Chapter 23: Of the Affection of Hope — Its Object and Inordinate Despair

The next ranks and series, is of irascible passions, namely those which respect their object, as annexed to some degree of difficulty, in the obtaining, [reconstructed: or] avoiding of it, the first of which is Hope, whereby I understand an earnest and strong inclination and expectation of some great good apprehended as possible to be obtained, though not by our own strength, nor without some intervenient difficulties. I shall not collect those praises which are commonly bestowed upon it, nor examine the contrary extremes of those who declaim against it, making it a means either of augmenting an unexpected evil, before not sufficiently prevented, or of deflowering a future good too hastily pre-occupied, but shall only touch that dignity and corruption which I shall observe to arise from it, with reference to its objects, causes, and effects.

Concerning the object or fundamental cause of Hope, it has these three conditions in it, that it be a future, a possible, a difficult good.

First, future, for good present is the object of our sense, but Hope is of things not seen, for herein is one principal difference between divine Faith, and divine Hope, that Faith being the substance of things hoped [reconstructed: for], ever respects its object, as in some manner present and subsisting in the promises and first fruits which we have of it, so that the first effect of Faith is a present interest and title; but the operation of Hope is waiting and expectation, but yet it will not from hence follow, that the more a man has of the presence of an object, the less he has of Hope towards it, for though Hope be swallowed up in the complete presence of its object, yet it is not at all diminished but increased rather by a partial presence, and as in massive bodies though violent motions be in the weakest, as being furthest from the strength that impelled them, yet natural are ever swiftest towards the center, as nearest approaching to the place that draws them: so in the Hopes of men, though such as are violent and groundless prove weaker and weaker, and so break out at last into emptiness and vapor. In which respect philosophers have called Hope the dreams of waking men; like that of the musician whom [reconstructed: Dionysius] deceived with an empty promise, of which I spoke before: yet those that are stayed and natural, are evermore strong, when they have procured a larger measure of presence and union to their object, [reconstructed: Quo] propius accedimus ad spem fruendi eo impatientius caremus. The nearer we come to the fruition of a good, the more impatient we are to want it.

And the reason is because goodness is better known, when it is in a nearer view of the understanding, and more united thereunto. And the more we have of the knowledge of goodness, the more we have of the desire of it, if any part be absent. Besides all greediness is attractive, and therefore the more we know of it, the faster we hasten to it. And it is the nature of good to increase the sense of the remainders of evil. So that, though the number of our defects be lessened by the degrees of that good we have obtained to, yet the burden and molestation of them is increased, and therefore the more possession we have of good, the greater is our weariness of evil, and the more nature [reconstructed: feels] her defects, the more does she desire her restoration.

The next condition in the object of our Hope is possibility, for though the will sometimes being inordinate may be tickled with a desire of impossibilities, under an implicit condition, if they were not so, yet no hope whether regular or corrupt can respect its object under that apprehension. It works two passions most repugnant to this, hatred and despair, the one being a proud opposition, the other a dreadful flight, from that good, in which the mind perceives an impossibility of attaining it. Now the apprehension of possibility is nothing else but a concept of the convenience and proportion, between the true means to an end hoped, and the strength of those powers which are to work or bestow them; or if they be such ends as are wrought without any such means, by the bare and immediate hand of the worker, it is an apprehension of convenience, between the will and power of him that bestows it.

Here then because I find not any arguments of large discourse in the opposite passion, (unless we would pass [reconstructed: from] natural or moral to theological handling thereof) we may observe what manner of despair is only regular and allowable, I mean that which in matters of importance drives us out of ourselves, or any presumption and opinion of our own sufficiency. But that despair which rises out of a groundless unbelief of the power, or distrust of the goodness of a superior agent (especially in those things which depend upon the will and omnipotency of God) has a double corruption in it, both in that it defiles, and in that it ruins nature: defiles, in that it conceives basely of God himself, in making our guilt more omnipotent than his power, and sin more hurtful than he is good: ruins, in that the mind is thereby driven to a flight and damnable contempt of all the proper means of recovery.

Of this kind of despair, there are three sorts: the one sensual, arising out of an excessive love of good, carnal, and present; and out of a secure contempt of good, spiritual, and future. Like that of the Epicureans, Let us eat and drink while we may, tomorrow we shall die: the other sluggish, which disheartens and indisposes for action, causing men to refuse to make experiments about that wherein they conclude beforehand that they shall not succeed: the third sorrowful, arising from deep and strong apprehensions of fear, which betrays and hides the succors upon which Hope should be sustained: as in the great tempest wherein Saint Paul suffered shipwreck; when the sun and stars were hid, and nothing but terror to be seen: all hope that they should be saved, was taken away.

The last condition in the object of Hope, was difficulty, I mean in respect of our own abilities, for the procuring of the good we hope for; and therefore Hope has not only an eye to [reconstructed: Bonum], the good desired; but to Auxilium too, the help which confers it. No man waits for that which is absolutely in his own power to bestow upon himself; Omnis [reconstructed: expectatio] est ab extrinseco, all Hope is an attendant passion, and does ever rely upon the will and power of some superior causes, by dependence on which it has some good warrant to attain its desires.

And thus in Divine Hope, God is in both respects the object of it, both per modum Boni, as the good desired, & per modum Auxilii, as the aid whereby we enjoy him. So that herein all those hopes are corrupt & foolish, which are grounded either on an error concerning the power to help in some assistants, or concerning the will in others (as indeed generally a blind and misled judgment does nourish passion). Of the former sort are the hopes of base & degenerous minds in their dependence upon second and subordinate means, without having recourse to the first supreme cause; which is to trust in lying vanities; for every man is a liar, either by impotence, whereby he may fail us, or by imposture, whereby he may delude us.

Of the other sort are the hopes of those who presume on the helps and wills of others, without ground & warrant of such a confidence; from where there arises a sluggish and careless security, blindly reposing itself upon such helps, without endeavoring to procure them to ourselves.

And this is the difference between despair and presumption: Hope looks on a good future, [reconstructed: and] possible indeed in itself; but also as difficult to us, and not to be procured but by industry and labor. Now despair leaves out the apprehension of possibility, and looks only on the hardness: on the other side, presumption [reconstructed: never] regards the hardness, but builds only upon the possibility. And this is spes [reconstructed: mortua], that dead hope, which by the rule of opposition, we may gather from the life of hope, spoken of by Saint Peter: for a lively hope works such a tranquility of mind as is grounded on some certainty and knowledge; it is Luminosa, a peace springing out of light; but dead hope works a rest grounded only on ignorance, such as is the security of a dreaming prisoner, which is rather senselessness than peace; and this is [reconstructed: Tenebrosa Pax], a peace springing out of darkness; for a true peace is quiet ex fide, a believing rest; but counterfeit is only quies ex somno, a sleeping or dreaming rest. The peace which comes from a living hope must have these two properties in it, tranquility and serenity: otherwise it is but like the rest of mare mortuum, whose immovability is not nature, but a curse.