by arbitration.
Book III.--Civil Polity, embracing Domestic and Civil Rights.
Chapter I. _Marriage_. Hutcheson considers that Marriage should be a
perpetual union upon equal terms, 'and not such a one wherein the one
party stipulates to himself a right of governing in all domestic
affairs, and the other promises subjection.' He would allow divorce for
adultery, desertion, or implacable enmity on either side. Upon defect
of children, some sort of concubinage would be preferable to divorce,
but leaving to the woman the option of divorce with compensation. He
notices the misrepresentations regarding Plato's scheme of a community
of wives; 'Never was there in any plan less provision made for sensual
gratification.'
Chapter II. The Rights and Duties of Parents and Children.
Chapter III. The Rights and Duties of Masters and Servants.
Chapter IV. discusses the Motives to constitute Civil Government. If
men were perfectly wise and upright, there would be no need for
government. Man is naturally sociable and political [Greek: xon
politikon].
Chapter V. shows that the natural method of constituting civil
government is by consent or social compact.
Chapter VI. The Forms of Government, with their respective advantages
and disadvantages.
Chapter VII. How far the Rights of Governors extend. Their lives are
more sacred than the lives of private persons; but they may
nevertheless be lawfully resisted, and, in certain cases, put to death.
Chapter VIII. The ways of acquiring supreme Power. That government has
most divine right that is best adapted to the public good: a divine
right of succession to civil offices is ridiculous.
Chapter IX. takes up the sphere of civil law. (1) To enforce the laws
of nature; (2) To appoint the form &c., of contracts and dispositions,
with a view to prevent fraud; (3) To require men to follow the most
prudent methods of agriculture, manufactures, and commerce; (4) To
prescribe rules in matters morally indifferent, where uniformity is
advantageous. Opinions should be tolerated; all except Atheism, and the
denial of moral obligation.
Chapter X. The Laws of Peace and War, belonging now to the subject of
International Law.
Chapter XI. (concluding the work) discusses some cases connected with
the duration of the 'Politick Union.'
This bare indication of topics will suffice to give an idea of the
working out of Hutcheson's system. For summary:--I.--The Standard,
according to Hutcheson, is identical with the Moral Faculty. It is the
Sense of unique excellence in certain affections and in the actions
consequent upon them. The object of approval is, in the main,
benevolence.
II.--His division of the feelings is into calm and turbulent, each of
these being again divided into self-regarding and benevolent. He
affirms the existence of pure Disinterestedness, a _calm_ regard for
the most extended well-being. There are also _turbulent_ passions of a
benevolent kind, whose end is their simple gratification. Hutcheson has
thus a higher and lower grade of Benevolence; the higher would
correspond to the disinterestedness that arises from the operation of
_fixed ideas_, the lower to those affections that are generated in us
by pleasing objects.
He has no discussion on the freedom of the will, contenting himself
with mere voluntariness as an element in moral approbation or censure.
III.--The Summum Bonum is fully discussed. He places the pleasures of
sympathy and moral goodness (also of piety) in the highest rank, the
passive sensations in the lowest. Instead of making morality, like
health, a neutral state (though an indispensable condition of
happiness), he ascribes to it the highest positive gratification.
IV.--In proceeding upon Rights, instead of Duties, as a basis of
classification, Hutcheson is following in the wake of the
jurisconsults, rather than of the moralists. When he enters into the
details of moral duties, he throws aside his 'moral sense,' and draws
his rules, most of them from Roman Law, the rest chiefly from manifest
convenience.
V. and VI.--Hutcheson's relation to Politics and Theology requires no
comment.
BERNARD DE MANDEVILLE. [1670-1733.]
MANDEVILLE was author of 'The Fable of the Bees; or, Private Vices,
Public Benefits' (1714). This work is a satire upon artificial society,
having for its chief aim to expose the hollowness of the so-called
dignity of human nature. Dugald Stewart considered it a recommendation
to any theory of the mind that it exalted our conceptions of human
nature. Shaftesbury's views were entitled to this advantage; but,
observes Mandeville, 'the ideas he had formed of the goodness and
excellency of our nature, were as romantic and chimerical, as they are
beautiful and amiable.' Mandeville examined not what human nature
_ought to be_, but what it really _is_. In contrast, therefore, to the
moralists that distinguish between a higher and a lower in our nature,
attributing to the higher everything good and noble, while the lower
ought to be persecuted and despised, Mandeville declares the fancied
higher parts to be the region of vanity and imposture, while the
renowned deeds of men, and the greatness of kingdoms, really arise from
the passions usually reckoned base and sensual. As his views are
scattered through numerous dissertations, it will be best to summarize
them under a few heads.
1. _Virtue and Vice_. Morality is not natural to man; it is the
invention of wise men, who have endeavoured to infuse the belief, that
it is best for everybody to prefer the public interest to their own.
As, however, they could bestow no _real_ recompense for the thwarting
of self-interest, they contrived an _imaginary_ one--honour. Upon this
they proceeded to divide men into two classes, the one abject and base,
incapable of self-denial; the other noble, because they suppressed
their passions, and acted for the public welfare. Man was thus won to
virtue, not by force, but by flattery.
In regard to praiseworthiness, Shaftesbury, according to Mandeville,
was the first to affirm that virtue could exist without self-denial.
This was opposed to the prevailing opinion, and to the view taken up
and criticised by Mandeville. His own belief was different. 'It is not
in feeling the passions, or in being affected with the frailties of
nature, that vice consists; but in indulging and obeying the call of
them, contrary to the dictates of reason.'
2. _Self-love_. 'It is an admirable saying of a worthy divine, that
though many discoveries have been made in the world of self-love, there
is yet abundance of _terra incognita_ left behind.' There is nothing so
sincere upon earth as the love that creatures bear to themselves. 'Man
centres everything in himself, and neither loves nor hates, but for his
own sake.' Nay, more, we are naturally regardless of the effect of our
conduct upon others; we have no innate love for our fellows. The
highest virtue is not without reward; it has a satisfaction of its own,
the pleasure of contemplating one's own worth. But is there no genuine
self-denial? Mandeville answers by a distinction: mortifying one
passion to gratify another is very common, but this not self-denial;
self-inflicted pain without any recompense--where is that to be found?
'Charity is that virtue by which part of that sincere love we have for
ourselves is transferred pure and unmixed to others (not friends or
relatives), whom we have no obligation to, nor hope or expect
anything-from.' The counterfeit of true charity is _pity_ or
_compassion_, which is a fellow-feeling for the sufferings of others.
Pity is as much a frailty of our nature as anger, pride, or fear. The
weakest minds (_e.g._, women and children) have generally the greatest
share of it. It is excited through the eye or the ear; when the
suffering does not strike our senses, the feeling is weak, and hardly
more than an imitation of pity. Pity, since it seeks rather our own
relief from a painful sight, than the good of others, must be curbed
and controlled in order to produce any benefit to society.
Mandeville draws a nice distinction between self-love, and, what he
calls, _self-liking_. 'To increase the care in creatures to preserve
themselves, Mature has given them an instinct, by which _every
individual values itself above its real worth_.' The more mettlesome
and spirited animals (_e.g._, horses) are endowed with this instinct.
In us, it is accompanied with an apprehension that we do overvalue
ourselves; hence our susceptibility to the confirmatory good opinion of
others. But if each were to display openly his own feeling of
superiority, quarrels would inevitably arise. The grand discovery
whereby the ill consequences of this passion are avoided is
_politeness_. 'Good manners consists in flattering the pride of others,
and concealing our own.' The first step is to conceal our good opinion
of ourselves; the next is more impudent, namely, to pretend that we
value others more highly than ourselves. But it takes a long time to
come to that pitch; the Romans were almost masters of the world before
they learned politeness.
3. _Pride, Vanity, Honour_. Pride is of great consequence in
Mandeville's system. 'The moral virtues are the political offspring
which flattery begot upon pride.' Man is naturally innocent, timid, and
stupid; destitute of strong passions or appetites, he would remain in
his primitive barbarism were it not for pride. Yet all moralists
condemn pride, as a vain notion of our own superiority. It is a subtle
passion, not easy to trace. It is often seen in the humility of the
humble, and the shamelessness of the shameless. It simulates charity;
'pride and vanity have built more hospitals than all the virtues
together.' It is the chief ingredient in the chastity of women, and in
the courage of men. Less cynical moralists than Mandeville have looked
with suspicion on posthumous fame; 'so silly a creature is man, as
that, intoxicated with the fumes of vanity, he can feast on the thought
of the praises that shall be paid his memory in future ages, with so
much ecstasy as to neglect his present life, nay court and covet death,
if he but imagines that it will add to the glory he had acquired
before.' But the most notable institution of pride is the love of
honour. Honour is a 'chimera,' having no reality in nature, but a mere
invention of moralists and politicians, to keep men close to their
engagements, whatever they be. In some families it is hereditary, like
the gout; but, luckily, the vulgar are destitute of it. In the time of
chivalry, honour was a very troublesome affair; but in the beginning of
the 17th century, it was melted over again, and brought to a new
standard; 'they put in the same weight of courage, half the quantity of
honesty, and a very little justice, but not a scrap of any other
virtue.' The worst thing about it is duelling; but there are more
suicides than duels, so that at any rate men do not hate others more
than themselves. After a half-satirical apology for duelling, he
concludes with one insurmountable objection; duelling is wholly
repugnant to religion, adding with the muffled scepticism
characteristic of the 18th century, 'how to reconcile them must be left
to wiser heads than mine.'
4. _Private vices, public benefits_. Mandeville ventures to compare
society to a bowl of punch. Avarice is the souring, and prodigality the
sweetening of it. The water is the ignorance and folly of the insipid
multitude, while honour and the noble qualities of man represent the
brandy. To each of these ingredients we may object in turn, but
experience teaches that, when judiciously mixed, they make an excellent
liquor. It is not the good, but the evil qualities of men, that lead to
worldly greatness. Without luxury we should have no trade. This
doctrine is illustrated at great length, and has been better remembered
than anything else in the book; but it may be dismissed with two
remarks. (1) It embodies an error in political economy, namely, that it
is spending and not saving that gives employment to the poor. If
Mandeville's aim had been less critical, and had he been less delighted
with his famous paradox, we may infer from the acuteness of his
reasoning on the subject, that he would have anticipated the true
doctrine of political economy, as he saw through the fallacy of the
mercantile theory. (2) He employs the term, luxury, with great
latitude, as including whatever is not a bare necessary of existence.
