Books: An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals

D >> David Hume >> An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

A man who has cured himself of all ridiculous pre-possessions,
and is fully, sincerely, and steadily convinced, from experience
as well as philosophy, that the difference of fortune makes less
difference in happiness than is vulgarly imagined; such a one
does not measure out degrees of esteem according to the rent-
rolls of his acquaintance. He may, indeed, externally pay a
superior deference to the great lord above the vassal; because
riches are the most convenient, being the most fixed and
determinate, source of distinction. But his internal sentiments
are more regulated by the personal characters of men, than by the
accidental and capricious favours of fortune.

In most countries of Europe, family, that is, hereditary riches,
marked with titles and symbols from the sovereign, is the chief
source of distinction. In England, more regard is paid to present
opulence and plenty. Each practice has its advantages and
disadvantages. Where birth is respected, unactive, spiritless
minds remain in haughty indolence, and dream of nothing but
pedigrees and genealogies: the generous and ambitious seek honour
and authority, and reputation and favour. Where riches are the
chief idol, corruption, venality, rapine prevail: arts,
manufactures, commerce, agriculture flourish. The former
prejudice, being favourable to military virtue, is more suited to
monarchies. The latter, being the chief spur to industry, agrees
better with a republican government. And we accordingly find that
each of these forms of government, by varying the utility of
those customs, has commonly a proportionable effect on the
sentiments of mankind.

SECTION VII.

OF QUALITIES IMMEDIATELY AGREEABLE TO OURSELVES.

Whoever has passed an evening with serious melancholy people, and
has observed how suddenly the conversation was animated, and what
sprightliness diffused itself over the countenance, discourse,
and behaviour of every one, on the accession of a good-humoured,
lively companion; such a one will easily allow that cheerfulness
carries great merit with it, and naturally conciliates the good-
will of mankind. No quality, indeed, more readily communicates
itself to all around; because no one has a greater propensity to
display itself, in jovial talk and pleasant entertainment. The
flame spreads through the whole circle; and the most sullen and
morose are often caught by it. That the melancholy hate the
merry, even though Horace says it, I have some difficulty to
allow; because I have always observed that, where the jollity is
moderate and decent, serious people are so much the more
delighted, as it dissipates the gloom with which they are
commonly oppressed, and gives them an unusual enjoyment.

From this influence of cheerfulness, both to communicate itself
and to engage approbation, we may perceive that there is another
set of mental qualities, which, without any utility or any
tendency to farther good, either of the community or of the
possessor, diffuse a satisfaction on the beholders, and procure
friendship and regard. Their immediate sensation, to the person
possessed of them, is agreeable. Others enter into the same
humour, and catch the sentiment, by a contagion or natural
sympathy; and as we cannot forbear loving whatever pleases, a
kindly emotion arises towards the person who communicates so much
satisfaction. He is a more animating spectacle; his presence
diffuses over us more serene complacency and enjoyment; our
imagination, entering into his feelings and disposition, is
affected in a more agreeable manner than if a melancholy,
dejected, sullen, anxious temper were presented to us. Hence the
affection and probation which attend the former: the aversion and
disgust with which we regard the latter.

[Footnote: There is no man, who, on particular occasions, is not
affected with all the disagreeable passions, fear, anger,
dejection, grief, melancholy, anxiety, &c. But these, so far as
they are natural, and universal, make no difference between one
man and another, and can never be the object of blame. It is only
when the disposition gives a PROPENSITY to any of these
disagreeable passions, that they disfigure the character, and by
giving uneasiness, convey the sentiment of disapprobation to the
spectator.]

Few men would envy the character which Caesar gives of Cassius:

He loves no play,
As thou do'st, Anthony: he hears no music:
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.

Not only such men, as Caesar adds, are commonly DANGEROUS, but
also, having little enjoyment within themselves, they can never
become agreeable to others, or contribute to social
entertainment. In all polite nations and ages, a relish for
pleasure, if accompanied with temperance and decency, is esteemed
a considerable merit, even in the greatest men; and becomes still
more requisite in those of inferior rank and character. It is an
agreeable representation, which a French writer gives of the
situation of his own mind in this particular, VIRTUE I LOVE, says
he, WITHOUT AUSTERITY: PLEASURE WITHOUT EFFEMINACY: AND LIFE,
WITHOUT FEARING ITS END. [Footnote: 'J'aime la vertu, sans
rudesse; J'aime le plaisir, sans molesse; J'aime la vie, et n'en
crains point la fin.'-ST. EVREMONT.]

