Imatges de pàgina
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primary, in the sense of being underived from one another or any other emotion; others are late products of evolution. Thus, it is possible that man alone possesses a stream of thoughts in the mind, which he sometimes distinguishes as representing past occurrences, sometimes as representing possible events in the future. Hence the joys which depend on these new activities are themselves new varieties: the joy of remembering past joys, the joy of anticipating future achievement or happiness; the one consoling the old, the other inspiring the young. Some of these later joys are secondary to our acquired sentiments, yet have a uniqueness of their own, as the 'cold' joys of self-love, the joy of meeting an old friend, the joy of reconciliation with one whom we love, and the joy of being at length at peace with our conscience.

There are, then, many distinct varieties of joy. But on comparing them we do not find that they have been distinguished by the same principle as we adopted in distinguishing the varieties of fear and anger. For no conspicuous difference of instinct or tendency stands out in our different joys, to engage us to make that the basis of our classification. We therefore distinguished them by the differences of their objects, as the joy of rest, of work, of play, of knowledge, and of beauty. And these differences we found were correlated with a qualitative difference of the joys connected with them, because they involve a difference of sensation or of mental activity. Has then joy no varieties dependent on differences of instinct and impulse? Has it indeed any impulse at all?

Now if we compare fear and anger with joy we are impressed by the fact that an impulse is conspicuously present in each of the former, and absent from, or at least obscure in, the latter. But if joy have no impulse, it has no end, and without an end it cannot be an emotional system. Yet joy seems to be an emotion and no abstraction. It is held to be one that stimulates functional activity, and at least many of its varieties have this effect. The organic changes which it tends to set up, and by which it is conditioned, are accompanied by an increase of pleasant bodily sensations. Intense joys thrill us, and this thrill is a pleasant sensation. Yet we cannot make the constitution of joy clear to ourselves by

merely characterising it as so much pleasant sensation and thought. Pleasure enters into a great many emotions. It enters into anger when the angry impulse is in process of accomplishing its end. It even enters into fear as we approach security. The mere presence of pleasure does not distinguish joy. Can it be distinguished as the only emotion that is all pleasure? There are tender joys that have some pain in them, and difficult joys that may perhaps contain more pain than pleasure. They have cost us dear, and the body may be broken with exertions. In the joy of martyrs, the supreme proof and triumph of faith consist in ability, not merely to suffer for it, but to rejoice in suffering " for the sake of Jesus." And all noble love is capable in some measure of feeling the joy of suffering for the sake of the beloved object. But the greater the suffering, the greater must the love be the stronger in courage and will-that has the capacity to rejoice in suffering.

While then most joys are fuller of pleasure than is any other emotion, there are some in which the bodily sensations are predominantly painful, and the only pleasure lies in the thought of the triumphant will. A surplus of pleasure over pain does not in all cases distinguish joy.

3. The System and Laws of Joy.

When we speak of the 'system' of an emotion, we mean that the constituents that enter into it, the thoughts that it has or may have, its characteristic feeling and tendencies, the organic processes belonging to it, and the behaviour which is the outcome of these constituents, all bear reference to a common end, and are more or less instrumental in promoting it; and because it is this higher kind of system we sometimes also call it an 'organisation.' Nor do we mean merely that such a system as joy would not have been inherited by the individual unless it subserved in some way the preservation of his life, but that its use lies also in promoting some more particular end. In the body the activity of organs that subserve such particular ends are called ' functions.' And as some of these organs fulfil their functions without our con

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sciousness of the result, so the primary emotional systems at first fulfil their ends without our foreseeing them.1 These ends belong to the instincts of their systems, and the impulses that we feel at times to accomplish them are due to the activity of the instincts.

The question then arises whether Joy is a system in this sense, whether we can discover in it an instinct, or—if it give rise to no behaviour sufficiently definite and complex to be entitled instinctive in the ordinary sense,-whether it has not an impulse or tendency innately directed to a particular end, and expressing this tendency in forms of behaviour which, however simple, have not been acquired through experience.

If we take any one of the popular varieties of joy to which we have referred, and study it carefully, we shall find that, however quiescent it may seem, it has a tendency and an end. Take, for instance, the most quiescent, the joy of rest. Here it is the pleasant state of our body which attracts attention, and gives rise to this sensuous joy or enjoyment. Now if, after our attention had been attracted to the pleasant sensation of the body, joy were not also felt, we should not continue to attend to it, unless some other emotion replaced the joy. Thus, too, the joy of the lover directs his attention to the beloved, so that he "cannot take his eyes off her "; the joy of the miser, to his money; of the proud, to their own superiority or power.

