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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In conversation, the lively spirit of dialogue is AGREEABLE, even
to those who desire not to have any share in the discourse: hence
the teller of long stories, or the pompous declaimer, is very
little approved of. But most men desire likewise their turn in
the conversation, and regard, with a very evil eye, that
LOQUACITY which deprives them of a right they are naturally so
jealous of.
There is a sort of harmless LIARS, frequently to be met with in
company, who deal much in the marvellous. Their usual intention
is to please and entertain; but as men are most delighted with
what they conceive to be truth, these people mistake extremely
the means of pleasing, and incur universal blame. Some
indulgence, however, to lying or fiction is given in HUMOROUS
stories; because it is there really agreeable and entertaining,
and truth is not of any importance.
Eloquence, genius of all kinds, even good sense, and sound
reasoning, when it rises to an eminent degree, and is employed
upon subjects of any considerable dignity and nice discernment;
all these endowments seem immediately agreeable, and have a merit
distinct from their usefulness. Rarity, likewise, which so much
enhances the price of every thing, must set an additional value
on these noble talents of the human mind.
Modesty may be understood in different senses, even abstracted
from chastity, which has been already treated of. It sometimes
means that tenderness and nicety of honour, that apprehension of
blame, that dread of intrusion or injury towards others, that
Pudor, which is the proper guardian of every kind of virtue, and
a sure preservative against vice and corruption. But its most
usual meaning is when it is opposed to IMPUDENCE and ARROGRANCE,
and expresses a diffidence of our own judgement, and a due
attention and regard for others. In young men chiefly, this
quality is a sure sign of good sense; and is also the certain
means of augmenting that endowment, by preserving their ears open
to instruction, and making them still grasp after new
attainments. But it has a further charm to every spectator; by
flattering every man's vanity, and presenting the appearance of a
docile pupil, who receives, with proper attention and respect,
every word they utter.
Men have, in general, a much greater propensity to overvalue than
undervalue themselves; notwithstanding the opinion of Aristotle
[Footnote: Ethic. ad Nicomachum.]. This makes us more jealous of
the excess on the former side, and causes us to regard, with a
peculiar indulgence, all tendency to modesty and self-diffidence;
as esteeming the danger less of falling into any vicious extreme
of that nature. It is thus in countries where men's bodies are
apt to exceed in corpulency, personal beauty is placed in a much
greater degree of slenderness, than in countries where that is
the most usual defect. Being so often struck with instances of
one species of deformity, men think they can never keep at too
great a distance from it, and wish always to have a leaning to
the opposite side. In like manner, were the door opened to self-
praise, and were Montaigne's maxim observed, that one should say
as frankly, I HAVE SENSE, I HAVE LEARNING, I HAVE COURAGE,
BEAUTY, OR WIT, as it is sure we often think so; were this the
case, I say, every one is sensible that such a flood of
impertinence would break in upon us, as would render society
wholly intolerable. For this reason custom has established it as
a rule, in common societies, that men should not indulge
themselves in self-praise, or even speak much of themselves; and
it is only among intimate friends or people of very manly
behaviour, that one is allowed to do himself justice. Nobody
finds fault with Maurice, Prince of Orange, for his reply to one
who asked him, whom he esteemed the first general of the age, THE
MARQUIS OF SPINOLA, said he, IS THE SECOND. Though it is
observable, that the self-praise implied is here better implied,
than if it had been directly expressed, without any cover or
disguise.
He must be a very superficial thinker, who imagines that all
instances of mutual deference are to be understood in earnest,
and that a man would be more esteemable for being ignorant of his
own merits and accomplishments. A small bias towards modesty,
even in the internal sentiment, is favourably regarded,
especially in young people; and a strong bias is required in the
outward behaviour; but this excludes not a noble pride and
spirit, which may openly display itself in its full extent, when
one lies under calumny or oppression of any kind. The generous
contumacy of Socrates, as Cicero calls it, has been highly
celebrated in all ages; and when joined to the usual modesty of
his behaviour, forms a shining character. Iphicrates, the
Athenian, being accused of betraying the interests of his
country, asked his accuser, WOULD YOU, says he, HAVE, ON A LIKE
OCCASION, BEEN GUILTY OF THAT CRIME? BY NO MEANS, replied the
other. AND CAN YOU THEN IMAGINE, cried the hero, that Iphicrates
WOULD BE GUILTY? [Footnote: Quinctil. lib. v. cap. 12.]--In
short, a generous spirit and self-value, well founded, decently
disguised, and courageously supported under distress and calumny,
is a great excellency, and seems to derive its merit from the
noble elevation of its sentiment, or its immediate agreeableness
to its possessor. In ordinary characters, we approve of a bias
towards modesty, which is a quality immediately agreeable to
others: the vicious excess of the former virtue, namely,
insolence or haughtiness, is immediately disagreeable to others;
the excess of the latter is so to the possessor. Thus are the
boundaries of these duties adjusted.
