it makes its way, it continues rising, till it emerges into light; and then suddenly expiring, leaves behind it the fairest issue,"-benevolent affection.

Passion. former along with them, even though the child might have been no longer under apprehension of a plunging itself. This association, too, would soon be transferred to every boy in the same circumstances, and to similar sounds and struggles, from whatever cause they might proceed.

+ Observations on

Thus, as Dr Hartley observes t," when several 'children are educated together, the pains, the denials of pleasure, and the sorrows which affect one generally extend to all in some degree, often in an equal one. When their parents, companions, or attendants are sick, or afflicted, it is usual to raise in their minds the nascent ideas of pains and miseries by such words and signs as are suited to their capacities. They also find themselves laid under many restraints, on account of the sickness or affliction of others; and when these and such like circumstances have raised in their minds desires to remove the causes of their own internal feelings, i. e. to cause the miseries of others, a variety of internal feelings and desires become so blended and associated together, as that no part can be distinguished separately from the rest, and the child may properly be said to have compassion. The same sources of compassion remain, though with some alteration, during our whole progress through life. This is so evident, that a reflecting person may plainly discern the constituent parts of his compassion while they are yet the mere internal, and, as one may say, selfish feelings above mentioned; and before they have put on the nature of compassion by a coalescence with the rest. Agreeably to this method of reasoning, it may be observed, that persons whose nerves are easily irritable, and those who have experienced great trials and afflictions, are in general more disposed to compassion than others; and that we are most apt to pity others in those diseases and calamities which we either have felt or of which we apprehend ourselves to be in danger."

The origin of patriotism and public spirit is thus traced by Dr Savers: "The pleasures which our country affords are numerous and great. The wish to 'perpetuate the enjoyment of these pleasures, includes the wish to promote the safety and welfare of our country, without which many of them would be lost. All this is evidently selfish; but, as in the progress of gratitude, it finally becomes disinterested. Pleasant ideas are thus strongly connected with the welfare of our country, after the tie which first bound them together has escaped our notice. The prosperity which was at first desirable as the means of future enjoyment, becomes itself an end: we feel delight in such prosperity, however produced; and we look not beyond this immediate delight. It is thus not difficult to observe in what manner a general and disinterested benevolence takes place in a mind which has already received pleasure from the happiness of a few; the transition is easy towards associating it with happiness in general, with the happiness of any being, whether produced by ourselves or by any other cause whatever."

From this reasoning, our author concludes, that all our passions may be traced up to original feelings of regard for ourselves. "Thus (in the forcible language of a learned writer of the same school) does self-love, under the varying appearance of natural affection, domestic relation, and the connexions of social habitude, at first work blindly on, obscure and deep in dirt: But as 3

Self-love partook the path it first pursu'd, And found the private in the public good.

Pa

&c.

