CHAP. II.

Surgamus: solet esse gravis cantantibus umbra.Juniperi gravis umbra: nocent et frugibus umbræ.Ite domum saturæ, venit Hesperus, ite capellæ.Virg. Buc.10. 75.

The metaphorical or figurative appearance of an object, is no good cause for introducing that object in its real and natural appearance. A relation so slight can never be relished.

Distrust in lovers is too warm a sun;But yet ’tis night in love when that is gone.And in those climes which most his scorching know,He makes the noblest fruits and metals grow.Part2.Conquest of Granada,act3.

The relations among objects have a considerable influence in the gratification of our passions, and even in their production. But this subject is reserved to be treated in the chapter of emotions and passions[13].

There is perhaps not another instance of a building so great erected upon a foundation so slight in appearance, as that which iserected upon the relations of objects and their arrangement. Relations make no capital figure in the mind: the bulk of them are transitory, and some extremely trivial. They are however the links that, uniting our perceptions into one connected chain, produce connection of action, because perceptions and actions have an intimate correspondence. But it is not sufficient for the conduct of life that our actions be linked together, however intimately: it is beside necessary that they proceed in a certain order; and this also is provided for by an original propensity. Thus order and connection, while they admit sufficient variety, introduce a method in the management of affairs. Without them our conduct would be fluctuating and desultory; and we would be hurried from thought to thought, and from action to action, entirely at the mercy of chance.

Emotions and Passions.

THefine arts, as observed above[14], are all of them calculated to give pleasure to the eye or the ear; and they never descend to gratify the taste, touch, or smell. At the same time, the feelings of the eye and ear, are of all the feelings of external sense, those only which are honoured with the name ofemotionsorpassions. It is also observed above[15], that the principles of the fine arts are unfolded by studying the sensitive part of human nature, in order to know what objects of the eye and ear are agreeable, what disagreeable. These observations show the use of the present chapter. We evidently must be acquainted with the nature and causes of emotions and passions, before we can judge with any accuracy how far they areunder the power of the fine arts. The critical art is thus set in a fine point of view. The inquisitive mind beginning with criticism the most agreeable of all amusements, and finding no obstruction in its progress, advances far into the sensitive part of our nature; and gains insensibly a thorough knowledge of the human heart, of its desires, and of every motive to action; a science which of all that can be reached by man, is to him of the greatest importance.

Upon a subject so extensive, all that can be expected here, is a general or slight survey. Some emotions indeed more peculiarly connected with the fine arts, I propose to handle in separate chapters; a method that will shorten the general survey considerably. And yet, after this circumscription, so much matter comes under even a general view of the passions and emotions, that, to avoid confusion, I find it necessary to divide this chapter into many parts: in the first of which are handled the causes of those emotions and passions that are the most common and familiar; for to explain every passion and emotion, however singular, would be an endless work. And though I could not well take up less ground, without separating things intimately connected; yet, upon examination, I find the causes of our emotions and passions to be so numerous and various, as to make a subdivision also necessary by splitting this first part into several sections. Human nature is a complicated machine, and must be so to answer all its purposes. There have indeed been published to the world, many a system of human nature, that flatter the mind by their simplicity. But these, unluckily, deviate far from truth and reality. According to some writers, man is entirely a selfish being: according to others, universal benevolence is his duty. One founds morality upon sympathy solely, and one upon utility. If any of these systems were of nature’s production, the present subject might be soon discussed. But the variety of nature is not so easily reached; and for confuting such Utopian systems without the intricacy of reasoning, it appears the best method toenter into human nature, and to set before the eye, plainly and candidly, facts as they really exist.

Causes evolved of the emotions and passions.

Difference betwixt emotion and passion.—— Causes that are the most common and the most extensive.—— Passion considered as productive of action.

THesebranches are so interwoven, as to make it necessary that they be handled together. It is a fact universally admitted, that no emotion nor passion ever starts up in the mind, without a known cause. If I love a person, it is for good qualities or good offices: if I have resentment against a man, it must be for some injury he has done me; and I cannot pity any one, who is under no distress of body or of mind.