According to the fashionable doctrine of his day, all luxury was called
an evil and a vice; and in this sense, doubtless, vice is essential to
the existence of a great nation.
5. _The origin of society_. Mandeville's remarks on this subject are
the best he has written, and come nearest to the accredited views of
the present day. He denies that we have any natural affection for one
another, or any natural aversion or hatred. Each seeks his own
happiness, and conflict arises from the opposition of men's desires. To
make a society out of the raw material of uncivilized men, is a work of
great difficulty, requiring the concurrence of many favourable
accidents, and a long period of time. For the qualities developed among
civilized men no more belong to them in a savage state, than the
properties of wine exist in the grape. Society begins with _families_.
In the beginning, the old savage has a great wish to rule his children,
but has no capacity for government. He is inconstant and violent in his
desires, and incapable of any steady conduct. What at first keeps men
together is not so much reverence for the father, as the common danger
from wild beasts. The traditions of antiquity are full of the prowess
of heroes in killing dragons and monsters. The second step to society
is the danger men are in from one another. To protect themselves,
several families would be compelled to accept the leadership of the
strongest. The leaders, seeing the mischiefs of dissension, would
employ all their art to extirpate that evil. Thus they would forbid
killing one another, stealing one another's wives, &c. The third and
last step is the invention of letters; this is essential to the growth
of society, and to the corresponding, expansion of law.[22]
I.--Mandeville's object being chiefly _negative_ and _dialectical_, he
has left little of positive ethical theory. Virtue he regards as _de
facto_ an arbitrary institution of society; what it ought to be, he
hardly says, but the tendency of his writings is to make the good of
the whole to be preferred to private interest.
II.--He denies the existence of a moral sense and of disinterestedness.
The motive to observe moral rules is pride and vanity fomented by
politicians. He does not regard virtue as an independent end, even by
association, but considers that pride in its naked form is the ever
present incentive to good conduct.
V.--The connexion of virtue with society is already fully indicated.
In France, the name of HELVETIUS (author of _De l'esprit, De l'homme_,
&c., 1715-71) is identified with a serious (in contrast to Mandeville),
and perfectly consistent, attempt to reduce all morality to direct
Self-interest. Though he adopted this ultimate interpretation of the
facts, Helvetius was by no means the 'low and loose moralist' that he
has been described to be; and, in particular, his own practice
displayed a rare benevolence.
DAVID HUME. [1711-1776.]
The Ethical views of Hume are contained in '_An Enquiry concerning the
Principles of Morals_.'
In an Introductory Section (I.) he treats of the GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF
MORALS.
After describing those that profess to deny the reality of the
distinction of Right and Wrong, as disingenuous disputants, useless to
reason with,--he states the great problem of Morals to be, whether the
foundation is REASON or SENTIMENT; whether our knowledge of moral
distinctions is attained by a chain of argument and induction, or by an
immediate feeling or finer internal sense.
Specious arguments may be urged on both sides. On the side of Reason,
it may be contended, that the justice and injustice of actions are
often a subject of argument and controversy like the sciences; whereas
if they appealed at once to a sense, they would be as unsusceptible of
truth or falsehood as the harmony of verse, the tenderness of passion,
or the brilliancy of wit.
In reply, the supporters of Sentiment may urge that the character of
virtue is to be _amiable_, and of vice to be _odious_, which are not
intellectual distinctions. The end of moral distinctions is to
influence the feelings and determine the will, which no mere assent of
the understanding can do. Extinguish our _feelings_ towards virtue and
vice, and morality would cease to have any influence on our lives.
The arguments on both sides have so much force in them, that we may
reasonably suspect that Reason and Sentiment both concur in our moral
determinations. The final sentence upon actions, whereby we pronounce
them praiseworthy or blameable, may depend on the feelings; while a
process of the understanding may be requisite to make nice
distinctions, examine complicated relations, and ascertain matters of
fact.
It is not the author's intention, however, to pursue the subject in the
form of adjudicating between these two principles, but to follow what
he deems a simpler method--to analyze that complication of mental
qualities, called PERSONAL MERIT: to ascertain the attributes or
qualities that render a man an object of esteem and affection, or of
hatred and contempt. This is a question of fact, and not of abstract
science; and should be determined, as similar questions are, in the
modern physics, by following the experimental method, and drawing
general maxims from a comparison of particular instances.
Section II. is OF BENEVOLENCE.
His first remark on Benevolence is, that it is identified in all
countries with the highest merits that human nature is capable of
attaining to.
This prepares the way for the farther observation, that in setting
forth the praises of a humane, beneficent man, the one circumstance
that never fails to be insisted on is the happiness to society arising
through his good offices. Like the sun, an inferior minister of
providence, he cheers, invigorates, and sustains the surrounding world.
May we not therefore conclude that the UTILITY resulting from social
virtues, forms, at least, a _part_ of their merit, and is one source of
the approbation paid to them. He illustrates this by a number of
interesting examples, and defers the enquiry--_how large_ a part of the
social virtues depend on utility, and for what reason we are so much
affected by it.
Section III. is on JUSTICE. That Justice is useful to society, and
thence derives _part_ of its merit, would be superfluous to prove. That
public utility is the _sole_ origin of Justice, and that the beneficial
consequences are the _sole_ foundation of its merit, may seem more
questionable, but can in the author's opinion be maintained.
He puts the supposition, that the human race were provided with such
abundance of all external things, that without industry, care, or
anxiety, every person found every want fully satisfied; and remarks,
that while every other social virtue (the affections, &c.) might
flourish, yet, as property would be absent, mine and thine unknown,
Justice would be useless, an idle ceremonial, and could never come into
the catalogue of the virtues. In point of fact, where any agent, as
air, water, or land, is so abundant as to supply everybody, questions
of justice do not arise on that particular subject.
Suppose again that in our present necessitous condition, the mind of
every man were so enlarged and so replete with generosity that each
should feel as much for his fellows as for himself--the _beau idéal_ of
communism--in this case Justice would be in abeyance, and its ends
answered by Benevolence. This state is actually realized in
well-cultivated families; and communism has been attempted and
maintained for a time in the ardour of new enthusiasms.
Reverse the above suppositions, and imagine a society in such want
that the utmost care is unable to prevent the greater number from
perishing, and all from the extremes of misery, as in a shipwreck
of a siege; in such circumstances, justice is suspended in favour of
self-preservation; the possibility of good order is at an end, and
Justice, the means, is discarded as useless. Or, again, suppose a
virtuous man to fall into a society of ruffians on the road to swift
destruction; his sense of justice would be of no avail, and
consequently he would arm himself with the first weapon he could seize,
consulting self-preservation alone. The ordinary punishment of
criminals is, as regards them, a suspension of justice for the benefit
of society. A state of war is the remission of justice between the
parties as of no use or application. A civilized nation at war with
barbarians must discard even the small relics of justice retained in
war with other civilized nations. Thus the rules of equity and justice
depend on the condition that men are placed in, and are limited by
their UTILITY in each separate state of things. The common state of
society is a medium between the extreme suppositions now made: we have
our self-partialities, but have learnt the value of equity; we have few
enjoyments by nature, but a considerable number by industry. Hence we
have the ideas of Property; to these Justice is essential, and it thus
derives its moral obligation.
The poetic fictions of the Golden Age, and the philosophic fictions of
a State of Nature, equally adopt the same fundamental assumption; in
the one, justice was unnecessary, in the other, it was inadmissible.
So, if there were a race of creatures so completely servile as never to
contest any privilege with us, nor resent any infliction, which is very
much our position with the lower animals, justice would have no place
in our dealings with them. Or, suppose once more, that each person
possessed within himself every faculty for existence, and were isolated
from every other; so solitary a being would be as incapable of justice
as of speech. The sphere of this duty begins with society; and extends
as society extends, and as it contributes to the well-being of the
individual members of society.
The author next examines the _particular laws_ embodying justice and
determining property. He supposes a creature, having reason, but
unskilled in human nature, to deliberate with himself how to distribute
property. His most obvious thought would be to give the largest
possessions to the most virtuous, so as to give the power of doing good
where there was the most inclination. But so unpracticable is this
design, that although sometimes conceived, it is never executed; the
civil magistrate knows that it would be utterly destructive of human
society; sublime as may be the ideal justice that it supposes, he sets
it aside on the calculation of its bad consequences.
Seeing also that, with nature's liberality, were all her gifts equally
distributed, every one would have so good a share that no one would
have a title to complain; and seeing, farther, that this is the only
type of perfect equality or ideal justice--there is no good ground for
falling short of it but the knowledge that the attempt would be
pernicious to society. The writers on the Law of Nature, whatever
principles they begin with, must assign as the ultimate reason of law
the necessities and convenience of mankind. Uninstructed nature could
never make the distinction between _mine_ and _yours_; it is a purely
artificial product of society. Even when this distinction is
established, and justice requires it to be adhered to, yet we do not
scruple in extraordinary cases to violate justice in an individual case
for the safety of the people at large.
When the interests of society require a rule of justice, but do not
indicate any rule in particular, the resort is to some _analogy_ with a
rule already established on grounds of the general interest.
For determining what is a man's property, there may be many statutes,
customs, precedents, analogies, some constant and inflexible, some
variable and arbitrary, but all professedly terminating in the
interests of human society. But for this, the laws of property would be
undistinguishable from the wildest superstitions.
Such a reference, instead of weakening the obligations of justice,
strengthens them. What stronger foundations can there be for any duty
than that, without it, human nature could not subsist; and that,
according as it is observed, the degrees of human happiness go on
increasing?
Either Justice is evidently founded on Utility, or our regard for it is
a simple instinct like hunger, resentment, or self-preservation. But on
this last supposition, property, the subject-matter, must be also
discerned by an instinct; no such instinct, however, can be affirmed.
Indeed, no single instinct would suffice for the number of
considerations entering into a fact so complex. To define Inheritance
and Contract, a hundred volumes of laws are not enough; how then can
nature embrace such complications in the simplicity of an instinct. For
it is not laws alone that we must have, but authorized interpreters.
Have we original ideas of prætors, and chancellors, and juries?
Instincts are uniform in their operation; birds of a species build
their nests alike. The laws of states are uniform to about the same
extent as houses, which must have a roof and walls, windows and
chimneys, because the end in view demands certain essentials; but
beyond these, there is every conceivable diversity.
It is true that, by education and custom, we blame injustice without
thinking of its ultimate consequences. So universal are the rules of
justice, from the universality of its end, that we approve of it
mechanically. Still, we have often to recur to the final end, and to
ask, What must become of the world if such practices prevail? How could
society subsist under such disorders?
