The Theory of Moral Sentiments

what cases the sense of duty ought to be the sole principle of our conduct; and in what cases it ought to concur with other motives.

Religion affords such strong motives to

the practice of virtue, and guards us by such

powerful restraints from the temptations of vice,

that many have been led to suppose, that religious

principles were the sole laudable motives of action.

We ought neither, they said, to reward from gratitude,

nor punish from resentment; we ought neither

to protect the helplessness of our children, nor

afford support to the infirmities of our parents, from

natural affection. All affections for particular objects,

ought to be extinguished in our breast, and one

great affection take the place of all others, the love

of the Deity, the desire of rendering ourselves agreeable

to him, and of directing our conduct in every

respect according to his will. We ought not to be

grateful from gratitude, we ought not to be charitable

from humanity, we ought not to be public-spirited

from the love of our country, nor generous and just

from the love of mankind. The sole principle and

motive of our conduct in the performance of all those

different duties, ought to be a sense that God has

224commanded us to perform them. I shall not at present

take time to examine this opinion particularly;

I shall only observe, that we should not have expected

to have found it entertained by any sect, who professed

themselves of a religion in which, as it is the

first precept to love the Lord our God with all our

heart, with all our soul, and with all our strength, so

it is the second to love our neighbour as we love

ourselves; and we love ourselves surely for our own

sakes, and not merely because we are commanded

to do so. That the sense of duty should be the sole

principle of our conduct, is no where the precept of

Christianity; but that it should be the ruling and

governing one, as philosophy, and as, indeed, common

sense directs. It may be a question however,

in what cases our actions ought to arise chiefly or entirely

from a sense of duty, or from a regard to general

rules; and in what cases some other sentiment or

affection ought to concur, and have a principal influence.

The decision of this question, which cannot,

perhaps, be given with any very great accuracy, will

depend upon two different circumstances; first,

upon the natural agreeableness or deformity of the

sentiment or affection which would prompt us to any

action independent of all regard to general rules;

and secondly, upon the precision and exactness, or

the looseness and inaccuracy of the general rules

themselves.

I. First, I say, it will depend upon the natural

agreeableness or deformity of the affection itself, how

far our actions ought to arise from it, or entirely proceed

from a regard to the general rule.

225All those graceful and admired actions, to which

the benevolent affections would prompt us, ought

to proceed as much from the passions themselves, as

from any regard to the general rules of conduct.

A benefactor thinks himself but ill requited, if the

person upon whom he has bestowed his good offices,

repays them merely from a cold sense of duty, and

without any affection to his person. A husband is

dissatisfied with the most obedient wife, when he

imagines her conduct is animated by no other principle

besides her regard to what the relation she

stands in requires. Though a son should fail in none

of the offices of filial duty, yet if he wants that affectionate

reverence which it so well becomes him to

feel, the parent may justly complain of his indifference.

Nor could a son be quite satisfied with a parent

who, though he performed all the duties of his

situation, had nothing of that fatherly fondness

which might have been expected from him. With

regard to all such benevolent and social affections, it

is agreeable to see the sense of duty employed rather

to restrain than to enliven them, rather to hinder us

from doing too much, than to prompt us to do what

we ought. It gives us pleasure to see a father obliged

to check his own fondness, a friend obliged to set

bounds to his natural generosity, a person who has

received a benefit, obliged to restrain the too sanguine

gratitude of his own temper.

The contrary maxim takes place with regard to the

malevolent and unsocial passions. We ought to reward

from the gratitude and generosity of our own

hearts, without any reluctance, and without being

obliged to reflect how great the propriety of rewarding:

but we ought always to punish with reluctance,

226and more from a sense of the propriety of punishing

than from any savage disposition to revenge. Nothing

is more graceful than the behaviour of the

man who appears to resent the greatest injuries, more

from a sense that they deserve, and are the proper

objects of resentment, than from feeling himself the

furies of that disagreeable passion; who, like a judge,

considers only the general rule, which determines

what vengeance is due for each particular offence;

who, in executing that rule, feels less for what himself

has suffered, than what the offender is about to

suffer; who, though in wrath remembers mercy, and

is disposed to interpret the rule in the most gentle and

favourable manner, and to allow all the alleviations

which the most candid humanity could, consistently

with good sense, admit of.

