Sect. II. The author's hypothesis on this subject. friend: often does the single circumstance of misfortune subdue all resentment of former coldness and ill.; usage, and make a languid and dying passion revive and flame out with a violence which it is impossible any longer to withstand. Every body acknowledges, that beauty is never so irresistible as in tears. Distress is commonly sufficient with those who are not very hard-hearted or pityless, (for these words are nearly of the same import) to make even enmity itself relent, THERE are then in pity, these three different emotions: first, commiseration, purely painful; secondly, benevolence, or a desire of the relief and happiness of the object pitied, a passion, as was already observed, of the intermediate kind; thirdly, love, in which is always implied one of the noblest and most exquisite pleasures, whereof the soul is susceptible, and which is itself, in most cases, sufficient to give a counterpoise of pleasure to the whole, FOR the further confirmation of this theory, let it be remarked, that orators and poets, in order to strengthen this association and union, are at pains to adorn the character of him for whom they would en-. gage our pity, with every amiable quality, which, in a consistency with probability, they can crowd into it. On the contrary, when the character is hateful, the person's misfortunes are unpitied. Sometimes they even occasion a pleasure of a very different kind; VOL. I. S Of the cause of that pleasure we receive from affecting objects or representations. namely, that which the mind naturally takes in viewing the just punishment of dement. When the character hath such a mixture of good and odious qualities, as that we can neither withhold our commiseration, nor bestow our love; the mind is then torn opposite ways at once, by passions which, instead of uniting, repel one another. Hence the piece becomes shocking and disgustful. Such, to a certain degree, in my judgment, is the tragedy of Venice Preserved, wherein the hero, notwithstanding several good qualities, is a villain and a traitor, will appear to well-disposed mind. mind. All the above cases, if attended to, will be found exactly to tally with the hypothesis here suggested. ALL the answer then which I am able to produce, upon the whole, and which results from the foregoing observations, is this: The principal pleasure in pity ariseth from its own nature, or from the nature of those passions of which it is compounded, and not from any thing extrinsic or adventitious. The tender emotions of love which enter into the composition, sweeten the commiseration or sympathetic sorrow; the commiseration gives a stability to those emotions with which otherwise the mind would soon be cloyed, when directed towards a person, imaginary, unknown, or with whom we are totally' unacquainted. The very benevolence or wish of contributing to his relief, affords an occupation to the thoughts, which agreeably rouses them. It impels Sect. II: The author's hypothesis on this subject. the mind to devise expedients, by which the unhappy person (if our pity is excited by some present calamitous incident) may be, or (if it is awaked by the art of the poet, the orator, or the historian) might have been, relieved from his distress. Yet the whole movement of the combined affections is not converted into pleasure; for though the uneasiness of the melancholy passions be overpowered, it is not effaced by something stronger of an opposite kind. MR HUME, indeed, in his manner of expressing himself on this article, hath not observed either an entire uniformity, or his usual precision. I should rather say, from some dubiousness in relation to the account he was giving, he seems to have, in part, retracted what he had been establishing, and thus leaves the reader with an alternative in the decision. First he tells us, that "the whole momevent of those [melancholy] passions is converted into pleasure:" Afterwards, "the latter [the sentiments of beauty] being the predominant emotion, seize the whole mind, "and convert the former [the impulse or vehemence 66 66 arising from sorrow, compassion, indignation,] into "themselves;" he adds, by way of correction," or "at least tincture them so strongly, as totally to al"ter their nature." Again, "The soul feels, on the 66 whole, a strong movement, which is altogether delightful." All this, I acknowledge, appears to me to be neither sufficiently definite, nor quite intelligible. Of the cause of that pleasure we receive from affecting objects or representations. BUT passing that, I shall only subjoin, that the combination of the passions in the instance under our examination, is not like the blending of colours, two of which will produce a third, wherein you can discern nothing of the original hues united in producing it; but it rather resembles a mixture of tastes, when you. are quite sensible of the different savours of the ingredients. Thus, blue and yellow mingled make green, in which you discover no taint of either; and all the colours of the rainbow blended, constitute a white, which to the eye appears as simple and original as any of them, and perfectly unlike to each. On the other hand, in eating meat with salt, for instance, we taste both distinctly; and though the latter singly would be disagreeable, the former is rendered more agreeable by the mixture than it would otherwise have been. I own, indeed, that certain adventitious circumstances may continue to heighten the effect. But these cannot be regarded as essential to the passion. They occur occasionally. Some of them actually occur but seldom. Of this sort is the satisfaction which ariseth from a sense of our own ease and security, compared with the calamity and the danger of another. 'Tis pleasant, safely to behold from shore Sect. II. The author's hypothesis on this subject. The poet hath hit here on some of the very few circumstances, in which it would be natural to certain tempers, not surely the most humane, to draw comfort in the midst of sympathetic sorrow, from such a comparison. The reflection, in my opinion, occurs almost only when a very small change in external situation, as a change in place to the distance of few furlongs, would put us into the same lamentable circumstances which we are commiserating in others. Even something of this kind will present itself to our thoughts, when there is no particular object to demand our pity. A man who, in tempestuous weather, sits snug in a close house, near a good fire, and hears the wind and rain beating upon the roof and windows, will naturally think of his own comfortable situation, compared with that of a traveller, who, perhaps, far from shelter, is exposed to all the violence of the tempest. But in such cases, a difference, as I said, in a single accidental circumstance, which may happen at any time, is all that is necessary to put a man in the same disastrous situation, wherein he either sees or conceives others to be. And the very slightness of the circumstance, which would have been sufficient to * Suave mari magno, turbantibus æquora ventis, Non quia vexari quemquam 'st jucunda voluptas, Per campos instructa, tua sine parte pericli. LUCRET. 1, 2. |