The Theory of Moral Sentiments

f the utility of this constitution of nature.

It is thus that man, who can subsist only in society,

was fitted by nature to that situation for which

he was made. All the members of human society

stand in need of each others assistance, and are likewise

exposed to mutual injuries. Where the necessary

assistance is reciprocally afforded from love,

from gratitude, from friendship and esteem, the

society flourishes and is happy. All the different

members of it are bound together by the agreeable

bands of love and affection, and are, as it were,

drawn to one common centre of mutual good offices.

But though the necessary assistance should not be

afforded from such generous and disinterested motives,

though among the different members of the

society there should be no mutual love and affection,

the society, though less happy and agreeable, will

not necessarily be dissolved. Society may subsist

among different men, as among different merchants,

from a sense of its utility, without any mutual love

or affection; and though no man in it should owe

any obligation, or be bound in gratitude to any

other, it may still be upheld by a mercenary exchange

of good offices according to an agreed valuation.

133Society, however, cannot subsist among those

who are at all times ready to hurt and injure one

another. The moment that injury begins, the moment

that mutual resentment and animosity take

place, all the bands of it are broke asunder, and the

different members of which it consisted are, as it

were, dissipated and scattered abroad by the violence

and opposition of their discordant affections. If

there is any society among robbers and murderers,

they must at least, according to the trite observation,

abstain from robbing and murdering one another.

Beneficence, therefore, is less essential to the exigence

of society than justice. Society may subsist,

though not in the most comfortable state, without

beneficence; but the prevalence of injustice must

utterly destroy it.

Though Nature, therefore, exhorts mankind to

acts of beneficence, by the pleasing consciousness of

deserved reward, she has not thought it necessary to

guard and enforce the practice of it by the terrors

of merited punishment in case it should be neglected.

It is the ornament which embellishes, not the

foundation which supports the building, and which

it was, therefore, sufficient to recommend, but by

no means necessary to impose. Justice, on the contrary,

is the main pillar that upholds the whole edifice.

If it is removed, the great, the immense fabric

of human society, that fabric which to raise and

support seems in this world, if I may say so, to have

been the peculiar and darling care of Nature, must

in a moment crumble into atoms. In order to enforce

the observation of justice, therefore, Nature

has implanted in the human breast that consciousness

of ill desert, those terrors of merited punishment

134which attend upon its violation, as the great

safe-guards of the association of mankind, to protect

the weak, to curb the violent, and to chastise

the guilty. Men, though naturally sympathetic, feel

so little for another, with whom they have no particular

connexion, in comparison for what they feel

for themselves; the misery of one, who is merely

their fellow-creature, is of so little importance to

them in comparison even of a small conveniency of

their own; they have it so much in their power to

hurt him, and may have so many temptations to

do so, that if this principle did not stand up within

them in his defence, and overawe them into a respect

for his innocence, they would, like wild

beasts, be at all times ready to fly upon him; and

a man would enter an assembly of men as he enters

a den of lions.

In every part of the universe we observe means

adjusted with the nicest artifice to the ends which

they are intended to produce; and in the mechanism

of a plant, or animal body, admire how every

thing is contrived for advancing the two great purposes

of nature, the support of the individual, and

the propagation of the species. But in these, and

in all such objects, we still distinguish the efficient

from the final cause of their several motions and organizations.

The digestion of the food, the circulation

of the blood, and the secretion of the several

juices which are drawn from it, are operations all

of them necessary for the great purposes of animal

life. Yet we never endeavour to account for them

from those purposes as from their efficient causes,

nor imagine that the blood circulates, or that the

food digests of its own accord, and with a view or

135intention to the purposes of circulation or digestion.