The circumstances now mentioned, if they cause or occasion a passion, cannot be entirely indifferent: if they were, they could not move us in any degree. And we find upon examination, that they are not indifferent. Looking back upon the foregoing examples, the good qualities or good offices that attract my love, are antecedently agreeable. If an injury were not disagreeable, it would not occasion any resentment against the author; nor would the passion of pity be raised by an object in distress, if that object did not give us pain. These feelings antecedent to passion, and which seem to be the causes of passion, shall be distinguished by the name ofemotions.

What is now said about the production of passion, resolves into a very simple proposition, That we love what is pleasant, and hate what is painful. And indeed it is evident, that without antecedent emotions we could not have any passions; for a thing must be pleasant or painful, before it can be the object either of love or of hatred.

As it appears from this short sketch, that passions are generated by means of prior emotions, it will be necessary to take first under consideration emotions and their causes.

Such is the constitution of our nature, that upon perceiving certain external objects, we are instantaneously conscious of pleasure or pain. A flowing river, a smooth extended plain, a spreading oak, a towering hill, are objects of sight that raise pleasant emotions. A barren heath, a dirty marsh, a rotten carcass, raise painful emotions. Of the emotions thus produced, we inquire for no other cause but merely the presence of the object.

It must further be observed, that the things now mentioned, raise emotions by means of their properties and qualities. To the emotion raised by a large river, its size, its force, and its fluency, contribute each a share. The pleasures of regularity, propriety, convenience, compose the emotion raised by a fine building.

If external properties make a being or thing agreeable, we have reason to expect the same effect from those which are internal; and accordingly power, discernment,wit, mildness, sympathy, courage, benevolence, render the possessor agreeable in a high degree. So soon as these qualities are perceived in any person, we instantaneously feel pleasant emotions, without the slightest act of reflection or of attention to consequences. It is almost unnecessary to add, that certain qualities opposite to the former, such as dullness, peevishness, inhumanity, cowardice, occasion in the same manner painful emotions.

Sensible beings affect us remarkably by their actions. Some actions so soon as perceived, raise pleasant emotions in the spectator, without the least reflection; such as graceful motion and genteel behaviour. But as the intention of the agent is a capital circumstance in the bulk of human actions, it requires reflection to discover their true character. If I see one delivering a purse of money to another, I can make nothing of this action, till I discover with what intention the money is given. If it be given to extinguish a debt, the action is agreeable in a slight degree. If it be a grateful return, I feel a stronger emotion; and the pleasurable emotion rises to a great height when it is the intention of the giver to relieve a virtuous family from want. Actions are thus qualified by the intention of the agent. But they are not qualified by the event; for an action well intended is agreeable, whatever be the consequence. The pleasant or painful emotion that ariseth from contemplating human actions, is of a peculiar kind. Human actions are perceived to berightorwrong; and this perception qualifies the pleasure or pain that results from them[16].

Not only are emotions raised in us by the qualities and actions of others, but also by their feelings. I cannot behold a man in distress, without partaking of his pain; nor in joy, without partaking of his pleasure.

The beings or things above described, occasion emotions in us, not only in the original survey, but when they are recalled to the memory in idea. A field laid out with taste, is pleasant in the recollection, as well as when under our eye. A generous action described in words or colours, occasions a sensible emotion, as well as when we seeit performed. And when we reflect upon the distress of any person, our pain is of the same kind with what we felt when eye-witnesses. In a word, an agreeable or disagreeable object recalled to the mind in idea, is the occasion of a pleasant or painful emotion, of the same kind with that produced when the object was present. The only difference is, that an idea being fainter than an original perception, the pleasure or pain produced by the former, is proportionably fainter than that produced by the latter.

Having explained the nature of an emotion and mentioned several causes by which it is produced, we proceed to an observation of considerable importance in the science of human nature, that some emotions are accompanied with desire, and that others, after a short existence, pass away without producing desire of any sort. The emotion raised by a fine landscape or a magnificent building, vanisheth generally without attaching our hearts to the object; which also happens with relation to a number of fine faces in a crowded assembly. But the bulk of emotions are accompanied with desire ofone sort or other, provided only a fit object for desire be suggested. This is remarkably the case of emotions raised by human actions and qualities. A virtuous action raiseth in every spectator a pleasant emotion, which is generally attended with a desire to do good to the author of the action. A vicious action, on the other hand, produceth a painful emotion; and of consequence a desire to have the author punished. Even things inanimate often raise desire. The goods of fortune are objects of desire almost universally; and the desire, when more than commonly vigorous, obtains the name ofavarice. The pleasant emotion produced in a spectator by a capital picture in the possession of a prince, seldom raiseth desire. But if such a picture be exposed to sale, desire of having or possessing is the natural consequence of the emotion.

