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But I much question, whether we derive more pleasure from this superabundance of beauties, than if they were more limited in number. We should visit them oftener, and have more correct, definite, and stronger impressions.

I shall leave the description of the Palais Doria, Giustiniani, Barberini, Aldobrandini, Medicis, and Ludovis, till my return, and shall now take my leave of Rome, to

introduce you to wonders of another species; to smoaking mountains, and flowing lava; to boiling springs, and excavated hills; to sulphurous exhalations, and mephitick vapours. You will pardon me,if my letters smell too strongly of these topicks, for I consider myself writing upon volcanoes, and rambling over subterraneous fires. Adieu.

For the Anthology.
REMARKER, No. 29.

- And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,
And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wished not to control.'

THE expressions, applied to particular classes of our sentiments and emotions, have the form of solecism. The effect of certain objects and representations upon the feelings is described in phrases of a paradoxical structure. It is called melancholy satisfaction, and soothing melancholy, pleasurable pain and painful pleasure, the joy of grief, agreeable sadness, and delightful woe. By those, who are unused to the melting mood,' or who think it worthy of their wisdom and dignity to guard themselves, and of their benevolence to guard others,against the weaknesses of fancy and feeling, this language is not heard with any great respect or sympathy. They are inclined to suspect it, as delusive or hurtful, or deride it, as a species of refined jargon. It cannot be denied, that phraseology of this kind is frequently the vehicle rather of vanity, than of tenderness; the cant of an ill-directed, ill-governed, and factitious sensibility, and wayward imagination, rather than Vol. V. No. 1. D

the dictate of unadulterated nature, or the mirour of just perception. ception. On the other hand, it must be admitted that these and similar expressions allude to real phenomena of human nature. They are not ill chosen to picture those states of the mind, which have a tinge of sadness, and are yet agreeable; in which pleasure and pain are blended, but in which pleasure prevails. They indicate something, to which the soul is conscious, solemnized, and affected by the objects of religion, softened by contrition, and bowed by humility, but cheered by hope, and exalted by the spirit of devotion. They answer to that grief for departed loveliness and worth, which is mellowed by time,and chastened by resignation,but which delights to hold in affectionate remembrance the buried friend or child. The heartaches, that belong to the tender passion in its less violent symptoms, are thought to be rightly denominated pleasing pains. There is a luxury in the indulgence of

that soft and elevated melancholy, representation of fellow beings afwhich is widely different from gloom or malevolence; which is serious, yet affectionate; which sometimes prefers the stillness of solitude, and the murmur of the woods, to towered cities,' and the 'busy hum' of men; the sobersuited night to the gairish day;' which readily vibrates to the tones of sorrow, and yet has an ear for the song of gladness:

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The expressions, we have recited, have respect to our sympathies with distress, real or imagined. It is believed to be a law of our mental frame, that in certain circumstances we shall derive pleasure from affecting objects and representations. The origin of this pleasure has been a subject of speculation; for curiosity is necessarily interested to disentangle it from its apparent complications; and the moral character of human nature is in some measure involved in the result of the inqui ry. The Remarker invites his readers to join him in a brief examination of this part of our constitution. They may find that light is reflected from one of the dark sides of our nature; and see a new proof of benevolence in the author of our frame; who has placed an ally of the unfortunate in the strong holds of self-love, and ordained that pleasure shall be raised from the bosom of uncasiness.'

We are affected at the sight or

fected. We suffer to a certain extent in their sufferings. It cannot be supposed that exhibitions of misery are in themselves grateful; that sobs and groans regale our ears, and spectacles of woe feast our eyes. If this ever happen with any, it must be with those only, who are under the operation of the most dark and malignant passions. Yet experience and observation prove, that men in general have some disposition to converse with misfortune, and find a pleasure in being moved with objects of distress. I shall remark on the fact,and the cause; shall sketch the natural history of our sensibility to the sufferings of others; and trace the origin of the pleasure apparently found in compassionate, sympathetick feelings, excited by the presence or the representation of human beings in situations difficult, trying, and calamitous.

