principal actors, from some known passage in history; and that not in order to deceive the spectators; for they will frankly confess, that truth is not in any circumstance inviolably observed: but in order to procure a more easy reception into the imagination for those extraordinary events, which they represent. But this is a precaution, which is not required of comic poets, whose personages and incidents, being of a more familiar kind, enter easily into the conception, and are received without any such formality, even though at first night they be known to be fictitious, and the pure offspring of the fancy.
This mixture of truth and falshood in the fables of tragic poets not only serves our present purpose, by shewing, that the imagination can be satisfyed without any absolute belief or assurance; but may in another view be regarded as a very strong confirmation of this system. It is evident, that poets make use of this artifice of borrowing the names of their persons, and the chief events of their poems, from history, in order to procure a more easy reception for the whole, and cause it to make a deeper impression on the fancy and affections. The several incidents of the piece acquire a kind of relation by being united into one poem or representation; and if any of these incidents be an object of belief, it bestows a force and vivacity on the others, which are related to it. The vividness of the first conception diffuses itself along the relations, and is conveyed, as by so many pipes or canals, to every idea that has any communication with the primary one. This, indeed, can never amount to a perfect assurance; and that because the union among the ideas is, in a manner, accidental: But still it approaches so near, in its influence, as may convince us, that they are derived from the same origin. Belief must please the imagination by means of the force and vivacity which attends it; since every idea, which has force and vivacity, is found to be agreeable to that faculty.
To confirm this we may observe, that the assistance is mutual betwixt the judgment and fancy, as well as betwixt the judgment and passion; and that belief not only gives vigour to the imagination, but that a vigorous and strong imagination is of all talents the most proper to procure belief and authority. It is difficult for us to withhold our assent from what is painted out to us in all the colours of eloquence; and the vivacity produced by the fancy is in many cases greater than that which arises from custom and experience. We are hurried away by the lively imagination of our author or companion; and even be himself is often a victim to his own fire and genius.
Nor will it be amiss to remark, that as a lively imagination very often degenerates into madness or folly, and bears it a great resemblance in its operations; so they influence the judgment after the same manner, and produce belief from the very same principles. When the imagination, from any extraordinary ferment of the blood and spirits, acquires such a vivacity as disorders all its powers and faculties, there is no means of distinguishing betwixt truth and falshood; but every loose fiction or idea, having the same influence as the impressions of the memory, or the conclusions of the judgment, is received on the same footing, and operates with equal force on the passions. A present impression and a customary transition are now no longer necessary to enliven our ideas. Every chimera of the brain is as vivid and intense as any of those inferences, which we formerly dignifyed with the name of conclusions concerning matters of fact, and sometimes as the present impressions of the senses.
We may observe the same effect of poetry in a lesser degree; and this is common both to poetry and madness, that the vivacity they bestow on the ideas is not derived from the particular situations or connexions of the objects of these ideas, but from the present temper and disposition of the person. But how great soever the pitch may be, to which this vivacity rises, it is evident, that in poetry it never has the same feeling with that which arises in the mind, when we reason, though even upon the lowest species of probability. The mind can easily distinguish betwixt the one and the other; and whatever emotion the poetical enthusiasm may give to the spirits, it is still the mere phantom of belief or persuasion. The case is the same with the idea, as with the passion it occasions. There is no passion of the human mind but what may arise from poetry; though at the same time the feelings of the passions are very different when excited by poetical fictions, from what they are when they are from belief and reality. A passion, which is disagreeable in real life, may afford the highest entertainment in a tragedy, or epic poem. In the latter case, it lies not with that weight upon us: It feels less firm and solid: And has no other than the agreeable effect of exciting the spirits, and rouzing the attention. The difference in the passions is a clear proof of a like difference in those ideas, from which the passions are derived. Where the vivacity arises from a customary conjunction with a present impression; though the imagination may not, in appearance, be so much moved; yet there is always something more forcible and real in its actions, than in the fervors of poetry and eloquence. The force of our mental actions in this case, no more than in any other, is not to be measured by the apparent agitation of the mind. A poetical description may have a more sensible effect on the fancy, than an historical narration. It may collect more of those circumstances, that form a compleat image or picture. It may seem to set the object before us in more lively colours. But still the ideas it presents are different to the feeling from those, which arise from the memory and the judgment. There is something weak and imperfect amidst all that seeming vehemence of thought and sentiment, which attends the fictions of poetry.
We shall afterwards have occasion to remark both the resemblance and differences betwixt a poetical enthusiasm, and a serious conviction. In the mean time I cannot forbear observing, that the great difference in their feeling proceeds in some measure from reflection and GENERAL RULES. We observe, that the vigour of conception, which fictions receive from poetry and eloquence, is a circumstance merely accidental, of which every idea is equally susceptible; and that such fictions are connected with nothing that is real. This observation makes us only lend ourselves, so to speak, to the fiction: But causes the idea to feel very different from the eternal established persuasions founded on memory and custom. They are somewhat of the same kind: But the one is much inferior to the other, both in its causes and effects.
A like reflection on general rules keeps us from augmenting our belief upon every encrease of the force and vivacity of our ideas. Where an opinion admits of no doubt, or opposite probability, we attribute to it a full conviction: though the want of resemblance, or contiguity, may render its force inferior to that of other opinions. It is thus the understanding corrects the appearances of the senses, and makes us imagine, that an object at twenty foot distance seems even to the eye as large as one of the same dimensions at ten.
We may observe the same effect of poetry in a lesser degree; only with this difference, that the least reflection dissipates the illusions of poetry, and Places the objects in their proper light. It is however certain, that in the warmth of a poetical enthusiasm, a poet has a, counterfeit belief, and even a kind of vision of his objects: And if there be any shadow of argument to support this belief, nothing contributes more to his full conviction than a blaze of poetical figures and images, which have their effect upon the poet himself, as well as upon his readers.