SECT. IX Of the direct passions
'Tis easy to observe, that the passions, both direct and indirect, are founded on pain and pleasure, and that in order to
produce an affection of any kind, `tis only requisite to present some good or evil. Upon the removal of pain and pleasure
there immediately follows a removal of love and hatred, pride and humility, desire and aversion, and of most of our reflective
or secondary impressions.
The impressions, which arise from good and evil most naturally, and with the least preparation are the direct passions of
desire and aversion, grief and joy, hope and fear, along with volition. The mind by an original instinct tends to unite itself
with the good, and to avoid the evil, tho' they be conceiv'd merely in idea, and be consider'd as to exist in any future period
of time.
But supposing that there is an immediate impression of pain or pleasure, and that arising from an object related to ourselves
or others, this does not prevent the propensity or aversion, with the consequent emotions, but by concurring with certain
dormant principles of the human mind, excites the new impressions of pride or humility, love or hatred. That propensity,
which unites us to the object, or separates us from it, still continues to operate, but in conjunction with the indirect passions,
which arise from a double relation of impressions and ideas.
These indirect passions, being always agreeable or uneasy, give in their turn additional force to the direct passions, and
encrease our desire and aversion to the object. Thus a suit of fine cloaths produces pleasure from their beauty; and this
pleasure produces the direct passions, or the impressions of volition and desire. Again, when these cloaths are consider'd as
belonging to ourself, the double relation conveys to us the sentiment of pride, which is an indirect passion; and the pleasure,
which attends that passion, returns back to the direct affections, and gives new force to our desire or volition, joy or hope.
When good is certain or probable, it produces joy. When evil is in the same situation there arises GRIEF or SORROW.
When either good or evil is uncertain, it gives rise to FEAR or HOPE, according to the degrees of uncertainty on the one
side or the other.
DESIRE arises from good consider'd simply, and AVERSION is deriv'd from evil. The WILL exerts itself, when either the
good or the absence of the evil may be attain'd by any action of the mind or body.
Beside good and evil, or in other words, pain and pleasure, the direct passions frequently arise from a natural impulse or
instinct, which is perfectly unaccountable. Of this kind is the desire of punishment to our enemies, and of happiness to our
friends; hunger, lust, and a few other bodily appetites. These passions, properly speaking, produce good and evil, and
proceed not from them, like the other affections.
None of the direct affections seem to merit our particular attention, except hope and fear, which we shall here endeavour to
account for. `Tis evident that the very same event, which by its certainty wou'd produce grief or joy, gives always rise to fear
or hope, when only probable and uncertain. In order, therefore, to understand the reason why this circumstance makes such
a considerable difference, we must reflect on what I have already advanc'd in the preceding book concerning the nature of
probability.
Probability arises from an opposition of contrary chances or causes, by which the mind is not allow'd to fix on either side,
but is incessantly tost from one to another, and at one moment is determin'd to consider an object as existent, and at another
moment as the contrary. The imagination or understanding, call it which you please, fluctuates betwixt the opposite views;
and tho' perhaps it may be oftener turn'd to the one side than the other, `tis impossible for it, by reason of the opposition of
causes or chances, to rest on either. The pro and con of the question alternately prevail; and the mind, surveying the object
in its opposite principles, finds such a contrariety as utterly destroys all certainty and establish'd opinion.
Suppose, then, that the object, concerning whose reality we are doubtful, is an object either of desire or aversion, `tis
evident, that, according as the mind turns itself either to the one side or the other, it must feel a momentary impression of joy
or sorrow. An object, whose existence we desire, gives satisfaction, when we reflect on those causes, which produce it; and
for the same reason excites grief or uneasiness from the opposite consideration: So that as the understanding, in all probable
questions, is divided betwixt the contrary points of view, the affections must in the same manner be divided betwixt opposite
emotions.
