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LECTURE XXXVI.

PRIMARY LAWS OF SUGGESTION,-I. RESEMBLANCE, CON

CLUDED,-II. CONTRAST.

GENTLEMEN, a great part of my last Lecture was occupied in considering the influence of resemblance, as a connecting principle in our trains of thought. The illustrations of it, which I used, were chiefly of the rhetorical kind, which are, in themselves, most striking illustrations of the varieties of spontaneous suggestion, and which appeared, to me, peculiarly valuable, as enabling me to point out to what simple universal principles of the mental constitution, even the boldest figures of the rhetorician are to be traced. It is the same in these as in all the other products of human skill. The very arts, which we seem to ourselves to create, as if it were in our power to add to nature, never can be any thing more than forms which nature herself assumes. Whether the province be that of matter or of mind,-in the exercises of poetry and eloquence, and in the philosophic criticism, which estimates the degrees of excellence displayed in these delightful combats of intellectual glory, as in the works of a very different kind, which the mechanic ingenuity and labour of man devise and execute,-what appears most artificial is nothing more than a skilful application of the simple laws of nature,--of laws which we may apply, indeed, to our various purposes,and which some may know how to apply more successfully than others, but which are continually operating on matter and mind, independently of the applications which our skill may

make of them.

In examining how much the suggesting principle is influenced by similarity, we considered first, that most direct and obvious resemblance which objects bear to each other in their sensible qualities. We then proceeded to consider the fainter indirect resemblance, which constitutes what is termed analogy, and we found, that it is to this species of shadowy likeness that philosophy owes its accessions of power, and poetry its most attractive charms; since to the invention of the phi

losopher it suggests, in the contemplation of a single desired effect, all the variety of analogous means, which may separately lead to the production of it, and to the fancy of the poet all that variety of kindred imagery and emotions with which, by a sort of double transformation, he gives life to inanimate objects, and form, and colour, and substance, to every feeling of the soul.

There is another set of resemblances, not in the objects themselves, but in the mere arbitrary signs which express them, that have a powerful, though less obvious influence on suggestion, and often guide the trains of our thought without appearing to guide them.

It is, when we consider, indeed, what language truly is, not more wonderful that words as sounds, without regard to the sensible objects or abstract meanings denoted by them, should awaken in the mind the conception of similar sounds, than that one form or colour should be suggested by a similar form or colour; and, so arbitrary is language, that these mere verbal similarities do not, necessarily, involve similarities of meaning. On the contrary, the words which express different objects may have the most exact resemblance, though there may not be the slightest direct resemblance, nor even the faintest analogy, in the objects, which the words denote. The new word, however, which some former word may have suggested, by its mere similarity in sound, is itself significant of some peculiar meaning. It, too, is a symbol, and, as a symbol, cannot be thus suggested, without exciting uniformly, or almost uniformly, and immediately, the conception of the thing signified; and hence, from the accidental agreement of their mere verbal signs, conceptions arise which otherwise would not have arisen, and, consequently, trains of reflection altogether different. Our thoughts, which usually govern our language, are themselves also in a great measure governed in this way, by that very language over which they seem to exercise unlimited command; so true, in more senses than one, is the observation of Lord Bacon, "Credunt homines rationem suam verbis imperare, sed fit etiam, ut verba vim suam super rationem retorqueant."*

I do not speak at present, however, of the important influence which Bacon had particularly in view in these words, -the influence of language as the direct medium of thought, perpetuating by habitual use, the prejudices involved in the original meaning of certain words, or by accidental association, conveying peculiar differences of meaning to the minds.

• Nov. Orig. Lib. I. aph. lix

of different individuals, and thus strengthening and fixing in each many separate prejudices, in addition to the general prejudices of mankind. This permanent influence of language, as tinging with its peculiar colours the thought of which it is the medium, though we may not feel it in the particular cases in which it modifies our own judgments, we know at least to be very powerful, because we are sufficiently quick-sighted to discover its influence on the minds of those who are opposed to us in opinion; every one, in the intercourse of society, thus serving as a mirror, to shew, to every one besides, the principles of fallacy in his own mental consititution, which are truly in himself, though he cannot perceive them, but as they are reflected from others.

We have, however, too many mirrors of this kind around us, not to have some slight fear at least, that the prejudices of language, as the direct medium of thought, may be exercising their universal dominion, even on ourselves, the least fallible of the multitude; but we pay little attention in general, and even philosophers have scarcely attended to that indirect, though not less real, influence of language, to which I at present allude, the influence which it indirectly acquires, as a series of sounds, suggesting each other in succession, by their own similarities, independently of any relations that may subsist in the objects which they denote, and independently, too, of those general habits, or accidental and limited associations, of which Bacon speaks. Similar sounds suggest by their mere similarity, similar sounds; and the words thus suggested, awake the conceptions which they are accustomed to represent, and, consequently, the whole train of thoughts, and images associated with these conceptions, which would not have arisen but for the accidental resemblance of one symbol to another. That such verbal suggestions should frequently occur, we might presume, a priori, from our knowledge of the general principles of association. But the influence which this symbolic resemblance has on our looser trains of silent thought, is perhaps far greater than we conceive it to be. There is, indeed, a very obvious reason, that it should appear to us less than it truly is.

