Have slept with soft content about my head,
And never wak'd but to a joyful morning.
Yet now must fall like a full ear of corn,
Whose blossom 'scap'd yet's wither'd in the ripening.

Venice Preserved, Act I. Sc. 1.

It hath always been reckoned difficult to account for the extreme pleasure that follows a cessation of bodily pain; as when one is relieved from the rack, or from a violent fit of the 'stone. What is said ex

. plains this difficulty, in the easiest and simplest manner: cessation of bodily pain is not of itself a pleasure, for a non-ens or a negative can neither give pleasure nor pain ; but man is so framed by nature as to rejoice when he is eased of pain, as well as to be sorrowful when deprived of any enjoyment. This branch of our constitution is chiefly the cause of the pleasure. The gratification of de. sire comes in as an accessory cause: and contrast joins its force, by increasing the sense of our present happiness. In the case of an acute pain, a peculiar circumstance contributes its part: the brisk circulation of the animal spirits occasioned by acute pain, continues after the pain is gone, and produceth a very pleasant emotion. Sickness hath not that effect, because it is always attended with a depression of spirits.

Hence it is, that the gradual diminution of acute pain, occasions a mixt emotion, partly pleasant, partly painful : the partial diminution produceth joy in proportion; but the remaining pain balanceth the joy. “This mixt emotion, however, hath no long endurance; for the joy that ariseth upon the diminution of pain, soon vanisheth, and leaveth in the undisturbed possession that degree of pain which remains.

What is above observed about bodily pain, is equally applicable to the distresses of the mind;

and accordingly it is a common artifice, to prepare us for the reception of good news by alarming our fears.

SECTION IV.

Sympathetic Emotion of Virtue, and its cause.

One feeling there is that merits a deliberate view, for its singularity as well as utility. Whèther to call it an emotion or a passion, seems uncertain: the former it can scarce be, because it involves desire; the latter it can scarce be, because it has no object. But this feeling, and its nature, will be best understood from examples. A signal act of gratitude produceth in the spectator or reader, not only love or esteem for the author, but also a separate feeling, being a vague feeling of gratitude without an object; a feeling, however, that disposes the spectator or reader to acts of gratitude, more than upon an ordinary occasion. This feeling is overlooked by writers upon ethics; but a man may be convinced of its reality, by attentively

, watching his own heart when he thinks warmly of any signal act of gratitude: he will be conscious of the feeling, as distinct from the esteem or admiration he has for the grateful person. The feeling is singular in the following respect, that it is accompanied with a desire to perform acts of gratitude, without having any object; though in that state the mind, wonderfully bent on an object, neg; lects no opportunity to vent itself: any act of kindness or good-will

, that would pass unregarded upon another occasion, is greedily seized; and the vague feeling is converted into a real passion of gratitude : in such a state, favours are returned double.

In like manner, a courageous action produceth in a spectator the passion of admiration directed to the author: and beside his well-known passion, a separate feeling is raised in the spectator ; which may be called an emotion of courage ; because, while under its influence, he is conscious of a boldness and intrepidity beyond what is usual, and longs for proper objects upon which to exert this emotion:

Spumantemque dari, pecora inter inertia, votis
Opat aprum, azt fulvum descendere monte leonem.

Ænied, iv. 158.

Non altramente il tauro, oue l'irriti
Geloso amor con stimoli pungenti,
Horribilmente mugge, e co’muggiti
Gli spirti in se risueglia, e l'ire ardenti:
E'l corno aguzza a i tronchi, a par ch' inuiti
Con vani colpi a'la battaglia i venti.

Tasso, Canto vii. st. 55,

So full of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces.

Tempest, Act IV. Se. 4.

The emotions raised by music, independent of words, must be all of this nature: courage roused by martial music performed upon instruments without a voice, cannot be directed to any object; nor can grief or pity raised by melancholy music of the same kind have an object.

For another example, let us figure some grand and heroic action, highly agreeable to the spectator: beside veneration for the author, the specta

of character, which disposeth him to great and noble actions : and herein chiefly consists the extreme delight every one hath in the histories of conquerors and heroes.

tor feels in himself an unusual dignit

This singular feeling, which may be termed the sympathetic emotion of virtue, resembles, in one re→ spect, the well-known appetites that lead to the propagation and preservation of the species. The appetites of hunger, thirst, and animal love, arise in the mind before they are directed to any object; and in no case whatever is the mind more solicitous for a proper object, than when under the influence of any of these appetites.

The feeling I have endeavoured to unfold, may well be termed the sympathetic emotion of virtue; for it is raised in the spectator, or in a reader, by virtuous actions of every kind, and by no other sort. When we contemplate a virtuous action, which fails not to prompt our love for the author, our propensity at the same time to such actions is so much enlivened, as to become for a time an actual emotion. But no man hath a propensity to vice as such: on the contrary, a wicked deed disgusts him, and makes him abhor the author; and this abhorrence is a strong antidote against vice, as long as any impression remains of the wicked action.

In a rough road, a halt to view a fine country is refreshing; and here a delightful prospect opens upon us. It is indeed wonderful to observe what incitements there are to virtue in the human frame: justice is perceived to be our duty; and it is guarded by natural punishments, from which the guilty never escape; to perform noble and generous actions, a warm sense of their dignity and superior excellence is a most efficacious incitement,* And to leave virtue in no quarter unsupported, here is unfolded an admirable contrivance, by which good example commands the heart, and adds to virtue

* See Essays on Morality and Natural Religion, part I. ess. ii. ch. 4.

the force of habit. We approve every

virtuous ac tion, and bestow our affection on the author ; but if virtuous actions produced no other effect upon us, good example would not have great influence: the sympathetic emotion under consideration bestows upon good example the utmost influence, by prompting us to imitate what we admire. This singular emotion will readily find an object to exert itself upon: and at any rate, it never exists without

producing some effect : because virtuous emotions of that sort, are in some degree an exercise of virtue; they are a mental exercise at least, if they appear not externally. And every exercise of virtue, internal and external, leads to habit; for a disposition or propensity of the mind, like a limb of the body, becomes stronger by exercise. Proper means, at the same time, being ever at hand to raise this sympathetic emotion, its frequent reiteration may, in a good measure, supply the want of a more complete exercise. Thus, by proper discipline, every person may acquire a settled habit of virtue : intercourse with men of worth, histories of generous and disinterested actions, and frequent meditation upon them, keep the sympathetic emotion in constant exercise, which by degrees introduceth a habit, and confirms the authority of virtue: with respect to education in particular, what a spacious and commodious avenue to the heart of a youn

is here opened!

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