As the selfish passions, according to what has formerly

been observed, hold in other respects a sort of

middle place, between the social and unsocial affections,

so do they likewise in this. The pursuit of the

objects of private interest, in all common, little, and

ordinary cases, ought to flow rather from a regard

to the general rules which prescribe such conduct,

than from any passion for the objects themselves;

but upon more important and extraordinary occasions,

we should be awkward, insipid, and ungraceful,

if the objects themselves did not appear to animate

us with a considerable degree of passion. To

be anxious, or to be laying a plot either to gain or

to save a single shilling, would degrade the most vulgar

tradesman in the opinion of all his neighbours.

Let his circumstances be ever so mean, no attention

to any such small matters, for the sake of the things

themselves, must appear in his conduct. His situation

227may require the most severe œconomy, and the

most exact assiduity: but each particular exertion of

that œconomy and assiduity must proceed not so

much from a regard for that particular saving or

gain, as for the general rule which to him prescribes,

with the utmost rigour, such a tenour of conduct.

His parsimony to-day must not arise from a desire of

the particular three-pence which he will save by it,

nor his attendance in his shop from a passion for the

particular ten-pence which he will acquire by it:

both the one and the other ought to proceed solely

from a regard to the general rule, which prescribes,

with the most unrelenting severity, this plan of conduct

to all persons in his way of life. In this consists

the difference between the character of a miser,

and that of a person of exact œconomy and assiduity.

The one is anxious about small matters for

their own sake; the other attends to them only in

consequence of the scheme of life which he has

laid down to himself.

It is quite otherwise with regard to the more extraordinary

and important objects of self-interest.

A person appears mean-spirited, who does not pursue

these with some degree of earnestness for their

own sake. We should despise a prince who was not

anxious about conquering or defending a province.

We should have little respect for a private gentleman

who did not exert himself to gain an estate, or even

a considerable office, when he could acquire them

without either meanness or injustice. A member of

parliament who shews no keenness about his own

election, is abandoned by his friends, as altogether

unworthy of their attachment. Even a tradesman is

228thought a poor-spirited fellow among his neighbours,

who does not bestir himself to get what they

call an extraordinary job, or some uncommon advantage.

This spirit and keenness constitutes the

difference between the man of enterprise and the

man of dull regularity. Those great objects of

self-interest, of which the loss or acquisition quite

changes the rank of the person, are the objects of

the passion properly called ambition; a passion,

which when it keeps within the bounds of prudence

and justice, is always admired in the world, and has

even sometimes a certain irregular greatness, which

dazzles the imagination, when it passes the limits of

both these virtues, and is not only unjust but extravagant.

Hence the general admiration for Heroes

and Conquerors, and even for Statesmen, whose projects

have been very daring and extensive, though

altogether devoid of justice; such as those of the

Cardinals of Richlieu and of Retz. The objects of

avarice and ambition differ only in their greatness.

A miser is as furious about a halfpenny, as a man

of ambition about the conquest of a kingdom.

II. Secondly, I say, it will depend partly upon

the precision and exactness, or the looseness and inaccuracy

of the general rules themselves, how far

our conduct ought to proceed entirely from a regard

to them.

The general rules of almost all the virtues, the

general rules which determine what are the offices of

prudence, of charity, of generosity, of gratitude,

of friendship, are in many respects loose and inaccurate,

admit of many exceptions, and require so many

modifications, that it is scarce possible to regulate our

229conduct entirely by a regard to them. The common

proverbial maxims of prudence, being founded in

universal experience, are perhaps the best general

rules which can be given about it. To affect, however,

a very strict and literal adherence to them would

evidently be the most absurd and ridiculous pedantry.

Of all the virtues I have just now mentioned,

gratitude is that, perhaps, of which the rules are the

most precise, and admit of the fewest exceptions.

That as soon as we can we should make a return of

equal, and if possible of superior value to the services

we have received, would seem to be a pretty

plain rule, and one which admitted of scarce any exceptions.

Upon the most superficial examination,

however, this rule will appear to be in the highest

degree loose and inaccurate, and to admit of ten

thousand exceptions. If your benefactor attended

you in your sickness, ought you to attend him in

his? or can you fulfil the obligation of gratitude,

by making a return of a different kind? If you

ought to attend him, how long ought you to attend

him? The same time which he attended you, or

longer, and how much longer? If your friend lent

you money in your distress, ought you to lend him

money in his? How much ought you to lend him?

