The Theory of Moral Sentiments

f those systems which make virtue consist in propriety.

According to Plato, to Aristotle, and to

Zeno, virtue consists in the propriety of conduct, or

in the suitableness of the affection from which we act

to the object which excites it.

I. In the system of Plato[8] the soul is considered

as something like a little state or republic, composed

of three different faculties or orders.

8. See Plato de Rep. lib. iv.

296The first is the judging faculty, the faculty which

determines not only what are the proper means for attaining

any end, but also what ends are fit to be pursued,

and what degree of relative value we ought to

put upon each. This faculty Plato called, as it is

very properly called reason, and considered it as

what had a right to be the governing principle of

the whole. Under this appellation, it is evident, he

comprehended not only that faculty by which we

judge of truth and falsehood, but that by which we

judge of the propriety or impropriety of desires and

affections.

The different passions and appetites, the natural

subject of this ruling principle, but which are so apt

to rebel against their master, he reduced to two different

classes or orders. The first consisted of those

passions, which are founded in pride and resentment,

or in what the schoolmen called the irascible part of

the soul; ambition, animosity, the love of honour,

and the dread of shame, the desire of victory, superiority,

and revenge; all those passions, in short,

which are supposed either to rise from, or to denote

what, by a metaphor in our language, we commonly

call spirit or natural fire. The second consisted of

those passions which are founded in the love of pleasure,

or in what the schoolmen called the concupiscible

part of the soul. It comprehended all the appetites

of the body, the love of ease and security, and

of all sensual gratifications.

It rarely happens that we break in upon that plan

of conduct, which the governing principle prescribes,

and which in all our cool hours we had laid down to

ourselves as what was most proper for us to pursue,

297but when prompted by one or other of those two

different sets of passions; either by ungovernable

ambition and resentment, or by the importunate solicitations

of present ease and pleasure. But though

these two orders of passions are so apt to mislead us,

they are still considered as necessary parts of human

nature: the first having been given to defend us

against injuries, to assert our rank and dignity in the

world, to make us aim at what is noble and honourable,

and to make us distinguish those who act

in the same manner; the second to provide for the

support and necessities of the body.

In the strength, acuteness, and perfection of the

governing principle was placed the essential virtue of

prudence, which, according to Plato, consisted in a

just and clear discernment, founded upon general

and scientific ideas, of the ends which were proper to

be pursued, and of the means which were proper for

attaining them.

When the first set of passions, those of the irascible

part of the soul, had that degree of strength and

firmness, which enabled them, under the direction

of reason, to despise all dangers in the pursuit of

what was honourable and noble; it constituted the

virtue of fortitude and magnanimity. This order of

passions, according to this system, was of a more generous

and noble nature than the other. They were

considered upon many occasions as the auxiliaries of

reason, to check and restrain the inferior and brutal

appetites. We are often angry at ourselves, it was

observed, we often become the objects of our own resentment

and indignation, when the love of pleasure

prompts to do what we disapprove of; and the irascible

298part of our nature is in this manner called in to

assist the rational against the concupiscible.

When all those three different parts of our nature

were in perfect concord with one another, when neither

the irascible nor concupiscible passions ever aimed at

any gratification which reason did not approve of,

and when reason never commanded any thing, but

what these of their own accord were willing to perform;

this happy composure, this perfect and complete

harmony of soul, constituted that virtue which

in their language is expressed by a word which we

commonly translate temperance, but which might

more properly be translated good temper, or sobriety

and moderation of mind.

Justice, the last and greatest of the four cardinal

virtues, took place, according to this system, when

each of those three faculties of the mind confined itself

to its proper office, without attempting to encroach

upon that of any other; when reason directed

and passion obeyed, and when each passion performed

its proper duty, and exerted itself towards its

proper object easily and without reluctance, and with

that degree of force and energy, which was suitable

to the value of what it pursued. In this consisted

that complete virtue, that perfect propriety of conduct,

which Plato, after some of the ancient Pythagoreans,

denominated Justice.

The word, it is to be observed, which expresses justice

in the Greek language, has several different meanings;

and as the correspondent word in all other languages,

so far as I know, has the same, there must be

some natural affinity among those various significations.

