A philosophical inquiry into the source of the pleasures derived from tragic representations: from which is deduced the secret of giving dramatic interest to tragedies intended for the stage

Front matter

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Preface

The title page of this Work expresses, as clearly as the author could express, and, he believes, as clearly as can be expressed, its nature and object. What more then has he to say in a preface ? The subject wants not to be recommended to those who delight in the softer sympathies and affections, — the melting strains, and soul-subduing influence of the Tragic Muse, — while those to whom nature has not deigned to impart those finer feelings and susceptibilities of the heart, would look upon all I could advance in its favour, as the specious eloquence of an interested author. To such indurated stoics I choose not to address myself : let them enjoy, if they are capable of enjoyment, the cold approbation of that frozen judgment which smiles at all that is humane and sympathetic in our nature, and who view them as evidences, not of our virtues and benevolence, but of our frailties and imbecility. I shall not, therefore, endeavour to convince my readers, that the subject of the following pages possesses any intrinsic merit in itself, it being useless to recommend it to one class of

VI PREFACE.

readers, and unnecessary to recommend it to the other. But even those to whom . the subject is naturally interesting may wish to know the merits of its execution before they undergo the toil of perusing it. If so, I must confess I see no way of enabling them to form a correct judgment. Were I to maintain, that it possesses very great merits, they would only be the more strongly inclined to suspect it had none ; and were I to admit it weak and imperfect, they would readily give me credit for the assertion, and come to the same conclusion. I can therefore only say, that so far as regards my own conviction, the Source of the Pleasures, derived from Tragic Representations, the means of producing Tragic Interest, and the causes that have led to the general failure of our modern Tragedies, are more satisfactorily accounted for in the following pages than in any other work ancient or modern. Whether the public, however, shall think as I think, or imagine, that in forming this opinion, my judgment has been warped by that self-love of which authors in particular have so much difficulty of divesting themselves, I dare not venture to prophesy.

Chap. IV

Whether Fable operate on our Passions, by representing its events as passing in our sight, and by deluding us into a conviction of reality ? And whether this delusion, supposing it real, accounts for the Pleasures arising from Tragic Representations. .. .. ..37

Chap. X

The true Source of the Pleasures derived from Tragic Representations deduced from the two preceding Chapters, The secret of giving Dramatic Interest to Tragedies intended for Representation. . . . . . . . . 280

PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY

INTO THE

SOURCE OP THE PLEASURES

DERIVED FROM

TRAGIC REPRESENTATIONS.

CHAP. I. Difficulty of the Problem proposed to be resolved

WHY Tragic Representations should produce pleasing emotions in the human breast, or, to state the question in other words, why we should delight in any thing painful, such as pictures and images of distress, is a question that has been proposed and investigated by many eminent writers and critics ; but their number hardly exceed the diversity of opinions which they have advanced on the subject. It is certain, however, that there can be only one proper answer ; for when any particular object, representation, or circumstance, invariably produces an impression of a pleasing character, this impression must obviously arise from some fixed principle

B in our nature called into action by the agency of this object, representation, or circumstance. When, therefore, different causes or principles of action are assigned, they must be all founded in error except one. When I except one, I do not mean to say, that one must be right, for it is possible that all may be wrong ; and it is also possible, that the true cause may never be discovered. I mean, therefore, merely to say, that there can be only one true cause, whether discovered or not ; and that all other causes must necessarily be erroneous. It is easy to give an ingenious solution of a difficult problem ; but though a thousand different solutions may appear plausible and specious, it is still not so easy to satisfy the mind, that the question is resolved, even by the most satisfactory of them, if it be mingled with the slightest error. Whatever is partly false will generally be found to leave the mind more or less unsatisfied, more or less doubtful : it may even have many reasons to believe what it is told ; — it may perceive none for entertaining a different opinion ; but still, from not perceiving its way clearly, it feels not that complete gratification which results from the discovery and clear perception of truth ; for whenever truth bursts through the mists of error, it flashes instantaneous conviction upon us, and we not only perceive but feel its evidence, even though it should admit of no demonstrative certainty.

