Books: An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals
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David Hume >> An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals
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Those who live in the same family have such frequent
opportunities of licence of this kind, that nothing could prevent
purity of manners, were marriage allowed, among the nearest
relations, or any intercourse of love between them ratified by
law and custom. Incest, therefore, being PERNICIOUS in a superior
degree, has also a superior turpitude and moral deformity annexed
to it.
What is the reason, why, by the Athenian laws, one might marry a
half-sister by the father, but not by the mother? Plainly this:
The manners of the Athenians were so reserved, that a man was
never permitted to approach the women's apartment, even in the
same family, unless where he visited his own mother. His step-
mother and her children were as much shut up from him as the
woman of any other family, and there was as little danger of any
criminal correspondence between them. Uncles and nieces, for a
like reason, might marry at Athens; but neither these, nor half-
brothers and sisters, could contract that alliance at Rome, where
the intercourse was more open between the sexes. Public utility
is the cause of all these variations.
To repeat, to a man's prejudice, anything that escaped him in
private conversation, or to make any such use of his private
letters, is highly blamed. The free and social intercourse of
minds must be extremely checked, where no such rules of fidelity
are established.
Even in repeating stories, whence we can foresee no ill
consequences to result, the giving of one's author is regarded as
a piece of indiscretion, if not of immorality. These stories, in
passing from hand to hand, and receiving all the usual
variations, frequently come about to the persons concerned, and
produce animosities and quarrels among people, whose intentions
are the most innocent and inoffensive.
To pry into secrets, to open or even read the letters of others,
to play the spy upon their words and looks and actions; what
habits more inconvenient in society? What habits, of consequence,
more blameable?
This principle is also the foundation of most of the laws of good
manners; a kind of lesser morality, calculated for the ease of
company and conversation. Too much or too little ceremony are
both blamed, and everything, which promotes ease, without an
indecent familiarity, is useful and laudable.
Constancy in friendships, attachments, and familiarities, is
commendable, and is requisite to support trust and good
correspondence in society. But in places of general, though
casual concourse, where the pursuit of health and pleasure brings
people promiscuously together, public conveniency has dispensed
with this maxim; and custom there promotes an unreserved
conversation for the time, by indulging the privilege of dropping
afterwards every indifferent acquaintance, without breach of
civility or good manners.
Even in societies, which are established on principles the most
immoral, and the most destructive to the interests of the general
society, there are required certain rules, which a species of
false honour, as well as private interest, engages the members to
observe. Robbers and pirates, it has often been remarked, could
not maintain their pernicious confederacy, did they not establish
a pew distributive justice among themselves, and recall those
laws of equity, which they have violated with the rest of
mankind.
I hate a drinking companion, says the Greek proverb, who never
forgets. The follies of the last debauch should be buried in
eternal oblivion, in order to give full scope to the follies of
the next.
Among nations, where an immoral gallantry, if covered with a thin
veil of mystery, is, in some degree, authorized by custom, there
immediately arise a set of rules, calculated for the conveniency
of that attachment. The famous court or parliament of love in
Provence formerly decided all difficult cases of this nature.
In societies for play, there are laws required for the conduct of
the game; and these laws are different in each game. The
foundation, I own, of such societies is frivolous; and the laws
are, in a great measure, though not altogether, capricious and
arbitrary. So far is there a material difference between them and
the rules of justice, fidelity, and loyalty. The general
societies of men are absolutely requisite for the subsistence of
the species; and the public conveniency, which regulates morals,
is inviolably established in the nature of man, and of the world,
in which he lives. The comparison, therefore, in these respects,
is very imperfect. We may only learn from it the necessity of
rules, wherever men have any intercourse with each other.
They cannot even pass each other on the road without rules.
Waggoners, coachmen, and postilions have principles, by which
they give the way; and these are chiefly founded on mutual ease
and convenience. Sometimes also they are arbitrary, at least
dependent on a kind of capricious analogy like many of the
reasonings of lawyers.