299In one sense we are said to do justice to our neighbour

when we abstain from doing him any positive

harm, and do not directly hurt him, either in his

person, or in his estate, or in his reputation. This

is that justice which I have treated of above, the observance

of which may be extorted by force, and the

violation of which exposes to punishment. In another

sense we are said not to do justice to our neighbour

unless we conceive for him all that love, respect

and esteem, which his character, his situation, and

his connexion with ourselves, render suitable and

proper for us to feel, and unless we act accordingly.

It is in this sense that we are said to do injustice

to a man of merit who is connected with us, tho’

we abstain from hurting him in every respect, if we

do not exert ourselves to serve him and to place him

in that situation in which the impartial spectator

would be pleased to see him. The first sense of the

word coincides with what Aristotle and the Schoolmen

call commutative justice, and with what Grotius

calls the justitia expletrix, which consists in abstaining

from what is another’s, and in doing voluntarily

whatever we can with propriety be forced to

do. The second sense of the word coincides with

what some have called distributive justice[9], and with

the justitia attributrix of Grotius, which consists in

proper beneficence, in the becoming use of what is

our own, and in the applying it to those purposes

either of charity or generosity, to which it is most

suitable, in our situation, that it should be applied.

In this sense justice comprehends all the social virtues.

300There is yet another sense in which the word justice

is sometimes taken, still more extensive than either

of the former, though very much akin to the last;

and which runs too, so far as I know, through all

languages. It is in this last sense that we are said to

be unjust, when we do not seem to value any particular

object with that degree of esteem, or to pursue

it with that degree of ardour which to the impartial

spectator it may appear to deserve or to be naturally

fitted for exciting. Thus we are said to do injustice

to a poem or a picture, when we do not admire them

enough, and we are said to do them more than justice

when we admire them too much. In the same manner

we are said to do injustice to ourselves when we

appear not to give sufficient attention to any particular

object of self-interest. In this last sense, what is

called justice means the same thing with exact and

perfect propriety of conduct and behaviour, and comprehends

in it, not only the offices of both commutative

and distributive justice, but of every other virtue,

of prudence, of fortitude, of temperance. It is in

this last sense that Plato evidently understands what

he calls justice, and which, therefore, according to

him, comprehends in it the perfection of every sort

of virtue.

9. The distributive justice of Aristotle is somewhat different.

It consists in the proper distribution of rewards from the public

stock of a community. See Aristotle Ethic. Nic. l. 5. c. 2.

Such is the account given by Plato of the nature

of virtue, or of that temper of mind which is the

proper object of praise and approbation. It consists,

according to him, in that state of mind in which every

faculty confines itself within its proper sphere

without encroaching upon that of any other, and

performs its proper office with that precise degree of

strength and vigour which belongs to it. His account,

it is evident, coincides in every respect with

301what we have said above concerning the propriety of

conduct.

II. Virtue, according to Aristotle[10], consists in

the habit of mediocrity according to right reason.

Every particular virtue, according to him, lies in a

kind of middle between two opposite vices, of which

the one offends from being too much, the other from

being too little affected by a particular species of objects.

Thus the virtue of fortitude or courage lies

in the middle between the opposite vices of cowardice

and of presumptuous rashness, of which the one

offends from being too much, and the other from being

too little affected by the objects of fear. Thus

too the virtue of frugality lies in a middle between

avarice and profusion, of which the one consists in an

excess, the other in a defect of the proper attention

to the objects of self interest. Magnanimity, in the

same manner, lies in a middle between the excess of

arrogance and the defect of pusillanimity, of which

the one consists in too extravagant, the other in too

weak a sentiment of our own worth and dignity. It

is unnecessary to observe that this account of virtue

corresponds too pretty exactly with what has been

said above concerning the propriety and impropriety

of conduct.

10. See Aristotle Ethic. Nic. l. 2. c. 5. et seq. et l. 3. c. 5. et

seq.