Who is not struck with any signal instance of greatness of mind
or dignity of character; with elevation of sentiment, disdain of
slavery, and with that noble pride and spirit, which arises from
conscious virtue? The sublime, says Longinus, is often nothing
but the echo or image of magnanimity; and where this quality
appears in any one, even though a syllable be not uttered, it
excites our applause and admiration; as may be observed of the
famous silence of Ajax in the Odyssey, which expresses more noble
disdain and resolute indignation than any language can convey
[Footnote: Cap. 9.].

WERE I Alexander, said Parmenio, I WOULD ACCEPT OF THESE OFFERS
MADE BY DARIUS. SO WOULD I TOO, replied Alexander, WERE I
PARMENIO. This saying is admirable, says Longinus, from a like
principle. [Footnote: Idem.]

GO! cries the same hero to his soldiers, when they refused to
follow him to the Indies, GO TELL YOUR COUNTRYMEN, THAT YOU LEFT
Alexander COMPLETING THE CONQUESTOF THE WORLD. 'Alexander,' said
the Prince of Conde, who always admired this passage, 'abandoned
by his soldiers, among barbarians, not yet fully subdued, felt in
himself such a dignity and right of empire, that he could not
believe it possible that any one would refuse to obey him.
Whether in Europe or in Asia, among Greeks or Persians, all was
indifferent to him: wherever he found men, he fancied he should
find subjects.'

The confident of Medea in the tragedy recommends caution and
submission; and enumerating all the distresses of that
unfortunate heroine, asks her, what she has to support her
against her numerous and implacable enemies. MYSELF, replies she;
MYSELF I SAY, AND IT IS ENOUGH. Boileau justly recommends this
passage as an instance of true sublime [Footnote: Reflexion 10
sur Longin.].

When Phocion, the modest, the gentle Phocion, was led to
execution, he turned to one of his fellow-sufferers, who was
lamenting his own hard fate, IS IT NOT GLORY ENOUGH FOR YOU, says
he, THAT YOU DIE WITH PHOCION? [Footnote: Plutarch in Phoc.]

Place in opposition the picture which Tacitus draws of Vitellius,
fallen from empire, prolonging his ignominy from a wretched love
of life, delivered over to the merciless rabble; tossed,
buffeted, and kicked about; constrained, by their holding a
poinard under his chin, to raise his head, and expose himself to
every contumely. What abject infamy! What low humilation! Yet
even here, says the historian, he discovered some symptoms of a
mind not wholly degenerate. To a tribune, who insulted him, he
replied, I AM STILL YOUR EMPEROR.

[Footnote: Tacit. hist. lib. iii. The author entering upon the
narration, says, LANIATA VESTE, FOEDUM SPECACULUM DUCEBATUR,
MULTIS INCREPANTIBUS, NULLO INLACRIMANTE: deformatitas exitus
misericordiam abstulerat. To enter thoroughly into this method of
thinking, we must make allowance for the ancient maxims, that no
one ought to prolong his life after it became dishonourable; but,
as he had always a right to dispose of it, it then became a duty
to part with it.]

We never excuse the absolute want of spirit and dignity of
character, or a proper sense of what is due to one's self, in
society and the common intercourse of life. This vice constitutes
what we properly call MEANNESS; when a man can submit to the
basest slavery, in order to gain his ends; fawn upon those who
abuse him; and degrade himself by intimacies and familiarities
with undeserving inferiors. A certain degree of generous pride or
self-value is so requisite, that the absence of it in the mind
displeases, after the same manner as the want of a nose, eye, or
any of the most material feature of the face or member of the
body.

[Footnote: The absence of virtue may often be a vice; and that of
the highest kind; as in the instance of ingratitude, as well as
meanness. Where we expect a beauty, the disappointment gives an
uneasy sensation, and produces a real deformity. An abjectness of
character, likewise, is disgustful and contemptible in another
view. Where a man has no sense of value in himself, we are not
likely to have any higher esteem of him. And if the same person,
who crouches to his superiors, is insolent to his inferiors (as
often happens), this contrariety of behaviour, instead of
correcting the former vice, aggravates it extremely by the
addition of a vice still more odious. See Sect. VIII.]

