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6
Tin- irniK AL system
OK
ADAM SMITH.
By KTHBI^ MITIR, M. L.
Thesis presented to the l"";icult\- of Cornell l-iii\ersity for the
degree of Doctor of I'hilosoph)-, M;i)', 1896.
u
PRKFACK.
In trcatiii^M)f the ethical system of Adam Smith I have
found it necessary to introduce at some length the views
of sexeral of his predecessors, in order to show the source
and to trace the development of fundamental principles
emphasized in the Theory of the Moral Sentitncnts. This
reference to previous systems was also necessar>- in order
to bring (nit the independent contribution which Smith
himself-made to ICnglish ethical thought.
Though dealing with an ethical subject, this thesis was
undertaken primarily as a study in the histor\- of Philoso-
phy. I. have tried to acknou ledge m\- indebtedness to the
\ arious authors from whom I ha\e receixed help in foot-
notes. Mere, however, I wish to acknowledge my obliga-
tions for many valuable suggestions to Professor J. \\.
Creighton, under whose direction the essay v as written.
!•:. M.
Mount Holyokc College,
Dee. i8()8.
ERRATA.
On 1
age 17 - igtli line Iron, top, for " atlrrts ' read effects.
28 — 4th line from top, for " /.<* t/iot " read or tluii.
.V) ~ 9lh line iVom bottom, for " instrwth-e '• read instinctive.
57 — i6th line from top, for ''present " read prevent.
61 —20th line from top, for " decote '■ ,cad denote.
•,N' U l^s- '•'
CONTENTS.
PART. II.
PART I. SMITH'S PRHDKCKSSORS.
CHAPTKR I. INTRODUCTION
!:; I. ShAITKSIU'KV.
!^ 2. HUTCHKSON.
ij 3. HuMi:.
SMITM'S TIll'.OKV OK THK MORAL SENTI-
MKN'TS.
C;HAPTER I. SV.MPATHV.
Sympathy thk Soukcf. ok Mouaf. f ri>(;.\ii:Nr.
Sympathy thk Soukck or .Mi.rit and Drmkrit.
iNi'i.UKNcn: OF Utility, Ci'siom an'D Fasfhon i'pon .Moral
Judg.mknt.
CHAPTER H. -'THE NATURT: OK C'ONSCHCNf'E.
§ 1. Conscience and Sympathy.
5^ 2. Conscience Identified wtth Reason.
§ 3. Conscience the Sourcic of the .Moral Ideal.
chap'ter III.- conclusion.
v^ I. Relation of the Theory of (he Moral Seniiiiietits to other
ETHrcAL Systems.
^ 2. Function of Reason and of Sense in the Theory of the
Moral Seii/inieiit<^.
^ 2.
,.>^.\V^ '^-^ ■••
I'.,. .
•.. • Kr.^
THE ETHICAL SYSTICM OF ADAM SMITH.
PART i.-SMrni's i'Ri:i)i-:ci':ss()Ks.
CllAn I'.R I. I\T1<()1)1( TION.
The \\()i"k of the Mor.il Sense l'hil()S()|)her.s was of the first
importance for MnL;iish I'lthics. As a refutation of the extreme
e{^(Msin of llobbes, aiu' an exhibilion of the naturahiess of man's
social affections, it was most successful. l>ei;innin^L;' with Shaftes-
l)ur\', and carried on by ilutcheson and ilume, this line of
th(niL,dit is bnJUi^ht to its final c:om])letion in the JV/ron' of the
Moral Scutiiitoits of Adam Smith, wIkj was, undoubted!)', cjne
(jf the Ljreatesi thinkers Scotland has e\er produced.
In 1751, Smith, at the ai;!' of twent) -ei^ht, was chosen
Professor of Loj^ic in tlis L'l^iversit)' of (ilasj^ow, and in the fol-
lowing^ )'ear was elected to the chair of Moral i'hilosoph)' at the
same Universitv' : ' a ])osition which had been held shortlx' before
this by PVancis Ilutcheson. In the JAvv?/ .S"(7//////(7//.v and the
Wealth of Nations we ha\e what has been preser\ed of
Smith's lectures at Gias<4'ow, the h'conomic beiiiL;' supplementary
to the I'^thical work. - Tlie former is rei^arded by Buckle as the
most imi)ortant book that has e\er been written, •' is ranked by
Max Miiller as the peer of Kants' Criti(]iic and is, undoubtedly,
the work uj^on which the author's fame pre-eminentl\' rests. Hut
Smith's ethical \ lews, as ex|)resse(l in the Thco)y are also ex-
tremely \aluable, and are worth)' of far more attention than has,
as yet, been bestowed ujion them.
Buckle, certainly, in his History of Civilirjatioii, expresses
the most im(]ualified api^roxal and enthusiastic admiration.
liut he rej^^ards Smith's wcjrk as so completel)' an P'.thics of .Syin-
1 Dut^alcl Stewart, Life and Writ incis of Dr. Smith. Introduction.
2 Ibici, Introduction. Prof. J. VV. Wilson, An Old Master and other Vuliti-
cal Essaijx, p. 6.
3 Buckle, History of Civ ilizutiun in England, \u\. \, \>. 214.
I
MiiK :
patli)'. th.il lu' fail-- to riiiphasi/i.' points upon which the author
was most anxious llialstico> should
IX-
aul
Onckcn, on the
otlicr hand, in his Die litliik Adiim Smith's iiiiii KdHt's draws so
close a parallel between the ethical systems of tiiosc two j^rcat
writers, and reL,^-lr(ls Snn'th's \iewof(lut\- as of such paramount
ini|)ortanct;, that he practically ignores the ^reat fundamental
doctrine of sym|)ath)'. llence, from his treatment, nothin^f l)ut
the most erroneous impression as to Smith's re.d position can
possibl)' be obtained. '
As the 'ilicorv of the Moral Si'iitiiiieiits was written
rli
th
the Wia/th
i\ (it ions, It is not
at all surprisiiiLj that the former should suffer by contrast with
the threat l''.conomic work. iUit the Theory is alscj an admir-
alile book, showiiiLj a remarkal)le power of (observation and wealth
of illustration. Huckle claims so close a connection between the
two, that neither can be understood without the other. liut, for
the understandiiiLij of the llicory of the Moral Sentiments, a
knowledge of the ethical writers who preceeded Smith, is much
more imp(;rtant than a kiujwled^^e of his own Wealth of
Nations. l*"or, by the former, wi- _L;ain informaticjii as to his
statement of the (|uestion, and some idea as tcj how far .Smith
is indebted to those earlier thinkers, - nd what he has done in-
tiependentl)' for the de\elopement of the ethical problem. With
this in \iew we will consider briefly the systems of Shaftesbury,
Hutcheson and iiume, before takins; up the special subject of
" Adam Smith's Theory (jf the iMoral Sentiments."
SKCTIoX I. — SilAFTl-.SIJlJRV.
Shaftesbuf)- is the first of the Moral Sense Phikjsophers.
With him, a new phase of ICnglish ICthics begins. Me, in
coinmon with all the moralists of his time in hji54land, is an un-
com|)romisinL;" opponent of Hobbes. lie, however, differs from
the majority in the L;'round of his opposition ; and institutes s
new method of attack. - C'udworth and his school had been
aroused by Ilcjbbes's insistance that \^oo(\ and evil are deter-
mined by the sovereit;n ; and had maintained the essential and
eternal distinctions of morality, as independent of any arbitrary
will, human or divine. This question possessed no interest for
SlJ
titj
nuj
anl
thi
\\\
col
ini
w;
ini
h.
cr
vi
1'-
oi
ai
til
si
ir
1. XoTE. A more satisfactory treatment of Smith's Ethics, recognizing
the importance in tlie system of both sympathy and duty, is found in a Ger-
man's Dissertation, by J. Schubert, Die Moralphilosophie Adam Smith's,
Lei|)zij^, iSyi, which deals particularly with Oncken's views. I shall have
occasion to refer to both of those writers later in this work.
2. Sidgwick History of Ethics. Chap. iv.
llli; l.niKAl, SVMKM Ol' ADAM SMIIII.
Of
Sliartcsl)iii'\-. who rct;anlc(l all (lisLUssi(iM>. as to substances, en-
tities, and the eti-rnal and inuiuitahle relations <jf thiiij^s a> so
much eni|)t\' sound ' It was the e;4oisin of the s\ stem which
ani,fered him ; and he set himself to refute so false an account of
the nature of man.
Shafteshur)' aj^rees with Cumberland in insistinL,^ upon the
ultimatel)' social character of human nature. Cumberland had
compared society to an ori^anism, and had maintained the eciual
importance of .s)in|)athy with ii^oism. Ihe [greatest happiness
was, for him, the ol)jective end ; and he rei^arded the i^ood of the
individual and the L;ood of society as identical - Siiaftesbur)'
holds that each individual beini; is a member in a swstem of
creatures, wlu'ch a common nature binds toi;ether. The indi-
\idual man himself is a svstem, of whicii the \arious appetites,
l)assions, and affections, are all united untler the supreme control
of reason. Tlie parts of this s\stem are so carefully arranged,
and so interdependent, that an)- disarrauLjement or dispropor-
ticui, however slight, ma\- mar and (lisfiLiin'e the whole. If a
sini^le passicMi is extended loo far, or continued too h^ng,
irrecoverable ruin and misei v ma\' result. •'
Tliis idea of s\stem, or the harmonx' of |)arts, is the leading
idea in Shaftesbur)''s ethics. I lis fundamental conce|)t is
aesthetic, unity in \ariet)- is the all-per\ adini;' law of tiie world.
In e\ery case where parts work toLjether toward a common
result, there rules a central principle. The parts <>f thej^j^anism
are held toi^ether b\- the soul ; and, in TITcr~lari;er s)stems to
which man is eviden'd)' related, individuals are joined with one
another into species and i^enera b)' hi,L;her imities. ■* Out of}
society, and out of coninumity, man never did nor nexer can
e.xist. •'' There is no sense more natural than the sense of fellow-
ship ; and this sense, as evinced in lo\(,' of community, is one of
the plainest means of self- preservation ; and a most neccs.sary
condition of self-enjo)i^ent. '' The mf )ral a nd social system has
thus its foundations dee,; in the naUire of man. "^ Just as truly
as musical haruKJuy antl proportion are natural, so also is there
1. Sitlilnqvy. Vt. III. Sec. i.
2. Da LfijihuH Xaturae. Introduction.
3. Inqitiri/ conccrnimj Virtue and Mrrit. Bk. 11. I't. 11. Sec. i.
4. Ibid. The Moralists. I't. 11. Sec. i. Dp. 286. 318.
5. Ibid. Vol. II. ]). 354.
Falckenl)er;; Ilistorij of rhiloKi>j)li>j, En.i,'. trans., p. iy6.
6. Essaij on the fre.edom of Wit and lluiiior. I't. III. Sec. 2.
7. Adrirjito an Autlior. I't. lii- Sec. 3.
The Moralists, [>. 411.
M L' I K
la harmony and proportion of \irtuc in the character and the
affections (jf men. Shaftesbiu)- thus finds a natural basis for
.iethics, iiulepen(h:nt of self interest or conwnitional fancies. The
Vood for him is the beautiful, and the beautiful is the sym-
metric;'.! ; hence the essence of \ irtue consists in tlu; balance, the
u'inony or proportujii, (^1 the aliections and the passujns.
Shaftesbury is a thoroujjfh-Li'oinc; optimist ; whatever is
is rijj^ht. The finalit)- and beauty o( the parts of the world
which we can know, ju-^tifies the inference to a like constitution
o
fth
ose w
hich
[u-e ima, oroac:
that the numerous e\
I
ils, w
habk
so
that
we may be cerram
hich we find in the details, work f')r a
.systein superior to them, and that all apparent imperfections
contribute U) the perfection of the whole. ' i-'roni the idea of
social and moral harmon\-, Shaftesbur)' infers the existence of a
formative pcjwer which works [juri)(jsivel\-, an all rulint^ unity,
the soul of the world, the Deity. \\'hat Shaftesbury means by
the Deity is however not (|uite clear, lie, at times, uses lan-
yua^^e, which, as Leslie Stephen remarks, ^ would fit into an
orthodo.x sermon about a personal God ; '* \et his teaching bears
much m(jre resemblance to the pantheism of Spinoza. (iizycki
concludes that while passaLjes are not wantini;', in which Shaftes-
bury rej^ards nature, and the life-L;i\ ini;" power of natiuv, only as
the representatives of l'ro\ idence, the Creator endowed with all
power, yet his jjroof onl\' leads to a world-.soul, and not to a
God. ■* This is the; \iew which is held also by I'owler, ^ who
s;))-s : "we ma>' infer that Shaftesbur)" conceived tlie relation of
God to the Wcjrld as that of the .Soul to the body. Nature is,
as it were, the vesture of God, and (iod the soul of the
Universe." As the in(li\idual mind understands, thinks, and
plans f(jr tlie indi\ idual self, so the Universal Mind understands
and acts for the whole of Nature. " This Universal Mind i:, not
only all-powerful and all-wise, but is, also, perfectly ^ood. For
a general mind could have no private interests ; but the good of
the whole and its own good would, necessarily, be one and the
same. "
Shaftesbury, consistently recognizes no conflict between the
1. Thp Moralists. Vt. i. Sets. 2, 3.
Il)id. .Sec. 4. I't 1 1.
2. Leslie Su|ilicii, En^/Ush Tliomjht nf llw Nineteenth Century.
3. The Moralists. I't. 11. Sec. 3.
4. (}izycki, Die Philosojihie SliKfUshiiry's. \). 62.
5. T. Fowicr, Shiiflesbtir;/ vnd lltttrhesun. Cluip. iv. p. 106.
6. The Mordlists.' Pt. ill. Sec. 5.
•/. Letter concerning Enthusiasm, Sec. 5.
p. 25.
I
Tin: KIIIKAI SVSIl.M ()[•■ ADAM SMITH.
111(1 the
fisis for
'I'lie
syiii-
ice, th'j
111 some cIcl;tvc in
Uood of the indixidiKil .ind that ofsocictN'. Ihc natural and the
self alTections, he ccjininciids as both Liood and both necessar\'. '
15ene\()lence is the principal moral \irtue : but a due re^anl to
the interests and the preser\ation (>f tlie indi\ idual is not 1)\' any
means U) be neglected. As in particiiiar cases public aliection,
on tlie one hand, ma)- be too hiL;!i, so pri\ate affection, on the
other hand, ma\' be too weak. These affections toward pri\atc
}^ood are necessar}- and ess.'iilial to \irlue. I-"or though no crea-
ture can be called \irluoi:s nieitly for possessint;' these affections,
yet, since the\' are es^ontia! lo the welbbein;.;' of the system,
a creature wantiiiL;" in them is uantin
natural rectitude, and is \ icious and defective
The disinterested impulses, while aimiiiL;' at other's l;i)0(I,
lead a man to his own ; while the self-affections, which aim at
th<? individual's i,^ood, oiiK' attain their object when kept within
strict bounds. In addition to the natural, and tl'.e self affections,
Shaftesbury distiiiL^uisl'ies tin; unnatural affections. These are
sufficientK' characterised by tlu.ir definition; since the)' arc
affections that tend neithei" to public nor to ])ri\ate s^ood. P'rom
Shaftesburx's point of \ iew it is not eas)- to understand this
classification. I'^or wh\" are the affections, which tend to the
^ood of others, any more natural than the self-affections? The
.selfish affections, as he lu'in^elf occasionall)' admits, are just as
imijortant for the econonu' of nature. Win-, therefore, ma\- thev
not also be classed as natural. And wlu' should those, w hich tend
neitlier to public nor to private l;oo(1 be, on that account, termed
unnatural? If all e\il works for tlie ^ood of a superior s)stem,
and all ap[)arent imperfection contributes to the perfection of the
whole, this latter class would appear to be as natural as either of
the others. -
Ujjon the |)n'pcr balance, the harmony of the passions,
virtue depends. Tlie \ irtucnis man has at heart the interest of
the public. •' \\ hen all the affections and passions tend to the
|jublic Li'ood, or the t^ood ol the species, the temper is .said to be
entirely [jjood ; and if w j have this universal good aJi our end or
aim, we shall never be deceixed by false views of rii,dit and
wron<^. "* But Shaflesbur)- alst; defmes \irtue as a lo\e of <(o(xl-
nes.s for it;; cjw i, sake, on account of its ou n natural beauty and
1. fiii/nini,Wi II. I't. I. Sec. 3.
2. jodl (IcxrhirhU: del' Etiii/i.
3. Iwinirii, I5k. 1. I'l. iii. Sec. 2
4. Ibid, lik. 1. I't. II. Sec. i.
10
MUIK :
thy or hot. \st, ;iik1 ni;ikc that notice of worth and honesty
hject of his affections, lie is not \irtiious. It is this reflectix'e
worth. ^ Hence to understand his idea of virtue we must
include these two elements : a disinterested lo\e of t^oodncss,
and that harmony of the passions most conducixe to the [)ublic
good.
This di' interested lo\e of goodness is not natural, and can
only be obtained b\' reflection. A j)erson may be generous,
kind, coinpassionate , and )et, if he does not reflect U|)on what he
himself does, (jr sees others do, so as to take notice of what is
wor
an o
notice, which constitutes a truly good character. - Shaftesbury
is conscious that just as in art, ignorance and want of taste may
rule, so, in the moral sphere, the case may be the same. VV'i;
learn by reflection not only to admire, but to have an inclination
to admire that which is trul)- admirable. This attainment of a
pure moral taste, which correctly distinguishes harmony and
discord, is represented b>- Shaftesbury throughout as no easy
matter.
We are led to this redective approxal and disai)proval of
the just and natural, or of the unjust and unnatural b>' a first
principle in our constitution, by a natural sense of right and
wrong.'* 'J'his faculty, which approves of right, and disap-
proves of wrong, is wit/. Shaftesbury a sense, and more than
once he antici[jates Iluicheson in calling it a moral sense.'*
[This doctrine of the Moral Sense is ncjt, however, b)' any me<".ns
the central point (jf the system ;•'' the har mony_of the passions
and affections isj as we -have seen, the main doctrine. But the
Moral Sense is that which exercised the greatest influence upon
future writers of the school, especially upon Hutcheson,
and is therefore often mistakenl)' considered the fundamental idea
of Shaftesbury's ethics. Jlhis Moral Sense is universal, livery
human being is endowed with natural inclinations fitted for the
percepti(;n of moral harmony. However perverted and corrupt
ii heart may be, it yet finds, in all cases, a distinction between
two actions or inclinations, from which it approves of the one as
suitable, and rejects the other as unsuitable. We have here a
cl
rl
i
CI
1. Ingniry, Bk. n. Pt- i. Sec 3.
2. Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humor, p. 121.
3. Iiit/niry, 15k. i. I't 111. Sec. I
4. Ibid, Bk I. l*t. 3. Sections i, 2, 3.
5. Note. For continnatioii of tills view, see Sidgvvick's History of
Ethics, Chap. iv. For the opposite opinion, Scliiiljcrt, Die Moral Philos-
ophie, Adam iSmilh's. Introductory chapter.
Tin; i/miCAi. snsik.m jv adam smith.
II
hint of the "Impartial Spuctator " which afterwards became so
im|jortant in Smith's s\stem.
This moral sense, wliich is Shaftesbury's idea of conscience,
has its foundation in nature, and. while in its natural condition,
is main!)- emotional ^ As emotional, it d(jes n(jt occupy so
commanding" and important a position in man's nature as does
reason. Hut it adnn'ts of education and improvement, and this
improvement consists in a general i^redominance of the rational
element. The office of this educated conscience is the reflective
approval of thei^ood, and disapiiroval of the e\il. No rational
creature is e\er entirelv de\t)i(l of this moral or leflex sensibility.
When, by means of this ri:ilecti\e conscience, the right has been
detennined, our <uithor thinks that all that is necessar}- for virtue
or goodness has been accomjjlished. Knowledge and virtue are
practically one in the sy^^<:m. l*'vil and wickedness, in and for
themselves, are nothing. They are merel>- negations of the
good, owing to the incompleteness and the limitations of our
nature.
The operation of the Mor.il Sense, when uncorrupt :(1, is
always in harmony with rational judgment as to what is or is
not conducive to the good of the human species, though it does
not neccessarily involve the explicit fcjrmation (jf such a judg-
ment. b-\en ;i man who had no moral sense, would alwaj's find
it to his interest tf) maintaiti in himself precisely that balance of
social and self-regarding affections which is best adapted to
.secure the good of societ)', and such a being might be said to
have goodness, though not \ irtue. lUit such a man, Shaftesbury
holds, is not really to be found.
The ap[)robati()n or disapprobation of this inoral sense, to-
gether with the love and reverence of (iod, form the pro[)cr
sanctions of conduct. Neither the fear of future punishment,
nor the ho[je of future reuard can possibly be regarded as goixl
affections, nor as the source of any truly good acticjn. " No
acticjii prompted by these motives can be regarrled as good and
virtuou.s. " - Virtue must please by its own worth and beauty,
and not because of any external advantage. We are not to
corrupt the love of the good f(;r its own sake by mixing with it
the hope of future reward. •' We have here a hint of Kant, in
1. Till' Moralists, Vl ill. Sec. 2.
Imiriiry, I't. ill. Sec. 2.
2. n>id, Rk, II. Pt. II. Sec i.
Ihid. Hk. I. I't- I. Srr. 3.
3. Falckcnbcijr. History oj i'hilosuphij, Enj^. trans., p. 200,
tmimemm^iimmmmmmmmmmm^a
12
ML'IU :
Shaftcsbur)''s view that tlic excellence of the object, and not the
reward or punishment shcnild be our ni(jti\e for conchict.
As to what coiistitutes the end of moral action, Shaftesbury
is not very explicit. In tr)ini; to disco\er what he reall)- c(jn-
ceives to be the t^ood, there are two |)oints which it is well to
keep in mind: — (i.) The j^ood of tlio individual, and the ^^ocjd of
society are one and the same. (2.) .Shaftesbur_\' recoi^nizes no
possible conflict between \irtue and happiness. Ilence if we can
find that which constitutes a person cillicr \irtuous or happ)-, we
ihall have found the pood.
th
der Ih
lie \anous e.\'])lanations <4'i\ei
1 of
ifu
1 akmi(
the t^ood
IS, however, render ine matter somewnat conuisini;".
the more [general defmitions first: — [\.) That alone is
in which the nature of man can rest contented and find satisfac-
tion. ^ (2.) Life and ha|)piness consist in action and emphjy-
nient, and nothing can be called ijood h\\\ what is constant. -
(3.) Virtue is the chief of all excellencies and beauties. ^ (4.)
It consists in a harmony of the passions and affections, a love of
goodness for its (jwn sake, and a lo\e of beautx' and order in
societ)'. ■* Tliis arra)' of definitions is not \er)' satisfactorx', and
instead of thrcjwing any light up(jn the matter appears rather to
'darken counsel with words.' Hut the subject beccjnies clearer
when we remember that, to Shaftesbury, the good, the beautiful,
and the harmonious are one. This practically reduces (3) and
(4) t(J identical propositions ; and we are left w ith the g(KKl,
as that in which the nature of man can find satisfaction ; which
must, also, be constant and furnish action and emplojinent.
Two interpretations of this good have been offered : (1)
Hedonistic, the good is pleasure; and ii) it is self-satisfaction.
The Hedonistic interpretation is, in this system, indefensible.
It fails to fulfil either the reciuirements of constancx', or that
of affording satisfaction to the nature (jf man. Morever,
Sh.iftesbury states dislinctl}' that the good is not ])leasure,
which he sa}'s ma)' be \er}- great, and \-et ver\- contem])tible. '''
This in itself is a sufficient refutation of the aigument for
pleasure ; for if pleasure ma)- at the same time be \ er)' great and
very contemptible then surel)' it is not the good. The oidy way
of escape from this would be to admit c|ualitati\e distinctions in
pleasure, and this Shaftesbury denies ; and maintains that the
1. /»//((/>;/, Vol 1 1., p. 75.
2. Adcicp to an Antlior, p. 319.
Tim Moralists p. 223.
3. Inijuiri/, \'(il 1 1, p. 175.
4. /hid, Vdl 1 1, p. 75.
5. The Moralists, p. 229.
Till'. KIHIlAI. >VSIK\I nV A HAM SMllH.
13
IKjt the
so-c.'ilU'd hii;hcr i)lc;isiircs owe their ])n.'eniiiience to tlie .'uhh'tion
of new and nobler elements to thi,' pleasure, ratlier than to any
change wliicli has takiii place in the character of the pleasure as
such.
Sifii^wick. howe\er, maintains ' that in the ij^reater part of the
arL;ument, Shaftes!)ur>' i;"i\es the i^ood of the individual this
Hedonistic interpretation,- makini;' it e(|uivalent to pleasure,
satistaction, or er;jo\inent ; and (piotes from our author, in con-
firmation, that " philosoph)- is niithini; hut the stud)' of happi-
ness.'"' 'Ihis passaL;e proves nothini;. It is a mere beL,^i4inL;" of the
quc;stio(i. h"or it is just upon the meanini; of " liappiness " in
the systeiri that the whole discussion turns. .And whatever else
happiness may mean, for .Shafleshur)-, it does not mean pleasure
in ail}' ordinarx' acceptation of the term. '
The other interpretation of the ^ood, \\hich makes it
equivalent to self satisfaction, brings .Sliaftesbury \ery near to
Aristotle and the self-realisation moralists ; and this view is
certainly more in keepini;' with the whole spirit of the system.
If we can discover that which renders one |)leasure valuable and
worth}', compared with another which we re;_;ard as indifferent or
m(\'Ui, b}' that stamp or character which ( .uises the distinction,
Shaftesbur}' sa}'s we ma}' define the L;'ood, '' but not b}' means of
the pleasure itself, lie further maintains that it is reason and
\irtue, which are thus called upon to ennoble j)leasure. '"' Hence
we must conclude that reason and \ irtue, since the}- form the
stamp, the reciuinnl characteristic of the so-called hii^her pleas-
ures, constitute that for which we are in search —the c;"o(k1. In
reason and in \irtue, the nature of man can rest contented and
find satisfaction. ihe}' also are constant and furnish per-
manent emploxinent and action. The}' thus satisf}' all the tests
of the s}'stem, and ma\- therefore be recoL;ni/.ed as the <j[ood for
Shaftesbur}-.
While Shaftesbur}- thus recoi,mi/.t>s reason as an im|)ortant'7
factor in the i^ood, in the end or aim of action, he, as we have'
seen, almost iijnores its ]),-ut in the formation of moral judg-
ments. The <i;reat chani;e, introduced b}- him in the foundation |\oV^
of I''ri_i,^lish ethics, consisterl in basiuL; moral distinctions upon
the sentierit nature of man, rather than upon his reas m. IIq
.V
4-
V
6.
Tlip .^fnmh'sis. p. 233.
Ilisturij 11} Klliirs, |i. iSi.
Till' Mnrnh'sls. I't. ill. .Sic
Ailn'ri' to an .{iil/m,, p, 319.
7'lir 3/oriilisl, |). 225.
/hfif, |i. 229.
I . 1>S.
»4
MUIR
re^ardcfl the affections anrl passions as tlie object of a hit^hcr
reflective jiul^ntiLj affection, an innate faculty of moral jucl^ment,
or sense for rvj
rht
and urontr,
a moral sense.
W
e appn^vc
virtue and condemn \ ice b}- nature, and from this natural feelini^
for ^'ood and e\il, exercise develops a cultivated moral taste,
(ioodness recpiires the rellectixe a])i)ro\al and disap[)roval of
our own conduct, and that of others.
Shaftc iburj 's account of the Moral Sense is, ho\ve\er, most
unsatisfactory. While, e.\plicitl\', he alinost ii,niores the share of
reason in its judgments, and t^reatly e.\ai;jt;erates the share of
emotion, yet, in wliat he di-scribesas the work of the iiKM-al sense,
the constant exercise of reason is imi)lied. l^'or, before we can feel
either approbation or disapprobation, we must refer an act tf) a
cla.ss, or connect it by association with other acts of a similiar
kind. In either case, com|)arison or reflection is involved, and
the process is a rational one. The \ery statement, that the
approval or disa|)proval must be reflective, implies the influence
of reason on the moral judL^ments ; while Shaftesbury's treatment
tends to utterl}' obsci'.re the fact of this influence, lie admits
that the Moral Sense is capable of cultixation and improve-
ment; Init he does not state in what the process of education
consists. Me L^enerall)' describes moral decisions as thoUL^h
they were immediate, and makes no attempt to analyse the
Moral Sense, except b\' the occasional recoL,nu'tion of a rational,
as well as an emotional element. As the moral taste becoines
better instructed, the rational element becomes more prominent.
If, then, we resj^ard Shaftesburx-'s idea of Ljoodncss as tlie
reflective approval and disapproval of our r)wn conduct and that
of others, we find rea.son necessarii)' implied ; and no less is this
the case if we consider his other view of t^oodness, as love to
mankind in [general, the study of the um'xersal L;ood, or the
promotion of the interest of the whole world in so far as lies within
our power. Here ai^ain reason would be indispensable for the
consideration of ineans, and the comj)arison of results. Hence,
in Shaftesbur)''s s)-stem, it is impossible to reconcile the nature
of his criterion of rit^ht action, and the nature of the approving
act. The idea of a reflectixe love of goodness, and .i universal
bene\()lence, as depenrlent upon sense, appears, however,
somewhat more consistent, when we remember that .Shaftesbury
regarded human nature as divine. Hence the Moral .Sense is a
di\ine though natural instinct. The^^cTthree conceptions — Moral
Sense, Henevolence, and tTie great fundamental idea of system
or harmony, exercised a great influence upon the succeeding
writers of the I'^nulish School.
tl
a I
ajjprovc
''•'il taste.
I'oval of
t^r, most
share of
share of
;il sense,
■ can fee)
act to a
•siinih'ar
wl, and
hat the
ifluence
-atmcnt
admits
iprove-
ucation
thoiioii
■se the
itional,
--■comes
nincMt.
IS the
id that
is this
fue to
^r the
uithin
H- the
I once,
laturc
oving
/crsal
ever,
^bury
; is a
^oral
stem
xh'ng
TIIK KTHICAI SYSTK.M OK ADAM SMUII.
»5
Si:( TION 11. — lllJTCIII'.SOX.
Shaftesbiu), as we have seen, difl mnch to refute llobbes.
Indixidii.ih'sm was to him an utter impossibih'ty : mail is ever
part f)f a s\-stem. Altruism is just as natural as is et^oism, and
the bcne\()lent atid the self-re^ardint; affections both necessar\-,
and both tjood. Not reason, but sense, which is, however,
when uncf)rrupted, never in condict with reason, is man's moral
L,aiide. The conduct ap|)ro\ed b\- this moral sense is such as
tends to the i/ood of the sNstem as a whole. In this reaction
against eL,foism. the cliinax is reached in llutcheson, who not
only develops many of Shaftesbur)''s ideas, but, in his '/e;d for
benevolence, almost overlooks the claim of the individual as
such. Mis elaborate ethical s)'stem ma\-, not unfairl)', be
summed up in two terms : the Mor^il Sense, and Benevolence.
The doctrine of the Mctral Sense was fully de\eloped by
Hutcheson. Shaftesbury had sui^^i^^ested the idea, Hutcheson
formed the sys/o// of the Moral .Sense. ' By his adoption and
(le\elo|)ment of this principK', and b)' thus insistinij upon human
nature as the ultimate source of moral distinctions, llutcheson
exercised a tremendous influence both upon the philoso|)hy and
tht.' theoloj^y of Scotland, - where, perhaps more than in any
other countrv, tTre~t^n7n?nc\- had been to retrard revelation as
the one source of all l<nowled_i;e of moralit)'. That confidence
could be [jlaced in the judL,nnent of tlie human understandini;' in
reijjard to conduct, was an entire!}' new idea; but this llutche-
son taut^ht ; and insisted that the mind, if free and unfettered,
was quite able to deal with ethical problems. lie strenously
advocated the ri<^ht of private judi;nii"nt, which had been not
onl\' assailed, but almost destroyed b)- the Scotch l^irk, which at
that time possessetl unlimited |)ower and influence.''
Hutcheson, like Shafteslnuy, rc;^ards the Moral Sense as arr^
oric,M'nal princijile, a natural and immediate determination to ,
approve certain affections, and acti(Tiis conse(]uent upf)n them. '
It is an instinct, l)ut of so lii<;fli n character, that it is a constant
settled determination in the soul itself; as much so as are our
powers of jud_L,n'n^ and reasoning; ; and, like other of our |)owers,
it may be educated and improved. '"' l^y the |)resentation of
lart^er s\-stems, and more extensive affections, it is led to
1. Fnwlor, Shiif/psliitrii and IfulrlicsnH, p. 237.
2. Ki<ln)ann, l/fstor;/ <>/ I'liilosopln/, \'ol. n., p. I2|.
3. I5iicklc, Ilistnrii of Ciisli.-iifio)! \'i)\. iii., \). 293.
4. Sijsti'm iif Miirnl I'liiloxojilnj, WA. i.. |). ()i.
5. Ini]uirii, \'()1. II., p. u/). S>/xli hi,, Ch;i\t. w., p. 53.
ifi
MUIR
approve (if tin- moix' worth) ()!)jccts, i-\cn whi'ii, by so cloiii;^. it
must ()p|)()sc the; effect of narto^ver affections, which, considered
in theniseKes, would be (|uile worth)' of approval. ' The exist-
ence of this senst; is proved h)- the fact that moral differences of
action are admitted !))• all, I'vcn when conscious that they will
not themi.elvcs be affecli'd bv' the actions. -'
Ilutcheson does not distinguish with suffirii-nt clearness
between emotions and ideas, j (r confnsi's the ultimate feelint^
of approbatirm or disap|)rol)ation, with the intellectual proces.s,
which usuall)- precedes this feelini;'. llis conception of the
Moral Sens- is rather that of an emotional, than of a perceptive
facult)'. It is more analoij^ous to what lu- describes as the" I'ublic
Sense," that is "our determinatioti to In' pleased with the happi-
ness of others, and to be uni:as)- at their miser)-," than it is to
that of the external senses. ■'• With Shaftesbur)-, the sense of
beauty and the Moral Sense were one and the same sense, as
applied either to external objects, or to human actions, character,
and <Iispositions. Ilutcheson, on the contrar)-, (listinL;uishes be-
tween the moral aiTd aesthetic sense.
The Aloral Sense is from its \ er)- nature, flesijjjned to rej.:;u-
late and control all our j)owers ; ;ini| of its diL;nit)', and com-
manrlinij nature, we are iminerliatelv- conscious, as we are
I conscious of the power itself. 'I'he objects of tl-is sense of moral
^oofi and ev i! are benevol /nee, on the one hanrl, and indifference
to the j)ublic i;o()d. on the other. ^ The pursuit of the ij^ood of
others is promp'ted b)- an instinct, and approved bv' the Moral
Sense. The onlv' actions which this sense determines us to
a|)prove as irtuous, are those which proceed, partly at least,
from a desire for the happiness of olhi^rs ; '' and the actions
which it recommends as the most perfectl)- virtuous, are such as
have the most universal unliinited tendenc\- to the L^reatest and
most extensive haj)piness of all the rational agents, tf) whom our
influence can extend. '''
While insisting on the importance and ultimate character of
the Moral vSense, Ilutcheson )et acknowledges the necessity and
function of reason. Oar power of rellecting and judging, makes
us capable of discerning the tendencies of our sen.'.es, a|)petites,
and actions, either to our own hajjpiness or to that of otlicrs.
!. IiKpiirij, \'()1. li., p|). 107, 110, 115.
2. Ihid, \'(l. r r. Sec. IV., p. .''.03. Siistcm, W
3. I'liulo'-, Slinftrstini'!/ and liiitlti'Siin, p. 235.
4. hniiiinj, \'()1. 1 1., |). 172.
5. Ihid, Vol. II. See. 2.
6. Ihid, \'o\. II. Sec. 3., p il^i.
I , 1-. 91.
TIIK KTHICAI, SYSTEM Ol' Ar)AM SMIIM.
^> fl'M'll^-. it
coiisi(|(.rt'(l
The cxist-
'erciiccs of
the)- uill
clearness
itc fed i lit,'
a I process,
'II (»f the
perceptive
le" Public
he happi-
11 it is to
■ sense of
sense, as
character,
lishes be-
to yc'^u-
ui'l com-
we are
of moral
ifference
i^OOfl of
le Moral
s ns to
at least,
actions
such as
est and
loni our
acter of
ity and
makes
petites,
others.
it
This power jud^'es about the means, or the subordinate ends,
but about the ultimate ends there is no reasoning. * Reason is
^iven U) man in order that he ma}- jud^f of the tendencies of his
actions and not stupidly folloA' the first api)earance of |)ublic
<^rood. - Desires, a;T.-:tions, and instincts, mu>t be previous to all
exciting reasons, and a moral sense antecedent to all justilyintj
reasons.'' It is al\va)'S some i^ood which men |)ursue, and the
pursuit of this '^ood is prompted b}- an instinct, and ap])ro\ed
b)' the Moral Sense The end is determined by our Moral
Sense and affections, but it is reason which finds out the means.
The difticult\- noted in .Sh;ifte->bury's system in reL,fard to the
relation of rciscjn anrl the ^^oral Sense arises aj^ain here. If
moral excisions are entirel\- the result of an innnediate intui-
tion of the Moral .Sense, why do tlu-se decisions re(|uire to be
corrected or revised. .And if the decisions of this ^Ioral ."^ense
are infallible, wh)- should this facultv' be re^^arded asca|)able of
education or improvement? .Almost all of the diversitv in
nuM'al sentiment arises, llutclieson says, from o|)|)osite conclu-
sions of reason about the affects of actions u|)on the public, or
about the affections from which thev fl(jvved. Ihe Moral .Sense
al\va)-s approves and condemns uniformlv' the same immediate
objects, the same affections and dispositions. Hut jjeople reason
verv differentl)' in rei;"ard to actions and the notions by which
the}- iiave been caused.^ It is in kindlv affection, and desire
of the public <^no(\ that true merit is found, and not in reason.
The.se .systems, which rcLifard nioralit}' as conformity to reason,
realK' presuppose a moral sense. '•
Uy conscience, Ilutcheson sometimes denotes the moral
faculty itself, and sometimes the judi^Uient of the understand-
iuLj concerning the springs and effects of actions, upon which
the Moral Sense approves or condemns them. W hen we have
certain ma.xims and rules concerning the cf)nduct which is v ir-
tuous and vicious, and regard them as the laws of ("icxl, or when
we are persuaded that other laws are revealed to us in a differ-
ent maimer, then conscience ma}- be defined as, " oiu" judgment
concerning actions compared with the laws." Other circum-
stances being e(]ual, the greater the diligence and caution about
1. »S'//.'t(fm, Vol. I., p. Q3.
2. ItKiHiry conccrninii oral (UxhI and Eril, Soc. 4.
3. lUustratinns on the Moral Some, Sec. i.
4. System, \'o\. i. pp. 38. 91.
5. Illustrations on the Moral Schsp.
Sec. I., pp. 216. 220, 22y.
Sec. IV., pj). 80, 81.
Sec. v., p. 291.
.»^;r-ja«<»»???*i«*«|6gS«WS«#
i8
Ml' Ik
our fliit)', so much the hotter is tlio character; and the less the
(lih^ence and caution, so much the worse is the < haracter.y/
llaxiuLj coiisid -red thi- important doctrine ot" the Moral
Sense, ue now turn to llutcheson's all-inclusive \irtue, Me-
ncvolence
Th
ere is m
hii
man n itui\' a disinteres
4ed,
ultimate
desire for the ha|)|)ines.s <»r others ; and we onl\' approve of those
actions as \irtuous, which |)roceed partl\' at least from such a
desire. ' The l)est state, and the j^reatest hap|)iness of a human
being, consists in uni\er->al, efricacioii^ heneNoU'iue, jind nothin;^'
more than this deserves the- name of perfection. The peifeclly
virtuous person acts inunediately from the lo\e of others ; while
selfish actions are tlie cause of shame and confusion. - It is
not any form of selfishness, however, that causes us to des.", ,'
till" happiness of others ; we are not prom|)tefl to this by any
prospects of personal advantage, .such as wealth, p-ovver,
or pleasure. i-Or that which is most noble, [^.-nerous, and
virtuous in life, is the sacrifice of all positivf interests, and tne
bearin;4" all private evils for the public good ; while submitting
also the interests of all smaller systems to the interests of the
whole ; without anv other exci^ption or reserve than this, that
every man may look upon himself as a part of this system, aiifl,
consetiuentl)-, not sacrifice an imi)ortant private interest to a less
important interest of other.-. •' While we can.not alwa\-s know
the tendencv of our own actions, we m.iv endeavour, to the best
of f)ur power, to do that which is most likel)- to tend to the
public good ; and vvIhmi we are conscious of a sincere endeavour
for this, no evil conseciuences which ma\- result will cause us to
t .idemn our conduct.
This extremely altruistic |K)sition is somewhat modified by
Hutches(jn in his later work, ■* where he recognizes three calm,
natural, determinations of the will: the calm desire c^f our own
happiness, the calm desire of the hap])iness of othirs, and the
calm desire of moral perfection ; each of these is alike ultimati;,
but when the first comes into conflict with the second or the
third, the Moral .Sense never fails to dictate to the agent the
voiuntar}' sacrifice of the first to either of the others. Hutche-
son never allows much more to the individurd dian the
admission that, as a part of the svstein, his rights are to be
respected.
F. Inqninj, \'ol. ii. Sec. 2.
2. ll'i'l, \'()1. II., pp. 166. 177, 200. 21S. 239, 333.
3. IIIu.'<tr<(Hoiis npiiii ttir Mornl Si')isf. Scr. vi., p. 319.
4. Siistem 0/ Moral I'hihisd/ilty, X'ol. i., p. i).
1
THK KIHICAI, SYSTI'.M Or ADAM SMUH.
19
tlir Irss (Ih>
"k- .M<,ral
\irtik-. lic-
''I. iiltiinalc
'\t-' of those
<>ni such a
"' 'i iuiiiiaii
ifl luithinj^-
^' P<.'ifcrtl\-
''■'■-^ ; w hifc
"i- - It is
h to (k-s;. .
i'-' in any
h, [;o\vrr,
l<-''"iis, and
^. and tne
^iihinitt infe-
sts of the
this, that
tL-ni, and,
t to a less
ays know
" the best
'fl lo the
iifleavoiir
isf lis to
tlificd b)'
■<^'c cahii,
our own
and the
ultimate,
I or the
^vnt the
Hutche-
lan the
<-• to be
llutchcson is not a I'tih'l.irian, ahhou^h he eonies nuu li
nearer to this school tlian Sliaftesbiiiy liad done, and insists
repeatedl)' upon the " ^M'eatest happiness ot' thi- ;4reatest
number," Ijein^, in \\v:\ th.- tlrst to make u>e of tliis |)hrase. '
That in action, which llutcheson considers of chief importance,
is the affection or moti\e. The chftlcuhw ho\\f\iT, arises for
him, as it has done, also, for later inora!i-.t>. lliat, in jud^iii}^'
actions, we are practicalU- oblisji-d to regard onl\- their effects or
consequences Thus, while the motive, the kind affection, is
that which constitutes an act reallx' or form.illx' i;oo(l. the
Moral Sense points out, as the only ^ood or \irtuous deed, that
wiiich is materially y;ood, as tending to the welfare or ha|)|)iness
of others. '^
Vet llutcheson shows plaiiil}- that neither pK'asure nor use-
fulness forms the basis of moral distinction^. The notion unrler
which we approve moral conduct is not:(l) that of L;i\ing us
pleasure by sympath)-; nor (2; that it is pleasin;^ to our moral
sense; nof ''3; that it is useful to the aL;ent himself; nor ('4)
that of conformity to the I)i\ine will or laws. We do not
approve all conduct, which ;4i\es us pleasure b\- s) inpath\', and
sometimes we approve such conduct as does not i4i\e it. W'c
are plea.sed in contemplating^ the \irt.ie of another, as an ex-
cellence in that other, and not as something;, which brinies
pleasure to ourselves. .\or floes our apj)ro\al ()f the conduct of
another depend U|)f)n its usefulness; for the approver ne\er
expects a reward for the \ irtue of another ; he a|)i)ro\es when
he feels no interest of his own promoted; and he would the less
ajjprove such actions as are beneficial, the more he considered
them as advar.tajjeous to the aL;eiit, and imaj^n'ned him influenced
by views of his own adxantat^e. Nor is the notion under which
we ap])rovc conformit\- to the l)i\ine will ; for this must mean
conformity to his goodness, justice, etc ; so these moral perfec-
tions must be {previously known, or else the flefinition by
conformity to them is useless. We cannot describe our moral
approval, either, as fitness or congrin'tx'. The fitness of means or
subordinate ends docs not pro\e them to be good, imless the
ultimate end is go(jd ; and the term " fitness " cannot be applied
to an end trul\- ultimate. An ultimate end must be settled by
an original determination of our nature. Neither cust(jm,
association of ideas, nor education can form the original of moral
approbation, as these can gi\e us no new senses ; and the
^
1. Inquiry concerning ^foral Good and Evil, Sec. 3.
2. Ibid, Vol. II. Sec. iii,p i8}
Ml'IR
opinion or notion !)>• which uc approve n\u^{ he an ori|^nnaI
priiui|)k',
hi
IS prMici|)lc, as wc lia\e sclmi,
is the Moral
Sense by means ot' whieh \vc" identity \ irtue and benevolence;
and yet it is the fact that we natural!)' appr(»\e of benevolence,
that proves thai we ha\e a Mt)ral Sense.
While llutchcson admits "the calm desire of moral perfec-
tion" as one of tin- ultimates of our nature, and claims that not
only universal Ljood-vvill, but also the love of moral excellence,
may be ranked as a ri^ht affection, - )et the former, alon^^ with
the Moral Sense, so occuj))' his attiMition that the latter is
piacticall)' ignored. Had he di-vfloped his sjstem in this direc-
tion lie would have approached closrly tlie selt-realization
moralists. Hut this he has not dtjne, and, as the s) stem stands,
we must rej^ard llutcheson as the j^real exptJiient of the Moral
Sense and of IkMievolence.
Shaftesbury had found no conflict, but a complete lianiio)iy>
between the t^ood of the individual and that of Society, and ha<^l
shown that it is not selt'ishness which makes us desire the j^ood
of others. But he h-u! insisted stronj.,dv' upon the |)leasurc
which accompam'es the exercise of the benevolent affections, and
lest it mii^ht still be thouL,dU that tin- ac(|uisition of this pk-as-
ure was the real motive of the benevolent man, liutclieson
establi.shed most carefull)- the utterl)- disinterested character
of those affections. He also made, as we have seen, Shafles-
burj^'s Moral Sense a central doctrine of his svstem, and
regarded benevolent actions as the onh* objects of this sense.
This brin<rs him somewhat into line with later Utilitarianism,
and it was probalilv his distinction here of the formall}' from
the materially L^ood that led to Smith's iuLjenious explanati(>n of
tlie irret;ularity of our sentiments in regard to motives and to
acticjns.
In considerinj^f the sanctions of conduct, Hiitcheson is atone
with Shaftesbiu')-. He art^ues aLjainst those who imagine that
an action can onlv be \ irtuous when undertaken with the design
of pleasing or obej'ing the Deity. ^ ^'ct the love and veneration
of (lod, together with the moral sancti(jn, strictlv' so-called,
furnishes the purest of all motives to the exercise of virtue.
'I'his love is a|)prf)ved by the moral facultv' as the greatest
excellence of mind, and is most useful from ilutcheson's point
t. Inifn'mj. \'u\. i., yy. 1 16, 120, \z\, 128.
l\)id. i». 2^2.
3. Illnstrdtionx upon the Mcrol Sfuse. Sec. 6.
THK KIHICAI, SVhll.M OK ADAM SMI 111.
3t
'1 orif^M'iial
tlic Moral
iL'\()Icncc ;
'ii'\()lcncc,
pt-rfcc-
>^ thai not
xccllciicc,
o'lK' with
latter is
11"^ (hrcc-
'-■'hzation
11 stands,
i<-' A/oral
'laniioiO'^
I'lfl liad
he j^oofl
pleasure
"lis, and
i-s plcas-
itchc'son
liaractcr
Shaftcs-
"1, and
^ sense,
■lain'sm,
3' n-om
ttif^n of
and tf)
at one
ic that
rlesij^n
lation
:alled,
virtue,
catest
point
(.f \ii-'\v ; since the love of moral perfection is a natural ineite-
nicnt to all {.food offices, i liutehe.son n ^'ards the Sanctions of
luiinan law as sinipl\- pre\enti\e and deterrent. Iluinan punish-
ments are onl)- methods of >elf-di reiice, ii) whiih the decrees of
^nill are not the pn)])i'r measure; hut thi> measure is to he found
in the neccssit)' of ri'strainin<.,f actions lor the safet)' of the
puhlic. -' This theor>- (»f punishment is in harmoii)' with
ilutiheson's \ iew of morality, .md forms aiiotlu'r point of
a^rei'inent hetweiMi his s) stem ..wA that of later rtilitaiians.
While the main coiueptioiis of I lutcheson's system are
those of the Moral Sense and Hene\ oleiice, ) et his idt'al of
moralitv" was, like that of Hutk-r, of a life accordiii;^ to the hiL;hest
principl' -s of our nature. ihis \ie\\, as has heeii noted, receives
hut litt ,' de\elopinent in the s\stem ; hut that llutcheson
re^Mrded it as the ^oal to l)e attained 1)\ the exerci.sc
of the Moral .Sense and the practice of uni\ er>al HeiKAolence is
shown h\' the follouiiiLr (Uiotalion : "()ur Moral Sense shows
this calm extensi\e affection to he the hiL^hest perfection of our
nature, what we ma\- see to he the end or desi;^!) of such a
structure, anrl, conse(iuentl_\-, what is ie(|uirecl of us hy the
author of our nature ; and, therefore, if an\- one like this des-
cription hettcr, he ma\' call \iilue- the actini;' accordini; to what
we ma)' see from the constitution of our nature we were
intended for h\- our Creator." ^
Sr.c TION III i It MK.
In opposition to l^Ljoism as the hasis of conduct, Shaftes
])ur\- had shown the complete harmoiu' hetue en the affecticais
(jf s elf lo\e and lo \c for o thers. lie had found also in the
natufcTTJT inan a .sense which dislini^niished hetween ri^jht and
wronj^, and which led to self-sacrifice for others, if the ^ood of
others reciuired that sacrifice. Hut Shatteshurv had emphasized
.so stronj.;l)' the pleasure resullinj^' iVom henevolence, and the
complete identit}' of \ irtue aiul happiness, that his system was
left open to the sus|)icion of still harhourini,'^ a suhtle form of
Ilobbes' hated cUjctrine.
Hutcheson prevents an}' such misapprehension in reL;ard to
his views by makinj^ benevolence the (Jtie all-inclusi\e virtue,
1. T. Fowler, iShnftesltKry niid IfntrlifixiDi, ^), Kjy.
Sijstrin (ij Miirdl riiilnsniiluj. Hk. i. Clui|). lo.
2. llluntratiiiHs n)>i>n tin' Moral Srnsi>. Sec. 6. Art 6.
3. Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections, Preface,
p. 16.
ii
MUIR :
which cDiistitutos the only object of the Moral Sense. He
insists th.'it the |)Icasure resulting', from benevolent actions can
on!}- be olitained b\- a disinterested desire for the good of others,
and is never to be had b\- merely desirini^ it. Hence the wish to
benefit others is (luite distinct from the desire for the pleasure
arisinL,^ from benexolence. JUit even here a difficulty arose.
The onl\- objects of the moral sense are actions which tend to
the general good. Ikit w hat if such an action shall have been
performed from an interested moti\e? Hutcheson decided that
in such a case the act was materiall\- good, but not formally so ;
for to be formal!}- or reall\- good, the motive, al.so, must be
ber,e\(jlent.
Hume entirel)- does away with all such distinctions. His
first great problem in the 7";7v;//.sv' is regarding the source of our
moral judgments, lie agrees with Shaftesbury and Hutcheson
that this is found not in reason, but in sense. J^'or morals have an
influence upon the actions and the affections, and .so active a
principle as conscience or a sense ol morals could never have as
its source an) thing so w holl)' inactixe as reason. ^ Our approv-
al or disapproval of an action simpl\- means that from the con-
stitution f-jf c)in' nature, we ha\e a feeling or sentiment of prai.se
or blame from tlie contemplation of it. Moralit)- is neither a
relation of objects, nor a matter of fact, and hence can be, to
Hume, no object of the understanding. '^
It was difficult to see, e\en in Shaftesbury's .s}stem, any
objective \alidit}- for morality, when e\il is regarded as but a
negation of the good, and our moral judgments as based on
sensations. Hut both Shaftes bury and Hutcheson regarded those
judgments as objecti\eI\' called forth, and as not ultimately
referable to the person judging. With Hume, however, com-
plete ethical sul)jecti\it\- is reached. Vjrtue and „.vice are
dislinguished b\- particular i)leasures and pains. We do not
ihlerll characTer to be \irtuous merely bixause it i)leases, but in
feeling that it pleases after a particular maimer, we, in effect,
feel that it is \ irtuous. Hume thus makes virtue and vice .syn-
on}'mous with pleasure and j)ain. h'.ach of the passions and
operations of the mind has a particular feeling which must be
either agreeable or disagreeeable; the first is virtuous, the second
vicious. The jjarticular feeling constitutes the very nature of
the passion, and, therefore, need not be accounted for. ^
( il
tl
i.
1. Trentii^e of Ilianaii \<itrn'f, Rk. III.
2. Ihhl, l!k-. "ill. I't. 111. Sec. 1.
3. Ihid, 15k. III. Pt. I. Sec. 2.
Pt. '.' Sec. 3.
■nil-. Ki iiicAi, >^s■l•|:\I .u- .\i>,\m >miiii
23
Sense. He
t actions can
"(1 of others,
' tlie wish to
tJie pleasure
culty arose,
ich tend to
have been
ccided that
^nnally so ;
must be
tions. fifs
ince of our
Hutcheson
als ha\ e an
'O active a
er ha\e as
Jr approv-
1 the con-
<^f praise
neither a
-in be, to
stem, any
as but a
based on
:lcd those
Jtiinately
er, com-
vice are
' do not
s, but in
n effect,
ice syn-
ons and
tnust be
e second
iture of
(
i
riiis ir.oral pleasure is only excited by tlie character and
sentiments of a person, and onl)- 1)\- ihcin when considered with-
out any lererence to our particular interest. It is onl}' in means
t)f s\ inpath}' that \\e can obtain the pleasure which enal)les us
to recognize others as \ u'laous. i lutcheson liad nested as an im-
portant determination or sen^e of the soul, the s}-m|jalhetic
sense, which he pronounced \cvy (hlTerent iVom any e.\ternal
sense. ' H)' its means, whi'U we ,i])prehend the state of others,
we natur.ill}' lia\e a fellow -feeliiiLi witli them. In considering^
the pain or distress of another, we feel a strong' sense of pit\- and
a _L;re<it inclination to relieve him w ithout .ni\' thouLjht of the ad\ an-
tage that we oursehes may obt.iin tliereliy. I'his sNinpathetic'
sense, winch takes the 'place of the Moral .Slmisc ot" .Shaftesbury
and I lutcheson, becomes a Umdamentai doctrine of Hume's
system, and is especially important on account of its influencjj
upon .Smith's lahics.
Hume's treatmerit of sympathx' is one of the- most interest-
ini;' features of his work. i"or a writer to whom the nnnd is
nothini; but a series of sei)ar.ite impressions, and who holds that
we can know notlniiL;; but our own feelings, -' to insist upon our
knowledj^e of, and entrance into the feelinL;s of others, is most
inconsistent. Hut this our author does, and he- maintains that
s)'mpath\' is um'versal, and is obserxable through the whole
animal creation, but especiall\- in man, who can form no wisli,
that has not a reference to societ}'. This sympatliy is the
chief source of moral distinctions, and is a more noble source
than an\' original instinct of the human nn'nd. ■'
The origin (jf this principle, ilume explains b\' the con\er-
sion of an idea into an impression. The idea or impression of
self is alwax's present and lively, antl an\ object related to our-
seUes must be conceived with a like \i\acit)'. ( )ther i)eople
closel}" resemble ourselxes, and this resemblance makes us
easil)- enter into their sentiments. The relations of contiguity
and causation assist, and all. together, convey the impression
or consciousness of one pi'i'son to the idea of the sentiments or
passions of others. Thi.s the idea of another's sentiment or pas^
sion ma\' be so enlivened a-^ to become that vei\' sentiment or
passion. In s\ini)athy the mind passes from the idea of self to
that of another object, wiiich is contrar\- to the law of transition
of ideas. It does so, because the sc//, in<le|)endent of the
1. ]\utcht'son, Siistprn of MordI I'liildsni, 1,1/^ \'i,\. i. p. ]i).
2. Tri'iitinr, l',k. I. I't. 4. Sit. 6.
3. I hid, lik. IV. I't. II. Chap. 6.
24
MUIR :
•r
perception of c\cry other object, is in realit}' nothing ; so \vc
must turn our view to external objects ; and it is natural for us
to consider inf)st attentively such as arc near to us, or resemble
us. On account of resemblance, every human being has an
achantage o\er e\ery otiier object in operation on the imagina-
tion, and by a vivid imaginati(jn we often feel the pains and
pleasures of others which are not really in existence. ^
In discussing this subject in the 1i)t(]iiiry, Hume gives up
his original characteristic position of the Treatise, and s}'m-
pathy' becomes practically a fe eling of hu nianit\% In the later
work, there is little to differentiate his treatment from that of
Ilutcheson. In the T^vvvr/'/.sv', our benevolent or social feeling is
regarded as a mere sensitivity to |)leasure and pain, which has
become complicated and transformed b)- sj-mpathy. This
sympath}- is described b\- Selb\'-Hig"e as a soKent by which
1 lunie reduces complex feelings to sim])ler elements. - Hut in
ihcjii/qiiiry, s\-mpath}' is just anothcrjianie for benevolence, or
iTatural philanthrop)', rather than the name of the process by
which the social feeling has been constructed out of non-social
or indi\idual feeling. The generosity ascribed to man in the
Treatise is e.xceedingl}' limit(;d. In one instance Hume goes so
far as to declare that there is no such passion in human minds
as the lo\e of mankind, merely as such, independent of personal
(jualities or of relation to f)urself, and that it is only by means of
s}'mpath\' that we are at all affected by the hai)pincss and the
misery of others. JUit in the luicjuiry, where sympathy has
been transformed into bene\"olence, Hume, in several instances,
expresses an exactl\' opposite opinion. ^
Hume speaks, in this later work, of" a thousand instances,
which are marks of a general benevolence in human nature,
where no real interest binds us to the object,"'* and refers to
" the natural i)hilar,thropy of all men."' The controversy be-
tween self-lo\e and benexolencc is said to be one which can
never be .settled, and our author concludes that the selfish and
tlie social sentiments are no more opposed than are the selfish
and ambitious, selfish and re\engeful, selfish and \ain. '' There
n^ust be an original basis of some kind for seIf-lo\e, and none
n1
b
111
111
o|
el
\i
1. 7'/yv?<('.sr, lik. II. Pt. II. Sec 5.
//-/(/, jip. yj, y-o, 339. 340.
2. EiK/itirii roiicrnu'nii the Human Understanding, hitroduction.
3. Ihid, Scctiiins i8j, 187,
4. //-/(/, Sec. 252.
5. Ibid, Sections 189, 190.
6. Ibid, Sec. 230.
a.
iothinj,r; so we
' natural for us
">^, or resemble
t»ein<,r has an
" the imar^ina-
tJie pains and
:e. ^
lime rr/vcs up
^''' -ilLlf' sj'm-
^'1 the later
n-om that of
cial feelin<»- is
'". which has
'-'t'ly- This
-lit by which
Its.-' J JLit in
i_evolence, or
process by
J^ non -social
'nan in the
ume goes so
iman minds
"f personal
3y means of
-ss and the
"P'-ithy has
1 instances,
' instances,
an nature,
refers to
•oversy be-
vvhich can
'elfish and I
the selfish
•" There
and none
rHI': KIIIK .\1, SVSTF.M OF ADAM SMITU. 25
more suitable for this can be found than benexoience or
humanit)-. The happiness of otluMs in\;u'iabl\- causes us pleas-
ure, their miscr\- causes us pain. Hence, Hume concludes,
these are ori^^inal principles, which cannot be resohed into
otiars whicli are more sinipk'. '
As will be seen from this use of sxinpatlu' and an original
feelinL,^ of hi'.nianity, 1 1 ume is far removed from the l\t;oism of
Ilobbes. Hut equall)- distant, if not still fartlier, is he, in his
earlier work, from the extreme bcue\()lent theorx- of Ilutcheson.
W'l-ile he holds that the natural selfishness of man lias been
^reatl)' o\ er-estimaterl, and that it is rare to meet with a i)erson,
in whom the kind affections do not overbalance the selfish, he )-et
admits that each man lo\es himself better than an\' other
j)erson, - and upholds a certain amount of selfishness as natural.
While, also, the increased beiRwolence of the liiiqiiiry is import-
ant, its increased utilitaria!n'sm must be remembered, and, as
Selb}- HiL;'!.;c' points out, conseiiuences mis4ht be drawn from this
later use of utilit}-, which would completeK' neutralize all the
concessions made to benevolence. '■' As the .s\-stem stands,
however, Hume is broui^ht much nearer to Ilutcheson in the
/w/r/////-)' b\' this treatment of benevolence, which is not only of
vastly increased importance on its own account, but has also
taken the place of the s}-m|)athy c)f the Tiratisr.
i'robabl}- Hume's greatest departure from views of the
Moral Sense ])hilosophers is to be found in his treatment of nat-
ural and artificial \ irtues. Natural virtues are those which have
no dependence on the artifice or contrivance of man, ■* while
the artificial virtues are inventions, which we rank as moral
virtues, simplv because thev tend to the i^^ood of mankind. The
i;-ood which results from a natural virtue results from ev erv' single
act ; while, from an artificial virtue, a siuLjle act, considered in
itself, ma\- often be contrarv' to the public ^^ood, and it is only
die concurrence of mankind in a y;eneral scheme or s\-stem of
action which is advantai;eous. Now it is onl)- bv' means of sv'in-
path) that we are pleased u ith the j^ood of societv', where our
own interest is not concerned. Hence sj-mpath)- is the source
of the esteem, which v.e pay to all of the artificial virtues and to
tho.se of the natural virtues, which tcMid to the ^^ood (jf others. "
1. KiKiiiinj, Sec. 250. Xiitc.
2. TrcMti^'r, P.k. 111. I'l. M. p. 1X7.
3. Kminirij {lSf)4), Introduction.
4. Tnatisf, p|). 471;, 577, 580.
S- I hid, Bk. m. J). 57H.
26
MUIR :
Hume insists that justice is not a natural hut an artificial
virtue. It arises artificall}-, thou^di necessarily, from education
and human invention. ^ It has its origin in the selfishness of
mankind, combined w ith the scant)' provision Nature has made
for their wants. Hoth man's disposition and his circumstances
are thus adverse to societ}'. Hut for this " Nature provides a
remedy in the judgment and understanding;, for what is
irregular and incommodious in the affections. " -
The remed)' suL;<;ested is \ery similar to that of Hobbes,
but there are here no promises i^i\en. The members of societ)'
e.xpress to each other a s^^eneral sense of commtjn interest, and
immediately the idea of justice arises, and depenrlent on this
idea, such others as those of propert)-, obliL^ation, and r\[.\\\t..
come into existence. This con\ention is not at all one of i^^ood-
ness or wickedness, but is entirel)' one of prudence or of folly.
Hume's treatment of justice is ver\- much modified in the
Enquiry. Its origin he still finds m utilit\', but he no lont^er
rej^ards it as an artificial virtue ; for he here pronounces it as
natural as sclf-lo\e, benevolence, reason, or forcthoui^ht, and claims
that " in so sai^acicus an aiu'mal as man, the necessar)- pnxluct
of his reason maj' ji'stly be esteemed natural. " 'I'he keepini^
of promises, and submission to go\ernment, Hume also ranks
as artificial virtues.
We have seen that .Shaftesbur)' rej^arded the judgments
of the Moral Sense as al\\a)'s in accord with reason, and that reas-
on became in his sj'stem the su[)remc ruler of the moral life. Ilut-
♦-cheson departed from Shaftesbury's doctrine on this point and
said : "not in reason, but in kind affection, and desire of the
public good is virtue found.." .\nd now with Hume, reason, once
-the supreme governor of the will, has bect^me merel}' the slave
of the passions. •' Its functions, along with that of the Moral
Sense, have been delegated to sxiripathy. Sxnipath)', or the
symimthetic sense, had been mentioned 1))' Jlutcheson as an
important inipulse of our nature, which spontaneous!)' assumes
any feeling observed in another. ^ This s)'ni|)athy becomes
with Hume the basis of our moral judgments, but it is also, by
him, curious!)- com|)licated with utilit)-. X'irtue and \ice are
.synonymous with pleasure and pain. It is on!)" b)- means of
itil
vh|
wai
obi
\V
dol
mil
th(
ini|
te
HI
oV
h:J
1. TreatwAW^. in. I't. ii. Sec i.
2. Ihid, Bk. III. |). 487.
3. Ihid, Bk. II. I't. III. So(-. III. p. 415.
FalckenberL,s lUMory of liiilosujilin, p. 233.
4. Hulchcson, tSystem. Vol, i. p. ly.
THK KIHUAI. SVSTKM OK ADAM SMITH.
27
I't 'til artificial
''■f"n ^'flucation
"^' ■'Selfishness of
i^i"-e has made
<-i|-cui)istaiiccs
i"v provides a
'''^'' what is
'lat of Hobbcs,
><-''s of societ)'
'"^^''■L'.st, and
"f't^iit on this
^'1. and rij^ht.
' '"leofn-ood-
^ f>r ,,f folly
'''ified in the
he no longer
'"ounces it as
'it. and claims
;^ao- product
J he keepino-
If also ranks
- inf'j4'ment.s
'If' that reas-
ilhfe. Jlut-
Point and
esirc of the
■cason, once
'' the slave
tlie M(„-al
'13'. or the
eson as an
y assumes
becomes
■'^ also, by
vice are
means of
Syinpalhv that \vc recot;nizc this moral |>Icasurc and pain ; but
it is, nc\ertholess, thcutilit}', the pleasure or pain produced, upon
l^'hich f)ur judi^ment of the action depends. As bencxolencc
vvas the only object of the Moral Sense, so pleasure is the only
object of the s\-in|)athetic sense. ' With all these admissions to
the |)leasure-pain theor\- we naturall}' class Hume as a
Hedonist. And, indeed, with his ps\ cholo^)-, it is somewhat
doubtful how he can ccjiisistentl)- hold any other theor\'. If the
mind has, or, rather, is, nothini; but a series of fleeting states,
then the onl)' rational procedure would be, to make those fleet-
ing states as pleasant as possible.
Hut Hume is no Utilitarian in an)' recognised sense of the
terin. He denies the fundamental principle of the theor)'.
He was not led away b}- tin; fallac\- that the desire for an
object, e\en an object which, when attained, shall be foimd, or
has been found, to gi\e j leasure, is necessarily and always a
desire for pleasure. He follows Hutler in holding that self-love
is but a secondarv impulse, whose appearance presupposes
|)rimar)- im|)ulses. Only after we ha\e experienced the pleasure
which comes from the satisfaction of an original impulse, can
this become the object of a conscious search after pleasure, or
lead to (^goisim. C)n the other hand benexolence, Hume claims,
is a primar)' impulse. It is an original affection of the mind,
immefli;\tel}- directed toward the happiness of others. After we
have experienced the self satisfaction which follows u[K)n its
exercise, it is then possible that the exjjectation of their natural
consequences may influence us in performing benevolent actions.
Hut the original motive is not for pleasure.j
Hume's treatment of morality is most unsatisfactory.
Virtue and vice are synon\'m(^us, as we have seen, with pleasure
and jjain, and }-et this pleasure is utterK' disinterested ; it is only
when a character is considered in general, without an)' reference
to our particular interest tliat this feeling or sentiment of moral
good and evil arises. '^ It is from the influence of characters and
(jualities, upon those who have intercourse with any person, that
ue blame or praise him. ■* Our own interest or pleasure does
not at all enter into the case. I'or, in judging of character, men
could never agree in their sentiments and judgements, unless
they chose some common point of view, from which they might
1. Martineau. Typpfi of Etinral Thrartj, p. 535.
2. F;ilckonberi,s lUstorij of I'liilosoii/uf, p. 235.
3. J''r('nlis(>,Bk. ni. I't. i. |>. 472.
4. Ibid, Part iii. Sec. i. p. 582.
1 1 'd
;■ •'(!
28
ML'Ik
4
I
'■",
survey their object, and which mi^ht cause it to appear the
same toall of theni. The only interest or pleasure that appears
the same to every spectator, is tliat of the person himself,
whose character is examined, is tlh'u of those w ho have some
connection with him. These, then, hc'uv^ more constant and
universal than our own interest and pleasures, are alf)ne admit-
ted in speculation as the standard of \ irtue iiKjrality. They
alone produce that [^articular feelinj;- or sentiment, on which
moral distinctions dej:)end. ^ Thus, while on the one hand,
Hume has made morality entireK' suhjecti\e, dependent on a
feeling of j)leasure or pain, which proclaims the presence of
virtue and vice, j'et, on the other hand, the feeling of moral
approval or disapproval is entirely dependent in its orij^in upon
the influence of the character of the jjcrson, who has jjcrformed
the i;()od or the evil deed. Hence, lookiuL; at the tjuestion from
this point of view, we may say that, with Hume, moral distinc-
tions ultimately depend upon, and are called forth by character.
When we praise actions, we rei^ard onl)- t he motives that pro-
duced them, and consider the ac_ti()ns as si<;hs OT'Tndications of
certain p rinciples in the mTn cTor temper. 'rjie^exTernal perform-
"aiice has no merit. We must TcxTR \vitTiin to find' tiTe moral
qualit}'. We re<;ard tlie actions as sii^ns, and the ultimate
object of our praise or blame is the motive that produced them. '^
Hume, however, regards actions as infallible sic^iis of
character. There is just so much vice or \ irtue in any character
as every one places in it, and it is impossible that we can ever
be mistaken in regard to this. •' In order that our inference
from actions to motives and character should so ine\itably
result in a correct judgment, we would natural 1}' conclude that
the process was pre-eminentl}' that of reason. Ikit this, as we
have seen, is not at all Humes's idea. It is b)- means cjf
sj'mpathy that we enter into the pain and pleasure caused by
the characters of others, and thus obtain ourselves the sentiment
which assures us of the moral quality of the character. Actions
can never be finally accounted for by reason, but only by some
desire for which no reason can be given. All moraiit)' depends
upon our sentiments ; and when any action or qualit)' of the
mind is capable of affording a certain kind of pleasure, either to
the agent hiinself or to those affected by his character or his
acts, we call such an action or (juality virtuous. When the
ne;/i
simi
perf
can I
nii-'i|
mail
VV
1. Treatise, Pt.
2. Ibid, Bk. in.
3. Ibid, Bk. HI.
III. Sec. I. p. 591.
Ft. II. Sec. I. p. 477.
I't. II. Sec. VIII. p. 547-
THK RTHICAI. SVSTKM OF ADAM SMITH.
29
lf> appear the
that appears
•erson himself,
10 have some
' constant anrl
alone adinit-
i-ahty. 'I'liey
'It, on which
li<-^ one hand,
-pendent on a
presence of
'\s of moral
■'^ ori'^in upon
as perf(.)i-med
luestion from
loral distille-
ry character,
es that pro-
id ications of
^al perform -
cT th^rrmoral
;lie ultimate
need tJiem. 2
Jc sic^ns of
ly character
■c can ever
11" inference
inevitably
"chide that
• his, as v\e
means of
caused by
sentiment
Actions
' by .some
)' depends
it>' of the
, either to
er or his
A'hen the
nc;j;lect or non-perf(»rmance of an action displea.ses us in a
siiin'lar manner, we consider that we arc under an obligation to
perform such an act. ^ "The ultimate ends of human action
can iievei-. in anv case, be accounted for by rea.son, but recom-
niciul thiMusehes entirely to the sentiments and affections of
niaukiud, w ithoul aii\' dependence on the intellectual faculties." -
1
VARY [[-.SMITH'S '['[[I'.ORV ()[• nil': MORAL Sl'.XTI-
mi<:n rs.
ClIAPriCR I.^ SVMPArilY.
SIX'IION I
.SVMI'ATIIV TJIi: .SOL'RCK OF OUR MOK.VL
JUDCMKNT.S.
Adam Smith brings to a final comi^letion in his s\-stem
the work of the Moral .Sense Philosophers. Hut his importance
d(jcs not altogether, or main]}-, consist in the fact that he
de\elo[rjd the thought or the work of others ; his Tlicoy is also
of great independent \alue. He makes a most ambitious
att 'inpt to find in s}'mpath\' a common answer to the two
great questions of moralit}* : that of the origin and that of the
critcrioti f)f \irtue. .S\nipath)' is the key-note, the central idea
of the Theory of the Moral Scntii)tc>its. In our treatment of the
work, we shall consider s)inpath\' \\) as the source of our moral
distinctions, and (.3) as the source of our judgments of merit and
demerit. We shall then treat of the influence of custom,
fashion, and utilit}- upon our moral judgments, before taking up
in chajjter II. the cjuestion of our Sen.se of Duty.
The Moral Sense of Shaftesbur)- and Ilutcheson had been
discarded by Hume in ffi\(jr of s)-mpath\'. Hut this sj-mpathy
is, in the I>ratisi\ nothing more than a means b}' which to
resolve our feelings of benexolence into a mere .sensitivity to
pain and pleasure. In the llucjuiry on the other hand sjmpathy
becomes a feeling of humanit}-, and Hume's system is almost
indistinguishable from that of Ilutcheson. Sympathy, also,
in both the Treatise and the /inquiry, is so hopelessly mixed
Trent i
Bk
n I. I't. 11.
Ewiuirij, Ajipcndix i.
ICC. V.
p. 517.
i '.
30
MUIR :
with utility, that, as the source of moral distinctions, it was mos-
unsatisfactor}-. SiTiith purificfl this principle of the utilitariai
colouring it had received with liiune, and made it the main doc
trine of his Theorx'. Sj'mpathy primarily implies nothinjj; bul
the power of imitating the feelin^^s of others, but Smith finds it
an essential element not only in our moral jud<,nnents of others,
but also in our judc^nients of our own charactet and conduct,
and in our sense of duty,
Sinith's treatment of sympathy has caused much and
serious misunderstanding^ of his work. It has called forth the
most widely different interpretations of his views. The relation
of reason to .symjiath}- in llie Tlworv is, undoubtedly, the great
problem of the work ; but that relation is such, that it is impos-
sible to see how one writer can proclaim the sj-stem a purely
rational one, and the basis of Kant's Moral Philosophy, ' or how
another can regard s)'mpathy as the one great principle, from
which Smith reasons, and to w hich all others .ue subservient. -
Rea.son and s}mpathy are both important in the Tlico)y and an
attempt will be made later to sh.ow what Smith regards as the
true relation of those great principles in a system of inorality.
We will consider first the treatment of s)'mpathy in the system.
In distinguishing his princij)le from that of Hume, Snn'th
gives an account of the sj-mpathy of !'^e previous sjstein.
Hume held that qualities and actions, according to their utility,
produce pleasure, and that with the pleasure thus produced we
.sympathize. The tendency of qualities to the good of societ}' is
the sole cause of approbation, without any sus|jicion of the
concurrence of another motive. Virtue is thus placed in utility,
and the pleasure, with which we surve)' the utility of any
quality, arises on account of our s\-mpathy with the happiness of
tho.se who are affected by it. ^ This account of the source of
moral a()probation .^eems very objectionable to .Smith, who sa)'s
that approbation bestowed for such a cause is just the same as
the approval we feel, when we observe a well-contrived machine,
a .sympathy with the pleasure of those who are benefitted by it.
Such an approbation, Smith does not regard as a moral judgment
at all.
He insists that true sympathy is .something very different
from this. According to his principle, we do not sympathize
1. Oncken, Die, Elhik Smith's und Kant's, p. 100.
2. Bucklr, Ilistory of Cii'ili.-ation, p. 344.
3. Theory of th*. Moral Sentiments. Pt. viii. Sec. 1 11. Clia]). 3.
Hume, Treatise, Hk. ifi. I't. ill. Sec. I,
pni
i-
up*
tioi
<s
■il;-!'
IIIK KIIIK Al, >Vr>lKM OK ADAM nMIIM
;i
'^. it was mos-
tlic utilitariai
tlic main doe-
's tiothin^f bui
'niitli finds it
"ts of others,
■iiifl conduct,
much and
c'd forth the
11k; relation
l\', the <rreat
t it is impos-
<-'ni a purely
^li>-. ' or Iiow
inciple, from
subservient. -
lico)y and an
arris as the
of mf)rnlity.
h the system,
fume, Snuth
ious s^-stem.
their utility,
produced we
of societ}' is
icion of the
2d in utility,
ility of any
happiness of
le source of
h, who sa)'s
he same as
cd machine,
fitted by it.
al judgment
ry different
sympathize
!>• 3-
with, or enter into the pleasmr which is received from an>'
source, but into the m(jti\es of the a^eiit, and the gratitude (jf
the per^^.ons benefited. ' L'tility is neither the first nor the
printipal source of our ap|»robation. A sentiment of propriety
i-^ in\()l\ed. which is (|uile fli-^tiiict from that of ulilit)'. It is
upon this propriety of sef.timeiUs and actions that (iur appn^ba-
tion is founded, and not upon utility. -
Tlv." source of sympath\- .Smith finds in the ima|^nnation.
It is onl\- by means of this facult) that we can form an\' con-
ce|)t'.)n of the sensations of another. The ima^dnation enables
us tfj do so by representing to us what our own sensations would
be in a similar case. We |)lace oursehes in the situation of the
other persoPi, and enter, as it were, int(j his bod\-, and become, in
some measure the ■.ime person \vith him. In jo\-, .sorrtnv,
L^ratitude, or in an)- other passion whate\er. we can. b)- imat,M'na-
lion, enter into the circumstances, which call forth the passi(jn.
and thus create in oursehes emotions similar to those of the
|).rson principally affected. •■
We are led to imitate the feelini^s (jf another either b\- the
perception of its expression and conse(]Uences. or b)' the circum-
stances anrl e.Nperiences which occasion it. The latter. .Smith
considers a much more powerful inlluence than the former. We
are sometimes so influenced by such circumstances atul experi-
ences, that we feel for another a jjassion of which he himself is
totally incapable. The passion arises in us through iin;ii;ination
when we put oursehes in his place, though the circumstances
which ha\e thus aroused f)ur imagination, have failed to
produce the passion in him. ■* The case of those who have lost
their reason furnishes an example of this. The compassion of
the spectator cannot be the reflecticm of any sentiment of the
sufferer. It must arise altogether from the consideration of
what he himself would feel, if he were in the same unhappy
situation, and were, at the same time, able to regard it w ith his
present reason and judgment. Another example. gi\en by
.Smith, of a case in which we feel for others a passion, of which
they themsehes are altogether incapable, is f:)ur sympathy with
the dead. Our sorrow, here, can be but an illusion of the
Tlfurih F't. VI 1. Sec. 3. jp. 386.
Ibid,
't. IV.
Cha
V Ibid, Ft. I. Ser. 1.
4. Ibid. Vt. I. Sc<-. 1. p
32
Milk
iina^in;iti<J!i. ami no s^inpath)' uilli an\' real sciitiinciil ot
another. '
Ihe j^rcat object of syiiipath\ is the pro|)riet\ of a
sentiment or affection. Where we entirei\- s\ inpathize with the
jjassion of another, we appro\e of it as just and proper, and suit-
able to its object. - This suitableness, of which we can onl\-
jufls^e b)- the concord or dissonance of such affection with our
own, Smith calls the " propriet\' " of the passion. •' In judijin^
of an affection or passion as proportionate or disprf)porti()nate to
its excitinj^ cause, the onl\' standard b\' which we can jud^e is
the corres|)ondent affection in oursebes, We must jud^^e by
ourseKes ; we neither ha\e, nor can have, any other method of
jud^in^ about them.
Honar objects, tiiat according to .Smith's principle of moral
distinctions, the moral judL;nient passed upon an act would
depenrj upon the particular iv^c anrl societ)- to which it
belon^efl ■* Hut is this at all peculiar to .Snn'lh's theor\' ?
With the e.\cci)tion of a purel\' Intuitif)nist, would not the
same ha\e to be said \nv any s)'stem of morality whate\er? We
can no more i;et rid of the influence of our a;^e and societ}' than
we can of the sell ; and naturall)' so, for the)' are indeed a part
of the self. A conception of \irtue, for instance, is final in so far
as it defines the ij^oorl as Ljoodness, but as a concrete ideal it is
conditioned by the moral proLjress then achie\ed, and is, there-
fore, necessarily inadecjuate, and can never, from this point of
\iew. be re^^r,u-defl as final. ''
'I"o return U> the consifleration of s\mpathy. When a
pcr.son is in a situation that excites an\' passion, it is agreeable
1. Theory, Pt. i. Sec i.
Note. — In givini^ this instance of our sorrow with the dead. Smith
mentions as " that which is of real importance in their situation, tliat awful
futurity whicii awaits tlieni." This is the first of tiie many references to a
future state, which Oncken considers the chief distinction between the ethical
system of Smith, and that of any previous English writer. He says : " This
belief in a future state is the principal point of distinction between Smith's
system and that of earlier writers. It is not found in tiie Moral Piiilosophy
of any previous writer in Great Britain, even wliere the concept of God was,
though incidently, admitted."" {Die Ethik SiaUh's und Kant's p. go). This
is surely a most astonisliing statement. Smith"s belief in a future state in no
way differentiates him from previous English writers. The Dissertation of
Gay, which appeared in 1731, twenty-eight years before Sinith"s Theory of the
Moral Sentiments was published, necessarily implied this belief. And the
concept of God was admitted, by no means incidentally, by Cumberland,
Cudworth, Clari<e, Butler, More, and jH-obablv all other moral philosophers
of Great Britain.
2. Theory, i't. 1. Sec. 1. Chap. 3.
3. Ihitl, Pt. VII. Sec. 2.
4. Bonar, Philosophu and Political Eronomy.
5. Green, Proler/omina to Ethirs. Chap. 1;. |). 300.
TMK F.IHK Al. SVsn.M dl AI'AM ^MIIII.
.U
SL-iitiiiicnt of
*|>nct>- of a
'ii/(^' with the
'*^'r, aii'l siiit-
\\c can only
tioii with our
In jii(I;,niij;
ijortioiiate la
cm iufl^e is
■^t jii'Ij^v by
-•r method of
|>l*-' of nu)r.il
1 act would
" which it
til's theory?
»uld not the
ate\er? We
societ}' than
bdced a part
Tiial in so far
tc ideal it is
md is, there
his point of
When a
is agreeable
• dead, Smith
nn, that awful
Jfcrcnccs to a
;en the ethical
?.says: "This
tvveen Smith's
al Piiilosophy
of God was,
I'- 90). This
ire state in no
'yf-ssertntion of
Theory of iht
'f' And the
Cumbedand,
philosophers
lo him to know that the spectators of his siiuati< >n enter w itii y
him into all its \ari'ius circum-^tanco. and are affi-cted In- them
in the same manner as he himself is. ' On the other hand, it
is pleasant to tlie s-i ;|,,t;r to observe the correspoiuk-iice of his
sentiments with those of another. Hut, though naturally
s)'mp<ithetic, we never conci'i\e tor what has befalli-n another,
that decree of passion wiiich anim atesthe jjerson |)rin;ipall\'
concerned. The i!nai;inar)' chanm- of situation, upon whiih the
s\ini)ath)- of the .-spectators is fiuMiished. is but momentary.
What the)' fi'cl will a!wa\s be. in ^ome re>pects, different from
w hat the person wlio is princi|)ally interested feels. ('ompass-
ion can ne\er be (.-Nacth' the -ame as ori_L;inal sorrow. These
tuf) sentiments ma)-, however, have such a corri'spondence with
one another, as is sulTicient for the harmotu' ofs(jciet}'. In
order to attain the pK-asure of nmtual sympath)-, nature teaches
the sjjectator to strive, as much as he can, to raise his emotions
to a K'\el with that which tlu- object would rt-all}- produce.
.And she teaches the person, also, whose |)assion ihi-. object has
excited, to brinj^ it dow-n as much as he can to a level with that
of the spectator. -
I'ljon tin: att<-mpt to elev ate, and U])on theattenipt to lower
the expression of passion, Smith lounds two different sets of vir-
tues. L'i)on the effort of the si)ectat(jr to enter into the situation
of the person princii)ally concerned, and to raise his emotions to
a level with those of the actor, are foundefj the identic, the
amiabk: virtues ; while upon the effort ol the person |)rincipall\'
concerned to lower his emotion^ to corre>|)ond with those of the
spectator, are foimded what Smith call>, "the j^reat, the awful,
the respectable " virtues. •' These are the virtues of self-denial,
of self-Ljovernment, of that command of the |)assions, which
subjects all the movements of our natvuv, to what our own
disunity and lionour. and the proi)riet> of our conduct reciuiro.
This latter class is of the utmost imi)ortance. j-'or tiie most
perfect knowledj^^e, if not supported bv the most perfect self-
command, will not alwav's en;Jile one to do one's dut\-. 4'
Smith's classification of the passions is, in idea, thous^h not
in expression, like that of Shat"tesbur\'. ' I Ic distinguishes the
Chap. 2.
1. I'll ear ij, I't. i. Sec. I.
2. //>/'/, Pt. 1. Chap. 4.
^foTK. — In lluH noi'oiiiit of till' niDilf liitiiiii iinil clovatioii of paHninti, until i» pdint i^< reaolifd
al whicli th<' purnon interi'ntcil unci till' Hjicctator I'lUi hyiii|ialtii/t' Siirlli Hci^nis to have in mind
.Vil.xtotl.-'n wine man, who fei'kHthf mran. t^t'e Aiixlolle'x h't/iiis, lik. ii. Cliap. li.
3. Thi'iirii, Pt. I. Chap. 5. p. 20.
4. Ihid, i't. VI. Sec. 3. [). 277.
34
ML' IK
i;!'
(■||
! :
social, the unsocial, and the selfish passions. ' 'I'he unsocial
[)assions are necessai)" parts of the character of human nature.
Resentment, when i^uarded and (lualified, is e\fn s.jenerous and
noble.- i^ut with all the unsocial passion- , our s)inpathy is
divided l)etween the pi-rson who feels llu-in, a..d the person who
is the object of them. It is this divirled ssinpath)', which
renders the whole set of jjassions, of which resentment is the
type, so ungraceful and (lisa^M'eeable. There is another set, the
opposite of these, which a redoubled s\inpath\' renders peculiar-
ly aj^^recible and becomini^. These are the social passions, such
as j^enerosity, humam't)', kindness, etc. •' Tlu'se please the in-
different spectator upf)n almost e\er\' occasion. liis s\-mpath)-
with the person who feels the |)assion, e.\actl\' coincides with his
concern for the person who is the object of it. Between these
two oppositt^ sets of passions, there is another, which holds a
sort of middle place between the social and the unsocial, which is
never so aL;ree tble as is the one set. nor so odious as is the
other, (irief and jO)- upon account of our own private i^ood or
bad fortune constitute this third set of passions. l'",\en when
excessive, these arc never so disa_L,neeable as t^.xcessive resent-
ment, because no opposite sympath}' can e\er interest us a<^ainst
them. Anfl when most suitable to their objects, the)' are ne\er
so ajrrecable as impartial humanit}' and just benevf)lence,
because no double sympath}- can e\er interest us for them. *
Smith insists that s)-mpath)' camir)t, in any sense, be re-
garded as a selfish principle ; and he considers .sjnipath)- as the
real foundation of those .systems which deduce the principle of
ap()robation from .self-love. But it is an entirel)' mistaken idea,
he says, that .sympathy can ever be selfish. •' When I sx-mpath-
ize with the sorrow or the inclij^nation of another, it ma)' be
pretended that my emotion is founded in self-lo\e, because it
arises from brint^int:^ the case of that other home to myself; from
puttinj.^ myself in his situation, and thence conceiving what I
shoulcl feel in the liki> circumstances. Hut, thout^h s)'mpathy
arises from an imaginary chant^e of situation with the person
principally concerned, )et this imai^inar)' chanije is not sujjposed
to happen to me in nn- own person and character, but in that of
the person with whom I s\inpathi/.e. My grijf is entirely upon
1. Thconj, Pf. I. Sec. 2. Cliap. 3.
2. Ihiil, Vt. II. Sec. II. Chaj). 3.
Sidj;wick, Historij of Ethics, p. 183.
3. Thcori/, I't. I Sl'c.ii. Chap. 4."
4. //*/(/, I't. I. S?r. ii. Chap. S- [>• |2.
5 Iliid, Vi- vii- Sec. III. Chap. I. p. 373.
I
/! I
nil' IIIIUAI. SVSITM OF ADAM SMITir.
35
Tlu- unsocial
luiinaii nature.
II ifc'iicious and
ur .s\ inpatli)' i>
tlu- person uhc)
npatli)-, which
ntnicnt is the
mother set, the
nders peculiar-
passions, such
please the in-
flis sympathy
ncifles with his
k'tv\een these
which holds a
-social, which is
)us as is the
irivate <;ood or
I".\en when
:essi\e resent-
'est us aj^ainst
the}' are never
bene\fileiice,
"or them. ■*
sense, be re-
npathy as the
u principle of
mistaken idea,
II I sympath-
her, it ma)- be
e, because it
^myself; from
ivin<]j what I
^h sjmpathy
h the person
not supposed
but in that of
entirely upon
his account, and not upon my own, and is not, therefore, in the
least selfish. That caimot possibly be a selfish passion, which
rjoes not arise e\en from the ima;4ination of anything' that has
befallen, or that rel I'j "^ to ni\ self 'I'hal |)ity or com|)assion,.
which llobbes explained as the consciousness of a |)o-.sible mis-'
fortuiK" to oursebt's, similar to that seen to befall another, isi
with .Smith, a primary, not a secondar)' emotion ot our nature 1
an oriL^in.iI and not a deri\ati\e passion, and one that is purelji
(h'sinterestcd in its manifestations, Oncken iiL;htl)- claims thal^
we cannot possibl\- find a more en(.'rL;i'tic o|)ponent of the selfisli
view of morality tluui the autlun- of tlu* Abiral .Sentiments. '
What .Smith terms "conditional" s\'mpath\- is iinportant.
Our a|)probation and disap|)robation of the sentiment of others
do not, in e\ery case, depend U|)on their a,L;reement or oisa^rree-
iTient with our own. This our author admits, - but adds that
e\en in those cases, our approbation is ultimately founded upon
.syinpath)'. .\s an illustration, he cites tlie case of a stranger,
whom wi' max" observe to be in deep Ljrief on accoimt of the
death of liis father. Moth he and his father, probably, are un-
known to us, but it is impossible that we should not a|)prove of
his ^rief We iiave learned from experience that such a
misfortune natural!)' excites such a sorrow ; and we know that
if we took time to consider his situation fully, and in all it.s
parts, we should, w ithout doubt, most sincerely sympathize with
liim. It is upon the consciousness of this conditional sym])athy,
that our approbation of his sorrow is founded, e\en in those
cases, in which that s)nipath)- does not actuall)' take place ;
anrl the general rules derived froiu our preceding experience of
what our sentiments would commonl)' correspond with, correct
Uf)on this, as upon man)' other occasions, the impropriety of our
present emotions.
Smith treats this "conditional" sxinpathy as an exception
to tlie general rule. Hut is it not much rather itself, ordinarily,
the rule, and an originall)' excited s)'mpathetic feeling the
exception? In our constant contact with others, it is impossible
that we sh(Hild react to all of their affections and actions, with
an originally e.xcited, .sympathetic feeling. New or unusual
events may produce this, l)ut the more frecjuently the case is
repeated, so much the more does the emotional character of the
judgment disappear.
Smith differentiates his s)'mpathy, as we have seen, from ^
1. Dip Etliik Smiths^ unci Kants, p. 87.
2. Theory, Part 1. Sec. i. pp. 6, 12.
Ill
1
i' I
3^>
MUIR
that of I funic, in that the syin')athy itself, and not utiUt)-, is the
' measure of the propriety of affections and actions. Imagination
lis the source of sx'mpath)', and our \ie\v of the situation which
.excites the passiiju, rather than our \ie\v of the expression of
'the passion, is its cause. Sympathy is the onl}' true test of the
propriety of passions and actions. Vov our entire approbation
means our complete s\-mpathy, and this inympath)' is our
standard or measure for judj^MiiJjj others. S)'mpath}- is pleasin;^,
both to the person principally concerned, and to the
spectator; and, owint^ to the attempt of the one to lower and of
the other to elevate his emotions to the point where this mutual-
./ly pleasing .sympathy ma}' be enjoj-ed, it becomes the foundation
■) of both the "amiable and gentle" and the "awful and respeetal)le "
virtues. As regards the passions, we mret the social with a
redouble 1 s)'m|jathy, the unsori.d with a dixided sj nipath)- ;
while self-regarding passions, such as joj- and grief on our own
account, occupy a midway position, and receive a moderated
.sympathy, ncitlier so extreme as that accf)rded to the social, nor
to the unsocial passions. The real foundation of the selfish
systems of moralit)', which deduce the principle of approbation
from self-love, is a misunderstood form of sympathy. Hut
sympathy can ne\cr, pro[)erl)', be regarded as a selfish |)rinciple.
SECTION 11. — .SVMi'ATHV TIIK SorRCK OF J 1 ' I KIM KNTS OK
MKRIT AM) DHMKRIT.
The sympathy of the spectator is, as we ha\ e .seen, directed
to the fitness of the moti\es, or the propriet}' of an action. Hut
it is also called forth b}' the utilit}' of the consetjuences, or the
merit of an action. An action is proper when the impartial
spectator is able to sympathii/.e with the motive f)f the agent. It
is meritorious when he can s\'mpathi/,e also '.vith its end or
effect. Propriety demands that the feelings shall be suitable to
their object ; merit, that the consequences of an act shall be
beneficial to others. Propriety and impropriety', then, express
the suitableness or unsuitableness of an affection tc/ its exciting
cause ; merit and dcincrit refer to the result which the affection
tends to produce. ' When the tendenc)' of an affection is
beneficial, the agent appears to us a proper (object of reward ;
when it is hurtful, lie appears to be the proper object of
punishment. -
Gratitude and resentment are the natural principles, which
1. Theory yW. ii. Sec. i. Iiitrodurtion.
2. Tbid, Pt. II. Cliiip. I p. 75.
THE ETHICAI, SVSIKM OF AliAM SMITH.
37
')t utilit>-, is the
i. Imagination
situatif)n which
expression of
true test of the
re approbation
npathx' is our
tli>" is i^Ieasiuf^,
, and to the
o lower and of
■re this mutual-
' the foundation
id respectable "
le social with a
cd s) mpathy ;
f on our o-.\n
a iTioderated
tlie social, nor
of the selfish
if approbation
nipath)'. Jiut
ifish |)rinciple.
ii(;mk\ts of
seen, directed
I action, J^it
ences, or the
the impartial
thea^ent. It
lith its end or
be suitable to
act shall be
then, express
o its exciting
the affection
II affection is
t of reward ;
)er object of
iciplcs, which
prompt us to reward and punish. I'ut we do n(jt sympathize
with the gratitude of one man, merel)' because aiu^ther has been
the cause of his good fortune, unless this other has been tiie
cause of it fn.'n moti\es of which we can ap[)ro\e. Our sense,
therefore, of the gotjfl desert of an action, is made up of an
indirect sympath\- with the pers(jn to whom the action is
beneficial, and ot a direct s)mpath\- with the affections and
motives of the agent. ^ Hence the onI\- actions which appear
to us deser\ing of reward, are actions of a beneficial tendencx',
j)roceeding from pn^per motives. The onl}' actions, which seem
to demand puiu'shment, are actions of a hurtful tendency pro-
ceeding from improjjcr motives. The ff)rmer, alone, seem to
require a reward, because the\' alone are the a[;proved objects of
gratitude, or excite the s\Tn[)athetic gratitude of the spectator.
The latter, alone, deserve punishment because the)' alone are
the api)nAed objects of resentment, or excite the s\'mpathetic
resentment of the spectator. '''
Our s)ini)ath}- w ith unavoidable distress is not more real
than is on. fello\\ -feeling with just and natural resentment."
.Smith's treatment of resentment is one of the most important
parts of his work. lie finds in it a natural means of detence
which has been bestowed upon man.'' Ilume had sought in
vain for a passion from which our sense of justice might be
derived. He concluded that self interest was the original
motive U> the establishment of ju.^tice, and s\inpath\- with
[)ublic interest the source of the moral approbation which
attends that virtue. •' iioth these c\j)lanations are rejected by
Smith, wh(j finds in our natural sympatli}' with resentment a
sufiicient ground and exjilanation of our sense of justice. Re-
taliation seems to be the great law, which is dictated to us by
natine ; as ever)' man cioeth so shall it be done to him. "
Hjneficeiice an 1 gL^njrosity, we think are due to the generous
and beneficent. V' The violator of the laws of justice (>ught to be
made to feel himself that evil, which he has (U^nc t(j another;
and since no rei^ard to the sufferings of others is ca|)able of
restraining him, he ought to be overawed by the fear of his
own. 'I'he iTian, also, who is bareh' iimocent, who onl)' observe^
the law.s of justice with regard to others ; and merely abstain^^
1. Thforn, I't. II, Sec. I. C'lia|). 5.
2. Ihi(U i't i[. Sec II. Ch;i|). 1.
3. II>!,1, I'l. 11. See. I. Cliiip. 5.
4. //'/(/, Ft. II See. Ti. Cl-.ap. i.
5. Hume, Trcatint', Bk. in p. 500.
6. Thconj, Vl. 11. Sec. 11. Chap. i.
82.
■mmmmsm^f^.
I
'!i!
',!)
J' i
' ' , I,
il
. .11
r\
38
iMUik :
from hurtin^f his neii^hbours, can merit only that his nei<^hbours
in their turn, should res|>ect his inncjcence ; and that the same
laws should be religiously observed with regard to him. ^
In thus insisting upon our sympath)' with resentinent, and
finchng in it the source of justice, Smith is e\ idcntl}' influenced
by Butler, l^utler claimed that in resentment every man carries
about with him that which affords him demonstration that the
rules of justice and ecjuity are to be the guide of his actions.
For every man naturall)' feels an incHgnation u[K)n seeing
instances of cruelty and injustice, and, therefore, cannot commit
the same without being self-condemned. Resentment is one of
the bonds by which society is held together, a fellow-feeling
which each individual has in behalf of the whole species as well
as himself This passion in us is plainl)' connected with a sense
of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil. It is not called forth
either by natural evil or b\' suffering, but its objects are moral
evil and injur)'. Cruelt\', injustice, and wrong arouse this
indignation, and it is innocently em|jlo)'ed against them. -
In treating of justice and self-love, .Smith admits that each
man is much more d:;( p'\' interested in whatever immediately
concerns himself, than in what concerns an}' other man. Yet,
when he \iews himself in the light in which he is conscious that
others will \iew him, he sees that, to them, he is but one of the
multitude, in no respect better than any other in it. Hence he
must humble the arrogance of his self-love, and bring it down to
something of which others will ap[)rove. He knows that if he
violates the rules of justice in his treatment of others, the
spectator will natural!}' s}'mpathi/e with the resentment of the
injured, anrl that he himself will become the object of hatred
and indignation. "' There can be no proper motive for hurting
or doing evil "to another, w ith which mankind will sympathize
exce[:)t just indignation for evil, which that other has done to us.
In comparing the virtues rf justice and benefience, Smith
finds that the latter is much ic: s c sential to the existence of
.society than is the former. ' ; ■ «■ ..ociety ma}' exist from a
sense of its utiiit}-, without any n.iiural lo\'e and affection; but it
cannot exist <imong those who are at all times read}' to hurt and
to injure oi^e another. Beneficence is free and caimot be
extf)rted by force, the mere want of it tends to do no real
1. Thcorij, 15k. ll. Sec. Ii. Cluii). i.
2. Butler, SeriiKiii mi Jt'csmtiiirnt.
3. Thrary, I't. 11. Sec. 11. Cha[i 2.
4 Ibid, I'l. II. Sec. ii. Chap. 3.
TIIK KTHICAI, SVSTK.M OK AfMM SMITH.
39
his iiei<,rhbours
that the same
:o him. ^
scntment, and
itly influenced
ly man carrie.s
ition that the
f his actions.
upon seeinj^
:annot commit
nient is one of
fellou--feeHng
ipecies as well
fl with a sense
lot called forth
cts are inoral
^ arou.se this
; them. -
nits that each
immediately
man. Vet,
conscious that
)Ut one of the
it. Hence he
■ing- it down to
)ws that if he
of others, the
.Mitment of the
ect of hatred
i\e for hurting
ill sympathize
las done to us.
;fience, Sir.itli
_' existence of
exist from a
ffection; but it
ly to hurt and
id cannot be
to do no real
positive e\il. ^ It ina\- disappoint of the {.^ood, which mi<4ht
reasonal)l\" ha\ c been e\]jci"tcd, and. upcn that account, it ma)'
justl}' excite (ji>]ikc and disappointment, but it cannot provoke
an)' resentment ><f which the spectator will approve.
The ()l)stT\ ance of justice, on the other hand, is not left to
the freedom of our own wills. It may be extorted by force, and
its \iolati(jn exposes t(j resentment. - The violation of justice is
injur)'. It does real and posilixe hurt to sfime particular
persons, from motives which are naturall)' disappro\ed of It
is. theri'lore, the proper object of resentment and of pimishment.
In order to enforce the oljser\ance of justice, nature has caused
that its \ iolation shall be attended w ith c(Misciousness of ill
desert, ami the terrors of merited ])unishment. These form the
safe-L,niar(ls of socit-t)'. The)' secure the protection of the weak,
and the punishment of tlie i^uilt)'. Smith's \iew of justice is
ver)- different from that of Hutcheson, who made it j^racticalh/
iclentical with benexolence ; and from that of Himie, who
insisted that it was an artificial \ irtue, or an invention of man
for the benefit of societ)'.
.Smith as^rees with HutliT in holding;' iirml)' to the old
retril)Uti\e theor\' of punishment. It is necessar)' for the vvv
subsistence of the world that injustice and wrong shall be pun-
ished, and as the natural com|>assion of men would render this
pum'shment exceeding!)- dil'ticult, indis^nation against \ice and
wickedness forms a balance to this weakness of pit)-. The hnv
of retaliation is the most important of all natural laws, for upon
it justice de|)ends, and U])on justice dei)en(ls the existence of
societ)'. ■' Nature, antecedent to all rellections uijon the utility
of punishment, has im|)ressed u|)on the human mind in the
strongest and most inck'lible characti-rs, an immediate and
instructive approbation of the sacred law- of retaliati(.>n. The
natural t>-ratification of resentment tends, of its own accord, to
produce all the political ends of punishment ; the correction of
the crimin.d, and the example to the public. It is even of con-
siderable iinp(jrtance, that the e\il which is done without design,
should be regarded as a misfortune to the doer as well as to the
sufferer. Men are taught, b)- this means, to regard carefully the
happiness of others ; and to he cautious, lest b)' an)' carelessness,
the)- should arouse the resentment, which the)- feel is ready to
I. Throrii, Vi. ii. Sec. ii. Chap. i.
-J. I''i<l, I't. II. Scr. 2.
3. //'/(/, I't. ir. Sec. II. Cliap. 2.
Butler, Smitun on litisanliivnt.
I
\i ■ i'"n'iiiiii-rr i.-i,m.ivfr.: i'vu.jliis
; I
40
MUIR
;i'i
I I
I,!!
burst out against thcin, if thc\- sliould, even without design,
cause the slightest injur)', unnecessaril)' to another. ' As ,1
proof that it is not a regard to the preservation of societj ,
which (jriginall)' interests us in the punishment of crimes com
mitted against indixichials, Smith sa)s : "the concern which we
take in the f.rtune and haj)piness of individuals, does not, in
common cases, arise from that which we take in the fortune and
hapi^iness of society. i\s when a small sum is unjustly taken
from us, we do not so much prosecute the injury from a regard
to the preservation <jf our whole fortune, as from a regard to
that particular sum, which we have lost, so, when a single man
is injured or destr())'ed, we demand the punisliment of the
wrong that has been done to him, not so much from concern for
the genenii intere..*^ of societ)', as from a concern for the very
indi\idual who has been injured." - /
It is interesting to note in this connection that some modern
ethical writers have argued for the retributixe theory of punish-
ment as forcibly as Smith does here. Professor James Seth
claims that it is just this element of retribution that converts
calamit)' or misfortun'> into punishinent, and sav's : " the ques-
tion is not whether, apart from its effects, there would be any
moral propriet)- in the mere infliction of pain for pain's sake.
Why separate the act from its effects in this wa\'. In reality
they are inseparable. The total conception of punishment may
contain various elements indiss( lubly united. The cjuestion is :
which is the fundamental ? out of wliich do the others grow?
Punishment is an act of justice, and the essence of punishment
is retribution. Satisfaction is the primary object of punishment,
and th.e other objects include reformation and deterrence. In
all punishment, dt>mestic, social, and even civil, justice should
be tempered with mere)- and compassion \'et we must re-
member that there is a moral order, of which the phj'sical and
the civil orders are parts, and that an}' breach of that order
must be rectified. Such rectification is punishment." ^
Schubjrt points out, as a defect in the Theory^ the fact that
Smith nowhere discusses the problem of the Will. In any case
where the word Will or Free-Will is mentioned, it b^ars so
1. Theoriu I't. II. Sec. iii. Cliap. 3.
2. Ihul, I't. II. Sec. II. Chaj). 3.
3. Internuliunul Joiirndl of Ethics. Jan.
1S92.
)!;!
NoTK. — For a siinil.ir view, see International Journal of Ethics, July,
i8g6, pji. 479, 483. Jlri/i'V.t Thcunj of Punishtnent, l)y J. Ellis MacTaggart, of
Trinity Collcj;e, Canibiidj^c.
sli;
ju^
IS
IIIK K'lHICAI. SVSIKM Ol ADAM .s.MUH.
4'
without design,
';<'tlier. ' As ,,
'Oil (;f societ\ ,
crimes con'i
iccrii which we
'^, (l(K\s not, ill
10 fortune and
unjustly taken
Vom a regard
m a regard to
a single man
shment of the
Hn concern for
'1 for the very
t some modern
-ory of punish-
r James Seth
that converts
r>^ : "the ques-
would be any
or pain's sake,
ay. In reah"ty
mishment may
ic (luestion is :
others grow ?
of punishment
jf punishment,
iterrence. In
justice should
: ue must re-
ph>sical and
')f that order
nt." ■''
, the fact that
In any case
1, it b-ars so
>l" F.tliics, July,
Mac I'liggart, of
slighll}- anfl so accidental!)- upon the problem that we are not
juslilied in drawint; an)' conclusion as to Smith's real position
on this (|iu slioM. W hile luvsitaling to express a decided judg-
nient on the (|Uestion, Schubert is led, for two reasons, to
sup|josc that Smith \\(aild natur.dl\- occui))- the stand-point of
Determinism. Hi.-, reasons are fl) the spirit of the Tlicoiy
is (k't( iim'niNtic ; '2 if .Smith h.id not approved of Ihnme's
l)etermiin'stic \ lews, Ik- uouM h,r>c e\i)ressed his disapproval. '
ill the s|)irit of the Theorx- I fail to find the Determinism
referred to. There would seem to be, on the contrar)-, in Smith's
idea of retributiw pum'shment, and of justice, asdei)endent U])r)n
resentment, the strongest evidence that our autb.or held the
i>pposite view. It would be difficult, otherwise, to gi\'t; an)-
UKNUiing to his statement that, "Nature has implanted in the
human Ijreast that consciousness of ill desert, and those terrors
of merited pum'shment, wh.ich attend up.on the violation of
justice." As to the ficl that .Smith makes no mention of
Hume's Deterniim"sm, the two writers occuj))- so diametrically
opposed s..u)ilpoints in regard to justii:e, that .Snn'th nn'ght, on
tliat account, consider it uimecessai-\- t(. draw attention to their
equal))' antagonistic jjositions, on a question s(.) intimately
related t(j justice and resentment, as is that of b'ree Will and
Determinism, if resentment be onci: adnntted as the basis of
justice. freedfMU would seem to be at the same time sclmitteii as
a necessar)- postulatt.-.
\\ hile, theoreticall)'. prai-- and 1)1. .ne are due to tlie good
and e\il motive alone, )'et, in actual life. Smith finds that the
judgment is pronounced on the conseiiuences which folhnv an
action. - .Such punishments as are inflicted for breachi's of w hat
i;; called civil police or militar)- discipline, are both inflicted and
approved of merel)- fi'om a view to the general interest of
societ)-, which, we imagine, camiot otherwise be secured. A
sentitH'l, lor example, who falls asleep upon his \\ atch, suffers
death b)- the laws of war, because such carelessness might
endanger the whole ami)'. Although such carelessness appears
very blameable, )ct the thought of this crime does lujt naturally
e.xcite au) such resentment as would prompt to such dreadful
revenge, (ireat firmness and resolution are required before a
person can bring himself either to inflict it, or to apprcjve of it
when it is inflicted b)' others. " It is plainly, here, not the
1. Adam Smith';, Mdrn/philoxiiji/iic pp. 55-56.
2. 'Jlieori/, V{. 11. Sec. 11 1. Chap. 2.
3. //'/(/, I't. 11. Sec. II. Chap. 3.
.: I
H
42
MUIK
iij
ii!'i :;i
'I'll ri'
I';'
motives of the offciulcr, but the coiiscqueiiccs of the action,
which call f(jrth such severe punishment^
Smith considers that this divcrsit)' of our theory and
practice, in regard to praise and blame, is intendefl b)- nature for
the hapj)incss and the perfection of the species. ^ If the hurt
fulness of the desit^n, and the male\ olence of the affection, wen
alone the causes, which excited our resentment, we should feel
all the force of that passion ai;ainst an)' person whom w(
sus|)ected of such a design, even thou<;h they had not committed
any action of which we could disapprove. Tluni^^hts and
intentions would become the objects of punishment, and if the
indignation of mankind ran as hitj^h against them as against
actions, every court of judicature wcnild become a real
inquisition. There would be no safety fc^r the most innocent
conduct. It is, therefc^re, a necessar}' rule (jf justice in this life,
that men are liable to punishment for their actions only, and
not for their designs and intentions. Hence this irregularity in
human sentiments, concerning merit and demerit, is both
.salutary and useful although, at first sight, it appears absurd and
unaccountable.
In examining this irregularit\' of our moral sentiments,
Smith is considering a difficult)', which is present in c\'er)'
theor)', that has ever been proposed. 1 )ugald Stewart, speaking
of this, says : "So far as I know, .Smith is the first philoso-
pher, who has been fully aware of the importance of the
difficulty. And his remarks on the important [)urposes to
which this irregularit)' (jf sentiment is subser\ient, are particular-
ly ingenicjus and pleasing. Their object is to show, in
opposition to what we should be disposed at first to a[)prehencl.
that when Nature miplanted the seeds of this irregularity in the
human breast, her leading intention was to prc;mote the happi-
ness and the {)erfection of the species." ^
Sympathy, then, is not oid)' the source of our judgments of
right and wrong, or, as Smith terms it, of propriety and
improprict)', but also of our judgments of merit and demerit, or
of the qualities of deser\ing" reward and punishment. Where
there is no approbation of the conduct (;t the person who con-
fers the benefit, there is little sj-mpathy with the gratitude of
him who receives it. And where there is no disapprobation of
1. TfiPorifyVt. II. Sec. in. Cliap. 3.
2. Life und Writiui/s of Dr. Smith, \>. 40.
i
f
IHK I.IIIKAI, .-V>11.\1 dl' AHAM SMllll.
43
}( the action,
r theory and
b)' nature foi
If the hurt
liffection, wen
e should feei
>u whom \vc
lot committed
hou^dits and
lit, and if the
Mn as against
:ome a real
most innocent
e in this life,
ons only, and
irrei;ularity in
erit, is both
irs absurd and
1 1 sentiments,
sent in c\er)-
uart, speakini,^
first philoso-
rtance of the
I)ur|)oses to
are particular-
to show, in
to a|)prehend,
;ularity in the
te the happi-
jud<rments of
propriety and
d demerit, or
lent. Where
on who con-
gratitude of
pprobation of
the m.. stives of thv person who docs the mischief, there is no
sort ot sym])ath\^ ui
ih the rc'scntnient of him who suffers it
Smith, as we hii\e seen, finds resentment a most important
qiialit}'. It forms a natural l)asis for justice, which Ilume, imable
to discoxer for it a satisfactor}- foundation in tlie human niii'd,
had i)ronounced an arlifuid and not a natural \irtue. lie
theri'fore consistenti)' upholds the retributixe theory of pun-
ishment, as dcjiending upon a justice based on resentment. The
question may occur as to whether the case of militar\' discipline
instanced b\' Snn'th as illustratin-; our judgment of actions by
their con^e(|uences, rather than b)' their motives is not, more
corrcctl\% an instance of a too e\cessi\e resentment, which has
retained its original and unusual force through tradition, and in
consequence (u its sup|K)Sed necessity. The fact of our judg-
ment of actions b\- consec|uences rather than by motives had
led llutcheson to distingui-h between the tormall)- and the
inateriall) gcjod ; and had led Hume to the doubtful conclusiijn
that while tlie moti\e is that which ccjiistitutes an action good,
ve can yet infer, from the pleasure (jr displeasure prcxluced, the
character of the moti\e. ^ Smith faces the ([uestion honestly,
and admits the inc(>nsistenc}- of our theor)- and our practice ;
bnt claims that this irregularit\- is a wise pro\ ision of Nature,
which leads to th.e increased happiness and the welfare o^
mankind.
.sK( Tiox III." rut; im i.n.Nc i: oi- t rii.n\-, cisto.m, .and
iwsiiiox ii'MX oTR si:niimi;x r.s nv moral
Al'I'kdllATIOX AXI) l»l,SAri'R()l!.MI()X. \y
Smith's discussion of the influence of Utilit)' u|)on our
moral si'iitiments is mainl)- a criticism of Idume's principle of i
.s)'m|jath}-, w hich \\as called forth b)' utilit)'. and a justification ^
of his own |)rinciple of sxmpath)' w ith pro[)riet\-. According
to llimie, the utilit}' of all)' object pleases b)' per|)etuall)' suggest-
ing the pleasure which it is fitted to |)roniote. luer)- time we look
at it, we are put in mind of this pleasure; and the object thus
becomes the source of perpetual satisfaction and enjoj-ment. -
Smith, on the other hand, claims that e\en in regard to a
1. Hume, Tiratixf, ]\k. ii. I't. ill. Sec,
Thcurn, I'.k. III. I't. II. Sec. i.
2. Tfu'orii, I't. IV. Chap. I.
44
MUik :
production of art, it is the fitness, the happ)- coiitri\ance, the
propriety, that we \akie ratlier than the end for which the object
was intended. I'he .xact adjustment of means for obt, lining
any pleasure is often of more imp(jrtance to us than the very
pleasure, in the attainment of which the \alue of the means
would seem to consist. luen as thus stated, Smith does not
seem to ha\c a j^ood arLjument against ilume. Within the
moral sphere, where |)rojjriet)', tiie suitabilit)' of a passion to its
exciting cause, was itself an end. Smith's principle appcarcfl of
much greater \alue than ilume's s)-mpathy with utilitx' ; but the
case is \er\' different when we come to appl\' these principles to
an object, or to a work of art. We must, sureK', in this case
regard the end or aim for which the object was created, as more
valuable than the means used to bring about that end. The
pcMUt upon which Smith is insisting here, will, howe\er, be better
understood if we take some of his own illustrations.
A i)erson comes into a room, and finds all the chairs stand-
ing in the middle of the room. Rather than sec them contimie
in that disorder, he takes the trouble to set them all in their
places with their backs to the wall. Tlu; whole propriet}- of this
new arrangement arises from tliC superior convenience of leaving
tlie floor free and disengaged. To attain this convenience, he
voluntarily puts himself to more trouble than all he could have
suffered from the want of it. l-'or nothing was easier than to
have set himself dcjwn upon one of the chairs, which is, probably,
what he does when his labour is over. It seems, therefore, what
he wanted was not so much the convenience, as that arrange-
ment of things which promotes it. \'et it is the convenience,
which ultimately recommends that arrangement, and bestowes
upon it the whole of its propriety cUid beaut)'.
This instance, while it shows plainly that the question
under discussion is that of the relative importance of means and
of ends, does not add anything to Smith's side of the argu-
ment. The propriety of arrangement spoken of, is entirely
derived from the utility or the convenience which it tends to
promote, and must be regarded as subordinate to this utility.
This instance is, therefore, in favour of Hume's standard of utility
as oj)posed to propriet)'. For even granting that the end in view,
the utility, has practically dropped out of sight, v'et it is that end
which bestows all that they possess of value upon the
means ; and in this, as in anj' other car.e, the end is best .secured,
not by being kept c(jnstantl)- before the mind, but by concen-
trating tlie attention upon the means best adapted to secure the
THi: ETHICAI. SVSII.M (iK ADAM SMIIH.
45
end. With this concentration of the atti-ntion, it would be
strange if its immediate objects (lid not sometimes possess for
the minfi a si<;nificanc(.; and importfince, sufficient to overbalance
for the time, that of the end to which they are subser\ient; but
\'et these means rjo not appear of jj^reater \alue than the end to
which the\- are the means.
Smith c|uotes and endors(\s llume's opim'on that "no
qualities of the mind are approwd of as \irtuous, but such as
are useful and a^ret-'able either to the person himself or to
others." ' This, .Snn'lh sa\'s, is a fact, but, ne\ ertheless, it is not
the view of this beaut)- or utilit\-, which is either the first or the
principal source of our approbation. 'I'hose useful (jualities, and
the actions which flow from thinn, meet with ap|>roI)ation,
much mo'-e upon account of their threat pro|)riet)-, than ujjon
account C)f their utilit\-. I'tilit)' bestows upon them an addi-
tional beaut)', and thus recommends them still further to our
approbation. Hut this beaut)- is not easil)- percei\efi, and is,
certainl)', not the c]ualit)- which first recommends such actions to
the majority of men.
While Smith utterl)' rejects utilit)' as an ethical principle,
and e\-en tries to show here that it is not the cause of our
approbation of an)' object or work of art, he )'et admits one case
in which the principh* of utilit)' is of the first importance. l^\en
in this case, hf)W(ner, its importance is not real, but is due to an
illusion of the imai^ination. The t^ood which results from this
illusion, however, is real, and is of the \er)- first conse(|uence. This
important deception, upon which industrial proi^ress mainl)'
depends, is the influence that the utilit) of wealth and [greatness
has upon the imaj^ination. - .All commercial pros[)erit)', and all
progress in the arts and sciences are due to this false view of the
utility of wealth. OwinL,^ to this illusion (if the ima^nnation,
wealth comes to be reijjarded as one of the threat ends and aims
of life, and as worth)' of all the trouble and anxiet)' which its
attainment involves.
In considering^ the importance of this illusion of the
imagination in regard to wealth, and the i;reat and momentous
interests it subserves. Smith endea\oi.n's to show that the
principle best adapted to secure this utilit)', the principle of
commercial ambitif)!! or selfishness, brinijs about a ver\' similar
state of affairs, to that which would ha\e resulted, had the
I Theory, Pt iv. Chaj). 3.
2. Ifiid, I't. IV. Chaj). i.
46
MriR
opposite pn'iici|)k' dI" s\ inpalhy \k\'U (.'inployed. Fhere are
in;ui>" ends of life hesidi-s wi-alth, i)Ut, this ;^i\en a-> an end,
selfishness, the ^reat ])iin(iple of economics, offers the best
ineans of securini^ it. ' I'.acii man is, naturall)', in-tter fitted to
take care of himself than of an)' other person, lie is, also,
more deeply interested in what concerns himself than in what
concerns an>' one else. llis chief business is to i;()\ern the
affairs of his own dail\- life, but, in doin^ this, hf)\\e\er. while
intendin^f onl)' his own t^ain, he promotes also an end which was
no |)art of his intention, the ^oocl of society. And this end he
could not so well ha\e promoted, if he had deliberately aimed
at the public ^i(()od.
Sympathy is thus the -^reat ethical principle, and selfishness
the great ])rinciple of l'"conomics, and each of these is sui^reme in
its own sphere. liut e\en between those distant and clissimilar
princijiles there is a connection. h"or selfishness, as we have
.seen, proves to be a princi|)le of de\elo[)ment anrl works out the
same beneficial results in societ)-, that would ha\e been promot-
ed by bene\'olence or s)-m|)ath\'. The wealthy hindowner may
have no thought for an\-one but himself, and may most selfishly
regard the produce of his fields, but he cannot possibl)- consume
the whole harvest. His em|)loyees deri\e from his extravagance
a share of the necessaries of life, which the)- ne\'er would have
obtained from his humanit)- or his justice. The produce of the
soil maintains at all times nearl)- that number of inhabitants it
is capable of maintaining. The rich ma\- select that which is
most precious, but the)- cannot really consume \er)- much m(M-e
than the poor. And, in spite of their selfishness, though they
intend only their own comfort, the)' divide with the poor the
produce of all their impro\emcnts. - The necessaries of life are
distributed in an almost similar nanner, to what the)' would have
been if the earth had been dixided into equal i)ortions among all
its inhabitants. I'he influence of utility upon the imagination is
thus of great l^conomic xalue. While utterly useless as a
prmci
pie of
tnora
lit^,
it is, nevertheless, of supreme imp.ortance
for Economics, and, indirectly, brings about what w c ma)' regard
as ethical or moral results.
The influence of custom is also important both from the
aesthetic and from the moral point of \iew. •' Smith ascribes all
1. Theory, Pt. ii. Sec ii. Chap. 2.
2. Ihid, Pt. IV. Cha[). i.
3. Ibid, Pt. I. Chap. 5.
THF, KI'IIK AI. sVM IM (i|' ADAM SMIIH.
47
clian'jcs ill architecture and lit.-raturc, as well as those in dress
and furniture, to this ca
USl'
le holds that it is because artistic
productions are more lastini;, so that a poem or a musical com-
position may contimie for a;4i's to remain the same and be in
much
We ima>rine
voLTUe, that we are unwilling to allow that custom ha-
influence u[3on our iu(k;nuiU in regard to them.
that these arts are founrled upon reason and natiue, not U|)on
habit ;md prejudice, 'i'his. ho\\e\er, Smith reL;ards as an error,
and claims thai the inlhience of custom and fashion is not
more absolute overdress and furniture, than over architecture,
poetry, and music.
The influence of custom and fashion upon moral senti-
ments, while not so irrea.t, is similar to what it is evei where
else.
Th
ose w
ho h
b
ia\e heen educateri ainul \ ice Decome so
accustomed to it that the\
lose larsje
\v th
I' sense o
f it^
im|)ro-
priet}', and fail to uiuKrstand or a|)|)reciate the evil or the
punishment due tc) it. l-'.ach .i^c and countr\-. also, rei^ards that
decree of each (|ualit)', which is commonly to be met with in
those who are esteemed amoiiLi tliemsehes, as the golden mean
of that particular talent or \irtue. This \aries according as
different circumstances render different (lualities more or less
habitual to them ; liencc tlicir sentiments concernini,^ the e.xact
propriet)- of character and behaviour \ar\- accordinf^ls'.
Custom and fashion do not exercise so ^n'eat influence in
regard to the ^eni-ral st\-le of behaviour and character, as the\-
do concerninj^f the pntpriety and impropriet}' (>( particular
usages. In matters of threat importance, it is expected that
there shall be no \ariation in conduct. Truth and justice, for
example, are demanded of all. It is only in matters of small
consequence, or with rei^ard to particular usages, that the influ-
ence of custom is destructixe of good morals, aiul is capable of
establishing as law ful, |)articular usages, which are contrary to
the plainest principle of right and wrong. '
In this account of the influence and importance of
ISIOI
Smith surely gf)cs too far in regartling the great revolutions
whi
ich ha\e taken place in art and in literature, as sim
ply
change in fashion. The conditions which bring about the form-
er, must lie dee|) in the spirit and the needs of the time. If the
chanue had not been, unc
on SCI
ousl\-, first w rouuht in the minds
of the peo[jle, such a re\'oluti(jn could never have influenced
Theory, Pt. v. Chap. 2.
48
Ml'IK
those who wcvc iinpivpjui'd f<;r it. So also in moral ri'latioiis,
tl'ioii<^li custom and fashion arc, muloiihtrdl)-, influential in
certain classcvs of soci(.-ty, \'et the dilferent moral perceptions are
rooted det'p in tin; conditions ot tlu- people and the aj^e. Hallour
considi-rs this (juestion of the inlliience of custom and fasluon
from the Naturalistic point of \ie\\. lie a<jfrees with Smith in
reijardin<; art and literature as flependeiit in their chan;^t.s n|)on
the same |)rinci|)les as the chanties in dress and furm'ture. He
sa\ s ; "'The aestiietic likini^s which fashion orit;inates, however
tri\ iai, are |)i'rfectl>" ^emn'ne ; and to an ori|^in similar in kind,
hov\e\er different in dignity and ])c-rmanence, should l)e traced
much of I lie characteristic (|ualil). which seises its special flavour
to the hiL;her artistic sentiments of each successive i;eneration.''i
'Ihe princi|)le to which Balfour ascribes all such artistic senti-
ments and ai'sthetic changes of fashion is a uni\i"rsal "tendenc)'
to agreement," which he describes, howe\i:r, as b}- no means a
sim|)le, undecomposabie social force, but rather as hii;hl)- com-
plex, having as one of its most important I'knients the instinct
of uncritical imitation. This instinct he reL;ards as the xcry
basis of all effective education and it is this same instinct of im-
itation which is the funflainental element in s\-mj)<ith\' upon
whicli Smith bases his s\stem. Balfour criticises the statement
that " the artist is the creation of his aj^^e," id maintains that
while the action of the aL;e is important, it: oortance consists
in its destructive rather than in its creative .....icter, since it does
not .so much produce as select. While the influence of environ-
ment in m(uddin_s4' 'I'l'l develo])in!j[ t^enius is L;reat, yet imiatc
and oriLjinal genius is not the creation of aii\' a;^e, l)Ut is a bio-
lot^ical accident, the incalculable product of two sets of ancestral
tendencies. The a^e floes not create these biological accident;',
but chooses from them, cncouraires those which are in harmonv
with its spirit, and crushes out and sterilises the rest. Aesthetic
likes and ciislikes are not usual!}' connected with the object which
happens to exxite them b)' an)' permanent aesthetic bond at all.
Their true cause is to be found \v fashion, in that touiciicy to
agreement which is so useful, and plays so imiK)rtant a })art in
.social ccononi}'. This accordintjj to Balfour, is the only possible
view of aesthetics consistent with Naturalism. \'et, he admits
that mankind will not easily reconcile themselves to this view.
"We must believe that somewhere and for some Bein;^ there
shines an unchanging splendour of beauty of which in nature
I. Balfour, Fotmdations of Belief, W. i. Cliap. 2.
nil. KIIIU \l, SVSTKM ()l AliAM SMIIII.
49
and in Art wc sec, cuh of iis tVoin our own standpoint, onlj'
passinj,f ^dcanis and >tra)- rcflrctions, whose dilTi-rent aspects uc
cannot now co-oidinate, whosi' import wc cannot liill\- compre-
hend, but which at least is somelhint,' other than the chance |)Iay'
of suhjecti\e siMisii,int\' or the tar-oCf ixdio ofaiucstral hists. No
such mystical creed can, ii(<\\e\c'r, be s(|uee/i"fl out of observation
and experiment. Scii-nce cannot ,L;i\e it us ; nor can it be forced
into an\' sort ol con-^istencv with the
Nat
ur.ili-.tic
ri
ieor\ ot
th(
I
ni\erse
I" 1
ch.\pti:r II. ^11 II-: N.xirki-: oi' con.sciI'.nci-:
SIXTION 1.
(().\S( lI.Mi; .\M) SNMI'AIIIV.
In treatinij[ of inoralit)', there arc, Smith says, two ([uestion-s
to be considered. I irst : wherein does \ irtue consist, or what i.s
the tone, temper, nr tenor of conduct, which constitutes the ex-
cellent and pr.iiseworthv character, the character which is the
natural object of esteem, honour and approbation ? And,
sccondl\- ; b\' what power or facult\- in the nn'nd is it, that this
character, whate\er it is, is recommended to u> ; (jr, in other
words, how, and b\' what means does it come to pass that the
mind prefers one tenor of conduct to another, denominates
the one right, and the other w roni;", considers one as the object
of approbation, honour, and reward, and the other of blame, cen-
sure and punishment? - In the preccfliiiL,^ chapters cniraiin was
to explain how, accord ini,^ to .Smith, we learn to judi^e of the
conduct of our neighbors ; and, as we ha\e seen, he there an-
swered his two great (.juestions in regard U) moralit)' b)- fmding
that virtue consists '\x\ proprictw or in that degree of sentiment
or affection, which is fitting and suitable to its exciting cause :
and by finding in s)-mpath\', the s\-mpathetic feelings of the
impartial and well-informeel spectator, the power or faculty of
the mind which recommends this character to us.
1. Fi)vii(l(Uions of Iii'lie/,\'l i. Ch:ii). 1 1. p. 66.
2. Theorij of the. Mural Sentiiii'mts, Vi. \ ii. St.c. i.
so
Ml'IU
The chc'ijitcr, with which \\c are nou- to deal, is concerned
with a totall)' (Hstinct entjuir)' : Smith's opinions in regard to
our judgments concerning our own sentiments and cc)nduct, and
particular!}' our sense of dut\-. In reference to our own
conduct. Smith answers the two great ([uestions of morality very
similarl)' to what he did when c(jnsidering them in their applica-
tion to tile conduct of others. \'irtue consists in an exalted
propriety, and it is b)- means of the sympath)' of the impartial
spectator that this \irtue is reconnnended to us. The work of
the impartial s|)ectator is, howe\er, much more difficult when our
own conduct forms the object of judgment. P'or it is compara-
tivel)- eas)- to judge im|)artiall)' of another, but exceedingl)' dif-
ficult to become the impartial spectators of our own conduct.
Hence Smith finds it necessary to introduce much more
prominently into this part of the discussion, the function and
importance of that which is reall)- the great underlying princijjle
of his .s)-stem, namely reason. l^\en in judging others, reason was
found to be indispensable. l-'or in all cases of conditional sym-
pathy, we are depende?i; upon general rules, and genera' rules
are formed by reason. Much more are we dependent up( n rea-
son when judging of the propriet\- of our own .sentiments and
actions. For in order that we ma}' form an}- imjjartial judgment
in reference to our own conduct, general rules are necessary, that
we ma}' not be imduly influenced by self lo\e and passion,
which would tend to bias our judgments, or the judgments of
the impartial s|)ectator, in favour of oursebcs. ^
The relation o^ this fundamental ]jrinci[)le of reason to
.sympathv, the central doctrine of the TJtcory, has been alread}
mentioi^ed, and will later be considered more at length. \Vc
ha\ e now to see what is implied in Smith's idea of Conscience.
'I'he principle b}- which we naturally approve or disapprove
of our own conduct is \er}' similar to that by which we judge
concerning the conduct of others. VVe ;.-ppro\e or disapprove
of our own conduct, according as we feel that when we place
ourselves in the situation of another man, and \ iew our actions,
as it were, with his e}es, and from his station, we either can or
cannot entirel}' enter into and s}'mpathize w ith the sentiments
and motixes which influenced them. The only wa}' in which
we can justly estimate our ow n sentiments and motives is by
endeaxoring to \ iew them with the e}es of other people, or as
1. Tlit'orn, I'L VII. Sec III. Cliap.
Ifiitl, I't. 111. Chap. 4.
THi; KTHUAI, SVSl'KM OK ADAM SMIIII.
51
c ciulccU (Hir to examine
other people are likely to \ icw them. \\
our own conduct, as we imaL;iiH' an}- fair and impartial spectator
would examine it.
If.
u\nm placm^- oursehes
iii h
IS s
w
ituation.
n-
e thoroughly enter into all the passions and motixes which i
fluenced our conduct, we approxe of it h\- s\'mpathy with the
approbation of this su|)p()sed e(|uitable judL;"e. If otherwise, we
enter into his disap])robation, and condemn it. ' it is, thus, by
means of s\'mpath\' alone, that uc can make a just decision in
estimatin*;- our own moti\es and conduct.
Our first moral criticisms are exercised upon the character
and conduct of f)ther people, and we observe \er\' (luickl)' how
each of these affects us Hut uc soon learn tliat other people arc
equally frank with res^arrl to our own conduct. We become
anxious to know how far we deserx e theii- censure C)r applause,
anrl whether we must necessaril)' appear such as thcx' rejjresent
us to be. We be^iii, therefore, to examine our own passions
and conduct, and to consider how thi'se must a|)pear to them,
by considerini; how the\' would appear to us if in their situation.
VVe suppose oursehes the spectators of our fnvn behaviour, and
endeavour to ima^n'ne what effect it wiuild, in this h'i;ht, produce
upon us. If, in this \iew, it pleases us, we are tolerabl\- well sat-
isfied. We can be more indifferent about the actual opinions of
others, when we are sure that we are the natural and j^roper ob-
jects of ap|)robation.
VVe here become the im|)artial spectators of our own con-
duct, and, in sitting;" thus in judt^inent upon ourselves, the self
becomes the hit^iiest court of a|)peal in all cases of morality.
From our observations upon the conduct of others, reason has
formed rules and measures b\- which to judge, - and these r<"'es,
each man, as an impartial spectator, ap|jlies to himself. n
endeavoring to exan^.ine and to pass sentence upon m\' own con-
duct, I divide m)self, as it were, into two persons. I, the ex-
aminer and the judge, represent a different character from the
other, I, the person whose conduct is examined into and judged
of. The first is the s|)ectator, w hose sentiments with regard to
my own conduct, I endeavour to enter into, b}- phicing myself in
his situation, and bj- considering how it would appear to me,
when seen fiom that jjarticular point of \iew. The second is
the agent, the person whom I propcrl}' call m\self, and ofwho.se
1. Thcori/, Pt. III. ('"nap. i.
2. IbUl,i'i.vii. Sec. III. Chap 2,
52
MUIR
conduct, under tiic character of a spectator, I am endeavoring
to form soine o|)inion. Ihe first is the judge, the second the
person judged of '
SK( TKJN II.— CONSi Il-.Xri-; IDKNTIFIEl) WITH RKASON.
Conscience is, in tlie I'licory, identified with reason. Speak-
ing of IMato's s\-stem. Smith sa\-s : " Tiie judging facult)', I'lato
called, as it is \er\- propcrl}' called, reason, and considered it the
go'.erning principle of the \\hole. Under this appellation, he
comprehended not onl}' that facult\' b}' which we judge of truth
and falsehood, but that by which we judge, also, of the propriety
or impr(j|)riet}' of desires or affections. -" W'lien considering the
motive power to self-sacrifice. Smith plainly identifies reason and
conscience. 1 le says : " it (this motive power) is not humanity,
it is not benevolence etc. It is a stronger power, a iriore forcible
motive, which exerts itself u|)on such occasions. It is reason^
principle, coiisiiriici\ the inhabitant of the breast, the man
within, tlie great judge and arbiter of conduct, "" Smith regards
the judgment of conscience as ver\ different from an>' individual
judgment of man. I le says : " an apjieal lies from the sentence
of man, to tnat of a much higlier tribun.d, to the tribunal of con-
science, to that of the supposed impartial and well-informed
s])ectator. to that of the man within the breast, the great judge
and arbiter of conduct. The jurisdiction of the man without is
founded in the desire of actual praise, anl in the aversion to ac-
tual blame. The jurisdiction of the man withii is founded alto-
gether in the desire of praise-worthiness and in the aversion to
blame-worthiness." •* The judgments of Conscience are thus very
different from those of an\- ituiividiial spectator.
In estimating our own merit, in judging of our own conduct
and character, there are two different standards to which we
com|)are them. The one is the idea of e.xact propriet}- and per-
fection which conscience sets up for the guidnnce of the life ; the
other is that degree of approximation to this idea, which is com-
monl}' attained ir. the world, or which is the recognized standard
of our own age and country. The wise and virtuous man directs
his principal attention to the standard of e.xact propriety and
perfection. •' Mis great object is not to act in such a manner as
to obtain the actual ap[)robation of those around him, but to act
1. Thoorij, Ft. Ml. Sec. in. Cluip. i.
2. Ibid, I't. VII. Sec. II. Chai). i.
3. IhiO, I't. III. Chap. 3.
4. Ihid, I't. III. Chap. 2.
5. Ihid, I't. VII. Sec. 3.
TtlE r.lHIC.M. SYSTEM Ol" ADAM SMITH.
53
in such a manner as to rciuicr himself the just and proper object
of that approbation. His satisfaction with his own conduct de-
pends much m.ore upon this consciousness of deserving ap[)roba-
tion, than upon that of really enj(jying it. i
Smith holds that Conscience is not infallible. The violence
and injustice of f)ur selfish passions are son. times so great as
utterly to per\ert our judgments concerning our own conduct.
The "man within the breast" is induced to make a report \ery
different from w hat the real circumstances of the case (lemand. -
Tht
ere are two different occasions on w
hich
we examme our own
m-
conduct, aufl endeavour to \v)w it in the light in which die i
partial spectator would \iew it. I'irst, when we are about to act,
and, second, when we have acted. In both cases our views, are
very apt to be partial. When we are about to act, passion
seldoiTi allows us to consider what we are doing with the candour
of an indifferent person. W hen the action is over, although we
can then enter into the sentiments of the indifferent spectator
more C(j()ll\- than before, yet it is so disagreeable to us to think
ill of ourselves, that we often purposely turn away our \iew from
those circumstances which niight render our judgment unfavour-
able.
'1 he impartial spectator is not onl}- liable to be influenced by
our own |)assions, so ;is to give a judgment more favourable to us
than the case warrants, but he is als(j liable to err in the other
direction. When th.; judgment of others, that of all tlie real
spectators, is un mim:)iisl\' and violently against us, the im[)artial
spectator seems to give his o|)im'on in our favour with fear and
hesitation. On this account, .Smith likens the impartial s|)ecta-
tor to the demigods of the poets, who, though parti)' of immor-
tal, are yet partly of mortal extraction. When his judgments
are directed bv' ihe sense of praise-worthiness and blame-worthi-
ness, he seems to act suitably to his divine extraction. When he
is astonished and confounded by the judgments of ignorant men,
he discovers his connection with mortalitj', and acts suitably
rather to the human than to the divine part of his origin.
In order to guard (nn'selves against the delusions and the
self-deceit brought about b\- oin* selfish passions, nature leads us
to form insensibh', by observations upon the conduct of others,
general rules, concerning what is fit and proper to be done. We
observe that some actions shock us, and also shock other people.
1. Thponj, Pt. III. Chip. 2.
2. Ihitl, i't. III. Chip. 4.
54
M V I R
VVc concluflc that all such actions arc to he cuoidcd, and we fix
this j^eiieial rule in our minds, in order to correct the niisrepre-
sentati(jns of self-lo\e. ' It is from reason that we derive all
those j^eneral niaxiins and ideas, and it is by these that we regu-
late the greater part of our moral judgments. -
A regard for general rules constitutes our sense of duty, a
princijile which Smith pronounces of the greatest consecjuence in
human life. It is the only principle b\' which the bulk of man-
kind are capable of directing their actions. '■'' Our reverence for
tliese general rules is (urther enhanced by an opinion, which is
first impressed b\' nature, and afterwards confirmed by reason-
ing and philosoph}', that these imp(jrtant rules of morality are
the commands of the iJeity, who will finalh' reward the obedient
and punish the transgressors.'* .Although the sense of duty
should be the ruling and the go\erning principle of life, yet
Smith maintains, that it should not, b}- any means, be the .sole
principle of our conduct. '' It dejiends upon the natural agree-
ableness or deformit)- of an affection itself, liow far our actions
ought to arise from it, or entirely proceed from a regard to the
general rule. The acti(iis to which the bene\olent affections
prompt, fHight to proceed as much from the passions as from any
regard to general rule.; of conduct. We ought, on the contrary,
to resist injuries more from the sense that they deserve and are
the proper objects of resentment ; and ought always to punish
with reluctance, and more from a sense of dut\-, a sense of the
propriet)' of punishing, than from an)' sa\age disposition to re-
venge. " Jt depends, also, partly upon the precision and exact-
ness, ov the looseness and the inaccuracy of the rules themselves
how far our conduct ought to proceed entirely from a regard to
them.
The general rul<^s of almost all of the virtues : of prudence
of charity, of generosity, of friendship, are in many respects loose
and inaccurate. The}- admit of many exceptions and require so
many modifications, that it is scarcely possible to regulate our
conduct entirely by a regard to them. The general rules of jus-
tice, on the other hand, determine w ith the greatest exactness,
every external action w hich it requires. These rules are perfectly
clear and most undoubted; they are precise, accurate, and incHs-
I.
2.
3-
4-
5-
6.
Thfori/, I't, III. Chap. 4.
Ibid, Pt. VII.
Il>i<l I't. III.
Ibid. I't. III.
/bid, I't. III.
Ibid, Pt. VI.
hoc. III.
Chap. 4.
Cluip. 5.
Cliap. 6.
Sec. 3.
Chap 2.
bl;
i'MK KTHU'AI. SVS'IKM OK ADAM SMITH.
55
pensublc. It may be awkward and pedantic to affect too strict
an adherence to the common rules of many of tiie virtues ; but
there is no pcdantr\- in stickini; fast b\- the rules of justice. On
the contrarx', tlie most sacred ret^ard is due to them, and the
actioi>', which this \irtue requires, are never so properly per-
formcu, as when the chief motive for performing them is a reve-
rential rcL^ard to those general rules, which re(]uire them. ^
Smith's opposition to IIuuk; is no where more clearly shown i
than in his treatment of justice. We have already noted, that
where Hume i^roiKJunced tiiis \irtue artificial, depending upon i
the contri\ance of man, Smith regarded it as the chief of the
virtues, and the corner stone of society. He liere again emfjha-
sizes its preeminence insisting on the precision, exactness, and
supreme importance of the general rules by which the acts re-
quired by this virtue are regulated.
.Sl'XTlUX III. — COXSCIKNCK TIIK SOlRCK OF TllK MORAL IDLAL.
(Jruided b}- general rules, conscience forms within us an idea
of e.xact propriet}- and perfection, -i There exists in the mind of
every irian such an idea, graduall\- ff)rmed from his observations
upon the character and conduct b(<th of himself, and of other
people. It is the slow, gradu.'.I, and progressive work of con-
science, the great judge anrl arbitjr of conduct. •* The perfection
of this ideal deijends upon the care and attention which each
man bestows upon its formation. The wise and \irtuous man
forms a much more correct image of it than a man of the opposite
character, and endea\'ours more and more to realise it in his
life. Hut, in doing so, he is attempting to imitate the work of a
divine artist which can never be e(|ualled.
This perfect virtue, which the sense of dut)' leads us to
strive after, is not an\- \\a\' dependent upon the opinion of
others. To be amiable and to be meritorious, thai is to deserve
love and to deserve reward, are the great characteristics of virtue;
and to be odious and punishable of \ice. ■* Man naturally desires
not only praise, but praise-worthiness, or to be that thing which,
though it should be praised by noborl)-, is howe\er, the natural
and proper object of praise. He dreads not onl)- blame, but
blame-worthiness, or to be that thing which, though it should be
blamed by nobod}', is. however, the natural and proper object
1. Thcorti, I't 1 1 1. Chap. 6.
2. tliid, i't. VI. C'linp. 3.
3 Il>i(l, ]\k. III. Sec. 3.
4. Ihid, Pt. 1 1. Clia|). I.
S^'
MUiR :
of blame. Instead of the lo\ e of praise- worthiness being derived
from the lo\e of praise, the love of praise is largely derived
from that of praise-worthiness.
Virtue, in every particular instance, necessarily pleases for
its own sake. To obtain approbaticjn, even where it is due, may
sometimes be of no great importance ; but to deserve approba-
tion must alwajs be of the highest. A maa's self-approbation
if not the highest, is at least the principal thing about which he
can or ought to be an.xious. The lo\e of it is the love of virtue.
It is not the thought of being hated and despised that we are
afraid of, but that of being hateful and despicable. ^ Moreover
it must be noted that \irtue and happiness are united in the
Theory. Happiness is said to consist in tranquillity and enjoy-
ment. Without tranquillitx' there can be no enjoyment, and
where there is traiKiuillit\-, but little else is required I'eace
of mind does not, to an\- great e.xtent depend upon outward cir-
j:umstances. Virtue is the most desirable thing in life, for it is
always accompanied by self satisfaction, and with self-satisfac-
tion there never can be misery and wretchedness. -
The supreme judge of conduct, then, is the self. An appeal
lie.s from, the sentence of our fellow men to this higlier tribunal —
the tribunal of conscience. That which prompts us to sacrifice
our own interests to the interests of others is not reall)' benevo-
lence. It is a much stronger power and more forcible motive :
the love of what is honourable and noble, a sense of the grand-
eur and dignity and superiority of our own character, which is
given by reason, or the principle of conscience. Without the
approbation of the self, of this highest principle of our natiiie,
no action can, properly, be called virtuous. •' The really vir-
tuous man governs his whole behaviour and conduct according
to the sentiments and emotions which conscience [)rescribes and
ap[)ro\es. ■*
The sentiment or affection of the heart from which any
action proceeds is that upon which it.s whole virtue must ulti-
mately depend. The grand motive of life must be the desire
and atteinpt to realise an ideal which has been divinely implant-
ed in man. In order that there may be any progress in the
realisation of this ideal, society is necessary. ^ To feel much for
1. Throrii, Ft. in. Chap. 2.
2. IMd, l^t. VII, Sec. II. Cliap. i.
3. /^>('(/, Pt. VII. Sec. III. Chap. 2.
IhUl, I't. VI. Chap. I,
4. 11>id, Ft. III. Clia|)ters 3 and 6.
5. Ibid, Ft. I. Ctiap. I. Sec 5.
tHt: ETHICAL SVSTK.M OK ADAM SMITH.
57
I
others and little for ourselves, to restrain our selfisli, and strength-
en our benevolent affections, constitutes the perfection of human
nature, and can alone produce the harmoii}' of sentiments and
passions in which their whole grace and |)ropriet>' consists. As, to
love our neighbors as we lo\ e oursehes, is the great law of Chris-
tianity, so the great precept of nature is to love ourselves only as
we love our neighbors, or what comes to the same thing, as our
neighbor is capable of loving us. Society is thus necessary for
the development of moral character. Hut it is necesar)', also, in
a )'et more fundamental wa)' than is here implied. lM)r, as we
have alread}' seen, we are not (inl\- dependent upon others as a
for thi
rfecti
)f
'ter, but, also, for
first
means tor tne periection oi moral character, out, also, lorour
knowledge of moral distinctions, j-'or these are formed, in the
first instance, from our observations u|X)n the conduct of others
We find, then, that conscience, in the Tlicory is identified
with reason ; and in order to present its judgments upcMi our
sentiments and conduct from being influenced b\- self-lo\e and
passion, reason is said to form, from our obser- ations upon the
conduct of others, general rules b\- which its decisions may be
guided. We thus Ijecome, b\- means of reason, or conscience,
the im|jartial spectatc^rs of our own conduct, and the self is thus
constituted the highest cf)urt of appeal in all cases of morality-.
Moreover our re\eience for general rules constitutes our sense of
dut}' and we come at length, to regard those ules as the laws of
God. The sense of dut\' is not here, as it s ii. Kant's s\stem,
the sole principal of moralit)', but it is, nexcrtheless the ruling
and the governing princijjle, and the only principle b\' which the
majority of men are capable of- guiding their conduct. It de-
pends upon the natural agreeableness of an affection itself, in
how far it, or our sense of dut\-, should have the preeminence in
regulating conduct. In acts which should spring from affection
or benevolence, the very highest form of conduct must depend
upon the affection, and cannot arise solely from our sense of
duty. All acts of justice, on the other hand, should proceed
entirely from our res|ject for the general rules of this \irtue, as
justice is best secured by the most exact compliance with the
demands of duty.
Guided by general rules, conscience forms within us a per-
fect ideal of conduct, and our sense of duty leads us constantly
to strive to realise this ideal. This perfect \ irtue is not, in any
way, dependent upon the opinion of others : it, in every instance
necessarily pleases for its own sake. Self-a|)probation is the
principal thing about which we can, or ought to be anxious.
58
MUlR
Virtue is the most desirable thing in life for it is always accom-
panied by self-satisfaction, and self-satisfaction is that which is
most essential to happiness.
CHAPTKR III. CONCLU.SION.
Sl-XTIOX I. — RKLATION OF TIi:: TIIKORV OF TlIi: MORAL
sknti.mf:nts to OTIIFIR KTIIICAL SVSTK.M.S,
In procecdin<^ now to sum up the results of o''- investij^a-
tion, we may first consider the relation of Smith's i ficoiy to the
systeins of the precedinj^ writers of the Moral Sense School.
The great work of these writers was, as we have seen, their re-
cognition of the import.uice of the sentient element in morality,
and the proof that man has not onh' instincts and inclinations
toward his own gf)od, but that he has eciualh- important natural
tendencies which seek to promote the welfare of others. Shaf-
tesbury insisted upon the natural harmon\' and just proportions
of egoism and altruism, mhintaining that the one is quite as nat-
ural and as necessary to man as is the other. Shaftesbury
al.so claimed that it was not reason which led men either to be
benevolent, or to distinguish right and wrong, but a sense, which
he called the Moral Sense. The judgments of this sense, how
ever, when uncorruj:)ted, are alwajs in harmony with rea.'-on.
Hutcheson, de\eloping Shaftesbury's ideas, found all virtue in
benevolence, which he proclaimed the only object of the Moral
Sense. The i.)ursuit of the good of others is for him prompt-
ed by an instinct and ap|)roved by the Moral Sense. Our moral
sense and affections determine the end, but it is reason which
finds out the tneans. Virtue is to be found, however, not in rea-
son but in kind affections towards the good of others. Hume
could .see no necessit)' for the introduction of a new factor, such
as the Moral Sense, into human nature when there already ex-
isted, in sympathy, that which might, or, as he claimed, did per-
form the work allotted to this new sen.sc. More important
still, Hume utterly ignores reason, or degrades it to the rank of
a passion. He holds, that, by reason, we only mean that pas-
sion, which, in the particular instance, has happened to secure
THK KIHKAI. SVSIKM Ol ADAM SMIIH.
50
tlie master)'. Moral jiicl^incnts rest oiil)' U|Kjn the f'.'cliii^ of
jjlcasure or displeasure w hich an action excites in the spectator.
Sympathy thus becomes the source of moral distinctions, but it is
entireh' a sympathy with pleasure and pain ; a pleasure and |)ain
which, Hume maintained, accompanied all moral actions. Ri^ht
and wron<.j thus become s\iim\-mous with pleasure and pain, and
with Hume complete ethical subjectivilx' is reached. The trans-
ference of moral judgments from the actor to the spectator who
pronounces actions ^'ood or bad llnvngli his sympathy ^.nth plea-
sure and pain, is the characteristic feature that chstm^aiishes
Hume's ethical system from its |)iedecessors. ' /
To .Adam .Smith this appeared a most objectionable
method of settling; moral cjuestioiis. Hence, while he makes
.symj>ath\- or fellow feeling the cc-ntral doctrine of his s\-stem, he
purifies it from all the utilitarian colouring; it hafl received in
Hume's theorv, and makes the s|;ectator sympathise not with
pleasure and pain, but w ith the sentiments and motives of the
person acting, and tiie gratitude and resentment of the person af-
fected by the action. .Smith thus receives and develops the
doctrine of the moral sense, which had been transf(jrmed by
Hume into a utilitarian s\-mpath\-. J^ut it is alsc; to be noted
that he likewise reconsiders the function of rea.son, which Hume
had completel} destroyed. Indeed, the most im[}ortant and the
most difficult doctrine f)f the Theory is Smith's \iew of the nec-
essity of both reason and sjmpath}' for the formation of any
moral judgment, and the mutual relation of these great fun-
damental principles.
The problem regarding tlie function of reason and .sympathy
in the system, has callecl forth two widel)' differing interpre-
tatif)ns of Smith's views. I^\' one class of writers s) mpathy is
said to be the one great principle from which Smith reasons,
and to which all others are subser\ lent, - "the basis of the
whole of moral philosophx." ^ Another writer maintains that
.sympathy is no more the fundamental principle in Smith's eth-
ics than it is in that of Kant, and contends that they who
regard it as such totally misunderstand the .system. * This
difference of opinion is not surprising, and ma}' largely be ac-
counted for by a fact, which h.is caused a great deal of misun-
derstanding and inisrepresentation of Smith's work generally.
This fact is Smith's peculiar method of rea.soning. Buckle says
1. Erdniann, Ili^tarn of I'liiliisopli;/, \'()1. ii. p. 132.
2. Buckle, Ilistnri/ nf Cirilizdtion, p. 344.
3. Erdmann, IJistor;/ of Pliilosojiliij, \' A. 11. p. 133.
4. Oncken, Die Ethik Smith's <ind Kant's p. 100.
6o
Mil I<
of this: "in tliat peculiar ff)iiii of declucticjii, which consists in a
deliberate suppression of part of the principles, Arlain Smith
stands alone." ' It is indeed true that in showin:^ the applica-
tions of one principle Smith freciuently loses si^ht of all else.
His ethics, for example, knows nothin^^ but altruism, hiseconcjmics
nothing but egoism. With both of these principles he is in
thorough sj'Tipath)-, but in considering the one totally ignores
the other.
Within his ethical work the same thing is noticeable-
Smith is here utter!)' o|)posed to egoism, and regards his view
of sympatlu' as the characteristic feature of his work, and as that
by means of which he has made an advance on all previous
ethical writers, lie therefore makes sympalh}- the central doc-
trine of his systein, and emphasizes the fact that it is by means of
this principle alone that we are able t(j form our moral judg-
ments, h'ollowing his usual method of reasoning, he is almost
oblivious to an\' j^hase of the tiuestion except that, which, lur the
purpose of his present discu.ssion, ajjpears of paramount import-
ance, Hence, while he full\- recognizes, and ultiinatel)' acknoA-
ledges, reason as absolutely indispensable to our moral judgments,
a large part of his work is necessarily spent upon the explana-
tion and vindication of that which he regain, i as his peculiar con-
tribution to the development of ethical thought — tlie function of
.sympath}'. While thus engaged he makes but little reference to
reason, which he, nevertheless, considers the great fundamental
principle of morality. For, notwithstanding the promin-
ence given to sj-mpathy, .Smith recognizes, as few ethical
writers have done, the importance to mondit)- of both reason and
sense, and hence deserves to rank far abo\e the philosophers of
the Moral Sense school. I^thics, all questions of conduct, ari.se
out of the fact of the dualit)- of man's n.iture, and an extreme in-
sistance upon either reason or sense, to the exclusion of the other,
cannot fail to prc/duce a false \itnv of moralit}'. Reason and
sense are equally necessary, for no moral judgment can ever
hz formed, which dojs n )t invobe those two elements. That
this is the view held by Smith, we hope to make clear.
SECTION 11. — FUNCTION OK RE.ASON AND OF SKNSK IN THK
THKORV OF TIIF MORAL SKNTIMKNTS.
We shall consider first the opinions of soine writers who h(;ld
that reason is utterly ignored in the '/yieory. Sidgwick says :
" What we call our conscience is really sympath)' with the feel-
I. History oj Civilization, p. 344.
\f
IMK !• IHICAI. SVSIKM OK ADAM SMITH.
6i
inj^s of an iiiia;^M'iuir\' iinj)artial spectator, lookinjf at our
conduct.''' I laldano sa)s : "Smith makes the nature and
vahch'ty of ethical principles depeiid on the state of mind of an
indivifkial." -' Schul)ert asks: ' whv. above all thini^s, does Smith
acce])t such a principle as the applause of the world for the ex-
planation of conscience ?■ •'• We shall endeavor, in answering
these objections to Smith's system, to show the (.cpial iiri| ort-
ance of reason and s\in|)ath\- in the Tlicory.
Let us first examine Sid-r
WW
statement
What ue call
our conscience is reall\- s\inpath\' with the feelin{^^s of an imag-
inary, impartial spectator, lookinj^f at our conduct.
Ih
IS is
really not what Smith means by conscience. It is, indeed.
by means of sympatlu- that conscience recognizes 'ight and
\vron<^, ' but, as we ha\e seen ui chapter II, conscience itself is
not .sympathy or feeliii^r at all, but reason. There would ap-
pear to be n(j justification in the 'J'/n'ory for this identification of'
sym|)atli>' with conscience. A consideration of (jne or two pa.'-
.sa^^es will show conclusi\el)' that Smith did not rej.jard the
ni'
as one.
11
e s;
I'h
e word conscience does not necc;ssari
devote any moral facult)' b)- which we approve or disapprove.
Out
ir moral judij^ments would be extremel\- uncertain and pre-
carious if the)' depended alto^^ether upon what is liable to so^
many variations as immediate sentiment and feeling'.', 'It is by,'
reason that we discover the "general rules of justice, prudence,
genenjsit)-, etc., according to which weendeaxour, as well as wcr
can, to model the tenor of our conduct.' '^ 'An appeal lies to
the tribunal of their own conscience to that of the su|)posed im-
l)artial and \\( 11-informed spectatf)!'." Smith here plainly iden-
tifies conscience and the impartial spectator, and shows that it is
primaril}- upon reason rather than upon sense and feelin^^ that our
moral judgments dei)end. When sjjeakinj^r of the motive pcjwer
to self-sacrifice, he sa)\s : 'It is reason, princi|)le, conscience,
the inhabitant of the breast, the man within, the great judge
and arbiter of our conduct.' Conscience and reason are hercj
again synonymous terms, but neither here, nor anywhere else inj
the Theory, does Smith regard conscience and symjjath)' as one.'
Ilisturii i)f Elliirs, p. 207.
R. B. Haklane, 'Life of Adnm SmUh." p. Q3.
Die MordlithiJoKophip. Addia Sinith's, Pt. lii.
Theitry, i't. n i. Chap. i.
IhhK I't. VII. Sec. III. Chap. 2.
Ibid, Ft. VII. Sec. III. Chap. 3.
62
MUIR :
H.'ildaiic inaiiit.'iiiis that "Smith makes the nature aiul
vahVlit) of ethical |)riiu;i|>les tlepend upon the state of mind ofan
individual." So far is this from beinj^ the case that there are
few |)oints which Sniitli has made more clear than this ; that the
criterion of moral distinctions is not indix idual. lie sa)s :
"Man has been rendered the immediate judj^^e of mankind, but
he has been rendered so oid\- in tlie first instance. An appeal
hes from his sentence to a much higher tribunal, to tlie tribunal
of their own consciences; to that of the supposed impartial and
well-informed spectator. The jurisdictions of those two tribu-
nals are tountL'd ujjon principles which, thous^h in some respects
similar, are in realit)' different and distinct. The jurisdiction of
the man u ithout is founded altoiicther in the desire of actual
j)rai.se, and in the aversion to actual blame. The jurisdiction f)f
the man within is foundi'd alto-^^ether in the desire of praise-
worthiness, and in the aversion to blame-worthiness. \, Con-
science, the man w ithin, whose jurisdiction is founded altoijether
U()on the desire of praise-worthiness is, as weha\e seen, identi-
fied by Smith with reason. Ilence reason i^ the supreme ruler
in the moral sphere, and the judgments of reason are alwa)'s
.universal and can ne\er be re^L,farded as dependin<; upon the
, state of mind ofan individual. It is from the tribunal of man
that we turn for sentence to this hi<.,dier court of appeal with its
standard of exact pro|)riet\- and perfeclion." 'vj
Schubert holds that, in the Theory, even the general rules
are re^^arded as of purel) ein|)irical derivation, '' and asks : " why
abo\e all thinj^s does Smith accept such a principle as the
applause of the world for the explanation of conscience "? That
Smith by no means considered i^i-}icral rules as empirically
derived has ;' eady been clearlx shown. The impon:ance of
reason in their toriTiatioii receives ^reat cm|)hasis from him. We
have had occasion .several times already to note his insistance
upon this; but his \iews are clearly expressed in the following:
"The <^eneral rules of moralit\- are formed, like all other general
mnxims, from experience and induction. We observe in a great
variety of particular cases what pleases or displeases our moral
faculties, what the.sc approve or disap[)ro\c of, and by induction
from this experience, we establish those {general rules. Hut
induction is alwaxs rei^arded as one of the operations of rea.5on.
I'Vom reason, therefore, we are ver\' i)roperly said to derive all
those fi^eneral maxims and ideas. It is b)- these, however, that
1. 'nit'onj, Pt. m. Chiip. 2.
2. Jhhl, i't. VI. Sec. 3.
3. Die Muralphiluxiijiliie Adam Smilh's, Pt. 11 1.
1)
Nil. I.IIIUAI, SVSIIM ol ADAM SMIIH.
i
63
\vc ro^iiliitc the jj;ri'atcT part of our moral jiKlt,MiKMits, which would
be
extremely uiKert.iiii aiul precarious if tliey depended a
ilto-
^'eth'.-r upon what is liable to so many variations as immediate
sentiment and feelini;. As our most solid ju(l<^nnents, therefore,
with rej^ard to riLjht and w ron<4'. are rej^nilated bj- maxims and
ideas deri\ed from an induction of reason, \ irtue may \ery pro-
perl)' be said to consist in a conformit\- to reason, and so far this
facult)- may be considered as the source and principle of appro-
Ixit
ion and disapprobation
In the face of such a |:assa<j[e as
^
this it is difficult to see how an}- one could claim that Smith
holds that the {general rules of morality are "purel)- empirically
deri\ed." And that Smith does not accept the "applause (<f the
\\()rld as ;m explanation of conscience" we have alread)' seen.
I'"or the judLjments of conscience are not based upon the desire
for actual |)raise, but upon the desire for praise-worthiness.
Moreover, conscience is reason, and hence does not re(|uire an)'
explanation be\-ond itself " Reason is not onl)- the facultv- by
which we judge of truth and falsehood, but that also b\ which
we jud<.j(j of passions and affection^
It is clear, then, that Smith's s)'stem sh(nild not be ranked
as a Moral Sense theor\ , or as a mere ethics of s)'inpathy. Can
vve, on the other hand, view it. as Oncken does, as a purely
rational s) stem ? Oncken finds a close parallel between the
ethical theories of Smith and Kant, and consitlers serious])- the
question as to how far Kant could either have borrowed from, or
been influenced by Smith. He rei^ards the similarit)' between
the two systems, which reaches, he claims, to a "coni]jlete iden-
tity of words," in the most important part of the work, as one of
the most remarkable phenomena in the history of the human
mind. ^ This complete similarit)- between the ethical s)stems of •
Smith and Kant seems to me purel)- imaginar)-. and it is, more- ,'
over, utterl)- impossible that such should exist. The one doc- {,
trine which, abo\e all others, Smith feels called upon to empha-
size is the place and importance of feeliiii^, of .s)mpath)-, in mor-
nlity. That upon which Kant insists, and upon which his system
depends, is that in moralit)- feeling has no place, and is of no
importance. Just as strongl)' does Smith oppose a purely ra-
tional, an ascetic, as a purel)' non-rational s)stem of moralit)-.
He insists that our first perceptions of right and wrong are not
I. '/Vi^'oj'?/, Pt. VII. Sec. III. Chap. 2.
2- /liid, I't. VII. Sec. II. Chiip. 2.
3. Die Ethik Smith's and Kant's, p. 96.
64
MUIK :
the objects of reason, but of immediate sense anri feeling. ^
Sympathy iincloubtedl)- remains the main doctrine of the 77iro>y.
This, Oncken denies
md
mamlams
that
s}mpa
thy
is o
f n
o
more importance to Smith's sjstem than it is to that of Kant,
l^ut so far is this from bein^' the case that, as we ha\e seen. Smith
holds that there can be no true moraUty without feeiin^f, while
Kant maintains that there can l)e none aith it. .Smith --ajs
that it depends npon the character of an affection whether it or
a sense of duty should be the source of an action ; and claims
that an act which proceeds from a sense of dut)', when the a^ent
sliould have been urL(ed to its performance by affection, is not,
in the highest sense, t^ood. ^ Kant, on the other haiul, holds
that onl)' if an act shall ha\e been |)erformed from a sheer
sense of dut\', and in opposition to inclination, is it truly ^ood.
Kants' system is thus purely rational, and ascetic, while .Smith
regards eciu.dly the rational and the sentient nature of man.
Hence, instead of a mar\ellous similarity or idenlit)' between
the ethical systems of these authors, there exists an insurmount-
able opposition.
The Tlicon\ then, is neither a purel)- rational, nor )et a
purely Moral Sense s)'stiMn of ethics. Both reason and sense are
indispensable to the ff)rmation of an\' moral jud|jfment, and each
of these is sui)reme in its own sphere.
Th
e ciuestion mnv arises
as to the relation of the two i;reat principles, of reason and of
sympathv', in the T/ituny. Can the one in any sense be said to
be more truly ultimate than the other. .Smith spi;aks of reason
as "the ^o\ernin^i,r principle of the whole,""* " I le great judge
and arbiter of conduct," '' and as of di\ ine e.xtraction. Sym-
pathy is an impulse, a feeling, and the life of impulse and of
passion is judgcHi and sentenced at the bar < 'reason. Hence
we shall have to conclude that Smith regards reason as supreme,
and sympath)' as occufning a subordinate positii^n. Vet it
must be noticed that the first perception of right and wrong can
never be deri^ ed from reason ; and second!)', that conscience, as
rea.son, is dependent upon s\inpath>- for the |)articular instances
or cases, out of wliich the general rules arc formed.
Smith's ethical theory is, as we have seen, only related to
i
1, 'J'hinri/, I't. v'li. .Slt. in. Chap. 2:
2. Dii' hthik StiiHIi's kihI KoiU'sp. I02.
2. Then)' J, I't. III. C"h.i|). 6.
4. /'//'/, I't. VII. ScH\ IP Chap. >.
5. Ihid, I't. II. Chap. 2.
THi; KTHICAL SYSTKM OF ADAM SMITH.
6s
I
that of Kant by way of opposition. But, in a sense, we may
be said to have a hint of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, in
Smith's conception of the relation between sense and reason.
Smith finds in the moral sphere that which Kant later discov-
ered in regard to the intellect, that while our knowledge is all
obtained from experience, it, nevertheless, is not all of exper-
ience. To Smith, as to Kant, conception without perception
is empty, and perception without conception is blind. Sym-
path)-, or the sympathetic sense, is as important and, at the
same time, as utterly powerless in itself, as is any bodily sense. /
Indispensable to the mind for the attainment of knowledge in
the field to which it is adapted, it is, nevertheless, nothing but
an instrument or means through which reason can work. The
general maxims of morality are formed, like all other general
maxims, from experience and induction, and induction i- .il-
ways regarded as one o'"the operations of reason. Perceptions
are aKva\'s the beginning and constitute the express conditions
of thouL^''t. We are not to remain b)' them, nevertheless, as
what is .iltimatc. The concrete 'Vorstellungen' are the prelim-
inar\- condition, but they must be purified into the abstract He-
griff: else we never attain to mastery over ourselves, but float
about a helpless prey to our own pictures. ^ As any bodily
sense is utterly dependent upon reason, so that it is not the eye
which sees, but reason which sees through the eye, as well as
reason alone which can make use of the varied perception thus
received, so also does reason work through sympathy, in ac-
(juiring moral perceptions and in using these so as to form a
moral judgment. Hut it is absurd and unintelligible to sup-
pose, that the first perception of right and wrong can be de-
rived from reason, even in those particular cases, upon the
experience, of which the general rules are formed. These
first perceptions are not the object of reason but of inmiediate
sense and feeling. Just as Kant found that neither reason
nor sense is, of itself, competent to form an object, but that
the work of both is necessary, so Smith argues that, in the mor-
al sphere, it is by s\'mpathy alone that the perceptions can be
collected, out of which reason forms the moral object, the moral
judgment. Smith thus recognizes the great fact, neglected b)'
Kant in his ethics, that man is by no means purely rational.
In any syateni of ethics which treats at all adequately the facts
I. Stcrlin},', Secret oj JIt(jel, Vol. r, [i. 44.
66
MUIR :
of the moral life, reason must reign supreme ; and yet, without
the aid of sense, ^ reason is powerless. Hence, while Smith
makes reason tlie governing principle, he never forgets the im-
portance of sense, and maintains the necessity of both for
morality, as either without the other would be utterly useless.
Smith lias not at all over-emphasized the importance of
sympathy. •" The root of morals, the ultimate inducement to
moral conduct, is surely to be discovered in those original
impulses of our nature which urge us to seek the good of our-
selves and of others, and in those reflex feelings wiiich approve
or disapprove of actions, according as they are or are not
attended by those effects. Our emotions are, as it were, the
raw material of morality. At the same time it must, undoubt-
edly, be granted that they are often transformed by the action
of reason into what almost assumes the character of a new
product." ' The root idea of sympathy is the power of imitat-
ing the feelings of others, and this instinct of imitation is, as
Balfour expresses it, " the very basis of all effective education."
It is, indeed, the most important factor in, if not a synonj'm for,
that " consciousness of kind " which marks off the animate from
the inanimate and ofwhich all association and social organiza-
tion are consecjuences I - In endeavouring to find the origin of
moral distinctions, Smith, neglecting for the moment man's
rational nature, and seeking the fundamental sentient element in
moralit>-, rightly finds this in s)'mpathy. " Out of community
and out of societ}', man ne\er did nor ever can exist," and it is
these inevitable social relations which form the source of
morality. As an object would cease to be an object and would
become, in realit}', nothing, if removed out of all possible rela-
tion to anxthing but itself, so also would morality cease to be
if it were not for these indispensable social relations. Hence the
precognition of these relations, which is founded alone in sympa-
thy or in imitation of the feelings of others, is the fundamental
element of moralit)' when viewed from the stand-point of
sense or the emotional nature of man. But, while this is true,
there is in human nature that which is even more fundamentally
important than this s\'mpathy, this instinct of imitation, this
consciousness of kind. This deepest and most fundamental
principle is not that by which man recognizes, imitates, and
fl
t. Kiiwler. Sh'i^ftrshur;/ and /fntr.hfKon. \>. 215.
2. F. \l. CAdiVmiiii, Priwtplps of Sociologii.
f
THK KTHICAL SYSTEM OF ADAM SMITH.
67
I
#1
enters into the feelings and passions of others, but is that which
alone differentiates man as man. namely reason. Tlius reason
is, as Smith holds, nothing individual, but is universal, and is
the supreme moral ruler. Hut reason is dependent upon
sympathy, as we have seen.- .for assistance in the formation of
its judgments and its rules. Fd:^ without sympathy, man would
be unable to enter into any
possible or where there cott
judgments of reason.
Morality arises
nature, and in so far
has endeavoured
reason and sense
advance upon
utilitarian writers
rational, and
where morality would be
necessity for the moral
of human
alism, and
?ion of both
is system an
phers or the
upon the purely