Thus have we stated the two opposite theories respecting the origin of passions in the mind, and given our readers a short specimen of the reasonings by which they are supported by their respective patrons. Were we called upon to decide between them, we should be tempted to say, that they have both been carried to extremes by some of their advocates, and that the truth lies in the middle between them. "It is impossible but that | Dr creatures capable of pleasant and painful sensations, Revie should love and choose the one, and dislike and avoid the other. No being who knows what happiness and misery are, can be supposed indifferent to them, without a plain contradiction. Pain is not a possible object of desire, nor happiness of aversion."-To prefer a greater good though distant, to a less good that is present; or to choose a present evil, in order to avoid a greater future evil-is indeed wise and rational conduct; but to choose evil ultimately, is absolutely impossible. Thus far then must be admitted, that every being possessed of sense and intellect, necessarily desires his own good as soon as he knows what it is; but if this knowledge be not innate, neither can the desire. Every human being comes into the world with a capability of knowledge, and of course with a capability of affections, desires, and passions; but it seems not to be conceivable how he can actually love, or hate, or dread any thing, till he know whether it be good, or ill, or dangerous. If, therefore, we have no innate ideas, we cannot possibly have innate desires or aversions. Those who contend that we have, seem to think, that without them reason would be insufficient, either for the preservation of the individual or the continuation of the species; and some writers have alleged, that if our affections and passions were the mere result of early associations, they would necessarily be more capricious than we ever find them. But this objection seems to arise from their not rightly understanding the theory of their antagonists. The disciples of Locke and Hartley do not suppose it possible for any man in society to prevent such associations from being formed in his mind as shall necessarily produce desires and aversions; far less do they think it possible to form associations of ideas utterly repugnant, so as to desire that as good which his senses and intellect have experienced to be evil. Associations are formed by the very same means, and at the very same time, that ideas and notions are impressed upon the mind; but as pain is never mistaken for pleasure by the senses, so an object which has given us only pain, is never associated with any thing that makes it desireable. We say an object that has given us only pain, because it is possible to form such an association between life and the loss of a limb, as to make us grateful to the surgeon by whom it was amputated. Associations being formed according to the same laws by which knowledge is acquired, it by no means follows that passions resulting from them should be more capricious than they are found to be; and they certainly are sufficiently capricious to make us suspect that the greater part of them has this origin, rather than that they are all infused in the mind by the immediate agency of the

Creator.

Passion, a foundation so uncertain and precarious, would prove a great obstacle to the formation of societies. Wisely therefore is it ordered, and agreeably to the system of Providence, that we should have nature for our instructor. Such is the philosophy of Lord Kames, to which objections unanswerable may be made. It is part of the instinctive system of metaphysics, which his lordship has carried farther than all who wrote before him, and perhaps farther than all who have succeeded him in this department of science. That a child intuitively reads anger in its nurse's face, is so far from being true, that for some short time after birth it is not terrified by the most menacing gestures. It is indeed absolutely incapable of fear till it has suffered pain, (see INSTINCT); and could we constantly caress it with what is called an angry look, it would be cheered by that look, and frightened at a smile. It feels, however, the effects of anger, and is soon capable of observing the peculiarity of feature with which that passion is usually accompanied; and these two become in a short time so linked together in its tender mind, that the appearance of the one naturally suggests to it the reality of the other.

Should it be said that a loud and sudden noise startles a child immediately after birth, and that, therefore, the infant must be instinctively afraid, the fact may be admitted, without any necessity of admitting the inference. The nerves of an infant are commonly very irritable, and the strong impulse on the auditory nerves may agitate its whole frame, without inspiring it with the passion of fear. The loud noise is in all probability not the sign of approaching danger, but the immediate cause of real pain, from which the infant shrinks as it would from the prick of a pin or the scorching of a candle. But we have said enough in the article immediately preceding, and in others which are there quoted, to show how the passions may be formed by associations even in early infancy, and yet operate as if they were instinctive. This being the case, we shall through the remainder of this article suffer his lordship to speak his own language, without making any further remarks upon it. We are induced to do this for two reasons; of which the first is, that many of our readers will probably prefer his theory to ours; and the second is, that his conclusions respecting the signs and language of passion hold equally good from either theory.

We perfectly agree with him, that manifold and admirable are the purposes to which the external signs of passion are made subservient by the Author of our

nature.

1. The signs of internal agitation displayed externally to every spectator, tend to fix the signification of many words. The only effectual means to ascertain the meaning of any doubtful word, is an appeal to the thing it represents: and hence the ambiguity of words expressive of things that are not objects of external sense; for in that case an appeal is denied. Passion, strictly speaking, is not an object of external sense: but its external signs are: and by means of these signs, passions may be appealed to with tolerable accuracy; thus the words that denote our passions, next to those that denote external objects, have the most distinct meaning. Words signifying internal action and the more delicate feelings, are less distinct. This defect, with regard to internal action, is what chiefly occasions the intricacy of logic: the terms of that science are far from being sufficiently ascertained, 5

even after much care and labour bestowed by an emi- Pa nent writer t; to whom, however, the world is greatly indebted, for removing a mountain of rubbish, and † Lo moulding the subject into a rational and correct form. The same defect is remarkable in criticism, which has for its object the more delicate feelings; the terms that denote these feelings being not more distinct than those of logic.