Now if we consider the human mind, we shall find, that with regard to the passions, `tis not the nature of a wind-instrument
of music, which in running over all the notes immediately loses the sound after the breath ceases; but rather resembles a
string-instrument, where after each stroke the vibrations still retain some sound, which gradually and insensibly decays. The
imagination is extreme quick and agile; but the passions are slow and restive: For which reason, when any object is
presented, that affords a variety of views to the one, and emotions to the other; tho' the fancy may change its views with
great celerity; each stroke will not produce a clear and distinct note of passion, but the one passion will always be mixt and
confounded with the other. According as the probability inclines to good or evil, the passion of joy or sorrow predominates
in the composition: Because the nature of probability is to cast a superior number of views or chances on one side; or, which
is the same thing, a superior number of returns of one passion; or since the dispers'd passions are collected into one, a
superior degree of that passion. That is, in other words, the grief and joy being intermingled with each other,. by means of
the contrary views of the imagination, produce by their union the passions of hope and fear.
Upon this head there may be started a very curious question concerning that contrariety of passions, which is our present
subject. Tis observable, that where the objects of contrary passions are presented at once, beside the encrease of the
predominant passion (which has been already explain'd, and commonly arises at their first shock or rencounter) it sometimes
happens, that both the passions exist successively, and by short intervals; sometimes, that they destroy each other, and
neither of them takes place; and sometimes that both of them remain united in the mind. It may, therefore, be ask'd, by what
theory we can explain these variations, and to what general principle we can reduce them.
When the contrary passions arise from objects entirely different, they take place alternately, the want of relation in the ideas
separating the impressions from each other, and preventing their opposition. Thus when a man is afflicted for the loss of a
law-suit, and joyful for the birth of a son, the mind running from the agreeable to the calamitous object, with whatever
celerity it may perform this motion, can scarcely temper the one affection with the other, and remain betwixt them in a state
of indifference.
It more easily attains that calm situation, when the same event is of a mixt nature, and contains something adverse and
something prosperous in its different circumstances. For in that case, both the passions, mingling with each other by means
of the relation, become mutually destructive, and leave the mind in perfect tranquility.
But suppose, in the third place, that the object is not a compound of good or evil, but is consider'd as probable or
improbable in any degree; in that case I assert, that the contrary passions will both of them be present at once in the soul,
and instead of destroying and tempering each other, will subsist together, and produce a third impression or affection by
their union. Contrary passions are not capable of destroying each other, except when their contrary movements exactly
rencounter, and are opposite in their direction, as well as in the sensation they produce. This exact rencounter depends upon
the relations of those ideas, from which they are deriv'd, and is more or less perfect, according to the degrees of the relation.
In the case of probability the contrary chances are so far related, that they determine concerning the existence or
non-existence of the same object. But this relation is far from being perfect; since some of the chances lie on the side of
existence, and others on that of non-existence; which are objects altogether incompatible. `Tis impossible by one steady view
to survey the opposite chances, and the events dependent on them; but `tis necessary, that the imagination shou'd run
alternately from the one to the other. Each view of the imagination produces its peculiar passion, which decays away by
degrees, and is follow'd by a sensible vibration after the stroke. The incompatibility of the views keeps the passions from
shocking in a direct line, if that expression may be allow'd; and yet their relation is sufficient to mingle their fainter emotions.
Tis after this manner that hope and fear arise from the different mixture of these opposite passions of grief and joy, and from
their imperfect union and conjunction.
Upon the whole, contrary passions succeed each other alternately, when they arise from different objects: They mutually
destroy each other, when they proceed from different parts of the same: And they subsist both of them. and mingle together,
when they are deriv'd from the contrary and incompatible chances or possibilities, on which any one object depends. The
influence of the relations of ideas is plainly seen in this whole affair. If the objects of the contrary passions be totally
different, the passions are like two opposite liquors in different bottles, which have no influence on each other. If the objects
be intimately connected, the passions are like an alcali and an acid, which, being mingled, destroy each other. If the relation
be more imperfect, and consists in the contradictory views of the same object, the passions are like oil and vinegar, which,
however mingled, never perfectly unite and incorporate.
As the hypothesis concerning hope and fear carries its own evidence along with it, we shall be the more concise in our
proofs. A few strong arguments are better than many weak ones.