[Footnote: That the lighter machine yield to the heavier, and, in
machines of the same kind, that the empty yield to the loaded;
this rule is founded on convenience. That those who are going to
the capital take place of those who are coming from it; this
seems to be founded on some idea of dignity of the great city,
and of the preference of the future to the past. From like
reasons, among foot-walkers, the right-hand entitles a man to the
wall, and prevents jostling, which peaceable people find very
disagreeable and inconvenient.]
To carry the matter farther, we may observe, that it is
impossible for men so much as to murder each other without
statutes, and maxims, and an idea of justice and honour. War has
its laws as well as peace; and even that sportive kind of war,
carried on among wrestlers, boxers, cudgel-players, gladiators,
is regulated by fixed principles. Common interest and utility
beget infallibly a standard of right and wrong among the parties
concerned.
SECTION V.
WHY UTILITY PLEASES.
PART I.
It seems so natural a thought to ascribe to their utility the
praise, which we bestow on the social virtues, that one would
expect to meet with this principle everywhere in moral writers,
as the chief foundation of their reasoning and enquiry. In common
life, we may observe, that the circumstance of utility is always
appealed to; nor is it supposed, that a greater eulogy can be
given to any man, than to display his usefulness to the public,
and enumerate the services, which he has performed to mankind and
society. What praise, even of an inanimate form, if the
regularity and elegance of its parts destroy not its fitness for
any useful purpose! And how satisfactory an apology for any
disproportion or seeming deformity, if we can show the necessity
of that particular construction for the use intended! A ship
appears more beautiful to an artist, or one moderately skilled in
navigation, where its prow is wide and swelling beyond its poop,
than if it were framed with a precise geometrical regularity, in
contradiction to all the laws of mechanics. A building, whose
doors and windows were exact squares, would hurt the eye by that
very proportion; as ill adapted to the figure of a human
creature, for whose service the fabric was intended.
What wonder then, that a man, whose habits and conduct are
hurtful to society, and dangerous or pernicious to every one who
has an intercourse with him, should, on that account, be an
object of disapprobation, and communicate to every spectator the
strongest sentiment of disgust and hatred.
[Footnote: We ought not to imagine, because an inanimate object
may be useful as well as a man, that therefore it ought also,
according to this system, to merit he appellation of VIRTUOUS.
The sentiments, excited by utility, are, in the two cases, very
different; and the one is mixed with affection, esteem,
approbation, &c., and not the other. In like manner, an inanimate
object may have good colour and proportions as well as a human
figure. But can we ever be in love with the former? There are a
numerous set of passions and sentiments, of which thinking
rational beings are, by the original constitution of nature, the
only proper objects: and though the very same qualities be
transferred to an insensible, inanimate being, they will not
excite the same sentiments. The beneficial qualities of herbs and
minerals are, indeed, sometimes called their VIRTUES; but this is
an effect of the caprice of language, which out not to be
regarded in reasoning. For though there be a species of
approbation attending even inanimate objects, when beneficial,
yet this sentiment is so weak, and so different from that which
is directed to beneficent magistrates or statesman; that they
ought not to be ranked under the same class or appellation.
A very small variation of the object, even where the same
qualities are preserved, will destroy a sentiment. Thus, the same
beauty, transferred to a different sex, excites no amorous
passion, where nature is not extremely perverted.]
But perhaps the difficulty of accounting for these effects of
usefulness, or its contrary, has kept philosophers from admitting
them into their systems of ethics, and has induced them rather to
employ any other principle, in explaining the origin of moral
good and evil. But it is no just reason for rejecting any
principle, confirmed by experience, that we cannot give a
satisfactory account of its origin, nor are able to resolve it
into other more general principles. And if we would employ a
little thought on the present subject, we need be at no loss to
account for the influence of utility, and to deduce it from
principles, the most known and avowed in human nature.
From the apparent usefulness of the social virtues, it has
readily been inferred by sceptics, both ancient and modern, that
all moral distinctions arise from education, and were, at first,
invented, and afterwards encouraged, by the art of politicians,
in order to render men tractable, and subdue their natural
ferocity and selfishness, which incapacitated them for society.
This principle, indeed, of precept and education, must so far be
owned to have a powerful influence, that it may frequently
increase or diminish, beyond their natural standard, the
sentiments of approbation or dislike; and may even, in particular
instances, create, without any natural principle, a new sentiment
of this kind; as is evident in all superstitious practices and
observances: But that ALL moral affection or dislike arises from
this origin, will never surely be allowed by any judicious
enquirer. Had nature made no such distinction, founded on the
original constitution of the mind, the words, HONOURABLE and
SHAMEFUL, LOVELY and ODIOUS, NOBLE and DESPICABLE, had never had
place in any language; nor could politicians, had they invented
these terms, ever have been able to render them intelligible, or
make them convey any idea to the audience. So that nothing can be
more superficial than this paradox of the sceptics; and it were
well, if, in the abstruser studies of logic and metaphysics, we
could as easily obviate the cavils of that sect, as in the
practical and more intelligible sciences of politics and morals.
The social virtues must, therefore, be allowed to have a natural
beauty and amiableness, which, at first, antecedent to all
precept or education, recommends them to the esteem of
uninstructed mankind, and engages their affections. And as the
public utility of these virtues is the chief circumstance, whence
they derive their merit, it follows, that the end, which they
have a tendency to promote, must be some way agreeable to us, and
take hold of some natural affection. It must please, either from
considerations of self-interest, or from more generous motives
and regards.
It has often been asserted, that, as every man has a strong
connexion with society, and perceives the impossibility of his
solitary subsistence, he becomes, on that account, favourable to
all those habits or principles, which promote order in society,
and insure to him the quiet possession of so inestimable a
blessing, As much as we value our own happiness and welfare, as
much must we applaud the practice of justice and humanity, by
which alone the social confederacy can be maintained, and every
man reap the fruits of mutual protection and assistance.
This deduction of morals from self-love, or a regard to private
interest, is an obvious thought, and has not arisen wholly from
the wanton sallies and sportive assaults of the sceptics. To
mention no others, Polybius, one of the gravest and most
judicious, as well as most moral writers of antiquity, has
assigned this selfish origin to all our sentiments of virtue.
[Footnote: Undutifulness to parents is disapproved of by mankind,
[Greek quotation inserted here]. Ingratitude for a like reason
(though he seems there to mix a more generous regard) [Greek
quotation inserted here] Lib. vi cap. 4. (Ed. Gronorius.) Perhaps
the historian only meant, that our sympathy and humanity was more
enlivened, by our considering the similarity of our case with
that of the person suffering; which is a just sentiment.] But
though the solid practical sense of that author, and his aversion
to all vain subtilties, render his authority on the present
subject very considerable; yet is not this an affair to be
decided by authority, and the voice of nature and experience
seems plainly to oppose the selfish theory.
We frequently bestow praise on virtuous actions, performed in
very distant ages and remote countries; where the utmost subtilty
of imagination would not discover any appearance of self-
interest, or find any connexion of our present happiness and
security with events so widely separated from us.
A generous, a brave, a noble deed, performed by an adversary,
commands our approbation; while in its consequences it may be
acknowledged prejudicial to our particular interest.
Where private advantage concurs with general affection for
virtue, we readily perceive and avow the mixture of these
distinct sentiments, which have a very different feeling and
influence on the mind. We praise, perhaps, with more alacrity,
where the generous humane action contributes to our particular
interest: But the topics of praise, which we insist on, are very
wide of this circumstance. And we may attempt to bring over
others to our sentiments, without endeavouring to convince them,
that they reap any advantage from the actions which we recommend
to their approbation and applause.
Frame the model of a praiseworthy character, consisting of all
the most amiable moral virtues: Give instances, in which these
display themselves after an eminent and extraordinary manner: You
readily engage the esteem and approbation of all your audience,
who never so much as enquire in what age and country the person
lived, who possessed these noble qualities: A circumstance,
however, of all others, the most material to self-love, or a
concern for our own individual happiness. Once on a time, a
statesman, in the shock and contest of parties, prevailed so far
as to procure, by his eloquence, the banishment of an able
adversary; whom he secretly followed, offering him money for his
support during his exile, and soothing him with topics of
consolation in his misfortunes. ALAS! cries the banished
statesman, WITH WHAT REGRET MUST I LEAVE MY FRIENDS IN THIS CITY,
WHERE EVEN ENEMIES ARE SO GENEROUS! Virtue, though in an enemy,
here pleased him: And we also give it the just tribute of praise
and approbation; nor do we retract these sentiments, when we
hear, that the action passed at Athens, about two thousand years
ago, and that the persons' names were Eschines and Demosthenes.