2. Society among individuals is greatly promoted by that universal language. Looks and gestures give direct access to the heart; and leads us to select, with tolerable accuracy, the persons who are worthy of our confidence. It is surprising how quickly, and for the most part how correctly, we judge of character from external appearance.

3. After social intercourse is commenced, these external signs, which diffuse through a whole assembly the feelings of each individual, contribute above all other means to improve the social affections. Language, no doubt, is the most comprehensive vehicle for communicating emotions: but in expedition, as well as in power of conviction, it falls short of the signs under consideration; the involuntary signs especially, which are incapable of deceit. Where the countenance, the tones, the gestures, the actions, join with the words in communicating emotions, these united have a force irresist ible. Thus all the pleasant emotions of the human heart, with all the social and virtuous affections, are, by means of these external signs, not only perceived, but felt. By this admirable contrivance, conversation becomes that lively and animating amusement, without which life would at best be insipid: one joyful countenance spreads cheerfulness instantaneously through multitude of spectators.

4. Dissocial passions, being hurtful by prompting violence and mischief, are noted by the most conspicuous external signs, in order to put us upon our guard: thus anger and revenge, especially when sudden, display themselves on the countenance in legible characters. The external signs, again, of every passion that threatens danger, raise in us the passion of fear: which frequently operating without reason or reflection, moves us by a sudden impulse to avoid the impending danger.

5. These external signs are remarkably subservient to morality. A painful passion, being accompanied with disagreeable external signs, must produce in every spectator a painful emotion: but then, if the passion be social, the emotion it produces is attractive, and connects the spectator with the person who suffers. Dissocial passions only are productive of repulsive emotions, involving the spectator's aversion, and frequently his indignation. This artful contrivance makes us cling to the virtuous, and abhor the wicked.

6. Of all the external signs of passion, those of afflic tion or distress are the most illustrious with respect to a final cause, and deservedly merit a place of distinction. They are illustrious by the singularity of their contrivance; and also by inspiring sympathy, a passion to which human society is indebted for its greatest blessing, that of providing relief for the distressed. A subject so interesting deserves a leisurely and attentive examination. The conformity of the nature of man to his external cir cumstance is in every particular wonderful: his nature makes him prone to society; and society is necessary to his wellbeing, because in a solitary state he is a helpless

being,

absolute hypocrisy, by which the character is concealed Passion. and a fictitious one assumed, is made impracticable; and nature has thereby prevented much harm to society. We may pronounce, therefore that Nature, herself sincere and candid, intends that mankind should preserve the same character, by cultivating simplicity and truth, and banishing every sort of dissimulation that tends to mischief.

Passion being destitute of support, and in his distresses destitute of relief: but mental support, the shining attribute of society, is of too great moment to be left dependent upon cool reason; it is ordered more wisely, and with greater conformity to the analogy of nature, that it should be enforced even instinctively by the passion of sympathy. Here sympathy makes a capital figure; and contributes, more than any other means, to make life easy and comfortable. But however essential the sympathy of others may be to our well-being, one beforehand would not readily conceive how it could be raised by external signs of distress; for considering the analogy of nature, if these signs be agreeable, they must give birth to a pleasant emotion, leading every beholder to be pleased with human woes: if disagreeable, as they undoubt edly are, ought they not naturally to repel the spectator from them, in order to be relieved from pain? Such would be the reasoning beforehand; and such would be the effect were man purely a selfish being. But the benevolence of our nature gives a very different direction to the painful passion of sympathy, and to the desire involved in it: instead of avoiding distress, we fly to it in order to afford relief; and our sympathy cannot be otherwise gratified but by giving all the succour in our power. Thus external signs of distress, though disagreeable, are attractive; and the sympathy they inspire is a powerful cause, impelling us to afford relief even to a stranger, as if he were our friend or relation.

