 Section 1 of the Theory of Moral Sentiments. Part 1 of the Propriety of Action consisting of three sections. Section 1 of the Sense of Propriety. Chapter 1 of Sympathy. How selfish soever a man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature which interest him in the fortune of others and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it, except the pleasure of seeing it. Of this kind is pity or compassion, the emotion which we feel for the misery of others, when we either see it, or are made to conceive it in a very lively manner. That we often derive sorrow from the sorrow of others is a matter of fact too obvious to require any instances to prove it. For this sentiment, like all the other original passions of human nature, is by no means confined to the virtuous and humane, though they perhaps may feel it with the most exquisite sensibility. The greatest Ruffian, the most hardened violator of the laws of society, is not altogether without it. As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner in which they are affected, but by conceiving what we ourselves should feel in the like situation. Though our brother is upon the rack, as long as we ourselves are at our ease, our senses will never inform us of what he suffers. They never did, and never can, carry us beyond our own person, and it is by the imagination only that we can form any conception of what are his sensations. Neither can that faculty help us to this any other way than by representing to us what would be our own, if we were in his case. It is the impressions of our own senses only, not those of his, which our imaginations copy. By the imagination we place ourselves in his situation, we conceive ourselves enduring all the same torments, we enter, as it were, into his body, and become in some measure the same person with him, and thence form some idea of his sensations, and even feel something which, though weaker in degree, is not altogether unlike them. His agonies, when they are thus brought home to ourselves, when we have thus adopted and made them our own, begin at last to affect us, and we then tremble and shudder at the thought of what he feels. For as to be in pain or distress of any kind excites the most excessive sorrow, so to conceive or to imagine that we are in it excites some degree of the same emotion in proportion to the vivacity or dullness of the conception, that this is the source of our fellow feeling for the misery of others, that it is by changing places in fancy with the sufferer, that we come either to conceive or to be affected by what he feels, may be demonstrated by many obvious observations, if it should not be thought sufficiently evident of itself. When we see a stroke aimed and just ready to fall upon the leg or arm of another person, we naturally shrink and draw back our own leg or our own arm, and when it does fall, we feel it in some measure and are hurt by it as well as sufferer. The mob, when they are gazing at a dancer on a slack rope, naturally writhe and twist and balance their own bodies as they see him do, and as they feel that they themselves must do if in his situation. Conspirations of delicate fibers and a weak constitution of body complain that in looking on the sores and ulcers which are exposed by beggars in the streets, they are apt to feel an itching or uneasy sensation on the correspondent part of their own bodies. The horror which they conceive at the misery of those wretches affects the particular part in themselves more than any other. Because that horror arises from conceiving what they themselves would suffer if they really were the wretches whom they are looking upon, and if that particular part in themselves was actually affected in the same miserable manner. The very force of this conception is sufficient in their feeble frames to produce that itching or uneasy sensation complained of. Men of the most robust make observe that in looking upon sore eyes they often feel a very sensible soreness in their own which proceeds from the same reason, that organ being in the strongest man more delicate than any other part of the body is in the weakest. Neither is it those circumstances only which create pain or sorrow that call forth our fellow feeling. Whatever is the passion which arises from any object in the person principally concerned an analogous emotion springs up at the thought of his situation in the breast of every attentive spectator. Our joy for the deliverance of those heroes of tragedy or romance who interest us is as sincere as our grief for their distress, and our fellow feeling with their misery is not more real than that with their happiness. We enter into their gratitude towards those faithful friends who did not desert them in their difficulties, and we heartily go along with their resentment against those perfidious traitors who injured, abandoned, or deceived them. In every passion of which the mind of man is susceptible, the emotions of the bystander always correspond to what by bringing the case home to himself, he imagines should be the sentiments of the sufferer. Empathy and compassion are words appropriated to signify our fellow feeling with the sorrow of others. Sympathy, though its meaning was perhaps originally the same, may now, however, without much impropriety, be made use of to denote our fellow feeling with any passion whatever. Upon some occasions, sympathy may seem to arise merely from the view of a certain emotion in another person. The passions, upon some occasions, may seem to be transfused from one man to another instantaneously and antecedent to any knowledge of what excited them in the person principally concerned. Grief and joy, for example, strongly expressed in the look and gestures of anyone, at once affect the spectator with some degree of a like, painful, or agreeable emotion. A smiling face is, to everybody that sees it, a cheerful object, as a sorrowful countenance, on the other