The passions of fear and hope may arise when the chances are equal on both sides, and no superiority can be discover'd in
the one above the other. Nay, in this situation the passions are rather the strongest, as the mind has then the least foundation
to rest upon, and is toss'd with the greatest uncertainty. Throw in a superior degree of probability to the side of grief, you
immediately see that passion diffuse itself over the composition, and tincture it into fear. Encrease the probability, and by
that means the grief, the fear prevails still more and more, till at last it runs insensibly, as the joy continually diminishes, into
pure grief. After you have brought it to this situation, diminish the grief, after the same manner that you encreas'd it; by
diminishing the probability on that side, and you'll see the passion clear every moment, `till it changes insensibly into hope;
which again runs, after the same manner, by slow degrees, into joy, as you encrease that part of the composition by the
encrease of the probability. Are not these as plain proofs, that the passions of fear and hope are mixtures of grief and joy, as
in optics `tis a proof, that a colour'd ray of the sun passing thro' a prism, is a composition of two others, when, as you
diminish or encrease the quantity of either, you find it prevail proportionably more or less in the composition? I am sure
neither natural nor moral philosophy admits of stronger proofs.
Probability is of two kinds, either when the object is really in itself uncertain, and to be determin'd by chance; or when, tho'
the object be already certain, yet `tis uncertain to our judgment, which finds a number of proofs on each side of the question.
Both these kinds of probabilities cause fear and hope; which can only proceed from that property, in which they agree, viz,
the uncertainty and fluctuation they bestow on the imagination by that contrariety of views, which is common to both.
`Tis a probable good or evil, that commonly produces hope or fear; because probability, being a wavering and unconstant
method of surveying an object, causes naturally a like mixture and uncertainty of passion. But we may observe, that
wherever from other causes this mixture can be produc'd, the passions of fear and hope will arise, even tho' there be no
probability; which must be allow'd to be a convincing proof of the present hypothesis. We find that an evil, barely conceiv'd
as possible, does sometimes produce fear; especially if the evil be very great. A man cannot think of excessive pains and
tortures without trembling, if he be in the least danger of suffering them. The smallness of the probability is compensated by
the greatness of the evil; and the sensation is equally lively, as if the evil were more probable. One view or glimpse of the
former, has the same effect as several of the latter.
But they are not only possible evils, that cause fear, but even some allow'd to be impossible; as when we tremble on the
brink of a precipice, tho' we know ourselves to be in perfect security, and have it in our choice whether we wili advance a
step farther. This proceeds from the immediate presence of the evil, which influences the imagination in the same manner as
the certainty of it wou'd do; but being encounter'd by the reflection on our security, is immediately retracted, and causes the
same kind of passion, as when from a contrariety of chances contrary passions are produc'd.
Evils, that are certain, have sometimes the same effect in producing fear, as the possible or impossible. Thus a man in a
strong prison well-guarded, without the least means of escape, trembles at the thought of the rack, to which he is sentenc'd.
This happens only when the certain evil is terrible and confounding; in which case the mind continually rejects it with horror,
while it continually presses in upon the thought. The evil is there flx'd and establish'd, but the mind cannot endure to fix upon
it; from which fluctuation and uncertainty there arises a passion of much the same appearance with fear.
But `tis not only where good or evil is uncertain, as to its existence, but also as to its kind, that fear or hope arises. Let one
be told by a person, whose veracity he cannot doubt of, that one of his sons is suddenly kill'd, `tis evident the passion this
event wou'd occasion, wou'd not settle into pure grief, till he got certain information, which of his sons he had lost. Here
there is an evil certain, but the kind of it uncertain. Consequently the fear we feel on this occasion is without the least
mixture of joy, and arises merely from the fluctuation of the fancy betwixt its objects. And tho' each side of the question
produces here the same passion, yet that passion cannot settle, but receives from the imagination a tremulous and unsteady
motion, resembling in its cause, as well as in its sensation, the mixture and contention of grief and joy.
