Two Objections To This System

When any quality or character has a tendency to the good of mankind, we are pleased with it and approve of it.
    Because it presents the lively idea of pleasure.
    This idea affects us by sympathy.
        It itself is a kind of pleasure.
        But this sympathy is very variable.
    Our sentiments of morals must admit of all the same variations.
        We sympathize more with:
            persons contiguous to us, than with persons remote from us,
            our acquaintance, than with strangers,
            our countrymen, than with foreigners.
    Despite this variation of our sympathy, we give the same approbation to the same moral qualities in China as in England.
        They appear equally virtuous.
        They recommend themselves equally to a judicious spectator's esteem.
    The sympathy varies without a variation in our esteem.
        Therefore, our esteem does not proceed from sympathy.

I answer that the approbation of moral qualities is not derived from reason or any comparison of ideas.
    It proceeds entirely from:
        a moral taste, and
        certain sentiments of pleasure or disgust.
            These arise on the contemplation and view of particular qualities or characters.
Those sentiments must vary according to the distance or contiguity of the objects.
    I cannot feel the same lively pleasure from the virtues of a person who lived in Greece 2,000 years ago, that I feel from the virtues of a familiar friend and acquaintance.
        I do not say that I esteem the one more than the other:
    Therefore, if the variation of the sentiment without a variation of the esteem is an objection, it must have equal force against every other system, as against the system of sympathy.
To correct this matter, I assert that the variation has no force at all.
    This is easy to prove.
    Our situation, with regard to persons and things, is in continual fluctuation.
    A person that lies at a distance from us, may become a familiar acquaintance in a short time.
    Besides, every person one has a peculiar position with regard to others.
    It is impossible for us to converse together reasonably if each of us considered others only as they appear from our own point of view.
    To prevent those continual contradictions and to arrive at a more stable judgment of things, we:
        fix on some steady and general points of view, and
        always place ourselves in them, whatever our present situation.
Similarly, external beauty is determined merely by pleasure.
    A beautiful face cannot give much pleasure when seen 20 paces away.
    But we do not say that it is less beautiful.
    Because we know what effect it will have in a distant position.
    By this reflection, we correct its momentary appearance.

In general, all sentiments of blame or praise vary according to:
    our nearness or remoteness to the person blamed or praised, and
    our mind's present disposition.
But we do not regard these variations in our general decision.
    We still apply the terms expressive of our liking or dislike, in the same way as if we remained in one point of view.
Experience soon teaches us this method of correcting our sentiments or language.
    If our servant is diligent and faithful, he may excite stronger sentiments of love and kindness than Marcus Brutus as represented in history.
    But we do not say that our servant is more laudable than Marcus Brutus who is a renowned patriot.
    Marcus Brutus would command much more affection and admiration if we came closer to him.
Such corrections are common with regard to all the senses.
    It would be impossible for us to communicate our sentiments if we did not:
        correct the momentary appearances of things, and
        overlook our present situation.

We blame or praise a person we talk to from the influence of his characters and qualities.
    We do not consider whether the persons, affected by the qualities, are our acquaintance or strangers, countrymen or foreigners.
We overlook our own interest in those general judgments.
    We do not blame a man for opposing us in any of our pretensions, when his own interest is particularly concerned.
We make allowance for a certain degree of selfishness in men.
    Because we know it to be:
        inseparable from human nature, and
        inherent in our frame and constitution.
    By this reflection, we correct those sentiments of blame which naturally arise upon any opposition.