hand, is a melancholy one. This, however, does not hold universally or with regard to every passion. There are some passions of which the expressions excite no sort of sympathy, but before we are acquainted with what gave occasion to them serve rather to disgust and provoke us against them. The furious behavior of an angry man is more likely to exasperate us against himself than against his enemies. As we are unacquainted with his provocation, we cannot bring his case home to ourselves, nor conceive anything like the passions which it excites. But we plainly see what is the situation of those with whom he is angry and to what violence they may be exposed from so enraged and adversary. We readily, therefore, sympathize with their fear or resentment, and are immediately disposed to take part against the man from whom they appear to be in so much danger. If the very appearances of grief and joy inspire us with some degree of the like emotions, it is because they suggest to us the general idea of some good or bad fortune that has befallen the person in whom we observe them, and in these passions this is sufficient to have some little influence upon us. The effects of grief and joy terminate in the person who feels those emotions, of which the expressions do not, like those of resentment, suggest to us the idea of any other person for whom we are concerned, and whose interests are opposite to his. The general idea of good or bad fortune, therefore, creates some concern for the person who has met with it, but the general idea of provocation excites no sympathy with the anger of the man who has received it. Nature, it seems, teaches us to be more averse to enter into this passion, and, till informed of its cause, to be disposed rather to take part against it. Given our sympathy with the grief or joy of another, before we are informed of the cause of either, is always extremely imperfect. General lamentations, which express nothing but the anguish of the sufferer, create rather a curiosity to inquire into his situation along with some disposition to sympathize with him than any actual sympathy that is very sensible. The first question which we ask is, what has befallen you? Till this be answered, though we are uneasy both from the vague idea of his misfortune, and still more from torturing ourselves with conjectures about what it may be, yet our fellow feeling is not very considerable. Sympathy, therefore, does not arise so much from the view of the passion as from that of the situation which excites it. We sometimes feel for another, a passion of which he himself seems to be altogether incapable. Because when we put ourselves in his case, the passion arises in our breast from the imagination, though it does not in his from the reality. We blush for the impudence and rudeness of another, though he himself appears to have no sense of the impropriety of his own behavior, because we cannot help feeling with what confusion we ourselves should be covered had we behaved in so absurd a manner. Of all the calamities to which the condition of mortality exposes mankind, the loss of reason appears to those who have the least spark of humanity by far the most dreadful, and they behold that last stage of human wretchedness with deeper commiseration than any other. But the poor wretch who is in it laughs and sings perhaps and is altogether insensible of his own misery. The anguish which humanity feels therefore at the sight of such an object cannot be the reflection of any sentiment of the sufferer. The compassion of the spectator must arise altogether from the consideration of what he himself would feel if he was reduced to the same unhappy situation, and what perhaps is impossible was at the same time able to regard it with his present reason and judgment. What are the pangs of a mother when she hears the moanings of her infant that during the agony of disease cannot express what it feels? In her idea of what it suffers she joins to its real helplessness, her own consciousness of that helplessness, and her own terrors for the unknown consequences of its disorder. And out of all these forms for her own sorrow the most complete image of misery and distress. The infant however feels only the uneasiness of the present instant which can never be great. With regard to the future it is perfectly secure and in its thoughtlessness and want of foresight possesses an antidote against fear and anxiety, the great tormentors of the human breast, from which reason and philosophy will, in vain, attempt to defend it when it grows up to a man. We sympathize even with the dead and overlooking what is of real importance in their situation, that awful futurity which awaits them. We are chiefly affected by those circumstances which strike our senses but can have no influence on their happiness. It is miserable, we think, to be deprived of the light of the sun, to be shut out from life and conversation, to be laid in the cold grave a prey to corruption and the reptiles of the earth, to be no more thought of in this world but to be obliterated in a little time from the affections and almost from the memory of their dearest friends and relations. Surely, we imagine, we can never feel too much for those who have suffered so dreadful a calamity. The tribute of our fellow feeling seems doubly due to them now, when they are in danger of being forgot by everybody, and by the vain honors which we pay to their memory we endeavor for our own misery artificially to keep alive our melancholy remembrance of their misfortune, that our sympathy can afford them no consolation seems to be an addition to their calamity. And to think that all we can do is unavailing and that what alleviates all other distress, the regret, the love, and the lamentations of their friends can yield no comfort to them serves only to exasperate our sense of their misery. The happiness of the dead, however, most assuredly, is affected by none of these