When a word is once suggested by its syllabic resemblance, and, consequently, the image which that new word denotes, the mind is so quick to perceive a relation of some sort among almost all the objects which can be presented to it, that it readily discovers some relation between the new image and those which preceded it; and though it was truly the resemblance of mere sound which suggested it, independently of the relation, which may be discovered after it is suggested, the

feeling of this relation seems of itself, when we look back, sufficient to account for the suggestion. We think of this, therefore, as the cause, since it can be made to harmonize, in some measure, with our thought itself, and disregard that mere verbal influence, in which, and in which alone, the suggestion had its origin. It is only where the direct verbal suggestion is rendered more apparent, by the strange incongruity of the images, which the similar sounds chance to denote, as in the case of puns, that we readily ascribe the suggestion to the word, and not to the thought itself. Even in the case of puns, it is only to the few, in which the contrast of meaning is very striking, that we pay any attention. How many words of similar sound arise in the mind by this species of suggestion, which are never uttered as puns, but pass silently away, because they are felt to be without that happy ambiguity, or opposition of meaning, which alone could reconcile the hearers to this petty species of wit.

Next to this petty species of wit, as a proof of the influence of mere verbal similarities of sound in suggestion, may be mentioned the connecting influence of rhyme. That, in rhyme, sound suggests sound, and consequently operates indirectly on the train of thought by this mere symbolical resemblance, there can be no question, since rhyme itself is but the recurrence of such similar sounds at regular or irregular intervals; and to these recurring sounds, it is very evident, that the train of thought must be in a considerable degree subservient, however independent of it, it may seem. I need not quote to you the simile of Butler so often quoted on this subject, in which he compares rhyme, in it influence on verse, to the rudder, which, though in the rear of the vessel, and apparently following its direction, directs the track which the vessel itself is to pursue; but there can be no doubt as to the reality of the influence exercised on the whole verse, by these final words,the monotonous syllables, of which the office has been said to be nothing more than the very humble one of standing,

"like watchmen at the close,

To keep the verse from being prose."

On first consideration it might seem, that, in the use of rhyme, the necessity under which the poet is placed of accommodating his train of thought to resemblances of sound that have themselves no peculiar relation to one thought more than to another, and the frequent sacrifices which may, therefore, be required of him, must be unfavourable to the sentiment of the verse, whatever accession of pleasure it may or VOL. II.-C

may not be supposed to give to the melody. That it must occasionally render some sacrifices unavoidable, and thus sometimes deprive the reader of expressions more powerful in themselves than the tamer phrases, which alone admit of being accommodated to some obstinate and intractable rhyme, is indeed true. Yet the influence of this constraint is, perhaps, upon the whole, far from unfavourable to the sentiment, giving more than it takes away. For how many of the most beautiful thoughts and images of poetry are we indebted to these final sounds, which suggest each other by their accidental resemblances; and which, merely by obliging the poet to pause till he can accommodate the verse, with perfect propriety of sentiment and measure, to the imperious necessity of the rhyme, bring before him during this interval a greater variety of images, from which to make his selection, than would have occurred to his rapid invention and too easy acquiescence if he had not been under the same unavoidable restraint. In this respect, the shackles of rhyme have often been compared to the fetters of the actor; which, instead of truly embarrassing his movements, and giving him less pomp and consequence in the eyes of those who gaze on him, only make him toss his arms with more impetuous action, and tread the stage with greater majesty.

An influence on the successions of our thought,-similar to that of the concluding syllables of verse,-is exercised by the initial sounds of words in alliteration. How readily suggestions of this kind occur, so as to modify indirectly the train of images and feelings in the mind, and what pleasure they afford when they seem to have arisen without effort, is marked by the tendency to alliteration which is so prevalent, not in the poetry merely, but still more in the traditionary proverbs of every country. In like manner, when names are to be coupled in the fictions of romance, and when many names seem equal in every other respect, this alterative resemblance is very frequently, to use Leibnitz's phrase, the sufficient reason which directs the author's choice. In the works of a single novelist, for example, how much more readily do the names of Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Ferdinand Count Fathom, seem to join together, than if the same names had been differently arranged, in any transposition which we could make of them.

It is in verse, however, and particularly in the lighter species of verse, that the charm of alliteration is most powerfully felt. I scarcely need repeat to you any examples, to prove what you must often have experienced :-

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