Though he fails, therefore, we easily pardon him. But we have no fuch indulgence for the intemperance of joy; because we are not conscious that any fuch vaft effort is requifite to bring it down to what we can entirely enter into. The man who, under the greatest calamities, can command his forrow, feems worthy of the higheft admiration; but he who, in the fulness of prosperity, can in the fame manner mafter his joy, feems hardly to deferve any praise. We are fenfible that there is a much wider interval in the one cafe than in the other, between what is naturally felt by the person principally concerned, and what the fpectator can entirely go along with.

What can be added to the happiness of the man who is in health, who is out of debt, and has a clear conscience? To one in this fituation, all acceffions of fortune may properly be faid to be fuperfluous; and if he is much elevated upon account of them, it must be the effect of the most frivolous levity. This fituation, however, may very well be called the natural and ordinary ftate of mankind. Notwithstanding the present mifery and depravity of the world, fo juftly lamented, this really is the state of the greater part of men. The greater part of men therefore, cannot find any great difficulty in elevating themselves to all the joy which any acceffion to this fituation can well excite in their companion.

But though little can be added to this ftate, much may be taken from it. Though between this condition and the higheft pitch of human profperity,

the interval is but a trifle; between it and the lowest depth of mifery the diftance is immenfe and prodigious. Adverfity, on this account, neceffarily deprefles the mind of the fufferer much more below its natural flate, than profperity can elevate him above it. The fpectator, therefore, muft find it much more difficult to fympathize entirely, and keep perfect time, with his forrow, than thoroughly to enter into his joy, and must depart much further from his own natural and ordinary temper of mind in the one cafe than in the other. It is on this account, that though our sympathy with forrow is often a more pungent fenfation than our sympathy with joy, it always falls much more fhort of the violence of what is naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned.

It is agreeable to fympatize with joy; and wherever envy does not oppofe it, our heart abandons itself with fatisfaction to the highest transports of that delightful fentiment. But it is painful to go along with grief, and we always enter into it with reluctance.

It has been objected to me that as I found the fentiment of approbation, which is always agreeable, upon fympathy, it is inconfiftent with my fyftem to admit any difagreeable fympathy. I answer, that in the fentiment of approbation there are two things to be taken notice of; firft, the sympathetic paflion of the fpectator; and, fecondly, the emotion which arites from his obferving the perfect coincidence between this fympathetic paffion in himself, and the orginal paffion in the perfon principally concerned. This laft emotion, in which the fentiment of approbation properly confifts, is always agreeable and delightful. The other may either be agreeable or difagreeable, acording to the nature of the original paffion, whose features it must always, in fome measure, retain.

When we attend to the representation of a tragedy,
we ftruggle against that sympathetic forrow which the
entertainment inspires as long as we can, and we give
way to it at last only when we can no longer avoid
it: we even then endeavour to cover our concern

from the company. If we fhed any tears, we
carefully conceal them, and are afraid, left the
fpectators, not entering into this exceffive tender-
ness,
fhould regard it as effeminacy and weakness.
The wretch whofe misfortunes call upon our
compaffion feels with what reluctance we are
likely to enter into his forrow, and therefore
proposes his grief to us with fear and hesitation :
he even fmothers the half of it, and is afhamed,
upon account of this hard-heartedness of mankind,
to give vent to the fulness of his affliction. It is
otherwise with the man who riots in joy and
fuccefs. Wherever envy
does not intereft us
against him, he expects our completest sympathy,
He does not fear, therefore, to announce himself
with fhouts of exultation, in full confidence that
we are heartily disposed to go along with him.

Faci Why should we be more afhamed to weep than (ee to laugh before company? We may often have as real occafion to do the one as to do the other, but we always feel that the spectators are more likely to go along with us in the agreeable than in the painful emotion. It is always miferable to complain, even when we are oppreffed by the most dreadful calamities. But the triumph of victory is not always ungraceful. Prudence, indeed,

would often advife us to bear our prosperity with more moderation; because prudence would teach us to avoid that envy which this very triumph is, more than any thing, apt to excite.

How hearty are the acclamations of the mob, who never bear any envy to their fuperiors, at a triumph or a public entry? And how fedate and moderate is commonly their grief at an execution ? Our forrow at a funeral generally amounts to no more than an affected gravity; but our mirth at a christening or a marriage, is always from the heart, and without any affectation. Upon these, and all fuch joyous occafions, our fatisfaction, though not fo durable, is often as lively, as that of the perfons principally concerned. Whenever we cordially congratulate our friends, which, however, to the difgrace of human nature, we do but feldom, their joy literally becomes our joy: we are, for the moment, as happy as they are: our heart fwells and overflows with real pleasure: joy and complacency sparkle from our eyes, and animate every feature of our countenance, and every gefture of our body.

But, on the contrary, when we condole with our friends in their afflictions, how little do we feel, in comparifon of what they feel? We fit down by them, we look at them, and while they relate to us the circumftances of their misfortune, we liften to them with gravity and attention. But while their narration is every moment interrupted by thofe natural burfts of paffion which often feem almoft to choke them in the midft of it; how

far are the languid emotions of our hearts from keeping time to the tranfports of theirs? We may be fenfible, at the fame time, that their paffion îs natural, and no greater than what we ourfelves might feel upon the like occafion. We may even inwardly reproach ourselves with our own want of fenfibility, and perhaps, on that account, work ourfelves up into an artificial fympathy, which, however, when it is raised, is always the flighteft and moft tranfitory imaginable; and generally, as soon as we have left the room, vanishes, and is gone for ever. Nature, it seems, when the loaded, us with our own forrows, thought that they were enough, and therefore did not command us to take any further fhare in those of others, than what was neceffary to prompt us to relieve them.

It is on accouut of this dull fenfibility to the afflictions of others, that magnanimity amidst great distress appears always fo divinely graceful. His behaviour is genteel and agreeable who can maintain his cheerfulnefs amidst a number of frivolous difafters. But he appears to be more than mortal who can support in the fame manner the moft dreadful calamities. We feel what an immense effort is requifite to filence thofe violent emotions which naturally agitate and diftract thofe in his fituation. We are amazed to find that he can command himself fo entirely. His firmnefs, at the fame time, perfectly coincides with our infenfibility. He makes no demand upon us for that more exquilite degree of fenfibility which we find, and which we are mortified to find, that we do