PART II.

Veraque constituunt, quæ bellè tangere possuntAureis, et lepido quæ sunt fucata sonore.Lucretius, lib. 1. l. 644.

A masterly painting has the same effect. Le Brun is no small support to Quintus Curtius; and among the vulgar in Italy, the belief of scripture-history is perhaps founded as much upon the authority of Raphael, Michael Angelo, and other celebrated painters, as upon that of the sacred writers[27].

In establishing the foregoing theory, the reader has had the fatigue of much dry reasoning. But his labour will not be fruitless. From this theory are derived many useful rules in criticism, which shall be mentionedin their proper places. One specimen, being a fine illustration, I chuse to give at present. In a historical poem representing human actions, it is a rule, that no improbable incident ought to be admitted. A circumstance, an incident, or an event, may be singular, may surprise by being unexpected, and yet be extremely natural. The improbability I talk of, is that of an irregular fact, contrary to the order and course of nature, and therefore unaccountable. A chain of imagined facts linked together according to the order of nature, find easy entrance into the mind; and if described with warmth of fancy, they produce complete images, including ideal presence. But it is with great difficulty that we admit any irregular fact; for an irregular fact always puzzles the judgement. Doubtful of its reality we immediately enter upon reflection, and discovering the cheat, lose all relish and concern. This is an unhappy effect; for thereafter it requires more than an ordinary effort, to restore the waking dream, and to make the reader conceive even the more probable incidents as passing in his presence.

I never was an admirer of machinery in an epic poem; and I now find my taste justified by reason; the foregoing argument concluding still more strongly against imaginary beings, than against improbable facts. Fictions of this nature may amuse by their novelty and singularity: but they never move the sympathetic passions, because they cannot impose on the mind any perception of reality. I appeal to the discerning reader, whether this be not precisely the case of the machinery introduced by Tasso and by Voltaire. This machinery is not only in itself cold and uninteresting, but is remarkably hurtful, by giving an air of fiction to the whole composition. A burlesque poem, such as the Lutrin or the Dispensary, may employ machinery with success; for these poems, though they assume the air of history, give entertainment chiefly by their pleasant and ludicrous pictures, to which machinery contributes in a singular manner. It is not the aim of such a poem, to raise our sympathy in any considerable degree; and for that reason, a strict imitation of nature is not required. A poem professedlyludicrous, may employ machinery to great advantage; and the more extravagant the better. A just representation of nature, would indeed be incongruous in a composition intended to give entertainment by the means chiefly of singularity and surprise.

For accomplishing the task undertaken in the beginning of the present section, what only remains is, to show the final cause of the power that fiction hath over the mind of man. I have already mentioned, that language, by means of fiction, has the command of our sympathy for the good of others. By the same means, our sympathy may be also raised for our own good. In the third section it is observed, that examples both of virtue and of vice raise virtuous emotions; which becoming stronger by exercise, tend to make us virtuous by habit as well as by principle. I now further observe, that examples drawn from real events, are not so frequent as to contribute much to a habit of virtue. If they be, they are not recorded by historians. It therefore shows great wisdom, to form us in such a manner, as to be susceptible of the same improvementfrom fable that we receive from genuine history. By this admirable contrivance, examples to improve us in virtue may be multiplied without end. No other sort of discipline contributes more to make virtue habitual; and no other sort is so agreeable in the application. I add another final cause with thorough satisfaction; because it shows, that the author of our nature is not less kindly provident for the happiness of his creatures, than for the regularity of their conduct. The power that fiction hath over the mind of man, is the source of an endless variety of refined amusement, always ready to employ a vacant hour. Such amusement is a fine resource in solitude; and by sweetening the temper, improves society.

Emotions and passions as pleasant and painful, agreeable and disagreeable. Modifications of these qualities.

IT will naturally occur at first view, that a discourse upon the passions should commence with explaining the qualities now mentioned. But upon trial, I found this could not be done distinctly, till the difference were ascertained betwixt an emotion and a passion, and till their causes were evolved.