Before I investigate, however, the theories which have been adopted by my predecessors on the present subject, or offer a new one of my own, may it not be asked, whether any real pleasure arises from Tragic Representations? Some rigid theologians, whom I should be sorry to confound with divines of expanded minds, and rational virtue, tell us, that it is a pleasure arising from the depravity oP'our own nature, and maintain, that, while the heart is imbued with the redeeming spirit of sanctity and religion, the emotions produced by theatrical representation of every description are loathsome and offensive to us. To this argument I reply, that it rests altogether on an appeal to the feelings of a particular class of people ; whereas pleasure and pain, being modifications of feeling founded in the general nature of man, it is only by consulting the common feeling of mankind that we can unequivocally ascertain what is pleasing or displeasing to this general nature ; for, with regard to individuals, general laws have no application. Every deviation from the general nature of man is determined by a particular law of its own ; and it accords neither with religion, philosophy, nor common sense, to bring forward particular laws in accounting for general effects. It will be found hereafter, however, that tragic emotions, or tragic pleasures, are more nearly allied to virtue than moralists are aware of, or, at least, than they seem

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I PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY INTO

willing to believe. At the same time, we cannot be surprised, that the pleasure resulting from tragic sources should appear mysterious, and be placed among the more abstruse phenomena of human nature, when we reflect, that in all the pursuits of human life, however various and complicated they may appear to the torpid eye of slumbering intellect, and however endlessly diversified may be the causes whence they immediately spring, and by which they are influenced and determined in their career, the grand cause to which they are all subservient, and by which they are eternally governed, is the love of present, or the hope of future happiness. This original cause is made known to us, not by arguments, a priori, which are often found to be the mere creatures of imagination, but by actual experience, which precedes, in its evidence, all theoretical speculations. The love of happiness is the universal cause to which we must refer all the springs and motives of human actions. Its dominion extends over all the energies, tendencies, and operations of our sensitive and intellectual nature. Those philosophers have, therefore, been led into error, who call the love of fame, the " Universal Passion ;" for even he who seeks to make his name known to all the ends of the earth, and to make admiring nations acquainted with his physical powers, or intellectual might, ha>s no object in view but the real, or, if the reader

THE SOURCE OF TRAGIC PLEASURE. O

choose to call it, the imaginary, happiness which he enjoys by anticipation at the moment, and hopes to realize at some future period. It is true, indeed, that we do not all pursue the same road to happiness ; but this arises, either from adventitious circumstances, which check the original tendency of our natural propensities, or because what constitutes the happiness of one man does not constitute the happiness of another, even when fortune has pandered to all the cravings of unsatisfied desire, or submitted to all the caprice of human eccentricity. Happiness, however, under one shape or other, is the primum mobile of human actions. How fame, or the opinion which others entertain of our real, or supposed merits, should be productive of this happiness, the love of which is the primary cause, and the attainment of which is the final object of human actions, is a question which belongs not to our present investigation. The knowledge of the fact is sufficient for all the purposes for which it has been mentioned, and the fact cannot be controverted ; for who would seek after fame unless it gave him pleasure, and what is pleasure but happiness, or one of its modifications ? All our actions, then, without exception, originate from this source. The miser who abstains from the enjoyment of his wealth ; — the soldier who rushes into the field of battle, and encounters danger in all its terrific and appalling aspects ; — the poet who seeks inspiration from the dull flame of his midnight lamp, while the drowsy influence of the senses obstrusively remind him that he is not all spirit and intellectual flame; — the trader who commits himself to the mercy of the winds and waves, and congeals beneath the rigour of contending elements ; — the pugilist who exposes his natural limbs and body to be broken by hands which seem invigorated by nature itself for the commission of ferocious deeds, and to Avhose inexorable feelings the associations of pity seem to be totally unknown ; — all are urged forward by one common motive, — the love of happiness ; and all are in pursuit of the same object — the attainment of that happiness to which they are so ardently devoted.

As the love of happiness, then, is the prime mover of human actions ; as we love nothing but what tends to promote it, and hate nothing but what tends to diminish it ; would we not seem obliged by the strictest and most rigid laws of reasoning to conclude, that whatever is painful must be hateful to us, because pain is the opposite to pleasure or happiness ? The conclusion, however, is disproved by the emotions produced in us by Tragic Representations ; for all who have felt these emotions profess to be pleased with them ; and those who have had most opportunities of feeling them, are those who delight most in renewing them frequently. Will we say, then, that Tragic representations are not painful, and, consequently, that there is nothing mysterious in the supposed pleasure we receive ? To maintain this position is only to render the subject still more mysterious than it is already ; for it is a fundamental principle in criticism, that the emotions produced in us by imitations of every description, are of the same nature and character with the emotions produced by the originals from which they are copied. The only difference they admit is in the degree, not in the nature, of the emotions ;— that is, the emotion produced by the object imitated, is stronger than any emotion which can be excited by the most perfect imitation of it. " Uimpression que ces imitations font sur nous, 1 ' says Du Bos, " est du meme genre que Vimpression que Vobjet mime qui a ete imite par le peintre, ou par le poete feroit sur nous. Mais comme Vimpression que V imitation fait n'est differente de ^impression que Vobjet imite feroit quen ce qu'elle est moins forte, elle doit exciter dans notre ame, une passion qui resemble a celle que Vobjet imite y auroitpu exciter" Lord Kaimes maintains the same doctrine, in his Elements of Criticism, and so do all eminent writers on the imitative arts.

