Part I, Chapter VI, 2

Religion; superstition; true religion— Fear of invisible power, either invented by the mind or imagined from publicly accepted tales, is RELIGION; when the tales are not accepted, superstition. And when the power imagined truly is as we imagine it, it is TRUE RELIGION.

Panic terror— Fear without perceiving why or what one fears is PANIC TERROR, so called from the fables that make Pan its author. In truth, the first person seized by such fear always has some inkling of its cause, though the rest flee by imitation, each supposing his neighbor knows why. This passion therefore occurs only in a crowd or multitude.

Admiration— Joy at the perception of novelty is ADMIRATION, peculiar to man because it arouses the appetite to know the cause.

Glory; vain glory— Joy arising from a person's imagination of his own power and ability is the elation of mind called GLORYING. If grounded in experience of his own past actions, it is the same as confidence. But if grounded in others' flattery, or merely supposed by the man himself for the pleasure he takes in its consequences, it is called VAIN GLORY. The name is apt: well-grounded confidence gives rise to action, whereas a mere belief in one's power does not, and is therefore rightly called vain.

Dejection— Grief arising from a belief that one lacks power is called dejection of mind.

The vain glory that consists in inventing or supposing abilities in ourselves that we know we lack is particularly common among young men, and is nourished by histories or stories of gallant people. Age and work often correct it.

Sudden glory; laughter— Sudden glory is the passion that produces the grimaces called LAUGHTER. It is caused either by a sudden act of one's own that gives pleasure or by noticing some defect in another and suddenly applauding oneself by comparison. It is most common among those who are aware that they possess few abilities and must keep themselves in their own favor by observing others' imperfections. Much laughter at others' defects is therefore a sign of pusillanimity. One proper work of great minds is to help others and free them from scorn, comparing themselves only with the most able.

Sudden dejection; weeping— By contrast, sudden dejection is the passion that causes WEEPING. It arises from events that suddenly remove some ardent hope or some support of one's power. Those who rely chiefly on external help, such as women and children, are most subject to it. Some therefore weep for lost friends; others for their friends' unkindness; still others because reconciliation abruptly cuts short their thoughts of revenge. In every case laughter and weeping are sudden motions, and habit extinguishes both. No one laughs at an old joke or weeps over an old calamity.

Shame; blushing— Grief at the disclosure of some defect in one's ability is SHAME, the passion that reveals itself in BLUSHING. It consists in the perception of something dishonorable. In young men it is a commendable sign of love for a good reputation; in old men it is a sign of the same love, but, arriving too late, is not commendable.

Impudence— Disregard for a good reputation is called IMPUDENCE.

Pity— Grief at another's calamity is PITY. It arises from imagining that the same calamity might befall oneself, and is therefore also called COMPASSION, or, in the language of our time, FELLOW FEELING. Thus the best people feel the least pity for calamity brought about by great wickedness; and for any given calamity those who think themselves least exposed to the same fate feel the least pity.

Cruelty— Disregard for, or slight awareness of, the calamity of others is what people call CRUELTY, arising from confidence in their own good fortune. I cannot conceive that anyone could take pleasure in the great suffering of others without some further end of his own.

Emulation; envy— Grief at a competitor's success in wealth, honor, or some other good is called EMULATION when joined with an endeavor to strengthen our own abilities until we equal or surpass him; when joined with an endeavor to displace or hinder the competitor, it is ENVY.

Deliberation— When appetites and aversions, hopes and fears, about the same thing arise alternately in a person's mind, and various good and evil consequences of doing or not doing what is proposed come successively to mind—so that at one moment we desire it, at another shrink from it; at one moment hope we can do it, at another despair or fear to try—the entire succession of desires, aversions, hopes, and fears, continuing until the thing is either done or thought impossible, is what we call DELIBERATION.