The wheels of the watch are all admirably adjusted

to the end for which it was made, the pointing of

the hour. All their various motions conspire in the

nicest manner to produce this effect. If they were

endowed with a desire and intention to produce it,

they could not do it better. Yet we never ascribe

any such desire or intention to them, but to the

watch-maker, and we know that they are put in motion

by a spring, which intends the effect it produces

as little as they do. But though, in accounting

for the operations of bodies, we never fail to

distinguish in this manner the efficient from the final

cause, in accounting for those of the mind, we are

very apt to confound those two different things with

one another. When by natural principles we are

led to advance those ends, which a refined and enlightened

reason should recommend to us, we are

very apt to impute to that reason, as to their efficient

cause, the sentiments and actions by which we advance

those ends, and to imagine that to be the wisdom

of man, which in reality is the wisdom of God.

Upon a superficial view this cause seems sufficient to

produce the effects which are ascribed to it; and the

system of human nature seems to be more simple

and agreeable when all its different operations are in

this manner deduced from a single principle.

As society cannot subsist unless the laws of justice

are totally observed, as no social intercourse can take

place among men who do not generally abstain

from injuring one another; the consideration of this

necessity, it has been thought, was the ground upon

which we approved of the enforcement of the laws

of justice by the punishment of those who violated

136them. Man, it has been said, has a natural love

for society, and desires that the union of mankind

should be preserved for its own sake, and though he

himself was to derive no benefit from it. The orderly

and flourishing state of society is agreeable to

him, and he takes delight in contemplating it. Its

disorder and confusion, on the contrary, is the object

of his aversion, and he is chagrined at whatever

tends to produce it. He is sensible too that his own

interest is connected with the prosperity of society,

and that the happiness, perhaps the preservation of

his existence, depends upon its preservation. Upon

every account, therefore, he has an abhorrence at

whatever can tend to destroy society, and is willing

to make use of every means, which can hinder so

hated and so dreadful an event. Injustice necessarily

tends to destroy it. Every appearance of injustice,

therefore, alarms him, and he runs, if I may

say so, to stop the progress of what, if allowed to go

on, would quickly put an end to every thing that is

dear to him. If he cannot restrain it by gentle and

fair means, he must bear it down by force and violence,

and at any rate must put a stop to its further

progress. Hence it is, they say, that he often

approves of the enforcement of the law of justice

even by the capital punishment of those who violate

them. The disturber of the public peace is

hereby removed out of the world, and others are

terrified by his fate from imitating his example.

Such is the account commonly given of our approbation

of the punishment of injustice. And so

far this account is undoubtedly true, that we frequently

have occasion to confirm our natural sense

of the propriety and fitness of punishment, by reflecting

137how necessary it is for preserving the order of

society. When the guilty is about to suffer that

just retaliation, which the natural indignation of

mankind tells them is due to his crimes; when the

insolence of his injustice is broken and humbled by

the terror of his approaching punishment; when he

ceases to be an object of fear, with the generous and

humane he begins to be an object of pity. The

thought of what he is about to suffer extinguishes

their resentment for the sufferings of others to which

he has given occasion. They are disposed to pardon

and forgive him, and to save him from that punishment,

which in all their cool hours they had considered

as the retribution due to such crimes. Here,

therefore, they have occasion to call to their assistance

the consideration of the general interest of society.

They counterbalance the impulse of this

weak and partial humanity by the dictates of a humanity

that is more generous and comprehensive.

They reflect that mercy to the guilty is cruelty to

the innocent, and oppose to the emotions of compassion

which they feel for a particular person, a

more enlarged compassion which they feel for mankind.

Sometimes too we have occasion to defend the

propriety of observing the general rules of justice by

the consideration of their necessity to the support of

society. We frequently hear the young and the licentious

ridiculing the most sacred rules of morality,

and professing, sometimes from the corruption, but

more frequently from the vanity of their hearts, the

most abominable maxims of conduct. Our indignation

rouses, and we are eager to refute and expose

such detestable principles. But though it is

138their intrinsic hatefulness and detestableness, which

originally inflames us against them, we are unwilling

to assign this as the sole reason why we condemn

them, or to pretend that it is merely because

we ourselves hate and detest them. The reason, we

think, would not appear to be conclusive. Yet

why should it not; if we hate and detest them because

they are the natural and proper objects of hatred

and detestation? But when we are asked why

we should not act in such or such a manner, the

very question seems to suppose that, to those who

ask it, this manner of acting does not appear to be

for its own sake the natural and proper object of

those sentiments. We must show them, therefore,

that it ought to be so for the sake of something else.

