and its own pain. It can feel only itself and its own sensations, whatever these may be, and no augmentation of these will enable it to go beyond itself: indeed, we might say the more it feels its own sensations, the more these are intensified, the more these occupy it, the less does it feel the sensations of any other animal. Hence animals have no sympathy for each other. This want of sympathy is a necessary consequence of their being tied down to the feeling of themselves and of their own sensations. Under this limitation it is impossible for them to take others into account, and the pains and pleasures which others may be experiencing. For, as I have said, one sentient being can never feel the sensations of another sentient being; and therefore, if it be limited, as animals are, to mere feeling, it must be utterly indifferent to others and to their pains and pleasures. This indifference characterises all animals, many children, and some men, in whom the sensational element is unduly preponderant. What civilisation and society would be without sympathy, it is difficult, or rather it is not difficult, to imagine. Neither society nor civilisation could exist. Such would be the consequence if people had merely the feeling of themselves and of their own sensations, appetites, and desires.
27. If we now turn to the consideration of self-consciousness, or the conception of oneself and of one's own pains and pleasures, a conception which I
