 Vile 16 of a Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume, Volume 2. Given a reason why several actions that cause a real pleasure or uneasiness excite not any degree, or but a small one, of the passion of love or hatred towards the actors, it will be necessary to shoo wherein consists the pleasure or uneasiness of many objects which we find by experience to produce these passions. According to the preceding system, there is always required a double relation of impressions and ideas betwixt the cause and effect in order to produce either love or hatred. But though this be universally true, it is remarkable that the passion of love may be excited by only one relation of a different kind, that is, betwixt ourselves and the object, or more properly speaking, that this relation is always attended with both the others. Whoever is united to us by any connection is always sure of a share of our love proportioned to the connection without inquiring into his other qualities. Thus the relation of blood produces the strongest tie the mind is capable of in the love of parents to their children and a lesser degree of the same affection as the relation lessens. Nor has consanguinity alone this effect, but any other relation without exception. We love our countrymen, our neighbors, those of the same trade, profession, and even name with ourselves. Every one of these relations is esteemed some tie and gives a title to a share of our affection. There is another phenomenon which is parallel to this, that is, that acquaintance, without any kind of relation, gives rise to love and kindness. When we have contracted a habitude and intimacy with any person, though in frequenting his company, we have not been able to discover any very valuable quality of which he is possessed. Yet we cannot forbear preferring him to strangers of whose superior merit we are fully convinced. These two phenomena of the effects of relation and acquaintance will give mutual light to each other and may be both explained from the same principle. Those who take a pleasure in declaiming against human nature have observed that man is altogether insufficient to support himself, and that when you loosen all the holds which he has of external objects, he immediately drops down into the deepest melancholy and despair. From this, say they, proceeds that continual search after amusement in gaming, in hunting, in business, by which we endeavor to forget ourselves and excite our spirits from the language state into which they fall when not sustained by some brisk and lively emotion. To this method of thinking, I so far agree that I own the mind to be insufficient of itself to its own entertainment and that it naturally seeks after foreign objects which may produce a lively sensation and agitate the spirits. On the appearance of such an object it awakes as it were from a dream. The blood flows with a new tide, the heart is elevated, and the whole man acquires a vigor which he cannot command in his solitary and calm moments. Hence, company is naturally so rejoicing as presenting the liveliest of all objects, that is, a rational and thinking being like ourselves, who communicates to us all the actions of his mind, makes us privy to his inmost sentiments and affections, and lets us see in the very instant of their production all the emotions which are caused by any object. Every lively idea is agreeable, but especially that of a passion because such an idea becomes a kind of passion and gives a more sensible agitation to the mind than any other image or conception. This being once admitted, all the rest is easy, for as the company of strangers is agreeable to us for a short time by enlivening our thought, so the company of our relations and acquaintance must be peculiarly agreeable because it has this effect in a greater degree and is of more durable influence. Whatever is related to us is conceived in a lively manner by the easy transition from ourselves to the related object. Custom also, or acquaintance, facilitates the entrance and strengthens the conception of any object. The first case is parallel to our reasonings from cause and effect. The second to education. And as reasoning and education concur only in producing a lively and strong idea of any object, so is this the only particular which is common to relation and acquaintance. This must therefore be the influencing quality by which they produce all their common effects, and love or kindness being one of these effects. It must be from the force and liveliness of conception that the passion is derived. Such a conception is peculiarly agreeable and makes us have an affectionate regard for everything that produces it when the proper object of kindness and good will. It is obvious that people associate together according to their particular tempers and dispositions, and that men of gay tempers naturally love the gay, as the serious bear an affection to the serious. This not only happens where they remark this resemblance betwixt themselves and others, but also by the natural course of the disposition and by a certain sympathy which always arises betwixt similar characters. Where they remark the resemblance, it operates after the manner of a relation by producing a connection of ideas. Where they do not remark it, it operates by some other principle, and if this latter principle be similar to the former, it must be received as a confirmation of the foregoing reasoning. The idea of ourselves is always intimately present to us, and conveys a sensible degree of vivacity to the idea of any other object to which we are related. This lively idea changes by degrees into a real impression, these two kinds of perception being in a great measure the same, and differing only in their degrees of force and vivacity. But this change must be produced with the greater ease that our natural temper gives us a propensity to the same impression which we observe in others, and makes it arise upon any slight occasion. In that case, resemblance converts the idea into an impression, not only by means of the relation and by transfusing the original vivacity into the related idea, but also by presenting such materials as take fire from the least spark. And as in both cases, a love or affection arises from the resemblance, we may learn that a sympathy with others is agreeable only by giving an emotion to the spirits, since an easy sympathy and corresponded emotions are alone common to relation, acquaintance, and resemblance. The great propensity men have to pride may be considered as another similar phenomenon. It often happens that after we have lived a considerable time in any city, however at first it might be disagreeable to us, yet as we become familiar with the objects and contract and acquaintance, though merely with the streets and buildings, the aversion diminishes by degrees and at last changes into the opposite passion. The mind finds a satisfaction and ease in the view of objects to which it is accustomed, and naturally prefers them to others, which though perhaps in themselves more valuable, are less known to it. By the same quality of the mind we are seduced into a good opinion of ourselves and of all objects that belong to us. They appear in a stronger light, are more agreeable, and consequently fitter subjects of pride and vanity than any other. It may not be a miss in treating of the affection we bear our acquaintance and relations to observe some pretty curious phenomena which attended. It is easy to remark in common life that children esteem their relation to their mother to be weakened in a great measure by her second marriage, and no longer regard her with the same eye as if she had continued in her state of widowhood. Nor does this happen only when they have felt any inconveniences from her second marriage, or when her husband is much her inferior. But even without any of these considerations, and merely because she has become part of another family. This also takes place with regard to the second marriage of a father, but in a much less degree. And it is certain the ties of blood are not so much loosened in the latter case as by the marriage of a mother. These two phenomena are remarkable in themselves, but much more so when compared. In order to produce a perfect relation betwixt two objects, it is requisite not only that the imagination be conveyed from one to the other by resemblance, contiguity, or causation, but also that it return back from the second to the first with the same ease and facility. At first sight, this may seem a necessary and unavoidable consequence. If one object resemble another, the latter object must necessarily resemble the former. If one object be the cause of another, the second object is effect to its cause. It is the same case with contiguity. And therefore the relation being always reciprocal, it may be thought that the return of the imagination from the second to the first must also, in every case, be equally natural as its passage from the first to the second. But upon further examination, we shall easily discover our mistake. For supposing the second object, beside its reciprocal relation to the first, to have also a strong relation to a third object. In that case, the thought passing from the first object to the second returns not back with the same facility, though the relation continues the same, but is readily carried on to the third object by means of the new relation which presents itself and gives a new impulse to the imagination. This new relation, therefore, weakens