and hatred invigorate the soul; and love and humility infeeble it.
From this it follows, that though the conformity betwixt love and hatred
in the agreeableness of their sensation makes them always be excited by
the same objects, yet this other contrariety is the reason, why they are
excited in very different degrees. Genius and learning are pleasant
and magnificent objects, and by both these circumstances are adapted to
pride and vanity; but have a relation to love by their pleasure only.
Ignorance and simplicity are disagreeable and mean, which in the same
manner gives them a double connexion with humility, and a single one
with hatred. We may, therefore, consider it as certain, that though
the same object always produces love and pride, humility and hatred,
according to its different situations, yet it seldom produces either the
two former or the two latter passions, in the same proportion.
It is here we must seek for a solution of the difficulty above-mentioned, why any object ever excites pure love or hatred, and
does not always produce respect or contempt, by a mixture of humility
or pride. No quality in another gives rise to humility by comparison,
unless it would have produced pride by being placed in ourselves; and
vice versa no object excites pride by comparison, unless it would have
produced humility by the direct survey. This is evident, objects always
produce by comparison a sensation directly contrary to their original
one. Suppose, therefore, an object to be presented, which is peculiarly
fitted to produce love, but imperfectly to excite pride; this object,
belonging to another, gives rise directly to a great degree of love, but
to a small one of humility by comparison; and consequently that latter
passion is scarce felt in the compound, nor is able to convert the love
into respect. This is the case with good nature, good humour, facility,
generosity, beauty, and many other qualities. These have a peculiar
aptitude to produce love in others; but not so great a tendency to
excite pride in ourselves: For which reason the view of them, as
belonging to another person, produces pure love, with but a small
mixture of humility and respect. It is easy to extend the same reasoning
to the opposite passions.
Before we leave this subject, it may not be amiss to account for a
pretty curious phaenomenon, viz, why we commonly keep at a distance such
as we contemn, and allow not our inferiors to approach too near even
in place and situation. It has already been observed, that almost every
kind of idea is attended with some emotion, even the ideas of number
and extension, much more those of such objects as are esteemed of
consequence in life, and fix our attention. It is not with entire
indifference we can survey either a rich man or a poor one, but must
feel some faint touches at least, of respect in the former case, and of
contempt in the latter. These two passions are contrary to each other;
but in order to make this contrariety be felt, the objects must be
someway related; otherwise the affections are totally separate and
distinct, and never encounter. The relation takes place wherever the
persons become contiguous; which is a general reason why we are uneasy
at seeing such disproportioned objects, as a rich man and a poor one, a
nobleman and a porter, in that situation.
This uneasiness, which is common to every spectator, must be more
sensible to the superior; and that because the near approach of the
inferior is regarded as a piece of ill-breeding, and shews that he is not
sensible of the disproportion, and is no way affected by it. A sense
of superiority in another breeds in all men an inclination to keep
themselves at a distance from him, and determines them to redouble the
marks of respect and reverence, when they are obliged to approach him;
and where they do not observe that conduct, it is a proof they are not
sensible of his superiority. From hence too it proceeds, that any great
difference in the degrees of any quality is called a distance by a
common metaphor, which, however trivial it may appear, is founded on
natural principles of the imagination. A great difference inclines us to
produce a distance. The ideas of distance and difference are, therefore,
connected together. Connected ideas are readily taken for each other;
and this is in general the source of the metaphor, as we shall have
occasion to observe afterwards.
SECT. XI OF THE AMOROUS PASSION, OR LOVE BETWIXT THE
SEXES
Of all the compound passions, which proceed from a mixture of love and
hatred with other affections, no one better deserves our attention, than
that love, which arises betwixt the sexes, as well on account of its
force and violence, as those curious principles of philosophy, for
which it affords us an uncontestable argument. It is plain, that this
affection, in its most natural state, is derived from the conjunction
of three different impressions or passions, viz. The pleasing sensation
arising from beauty; the bodily appetite for generation; and a generous
kindness or good-will. The origin of kindness from beauty may be
explained from the foregoing reasoning. The question is how the bodily
appetite is excited by it.
The appetite of generation, when confined to a certain degree, is
evidently of the pleasant kind, and has a strong connexion with, all the
agreeable emotions. Joy, mirth, vanity, and kindness are all incentives
to this desire; as well as music, dancing, wine, and good cheer. On the
other hand, sorrow, melancholy, poverty, humility are destructive of it.
