"David Hume - Of Tragedy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hume David)

It is impossible not to admit this account, as being, at least
in part, satisfactory. You may observe, when there are several
tables of gaming, that all the company run to those, where the
deepest play is, even though they find not there the best
players. The view, or, at least, imagination of high passions,
arising from great loss or gain, affects the spectator by
sympathy, gives him some touches of the same passions, and
serves him for a momentary entertainment. It makes the time
pass the easier with him, and is some relief to that
oppression, under which men commonly labour, when left
entirely to their own thoughts and meditations.

We find that common liars always magnify, in their narrations,
all kinds of danger, pain, distress, sickness, deaths,
murders, and cruelties; as well as joy, beauty, mirth, and
magnificence. It is an absurd secret, which they have for
pleasing their company, fixing their attention, and attaching
them to such marvellous relations, by the passions and
emotions, which they excite.

There is, however, a difficulty in applying to the present
subject, in its full extent, this solution, however ingenious
and satisfactory it may appear. It is certain, that the same
object of distress, which pleases in a tragedy, were it really
set before us, would give the most unfeigned uneasiness;
though it be then the most effectual cure to languor and
indolence. Monsieur Fontenelle seems to have been sensible of
this difficulty; and accordingly attempts another solution of
the phaenomenon; at least makes some addition to the theory
above mentioned.[2]

'Pleasure and pain,' says he, ' which are two sentiments so
different in themselves, differ not so much in their cause.
From the instance of tickling, it appears, that the movement
of pleasure, pushed a little too far, becomes pain; and that
the movement of pain, a little moderated, becomes pleasure.
Hence it proceeds, that there is such a thing as a sorrow,
soft and agreeable: It is a pain weakened and diminished. The
heart likes naturally to be moved and affected. Melancholy
objects suit it, and even disastrous and sorrowful, provided
they are softened by some circumstance. It is certain, that,
on the theatre, the representation has almost the effect of
reality; yet it has not altogether that effect. However we may
be hurried away by the spectacle; whatever dominion the senses
and imagination may usurp over the reason, there still lurks
at the bottom a certain idea of falsehood in the whole of what
we see. This idea, though weak and disguised, suffices to
diminish the pain which we suffer from the misfortunes of
those whom we love, and to reduce that affliction to such a