the tie betwixt the first and second objects. The fancy is by its very nature wavering and inconstant, and considers always two objects as more strongly related together, where it finds the passage equally easy both in going and returning than where the transition is easy only in one of these motions. The double motion is a kind of a double tie and binds the objects together in the closest and most intimate manner. The second marriage of a mother breaks not the relation of child and parent, and that relation suffices to convey my imagination from myself to her with the greatest ease and facility. But after the imagination is arrived at this point of view, it finds its object to be surrounded with so many other relations which challenge its regard that it knows not which to prefer, and is at a loss what new object to pitch upon. The ties of interest and duty bind her to another family and prevent that return of the fancy from her to myself which is necessary to support the union. The thought has no longer the vibration requisite to set it perfectly at ease and indulge its inclination to change. It goes with facility, but returns with difficulty, and by that interruption finds the relation much weakened from what it would be where the passage open and easy on both sides. Now to give a reason why this effect follows not in the same degree upon the second marriage of a father. We may reflect on what has been proved already, that though the imagination goes easily from the view of a lesser object to that of a greater, yet it returns not with the same facility from the greater to the less. When my imagination goes from myself to my father, it passes not so readily from him to his second wife, nor considers him as entering into a different family, but as continuing the head of that family of which I am myself apart. His superiority prevents the easy transition of the thought from him to his spouse, but keeps the passage still open for a return to myself along the same relation of child and parent. He is not sunk in the new relation he acquires, so that the double motion or vibration of thought is still easy and natural. By this indulgence of the fancy in its inconstancy, the tie of child and parent still preserves its full force and influence. A mother thinks not her tie to a son weakened because it is shared with her husband, nor a son his with a parent because it is shared with a brother. The third object is here related to the first as well as to the second, so that the imagination goes and comes along all of them with the greatest facility. End of file 16 File 17 of A Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by George Yeager Book 2 of The Passions Part 2 of Love and Hatred Section 5 of Our Esteem for the Rich and Powerful Nothing has a greater tendency to give us an esteem for any person than his power and riches or a contempt than his poverty and meanness. And as esteem and contempt are to be considered as species of love and hatred, it will be proper in this place to explain these phenomena. Here it happens most fortunately that the greatest difficulty is not to discover a principle capable of producing such an effect, but to choose the chief and predominant among several that present themselves. The satisfaction we take in the riches of others and the esteem we have for the possessors may be ascribed to three different causes. First, to the objects they possess such as houses, gardens, equipages, which being agreeable in themselves necessarily produce a sentiment of pleasure in everyone that either considers or surveys them. Secondly, to the expectation of advantage from the rich and powerful by our sharing their possessions. Thirdly, to sympathy which makes us partake of the satisfaction of everyone that approaches us. All these principles may concur in producing the present phenomenon. The question is to which of them we ought principally to ascribe it. It is certain that the first principle, that is, the reflection on agreeable objects, has a greater influence than what at first sight we may be apt to imagine. We seldom reflect on what is beautiful or ugly, agreeable or disagreeable, without an emotion of pleasure or uneasiness. And though these sensations appear not much in our common, indolent way of thinking, it is easy either in reading or conversation to discover them. Men of wit always turn the discourse on subjects that are entertaining to the imagination, and poets never present any objects but such as are of the same nature. Mr. Phillips has chosen cider for the subject of an excellent poem. Beer would not have been so proper as being neither so agreeable to the taste nor eye. But he would certainly have preferred wine to either of them, could his native country have afforded him so agreeable a liquor. We may learn from fence that everything which is agreeable to the senses is also in some measure agreeable to the fancy, and conveys to the thought an image of that satisfaction which it gives by its real application to the bodily organs. But though these reasons may induce us to comprehend this delicacy of the imagination among the causes of the respect which we pay the rich and powerful, there are many other reasons that may keep us from regarding it as the soul or principle. For as the ideas of pleasure can have an influence only by means of their vivacity which makes them approach impressions, it is most natural those ideas should have that influence which are favored by most circumstances and have a natural tendency to become strong and lively, such as our ideas of the passions and sensations of any human creature. Every human creature resembles ourselves, and by that means as an advantage above any other object in operating on the imagination. Besides, if we consider the nature of that faculty and the great influence which all relations have upon it, we shall easily be persuaded that however the ideas of the pleasant wines, music, or gardens which the rich man enjoys may become lively and agreeable, the fancy will not confine itself to them, but will carry its view to the related objects, and in particular to the person who possesses them. And this is the more natural, that the pleasant idea or image produces here a passion towards the person by means of his relation to the object so that it is unavoidable, but he must enter into the original conception since he makes the object of the derivative passion. But if he enters into the original conception and is considered as enjoying these agreeable objects, it is sympathy which is properly the cause of the affection, and the third principle is more powerful and universal than the first. Add to this that riches and power alone, even though unemployed, naturally cause esteem and respect, and consequently these passions arise not from the idea of any beautiful or agreeable objects. It is true money implies a kind of representation of such objects, by the power it affords of obtaining them, and for that reason may still be esteemed proper to convey those agreeable images which may give rise to the passion. But as this prospect is very distant, it is more natural for us to take a contiguous object, that is, the satisfaction which this power affords the person who is possessed of it. And of this we shall be further satisfied if we consider that riches represent the goods of life only by means of the will which employs them, and therefore imply in their very nature an idea of the person and cannot be considered without a kind of sympathy with his sensations and enjoyments. This we may confirm by a reflection which to some will perhaps appear too subtle and refined. I have already observed that power, as distinguished from its exercise, has either no meaning at all, or is nothing but a possibility or probability of existence by which any object approaches to reality and has a sensible influence on the mind. I have also observed that this approach, by an illusion of the fancy, appears much greater when we ourselves are possessed of the power than when it is enjoyed by another, and that in the former case the objects seem to touch upon the very verge of reality and convey almost an equal satisfaction as if actually in our possession. Now I assert that where we esteem a person upon account of his riches we must enter into this sentiment of the proprietor, and that without such a sympathy the idea of the agreeable objects which they give him the power to produce would have but a feeble influence upon us. An avaricious man is respected for his money, though he scarce is possessed of a power that is, there scarce is a probability or even possibility of his employing it in the acquisition of the pleasures and conveniences of life. To himself alone this power seems perfect and entire, and therefore we must receive his sentiments by sympathy before we can have a strong, intense idea of these enjoyments, or esteem him upon account of them. Thus we have found that the first principle, that is, the agreeable idea of those objects which riches afford the enjoyment of, resolves itself in a great measure into the third, and becomes a sympathy with the person we esteem or love. Let us now examine the second principle, that is, the agreeable expectation of advantage and see what force we may justly attribute to it. It is obvious that though riches and authority undoubtedly give their owner a power of doing a service, yet this power is not to be considered as on the same footing with that which they afford him of pleasing himself and satisfying his own