The aptitude to be moved by the emotions, and to suffer with the sufferings of our fellow beings, is expressed in a variety of terms and phrases. It is called rejoicing with those who rejoice, and weeping with those who weep. Sympathy is used to indicate the state of our feelings, when we enter into their painful sensations. We are inclined to feel for all that feels, or that is intimately associated with what is sensitive. An inanimate object is regarded with interest on account of its connexion with something animated. A staff, which has been long a companion of our walks, is prized with a sentiment like affection. A dwelling, which has been a home, the seat of our best enjoyments, is forsaken with regret. Ruins, are objects of sentiment, calling back the mind to the days of other years, and seeming conscious to the actions

of the mighty dead. The power of strong passion to convert things inanimate into sympathising beings, is evinced by the personifications of poetry. In elegiack verses the trees, and fountains, and rocks are described as sharing the griefs, which the muse bewails. Few persons are wholly indifferent to the sufferings of the brute creation. The joy of the chase, celebrated with so much enthusiasm in hunting songs, is not espoused by the pitiful so strongly, as the fear and anguish of the animal flying from its pursuers. Many an eye has been moistened at the catastrophe of the high mettled racer,' and all readers of Virgil and Lucretius enter with fellow feeling into those passages, where the sorthey describe, the one row of a steer for the loss of his fellow, and the other the affliction of a cow deprived of her calf.* The dead, considered as cut off from every agreeable appearance of nature, every loved connexion of life, and shut up in the cold and dreary tomb, are viewed with pity, though reflection teaches us that these sad associations exist only in our minds. We feel for those, who are insensible to the circumstances that raise our emotion. The dubious prospects of the unconscious infant, deprived of its parents; the gaiety of the maniack, 'laughing wild,' excite compassion. The sympathy, of which we are treating, is the fellow feeling, which we have with a being like ourselves, in situations of distress or under painful perturbations of mind. We are said to harmonise with his condition and feelings; to make his sensations in a greater or less degree our own; to adopt his emotions. We see, hear, or im

Beattie's Essays, p. 182.

agine his misery, and our souls
are attuned to correspondent vi-
brations.

The mode, the expressions, the degree, and the attractiveness of this sympathy, are diversified by a multitude of causes within and without us.

The effect is much determined by the manner,in which the suffering is presented to our attention; whether by sight, by the report of an eye-witness, by the plain narrative of the historian, or the high-wrought fiction of the novelist; whether it appear in the tones of musick, in painting, sculpture, and statuary; in the descriptions of poetry, the pathetick addresses of eloquence, or in dramatick writings and exhibitions. In the efforts of art to raise emotion the success must vary with the skill and dexterity, which are exerted; and depends on the conformity of the characters, the incidents,the sentiments,and language; the intonations, looks, gestures, and attitudes to nature and truth. Numerous other circumstances are known to influence the direction and force of the sympathetick affections. The activity of the imagination, and sensibility of the heart, and delicacy of the temperament, are concerned in the impression made by scenes of woe. Some persons are too stupid to comprehend any sorrows, but their own. They witness and learn disasters with serenity undisturbed,as Dutchmen hear of earthquakes in Calabria.' This dullness of the imagination, which feels only what is presented to the senses or fixed in the memory, and makes no combinatiens of its own, is thought to account in part for the effect which exhibitions of fictitious distress produce on some persons, who do not discover much sensibility to the calamities of real life. In a

ry.