A desire of fame, reputation, or a character with others, is so
far from being blameable, that it seems inseparable from virtue,
genius, capacity, and a generous or noble disposition. An
attention even to trivial matters, in order to please, is also
expected and demanded by society; and no one is surprised, if he
find a man in company to observe a greater elegance of dress and
more pleasant flow of conversation, than when he passes his time
at home, and with his own family. Wherein, then, consists Vanity,
which is so justly regarded as a fault or imperfection. It seems
to consist chiefly in such an intemperate display of our
advantages, honours, and accomplishments; in such an importunate
and open demand of praise and admiration, as is offensive to
others, and encroaches too far on their secret vanity and
ambition. It is besides a sure symptom of the want of true
dignity and elevation of mind, which is so great an ornament in
any character. For why that impatient desire of applause; as if
you were not justly entitled to it, and might not reasonably
expect that it would for ever at tend you? Why so anxious to
inform us of the great company which you have kept; the obliging
things which were said to you; the honours, the distinctions
which you met with; as if these were not things of course, and
what we could readily, of ourselves, have imagined, without being
told of them?
Decency, or a proper regard to age, sex, character, and station
in the world, may be ranked among the qualities which are
immediately agreeable to others, and which, by that means,
acquire praise and approbation. An effeminate behaviour in a man,
a rough manner in a woman; these are ugly because unsuitable to
each character, and different from the qualities which we expect
in the sexes. It is as if a tragedy abounded in comic beauties,
or a comedy in tragic. The disproportions hurt the eye, and
convey a disagreeable sentiment to the spectators, the source of
blame and disapprobation. This is that INDECORUM, which is
explained so much at large by Cicero in his Offices.
Among the other virtues, we may also give Cleanliness a place;
since it naturally renders us agreeable to others, and is no
inconsiderable source of love and affection. No one will deny,
that a negligence in this particular is a fault; and as faults
are nothing but smaller vices, and this fault can have no other
origin than the uneasy sensation which it excites in others; we
may, in this instance, seemingly so trivial, clearly discover the
origin of moral distinctions, about which the learned have
involved themselves in such mazes of perplexity and error.
But besides all the AGREEABLE qualities, the origin of whose
beauty we can, in some degree, explain and account for, there
still remains something mysterious and inexplicable, which
conveys an immediate satisfaction to the spectator, but how, or
why, or for what reason, he cannot pretend to determine. There is
a manner, a grace, an ease, a genteelness, an I-know-not-what,
which some men possess above others, which is very different from
external beauty and comeliness, and which, however, catches our
affection almost as suddenly and powerfully. And though this
MANNER be chiefly talked of in the passion between the sexes,
where the concealed magic is easily explained, yet surely much of
it prevails in all our estimation of characters, and forms no
inconsiderable part of personal merit. This class of
accomplishments, therefore, must be trusted entirely to the
blind, but sure testimony of taste and sentiment; and must be
considered as a part of ethics, left by nature to baffle all the
pride of philosophy, and make her sensible of her narrow
boundaries and slender acquisitions.
We approve of another, because of his wit, politeness, modesty,
decency, or any agreeable quality which he possesses; although he
be not of our acquaintance, nor has ever given us any
entertainment, by means of these accomplishments. The idea, which
we form of their effect on his acquaintance, has an agreeable
influence on our imagination, and gives us the sentiment of
approbation. This principle enters into all the judgements which
we form concerning manners and characters.
SECTION IX.
CONCLUSION.
PART I.
