shrouded all its thoughts and purposes, gives place, at length, to a chastened and subdued sadness, that suffuses the past with a soft and mellow radiance. We are ever moving on,

swiftly, steadily, in the current of events, and objects whose fearful magnitude, once, from their very nearness, engrossed our whole attention as we passed into their deep shadow, gradually diminish as they recede, until their dark outline is barely discernible on the distant horizon.

§ III. SYMPATHY WITH THE HAPPINESS AND SORROW OF OTHERS.

In what Manner awakened. — Closely allied to the emotions of joy and sorrow awakened by our own personal experience of good and of evil, is the sympathy we feel with the joys and sorrows of others in similar circumstances. Joy is contagious. So also is grief. We cannot behold the emotions of others, without, in some degree, experiencing a corresponding emotion. Nor is it necessary to be eye-witnesses of that happiness, or sorrow. The simple description of any scene of happiness or of misery affects the heart, and touches the chords of sympathetic emotion. We picture the scene to ourselves, we fancy ourselves the spectators, or, it may be, the actors and the sufferers; we imagine what would be our own emotions in such a case, and in proportion to the liveliness of our power of conception, and also of our power of feeling, will be our sympathy with the real scene and the real sufferers.

Nature of this Principle. The sympathy thus awakened, whether with the joy or the sorrow of others, is a simple emotion, distinct in its nature from both the affections and the desires, and it is, moreover, instinctive, rather than rational a matter of impulse, a principle implanted in our na'ure, and springing into exercise, as by instinct, whenever the occasion presents itself, rather than the result of reason and reflection. It is a susceptibility which we possess, to some extent, at least, in common with the brutes, who are

by no means insensible to the distresses or to the happiness of their fellows. It is a susceptibility which manifests itself in early life, before habits of reflection are formed, and under circumstances which preclude the supposition that it may be the result of education, or in any manner an acquired and not an original and implanted principle. So far from being the result of reflection, reason and reflection are often needed to check the emotion, and keep it within due bounds. There are times when sympathy, for example, with the distresses of others, would stand in the way of efficient and necessary action, and when it is needful to summon all the resources of reason to our aid, in the stern and resolute performance of a duty which brings us into conflict with this instinctive principle of our nature. The judge is not at liberty to regard the tears of the heart-broken wife or child, when he rises to pronounce the stern sentence of violated law upon the wretched criminal. The kind-hearted surgeon must for the time be deaf to the outcries of his patient, and insensible to his sufferings, or his ministrations are at an end.

Usual Limitation of the Term. The term sympathy is more frequently used to denote the emotion awakened by the sufferings of others, than our participation in their joys. There can be no doubt, however, of the tendency of our nature to each of these results, and that it is, in fact, but one and the same principle under a twofold aspect. Nor does the word itself more properly belong to, and more truly ex1ress, the one, than the other of these aspects. We as readily rejoice with those who do rejoice, as we weep with those who weep, and in either case our feeling is sympathy (ovv παθος).

This Limitation accounted for. The reason why the term is more frequently applied to denote participation in the sorrows of others, is obvious on a little reflection. Such, and so benevolent, are the arrangements of a kind Providence, that happiness is the prevalent law of being, and sor row the exception to that general rule. It is diffused as

the sunshine, and the gentle air, over all things that breathe, and even inanimate objects, by a sort of sympathetic glad ness, reflected from our own minds, seem to share in the general joy. Calamity and sorrow, at least in their more marked and definite forms, come, like storm and tempest in nature, more seldom, and, when they do occur, are the more remarkable and stand out more impressively from the common experience of life, from their very rarity.

More Need of Sympathy with Sorrow. There is doubtless, also, more occasion for sympathy with the sorrows of others, when those sorrows do occur, than with their joys, and this may be another reason for the more frequent use of the term in this connection. Sorrow needs sympathy, as joy does not. It leans for support on some helping and friendly arm. Joy is, in its nature, strong and self-sustaining, sorrow the reverse. It is a wise and kind provision of the Author of our nature, by which there is implanted in our constitution an instinctive sympathy with sorrow and suffering in all their forms, even when we ourselves are not directly the objects on which the calamity falls.

