The emotions raised by music independent of words, must be all of this nature courage roused by martial music performed upon instruments without a voice, cannot be directed to any object: nor can grief or pity raised by melancholy music of the same kind have an object. For another example, let us figure some grand and heroic action, highly agreeable to the spectator: beside veneration for the author, the spectator feels in himself an unusual dignity of character, which disposeth him to great and noble actions; and herein chiefly consists the extreme delight every one hath in the histories of conquerors and heroes. This singular feeling, which may be termed the 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 before they are directed to any object; and in no case whatever is the mind more solicitous for a proper object, that when under the influence of any of these appetites. The feeling I have endeavoured to unfold, may well be termed the sympathetic emotion of virtue; for it is raised in a spectator, or in a reader, by virtuous actions of every kind, and by no other sort. When we contemplate a virtuous action, which fails not to prompt our love for the author, our propensity at the same time 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; and this abhorrence is a strong antidote against vice, as long as any 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 observe 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 their dignity and superior excellence is a most efficacious incitement.* 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. We approve every virtuous action, and bestow our affection on the author; but if virtuous actions produced no other effect upon us, good example would not have great influence the sympathetic emotion under consideration bestows upon good example the utmost influence, by prompting 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, because virtuous emotions of that sort are in some degree an exercise of virtue; they are a mental exercise at least, if they appear 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. * See Essays on morality and natural religion, part 1. ess. 2. ch. 4. 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 spacious and commodious avenue to the heart of a young person is here opened! SECT. V. IN MANY INSTANCES ONE EMOTION IN Productive of ANOTHER. THE SAME OF PASSIONS. In the first chapter it is observed, that the relations by which things are connected, have a remarkable influence on the train of our ideas. I here add, that they have an influence no less remarkable in the production of emotions and passions. Beginning with the former, an agreeable object makes every thing connected with it appear agreeable; for the mind gliding sweetly and easily through related objects, carries along the agreeable properties it meets with in its passage, and bestows them on the present object, which thereby appears more agreeable than when considered apart.* This reason may appear obscure and metaphysical, but the fact is beyond all dispute. No relation is more intimate than that between a being and its qualities: and accordingly every quality in a hero, even the slightest, makes a greater figure than more substantial qualities in others. The propensity of carrying along agreeable properties from one object to another, is sometimes so vigorous as to convert defects into properties: the wry neck of Alexander was imitated by his courtiers as a real beauty, without intention to flatter: Lady Percy, speaking of her husband Hotspur, Such proneness has the mind to this communication of properties, that we often find a property ascribed to a related object, of which naturally it is not susceptible. Sir Richard Grenville in a single ship, being surprised by the Spanish fleet, was advised to retire. He utterly refused to turn from the enemy; declaring, "he would rather die, than dishonour himself, his country, and her Majesty's ship." Hakluyt, vol. 2. part 2. p. 169. To aid the communication, of properties in instances like the present, there always must be a momentary personification: a ship must be imagined a sensible being to make it susceptible of honour or dishonour. In the battle of Mantinea, Epaminondas, being mortally wounded, was carried to his tent in a manner dead; recovering his senses, the first thing he enquired about was his shield; which being brought, he kissed it as the companion of his valour and glory. It must be remarked, that among the Greeks and Romans it was deemed infamous for a soldier to returu from battle without his shield. For those who could speak slow and tardily, To seem like him.-Second Part, Henry IV. act 2. sc. 6. 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 accessory. A lover addresseth his mistress's glove in the following terms: Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine. Veneration for relics has the same natural foundation; and that foundation with the superstructure of superstition, has occasioned much blind devotion to the most ridiculous objects; to the supposed milk, for example, of the Virgin Mary, or the supposed blood of St. Janivarius.* 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 icicle which hangs on it, must partake of that property: The noble sister of Poplicola, The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle 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 connexions; and it is this communication of properties, which, prevailing even over the natural taste of beauty, helps to give currency to what is called the fashion. By means of the same easiness of communication, every bad quality in an enemy is spread upon all his connexions. The sentence pronounced against Ravaillac for the assassination of Henry IV. of France, ordains, that the house in which he was born should be razed to the ground, and that no other building should ever be erected on that spot. Enmity will extend passion to objects still less connected. The Swiss suffer no peacocks to live, because the Duke of Austria, their ancient enemy, wears a peacock's tail in his crest. A relation more slight and transitory than that of enmity, may have the same effect; thus the bearer of bad tidings becomes an object of aversion: Fellow, begone; I cannot brook thy sight: King John, act 3. sc. 1. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Second part, Henry IV. act. 1. sc. 3. But why worship the cross which is supposed to be that upon which our Saviour suffered? That cross ought to be the object of hatred, not of veneration. If it be urged, that as an instrument of Christ's suffering it was salutary to mankind, I answer, Why is not also Pontius Pilate reverenced, Caiaphas the highpriest, and Judas Iscariot? In borrowing thus properties from one object to bestow them on another, it is not any object indifferently that will answer. The object from which properties are borrowed, must be such as to warm the mind and enliven the imagination. Thus the beauty of a mistress, which inflames the imagination, is readily communicated to a glove, as above mentioned; but the greatest beauty a glove is susceptible of, touches the mind so little, as to be entirely dropped in passing from it to the owner. In general, it may be observed, that any dress upon a fine woman is becoming; but that ornaments upon one who is homely, must be elegant indeed to have any remarkable effect in mending her appearance.* The emotions produced as above may properly be termed secondary, being occasioned either by antecedent emotions or antecedent passions, which in that respect may be termed primary. And to complete the present theory, I must add, that a secondary emotion may readily swell into a passion for the accessory object, provided the accessory be a proper object for desire. 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 selflove, and the power it hath to generate love to children. 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 darting his fire and heat all around; especially upon his nearest connexions: the connexion between a man and his children, fundamentally that of cause and effect, becomes, by the addition of other circumstances, the completest that can be among individuals; and therefore self-love, the most vigorous of all passions, is readily expanded upon children. The secondary emotion they produce by means of their connexion, is sufficiently strong to move desire even from the beginning; and the new passion swells by degrees, till it rival in some measure selflove, the primary passion. To demonstrate the truth of this theory, I urge the following argument. Remorse for betraying a friend, or murdering an enemy in cold blood, makes a man even hate himself: in that state, he is not conscious of affection to his children, but rather of disgust or ill-will. What cause can be assigned for that change, other than the hatred he has to himself, which is expanded upon his children. And if so, may we not with equal reason derive from self-love some part at least of the affection a man generally has to them? The affection a man bears to his blood-relations, depends partly on the same principle: self-love is also expanded upon them; and the communicated passion is more or less vigorous in proportion to the degree of connexion. Nor doth self-love rest here it is, by the force of connexion, communicated even to things inanimate; * A house and garden surrounded with pleasant fields, all in good order, bestow greater lustre upon the owner than at first will be imagined. The beauties of the former are, by intimacy of connexion, readily communicated to the latter, and if it have been done at the expense of the owner himself, we naturally transfer to him whatever of design, art, or taste, appears in the performance. Should not this be a strong motive with proprietors to embellish and improve their fields? 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 the friend's 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, in Venice Preserved, takes 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: Priuli. My daughter! Belvidera. Yes, your daughter, by a mother The lineaments of hers y'have kiss'd so often, And again, Belvidera. Lay me, I beg you, lay me She would have pitied me, had fate yet spar'd her.-Act 5. sc. 1. This explains why any meritorious action, or any illustrious qualification, in my son or my friend, is apt to make me over-value myself: if I value my friend's wife or son upon account of their connexion with him, it is still more natural that I should value myself upon account of my connexion with him. Friendship, or any other social affection, may, by changing the object, produce opposite effects. Pity, by interesting us strongly for the person in distress, must of consequence inflame our resentment against the author of the distress; for, in general, the affection we have for any man generates in us good-will to his friends, and ill-will to his enemies. Shakspeare shows great art in the funeral oration pronounced by Antony over the body of Cæsar. He first endeavours to excite grief in the hearers, by dwelling upon the deplorable loss of so great a man: this passion, interesting them strongly in Cæsar's fate, could not fail to produce a lively sense of the treachery and cruelty of the conspirators; an infallible method to inflame the resentment of the people beyond all bounds: Antony. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now The first time ever Cæsar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii Look! in this place ran Cassius's dagger through ; See what a rent the envious Casca made. Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd: As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd, If Brutus so unkindly knock'd or no: |