Thus, then, Hume considers that, by an inductive determination, on the
strict Newtonian basis, he has proved that the SOLE foundation of our
regard to justice is the support and welfare of society: and since no
moral excellence is more esteemed, we must have some strong disposition
in favour of general usefulness. Such a disposition must be a part of
the humane virtues, as it is the SOLE source of the moral approbation
of fidelity, justice, veracity, and integrity.
Section IV. relates to POLITICAL SOCIETY, and is intended to show that
Government, Allegiance, and the Laws of each State, are justified
solely by Utility.
If men had _sagacity_ to perceive, and _strength of mind_ to follow
out, distant and general interests, there had been no such thing as
government. In other words, if government were totally useless, it
would not be. The duty of Allegiance would be no duty, but for the
advantage of it, in preserving peace and order among mankind.
[Hume is here supposing that men enter into society on equal terms; he
makes no allowance for the exercise of the right of the stronger in
making compulsory social unions. This, however, does not affect his
reasoning as to the source of our approbation of social duty, which is
not usually extended to tyranny.]
When political societies hold intercourse with one another, certain
regulations are made, termed Laws of Nations, which have no other end
than the advantage of those concerned.
The virtue of Chastity is subservient to the utility of rearing the
young, which requires the combination of both parents; and that
combination reposes on marital fidelity. Without such a utility, the
virtue would never have been thought of. The reason why chastity is
extended to cases where child-bearing does not enter, is that _general
rules_ are often carried beyond their original occasion, especially in
matters of taste and sentiment.
The prohibition of marriage between near relations, and the turpitude
of incest, have in view the preserving of purity of manners among
persons much together.
The laws of good manners are a kind of lesser morality, for the better
securing of our pleasures in society.
Even robbers and pirates must have their laws. Immoral gallantries,
where authorized, are governed by a set of rules. Societies for play
have laws for the conduct of the game. War has its laws as well as
peace. The fights of boxers, wrestlers, and such like, are subject to
rules. For all such cases, the common interest and utility begets a
standard of right and wrong in those concerned.
Section V. proceeds to argue WHY UTILITY PLEASES. However powerful
education may be in forming men's sentiments, there must, in such a
matter as morality, be some deep natural distinction to work upon. Now,
there are only two natural sentiments that Utility can appeal to: (1)
Self-Interest, and (2) Generosity, or the interests of others.
The deduction of morals from Self-Love is obvious, and no doubt
explains much. An appeal to experience, however, shows its defects. We
praise virtuous actions in remote ages and countries, where our own
interests are out of the question. Even when we have a private interest
in some virtuous action, our praise avoids that part of it, and prefers
to fasten on what we are not interested in. When we hear of the details
of a generous action, we are moved by it, before we know when or where
it took place. Nor will the force of imagination account for the
feeling in those cases; if we have an eye solely to our own _real_
interest, it is not conceivable how we can be moved by a mere imaginary
interest.
But another view may be taken. Some have maintained that the public
interest is our own interest, and is therefore promoted by our
self-love. The reply is that the two are often opposed to each other,
and still we approve of the preference of the public interest. We are,
therefore, driven to adopt a more public affection, and to admit that
the interests of society, _on their own, account_, are not indifferent
to us.
Have we any difficulty to comprehend the force of humanity or
benevolence? Or to conceive that the very aspect of happiness, joy,
prosperity, gives pleasure; while pain, suffering, sorrow, communicate
uneasiness? Here we have an unmistakeable, powerful, universal
sentiment of human nature to build upon.
The author gives an expanded illustration of the workings of
Benevolence or Sympathy, which well deserves to be read for its merits
of execution. We must here content ourselves with stating that it is on
this principle of disinterested action, belonging to our nature, that
he founds the chief part of our sentiment of Moral Approbation.
Section VI. takes into the account QUALITIES USEFUL TO OURSELVES. We
praise in individuals the qualities useful to themselves, and are
pleased with the happiness flowing to individuals by their own conduct.
This can be no selfish motive on our part. For example, DISCRETION, so
necessary to the accomplishing of any useful enterprise, is commended;
that measured union of enterprise and caution found in great
commanders, is a subject of highest admiration; and why? For the
usefulness, or the success that it brings. What need is there to
display the praises of INDUSTRY, or of FRUGALITY, virtues useful to the
possessor in the first instance? Then the qualities of HONESTY,
FIDELITY, and TRUTH, are praised, in the first place, for their
tendency to the good of society; and, being established on that
foundation, they are also approved as advantageous to the individual's
own self. A part of our blame of UNCHASTITY in a woman is attached to
its imprudence with reference to the opinion regarding it. STRENGTH OF
MIND being to resist present care, and to maintain the search of
distant profit and enjoyment, is another quality of great value to the
possessor. The distinction between the _Fool_ and the _Wise_ man
illustrates the same position. In our approbation of all such
qualities, it is evident that the happiness and misery of others are
not indifferent spectacles to us: the one, like sunshine, or the
prospect of well-cultivated plains, imparts joy and satisfaction; the
other, like a lowering cloud or a barren landscape, throws a damp over
the spirits.
He next considers the influence of bodily endowments and the goods of
fortune as bearing upon the general question.
Even in animals, one great source of _beauty_ is the suitability of
their structure to their manner of life. In times when bodily strength
in men was more essential to a warrior than now, it was held in so much
more esteem. Impotence in both sexes, and barrenness in women, are
generally contemned, for the loss of human pleasure attending them.
As regards fortune, how can we account for the regard paid to the rich
and powerful, but from the reflexion to the mind of prosperity,
happiness, ease, plenty, authority, and the gratification of every
appetite. Rank and family, although they may be detached from wealth
and power, had originally a reference to these.
In Section VII., Hume treats of QUALITIES IMMEDIATELY AGREEABLE TO
OURSELVES. Under this head, he dilates on the influence of
CHEERFULNESS, as a social quality: on GREATNESS OF MIND, or Dignity of
Character; on COURAGE; on TRANQUILLITY, or equanimity of mind, in the
midst of pain, sorrow, and adverse fortune; on BENEVOLENCE in the
aspect of an agreeable spectacle; and lastly, on DELICACY of Taste, as
a merit. As manifested to a beholder, all these qualities are engaging
and admirable, on account of the immediate pleasure that they
communicate to the person possessed of them. They are farther
testimonies to the existence of social sympathy, and to the connexion
of that with our sentiment of approbation towards actions or persons.
Section VIII. brings forward the QUALITIES IMMEDIATELY AGREEABLE TO
OTHERS. These are GOOD MANNERS or POLITENESS; the WIT or INGENUITY that
enlivens social intercourse; MODESTY, as opposed to impudence,
arrogance, and vanity; CLEANLINESS, and GRACEFUL MANNER; all which are
obviously valued for the pleasures they communicate to people
generally. Section IX. is the CONCLUSION. Whatever may have been
maintained in systems of philosophy, he contends that in common life
the habitual motives of panegyric or censure are of the kind described
by him. He will not enter into the question as to the relative shares
of benevolence and self-love in the human constitution. Let the
generous sentiments be ever so weak, they still direct a preference of
what is serviceable to what is pernicious; and on these preferences a
moral distinction is founded. In the notion of morals, two things are
implied; a sentiment common to all mankind, and a sentiment whose
objects comprehend all mankind; and these two requisites belong to the
sentiment of humanity or benevolence.
Another spring of our constitution, that brings a great addition of
force to moral sentiment, is Love of Fame. The pursuit of a character,
name, and reputation in the world, leads to a habit of surveying our
own actions, begets a reverence for self as well as others, and is thus
the guardian of every virtue. Humanity and Love of Reputation combine
to form the highest type of morality yet conceived.
The nature of moral _approbation_ being thus solved, there remains the
nature of _obligation_; by which the author means to enquire, if a man
having a view to his own welfare, will not find his best account in the
practice of every moral virtue. He dwells upon the many advantages of
social virtue, of benevolence and friendship, humanity and kindness, of
truth and honesty; but confesses that the rule that 'honesty is the
best policy' is liable to many exceptions. He makes us acquainted with
his own theory of Happiness. How little is requisite to supply the
_necessities_ of nature? and what comparison is there between, on the
one hand, the cheap pleasures of conversation, society, study, even
health, and, on the other, the common beauties of nature, with
self-approbation; and the feverish, empty amusements of luxury and
expense?
Thus ends the main treatise; but the author adds, in an Appendix, four
additional dissertations.
The first takes up the question started at the outset, but postponed,
how far our moral approbation is a matter of _reason_, and how far of
_sentiment_. His handling of this topic is luminous and decisive.
If the utility of actions be a foundation of our approval of them,
_reason_ must have a share, for no other faculty can trace the results
of actions in their bearings upon human happiness. In Justice
especially, there are often numerous and complicated considerations;
such as to occupy the deliberations of politicians and the debates of
lawyers.
On the other hand, reason is insufficient of itself to constitute the
feeling of moral approbation or disapprobation. Reason shows the means
to an end; but if we are otherwise indifferent to the end, the
reasonings fall inoperative on the mind. Here then a _sentiment_ must
display itself, a delight in the happiness of men, and a repugnance to
what causes them misery. Reason teaches the consequences of actions;
Humanity or Benevolence is roused to make a distinction in favour of
such as are beneficial.
He adduces a number of illustrations to show that reason alone is
insufficient to make a moral sentiment. He bids us examine Ingratitude,
for instance; good offices bestowed on one side, ill-will on the other.
Reason might say, whether a certain action, say the gift of money, or
an act of patronage, was for the good of the party receiving it, and
whether the circumstances of the gift indicated a good intention on the
part of the giver; it might also say, whether the actions of the person
obliged were intentionally or consciously hurtful or wanting in esteem
to the person obliging. But when all this is made out by reason, there
remains the sentiment of abhorrence, whose foundations must be in the
emotional part of our nature, in our delight in manifested goodness,
and our abhorrence of the opposite.
He refers to Beauty or Taste as a parallel case, where there may be an
operation of the intellect to compute proportions, but where the
elegance or beauty must arise in the region of feeling. Thus, while
_reason_ conveys the knowledge of truth and falsehood, _sentiment_ or
emotion must give beauty and deformity, vice and virtue.