circumstances, nor is it the thought of these things which can ever disturb the profound security of their repose. The idea of the dreary and endless melancholy, which the fancy naturally ascribes to their condition, arises all together from our joining to the change which has been produced upon them, our own consciousness of that change, from our putting ourselves in their situation, and from our lodging, if I may be allowed to say so, our own living souls in their inanimated bodies, and thence conceiving what would be our emotions in this case. It is from this very illusion of the imagination that the foresight of our own dissolution is so terrible to us. And that the idea of those circumstances, which undoubtedly can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miserable while we are alive. And from thence arises one of the most important principles in human nature, the dread of death, the great poison to the happiness, but the great restraint upon the injustice of mankind, which, while it afflicts and mortifies the individual, guards and protects the society. CHAPTER II OF THE PLEASURE OF MUTUAL SYMPATHY But whatever may be the cause of sympathy, or however it may be excited, nothing pleases us more than to observe in other men a fellow feeling with all the emotions of our own breast, nor are we ever so much shocked as by the appearance of the contrary. Those who are fond of deducing all of our sentiments from certain refinements of self-love think themselves at no loss to account according to their own principles, both for this pleasure and this pain. Man, say they, conscious of his own weakness, and of the need which he has for the assistance of others, rejoices whenever he observes that they adopt his own passions, because he is then assured of that assistance, and grieves whenever he observes the contrary, because he is then assured of their opposition. But both the pleasure and the pain are always felt so instantaneously and often upon such frivolous occasions that it seems evident that neither of them can be derived from any such self-interested consideration. A man is mortified when, after having endeavored to divert the company, he looks around and sees that nobody laughs at his jests but himself. On the contrary, the mirth of the company is highly agreeable to him, and he regards this correspondence of their sentiments with his own as the greatest applause. Neither does his pleasure seem to arise altogether from the additional vivacity which his mirth may receive from sympathy with theirs, nor his pain from the disappointment he meets with when he misses this pleasure. Though both the one and the other no doubt do in some measure. When we have read a book or poem so often that we can no longer find any amusement in reading it by ourselves, we can still take pleasure in reading it to a companion. To him it has all the graces of novelty. We enter into the surprise and admiration which it naturally excites in him, but which it is no longer capable of exciting in us. We consider all the ideas which it presents rather in the light in which they appear to him than in that which they appear to ourselves, and we are amused by sympathy with his amusement which thus enlivens our own. On the contrary, we should be vexed if he did not seem to be entertained with it, and we could no longer take any pleasure in reading it to him. It is the same case here. The mirth of the company no doubt enlivens our own mirth, and their silence no doubt disappoints us. But though this may contribute both to the pleasure which we derive from the one and to the pain which we feel from the other, it is by no means the sole cause of either. And this correspondence of the sentiments of others with our own appears to be a cause of pleasure, and the one of it a cause of pain, which cannot be accounted for in this manner. The sympathy which my friends express with my joy might indeed give me pleasure by enlivening that joy, but that which they express in my grief could give me none if it served only to enliven that grief. Sympathy, however, enlivens joy and alleviates grief. It enlivens joy by presenting another source of satisfaction, and it alleviates grief by insinuating into the heart almost the only agreeable sensation which it is at that time capable of receiving. It is to be observed accordingly that we are still more anxious to communicate to our friends our disagreeable than our agreeable passions, that we derive still more satisfaction from their sympathy with the former than from that with the latter, and that we are still more shocked by the one of it. How are the unfortunate relieved when they have found out a person to whom they can communicate the cause of their sorrow? Upon his sympathy they seemed to disperse themselves of a part of their distress. He is not improperly said to share it with them. He not only feels a sorrow of the same kind with that which they feel, but as if he has derived a part of it to himself, what he feels seems to alleviate the weight of what they feel. Yet by relating their misfortunes they in some measure renew their grief. They awaken in their memory the remembrance of those circumstances which occasion their affliction. Their tears accordingly flow faster than before, and they are apt to abandon themselves to all the weakness of sorrow. They take pleasure, however, in all this, and, it is evident, are sensibly relieved by it, because the sweetness of his sympathy more than compensates the bitterness of that sorrow which, in order to excite this sympathy, they had thus enlivened and renewed. The cruellest insult, on the contrary, which can be offered to the unfortunate, is to appear to make light of their calamities. To seem not to be affected with the joy of our companions is but one of politeness, but not to wear a serious countenance when they tell us their affliction is real and gross in humanity. Love is an ingreable, resentment a