Page images
PDF
EPUB

however 'fearing the worst,' because the favourable alternative is constantly asserting itself; and we have hope in this favourable event without being able to confine our thought to it because the other alternative recurs.

Anxiety, then, seems to be much more clearly a differentiation of fear than does hope of joy; but however unfavourable a possible event may be judged to be to the fulfilment of desire, it will not give rise to anxiety unless it first to some extent excites fear. In our unimportant desires we do not feel fear. We may desire to get away, and think we shall be detained by our business; but we do not feel anxiety on account of this unfavourable alternative, because our desire is not sufficiently important. Unless the failure of the end is capable of arousing fear when we anticipate its failure, we do not feel anxiety when it is doubtful.

With every desire, however unimportant, there is a certain aversion to the continuance of the present state. If we desire to go out we are averse to remaining in the house. The present state no longer affords us joy, because we desire some other state. The former is now repugnant to us. So also when we think of any event, incompatible with our desire, as probable, that also tends to arouse at least repugnance, but in the greater desires, fear. In the lesser, when unfavourable alternatives recur in our thoughts, and appear sufficiently probable, we feel a vague but unpleasant emotion through the interaction of hope and repugnance. For if desire has certain definite and peculiar emotions in its system, it has also others which are less defined or vague.

For

If we next consider the tendencies of Anxiety we find that they have the same end as have the later forms of fear.1 as these are directed to prevent the occurrence of any event that we fear, so also anxiety is directed to prevent the occurrence of those events that are incompatible with the end desired. Anxiety about the state of our business or the situation of a friend makes us try to counteract the occurrence of those events that would make the state or situation worse; and thus anxiety is an efficient, auxiliary emotion of desire. And here we can discern why these prospective emotions appear as 1 See B. ii. ch. ii. 3.

if they possessed no distinctive impulses of their own, while the impulses which are undoubtedly present seem to belong only to desire. For emotions that become there organised must be so modified that what survives of their original impulses may be strictly subordinated to its end. Thus, in the present case, while it is clear that anxiety as a secondary form of fear has impulses derived from the primary emotion, and that these have been so modified that their end is merely to prevent the occurrence of events that are incompatible with the fulfilment of desire, yet desire itself, independently of anxiety, has such impulses. For if we desire an end we obviously try to counteract influences that are hostile to it. What, then, does desire gain from its emotion of anxiety, and why is not this emotion superfluous? It gains in the first place the force of an emotion which is not, like fear, violent or inconstant, but capable of a steady and persistent activity, making it mindful of what it might otherwise forget, and making it in general more watchful and careful in the management of its process than it would otherwise be. Thus anxiety, though the impulses that it derives from fear have to be modified into accordance with those of desire, and appear identical with them, yet renders the latter more steady, active, and efficient.

We come in the last place to Despondency, Disappointment, and Despair, which bear such a close resemblance to sorrow. Are they, in fact, not sorrow itself: the first and second, the sorrow which has not altogether excluded hope, the third, the sorrow which has; the first, the sorrow that overtakes us slowly after an accumulating experience of failure; the second, the sorrow that overtakes us suddenly and unexpectedly? We have remarked, in studying the causation of sorrow, that it is always conditioned by a precedent impulse or desire, and that this impulse or desire must, as a second condition, be frustrated-not merely opposed, but frustrated. For instance, the primitive impulses for exercise, for rest, for nourishment, for the cessation of bodily pain, all, when frustrated, tend to arouse sorrow, as also, when satisfied, to arouse joy. Where sorrow is aroused, the prominent impulse felt with it is still the preceding impulse for exercise, or rest, or nourishment, or for the

cessation of bodily pain, but now suffering frustration. Sorrow belongs to this impulse; not this impulse to the sorrow. It is the same with despondeney, disappointment, and despair, they belong to the desire which precedes them and in whose system they are included. They also tend to arise in it when it has suffered frustration, slowly or suddenly, permanently or for the present time. Thus, in addition to the close resemblance between these emotions and sorrow, we find also that the causes that arouse them are substantially the same in both cases. Finally we may consider their tendencies.