Appendix No. II. is a discussion of SELF-LOVE. The author adverts first
to the position that benevolence is a mere pretence, a cheat, a gloss
of self-love, and dismisses it with a burst of indignation. He next
considers the less offensive view, that all benevolence and generosity
are resolvable in the last resort into self-love. He does not attribute
to the holders of this opinion any laxity in their own practice of
virtue, as compared with other men. Epicurus and his followers were no
strangers to probity; Atticus and Horace were men of generous
dispositions; Hobbes and Locke were irreproachable in their lives.
These men all allowed that friendship exists without hypocrisy; but
considered that, by a sort of mental chemistry, it might be made out
self-love, twisted and moulded by a particular turn of the imagination.
But, says Hume, as some men have not the turn of imagination, and
others have, this alone is quite enough to make the widest difference
of human characters, and to stamp one man as virtuous and humane, and
another vicious and meanly interested. The analysis in no way sets
aside the reality of moral distinctions. The question is, therefore,
purely speculative.
As a speculation, it is open to these objections. (1) Being contrary to
the unprejudiced notions of mankind, it demands some very powerful aid
from philosophy. On the face of things, the selfish passions and the
benevolent passions are widely distinguished, and no hypothesis has
ever yet so far overcome the disparity as to show that the one could
grow out of the other; we may discern in the attempts that love of
_simplicity_, which has done so much harm to philosophy.
The Animals are susceptible of kindness; shall we then attribute to
them, too, a refinement of self-interest? Again, what interest can a
fond mother have in view who loses her health in attendance on a sick
child, and languishes and dies of grief when relieved from the slavery
of that attendance?
(2) But farther, the real simplicity lies on the side of independent
and disinterested benevolence. There are bodily appetites that carry us
to their objects before sensual enjoyment; hunger and thirst have
eating and drinking for their end; the gratification follows, and
becomes a secondary desire. [A very questionable analysis.] So there
are mental passions, as fame, power, vengeance, that urge us to act, in
the first instance; and when the end is attained, the pleasure follows.
Now, as vengeance may be so pursued as to make us neglect ease,
interest, and safety, why may we not allow to humanity and friendship
the same privileges? [This is Butler, improved in the statement.]
Appendix III. gives some farther considerations with regard to JUSTICE.
The point of the discussion is to show that Justice differs from
Generosity or Beneficence in a regard to distant consequences, and to
General Rules. The theme is handled in the author's usual happy style,
but contains nothing special to him. He omits to state what is also a
prime attribute of Justice, its being indispensable to the very
existence of society, which cannot be said of generosity apart from its
contributing to justice.
Appendix IV. is on some VERBAL DISPUTES. He remarks that, neither in
English nor in any other modern tongue, is the boundary fixed between
virtues and talents, vices and defects; that praise is given to natural
endowments, as well as to voluntary exertions. The epithets
_intellectual_ and _moral_ do not precisely divide the virtues; neither
does the contrast of _head_ and _heart_; many virtuous qualities
partake of both ingredients. So the sentiment of _conscious worth_, or
of its opposite, is affected by what is not in our power, as well as by
what is; by the goodness or badness of our memory, as well as by
continence or dissoluteness of conduct. Without endowments of the
understanding, the best intentions will not procure esteem.
The ancient moralists included in the virtues what are obviously
natural endowments. Prudence, according to Cicero, involved sagacity or
powers of judgment. In Aristotle, we find, among the virtues, Courage,
Temperance, Magnanimity, Modesty, Prudence, and manly Openness, as well
as Justice and Friendship. Epictetus puts people on their guard against
humanity and compassion. In general, the difference of voluntary and
involuntary was little regarded in ancient ethics. This is changed in
modern times, by the alliance of Ethics with Theology. The divine has
put all morality on the footing of the civil law, and guarded it by the
same sanctions of reward and punishment; and consequently must make the
distinction of voluntary and involuntary fundamental.
Hume also composed a dialogue, to illustrate, in his light and easy
style, the great variety, amounting almost to opposition, of men's
moral sentiments in different ages. This may seem adverse to his
principle of Utility, as it is to the doctrine of an Intuitive Sense of
Right and Wrong. He allows, however, for the different ways that people
may view Utility, seeing that the consequences of acting are often
difficult to estimate, and people may agree in an end without agreeing
in the means. Still, he pays too little attention to the sentimental
likings and dislikings that frequently overbear the sense of Utility;
scarcely recognizing it, except in one passage, where he dwells on the
superstitions that mingle with a regard to the consequences of actions
in determining right.
We shall now repeat the leading points of Hume's system, in the usual
order.
I.--The Standard of Right and Wrong is Utility, or a reference to the
Happiness of mankind. This is the ground, as wall as the motive, of
moral approbation.
II.--As to the nature of the Moral Faculty, he contends that it is a
compound of Reason, and Humane or Generous Sentiment.
He does not introduce the subject of Free-will into Morals.
He contends strongly for the existence of Disinterested Sentiment, or
Benevolence; but scarcely recognizes it as leading to absolute and
uncompensated self-sacrifice. He does not seem to see that as far as
the approbation of benevolent actions is concerned, we are anything but
disinterested parties. The good done by one man is done to some others;
and the recipients are moved by their self-love to encourage
beneficence. The regard to our own benefactor makes all benefactors
interesting.
III.--He says little directly bearing on the constituents of Human
Happiness; but that little is all in favour of simplicity of life and
cheap pleasures. He does not reflect that the pleasures singled out by
him are far from cheap; 'agreeable conversation, society, study,
health, and the beauties of nature,' although not demanding
extraordinary wealth, cannot be secured without a larger share of
worldly means than has ever fallen to the mass of men in any community.
IV.--As to the substance of the Moral Code, he makes no innovations. He
talks somewhat more lightly of the evils of Unchastity than is
customary; but regards the prevailing restraints as borne out by
Utility.
The inducements to virtue are, in his view, our humane sentiments, on
the one hand, and our self-love, or prudence, on the other; the two
classes of motives conspiring to promote both our own good and the good
of mankind.
V.--The connexion of Ethics with Politics is not specially brought out.
The political virtues are moral virtues. He does not dwell upon the
sanctions of morality, so as to distinguish the legal sanction from the
popular sanction. He draws no line between Duty and Merit.
VI.--He recognizes no relationship between Ethics and Theology. The
principle of Benevolence in the human mind is, he thinks, an adequate
source of moral approbation and disapprobation; and he takes no note of
what even sceptics (Gibbon, for example) often dwell upon, the aid of
the Theological sanction in enforcing duties imperfectly felt by the
natural and unprompted sentiments of the mind.
RICHARD PRICE. (1723-1791.)
Price's work is entitled, 'A Review of the principal questions in
Morals; particularly those respecting the Origin of our Ideas of
Virtue, its Nature, Relation to the Deity, Obligation, Subject-matter,
and Sanctions.' In the third edition, he added an Appendix on 'the
Being and Attributes of the Deity.'
The book is divided into ten chapters.
Chapter I. is on the origin of our Ideas of Right and Wrong. The
actions of moral agents, he says, give rise in us to three different
perceptions: 1st, Right and Wrong; 2nd, Beauty and Deformity; 3rd, Good
or Ill Desert. It is the first of these perceptions that he proposes
mainly to consider.
He commences by quoting Hutcheson's doctrine of a Moral Sense, which he
describes as an _implanted_ and _arbitrary_ principle, imparting a
relish or disrelish for actions, like the sensibilities of the various
senses. On this doctrine, he remarks, the Creator might have annexed
the same sentiments to the opposite actions. Other schemes of morality,
such as Self-love, Positive Laws and Compacts, the Will of the Deity,
he dismisses as not meeting the true question.
The question, as conceived by him, is, 'What is the power within us
that perceives the distinctions of Right and Wrong?' The answer is, The
UNDERSTANDING.
To establish this position, he enters into an enquiry into the distinct
provinces of Sense and of Understanding in the origin of our ideas. It
is plain, he says, that what judges concerning the perceptions of the
senses, and contradicts their decisions, cannot itself be sense, but
must be some nobler faculty. Likewise, the power that views and
compares the objects of all the senses cannot be sense. Sense is a mere
capacity of being passively impressed; it presents _particular_ forms
to the mind, and is incapable of discovering general truths. It is the
understanding that perceives order or proportion; variety and
regularity; design, connexion, art, and power; aptitudes, dependence,
correspondence, and adjustment of parts to a whole or to an end. He
goes over our leading ideas in detail, to show that mere sense cannot
furnish them. Thus, Solidity, or Impenetrability, needs an exertion of
reason; we must compare instances to know that two atoms of matter
cannot occupy the same space. _Vis Inerticæ_ is a perception of the
reason. So Substance, Duration, Space, Necessary Existence, Power, and
Causation involve the understanding. Likewise, that all Abstract Ideas
whatsoever require the understanding is superfluously proved. The
author wonders, therefore, that his position in this matter should not
have been sooner arrived at.
The tracing of Agreement and of Disagreement, which are functions of
the Understanding, is really the source of simple ideas. Thus, Equality
is a simple idea originating in this source; so are Proportion,
Identity and Diversity, Existence, Cause and Effect, Power, Possibility
and Impossibility; and (as he means ultimately to show) Right and
Wrong.
Although the author's exposition is not very lucid, his main conclusion
is a sound one. Sense, in its narrowest acceptation, gives particular
impressions and experiences of Colour, Sound, Touch, Taste, Odour, &c.
The Intellectual functions of Discrimination and Agreement are
necessary as a supplement to Sense, to recognize these impressions as
differing and agreeing, as Equal or Unequal; Proportionate or
Disproportionate; Harmonious or Discordant. And farther, every abstract
or general notion,--colours in the abstract, sweetness, pungency,
&c.--supposes these, powers of the understanding in addition to the
recipiency of the senses.
To apply this to Right and Wrong, the author begins by affirming [what
goes a good way towards begging the question] that right and wrong are
simple ideas, and therefore the result of an _immediate_ power of
perception in the human mind. Beneficence and Cruelty are indefinable,
and therefore ultimate. There must be some actions that are in the last
resort an end in themselves. This being assumed, the author contends
that the power of immediately perceiving these ultimate ideas is the
Understanding. Shaftesbury had contended that, because the perception
of right and wrong was immediate, therefore it must reside in a special
Sense. The conclusion, thinks Price, was, to say the least of it,
hasty; for it does not follow that every immediate perception should
reside in a special sensibility or sense. He puts it to each one's
experience whether, in conceiving Gratitude or Beneficence to be right,
one feels a sensation merely, or performs an act of understanding.
