garden. The emotion of wonder which is raised by a very large room without furniture, makes it look larger than it is in reality: it completely furnished, we view it in parts, and our wonder is not raised.

A low ceiling has a diminutive appearance, which, by an easy transition of ideas, is communicated to the length and breadth, provided they bear any proportion to the height. If they be out of all proportion, the opposition seizes the mind, and raises some degree of wonder, which makes the difference appear greater than it really is.

PART VI.

THE RESEMBLANCE OF EMOTIONS TO THEIR CAUSES.

Many emotions resemble their causes-Examples: Motion-Sounds-A wall or pillar-Pasture-Emotions raised by the qualities, actions, and passions of a sensible being-Love-Gratitude, courage, and all virtuous actions-GriefFear-Pity Emotions raised by bad passions and actions do not resemble their causes.

THAT many emotions have some resemblance to their causes, is a truth that can be made clear by induction; though, as far as I know, the observation has not been made by any writer. Motion, in its different circumstances, is productive of feelings that resemble it: sluggish motion, for example, causes a languid unpleasant feeling; slow uniform motion, a feeling calm and pleasant; and brisk motion, a lively feeling that rouses the spirits, and promotes activity. A fall of water through rocks, raises, in the mind, a tumultuous, confused agitation, extremely similar to its cause. When force is exerted with any effort, the spectator feels a similar effort, as of force exerted within his mind. A large object swells in the heart. An elevated object makes the spectator stand erect.

Sounds also produce emotions or feelings that resemble them. A sound in a low key brings down the mind; such a sound in a full tone has a certain solemnity, which it communicates to the feeling produced by it. A sound in a high key cheers the mind by raising it: such a sound in a full tone both elevates and swells the mind.

Again, a wall or pillar that declines from the perpendicular, produces a painful feeling, as of a tottering and falling within the mind: and a feeling somewhat similar is produced by a tall pillar that stands so ticklish as to look like falling.* A column with a base looks more firm and stable than upon the naked ground; and for that reason is more agreeable: and though the cylinder is a more

* Sunt enim Tempe saltus transitu difficilis: nam præter angustias per quinque millia, qua exiguum jumento onusto iter est, rupes utrinque ita abscissæ sunt, ut despici vix sine vertigine quadam simul oculorum animique possit. Titus Livius, lib. 44. sect. 6.

For the forest of Tempe is difficult to pass-besides the narrowness for five miles affording scant passage for a laden beast, the rocks on each side are so parted, that they can scarcely be contemplated, without a certain giddiness, both of the eyes and the brain.

beautiful figure, yet the cube for a base is preferred: its angles being extended to a greater distance from the centre than the circumference of a cylinder. This excludes not a different reason, that the base, the shaft, and the capital of a pillar, ought, for the sake of variety, to differ from each other: if the shaft be round, the base and capital ought to be square.

A constrained posture, uneasy to the man himself, is disagreeable to the spectator; whence a rule in painting, that the drapery ought not to adhere to the body, but hang loose, that the figures may ap Dear easy and free in their movements. The constrained posture of A French dancing master in one of Hogarth's pieces, is for that reason disagreeable; and it is also ridiculous, because the constraint 's assumed as a grace.

The foregoing observation is not confined to emotions or feelings raised by still life: it holds also in those which are raised by the qualities, actions, and passions, of a sensible being. Love inspired by a fine woman assumes her qualities: it is sublime, soft, tender, severe, or gay, according to its cause. This is still more remarkable in emotions raised by human actions: it has already been remarked, that any signal instance of gratitude, beside procuring esteem for the author, raises, in the spectator, a vague emotion of gratitude, which disposes him to be grateful; and I now further remark, that this vague emotion has a strong resemblance to its cause, namely, the passion that produced the grateiul action. Courage exerted inspires the reader as well as the spectator with a like emotion of courage; a just action fortifies our love of justice, and a generous action rouses our generosity. In short, with respect to all virtuous actions, it will be found by induction, that they lead us to imitation, by inspiring emotions resembling the passions that produce these actions. And hence the advantage of choice books and choice company.

