CHAPTER XIX.

IDEAS OF THE PLEASURABLE AND PAINFUL SENSATIONS, AND OF THE CAUSES OF THEM.

WE have already seen, that all sensations are capable of being revived, without that action on the organs of sense which originally produced them; and that, when so revived, we call them ideas or copies of the sensations.

The sensations which are pleasurable and painful, are revived in the same manner as those which are indifferent; but, as the sensations which are pleasurable and painful form a class of sensations remarkably distinguished from sensations of the indifferent class, the ideas of the pleasurable and painful sensations form a class of ideas, no less remarkably distinguished from the ideas of the indifferent sensations.

It is necessary to endeavour by a particular effort to distinguish accurately from all other feelings that peculiar state of consciousness, which we call the idea of a pleasurable or painful sensation; in other words, that sensation revived, after the operation upon the senses has ceased.

This state of consciousness, like other states, is known only by having it. What it is felt to be, it is. 190 We can afford, therefore, no aid to the reader in distinguishing it, otherwise than by using such expressions as seem calculated to fix his attention upon it. It is his own inward, invisible state, which only he can mark for himself.

The idea of a pain or pleasure, is not a pain or pleasure. We do not say that the idea of the hand scalded is a pain, or the idea of a sweet smell is a pleasure. But this is not very satisfactory language; for it, in reality, means little more, than that the idea of a pleasurable or painful sensation, is not a sensation. That there are some trains of ideas, however, which it is agreeable to have, others which it is disagreeable, is one among the most familiar facts of our nature. There is, therefore, a distinction among ideas, analogous to that of pleasurable and painful among sensations.

It is difficult to think of any one sensation by itself; because each is so combined with others, that the idea of one can never present itself, but in company with more. This is peculiarly the case with sensations of the pleasurable and painful kinds: and hence the cause of the indistinctness, which seems to accompany the idea of any of those sensations, when we endeavour to take it apart, and consider what it is in itself.

An idea is the revival of a former state of feeling. The first thing which I have to consider is, what is my precise state of consciousness, when I receive a pleasurable or painful sensation.

When the sensation was present, suppose a painful one, it was a state of consciousness, so interesting to me, that it was important to find a mark for it. I 191 called it Pain. It is a state of consciousness known to every man by his having had it, and it can be known by no other means. We call it by various names; an odious state, a disagreeable state, and so on; but these are only several modes of marking what is felt, and tell to no man anything more than his feeling has told. Except for his own knowledge of his own feeling, the words would be utterly without a meaning.

Such is the state of consciousness under the sensation. I revive the sensation.

My state of consciousness under the sensation I called a pain. My state of consciousness under the idea of the pain, I call, not a pain, but an aversion. An aversion is the idea of a pain. Whatever is included under the term idea of pain, is included precisely under the term aversion. They are not two things, but two names for the same thing.

The same explanation applies to the case of a pleasurable sensation. The state of consciousness under the sensation, that is, the sensation itself, differed from other sensations, in that it was agreeable. A name was wanted to denote this peculiarity; to mark, as a class, the sensations which possess it. The term, Pleasure, was adopted. I revive the sensation; in other words, have the idea; and as I had occasion for a name to class the sensations, I have occasion for a name to class the ideas. My state of consciousness under the sensation, I call a Pleasure: my state of consciousness under the idea, that is, the idea itself, I call a Desire. The term “Idea of a pleasure,” expresses precisely the same thing as the term, Desire. It does so by the very import of the words. The 192 idea of a pleasure, is the idea of something as good to have. But what is a desire, other than the idea of something as good to have; good to have, being really nothing but desirable to have? The terms, therefore, “idea of pleasure,” and “desire,” are but two names; the thing named, the state of consciousness, is one and the same.

There is an ambiguity, however, in the terms Aversion, and Desire, which contributes not a little to cast darkness upon this part of our inquiry.

They are applied to the ideas of the Causes of our Pleasurable and Painful Sensations, as well as to the ideas of those Sensations; and, of course, in a different sense. We say we have an aversion to certain kinds of food, or certain drugs; we have a desire for water to drink, for fire to warm us, and so on.

