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or pain of some kind or other. Of this impression there is a copy taken
by the mind, which remains after the impression ceases; and this we call
an idea. This idea of pleasure or pain, when it returns upon the soul,
produces the new impressions of desire and aversion, hope and fear,
which may properly be called impressions of reflexion, because derived
from it. These again are copied by the memory and imagination, and
become ideas; which perhaps in their turn give rise to other impressions
and ideas. So that the impressions of reflexion are only antecedent
to their correspondent ideas; but posterior to those of sensation, and
derived from them. The examination of our sensations belongs more to
anatomists and natural philosophers than to moral; and therefore shall
not at present be entered upon. And as the impressions of reflexion,
viz. passions, desires, and emotions, which principally deserve our
attention, arise mostly from ideas, it will be necessary to reverse that
method, which at first sight seems most natural; and in order to explain
the nature and principles of the human mind, give a particular account
of ideas, before we proceed to impressions. For this reason I have here
chosen to begin with ideas.
SECT. III. OF THE IDEAS OF THE MEMORY AND IMAGINATION.
We find by experience, that when any impression has been present with
the mind, it again makes its appearance there as an idea; and this it
may do after two different ways: either when in its new appearance it
retains a considerable degree of its first vivacity, and is somewhat
intermediate betwixt an impression and an idea: or when it entirely
loses that vivacity, and is a perfect idea. The faculty, by which we
repeat our impressions in the first manner, is called the MEMORY, and
the other the IMAGINATION. It is evident at first sight, that the
ideas of the memory are much more lively and strong than those of the
imagination, and that the former faculty paints its objects in more
distinct colours, than any which are employed by the latter. When we
remember any past event, the idea of it flows in upon the mind in a
forcible manner; whereas in the imagination the perception is faint and
languid, and cannot without difficulty be preserved by the mind
steddy and uniform for any considerable time. Here then is a sensible
difference betwixt one species of ideas and another. But of this more
fully hereafter.[2]
[2] Part III, Sect. 5.
There is another difference betwixt these two kinds of ideas, which is
no less evident, namely that though neither the ideas, of the memory
nor imagination, neither the lively nor faint ideas can make their
appearance in the mind, unless their correspondent impressions have
gone before to prepare the way for them, yet the imagination is not
restrained to the same order and form with the original impressions;
while the memory is in a manner tied down in that respect, without any
power of variation.
It is evident, that the memory preserves the original form, in which
its objects were presented, and that where-ever we depart from it in
recollecting any thing, it proceeds from some defect or imperfection
in that faculty. An historian may, perhaps, for the more convenient
Carrying on of his narration, relate an event before another, to which
it was in fact posterior; but then he takes notice of this disorder, if
he be exact; and by that means replaces the idea in its due position. It
is the same case in our recollection of those places and persons, with
which we were formerly acquainted. The chief exercise of the memory
is not to preserve the simple ideas, but their order and position. In
short, this principle is supported by such a number of common and vulgar
phaenomena, that we may spare ourselves the trouble of insisting on it
any farther.
The same evidence follows us in our second principle, OF THE LIBERTY OF
THE IMAGINATION TO TRANSPOSE AND CHANGE ITS IDEAS. The fables we meet
with in poems and romances put this entirely out of the question. Nature
there is totally confounded, and nothing mentioned but winged horses,
fiery dragons, and monstrous giants. Nor will this liberty of the fancy
appear strange, when we consider, that all our ideas are copyed from
our impressions, and that there are not any two impressions which
are perfectly inseparable. Not to mention, that this is an evident
consequence of the division of ideas into simple and complex. Where-ever
the imagination perceives a difference among ideas, it can easily
produce a separation.
SECT. IV. OF THE CONNEXION OR ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.
As all simple ideas may be separated by the imagination, and may
be united again in what form it pleases, nothing would be more
unaccountable than the operations of that faculty, were it not guided
by some universal principles, which render it, in some measure, uniform
with itself in all times and places. Were ideas entirely loose and
unconnected, chance alone would join them; and it is impossible the same
simple ideas should fall regularly into complex ones (as they Commonly
do) without some bond of union among them, some associating quality,
by which one idea naturally introduces another. This uniting principle
among ideas is not to be considered as an inseparable connexion; for
that has been already excluded from the imagination: Nor yet are we to
conclude, that without it the mind cannot join two ideas; for nothing
is more free than that faculty: but we are only to regard it as a
gentle force, which commonly prevails, and is the cause why, among other