Grief as well as joy is infectious. the emotions they each raise in a spectator resemble them perfectly. Fear is equally infectious: and hence in an army, a few taking fright, even without cause, spread the infection tiil it becomes an universal panic. Pity is similar to its cause; a parting scene between lovers or friends, produces, in the spectator, a sort of pity, which is tender like the distress: the anguish of remorse, produces pity of a harsh kind; and if the remorse be extreme, the pity has a mixture of horror. Anger I think is singular; for even where it is moderate, and causes no disgust, it disposes not the spectator to anger in any degree.† Covetousness, cruelty, treachery, and other vicious passions, are so far from raising any emotion similar to themselves, to incite a spectator to imitation, that they have an opposite effect: they raise abhorrence, and fortify the spectator in his aversion to such actions. When anger is immoderate, it cannot fail to produce the same effect.

* Part I. of this chapter, sect. 4.

† Aristotle, Poet. cap. 18. sect. 3. says, that anger raises in the spectator a similar emotion of anger.

PART VII.

FINAL CAUSES OF THE MORE FREQUENT EMOTIONS AND PASSIONS.

Actions always prompted by desire-All passions conducive to public good-An agreeable cause produces a pleasant emotion; a disagreeable cause, painfulInanimate objects agreeable-They promote happiness-They excite industry-Disagreeable objects hurtful-As a mark of wisdom some objects are indifferent-Inanimate objects that are agreeable, are attractive; the contrary are repulsive-A sensible being agreeable by its attributes, inspires a pleasant emotion, accompanied with desire-Final cause-It promotes our happinessA painful emotion excited by a person in distress-Self-love would induce us to turn from it-Benevolence, to relieve it-Termed sympathy-Indignation excited by vice and wickedness-To secure us from injury, injury done to ourselves requires retaliation-Painful emotions excited in a delinquent by a disagreeable action, termed remorse-Right or wrong, actions never indifferent to the spectator-When right, they inspire esteem; when wrong, disgust-Good qualities in myself raise esteem as well as in another; mean qualities, inferiority-An appetite for fame useful, and of moral tendency-Communication of passion to related objects extends the social affections-The contrary tendency of malevolent passions-This regards savages only-The economy of the human passions entertaining to the rational mind.

It is a law of our nature, that we never act but by the impulse of desire; which in other words is saying, that passion, by the desire included in it, is what determines the will. Hence in the conduct of life, it is of the utmost importance, that our passions t directed to proper objects, tend to just and rational ends, and with relation to each other, be duly balanced. The beauty of contrivance, so conspicuous in the human frame, is not confined to the rational part of our nature, but is visible over the whole. Concerning the passions in particular, however irregular, headstrong, and perverse, in a slight view, they may appear, I hope to demonstrate, that they are, by nature, modelled and tempered with perfect wisdom, for the good of society as well as for private good. The subject, tre, ted at large, would be too extensive for the present work: all there is room for is a few general observations upon the sensitive part of or nature, without regarding that strange irregularity of passion discovered in some individuals. Such topical irregularities, if I may use the term, cannot fairly be held an objection to the present theory. We are frequently, it is true, misled by inordinate passion; but we are also, and perhaps no less frequently, misled by wrong judgment.

In order to fulfil my engagement, it must be premised, that an agreeable cause always produces a pleasant emotion; and a disagreeable cause, a painful emotion. This is a general law of nature, which admits not a single exception. Agreeableness in the cause is indeed so essentially connected with pleasure in the emotion, its effect, that an agreeable cause cannot be better defined, than by its power of producing a pleasant emotion: and disagreeableness in the cause has the same necessary connection with pain in the emotion produced by it.

From this preliminary it appears, that in order to know for what end an emotion is made pleasant or painful, we must begin with

inquiring for what end its cause is made agreeable or disagreeable. And, with respect to inanimate objects, considered as the causes of emotions, many of them are made agreeable in order to promote our happiness; and it proves invincibly the benignity of the Deity, that we are placed in the midst of objects for the most part agreeable. But that is not all. The bulk of such objects, being of real use in life, are made agreeable in order to excite our industry: witness a large tree, a well-dressed fallow, a rich field of grain, and others that may be named without end. On the other hand, it is not easy to specify a disagreeable object that is not at the same time hurtful. Some things are made disagreeable, such as a rotten carcase, because they are noxious: others, a dirty marsh, for example, or a barren heath, are made disagreeable, in order, as above, to excite our industry. And, with respect to the few things that are neither agreeable nor disagreeable, it will be made evident, that their being left indifferent is not a work of chance but of wisdom: of such I shall have occasion to give several instances.