'Would not a Being purely intelligent, having happiness within his
reach, approve of securing it for himself? Would he not think this
right; and would it not be right? When we contemplate the happiness of
a species, or of a world, and pronounce on the actions of reasonable
beings which promote it, that they are _right_, is this judging
erroneously? Or is it no determination of the judgment at all, but a
species of mental taste [as Shaftesbury and Hutcheson supposed]? [As
against a moral sense, this reasoning may be effective; but it
obviously assumes an end of desire,--happiness for self, or for
others--and yet does not allow to that end any share in making up the
sense of right and wrong.] Every one, the author goes on to say, must
desire happiness for himself; and our rational nature thenceforth must
approve of the actions for promoting happiness, and disapprove of the
contrary actions. Surely the understanding has some share in the
revulsion that we feel when any one brings upon himself, or upon
others, calamity and ruin. A being flattered with hopes of bliss and
then plunged into torments would complain _justly_; he would consider
that violence had been done to a perception of the human
_understanding_.
He next brings out a metaphysical difficulty in applying right and
wrong to actions, on the supposition that they are mere effects of
sensation. All sensations, as such, are modes of consciousness, or
feelings, of a sentient being, and must be of a nature different from
their causes. Colour is in the mind, not an attribute of the object;
but right and wrong are qualities of actions, of objects, and therefore
must be ideas, not sensations. Then, again, there can be nothing true
or untrue in a sensation; all sensations are alike just; while the
moral rectitude of an action is something absolute and unvarying.
Lastly, all actions have a nature, or character; something truly
belonging to them, and truly affirmable of them. If actions have no
character, then they are all indifferent; but this no one can affirm;
we all strongly believe the contrary. Actions are not indifferent. They
are good or bad, better or worse. And if so, they are declared such by
an act of _judgment_, a function of the understanding.
The author, considering his thesis established, deduces from it the
corollary, that morality is _eternal and immutable_. As an object of
the Understanding, it has an invariable essence. No will, not even
Omnipotence, can make _things_ other than they are. Right and wrong, as
far as they express the real characters of actions, must immutably and
necessarily belong to the actions. By action, is of course understood
not a bare external effect, but an effect taken along with its
principle or rule, the motives or reasons of the being that performs
it. The matter of an action being the same, its morality reposes upon
the end or motive of the agent. Nothing can be obligatory in us that
was not so from eternity. The will of God could not make a thing right
that was not right in its own nature.
The author closes his first chapter with a criticism of the doctrine of
Protagoras--that man is the measure of all things--interpreting it as
another phase of the view that he is combating.
Although this chapter is but a small part of the work, it completes the
author's demonstration of his ethical theory.
Chapter II. is on 'our Ideas of the Beauty and Deformity of Actions.'
By these are meant our pleasurable and painful sentiments, arising from
the consideration of moral right and wrong, expressed by calling some
actions amiable, and others odious, shocking, vile. Although, in this
aspect of actions, it would seem that the reference to a sense is the
suitable explanation, he still contends for the intervention of the
Understanding. The character of the Deity must appear more amiable the
better it is _known_ and _understood_. A reasonable being, without any
special sensibilities, but knowing what order and happiness are, would
receive pleasure from the contemplation of a universe where order
prevailed, and pain from a prospect of the contrary. To _behold_ virtue
is to admire her; to _perceive_ vice is to be moved to condemnation.
There must always be a consideration of the circumstances of an action,
and this involves intellectual discernment.
The author now qualifies his doctrine by the remark, that to some
superior beings the intellectual discernment may explain the whole of
the appearances, but inferior natures, such as the human, are aided by
_instinctive determinations_. Our appetites and passions are too strong
for reason by itself, especially in early years. Hence he is disposed
to conclude that 'in contemplating the actions of moral agents, we have
both _a perception of the understanding_ and _a feeling of the heart;'_
but that this feeling of the heart, while partly instinctive, is mainly
a sense of congruity and incongruity in actions. The author therefore
allows something to innate sense, but differs from Shaftesbury, who
makes the whole a matter of intuitive determination.
Chapter III. relates to the origin of our Desires and Affections, by
which he means more especially Self-love and Benevolence. His position
here is that Self-love is the essence of a Sensible being, Benevolence
the essential of an Intelligent being. By the very nature of our
sensitive constitution, we cannot but choose happiness for self; and it
is only an act of intellectual consistency to extend the same measure
to others. The same qualification, however, is made as to the
insufficiency of a mere intellectual impulse in this matter, without
constitutional tendencies. These constitutional tendencies the author
considers as made up of our Appetites and Passions, while our
Affections are founded on our rational nature. Then follow a few
observations in confirmation of Butler's views as to the disinterested
nature of our affections.
Chapter IV. is on our Ideas of good and ill Desert. These are only a
variety of our ideas of right and wrong, being the feelings excited
towards the moral Agent. Our reason determines, with regard to a
virtuous agent, that he ought to be the better for his virtue. The
ground of such determination, however, is not solely that virtuous
conduct promotes the happiness of mankind, and vice detracts from it;
this counts for much, but not for all. Virtue is in itself rewardable;
vice is of essential demerit. Our understanding recognizes the absolute
and eternal rectitude, the intrinsic fitness of the procedure in both
aspects.
Chapter V. is entitled 'Of the Reference of Morality to the Divine
Nature; the Rectitude of our Faculties; and the Grounds of Belief.' The
author means to reply to the objection that his system, in setting up a
criterion independent of God, is derogatory to the Divine nature. He
urges that there must be attributes of the Deity, independent of his
will; as his Existence, Immensity, Power, Wisdom; that Mind supposes
Truth apart from itself; that without moral distinctions there could be
no Moral Attributes in the Deity. Certain things are inherent in his
Nature, and not dependent on his will. There is a limit to the universe
itself; two infinities of space or of duration are not possible. The
necessary goodness of the divine nature is a part of necessary truth.
Thus, morality, although not asserted to depend on the will of the
Deity, is still resolvable into his nature. In all this, Price avowedly
follows Cudworth.
He then starts another difficulty. May not our faculties be mistaken,
or be so constituted as to deceive us? To which he gives the reply,
made familiar to us by Hamilton, that the doubt is suicidal; the
faculty that doubts being itself under the same imputation. Nay, more,
a being cannot be made such as to be imposed on by falsehood; what is
false is nothing. As to the cases of actual mistake, these refer to
matters attended with some difficulty; and it does not follow that we
must be mistaken in cases that are clear.
He concludes with a statement of the ultimate grounds of our belief.
These are, (1) Consciousness or Feeling, as in regard to our own
existence, our sensations, passions, &c.; (2) Intuition, comprising
self-evident truths; and (3) Deduction, or Argumentation. He discusses
under these the existence of a material world, and affirms that we have
an Intuition that it is _possible_.
Chapter VI. considers Fitness and Moral Obligation, and other
prevailing forms of expression regarding morality. Fitness and
Unfitness denote Congruity or Incongruity, and are necessarily a
perception of the Understanding.
The term Obligation is more perplexing. Still, it is but another name
for _Rightness_. What is Right is, by that very fact, obligatory.
Obligation, therefore, cannot be the creature of law, for law may
command what is morally wrong. The will of God enforced by rewards and
punishments cannot make right; it would only determine what is
_prudent_. Rewards and punishments do not make obligation, but suppose
it. Rectitude is a LAW, the authoritative guide of a rational being. It
is Supreme, universal, unalterable, and indispensable. Self-valid and
self-originated, it stands on immovable foundations. Being the one
authority in nature, it is, in short, the Divine authority. Even the
obligations of religion are but branches of universal rectitude. The
Sovereign Authority is not the mere result of his Almighty Power, but
of this conjoined with his necessary perfections and infinite
excellence.
He does not admit that obligation implies an obliger.
He takes notice of the objection that certain actions may be right, and
yet we are not bound to perform them; such are acts of generosity and
kindness. But his answer throws no farther light on his main doctrine.
In noticing the theories of other writers in the same vein, as
Wollaston, he takes occasion to remark that, together with the
perception of conformity or fitness, there is a simple immediate
perception urging us to act according to that fitness, for which no
farther reason can be assigned. When we compare innocence and eternal
misery, we are struck with the idea of unsuitableness, and are inspired
in consequence with intense repugnance.
Chapter VII. discusses the Heads or Divisions of Virtue; under which he
enquires first what are virtuous actions; secondly, what is the true
principle or motive of a virtuous agent; and thirdly, the estimate of
the degrees of virtue.
He first quotes Butler to show that all virtue is not summed up in
Benevolence; repeating that there is an intrinsic rectitude in keeping
faith; and giving the usual arguments against Utility, grounded on the
supposed crimes that might be committed on this plea. He is equally
opposed to those that would deny disinterested benevolence, or would
resolve beneficence into veracity. He urges against Hutcheson, that,
these being independent and distinct virtues, a distinct sense would be
necessary to each; in other words, we should, for the whole of virtue,
need a plurality of moral senses.
His classification of Virtue comprehends (1) Duty to God, which he
dilates upon at some length. (2) Duty to Ourselves, wherein he
maintains that our sense of self-interest is not enough for us. (3)
Beneficence, the Good of others. (4) Gratitude. (5) Veracity, which he
inculcates with great earnestness, adverting especially to impartiality
and honesty in our enquiries after truth. (6) Justice, which he treats
in its application to the Rights of Property. He considers that the
difficulties in practice arise partly from the conflict of the
different heads, and partly from the different modes of applying the
same principles; which he gives as an answer to the objection from the
great differences of men's moral sentiments and practices. He allows,
besides, that custom, education, and example, may blind and deprave our
intellectual and moral powers; but denies that the whole of our notions
and sentiments could result from education. No amount of depravity is
able utterly to destroy our moral discernment.
Chapter VIII. treats of Intention as an element in virtuous action. He
makes a distinction between Virtue in the Abstract and Virtue in
Practice, or with reference to all the circumstances of the agent. A
man may do abstract wrong, through mistake, while as he acts with his
best judgment and with upright intentions, he is practically right. He
grounds on this a powerful appeal against every attempt at dominion
over conscience. The requisites of Practical Morality are (1) Liberty,
or Free-will, on which he takes the side of free-agency. (2)
Intelligence, without which there can be no perception of good and
evil, and no moral agency. (3) The Consciousness of Rectitude, or
Righteous Intention. On this he dwells at some length. No action is
properly the action of a moral agent unless designed by him. A virtuous
motive is essential to virtue. On the question--Is Benevolence a
virtuous motive? he replies: Not the Instinctive benevolence of the
parent, but only Rational benevolence; which he allows to coincide with
rectitude. Reason presiding over Self-love renders it a virtuous
principle likewise. The presence of Reason in greater or less degree is
the criterion of the greater or less virtue of any action.