novel or a tragedy the picture is
completely finished in all its parts,
and we are made acquainted, not
only with every circumstance on
which the distress turns, but with
the sentiments and feelings of ev-
ery character with respect to his
situation. In real life we see, in
general, only detached scenes of
the tragedy; and the impression
is slight, unless the imagination
finishes the characters and supplies
the incidents that are wanting.'
There is a cold, unfeeling temper-
ament, an icy hardness, whose
pulse never throbs with tender
sensations. Others are as much
too easily moved. They have
a morbid delicacy, which may
well make them wish to avoid
the sights and sounds of mise-
A readiness to be affect-
ed by images of sorrow is a char-
acteristick of the female heart.
When was woman ever wanting
in compassion? Connexion with
ourselves, our private affections,
our interests, and experience, has
a necessary influence upon this
class of feelings. He jests at
scars, who never felt a wound.'
'He talks to me,' says the weep-
ing mother, he talks to me, who
never had a son.' In the near re-
lations of life, our sympathy with
others is often identified with per-
sonal suffering. What they feel
we feel, perhaps without the miti-
gations and supports, which they ex-
perience, and in a greater degree
than they. Selfishness, in its dif-
ferent forms, is an antagonist of
compassion. Pride keeps us at a
distance from vulgar and inelegant
distress. Avarice hardens the
mind against the compunctious
visitings of nature,' though it will
allow us to weep at artificial mis-
ery, which does not need a friend.
The gaiety of disposition, or the
selfishness of temper, that often

accompany prosperous fortunes, or
a dissipated life, are at variance
with a sentimental, participating
heart. Accustomed to live for self-
gratification, their affections begin
and end at home. They have few
of those feelings, which prompt
us to claim kindred with the fallen
and the unhappy. Shall the tear of
pity dim that eye, which is kindled
with joy? Shall the gloom of sym-
pathetick sorrow be allowed to ga-
ther on minds, which good fortune
enables to dwell in the day-light
of perpetual cheerfulness? Shall
he, who is intent on pleasure, turn
aside from his pursuit to behold a
sight of distress? Shall the soft
indolence of his mind be disturbed
by images of misery; or the noise
of his mirth be interrupted by the
cries of affliction? If he must
contract acquaintance with misfor-
tune, let it be only the mimick
sorrow and fictitious woe of tra-
gedy and romance, which it will
cost him no pain nor trouble to
compassionate. There is a laugh-
ing tribe, who cannot be expected
to be very pitiful. So long as they
have no affliction of their own, they
retain a constant disposition to wit,
humour, and ridicule, to the com-
edy and farce of life. It has been
said of this temper, that a certain
degree of vanity, or light pride, is
necessary to feed and support it;
and though it is never, perhaps,
allied to dark envy or atrocious
malignity, it is never entirely free
from a share of sordid selfishness;
for as the perpetual smile of gaiety
can only flow from the heart, which
is perpetually at ease, it can only
flow from that, which carries the
ingredients of perpetual ease al-
ways within itself; and these are
affections, which never diverge far
from its own centre.'

Novelty, education, custom, fashion, habit exert their influence on

this part of our constitution. When the revolutionary scaffold in Paris was daily smoking with the blood of its victims, the spectacle lost its interest with the people. The monster, Robespierre, who then governed, in the latter days of his power, is said to have procured the condemnation and execution of nine young and beautiful girls, who presented a chaplet to the Prussian commander at Verdun, merely to rouse the wearied attention of the populace by a more affecting exhibition.' The events of Europe, and especially in one country of it, for the last sixteen years, consisting of a succession of crimes and horrours, of civil massacres, and bloody wars, have operated by excess of stimulus to impair the sensibility of mankind. Age debilitates the feelings; and the professions, which occasion a familiarity with sufferings, tend to convert the humanity, which at first was instinct and emotion, into principle and habit. The rude

vulgar know nothing of refinements of feeling, which belong to the cultivated. Customs and manners increase or diminish the susceptibility. Roman gentlemen and ladies enjoyed the fights of gladiators in the bloody arena.

The opinion of merit and propriety always enters into our sympathies. Selfish, frivolous, and excessive sorrows, unbecoming the character of the subject, whether real or feigned, indicative of pusillanimity or atrocity, we refuse to partake. In real life we revere and love those persons, who appear to feel much for others, and little for themselves; who are at once affectionate and humane, patient and magnanimous. These are some of the properties and operations of our sympathetick feelings. Are these feelings ever productive of pleasure? What is the cause of this pleasure? What is their value and use in respect to character and enjoyment?

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