disagreeable passion, and accordingly we are not half so anxious that our friends should adopt our friendships, as that they should enter into our resentments. We can forgive them, though they seem to be little affected with the favors which we may have received, but lose all patience if they seem indifferent about the injuries which may have been done to us. Nor are we half so angry with them for not entering into our gratitude as for not sympathizing with our resentment. They can easily avoid being friends to our friends, but can hardly avoid being enemies to those with whom we are a variance. We seldom resent their being at enmity with the first, though upon that account we may sometimes effect to make an awkward quarrel with them, but we quarrel with them in good earnest if they live in friendship with the last. The agreeable passions of love and joy can satisfy and support the heart without any auxiliary pleasure. The bitter and painful emotions of grief and resentment more strongly require the healing consolation of sympathy. As the person who is principally interested in any event is pleased with our sympathy and hurt by the want of it, so we too seem to be pleased when we are able to sympathize with him, and to be hurt when we are unable to do so. We run not only to congratulate the successful, but to condole with the afflicted, and the pleasure which we find in the conversation of one whom in all the passions of his heart we can entirely sympathize with seems to do more than compensate the painfulness of that sorrow with which the view of his situation affects us. On the contrary, it is always disagreeable to feel that we cannot sympathize with him, and instead of being pleased with this exemption from sympathetic pain, it hurts us to find that we cannot share his uneasiness. If we hear a person loudly lamenting his misfortunes, which, however, upon bringing the case home to ourselves, we feel can produce no such violent effect upon us, we are shocked at his grief, and because we cannot enter into it, call it pusillanimity and weakness. It gives us the spleen, on the other hand, to see another too happy or too much elevated, as we call it, with any little peace of good fortune. We are disobliged even with his joy, and because we cannot go along with it, call it levity and folly. We are even put out of humor if our companion laughs louder or longer at a joke than we think it deserves. That is, then we feel that we ourselves could laugh at it. Chapter 3 Of the manner in which we judge the propriety or impropriety of the affections of other men by their concord or dissonance with our own. When the original passions of the person principally concerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions of the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and improper and suitable to their objects, and, on the contrary, when, upon bringing the case home to himself, he finds that they do not coincide with what he feels. They necessarily appear to him unjust and improper and unsuitable to the causes which excite them. To approve of the passions of another, therefore, as suitable to their objects, is the same thing as to observe that we entirely sympathize with them. And not to approve of them as such is the same thing as to observe that we do not entirely sympathize with them. The man who resents the injuries that have been done to me, and observes that I resent them precisely as he does, necessarily approves of my resentment. The man whose sympathy keeps time to my grief cannot but admit the reasonableness of my sorrow. He who admires the same poem or the same picture, and admires them exactly as I do, must surely allow the justness of my admiration. He who laughs at the same joke, and laughs along with me, cannot well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the contrary, the person who, upon these different occasions, either feels no such emotion as that which I feel, or feels none that bears any proportion to mine, cannot avoid disapproving my sentiments on account of their dissonance with his own. If my animosity goes beyond with the indignation of my friend can correspond to, if my grief exceeds what his most tender compassion can go along with, if my admiration is either too high or too low to tally with his own, if I laugh loud and heartily when only he smiles, or on the contrary, only smile when he laughs loud and heartily. In all these cases, as soon as he comes from considering the object, to observe how I am affected by it, according as there is more or less disproportion between his sentiments and mine, I must incur a greater or less degree of his disapprobation, and upon all occasions his own sentiments are the standards and measures by which he judges of mine. To approve of another man's opinions is to adopt those opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of them. If the same arguments which convince you convince me likewise, I necessarily approve of your conviction, and if they do not, I necessarily disapprove of it. Neither can I possibly conceive that I should do the one without the other. To approve or disapprove, therefore, of the opinions of others is acknowledged by everybody to mean no more than to observe their agreement or disagreement with our own. But this is equally the case with regard to our approbation or disapprobation of the sentiments or passions of others. There are indeed some cases in which we seem to approve without any sympathy or correspondence of sentiments, and in which, consequently, the sentiment of approbation would seem to be different from the perception of this coincidence. A little attention, however, will convince us that even in these cases our approbation is ultimately founded upon a sympathy or correspondence of this kind. I shall give an instance in things of very frivolous nature because in them the judgments of mankind are less apt to be perverted by wrong systems. We may often