Chapter IX. is on the different Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and the
modes of estimating them; the Difficulties attending the Practice of
Virtue; the use of Trials, and the essentials of a good or a bad
Character. The considerations adduced are a number of perfectly
well-known maxims on the practice of morality, and scarcely add
anything to the elucidation of the author's Moral Theory. The
concluding chapter, on Natural Religion, contains nothing original.
To sum up the views of Price:--
I.--As regards the Moral Standard, he asserts that a perception of the
Reason or the Understanding,--a sense of fitness or congruity between
actions and the agents, and all the circumstances attending them,--is
what determines Right and Wrong.
He finds it impracticable to maintain his position without sundry
qualifications, as we have seen. Virtue is naturally adapted to
_please_ every observing mind; vice the contrary. Right actions must be
_grateful_, wrong ungrateful to us. To _behold_ virtue is to _admire_
her. In contemplating the actions of moral agents, we have _both_ a
perception of the understanding and a feeling of the heart. He thus
re-admits an element of feeling, along with the intellect, in some
undefined degree; contending only that _all morality_ is not to be
resolved into feeling or instinct. We have also noticed another
singular admission, to the effect that only superior natures can
discover virtue by the understanding. Reason alone, did we possess it
in a high degree, would answer all the ends of the passions. Parental
affection would be unnecessary, if parents were sufficiently alive to
the reasons of supporting the young, and were virtuous enough to be
always determined by them.
Utility, although not the _sole_ ground of Justice, is yet admitted to
be _one_ important reason or ground of many of its maxims.
II.--The nature of the Moral Faculty, in Price's theory, is not a
separate question from the standard, but the same question. His
discussion takes the form of an enquiry into the Faculty:--'What is the
power within us that perceives the distinctions of Right and Wrong?'
The two questions are mixed up throughout, to the detriment of
precision in the reasoning.
With his usual facility of making concessions to other principles, he
says it is not easy to determine how far our natural sentiments may be
altered by custom, education, and example: while it would be
unreasonable to conclude that all is derived from these sources. That
part of our moral constitution depending on instinct is liable to be
corrupted by custom and education to almost any length; but the most
depraved can never sink so low as to lose all moral discernment, all
ideas of just and unjust; of which he offers the singular proof that
men are never wanting in resentment when they are _themselves_ the
objects of ill-treatment.
As regards the Psychology of Disinterested Action, he provides nothing
but a repetition of Butler (Chapter III.) and a vague assertion of the
absurdity of denying disinterested benevolence.
III.--On Human Happiness, he has only a few general remarks. Happiness
is an object of essential and eternal value. Happiness is the _end_,
and the _only_ end, conceivable by us, of God's providence and
government; but He pursues this end in subordination to rectitude.
Virtue tends to happiness, but does not always secure it. A person that
sacrifices his life rather than violate his conscience, or betray his
country, gives up all possibility of any present reward, and loses the
more in proportion as his virtue is more glorious.
Neither on the Moral Code, nor in the relations of Ethics to Politics
and to Theology, are any further remarks on Price called for.
ADAM SMITH. [1723-90.]
The 'Theory of the Moral Sentiments' is a work of great extent and
elaboration. It is divided into five Parts; each part being again
divided into Sections, and these subdivided into Chapters.
PART I. is entitled, OF THE PROPRIETY OF ACTION. _Section I._ is, _'Of
the Sense of Propriety.'_ Propriety is his word for Rectitude or Right.
Chapter I., entitled, 'Of Sympathy,' is a felicitous illustration of
the general nature and workings of Sympathy. He calls in the experience
of all mankind to attest the existence of our sympathetic impulses. He
shows through what medium sympathy operates; namely, by our placing
ourselves in the situation of the other party, and imagining what we
should feel in that case. He produces the most notable examples of the
impressions made on us by our witnessing the actions, the pleasurable
and the painful expression of others; effects extending even to
fictitious representations. He then remarks that, although on some
occasions, we take on simply and purely the feelings manifested in our
presence,--the grief or joy of another man, yet this is far from the
universal case: a display of angry passion may produce in us hostility
and disgust; but this very result may be owing to our sympathy for the
person likely to suffer from the anger. So our sympathy for grief or
for joy is imperfect until we know the cause, and may be entirely
suppressed. We take the whole situation into view, as well as the
expression of the feeling. Hence we often feel for another person what
that person does not feel for himself; we act out our own view of the
situation, not his. We feel for the insane what they do not feel; we
sympathize even with the dead.
Chapter II. is 'Of the Pleasure of Mutual Sympathy.' It contains
illustrations of the delight that we experience in the sympathy of
others; we being thereby strengthened in our pleasures and relieved in
our miseries. He observes that we demand this sympathy more urgently
for our painful emotions than for such as are pleasurable; we are
especially intolerant of the omission of our friends to join in our
resentments. On the other hand, we feel pleasure in the act of
sympathizing, and find in that a compensation for the pain that the
sight of pain gives us. Still, this pleasure may be marred if the other
party's own expression of grief or of joy is beyond what we think
suitable to the situation.
Chapter III. considers 'the manner of our judging of the propriety of
other men's affections by their consonance with our own,' The author
illustrates the obvious remark, that we approve of the passions of
another, if they are such as we ourselves should feel in the same
situation. We require that a man's expression and conduct should be
suitable to the occasion, according to our own standard of judging,
namely, our own procedure in such cases.
Chapter IV. continues the subject, and draws a distinction between two
cases; the case where the objects of a feeling do not concern either
ourselves or the person himself, and the case where they do concern one
or other. The first case is shown in matters of taste and science,
where we derive pleasure from sympathy, but yet can tolerate
difference. The other case is exemplified in our personal fortunes; in
these, we cannot endure any one refusing us their sympathy. Still, it
is to be noted that the sympathizer does not fully attain the level of
the sufferer; hence the sufferer, aware of this, and desiring the
satisfaction of a full accord with his friend, tones down his own
vehemence till it can be fully met by the other; which very
circumstance is eventually for his own good, and adds to, rather than
detracts from, the tranquillizing influence of a friendly presence. We
sober down our feelings still more before casual acquaintance and
strangers; and hence the greater equality of temper in the man of the
world than in the recluse.
Chapter V. makes an application of these remarks to explain the
difference between the Amiable and the Respectable Virtues. The soft,
the gentle, and the amiable qualities are manifested when, as
sympathizers, we enter fully into the expressed sentiments of another;
the great, the awful and respectable virtues of self-denial, are shown
when the principal person concerned brings down his own case to the
level that the most ordinary sympathy can easily attain to. The one is
the virtue of giving much, the other of expecting little.
_Section II._ is '_Of the Degrees of the different passions which are
consistent with propriety_.' Under this head he reviews the leading
passions, remarks how far, and why, we can sympathize with each.
Chapter I. is on the Passions having their origin in the body. We can
sympathize with hunger to a certain limited extent, and in certain
circumstances; but we can rarely tolerate any very prominent expression
of it. The same limitations apply to the passion of the sexes. We
partly sympathize with bodily pain, but not with the violent expression
of it. These feelings are in marked contrast to the passions seated in
the imagination: wherein our appetite for sympathy is complete;
disappointed love or ambition, loss of friends or of dignity, are
suitable to representation in art. On the same principle, we can
sympathize with danger; as regards our power of conceiving, we are on a
level with the sufferer. From our inability to enter into bodily pain,
we the more admire the man that can bear it with firmness.
Chapter II. is on certain Passions depending on a peculiar turn of the
Imagination. Under this he exemplifies chiefly the situation of two
lovers, with whose passion, in its intensity, a third person cannot
sympathize, although one may enter into the hopes of happiness, and
into the dangers and calamities often flowing from it.
Chapter III. is on the Unsocial Passions. These necessarily divide our
sympathy between him that feels them and him that is their object.
Resentment is especially hard to sympathize with. We may ourselves
resent wrong done to another, but the less so that the sufferer
strongly resents it. Moreover, there is in the passion itself an
element of the disagreeable and repulsive; its manifestation is
naturally distasteful. It may be useful and even necessary, but so is a
prison, which is not on that account a pleasant object. In order to
make its gratification agreeable, there must be many well known
conditions and qualifications attending it.
Chapter IV. gives the contrast of the Social Passions. It is with the
humane, the benevolent sentiments, that our sympathy is unrestricted
and complete. Even in their excess, they never inspire aversion.
Chapter V. is on the Selfish Passions. He supposes these, in regard to
sympathy, to hold a middle place between the social and the unsocial.
We sympathize with small joys and with great sorrows; and not with
great joys (which dispense with our aid, if they do not excite our
envy) or with small troubles.
_Section III_. considers _the effects of prosperity and adversity upon
the judgments of mankind regarding propriety of action_.
Chapter I. puts forward the proposition that our sympathy with sorrow,
although more lively than our sympathy with joy, falls short of the
intensity of feeling in the person concerned. It is agreeable to
sympathize with joy, and we do so with the heart; the painfulness of
entering into grief and misery holds us back. Hence, as he remarked
before, the magnanimity and nobleness of the man that represses his
woes, and does not exact our compassionate participation.
Chapter II. inquires into the origin of Ambition, and of the
distinction of Ranks. Proceeding upon the principle just enounced, that
mankind sympathize with joy rather than with sorrow, the author
composes an exceedingly eloquent homily on the worship paid to rank and
greatness.
Chapter III., in continuation of the same theme, illustrates the
corruption of our moral sentiments, arising from this worship of the
great. 'We frequently see the respectful attentions of the world more
strongly directed towards the rich and the great, than towards the wise
and the virtuous.' 'The external graces, the frivolous accomplishments
of that impertinent and foolish thing called a man of fashion, are
commonly more admired than the solid and masculine virtues of a
warrior, a statesman, a philosopher, or a legislator.'
PART II. is OF MERIT AND DEMERIT; OR OF THE OBJECTS OF REWARD AND
PUNISHMENT. It consists of three Sections.
_Section I_. is, _Of the Sense of Merit and Demerit_.
Chapter I. maintains that whatever appears to be the proper object of
gratitude, appears to deserve reward; and that whatever appears to be
the proper object of resentment, appears to deserve punishment. The
author distinguishes between gratitude and mere love or liking; and,
obversely, between resentment and hatred. Love makes us pleased to see
any one promoted; but gratitude urges us to be ourselves the instrument
of their promotion.