Great obscurity may be observed among writers with regard to the present point. No care, for example, is taken to distinguish agreeable from pleasant, disagreeable from painful; or rather these terms are deemed synonymous. This is an error not at all venial in the science of ethics; as instances can and shall be given, of painful passions that are agreeable, and of pleasant passions that are disagreeable. These terms, it is true, are used indifferently in familiar conversations, and in composition for amusement, where accuracy is not required. But for those to use them so who profess to explain the passions, is a capital error. In writing upon the critical art, I would avoid every refinement that may seem more curious than useful. But the proper meaning of the terms under consideration must be ascertained, in order to understand the passions, and some of their effects that are intimately connected with criticism.

I shall endeavour to explain these terms by familiar examples. Viewing a fine garden, I perceive it to be beautiful or agreeable; and I consider the beauty or agreeableness as belonging to the object, or as one of its qualities. Again, when I turn my thoughts from the garden to what passes in my mind, I am conscious of a pleasant emotion of which the garden is the cause. The pleasure here is felt, not as a quality of the garden, but of the emotion produced by it. I give an opposite example. A rotten carcass is loathsome and disagreeable, and raises in the spectator a painful emotion. The disagreeableness is a quality of the object: the pain is a quality of the emotion produced by it. Agreeable and disagreeable, then, are qualities of the object we perceive: pleasant and painful are qualities of the emotions we feel. The former qualities are perceived as adhering to objects; the latter are felt as existing within us.

But a passion or emotion, beside being felt, is frequently made an object of thoughtor reflection: we examine it; we inquire into its nature, its cause, and its effects. In this view it partakes the nature of other objects: it is either agreeable or disagreeable. Hence clearly appear the different significations of the terms under consideration, as applied to passion. When a passion is termedpleasantorpainful, we refer to the actual feeling: when termedagreeableordisagreeable, it is considered as an object of thought or reflection. A passion is pleasant or painful to the person in whom it exists: it is agreeable or disagreeable to the person who makes it a subject of contemplation.

When the terms thus defined are applied to particular emotions and passions, they do not always coincide. And in order to make this evident, we must endeavour to ascertain, first, what passions and emotions are pleasant what painful, and next, what are agreeable what disagreeable. With respect to both, there are general rules, which, so far as I gather from induction, admit not any exceptions. The nature of an emotion or passion as pleasant or painful, depends entirely on its cause. An agreeable object producethalways a pleasant emotion; and a disagreeable object produceth always a painful emotion[28]. Thus a lofty oak, a generous action, a valuable discovery in art or science, are agreeable objects that unerringly produce pleasant emotions. A stinking puddle, a treacherous action, an irregular ill-contrived edifice, being disagreeable objects, produce painful emotions. Selfish passions are pleasant; for they arise from self, an agreeable object or cause. A social passion directed upon an agreeable object is always pleasant: directed upon an object in distress, is painful[29]. Lastly, all dissocial passions, such as envy, resentment, malice, being caused by disagreeable objects, cannot fail to be painful.

It requires a greater compass to evolve the general rule that concerns the agreeableness or disagreeableness of emotions and passions. An action conformable to the common nature of our species, is perceived by us to beregular and good[30]; and consequently every such action appears agreeable to us. The same observation is applicable to passions and emotions. Every feeling that is conformable to the common nature of our species, is perceived by us to be regular and as it ought to be; and upon that account it must appear agreeable. By this general rule we can ascertain what emotions are agreeable what disagreeable. Every emotion that is conformable to the common nature of man, ought to appear agreeable. And that this holds true with respect to pleasant emotions, will readily be admitted. But why should painful emotions be an exception, when they are not less natural than the other? The proportion holds true in both. Thus the painful emotion raised by a monstrous birth or brutal action, is not less agreeable upon reflection, than the pleasant emotion raised by a flowing river or a lofty dome. With respect to passions as opposed to emotions, it will be obvious from the foregoing proposition, that their agreeableness or disagreeableness, like the actions of which they are productive, must be regulated entirely by the moral sense. Every action vicious or improper is disagreeable to a spectator, and so is the passion that prompts it. Every action virtuous or proper is agreeable to a spectator, and so is the passion that prompts it.

