nature, is health to the soul, and a cordial to the spirits; that nature has made even the outward expression of benevolent affections in the countenance, pleasant to every beholder, and the chief ingredient of beauty in the human face divine; that, on the other hand, every malevolent affection, not only in its faulty excesses, but in its moderate degrees, is vexation and disquiet to the mind, and even gives deformity to the countenance; it is evident that, by these signals, nature loudly admonishes us to use the former as our daily bread, both for health and pleasure, but to consider the latter as a nauseous medicine, which is never to be taken without necessity; and even then in no greater quantity than the necessity requires.

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CHAPTER VI.

OF PASSION.

BEFORE I proceed to consider the rational principles of action, it is proper to observe, that there are some things belonging to the mind, which have great influence upon human conduct, by exciting or allaying, inflaming or cooling the animal principles we have mentioned.

Three of this kind deserve particular consideration. I shall call them by the names of passion, disposition, and opinion.

The meaning of the word passion is'not precisely as certained, either in common discourse, or in the writings of philosophers.

I think it is commonly put to signify some agitation of mind, which is opposed to that state of tran quillity and composure, in which a man is most master of himself.

The word abos, which answers to it in the Greek language, is, by Cicero, rendered by the word perturbatio.

It has always been conceived to bear analogy to a storm at sea, or to a tempest in the air. It does not therefore signify any thing in the mind that is constant and permanent, but something that is occasional, and has a limited duration, like a storm or tempest.

Passion commonly produces sensible effects even upon the body. It changes the voice, the features, and the gesture. The external signs of passion have, in some cases, a great resemblance to those of madness; in others, to those of melancholy. It gives often a degree of muscular force and agility to the body, far beyond what it possesses in calm moments.

The effects of passion upon the mind are not less remarkable. It turns the thoughts involuntarily to the objects related to it, so that a man can hardly think of any thing else. It gives often a strange bias to the judgment, making a man quicksighted in every thing that tends to inflame his passion, and to justify it, but blind to every thing that tends to moderate and allay it. Like a magie lantern, it raises up spectres and apparitions that have no reality, and throws false colours upon every object. It can turn deformity into beauty, vice into virtue, and virtue into vice.

The sentiments of a man under its influence will appear absurd and ridiculous, not only to other men, but even to himself, when the storm is spent and is succeeded by a calm. Passion often gives a violent impulse to the will, and makes a man do what he knows he shall repent as long as he lives.

That such are the effects of passion, I think, all men agree. They have been described in lively colours by poets, orators, and moralists, in all ages. But men have given more attention to the effects of passion than to its nature; and while they have copiously and elegantly described the former, they have not precisely defined the latter.

The controversy between the ancient Peripatetics and the Stoics, with regard to the passions, was probably owing to their affixing different meanings to the word. The one sect maintained, that the passions are good, and useful parts of our constitution, while they are held under the government of reason. The other sect, conceiving that nothing is to be called passion which does not, in some degree, cloud and darken the understanding, considered all passion as hostile to reason, and therefore maintained, that, in the wise man, passion should have no existence, but be utterly exterminated.

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If both seets had agreed about the definition of passion, they would probably have had no difference. But while one considered passion only as the cause of those bad effects which it often produces, and the other considered it as fitted by nature to produce good effects, while it is under subjection to reason, it does not appear that what one sect justified, was the same thing which the other condemned. Both allowed that no dictate of passion ought to be followed in opposition to> reason. Their difference therefore was verbal more than real, and was owing to their giving different meanings to the same word.

The precise meaning of this word seems not to be more clearly ascertained among modern philosophers. Mr. Hume gives the name of passion to every principle of action in the human mind; and, in consequence of this, maintains, that every man is, and ought to be led by his passions, and that the use of reason is to be subservient to the passions.

Dr. Hutcheson, considering all the principles of action as so many determinations, or motions of the will, divides them into the calm and the turbulent. The turbulent, he says, are our appetites and our passions. Of the passions, as well as of the calm determinations, he says, that "some are benevolent, others are selfish; that anger, envy, indignation, and some others, may be either selfish or benevolent, according as they arise from some opposition to our own interests, or to those of our friends, or persons beloved or esteemed."

It appears, therefore, that this excellent author gives the name of passions, not to every principle of action, but to some, and to those only when they are turbulent and vehement, not when they are calm and deliberate.

Our natural desires and affections may be so calm as to leave room for reflection, so that we find no difficulty

in deliberating cooly, whether, in such a particular instance, they ought to be gratified or not. On other occasions, they may be so importunate as to make deliberation very difficult, urging us, by a kind of vio lence, to their immediate gratification.

Thus, a man may be sensible of an injury without being inflamed. He judges cooly of the injury, and of the proper means of redress. This is resentment without passion. It leaves to the man the entire command of himself.

On another occasion, the same principle of resentment rises into a flame. His blood boils within him; his looks, his voice, and his gesture are changed; he can think of nothing but immediate revenge, and feels a strong impulse, without regard to consequences, to say and do things which his cool reason cannot justify. This is the passion of resentment.

What has been said of resentment may easily be applied to other natural desires and affections. When they are so calm as neither to produce any sensible effects upon the body, nor to darken the understanding and weaken the power of self-command, they are not called passions. But the same principle, when it becomes so violent as to produce these effects upon the body and upon the mind, is a passion, or, as Cieero very properly calls it, a perturbation.

It is evident, that this meaning of the word passion accords much better with its common use in language, than that which Mr. Hume gives it.'

When he says, that men ought to be governed by their passions only, and that the use of reason is to be subservient to the passions, this, at first hearing, appears a shocking paradox, repugnant to good morals and to common sense; but, like most other paradoxes, when explained according to his meaning, it is nothing but an abuse of words.