The utility of courage, both to the public and to the person
possessed of it, is an obvious foundation of merit. But to any
one who duly considers of the matter, it will appear that this
quality has a peculiar lustre, which it derives wholly from
itself, and from that noble elevation inseparable from it. Its
figure, drawn by painters and by poets, displays, in each
feature, a sublimity and daring confidence; which catches the
eye, engages the affections, and diffuses, by sympathy, a like
sublimity of sentiment over every spectator.

Under what shining colours does Demosthenes [Footnote: De
Corona.] represent Philip; where the orator apologizes for his
own administration, and justifies that pertinacious love of
liberty, with which he had inspired the Athenians. 'I beheld
Philip,' says he, 'he with whom was your contest, resolutely,
while in pursuit of empire and dominion, exposing himself to
every wound; his eye gored, his neck wrested, his arm, his thigh
pierced, what ever part of his body fortune should seize on, that
cheerfully relinquishing; provided that, with what remained, he
might live in honour and renown. And shall it be said that he,
born in Pella, a place heretofore mean and ignoble, should be
inspired with so high an ambition and thirst of fame: while you,
Athenians, &c.' These praises excite the most lively admiration;
but the views presented by the orator, carry us not, we see,
beyond the hero himself, nor ever regard the future advantageous
consequences of his valour.

The material temper of the Romans, inflamed by continual wars,
had raised their esteem of courage so high, that, in their
language, it was called VIRTUE, by way of excellence and of
distinction from all other moral qualities. THE Suevi, in the
opinion of Tacitus, tus, [Footnote: De moribus Germ.] DRESSED
THEIR HAIR WITH A LAUDIBLE INTENT:intent: NOT FOR THE PURPOSE OF
LOVING OR BEING LOVES; THEY DORNED THEMSELVES ONLY FOR THEIR
ENEMIES, AND IN ORDER TO APPEAR MORE TERRIBLE. A sentiment of the
historian, which would sound a little oddly in other nations and
other ages.

The Scythians, according to Herodotus, [Footnote: Lib. iv.]
after scalping their enemies, dressed the skin like leather, and
used it as a towel; and whoever had the most of those towels was
most esteemed among them. So much had martial bravery, in that
nation, as well as in many others, destroyed the sentiments of
humanity; a virtue surely much more useful and engaging.

It is indeed observable, that, among all uncultivated nations,
who have not as yet had full experience of the advantages
attending beneficence, justice, and the social virtues, courage
is the predominant excellence; what is most celebrated by poets,
recommended by parents and instructors, and admired by the public
in general. The ethics of Homer are, in this particular, very
different from those of Fenelon, his elegant imitator; and such
as were well suited to an age, when one hero, as remarked by
Thucydides [Lib.i.], could ask another, without offence, whether
he were a robber or not. Such also very lately was the system of
ethics which prevailed in many barbarous parts of Ireland; if we
may credit Spencer, in his judicious account of the state of that
kingdom.

[Footnote from Spencer: It is a common use, says he, amongst
their gentlemen's sons, that, as soon as they are able to use
their weapons, they strait gather to themselves three or four
stragglers or kern, with whom wandering a while up and down idly
the country, taking only meat, he at last falleth into some bad
occasion, that shall be offered; which being once made known, he
is thenceforth counted a man of worth, in whom there is courage.]

Of the same class of virtues with courage is that undisturbed
philosophical tranquillity, superior to pain, sorrow, anxiety,
and each assault of adverse fortune. Conscious of his own virtue,
say the philosophers, the sage elevates himself above every
accident of life; and securely placed in the temple of wisdom,
looks down on inferior mortals engaged in pursuit of honours,
riches, reputation, and every frivolous enjoyment. These
pretentious, no doubt, when stretched to the utmost, are by far
too magnificent for human nature. They carry, however, a grandeur
with them, which seizes the spectator, and strikes him with
admiration. And the nearer we can approach in practice to this
sublime tranquillity and indifference (for we must distinguish it
from a stupid insensibility), the more secure enjoyment shall we
attain within ourselves, and the more greatness of mind shall we
discover to the world. The philosophical tranquillity may,
indeed, be considered only as a branch of magnanimity.

Who admires not Socrates; his perpetual serenity and contentment,
amidst the greatest poverty and domestic vexations; his resolute
contempt of riches, and his magnanimous care of preserving
liberty, while he refused all assistance from his friends and
disciples, and avoided even the dependence of an obligation?
Epictetus had not so much as a door to his little house or hovel;
and therefore, soon lost his iron lamp, the only furniture which
he had worth taking. But resolving to disappoint all robbers for
the future, he supplied its place with an earthen lamp, of which
he very peacefully kept possession ever after.