If, then, all imitations, as poetry, painting, dramatic representations, &c. excite emotions similar to those excited by their archetypes in nature, it follows, that Tragic representations must excite the emotions produced by real calamity and misfortune, and such emotions are always found to be painful. We cannot see a person in distress without being pained at his misery ; and where the degree of wretchedness is extreme, some people cannot endure to behold its ill-fated victim. The sensation which it produces is frequently found to overpower a person of weak nerves, or extreme sensibility. As real distress is, therefore, painful, imaginary distress must be so also, because the copy and the original produce the same effect. The difficulty, then, which has perplexed the critics, consists in this, that Tragic representations produce pleasure and pain at the same moment. It is to explain this apparent mystery that so many writers have treated on the subject, and attempted to resolve this Gordian Knot ; but it will clearly appear from the following pages, that the mystery still remains, and that this Gordian Knot is as fast and complicated as ever.

Chap. II

Impossibility of forming an obscure conception of a primary Cause until it be perfectly discovered. Obscure ideas have no existence.

When I first reflected on the difficulty of explaining how the same sensation should be at once pleasant and painful, I consulted several works on the subject before I discovered that Hume devoted one of his Essays to the resolution of this curious phenomenon. Du Bos, Lord Kaimes, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Blair, Knight, Lessing, Schlegel, Fontenelle, and almost all the writers who have attempted to explain it, may be more properly considered critics than philosophers ; or, if this distinction should appear obscure, as criticism and philosophy sometimes glide into each other, they were better qualified to distinguish between impressions, and to point out the " rainbow hues" which connect them together, than to trace these impressions, and their voluble, impalpable connectives to their original source. The common observer perceives effects and impressions in the gross, but cannot ascertain their momentum, or the precise point to which they do, and beyond which they cannot extend. This is the business of the critic : his duty is to point out where propriety ends, and where absurdity-begins; and, therefore, the true critic never outsteps the modesty of nature. But the philosopher, not satisfied with marking the proper boundaries that distinguish impressions, and their immediate causes from each other, seeks to trace each of them distinctly to its primary source.

As the resolution of the present problem belongs to philosophy, and not to criticism, I was not much surprised to find the writers whom I have now mentioned, in their attempts to trace the pleasure resulting from Tragic Representation to its original cause, not only contradicting each other, but contradicting those first truths or principles of reasoning, which are admitted by themselves, and by all mankind. He who contradicts first truths, however, will frequently be found to contradict himself, because he is continually admitting these truths where they serve to support his collateral or incidental arguments. That this has been the case with the writers who have treated on the present subject, will manifestly appear from the following pages. In detecting their inconsistencies and self-contradic-

THE SOURCE OF TRAGIC PLEASURE. II

tions, I observed , that they invariably arose from not sufficiently generalizing the cause of the pleasure of which they were in pursuit ; for nothing can be more easily demonstrated, than that many proximate causes co-operate in producing the pleasing emotkms resulting from Tragic Representations, which no stretch or torture of reasoning can refer to any one of the causes to which these writers trace the agreeable effect. As critics, they have certainly displayed great ingenuity, penetration, and good sense ; but not one of them has viewed his object from a sufficiently elevated situation to grasp it entirely, and examine it in all its parts. From not having sufficiently generalized, therefore, the cause of Tragic Pleasure, all they have written eventually amounts to nothing. Some of them, it is true, travelled farther than others, and consequently advanced nearer to their object : but he who is within a few paces of the place of his destination, is, with regard to his object, in the same situation with him who is a thousand miles off, if he can proceed no farther. A man of seven feet high cannot, without leaping, seize, with all his efforts, a ball placed half an inch above his reach ; whereas, if he were half an inch taller, he could lay his hand upon it with ease. However trifling, therefore, half an inch may appear, the want of it baffles ail the efforts of this tall man to seize the ball : it is as safe from his attempts as from those of a dwarf. It is so in science : the philosopher, in tracing effects to causes, and consequences to premises, should pursue his chain of reasoning until he discovers the original cause of which he is in pursuit ; and he frequently fails from not adding another link to the chain, which might have led him to its discovery.