appetites. Self-love approaches the power and exercise very near each other in the latter case, but in order to produce a similar effect in the former we must suppose a friendship and goodwill to be conjoined with the riches. Without that circumstance it is difficult to conceive on what we can found our hope of advantage from the riches of others, though there is nothing more certain than that we naturally esteem and respect the rich, even before we discover in them any such favorable disposition towards us. But I carry this farther and observe not only that we respect the rich and powerful where they shoot no inclination to serve us, but also when we lie so much out of the sphere of their activity that they cannot even be supposed to be endowed with that power. Prisoners of war are always treated with respect suitable to their condition, and it is certain riches go very far towards fixing the condition of any person. If birth and quality enter for a share, this still affords us an argument of the same kind. For what is it we call a man of birth but one who is descended from a long succession of rich and powerful ancestors, and who acquires our esteem by his relation to persons whom we esteem? His ancestors, therefore, though dead, are respected in some measure on account of their riches and consequently without any kind of expectation. But not to go so far as prisoners of war and the dead to find instances of this disinterested esteem for riches, let us observe with a little attention those phenomena that occur to us in common life and conversation. A man who is himself of a competent fortune upon coming into a company of strangers naturally treats them with different degrees of respect and deference as he is informed of their different fortunes and conditions, though it is impossible he can ever propose and perhaps would not accept of any advantage from them. A traveler is always admitted into company and meets with civility in proportion as his train and equipage speak him a man of great or moderate fortune. In short, the different ranks of men are in a great measure regulated by riches, and that with regard to superiors as well as inferiors, strangers as well as acquaintance. There is indeed an answer to these arguments drawn from the influence of general rules. It may be pretended that being accustomed to expect succor and protection from the rich and powerful, and to esteem them upon that account, we extend the same sentiments to those who resemble them in their fortune, but from whom we can never hope for any advantage. The general rule still prevails, and by giving a bit to the imagination draws along the passion in the same manner as if its proper object were real and existent. But that this principle does not here take place will easily appear if we consider that in order to establish a general rule and extend it beyond its proper bounds, there is required a certain uniformity in our experience and a great superiority of those instances which are conformable to the rule above the contrary. But here the case is quite otherwise. Of a hundred men of credit and fortune I meet with, there is not perhaps one from whom I can expect advantage, so that it is impossible any custom can ever prevail in the present case. Upon the whole there remains nothing which can give us an esteem for power and riches and a contempt for meanness and poverty except the principle of sympathy by which we enter into the sentiments of the rich and poor and partake of their pleasures and uneasiness. Riches gives satisfaction to their possessor, and this satisfaction is conveyed to the beholder by the imagination which produces an idea resembling the original impression in force and vivacity. This agreeable idea or impression is connected with love which is an agreeable passion. It proceeds from a thinking conscious being which is the very object of love. From this relation of impressions and identity of ideas the passion arises according to my hypothesis. The best method of reconciling us to this opinion is to take a general survey of the universe and observe the force of sympathy through the whole animal creation and the easy communication of sentiments from one thinking being to another. In all creatures that prey not upon others and are not agitated with violent passions there appears a remarkable desire of company which associates them together without any advantages they can ever propose to reap from their union. This is still more conspicuous in man as being the creature of the universe who has the most ardent desire of society and is fitted for it by the most advantages. We can form no wish which has not a reference to society. A perfect solitude is perhaps the greatest punishment we can suffer. Every pleasure languishes when enjoyed apart from company and every pain becomes more cruel and intolerable. Whatever other passions we may be actuated by pride, ambition, avarice, curiosity, revenge or lust the soul or animating principle of them all is sympathy. Nor would they have any force were we to abstract entirely from the thoughts and sentiments of others. Let all the powers and elements of nature conspire to serve and obey one man. Let the sun rise and set at his command. The sea and rivers roll as he pleases and the earth furnish spontaneously whatever may be useful or agreeable to him. He will still be miserable till you give him some one person at least with whom he may share his happiness and whose esteem and friendship he may enjoy. This conclusion from a general view of human nature we may confirm by particular instances wherein the force of sympathy is very remarkable. Most kinds of beauty are derived from this origin and though our first object be some senseless inanimate piece of matter it is seldom we rest there and carry not our view to its influence on sensible and rational creatures. A man who shoes us any house or building takes particular care among other things to point out the convenience of the apartments, the advantages of their situation and the little room lost in the stairs, anti-chambers and passages. And indeed it is evident the chief part of the beauty consists in these particulars. The observation of convenience gives pleasure since convenience is a beauty. But after what manner does it give pleasure? It is certain our own interest is not in the least concerned and as this is a beauty of interest not a form so to speak it must delight us merely by communication and by our sympathizing with the proprietor of the lodging. We enter into his interest by the force of imagination and feel the same satisfaction that the objects naturally occasion in him. This observation extends to tables, chairs, scretoires, chimneys, coaches, saddles, plows and indeed to every work of art it being an universal rule that their beauty is chiefly derived from their utility and from their fitness for that purpose to which they are destined. But this is an advantage that concerns only the owner nor is there anything but sympathy which can interest the spectator. It is evident that nothing renders a field more agreeable than its fertility and that scarce any advantages of ornament or situation will be able to equal this beauty. It is the same case with particular trees and plants as with the field on which they grow. I know not but a plain overgrown with furs and broom may be in itself as beautiful as a hill covered with vines or olive trees though it will never appear so to one who is acquainted with the value of each. But this is a beauty merely of imagination and has no foundation in what appears to the senses. Fertility and value have a plain reference to use and that to riches, joy and plenty in which though we have no hope of partaking yet we enter into them by the vivacity of the fancy and share them in some measure with the proprietor. There is no rule in painting more reasonable than that of balancing the figures and placing them with the greatest exactness on their proper center of gravity. A figure which is not justly balanced is disagreeable and that because it conveys the ideas of its fall, of harm and of pain which ideas are painful when by sympathy they acquire any degree of force and vivacity. Add to this that the principal part of personal beauty is an air of health and vigor and such a construction of members as promises strength and activity. This idea of beauty cannot be accounted for but by sympathy. In general we may remark that the minds of men are mirrors to one another not only because they reflect each other's emotions but also because those rays of passions, sentiments and opinions may be often reverberated and may decay away by insensible degrees. Thus the pleasure which a rich man receives from his possessions being thrown upon the beholder causes a pleasure and esteem which sentiments again being perceived and sympathized with increase the pleasure of the possessor and being once more reflected become a new foundation for pleasure and esteem in the beholder. There is certainly an original satisfaction in riches derived from that power which they bestow of enjoying all the pleasures of life and as this is their very nature and essence it must be the first source of all the passions which arise from them. One of the most considerable of these passions is that of love or esteem and others which therefore proceeds from a sympathy with the pleasure of the possessor. But the possessor has also a secondary satisfaction in riches arising from the love and esteem he acquires by them and this satisfaction is nothing but a second reflection of that original pleasure which proceeded from himself. This secondary satisfaction or vanity becomes one of the principal recommendations of riches and is the chief reason why we either desire them for ourselves or esteem them in others. Here then is the third rebound of the original pleasure after which it is difficult to distinguish the images and reflections by reason of their faintness and confusion. And a file 17. File 18 of a Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume. Volume 2. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by George Yeager. Book 2 of the Passions. Part 2 of Love and Hatred. Section 6 of Benevolence and Anger. Ideas may be compared to the extension and solidity of matter and impressions, especially reflective ones, to colors, tastes, smells, and other sensible qualities. Ideas never admit of a total union, but are endowed with a kind of impenetrability by which they exclude each other and are capable of forming a compound by their conjunction, not by their mixture. On the other hand, impressions and passions are susceptible of an entire union, and, like colors, may be blended so perfectly together that each of them may lose itself and contribute only to vary that uniform impression which arises from the whole. Some of the most curious phenomena of the human mind are derived from this property of the passions. In examining those ingredients which are capable of uniting with love and hatred, I began to be sensible in some measure of a misfortune that has attended every system of philosophy with which the world has been yet acquainted. It is commonly found that in accounting for the operations of nature by any particular hypothesis, among a number of experiments that quadrate exactly with the principles we would endeavor to establish, there is always some phenomenon which is more stubborn and will not so easily bend to our purpose. We need not be surprised that this should happen in natural philosophy. The essence and composition of external bodies are so obscure that we must necessarily, in our reasonings, or rather conjectures concerning them, involve ourselves in contradictions and absurdities. But as the perceptions of the mind are perfectly known, and I have used all imaginable caution in forming conclusions concerning them, I have always hoped to keep clear of those contradictions which have attended every other system. Accordingly, the difficulty which I have at present in my eye is no wise contrary to my system, but only departs a little from that simplicity which has been hitherto its principal force and beauty. The passions of love and hatred are always followed by, or rather, conjoined with benevolence and anger. It is this conjunction which chiefly distinguishes these affections from pride and humility. For pride and humility are pure emotions in the soul, unattended with any desire, and not immediately exciting us to action. But love and hatred are not completed within themselves, nor rest in that emotion which they produce, but carry the mind to something further. Love is always followed by a desire of the happiness of the person beloved, and an aversion to his misery. As hatred produces a desire of the misery, and an aversion to the happiness of the person hated. So remarkable a difference betwixt these two sets of passions of pride and humility, love and hatred, which in so many other particulars correspond to each other, merits our attention. The conjunction of this desire and aversion with love and hatred may be accounted for by two different hypotheses. The first is that love and hatred have not only a cause which excites them, that is, pleasure and pain, and an object to which they are directed, that is, a person or thinking being. But likewise an end which they endeavour to attain, that is, the happiness or misery of the person beloved or hated. All which views, mixing together, make only one passion. According to this system, love is nothing but the desire of happiness to another person, and hatred that of misery. The desire and aversion constitute the very nature of love and hatred. They are not only inseparable, but the same. But this is evidently contrary to experience. For though it is certain we never love any person without desiring his happiness, nor hate any without wishing his misery, yet these desires arise only upon the ideas of the happiness or misery of our friend or enemy being presented by the imagination, and are not absolutely essential to love and hatred. They are the most obvious and natural sentiments of these affections, but not the only ones. Depassions may express themselves in a hundred ways and may subsist a considerable time without our reflecting on the happiness or misery of their objects, which clearly proves that these desires are not the same with love and hatred, nor make any essential part of them. We may therefore infer that benevolence and anger are passions different from love and hatred, and only conjoined with them by the original constitution of the mind. As nature has given to the body certain appetites and inclinations, which she increases, diminishes, or changes according to the situation of the fluids or solids, she has proceeded in the same manner with the mind. According as we are possessed with love or hatred, the correspondent desire of the happiness or misery of the person who is the object of these passions arises in the mind and varies with each variation of these opposite passions. This order of things, abstractedly considered, is not necessary. Love and hatred might have been unattended with any such desires or their particular connection might have been entirely reversed. If nature had so pleased, love might have had the same effect as hatred and hatred as love. I see no contradiction in supposing a desire of producing misery annexed to love and of happiness to hatred. If the sensation of the passion and desire be opposite, nature could have altered the sensation without altering the tendency of the desire and by that means made them compatible with each other. File 19 of A Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by George Yeager Book 2 of the Passions Part 2 of Love and Hatred Section 7 of Compassion But though the desire of the happiness or misery of others according to the love or hatred we bear them be an arbitrary and original instinct implanted in our nature, we find it may be counterfeited on many occasions and may arise from secondary principles. Pity is a concern for and malice a joy in the misery of others without any friendship or enmity to occasion this concern or joy. We pity even strangers and such as are perfectly indifferent to us and if our ill will to another proceed from any harm or injury it is not properly speaking malice but revenge. But if we examine these affections of pity and malice we shall find them to be secondary ones arising from original affections which are varied by some particular turn of thought and imagination. It will be easy to explain the passion of pity from the precedent reasoning concerning sympathy. We have a lively idea of everything related to us. All human creatures are related to us by resemblance. Their persons therefore, their interests, their passions, their pains and pleasures must strike upon us in a lively manner and produce an emotion similar to the original one since a lively idea is easily converted into an impression. If this be true in general it must be more so of affliction and sorrow. These have always a stronger and more lasting influence than any pleasure or enjoyment. A spectator of a tragedy passes through a long train of grief, terror, indignation and other affections which the poet represents in the persons he introduces. As many tragedies end happily and no excellent one can be composed without some reverses of fortune, the spectator must sympathize with all these changes and receive the fictitious joy as well as every other passion. Unless therefore it be asserted that every distinct passion is communicated by a distinct original quality and is not derived from the general principle of sympathy above explained it must be allowed that all of them arise from that principle. To accept any one in particular must appear highly unreasonable as they are all first present in the mind of one person and afterwards appear in the mind of another and as the manner of their appearance first as an idea then as an impression is in every case the same, the transition must arise from the same principle. I am at least sure that this method of reasoning would be considered as certain either in natural philosophy or common life. Add to this that pity depends in a great measure on the contiguity and even sight of the object which is the proof that it is derived from the imagination. Not to mention that women and children are most subject to pity as being most guided by that faculty. The same infirmity which makes them faint at the sight of a naked sword though in the hands of their best friend makes them pity extremely those whom they find in any grief or affliction. Those philosophers who derive this passion from I know not what subtle reflections on the instability of fortune and our being liable to the same miseries we behold will find this observation contrary to them among a great many others which it were easy to produce. There remains only to take notice of a pretty remarkable phenomenon of this passion which is that the communicated passion of sympathy sometimes acquire strength from the weakness of its