force of the first sympathy; it
follows, that the passion of love or hatred depends upon the same
principle. A strong impression, when communicated, gives a double
tendency of the passions; which is related to benevolence and love by a
similarity of direction; however painful the first impression might have
been. A weak impression, that is painful, is related to anger and hatred
by the resemblance of sensations. Benevolence, therefore, arises from a
great degree of misery, or any degree strongly sympathized with: Hatred
or contempt from a small degree, or one weakly sympathized with; which
is the principle I intended to prove and explain.

Nor have we only our reason to trust to for this principle, but also
experience. A certain degree of poverty produces contempt; but a degree
beyond causes compassion and good-will. We may under-value a peasant
or servant; but when the misery of a beggar appears very great, or
is painted in very lively colours, we sympathize with him in his
afflictions; and feel in our heart evident touches of pity and
benevolence. The same object causes contrary passions according to its
different degrees. The passions, therefore, must depend upon principles,
that operate in such certain degrees, according to my hypothesis. The
encrease of the sympathy has evidently the same effect as the encrease
of the misery.

A barren or desolate country always seems ugly and disagreeable, and
commonly inspires us with contempt for the inhabitants. This deformity,
however, proceeds in a great measure from a sympathy with the
inhabitants, as has been already observed; but it is only a weak
one, and reaches no farther than the immediate sensation, which is
disagreeable. The view of a city in ashes conveys benevolent sentiments;
because we there enter so deep into the interests of the miserable
inhabitants, as to wish for their prosperity, as well as feel their
adversity.

But though the force of the impression generally produces pity and
benevolence, it is certain, that by being carryed too far it ceases
to have that effect. This, perhaps, may be worth our notice. When the
uneasiness is either small in itself, or remote from us, it engages not
the imagination, nor is able to convey an equal concern for the future
and contingent good, as for the present and real evil Upon its acquiring
greater force, we become so interested in the concerns of the person, as
to be sensible both of his good and had fortune; and fro