This deduction may be carried a great way farther; but to avoid intricacy and obscurity, I make but one other step. A passion, which, as aforesaid, becomes an object of thought to a spectator, may have the effect to produce a passion or emotion in him; for it is natural that a social being should be affected with the passions of others. Passions or emotions thus generated, submit, in common with others, to the general law above mentioned,viz.that an agreeable object produces a pleasant emotion, and a disagreeable object a painful emotion. Thus the passion of gratitude, being to a spectator an agreeable object, produceth in him the pleasant passion of love to the grateful person. Thus malice, being to a spectator a disagreeable object, produceth inhim the painful passion of hatred to the malicious person.

We are now prepared for examples of pleasant passions that are disagreeable, and of painful passions that are agreeable. Self-love, so long as confined within just bounds, is a passion both pleasant and agreeable. In excess it is disagreeable, though it continues to be still pleasant. Our appetites are precisely in the same condition. Again, vanity, though pleasant, is disagreeable. Resentment, on the other hand, is, in every stage of the passion, painful; but is not disagreeable unless in excess. Pity is always painful, yet always agreeable. But however distinct these qualities are, they coincide, I acknowledge, in one class of passions. All vicious passions tending to the hurt of others, are equally painful and disagreeable.

The foregoing distinctions among passions and emotions, may serve the common affairs of life, but they are not sufficient for the critical art. The qualities of pleasant and painful are too familiar to carry us far into human nature, or to form an accurate judgement in the fine arts. It is furthernecessary, that we be made acquainted with the several modifications of these qualities, with the modifications at least that make the greatest figure. Even at first view every one is sensible, that the pleasure or pain of one passion differs from that of another. How distant the pleasure of revenge from that of love? So distant, as that we cannot without reluctance admit them to be any way related. That the same quality of pleasure should be so differently modified in different passions, will not be surprising, when we reflect on the boundless variety of pleasant sounds, tastes, and smells, daily felt. Our discernment reaches differences still more nice, in objects even of the same sense. We have no difficulty to distinguish different sweets, different sours, and different bitters. Honey is sweet, and so is sugar; and yet they never pass the one for the other. Our sense of smelling is sufficiently acute, to distinguish varieties in sweet-smelling flowers without end. With respect to passions and emotions, their different feelings have no limits; for when we attempt the more delicate modifications,they elude our search, and are scarce discernible. In this matter, however, there is an analogy betwixt our internal and external senses. The latter generally are sufficiently acute for all the useful purposes of life, and so are the former. Some persons indeed, Nature’s favourites, have a wonderful acuteness of sense, which to them unfolds many a delightful scene totally hid from vulgar eyes. But if such refined pleasure be refused to the bulk of mankind, it is however wisely ordered that they are not sensible of the defect; and it detracts not from their happiness that others secretly are more happy. With relation to the fine arts only, this qualification seems essential; and there it is termeddelicacy of taste.

Should an author of such a taste attempt to describe all those differences and shades of pleasant and painful emotions which he himself feels, he would soon meet an invincible obstacle in the poverty of language. No known tongue hitherto has reached such perfection, as to express clearly the more delicate feelings. A people must be thoroughly refined, before their languagebecome so comprehensive. We must therefore rest satisfied with an explanation of the more obvious modifications.

In forming a comparison betwixt pleasant passions of different kinds, we conceive some of them to begrosssomerefined. Those pleasures of external sense that are felt as at the organ of sense, are conceived to be corporeal or gross[31]. The pleasures of the eye and ear are felt to be internal; and for that reason are conceived to be more pure and refined.

The social affections are conceived by all to be more refined than the selfish. Sympathy and humanity are reckoned the finest temper of mind; and for that reason, the prevalence of the social affections in the progress of society, is held to be a refinement in our nature. A savage is unqualified for any pleasure but what is thoroughly or nearly selfish: therefore a savage is incapable of comparing selfish and social pleasure. But a man after acquiring a high relish of the latter, loses not thereby a taste for the former. This man can judge, and hewill give preference to social pleasures as more sweet and refined. In fact they maintain that character, not only in the direct feeling, but also when we make them the subject of reflection. The social passions are by far more agreeable than the selfish, and rise much higher in our esteem.

Refined manners and polite behaviour, must not be deemed altogether artificial. Men accustomed to the sweets of society, who cultivate humanity, find an elegant pleasure in preferring others and making them happy, of which the proud or selfish scarce have a conception.