If now an emotion be sometimes productive of desire, somtimes not, it comes to be a material inquiry, in what respect a passion differs from an emotion. Is passion in its nature or feeling distinguishable from emotion? I have been apt to think thatthere must be a distinction, when the emotion seems in all cases to precede the passion, and to be the cause or occasion of it. But after the strictest examination, I cannot perceive any such distinction betwixt emotion and passion. What is love to a mistress, for example, but a pleasant emotion raised by a sight or idea of the person beloved, joined with desire of enjoyment? In what else consists the passion of resentment, but in a painful emotion occasioned by the injury, accompanied with desire to chastise the author of the injury? In general, as to every sort of passion, we find no more in the composition, but the particulars now mentioned, an emotion pleasant or painful accompanied with desire. What then shall we say upon this subject? Arepassionandemotionsynonymous terms? This cannot be averred. No feeling nor agitation of the mind void of desire, is termed a passion; and we have discovered that there are many emotions which pass away without raising desire of any kind. How is the difficulty to be solved? There appears to me but one solution, which I relish the more,as it renders the doctrine of the passions and emotions simple and perspicuous. The solution follows. An internal motion or agitation of the mind, when it passeth away without raising desire, is denominatedan emotion: when desire is raised, the motion or agitation is denominateda passion. A fine face, for example, raiseth in me a pleasant feeling. If this feeling vanish without producing any effect, it is in proper language an emotion. But if such feeling, by reiterated views of the object, become sufficiently strong to raise desire, it is no longer termed an emotion, but a passion. The same holds in all the other passions. The painful feeling raised in a spectator by a slight injury done to a stranger, being accompanied with no desire of revenge, is termed an emotion. But this injury raiseth in the stranger a stronger emotion, which being accompanied with desire of revenge, is a passion. Again, external expressions of distress, produce in the spectator a painful feeling. This feeling is sometimes so slight as to pass away without any effect, in which case it is an emotion. But if thefeeling be so strong as to prompt desire of affording relief, it is a passion, and is termedpity. Envy is emulation in excess. If the exaltation of a competitor be barely disagreeable, the painful feeling is reckoned an emotion. If it produce desire to depress him, it is reckoned a passion.

To prevent mistakes, it must be observed, that desire here is taken in its proper sense,viz.that internal impulse which makes us proceed to action. Desire in a lax sense respects also actions and events that depend not on us, as when I desire that my friend may have a son to represent him, or that my country may flourish in arts and sciences. But such internal act is more properly termed awishthan adesire.

Having distinguished passion from emotion, we proceed to consider passion more at large, with respect especially to its power of producing action.

We have daily and constant experience for our authority, that no man ever proceeds to action but through the impulse of some antecedent desire. So well established is this observation, and so deeply rooted inthe mind, that we can scarce imagine a different system of action. Even a child will say familiarly, What should make me do this or that when I have no inclination to it? Taking it then for granted, that the existence of action depends on antecedent desire; it follows, that where there is no desire there can be no action. This opens another shining distinction betwixt emotions and passions. The former, being without desire, are in their nature quiescent: the latter, involving desire, have a tendency to action, and always produce action where they meet with no obstruction.

Hence it follows, that every passion must have an object,viz.that being or thing to which our desire is directed, and with a view to which every action prompted by that desire is performed. The object of every passion is that being or thing which produced it. This will be evident from induction. A fine woman, by her beauty, causes in me the passion of love, which is directed upon her as its object. A man by injuring me, raises my resentment; and becomes thereby the object of my resentment. Thus the cause of a passion, and its object, are the same in different views. An emotion, on the other hand, being in its nature quiescent and merely a passive feeling, must have a cause; but cannot be said properly speaking to have an object.

As the desire involved in every passion leads to action, this action is either ultimate, or it is done as a means to some end. Where the action is ultimate, reason and reflection bear no part. The action is performed blindly by the impulse of passion, without any view. Thus one in extreme hunger snatches at food, without the slightest reflection whether it be salutary or not: Avarice prompts to accumulate wealth without the least view of use; and thereby absurdly converts means into an end: Fear often makes us fly before we reflect whether we really be in danger: and animal love not less often hurries to fruition, without a single thought of gratification. But for the most part, actions are performed as means to some end; and in these actions reason and reflection always bear a part.The end is that event which is desired; and the action is deliberately performed in order to bring about that end. Thus affection to my friend involves a desire to make him happy; and the desire to accomplish that end, prompts me to perform what I judge will contribute to it.

Where the action is ultimate, it hath a cause,viz.the impulse of the passion. But we cannot properly say it hath a motive. This term is appropriated to actions that are performed as means to some end; and the conviction that the action will tend to bring about the end desired, is termed a motive. Thus passions considered as causes of action, are distinguished into two kinds; instinctive, and deliberative. The first operating blindly and by mere impulse, depend entirely upon the sensitive part of our nature. The other operating by reflection and by motives, are connected with the rational part.

The foregoing difference among the passions, is the work of nature. Experience brings on some variations. By all actions performed through the impulse of passion, desire is gratified, and the gratification is pleasant. This lesson we have from experience. And hence it is, that after an action has often been performed by the impulse merely of passion, the pleasure resulting from performance, considered beforehand, becomes a motive, which joins its force with the original impulse in determining us to act. Thus a child eats by the mere impulse of hunger: a young man thinks of the pleasure of gratification, which is a motive for him to eat: and a man farther advanced in life, hath the additional motive that it will contribute to his health.

Instinctive passions are distinguished into two kinds. Where the cause is internal, they are denominatedappetites: where external, they retain the common name ofpassions. Thus hunger, thirst, animal love, are termedappetites; while fear and anger, even when they operate blindly and by mere impulse, are termedpassions.

From the definition of a motive above given, it is easy to determine, with the greatest accuracy, what passions are selfish, what social. No passion can properly betermed selfish, but what prompts me to exert actions in order for my own good; nor social, but what prompts me to exert actions in order for the good of another. The motive is that which determines a passion to be social or selfish. Hence it follows, that our appetites, which make us act blindly and by mere impulse, cannot be reckoned either social or selfish; and as little the actions they produce. Thus eating, when prompted by an impulse merely of nature, is neither social nor selfish. But add a motive, That it will contribute to my pleasure or my health, and it becomes in a measure selfish. On the other hand, when affection moves me to exert actions to the end solely of advancing my friend’s happiness, without the slightest regard to my own gratification, such actions are justly denominatedsocial; and so is the affection, that is their cause. If another motive be added, That gratifying the affection will contribute to my own happiness, the actions I perform become partly selfish. Animal love when exerted into action by natural impulse singly, is neither social nor selfish: when exerted with a view to gratification and in order to make me happy, it is selfish. When the motive of giving pleasure to its object is superadded, it is partly social, partly selfish. A just action when prompted by the love of justice solely, is neither social nor selfish. When I perform an act of justice with a view to the pleasure of gratification, the action is selfish. I pay my debt for my own sake, not with a view to benefit my creditor. But let me suppose the money has been advanced by a friend without interest, purely to oblige me. In this case, together with the inclination to do justice, there arises a motive of gratitude, which respects the creditor solely, and prompts me to act in order to do him good. Here the action is partly social, partly selfish. Suppose again I meet with a surprising and unexpected act of generosity, that inspires me with love to my benefactor and the utmost gratitude. I burn to do him good: he is the sole object of my desire; and my own pleasure in gratifying the desire, vanisheth out of sight. In this case, the action I perform is purely social. Thus it happens, that when a social motive becomes strong, the action is exerted with a view singly to the object of the passion; and the selfish pleasure arising from gratification is never once considered. The same effect of stifling selfish motives, is equally remarkable in other passions that are in no view social. Ambition, for example, when confined to exaltation as its ultimate end, is neither social nor selfish. Let exaltation be considered as a means to make me happy, and the passion becomes so far selfish. But if the desire of exaltation wax strong and inflame my mind, the selfish motive now mentioned is no longer felt. A slight degree of resentment, where my chief view in acting is the pleasure arising to myself from gratifying the passion, is justly denominatedselfish. Where revenge flames so high as to have no other aim but the destruction of its object, it is no longer selfish. In opposition to a social passion, it maybe termeddissocial[17].

Of self, every one hath a direct perception: of other things, we have no knowledge but by means of their attributes. Hence it is, that of self, the perception is more lively than of any other thing. Self is an agreeable object; and, for the reason now given, must be more agreeable than any other object. Is not this sufficient to account for the prevalence of self-love?

In the foregoing part of this chapter, it is suggested, that some circumstances make beings or things fit objects for desire, others not. This hint must be pursued. It is a truth ascertained by universal experience, that a thing which in our apprehension is beyond reach, never is the object of desire. No man, in his right senses, desires to walk in the air, or to descend to the centre of the earth. We may amuse ourselves in a reverie, with building castles in the air, andwishing for what can never happen. But such things never move desire. And indeed a desire to act would be altogether absurd, when we are conscious that the action is beyond our power. In the next place, though the difficulty of attainment with respect to things within reach, often inflames desire; yet where the prospect of attainment is faint and the event extremely uncertain, the object, however agreeable, seldom raiseth any strong desire. Thus beauty or other good qualities in a woman of rank, seldom raises love in any man greatly her inferior. In the third place, different objects, equally within reach, raise emotions in different degrees; and when desire accompanies any of these emotions, its strength, as is natural, is proportioned to that of its cause. Hence the remarkable difference among desires directed upon beings inanimate, animate, and rational. The emotion caused by a rational being, is out of measure stronger than any caused by an animal without reason; and an emotion raised by such an animal, is stronger than what is caused by any thing inanimate. There is aseparate reason why desire of which a rational being is the object should be the strongest. Desire directed upon such a being, is gratified many ways, by loving, serving, benefiting, the object; and it is a well known truth, that our desires naturally swell by exercise. Desire directed upon an inanimate being, susceptible neither of pleasure nor pain, is not capable of a higher gratification than that of acquiring the property. Hence it is, that though every feeling which raiseth desire, is strictly speaking a passion; yet commonly those feelings only are denominated passions of which sensible beings capable of pleasure and pain are the objects.

Causes of the emotions of joy and sorrow.

THissubject was purposely reserved for a separate section, because it could not, with perspicuity, be handled under the general head. An emotion involving desire is termeda passion; and when the desire isfulfilled, the passion is said to be gratified. The gratification of every passion must be pleasant, or in other words produce a pleasant emotion; for nothing can be more natural, than that the accomplishment of any wish or desire should affect us with joy. I cannot even except the case, where a man, through remorse, is desirous to chastise and punish himself. The joy of gratification is properly called an emotion; because it makes us happy in our present situation, and is ultimate in its nature, not having a tendency to any thing beyond. On the other hand, sorrow must be the result of an event contrary to what we desire; for if the accomplishment of desire produce joy, it is equally natural that disappointment should produce sorrow.

An event fortunate or unfortunate, that falls out by accident without being foreseen or thought of, and which therefore could not be the object of desire, raiseth an emotion of the same kind with that now mentioned. But the cause must be different; for there can be no gratification where there is no desire. We have not however far toseek for a cause. A man cannot be indifferent to an event that affects him or any of his connections. If it be fortunate, it gives him joy; if unfortunate, it gives him sorrow.

In no situation doth joy rise to a greater height, than upon the removal of any violent distress of mind or body; and in no situation doth sorrow rise to a greater height, than upon the removal of what makes us happy. The sensibility of our nature serves in part to account for these effects. Other causes also concur. We can be under no violent distress without an anxious desire to be free from it; and therefore its removal is a high gratification. We cannot be possessed of any thing that makes us happy, without wishing its continuance; and therefore its removal by crossing our wishes must create sorrow. Nor is this all. The principle of contrast comes in for its share. An emotion of joy arising upon the removal of pain, is increased by contrast when we reflect upon our former distress. An emotion of sorrow upon being deprived of any good, isincreased by contrast when we reflect upon our former happiness.

