Of The Delicacy Of Taste And Passion / Hume, David

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   Copyright 1995, James Fieser (jfieser@utm.edu). See end note for
   details on copyright and editing conventions. This is a working draft;
   please report errors.[1]

   Editor's note: "Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion" appeared in 1741
   in Volume one of Hume's Essays, Moral and Political. The text file
   here is based on the 1777 edition of Hume's Essays and Treatises on
   Several Subjects. Spelling and punctuation have not been modernized.

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   Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion

           SOME People are subject to a certain delicacy of passion,
           which makes them extremely sensible to all the accidents of
           life, and gives them a lively joy upon every prosperous event,
           as well as a piercing grief, when they meet with misfortunes
           and adversity. Favours and good offices easily engage their
           friendship; while the smallest injury provokes their
           resentment. Any honour or mark of distinction elevates them
           above measure; but they are as sensibly touched with contempt.
           People of this character have, no doubt, more lively
           enjoyments, as well as more pungent sorrows, than men of cool
           and sedate tempers: But, I believe, when every thing is
           balanced, there is no one, who would not rather be of the
           latter character, were he entirely master of his own
           disposition. Good or ill fortune is very little at our
           disposal: And when a person, that has this sensibility of
           temper, meets with any misfortune, his sorrow or resentment
           takes entire possession of him, and deprives him of all relish
           in the common occurrences of life; the right enjoyment of
           which forms the chief part of our happiness. Great pleasures
           are much less frequent than great pains; so that a sensible
           temper must meet with fewer trials in the former way than in
           the latter. Not to mention, that men of such lively passions
           are apt to be transported beyond all bounds of prudence and
           discretion, and to take false steps in the conduct of life,
           which are often irretrievable.

           There is a delicacy of taste observable in some men, which
           very much resembles this delicacy of passion, and produces the
           same sensibility to beauty and deformity of every kind, as
           that does to prosperity and adversity, obligations and
           injuries. When you present a poem or a picture to a man
           possessed of this talent, the delicacy of his feeling makes
           him be sensibly touched with every part of it; nor are the
           masterly strokes perceived with more exquisite relish and
           satisfaction, than the negligences or absurdities with disgust
           and uneasiness. A polite and judicious conversation affords
           him the highest entertainment; rudeness or impertinence is as
           great a punishment to him. In short, delicacy of taste has the
           same effect as delicacy of passion: It enlarges the sphere
           both of our happiness and misery, and makes us sensible to
           pains as well as pleasures, which escape the rest of mankind.

           I believe, however, every one will agree with me, that,
           notwithstanding this resemblance, delicacy of taste is as much
           to be desired and cultivated as delicacy of passion is to be
           lamented, and to be remedied, if possible. The good or ill
           accidents of life are very little at our disposal; but we are
           pretty much masters what books we shall read, what diversions
           we shall partake of, and what company we shall keep.
           Philosophers have endeavoured to render happiness entirely
           independent of every thing external. That degree of perfection
           is impossible to be attained: But every wise man will
           endeavour to place his happiness on such objects chiefly as
           depend upon himself: and that is not to be attained so much by
           any other means as by this delicacy of sentiment. When a man
           is possessed of that talent, he is more happy by what pleases
           his taste, than by what gratifies his appetites, and receives
           more enjoyment from a poem or a piece of reasoning than the
           most expensive luxury can afford.

           Whatever connexion there may be originally between these two
           species of delicacy, I am persuaded, that nothing is so proper
           to cure us of this delicacy of passion, as the cultivating of
           that higher and more refined taste, which enables us to judge
           of the characters of men, of compositions of genius, and of
           the productions of the nobler arts. A greater or less relish
           for those obvious beauties, which strike the senses, depends
           entirely upon the greater or less sensibility of the temper:
           But with regard to the sciences and liberal arts, a fine taste
           is, in some measure, the same with strong sense, or at least
           depends so much upon it, that they are inseparable. In order
           to judge aright of a composition of genius, there are so many
           views to be taken in, so many circumstances to be compared,
           and such a knowledge of human nature requisite, that no man,
           who is not possessed of the soundest judgment, will ever make
           a tolerable critic in such performances. And this is a new
           reason for cultivating a relish in the liberal arts. Our
           judgment will strengthen by this exercise: We shall form
           juster notions of life: Many things, which please or afflict
           others, will appear to us too frivolous to engage our
           attention: And we shall lose by degrees that sensibility and
           delicacy of passion, which is so incommodious.

           But perhaps I have gone too far in saying, that a cultivated
           taste for the polite arts extinguishes the passions, and
           renders us indifferent to those objects, which are so fondly
           pursued by the rest of mankind. On farther reflection, I find,
           that it rather improves our sensibility for all the tender and
           agreeable passions; at the same time that it renders the mind
           incapable of the rougher and more boisterous emotions.

           Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes,

           Emollit mores, nec sinit isse feros.

           For this, I think there may be assigned two very natural
           reasons. In the first place, nothing is so improving to the
           temper as the study of the beauties, either of poetry,
           eloquence, music, or painting. They give a certain elegance of
           sentiment to which the rest of mankind are strangers. The
           emotions which they excite are soft and tender. They draw off
           the mind from the hurry of business and interest; cherish
           reflection; dispose to tranquillity; and produce an agreeable
           melancholy, which, of all dispositions of the mind, is the
           best suited to love and friendship.

           In the second place, a delicacy of taste is favourable to love
           and friendship, by confining our choice to few people, and
           making us indifferent to the company and conversation of the
           greater part of men. You will seldom find, that mere men of
           the world, whatever strong sense they may be endowed with, are
           very nice in distinguishing characters, or in marking those
           insensible differences and gradations, which make one man
           preferable to another. Any one, that has competent sense, is
           sufficient for their entertainment: They talk to him, of their
           pleasure and affairs, with the same frankness that they would
           to another; and finding many, who are fit to supply his place,
           they never feel any vacancy or want in his absence. But to
           make use of the allusion of a celebrated French[2] author, the
           judgment may be compared to a clock or watch, where the most
           ordinary machine is sufficient to tell the hours; but the most
           elaborate alone can point out the minutes and seconds, and
           distinguish the smallest differences of time. One that has
           well digested his knowledge both of books and men, has little
           enjoyment but in the company of a few select companions. He
           feels too sensibly, how much all the rest of mankind fall
           short of the notions which he has entertained. And, his
           affections being thus confined within a narrow circle, no
           wonder he carries them further, than if they were more general
           and undistinguished. The gaiety and frolic of a bottle
           companion improves with him into a solid friendship: And the
           ardours of a youthful appetite become an elegant passion.

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           [1][COPYRIGHT: (c) 1995, James Fieser (jfieser@utm.edu), all
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           copyright holder. When quoting from this text, please use the
           following citation: The Writings of David Hume, ed. James
           Fieser (Internet Release, 1995).

           EDITORIAL CONVENTIONS: Spelling and punctuation have not been
           modernized. Printer's errors have been corrected without note.
           Bracketed comments within the end notes are the editor's. This
           is a working draft. Please report errors to James Fieser
           (jfieser@utm.edu).]

           [2]Mons. FONTENELLE, Pluralite des Mondes. Soir. 6.

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   © 1996