From this quality it is easily conceived why it should be connected with
the sense of beauty.
But there is another principle that contributes to the same effect.
I have observed that the parallel direction of the desires is a real
relation, and no less than a resemblance in their sensation, produces
a connexion among them. That we may fully comprehend the extent of this
relation, we must consider, that any principal desire may be attended
with subordinate ones, which are connected with it, and to which if
other desires are parallel, they are by that means related to the
principal one. Thus hunger may oft be considered as the primary
inclination of the soul, and the desire of approaching the meat as the
secondary one; since it is absolutely necessary to the satisfying that
appetite. If an object, therefore, by any separate qualities, inclines
us to approach the meat, it naturally encreases our appetite; as on the
contrary, whatever inclines us to set our victuals at a distance, is
contradictory to hunger, and diminishes our inclination to them. Now
it is plain that beauty has the first effect, and deformity the second:
Which is the reason why the former gives us a keener appetite for our
victuals, and the latter is sufficient to disgust us at the most savoury
dish that cookery has invented. All this is easily applicable to the
appetite for generation.
From these two relations, viz, resemblance and a parallel desire,
there arises such a connexion betwixt the sense of beauty, the bodily
appetite, and benevolence, that they become in a manner inseparable: And
we find from experience that it is indifferent which of them advances
first; since any of them is almost sure to be attended with the related
affections. One, who is inflamed with lust, feels at least a momentary
kindness towards the object of it, and at the same time fancies her more
beautiful than ordinary; as there are many, who begin with kindness and
esteem for the wit and merit of the person, and advance from that to the
other passions. But the most common species of love is that which first
arises from beauty, and afterwards diffuses itself into kindness and
into the bodily appetite. Kindness or esteem, and the appetite to
generation, are too remote to unite easily together. The one is,
perhaps, the most refined passion of the soul; the other the most gross
and vulgar. The love of beauty is placed in a just medium betwixt them,
and partakes of both their natures: From whence it proceeds, that it is
so singularly fitted to produce both.
This account of love is not peculiar to my system, but is unavoidable
on any hypothesis. The three affections, which compose this passion,
are evidently distinct, and has each of them its distinct object. It is
certain, therefore, that it is only by their relation they produce
each other. But the relation of passions is not alone sufficient. It is
likewise necessary, there should be a relation of ideas.
The beauty
of one person never inspires us with love for another.
This then is a
sensible proof of the double relation of impressions and ideas. From one
instance so evident as this we may form a judgment of the rest.
This may also serve in another view to illustrate what I have insisted
on concerning the origin of pride and humility, love and hatred. I have
observed, that though self be the object of the first set of passions,
and some other person of the second, yet these objects cannot alone be
the causes of the passions; as having each of them a relation to two
contrary affections, which must from the very first moment destroy
each other. Here then is the situation of the mind, as I have already
described it. It has certain organs naturally fitted to produce a
passion; that passion, when produced, naturally turns the view to a
certain object. But this not being sufficient to produce the passion,
there is required some other emotion, which by a double relation of
impressions and ideas may set these principles in action, and bestow on
them their first impulse. This situation is still more remarkable with
regard to the appetite of generation. Sex is not only the object, but
also the cause of the appetite. We not only turn our view to it, when
actuated by that appetite; but the reflecting on it suffices to excite
the appetite. But as this cause loses its force by too great frequency,
it is necessary it should be quickened by some new impulse; and that
impulse we find to arise from the beauty of the person; that is, from a
double relation of impressions and ideas. Since this double relation is
necessary where an affection has both a distinct cause, and object,
how much more so, where it has only a distinct object, without any
determinate cause?
SECT. XII OF THE LOVE AND HATRED OF ANIMALS
But to pass from the passions of love and hatred, and from their
mixtures and compositions, as they appear m man, to the same affections,
as they display themselves in brutes; we may observe, not only that love
and hatred are common to the whole sensitive creation, but likewise that
their causes, as above-explained, are of so simple a nature, that they
may easily be supposed to operate on mere animals. There is no force of
reflection or penetration required. Every thing is conducted by springs
and principles, which are not peculiar to man, or any one species of
animals. The conclusion from this is obvious in favour of the foregoing
system.
Love in animals, has not for its only object animals of the same
species, but extends itself farther, and comprehends almost every
sensible and thinking being. A dog naturally loves a man above his own
species, and very commonly meets with a return of affection.