Upon this account we generally cast about for other

arguments, and the consideration which first occurs

to us is the disorder and confusion of society which

would result from the universal prevalence of such

practices. We seldom fail, therefore, to insist upon

this topic.

But though it commonly requires no great discernment

to see the destructive tendency of all licentious

practices to the welfare of society, it is seldom

this consideration which first animates us against

them. All men, even the most stupid and

unthinking, abhor fraud, perfidy, and injustice, and

delight to see them punished. But few men have reflected

upon the necessity of justice to the existence of

society, how obvious soever that necessity may appear

to be.

That it is not a regard to the preservation of society,

which originally interests us in the punishment

139of crimes committed against individuals, may be demonstrated

by many obvious considerations. The

concern which we take in the fortune and happiness

of individuals does not, in common cases, arise from

that which we take in the fortune and happiness of

society. We are no more concerned for the destruction

or loss of a single man, because this man is

a member or part of society, and because we should

be concerned for the destruction of society, than we

are concerned for the loss of a single guinea, because

this guinea is a part of a thousand guineas, and because

we should be concerned for the loss of the

whole sum. In neither case does our regard for the

individuals arise from our regard for the multitude:

but in both cases our regard for the multitude is

compounded and made up of the particular regards

which we feel for the different individuals of which

it is composed. As when a small sum is unjustly

taken from us we do not so much prosecute the injury

from a regard to the preservation of our whole

fortune, as from a regard to that particular sum

which we have lost; so when a single man is injured

or destroyed, we demand the punishment of the

wrong that has been done to him, not so much from

a concern for the general interest of society, as from

a concern for that very individual who has been injured.

It is to be observed, however, that this

concern does not necessarily include in it any degree

of those exquisite sentiments which are commonly

called love, esteem, and affection, and by which we

distinguish our particular friends and acquaintance.

The concern which is requisite for this is no more

than the general fellow-feeling which we have with

every man merely because he is our fellow-creature.

We enter into the resentment even of an odious person,

140when he is injured by those to whom he has

given no provocation. Our disapprobation of his

ordinary character and conduct, does not in this

case altogether prevent our fellow-feeling with his

natural indignation; though with those who are not

either extremely candid, or who have not been accustomed

to correct and regulate their natural sentiments

by general rules, it is very apt to damp it.

Upon some occasions, indeed, we both punish

and approve of punishment, merely from a view to

the general interest of society, which, we imagine,

cannot otherwise be secured. Of this kind are all

the punishments inflicted for breaches of what is

called either civil police, or military discipline. Such

crimes do not immediately or directly hurt any particular

person; but their remote consequences, it is

supposed, do produce, or might produce, either a

considerable inconveniency, or a great disorder in

the society. A centinel, for example, who falls asleep

upon his watch, suffers death by the law of war, because

such carelessness might endanger the whole army.

This severity may, upon many occasions, appear

necessary, and, for that reason, just and proper.

When the preservation of an individual is inconsistent

with the safety of a multitude, nothing can be

more just than that the many should be preferred to

the one. Yet this punishment, how necessary soever,

always appears to be excessively severe. The

natural atrocity of the crime seems to be so little,

and the punishment so great, that it is with great

difficulty that our hearts can reconcile itself to it.

