SECT. VII OF VICE AND VIRTUE

Taking these limitations along with us, let us proceed to examine the

causes of pride and humility; and see, whether in every case we can

discover the double relations, by which they operate on the passions.

If we find that all these causes are related to self, and produce a

pleasure or uneasiness separate from the passion, there will remain no

farther scruple with regard to the present system. We shall principally

endeavour to prove the latter point; the former being in a manner

self-evident.

To begin, with vice and virtue; which are the most obvious causes of

these passions; it would be entirely foreign to my present purpose to

enter upon the controversy, which of late years has so much excited the

curiosity of the publick. WHETHER THESE MORAL DISTINCTIONS BE FOUNDED ON

NATURAL AND ORIGINAL PRINCIPLES, OR ARISE FROM INTEREST AND EDUCATION.

The examination of this I reserve for the following book; and in the

mean time I shall endeavour to show, that my system maintains its ground

upon either of these hypotheses; which will be a strong proof of its

solidity.

For granting that morality had no foundation in nature, it must still

be allowed, that vice and virtue, either from self-interest or the

prejudices of education, produce in us a real pain and pleasure; and

this we may observe to be strenuously asserted by the defenders of that

hypothesis. Every passion, habit, or turn of character (say they)

which has a tendency to our advantage or prejudice, gives a delight

or uneasiness; and it is from thence the approbation or disapprobation

arises. We easily gain from the liberality of others, but are always

in danger of losing by their avarice: Courage defends us, but cowardice

lays us open to every attack: Justice is the support of society, but

injustice, unless checked would quickly prove its ruin: Humility exalts;

but pride mortifies us. For these reasons the former qualities are

esteemed virtues, and the latter regarded as vices. Now since it is

granted there is a delight or uneasiness still attending merit or

demerit of every kind, this is all that is requisite for my purpose.

But I go farther, and observe, that this moral hypothesis and my present

system not only agree together, but also that, allowing the former to be

just, it is an absolute and invincible proof of the latter. For if

all morality be founded on the pain or pleasure, which arises from

the prospect of any loss or advantage, that may result from our own

characters, or from those of others, all the effects of morality must-be

derived from the same pain or pleasure, and among the rest, the passions

of pride and humility. The very essence of virtue, according to this

hypothesis, is to produce pleasure and that of vice to give pain. The

virtue and vice must be part of our character in order to excite pride

or humility. What farther proof can we desire for the double relation of

impressions and ideas?

The same unquestionable argument may be derived from the opinion of

those, who maintain that morality is something real, essential, and

founded on nature. The most probable hypothesis, which has been advanced

to explain the distinction betwixt vice and virtue, and the origin of

moral rights and obligations, is, that from a primary constitution

of nature certain characters and passions, by the very view and

contemplation, produce a pain, and others in like manner excite a

pleasure. The uneasiness and satisfaction are not only inseparable

from vice and virtue, but constitute their very nature and essence.

To approve of a character is to feel an original delight upon its

appearance. To disapprove of it is to be sensible of an uneasiness.

The pain and pleasure, therefore, being the primary causes of vice and

virtue, must also be the causes of all their effects, and consequently

of pride and humility, which are the unavoidable attendants of that

distinction.

But supposing this hypothesis of moral philosophy should be allowed to

be false, it is still evident, that pain and pleasure, if not the causes

of vice and virtue, are at least inseparable from them. A generous and

noble character affords a satisfaction even in the survey; and when

presented to us, though only in a poem or fable, never fails to charm

and delight us. On the other hand cruelty and treachery displease from

their very nature; nor is it possible ever to reconcile us to these

qualities, either in ourselves or others. Thus one hypothesis of

morality is an undeniable proof of the foregoing system, and the other

at worst agrees with it. But pride and humility arise not from these

qualities alone of the mind, which, according to the vulgar systems of

ethicks, have been comprehended as parts of moral duty, but from

any other that has a connexion with pleasure and uneasiness. Nothing

flatters our vanity more than the talent of pleasing by our wit,

good humour, or any other accomplishment; and nothing gives us a more

sensible mortification than a disappointment in any attempt of that

nature. No one has ever been able to tell what wit is, and to-shew why

such a system of thought must be received under that denomination, and

such another rejected. It is only by taste we can decide concerning

it, nor are we possest of any other standard, upon which we can form a

judgment of this kind. Now what is this taste, from which true and false

wit in a manner receive their being, and without which no thought can

have a title to either of these denominations? It is plainly nothing

but a sensation of pleasure from true wit, and of uneasiness from

false, without oar being able to tell the reasons of that pleasure

or uneasiness. The power of bestowing these opposite sensations is,

therefore, the very essence of true and false wit; and consequently the

cause of that pride or humility, which arises from them.

There may, perhaps, be some, who being accustomed to the style of the

schools and pulpit, and having never considered human nature in any

other light, than that in which they place it, may here be surprized

to hear me talk of virtue as exciting pride, which they look upon as a

vice; and of vice as producing humility, which they have been taught to

consider as a virtue. But not to dispute about words, I observe, that by

pride I understand that agreeable impression, which arises in the mind,

when the view either of our virtue, beauty, riches or power makes us

satisfyed with ourselves: and that by humility I mean the opposite

impression. It is evident the former impression is not always vicious,

nor the latter virtuous. The most rigid morality allows us to receive

a pleasure from reflecting on a generous action; and it is by none

esteemed a virtue to feel any fruitless remorses upon the thoughts

of past villainy and baseness. Let us, therefore, examine these

impressions, considered in themselves; and enquire into their causes,

whether placed on the mind or body, without troubling ourselves at

present with that merit or blame, which may attend them.

SECT. VIII OF BEAUTY AND DEFORMITY

Whether we consider the body as a part of ourselves, or assent to those

philosophers, who regard it as something external, it must still be

allowed to be near enough connected with us to form one of these double

relations, which I have asserted to be necessary to the causes of pride

and humility. Wherever, therefore, we can find the other relation of

impressions to join to this of ideas, we may expect with assurance

either of these passions, according as the impression is pleasant

or uneasy. But beauty of all kinds gives us a peculiar delight and

satisfaction; as deformity produces pain, upon whatever subject it may

be placed, and whether surveyed in an animate or inanimate object. If

the beauty or deformity, therefore, be placed upon our own bodies, this

pleasure or uneasiness must be converted into pride or humility, as

having in this case all the circumstances requisite to produce a perfect

transition of impressions and ideas. These opposite sensations are

related to the opposite passions. The beauty or deformity is closely

related to self, the object of both these passions. No wonder, then our

own beauty becomes an object of pride, and deformity of humility.

But this effect of personal and bodily qualities is not only a proof of

the present system, by shewing that the passions arise not in this case

without all the circumstances I have required, but may be employed as

a stronger and more convincing argument. If we consider all the

hypotheses, which have been formed either by philosophy or common

reason, to explain the difference betwixt beauty and deformity, we shall

find that all of them resolve into this, that beauty is such an order

and construction of parts, as either by the primary constitution of

our nature, by custom, or by caprice, is fitted to give a pleasure

and satisfaction to the soul. This is the distinguishing character of

beauty, and forms all the difference betwixt it and deformity, whose

natural tendency is to produce uneasiness. Pleasure and pain, therefore,

are not only necessary attendants of beauty and deformity, but

constitute their very essence. And indeed, if we consider, that a

great part of the beauty, which we admire either in animals or in other

objects, is derived from the idea of convenience and utility, we shall

make no scruple to assent to this opinion. That shape, which produces

strength, is beautiful in one animal; and that which is a sign of

agility in another. The order and convenience of a palace are no less

essential to its beauty, than its mere figure and appearance. In like

manner the rules of architecture require, that the top of a pillar

should be more slender than its base, and that because such a figure

conveys to us the idea of security, which is pleasant; whereas the

contrary form gives us the apprehension of danger, which is uneasy. From

innumerable instances of this kind, as well as from considering that

beauty like wit, cannot be defined, but is discerned only by a taste

or sensation, we may conclude, that beauty is nothing but a form, which

produces pleasure, as deformity is a structure of parts, which conveys

pain; and since the power of producing pain and pleasure make in this

manner the essence of beauty and deformity, all the effects of these

qualities must be derived from the sensation; and among the rest

pride and humility, which of all their effects are the most common and

remarkable.

This argument I esteem just and decisive; but in order to give greater

authority to the present reasoning, let us suppose it false for a

moment, and see what will follow. It is certain, then, that if the

power of producing pleasure and pain forms not the essence of beauty and

deformity, the sensations are at least inseparable from the qualities,

and it is even difficult to consider them apart. Now there is nothing

common to natural and moral beauty, (both of which are the causes of

pride) but this power of producing pleasure; and as a common effect

supposes always a common cause, it is plain the pleasure must in both

cases be the real and influencing cause of the passion. Again; there is

nothing originally different betwixt the beauty of our bodies and the

beauty of external and foreign objects, but that the one has a near

relation to ourselves, which is wanting in the other. This original

difference, therefore, must be the cause of all their other differences,

and among the rest, of their different influence upon the passion of

pride, which is excited by the beauty of our person, but is not affected

in the least by that of foreign and external objects. Placing, then,

these two conclusions together, we find they compose the preceding

system betwixt them, viz, that pleasure, as a related or resembling

impression, when placed on a related object by a natural transition,

produces pride; and its contrary, humility. This system, then, seems

already sufficiently confirmed by experience; that we have not yet

exhausted all our arguments.

It is not the beauty of the body alone that produces pride, but also

its strength and force. Strength is a kind of power; and therefore the

desire to excel in strength is to be considered as an inferior

species of ambition. For this reason the present phænomenon will be

sufficiently accounted for, in explaining that passion.

Concerning all other bodily accomplishments we may observe in general,

that whatever in ourselves is either useful, beautiful, or surprising,

is an object of pride; and it's contrary, of humility. Now it is

obvious, that every thing useful, beautiful or surprising, agrees in

producing a separate pleasure and agrees in nothing else. The pleasure,

therefore, with the relation to self must be the cause of the passion.

Though it should be questioned, whether beauty be not something real,

and different from the power of producing pleasure, it can never be

disputed, that as surprize is nothing but a pleasure arising from

novelty, it is not, properly speaking, a quality in any object, but

merely a passion or impression in the soul. It must, therefore, be

from that impression, that pride by a natural transition arises. And

it arises so naturally, that there is nothing in us or belonging to

us, which produces surprize, that does not at the same time excite that

other passion. Thus we are vain of the surprising adventures we have

met with, the escapes we have made, and dangers we have been exposed to.

Hence the origin of vulgar lying; where men without any interest, and

merely out of vanity, heap up a number of extraordinary events, which

are either the fictions of their brain, or if true, have at least no

connexion with themselves. Their fruitful invention supplies them with

a variety of adventures; and where that talent is wanting, they

appropriate such as belong to others, in order to satisfy their vanity.