Ridicule, which chiefly arises from pride, a selfish passion, is at best but a gross pleasure. A people, it is true, must have emerged out of barbarity before they can have a taste for ridicule. But it is too rough an entertainment for those who are highly polished and refined. Ridicule is banished France, and is losing ground daily in England.

Other modifications of pleasant passions will be occasionally mentioned hereafter. Particularly the modifications ofhighandloware handled in the chapter of grandeur and sublimity; and the modifications ofdignifiedandmean, in the chapter of dignity and meanness.

Interrupted existence of emotions and passions.—— Their growth and decay.

WEreemotions of the same nature with colour and figure, to continue in their present state till varied by some operating cause, the condition of man would be deplorable. It is ordered wisely, that emotions should more resemble another attribute of matter,viz.motion, which requires the constant exertion of an operating cause, and ceases when the cause is withdrawn. An emotion may subsist while its cause is present; and when its cause is removed, may subsist by means of an idea, though in a fainter degree. But the moment another thought breaks in and occupies the mind, so as to exclude not only this cause, but also its idea, the emotionis gone: it is no longer felt. If it return with its cause or idea, it again vanisheth with them when other thoughts crowd in. This observation is applicable to emotions and passions of every kind. And these accordingly are connected with perceptions and ideas, so intimately as not to have any independent existence. A strong passion, it is true, hath a mighty influence to detain its object in the mind; but not so as to detain it for ever. A succession of perceptions or ideas is unavoidable[32]: the object of the passion may be often recalled; but however interesting, it must by intervals yield to other objects. For this reason, a passion rarely continues long with an equal degree of vigour. It is felt strong and moderate, in a pretty quick succession. The same object makes not always the same impression; because the mind, being of a limited capacity, cannot, at the same instant, give great attention to a plurality of objects. The strength of a passion depends on the impression made by its cause; and a causemakes its strongest impression, when happening to be the single interesting object, it attracts our whole attention[33]. Its impression is slighter when our attention is divided betwixt it and other objects; and at that time the passion is slighter in proportion.

When emotions and passions are felt thus by intervals and have not a continued existence, it may be thought a nice problem, to ascertain their identity, and to determine when they are the same when different. In a strict philosophic view, every single impression made even by the same object, is distinguishable from what have gone before, and from what succeed. Neither is an emotion raised by an idea the same with what is raised by a sight of the object. But such accuracy is not found in common apprehension, nor is necessary in common language. The emotions raised by a fine landscape in its successive appearances, are not distinguished from each other, nor even from those raised by successiveideas of the object: all of them are held to be the same. A passion also is always reckoned the same, so long as it is fixed upon the same object. Thus love and hatred may continue the same for life. Nay, so loose are we in this way of thinking, that many passions are reckoned the same even after a change of object. This is the case of all passions that proceed from some peculiar propensity. Envy, for example, is considered to be the same passion, not only while it is directed upon the same person, but even where it comprehends many persons at once. Pride and malice are in the same condition. So much was necessary to be said upon the identity of a passion and emotion, in order to prepare for examining their growth and decay.

The growth and decay of passions and emotions, is a subject too extensive to be exhausted in an undertaking like the present. I pretend only to give a cursory view of it, so far as necessary for the purposes of criticism. Some emotions are produced in their utmost perfection, and have a very short endurance. This is the case of surprise, of wonder, and sometimes of terror. Emotions raised by insensible objects, such as trees, rivers, buildings, pictures, arrive at perfection almost instantaneously, and have a long endurance: a second view produceth nearly the same pleasure with the first. Love, hatred, and some other passions, increase gradually to a certain pitch, and thereafter decay gradually. Envy, malice, pride, scarce ever decay. Again, some passions, such as gratitude and revenge, are often exhausted by a single act of gratification. Other passions, such as pride, malice, envy, love, hatred, are not so exhausted; but having a long continuance, demand frequent gratification.

