Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion

Essay I. Our Attachment to Objects of Distress

11 u essay i u Our Attachment to Objects of Distress A noted Frenchcritic,*treatingof poetryandpainting,undertakesasubject attempted by others unsuccessfully, which is, to account for the strong attachment we have to objects of distress, imaginary as well as real. It is not easy (says he) to account for the pleasure we take in poetry and painting, which has often a strong resemblance to affliction, and of which the symptoms are sometimesthesamewiththoseof themostlivelysorrow. The arts of poetry and painting are never more applauded than when they succeed in giving pain. A secret charm attaches us to representations of this nature, at the very time our heart, full of anguish, rises up against its proper pleasure. I dare undertake this paradox, (continues our author), and to explain the foundation of this sort of pleasure which we have in poetry and painting; an undertaking that may appear bold, if not rash, seeing it promises to account to every man for what passes in his own breast, and for the secret springs of his approbation and dislike. Let us attend him in this difficult undertaking. The following proposition is laid down by him as fundamental: That man by nature is designed an active being: that inaction, whether of body or mind, draws on languor and disgust: and that this is a cogent motive to fly to any sort of occupation for relief. Thus (adds he) we fly by instinct to every object that can excite our passions, and keep us in agitation , notwithstanding the pain such objects often gives, which causes * l’Abbé du Bos. 12 attachment to objects of distress vexatious days and sleepless nights: but man suffersmorebybeingwithout passions, than by the agitation they occasion.1 This is the sum of his first section. In the second he goes on to particular instances. The first he gives is compassion; which makes us dwell upon the miseries and distresses of others, though thereby we are made to partake of their sufferings; an impulse that he observes is entirely owing to the foregoing principle, which makes us chuse occupation, however painful,rather than be without action. Another is public executions. We go in crouds (says he) to a spectacle the most horrid that man can behold, to see a poor wretch broken upon the wheel, burnt alive, or his intrails torn out. The more dreadful the scene, the more numerous the spectators. Yet one might foresee, even without experience, that the cruel circumstances of the execution, the deep groans and anguish of a fellowcreature , must make an impression, the pain of which is not effaced but in a long course of time. But the attraction of agitation prevailsmorethan the joint powers of reflection and experience. He goes on to mention the strange delight the Roman people had in the entertainments of the amphitheatre; criminals exposed to be torn to pieces by wild beasts, and gladiators in troops hired to butcher one another. He takes this occasion to make the following observation upon the English nation. So tender-hearted are that people, that they observe humanity towards their greatest criminals. They allow not of torture; alledging it better to leave a crime unpunished, than to expose an innocent person to those torments authorised in other Christian countries to extort a confession from the guilty. Yet this people, so respectful of their kind, have an infinite pleasure in prize-fighting, bull-baiting, and such other savage spectacles. He concludes with showing, that it is this very horror of inaction, which makes men every day precipitate themselves into play, and deliver themselves over to cards and dice. 1. Jean-Baptiste Dubos (1679–1742), Réflexions critiques sur la poésie et sur la peinture (Paris, 1719), Introduction, p. 1; pt. 1, sec. 1, pp. 5–7. attachment to objects of distress 13 None but fools and sharpers (says he) are moved to play by hope of gain. The generality are directed by another motive. They neglect those diversions where skill and address are required, chusing rather to risk their fortunes at games of mere chance, which keep their minds in continual motion, and where every throw is decisive.2 Here is our author’s account, fairly stated. It has, I acknowledge, an air of truth; but the followingconsiderationsmademedoubt.Inthefirstplace, if the pain of inaction be the motive which carries us to the spectaclesabove mentioned, we must expect to find them...