There can therefore be no deliberation about past events, which obviously cannot be changed, or about things known or believed to be impossible, since people know or think such deliberation futile. But we may deliberate about impossible things we take to be possible, unaware that our deliberation is futile. It is called DELIBERATION because it puts an end to the freedom we had to act or refrain according to our own appetite or aversion.

This alternating succession of appetites, aversions, hopes, and fears occurs in other living creatures no less than in man; beasts therefore deliberate too.

Every deliberation is said to end when its object has either been accomplished or is thought impossible, since until then we retain the freedom to act or refrain according to our appetite or aversion.

In deliberation, the final appetite or aversion immediately preceding action or its omission is what we call the WILL: the act, not the faculty, of willing. Beasts that deliberate must therefore have will as well. The schools commonly define will as a rational appetite, but that definition is unsound. If it were sound, no voluntary act could be contrary to reason, for a voluntary act is one that proceeds from the will, and no other. But if, instead of a rational appetite, we say an appetite arising from prior deliberation, the definition matches the one I have given here. The will, therefore, IS THE FINAL APPETITE IN DELIBERATION. In ordinary speech we may say that a man once had the will to do something he nevertheless refrained from doing. Properly speaking, that was only an inclination, which does not make an action voluntary, because the action depends not on it but on the last inclination or appetite. If the intervening appetites made an action voluntary, then by the same reasoning every intervening aversion would make that action involuntary; one and the same action would then be both voluntary and involuntary.

It is therefore clear that not only actions arising from covetousness, ambition, lust, or other appetites for the object proposed are voluntary, but also actions arising from aversion to, or fear of, the consequences of omitting them.

The forms of speech used to express the passions are partly the same as, and partly different from, those used to express our thoughts. In general, every passion may be expressed in the indicative: I love, I fear, I rejoice, I deliberate, I will, I command. But some have forms of expression peculiar to themselves; these are not assertions unless they also serve to support inferences other than those concerning the passion from which they spring. Deliberation is expressed in the subjunctive, the form used to signify suppositions and their consequences: if this is done, then that will follow. It differs from the language of reasoning only in that reasoning uses general words, while deliberation is mostly about particulars. The language of desire and aversion is imperative: do this, refrain from that. If the addressee is obliged to comply, this is a command; otherwise it is a request or advice. The language of vain glory, indignation, pity, and revengefulness is optative. Desire to know has a form peculiar to it, called interrogative: what is it? when will it happen? how is it done? why is it so? I find no other language of the passions; cursing, swearing, reviling, and the like signify not as speech, but as the actions of an accustomed tongue.

These forms of speech, I say, express or voluntarily signify our passions; but they are not certain signs of them, for people may use them at will whether or not they feel the passions. The best signs of present passions are in a person's face, bodily movements, and actions, or in the ends and aims we otherwise know him to have.

Since deliberation is stirred by appetites and aversions arising from foresight of the good and evil consequences of the contemplated action, its good or evil outcome depends on foreseeing a long chain of consequences, whose end hardly anyone can see. But as far as a person can see, if the good in those consequences outweighs the evil, the whole chain is what writers call apparent or seeming good. Conversely, when evil outweighs good, the whole is apparent or seeming evil. Whoever has, by experience or reason, the broadest and surest view of consequences therefore deliberates best for himself and, when he chooses, can offer the best advice to others.

Continual success in obtaining what a person desires from time to time—that is, continually prospering—is what people call FELICITY; I mean felicity in this life. For there is no such thing as perpetual tranquility of mind while we live here. Life itself is motion, and can no more exist without desire and fear than without sensation. What kind of felicity God has ordained for those who devoutly honor him, a man will know no sooner than he enjoys it: those joys are now as incomprehensible as the scholastic phrase beatific vision is unintelligible.

The form of speech by which people signify their opinion of the goodness of anything is PRAISE; that by which they signify its power and greatness is MAGNIFYING. The form by which they express their opinion of a person's felicity is called makarismos by the Greeks; we have no name for it in our language. So much about the passions suffices for the present purpose.