In this phænomenon are contained two curious experiments, which if we

compare them together, according to the known rules, by which we judge

of cause and effect in anatomy, natural philosophy, and other sciences,

will be an undeniable argument for that influence of the double

relations above-mentioned. By one of these experiments we find, that an

object produces pride merely by the interposition of pleasure; and that

because the quality, by which it produces pride, is in reality nothing

but the power of producing pleasure. By the other experiment we find,

that the pleasure produces the pride by a transition along related

ideas; because when we cut off that relation the passion is immediately

destroyed.. A surprising adventure, in which we have been ourselves

engaged, is related to us, and by that means produces pride: But the

adventures of others, though they may cause pleasure, yet for want of

this relation of ideas, never excite that passion. What farther proof

can be desired for the present system?

There is only one objection to this system with regard to our body:

which is, that though nothing be more agreeable than health, and more

painful than sickness, yet commonly men are neither proud of the one,

nor mortifyed with the other. This will easily be accounted for, if

we consider the second and fourth limitations, proposed to our general

system. It was observed, that no object ever produces pride or humility,

if it has not something peculiar to ourself; as also, that every

cause of that passion must be in some measure constant, and hold some

proportion to the duration of our self, which, is its object. Now as

health and sickness vary incessantly to all men, and there is none, who

is solely or certainly fixed in either, these accidental blessings and

calamities are in a manner separated from us, and are never considered

as connected with our being and existence. And that this account is just

appears hence, that wherever a malady of any kind is so rooted in our

constitution, that we no longer entertain any hopes of recovery, from

that moment it becomes an object of humility; as is evident in old men,

whom nothing mortifies more than the consideration of their age and

infirmities. They endeavour, as long as possible, to conceal their

blindness and deafness, their rheums and gouts; nor do they ever confess

them without reluctance and uneasiness. And though young men are not

ashamed of every head-ach or cold they fall into, yet no topic is so

proper to mortify human pride, and make us entertain a mean opinion of

our nature, than this, that we are every moment of our lives subject to

such infirmities. This sufficiently proves that bodily pain and sickness

are in themselves proper causes of humility; though the custom of

estimating every thing by comparison more than by its intrinsic worth

and value, makes us overlook these calamities, which we find to be

incident to every one, and causes us to form an idea of our merit and

character independent of them.

We are ashamed of such maladies as affect others, and are either

dangerous or disagreeable to them. Of the epilepsy; because it gives a

horror to every one present: Of the itch; because it is infectious:

Of the king's-evil; because it commonly goes to posterity. Men always

consider the sentiments of others in their judgment of themselves. This

has evidently appeared in some of the foregoing reasonings; and will

appear still more evidently, and be more fully explained afterwards.

SECT. IX OF EXTERNAL ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES

But though pride and humility have the qualities of our mind and body

that is self, for their natural and more immediate causes, we find

by experience, that there are many other objects, which produce these

affections, and that the primary one is, in some measure, obscured and

lost by the multiplicity of foreign and extrinsic. We found a vanity

upon houses, gardens, equipages, as well as upon personal merit and

accomplishments; and though these external advantages be in themselves

widely distant from thought or a person, yet they considerably influence

even a passion, which is directed to that as its ultimate object.

This happens when external objects acquire any particular relation to

ourselves, and are associated or connected with us. A beautiful fish

in the ocean, an animal in a desert, and indeed any thing that neither

belongs, nor is related to us, has no manner of influence on our vanity,

whatever extraordinary qualities it may be endowed with, and whatever

degree of surprize and admiration it may naturally occasion. It must be

some way associated with us in order to touch our pride. Its idea must

hang in a manner, upon that of ourselves and the transition from the one

to the other must be easy and natural.

But here it is remarkable, that though the relation of resemblance

operates upon the mind in the same manner as contiguity and causation,

in conveying us from one idea to another, yet it is seldom a foundation

either of pride or of humility. If we resemble a person in any of the

valuable parts of his character, we must, in some degree, possess the

quality, in which we resemble him; and this quality we always chuse to

survey directly in ourselves rather than by reflexion in another person,

when we would found upon it any degree of vanity. So that though a

likeness may occasionally produce that passion by suggesting a more

advantageous idea of ourselves, it is there the view fixes at last, and

the passion finds its ultimate and final cause.

There are instances, indeed, wherein men shew a vanity in resembling a

great man in his countenance, shape, air, or other minute circumstances,

that contribute not in any degree to his reputation; but it must be

confessed that this extends not very far, nor is of any considerable

moment in these affections. For this I assign the following reason. We

can never have a vanity of resembling in trifles any person, unless

he be possessed of very shining qualities, which give us a respect and

veneration for him. These qualities, then, are, properly speaking, the

causes of our vanity, by means of their relation to ourselves. Now after

what manner are they related to ourselves? They are parts of the person

we value, and consequently connected with these trifles; which are

also supposed to be parts of him. These trifles are connected with the

resembling qualities in us; and these qualities in us, being parts,

are connected with the whole; and by that means form a chain of several

links of the person we resemble. But besides that this multitude of

relations must weaken the connexion; it is evident the mind, in passing

from the shining qualities to the trivial ones, must by that contrast

the better perceive the minuteness of the latter, and be in some measure

ashamed of the comparison and resemblance.

The relation, therefore, of contiguity, or that of causation, betwixt

the cause and object of pride and humility, is alone requisite to

give rise to these passions; and these relations are nothing else

but qualities, by which the imagination is conveyed from one idea to

another. Now let us consider what effect these can possibly have upon

the mind, and by what means they become so requisite to the production

of the passions. It is evident, that the association of ideas operates

in so silent and imperceptible a manner, that we are scarce sensible of

it, and discover it more by its effects than by any immediate feeling or

perception. It produces no emotion, and gives rise to no new impression

of any kind, but only modifies those ideas, of which the mind was

formerly possessed, and which it could recal upon occasion. From this

reasoning, as well as from undoubted experience, we may conclude, that

an association of ideas, however necessary, is not alone sufficient to

give rise to any passion.

It is evident, then, that when the mind feels the passion either of

pride or humility upon the appearance of related object, there is,

beside the relation or transition of thought, an emotion or original

impression produced by some other principle. The question is, whether

the emotion first produced be the passion itself, or some other

impression related to it. This question we cannot be long in deciding,

For besides all the other arguments, with which this subject abounds,

it must evidently appear, that the relation of ideas, which experience

shews to be so requisite a circumstance to the production of the

passion, would be entirely superfluous, were it not to second a relation

of affections, and facilitate the transition from one impression

to another. If nature produced immediately the passion of pride or

humility, it would be compleated in itself, and would require no farther

addition or encrease from any other affection. But supposing the first

emotion to be only related to pride or humility, it is easily conceived

to what purpose the relation of objects may serve, and how the two

different associations, of impressions and ideas, by uniting their

forces, may assist each other's operation. This is not only easily

conceived, but I will venture to affirm it is the only manner, in which

we can conceive this subject. An easy transition of ideas, which, of

itself, causes no emotion, can never be necessary, or even useful to

the passions, but by forwarding the transition betwixt some related

impressions. Not to mention, that the same object causes a greater

or smaller degree of pride, not only in proportion to the encrease or

decrease of its qualities, but also to the distance or nearness of the

relation; which is a clear argument for the transition of affections

along the relation of ideas; since every change in the relation produces

a proportionable change in the passion. Thus one part of the preceding

system, concerning the relations of ideas is a sufficient proof of

the other, concerning that of impressions; and is itself so evidently

founded on experience, that it would be lost time to endeavour farther

to prove it.

This will appear still more evidently in particular instances. Men are

vain of the beauty of their country, of their county, of their parish.

Here the idea of beauty plainly produces a pleasure. This pleasure

is related to pride. The object or cause of this pleasure is, by the

supposition, related to self, or the object of pride. By this double

relation of impressions and ideas, a transition is made from the one

impression to the other.

Men are also vain of the temperature of the climate, in which they were

born; of the fertility of their native soil; of the goodness of the

wines, fruits or victuals, produced by it; of the softness or force of

their language; with other particulars of that kind. These objects have

plainly a reference to the pleasures of the senses, and are originally

considered as agreeable to the feeling, taste or hearing. How is it

possible they could ever become objects of pride, except by means of

that transition above-explained?

There are some, that discover a vanity of an opposite kind, and affect

to depreciate their own country, in comparison of those, to which

they have travelled. These persons find, when they are at home, and

surrounded with their countrymen, that the strong relation betwixt them

and their own nation is shared with so many, that it is in a manner lost

to them; whereas their distant relation to a foreign country, which is

formed by their having seen it and lived in it, is augmented by their

considering how few there are who have done the same. For this reason

they always admire the beauty, utility and rarity of what is abroad,

above what is at home.

Since we can be vain of a country, climate or any inanimate object,

which bears a relation to us, it is no wonder we are vain of the

qualities of those, who are connected with us by blood or friendship.

Accordingly we find, that the very same qualities, which in ourselves

produce pride, produce also in a lesser degree the same affection, when

discovered in persons related to us. The beauty, address, merit, credit

and honours of their kindred are carefully displayed by the proud, as

some of their most considerable sources of their vanity.

As we are proud of riches in ourselves, so to satisfy our vanity we

desire that every one, who has any connexion with us, should likewise be

possest of them, and are ashamed of any one, that is mean or poor, among

our friends and relations. For this reason we remove the poor as far

from us as possible; and as we cannot prevent poverty in some distant

collaterals, and our forefathers are taken to be our nearest relations;

upon this account every one affects to be of a good family, and to be

descended from a long succession of rich and honourable ancestors.

I have frequently observed, that those, who boast of the antiquity of

their families, are glad when they can join this circumstance, that

their ancestors for many generations have been uninterrupted proprietors

of the same portion of land, and that their family has never changed its

possessions, or been transplanted into any other county or province.

I have also observed, that it is an additional subject of vanity, when

they can boast, that these possessions have been transmitted through

a descent composed entirely of males, and that the honour, and fortune

have never past through any female. Let us endeavour to explain these

phaenomena by the foregoing system.

It is evident, that when any one boasts of the antiquity of his family,

the subjects of his vanity are not merely the extent of time and number

of ancestors, but also their riches and credit, which are supposed to

reflect a lustre on himself on account of his relation to them. He first

considers these objects; is affected by them in an agreeable manner;

and then returning back to himself, through the relation of parent and

child, is elevated with the passion of pride, by means of the double

relation, of impressions and ideas. Since therefore the passion depends

on these relations, whatever strengthens any of the relations must also

encrease the passion, and whatever weakens the relations must diminish

the passion. Now it is certain the identity of the possesion strengthens

the relation of ideas arising from blood and kindred, and conveys the

fancy with greater facility from one generation to another, from the

remote ancestors to their posterity, who are both their heirs and their

descendants. By this facility the impression is transmitted more entire,

and excites a greater degree of pride and vanity.