IT may justly appear surprising that any man in so late an age,
should find it requisite to prove, by elaborate reasoning, that
Personal Merit consists altogether in the possession of mental
qualities, USEFUL or AGREEABLE to the PERSON HIMSELF or to
OTHERS. It might be expected that this principle would have
occurred even to the first rude, unpractised enquirers concerning
morals, and been received from its own evidence, without any
argument or disputation. Whatever is valuable in any kind, so
naturally classes itself under the division of USEFUL or
AGREEABLE, the UTILE or the DULCE, that it is not easy to imagine
why we should ever seek further, or consider the question as a
matter of nice research or inquiry. And as every thing useful or
agreeable must possess these qualities with regard either to the
PERSON HIMSELF or to OTHERS, the complete delineation or
description of merit seems to be performed as naturally as a
shadow is cast by the sun, or an image is reflected upon water.
If the ground, on which the shadow is cast, be not broken and
uneven; nor the surface from which the image is reflected,
disturbed and confused; a just figure is immediately presented,
without any art or attention. And it seems a reasonable
presumption, that systems and hypotheses have perverted our
natural understanding, when a theory, so simple and obvious,
could so long have escaped the most elaborate examination.
But however the case may have fared with philosophy, in common
life these principles are still implicitly maintained; nor is any
other topic of praise or blame ever recurred to, when we employ
any panegyric or satire, any applause or censure of human action
and behaviour. If we observe men, in every intercourse of
business or pleasure, in every discourse and conversation, we
shall find them nowhere, except the schools, at any loss upon
this subject. What so natural, for instance, as the following
dialogue? You are very happy, we shall suppose one to say,
addressing himself to another, that you have given your daughter
to Cleanthes. He is a man of honour and humanity. Every one, who
has any intercourse with him, is sure of FAIR and KIND treatment.
[Footnote: Qualities useful to others.] I congratulate you too,
says another, on the promising expectations of this son-in-law;
whose assiduous application to the study of the laws, whose quick
penetration and early knowledge both of men and business,
prognosticate the greatest honours and advancement. [Footnote:
Qualities useful to the person himself.] You surprise me, replies
a third, when you talk of Cleanthes as a man of business and
application. I met him lately in a circle of the gayest company,
and he was the very life and soul of our conversation: so much
wit with good manners; so much gallantry without affectation; so
much ingenious knowledge so genteelly delivered, I have never
before observed in any one. [Footnote: Qualities immediately
agreeable to others,] You would admire him still more, says a
fourth, if you knew him more familiarly. That cheerfulness, which
you might remark in him, is not a sudden flash struck out by
company: it runs through the whole tenor of his life, and
preserves a perpetual serenity on his countenance, and
tranquillity in his soul. He has met with severe trials,
misfortunes as well as dangers; and by his greatness of mind, was
still superior to all of them [Footnote: Qualities immediately
agreeable to the person himself]. The image, gentlemen, which you
have here delineated of Cleanthes, cried I, is that of
accomplished merit. Each of you has given a stroke of the pencil
to his figure; and you have unawares exceeded all the pictures
drawn by Gratian or Castiglione. A philosopher might select this
character as a model of perfect virtue.
And as every quality which is useful or agreeable to ourselves or
others is, in common life, allowed to be a part of personal
merit; so no other will ever be received, where men judge of
things by their natural, unprejudiced reason, without the
delusive glosses of superstition and false religion. Celibacy,
fasting, penance, mortification, self-denial, humility, silence,
solitude, and the whole train of monkish virtues; for what reason
are they everywhere rejected by men of sense, but because they
serve to no manner of purpose; neither advance a man's fortune in
the world, nor render him a more valuable member of society;
neither qualify him for the entertainment of company, nor
increase his power of self-enjoyment? We observe, on the
contrary, that they cross all these desirable ends; stupify the
understanding and harden the heart, obscure the fancy and sour
the temper. We justly, therefore, transfer them to the opposite
column, and place them in the catalogue of vices; nor has any
superstition force sufficient among men of the world, to pervert
entirely these natural sentiments. A gloomy, hair-brained
enthusiast, after his death, may have a place in the calendar;
but will scarcely ever be admitted, when alive, into intimacy and
society, except by those who are as delirious and dismal as
himself.