original and even arises by a transition from affections which have no existence. Thus when a person obtains any honorable office or inherits a great fortune we are always the more rejoiced for his prosperity the less sense he seems to have of it and the greater equanimity and indifference he shoes in its enjoyment. In like manner a man who is not dejected by misfortunes is the more lamented on account of his patience and if that virtue extends so far as utterly to remove all sense of uneasiness it still further increases our compassion. When a person of merit falls into what is vulgarly esteemed a great misfortune we form a notion of his condition and carrying our fancy from the cause to the usual effect first conceive a lively idea of his sorrow and then feel an impression of it entirely overlooking that greatness of mind which elevates him above such emotions or only considering it so far as to increase our admiration love and tenderness for him. We find from experience that such a degree of passion is usually connected with such a misfortune and though there be an exception in the present case yet the imagination is affected by the general rule and makes us conceive a lively idea of the passion or rather feel the passion itself in the same manner as if the person were really actuated by it. From the same principles we blush for the conduct of those who behave themselves foolishly before us and that though they shoe no sense of shame nor seem in the least conscious of their folly. All this proceeds from sympathy but it is of a partial kind and views its objects only on one side without considering the other which has a contrary effect and would entirely destroy that emotion which arises from the first appearance. We have also instances wherein an indifference and insensibility under misfortune increases our concern for the misfortunate even though the indifference proceed not from any virtue and magnanimity. It is an aggravation of a murder that it was committed upon persons sleep and imperfect security as historians readily observe of any infant prince who is captive in the hands of his enemies that he is more worthy of compassion than the sensible he is of his miserable condition. As we ourselves are here acquainted with the wretched situation of the person it gives us a lively idea and sensation of sorrow which is the passion that generally attends it and this idea becomes still more lively and the sensation more violent by a contrast with that security and indifference that we observe in the person himself. A contrast of any kind never fails to affect the imagination especially when presented by the subject and it is on the imagination that pity entirely depends. Footnote 11 To prevent all ambiguity I must observe that where I oppose the imagination to the memory I mean in general that presents our fater ideas in all other places and particularly when it is opposed to the understanding I understand the same faculty excluding only our demonstrative and probable reasonings. End of footnote 11 End of file 19 File 20 of a Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by George Yeager Book 2 of the Passions Part 2 of Love and Hatred Section 8 of Malice and Envy We must now proceed to account for the passion of malice which imitates the effects of hatred as pity does those of love and gives us a joy in the sufferings and miseries of others without any offense or injury on their part. So little are men governed by reason in their sentiments and opinions that they always judge more of objects by comparison than from their intrinsic worth and value. When the mind considers or is accustomed to the degree of perfection whatever falls short of it, though really esteemable has not withstanding the same effect upon the passions as what is defective and ill. This is an original quality of the soul and similar to what we have every day experience of in our bodies. Let a man heat one hand and cool the other will at the same time seem both hot and cold according to the disposition of the different organs. A small degree of any quality succeeding a greater produces the same sensation as if less than it really is and even sometimes as the opposite quality. Any gentle pain that follows a violent one seems as nothing or rather becomes a pleasure as on the other hand a violent pain succeeding a gentle one is doubly grievous and uneasy. This no one can doubt of with regard to our passions and sensations but there may arise some difficulty with regard to our ideas and objects. When an object augments or diminishes to the eye or imagination from a comparison with others the image and idea of the object are still the same and are equally extended in the retina and in the brain or organ of perception. The eyes refract the rays of light and the optic nerves convey the images to the brain in the very same manner whether a great or small object has preceded nor does even the imagination alter the dimensions of its object on account of a comparison with others. The question then is how from the same impression and the same idea we can form such different judgments concerning the same object and at one time admire its bulk and at another despise its littleness. This variation in our judgments must certainly proceed from a variation in some perception but as the variation lies not in the immediate impression or idea of the object it must lie in some other impression that accompanies it. In order to explain this matter I shall just touch upon two principles one of which shall be more fully explained in the progress of this treatise. Another has been already accounted for. I believe it may safely be established for a general maxim that no object is presented to the senses nor image formed in the fancy but what is accompanied with some emotion or movement of spirits proportioned to it and however custom may make us insensible of this sensation and cause us to confound it with the object or idea it will be easy by careful and exact experiments to separate and distinguish them. For to instance only in the cases of extension and number it is evident that any very bulky object such as the ocean and extended plane a vast chain of mountains a wide forest or any very numerous collection of objects such as an army a fleet a crowd excite in the mind a sensible emotion and that the admiration which arises on the appearance of such objects is one of the most lively pleasures which human nature is capable of enjoying. Now as this admiration increases or diminishes by the increase of the resolution of the objects we may conclude according to our foregoing in book one part three section 15 principles that it is a compound effect proceeding from the conjunction of the several effects which arise from each part of the cause every part then of extension and every unit of number has a separate emotion that when conceived by the mind and though that emotion be not always agreeable yet by its conjunction with others and by its agitating the spirits to adjust pitch it contributes to the production of admiration which is always agreeable. If this be allowed with respect to extension and number we can make no difficulty in virtue and vice, wit and folly riches and poverty happiness and misery and other objects of that kind which are always attended with an evident emotion. The second principle I shall take notice of is that of our adherence to general rules which has such a mighty influence on the actions and understanding that we are able to impose on the very senses. When an object is found by experience to be always accompanied with another whenever the first object appears though changed in very material circumstances we naturally fly to the conception of the second and form an idea of it in as lively and strong a manner as if we had inferred its existence and most authentic conclusion of our understanding. Nothing can un-deceive us not even our senses which instead of correcting this false judgment are often perverted by it and seem to authorize its errors. The conclusion I draw from these two principles joined to the influence of comparison above mentioned is very short and decisive. Every object is attended with some emotion proportioned to it a great object with a great emotion a small object with a small emotion a great object therefore succeeding a small one makes a great emotion succeed a small one. Now a great emotion succeeding a small one becomes still greater and arises beyond its ordinary proportion. But as there is a certain degree of an emotion which commonly attends every magnitude of an object when the emotion increases we naturally imagine that the object has likewise increased. The effect conveys our view to its usual cause a certain degree of emotion to the object, nor do we consider that comparison may change the emotion without changing anything in the object. Those who are acquainted with the metaphysical part of optics and know how we transfer the judgments and conclusions of the understanding to the senses will easily conceive this whole operation. But leaving this new discovery of an impression that secretly attends every idea we must at least allow of that principle from whence the discovery arose that objects appear greater or less by a comparison with others. We have so many instances of this that it is impossible we can dispute its veracity and it is from this principle I derive the passions of Malice and Envy. It is evident we must receive a greater or less satisfaction or uneasiness from reflecting on our own condition