As animals are but little susceptible either of the pleasures or pains
of the imagination, they can judge of objects only by the sensible
good or evil, which they produce, and from that must regulate their
affections towards them. Accordingly we find, that by benefits or
injuries we produce their love or hatred; and that by feeding and
cherishing any animal, we quickly acquire his affections; as by beating
and abusing him we never fail to draw on us his enmity and ill-will.
Love in beasts is not caused so much by relation, as in our species;
and that because their thoughts are not so active as to trace relations,
except in very obvious instances. Yet it is easy to remark, that on some
occasions it has a considerable influence upon them.
Thus acquaintance,
which has the same effect as relation, always produces love in animals
either to men or to each other. For the same reason any likeness among
them is the source of affection. An ox confined to a park with horses,
will naturally join their company, if I may so speak, but always leaves
it to enjoy that of his own species, where he has the choice of both.
The affection of parents to their young proceeds from a peculiar
instinct in animals, as well as in our species.
It is evident, that sympathy, or the communication of passions, takes
place among animals, no less than among men. Fear, anger, courage, and
other affections are frequently communicated from one animal to another,
without their knowledge of that cause, which produced the original
passion. Grief likewise is received by sympathy; and produces almost all
the same consequences, and excites the same emotions as in our species.
The howlings and lamentations of a dog produce a sensible concern in
his fellows. And it is remarkable, that though almost all animals use in
play the same member, and nearly the same action as in fighting; a lion,
a tyger, a cat their paws; an ox his horns; a dog his teeth; a horse
his heels: Yet they most carefully avoid harming their companion,
even though they have nothing to fear from his resentment; which is
an evident proof of the sense brutes have of each other's pain and
pleasure.
Every one has observed how much more dogs are animated when they hunt in
a pack, than when they pursue their game apart; and it is evident this
can proceed from nothing but from sympathy. It is also well known to
hunters, that this effect follows in a greater degree, and even in
too great a degree, where two packs, that are strangers to each other,
are joined together. We might, perhaps, be at a loss to explain this
phaenomenon, if we had not experience of a similar in ourselves.
Envy and malice are passions very remarkable in animals.
They are
perhaps more common than pity; as requiring less effort of thought and
imagination.
PART III OF THE WILL AND DIRECT PASSIONS
SECT. I OF LIBERTY AND NECESSITY
We come now to explain the direct passions, or the impressions, which
arise immediately from good or evil, from pain or pleasure. Of this kind
are, desire and aversion, grief and joy, hope and fear.
Of all the immediate effects of pain and pleasure, there is none more
remarkable than the WILL; and though properly speaking, it be not
comprehended among the passions, yet as the full understanding of its
nature and properties, is necessary to the explanation of them, we shall
here make it the subject of our enquiry. I desire it may be observed,
that by the will, I mean nothing but the internal impression we feel and
are conscious of, when we knowingly give rise to any new motion of our
body, or new perception of our mind. This impression, like the preceding
ones of pride and humility, love and hatred, it is impossible to define,
and needless to describe any farther; for which reason we shall cut off
all those definitions and distinctions, with which philosophers are wont
to perplex rather than dear up this question; and entering at first
upon the subject, shall examine that long disputed question concerning
liberty and necessity; which occurs so naturally in treating of the
will.
It is universally acknowledged, that the operations of external bodies
are necessary, and that in the communication of their motion, in their
attraction, and mutual cohesion, there are nor the least traces of
indifference or liberty. Every object is determined by an absolute fate
toa certain degree and direction of irs motion, and can no more depart
from that precise line, in which it moves, than it can convert itself
into an angel, or spirit, or any superior substance. The actions,
therefore, of matter are to be regarded as instances of necessary
actions; and whatever is in this respect on the same footing with
matter, must be acknowledged to be necessary. That we may know whether
this be the case with the actions of the mind, we shall begin with
examining matter, and considering on what the idea of a necessity in its
operations are founded, and why we conclude one body or action to be the
infallible cause of another.