Thus, the general principle of our blame or praise may be corrected by those other principles.
    But the general principles are not altogether effective.
    Our passions do not often correspond entirely to this present theory.
Men seldom heartily love what:
    lies far from them, and
    does not contribute to their benefit.
It also rare to meet persons who can pardon another who opposes their interest, no matter how justifiable that opposition may be by the general rules of morality.
    We are contented with saying that reason requires such an impartial conduct.
    But we seldom can bring ourselves to it.
    Our passions do not readily follow our judgment's determination.
This will be easily understood if we consider what we have said concerning that reason:
    which is able to oppose our passion, and
    which is nothing but a general calm determination of the passions, founded on some distant view.
When we form our judgments of persons merely from their tendency to benefit us or our friends, we find:
    so many contradictions to our sentiments in society and conversation, and
    an uncertainty from the incessant changes of our situation.
        We seek some other standard of merit and demerit which may not admit of so great variation.
We are thus loosened from our first station.
We cannot then fix ourselves with people who have any commerce with the person we consider, as what we did by sympathy.
    We are not as lively as when our own interest or that of our friends is concerned.
    This also has no such influence on our love and hatred.
    But it is equally conformable to our calm and general principles.
        Therefore, it is said to:
            have an equal authority over our reason, and
            command our judgment and opinion.
    We equally blame a bad action we read in history, with a bad action performed in our neighbourhood the other day.
        Because, we know that the historical bad action would also excite sentiments of disapprobation as the nearby one, if it were placed in the same position.

The second remarkable circumstance is that when a person has a character naturally beneficial to society:
    we esteem him as virtuous, and
    we are delighted with the view of his character, even though particular accidents:
        prevent its operation, and
        incapacitate him from being serviceable to his friends and country.

Virtue in rags is still virtue.
    The love it procures attends a man into a dungeon or desert, where the virtue:
        can no longer be exerted, and
        is lost to all the world.
    This may be seen as an objection to the present system.
Sympathy interests us in the good of mankind.
    If sympathy were the source of our esteem for virtue, that sentiment of approbation could only take place where the virtue:
        actually attained its end, and
        was beneficial to mankind.
It is only an imperfect means when it fails of its end.
    It can never acquire any merit from that end.
The goodness of an end can bestow a merit on the means alone, as if it were complete and actually produced the end.

To this objection, we reply that when any object is fully fitted to attain any agreeable end, it naturally:
    gives us pleasure, and
    is esteemed beautiful, even if some external circumstances are lacking.
It is enough that everything is complete in the object itself.
    A house that is built for comfort pleases us, even if we know that no one will ever live in it.
    A fertile soil and happy climate delight us through the happiness which they would afford its inhabitants, even if it is currently uninhabited.
    A man whose body and limbs promise strength and activity, is esteemed handsome, even if he were condemned to life imprisonment.
The imagination has a set of passions which our sentiments of beauty much depend on.
    These passions are moved by liveliness and strength, which are:
        inferior to belief, and
        independent of the real existence of their objects.
When a character is fully fitted to be beneficial to society, the imagination passes easily from the cause to the effect.
    It does not consider that there are some circumstances lacking to render the cause complete.
General rules create a kind of probability which influences:
    the judgment sometimes, and
    the imagination always.

When the cause is complete and a good disposition is attended with good fortune, which renders it really beneficial to society, it:
    gives a stronger pleasure to the spectator, and
    is attended with a more lively sympathy.
We are more affected by it.
    Yet we do not say:
        that it is more virtuous, or
        that we esteem it more.
We know that a change of fortune may render the benevolent disposition entirely impotent.
    We therefore separate the fortune from the disposition.
The same happens when we correct the different sentiments of virtue proceeding from its different distances from ourselves.
    The passions do not always follow our corrections.
    These corrections:
        regulate our abstract notions, and
        are alone regarded when we pronounce the degrees of vice and virtue.

Critics observe that words or sentences that are difficult to pronounce are disagreeable to the ear.
    It does not matter whether such words are heard or read silently.
When I run over a book with my eye, I imagine I hear it all.
    By the force of imagination, I become uneasy from speaking those words.
        The uneasiness is not real.
    But as such a composition of words has a natural tendency to produce it, this is sufficient to:
        affect the mind with a painful sentiment, and
        render the discourse harsh and disagreeable.
It is similar when any real quality is:
    rendered impotent by accidental circumstances, and
    is deprived of its natural influence on society.