The case is the same with the transmission of the honours and fortune

through a succession of males without their passing through any female.

It is a quality of human nature, which we shall consider[4] afterwards,

that the imagination naturally turns to whatever is important and

considerable; and where two objects are presented to it, a small and a

great one, usually leaves the former, and dwells entirely upon the

latter. As in the society of marriage, the male sex has the advantage

above the female, the husband first engages our attention; and whether

we consider him directly, or reach him by passing through related

objects, the thought both rests upon him with greater satisfaction, and

arrives at him with greater facility than his consort. It is easy to

see, that this property must strengthen the child's relation to the

father, and weaken that to the mother. For as all relations are nothing

but a propensity to pass from one idea to another, whatever strengthens

the propensity strengthens the relation; and as we have a stronger

propensity to pass from the idea of the children to that of the father,

than from the same idea to that of the mother, we ought to regard the

former relation as the closer and more considerable. This is the reason

why children commonly bear their father's name, and are esteemed to be

of nobler or baser birth, according to his family. And though the

mother should be possest of a superior spirit and genius to the father,

as often happens, the general rule prevails, notwithstanding the

exception, according to the doctrine above-explained. Nay even when a

superiority of any kind is so great, or when any other reasons have

such an effect, as to make the children rather represent: the mother's

family than the father's, the general rule still retains such an

efficacy that it weakens the relation, and makes a kind of break in the

line of ancestors. The imagination runs not along them with facility,

nor is able to transfer the honour and credit of the ancestors to their

posterity of the same name and family so readily, as when the

transition is conformable to the general rules, and passes from father

to son, or from brother to brother.

[4] Part II. Sect, 2.

SECT. X OF PROPERTY AND RICHES

But the relation, which is esteemed the closest, and which of all others

produces most commonly the passion of pride, is that of property. This

relation it will be impossible for me fully to explain before I come

to treat of justice and the other moral virtues. It is sufficient to

observe on this occasion, that property may be defined, such a relation

betwixt a person and an object as permits him, but forbids any other,

the free use and possession of it, without violating the laws of justice

and moral equity. If justice, therefore, be a virtue, which has a

natural and original influence on the human mind, property may be looked

upon as a particular species of causation; whether we consider the

liberty it gives the proprietor to operate as he please upon the object

or the advantages, which he reaps from it. It is the same case, if

justice, according to the system of certain philosophers, should be

esteemed an artificial and not a natural virtue. For then honour, and

custom, and civil laws supply the place of natural conscience, and

produce, in some degree, the same effects. This in the mean time is

certain, that the mention of the property naturally carries our thought

to the proprietor, and of the proprietor to the property; which being

a proof of a perfect relation of ideas is all that is requisite to our

present purpose. A relation of ideas, joined to that of impressions,

always produces a transition of affections; and therefore, whenever any

pleasure or pain arises from an object, connected with us by property.

we may be certain, that either pride or humility must arise from

this conjunction of relations; if the foregoing system be solid and

satisfactory. And whether it be so or not, we may soon satisfy ourselves

by the most cursory view of human life.

Every thing belonging to a vain man is the best that is anywhere to be

found. His houses, equipage, furniture, doaths, horses, hounds, excel

all others in his conceit; and it is easy to observe, that from the

least advantage in any of these, he draws a new subject of pride and

vanity. His wine, if you'll believe him, has a finer flavour than

any other; his cookery is more exquisite; his table more orderly; his

servants more expert; the air, in which he lives, more healthful; the

soil he cultivates more fertile; his fruits ripen earlier and to greater

perfection: Such a thing is remarkable for its novelty; such another for

its antiquity: This is the workmanship of a famous artist; that belonged

once to such a prince or great man: All objects, in a word, that are

useful, beautiful or surprising, or are related to such, may, by means

of property, give rise to this passion. These agree in giving pleasure,

and agree in nothing else. This alone is common to them; and therefore

must be the quality that produces the passion, which is their common

effect. As every new instance is a new argument, and as the instances

are here without number, I may venture to affirm, that scarce any

system was ever so fully proved by experience, as that which I have here

advanced.

If the property of any thing, that gives pleasure either by its

utility, beauty or novelty, produces also pride by a double relation

of impressions and ideas; we need not be surprized, that the power of

acquiring this property, should have the same effect. Now riches are to

be considered as the power of acquiring the property of what pleases;

and it is only in this view they have any influence on the passions.

Paper will, on many occasions, be considered as riches, and that because

it may convey the power of acquiring money: And money is not riches,

as it is a metal endowed with certain qualities of solidity, weight

and fusibility; but only as it has a relation to the pleasures and

conveniences of life. Taking then this for granted, which is in itself

so evident, we may draw from it one of the strongest arguments I have

yet employed to prove the influence of the double relations on pride and

humility.

It has been observed in treating of the understanding, that the

distinction, which we sometimes make betwixt a power and the exercise

of it, is entirely frivolous, and that neither man nor any other being

ought ever to be thought possest of any ability, unless it be exerted

and put in action. But though this be strictly true in a just and

philosophical way of thinking, it is certain it is not the philosophy

of our passions; but that many things operate upon them by means of the

idea and supposition of power, independent of its actual exercise. We

are pleased when we acquire an ability of procuring pleasure, and are

displeased when another acquires a power of giving pain. This is evident

from experience; but in order to give a just explication of the matter,

and account for this satisfaction and uneasiness, we must weigh the

following reflections.

It is evident the error of distinguishing power from its exercise

proceeds not entirely from the scholastic doctrine of free-will, which,

indeed, enters very little into common life, and has but small influence

on our vulgar and popular ways of thinking. According to that doctrine,

motives deprive us not of free-will, nor take away our power of

performing or forbearing any action. But according to common notions a

man has no power, where very considerable motives lie betwixt him and

the satisfaction of his desires, and determine him to forbear what he

wishes to perform. I do not think I have fallen into my enemy's power,

when I see him pass me in the streets with a sword by his side, while

I am unprovided of any weapon. I know that the fear of the civil

magistrate is as strong a restraint as any of iron, and that I am in as

perfect safety as if he were chained or imprisoned. But when a person

acquires such an authority over me, that not only there is no external

obstacle to his actions; but also that he may punish or reward me as he

pleases, without any dread of punishment in his turn, I then attribute a

full power to him, and consider myself as his subject or vassal.

Now if we compare these two cases, that of a person, who has very

strong motives of interest or safety to forbear any action, and that of

another, who lies under no such obligation, we shall find, according

to the philosophy explained in the foregoing book, that the only

known difference betwixt them lies in this, that in the former case we

conclude from past experience, that the person never will perform that

action, and in the latter, that he possibly or probably will perform it.

Nothing is more fluctuating and inconstant on many occasions, than the

will of man; nor is there any thing but strong motives, which can give

us an absolute certainty in pronouncing concerning any of his future

actions. When we see a person free from these motives, we suppose a

possibility either of his acting or forbearing; and though in general

we may conclude him to be determined by motives and causes, yet this

removes not the uncertainty of our judgment concerning these causes, nor

the influence of that uncertainty on the passions. Since therefore we

ascribe a power of performing an action to every one, who has no very

powerful motive to forbear it, and refuse it to such as have; it may

justly be concluded, that power has always a reference to its exercise,

either actual or probable, and that we consider a person as endowed with

any ability when we find from past experience, that it is probable, or

at least possible he may exert it. And indeed, as our passions always

regard the real existence of objects, and we always judge of this

reality from past instances; nothing can be more likely of itself,

without any farther reasoning, than that power consists in the

possibility or probability of any action, as discovered by experience

and the practice of the world.

Now it is evident, that wherever a person is in such a situation with

regard to me, that there is no very powerful motive to deter him from

injuring me, and consequently it is uncertain whether he will injure me

or not, I must be uneasy in such a situation, and cannot consider the

possibility or probability of that injury without a sensible concern.

The passions are not only affected by such events as are certain and

infallible, but also in an inferior degree by such as are possible

and contingent. And though perhaps I never really feel any harm, and

discover by the event, that, philosophically speaking, the person never

had any power of harming me; since he did not exert any; this prevents

not my uneasiness from the preceding uncertainty. The agreeable passions

may here operate as well as the uneasy, and convey a pleasure when I

perceive a good to become either possible or probable by the possibility

or probability of another's bestowing it on me, upon the removal of any

strong motives, which might formerly have hindered him.

But we may farther observe, that this satisfaction encreases, when any

good approaches in such a manner that it is in one's own power to take

or leave it, and there neither is any physical impediment, nor any

very strong motive to hinder our enjoyment. As all men desire pleasure,

nothing can be more probable, than its existence when there is no

external obstacle to the producing it, and men perceive no danger in

following their inclinations. In that case their imagination easily

anticipates the satisfaction, and conveys the same joy, as if they were

persuaded of its real and actual existence.

But this accounts not sufficiently for the satisfaction, which attends

riches. A miser receives delight from his money; that is, from the

power it affords him of procuring all the pleasures and conveniences of

life, though he knows he has enjoyed his riches for forty years without

ever employing them; and consequently cannot conclude by any species of

reasoning, that the real existence of these pleasures is nearer, than

if he were entirely deprived of all his possessions. But though he

cannot form any such conclusion in a way of reasoning concerning the

nearer approach of the pleasure, it is certain he imagines it to

approach nearer, whenever all external obstacles are removed, along

with the more powerful motives of interest and danger, which oppose it.

For farther satisfaction on this head I must refer to my account of the

will, where I shall[5] explain that false sensation of liberty, which

makes us imagine we can perform any thing, that is not very dangerous

or destructive. Whenever any other person is under no strong

obligations of interest to forbear any pleasure, we judge from

experience, that the pleasure will exist, and that he will probably

obtain it. But when ourselves are in that situation, we judge from an

illusion of the fancy, that the pleasure is still closer and more

immediate. The will seems to move easily every way, and casts a shadow

or image of itself, even to that side, on which it did not settle. By

means of this image the enjoyment seems to approach nearer to us, and

gives us the same lively satisfaction, as if it were perfectly certain

and unavoidable.

[5] Part III. Sect. 2.

It will now be easy to draw this whole reasoning to a point, and to

prove, that when riches produce any pride or vanity in their possessors,

as they never fail to do, it is only by means of a double relation of

impressions and ideas. The very essence of riches consists in the power

of procuring the pleasures and conveniences of life. The very essence of

this consists in the probability of its exercise, and in its causing us

to anticipate, by a true or false reasoning, the real existence of

the pleasure. This anticipation of pleasure is, in itself, a very

considerable pleasure; and as its cause is some possession or property,

which we enjoy, and which is thereby related to us, we here dearly see

all the parts of the foregoing system most exactly and distinctly drawn

out before us. For the same reason, that riches cause pleasure and

pride, and poverty excites uneasiness and humility, power must produce

the former emotions, and slavery the latter. Power or an authority over

others makes us capable of satisfying all our desires; as slavery, by

subjecting us to the will of others, exposes us to a thousand wants, and

mortifications.

