nd are not agitated with violent passions, there appears a remarkable
desire of company, which associates them together, without any
advantages they can ever propose to reap from their union. This is still
more conspicuous in man, as being the creature of the universe, who
has the most ardent desire of society, and is fitted for it by the most
advantages. We can form no wish, which has not a reference to society.
A perfect solitude is, perhaps, the greatest punishment we can suffer.
Every pleasure languishes when enjoyed a-part from company, and every
pain becomes more cruel and intolerable. Whatever other passions we may
be actuated by; pride, ambition, avarice, curiosity, revenge or lust;
the soul or animating principle of them all is sympathy; nor would
they have any force, were we to abstract entirely from the thoughts and
sentiments of others. Let all the powers and elements of nature conspire
to serve and obey one man: Let the sun rise and set at his command: The
sea and rivers roll as he pleases, and the earth furnish spontaneously
whatever may be useful or agreeable to him: He will still be miserable,
till you give him some one person at least, with whom he may share his
happiness, and whose esteem and friendship he may enjoy.

This conclusion from a general view of human nature, we may confirm by
particular instances, wherein the force of sympathy is very remarkable.
Most kinds of beauty are derived from this origin; and though our first
object be some senseless inanimate piece of matter, it is seldom we rest
there, and carry not our view to its influence on sensible and rational
creatures. A man, who shews us any house or building, takes particular
care among other things to point out the convenience of the apartments,
the advantages of their situation, and the little room lost in the
stairs, antichambers and passages; and indeed it is evident, the chief
part of the beauty consists in these particulars. The observation of
convenience gives pleasure, since convenience is a beauty. But after
what manner does it give pleasure? It is certain our own interest is
not in the least concerned; and as this is a beauty of interest, not of
form, so to speak, it must delight us merely by communication, and by
our sympathizing with the proprietor of the lodging. We enter into his
interest by the force of imagination, and feel the same satisfaction,
that the objects naturally occasion in him.

This observation extends to tab