On these principles, we may easily remove any contradiction between:
    the extensive sympathy which our sentiments of virtue depend on, and
    that limited generosity natural to men, which justice and property suppose.
My sympathy with another man may give me pain and disapprobation when any object, that gives him uneasiness, is presented.
    Though for his satisfaction, I may be unwilling to:
        sacrifice my own interest, or
        cross any of my passions.
    A house may displease me by being badly built for its owner's convenience.
        Yet I may refuse to give a shilling towards rebuilding it.
Sentiments must touch the heart to make them control our passions.
    But they do not need to extend beyond the imagination to make them influence our taste.
    When a building seems clumsy and tottering to the eye, it is ugly and disagreeable.
        Though we are fully assured of the solidity of its workmanship.
    It is a fear which causes this sentiment of disapprobation.
    But this fear is not the same with the fear we feel when we stand under a wall that we really think is insecure.
The seeming tendencies of objects affect the mind.
    The emotions they excite are similar with those proceeding from the real consequences of objects.
        But their feeling is different.
    These emotions are so different in their feeling.
    They may often be contrary, without destroying each other.
    For example, an enemy city's fortifications are esteemed beautiful because of their strength.
    Even if we wish that they were entirely destroyed.
The imagination:
    adheres to the general views of things
    distinguishes the feelings they produce from those which arise from our particular and momentary situation.

There are two kinds of qualities of great men:
    those that make them perform their part in society, and
    those that render them serviceable to themselves and enable them to promote their own interest.
Their prudence, temperance, frugality, industry, assiduity, enterprise, dexterity, are celebrated as well as their generosity and humanity.
Indolence disables a man from making a figure in life.
    Indolence does not deprive a man of his parts and capacity.
    It only suspends their exercise without any inconvenience to himself, since it is from his own choice.
    Yet indolence is always a fault.
        It is a very great one if it is extreme.
A man's friends never acknowledge him to be subject to indolence to save his character in more material articles.
    They say:
        he could make a figure if he wanted to,
        his understanding is sound,
        his conception quick, and
        his memory tenacious.
            But he hates business and is indifferent about his fortune.
    This may make a man sometimes even a subject of vanity, though with the air of confessing a fault.
        Because he may think that his incapacity for business implies much more noble qualities such as:
            a philosophical spirit
            a fine taste
            a delicate wit, or
            a relish for pleasure and society.
But take any other case.
    Suppose a quality always incapacitates a man for business and is destructive to his interest, such as:
        a blundering understanding,
        a wrong judgment of everything in life,
        inconstancy and irresolution, or
        a lack of address in the management of men and business.
    These are all imperfections in a character.
        Many men would rather acknowledge the greatest crimes than have it suspected that they are subject to them.

It is very happy when we find the same phenomenon diversified by a variety of circumstances in our philosophical researches.
    By discovering what is common among them, we can better assure ourselves of the truth of any hypothesis we use to explain it.
If only those qualities that were beneficial to society were esteemed as virtue, the foregoing explanation of the moral sense should still be acceptable upon sufficient evidence.
    But this evidence will grow on us when we find other kinds of virtue which can only be explained by that hypothesis.
Here is a man not remarkably defective in his social qualities.
    His main social quality is his dexterity in business.
        By this, he has:
            extricated himself from the greatest difficulties, and
            conducted the most delicate affairs with a singular address and prudence.
    I find an esteem for him immediately to arise in me:
        I am satisfied with his company.
        I would rather serve him than another person of the same character, but deficient in business.
    In this case, the qualities that please me are all useful to the person.
        It has a tendency to promote his interest and satisfaction.
        They are only regarded as means to an end.
        They please me in proportion to their fitness for that end.
            The end, therefore, must be agreeable to me.
            But what makes the end agreeable?
    The person is a stranger.
    I am not interested in him.
    I do not have any obligation to him.
    His happiness does not concern me more than the happiness of every other human.
        That is, it affects me only by sympathy.
        From sympathy, I enter so deeply into his happiness whenever I discover it, whether as a cause or effect.
        It gives me a sensible emotion.
        The appearance of qualities that promote sympathy:
            have an agreeable effect on my imagination, and
            command my love and esteem.