Though such carelessness appears very blamable,

yet the thought of this crime does not naturally excite

any such resentment, as would prompt us to

141take such dreadful revenge. A man of humanity

must recollect himself, must make an effort, and exert

his whole firmness and resolution, before he can

bring himself either to inflict it, or to go along with

it when it is inflicted by others. It is not, however,

in this manner, that he looks upon the just punishment

of an ungrateful murderer or parricide. His

heart, in this case, applauds with ardour, and even

with transport, the just retaliation which seems due

to such detestable crimes, and which, if, by any accident,

they should happen to escape, he would be

highly enraged and disappointed. The very different

sentiment with which the spectator views those

different punishments, is a proof that his approbation

of the one is far from being founded upon

the same principles with that of the other. He looks

upon the centinel as an unfortunate victim, who, indeed,

must, and ought to be, devoted to the safety

of numbers, but whom still, in his heart, he would

be glad to save; and he is only sorry, that the interest

of the many should oppose it. But if the murderer

should escape from punishment, it would excite

his highest indignation, and he would call upon

God to avenge, in another world, that crime which

the injustice of mankind had neglected to chastise

upon earth.

For it well deserves to be taken notice of, that we

are so far from imagining that injustice ought to be

punished in this life, merely on account of the order

of society, which cannot otherwise be maintained,

that Nature teaches us to hope, and religion, we

suppose, authorizes us to expect, that it will be punished,

even in a life to come. Our sense of its ill

desert pursues it, if I may say so, even beyond the

142grave, though the example of its punishment there

cannot serve to deter the rest of mankind, who see

it not, who know it not, from being guilty of the

like practices here. The justice of God, however,

we think, still requires, that he should hereafter

avenge the injuries of the widow and the fatherless,

who are here so often insulted with impunity.

That the Deity loves virtue and hates vice, as a

voluptuous man loves riches and hates poverty, not

for their own sakes, but for the effects which they

tend to produce; that he loves the one, only because

it promotes the happiness of society, which his benevolence

prompts him to desire; and that he hates

the other, only because it occasions the misery of mankind,

which the same divine quality renders the object

of his aversion; is not the doctrine of untaught

nature, but of an artificial refinement of reason and

philosophy. Our untaught, natural sentiments, all

prompt us to believe, that as perfect virtue is supposed

necessarily to appear to the Deity, as it does

to us, for its own sake, and without any further

view, the natural and proper object of love and reward,

so must vice, of hatred and punishment.

That the gods neither resent nor hurt, was the general

maxim of all the different sects of the ancient

philosophy: and if, by resenting, be understood,

that violent and disorderly perturbation, which often

distracts and confounds the human breast; or if, by

hurting, be understood, the doing mischief wantonly,

and without regard to propriety or justice, such

weakness is undoubtedly unworthy of the divine

perfection. But if it be meant, that vice does not

appear to the Deity to be, for its own sake, the object

of abhorrence and aversion, and what, for its

143own sake, it is fit and right should be punished, the

truth of this maxim seems repugnant to some very

natural feelings. If we consult our natural sentiments,

we are even apt to fear, lest, before the holiness

of God, vice should appear to be more worthy

of punishment than the weakness and imperfection

of human virtue can ever seem to be of reward.

