The distress of a long journey makes even an indifferent inn pass current. And in travelling, when the road is good and the horseman well covered, a bad day may be agreeable, by making him sensible how snug he is.
The same effect is equally remarkable, when a man sets his condition in opposition to that of others. A ship tossed about in a storm, makes the spectator reflect upon his own security and ease, and puts these in the strongest light:
Suave, mari magno turbantibus æquora ventis,
E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem,
Non quia vexari quemquam est jocunda voluptas,
Sed quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est.
Lucret. l. 2. principio.
A man in grief cannot bear mirth. It gives him a more lively notion of his unhappiness, and of course makes him more unhappy. Satan contemplating the beauties of the terrestrial paradise, breaks out in the following exclamation.
With what delight could I have walk’d thee round,
If I could joy in ought, sweet interchange
Of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains,
Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crown’d,
Rocks, dens, and caves! but I in none of these
Find place or refuge; and the more I see
Pleasures about me, so much more I feel
Torment within me, as from the hateful siege
Of contraries: all good to me becomes
Bane, and in heav’n much worse would be my state.
Paradise Lost, book 9. l. 114.
Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus:
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not the King did banish thee;
But thou the King. Wo doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go say, I sent thee forth to purchase honour;
And not, the King exil’d thee. Or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime,
Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou go’st, not whence thou com’st.
Suppose the singing birds, musicians;
The grass whereon thou tread’st, the presence-floor;
The flow’rs, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more
Than a delightful measure, or a dance.
For gnarling Sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Bolingbroke. Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of Appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat?
Oh, no! the apprehension of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
King Richard II. act 1. sc. 6.
The appearance of danger gives sometimes pleasure, sometimes pain. A timorous person upon the battlements of a high tower, is seized with terror, which even the consciousness of security cannot dissipate. But upon one of a firm head, this situation has a contrary effect. The appearance of danger heightens by opposition the consciousness of security, and of consequence the satisfaction that arises from security. The feeling here resembles that above mentioned occasioned by a ship labouring in a storm.
This effect of magnifying or lessening objects by means of comparison, is so familiar, that no philosopher has thought of searching for a cause[80]. The obscurity of the subject may possibly have contributed to their silence. But luckily in treating other subjects, a principle is unfolded which will clearly account for this phenomenon. It depends upon the power of passion to model our opinion of objects for its gratification[81]. We have had occasion to see many illustrious examples of this singular power of passion; and the present subject affords an additional instance. That this is the cause, will evidently appear, by reflecting in what manner a spectator is affected, when a very large animal is for the first time placed beside a very small one of the same species. The opposition is the first thing that strikes the mind: the unusual appearance gives surprise; and the spectator, prone to gratify this emotion, conceives the opposition to be the greatest that can be. He sees, or seems to see, the one animal extremely little, and the other extremely large. The emotion of surprise arising from any unusual resemblance, serves equally to explain why at first view we are apt to think such resemblance more entire than it is in reality. And it must be observed, that the circumstances of more and less, which are the proper subjects of comparison, raise a perception so indistinct and vague as to facilitate the effect described. We have no mental standard of great and little, nor of the several degrees of any attribute; and the mind thus unrestrained, is naturally disposed to indulge its surprise to the utmost extent.
In exploring the operations of the mind, some of which are extremely nice and slippery, it is necessary to proceed with the utmost circumspection. And after all, seldom it happens that speculations of this kind afford any strong conviction. Luckily, in the present case, we have at hand facts and experiments that support the foregoing theory in a satisfactory manner. In the first place, the opposing a small object of one species to a great object of another, produces not, in any degree, that effect of contrast, which is so remarkable when both objects are of the same species. There is no difference betwixt these two cases that promiseth to have any influence, but only that the former is common, the latter rare. May we not then fairly conclude, that surprise from the rarity of appearance is the cause of contrast, when we find no such effect where the appearance is common? In the next place, if surprise be the sole cause of the effects that appear in making a comparison, it follows necessarily that these effects will vanish so soon as a comparison becomes familiar. This holds so unerringly, as to leave no reasonable doubt that surprise is the prime mover in this operation. Our surprise is great the first time a small lapdog is seen with a large mastiff: but when two such animals are constantly together, there is no surprise; and it makes no difference whether they be viewed separately or in company. We put no bounds to the riches of a man who has recently made his fortune. The opposition betwixt his present and past situation, or betwixt his present situation and that of others, is carried to an extreme. With regard to a family that for many generations hath enjoyed great wealth, the same false reckoning is not made. It is equally remarkable, that a simile loses its effect by repetition. A lover compared to a moth scorching itself at the flame of a candle, is a sprightly simile, which by frequent use has lost all force. Love cannot now be compared to fire, without some degree of disgust. It has been justly objected against Homer, that the lion is too often introduced in his similes. All the variety he is able to throw into them, is not sufficient to keep alive the reader’s surprise.