It is here worth observing, that the vanity of power, or shame of

slavery, are much augmented by the consideration of the persons,

over whom we exercise our authority, or who exercise it over us. For

supposing it possible to frame statues of such an admirable mechanism,

that they could move and act in obedience to the will; it is evident

the possession of them would give pleasure and pride, but not to such a

degree, as the same authority, when exerted over sensible and rational

creatures, whose condition, being compared to our own, makes it seem

more agreeable and honourable. Comparison is in every case a sure method

of augmenting our esteem of any thing. A rich man feels the felicity of

his condition better by opposing it to that of a beggar. But there is

a peculiar advantage in power, by the contrast, which is, in a manner,

presented to us, betwixt ourselves and the person we command. The

comparison is obvious and natural: The imagination finds it in the very

subject: The passage of the thought to its conception is smooth and

easy. And that this circumstance has a considerable effect in augmenting

its influence, will appear afterwards in examining the nature of malice

and envy.

SECT. XI OF THE LOVE OF FAME

But beside these original causes of pride and humility, there is a

secondary one in the opinions of others, which has an equal influence

on the affections. Our reputation, our character, our name are

considerations of vast weight and importance; and even the other causes

of pride; virtue, beauty and riches; have little influence, when not

seconded by the opinions and sentiments of others. In order to account

for this phænomenon it will be necessary to take some compass, and

first explain the nature of sympathy.

No quality of human nature is more remarkable, both in itself and in its

consequences, than that propensity we have to sympathize with others,

and to receive by communication their inclinations and sentiments,

however different from, or even contrary to our own. This is not only

conspicuous in children, who implicitly embrace every opinion proposed

to them; but also in men of the greatest judgment and understanding,

who find it very difficult to follow their own reason or inclination,

in opposition to that of their friends and daily companions. To this

principle we ought to ascribe the great uniformity we may observe in the

humours and turn of thinking of those of the same nation; and it is much

more probable, that this resemblance arises from sympathy, than from

any influence of the soil and climate, which, though they continue

invariably the same, are not able to preserve the character of a nation

the same for a century together. A good-natured man finds himself in an

instant of the same humour with his company; and even the proudest and

most surly take a tincture from their countrymen and acquaintance. A

chearful countenance infuses a sensible complacency and serenity into my

mind; as an angry or sorrowful one throws a sudden dump upon me. Hatred,

resentment, esteem, love, courage, mirth and melancholy; all these

passions I feel more from communication than from my own natural temper

and disposition. So remarkable a phænomenon merits our attention, and

must be traced up to its first principles.

When any affection is infused by sympathy, it is at first known only

by its effects, and by those external signs in the countenance and

conversation, which convey an idea of it. This idea is presently

converted into an impression, and acquires such a degree of force

and vivacity, as to become the very passion itself, and produce an

equal emotion, as any original affection. However instantaneous this

change of the idea into an impression may be, it proceeds from certain

views and reflections, which will not escape the strict scrutiny of a

philosopher, though they may the person himself, who makes them.

It is evident, that the idea, or rather impression of ourselves is

always intimately present with us, and that our consciousness gives us

so lively a conception of our own person, that it is not possible to

imagine, that any thing can in this particular go beyond it. Whatever

object, therefore, is related to ourselves must be conceived with a

little vivacity of conception, according to the foregoing principles;

and though this relation should not be so strong as that of causation,

it must still have a considerable influence. Resemblance and contiguity

are relations not to be neglected; especially when by an inference

from cause and effect, and by the observation of external signs, we are

informed of the real existence of the object, which is resembling or

contiguous.

Now it is obvious, that nature has preserved a great resemblance among

all human creatures, and that we never remark any passion or principle

in others, of which, in some degree or other, we may not find a parallel

in ourselves. The case is the same with the fabric of the mind, as with

that of the body. However the parts may differ in shape or size, their

structure and composition are in general the same. There is a very

remarkable resemblance, which preserves itself amidst all their variety;

and this resemblance must very much contribute to make us enter into

the sentiments of others; and embrace them with facility and pleasure.

Accordingly we find, that where, beside the general resemblance of our

natures, there is any peculiar similarity in our manners, or character,

or country, or language, it facilitates the sympathy. The stronger the

relation is betwixt ourselves and any object, the more easily does the

imagination make the transition, and convey to the related idea the

vivacity of conception, with which we always form the idea of our own

person.

Nor is resemblance the only relation, which has this effect, but

receives new force from other relations, that may accompany it. The

sentiments of others have little influence, when far removed from us,

and require the relation of contiguity, to make them communicate

themselves entirely. The relations of blood, being a species of

causation, may sometimes contribute to the same effect; as also

acquaintance, which operates in the same manner with education and

custom; as we shall see more fully[6] afterwards. All these relations,

when united together, convey the impression or consciousness of our own

person to the idea of the sentiments or passions of others, and makes

us conceive them in the strongest and most lively manner.

[6] Part II. Sect. 4.

It has been remarked in the beginning of this treatise, that all ideas

are borrowed from impressions, and that these two kinds of perceptions

differ only in the degrees of force and vivacity, with which they

strike upon the soul. The component part of ideas and impressions are

precisely alike. The manner and order of their appearance may be the

same. The different degrees of their force and vivacity are, therefore,

the only particulars, that distinguish them: And as this difference may

be removed, in some measure, by a relation betwixt the impressions and

ideas, it is no wonder an idea of a sentiment or passion, may by this

means be inlivened as to become the very sentiment or passion. The

lively idea of any object always approaches is impression; and it

is certain we may feel sickness and pain from the mere force of

imagination, and make a malady real by often thinking of it. But this

is most remarkable in the opinions and affections; and it is there

principally that a lively idea is converted into an impression. Our

affections depend more upon ourselves, and the internal operations of

the mind, than any other impressions; for which reason they arise more

naturally from the imagination, and from every lively idea we form of

them. This is the nature and cause of sympathy; and it is after this

manner we enter so deep into the opinions and affections of others,

whenever we discover them.

What is principally remarkable in this whole affair is the strong

confirmation these phaenomena give to the foregoing system concerning

the understanding, and consequently to the present one concerning the

passions; since these are analogous to each other. It is indeed evident,

that when we sympathize with the passions and sentiments of others,

these movements appear at first in our mind as mere ideas, and are

conceived to belong to another person, as we conceive any other matter

of fact. It is also evident, that the ideas of the affections of others

are converted into the very impressions they represent, and that the

passions arise in conformity to the images we form of them. All this is

an object of the plainest experience, and depends not on any hypothesis

of philosophy. That science can only be admitted to explain the

phaenomena; though at the same time it must be confest, they are so

clear of themselves, that there is but little occasion to employ it. For

besides the relation of cause and effect, by which we are convinced of

the reality of the passion, with which we sympathize; besides this, I

say, we must be assisted by the relations of resemblance and contiguity,

in order to feel the sympathy in its full perfection. And since these

relations can entirely convert an idea into an impression, and convey

the vivacity of the latter into the former, so perfectly as to lose

nothing of it in the transition, we may easily conceive how the relation

of cause and effect alone, may serve to strengthen and inliven an

idea. In sympathy there is an evident conversion of an idea into an

impression. This conversion arises from the relation of objects to

ourself. Ourself is always intimately present to us. Let us compare

all these circumstances, and we shall find, that sympathy is exactly

correspondent to the operations of our understanding; and even contains

something more surprizing and extraordinary.

It is now time to turn our view from the general consideration of

sympathy, to its influence on pride and humility, when these passions

arise from praise and blame, from reputation and infamy. We may

observe, that no person is ever praised by another for any quality,

which would not, if real, produce, of itself, a pride in the person

possest of it. The elogiums either turn upon his power, or riches, or

family, or virtue; all of which are subjects of vanity, that we have

already explained and accounted for. It is certain, then, that if a

person considered himself in the same light, in which he appears to his

admirer, he would first receive a separate pleasure, and afterwards a

pride or self-satisfaction, according to the hypothesis above

explained. Now nothing is more natural than for us to embrace the

opinions of others in this particular; both from sympathy, which

renders all their sentiments intimately present to us; and from

reasoning, which makes us regard their judgment, as a kind of argument

for what they affirm. These two principles of authority and sympathy

influence almost all our opinions; but must have a peculiar influence,

when we judge of our own worth and character. Such judgments are always

attended with passion;[7] and nothing tends more to disturb our

understanding, and precipitate us into any opinions, however

unreasonable, than their connexion with passion; which diffuses itself

over the imagination, and gives an additional force to every related

idea. To which we may add, that being conscious of great partiality in

our own favour, we are peculiarly pleased with any thing, that confirms

the good opinion we have of ourselves, and are easily shocked with

whatever opposes it.

[7] Book I, Part III. Sect. 10.

All this appears very probable in theory; but in order to bestow a

full certainty on this reasoning, we must examine the phaenonena of the

passions, and see if they agree with it.

Among these phaenomena we may esteem it a very favourable one to our

present purposes that though fame in general be agreeable, yet we

receive a much greater satisfaction from the approbation of those, whom

we ourselves esteem and approve of, than of those, whom we hate and

despise. In like measure we are principally mortifyed with the contempt

of persons, upon whose judgment we set some value, and are, in a peat

measure, indifferent about the opinions of the rest of mankind. But

if the mind received from any original instinct a desire of fame

and aversion to infamy, fame and infamy would influence us without

distinction; and every opinion, according as it were favourable or

unfavourable, would equally excite that desire or aversion. The judgment

of a fool is the judgment of another person, as well as that of a wise

man, and is only inferior in its influence on our own judgment.

We are not only better pleased with the approbation of a wise man than

with that of a fool, but receive an additional satisfaction from the

former, when it is obtained after a long and intimate acquaintance. This

is accounted for after the same manner.

The praises of others never give us much pleasure, unless they concur

with our own opinion, and extol us for those qualities, in which we

chiefly excel. A mere soldier little values the character of eloquence:

A gownman of courage: A bishop of humour: Or a merchant of learning.

Whatever esteem a man may have for any quality, abstractedly considered;

when he is conscious he is not possest of it; the opinions of the whole

world will give him little pleasure in that particular, and that because

they never will be able to draw his own opinion after them.

Nothing is more usual than for men of good families, but narrow

circumstances, to leave their friends and country, and rather seek their

livelihood by mean and mechanical employments among strangers, than

among those, who are acquainted with their birth and education. We shall

be unknown, say they, where we go. No body will suspect from what

family we are sprung. We shall be removed from all our friends and

acquaintance, and our poverty and meanness will by that means sit more

easy upon us. In examining these sentiments, I find they afford many

very convincing arguments for my present purpose.

First, We may infer from them, that the uneasiness of being contemned

depends on sympathy, and that sympathy depends on the relation of

objects to ourselves; since we are most uneasy under the contempt of

persons, who are both related to us by blood, and contiguous in place.