According to Aristotle[11], indeed, virtue did not

so much consist in those moderate and right affections,

as in the habit of this moderation. In order to

understand this, it is to be observed, that virtue may

be considered either as the quality of an action, or

302as the quality of a person. Considered as the quality

of an action, it consists, even according to Aristotle,

in the reasonable moderation of the affection

from which the action proceeds, whether this disposition

be habitual to the person or not. Considered

as the quality of a person, it consists in the habit of

this reasonable moderation, in its having become the

customary and usual disposition of the mind. Thus

the action which proceeds from an occasional fit of

generosity is undoubtedly a generous action, but the

man who performs it, is not necessarily a generous

person, because it may be the single action of the

kind which he ever performed. The motive and

disposition of heart, from which this action was performed,

may have been quite just and proper: but

as this happy mood seems to have been the effect

rather of accidental humour than of any thing steady

or permanent in the character, it can reflect no great

honour on the performer. When we denominate a

character generous or charitable, or virtuous in any

respect, we mean to signify that the disposition expressed

by each of those appellations is the usual

and customary disposition of the person. But single

actions of any kind, how proper and suitable soever,

are of little consequence to show that this is the case.

If a single action was sufficient to stamp the character

of any virtue upon the person who performed it, the

most worthless of mankind might lay claim to all the

virtues; since there is no man who has not, upon

some occasions, acted with prudence, justice, temperance,

and fortitude. But though single actions,

how laudable soever, reflect very little praise upon

the person who performs them, a single vicious action

performed by one whose conduct is usually very regular,

greatly diminishes and sometimes destroys altogether

303our opinion of his virtue. A single action

of this kind sufficiently shows that his habits are not

perfect, and that he is less to be depended upon,

than, from the usual train of his behaviour, we

might have been apt to imagine.

11. See Aristotle Ethic. Nic. lib. ii. ch. 1., 2., 3. and 4.

Aristotle too[12], when he made virtue to consist in

practical habits, had it probably in his view to oppose

the doctrine of Plato, who seems to have been

of opinion that just sentiments and reasonable judgments

concerning what was fit to be done or to be

avoided, were alone sufficient to constitute the most

perfect virtue. Virtue, according to Plato, might

be considered as a species of science, and no man, he

thought, could see clearly and demonstratively what

was right and what was wrong, and not act accordingly.

Passion might make us act contrary to doubtful

and uncertain opinions, not to plain and evident

judgments. Aristotle, on the contrary, was of opinion,

that no conviction of the understanding was

capable of getting the better of inveterate habits,

and that good morals arose not from knowledge but

from action.

12. See Aristotle Mag. Mor. lib. i. ch. 1.

III. According to Zeno[13], the founder of the

stoical doctrine, every animal was by nature recommended

to its own care, and was endowed with the

principle of self-love, that it might endeavour to

preserve, not only its existence, but all the different

parts of its nature, in the best and most perfect state

of which they were capable.

13. See Cicero de finibus, lib. iii. also Diogenes Laertius in

Zenone, lib. vii. segment 84.

304The self-love of man embraced, if I may say so,

his body and all its different members, his mind and

all its different faculties and powers, and desired the

preservation and maintenance of them all in their

best and most perfect condition. Whatever tended

to support this state of existence was, therefore, by

nature pointed out to him as fit to be chosen; and

whatever tended to destroy it, as fit to be rejected.

Thus health, strength, agility, and ease of body, as

well as the external conveniencies which could promote

these, wealth, power, honours, the respect and

esteem of those we live with, were naturally pointed

out to us as things eligible, and of which the possession

was preferable to the contrary. On the other

hand, sickness, infirmity, unwieldiness, pain of body,

as well as all the external inconveniencies which

tended to occasion or bring on any of them, poverty,

the want of authority, the contempt or hatred of

those we live with; were, in the same manner, pointed

out to us as things to be shunned and avoided. In

each of those two different classes of objects there

were some which appeared to be more the objects

either of choice or rejection than others in the same

class. Thus, in the first class, health appeared evidently

preferable to strength, and strength to agility;

reputation to power, and power to riches. And thus

too, in the second class, sickness was more to be

avoided than unwieldiness of body, ignominy than

poverty, and poverty than the want of authority.

