obfervation discovers to us that the fubject is not yet exhausted; because our paffions, as all the world know, are moved by fiction as well as by truth. In judging beforehand of man, fo remarkably addicted to truth and reality, one should little dream that fiction could have any effect upon him. But man's intellectual faculties are too imperfect to dive far even into his own nature. I fhall take occafion afterward to show, that this branch of the human conftitution, is contrived with admirable wifdom and is fubfervient to excellent purposes. In the mean time, I must endeavour to unfold, by what means fiction hath such influence on the mind. That the objects of our fenfes really exift in the + we and manner way perceive, is a branch of intuitive knowledge. When I fee a man walking, a tree growing, or cattle grazing, I have a conviction that these things are precifely as they appear. If I be a fpectator of any tranfaction or event, I have a conviction of the real exiftence of the perfons engaged, of their words, and of their actions. Nature determines us to rely on the veracity of our fenfes. And indeed, if our fenfes did not convince us of the reality of their objects, they could not in any degree anfwer their end.

By the power of memory, a thing formerly feen may be recalled to the mind with different degrees of accuracy: We commonly are fatisfied with a flight recollection of the chief circumstances; and, in Tuch recollection, the thing is not figured as préfeht nor any image formed. I retain the confcioufnefs of my prefent, fituation, and barely remember formerly I

fpect to an intere as a fpectator. But with re

object or event which made a ftrong impreffion, the mind fometimes, not fatisfied with a curfory review, chufes to revolve every circumftance. In this cafe, I conceive myfelf to be a fpectator as I was originally; and I A perceive

perceive every particular paffing in my prefence, in the fame manner as when I was in reality a fpectator. For example, I faw yefterday a beautiful woman in tears for the lofs of an only child, and was greatly moved with her diftrefs. Not fatisfied with a flight recollection or bare remembrance, I infift on the melancholy fcene. Conceiving myself to be in the place where I was an eye-witness, every circumftance appears to me as at first. Į think I fee the woman in tears and hear her moans. Hence it may be justly faid, that in a complete idea of memory there is no past nor future. A thing recalled to the mind with the accuracy is perceived as in our view, and confequently as prefently existing. Past time makes a part of an incomplete idea only: L remember or reflect, that fome years ago I was. at Oxford, and faw the firft ftone laid of the Radcliff library; and I remember that at a ftill greater diftance of time, I heard a debate in the house of Commons about a ftanding army.

I have been defcribine

Lamentable is the imperfection of language, al moft in every particular that falls not under exter-nal fenfe. I am talking of a matter exceeding clear in itself, and of which every perfon must be consci ous, and yet I find I find no finall difficulty to exprefs it clearly in words; for it is not accurate to talk of incidents long past as paling in our fight, nor of hearing at prefent what we really heard yesterday or perhaps a year ago. To this neceflity I am reduced, by want of proper words, to defcribe ideal prefence and to diftinguish it from real prefence. And thus in the defcription, a plain fubject becomes obfcure and intricate. When I recall any thing in the diftincteft manner, to as to form an idea or image of it as prefent; I have not words to defcribe this act, other than that I perceive the thing as a fpectator, and as exifting in my prefence. This

means

means not that I am really a fpectator; but only that I conceive myself to be a fpectator, and have a consciousness of prefence fimilar to what a real fpectator hath.

As many rules of criticism depend on ideal prefence, the reader, it is expected, will take fome pains to form an exact notion of it, as diftinguished on the one hand from real prefence, and on the other from fuperficial or reflective remembrance. It is diftinguished from the former by the following circumftance. Ideal prefence arifing from an act of memory, may properly be termed a waking dream; because, like a dream, it vanifheth upon the first reflection of our prefent fituation. Real prefence, on the contrary, vouched by eye-fight, commands our belief, not only during the direct perception, but in reflecting afterward upon the object. And to diftinguish ideal prefence from the latter, I give the following illuftration. Two internal acts, both of them exertions of memory, are clearly diftinguishable. When I think of an event as paft, without forming any image, it is barely reflecting or remembering that I was an eye-witnefs. But when I recall the event fo diftinctly as to form a complete image of it, I perceive it ideally as paffing in my prefence; and this ideal perception is an act of intuition, into which reflection enters not more than into an act of fight.