CHAPTER VII. OF THE ENDS OR RESOLUTIONS OF DISCOURSE

Religion; superstition; true religion—Fear of an invisible power imagined by the mind, or conceived from stories accepted publicly, is religion. If those stories are not publicly accepted, it is superstition. When the power imagined really is as we imagine it, it is true religion.

Panic terror—Fear without awareness of its cause or object is panic terror. The name comes from stories that attribute such fears to Pan. In fact, the first person frightened always has some idea of the cause. Others flee by following his example, each assuming someone else knows why. This Passion therefore occurs only in a crowd or large group.

Wonder—Joy at the perception of something new is wonder. It is peculiar to human beings because it stirs their desire to know the cause.

Glory; vainglory—The joy that comes from imagining our own power and ability is the mental elation called glorying. If it rests on our experience of our previous actions, it is the same as confidence. If it rests on other people's flattery, or on something we merely imagine about ourselves because its consequences please us, it is called vainglory. This is an apt name. Well-founded confidence leads people to make an attempt, while imagining that they have power does not, making such glory vain.

Dejection—Grief at the belief that one lacks power is called dejection of mind.

Young men are especially prone to the kind of vainglory that consists in pretending or imagining that we have abilities we know we lack. Stories or fictional accounts of impressive people nourish it. Age and work often correct it.

Sudden glory; laughter—Sudden glory is the Passion that produces the facial contortions called laughter. It comes either from an unexpected act of one's own that gives pleasure, or from suddenly noticing something misshapen in another person and praising oneself by comparison. It occurs most often in people who know they have few abilities of their own. They must keep a good opinion of themselves by noticing other people's faults. Frequent laughter at others' defects is therefore a sign of small-mindedness. One of the proper tasks of great minds is to help others and spare them scorn. Great-minded people compare themselves only with the most able.

Sudden dejection; weeping—Conversely, sudden dejection is the Passion that causes weeping. It comes from events that abruptly take away an intense hope or a support for one's power. Those who mainly depend on outside help, such as women and children, are most subject to it. Some weep over the loss of friends; others over friends' unkindness; others when reconciliation suddenly puts a stop to their thoughts of revenge. In every case, laughter and weeping are sudden responses that habit takes away. Nobody laughs at old jokes or weeps over a misfortune long past.

Shame; blushing—Grief at the discovery that one lacks some ability is shame, a Passion that shows itself in blushing. It involves the awareness of something dishonorable. In young men, shame shows a concern for a good reputation and is praiseworthy. In old men it shows the same concern, but it comes too late to deserve praise.

Shamelessness—Disregard for a good reputation is called shamelessness.

Pity—Grief over someone else's misfortune is pity. It arises from imagining that the same thing could happen to oneself, and is therefore also called compassion or, in current language, fellow-feeling. The best people feel least pity for a misfortune caused by great wickedness. Likewise, those who consider themselves least liable to a particular misfortune feel the least pity for it.

Cruelty—Disregard for, or little feeling about, other people's misfortunes is what people call cruelty. It comes from feeling secure about one's own fortune. I cannot conceive that anyone would enjoy great harm to others without some further aim of his own.

Emulation; envy—Grief over a competitor's success in wealth, honor, or another good is emulation if it comes with an effort to develop our own abilities to match or surpass his. If it comes with an effort to undermine or obstruct the competitor, it is envy.

Deliberation—Sometimes our minds alternate between desires and aversions, hopes and fears, concerning the same thing. The various good and evil consequences of doing or not doing it enter our thoughts in succession. At one moment we want to do it; at another we feel aversion to it. Sometimes we hope we can do it; sometimes we despair or fear even to try. The entire sequence of desires, aversions, hopes, and fears, continuing until the thing is done or judged impossible, is what we call deliberation.