approve of a jest and think the laughter of the company quite just and proper, though we ourselves do not laugh because perhaps we are in a grave humor or happen to have our attention engaged with other objects. We have learned, however, from experience what sort of pleasantry is upon most occasions capable of making us laugh and we observe that this is one of that kind. We approve, therefore, of the laughter of the company and feel that it is natural and suitable to its object because, though in our present mood we cannot easily enter into it, we are sensible that upon most occasions we should very heartily join in it. The same thing often happens with regard to all the other passions. A stranger passes by us in the street with all the marks of the deepest affliction and we are immediately told that he has just received the news of the death of his father. It is impossible that, in this case, we should not approve of his grief, yet it may often happen without any defective humanity on our part that, so far from entering into the violence of his sorrow, we should scarce conceive the first movements of concern upon his account. Both he and his father, perhaps, are entirely unknown to us or we happen to be employed about other things and do not take time to picture out in our imagination the different circumstances of distress which must occur to him. We have learned, however, from experience that such misfortune naturally excites such a degree of sorrow and we know that if we took time to consider his situation fully and in all its parts we should, without a doubt, most sincerely sympathize with him. It is upon the consciousness of this conditional sympathy that our approbation of his sorrow is founded, even in those cases in which that sympathy does not actually take place, and the general rules derived from our preceding experience of what our sentiments would commonly correspond with correct upon this as upon many other occasions the impropriety of our present emotions. The sentiment or affection of the heart from which any action proceeds and upon which its whole virtue or vice must ultimately depend may be considered under two different aspects or in two different relations. First, in the relation to the cause which excites it or the motive which gives occasion to it and secondly in relation to the end which it proposes or the effect which it tends to produce. In the suitableness or unsuitableness, in the proportion or disproportion which the affection seems to bear to the cause or object which excites it, consists the propriety or impropriety, the decency or ungracefulness of the consequent action. In the beneficial or hurtful nature of the effects which the affection aims at or tends to produce, consists the merit or demerit of the action, the qualities by which it is entitled to reward or is deserving of punishment. Philosophers have of late years considered chiefly the tendency of affections and have given little attention to the relation which they stand in to the cause which excites them. In common life, however, when we judge of any person's conduct and of the sentiments which directed it, we constantly consider them under both these aspects. When we blame in another man the excesses of love, of grief, of resentment, we not only consider the ruinous effects which they tend to produce, but the little occasion which was given for them, the merit of his favorite, we say, is not so great, his misfortune is not so dreadful, his provocation is not so extraordinary, as to justify so violent a passion. We should have indulged, we say, perhaps, have approved the violence of his emotion, had the cause been in any respect proportioned to it. When we judge in this manner of any affection as proportioned or disproportioned to the cause which excites it, it is scarce possible that we should make use of any other rule or canon but the correspondent affection in ourselves. If, upon bringing the case home to our own breast, we find that the sentiments which it gives occasion to coincide and tally with our own, we necessarily approve of them as proportioned and suitable to their objects. If otherwise, we necessarily disapprove of them as extravagant and out of proportion. Every faculty in one man is the measure by which he judges of the like faculty in another. I judge of your sight by my sight, of your ear by my ear, of your reason by my reason, of your resentment by my resentment, of your love by my love. I neither have nor can have any other way of judging about them. End of section 1. Recording by Nikki Sullivan, Chicago. Section 2 of the Theory of Moral Sentiments. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ariadna Solovyova. The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Adam Smith. Part 1 of the Propriety of Action consisting of three sections. Section 1 of the Sense of Propriety. Chapter 4. The same subject continued. We may judge of the propriety or impropriety of the sentiments of another person by their correspondence or disagreement with our own upon two different occasions. Either first, when the objects which excite them are considered without any peculiar relation, either to ourselves or to the person whose sentiments we judge of. Or secondly, when they are considered as peculiarly affecting one or other of us. One, with regard to those objects which are considered without any peculiar relation, either to ourselves or to the person whose sentiments we judge of. Wherever his sentiments entirely correspond with our own, we ascribe to him the qualities of taste and good judgment. The beauty of a plane, the greatness of a mountain, the ornaments of a building, the expression of a picture, the composition of a discourse, the conduct of a third person, the proportions of different quantities and numbers, the various appearances which the great machine of the universe is perpetually exhibiting with the secret wheels and springs which product