and circumstances in proportion as they appear more or less fortunate or unhappy in proportion to the degrees of riches and power and merit and reputation which we think ourselves possessed of. Now as we seldom judge of objects from their intrinsic value but form our notions of them from a comparison with other objects it follows that according as we observe a greater or less share of happiness or misery in others we must make an estimate of our own and feel a consequent pain or pleasure. The misery of another gives us a more lively idea of our own happiness and his happiness of our misery. The former therefore produces delight and the latter uneasiness. Here then is a kind of pity reversed or contrary sensations arising in the beholder from those which are felt by the person whom he considers. In general we may observe all kinds of comparison an object makes us always receive from another to which it is compared a sensation contrary to what arises from itself in its direct and immediate survey. A small object makes a great one appear still greater a great object makes a little one appear less. Deformity of itself produces uneasiness but makes us receive new pleasure by its contrast with a beautiful object whose beauty is augmented by it as on the other hand beauty which of itself produces pleasure makes us receive a new pain by the contrast with anything ugly whose deformity it augments. The case therefore must be the same the direct survey of another's pleasure naturally gives us pleasure and therefore produces pain when compared with our own. His pain considered in itself is painful to us but augments the idea of our own happiness and gives us pleasure. Nor will it appear strange that we may feel a reversed sensation and misery of others since we find the same comparison may give us a kind of malice against ourselves and make us rejoice for our pains and grieve for our pleasures. Thus the prospect of past pain is agreeable when we are satisfied with our present condition as on the other hand our past pleasures give us uneasiness when at present equal to them. The comparison being the same as when we reflect on the sentiments of others must be attended with the same effects. Nay, a person may extend this malice against himself even to his present fortune and carry it so far as designately to seek affliction and increase his pains and sorrows. This may happen upon two occasions. First, upon the distress and misfortune of a friend or person dear to him. Secondly, upon the feeling of any remorse for a crime of which he has been guilty. It is from the principle of comparison that both these irregular appetites for evil arise. A person who indulges himself in any pleasure while his friend lies under affliction feels the reflected uneasiness from his friend more sensibly by a comparison with the original pleasure which he himself enjoys. This contrast indeed ought also to enliven the present pleasure. But as grief is here supposed to be the predominant passion every addition falls to that side without operating in the least upon the contrary affection. It is the same case with those penances which men inflict on themselves for their past sins and failings. When a criminal reflects on the punishment he deserves the idea of it is magnified by a comparison with his present ease and satisfaction which forces him in a manner to seek uneasiness in order to avoid so disagreeable a contrast. This reasoning will account for the origin of envy as well as of malice. The only difference betwixt these passions lies in this that envy is excited by some present enjoyment of another which by comparison diminishes our idea of our own whereas malice is the unprovoked desire of producing evil to another in order to reap a pleasure from the comparison. The enjoyment which is the object of envy is commonly superior to our own. A superiority naturally seems to overshade us and presents a disagreeable comparison. But even in the case of an inferiority we still desire a greater distance in order to augment still more the idea of our self. When this distance diminishes the comparison is less to our advantage and consequently gives us less pleasure and is even disagreeable. Hence arises that species of envy which men feel when they perceive their inferior approaching or overtaking them in the pursuit of glory or happiness. In this envy we may see the effects of comparison twice repeated. A man who compares himself to his inferior receives a pleasure from the comparison and when the inferiority decreases by the elevation of the inferior what should only have been a decrease of pleasure becomes a real pain by a new comparison with its preceding condition. It is worthy of observation concerning that envy which arises from a superiority in others that it is not the great disproportion betwixt our self and another which produces it but on the contrary our proximity. A common soldier bears no such envy to his general as to his sergeant or corporal nor does an eminent writer meet with so great jealousy in common hackney scribblers as in authors that more nearly approach him. It may indeed be thought that the greater the disproportion is the greater must be the uneasiness from the comparison but we may consider on the other hand that the great disproportion cuts off the relation and either keeps us from comparing ourselves with what is remote from us or diminishes the effects of the comparison. Resimblance and proximity always produce a relation of ideas and where you destroy these ties however other accidents may bring two ideas together as they have no bond or connecting quality to join them in the imagination it is impossible they can remain long united or have any considerable influence on each other. I have observed in considering the nature of ambition that the great feel a double pleasure and authority from the comparison of their own condition with that of their slaves and that this comparison has a double influence because it is natural and presented by the subject. When the fancy in the comparison of objects passes not easily from the one object to the other the action of the mind is in a great measure broke and the fancy in considering the second object begins as it were upon a new footing. The impression which attends every object is not greater in that case by succeeding a less of the same kind but these two impressions are distinct and produce their distinct effects without any communication together. The want of relation in the ideas breaks the relation of the impressions and by such a separation prevents their mutual operation and influence. To confirm this we may observe that the proximity in the degree of merit is not alone sufficient to give rise to envy but must be assisted by other relations. A poet is not apt to envy a philosopher or a poet of a different kind of a different nation or of a different age. All these differences prevent or weaken the comparison and consequently the passion. This too is the reason why all objects appear great or little merely by a comparison with those of the same species. A mountain neither magnifies nor diminishes a horse in our eyes but when a Flemish and a Welsh horse are seen together the one appears greater and the other less than when viewed apart. From the same principle we may account for that remark of historians that any party in a civil war always choose to call in a foreign enemy at any hazard rather than submit to their fellow citizens. Gucci Arden applies this remark to the wars in Italy where the relations betwixt the different states are, properly speaking, nothing but of name, language and contiguity. Yet even these relations, when joined with superiority by making the comparison more natural make it likewise more grievous and cause men to search for some other superiority which may be attended with no relation and by that means may have a less sensible influence on the imagination. The mind quickly perceives its several advantages and disadvantages and finding its situation to be most uneasy where superiority is conjoined with other relations seeks its repose as much as possible by their separation and by breaking that association of ideas which renders the comparison so much more natural and efficacious. When it cannot break the association it feels a stronger desire to move the superiority and this is the reason why travelers are commonly so lavish of their praises to the Chinese and Persians at the same time that they deprecate those neighboring nations which may stand upon a foot of rivalship with their native country. These examples from history and common experience are rich and curious in the arts which are no less remarkable. Should an author compose a treatise of which one part was serious and profound another light and humorous everyone would condemn so strange a mixture and would accuse him of the neglect of all rules of art and criticism. These rules of art are founded on the qualities of human nature and the quality of human nature which requires a consistency in every performance is that which renders the mind incapable of passing in a moment from one passion and disposition to a quite different one. Yet this makes us not blame Mr. Pryor for joining his Alma and his Solomon in the same volume though that admirable poet has succeeded perfectly well in the gaiety of the one as well as in the melancholy of the other. Even supposing the reader should peruse these two compositions without any interval he would feel little or no difficulty in the change of passions. Why? But