Attention is frequently caught for a moment by objects, but after a glance, shifts as rapidly to something else, finding nothing of interest' to detain it. But joy exercises a certain attractive force, and draws attention to its object, there sustaining it, so long as the joy is felt, or some other - force does not distract us. And thought follows attention; for attention cannot be directed to one object and thought be simultaneously directed to a different one. Thus where a man's joy is, there will his thoughts be fixed.

The first law of joy is then familiar to everyone: (50) Joy attracts attention and thought to its object, and there tends to

1 Concerning the degree of foresight short of this which is involved in all conation, see Prof. G. F. Stout's masterly analysis in 'Instinct and Intelligence,' 'British Journal of Psychology,' vol. iii. part 3.

sustain them, so long as the joy is felt. Yet this tendency we do not ordinarily notice unless it is obstructed.

This law is only a particular form of the law common to all emotions, and to which we have previously referred. Fear and anger also attract attention and thought to their objects; yet how different in other respects are their tendencies from that of joy!

There is a second law which belongs neither to fear nor anger (51) Joy tends to maintain the self in its present relation to the object. This law is most clearly exemplified in relation to moving objects. Thus if we take delight in the flight of a bird or the motion of water, we follow it with our eyes. For the object quickly passes out of the field of vision if the eyes and body do not turn to follow its movements. Thus we maintain those bodily processes on which the continued attention to the object is dependent. When the object is immovable, as the sea or the mountains, we still tend to maintain sensory accommodation to it so long as we enjoy looking at it. When we are dealing with other kinds of objects, that are not perceptual but conceptual, and do not therefore directly involve sensory accommodation, as where we enjoy the recollection of a scene in nature, or the anticipation of our own success,—we maintain the relation between the self and the object by detaining the image or the concept of it, and trying to arrest the tendency of thoughts to give place to others in the mental stream, and quickly to pass out of mind, so that we have to hold to this image or concept if we are to continue to enjoy its object. And here the impulse of joy which is always present, whether we are conscious of it or not, is often noticed.

There is a third law which brings out still more clearly the characteristic tendency of joy. It is this: (52) Joy tends to maintain the object itself as it is. On its negative side this law means that in joy we tend to avoid altering the object. When enjoying rest we tend to maintain that state of rest, and not to alter the position of our body. When enjoying exercise we tend to maintain that state of exercise, and avoid changing it for some other kind of exercise. When enjoying a game we tend to continue playing the

same game for the game is the object. The girl continues to dance because she enjoys it; she dances till joy is ending and fatigue begins. Yet, in such cases, we ordinarily do not feel an impulse, still less a desire in the enjoyment, and the more complete our enjoyment the less we are likely to feel either for the action is so secret and automatic that we do not so much seem to be sustaining it as enjoying its fruits. When the object is not a state of our body, nor a game which involves the exercise of it, but an independent existence,—as another living being, or a part of nature, as a beautiful valley or hill,-then the tendency of joy to maintain the present state of the object is not revealed, so long as its present state is unchanged and there is no expectation of its changing. But as soon as change arises, or there is an expectation of it, this tendency of joy becomes manifest. Thus when a man takes delight in the grounds and shrubberies which he has laid out at his country house, or even in the decoration of his room and the arrangement of the furniture, he is opposed to anyone altering it. If there is a landscape we enjoy, we are opposed to a railway being made through it, or to the trees being felled, or to the view being obstructed by buildings. And if a man himself makes 'improvements,' that is because in some direction he notices a defect which mars the completeness of his enjoyment.

Thus do we tend to maintain the object of joy as it is, and oppose any alteration of it. Joy is essentially a conservative system, which resists 'improvements' and 'progress,' because it does not discern defects, so long as enjoyment is complete. And here we notice the application of a ✓ general law to which we have already referred: that Joy, like every other emotional system, is innately connected with anger, so that when its impulse is opposed, and the opposition is sufficient but not insuperable, that anger comes to its assistance. A second effect of opposition, and even of one too small to arouse anger, is to bring the conservative impulse of joy into consciousness. The process is no longer smooth and mechanical; there is effort in it, and this effort diminishes, where it does not extinguish, the enjoyment. The child who is taken away from his toys or picture-books at bedtime, may

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