The Theory of Moral Sentiments

f the amiable and respectable virtues.

Upon these two different efforts, upon that

of the spectator to enter into the sentiments of the

person principally concerned, and upon that of the

person principally concerned, to bring down his

emotions to what the spectator can go along with,

are founded two different sets of virtues. The soft,

the gentle, the amiable virtues, the virtues of candid

condescension and indulgent humanity, are founded

upon the one: the great, the awful and respectable,

the virtues of self-denial, of self-government, of that

command of the passions which subjects all the

movements of our nature to what our own dignity

and honour, and the propriety of our own conduct

require, derive their origin from the other.

How amiable does he appear to be, whose sympathetic

heart seems to re-echo all the sentiments

of those with whom he converses, who grieves for

their calamities, who resents their injuries, and rejoices

28at their good fortune! When we bring home

to ourselves the situation of his companions, we

enter into their gratitude, and feel what consolation

they must derive from the tender sympathy of so

affectionate a friend. And for a contrary reason,

how disagreeable does he appear to be, whose hard

and obdurate heart feels for himself only, but is altogether

insensible of the happiness or misery of others!

We enter, in this case too, into the pain which his

presence must give to every mortal with whom he

converses, to those especially with whom we are

most apt to sympathize, the unfortunate and the injured.

On the other hand, what noble propriety and

grace do we feel in the conduct of those who, in

their own case, exert that recollection and self-command

which constitute the dignity of every

passion, and which bring it down to what others

can enter into? We are disgusted with that clamorous

grief, which, without any delicacy, calls upon

our compassion with sighs and tears and importunate

lamentations. But we reverence that reserved, that

silent and majestic sorrow, which discovers itself

only in the swelling of the eyes, in the quivering of

the lips and cheeks, and in the distant, but affecting,

coldness of the whole behaviour. It imposes the

like silence upon us. We regard it with respectful

attention, and watch with anxious concern over our

whole behaviour, lest by any impropriety we should

disturb that concerted tranquillity, which it requires

so great an effort to support.

The insolence and brutality of anger, in the same

manner when we indulge its fury without check or

29restraint, is, of all subjects, the most detestable.

But we admire that noble and generous resentment

which governs its pursuit of the greatest injuries,

not by the rage which they are apt to excite in the

breast of the sufferer, but by the indignation which

they naturally call forth in that of the impartial spectator;

which allows no word, no gesture, to escape

it beyond what this more equitable sentiment would

dictate; which never, even in thought, attempts any

greater vengeance, nor desires to inflict any greater

punishment, than what every indifferent person

would rejoice to see executed.

And hence it is, that to feel much for others and

little for ourselves, that to restrain our selfish, and to

indulge our benevolent affections, constitutes the

perfection of human nature; and can alone produce

among mankind that harmony of sentiments and

passions in which consist their whole grace and propriety.

As to love our neighbour as we love ourselves

is the great law of christianity, so it is the great

precept of nature to love ourselves only as we love

our neighbour, or what comes to the same thing, as

our neighbour is capable of loving us.

As taste and good judgment, when they are considered

as qualities which deserve praise and admiration,

are supposed to imply a delicacy of sentiment

and an acuteness of understanding not commonly

to be met with; so the virtues of sensibility and self-command

are not apprehended to consist in the ordinary,

but in the uncommon degrees of those qualities.

The amiable virtue of humanity requires,

surely, a sensibility, much beyond what is possessed

by the rude vulgar of mankind. The great and

30exalted virtue of magnanimity undoubtedly demands

much more than that degree of self-command,

which the weakest of mortals are capable of

exerting. As in the common degree of the intellectual

qualities, there are no abilities; so in the

common degree of the moral, there is no virtue.

Virtue is excellence, something uncommonly great

and beautiful, which rises far above what is vulgar

and ordinary. The amiable virtues consist in that

degree of sensibility which surprises by its exquisite

and unexpected delicacy and tenderness. The awful

and respectable, in that degree of self-command

which astonishes by its amazing superiority over the

most ungovernable passions of human nature.