In order to explain these differences, it would be an endless work to examine every emotion and passion in particular. We must be satisfied at present with some general views. And with respect to emotions, which are quiescent and not productive of desire, their growth and decay are easily explained. An emotion caused by an external object, cannot naturally take longer time to arrive at perfection, than is necessary fora leisurely survey. Such emotion also must continue long stationary, without any sensible decay; a second or third view of the object being nearly as agreeable as the first. This is the case of an emotion produced by a fine prospect, an impetuous river, or a towering hill. While a man remains the same, such objects ought to have the same effect upon him. Familiarity, however, hath an influence here, as it hath every where. Frequency of view, after short intervals especially, weans the mind gradually from the object, which at last loses all relish. The noblest object in the material world, a clear and serene sky, is quite disregarded, unless perhaps after a course of bad weather. An emotion raised by human virtues, qualities, or actions, may grow imperceptibly by reiterated views of the object, till it become so vigorous as to generate desire. In this condition it must be handled as a passion.

As to passion, I observe first, that when nature requires a passion to be sudden, it is commonly produced in perfection. This is frequently the case of fear and of anger. Wonder and surprise are always producedin perfection. Reiterated impressions made by their cause, exhaust these passions in place of inflaming them. This will be explained afterward[34].

In the next place, when a passion hath for its foundation an original propensity peculiar to some men, it generally comes soon to perfection. The propensity, upon representing a proper object, is immediately enlivened into a passion. This is the case of pride, of envy, and of malice.

In the third place, love and hatred have often a slow growth. The good qualities or kind offices of a person, raise in me pleasant emotions; which, by reiterated views, are swelled into a passion involving desire of that person’s happiness. This desire being often put in exercise, works gradually a change internally; and at last produceth in me a settled habit of affection for that person, now my friend. Affection thus produced, operates precisely like an original propensity. To enliven it into a passion, no more is required but the real or ideal presence of the object. The habit of aversion or hatred is brought on in the same manner. And here I must observe by the way, that love and hatred signify commonly affection, not passion. The bulk indeed of our passions, are these affections inflamed into a passion by different circumstances. The affection of love I bear to my son, is inflamed into the passion of fear, when he is in danger; becomes hope, when he hath a prospect of good fortune; becomes admiration, when he performs a laudable action; and shame, when he commits any wrong. Aversion, again, becomes fear when there is a prospect of good fortune to my enemy; becomes hope when he is in danger; becomes joy when he is in distress; and sorrow when a laudable action is performed by him.

Fourthly, the growth of some passions depends often on occasional circumstances. Obstacles to gratification never fail to augment and inflame a passion. A constant endeavour to remove the obstacle, preserves the object of the passion ever in view, which swells the passion by impressions frequently reiterated. Thus the restraint of conscience,when an obstacle to love, agitates the mind and inflames the passion:

Quod licet, ingratum est: quod non licet, acrius urit.Si nunquam Danaën habuisset ahenea turris,Non esset Danaë de Jove facta parens.Ovid. Amor. l. 2.

At the same time, the mind distressed with the obstacle, is disposed to indulge its distress by magnifying the pleasure of gratification; which naturally inflames desire. Shakespear expresses this observation finely:

All impediments in fancy’s course,Are motives of more fancy.

We need no better example than a lover who hath many rivals. Even the caprices of a mistress have the effect to inflame love. These occasioning uncertainty of success, tend naturally to make the anxious lover overvalue the happiness of fruition.

So much upon the growth of passions. Their continuance and decay come next under consideration. And first, it is a general law of nature, that things sudden in their growth, are equally sudden in their decay. This is commonly the case of anger; and with respect to wonder and surprise, another reason concurs, that their causes are of short duration. Novelty soon degenerates into familiarity; and the unexpectedness of an object, is soon sunk in the pleasure which the object affords us. Fear, which is a passion of greater importance as tending to self-preservation, is often instantaneous, and yet is of equal duration with its cause. Nay it frequently subsists after the cause is removed.

In the next place, a passion founded on a peculiar propensity, subsists generally for ever. This is the case of pride, envy, and malice. Objects are never wanting, to inflame the propensity into a passion.

Thirdly, it may be laid down as a general law of nature, that every passion ceases upon attaining its ultimate end. To explain this law, we must distinguish betwixt a particular and a general end. I call a particular end what may be accomplished by a single act. A general end, on the contrary,admits acts without number; because it cannot be said that a general end is ever fully accomplished while the object of the passion subsists. Gratitude and revenge are examples of the first kind. The ends they aim at may be accomplished by a single act; and when this act is performed, the passions are necessarily at an end. Love and hatred are examples of the other kind. The desire of doing good or of doing mischief to an individual, is a general end, which admits acts without number, and which seldom is fully accomplished. Therefore these passions have frequently the same duration with their objects.

