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      GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.

      Nature of this Power—Its various Forms.—It is in the mind's power to conceive or represent to itself an object not at the time present to the senses. This may take place in several forms. There may be the simple reproduction in thought of the absent object of sense. There may be, along with the reproduction or recurrence of the object, the recognition of it as a former object of sensation or perception. There may be the reproduction of the object not as it is, or was, when formerly perceived, but with variations, the different elements arranged and combined not according to the actual and original, but according to the mind's own ideals, and at its will. This latter form of conception is what is usually termed imagination—while the general term memory, as ordinarily employed, is made to include the two former. While using the term in this general sense, we may properly distinguish, however, between mental reproduction, and mental recognition, the latter being strictly the office of memory.

      All these are but so many forms of the representative power. We may designate them respectively as the reproductive, recognitive, and creative faculties. The mind's activity is essentially the same under each of these forms. The object is not given but thought, not presented to sense, but represented to the mind. The process is reflective rather than intuitive. It is a matter of understanding rather than of sense or of reason. It is a conception, not a perception or an intuition, and it is a simple conception of the object as it is or is conceived to be, in itself considered, and not in relation to other objects.

      CHAPTER I.

      MEMORY.

      § I.—Mental Reproduction.

      I. Nature of the Process.

      General Character.—As now defined, this is that form of mental activity in which the mind's former perceptions and sensations are reproduced in thought. The external objects are no longer present—the original sensations and perceptions have vanished—but by the mind's own power are reproduced to thought, giving, as it were, a representation or image of the original.

      Example.—Suppose, for instance, that I have seen Strasburg minster, or the cathedral of Milan. Months, perhaps years pass away. By-and-by, in some other and remote part of the world, something reminds me of that splendid structure; I see again its imposing front, its lofty towers, its airy pinnacles and turrets. The solemn pile rises complete, as by magic, to the mind's eye, and, regardless of time or distance, the faculty of simple conception reproduces the object as it is.

      Conceptions of Sound.—In like manner I form a conception, more or less distinct, of sounds once heard. The chanting of the evening service in the Church of the Madeleine at Paris, and the prolonged note of a shepherd's horn among the Alps, are instances of musical sound that frequently recur with startling distinctness to the mind. The same is to some extent true of the sensations and perceptions derived from the other senses. With more or less vividness the objects of all such sensations and perceptions are capable of being reproduced in conception.

      The Conceptions not of Necessity connected with the Recollection of Self as the Percipient.—In these cases there may or may not be a connection of the object, as it lies before our minds, with our own personal history as the former percipients of that object. The time, place, circumstance, of that perception may not be distinctly before us; even the fact that we have ourselves seen, heard, felt, what we now conceive, may not, at the moment, be an object of thought. These are the elements of memory or mental recognition, and are certainly very likely to stand associated in our minds with the conception of the object itself. But not always nor of necessity is it so. There may be simple conception of the object, mental reproduction, where there is, for the time being, no recognition of any thing further. The Strasburg minster, the chanting of the choir, the note of the mountain horn, the snowy peak of Jungfrau, may stand out by themselves before the mind, abstracted from all thought of the time, the place, the circumstances in which they were originally perceived, or even from all thought of the fact that we have at some former time actually perceived these very objects. They may present themselves as pure conceptions.

      Conceptions vary in some Respects.—Our conceptions vary in respect to definiteness and clearness. The objects of some of the senses are more readily and also more distinctly conceived than those of others. The sense of sight is peculiar in this respect. A visible object is more easily and more distinctly conceived than a particular sound or taste. The sense of hearing is, perhaps, next to that of sight in this respect; while the sensations of taste and smell are so seldom the objects of distinct conception, that some have even denied the power of conceiving them. Dr. Wayland maintains this view. That we do form conceptions more or less distinct of the objects both of taste and smell, as, e. g. of the taste of a melon, or the smell of an orange, hardly admits of question; while, at the same time, it is doubtless true that we have less occasion to reproduce in thought the objects now referred to than those of sight and hearing, that they are recalled with less facility, and also with less distinctness.

      Stewart's Theory.—Dugald Stewart has ingeniously suggested that the reason why a sound or a taste is less readily conceived than an object of sight, may be that the former are single detached sensations, while visible objects are complex, presenting a series of connected points of observation, and our conception of them as a whole is the result of many single conceptions, a result to which the association of ideas largely contributes. We more readily conceive two things in connection than either of them separately. On the same principle a series of sounds in a strain of music is more readily conceived than a single detached note.

      Importance of this Power.—The value of this power to the mind is inestimable. Without it, the passing moment, the impression or sensation of the instant, would be the sum total of our intellectual life, of our conscious being. The horizon of our mental vision would extend no further than our immediate present perceptions. The past would be a blank as dark and uncertain even as the future. Conception lights up the otherwise dreary waste of past existence, and reproducing the former scenes and objects, gives us mental possession of all that we have been, as well as of the present moment, and lays at our feet the objects of all former knowledge. The mind thus becomes in a measure independent of sense and the external world. What it has once seen, heard, felt, becomes its permanent acquisition, even when the original object of perception is for ever removed. I may have seen the grand and stately minster, or the snowy Alp but once in all my life, but ever after it dwells among my conceptions, and in after years, on other continents, and amid far other scenes, that vision of beauty and grandeur passes before me as an angelic vision; that succession of sweet sounds traverses again the silent chambers of the brain, with all the freshness of first reality. It is only a conception now, but who shall estimate the worth of that simple power of conception?

      The Talent for Description as affected by this Power.—The following remarks of Mr. Stewart illustrate happily one of the many uses to which this power is subservient:

      "A talent for lively description, at least in the case of sensible objects, depends chiefly on the degree in which the describer possesses the power of conception. We may remark, even in common conversation, a striking difference among individuals in this respect. One man, in attempting to convey a notion of any object he has seen, seems to place it before him, and to paint from actual perception; another, although not deficient in a ready elocution, finds himself, in such a situation, confused and embarrassed among a number of particulars imperfectly apprehended, which crowd into his mind without any just order and connection. Nor is it merely to the accuracy of our descriptions that this power is subservient; it contributes, more than any thing else, to render them striking and expressive to others, by guiding us to a selection of such circumstances as are most prominent and characteristic; insomuch that I think it may reasonably be doubted if a person would not write a happier description of an object from the conception than from the perception of it. It has often been remarked, that the perfection of description does not consist in a minute specification of circumstances, but in a judicious selection of them and that the best rule for making the selection is to attend to the particulars that make the deepest

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