Hence we seek to diminish this sympathy and uneasiness by separating

these relations, and placing ourselves in a contiguity to strangers, and

at a distance from relations.

Secondly, We may conclude, that relations are requisite to sympathy, not

absolutely considered as relations, but by their influence in converting

our ideas of the sentiments of others into the very sentiments, by means

of the association betwixt the idea of their persons, and that of our

own. For here the relations of kindred and contiguity both subsist; but

not being united in the same persons, they contribute in a less degree

to the sympathy.

Thirdly, This very circumstance of the diminution of sympathy by the

separation of relations is worthy of our attention. Suppose I am placed

in a poor condition among strangers, and consequently am but lightly

treated; I yet find myself easier in that situation, than when I was

every day exposed to the contempt of my kindred and countrymen. Here

I feel a double contempt; from my relations, but they are absent; from

those about me, but they are strangers. This double contempt is likewise

strengthened by the two relations of kindred and contiguity. But as

the persons are not the same, who are connected with me by those two

relations, this difference of ideas separates the impressions arising

from the contempt, and keeps them from running into each other. The

contempt of my neighbours has a certain influence; as has also that of

my kindred: But these influences are distinct, and never unite; as when

the contempt proceeds from persons who are at once both my neighbours

and kindred. This phænomenon is analogous to the system of pride and

humility above-explained, which may seem so extraordinary to vulgar

apprehensions.

Fourthly, A person in these circumstances naturally conceals his birth

from those among whom he lives, and is very uneasy, if any one suspects

him to be of a family, much superior to his present fortune and way of

living. Every thing in this world is judged of by comparison. What is

an immense fortune for a private gentleman is beggary for a prince. A

peasant would think himself happy in what cannot afford necessaries for

a gentleman. When a man has either been accustomed to a more splendid

way of living, or thinks himself intitled to it by his birth and

quality, every thing below is disagreeable and even shameful; and it

is with the greatest industry he conceals his pretensions to a better

fortune. Here he himself knows his misfortunes; but as those, with whom

he lives. are ignorant of them, he has the disagreeable reflection and

comparison suggested only by his own thoughts, and never receives it by

a sympathy with others; which must contribute very much to his ease and

satisfaction.

If there be any objections to this hypothesis, THAT THE PLEASURE, WHICH

WE RECEIVE FROM PRAISE, ARISES FROM A COMMUNICATION OF SENTIMENTS, we

shall find, upon examination, that these objections, when taken in a

proper light, will serve to confirm it. Popular fame may be agreeable

even to a man, who despises the vulgar; but it is because their

multitude gives them additional weight and authority. Plagiaries are

delighted with praises, which they are conscious they do not deserve;

but this is a kind of castle-building, where the imagination amuses

itself with its own fictions, and strives to render them firm and

stable by a sympathy with the sentiments of others. Proud men are

most shocked with contempt, should they do not most readily assent to

it; but it is because of the opposition betwixt the passion, which is

natural to them, and that received by sympathy. A violent lover in like

manner is very much displeased when you blame and condemn his love;

though it is evident your opposition can have no influence, but by the

hold it takes of himself, and by his sympathy with you. If he despises

you, or perceives you are in jest, whatever you say has no effect upon

him.

SECT. XII OF THE PRIDE AND HUMILITY OF ANIMALS

Thus in whatever light we consider this subject, we may still observe,

that die causes of pride and humility correspond exactly to our

hypothesis, and that nothing can excite either of these passions,

unless it be both related to ourselves, and produces a pleasure or pain

independent of the passion. We have not only proved, that a tendency

to produce pleasure or pain is common to all the causes of pride or

humility, but also that it is the only thing, which is common; and

consequently is the quality, by which they operate. We have farther

proved, that the most considerable causes of these passions are

really nothing but the power of producing either agreeable or uneasy

sensations; and therefore that all their effects, and amongst the rest,

pride and humility, are derived solely from that origin. Such simple

and natural principles, founded on such solid proofs, cannot fail to be

received by philosophers, unless opposed by some objections, that have

escaped me.

It is usual with anatomists to join their observations and experiments

on human bodies to those on beasts, and from the agreement of these

experiments to derive an additional argument for any particular

hypothesis. It is indeed certain, that where the structure of parts in

brutes is the same as in men, and the operation of these parts also

the same, the causes of that operation cannot be different, and that

whatever we discover to be true of the one species, may be concluded

without hesitation to be certain of the other. Thus though the mixture

of humours and the composition of minute parts may justly be presumed

so be somewhat different in men from what it is in mere animals; and

therefore any experiment we make upon the one concerning the effects of

medicines will not always apply to the other; yet as the structure of

the veins and muscles, the fabric and situation of the heart, of the

lungs, the stomach, the liver and other parts, are the same or nearly

the same in all animals, the very same hypothesis, which in one species

explains muscular motion, the progress of the chyle, the circulation of

the blood, must be applicable to every one; and according as it

agrees or disagrees with the experiments we may make in any species of

creatures, we may draw a proof of its truth or falshood on the whole.

Let us, therefore, apply this method of enquiry, which is found so just

and useful in reasonings concerning the body, to our present anatomy of

the mind, and see what discoveries we can make by it.

In order to this we must first shew the correspondence of passions in

men and animals, and afterwards compare the causes, which produce these

passions.

It is plain, that almost in every species of creatures, but especially

of the nobler kind, there are many evident marks of pride and humility.

The very port and gait of a swan, or turkey, or peacock show the high

idea he has entertained of himself, and his contempt of all others. This

is the more remarkable, that in the two last species of animals, the

pride always attends the beauty, and is discovered in the male only.

The vanity and emulation of nightingales in singing have been commonly

remarked; as likewise that of horses in swiftness, of hounds in sagacity

and smell, of the bull and cock in strength, and of every other animal

in his particular excellency. Add to this, that every species of

creatures, which approach so often to man, as to familiarize themselves

with him, show an evident pride in his approbation, and are pleased with

his praises and caresses, independent of every other consideration. Nor

are they the caresses of every one without distinction, which give them

this vanity, but those principally of the persons they know and love;

in the same manner as that passion is excited in mankind. All these are

evident proofs, that pride and humility are not merely human passions,

but extend themselves over the whole animal creation.

The CAUSES of these passions are likewise much the same in beasts as

in us, making a just allowance for our superior knowledge and

understanding. Thus animals have little or no sense of virtue or vice;

they quickly lose sight of the relations of blood; and are incapable of

that of right and property: For which reason the causes of their pride

and humility must lie solely in the body, and can never be placed either

in the mind or external objects. But so far as regards the body, the

same qualities cause pride in the animal as in the human kind; and it is

on beauty, strength, swiftness or some other useful or agreeable quality

that this passion is always founded.

The next question is, whether, since those passions are the same, and

arise from the same causes through the whole creation, the manner, in

which the causes operate, be also the same. According to all rules of

analogy, this is justly to be expected; and if we find upon trial,

that the explication of these phaenomena, which we make use of in

one species, will not apply to the rest, we may presume that that

explication, however specious, is in reality without foundation.

In order to decide this question, let us consider, that there is

evidently the same relation of ideas, and derived from the same causes,

in the minds of animals as in those of men. A dog, that has hid a bone,

often forgets the place; but when brought to it, his thought passes

easily to what he formerly concealed, by means of the contiguity, which

produces a relation among his ideas. In like manner, when he has been

heartily beat in any place, he will tremble on his approach to it,

even though he discover no signs of any present danger. The effects

of resemblance are not so remarkable; but as that relation makes a

considerable ingredient in causation, of which all animals shew

so evident a judgment, we may conclude that the three relations of

resemblance, contiguity and causation operate in the same manner upon

beasts as upon human creatures.

There are also instances of the relation of impressions, sufficient

to convince us, that there is an union of certain affections with each

other in the inferior species of creatures as well as in the superior,

and that their minds are frequently conveyed through a series of

connected emotions. A dog, when elevated with joy, runs naturally into

love and kindness, whether of his master or of the sex. In like manner,

when full of pain and sorrow, he becomes quarrelsome and ill-natured;

and that passion; which at first was grief, is by the smallest occasion

converted into anger.

Thus all the internal principles, that are necessary in us to produce

either pride or humility, are common to all creatures; and since the

causes, which excite these passions, are likewise the same, we may

justly conclude, that these causes operate after the same manner through

the whole animal creation. My hypothesis Is so simple, and supposes so

little reflection and judgment, that it is applicable to every sensible

creature; which must not only be allowed to be a convincing proof of its

veracity, but, I am confident, will be found an objection to every other

system.

PART II OF LOVE AND HATRED

SECT. I OF THE OBJECT AND CAUSES OF LOVE AND HATRED

It is altogether impossible to give any definition of the passions

of love and hatred; and that because they produce merely a simple

impression, without any mixture or composition. Twould be as unnecessary

to attempt any description of them, drawn from their nature, origin,

causes and objects; and that both because these are the subjects of

our present enquiry, and because these passions of themselves are

sufficiently known from our common feeling and experience. This we

have already observed concerning pride and humility, and here repeat it

concerning love and hatred; and indeed there is so great a resemblance

betwixt these two sets of passions, that we shall be obliged to begin

with a kind of abridgment of our reasonings concerning the former, in

order to explain the latter.

As the immediate object of pride and humility is self or that identical

person, of whose thoughts, actions, and sensations we are intimately

conscious; so the object of love and hatred is some other person, of

whose thoughts, actions, and sensations we are not conscious. This is

sufficiently evident from experience. Our love and hatred are always

directed to some sensible being external to us; and when we talk

of self-love, it is not in a proper sense, nor has the sensation it

produces any thing in common with that tender emotion which is excited

by a friend or mistress. It is the same case with hatred. We may be

mortified by our own faults and follies; but never feel any anger or

hatred except from the injuries of others.

But though the object of love and hatred be always some other person, it

is plain that the object is not, properly speaking, the cause of these

passions, or alone sufficient to excite them. For since love and hatred

are directly contrary in their sensation, and have the same object in

common, if that object were also their cause, it would produce these

opposite passions in an equal degree; and as they must, from the very

first moment, destroy each other, none of them would ever be able to

make its appearance. There must, therefore, be some cause different from

the object.

If we consider the causes of love and hatred, we shall find they are

very much diversifyed, and have not many things in common. The virtue,

knowledge, wit, good sense, good humour of any person, produce love

and esteem; as the opposite qualities, hatred and contempt. The same

passions arise from bodily accomplishments, such as beauty, force,

swiftness, dexterity; and from their contraries; as likewise from the

external advantages and disadvantages of family, possession, cloaths,

nation and climate. There is not one of these objects, but what by its

different qualities may produce love and esteem, or hatred and contempt.

From the view of these causes we may derive a new distinction betwixt

the quality that operates, and the subject on which it is placed. A

prince, that is possessed of a stately palace, commands the esteem

of the people upon that account; and that first, by the beauty of the

palace, and secondly, by the relation of property, which connects it

with him. The removal of either of these destroys the passion; which

evidently proves that the cause Is a compounded one.