When ought you to lend him? Now, or to-morrow,

or next month? And for how long a time? It is

evident, that no general rule can be laid down, by

which a precise answer can, in all cases, be given to

any of these questions. The difference between his

character and yours, between his circumstances and

yours, may be such, that you may be perfectly

grateful, and justly refuse to lend him a halfpenny:

and, on the contrary, you may be willing to lend,

or even to give him ten times the sum which he lent

230you, and yet justly be accused of the blackest ingratitude,

and of not having fulfilled the hundredth

part of the obligation you lie under. As the duties

of gratitude, however, are perhaps the most sacred

of all those which the beneficent virtues prescribe to

us, so the general rules which determine them are,

as I said before, the most accurate. Those which

ascertain the actions required by friendship, humanity,

hospitality, generosity, are still more vague and

indeterminate.

There is, however, one virtue of which the general

rules determine with the greatest exactness every

external action which it requires. This virtue is

justice. The rules of justice are accurate in the

highest degree, and admit of no exceptions or modifications,

but such as may be ascertained as accurately

as the rules themselves, and which generally, indeed,

flow from the very same principles with them.

If I owe a man ten pounds, justice requires that I

should precisely pay him ten pounds, either at the

time agreed upon, or when he demands it. What I

ought to perform, how much I ought to perform,

when and where I ought to perform it, the whole

nature and circumstances of the action prescribed,

are all of them precisely fixt and determined. Though

it may be awkward and pedantic, therefore, to affect

too strict an adherence to the common rules of

prudence or generosity, there is no pedantry in sticking

fast by the rules of justice. On the contrary,

the most sacred regard is due to them; and the actions

which this virtue requires are never so properly

performed, as when the chief motive for performing

them is a reverential and religious regard to those

general rules which require them. In the practice of

231the other virtues, our conduct should rather be

directed by a certain idea of propriety, by a certain

taste for a particular tenour of conduct, than by any

regard to a precise maxim or rule; and we should

consider the end and foundation of the rule, more

than the rule itself. But it is otherwise with regard

to justice: the man who in that refines the least,

and adheres with the most obstinate stedfastness, to

the general rules themselves, is the most commendable,

and the most to be depended upon. Though

the end of the rules of justice be, to hinder us

from hurting our neighbour, it may frequently be a

crime to violate them, though we could pretend,

with some pretext of reason, that this particular violation

could do no hurt. A man often becomes a

villain the moment he begins even in his own heart,

to chicane in this manner. The moment he thinks

of departing from the most staunch and positive adherence

to what those inviolable precepts prescribe

to him, he is no longer to be trusted, and no man

can say what degree of guilt he may not arrive at.

The thief imagines he does no evil, when he steals

from the rich, what he supposes they may easily

want, and what possibly they may never even

know has been stolen from them. The adulterer

imagines he does no evil, when he corrupts the

wife of his friend, provided he covers his intrigue

from the suspicion of the husband, and does not

disturb the peace of the family. When once we

begin to give way to such refinements, there is

no enormity so gross of which we may not be capable.

The rules of justice may be compared to the rules

of grammar; the rules of the other virtues to the

232rules which critics lay down for the attainment of

what is sublime and elegant in composition. The

one, are precise, accurate, and indispensable. The

other, are loose, vague, and indeterminate, and

present us rather with a general idea of the perfection

we ought to aim at, than afford us any certain

and infallible directions for acquiring it. A man

may learn to write grammatically by rule, with the

most absolute infallibility; and so, perhaps, he may

be taught to act justly. But there are no rules whose

observance will infallibly lead us to the attainment

of elegance or sublimity in writing, though there are

some which may help us, in some measure, to correct

and ascertain the vague ideas which we might

otherwise have entertained of those perfections: and

there are no rules by the knowledge of which we can

infallibly be taught to act upon all occasions with

prudence, with just magnanimity, or proper beneficence.

Though there are some which may enable

us to correct and ascertain in several respects, the

imperfect ideas which we might otherwise have entertained

of those virtues.