Remark of Dr. Brown.-It is well remarked by Dr. Brown that "we seem to sympathize less with the pleasures of others than we truly do, because the real sympathy is lost in that constant air of cheerfulness which it is the part of good manners to assume. If the laws of politeness required of us to assume, in society, an appearance of sadness, as they now require from us an appearance of some slight degree of gayety, or, at least, of a disposition to be gay, it is probable that we should then remark any sympathy with gladness, as we now remark particularly any sympathy with sorrow; and we should certainly, then, use the general name to express the former of these, as the more extraordinary, in the same way as we now use it particularly to express the feelings of commiseration. Joy," remarks the Jame writer, “ may be regarded as the common dress of society, and real complacency is thus as little remarkable

as a well-fashioned coat in a drawing-room. Let us conceive a single ragged coat to appear in the brilliant circle, and all eyes will be instantly fixed on it. Even beauty itself, till the buzz of astonishment is over, will, for the moment, scarcely attract a single gaze, or wit a single listener. Such, with respect to the general dress of the social mind, is grief. It is something for the very appearance of which we are not prepared."

Not true that we sympathize only with Sorrow. — These reasons sufficiently account for the almost exclusive attention paid by moralists to this part of our sympathetic nature, as well as for the alınost exclusive use of the term itself to denote participation in the sorrows, rather than in the joys of others. It is not necessary to infer from this circumstance, as some have done, that our sympathies are only with sorrow, that we do not experience a corresponding emotion in view of the happiness of others, a view as unfavorable to our nature as it is remote from truth.

Distinction of Terms. Sympathy, as usually employed, to denote a fellowship with the sufferings of others, is synonymous with the more specific term commiseration, and this again is interchangeable with the terms pity and compassion. So far as use establishes a difference between these terms, it is perhaps this: we more frequently employ the word compassion where there is an ability and a disposition to relieve the suffering; we pity and we commiserate what it is out of our power to remedy.

Strength of this Feeling. The emotion of sympathy, es pecially in that form more specially under consideration, is probably one of the strongest and most marked in its effects upon the mind, of any of the feelings of which we are susceptible. When fully aroused, it amounts even to a passion. When the object that awakens it is exposed to imminent danger and there is need of instant and efficient exertion to avert the danger, and bring that relief which, if it comes at all, must come speedily, then there is no prudent cal

culation of consequences, no deliberation, no hesitation, no fear, but, regardless of every danger, the sympathizer, forgetful of himself, and thinking only of the object to be accomplished, plunges into the sea or into the flames, faces the wild beast, or the more savage human foe, seizes the assas sin's arm, or rushes desperately between the murderous weapon and its victim. This boldness and energy of action are, indeed, the result of sympathy, rather than the direct exercise of the emotion itself, but they show how powerful is the feeling from which they spring.

Irrespective of moral Qualities. It is worthy of note, moreover, that the emotion of which we speak, is, in great measure, irrespective of the moral qualities of the sufferer. He may be a criminal on the rack or the gallows, the most hardened and abandoned of men, and the suffering to which he is exposed may be the just punishment of his crimes, still it is impossible for any one whose heart is not itself hardened against all human suffering, to regard the miserable victim with other than feelings of compassion. That must be a hard heart that could witness the agony of even its worst enemy, in such a case, without pity for the suf ferer.

Design of this Principle. If we inquire, now, for what end this feeling was implanted in our nature, its final cause is obvious. It is a benevolent arrangement, the design of which is twofold: first, to prevent undue suffering, by keeping in check the excited passions that would otherwise prompt to the infliction of immoderate and unjust punishment when the object of our resentment is in our power, secondly, to secure that relief to the sufferer which, in circumstances of peril, might fail to be afforded were it not for the pressure and impulse of so strong and sudden an emotion.

Adaptation to Circumstances. A further and incidental benefit resulting from the possession of a lively sensibility to the joys and sorrows of others, has been noticed by Cogan,