Of this cause, therefore, nearly as he approached it, he knows as little as the clown who cannot comprehend the second link in the chain. However mysterious this cause may seem, it would appear simple and obvious to the philosopher the moment he discovered it, for all truths are obvious to those who perceive them ; but, not having discovered it, he does not form the remotest idea of its existence, A logical reasoner frequently arrives at conclusions, from which many incontrovertible truths might be deduced, of which he is totally ignorant, because, having his mind constantly fixed on one object, he overlooks every conclusion to which his arguments lead, except those which serve to prove the position which he seeks to demonstrate. Of these truths he is, consequently, as ignorant as he who could never discover the conclusions from which they result. Hence it follows, that however nearly we may approach the discovery of truth, we can form no conception of it, if we can approach it no nearer. We may discover, indeed, some of its appendages, but the appendages of a thing form no part of its essence. In fact, until a truth be perfectly discovered, it is not discovered at all. If it should be said, that even he who cannot perceive the object, or the truth of which he is in search, clearly and distinctly, may still have an obscure idea of it, and consequently be better acquainted with it than he who forms no idea of it at all, I reply, that it is impossible to form an obscure idea of any thing : we either see the thing clearly, or we have no perception of it.

We may, indeed, see part of an object clearly, while the rest of it is concealed in impenetrable darkness ; but here there is no obscurity. Of the part which is concealed from us, we form no idea at all ; for, as an idea is a mental perception of some thing, how can we perceive what is concealed from us ? to say that we can, is to say that it is not concealed. We may, indeed, figure to ourselves a mental image, and call it an image of that part of the object which lies concealed ; but is it not obvious, that the idea which then exists in our mind, is an idea of the image, and not of the concealed object ? neither is there any thing obscure in our idea of the image, as we cannot create an image without perceiving it ; for the act of creation is only known to us by the act of perception. We cannot pretend, however, that this image is an image of the object concealed, because this is to maintain, that we know what the object is ; in which case, it cannot be concealed. If, then, we do not. know what the object is, neither do we know whether the image present to our mind be an image of it or not. It may, for aught that we know, be as different from it as day is from night. There can be no obscurity, then, in our idea of that part of an object which is concealed from us, because we can form no idea of it at all : neither can there be any obscurity in our idea of that part of the object which we perceive, because perception removes all obscurity. All, then, that we perceive of the object we perceive clearly, and the part which we do not perceive clearly, we do not perceive at all ; for, with regard to our perceptions, it has no existence.

Besides, the part of the object which we perceive forms a complete and distinct object in our mind. It stands there by itself, for we can trace no reflation or point of connexion between it and the part which is supposed to be concealed. To be able to trace such a relation, necessarily implies that we know the thing concealed ; for, as we can reason only from what we know, it is impossible we can perceive relations, either between things of which we are ignorant, or between things which we know, and things of which we know nothing ; for, if there be any quality in the latter similar to the former, it is a quality of which we are ignorant, simply, because we know nothing of the object in which it inheres. To say that we may perceive the quality of an object without perceiving the object itself, is to say what no person can understand, as our idea of qualities are made known to us by the subjects in which they are perceived. Had we never seen an extended object, we could never form an idea of the quality of extension . As, then, the part of the object which we perceive, forms a clear and distinct object of itself in our minds, we have no right to consider it as part of the concealed object, but as a complete object in itself, of which complete object we have not an obscure, but a clear idea. In nature, indeed, it may form only part of an object ; but this is more than we can tell, until we extend our perceptions farther, and see the part to which it is connected. If we can never see this part, neither can we ever pretend to say, that such a part exists; and, consequently, the part we see is the only part to which we can apply the words, clear or obscure, because it is the only part of which we can affirm any thing.

These observations on clear and obscure ideas, particularly apply to the writers who have treated on the primary cause of Tragic Pleasure. Neither of them has discovered the primary cause, and consequently neither of them has ever formed either a clear or obscure idea of it, because they have formed no idea of it at all. They have perceived, however, many of the proximate or immediate causes by which this pleasure is produced ;

and of these proximate causes they had consequently clear and distinct perceptions ; but as these causes were mere effects resulting from the primary cause, they only saw a part of the object of which they were in pursuit, and of this part they had clear perceptions. Not being able to perceive the part which was concealed from them ; it was therefore impossible for them, as I have already shewn, to form any idea of it, and, consequently, they never dreamt of its existence. The part they saw, necessarily stood in their minds for the entire of the object of which they were in pursuit, and consequently each of them substituted that secondary cause beyond which he could not travel, for the primary cause of which it was merely an effect, so that of the primary cause, they consequently knew as little as those who had never treated on the subject.