Among the ancients, the heroes in philosophy, as well as those in
war and patriotism, have a grandeur and force of sentiment, which
astonishes our narrow souls, and is rashly rejected as
extravagant and supernatural. They, in their turn, I allow, would
have had equal reason to consider as romantic and incredible, the
degree of humanity, clemency, order, tranquillity, and other
social virtues, to which, in the administration of government, we
have attained in modern times, had any one been then able to have
made a fair representation of them. Such is the compensation,
which nature, or rather education, has made in the distribution
of excellencies and virtues, in those different ages.

The merit of benevolence, arising from its utility, and its
tendency to promote the good of mankind has been already
explained, and is, no doubt, the source of a CONSIDERABLE part of
that esteem, which is so universally paid to it. But it will also
be allowed, that the very softness and tenderness of the
sentiment, its engaging endearments, its fond expressions, its
delicate attentions, and all that flow of mutual confidence and
regard, which enters into a warm attachment of love and
friendship: it will be allowed, I say, that these feelings, being
delightful in themselves, are necessarily communicated to the
spectators, and melt them into the same fondness and delicacy.
The tear naturally starts in our eye on the apprehension of a
warm sentiment of this nature: our breast heaves, our heart is
agitated, and every humane tender principle of our frame is set
in motion, and gives us the purest and most satisfactory
enjoyment.

When poets form descriptions of Elysian fields, where the blessed
inhabitants stand in no need of each other's assistance, they yet
represent them as maintaining a constant intercourse of love and
friendship, and sooth our fancy with the pleasing image of these
soft and gentle passions. The idea of tender tranquillity in a
pastoral Arcadia is agreeable from a like principle, as has been
observed above. [Footnote: Sect. v. Part 2.]

Who would live amidst perpetual wrangling, and scolding, and
mutual reproaches? The roughness and harshness of these emotions
disturb and displease us: we suffer by contagion and sympathy;
nor can we remain indifferent spectators, even though certain
that no pernicious consequences would ever follow from such angry
passions.

As a certain proof that the whole merit of benevolence is not
derived from its usefulness, we may observe, that in a kind way
of blame, we say, a person is TOO GOOD; when he exceeds his part
in society, and carries his attention for others beyond the
proper bounds. In like manner, we say, a man is too HIGH-
SPIRITED, TOO INTREPID, TOO INDIFFERENT ABOUT FORTUNE:
reproaches, which really, at bottom, imply more esteem than many
panegyrics. Being accustomed to rate the merit and demerit of
characters chiefly by their useful or pernicious tendencies, we
cannot forbear applying the epithet of blame, when we discover a
sentiment, which rises to a degree, that is hurtful; but it may
happen, at the same time, that its noble elevation, or its
engaging tenderness so seizes the heart, as rather to increase
our friendship and concern for the person.

[Footnote: Cheerfulness could scarce admit of blame from its
excess, were it not that dissolute mirth, without a proper cause
or subject, is a sure symptom and characteristic of folly, and on
that account disgustful.]

The amours and attachments of Harry the IVth of France, during
the civil wars of the league, frequently hurt his interest and
his cause; but all the young, at least, and amorous, who can
sympathize with the tender passions, will allow that this very
weakness, for they will readily call it such, chiefly endears
that hero, and interests them in his fortunes.

The excessive bravery and resolute inflexibility of Charles the
XIIth ruined his own country, and infested all his neighbours;
but have such splendour and greatness in their appearance, as
strikes us with admiration; and they might, in some degree, be
even approved of, if they betrayed not sometimes too evident
symptoms of madness and disorder.

The Athenians pretended to the first invention of agriculture and
of laws: and always valued themselves extremely on the benefit
thereby procured to the whole race of mankind. They also boasted,
and with reason, of their war like enterprises; particularly
against those innumerable fleets and armies of Persians, which
invaded Greece during the reigns of Darius and Xerxes. But though
there be no comparison in point of utility, between these
peaceful and military honours; yet we find, that the orators, who
have writ such elaborate panegyrics on that famous city, have
chiefly triumphed in displaying the warlike achievements. Lysias,
Thucydides, Plato, and Isocrates discover, all of them, the same
partiality; which, though condemned by calm reason and
reflection, appears so natural in the mind of man.