It is a noted observation, that the deepest tragedies are the most crowded; which in an overly view will be thought an unaccountable bias in human nature. Love of novelty, desire of occupation, beauty of action, make us fond of theatrical representations; and when once engaged, we must follow the story to the conclusion, whatever distress it may create. But we generally become wise by experience, and when we foresee what pain we shall suffer during the course of the representation, is it not surprising that persons of reflection do not avoid such spectacles altogether? And yet one who has scarce recovered from the distress of a deep tragedy, resolves coolly and deliberately to go to the very next, without the slightest obstruction from self-love. The whole mystery is explained by a single observation: That sympathy, though painful, is attractive; and attaches us to an object in distress, instead of prompting us to fly from it. And by this curious mechanism it is, that persons of any degree of sensibility are attracted by affliction still more than by joy.

To conclude: the external signs of passion are a strong indication, that man, by his very constitution, is framed to be open and sincere. A child, in all things obedient to the impulses of nature, hides none of its emotions; the savage and clown, who have no guide but pure nature, expose their hearts to view, by giving way to all the natural signs. And even when men learn to dissemble their sentiments, and when behaviour degenerates into art, there still remain checks, that keep dissimulation within bounds, and prevent a great part of its mischievous effects: the total suppression of the voluntary signs during any vivid passion, begets the utmost uneasiness, which cannot be endured for any considerable time this operation becomes indeed less painful by habit; but luckily the involuntary signs cannot, by any effort, be suppressed or even dissembled. An VOL. XVI. Part I.

Influence of PASSION with respect to our Perceptions, Opinions, and Belief. So intimately are our perceptions, passions, and actions, connected, it would be wonderful if they should have no mutual influence. That our actions are too much influenced by passion, is a known truth; but it is not less certain, though not so well known, that passion hath also an influence upon our perceptions, opinions, and belief. For example, the opinions we form of men and things are generally directed by affection: An advice given by a man of figure has great weight; the same advice from one in a low condition is despised or neglected: a man of courage underrates danger; and to the indolent the slightest obstacle appears unsurmountable. All this may be accounted for by the simple principle of association.

There is no truth more universally known, than that tranquillity and sedateness are the proper state of mind for accurate perception and cool deliberation; and for that reason, we never regard the opinion even of the wisest man, when we discover prejudice or passion behind the curtain. Passion hath such influence over us, as to give a false light to all its objects. Agreeable passions prepossess the mind in favour of their objects ; and disagreeable passions, not less againt their objects: A woman is all perfection in her lover's opinion, while in the eye of a rival beauty she is awkward and disagreeable: when the passion of love is gone, beauty vanishes with it;-nothing is left of that genteel motion, that sprightly conversation, those numberless graces, which formerly, in the lover's opinion, charmed all hearts. To a zealot every one of his own sect is a saint, while the most upright of a different sect are to him children of perdition: the talent of speaking in a friend, is more regarded than prudent conduct in any other. Nor will this surprise any one acquainted with the world; our opinions, the result frequently of various and complicated views, are commonly so slight and wavering, as readily to be susceptible of a bias from passion.

With that natural bias another circumstance concurs, to give passion an undue influence on our opinions and belief; and that is a strong tendency in our nature to justify our passions as well as our actions, not to others only, but even to ourselves. That tendency is peculiarly remarkable with respect to disagreeable passions; by its influence, objects are magnified or lessened, circumstances supplied or suppressed, every thing coloured and disguised to answer the end of justification. Hence the foundation of self-deceit, where a man imposes upon himself innocently, and even without suspicion of a bias. We proceed to illustrate the foregoing observations by proper examples.

Gratitude, when warm, is often exerted upon the children of the benefactor; especially where he is removed out of reach by death or absence. The passion in this case being exerted for the sake of the benefactor, requires no peculiar excellence in his children: but the practice of doing good to these children produces affec

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tion