There is, in this respect, a considerable difference

between virtue and mere propriety; between those

qualities and actions which deserve to be admired

and celebrated, and those which simply deserve to

be approved of. Upon many occasions, to act

with the most perfect propriety, requires no more

than that common and ordinary degree of sensibility

or self-command which the most worthless of mankind

are possessed of, and sometimes even that degree

is not necessary. Thus, to give a very low instance,

to eat when we are hungry, is certainly, upon

ordinary occasions, perfectly right and proper,

and cannot miss being approved of as such by every

body. Nothing, however, could be more absurd

than to say it is virtuous.

On the contrary, there may frequently be a considerable

degree of virtue in those actions, which

fall short of the most perfect propriety; because

they may still approach nearer to perfection than

31could well be expected upon occasions in which it

was so extremely difficult to attain it: and this is

very often the case upon those occasions which require

the greatest exertions of self-command. There

are some situations which bear so hard upon human

nature, that the greatest degree of self-government,

which can belong to so imperfect a creature as man,

is not able to stifle, altogether, the voice of human

weakness, or reduce the violence of the passions to

that pitch of moderation, in which the impartial

spectator can entirely enter into them. Though in

those cases, therefore, the behaviour of the sufferer

fall short of the most perfect propriety, it may still

deserve some applause, and even in a certain sense,

may be denominated virtuous. It may still manifest

an effort or generosity and magnanimity of

which the greater part of men are incapable; and

though it fails of absolute perfection, it may be a

much nearer approximation towards perfection, than

what, upon such trying occasions, is commonly either

to be found or to be expected.

In cases of this kind, when we are determining

the degree of blame or applause which seems due to

any action, we very frequently make use of two

different standards. The first is the idea of complete

propriety and perfection, which, in those difficult

situations, no human conduct ever did, or

even can come up to; and in comparison with

which the actions of all men must for ever appear

blameable and imperfect. The second is the idea of

that degree of proximity or distance from this complete

perfection, which the actions of the greater

part of men commonly arrive at. Whatever goes

beyond this degree, how far soever it may be removed

32from absolute perfection, seems to deserve

applause; and whatever falls short of it, to deserve

blame.

It is in the same manner that we judge of the

productions of all arts which address themselves to

the imagination. When a critic examines the work

of any of the great masters for poetry or painting,

he may sometimes examine it by an idea of perfection,

in his own mind, which neither that nor any

other human work will ever come up to; and as

long as he compares it with this standard, he can

see nothing in it but faults and imperfections. But

when he come to consider the rank which it ought

to hold among other works of the same kind, he

necessarily compares it with a very different standard,

the common degree of excellence which is usually

attained in this particular art; and when he judges

of it by this new measure, it may often appear to

deserve the highest applause, upon account of its

approaching much nearer to perfection than the

greater part of those works which can be brought

into competition with it.

33

SECTION II.

Of the degrees of the different passions which are consistent with propriety.

INTRODUCTION.

The propriety of every passion excited by objects

peculiarly related to ourselves the pitch

which the spectator can go along with, must lie, it

is evident, in certain mediocrity. If the passion is

too high, or if it is too low, he cannot enter into it.

Grief and resentment for private misfortunes and injuries

may easily, for example, be too high, and in

the greater part of mankind they are so. They

may likewise, though this more rarely happens, be

too low. We denominate the excess, weakness and

fury: and we call the defect, stupidity, insensibility,

and want of spirit. We can enter into neither of

them, but are astonished and confounded to see

them.

This mediocrity, however, in which the point of

propriety consists, is different in different passions.

It is high in some, and low in others. There are

some passions which it is indecent to express very

strongly, even upon those occasions, in which it is

34acknowledged that we cannot avoid feeling them

in the highest degree. And there are others of

which the strongest expressions are upon many occasions

extremely graceful, even though the passions

themselves do not, perhaps, arise so necessarily.

The first are those passions with which, for certain

reasons, there is little or no sympathy: the second

are those with which, for other reasons, there is the

greatest. And if we consider all the different passions

of human nature, we shall find that they are

regarded as decent, or indecent, just in proportion

as mankind are more or less disposed to sympathize

with them.