This theory may explain why the same qualities in all cases, produce pride and love and humility and hatred.
The same man is always virtuous or vicious, accomplished or despicable to others, who is so to himself.
A person with any passion or habit, originally only incommodious to himself, always becomes disagreeable to us merely because of that passion or habit.
    On the other hand, one whose character is only dangerous and disagreeable to others, can never be satisfied with himself, as long as he is sensible of that disadvantage.
This is observable with regard to characters and manners, even in the most minute circumstances.
A violent cough in another gives us uneasiness.
    Though in itself, it does not affect us.
A man will be mortified if you tell him he has a stinking breath.
    Though it is evidently no annoyance to himself.
Our fancy easily changes its situation.
    It surveys ourselves as we appear to others, or considers others as they feel themselves.
    Through this, we enter into sentiments which:
        do not belong to us, and
        only sympathy is able to interest us in.
            We sometimes carry this sympathy so far.
            We are even displeased with a quality commodious to us, merely because it:
                displeases othersm, and
                makes us disagreeable in their eyes
        Though perhaps we never can have any interest in rendering ourselves agreeable to them.


Many systems of morality have been advanced by philosophers in all ages.
If strictly examined, they may be reduced to two which alone merit our attention.
Moral good and evil are distinguished by our sentiments, not by reason.
    But these sentiments may arise from:
        The mere appearance of characters and passions, or
        The reflections on their tendency to the happiness of mankind and particular persons
            I think that reflections on the tendencies of actions:
                have the greatest influence by far, and
                determine all the great lines of our duty.
    I think both these causes are intermixed in our judgments of morals in the same way as they are intermixed in our decisions on external beauty.
However, there are instances wherein this immediate taste or sentiment produces our approbation in cases of less moment.
    Wit and a certain easy and disengaged behaviour, are qualities immediately agreeable to others.
    These command their love and esteem.
Some of these qualities produce satisfaction in others by specific original principles of human nature, which cannot be accounted for.
    Others may be resolved into principles, which are more general.
    This will best appear upon a particular enquiry.

Some qualities acquire their merit from their being immediately agreeable to others, without any tendency to public interest.
    These are virtuous.
Some qualities are denominated virtuous from their being immediately agreeable to the person himself, who possesses them.
    These are vicious.
    This feeling constitutes the very nature of the passion.
        Therefore it does not need to be accounted for.

The distinction of vice and virtue may seem to flow directly from the immediate pleasure or uneasiness, which particular qualities cause to ourselves or others.
It also depends on the principle of sympathy so often insisted on.
We approve of a person who has qualities agreeable to those he has commerce with.
    Though perhaps we ourselves never reaped any pleasure from them.
We also approve of one who has qualities agreeable to himself.
    Though they are of no service to anyone.
To account for this, we must turn to the foregoing principles.

As a general review of the present hypothesis:
Every quality of the mind is called:
    virtuous if it gives pleasure,
    vicious if it gives pain.
This pleasure and pain may arise from four different sources:
    From being useful to others
    From being useful to the person himself
    From being aggreeable to others
    From being aggreeable to the person himself
One may be surprised that amidst all these interests and pleasures, we should forget our own.
    Every person's pleasure and interest are different.
It is impossible men could ever agree in their sentiments and judgments, unless they chose some common point of view from which they might:
    survey their object, and
    cause it to appear the same to all of them.
In judging characters, the only interest or pleasure which appears the same to every spectator is:
    that of the person being observed, or
        His interests and pleasures touch us more faintly than our own.
    that of persons connected with him.
A person's interests is more constant and universal.
    They counter-balance the interests of others even in practice.
    They alone:
        are speculatd to be the standard of virtue and morality.
        produce that feeling or sentiment which moral distinctions depend on.

The good or ill desert of virtue or vice is an evident consequence of the sentiments of pleasure or uneasiness.
These sentiments produce love or hatred.
By the original constitution of human passion, love or hatred is attended with benevolence or anger.