The only impulse that we found proper to sorrow was that expressed by the cry, inarticulate or articulate, for assistance, or by some gesture expressive of weakness and dependence. Despondency is so weak and effortless that it makes at least a dumb appeal for help; and thus is it always understood; for when a person is despondent we try to encourage him, and to renew his hope and activity. In disappointment and despair this appeal is often suppressed, or addressed in silence to invisible powers. In the former the event has happened, and we have to face it; in the latter, there is no hope left of escaping from it. Yet here, too, there is sometimes expressed the cry of despair, as in Byron's line, "the last despairing cry

Of some strong swimmer in his agony." 1

All these emotions have also that appearance of uselessness which is so often charged to sorrow, and which made South exclaim: "If there is hope left why do we grieve instead of setting to work; if there is none, why still do we grieve?"

Thus, from a comparison of their feelings, their manner of causation, and their impulses, we shall conclude that all these emotions are probably differentiations of the primary emotion of sorrow-modifications which its disposition undergoes in the process of desire in consequence of different kinds of failure to realise the desired end. In the next chapter we shall enter with greater detail into the analysis of their tendencies, as well as those of the other prospective emotions of desire.

1 Don Juan.

CHAPTER IV

OF THE TENDENCIES OF THE SPECIAL EMOTIONS OF

DESIRE

1. Of the Laws of Hope and Despondency

WHETHER the special emotions of desire have or have not impulses of their own, they have a variety of tendencies; or else their occurrence in its system would be useless and unintelligible. Many of these are frequently referred to in literature, and are the staple of the thoughts of those who observe the behaviour of these emotions. And, as a result of these observations, we seem here able to enunciate genuine empirical laws of character which, although we have to give to them a precise and formal expression, are familiar to every

And it is in such directions that the foundation of a science of character affords us most hope; because here, in enunciating laws, we have not to depend on detecting them ourselves, but to derive them from the express statements of the great observers of character.

We shall first divide the tendencies of the emotions of desire into two classes: (1) those which bear directly on desire, and (2) those which bear on the interaction of these emotions; and in this chapter we shall chiefly confine ourselves to the first class. We may begin with Hope; and the first law that we have to notice is that Hope strengthens Desire. It is a consequence of this law that Hope strengthens Love ; because desire is a chief constituent of all human love. And here we have to attempt to define the sense in which hope strengthens desire: (115) Hope increases the activity of

desire, aids it in resisting misfortune and the influence of its depressing emotions, and in both ways furthers the attainment of its end. We shall find that all the observations and reflections to be referred to in illustration of this law attribute the strengthening effect of Hope to our self in general, without specifying any one of its particular systems or activities; for, in all of them, the effect of hope is the same. While Hope has this general effect, the 'hopes' which arise in us are always connected with desires, and their strengthening influence is at first manifested in them.

We notice that the emblem of hope is an anchor, and the appropriateness of this emblem is, as we have said, that hope helps desire to withstand the storms of misfortune :

"... which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast.

..." 1

[merged small][ocr errors]

"Hope as an anchor, firm and sure, holds fast
The Christian vessel, and defies the blast." 3

All observers seem to be agreed on the strengthening effect of hope. Shakespeare says: "The miserable have no other medicine." 4 Milton asks

"What reinforcement we may gain from hope;

If not, what resolution from despair." 5

Cowley calls hope a "strong retreat," and says that it blows "the chimic's and the lover's fire." 7

Another poet

calls it the "nurse of young desire"; Shelley invokes us to

"hope till hope creates

From its own wreck the thing it contemplates."

18

Tennyson speaks of "The mighty hopes that make us men."
In "The Pleasures of Hope," Campbell thus apostrophises it:

"Friend of the brave! in peril's darkest hour
Intrepid virtue looks to thee for power. . ."

1 Hebrews, vi. 19.

3 Cowper, 'Hope.'

2

Spenser, Faery Queen.'

4 'Measure for Measure,' A. iii. Sc. i.

5 'Paradise Lost,' B. i, 2, 190, 191.

7 The Mistress, 'Against Hope.'

The Mistress, 'For Hope.'

8 Prometheus, A. iv.

« PreviousContinue »