because he considers these performances as entirely different and by this break in the ideas breaks the progress of the affections and hinders the one from influencing or contradicting the other. And heroic and burlesque design united in one picture would be monstrous though we place two pictures of so opposite a character in the same chamber and even close by each other without any scruple or difficulty. In a word, no ideas can affect each other either by comparison or by the passions they separately produce unless they be united together by some relation which may cause an easy transition of the ideas and consequently of the emotions or impressions attending the ideas and may preserve the one impression in the passage of the imagination to the object of the other. This principle is very remarkable because it is analogous to what we have observed both concerning the understanding and the passions. Suppose two objects to be presented to me which are not connected by any kind of relation. Suppose that each of these objects separately produces a passion and that these two passions are in themselves contrary. We find from experience that the want of relation in the objects of the ideas hinders the natural contrarity of the passions and that the break in the transition of the thought removes the affections from each other and prevents their opposition. It is the same case with comparison and from both these phenomena we may safely conclude that the relation of ideas must forward the transition of impressions since its absence alone is able to prevent it and to separate what naturally should have operated upon each other. When the absence of an object or quality removes any usual or natural effect we may certainly conclude that its presence contributes to the production of the effect. End of File 20 File 21 of a Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by George Yeager Book 2 of the Passions Part 2 of Love and Hatred Section 9 of the mixture of benevolence and anger with compassion and malice Thus we have endeavored to account for pity and malice. Both these affections arise from the imagination according to the light in which it places its object. When our fancy considers directly the sentiments of others and enters deep into them it makes us sensible of all the passions it surveys but in a particular manner whether it is grief or sorrow. On the contrary, when we compare the sentiments of others to our own we feel a sensation directly opposite to the original one that is, a joy from the grief of others and a grief from their joy. But these are only the first foundations of the affections of pity and malice. Their passions are afterwards confounded with them. There is always a mixture of love or tenderness with pity and of hatred or anger with malice. But it must be confessed that this mixture seems at first sight to be contradictory to my system. For as pity is an uneasiness and malice a joy arising from the misery of others pity should naturally, as in all other cases produce hatred and malice love. This contradiction I endeavor to reconcile after the following manner. In order to cause a transition of passions there is required a double relation of impressions and ideas nor is one relation sufficient to produce this effect. But that we may understand the full force of this double relation we must consider that it is not the present sensation alone or momentary pain or pleasure which determines the character of any passion but the whole bent or tendency of it from the beginning to the end. One impression may be related to another not only when their sensations are resembling as we have all along supposed in the preceding cases but also when their impulses or directions are similar and correspondent. This cannot take place with regard to pride and humility because these are only pure sensations without any direction or tendency to action. We are therefore to look for instances of this peculiar relation of impressions only in such affections as are attended with a certain appetite or desire such as those of love and hatred. Benevolence or the appetite which attends love is a desire of the happiness of the person beloved and an aversion to his misery as anger or the appetite which attends hatred is a desire of the misery of the person hated and an aversion to his happiness. A desire, therefore, of the happiness of another and aversion to his misery are similar to benevolence and a desire of his misery and aversion to his happiness are correspondent to anger. A desire of happiness to another and aversion to his misery as malice is the contrary appetite. Pity, then, is related to benevolence and malice to anger and as benevolence has been already found to be connected with love by a natural and original quality and anger with hatred, it is by this chain that benevolence and malice are connected with love and hatred. This hypothesis is founded on sufficient experience. A man who from any motives has entertained a resolution of performing an action naturally runs into every other view or motive which may fortify that resolution and give it authority and influence on the mind. To affirm us in any design we search for motives drawn from interest, from honor, from duty. What wonder, then, that pity and benevolence, malice and anger, being the same desires arising from different principles should so totally mixed together as to be undistinguishable. As to the connection betwixt benevolence and love, anger and hatred being original and primary, it admits of no difficulty. We may add to this another experiment, that is, that benevolence and anger and consequently love and hatred arise when our happiness or misery have any dependence on the happiness or misery of another person without any further relation. But this experiment will appear so singular as to excuse us for stopping a moment to consider it. Suppose that two persons of the same trade should seek employment in a town that is not able to maintain both. It is plain the success of one is perfectly incompatible with that of the other and that whatever is for the interest of either is contrary to that of his rival and so vice versa. Suppose again that two merchants, though living in different parts of the world, should enter into co-partnership together. The advantage or loss of one becomes immediately the advantage or loss of his partner and the same fortune necessarily attends both. Now it is evident that in the first case hatred always follows upon the contrarity of interests as in the second love arises from their union. Let us consider to what principle we can ascribe these passions. It is plain they arise not from the double relations of impressions and ideas if we regard only the present sensation for taking the first case of rivalship though the pleasure and advantage of an antagonist necessarily causes my pain and loss yet to counterbalance this his pain and loss causes my pleasure and advantage and supposing him to be unsuccessful I may by this means receive from him a superior degree of satisfaction. In the same manner the success of a partner rejoices me but then his misfortunes afflict me in an equal proportion and it is easy to imagine that the latter sentiment may in many cases preponderate but whether the fortune of a rival or partner be good or bad I always hate the former and love the latter. This love of a partner cannot proceed from the relation or connection that we twist us in the same manner as I love a brother or a countryman. A rival has almost as close a relation to me as a partner for as the pleasure of the latter causes my pleasure and his pain my pain so the pleasure of the former causes my pain and his pain my pleasure. The connection then of cause and effect is the same in both cases in one case the cause and effect has a farther relation of resemblance they have that of contrarity in the other which being also a species of resemblance leaves the matter pretty equal. The only explication then we can give of this phenomenon is derived from that principle of a parallel direction above mentioned. Our concern for our own interest is the pleasure in the pleasure and the pain in the pain of a partner after the same manner as by sympathy we feel a sensation correspondent to those which appear in any person who is present with us. On the other hand the same concern for our interest makes us feel a pain in the pleasure and a pleasure in the pain of a rival in short the same contrarity of sentiments as arises from comparison and malice. Since therefore a parallel direction of the affections proceeding from interest can give rise to benevolence or anger no wonder the same parallel direction derived from sympathy and from comparison should have the same effect. In general we may observe that it is impossible to do good to others from whatever motive without feeling some touches of kindness and goodwill towards them as the injuries we do not only cause hatred in the person who suffers them but even in ourselves. These phenomena indeed may in part be accounted for from other principles. But here there occurs a considerable objection which it will be necessary to examine before we proceed any further. I have endeavored to prove that power and riches or poverty and meanness which give rise to love or hatred without producing any original pleasure or uneasiness operate upon us by means of a secondary sensation derived from a sympathy with that pain or satisfaction which they produce in the person who possesses them. From a sympathy with his