From these principles we may account for a phaenomenon in the passions, which at first sight seems very extraordinary, viz,
that surprize is apt to change into fear, and every thing that is unexpected affrights us. The most obvious conclusion from
this is, that human nature is in general pusillanimous; since upon the sudden appearance of any object. we immediately
conclude it to be an evil, and without waiting till we can examine its nature, whether it be good or bad, are at first affected
with fear. This I say is the most obvious conclusion; but upon farther examination we shall find that the phaenomenon is
otherwise to be accounted for. The suddenness and strangeness of an appearance naturally excite a commotion in the mind,
like every thing for which we are not prepar'd, and to which we are not accustom'd. This commotion, again, naturally
produces a curiosity or inquisitiveness, which being very violent, from the strong and sudden impulse of the object, becomes
uneasy, and resembles in its fluctuation and uncertainty, the sensation of fear or the mix'd passions of grief and joy. This
image of fear naturally converts into the thing itself, and gives us a real apprehension of evil, as the mind always forms its
judgments more from its present disposition than from the nature of its objects.
Thus all kinds of uncertainty have a strong connexion with fear, even tho' they do not cause any opposition of passions by
the opposite views and considerations they present to us. A person, who has left his friend in any malady, will feel more
anxiety upon his account, than if he were present, tho' perhaps he is not only incapable of giving him assistance, but likewise
of judging of the event of his sickness. In this case, tho' the principal object of the passion, viz, the life or death of his friend,
be to him equally uncertain when present as when absent; yet there are a thousand little circumstances of his friend's
situation and condition, the knowledge of which fixes the idea, and prevents that fluctuation and uncertainty so near ally'd to
fear. Uncertainty is, indeed, in one respect as near ally'd to hope as to fear, since it makes an essential part in the
composition of the former passion; but the reason, why it inclines not to that side, is, that uncertainty alone is uneasy, and
has a reladon of impressions to the uneasy passions.
`Tis thus our uncertainty concerning any minute circumstance relating to a person encreases our apprehensions of his death
or misfortune. Horace has remark'd this phaenomenon.
Ut assidens implumi bus pullus avis
Serpentium allapsus tirnet,
Magis relictis; non, ut adsit, auxili
Latura plus presentibus.
[As a bird, watching over her fledgelings, is more afraid of their being attacked by snakes if she were to leave them even
though, were she to stay, she would not be any more capable of helping them, when they were with her.]
But this principle of the connexion of fear with uncertainty I carry farther, and observe that any doubt produces that passion,
even tho' it presents nothing to us on any side but what is good and desireable. A virgin, on her bridalnight goes to bed full
of fears and apprehensions, tho' she expects nothing but pleasure of the highest kind, and what she has long wish'd for. The
newness and greatness of the event, the confusion of wishes and joys so embarrass the mind, that it knows not on what
passion to fix itself; from whence arises a fluttering or unsettledness of the spirits. which being, in some degree, uneasy, very
naturally degenerates into fear.
Thus we still find, that whatever causes any fluctuation or mixture of passions, with any degree of uneasiness, always
produces fear, or at least a passion so like it, that they are scarcely to be distinguish'd.
I have here confin'd myself to the examination of hope and fear in their most simple and natural situation, without
considering all the variations they may receive from the mixture of different views and reflections. Terror, consternation,
astonishment, anxiety, and other passions of that kind, are nothing but different species and degrees of fear. `Tis easy to
imagine how a different situation of the object, or a different turn of thought, may change even the sensation of a passion;
and this may in general account for all the particular sub-divisions of the other affections, as well as of fear. Love may shew
itself in the shape of tenderness, friendship, intimacy, esteem, good-will, and in many other appearances; which at the bottom
are the same affections; and arise from the same causes, tho' with a small variation, which it is not necessary to give any
particular account of. `Tis for this reason I have all along confin'd myself to the principal passion.
The same care of avoiding prolixity is the reason why I wave the examination of the will and direct passions, as they appear
in animals; since nothing is more evident, than that they are of the same nature, and excited by the same causes as in human
creatures. I leave this to the reader's own observation; desiring him at the same time to consider the additional force this
bestows on the present system.