WHAT IS THAT TO ME? There are few occasions, when this question
is not pertinent: And had it that universal, infallible influence
supposed, it would turn into ridicule every composition, and
almost every conversation, which contain any praise or censure of
men and manners.
It is but a weak subterfuge, when pressed by these facts and
arguments, to say, that we transport ourselves, by the force of
imagination, into distant ages and countries, and consider the
advantage, which we should have reaped from these characters, had
we been contemporaries, and had any commerce with the persons. It
is not conceivable, how a REAL sentiment or passion can ever
arise from a known IMAGINARY interest; especially when our REAL
interest is still kept in view, and is often acknowledged to be
entirely distinct from the imaginary, and even sometimes opposite
to it.
A man, brought to the brink of a precipice, cannot look down
without trembling; and the sentiment of IMAGINARY danger actuates
him, in opposition to the opinion and belief of REAL safety. But
the imagination is here assisted by the presence of a striking
object; and yet prevails not, except it be also aided by novelty,
and the unusual appearance of the object. Custom soon reconciles
us to heights and precipices, and wears off these false and
delusive terrors. The reverse is observable in the estimates
which we form of characters and manners; and the more we
habituate ourselves to an accurate scrutiny of morals, the more
delicate feeling do we acquire of the most minute distinctions
between vice and virtue. Such frequent occasion, indeed, have we,
in common life, to pronounce all kinds of moral determinations,
that no object of this kind can be new or unusual to us; nor
could any FALSE views or prepossessions maintain their ground
against an experience, so common and familiar. Experience being
chiefly what forms the associations of ideas, it is impossible
that any association could establish and support itself, in
direct opposition to that principle.
Usefulness is agreeable, and engages our approbation. This is a
matter of fact, confirmed by daily observation. But, USEFUL? For
what? For somebody's interest, surely. Whose interest then? Not
our own only: For our approbation frequently extends farther. It
must, therefore, be the interest of those, who are served by the
character or action approved of; and these we may conclude,
however remote, are not totally indifferent to us. By opening up
this principle, we shall discover one great source of moral
distinctions.
PART II.
Self-love is a principle in human nature of such extensive
energy, and the interest of each individual is, in general, so
closely connected with that of the community, that those
philosophers were excusable, who fancied that all our concern for
the public might be resolved into a concern for our own happiness
and preservation. They saw every moment, instances of approbation
or blame, satisfaction or displeasure towards characters and
actions; they denominated the objects of these sentiments,
VIRTUES, or VICES; they observed, that the former had a tendency
to increase the happiness, and the latter the misery of mankind;
they asked, whether it were possible that we could have any
general concern for society, or any disinterested resentment of
the welfare or injury of others; they found it simpler to
consider all these sentiments as modifications of self-love; and
they discovered a pretence, at least, for this unity of
principle, in that close union of interest, which is so
observable between the public and each individual.
But notwithstanding this frequent confusion of interests, it is
easy to attain what natural philosophers, after Lord Bacon, have
affected to call the experimentum crucis, or that experiment
which points out the right way in any doubt or ambiguity. We have
found instances, in which private interest was separate from
public; in which it was even contrary: And yet we observed the
moral sentiment to continue, notwithstanding this disjunction of
interests. And wherever these distinct interests sensibly
concurred, we always found a sensible increase of the sentiment,
and a more warm affection to virtue, and detestation of vice, or
what we properly call, GRATITUDE and REVENGE. Compelled by these
instances, we must renounce the theory, which accounts for every
moral sentiment by the principle of self-love. We must adopt a
more public affection, and allow, that the interests of society
are not, even on their own account, entirely indifferent to us.