Though ideal prefence be diftinguifhed from real prefence on the one fide and from reflective remembrance on the other, it is however variable without any precife limits; rifing fometimes toward the former, and often finking toward the latter. In a vigorous exertion of memory, ideal prefence is extremely diftinct. When a man, as in a reverie, drops himself out of his thoughts, he perceives eyery thing as paffing before him, and hath a confcioufnefs of presence fimilar to that of a spectator.

There

There is no other difference, but that in the former the conscioufnefs of prefence is lefs firm and clear than in the latter. But this is feldom the cafe. Ideal prefence is often faint, and the image fo obfcure as not to differ widely from reflective remembrance.

Hitherto of an idea of memory. I proceed to confider the idea of a thing I never faw, raifed in me by fpeech, by writing, or by painting. This idea, with respect to the prefent matter, is of the fame nature with an idea of memory, being either complete or incomplete. An important event, by a lively and accurate defcription, roufes my attention and infenfibly transforms me into a spectator: I perceive ideally every incident as paffing in my prefence. On the other hand, a flight or fuperficial narrative produceth only a faint and incomplete idea,, precisely fimilar to a reflective recollection of memory. Of fuch idea, ideal prefence makes no part. Past time is a circumstance that enters into this idea,, as it doth into a reflective idea of memory. I believe that Scipio existed about 2000 years ago, and that he overcame Hannibal in the famous battle of Zama. When I revolve in fo curfory a manner that memorable event, I confider it as long past. But fuppofing me to be warmed with the ftory, perhaps by a beautiful description, I am infenfibly transformed to a spectator. I perceive these two heroes in act to engage; I perceive them brandishing their fwords, and exhorting their troops; and in this manner I attend them through every cir cumftance of the battle. This event being present to my mind during the whole progress of my thoughts, admits not any time but the present.

I have had occasion to observe *, that ideas both of memory and of fpeech, produce emotions of the fame kind with what are produced by an immediate

Part 1. fect. 1. of the prefent chapter.

mediate view of the object; only fainter, in proportion as an idea is fainter than an original perception. The infight we have now got, unfolds the means by which this effect is produced. Ideal prefence fupplies the want of real prefence; and in idea we perceive perfons acting and fuffering, precifely as in an original furvey. If our fympathy be engaged by the latter, it must also in fome measure be engaged by the former. The diftinctnefs of ideal prefence, as above mentioned, approacheth fometimes to the diftin&tnefs of real prefence; and the consciousness of prefence is the fame in both. This is the caufe of the pleafure that is felt in a reverie, where a man, lofing fight of himself, is totally occupied with the objects paffing in his mind, which he conceives to be really. exifting in his prefence. The power of fpeech to raise emotions, depends entirely on the artifice ne of raising fuch lively and diftin&t images as are here defcribed. The reader's paffions are never fenfibly moved, till he be thrown into a kind of reverie; in which state, lofing the confcioufnefs of felf, and of reading, his prefent occupation, he conceives every incident as paffing in his prefence, precifely as if he were an eye-witness. A general or reflective remembrance hath not this effect. It may be agreeable in fome flight degree; but the ideas fuggefted by it, are too faint and obfcure to raise any thing like a fympathetic emotion. And were they ever fo lively, they pass with too much precipitation to have this effect. Our emotions are never inftantaneous: even those that come the fooneft to perfection, have different periods of birth, growth, and maturity; and to give opportunity for thefe different periods, it is neceffary that the caufe of every emotion be prefent to the mind a due time. The emotion is completed by reiterated impreffions. We know this to be the cafe of objects

enl

of