It seems a happiness in the present theory, that it enters not
into that vulgar dispute concerning the DEGREES of benevolence or
self-love, which prevail in human nature; a dispute which is
never likely to have any issue, both because men, who have taken
part, are not easily convinced, and because the phenomena, which
can be produced on either side, are so dispersed, so uncertain,
and subject to so many interpretations, that it is scarcely
possible accurately to compare them, or draw from them any
determinate inference or conclusion. It is sufficient for our
present purpose, if it be allowed, what surely, without the
greatest absurdity cannot be disputed, that there is some
benevolence, however small, infused into our bosom; some spark of
friendship for human kind; some particle of the dove kneaded into
our frame, along with the elements of the wolf and serpent. Let
these generous sentiments be supposed ever so weak; let them be
insufficient to move even a hand or finger of our body, they must
still direct the determinations of our mind, and where everything
else is equal, produce a cool preference of what is useful and
serviceable to mankind, above what is pernicious and dangerous. A
MORAL DISTINCTION, therefore, immediately arises; a general
sentiment of blame and approbation; a tendency, however faint, to
the objects of the one, and a proportionable aversion to those of
the other. Nor will those reasoners, who so earnestly maintain
the predominant selfishness of human kind, be any wise
scandalized at hearing of the weak sentiments of virtue implanted
in our nature. On the contrary, they are found as ready to
maintain the one tenet as the other; and their spirit of satire
(for such it appears, rather than of corruption) naturally gives
rise to both opinions; which have, indeed, a great and almost an
indissoluble connexion together.
Avarice, ambition, vanity, and all passions vulgarly, though
improperly, comprised under the denomination of SELF-LOVE, are
here excluded from our theory concerning the origin of morals,
not because they are too weak, but because they have not a proper
direction for that purpose. The notion of morals implies some
sentiment common to all mankind, which recommends the same object
to general approbation, and makes every man, or most men, agree
in the same opinion or decision concerning it. It also implies
some sentiment, so universal and comprehensive as to extend to
all mankind, and render the actions and conduct, even of the
persons the most remote, an object of applause or censure,
according as they agree or disagree with that rule of right which
is established. These two requisite circumstances belong alone to
the sentiment of humanity here insisted on. The other passions
produce in every breast, many strong sentiments of desire and
aversion, affection and hatred; but these neither are felt so
much in common, nor are so comprehensive, as to be the foundation
of any general system and established theory of blame or
approbation.
When a man denominates another his ENEMY, his RIVAL, his
ANTAGONIST, his ADVERSARY, he is understood to speak the language
of self-love, and to express sentiments, peculiar to himself, and
arising from his particular circumstances and situation. But when
he bestows on any man the epithets of VICIOUS or ODIOUS or
DEPRAVED, he then speaks another language, and expresses
sentiments, in which he expects all his audience are to concur
with him. He must here, therefore, depart from his private and
particular situation, and must choose a point of view, common to
him with others; he must move some universal principle of the
human frame, and touch a string to which all mankind have an
accord and symphony. If he mean, therefore, to express that this
man possesses qualities, whose tendency is pernicious to society,
he has chosen this common point of view, and has touched the
principle of humanity, in which every man, in some degree,
concurs. While the human heart is compounded of the same elements
as at present, it will never be wholly indifferent to public
good, nor entirely unaffected with the tendency of characters and
manners. And though this affection of humanity may not generally
be esteemed so strong as vanity or ambition, yet, being common to
all men, it can alone be the foundation of morals, or of any-
general system of blame or praise. One man's ambition is not
another's ambition, nor will the same event or object satisfy
both; but the humanity of one man is the humanity of every one,
and the same object touches this passion in all human creatures.
But the sentiments, which arise from humanity, are not only the
same in all human creatures, and produce the same approbation or
censure; but they also comprehend all human creatures; nor is
there any one whose conduct or character is not, by their means,
an object to every one of censure or approbation. On the
contrary, those other passions, commonly denominated selfish,
both produce different sentiments in each individual, according
to his particular situation; and also contemplate the greater
part of mankind with the utmost indifference and unconcern.
Whoever has a high regard and esteem for me flatters my vanity;
whoever expresses contempt mortifies and displeases me; but as my
name is known but to a small part of mankind, there are few who
come within the sphere of this passion, or excite, on its
account, either my affection or disgust. But if you represent a
tyrannical, insolent, or barbarous behaviour, in any country or
in any age of the world, I soon carry my eye to the pernicious
tendency of such a conduct, and feel the sentiment of repugnance
and displeasure towards it. No character can be so remote as to
be, in this light, wholly indifferent to me. What is beneficial
to society or to the person himself must still be preferred. And
every quality or action, of every human being, must, by this
means, be ranked under some class or denomination, expressive of
general censure or applause.
What more, therefore, can we ask to distinguish the sentiments,
dependent on humanity, from those connected with any other
passion, or to satisfy us, why the former are the origin of
morals, not the latter? Whatever conduct gains my approbation, by
touching my humanity, procures also the applause of all mankind,
by affecting the same principle in them; but what serves my
avarice or ambition pleases these passions in me alone, and
affects not the avarice and ambition of the rest of mankind.
There is no circumstance of conduct in any man, provided it have
a beneficial tendency, that is not agreeable to my humanity,
however remote the person; but every man, so far removed as
neither to cross nor serve my avarice and ambition, is regarded
as wholly indifferent by those passions. The distinction,
therefore, between these species of sentiment being so great and
evident, language must soon be moulded upon it, and must invent a
peculiar set of terms, in order to express those universal
sentiments of censure or approbation, which arise from humanity,
or from views of general usefulness and its contrary. Virtue and
Vice become then known; morals are recognized; certain general
ideas are framed of human conduct and behaviour; such measures
are expected from men in such situations. This action is
determined to be conformable to our abstract rule; that other,
contrary. And by such universal principles are the particular
sentiments of self-love frequently controlled and limited.
[Footnote: It seems certain, both from reason and experience,
that a rude, untaught savage regulates chiefly his love and
hatred by the ideas of private utility and injury, and has but
faint conceptions of a general rule or system of behaviour. The
man who stands opposite to him in battle, he hates heartedly, not
only for the present moment, which is almost unavoidable, but for
ever after; nor is he satisfied without the most extreme
punishment and vengeance. But we, accustomed to society, and to
more enlarged reflections, consider, that this man is serving his
own country and community; that any man, in the same situation,
would do the same; that we ourselves, in like circumstances,
observe a like conduct; that; in general, human society is best
supported on such maxims: and by these suppositions and views, we
correct, in some measure, our ruder and narrower positions. And
though much of our friendship and enemity be still regulated by
private considerations of benefit and harm, we pay, at least,
this homage to general rules, which we are accustomed to respect,
that we commonly perver our adversary's conduct, by imputing
malice or injustice to him, in order to give vent to those
passions, which arise from self-love and private interest. When
the heart is full of rage, it never wants pretences of this
nature; though sometimes as frivolous, as those from which
Horace, being almost crushed by the fall of a tree, effects to
accuse of parricide the first planter of it.]
From instances of popular tumults, seditions, factions, panics,
and of all passions, which are shared with a multitude, we may
learn the influence of society in exciting and supporting any
emotion; while the most ungovernable disorders are raised, we
find, by that means, from the slightest and most frivolous
occasions. Solon was no very cruel, though, perhaps, an unjust
legislator, who punished neuters in civil wars; and few, I
believe, would, in such cases, incur the penalty, were their
affection and discourse allowed sufficient to absolve them. No
selfishness, and scarce any philosophy, have there force
sufficient to support a total coolness and indifference; and he
must be more or less than man, who kindles not in the common
blaze. What wonder then, that moral sentiments are found of such
influence in life; though springing from principles, which may
appear, at first sight, somewhat small and delicate? But these
principles, we must remark, are social and universal; they form,
in a manner, the PARTY of humankind against vice or disorder, its
common enemy. And as the benevolent concern for others is
diffused, in a greater or less degree, over all men, and is the
same in all, it occurs more frequently in discourse, is cherished
by society and conversation, and the blame and approbation,
consequent on it, are thereby roused from that lethargy into
which they are probably lulled, in solitary and uncultivated
nature. Other passions, though perhaps originally stronger, yet
being selfish and private, are often overpowered by its force,
and yield the dominion of our breast to those social and public
principles.
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