Lastly, it will afford us another general view, to consider the difference betwixt an original propensity and an affection produced by custom. The former adheres too close to the constitution ever to be eradicated; and for that reason the passions to which it gives birth, endure during life with no remarkable diminution of strength. The latter, which owes its birth and increment to time, owes its decay to the same cause. Affection decays gradually as it grew. Hencelong absence extinguisheth hatred as well as love. Affection wears out more gradually betwixt persons, who, living together, are objects to each other of mutual good-will and kindness. But here habit comes in luckily, to supply decayed affection. It makes these persons necessary to the happiness of each other, by the pain of separation[35]. Affection to children hath a long endurance, longer perhaps than any other affection. Its growth keeps pace with that of its objects. They display new beauties and qualifications daily, to feed and augment the affection. But whenever the affection becomes stationary, it must begin to decay; with a slow pace indeed, in proportion to its increment. In short, man with respect to this life, is a temporary being. He grows, becomes stationary, decays; and so must all his powers and passions.

Coexistent emotions and passions.

TO have a thorough knowledge of the human passions and emotions, it is not sufficient that they be examined singly and separately. As a plurality of them are sometimes felt at the same instant, the manner of their coexistence, and the effects thereby produced, ought also to be examined. This subject is extensive, and it will be difficult to evolve all the laws that govern its endless variety of cases. Such an undertaking may be brought to perfection, but it must be by degrees. The following hints may suffice for a first attempt.

We begin with emotions raised by different sounds, as the simplest case. Two sounds that mix, and are, as it were, incorporated before they reach the ear, are said to be concordant. That each sound produceth an emotion of its own, must be admitted. But then these emotions, like the soundsthat produce them, mix so intimately, as to be rather one complex emotion than two emotions in conjunction. Two sounds, again, that refuse incorporation or mixture, are said to be discordant. Being however heard at the same instant, the emotions produced by them are conjoined; and in that condition are unpleasant, even where separately they are each of them pleasant.

Similar to the emotion raised by mixed sounds, is the emotion that an object of sight raises by means of its several qualities. A tree, for example, with its qualities of colour, figure, size,&c.is perceived to be one object; and the emotion it raises is one, not different emotions combined. But though the emotion be one, it is however not simple. The perception of the tree is complex, and the emotion raised by it must also be complex.

With respect to coexistent emotions produced by different causes or objects, it must be observed, that there cannot be a concordance among objects of sight like what is perceived in sounds. Objects of sight are never mixed or incorporated in the act ofvision. Each object is perceived as it exists, separately from others; and each raiseth its own emotion, which is felt distinctly however intimately connected the objects may be. This doctrine holds in all the causes of emotion or passion, sounds only excepted.

To explain the manner in which such emotions coexist, similar emotions must be distinguished from those that are dissimilar. Two emotions are said to be similar, when they tend each of them to produce the same tone of mind. Chearful emotions, however different their causes may be, are similar; and so are those which are melancholy. Dissimilar emotions are easily explained by their opposition to what are similar. Grandeur and littleness, gaiety and gloominess, are dissimilar emotions.

Emotions perfectly similar, readily combine and unite[36], so as in a manner to become one complex emotion; witness the emotions produced by a number of flowers in a parterre, or of trees in a wood. Emotions again that are opposite or extremely dissimilar, never combine nor unite. The mind cannot simultaneously take on opposite tones: it cannot at the same instant be both joyful and sad, angry and satisfied, proud and humble. Dissimilar emotions may succeed each other with rapidity, but they cannot exist simultaneously.

Betwixt these two extremes, emotions will unite more or less, in proportion to the degree of their resemblance and the greater or less connection of their causes. The beauty of a landscape and the singing of birds, produce emotions that are similar in a considerable degree; and these emotions therefore, though proceeding from very different causes, readily combine and unite. On the other hand, when the causes are intimately connected, the emotions, though but slightly resembling each other, are forced into a sort of union. I give for an example a mistress in distress. When I consider her beauty, I feel a pleasant emotion;and a painful emotion when I consider her distress. These two emotions, proceeding from different views of the object, have very little resemblance to each other: and yet their causes are so intimately connected, as to force them into a sort of complex emotion, partly pleasant partly painful. This clearly explains some expressions common in poetry,a sweet distress, a pleasant pain.