Twould be tedious to trace the passions of love and hatred, through all

the observations which we have formed concerning pride and humility,

and which are equally applicable to both sets of passions. Twill be

sufficient to remark in general, that the object of love and hatred is

evidently some thinking person; and that the sensation of the former

passion is always agreeable, and of the latter uneasy. We may also

suppose with some shew of probability, THAT THE CAUSE OF BOTH THESE

PASSIONS IS ALWAYS RELATED TO A THINKING BEING, AND THAT THE CAUSE OF

THE FORMER PRODUCE A SEPARATE PLEASURE, AND OF THE LATTER A SEPARATE

UNEASINESS.

One of these suppositions, viz, that the cause of love and hatred must

be related to a person or thinking being, in order to produce these

passions, is not only probable, but too evident to be contested. Virtue

and vice, when considered in the abstract; beauty and deformity, when

placed on inanimate objects; poverty and riches when belonging to a

third person, excite no degree of love or hatred, esteem or contempt

towards those, who have no relation to them. A person looking out at a

window, sees me in the street, and beyond me a beautiful palace, with

which I have no concern: I believe none will pretend, that this person

will pay me the same respect, as if I were owner of the palace.

It is not so evident at first sight, that a relation of impressions is

requisite to these passions, and that because in the transition the one

impression is so much confounded with the other, that they become in a

manner undistinguishable. But as in pride and humility, we have easily

been able to make the separation, and to prove, that every cause of

these passions, produces a separate pain or pleasure, I might here

observe the same method with the same success, in examining particularly

the several causes of love and hatred. But as I hasten a full and

decisive proof of these systems, I delay this examination for a moment:

And in the mean time shall endeavour to convert to my present purpose

all my reasonings concerning pride and humility, by an argument that

is founded on unquestionable examination.

There are few persons, that are satisfyed with their own character, or

genius, or fortune, who are nor desirous of shewing themselves to the

world, and of acquiring the love and approbation of mankind. Now it is

evident, that the very same qualities and circumstances, which are the

causes of pride or self-esteem, are also the causes of vanity or the

desire of reputation; and that we always put to view those particulars

with which in ourselves we are best satisfyed. But if love and esteem

were not produced by the same qualities as pride, according as these

qualities are related to ourselves or others, this method of proceeding

would be very absurd, nor could men expect a correspondence in

the sentiments of every other person, with those themselves have

entertained. It is true, few can form exact systems of the passions, or

make reflections on their general nature and resemblances. But without

such a progress in philosophy, we are not subject to many mistakes in

this particular, but are sufficiently guided by common experience, as

well as by a kind of presentation; which tells us what will operate on

others, by what we feel immediately in ourselves. Since then the same

qualities that produce pride or humility, cause love or hatred; all

the arguments that have been employed to prove, that the causes of the

former passions excite a pain or pleasure independent of the passion,

will be applicable with equal evidence to the causes of the latter.

SECT. II EXPERIMENTS TO CONFIRM THIS SYSTEM

Upon duly weighing these arguments, no one will make any scruple to

assent to that conclusion I draw from them, concerning the transition

along related impressions and ideas, especially as it is a principle,

in itself, so easy and natural. But that we may place this system beyond

doubt both with regard to love and hatred, pride and humility, it will

be proper to make some new experiments upon all these passions, as well

as to recall a few of these observations, which I have formerly touched

upon.

In order to make these experiments, let us suppose I am in company with

a person, whom I formerly regarded without any sentiments either of

friendship or enmity. Here I have the natural and ultimate object of all

these four passions placed before me. Myself am the proper object of

pride or humility; the other person of love or hatred.

Regard now with attention the nature of these passions, and their

situation with respect to each other. It is evident here are four

affections, placed, as it were, in a square or regular connexion with,

and distance from each other. The passions of pride and humility, as

well as those of love and hatred, are connected together by the identity

of their object, which to the first set of passions is self, to the

second some other person. These two lines of communication or connexion

form two opposite sides of the square. Again, pride and love are

agreeable passions; hatred and humility uneasy. This similitude of

sensation betwixt pride and love, and that betwixt humility and hatred

form a new connexion, and may be considered as the other two sides of

the square. Upon the whole, pride is connected with humility, love

with hatred, by their objects or ideas: Pride with love, humility with

hatred, by their sensations or impressions.

I say then, that nothing can produce any of these passions without

bearing it a double relation, viz, of ideas to the object of the

passion, and of sensation to the passion itself. This we must prove by

our experiments. First Experiment. To proceed with the greater order

in these experiments, let us first suppose, that being placed in the

situation above-mentioned, viz, in company with some other person, there

is an object presented, that has no relation either of impressions

or ideas to any of these passions. Thus suppose we regard together an

ordinary stone, or other common object, belonging to neither of us, and

causing of itself no emotion, or independent pain and pleasure: It is

evident such an object will produce none of these four passions. Let

us try it upon each of them successively. Let us apply it to love, to

hatred, to humility, to pride; none of them ever arises in the smallest

degree imaginable. Let us change the object, as oft as we please;

provided still we choose one, that has neither of these two relations.

Let us repeat the experiment in all the dispositions, of which the mind

is susceptible. No object, in the vast variety of nature, will, in any

disposition, produce any passion without these relations.

Second Experiment. Since an object, that wants both these relations

can never produce any passion, let us bestow on it only one of these

relations; and see what will follow. Thus suppose, I regard a stone or

any common object, that belongs either to me or my companion, and by

that means acquires a relation of ideas to the object of the passions:

It is plain, that to consider the matter a priori, no emotion of any

kind can reasonably be expected. For besides, that a relation of ideas

operates secretly and calmly on the mind, it bestows an equal impulse

towards the opposite passions of pride and humility, love and hatred,

according as the object belongs to ourselves or others; which opposition

of the passions must destroy both, and leave the mind perfectly free

from any affection or emotion. This reasoning a priori is confirmed

by experience. No trivial or vulgar object, that causes not a pain or

pleasure, independent of the passion, will ever, by its property or

other relations either to ourselves or others, be able to produce the

affections of pride or humility, love or hatred.

Third Experiment. It is evident, therefore, that a relation of ideas is

not able alone to give rise to these affections. Let us now remove

this relation, and in its stead place a relation of impressions, by

presenting an object, which is agreeable or disagreeable, but has

no relation either to ourself or companion; and let us observe the

consequences. To consider the matter first a priori, as in the preceding

experiment; we may conclude, that the object will have a small, but an

uncertain connexion with these passions. For besides, that this relation

is not a cold and imperceptible one, it has not the inconvenience of

the relation of ideas, nor directs us with equal force to two contrary

passions, which by their opposition destroy each other. But if we

consider, on the other hand, that this transition from the sensation

to the affection is not forwarded by any principle, that produces

a transition of ideas; but, on the contrary, that though the one

impression be easily transfused into the other, yet the change of

objects is supposed contrary to all the principles, that cause a

transition of that kind; we may from thence infer, that nothing will

ever be a steady or durable cause of any passion, that is connected with

the passion merely by a relation of impressions. What our reason would

conclude from analogy, after balancing these arguments, would be, that

an object, which produces pleasure or uneasiness, but has no manner of

connexion either with ourselves or others, may give such a turn to the

disposition, as that may naturally fall into pride or love, humility or

hatred, and search for other objects, upon which by a double relation,

it can found these affections; but that an object, which has only one of

these relations, though the most advantageous one, can never give rise

to any constant and established passion.

Most fortunately all this reasoning is found to be exactly conformable

to experience, and the phaenomena of the passions. Suppose I were

travelling with a companion through a country, to which we are both

utter strangers; it is evident, that if the prospects be beautiful,

the roads agreeable, and the inns commodious, this may put me into good

humour both with myself and fellow-traveller. But as we suppose, that

this country has no relation either to myself or friend it can never be

the immediate cause of pride or love; and therefore if I found not the

passion on some other object, that bears either of us a closer relation,

my emotions are rather to be considerd as the overflowings of an elevate

or humane disposition, than as an established passion. The case is the

same where the object produces uneasiness.

Fourth Experiment. Having found, that neither an object without any

relation of ideas or impressions, nor an object, that has only one

relation, can ever cause pride or humility, love or hatred; reason alone

may convince us, without any farther experiment, that whatever has a

double relation must necessarily excite these passions; since it is

evident they must have some cause. But to leave as little room for doubt

as possible, let us renew our experiments, and see whether the event in

this case answers our expectation. I choose an object, such as virtue,

that causes a separate satisfaction: On this object I bestow a relation

to self; and find, that from this disposition of affairs, there

immediately arises a passion. But what passion? That very one of pride,

to which this object bears a double relation. Its idea is related

to that of self, the object of the passion: The sensation it causes

resembles the sensation of the passion. That I may be sure I am not

mistaken in this experiment, I remove first one relation; then another;

and find, that each removal destroys the passion, and leaves the object

perfectly indifferent. But I am not content with this. I make a still

farther trial; and instead of removing the relation, I only change

it for one of a different kind. I suppose the virtue to belong to my

companion, not to myself; and observe what follows from this alteration.

I immediately perceive the affections wheel to about, and leaving pride,

where there is only one relation, viz, of impressions, fall to the side

of love, where they are attracted by a double relation of impressions

and ideas. By repeating the same experiment, in changing anew the

relation of ideas, I bring the affections back to pride; and by a new

repetition I again place them at love or kindness. Being fully convinced

of the influence of this relation, I try the effects of the other; and

by changing virtue for vice, convert the pleasant impression, which

arises from the former, into the disagreeable one, which proceeds from

the latter. The effect still answers expectation. Vice, when placed

on another, excites, by means of its double relations, the passion of

hatred, instead of love, which for the same reason arises from virtue.

To continue the experiment, I change anew the relation of ideas, and

suppose the vice to belong to myself. What follows? What is usual. A

subsequent change of the passion from hatred to humility. This humility

I convert into pride by a new change of the impression; and find after

all that I have compleated the round, and have by these changes brought

back the passion to that very situation, in which I first found it.

But to make the matter still more certain, I alter the object; and

instead of vice and virtue, make the trial upon beauty and deformity,

riches and poverty, power and servitude. Each of these objects runs

the circle of the passions in the same manner, by a change of their

relations: And in whatever order we proceed, whether through pride,

love, hatred, humility, or through humility, hatred, love, pride, the

experiment is not in the least diversifyed. Esteem and contempt, indeed,

arise on some occasions instead of love and hatred; but these are at

the bottom the same passions, only diversifyed by some causes, which we

shall explain afterwards.

Fifth Experiment. To give greater authority to these experiments, let

us change the situation of affairs as much as possible, and place the

passions and objects in all the different positions, of which they are

susceptible. Let us suppose, beside the relations above-mentioned, that

the person, along with whom I make all these experiments, is closely

connected with me either by blood or friendship. He is, we shall

suppose, my son or brother, or is united to me by a long and familiar

acquaintance. Let us next suppose, that the cause of the passion

acquires a double relation of impressions and ideas to this person; and

let us see what the effects are of all these complicated attractions and

relations.

Before we consider what they are in fact, let us determine what they

ought to be, conformable to my hypothesis. It is plain, that, according

as the impression is either pleasant or uneasy, the passion of love or

hatred must arise towards the person, who is thus connected to the cause

of the impression by these double relations, which I have all along

required. The virtue of a brother must make me love him; as his vice

or infamy must excite the contrary passion. But to judge only from the

situation of affairs, I should not expect, that the affections would

rest there, and never transfuse themselves into any other impression. As

there is here a person, who by means of a double relation is the object

of my passion, the very same reasoning leads me to think the passion

will be carryed farther. The person has a relation of ideas to myself,

according to the supposition; the passion, of which he is the object, by

being either agreeable or uneasy, has a relation of impressions to pride

or humility. It is evident, then, that one of these passions must arise

from the love or hatred.

This is the reasoning I form in conformity to my hypothesis; and am

pleased to find upon trial that every thing answers exactly to my

expectation. The virtue or vice of a son or brother not only excites

love or hatred, but by a new transition, from similar causes, gives rise

to pride or humility. Nothing causes greater vanity than any shining

quality in our relations; as nothing mortifies us more than their vice

or infamy. This exact conformity of experience to our reasoning is

a convincing proof of the solidity of that hypothesis, upon which we

reason.

Sixth Experiment. This evidence will be still augmented, if we reverse

the experiment, and preserving still the same relations, begin only with

a different passion. Suppose, that instead of the virtue or vice of a

son or brother, which causes first love or hatred, and afterwards pride

or humility, we place these good or bad qualities on ourselves,

without any immediate connexion with the person, who is related to us:

Experience shews us, that by this change of situation the whole chain is

broke, and that the mind is not conveyed from one passion to another,

as in the preceding instance. We never love or hate a son or brother

for the virtue or vice we discern in ourselves; though it is evident

the same qualities in him give us a very sensible pride or humility. The

transition from pride or humility to love or hatred is not so natural

as from love or hatred to pride or humility. This may at first sight be

esteemed contrary to my hypothesis; since the relations of impressions

and ideas are in both cases precisely the same. Pride and humility are

impressions related to love and hatred. Myself am related to the person.

It should, therefore, be expected, that like causes must produce like

effects, and a perfect transition arise from the double relation, as in

all other cases. This difficulty we may easily solve by the following

reflections.

It is evident, that as we are at all times intimately conscious of

ourselves, our sentiments and passions, their ideas must strike upon us

with greater vivacity than the ideas of the sentiments and passions of

any other person. But every thing, that strikes upon us with vivacity,

and appears in a full and strong light, forces itself, in a manner, into

our consideration, and becomes present to the mind on the smallest hint

and most trivial relation. For the same reason, when it is once present,

it engages the attention, and keeps it from wandering to other

objects, however strong may be their relation to our first object.

The imagination passes easily from obscure to lively ideas, but with

difficulty from lively to obscure. In the one case the relation is aided

by another principle: In the other case, it is opposed by it.

Now I have observed, that those two faculties of the mind, the

imagination and passions, assist each other in their operations when

their propensities are similar, and when they act upon the same object.

The mind has always a propensity to pass from a passion to any other

related to it; and this propensity is forwarded when the object of the

one passion is related to that of the other. The two impulses concur

with each other, and render the whole transition more smooth and easy.

But if it should happen, that while the relation of ideas, strictly

speaking, continues the same, its influence, in causing a transition

of the imagination, should no longer take place, it is evident its

influence on the passions must also cease, as being dependent entirely

on that transition. This is the reason why pride or humility is not

transfused into love or hatred with the same ease, that the latter

passions are changed into the former. If a person be my brother I am

his likewise: but though the relations be reciprocal they have very

different effects on the imagination. The passage is smooth and open

from the consideration of any person related to us to that of ourself,

of whom we are every moment conscious. But when the affections are once

directed to ourself, the fancy passes not with the same facility from

that object to any other person, how closely so ever connected with us.

This easy or difficult transition of the imagination operates upon the

passions, and facilitates or retards their transition, which is a clear

proof, that these two faculties of the passions and imagination are

connected together, and that the relations of ideas have an influence

upon the affections. Besides innumerable experiments that prove this,

we here find, that even when the relation remains; if by any particular

circumstance its usual effect upon the fancy in producing an association

or transition of ideas, is prevented; its usual effect upon the

passions, in conveying us from one to another, is in like manner

prevented.

Some may, perhaps, find a contradiction betwixt this phænomenon

and that of sympathy, where the mind passes easily from the idea of

ourselves to that of any other object related to us. But this difficulty

will vanish, if we consider that in sympathy our own person is not the

object of any passion, nor is there any thing, that fixes our attention

on ourselves; as in the present case, where we are supposed to be

actuated with pride or humility. Ourself, independent of the perception

of every other object, is in reality nothing: For which reason we must

turn our view to external objects; and it is natural for us to consider

with most attention such as lie contiguous to us, or resemble us. But

when self is the object of a passion, it is not natural to quit the

consideration of it, till the passion be exhausted: in which case the

double relations of impressions and ideas can no longer operate.

Seventh Experiment. To put this whole reasoning to a farther trial, let

us make a new experiment; and as we have already seen the effects of

related passions and ideas, let us here suppose an identity of passions

along with a relation of ideas; and let us consider the effects of this

new situation. It is evident a transition of the passions from the

one object to the other is here in all reason to be expected; since

the relation of ideas is supposed still to continue, and identity of

impressions must produce a stronger connexion, than the most perfect

resemblance, that can be imagined. If a double relation, therefore, of

impressions and ideas is able to produce a transition from one to the

other, much more an identity of impressions with a relation of ideas.

Accordingly we find, that when we either love or hate any person,

the passions seldom continue within their first bounds; but extend

themselves towards all the contiguous objects, and comprehend the

friends and relations of him we love or hate. Nothing is more natural

than to bear a kindness to one brother on account of our friendship for

another, without any farther examination of his character. A quarrel

with one person gives us a hatred for the whole family, though entirely

innocent of that, which displeases us. Instances of this kind are

everywhere to be met with.

There is only one difficulty in this experiment, which it will be

necessary to account for, before we proceed any farther. It is evident,

that though all passions pass easily from one object to another related

to it, yet this transition is made with greater facility, where the more

considerable object is first presented, and the lesser follows it, than

where this order is reversed, and the lesser takes the precedence. Thus

it is more natural for us to love the son upon account of the father,

than the father upon account of the son; the servant for the master,

than the master for the servant; the subject for the prince, than the

prince for the subject. In like manner we more readily contract a hatred

against a whole family, where our first quarrel is with the head of it,

than where we are displeased with a son, or servant, or some inferior

member. In short, our passions, like other objects, descend with greater

facility than they ascend.

That we may comprehend, wherein consists the difficulty of explaining

this phænomenon, we must consider, that the very same reason, which

determines the imagination to pass from remote to contiguous objects,

with more facility than from contiguous to remote, causes it likewise

to change with more ease, the less for the greater, than the greater for

the less. Whatever has the greatest influence is most taken notice of;

and whatever is most taken notice of, presents itself most readily to

the imagination. We are more apt to over-look in any subject, what is

trivial, than what appears of considerable moment; but especially if the

latter takes the precedence, and first engages our attention. Thus if

any accident makes us consider the Satellites of JUPITER, our fancy is

naturally determined to form the idea of that planet; but if we first

reflect on the principal planet, it is more natural for us to overlook

its attendants. The mention of the provinces of any empire conveys our

thought to the seat of the empire; but the fancy returns not with the

same facility to the consideration of the provinces. The idea of the

servant makes us think of the master; that of the subject carries our

view to the prince. But the same relation has not an equal influence

in conveying us back again. And on this is founded that reproach of

Cornelia to her sons, that they ought to be ashamed she should be more

known by the title of the daughter of Scipio than by that of the mother

of the Gracchi. This was, in other words, exhorting them to render

themselves as illustrious and famous as their grandfather, otherwise the

imagination of the people, passing from her who was intermediate,

and placed in an equal relation to both, would always leave them, and

denominate her by what was more considerable and of greater moment. On

the same principle is founded that common custom of making wives bear

the name of their husbands, rather than husbands that of their wives; as

also the ceremony of giving the precedency to those, whom we honour and

respect. We might find many other instances to confirm this principle,

were it not already sufficiently evident.

Now since the fancy finds the same facility in passing from the lesser

to the greater, as from remote to contiguous, why does not this easy

transition of ideas assist the transition of passions in the former

case, as well as in the latter? The virtues of a friend or brother

produce first love, and then pride; because in that case the imagination

passes from remote to contiguous, according to its propensity. Our own

virtues produce not first pride, and then love to a friend or brother;

because the passage in that case would be from contiguous to remote,

contrary to its propensity. But the love or hatred of an inferior causes

not readily any passion to the superior, though that be the natural

propensity of the imagination: While the love or hatred of a superior,

causes a passion to the inferior, contrary to its propensity. In short,

the same facility of transition operates not in the same manner

upon superior and inferior as upon contiguous and remote. These two

phaenomena appear contradictory, and require some attention to be

reconciled.

As the transition of ideas is here made contrary to the natural

propensity of the imagination, that faculty must be overpowered by some

stronger principle of another kind; and as there is nothing ever present

to the mind but impressions and ideas, this principle must necessarily

lie in the impressions. Now it has been observed, that impressions or

passions are connected only by their resemblance, and that where any two

passions place the mind in the same or in similar dispositions, it

very naturally passes from the one to the other: As on the contrary, a

repugnance in the dispositions produces a difficulty in the transition

of the passions. But it is observable, that this repugnance may arise

from a difference of degree as well as of kind; nor do we experience a

greater difficulty in passing suddenly from a small degree of love to a

small degree of hatred, than from a small to a great degree of either

of these affections. A man, when calm or only moderately agitated, is so

different, in every respect, from himself, when disturbed with a violent

passion, that no two persons can be more unlike; nor is it easy to

pass from the one extreme to the other, without a considerable interval

betwixt them.

The difficulty is not less, if it be not rather greater, in passing from

the strong passion to the weak, than in passing from the weak to the

strong, provided the one passion upon its appearance destroys the other,

and they do not both of them exist at once. But the case is entirely

altered, when the passions unite together, and actuate the mind at

the same time. A weak passion, when added to a strong, makes not so

considerable a change in the disposition, as a strong when added to a

weak; for which reason there is a closer connexion betwixt the great

degree and the small, than betwixt the small degree and the great.

The degree of any passion depends upon the nature of its object; and an

affection directed to a person, who is considerable in our eyes, fills

and possesses the mind much more than one, which has for its object

a person we esteem of less consequence. Here then the contradiction

betwixt the propensities of the imagination and passion displays itself.

