nxiety, in doubt, and in fear; danger would
not be encountered from mere foolhardiness; and the very sympathy which
interests us in the trouble of another would not be to us that pleasure
which is never more lively than at the very moment when the illusion is
strongest, and when we substitute ourselves most entirely in the place of
the person who suffers. But this does not imply that disagreeable
affections cause pleasure of themselves, nor do I think any one will
uphold this view; it suffices that these states of the mind are the
conditions that alone make possible for its certain kinds of pleasure.
Thus the hearts particularly sensitive to this kind of pleasure, and most
greedy of them, will be more easily led to share these disagreeable
affections, which are the condition of the former; and even in the most
violent storms of passion they will always preserve some remains of their
freedom.

The displeasure we feel in disagreeable affections comes from the
relation of our sensuous faculty or of our moral faculty with their
object. In like manner, the pleasure we experience in agreeable
affections proceeds from the very same source. The degree of liberty
that may prevail in the affections depends on the proportion between the
moral nature and the sensuous nature of a man. Now it is well known that
in the moral order there is nothing arbitrary for us, that, on the
contrary, the sensuous instinct is subject to the laws of reason and
consequently depends more or less on our will. Hence it is evident that
we can keep our liberty full and entire in all those affections that are
concerned with the instinct of self-love, and that we are the masters to
determine the degree which they ought to attain. This degree will be
less in proportion as the moral sense in a man will prevail over the
instinct of happiness, and as by obeying the universal laws of reasons he
will have freed himself from the selfish requirements of his
individuality, his Ego. A man of this kind must therefore, in a state of
passion, feel much less vividly the relation of an object with his own
instinct of happiness, and consequently he will be much less sensible of
the displeasure that arises from this relation. On the other hand, he
will be perpetually more attentive to the relation of this same object
with his moral nature, and for this very reason he will be more sensible
to the pleasure which the relation of the object with morality often
mingles with the