Virtue and the propriety of conduct consisted in

choosing and rejecting all different objects and circumstances

according as they were by nature rendered

more or less the objects of choice or rejection; in

selecting always from among the several objects of

choice presented to us, that which was most to be

305chosen, when we could not obtain them all: and in

selecting too out of the several objects of rejection

offered to us, that which was least to be avoided,

when it was not in our power to avoid them all. By

choosing and rejecting with this just and accurate discernment,

by thus bestowing upon every object the

precise degree of attention it deserved, according to

the place which it held in this natural scale of things,

we maintained, according to the Stoics, that perfect

rectitude of conduct which constituted the essence of

virtue. This was what they called to live consistently,

to live according to nature, and to obey those

laws and directions which nature, or the Author of

nature, had prescribed for our conduct.

So far the Stoical idea of propriety and virtue is

not very different from that of Aristotle and the ancient

peripatetics. What chiefly distinguished those

two systems from one another was the different degrees

of self-command which they required. The

peripatetics allowed of some degree of perturbation

as suitable to the weakness of human nature, and as

useful to so imperfect a creature as man. If his own

misfortunes excited no passionate grief, if his own injuries

called forth no lively resentment, reason, or a

regard to the general rules which determined what

was right and fit to be done, would commonly, they

thought, be too weak to prompt him to avoid the

one or to beat off the other. The Stoics, on the

contrary, demanded the most perfect apathy, and regarded

every emotion which could in the smallest degree

disturb the tranquillity of the mind, as the effect

of levity and folly. The Peripatetics seem to

have thought that no passion exceeded the bounds of

propriety as long as the spectator, by the utmost effort

306of humanity, could sympathize with it. The

Stoics, on the contrary, appear to have regarded

every passion as improper, which made any demand

upon the sympathy of the spectator, or required him

to alter in any respect the natural and ordinary state

of his mind, in order to keep time with the vehemence

of its emotions. A man of virtue, they

seem to have thought, ought not to depend upon

the generosity of those he lives with for pardon or

approbation.

According to the Stoics, every event should, to

a wise man, appear indifferent, and what for its own

sake could be the object neither of desire, nor aversion,

neither of joy, nor sorrow. If he preferred

some events to others, if some situations were the objects

of his choice, and others of his rejection,[14] it

was not, because he regarded the one as, in themselves,

in any respect better than the other, or thought

that his own happiness would be more complete in,

what is called, the fortunate, than in what is commonly

regarded as the distressful situation; but because

the propriety of action, the rule which the

gods had given him for the direction of his conduct,

required him to choose and reject in this manner.

Among the primary objects of natural inclination, or

among those things which nature had originally recommended

to us as eligible, was the prosperity, of

our family, of our relations, of our friends, of our

country, of mankind, and of the universe in general.

Nature too had taught us that as the prosperity of

307two was preferable to that of one, that of many or of

all must be infinitely more so. That we ourselves

were but one, and that consequently wherever our

prosperity was inconsistent with that, either of the

whole, or of any considerable part of the whole, it

ought, even in our own choice, to yield to what was

so vastly preferable. As all the events in this world

were conducted by the providence of a wise, powerful

and good God, we might be assured that whatever

happened, tended to the prosperity and perfection

of the whole, if we ourselves, therefore, were

in poverty, in sickness, or in any other calamity, we

ought, first of all, to use our utmost endeavours, so

far as justice and our duty to others would allow, to

rescue ourselves from this disagreeable circumstance.

But if after all we could do, we found this impossible,

we ought to rest satisfied that the order and perfection

of the universe required that we should in the

mean time continue in this situation. And as the

prosperity of the whole should, even to us, appear

preferable to so insignificant a part as ourselves, our

situation, whatever it was, ought from that moment

to become the object of our choice, and even of our

desire, if we would maintain that complete propriety

and rectitude of sentiment and conduct in which the

perfection of our nature consists. If, indeed, any

opportunity of extricating ourselves should offer, it

became our duty to embrace it. The order of the

universe, it was evident, no longer required our continuance

in this situation, and the great director of

the world plainly called upon us to leave it, by so

clearly pointing out the road which we were to follow.