Jaffier. There’s not a wretch that lives on common charity,But’s happier than me. For I have knownThe luscious sweets of plenty: every nightHave slept with soft content about my head,And never wak’d but to a joyful morning.Yet now must fall like a full ear of corn,Whose blossom ’scap’d, yet’s wither’d in the ripening.Venice preserv’d, act 1. sc. 1.

It hath always been reckoned difficult to account for the extreme pleasure that follows a cessation of bodily pain; as when one is relieved from the rack, or from a violent fit of the stone. What is said, explains this difficulty in the easiest and simplest manner. Cessation of bodily pain is not of itself a pleasure; for anon-ensor a negative can neither give pleasure nor pain. But man is so framed by nature as to rejoice when he is eased of pain, as well as to be sorrowful when deprived of any good. This branch of our constitution, is chiefly thecause of the pleasure. The gratification of desire comes in as an accessory cause; and contrast joins its force, by increasing the sense of our present happiness. In the case of an acute pain, a peculiar circumstance contributes its part. The brisk circulation of the animal spirits occasioned by acute pain, continues after the pain is vanished, and produceth a very pleasant feeling. Sickness hath not that effect, because it is always attended with a depression of spirits.

Hence it is, that the gradual diminution of acute pain, occasions a mixt emotion, partly pleasant, partly painful. The partial diminution produceth joy in proportion; but the remaining pain balanceth our joy. This mixt feeling, however, hath no long endurance. For the joy that ariseth upon the diminution of pain, soon vanisheth; and leaveth in the undisturbed possession, that degree of pain which remains.

What is above observed about bodily pain, is equally applicable to the distresses of the mind; and accordingly it is a common artifice, to prepare us for the reception of good news by alarming our fears.

Sympathetic emotion of virtue, and its cause.

ONefeeling there is, that merits a deliberate view, for its singularity, as well as utility. Whether to call it an emotion or a passion, seems uncertain. The former it can scarce be, because it involves desire; and the latter it can scarce be, because it has no object. But this feeling and its nature will be best understood from examples. A signal act of gratitude, produceth in the spectator love or esteem for the author. The spectator hath at the same time a separate feeling; which, being mixed with love or esteem, the capital emotion, hath not been much adverted to. It is a vague feeling of gratitude, which hath no object; but which, however, disposes the spectator to acts of gratitude, more than upon ordinary occasions. Let any man attentively consider his own heart when he thinks warmly of any signal act of gratitude, and he will be conscious of this feeling, as distinct fromthe esteem or admiration he has for the grateful person. It merits our utmost attention, by unfolding a curious piece of mechanism in the nature of man. The feeling is singular in the following respect, that it involves a desire to perform acts of gratitude, without having any particular object; though in this state the mind, wonderfully disposed toward an object, neglects no object upon which it can vent itself. Any act of kindness or good-will that would not be regarded upon another occasion, is greedily seized; and the vague feeling is converted into a real passion of gratitude. In such a state, favours are returned double.

Again, a courageous action produceth in a spectator the passion of admiration directed upon the author. But beside this well-known passion, a separate feeling is raised in the spectator; which may be calledan emotion of courage, because while under its influence he is conscious of a boldness and intrepidity beyond ordinary, and longs for proper objects upon which to exert this emotion.

Spumantemque dari, pecora inter inertia, votisOptat aprum, aut fulvum descendere monte leonem.Æneid.iv. 158.

Non altramente ’il tauro, oue l’ irritiGeloso amor con stimoli pungentiHorribilmente mugge, e co’ muggitiGli spirti in se risueglia, e l’ire ardenti:E’l corno aguzza a i tronchi, e par ch’inuitiCon vani colpi a’ la battaglia i venti.Tasso, canto 7. st. 55.

So full of valour that they smote the airFor breathing in their faces.Tempest, act. 4. sc. 4.

For another example, let us figure some grand and heroic action, highly agreeable to the spectator. Beside a singular veneration for the author, the spectator feels in himself an unusual dignity of character, which disposeth him to great and noble actions. And herein principally consists the extreme delight every one hath in the histories of conquerors and heroes.

This singular feeling, which may be termedthe sympathetic emotion of virtue, resembles, in one respect, the well-known appetites that lead to the propagation and preservation of the species. The appetites of hunger, thirst, and animal love, arise in the mind without being directed upon any particular object; and in no case whatever is the mind more solicitous for a proper object, than when under the influence of any of these appetites.

