now mentioned, which at least is doubtful whether, true or false,
was not the same with this fact, which nobody ever doubted, that THE
SIGHT OF OUR FRIENDS IN DISTRESS RAISES IN US GREATER COMPASSION
THAN THE SIGHT OF OTHERS IN DISTRESS: every one, I say, would have
seen that these are not the same, but TWO DIFFERENT inquiries; and,
consequently, that fear and compassion are not the same. Suppose a
person to be in real danger, and by some means or other to have
forgot it; any trifling accident, any sound might alarm him, recall
the danger to his remembrance, and renew his fear; but it is almost
too grossly ridiculous (though it is to show an absurdity) to speak
of that sound or accident as an object of compassion; and yet,
according to Mr. Hobbes, our greatest friend in distress is no more
to us, no more the object of compassion, or of any affection in our
heart: neither the one nor the other raises any emotion in one
mind, but only the thoughts of our liableness to calamity, and the
fear of it; and both equally do this. It is fit such sort of
accounts of human nature should be shown to be what they really are,
because there is raised upon them a general scheme, which undermines
the whole foundation of common justice and honesty. See Hobbes of
Human Nature, c. 9. section 10.

There are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon
sight of persons in distress: real sorrow and concern for the
misery of our fellow-creatures; some degree of satisfaction from a
consciousness of our freedom from that misery; and as the mind
passes on from one thing to another it is not unnatural from such an
occasion to reflect upon our own liableness to the same or other
calamities. The two last frequently accompany the first, but it is
the first ONLY which is properly compassion, of which the distressed
are the objects, and which directly carries us with calmness and