Chapter II. determines the proper objects of Gratitude and Resentment,
these being also the proper objects of Reward and Punishment
respectively. 'These, as well as all the other passions of human
nature, seem proper, and are approved of, _when the heart of every
impartial spectator entirely sympathizes with them_, when every
indifferent by-stander entirely enters into, and goes along with them.'
In short, a good moral decision is obtained by the unanimous vote of
all impartial persons.
This view is in accordance with the course taken by the mind in the two
contrasting situations. In sympathizing with the joy of a prosperous
person, we approve of his complacent and grateful sentiment towards the
author of his prosperity; we make his gratitude our own: in
sympathizing with sorrow, we enter into, and approve of, the natural
resentment towards the agent causing it.
Chapter III. remarks that where we do not approve of the conduct of the
person conferring the benefit, we have little sympathy with the
gratitude of the receiver; we do not care to enter into the gratitude
of the favourites of profligate monarchs.
Chapter IV. supposes the case of our approving strongly the conduct and
the motives of a benefactor, in which case we sympathize to a
corresponding degree with the gratitude of the receiver.
Chapter V. sums up the analysis of the Sense of Merit and of Demerit
thus:--The sense of Merit is a compound sentiment, made up of two
distinct emotions; a direct sympathy with the sentiments of the agent
(constituting the propriety of the action), and an indirect sympathy
with the gratitude of the recipient. The sense of Demerit includes a
direct antipathy to the sentiments of the agent, and an indirect
sympathy with the resentment of the sufferer.
_Section II_. is _Of Justice and Beneficence_.
Chapter I. compares the two virtues. Actions of a beneficent tendency,
from proper motives, seem alone to require a reward; actions of a
hurtful tendency, from improper motives, seem alone to deserve
punishment. It is the nature of Beneficence to be free; the mere
absence of it does not expose to punishment. Of all the duties of
beneficence, the one most allied to perfect obligation is gratitude;
but although we talk of the debt of gratitude (we do not say the debt
of _charity_), we do not punish ingratitude.
Resentment, the source of punishment, is given for defence against
positive evil; we employ it not to extort benefits, but to repel
injuries. Now, the injury is the violation of Justice. The sense of
mankind goes along with the employment of violence to avenge the hurt
done by injustice, to prevent the injury, and to restrain the offender.
Beneficence, then, is the subject of reward; and the want of it is not
the subject of punishment. There may be cases where a beneficent act is
compelled by punishment, as in obliging a father to support his family,
or in punishing a man for not interfering when another is in danger;
but these cases are immaterial exceptions to the broad definition. He
might have added, that in cases where justice is performed under
unusual difficulties, and with unusual fidelity, our disposition would
be not merely to exempt from punishment, but to reward.
Chapter II. considers the sense of Justice, Remorse, and the feeling of
Merit.
Every man is recommended by nature to his own care, being fitter to
take care of himself than of another person. We approve, therefore, of
each one seeking their own good; but then it must not be to the hurt of
any other being. The primary feeling of self-preservation would not of
itself, however, be shocked at causing injury to our fellows. It is
when we pass out of this point of view, and enter into the mental state
of the spectator of our actions, that we feel the sense of injustice
and the sting of Remorse. Though it may be true that every individual
in his own breast prefers himself to mankind, yet he dares not look
mankind in the face, and avow that he acts on this principle. A man is
approved when he outstrips his fellows in a fair race; he is condemned
when he jostles or trips up a competitor unfairly. The actor takes home
to himself this feeling; a feeling known as Shame, Dread of Punishment,
and Remorse.
So with the obverse. He that performs a generous action can realize the
sentiments of the by-stander, and applaud himself by sympathy with the
approbation of the supposed impartial judge. This is the sense of
Merit.
Chapter III. gives reflections upon the utility of this constitution of
our nature. Human beings are dependent upon one another for mutual
assistance, and are exposed to mutual injuries. Society might exist
without love or beneficence, but not without mutual abstinence from
injury. Beneficence is the ornament that embellishes the building;
Justice the main pillar that supports it. It is for the observance of
Justice that we need that consciousness of ill-desert, and those
terrors of mental punishment, growing out of our sympathy with the
disapprobation of our fellows. Justice is necessary to the existence of
society, and we often defend its dictates on that ground; but, without
looking to such a remote and comprehensive end, we are plunged into
remorse for its violation by the shorter process of referring to the
censure of a supposed spectator [in other words, to the sanction of
public opinion].
_Section III.--Of the influence of Fortune upon the sentiments of
mankind, with regard to the Merit and the Demerit of actions_.
Every voluntary action consists of three parts:--(1) the Intention or
motive, (2) the Mechanism, as when we lift the hand, and give a blow,
and (3) the Consequences. It is, in principle, admitted by all, that
only the first, the Intention, can be the subject of blame. The
Mechanism is in itself indifferent. So the Consequences cannot be
properly imputed to the agent, unless intended by him. On this last
point, however, mankind do not always adhere to their general maxim;
when they come to particular cases, they are influenced, in their
estimate of merit and demerit, by the actual consequences of the
action.
Chapter I. considers the causes of this influence of Fortune. Gratitude
requires, in the first instance, that some pleasure should have been
conferred; Resentment pre-supposes pain. These passions require farther
that the object of them should itself be susceptible of pleasure and
pain; they should be human beings or animals. Thirdly, It is requisite
that they should have produced the effects from a design to do so. Now,
the absence of the pleasurable consequences intended by a beneficent
agent leaves out one of the exciting causes of gratitude, although
including another; the absence of the painful consequences of a
maleficent act leaves out one of the exciting causes of resentment;
hence less gratitude seems due in the one, and less resentment in the
other.
Chapter II. treats of the extent of this influence of Fortune. The
effects of it are, first, to diminish, in our eyes, the merit of
laudable, and the demerit of blameable, actions, when they fail of
their intended effects; and, secondly, to increase the feelings of
merit and of demerit beyond what is due to the motives, when the
actions chance to be followed by extraordinary pleasure or pain.
Success enhances our estimate of all great enterprises; failure takes
off the edge of our resentment of great crimes.
The author thinks (Chapter III.) that final causes can be assigned for
this irregularity of Sentiments. In the first place, it would be highly
dangerous to seek out and to resent mere bad intentions. In the next
place, it is desirable that beneficent wishes should be put to the
proof by results. And, lastly, as regards the tendency to resent evil,
although unintended, it is good to a certain extent that men should be
taught intense circumspection on the point of infringing one another's
happiness.
PART III. is entitled OF THE FOUNDATION OF OUR JUDGMENTS CONCERNING OUR
OWN SENTIMENTS AND CONDUCT, AND OF THE SENSE OF DUTY.
Chapter I. is 'Of the Principle of Self-approbation and of
Self-disapprobation.' Having previously assigned the origin of our
judgments respecting others, the author now proceeds to trace out our
judgments respecting ourselves. The explanation is still the same. We
approve or disapprove of our own conduct, according as we feel that the
impartial spectator would approve or disapprove of it.
To a solitary human being, moral judgments would never exist. A man
would no more think of the merit and demerit of his sentiments than of
the beauty or deformity of his own face. Such criticism is exercised
first upon other beings; but the critic cannot help seeing that he in
his turn is criticised, and he is thereby led to apply the common
standard to his own actions; to divide himself as it were into two
persons--the examiner or judge, and person examined into, or judged of.
He knows what conduct of his will be approved of by others, and what
condemned, according to the standard he himself employs upon others;
his concurrence in this approbation or disapprobation is
self-approbation or self-disapprobation. The happy consciousness of
virtue is the consciousness of the favourable regards of other men.
Chapter II. is 'Of the love of Praise, and of Praise-worthiness; the
dread of Blame, and of Blame-worthiness;' a long and important chapter.
The author endeavours to trace, according to his principle of sympathy,
the desire of Praise-worthiness, as well as of Praise. We approve
certain conduct in others, and are thus disposed to approve the same
conduct in ourselves: what we praise as judges of our fellow-men, we
deem praise-worthy, and aspire to realize in our own conduct. Some men
may differ from us, and may withhold that praise; we may be pained at
the circumstance, but we adhere to our love of the praise-worthy, even
when it does not bring the praise. When we obtain the praise we are
pleased, and strengthened in our estimate; the approbation that we
receive confirms our self-approbation, but does not give birth to it.
In short, there are two principles at work within us. We are pleased
with approbation, and pained by reproach: we are farther pleased if the
approbation coincides with what we approve when we are ourselves acting
as judges of other men. The two dispositions vary in their strength in
individuals, confirming each other when in concert, thwarting each
other when opposed. The author has painted a number of striking
situations arising out of their conflict. He enquires why we are more
pained by unmerited reproach, than lifted up by unmerited approbation;
and assigns as the reason that the painful state is more pungent than
the corresponding pleasurable state. He shows how those men whose
productions are of uncertain merit, as poets, are more the slaves of
approbation, than the authors of unmistakeable discoveries in science.
In the extreme cases of unmerited reproach, he points out the appeal to
the all-seeing Judge of the world, and to a future state rightly
conceived; protesting, however, against the view that would reserve the
celestial regions for monks and friars, and condemn to the infernal,
all the heroes, statesmen, poets, and philosophers of former ages; all
the inventors of the useful arts; the protectors, instructors, and
benefactors of mankind; and all those to whom our natural sense of
praise-worthiness forces us to ascribe the highest merit and most
exalted virtue.
Chapter III. is 'On the influence and authority of Conscience;' another
long chapter, occupied more with moral reflections of a practical kind
than with the following out of the analysis of our moral sentiment.
Conceding that the testimony of the supposed impartial spectator does
not of itself always support a man, he yet asserts its influence to be
great, and that by it alone we can see what relates to ourselves in the
proper shape and dimensions. It is only in this way that we can prefer
the interest of many to the interest of one; the interest of others to
our own. To fortify us in this hard lesson two different schemes have
been proposed; one to increase our feelings for others, the other to
diminish our feelings for ourselves. The first is prescribed by the
whining and melancholy moralists, who will never allow us to be happy,
because at every moment many of our fellow-beings are in misery. The
second is the doctrine of the Stoics, who annihilate self-interest in
favour of the vast commonwealth of nature; on that the author bestows a
lengthened comment and correction, founded on his theory of regulating
the manifestations of joy or grief by the light of the impartial judge.
He gives his own panacea for human misery, namely, the power of nature
to accommodate men to their permanent situation, and to restore
tranquillity, which is the one secret of happiness.
