1.2. CHAP. II
Of IMAGINATION
THAT when a thing lies still, unless somewhat else stir it, it
will lie still for ever, is a truth that no man doubts of. But that
when a thing is in motion, it will eternally be in motion, unless
somewhat else stay it, though the reason be the same (namely, that
nothing can change itself), is not so easily assented to. For men
measure, not only other men, but all other things, by themselves:
and because they find themselves subject after motion to pain and
lassitude, think everything else grows weary of motion, and seeks
repose of its own accord; little considering whether it be not some
other motion wherein that desire of rest they find in themselves
consisteth. From hence it is that the schools say, heavy bodies fall
downwards out of an appetite to rest, and to conserve their nature
in that place which is most proper for them; ascribing appetite, and
knowledge of what is good for their conservation (which is more than
man has), to things inanimate, absurdly.
When a body is once in motion, it moveth (unless something else
hinder it) eternally; and whatsoever hindreth it, cannot in an
instant, but in time, and by degrees, quite extinguish it: and as we
see in the water, though the wind cease, the waves give not over
rolling for a long time after; so also it happeneth in that motion
which is made in the internal parts of a man, then, when he sees,
dreams, etc. For after the object is removed, or the eye shut, we
still retain an image of the thing seen, though more obscure than when
we see it. And this is it the Latins call imagination, from the
image made in seeing, and apply the same, though improperly, to all
the other senses. But the Greeks call it fancy, which signifies
appearance, and is as proper to one sense as to another.
Imagination, therefore, is nothing but decaying sense; and is found in
men and many other living creatures, as well sleeping as waking.
The decay of sense in men waking is not the decay of the motion made
in sense, but an obscuring of it, in such manner as the light of the
sun obscureth the light of the stars; which stars do no less
exercise their virtue by which they are visible in the day than in the
night. But because amongst many strokes which our eyes, ears, and
other organs receive from external bodies, the predominant only is
sensible; therefore the light of the sun being predominant, we are not
affected with the action of the stars. And any object being removed
from our eyes, though the impression it made in us remain, yet other
objects more present succeeding, and working on us, the imagination of
the past is obscured and made weak, as the voice of a man is in the
noise of the day. From whence it followeth that the longer the time
is, after the sight or sense of any object, the weaker is the
imagination. For the continual change of man's body destroys in time
the parts which in sense were moved: so that distance of time, and
of place, hath one and the same effect in us. For as at a great
distance of place that which we look at appears dim, and without
distinction of the smaller parts, and as voices grow weak and
inarticulate: so also after great distance of time our imagination
of the past is weak; and we lose (for example) of cities we have seen,
many particular streets; and of actions, many particular
circumstances. This decaying sense, when we would express the thing
itself (I mean fancy itself), we call imagination, as I said before.
But when we would express the decay, and signify that the sense is
fading, old, and past, it is called memory. So that imagination and
memory are but one thing, which for diverse considerations hath
diverse names.
Much memory, or memory of many things, is called experience.
Again, imagination being only of those things which have been formerly
perceived by sense, either all at once, or by parts at several
times; the former (which is the imagining the whole object, as it
was presented to the sense) is simple imagination, as when one
imagineth a man, or horse, which he hath seen before. The other is
compounded, when from the sight of a man at one time, and of a horse
at another, we conceive in our mind a centaur. So when a man
compoundeth the image of his own person with the image of the
actions of another man, as when a man imagines himself a Hercules or
an Alexander (which happeneth often to them that are much taken with
reading of romances), it is a compound imagination, and properly but a
fiction of the mind. There be also other imaginations that rise in
men, though waking, from the great impression made in sense: as from
gazing upon the sun, the impression leaves an image of the sun
before our eyes a long time after; and from being long and
vehemently attent upon geometrical figures, a man shall in the dark,
though awake, have the images of lines and angles before his eyes;
which kind of fancy hath no particular name, as being a thing that
doth not commonly fall into men's discourse.
The imaginations of them that sleep are those we call dreams. And
these also (as all other imaginations) have been before, either
totally or by parcels, in the sense. And because in sense, the brain
and nerves, which are the necessary organs of sense, are so benumbed
in sleep as not easily to be moved by the action of external
objects, there can happen in sleep no imagination, and therefore no
dream, but what proceeds from the agitation of the inward parts of
man's body; which inward parts, for the connexion they have with the
brain and other organs, when they be distempered do keep the same in
motion; whereby the imaginations there formerly made, appear as if a
man were waking; saving that the organs of sense being now benumbed,
so as there is no new object which can master and obscure them with
a more vigorous impression, a dream must needs be more clear, in
this silence of sense, than are our waking thoughts. And hence it
cometh to pass that it is a hard matter, and by many thought
impossible, to distinguish exactly between sense and dreaming. For
my part, when I consider that in dreams I do not often nor
constantly think of the same persons, places, objects, and actions
that I do waking, nor remember so long a train of coherent thoughts
dreaming as at other times; and because waking I often observe the
absurdity of dreams, but never dream of the absurdities of my waking
thoughts, I am well satisfied that, being awake, I know I dream not;
though when I dream, I think myself awake.