When we examine these phrases narrowly, we find that it is not literally, but by a sort of figure of speech, that the terms “Aversion,” and “Desire,” are applied to the Causes of Pains and Pleasures. Properly speaking, it is not to the food, or the drug, that we have the aversion, but to the disagreeable taste. The food is a substance of a certain colour, and consistence; so is the drug. There is nothing in these qualities which is offensive to us; only the taste. In like manner, it is not the water we desire, but the pleasure of drinking; not the fire we desire, but the pleasure of warmth.

The illusion is merely that of a very close association. There is no case, indeed, of association, in which the union is more intimate, than that between the idea of a pungent sensation, and its customary cause; and hence, there is no wonder that the name 193 which properly belongs to the one, should be bestowed upon the other, or rather, that the name which belongs properly to one, should be given to the two, formed into a complex idea, in conjunction.

There is another source of perplexity, which arises from the connotative power of the terms Desire, and Aversion. They are Nouns, in the future tense; that is, they connote futurity; just as Verbs, in the future tense, connote futurity. Though the feeling, called the idea of a pleasurable sensation, is precisely the feeling called desirableness; desirableness, and the idea of something pleasurable, being convertible terms, the word Desire, whenever it is applied to a particular case, carries with it a tacit reference to future time. When the idea of a sensation is present, the sensation itself is not present. The sensation has been, or is to be. It is difficult, therefore, to have the idea of a pleasurable sensation, without the association of the past, or the future. The idea of a pleasurable sensation with the association of the Past, is never called Desire. The word Desire, is commonly used to mark the idea of a pleasurable sensation, when the Future is associated with it. The idea of a pleasurable sensation, to come, is what is commonly meant by Desire. We have, however, no other name to mark the idea, when it is considered by itself, and without reference to the past, or the future. In these cases, Desire, and the idea of a pleasurable sensation; Aversion, and the idea of a painful sensation, are convertible terms.

From this exposition, it follows, that the number of our desires is the same with that of our pleasurable sensations; the number of our aversions, the same 194 with that of our painful sensations; just as the number of our simple ideas of sight, is the same with that of our sensations of sight; the number of our simple ideas of sound, taste, or smell, the same with that of our sensations of sound, taste, or smell.37

37 The principal doctrine of this chapter is, that Desire, and Aversion, are nothing but the idea of a pleasurable sensation, and the Idea of a painful sensation: which doctrine is then qualified by saying, that a desire is the idea of a pleasure associated with the future, an aversion the idea of a pain associated with the future.

But according to the whole spirit of the author’s speculations, and to his express affirmation in the beginning of the next chapter, the idea of any sensation associated with the future, constitutes the Expectation of it: and if so, it rested with him to prove that the expectation of a pleasure, or of a pain, is the same thing with the desire, or aversion. This is certainly not conformable to common observation. For, on the one hand, it is commonly understood that there may be desire or aversion without expectation; and on the other, expectation of a pleasure without any actual feeling of desire: one may expect, and even look forward with satisfaction to, the pleasure of a meal, although one is not, but only expects to be, hungry. So perfectly is it assumed that expectation, and desire or aversion, are not necessarily combined, that the case in which they are combined is signified by a special pair of names. Desire combined with expectation, is called by the name of Hope; Aversion combined with expectation, is known by the name of Fear.

I believe the fact to be that desire is not Expectation, but is more than the idea of the pleasure desired, being, in truth, the initiatory stage of Will. In what we call Desire there is, I think, always included a positive stimulation to action; either to the definite course of action which would lead to our 195 obtaining the pleasure, or to a general restlessness and vague seeking after it. The stimulation may fall short of actually producing action: even when it prompts to a definite act, it may be repressed by a stronger motive, or by knowledge that the pleasure is not within present reach, nor can be brought nearer to us by any present action of our own. Still, there is, I think, always, the sense of a tendency to action, in the direction of pursuit of the pleasure, though the tendency may be overpowered by an external or an internal restraint. So also, in aversion, there is always a tendency to action of the kind which repels or avoids the painful sensation. But of these things more fully under the head of Will.—Ed.

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