Their failure has, therefore, arisen from confining themselves to effects, instead of tracing these effects to their primary source. But, as I have already observed, the business of a critic is to watch effects with a diligent and discriminating eye, not to travel up with the philosopher to the primary causes of these effects ; and the writers of whom I speak have treated this question as critics, not as philosophers.

From Hume, however, I expected a more philosophic solution of this problem, as he seldom traces any effect to a secondary, where a primary cause can be discovered. As a critic, perhaps, he is inferior to Du Bos, Dr. Johnson, and Dr. Blair; but as a philosopher, however dangerous may be the tendency of some of his writings, he is evidently above them all. I cannot help saying, however, that his philosophy has failed him in discussing the present subject, and that the source of thepleasures resulting from Tragic Representations, has hitherto eluded the acumen of criticism, and the generalizations of philosophy. Hume has added little to what had been already written on the subject ; and that little is the worst part of his " Essay on Tragedy."

What he has quoted from Du Bos and Fontenelle, is worth a thousand of the theories which he has adopted himself, but he must be allowed the merit of perceiving that their theories approached nearer to the truth than any of the rest. They are, however, imperfect, as will hereafter appear, though they have made so near an approach to the truth. As Schlegel, an eminent German critic, is the latest writer on dramatic criticism, a subject which he has treated at very considerable length ; and, as he has examined and rejected the most popular theories on the source of Tragic Pleasure, and substituted one of his own, I shall first enquire into the philosophy of these theories, and of that which he has substituted in

c their stead. Schlegel is the ablest commentator on Shakspeare, as Mr. Hazlett very justly observes, in his criticisms on that poet; and it would seem, that we owe these criticisms more properly to Schlegel himself, than to Mr. Hazlett ; for he acknowledges, in his preface, that "some little jealousy of the national understanding was not without its share in producing the undertaking." " We were piqued" (he says) u that it should be reserved for a Foreigner to give reasons for the faith which we, English, have in Shakspeare ; certainly, no writer among ourselves, has shewn such enthusiastic admiration of his genius, or the same philosophical acuteness in pointing out his characteristic excellencies." Such is the critic, with whose theory, on the source of Tragic Pleasure, I shall commence the following inquiry. After examining what he has written on the subject, and the various hypotheses which he quotes and rejects, I shall offer some observations on the theories which have been adopted by other writers. My own theory shall follow, in which I shall examine those of Du Bos, Fontenelle, and Hume.

Chap. III

Examinatipn of SchlegeVs theory, and of the various hypotheses which he has quoted on the source of Tragic Pleasure.

Tragic representations, according to Schlegel, please us, either from a " feeling of the dignity of human nature, excited by the great models exhibited to us," or from " the trace of a higher order of things impressed upon the apparently irregular progress of events, and secretly revealed in them," or from " both these causes together."

Now, this is a mere assertion of the learned critic, and assertions require to be supported either by facts or by proofs. I admit, that bare, unsubstantiated assertions, resting on high authority, are considered by many readers, sufficient data for reasoning ; but our credulity must range far beyond the boundaries of truth, before we can be made to believe, that two propositions which contradict each other, can both be true at the same moment, on whatever authority they may happen to rest. Now, if this hypothesis of Schlegel be disproved by himself, or if the arguments he has advanced against

c 2 other theories, be equally conclusive against his own, his theory derives no value from his authority; for if we admit it, we must reject his principles of reasoning-, which, in other words, is rejecting his authority. Besides, if we reject his principles, his theory can be of no value : when our principles are erroneous, the hypotheses we rest upon them, are only castles in the air.

The first theory examined by Schlegel, is that which makes Tragic Pleasure arise " from a comparison between the tranquillity of our own situation, and the distress to which the victims of Tragic Representation are exposed."

To this theory he objects, that when we are warmly interested in a tragedy, we never think of ourselves ; and, therefore, we can enter into no comparison on the subject. Schlegel did not perceive, that this argument totally subverts his own hypothesis ; for if, while we are warmly interested in the tragic pictures of distress which engage our attention, we never think of ourselves, and are totally engrossed by what passes before us, neither can we think of the abstract dignity of human nature, nor of the still more abstract providence by which the irregular progress of events is directed. If our attention to what passes before us, prevent us from thinking of ourselves, it must, certainly, prevent us from thinking of any thing else. I will readily allow, however, that we may wander, for a moment, from the scene before us to other contemplations, but the emotions which we feel during* these intervals of abstraction from the passing scene, are excited by the contemplations which engage our attention, and not by what passes on the stage, of which we must be perfectly regardless during these intellectual reveries ; for the human mind is so constituted, that it cannot employ itself in the contemplation of two distinct subjects at the same moment.