The feeling I have endeavoured to evolve, may well be termedthe sympathetic emotion of virtue; for it is raised in a spectator by virtuous actions of every kind, and by no other sort. When we contemplate a virtuous action, which never fails to delight us and to prompt our love for the author, the mind is warmed and put into a tone similar to what inspired the virtuous action. The propensity we have to such actions is so much enlivened, as to become for a time an actual emotion. But no man hath a propensity to vice as such. On the contrary, a wicked deed disgusts him, and makes him abhor the author. This abhorrence is a strong antidote so long asany impression remains of the wicked action.

In a rough road, a halt to view a fine country is refreshing; and here a delightful prospect opens upon us. It is indeed wonderful to see what incitements there are to virtue in the human frame. Justice is perceived to be our duty, and it is guarded by natural punishments, from which the guilty never escape. To perform noble and generous actions, a warm sense of dignity and superior excellence is a most efficacious incitement[18]. And to leave virtue in no quarter unsupported, here is unfolded an admirable contrivance, by which good example commands the heart and adds to virtue the force of habit. Did our moral feelings extend no farther than to approve the action and to bestow our affection on the author, good example would not have great influence. But to give it the utmost force, nothing can be better contrived than the sympathetic emotion under consideration, which prompts us to imitate what we admire. This singular emotion will readily find an object to exert itself upon; and at any rate, it never exists without producing some effect. Virtuous emotions of this sort, are in some degree an exercise of virtue. They are a mental exercise at least, if they show not externally. And every exercise of virtue, internal and external, leads to habit; for a disposition or propensity of the mind, like a limb of the body, becomes stronger by exercise. Proper means, at the same time, being ever at hand to raise this sympathetic emotion, its frequent reiteration may, in a good measure, supply the want of a more complete exercise. Thus, by proper discipline, every person may acquire a settled habit of virtue. Intercourse with men of worth, histories of generous and disinterested actions, and frequent meditation upon them, keep the sympathetic emotion in constant exercise, which by degrees introduceth a habit, and confirms the authority of virtue. With respect to education in particular, what a spacious and commodious avenue to the heart of a young person, is here opened?

In many instances one emotion is productive of another. The same of passions.

IN the first chapter it is observed, that the relations by which things are mutually connected, have a remarkable influence in regulating the train of our ideas. I here add, that they have an influence not less remarkable, in generating emotions and passions. Beginning with the former, it holds in fact, that an agreeable object makes every thing connected with it appear agreeable. The mind gliding sweetly and easily through related objects, carries along the beauty of objects that made a figure, and blends that beauty with the idea of the present object, which thereby appears more agreeable than when considered apart[19].This reason may appear obscure and metaphysical, but it must be relished when we attend to the following examples, which establish the fact beyond all dispute. No relation is more intimate than that betwixt a being and its qualities; and accordingly, the affection I bear a man expands itself readily upon all his qualities, which by that means make a greater figure in my mind than more substantial qualities in others. The talent of speaking in a friend, is more regarded than that of acting in a person with whom I have no connection; and graceful motion in a mistress, gives more delight than consummate prudence in any other woman. Affection sometimes rises so high,as to convert defects into properties. The wry neck of Alexander was imitated by his courtiers as a real beauty, without intention to flatter. Thus Lady Piercy, speaking of her husband Hotspur,

———————— By his lightDid all the chivalry of England move,To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass,Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.He had no legs that practis’d not his gait:And speaking thick, which Nature made his blemish,Became the accents of the valiant:For those who could speak low and tardily,Would turn their own perfection to abuse,To seem like him.Second part, Henry IV. act 2. sc. 6.

When the passion of love has ended its course, its object becomes quite a different creature.—— Nothing left of that genteel motion, that gaiety, that sprightly conversation, those numberless graces, that formerly, in the lover’s opinion, charmed all hearts.

The same communication of passion obtains in the relation of principal and accessory. Pride, of which self is the object, expands itself upon a house, a garden, servants, equipage, and every thing of that nature. A lover addresseth his mistress’s glove in the following terms:

Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine.

