Pleased with the first, unknown the second news; Althea to the temples pays their dues For her son's conquest; when at length appear Her grisly brethren stretched upon the bier; Pale at the sudden sight she changed her cheer, And with her cheer, her robes: but hearing tell The cause, the manner, and by whom they fell, 'Twas grief no more, or grief and rage were one Within her soul; at last, 'twas rage alone; Which bursting upwards in succession, dries The tears, that stood consid'ring in her eyes. There lay a log unlighted on the hearth, When she was lab'ring in the throes of birth, For the unborn chief; the fatal sisters came, And raised it up, and toss'd it on the flame; Then on the rock a scanty measure place Of vital flax, and turned the wheel apace; And turning sung; To this red brand and thee, O new-born babe, we give an equal destiny:So vanished out of view; The frighted dame Sprang hasty from her bed, and quenched the flame: The log, in secret locked, she kept with care; And that, while thus preserved, preserved her heir. This brand she now produced; and first she strows The hearth with heaps of chips, and after blows: Thrice heaved her hand, and heaved, she thrice repressed: The sister, and the mother long contest,

Two doubtful titles, in one tender breast.

And now her eyes and cheeks with fury glow,
Now pale her cheeks, her eyes with pity flow:
Now lowering looks presage approaching storms,
And now prevailing love her face reforms;
Resolved, she doubts again; the tears she dried
With burning rage, are by new tears supplied;
And as a ship, which winds and waves assail,
Now with the current drives, now with the gale,
Both opposite, and neither long prevail;
She feels a double force, by turns obeys
The imperious tempest, and the impetuous seas:
So fares Althæa's mind; she first relents
With pity; of that pity then repents.
Sister, and mother, long the scales divide;
But the beam nodded on the sister's side:
Sometimes she softly sighed, then roared aloud:
But sighs were stifled in the cries of blood.
The pious, impious wretch at length decreed,

To please her brothers' ghost, her son should bleed:
And when the funeral flames began to rise,

Receive, she said, a sister's sacrifice;

A mother's bowels burn: high in her hand,

Thus while she spoke, she held the fatal brand;
Then thrice before the kindled pile she bowed,

And the three Furies thrice invoked aloud:
Come, come, revenging sisters; come, and view
A sister paying her dead brothers' due:

A crime I punish, and a crime commit,

But blood for blood and death for death is fit:
Great crimes must be with greater crimes repaid,
And second funerals on the former laid.

Let the whole household in one ruin fall,
And may Diana's curse o'ertake us all!
Shall fate to happy Eneus still allow

One son, while Thestius stands deprived of two?

Better three lost, than one unpunished go.
Take, then, dear ghost, while yet admitted new
In hell, you wait my duty, take your due:

A costly offering on your tomb is laid,

When with my blood the price of yours is paid.—
Ah! whither am I hurried? Ah! forgive,
Ye shades, and let your sister's issue live:
A mother cannot give him death; though he
Deserves it, he deserves it not from me:-
Then shall the unpunished wretch insult the slain,
Triumphant live, nor only live, but reign,

While you, thin shades, the sport of winds are tossed
O'er dreary plains, or tread the burning coast.

I cannot, cannot bear; 'tis past, 'tis done;
Perish this impious, this detested son;

Perish his sire, and perish I with all;

And let the house's heir, and the hop'd kingdom fall!
Where is the mother fled, her pious love,

And where the pains with which ten months I strove!
Ah! hadst thou died, my son, in infant years,

Thy little hearse had been bedewed with tears.—
Thou livedst by me; to me thy breath resign;
Mine is the merit, the demerit thine.

Thy life by double title I require;

Once given at birth, and once preserved from fire;
One murder pay, or add one murder more,
And me to them who fell by thee restore.-
I would, but cannot: my son's image stands
Before my sight; and now their angry hands
My brothers hold, and vengeance these exact,
This pleads compassion, and repents the fact.-
He pleads in vain, and I pronounce his doom:
My brothers, though unjustly, shall o'ercome:
But having paid their injured ghosts their due,
My son requires my death, and mine shall his pursue.
At this, for the last time, she lifts her hand,

Averts her eyes, and, half unwilling, drops the brand.
The brand, amid the flaming fuel thrown,

Or drew, or seemed to draw, a dying groan:

The fires themselves but faintly lick'd their prey,

'Then loath'd their impious food, and would have shrunk away.