We proceed to the effects produced by means of the different manners of coexistence above described; first, the effects produced within the mind, and next, those that appear externally. I discover two mental effects clearly distinguishable from each other. The one may be represented by addition and subtraction in numbers, and the other by harmony in sounds. Two pleasant emotions that are similar, readily unite when they are coexistent; and the pleasure felt in the union, is the sum of the two pleasures. The combined emotions are like multiplied effects from the co-operation of different powers. The same emotions in succession, are far from making the same figure; because the mind at noinstant of the succession is conscious of more than a single emotion. This doctrine may aptly be illustrated by a landscape comprehending hills, vallies, plains, rivers, trees,&c.The emotions produced by these several objects, being similar in a high degree as falling in easily and sweetly with the same tone of mind, are in conjunction extremely pleasant. And this multiplied effect is felt from objects even of different senses; as where a landscape is conjoined with the music of birds and odor of flowers. Such multiplied effect, as above hinted, depends partly on the resemblance of the emotions and partly on the connection of their causes; whence it follows, that the effect must be the greatest, where the causes are intimately connected and the emotions perfectly similar.

The other pleasure arising from coexistent emotions, which may be termedthe pleasure of concord or harmony, is ascertained by a different rule. It is directly in proportion to the degree of resemblance betwixt the emotions, and inversely in proportion to the degree of connection betwixt the causes. To feel this pleasure in perfection, the resemblance cannot be too strong, nor the connection too slight. Where the causes are intimately connected, the similar emotions they produce are felt like one complex emotion. But the pleasure of harmony, is not felt from one emotion single or complex. It is felt from various similar emotions, distinct from each other, and yet sweetly combining in the mind; and the less connection the causes have, the more entire is the emotion of harmony. This matter cannot be better illustrated, than by the foregoing example of a landscape, where the sight, hearing, and smelling, are employed. The accumulated pleasure of so many different similar emotions, is not what delights us the most in this combination of objects. The sense of harmony from these emotions sweetly uniting in the mind, is still more delightful. We feel this harmony in the different emotions proceeding from the visible objects; but we feel it still more sensibly in the emotions proceeding from the objects of different senses. This emotion of concord or harmony, willbe more fully illustrated, when the emotions produced by the sound of words and their meaning are taken under consideration[37].

This emotion of concord from conjoined emotions, is felt even where the emotions are not perfectly similar. Love is a pleasant passion; but then its sweetness and tenderness make it resemble in a considerable degree the painful passion of pity or grief; and for that reason, love accords better with these passions than with what are gay and sprightly. I give the following example from Catullus, where the concord betwixt love and grief, has a fine effect even in so slight a subject as the death of a sparrow.

Lugete, ô Veneres, Cupidinesque,Et quantum est hominum venustiorum!Passer mortuus est meæ puellæ,Quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.Nam mellitus erat, suamque noratIpsam tam bene, quam puella matrem:Nec sese a gremio illius movebat;Sed circumsiliens modo huc, modo illuc,Ad solam dominam usque pipilabat.Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum,Illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.At vobis male sit, malæ tenebræOrci, quæ omnia bella devoratis;Tarn bellum mihi passerem abstulistis.O factum male, ô miselle passer,Tua nunc opera, meæ puellæFlendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.

To complete this branch of the subject, I proceed to consider the effects of dissimilar emotions. These effects obviously must be opposite to what are above described; and in order to explain them with accuracy, dissimilar emotions proceeding from connected causes, must be distinguished from what proceed from causes that are unconnected. Dissimilar emotions of the former kind, being forced into a sort of unnatural union, produce a feeling of discord instead of harmony. It holds also that in computing their force, subtraction must be used in place of addition, which will be evident from what follows. Dissimilar emotions forced into union, are felt obscurely and imperfectly; for each tends to vary the tone of mind that is suited to the other; and the mind thus distracted betwixt two objects, is at no instant in a condition to receive a full impression from either. Dissimilar emotions proceeding from unconnected causes, are in a very different condition. Dissimilar emotions in general are averse to union; and as there is nothing to force them into union when their causes are unconnected emotions of this kind are never felt but in succession. By that means, they are not felt to be discordant, and each hath an opportunity to make a full impression.