It was the same case with the adversity of our

relations, our friends, our country. If without violating

308any more sacred obligation, it was in our

power to prevent or to put an end to their calamity,

it undoubtedly was our duty to do so. The propriety

of action, the rule which Jupiter had given us

for the direction of our conduct, evidently required

this of us. But if it was altogether out of our power

to do either, we ought then to consider this event as

the most fortunate which could possibly have happened:

Because we might be assured that it tended

most to the prosperity and order of the whole: which

was what we ourselves, if we were wise and equitable,

ought most of all to desire. “In what sense,

says Epictetus, are some things said to be according

to our nature, and others contrary to it? It is

in that sense in which we consider ourselves as separated

and detached from all other things. For

thus it may be said to be according to the nature of

the foot to be always clean. But if you consider

it as a foot, and not as something detached from the

rest of the body, it must behove it sometimes to

trample in the dirt, and sometimes to tread upon

thorns, and sometimes too to be cut off for the sake

of the whole body; and if it refuses this, it is no

longer a foot. Thus too ought we to conceive

with regard to ourselves. What are you? A man.

If you consider yourself as something separated

and detached, it is agreeable to your nature to live

to old age, to be rich, to be in health. But if you

consider yourself as a man, and as a part of a

whole, upon account of that whole it will behoove

you sometimes to be in sickness, sometimes to be exposed

to the inconveniency of a sea voyage, sometimes

to be in want; and at last, perhaps, to die

before your time. Why then do you complain?

309Don’t you know that by doing so, as the foot ceases

to be a foot, so you cease to be a man?”[15]

14. Some of these expressions sound a little awkward in the

English language: they are literal translations of the technical

terms of the Stoics.

15. Arrian. lib. II. c. 5.

This submission to the order of the universe, this

entire indifference with regard to whatever concerns

ourselves, when put into the balance with the interest

of the whole, could derive its propriety, it is evident,

from no other principle besides that, upon which I

have endeavoured to show, the propriety of justice

was founded. As long as we view our own interests

with our own eyes, it is scarce possible that we should

willingly acquiesce in their being thus sacrificed to

the interests of the whole. It is only when we view

those opposite interests with the eyes of others, that

what concerns ourselves can appear to be so contemptible

in the comparison, as to be resigned without

any reluctance. To every body but the person

principally concerned, nothing can appear more

agreeable to reason and propriety than that the part

should give place to the whole. But what is agreeable

to the reason of all other men, ought not to appear

contrary to his. He himself therefore ought to

approve of this sacrifice, and acknowledge its conformity

to reason. But all the affections of a wise man,

according to the stoics, are perfectly agreeable to reason

and propriety, and of their own accord coincide

with whatever these ruling principles prescribe. A

wise man, therefore, could never feel any reluctance

to comply with this disposition of things.

IV. Besides these ancient, there are some modern

systems, according to which virtue consists in propriety;

or in the suitableness of the affection from which

310we act, to the cause or object which excites it. The

system of Dr. Clarke, which places virtue in acting

according to the relations of things, in regulating

our conduct according to the fitness or incongruity

which there may be in the application of certain

actions to certain things, or to certain relations:

That of Mr. Woolaston, which places it in acting according

to the truth of things, according to their

proper nature and essence, or in treating them as

what they really are, and not as what they are not:

that of my lord Shaftesbury, which places it in maintaining

a proper balance of the affections, and in allowing

no passion to go beyond its proper sphere;

are all of them more or less inaccurate descriptions of

the same fundamental idea.

The description of virtue which is either given,

or at least meant and intended to be given in each

of those systems, for some of the modern authors are

not very fortunate in their manner of expressing

themselves, is no doubt quite just, so far as it goes.

There is no virtue without propriety, and wherever

there is propriety, some degree of approbation is

due. But still this description is imperfect. For

though propriety is an essential ingredient in every

virtuous action, it is not always the sole ingredient.

Beneficent actions have in them another quality by

which they appear not only to deserve approbation

but recompense. None of those systems account

either easily or sufficiently for that superior degree

of esteem which seems due to such actions, or for

that diversity of sentiment which they naturally excite.

Neither is the description of vice more complete.

For in the same manner, though impropriety

is a necessary ingredient in every vicious action, it is

311not always the sole ingredient, and there is often the

highest degree of absurdity and impropriety in very

harmless and insignificant actions. Deliberate actions,

of a pernicious tendency to those we live with,

have, besides their impropriety, a peculiar quality of

their own by which they appear to deserve, not only

disapprobation, but punishment; and to be the objects,

not of dislike merely, but of resentment and

revenge: and none of those systems easily and sufficiently

account for that superior degree of detestation

which we feel for such actions.