In cases of this kind, one circumstance always augments the fiuetuation: after balancing between two actions, a resolution to prefer one of them is an inchoated gratification of the prevailing passion, which moderates it in some degree; and that circumstance tenas to give a superiority to the opposite passion: another circumstance also concurs, that this opposite passion has, by restraint, acquired in the interim some additional force.

Love and jealousy connected by a common object, occupy the mind alternately: when the object is considered as beautiful, love prevails; when considered as possibly unfaithful, jealousy prevails. A situation of that kind affords great scope for fluctuation of passion; which is painted to the life by several masterly hands in words as well as in colors. Shakspeare handles the same subject, but in a manner uncommon, and peculiar to himself: in Othello's soliloquy before putting his wife to death, love and jealousy are represented, each exerting its whole force, but without any struggle: Othello was naturally inflexible; and the tenderest love could not divert him

from a purpose he approved as right, not even a moment but every thing consistent with such a character is done .o reconcile the two opposite passions; he is resolved to put her to death, but he will not shed her blood, nor so much as ruffle her skin:

:

Othello. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul;—

[Lays down the sword.

Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!
It is the cause-
Yet I'll not shed her blood,
Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die; else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then-Put out the light!--
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

I can again thy former light restore,

Should I repent: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,

I know not where is that Promethean heat

That can thy life relumine.-[Sets down the taper.
When I have pluck'd thy rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again;

It needs must wither.-I'll smell thee on the tree. [Kissing her
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade

Justice to break her sword!-One more; one more;

Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after.-One more, that's the last;
So sweet was ne'er so fatal; I must weep,

But they are cruel tears! this sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love.

Othello, Act V. Sc. 6.

In Otway's Orphan, we have an illustrious example of the address employed to gratify opposite passions directed to the same object. Castalio and Polydore, brothers and rivals, had sworn mutual confidence Castalio broke his faith by a private marriage; which unwarily betrayed Polydore into a dismal deed, that of polluting his prother's bed. Thus he had injured his brother, and was injured by him: justice prompted him to make full atonement by his own death; resentment against his brother, required a full atonement to be made to himself. In coexistent passions so contradictory, one of them commonly prevails after a struggle: but here happily an expedient occurred to Polydore for gratifying both; which was, that he should provoke his brother to put him to death. Polydore's crime, in his own opinion, merited that punishment; and justice was satisfied when he fell by the hand of the man he had injured: he wanted, at the same time, to punish his brother for breach of faith; and he could not punish more effectually than by betraying his brother to

be his executioner.

If difference of aim prevent the union of two passions, though they have the same object, much more will it prevent their union, when their objects are also different: in both cases there is a fluctuation; but in the latter the fluctuation is slower than in the former. A beau tiful situation of that kind is exhibited in the Cid of Corneille. Don Diegue, an old soldier worn out with age, having received a mortal affront from the Count, father to Chimene, employs his son Don Rodrigue, Chimene's lover, to demand satisfaction. This situation Occasions in the breast of Don Rodrigue a cruel struggle between love and honor, one of which must be sacrificed. The scene is

finely conducted, chiefly by making love, in some degree, take part with honor, Don Rodrigue reflecting, that if he lost his honor he coula not deserve his mistress: honor triumphs; and the Count provoked to a single combat, falls by the hand of Don Rodrigue.

This produces another beautiful situation respecting Chimene, which making part of the same story, is placed here, though it properly belongs to the foregoing head. It became the duty of that lady o demand justice against her lover, for whose preservation, in other circumstances, she would have cheerfully sacrificed her own life. The struggle between these opposite passions directed to the same object is finely expressed in the third scene of the third act:

Elvire. Il vous prive d'un père, et vous l'aimez encore !
Chimène. C'est peu de dire aimer, Elvire, je l'adore ;

Ma passion s'oppose à mon ressentiment,
Dedans mon ennemi je trouve mon amant;
Et je sens qu'en depit de toute ma colère,
Rodrigue dans mon cœur combat encor mon père.
Il l'attaque, il le presse, il cède, il se défend,
Tantôt fort, tantôt foible, et tantôt triomphant;
Mais en ce dur combat de colère et de flamme,
Il déchire mon cœur sans partager mon ame
Et quoique mon amour ait sur moi du pouvoir,
Je ne consulte point pour suivre mon devoir.
Je cours sans balancer où mon honneur m'oblige;
Rodrigue m'est bien cher, son interêt m'afflige,
Mon cœur prend son parti; mais malgré son effort,
Je sais que je suis, et que mon père est mort.