We cannot deliberate about the past, since it clearly cannot be changed. Nor can we deliberate about things we know or think are impossible, because we know or think that deliberating would be pointless. But we can deliberate about impossible things we think are possible, since we do not know it is pointless. This is called deliberation because it ends the freedom we had to do or omit an action according to our desires or aversions.

Other living creatures experience this same alternation of desires, aversions, hopes, and fears no less than human beings do. So animals also deliberate.

Deliberation is said to end when the matter under consideration is either done or judged impossible. Until then, we remain free to do or omit it according to our desires or aversions.

During deliberation, the final desire or aversion immediately preceding an action or its omission is what we call the will: the act of willing, not a faculty of will. Animals that deliberate must therefore have a will too. The usual definition given in the schools, that will is a rational appetite, is not sound. If it were, no voluntary action could go against reason. A voluntary action is one that proceeds from the will, and no other action is voluntary. But if instead of rational appetite we say an appetite arising from prior deliberation, the definition is the same as mine. Will, then, is the last desire in deliberation. In ordinary conversation we may say that someone once wanted to do something but decided not to. Strictly speaking, that earlier desire was merely an inclination and did not make any action voluntary. The action depends on the last inclination or desire, not the earlier one. If the desires that came in between made an action voluntary, the aversions that came in between would likewise make the same action involuntary. One action would then be both voluntary and involuntary.

Clearly, then, voluntary actions include not only actions arising from covetousness, ambition, lust, and other desires for what is proposed. They also include actions arising from aversion or fear of the consequences of failing to act.

Some forms of speech that express the Passions are the same as those that express our thoughts, and some differ. Generally, every Passion can be expressed with an indicative statement: “I love,” “I fear,” “I rejoice,” “I deliberate,” “I will,” or “I command.” But some have expressions of their own, which are not statements unless they also allow us to draw conclusions beyond the Passion that produced them. Deliberation is expressed with conditional speech, which states suppositions and their consequences: “If this happens, that will follow.” It differs from the language of reasoning only because reasoning uses general words while deliberation mostly concerns particular things. Desire and aversion speak through imperatives such as “Do this” and “Do not do that.” If the person addressed is obliged to act or refrain, the imperative is a command. Otherwise it is a request or advice. Vainglory, indignation, pity, and revengefulness speak through expressions of wishes. The desire for knowledge has its own form of expression, a question: “What is it?”, “When will it happen?”, “How is it done?”, or “Why is that?” I find no other language of the Passions. Cursing, swearing, insults, and the like convey meaning not as speech but as actions of a tongue used to behaving that way.

As I have said, these forms of speech voluntarily express or indicate our Passions, but they are not certain signs of them. People can use them at will whether they feel those Passions or not. The best signs of present Passions are a person's facial expression, bodily movements, actions, and the ends or aims we otherwise know that person has.

In deliberation, desires and aversions arise from foreseeing the good and evil results of the action being considered. Whether the action does good or evil depends on foreseeing a long chain of consequences, whose end very few people can see. But as far along that chain as someone can see, if the good outweighs the evil, writers call the chain as a whole apparent or seeming good. If the evil outweighs the good, they call it apparent or seeming evil. The person whose experience or reason gives him the widest and surest view of consequences deliberates best for himself and can, when he wishes, give others the best advice.

Continued success in obtaining the things we desire from time to time—in other words, continued prosperity—is what people call happiness. I mean happiness in this life. There is no lasting peace of mind as long as we live here. Life itself is motion, and it can no more exist without desire or fear than without sensation. No one will know what kind of happiness God has prepared for those who devoutly honor him until he experiences it. Those joys are now as impossible to comprehend as the schoolmen's phrase beatific vision is impossible to understand.

The form of speech that expresses a person's belief about the goodness of something is praise. Speech expressing its power and greatness is magnifying. The Greeks called speech expressing one's opinion of a person's happiness makarismos, for which English has no name. That is enough about the Passions for the present purpose.

Chapter VII. Of the Ends or Resolutions of Discourse