them. All the general subjects of science and taste are what we and our companion regard as having no peculiar relation to either of us. We both look at them from the same point of view and we have no occasion for sympathy or for that imaginary change of situation from which it arises in order to produce with regard to these the most perfect harmony of sentiments and affections. If not withstanding, we are often differently affected. It arises either from the different degrees of attention which our different habits of life allow us to give easily to the several parts of those complex objects or from the different degrees of natural acuteness in the faculty of the mind to which they are addressed. When the sentiments of our companion coincide with our own in things of this kind which are obvious and easy and in which perhaps we never found a single person who differed from us though we no doubt must approve of them yet he seems to deserve no praise or admiration on account of them. But when they not only coincide with our own but lead and direct our own when informing them he appears to have attended to many things which we had overlooked and to have adjusted them to all the various circumstances of their objects. We not only approve of them but wonder and are surprised that they are uncommon and unexpected acuteness and comprehensiveness and he appears to deserve a very high degree of admiration and applause. For approbation, heightened by wonder and surprise constitutes the sentiment which is properly called admiration and of which applause is the natural expression. The decision of the man who judges that exquisite beauty is preferable to the grossest deformity or that twice two are equal to four must certainly be approved of by all the world but will not surely be much admired. It is the acute and delicate discernment of the man of taste who distinguishes the minute and scarce perceptible differences of beauty and deformity. It is the comprehensive accuracy of the experienced mathematician who unravels with ease the most intricate and perplexed proportions. It is the great leader in science and taste the man who directs and conducts our own sentiments the extent and superior justness of whose talents astonish us with wonder and surprise who excites our admiration and seems to deserve our applause and upon this foundation is grounded the greater part of the praise which is bestowed upon what are called the intellectual virtues. The utility of those qualities it may be thought is what first recommends them to us and no doubt the consideration of this when we come to attend to it gives them a new value. Originally however we approve of another man's judgment not as something useful but as right, as accurate as agreeable to truth and reality and it is evident we attribute those qualities to it for no other reason but because we find that it agrees with our own. Taste in the same manner is originally approved of not as useful but as just as delicate and as precisely suited to its object. The idea of the utility of all qualities of this kind is plainly an afterthought and not what first recommends them to our approbation. Two with regard to those objects which affect in a particular manner either ourselves or the person whose sentiments we judge of it is at once more difficult to preserve this harmony and correspondence and at the same time vastly more important. My companion does not naturally look upon the misfortune that has befallen me or the injury that has been done me from the same point of view in which I consider them. They affect me much more nearly. We do not view them from the same station as we do a picture or a poem or a system of philosophy and are therefore apt to be very differently affected by them but I can much more easily overlook the want of this correspondence of sentiments with regard to such indifferent objects as concern neither me nor my companion than with regard to what interests me so much as the misfortune that has befallen me or the injury that has been done me. Though you despise that picture or that poem or even that system of philosophy which I admire there is little danger of our quarreling upon that account. Neither of us can reasonably be much interested about them. They ought all of them to be matters of great indifference to us both so that though our opinions may be opposite our affections may still be very nearly the same but it is quite otherwise with regard to those objects by which either you or I are particularly affected. Though your judgments in matters of speculation though your sentiments in matters of taste are quite opposite to mine I can easily overlook this opposition and if I have any degree of temper I may still find some entertainment in your conversation even upon those very subjects but if you have either no fellow feeling for the misfortunes that with or none that bears any proportion to the grief which distracts me or if you have either no indignation at the injuries I have suffered or none that bears any proportion to the resentment which transports me we can no longer converse upon these subjects. We become intolerable to one another I can neither support your company nor you mine you are confounded at my violence and passion enraged at your cold insensibility and want of feeling in all such cases that there may be some correspondence of sentiments between the spectator and the person principally concerned the spectator must first of all endeavor as much as he can to put himself in the situation of the other and to bring home to himself every little circumstance of distress which can possibly occur to the sufferer he must adopt the whole case of his companion in the most minute incidents and strive to render as perfect as possible that imaginary change of situation upon which his sympathy is founded after all this however the emotions of the spectator will still be very apt to fall short of the violence of