Not less when the objects are different than when the same, are means sometimes afforded to gratify both passions; and such means are greedily embraced. In Tasso's Gerusalemme, Edward and Gildippe, husband and wife, are introduced fighting gallantly against the Saracens. Gildippe receives a mortal wound by the hand of Soliman Edward inflamed with revenge, as well as concern for Gildippe, is agitated between the two different objects. The poet* describes him endeavoring to gratify both at once, applying his right hand against Soliman, the object of his resentment, and his left hand to support his wife, the object of his love.

PART V.

INFLUENCE OF PASSION WITH RESPECT ΤΟ OUR PERCEPTIONS OPINIONS, AND BELIEF.

The influence of passion upon our perceptions, opinions, and belief-Tranquillity or sedateness, the proper state of mind for accurate perception and cool deliberation-Agreeable passions prepossess us in favor of their objects; disagreeable do not-A strong propensity in our nature to justify our passions and actions-Arguments for a favorite opinion always at hand-The mind delighted and impressed by agreeable arguments, but not by disagreeableExamples: Gratitude-Envy-Grief-Resentment-Anger-Good news-Bad

news-Improbable events-Future events-Prosperity-Affliction.

CONSIDERING how intimately our perceptions, passions, and ac tions, are mutually connected, it would be wonderful if they should

Canto 20. st. 97.

have no mutual influence. That our actions are too much influenced by passion, is a known truth; but it is not less certain, though not so well known, that passion has also an influence upon our perceptions, opinions, and belief. For example, the opinions we form of men and things, are generally directed by affection: an advice given by a man of figure, has great weight; the same advice from one in a low condition is despised or neglected: a man of courage underrates danger; and to the indolent the slightest obstacle appears unsurmountable.

'This doctrine is of great use in logic; and of still greater use in criticism, by serving to explain several principles of the fine arts that will be unfolded in the course of this work. A few general observations shall, at present, suffice, leaving the subject to be prosecuted more particularly afterward when occasion offers.

There is no truth more universally known, than that tranquillity and sedateness are the proper state of mind for accurate perception and cool deliberation; and for that reason, we never regard the opinion, even of the wisest man, when we discover prejudice or passion behind the curtain. Passion, as observed above,* has such influence over us, as to give a false light to all its objects. Agreeable passions prepossess the mind in favor of their objects, and disagreeable passions, no less against their objects: a woman is all perfection in her lover's opinion, while, in the eye of a rival beauty, she is awkward and disagreeable: when the passion of love is gone, beauty vanishes with it,-nothing is left of that genteel motion, that sprightly conversation, those numberless graces, which formerly, in the lover's opinion, charmed all hearts. To a zealot every one of his own sect is a saint, while the most upright of a different sect are, to him, children of perdition: the talent of speaking in a friend, is more regarded than prudent conduct in any other. Nor will this surprise one acquainted with the world. Our opinions, the result, frequently, of various and complicated views, are commonly so slight and wavering, as readily to be susceptible of a bias from passion.

With that natural bias another circumstance concurs, to give passion an undue influence on our opinions and belief; and that is a strong tendency in our nature to justify our passions as well as our actions, not to others only, but even to ourselves. That tendency is peculiarly remarkable with respect to disagreeable passions: by its influence, objects are magnified or lessened, circumstances supplied or suppressed, every thing colored and disguised, to answer the end of justification. Hence the foundation of self-deceit, where a man imposes upon himself innocently, and even without suspicion of a bias. There are subordinate means that contribute to pervert the judgment, and to make us form opinions contrary to truth; of which I shall mention two. First, it was formerly observed,† that though ideas seldom start up in the mind without connection, yet that ideas suited to the present tone of mind are readily suggested by any slight connection the arguments for a favorite opinion are always at hand, while we often search in vain for those that cross our inclination * Page 68. + Chap. 1.