It is observable, that the great charm of poetry consists in
lively pictures of the sublime passions, magnanimity, courage,
disdain of fortune; or those of the tender affections, love and
friendship; which warm the heart, and diffuse over it similar
sentiments and emotions. And though all kinds of passion, even
the most disagreeable, such as grief and anger, are observed,
when excited by poetry, to convey a satisfaction, from a
mechanism of nature, not easy to be explained: Yet those more
elevated or softer affections have a peculiar influence, and
please from more than one cause or principle. Not to mention that
they alone interest us in the fortune of the persons represented,
or communicate any esteem and affection for their character.

And can it possibly be doubted, that this talent itself of poets,
to move the passions, this pathetic and sublime of sentiment, is
a very considerable merit; and being enhanced by its extreme
rarity, may exalt the person possessed of it, above every
character of the age in which he lives? The prudence, address,
steadiness, and benign government of Augustus, adorned with all
the splendour of his noble birth and imperial crown, render him
but an unequal competitor for fame with Virgil, who lays nothing
into the opposite scale but the divine beauties of his poetical
genius.

The very sensibility to these beauties, or a delicacy of taste,
is itself a beauty in any character; as conveying the purest, the
most durable, and most innocent of all enjoyments.

These are some instances of the several species of merit, that
are valued for the immediate pleasure which they communicate to
the person possessed of them. No views of utility or of future
beneficial consequences enter into this sentiment of approbation;
yet is it of a kind similar to that other sentiment, which arises
from views of a public or private utility. The same social
sympathy, we may observe, or fellow-feeling with human happiness
or misery, gives rise to both; and this analogy, in all the parts
of the present theory, may justly be regarded as a confirmation
of it.

SECTION VIII.

OF QUALITIES IMMEDIATELY AGREEABLE TO OTHERS.

[Footnote: It is the nature and, indeed, the definition of
virtue, that it is A QUALITY OF THE MIND AGREEABLE TO OR APPROVED
OF BY EVERY ONE WHO CONSIDERS OR CONTEMPLATES IT. But some
qualities produce pleasure, because they are useful to society,
or useful or agreeable to the person himself; others produce it
more immediately, which is the case with the class of virtues
here considered.]

AS the mutual shocks, in SOCIETY, and the oppositions of interest
and self-love have constrained mankind to establish the laws of
JUSTICE, in order to preserve the advantages of mutual assistance
and protection: in like manner, the eternal contrarieties, in
COMPANY, of men's pride and self-conceit, have introduced the
rules of Good Manners or Politeness, in order to facilitate the
intercourse of minds, and an undisturbed commerce and
conversation. Among well-bred people, a mutual deference is
affected; contempt of others disguised; authority concealed;
attention given to each in his turn; and an easy stream of
conversation maintained, without vehemence, without interruption,
without eagerness for victory, and without any airs of
superiority. These attentions and regards are immediately
AGREEABLE to others, abstracted from any consideration of utility
or beneficial tendencies: they conciliate affection, promote
esteem, and extremely enhance the merit of the person who
regulates his behaviour by them.

Many of the forms of breeding are arbitrary and casual; but the
thing expressed by them is still the same. A Spaniard goes out of
his own house before his guest, to signify that he leaves him
master of all. In other countries, the landlord walks out last,
as a common mark of deference and regard.

But, in order to render a man perfect GOOD COMPANY, he must have
Wit and Ingenuity as well as good manners. What wit is, it may
not be easy to define; but it is easy surely to determine that it
is a quality immediately AGREEABLE to others, and communicating,
on its first appearance, a lively joy and satisfaction to every
one who has any comprehension of it. The most profound
metaphysics, indeed, might be employed in explaining the various
kinds and species of wit; and many classes of it, which are now
received on the sole testimony of taste and sentiment, might,
perhaps, be resolved into more general principles. But this is
sufficient for our present purpose, that it does affect taste and
sentiment, and bestowing an immediate enjoyment, is a sure source
of approbation and affection.

In countries where men pass most of their time in conversation,
and visits, and assemblies, these COMPANIONABLE qualities, so to
speak, are of high estimation, and form a chief part of personal
merit. In countries where men live a more domestic life, and
either are employed in business, or amuse themselves in a
narrower circle of acquaintance, the more solid qualities are
chiefly regarded. Thus, I have often observed, that, among the
French, the first questions with regard to a stranger are, IS HE
POLITE? HAS HE WIT? In our own country, the chief praise bestowed
is always that of a GOOD-NATURED, SENSIBLE FELLOW.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12