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Nay, a person may extend this malice against himself, even to his present fortune, and carry it so far as designedly to seek affliction, and increase his pains and sorrows. This may happen upon two occasions. First, Upon the distress and misfortune of a friend, or person dear to him. Secondly, Upon the feeling any remorses for a crime of which he has been guilty. 'Tis from the principle of comparison that both these irregular appetites for evil arise. A person who indulges himself in any pleasure while his friend lies under affliction, feels the reflected uneasiness from his friend more sensibly by a comparison with the original pleasure which he himself enjoys. This contrast, indeed, ought also to enliven the present pleasure. But as grief is here supposed to be the predominant passion, every addition falls to that side, and is swallowed up in it, without operating in the least upon the contrary affection. 'Tis the same case with those penances which men inflict on themselves for their past sins and failings. When a criminal reflects on the punishment he deserves, the idea of it is magnified by a comparison with his present ease and satisfaction, which forces him, in a manner, to seek uneasiness, in order to avoid so disagreeable a contrast.
This reasoning will account for the origin of envy as well as of malice. The only difference betwixt these passions lies in this, that envy is excited by some present enjoyment of another, which, by comparison, diminishes our idea of our own: whereas malice is the unprovoked desire of producing evil to another, in order to reap a pleasure from the comparison. The enjoyment, which is the object of envy, is commonly superior to our own. A superiority naturally seems to overshade us, and presents a disagreeable comparison. But even in the case of an inferiority, we still desire a greater distance, in order to augment still more the idea of ourself. When this distance diminishes, the comparison is, less to our advantage, and consequently gives us less pleasure, and is even disagreeable. Hence arises that species of envy which men feel, when they perceive their inferiors approaching or overtaking them in the pursuit of glory or happiness. In this envy we may see the effects of comparison twice repeated. A man, who compares himself to his inferior, receives a pleasure from the comparison; and when the inferiority decreases by the elevation of the inferior, what should only have been a decrease of pleasure, becomes a real pain, by a new comparison with its preceding condition.
'Tis worthy of observation concerning that envy which arises from a superiority in others, that 'tis not the great disproportion betwixt ourself and another, which produces it; but, on the contrary, our proximity. A common soldier bears no such envy to his general as to his sergeant or corporal; nor does an eminent writer meet with so great jealousy in common hackney scribblers, as in authors that more nearly approach him. It may indeed be thought, that the greater the[Pg 125] disproportion is, the greater must be the uneasiness from the comparison. But we may consider on the other hand, that the great disproportion cuts off the relation, and either keeps us from comparing ourselves, with what is remote from us, or diminishes the effects of the comparison. Resemblance and proximity always produce a relation of ideas; and where you destroy these ties, however other accidents may bring two ideas together, as they have no bond or connecting quality to join them in the imagination, 'tis impossible they can remain long united, or have any considerable influence on each other.
I have observed, in considering the nature of ambition, that the great feel a double pleasure in authority, from the comparison of their own condition with that of their slaves; and that this comparison has a double influence, because 'tis natural, and presented by the subject. When the fancy, in the comparison of objects, passes not easily from the one object to the other, the action of the mind is in a great measure broke, and the fancy, in considering the second object, begins, as it were, upon a new footing. The impression which attends every object, seems not greater in that case by succeeding a less of the same kind; but these two impressions are distinct, and produce their distinct effects, without any communication together. The want of relation in the ideas breaks the relation of the impressions, and by such a separation prevents their mutual operation and influence.
To confirm this we may observe, that the proximity in the degree of merit is not alone sufficient to give rise to envy, but must be assisted by other relations. A poet is not apt to envy a philosopher, or a poet of a different kind, of a different nation, or a different age.[Pg 126] All these differences prevent or weaken the comparison, and consequently the passion.
This too is the reason why all objects appear great or little, merely by a comparison with those of the same species. A mountain neither magnifies nor diminishes a horse in our eyes; but when a Flemish and a Welsh horse are seen together, the one appears greater and the other less, then when viewed apart.
From the same principle we may account for that remark of historians, that any party in a civil war always choose to call in a foreign enemy at any hazard, rather than submit to their fellow-citizens. Guicciardin applies this remark to the wars in Italy, where the relations betwixt the different states are, properly speaking, nothing but of name, language, and contiguity. Yet even these relations, when joined with superiority, by making the comparison more natural, make it likewise more grievous, and cause men to search for some other superiority, which may be attended with no relation, and by that means may have a less sensible influence on the imagination. The mind quickly perceives its several advantages and disadvantages; and finding its situation to be most uneasy, where superiority is conjoined with other relations, seeks its repose as much as possible by their separation, and by breaking that association of ideas, which renders the comparison so much more natural and efficacious. When it cannot break the association, it feels a stronger desire to remove the superiority; and this is the reason why travellers are commonly so lavish of their praises to the Chinese and Persians, at the same time that they depreciate those neighbouring nations which may stand upon a foot of rivalship with their native country.
These examples from history and common experience are rich and curious; but we may find parallel ones in the arts, which are no less remarkable. Should an author compose a treatise, of which one part was serious and profound, another light and humorous, every one would condemn so strange a mixture, and would accuse him of the neglect of all rules of art and criticism. These rules of art are founded on the qualities of human nature; and the quality of human nature, which requires a consistency in every performance, is that which renders the mind incapable of passing in a moment from one passion and disposition to a quite different one. Yet this makes us not blame Mr Prior for joining his Alma and his Solomon in the same volume; though that admirable poet has succeeded perfectly well in the gaiety of the one, as well as in the melancholy of the other. Even supposing the reader should peruse these two compositions without any interval, he would feel little or no difficulty in the change of passions: why? but because he considers these performances as entirely different, and, by this break in the ideas, breaks the progress of the affections, and hinders the one from influencing or contradicting the other.