And seeing dreams are caused by the distemper of some of the
inward parts of the body, diverse distempers must needs cause
different dreams. And hence it is that lying cold breedeth dreams of
fear, and raiseth the thought and image of some fearful object, the
motion from the brain to the inner parts, and from the inner parts
to the brain being reciprocal; and that as anger causeth heat in
some parts of the body when we are awake, so when we sleep the
overheating of the same parts causeth anger, and raiseth up in the
brain the imagination of an enemy. In the same manner, as natural
kindness when we are awake causeth desire, and desire makes heat in
certain other parts of the body; so also too much heat in those parts,
while we sleep, raiseth in the brain an imagination of some kindness
shown. In sum, our dreams are the reverse of our waking
imaginations; the motion when we are awake beginning at one end, and
when we dream, at another.
The most difficult discerning of a man's dream from his waking
thoughts is, then, when by some accident we observe not that we have
slept: which is easy to happen to a man full of fearful thoughts;
and whose conscience is much troubled; and that sleepeth without the
circumstances of going to bed, or putting off his clothes, as one that
noddeth in a chair. For he that taketh pains, and industriously lays
himself to sleep, in case any uncouth and exorbitant fancy come unto
him, cannot easily think it other than a dream. We read of Marcus
Brutus (one that had his life given him by Julius Caesar, and was also
his favorite, and notwithstanding murdered him), how at Philippi,
the night before he gave battle to Augustus Caesar, he saw a fearful
apparition, which is commonly related by historians as a vision,
but, considering the circumstances, one may easily judge to have
been but a short dream. For sitting in his tent, pensive and
troubled with the horror of his rash act, it was not hard for him,
slumbering in the cold, to dream of that which most affrighted him;
which fear, as by degrees it made him wake, so also it must needs make
the apparition by degrees to vanish: and having no assurance that he
slept, he could have no cause to think it a dream, or anything but a
vision. And this is no very rare accident: for even they that be
perfectly awake, if they be timorous and superstitious, possessed with
fearful tales, and alone in the dark, are subject to the like fancies,
and believe they see spirits and dead men's ghosts walking in
churchyards; whereas it is either their fancy only, or else the
knavery of such persons as make use of such superstitious fear to pass
disguised in the night to places they would not be known to haunt.
From this ignorance of how to distinguish dreams, and other strong
fancies, from vision and sense, did arise the greatest part of the
religion of the Gentiles in time past, that worshipped satyrs,
fauns, nymphs, and the like; and nowadays the opinion that rude people
have of fairies, ghosts, and goblins, and of the power of witches.
For, as for witches, I think not that their witchcraft is any real
power, but yet that they are justly punished for the false belief they
have that they can do such mischief, joined with their purpose to do
it if they can, their trade being nearer to a new religion than to a
craft or science. And for fairies, and walking ghosts, the opinion
of them has, I think, been on purpose either taught, or not
confuted, to keep in credit the use of exorcism, of crosses, of holy
water, and other such inventions of ghostly men. Nevertheless, there
is no doubt but God can make unnatural apparitions: but that He does
it so often as men need to fear such things more than they fear the
stay, or change, of the course of Nature, which he also can stay,
and change, is no point of Christian faith. But evil men, under
pretext that God can do anything, are so bold as to say anything
when it serves their turn, though they think it untrue; it is the part
of a wise man to believe them no further than right reason makes
that which they say appear credible. If this superstitious fear of
spirits were taken away, and with it prognostics from dreams, false
prophecies, and many other things depending thereon, by which crafty
ambitious persons abuse the simple people, men would be would be
much more fitted than they are for civil obedience.
And this ought to be the work of the schools, but they rather
nourish such doctrine. For (not knowing what imagination, or the
senses are) what they receive, they teach: some saying that
imaginations rise of themselves, and have no cause; others that they
rise most commonly from the will; and that good thoughts are blown
(inspired) into a man by God, and evil thoughts, by the Devil; or that
good thoughts are poured (infused) into a man by God, and evil ones by
the Devil. Some say the senses receive the species of things, and
deliver them to the common sense; and the common sense delivers them
over to the fancy, and the fancy to the memory, and the memory to
the judgement, like handing of things from one to another, with many
words making nothing understood.
The imagination that is raised in man (or any other creature
endued with the faculty of imagining) by words, or other voluntary
signs, is that we generally call understanding, and is common to man
and beast. For a dog by custom will understand the call or the
rating of his master; and so will many other beasts. That
understanding which is peculiar to man is the understanding not only
his will, but his conceptions and thoughts, by the sequel and
contexture of the names of things into affirmations, negations, and
other forms of speech: and of this kind of understanding I shall speak
hereafter.