A temple is in a proper sense an accessory of the deity to which it is dedicated. Diana is chaste, and not only her temple, but the very isicle which hangs on it, must partake of that property:

The noble sister of Poplicola,The moon of Rome; chasle as the isicleThat’s curdled by the frost from purest snow,And hangs on Dian’s temple.Coriolanus, act 5. sc. 3.

Thus it is, that the respect and esteem, which the great, the powerful, the opulent naturally command, are in some measure communicated to their dress, to their manners, and to all their connections. It is thisprinciple, which in matters left to our own choice prevails over the natural taste of beauty and propriety, and gives currency to what is calledthe fashion.

By means of the same easiness of transition, the bad qualities of an object are carried along, and grafted upon related objects. Every good quality in a person is extinguished by hatred; and every bad quality is spread upon all his connections. A relation more slight and transitory than that of hatred, may have the same effect. Thus the bearer of bad tidings becomes an object of aversion:

Fellow begone, I cannot brook thy sight,This news hath made thee a most ugly man.King John, act 3. sc. 1.

Yet the first bringer of unwelcome newsHath but a losing office: and his tongueSounds ever after, as a sullen bellRemember’d, tolling a departing friend.Second part, Henry IV. act 1. sc. 3.

This disposition of the mind to communicate the properties of one object to another, is not always proportioned to the intimacy of their connection. The order of the transition from object to object, hath also an influence. The sense of order operates not less powerfully in this case, than in the succession of ideas[20]. If a thing be agreeable in itself, all its accessories appear agreeable. But the agreeableness of an accessory, extends not itself so readily to the principal. Any dress upon a fine woman is becoming; but the most elegant ornaments upon one that is homely, have scarce any effect to mend her appearance. The reason will be obvious, from what is said in the chapter above cited. The mind passes more easily from the principal to its accessories, than in the opposite direction.

The emotions produced as above may properly be termedsecondary, being occasioned either by antecedent emotions or antecedent passions, which in this respect may be termedprimary. And to complete the present theory, I must now remark a difference betwixt a primary emotion and aprimary passion in the production of secondary emotions. A secondary emotion cannot but be more faint than the primary; and therefore, if the chief or principal object have not the power to raise a passion, the accessory object will have still less power. But if a passion be raised by the principal object, the secondary emotion may readily swell into a passion for the accessory, provided the accessory be a proper object for desire. And thus it happens that one passion is often productive of another. Examples are without number: the sole difficulty is a proper choice. I begin with self-love, and the power it hath to generate other passions. The love which parents bear their children, is an illustrious example of the foregoing doctrine. Every man, beside making part of a greater system, like a comet, a planet, or satellite only; hath a less system of his own, in the centre of which he represents the sun dispersing his fire and heat all around. The connection between a man and his children, fundamentally that of cause and effect, becomes, by the addition of other circumstances, the completest that canbe among individuals; and therefore, self-love, the most vigorous of all passions, is readily expanded upon children. The secondary emotion they at first produce by means of their connection, is, generally speaking, sufficiently strong to move desire even from the beginning; and the new passion swells by degrees, till it rival in some measure self-love, the primary passion. The following case will demonstrate the truth of this theory. Remorse for betraying a friend, or murdering an enemy in cold blood, makes a man even hate himself. In this state, it is a matter of experience, that he is scarce conscious of any affection to his children, but rather of disgust or ill-will. What cause can be assigned for this change, other than the hatred which beginning at himself, is expanded upon his children? And if so, may we not with equal reason derive from self-love the affection a man for ordinary has to them?

The affection a man bears to his blood-relations, depends on the same principle. Self-love is also expanded upon them; and the communicated passion, is more or lessvigorous in proportion to the connection. Nor doth self-love rest here: it is, by the force of connection, communicated even to things inanimate. And hence the affection a man bears to his property, and to every thing he calls his own.

Friendship, less vigorous than self-love, is, for that reason, less apt to communicate itself to children or other relations. Instances however are not wanting, of such communicated passion arising from friendship when it is strong. Friendship may go higher in the matrimonial state than in any other condition: and Otway, inVenice preserv’d, shows a fine taste in taking advantage of that circumstance. In the scene where Belvidera sues to her father for pardon, she is represented as pleading her mother’s merit, and the resemblance she bore to her mother.

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