Usefulness is only a tendency to a certain end; and it is a
contradiction in terms, that anything pleases as means to an end,
where the end itself no wise affects us. If usefulness,
therefore, be a source of moral sentiment, and if this usefulness
be not always considered with a reference to self; it follows,
that everything, which contributes to the happiness of society,
recommends itself directly to our approbation and good-will. Here
is a principle, which accounts, in great part, for the origin of
morality: And what need we seek for abstruse and remote systems,
when there occurs one so obvious and natural?
[FOOTNOTE: It is needless to push our researches so far as to
ask, why we have humanity or a fellow-feeling with others. It is
sufficient, that this is experienced to be a principle in human
nature. We must stop somewhere in our examination of causes; and
there are, in every science, some general principles, beyond
which we cannot hope to find any principle more general. No man
is absolutely indifferent to the happiness and misery of others.
The first has a natural tendency to give pleasure; the second,
pain. This every one may find in himself. It is not probable,
that these principles can be resolved into principles more simple
and universal, whatever attempts may have been made to that
purpose. But if it were possible, it belongs not to the present
subject; and we may here safely consider these principles as
original; happy, if we can render all the consequences
sufficiently plain and perspicuous!]
Have we any difficulty to comprehend the force of humanity and
benevolence? Or to conceive, that the very aspect of happiness,
joy, prosperity, gives pleasure; that of pain, suffering, sorrow,
communicates uneasiness? The human countenance, says Horace ['Uti
ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent Humani vultus,'--
Hor.], borrows smiles or tears from the human countenance. Reduce
a person to solitude, and he loses all enjoyment, except either
of the sensual or speculative kind; and that because the
movements of his heart are not forwarded by correspondent
movements in his fellow-creatures. The signs of sorrow and
mourning, though arbitrary, affect us with melancholy; but the
natural symptoms, tears and cries and groans, never fail to
infuse compassion and uneasiness. And if the effects of misery
touch us in so lively a manner; can we be supposed altogether
insensible or indifferent towards its causes; when a malicious or
treacherous character and behaviour are presented to us?
We enter, I shall suppose, into a convenient, warm, well-
contrived apartment: We necessarily receive a pleasure from its
very survey; because it presents us with the pleasing ideas of
ease, satisfaction, and enjoyment. The hospitable, good-humoured,
humane landlord appears. This circumstance surely must embellish
the whole; nor can we easily forbear reflecting, with pleasure,
on the satisfaction which results to every one from his
intercourse and good-offices.
His whole family, by the freedom, ease, confidence, and calm
enjoyment, diffused over their countenances, sufficiently express
their happiness. I have a pleasing sympathy in the prospect of so
much joy, and can never consider the source of it, without the
most agreeable emotions.
He tells me, that an oppressive and powerful neighbour had
attempted to dispossess him of his inheritance, and had long
disturbed all his innocent and social pleasures. I feel an
immediate indignation arise in me against such violence and
injury.
But it is no wonder, he adds, that a private wrong should proceed
from a man, who had enslaved provinces, depopulated cities, and
made the field and scaffold stream with human blood. I am struck
with horror at the prospect of so much misery, and am actuated by
the strongest antipathy against its author.
In general, it is certain, that, wherever we go, whatever we
reflect on or converse about, everything still presents us with
the view of human happiness or misery, and excites in our breast
a sympathetic movement of pleasure or uneasiness. In our serious
occupations, in our careless amusements, this principle still
exerts its active energy.
A man who enters the theatre, is immediately struck with the view
of so great a multitude, participating of one common amusement;
and experiences, from their very aspect, a superior sensibility
or disposition of being affected with every sentiment, which he
shares with his fellow-creatures.
He observes the actors to be animated by the appearance of a full
audience, and raised to a degree of enthusiasm, which they cannot
command in any solitary or calm moment.
Every movement of the theatre, by a skilful poet, is
communicated, as it were by magic, to the spectators; who weep,
tremble, resent, rejoice, and are inflamed with all the variety
of passions, which actuate the several personages of the drama.
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