Because inanimate objects that are agreeable fix our attention, and draw us to them, they in that respect are termed attractive: such objects inspire pleasant emotions, which are gratified by adhering to the objects, and enjoying them. Because disagreeable objects of the same kind repel us from them, they, in that respect, are termed repulsive: and the painful emotions raised by such objects are gratified by flying from them. Thus, in general, with respect to things inanimate, the tendency of every pleasant emotion is to prolong the pleasure; and the tendency of every painful emotion is to end the pain:

Sensible beings considered as objects of passion, lead into a more complex theory. A sensible being that is agreeable by its attributes, inspires us with a pleasant emotion accompanied with desire; and the question is, what is naturally the gratification of that desire? Were man altogether selfish, his nature would lead him to indulge the pleasant emotion, without making any acknowledgment to the person who gives him pleasure, more than to a pure air or temperate clime but as man is endued with a principle of benevolence as well as of selfishness, he is prompted by his nature to desire the good of every sensible being that gives him pleasure; and the happiness of that being is the gratification of his desire. The final cause of desire so directed is illustrious: it contributes to a man's own happiness, by affording him means of gratification beyond what selfishness can afford; and, at the same time, it tends eminently to advance the happiness of others. This lays open a beautiful theory in the nature of man. A selfish action can only benefit myself: a benevolent action benefits myself as much as it benefits others. In a word, benevolence may not improperly be said to be the most refined selfishness; which, by the way, ought to silence certain shallow philosophers, who, ignorant of human nature, teach a disgustful doctrine, that to serve others, unless with a view to our own happiness, is weakness and folly; as if self-love only, and not benevolence, contributed to our happiness. The hand of God is too visible in the

human frame, to permit us to think seriously, that there ever can be any jarring or inconsistency among natural principles, those especially of self-love and benevolence, which govern the bulk of our actions.*

Next in order come sensible beings that are in distress. A person in distress, being so far a disagreeable object, must raise in a spectator a painful passion; and, were man purely a selfish being, he would desire to be relieved from that pain, by turning from the object. But the principle of benevolence gives an opposite direction to his desire: it makes him desire to afford relief: and by relieving the person from distress, his passion is gratified. The painful passion thus directed, is termed sympathy; which, though painful, is yet in its nature attractive. And, with respect to its final cause, we can be at no loss: it not only tends to relieve a fellow-creature from distress, but in its gratification is greatly more pleasant than if it were repulsive.

We, in the last place, bring under consideration persons hateful by vice or wickedness. Imagine a wretch who has lately perpetrated some horrid crime: he is disagreeable to every spectator; and consequently raises in every spectator a painful passion. What is the natural gratification of that passion? I must here again observe, that, supposing man to be entirely a selfish being, he would be prompted by his nature to relieve himself from the pain, by averting his eye, and banishing the criminal from his thoughts. But man is not so constituted: he is composed of many principles, which, though seemingly contradictory, are perfectly concordant. actions are influenced by the principle of benevolence, as well as by that of selfishness: and in order to answer the foregoing question, I must introduce a third principle, no less remarkable in its influence than either of these mentioned; it is that principle, common to all, which prompts us to punish those who do wrong. An envious, a malicious, or a cruel action, being disagreeable, raises in the spectator the painful emotion of resentment, which frequently swells into a passion; and the natural gratification of the desire included in that. passion, is to punish the guilty person: I must chastise the wretch by indignation at least and hatred, if not more severely. Here the final cause is self-evident.

An injury done to myself, touching me more than when done to

* With shallow thinkers the selfish system naturally prevails in theory, I do not say in practice. During infancy, our desires centre mostly in ourselves: every one perceives intuitively the comfort of food and raiment, of a snug dwelling, and of every convenience. But that doing good to others will make us happy, is not so evident; feeding the hungry, for example, or clothing the naked. This truth is seen but obscurely by the gross of mankind, if at all seen: the superior pleasure that accompanies the exercise of benevolence, of friendship, and of every social principle, is not clearly understood till it be frequently felt. To perceive the social principle in its triumphant state, a man must forget himself, and turn his thoughts upon the character and conduct of his fellow-creatures: he will feel a secret charm in every passion that tends to the good of others, and a secret aversion against every unfeeling heart that is indifferent to the happiness and distress of others. In a word, it is but too common for men to indulge selfishness in themselves; but all men abhor it in others.