Man, when about to appear before a Being of infinite

perfection, can feel but little confidence in his

own merit, or in the imperfect propriety of his own

conduct. In the presence of his fellow-creatures, he

may even justly elevate himself, and may often have

reason to think highly of his own character and conduct,

compared to the still greater imperfection of

theirs. But the case is quite different when about to

appear before his infinite Creator. To such a Being,

he fears, that his littleness and weakness can

scarce ever appear the proper object, either of esteem

or of reward. But he can easily conceive,

how the numberless violations of duty, of which he

has been guilty, should render him the proper object

of aversion and punishment; and he thinks he can

see no reason why the divine indignation should not

be let loose without any restraint, upon so vile an insect,

as he imagines that he himself must appear to

be. If he would still hope for happiness, he suspects

that he cannot demand it from the justice, but that

he must entreat it from the mercy of God. Repentance,

sorrow, humility, contrition at the thought of

his past conduct, seem, upon this account, the sentiments

which become him, and to be the only

means which he has left for appeasing that wrath

which, he knows, he has justly provoked. He

even distrusts the efficacy of all these, and naturally

fears, lest the wisdom of God should not, like the

144weakness of man, be prevailed upon to spare the

crime by the most importunate lamentations of the

criminal. Some other intercession, some other sacrifice,

some other atonement, he imagines must be

made for him, beyond what he himself is capable of

making, before the purity of the divine justice can be

reconciled to his manifold offences. The doctrines

of revelation coincide, in every respect, with those

original anticipations of nature; and as they teach us

how little we can depend upon the imperfection of

our own virtue, so they show us, at the same time,

that the most powerful intercession has been made,

and that the most dreadful atonement has been paid

for our manifold transgressions and iniquities.

145

SECTION III.

Of the influence of fortune upon the sentiments of mankind, with regard to the merit or demerit of actions.

INTRODUCTION.

Whatever praise or blame can be due to

any action, must belong either, first, to the intention

or affection of the heart, from which it proceeds;

or, secondly, to the external action or movement of

the body, which this affection gives occasion to; or,

last, to all the good or bad consequences, which actually,

and in fact, proceed from it. These three

different things constitute the whole nature and circumstances

of the action, and must be the foundation

of whatever quality can belong to it.

That the two last of these three circumstances cannot

be the foundation of any praise or blame, is abundantly

evident; nor has the contrary ever been asserted

by any body. The external action or movement

of the body is often the same in the most innocent

and in the most blamable actions. He who

shoots a bird, and he who shoots a man, both of them

146perform the same external movement: each of them

draws the tricker of a gun. The consequences

which actually, and in fact, happen to proceed from

any action, are, if possible, still more indifferent

either to praise or blame, than even the external

movement of the body. As they depend, not upon

the agent, but upon fortune, they cannot be the

proper foundation for any sentiment, of which his

character and conduct are the objects.

The only consequences for which he can be answerable,

or by which he can deserve either approbation

or disapprobation of any kind, are those which

were some way or other intended, or those which,

at least, show some agreeable or disagreeable quality

in the intention of the heart, from which he acted.

To the intention or affection of the heart, therefore,

to the propriety or impropriety, to the beneficence

or hurtfulness of the design, all praise or blame, all

approbation or disapprobation, of any kind, which

can justly be bestowed upon any action, must ultimately

belong.

When this maxim is thus proposed in abstract and

general terms, there is no body who does not agree

to it. Its self-evident justice is acknowledged by

all the world, and there is not a dissenting voice

among all mankind. Every body allows, that how

different soever the accidental, the unintended and

unforeseen consequences of different actions, yet, if

the intentions or affections from which they arose

were, on the one hand, equally proper and equally

beneficent, or, on the other, equally improper and

equally malevolent, the merit or demerit of the actions

is still the same, and the agent is equally the

suitable object either of gratitude or of resentment.

147But how well soever we may seem to be persuaded

of the truth of this equitable maxim, when we

consider it after this manner, in abstract, yet when

we come to particular cases, the actual consequences

which happen to proceed from any action, have a

very great effect upon our sentiments concerning its

merit or demerit, and almost always either enhance

or diminish our sense of both. Scarce, in any one

instance, perhaps, will our sentiments be found, after

examination, to be entirely regulated by this

rule, which we all acknowledge ought entirely to

regulate them.

This irregularity of sentiment, which every body

feels, which scarce any body is sufficiently aware of,

and which no body is willing to acknowledge, I proceed

now to explain; and I shall consider, first, the

cause which gives occasion to it, or the mechanism

by which nature produces it; secondly, the extent

of its influence; and, last of all, the end which it

answers, or the purpose which the Author of nature

seems to have intended by it.

148