Chapter IV. handles Self-Deceit, and the Origin and Use of General
Rules. The interference of our passions is the great obstacle to our
holding towards ourselves the position of an impartial spectator. Prom
this notorious fact the author deduces an argument against a special
moral faculty, or moral sense; he says that if we had such a faculty,
it would surely judge our own passions, which are the most clearly laid
open to it, more correctly than the passions of others.
To correct our self-partiality and self-deceit is the use of general
rules. Our repeated observations on the tendency of particular acts,
teach us what is fit to be done generally; and our conviction of the
propriety of the general rules is a powerful motive for applying them
to our own case. It is a mistake to suppose, as some have done, that
rules precede experience; on the contrary, they are formed by finding
from experience that all actions of a certain kind, in certain
circumstances, are approved of. When established, we appeal to them as
standards of judgment in right and wrong, but they are not the original
judgments of mankind, nor the ultimate foundations of moral sentiment.
Chapter V. continues the subject of the authority and influence of
General Rules, maintaining that they are justly regarded as laws of the
Deity. The grand advantage of general rules is to give steadiness to
human conduct, and to enable us to resist our temporary varieties of
temper and disposition. They are thus a grand security for human
duties. That the important rules of morality should be accounted laws
of the Deity is a natural sentiment. Men have always ascribed to their
deities their own sentiments and passions; the deities held by them in
special reverence, they have endowed with their highest ideal of
excellence, the love of virtue and beneficence, and the abhorrence of
vice and injustice. The researches of philosophical inquiry confirmed
mankind in the supposition that the moral faculties carry the badge of
authority, that they were intended as the governing principles of our
nature, acting as the vicegerents of the Deity. This inference is
confirmed by the view that the happiness of men, and of other rational
creatures, is the original design of the Author of nature, the only
purpose reconcilable with the perfections we ascribe to him.
Chapter VI. is on the cases where the Sense of Duty should be the sole
motive of conduct; and on those where it ought to join with other
motives. Allowing the importance of religion among human motives, he
does not concur with the view that would make religious considerations
the sole laudable motives of action. The sense of duty is not the only
principle of our conduct; it is the ruling or governing one. It may be
a question, however, on what occasions we are to proceed strictly by
the sense of duty, and on what occasions give way to some other
sentiment or affection. The author answers that in the actions prompted
by benevolent affections, we are to follow out our sentiments as much
as our sense of duty; and the contrary with the malevolent passions. As
to the selfish passions, we are to follow duty in small matters, and
self-interest in great. But the rules of duty predominate most in cases
where they are determined with exactness, that is, in the virtue of
Justice.
PART IV. OF THE EFFECT OF UTILITY UPON THE SENTIMENT OF APPROBATION.
Chapter I. is on the Beauty arising out of Utility. It is here that the
author sets forth the dismal career of 'the poor man's son, whom heaven
in the hour of her anger has curst with ambition,' and enforces his
favourite moral lesson of contentment and tranquillity.
Chapter II. is the connexion of Utility with Moral Approbation. There
are many actions possessing the kind of beauty or charm arising from
utility; and hence, it may be maintained (as was done by Hume) that our
whole approbation of virtue may be explained on this principle. And it
may be granted that there is a coincidence between our sentiments of
approbation or disapprobation, and the useful or hurtful qualities of
actions. Still, the author holds that this utility or hurtfulness is
not the foremost or principal source of our approbation. In the first
place, he thinks it incongruous that we should have no other reason,
for praising a man than for praising a chest of drawers. In the next
place, he contends at length that the usefulness of a disposition of
mind is seldom the first ground of our approbation. Take, for example,
the qualities useful to ourselves--reason and self-command; we approve
the first as just and accurate, before we are aware of its being
useful; and as to self-command, we approve it quite as much for its
propriety as for its utility; it is the coincidence of our opinion with
the opinion of the spectator, and not an estimate of the comparative
utility, that affects us. Regarding the qualities useful to
others--humanity, generosity, public spirit and justice--he merely
repeats his own theory that they are approved by our entering into the
view of the impartial spectator. The examples cited only show that
these virtues are not approved from self-interest; as when the soldier
throws away his life to gain something for his sovereign. He also puts
the case of a solitary human being, who might see fitness in actions,
but could not feel moral approbation.
PART V. THE INFLUENCE OF CUSTOM ON THE MORAL SENTIMENTS.
The first chapter is a pleasing essay on the influence of custom and
fashion on manners, dress, and in Fine Art generally. The second
chapter makes the application to our moral sentiments. Although custom
will never reconcile us to the conduct of a Nero or a Claudius, it will
heighten or blunt the delicacy of our sentiments on right and wrong.
The fashion of the times of Charles II. made dissoluteness reputable,
and discountenanced regularity of conduct. There is a customary
behaviour that we expect in the old and in the young, in the clergyman
and in the military man. The situations of different ages and countries
develop characteristic qualities--endurance in the savage, humanity and
softness in the civilized community. But these are not the extreme
instances of the principle. We find particular usages, where custom has
rendered lawful and blameless actions, that shock the plainest
principles of right and wrong; the most notorious and universal is
infanticide.
PART VI. THE CHARACTER OF VIRTUE.
_Section I_. is on _Prudence_, and is an elegant essay on the _beau
idéal_ of the prudential character. _Section II_. considers _character
as affecting other people_. Chapter I. is a disquisition on the
comparative priority of the objects of our regard. After self, which
must ever have the first place, the members of our own family are
recommended to our consideration. Remoter connexions of blood are more
or less regarded according to the customs of the country; in pastoral
countries clanship is manifested; in commercial countries distant
relationship becomes indifferent. Official and business connexions, and
the association of neighbourhood, determine friendships. Special
estimation is a still preferable tie. Favours received determine and
require favours in return. The distinction of ranks is so far founded
in nature as to deserve our respect. Lastly, the miserable are
recommended to our compassion. Next, as regards societies (Chap. II.),
since our own country stands first in our regard, the author dilates on
the virtues of a good citizen. Finally, although our effectual good
offices may not extend beyond our country, our good-will may embrace
the whole universe. This universal benevolence, however, the author
thinks must repose on the belief in a benevolent and all-wise governor
of the world, as realized, for example, in the meditations of Marcus
Antoninus.
_Section III. Of Self-command_. On this topic the author produces a
splendid moral essay, in which he describes the various modes of our
self-estimation, and draws a contrast between pride and vanity. In so
far as concerns his Ethical theory, he has still the same criterion of
the virtue, the degree and mode commended by the impartial spectator.
PART VII. OF SYSTEMS OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
On this we need only to remark that it is an interesting and valuable
contribution to the history and the criticism of the Ethical
systems.[23]
The Ethical theory of Adam Smith may be thus summed up:--
I.--The Ethical Standard is the judgment of an impartial spectator or
critic; and our own judgments are derived by reference to what this
spectator would approve or disapprove.
Probably to no one has this ever appeared a sufficient account of Right
and Wrong. It provides against one defect, the self-partiality of the
agent; but gives no account whatever of the grounds of the critic's own
judgment, and makes no provision against his fallibility. It may be
very well on points where men's moral sentiments are tolerably
unanimous, but it is valueless in all questions where there are
fundamental differences of view.
II.--In the Psychology of Ethics, Smith would consider the moral
Faculty as identical with the power of Sympathy, which he treats as the
foundation of Benevolence. A man is a moral being in proportion as he
can enter into, and realize, the feelings, sentiments, and opinions of
others.
Now, as morality would never have existed but for the necessity of
protecting one human being against another, the power of the mind that
adopts other people's interests and views must always be of vital
moment as a spring of moral conduct; and Adam Smith has done great
service in developing the workings of the sympathetic impulse.
He does not discuss Free-will. On the question of Disinterested
Conduct, he gives no clear opinion. While denying that our sympathetic
impulses are a refinement of self-love, he would seem to admit that
they bring their own pleasure with them; so that, after all, they do
not detract from our happiness. In other places, he recognizes
self-sacrifice, but gives no analysis of the motives that lead to it;
and seems to think, with many other moralists, that it requires a
compensation in the next world.
III.--His theory of the constituents of Happiness is simple, primitive,
and crude, but is given with earnest conviction. Ambition he laughs to
scorn. 'What, he asks, can be added to the happiness of the man who is
in health, out of debt, and has a clear conscience?' Again, 'the chief
part of happiness consists in the consciousness of being beloved,
hence, sudden changes of fortune seldom contribute to happiness.' But
what he dwells upon most persistently, as the prime condition of
happiness, is Contentment, and Tranquillity.
IV.--On the Moral Code, he has nothing peculiar. As to the means and
inducements to morality, he does not avail himself of the fertility of
his own principle of Sympathy. Appeals to sympathy, and the cultivation
of the power of entering into the feelings of others, could easily be
shown to play a high part in efficacious moral suasion.
V.--He affords little or no grounds for remarking on the connexion of
Morality with Politics. Our duties as citizens are a part of Morality,
and that is all.
VI.--He gives his views on the alliance of Ethics with Religion. He
does not admit that we should refer to the Religious sanction on all
occasions. He assumes a benevolent and all-wise Governor of the world,
who will ultimately redress all inequalities, and remedy all
outstanding injustice. What this Being approves, however, is to be
inferred solely from the principles of benevolence. Our regard for him
is to be shown, not by frivolous observances, sacrifices, ceremonies,
and vain supplications, but by just and beneficent actions. The author
studiously ignores a revelation, and constructs for himself a Natural
Religion, grounded on a benevolent and just administration of the
universe.
In Smith's Essay, the purely scientific enquiry is overlaid by
practical and hortatory dissertations, and by eloquent delineations of
character and of beau-ideals of virtuous conduct. His style being thus
pitched to the popular key, he never pushes home a metaphysical
analysis; so that even his favourite theme, Sympathy, is not
philosophically sifted to the bottom.
DAVID HARTLEY. [1705-1757.]
The 'Observations on Man' (1749) is the first systematic effort to
explain the phenomena of mind by the Law of Association. It contains
also a philosophical hypothesis, that mental states are produced by the
_vibration_ of infinitesimal particles of the nerves. This analogy,
borrowed from the undulations of the hypothetical substance æther, has
been censured as crude, and has been entirely superseded. But, although
an imperfect analogy, it nevertheless kept constantly before the mind
of Hartley the double aspect of all mental phenomena, thus preventing
erroneous explanations, and often suggesting correct ones. In this
respect, Aristotle and Hobbes are the only persons that can be named as
equally fortunate.
The ethical remarks contained in the 'Observations,' relate only to the
second head of summary, the Psychology of Ethics. We shall take, first,
the account of disinterestedness, and, next, of the moral sense.