It may sometimes happen, that with the most serious

and earnest desire of acting so as to deserve approbation,

we may mistake the proper rules of conduct,

and thus be misled by that very principle

which ought to direct us. It is in vain to expect,

that in this case mankind should entirely approve of

our behaviour. They cannot enter into that absurd

idea of duty which influenced us, nor go along with

any of the actions which follow from it. There is

still, however, something respectable in the character

and behaviour of one who is thus betrayed into

233vice, by a wrong sense of duty, or by what is called

an erroneous conscience. How fatally soever he

may be misled by it, he is still, with the generous

and humane, more the object of commiseration than

of hatred or resentment. They lament the weakness

of human nature, which exposes us to such unhappy

delusions, even while we are most sincerely

labouring after perfection, and endeavouring to act

according to the best principle which can possibly

direct us. False notions of religion are almost the

only causes which can occasion any very gross perversion

of our natural sentiments in this way; and

that principle which gives the greatest authority

to the rules of duty, is alone capable of distorting

our ideas of them in any considerable degree. In

all other cases common sense is sufficient to direct

us, if not to the most exquisite propriety of conduct,

yet to something which is not very far from it; and

provided we are in earnest desirous to do well, our

behaviour will always, upon the whole, be praise-worthy.

That to obey the will of the Deity, is the

first rule of duty, all men are agreed. But concerning

the particular commandments which that

will may impose upon us, they differ widely from

one another. In this, therefore, the greatest mutual

forbearance and toleration is due; and though

the defence of society requires that crimes should be

punished, from whatever motives they proceed, yet

a good man will always punish them with reluctance,

when they evidently proceed from false notions of

religious duty. He will never feel against those

who commit them that indignation which he feels

against other criminals, but will rather regret, and

sometimes even admire their unfortunate firmness

and magnanimity, at the very time that he punishes

234their crime. In the tragedy of Mahomet, one of the

finest of Mr. Voltaire’s, it is well represented, what

ought to be our sentiments for crimes which proceed

from such motives. In that tragedy, two

young people of different sexes, of the most innocent

and virtuous dispositions, and without any

other weakness except what endears them the more

to us, a mutual fondness for one another, are instigated

by the strongest motives of a false religion, to

commit a horrid murder, that shocks all the principles

of human nature: a venerable old man, who

had expressed the most tender affection for them

both, for whom, notwithstanding he was the avowed

enemy of their religion, they had both conceived the

highest reverence and esteem, and who was in reality

their father, though they did not know him to be

such, is pointed out to them as a sacrifice which God

had expressly required at their hands, and they are

commanded to kill him. While they are about

executing this crime, they are tortured with all the

agonies which can arise from the struggle between

the idea of the indispensableness of religious duty on

the one side, and compassion, gratitude, reverence

for the age, and love for the humanity and virtue of

the person whom they are going to destroy, on the

other. The representation of this exhibits one of the

most interesting, and perhaps the most instructive

spectacle that was ever introduced upon any theatre.

The sense of duty, however, at last prevails over

all the amiable weaknesses of human nature. They

execute the crime imposed upon them; but immediately

discover their error, and the fraud which had

deceived them, and are distracted with horror, remorse,

and resentment. Such as are our sentiments

for the unhappy Seid and Palmira, such ought we

235to feel for every person who is in this manner misled

by religion, when we are sure that it is really religion

which misleads him, and not the pretence of it,

which is made a cover to some of the worst of human

passions.

As a person may act wrong by following a wrong

sense of duty, so nature may sometimes prevail, and

lead him to act right in opposition to it. We cannot

in this case be displeased to see that motive prevail,

which we think ought to prevail, though the person

himself is so weak as to think otherwise. As his

conduct, however, is the effect of weakness, not

principle, we are far from bestowing upon it any

thing that approaches to complete approbation. A

bigotted Roman Catholic, who, during the massacre

of St. Bartholomew, had been so overcome by

compassion, as to save some unhappy protestants,

whom he thought it his duty to destroy, would not

seem to be entitled to that high applause which we

should have bestowed upon him, had he exerted the

same generosity with complete self-approbation.

We might be pleased with the humanity of his temper,

but we should still regard him with a sort of

pity which is altogether inconsistent with the admiration

that is due to perfect virtue. It is the same

case with all the other passions. We do not dislike

to see them exert themselves properly, even when a

false notion of duty would direct the person to restrain

them. A very devout Quaker, who upon being

struck upon one cheek, instead of turning up

the other, should so far forget his literal interpretation

of our Saviour’s precept, as to bestow some

good discipline upon the brute that insulted him,

236would not be disagreeable to us. We should laugh

and be diverted with his spirit, and rather like him

the better for it. But we should by no means regard

him with that respect and esteem which would seem

due to one who, upon a like occasion, had acted

properly from a just sense of what was proper to be

done. No action can properly be called virtuous,

which is not accompanied with the sentiment of self-approbation.

237

PART IV.

Of the Effect of Utility upon the sentiment of approbation.

CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION.