sorrowful, provided they are softened by some cir"cumstance. It is certain that, on the theatre, the representation has almost the effect of reality; but yet "it has not altogether that effect. However we may be "hurried away by the spectacle, whatever dominion "the senses and imagination may usurp over the reason, there still lurks at the bottom, a certain idea of "falsehood in the whole of what we see. This idea, "though weak and disguised, suffices to diminish the pain which we suffer from the misfortunes of those "whom we love, and to reduce that affliction to such a pitch as converts it into a pleasure. We weep for "the misfortunes of a hero to whom we are attached. "In the same instant we comfort ourselves by reflecting "that it is nothing but a fiction: and it is precisely "that mixture of sentiments, which composes an agree"able sorrow, and tears, that delight us. But as that "affliction which is caused by exterior and sensible objects is stronger than the consolation which arises from an internal reflection, they are the effects and symptoms "of sorrow, which ought to prevail in the composition."

I cannot affirm that this solution appears to me so just and convincing, as it seems it did to Mr Hume. If this English version, like a faithful mirror, reflect the true image of the French original, I think the author in some degree chargeable, with what in that language is emphatically enough styled verbiage, a manner of writing very common with those of his nation, and with their imitators in ours. The only truth that I can discover in his hypothesis, lies in one small circumstance, which is so far from being applicable to the whole case under consideration, that it can properly be applied but to a very few particular instances, and is therefore no solution at all. That there are at least many cases to which it cannot be applied, the author last mentioned declares himself to be perfectly sensible.

But let us examine the passage more narrowly. He begins with laying it down as a general principle, that however different the feelings of pleasure and of pain are in themselves, they differ not much in their cause;

that the movement of pleasure pushed a little too far becomes pain; and that the movement of pain a little moderated, becomes pleasure. For an illustration of this he gives an example in tickling. I will admit that there are several other similar instances, in which the observation to appearance holds. The warmth received from sitting near the fire by one who hath been almost chilled with cold, is very pleasing; yet you may increase this warmth, first to a disagreeable heat, and then to burning, which is one of the greatest torments. It is nevertheless extremely hazardous, on a few instances, and those not perfectly parallel to the case in hand, to found a general theory. Let us make the experiment, how the application of this doctrine to the passions of the mind will answer. And for our greater security against mistake, let us begin with the simplest cases in the direct, and not in the reflex or sympathetic passions, in which hardly any feeling or affection comes alone. A merchant loseth all his fortune by a shipwreck, and is reduced at one stroke from opulence to indigence. His grief, we may suppose, will be very violent. If he had lost half his stock only, it is natural to think he would have borne the loss more easily; though still he would have been affected: perhaps the loss of fifty pounds he would have scarcely felt: but I should be glad to know how much the movement or passion must be moderated; or, in other words, as the difference ariseth solely from the different degrees of the cause, how small the loss must be, when the sentiment or feeling of it begins to be converted into a real pleasure: for to me it doth not appear natural that any the most trifling loss, were it of a single shilling, should be the subject of positive delight.

But to try another instance, a gross and public insult commonly provokes a very high degree of resentment, and gives a most pungent vexation to a person of sensibility. I would gladly know, whether a small affront, or some slight instance of neglect or contempt, gives such a person any pleasure. Try the experiment also on friendship and hatred, and you will find the same

success. As the warmest friendship is highly agreeable to the mind, the slightest liking is also agreeable, though in a less degree. Perfect hatred is a kind of torture to the breast that harbours it, which will not be found capable of being mitigated into pleasure; for there is no degree of ill-will without pain. The gradation in the cause and in the effect, are entirely correspondent.

Nor can any just conclusion be drawn from the affections of the body, as in these the consequence is often solely imputable to a certain proportion of strength, in the cause that operates, to the present disposition of the organs. But though I cannot find that in any uncompounded passion the most remote degrees are productive of such contrary effects, I do not deny that when different passions are blended, some of them pleasing and some painful, the pleasure or the pain of those which predominate, may, through the wonderful mechanism + of our mental frame, be considerably augmented by the mixture.

The only truth which, as I hinted already, I can dis cover in the preceding hypothesis, is, that the mind in certain cases avails itself of the notion of falsehood, in order to prevent the representation or narrative from producing too strong an effect upon the imagination, and consequently to relieve itself from such an excess of passion, as could not otherwise fail to be painful. But let it be observed, that this notion is not a necessary concomitant of the pleasure that results from pity and other such affections, but is merely accidental. It was remarked above, that if the pathetic exceeds a certain measure, from being very pleasant it becomes very painful. Then the mind recurs to every expedient, and to disbelief amongst others, by which it may be enabled to disburden itself of what distresseth it. And indeed, whenever

+ The word mechanism applied to the mind, ought not reasonably to give of fence to any. I only use the term metaphorically for those effects in the operation of the mental faculties, produced in consequence of such fixed laws as are independent of the will. It hath here therefore no reference to the doctrine of the materialist, a system which, in my opinion, is not only untenable, but absurd.

this recourse is had by any, it is a sure indication, that with regard to such, the poet, orator, or historian, hath exceeded the proper measure.

But that this only holds when we are too deeply interested by the sympathetic sorrow, will appear from the following considerations: first, from the great pains often taken by writers (whose design is certainly not to shock, but to please their readers) to make the most moving stories they relate, be firmly believed: secondly, from the tendency, nay fondness of the generality of mankind, to believe what moves them, and their averseness, to be convinced that it is a fiction. This can result only from the consciousness that, in ordinary cases, disbelief, by weakening their pity, would diminish, instead of increasing, their pleasure. They must be very far then from entertaining Fontenelle's notion, that it is necessary to the producing of that pleasure; for we cannot well suspect them of a plot against their own enjoyment: thirdly, and lastly, from the delight which we take in reading or hearing the most tragical narrations of orators and historians, of the reality of which we entertain no doubt; I might add, in revolving in our own minds, and in relating to others, disastrous incidents, which have fallen within the compass of our own knowledge, and as to which, consequently, we have an absolute assurance of the fact.

PART III.-The third Hypothesis.

The third hypothesis which I shall produce on this subject, is Mr Hume's. Only it ought to be remarked previously, that he doth not propose it as a full solution of the question, but rather as a supplement to the former two, in the doctrine of both which, he, in a great measure, acquiesces. Take his theory in his own words. He begins with putting the question, " What is it then, "which, in this case," that is, when the sorrow is not softened by fiction, " raises a pleasure from the bosom “of uneasiness, so to speak; and a pleasure, which still

"retains all the features and outward symptoms of dis "tress and sorrow? I answer: This extraordinary ef"fect proceeds from that very eloquence, with which "the melancholy scene is represented. The genius required to paint objects in a lively manner, the art employed in collecting all the pathetic circumstances, the judgment displayed in disposing them; the exercise, "I say of these noble talents, together with the force of "expression, and beauty of oratorical numbers, diffuse "the highest satisfaction on the audience, and excite the "most delightful movements. By this means, the un"easiness of melancholy passions is not only overpower"ed and effaced by something stronger of an opposite "kind, but the whole movement of those passions is "converted into pleasure, and swells the delight which "the eloquence raises in us. The same force of oratory "employed on an uninteresting subject, would not please "half so much, or rather would appear altogether ridi"culous; and the mind being left in absolute calmness "and indifference, would relish none of those beauties of imagination or expression, which, if joined to passion, give it such exquisite entertainment. The impulse or "vehemence arising from sorrow, compassion, indigna"tion, receive a new direction from the sentiments of 66 beauty. The latter, being the predominant emotion, "seize the whole mind, and convert the former into themselves, or at least tincture them so strongly, as totally to alter their nature: and the soul being, at the same time, roused by passion, and charmed by eloquence, feels on the whole a strong movement, which "is altogether delightful."

66

66

66

I am sorry to say, but truth compels me to acknowledge, that I have reaped no more satisfaction from this account of the matter, than from those which preceded it. I could have wished indeed, that the author had been a little more explicit in his manner of expressing himself; for I am not certain that I perfectly comprehend his meaning. At one time he seems only to intend to say, that it is the purpose of eloquence, to the promoting of which, its tropes and figures are wonderfully