When we turn our thought to a great and a small object, the imagination

finds more facility in passing from the small to the great, than from

the great to the small; but the affections find a greater difficulty:

And as the affections are a more powerful principle than the

imagination, no wonder they prevail over it, and draw the mind to their

side. In spite of the difficulty of passing from the idea of great to

that of little, a passion directed to the former, produces always

a similar passion towards the latter; when the great and little are

related together. The idea of the servant conveys our thought most

readily to the master; but the hatred or love of the master produces

with greater facility anger or good-will to the servant. The strongest

passion in this case takes the precedence; and the addition of the

weaker making no considerable change on the disposition, the passage is

by that means rendered more easy and natural betwixt them.

As in the foregoing experiment we found, that a relation of ideas,

which, by any particular circumstance, ceases to produce its usual

effect of facilitating the transition of ideas, ceases likewise to

operate on the passions; so in the present experiment we find the same

property of the impressions. Two different degrees of the same passion

are surely related together; but if the smaller be first present, it

has little or no tendency to introduce the greater; and that because the

addition of the great to the little, produces a more sensible alteration

on the temper, than the addition of the little to the great. These

phaenomena, when duly weighed, will be found convincing proofs of this

hypothesis.

And these proofs will be confirmed, if we consider the manner in which

the mind here reconciles the contradiction, I have observed betwixt the

passions and the imagination. The fancy passes with more facility from

the less to the greater, than from the greater to the less: But on the

contrary a violent passion produces more easily a feeble, than that does

a violent. In this opposition the passion in the end prevails over the

imagination; but it is commonly by complying with it, and by seeking

another quality, which may counter-ballance that principle, from whence

the opposition arises. When we love the father or master of a family,

we little think of his children or servants. But when these are present

with us, or when it lies any ways in our power to serve them, the

nearness and contiguity in this case encreases their magnitude, or at

least removes that opposition, which the fancy makes to the transition

of the affections. If the imagination finds a difficulty in passing from

greater to less, it finds an equal facility in passing from remote to

contiguous, which brings the matter to an equality, and leaves the way

open from the one passion to the other.

Eighth Experiment. I have observed that the transition from love or

hatred to pride or humility, is more easy than from pride or humility to

love or hatred; and that the difficulty, which the imagination finds in

passing from contiguous to remote, is the cause why we scarce have any

instance of the latter transition of the affections. I must, however,

make one exception, viz, when the very cause of the pride and humility

is placed in some other person. For in that case the imagination is

necessitated to consider the person, nor can it possibly confine its

view to ourselves. Thus nothing more readily produces kindness and

affection to any person, than his approbation of our conduct and

character: As on the other hand, nothing inspires us with a stronger

hatred, than his blame or contempt. Here it is evident, that the

original passion is pride or humility, whose object is self; and that

this passion is transfused into love or hatred, whose object is some

other person, notwithstanding the rule I have already established, THAT

THE IMAGINATION PASSES WITH DIFFICULTY FROM CONTIGUOUS TO REMOTE.

But the transition in this case is not made merely on account of the

relation betwixt ourselves and the person; but because that very person

is the real cause of our first passion, and of consequence is intimately

connected with it. It is his approbation that produces pride; and

disapprobation, humility. No wonder, then, the imagination returns back

again attended with the related passions of love and hatred. This is

not a contradiction, but an exception to the rule; and an exception that

arises from the same reason with the rule itself.

Such an exception as this is, therefore, rather a confirmation of the

rule. And indeed, if we consider all the eight experiments I have

explained, we shall find that the same principle appears in all of

them, and that it is by means of a transition arising from a double

relation of impressions and ideas, pride and humility, love and hatred

are produced. An object without[1] a relation, or[2] with but one,

never produces either of these passions; and it is[3] found that the

passion always varies in conformity to the relation. Nay we may

observe, that where the relation, by any particular circumstance, has

not its usual effect of producing a transition either of[4] ideas or of

impressions, it ceases to operate upon the passions, and gives rise

neither to pride nor love, humility nor hatred. This rule we find still

to hold good,[5] even under the appearance of its contrary; and as

relation is frequently experienced to have no effect; which upon

examination is found to proceed from some particular circumstance, that

prevents the transition; so even in instances, where that circumstance,

though present, prevents not the transition, it is found to arise from

some other circumstance, which counter-balances it. Thus not only the

variations resolve themselves into the general principle, but even the

variations of these variations.

[1] First Experiment.

[2] Second and Third Experiments.

[3] Fourth Experiment.

[4] Sixth Experiment.

[5] Seventh and Eighth Experiments.

SECT. III DIFFICULTIES SOLVED

After so many and such undeniable proofs drawn from daily experience

and observation, it may seem superfluous to enter into a particular

examination of all the causes of love and hatred. I shall, therefore,

employ the sequel of this part, First, In removing some difficulties,

concerning particular causes of these passions. Secondly, In examining

the compound affections, which arise from the mixture of love and hatred

with other emotions.

Nothing is more evident, than that any person acquires our kindness, or

is exposed to our ill-will, in proportion to the pleasure or uneasiness

we receive from him, and that the passions keep pace exactly with the

sensations in all their changes and variations. Whoever can find the

means either by his services, his beauty, or his flattery, to render

himself useful or agreeable to us, is sure of our affections: As on the

other hand, whoever harms or displeases us never fails to excite our

anger or hatred. When our own nation is at war with any other, we detest

them under the character of cruel, perfidious, unjust and violent: But

always esteem ourselves and allies equitable, moderate, and merciful. If

the general of our enemies be successful, it is with difficulty we

allow him the figure and character of a man. He is a sorcerer: He has a

communication with daemons; as is reported of OLIVER CROMWELL, and the

DUKE OF LUXEMBOURG: He is bloody-minded, and takes a pleasure in death

and destruction. But if the success be on our side, our commander has

all the opposite good qualities, and is a pattern of virtue, as well as

of courage and conduct. His treachery we call policy: His cruelty is an

evil inseparable from war. In short, every one of his faults we either

endeavour to extenuate, or dignify it with the name of that virtue,

which approaches it. It is evident the same method of thinking runs

through common life.

There are some, who add another condition, and require not only that

the pain and pleasure arise from the person, but likewise that it arise

knowingly, and with a particular design and intention. A man, who wounds

and harms us by accident, becomes not our enemy upon that account, nor

do we think ourselves bound by any ties of gratitude to one, who does

us any service after the same manner. By the intention we judge of the

actions, and according as that is good or bad, they become causes of

love or hatred.

But here we must make a distinction. If that quality in another, which

pleases or displeases, be constant and inherent in his person and

character, it will cause love or hatred independent of the intention:

But otherwise a knowledge and design is requisite, in order to give rise

to these passions. One that is disagreeable by his deformity or folly is

the object of our aversion, though nothing be more certain, than that he

has not the least intention of displeasing us by these qualities. But

if the uneasiness proceed not from a quality, but an action, which

is produced and annihilated in a moment, it is necessary, in order to

produce some relation, and connect this action sufficiently with the

person, that it be derived from a particular fore-thought and design. It

is not enough, that the action arise from the person, and have him for

its immediate cause and author. This relation alone is too feeble and

inconstant to be a foundation for these passions. It reaches not the

sensible and thinking part, and neither proceeds from any thing durable

in him, nor leaves any thing behind it; but passes in a moment, and is

as if it had never been. On the other hand, an intention shews certain

qualities, which remaining after the action is performed, connect it

with the person, and facilitate the transition of ideas from one to the

other. We can never think of him without reflecting on these qualities;

unless repentance and a change of life have produced an alteration

in that respect: In which case the passion is likewise altered. This

therefore is one reason, why an intention is requisite to excite either

love or hatred.

But we must farther consider, that an intention, besides its

strengthening the relation of ideas, is often necessary to produce a

relation of impressions, and give rise to pleasure and uneasiness. For

it is observable, that the principal part of an injury is the contempt

and hatred, which it shews in the person, that injures us; and without

that, the mere harm gives us a less sensible uneasiness. In like manner,

a good office is agreeable, chiefly because it flatters our vanity, and

is a proof of the kindness and esteem of the person, who performs it.

The removal of the intention, removes the mortification in the one

case, and vanity in the other, and must of course cause a remarkable

diminution in the passions of love and hatred.

I grant, that these effects of the removal of design, in diminishing the

relations of impressions and ideas, are not entire, nor able to remove

every degree of these relations. But then I ask, if the removal of

design be able entirely to remove the passion of love and hatred?

Experience, I am sure, informs us of the contrary, nor is there any

thing more certain, than that men often fall into a violent anger for

injuries, which they themselves must own to be entirely involuntary and

accidental. This emotion, indeed, cannot be of long continuance; but

still is sufficient to shew, that there is a natural connexion betwixt

uneasiness and anger, and that the relation of impressions will operate

upon a very small relation of ideas. But when the violence of the

impression is once a little abated, the defect of the relation begins to

be better felt; and as the character of a person is no wise interested

in such injuries as are casual and involuntary, it seldom happens that

on their account, we entertain a lasting enmity.

To illustrate this doctrine by a parallel instance, we may observe, that

not only the uneasiness, which proceeds from another by accident, has

but little force to excite our passion, but also that which arises

from an acknowledged necessity and duty. One that has a real design of

harming us, proceeding not from hatred and ill-will, but from justice

and equity, draws not upon him our anger, if we be in any degree

reasonable; notwithstanding he is both the cause, and the knowing cause

of our sufferings. Let us examine a little this phænomenon.

It is evident in the first place, that this circumstance is not

decisive; and though it may be able to diminish the passions, it is

seldom it can entirely remove them. How few criminals are there, who

have no ill-will to the person, that accuses them, or to the judge, that

condemns them, even though they be conscious of their own deserts? In

like manner our antagonist in a law-suit, and our competitor for

any office, are commonly regarded as our enemies; though we must

acknowledge, if we would but reflect a moment, that their motive is

entirely as justifiable as our own.

Besides we may consider, that when we receive harm from any person, we

are apt to imagine him criminal, and it is with extreme difficulty

we allow of his justice and innocence. This is a clear proof, that,

independent of the opinion of iniquity, any harm or uneasiness has a

natural tendency to excite our hatred, and that afterwards we seek for

reasons upon which we may justify and establish the passion. Here the

idea of injury produces not the passion, but arises from it.

Nor is it any wonder that passion should produce the opinion of injury;

since otherwise it must suffer a considerable diminution, which all the

passions avoid as much as possible. The removal of injury may remove the

anger, without proving that the anger arises only from the injury. The

harm and the justice are two contrary objects, of which the one has a

tendency to produce hatred, and the other love; and it is according

to their different degrees, and our particular turn of thinking, that

either of the objects prevails, and excites its proper passion.

SECT. IV OF THE LOVE OF RELATIONS