It has been observed already, that in no single instance the ultimate
connexion of any objects is discoverable, either by our senses or
reason, and that we can never penetrate so far into the essence and
construction of bodies, as to perceive the principle, on which their
mutual influence depends. It is their constant union alone, with which
we are acquainted; and it is from the constant union the necessity
arises. If objects had nor an uniform and regular conjunction with each
other, we should never arrive at any idea of cause and effect; and even
after all, the necessity, which enters into that idea, is nothing but
a determination of the mind to pass from one object to its usual
attendant, and infer the existence of one from that of the other. Here
then are two particulars, which we are to consider as essential to
necessity, viz, the constant union and the inference of the mind; and
wherever we discover these we must acknowledge a necessity. As the
actions of matter have no necessity, but what is derived from these
circumstances, and it is not by any insight into the essence of bodies
we discover their connexion, the absence of this insight, while
the union and inference remain, will never, in any case, remove the
necessity. It is the observation of the union, which produces the
inference; for which reason it might be thought sufficient, if we prove
a constant union in the actions of the mind, in order to establish the
inference, along with the necessity of these actions.
But that I
may bestow a greater force on my reasoning, I shall examine these
particulars apart, and shall first prove from experience that
our actions have a constant union with our motives, tempers, and
circumstances, before I consider the inferences we draw from it.
To this end a very slight and general view of the common course of human
affairs will be sufficient. There is no light, in which we can take
them, that does nor confirm this principle. Whether we consider mankind
according to the difference of sexes, ages, governments, conditions,
or methods of education; the same uniformity and regular operation
of natural principles are discernible. Uke causes still produce like
effects; in the same manner as in the mutual action of the elements and
powers of nature.
There are different trees, which regularly produce fruit, whose relish
is different from each other; and this regularity will be admitted as
an instance of necessity and causes in external bodies.
But are the
products of Guienne and of Champagne more regularly different than the
sentiments, actions, and passions of the two sexes, of which the one are
distinguished by their force and maturity, the other by their delicacy
and softness?
Are the changes of our body from infancy to old age more regular and
certain than those of our mind and conduct? And would a man be more
ridiculous, who would expect that an infant of four years old will raise
a weight of three hundred pound, than one, who from a person of the
same age would look for a philosophical reasoning, or a prudent and
well-concerted action?
We must certainly allow, that the cohesion of the parts of matter arises
from natural and necessary principles, whatever difficulty we may find
in explaining them: And for a reason we must allow, that human society
is founded on like principles; and our reason in the latter case, is
better than even that in the former; because we not only observe, that
men always seek society, but can also explain the principles, on which
this universal propensity is founded. For is it more certain, that two
flat pieces of marble will unite together, than that two young savages
of different sexes will copulate? Do the children arise from this
copulation more uniformly, than does the parents care for their safety
and preservation? And after they have arrived at years of discretion
by the care of their parents, are the inconveniencies attending their
separation more certain than their foresight of these inconveniencies
and their care of avoiding them by a close union and confederacy?
The skin, pores, muscles, and nerves of a day-labourer are different
from those of a man of quality: So are his sentiments, actions and
manners. The different stations of life influence the whole fabric,
external and internal; and different stations arise necessarily, because
uniformly, from the necessary and uniform principles of human nature.
Men cannot live without society, and cannot be associated without
government. Government makes a distinction of property, and establishes
the different ranks of men. This produces industry, traffic,
manufactures, law-suits, war, leagues, alliances, voyages, travels,
cities, fleets, ports, and all those other actions and objects, which
cause such a diversity, and at the same time maintain such an uniformity
in human life.
Should a traveller, returning from a far country, tell us, that he had
seen a climate in the fiftieth degree of northern latitude, where all
the fruits ripen and come to perfection in the winter, and decay in the
summer, after the same manner as in England they are produced and decay
in the contrary seasons, he would find few so credulous as to believe
him. I am apt to think a travellar would meet with as little credit, who
should inform us of people exactly of the same character with those in
Plato's republic on the one hand, or those in Hobbes's Leviathan on the
other. There is a general course of nature in human actions, as well as
in the operations of the sun and the climate. There are also characters
peculiar to different nations and particular persons, as well as
common to mankind. The knowledge of these characters is founded on the
observation of an uniformity in the actions, that flow from them; and
this uniformity forms the very essence of necessity.
I can imagine only one way of eluding this argument, which is by denying
that uniformity of human actions, on which it is founded. As long as
actions have a constant union and connexion with the situation and
temper of the agent, however we may in words refuse to acknowledge the
necessity, we really allow the thing. Now some may, perhaps, find a
pretext to deny this regular union and connexion. For what is more
capricious than human actions? What more inconstant than the desires of
man? And what creature departs more widely, not only from right reason,
but from his own character and disposition? An hour, a moment is
sufficient to make him change from one extreme to another, and overturn