pleasure there arises love. From that with his uneasiness hatred. But it is a maxim which I have just now established and which is absolutely necessary to the explication of the phenomena of pity and malice that it is not a sentiment sensation or momentary pain or pleasure which determines the character of any passion but the general bent or tendency of it from the beginning to the end. For this reason pity or a sympathy with pain produces love and that because it interests us in the fortunes of others good or bad and gives us a secondary sensation to the primary in which it has the same influence with love and benevolence. Since then this rule holds good in one case. Why does it not prevail throughout and why does sympathy in uneasiness ever produce any passion beside goodwill and kindness? Is it becoming a philosopher to alter his method of reasoning from one principle to its contrary according to the particular phenomenon which he would explain? I have mentioned two different causes from which a transition of passion may arise that is a double relation of ideas and impressions and what is similar to it a conformity in the tendency and direction of any two desires or principles. Now I assert that when a sympathy with uneasiness is weak it produces hatred or contempt by the former cause when strong it produces love or tenderness by the latter. This is the solution of the foregoing difficulty which seems so urgent and this is a principle founded on such evident arguments that have established it even though it were not necessary to the explication of any phenomenon. It is certain that sympathy is not always limited to the present moment but that we often feel by communication the pains and pleasures of others which are not in being and which we only anticipate by the force of imagination. For supposing I saw a person perfectly unknown to me who while asleep in the fields was in danger of being trod underfoot by horses I should immediately run to his assistance and in this I should be actuated by the same principle of sympathy which makes me concerned for the present sorrows of a stranger. The bare mention of this is sufficient sympathy being nothing but a lively idea converted into an impression. It is evident that in considering the future possible or probable condition of any person we may enter into it with so vivid a conception as to make it our own concern and by that means be sensible of pains and pleasures which neither belong to ourselves nor at the present instant have any real existence. We may look forward to the future in sympathizing with any person the extending of our sympathy depends in a great measure upon our sense of his present condition. It is a great effort of imagination to form such lively ideas even of the present sentiments of others as to feel these very sentiments but it is impossible we could extend this sympathy to the future without being aided by some circumstance in the present which strikes upon us in a lively manner. When the present misery of another has any strong influence upon me the vivacity of the conception is not confined merely to its immediate object but diffuses its influence over all the related ideas and gives me a lively notion of the circumstances of that person whether past, present or future possible, probable or certain by means of this lively notion I am interested in them, take part with them and feel a sympathetic motion in my breast conformable to whatever I imagine in his if I diminish the vivacity of the first conception as pipes can convey no more water than what arises at the fountain by this diminution I destroy the future prospect which is necessary to interest me perfectly in the fortune of another I may feel the present impression but carry my sympathy no further and never transfuse the force of the first conception into my ideas of the related objects if it be another's misery which is presented in this feeble manner I receive it by communication and am affected with all the passions related to it but as I am not so much interested as to concern myself in his good fortune as well as his bad I never feel the extensive sympathy nor the passions related to it to know what passions are related to these different kinds of sympathy we must consider that benevolence is an original pleasure arising from the pleasure of the person beloved and the pain proceeding from his pain from which correspondence of impressions there arises a subsequent desire of his pleasure and aversion to his pain in order then to make a passion run parallel with benevolence it is requisite we should feel these double impressions correspondent to those of the person whom we consider nor is any one of them alone sufficient for that purpose when we sympathize only with one impression and that a painful one this sympathy is related to anger and to hatred upon account of the uneasiness it conveys to us but as the extensive or limited sympathy depends upon the force of the first sympathy it follows that the passion of love or hatred depends upon the same principle a strong impression when communicated gives a double tendency of the passions which is related to benevolence and love by a similarity of direction however painful the first impression might have been a weak impression that is painful is related to anger and hatred by the resemblance of sensations benevolence therefore arises from a great degree of misery or any degree strongly sympathized with hatred or contempt from a small degree or one weakly sympathized with which is the principle I intended to prove and explain nor have we only our reason to trust for this principle but also experience a certain degree of poverty produces contempt but a degree beyond causes compassion and goodwill we may undervalue a peasant or servant but when the misery of a beggar appears very great or is painted in very lively colors we sympathize with him in his afflictions and feel in our heart evident touches of pity and benevolence the same object causes contrary passions according to its different degrees the passions therefore must depend upon principles that operate in such certain degrees according to my hypothesis the increase of the sympathy has evidently the same effect as the increase of the misery a barren or desolate country always seems ugly and disagreeable and commonly inspires us with contempt for the inhabitants this deformity however proceeds in a great measure from a sympathy with the inhabitants as has already been but it is only a weak one and reaches no farther than the immediate sensation which is disagreeable the view of a city in ashes conveys benevolent sentiments because we there enter so deep into the interests of the miserable inhabitants as to wish for their prosperity as well as feel their adversity but though the force of the impression generally produces pity and benevolence it is certain that by being carried too far it ceases to have that effect this perhaps may be worth our notice when the uneasiness is either small in itself or remote from us it engages not the imagination nor is able to convey an equal concern for the future and contingent good as for the present and real evil upon its acquiring greater force we become so interested in the concerns of the person as to be sensible both of his good and bad fortune and from that complete sympathy there arises pity and benevolence but it will easily be imagined that where the present evil strikes with more than ordinary force it may entirely engage our attention and prevent that double sympathy above mentioned thus we find that though everyone but especially women are apt to contract a kindness for criminals who go to the scaffold and readily imagine them to be uncommonly handsome and well shaped yet one who is present at the cruel execution of the rack feels no such tender emotions but is in a manner overcome with horror and has no leisure to temper this uneasy sensation by any opposite sympathy but the instance which makes the most clearly for my hypothesis is that wherein by a change of the objects we separate the double sympathy even from a middling degree of the passion in which case we find that pity instead of producing love and tenderness as usual always gives rise to the contrary affection when we observe a person in misfortunes we are affected with pity and love but the author of that misfortune becomes the object of our strongest hatred and is the more detested in proportion to the degree of our compassion now for what reason should the same passion be produced love to the person who suffers the misfortune and hatred to the person who causes it unless it be because in the latter case the author bears a relation only to the misfortune whereas in considering the sufferer we carry our view on every side and wish for his prosperity as well as are sensible of his affliction I shall just observe for I leave the present subject that this phenomenon of the double sympathy and its tendency to cause love may contribute to the production of the kindness which we naturally bear our relations and acquaintance custom and relation make us enter deeply into the sentiments of others and whatever fortune we suppose to attend them is rendered present to us by the imagination and operates as if originally our own we rejoice in their pleasures and grieve for their sorrows merely from the force of sympathy nothing that concerns them is indifferent to us and as this correspondence of sentiments is the natural attendant of love it readily produces that affection End of file 21