having given his patron time to take it down, adds, "That another called him a mercenary ❝rafcal in a public converfation." The cardi. nal replies, "Very well," and bids him go on. The spy proceeds, and loads him with reports of the fame nature, till the cardinal rifes in a fury, calls him an impudent fcoundrel, and kicks him out of the room *. We meet with instances every day of refentment raised by lofs at play, and wreaked on the cards or dice. But anger, a furious paffion, is fatisfied with a connection still flighter than that of cause and effect; of which Congreve, in the Mourning Bride, gives one beautiful example: Gonfalez. Have comfort. Almeria. Curs'd be that tongue that bids me be of comfort, Curs'd my own tongue that could not move his pity, Curs'd these weak hands that could not hold him here, For he is gone to doom Alphonfo's death. Act 4. fc. 8. I have chofen to exhibit anger in its more rare appearance, for in thefe we can beft trace its nature and extent. In the examples above given, it appears to be an abfurd passion, and altogether irrational. But we ought to confider, Spectator, No. 439. that : that it is not the intention of nature to fubject this paffion, in every inftance, to reafon and reflection: it was given us to prevent or to repel injuries; and, like fear, it often operates blindly and instinctively, without the leaft view to confequences the very first apprehension of harm, fets it in motion to repel injury by punishment. Were it more cool and deliberate, it would lofe its threatening appearance, and be infufficient to guard us against violence. When fuch is and ought to be the nature of the paffion, it is not wonderful to find it exerted irregularly and capricioufly, as it fometimes is where the mifchief is fudden and unforeseen. All the harm that can be done by the paffion in that state is inftantaneous; for the fhorteft delay fets all to rights; and circumftances are feldom fo unlucky as to put it in the power of a paffionate man to do much harm in an instant. Social paffions, like the selfish, fometimes drop their character, and become inftinctive. It is not unusual to find anger and fear refpecting others fo exceffive, as to operate blindly and impetu oufly, precifely as where they are selfish. HE attentive reader will obferve, that hi THE therto no fiction hath been affigned as the cause of any paffion or emotion: whether it be a being, action, or quality, that moveth us, it is fuppofed to be really exifting. This obfervation fhows that we have not yet completed our tafk; because paffions, as all the world know, are moved by fiction as well as by truth. In judging beforehand of man, fo remarkably addicted to truth and reality, one should little dream that fiction can have any effect upon him; but man's intellectual faculties are not fufficiently perfect to dive far even into his own nature. I fhall take occafion afterward to fhow, that the power of fiction to generate paffion iş an admirable contrivance, fubfervient to excellent purposes in the mean time, we must try to unfold the means that give fiction such influ, ence over the mind. That the objects of our external fenfes really exift in the way and manner we perceive, is a branch of intuitive knowledge: when I fee a man walking, a tree growing, or cattle grafing, I cannot doubt but that thefe objects are really what they appear to be: if I be a spectator of any tranf action action or event, I have a conviction of the real existence of the perfons engaged, of their words, and of their actions. Nature determines us to rely on the veracity of our fenses; for otherwife they could not in any degree answer their end, that of laying open things existing and pasfing around us. By the power of memory, a thing formerly feen may be recalled to the mind with different degrees of accuracy. We commonly are fatisfied with a flight recollection of the capital circumstances; and, in fuch recollection, the thing is not figured as in our view, nor any image formed: we retain the consciousness of our prefent fituation, and barely remember that formerly we faw that thing. But with respect to an interesting object or event that made a strong impreffion, I am not satisfied with a cursory review, but must dwell upon every circumftance. I am imperceptibly converted into a fpectator, and perceive every particular paffing in my prefence, as when I was in reality a spectator. For example, I faw yesterday a beautiful woman in tears for the lofs of an only child, and was greatly moved with her distress: not fatisfied with a flight recollection or bare remembrance, I ponder upon the melancholy scene: conceiving myself to be in the place where I was an eyewitness, every circumftance appears to me as at firft: I think I fee the woman in tears, and hear her moans. Hence it may be jufly faid, that in in a complete idea of memory their is no past nor future: a thing recalled to the mind with the accuracy I have been describing, is perceived as in our view, and confequently as existing at prefent. Paft time makes part of an incomplete idea only: I remember or reflect, that fome years ago I was at Oxford, and faw the first stone laid of the Ratcliff library; and I remember that at a ftill greater distance of time, I heard a debate in the Houfe of Commons about, a ftanding army. Lamentable is the imperfection of language, almost in every particular that falls not under external sense. I am talking of a matter exceedingly clear in the perception: and yet I find no fmall difficulty to exprefs it clearly in words; for it is not accurate to talk of incidents long paft as paffing in our fight, nor of hearing at prefent what we really heard yesterday or at a more diftant time. And yet the want of proper words to describe ideal prefence, and to diftinguish it from real prefence, makes this inaccuracy unavoidable. When I recal any thing to my mind in a manner fo diftinct as to form an idea or image of it as prefent, I have not words to defcribe that act, but that I perceive the thing as a spectator, and as exifting in my prefence; which means not that I am really a spectator, but only that I conceive. myself to be a fpectator, and have a perception of the object fimilar to what a real fpectator hath. As many rules of criticifm depend on ideal prefence, the reader, it is hoped, will take fome pains |