This curious theory must be illustrated by examples. In reading the description of the dismal waste, book 1. ofParadise Lost, we are sensible of a confused feeling, arising from dissimilar emotions forced into union,viz.the beauty of the description and the horror of the object described.

Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,The seat of desolation, void of light,Save what the glimmering of these livid flamesCasts pale and dreadful?

Many other passages in this justly celebrated poem produce the same effect; and we always observe, that if the disagreeableness of the subject be obscured by the beautiful description, this beauty is not less obscured by its discordant union with the disagreeableness of the subject. For the same reason, ascending smoke in a calm morning is improper in a picture full of violent action. The emotion of stillness and tranquillity inspired by the former, accords not with the lively and animated emotion inspired by the latter. A parterre, partly ornamented partly in disorder, produces a mixt feeling of the same sort. Two great armies in act to engage, mix the dissimilar emotions of grandeur and of terror.

Sembra d’alberi densi alta forestaL’ un campo, e l’ altro; di tant’ aste abbonda.Son tesi gli archi, e son le lance in resta:Vibransi i dardi, e rotasi ogni fionda.Ogni cavallo in guerra anco s’ appresta:Gli odii, e’l furor del suo signor seconda:Raspa, batte, nitrisce, e si raggira,Gonfia le nari; e fumo, e fuoco spira.Bello in sì bella vista anco è l’orrore:E di mezzo la tema esce il diletto.Ne men le trombe orribili, e canoreSono a gli orecchi lieto, e fero oggetto.Pur il campo fedel, benchè minore,Par di suon più mirabile, e d’aspetto.E canta in più guerriero, e chiaro carmeOgni sua tromba, e maggior luce han l’arme.Gerusalemme liberata, cant. 20. st. 29. & 30.

Bello in sì bella vista anco è l’orrore:E di mezzo la tema esce il diletto.Ne men le trombe orribili, e canoreSono a gli orecchi lieto, e fero oggetto.Pur il campo fedel, benchè minore,Par di suon più mirabile, e d’aspetto.E canta in più guerriero, e chiaro carmeOgni sua tromba, e maggior luce han l’arme.Gerusalemme liberata, cant. 20. st. 29. & 30.

A virtuous man has drawn on himself a great misfortune, by a fault incident to human nature, and therefore venial. The remorse he feels aggravates his distress, and consequently raises our pity to a high pitch. We indeed blame the man; and the indignation raised by the fault he has committed, is dissimilar to pity. These two passions however proceeding from different views of the same object, are forced into a sort of union. But the indignation is so slight as scarce to be felt in the mixture with pity. Subjects of this kind, are of all the fittest for tragedy. But of this afterward[38].

Opposite emotions are so dissimilar as not to admit any sort of union, even where they proceed from causes the most intimately connected. Love to a mistress, and resentment for her infidelity, are of this nature. They cannot exist otherwise than in succession, which by the connection of their causes is commonly rapid. And these emotions will govern alternately, till one of them obtain the ascendent, or both be obliterated. A succession opens to me by the death of a worthy man, who was my friend as well as my kinsman. When I think of my friend I am grieved; but the succession gives me joy. These two causes are intimately connected, for the succession is the direct consequence of my friend’s death. The emotions however being opposite, do not mix: they prevail alternately, perhaps for a course of time, till grief for my friend’s death be banished by the pleasures of opulence. A virtuous man suffering unjustly, is an example of the same kind. I pity him, and I have great indignation at the author of the wrong. These emotions proceed from causes nearly connected; but being directed upon different objects, theyare not forced into union. The opposition preserves them distinct; and accordingly they are found to govern alternately, the one sometimes prevailing and sometimes the other.

Next of dissimilar emotions arising from unconnected causes. Good and bad news of equal importance arriving at the same instant from different quarters, produce opposite emotions, the discordance of which is not felt because they are not forced into union. They govern alternately, commonly in a quick succession, till their force be spent. In the same manner, good news arriving to a man labouring under distress, occasions a vibration in his mind from the one to the other.

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