what is felt by the sufferer mankind, though naturally sympathetic never conceive for what has befallen another that degree of passion which naturally animates the person principally concerned that imaginary change of situation upon which their sympathy is founded is but momentary the thought of their own safety the thought that they themselves are not really the sufferers continually intrudes itself upon them and though it does not hinder them from conceiving a passion somewhat analogous to what is felt by the sufferer hinders them from conceiving anything that approaches to the same degree of violence the person principally concerned is sensible of this but at the same time passionately desires a more complete sympathy he longs for that relief which nothing can afford him but the entire concord of the affections of the spectators with his own to see the emotions of their hearts in every respect beat time to his own in the violent and disagreeable passions constitutes his soul consolation but he can only hope to obtain this by lowering his passion to that pitch in which the spectators are capable he must flatten if I may be allowed to say so the sharpness of its natural tone in order to reduce it to harmony and concord with the emotions of those who are about him what they feel will indeed always be in some respects different from what he feels and compassion can never be exactly the same with original sorrow because the secret consciousness that the change of situations from which the sympathetic sentiment arises is but imaginary not only lowers it in degree but in some measure there is it in kind and gives it a quite different modification these two sentiments however may it is evident have such a correspondence with one another as is sufficient for the harmony of society though they will never be unisons they may be concords and this is all that is wanted or required in order to produce this concord as nature teaches the spectators to assume the circumstances of the person principally concerned so she teaches this last in some measure to assume those of the spectators as they are continually placing themselves in his situation and then conceiving emotions similar to what he feels so he is constantly placing himself in theirs and then conceiving some degree of that coolness about his own fortune with which he is sensible that they will view it as they are constantly considering what themselves would feel if they actually were the sufferers so he is as constantly led to imagine in what manner he would be affected if he was only one of the spectators of his own situation as their sympathy makes them look at it in some measure with his eyes so his sympathy makes him look at it in some measure with theirs especially when in their presence and acting under their observation and as the reflected passion which he thus conceives yet necessarily abates the violence of what he felt before he came into their presence before he began to recollect in what manner they would be affected by it and to view his situation in this candid and impartial light the mind therefore is rarely so disturbed but that the company of a friend will restore it to some degree of tranquility and sedateness the breast is in some measure calmed and composed the moment we come into his presence we are immediately put in mind of the light in which he will view our situation and we begin to view it ourselves in the same light for the effect of sympathy is instantaneous we expect less sympathy from a common acquaintance than from a friend we cannot open to the former all those little circumstances which we can unfold to the latter we assume therefore more tranquility before him and endeavor to fix our thoughts upon those general outlines of our situation which he is willing to consider we expect still less sympathy from an assembly of strangers and we assume therefore still more tranquility before them and always endeavor to bring down our passion to that pitch which the particular company we are in may be expected to go along with nor is this only an assumed appearance for if we are at all masters of ourselves the presence of a mere acquaintance will really compose us still more than that of a friend and that of an assembly of strangers still more than that of an acquaintance society and conversation therefore are the most powerful remedies for restoring the mind to its tranquility if at any time it has unfortunately lost it as well as the best preservatives of that equal and happy temper which is so necessary to self-satisfaction and enjoyment men of retirement and speculation brooding at home over either grief or resentment though they may often have more humanity more generosity and a nicer sense of honor yet seldom possess that equality of temper which is so common among men of the world chapter 5 of the amiable and respectable virtues upon these two different efforts upon that of the spectator to enter into the sentiments of the person principally concerned and upon that of the person principally concerned to bring down his emotions to what the spectator can go along with are founded two different sets of virtues the soft the gentle the amiable virtues the virtues of candid condescension and indulgent humanity are founded upon the one the great the awful and respectable the virtues of self-denial of self-government of that command of the passions which subjects all the movements of our nature to what our own dignity and honor and the propriety of our own conduct require take their origin from the other how amiable does he appear to be whose sympathetic heart seems to re-echo all the sentiments of those with whom he converses who grieves for their calamities who resents their injuries and who rejoices at their good fortune when we bring home to ourselves the situation of his companions we enter into their gratitude and feel what consolation they must derive from the tender sympathy of so affection at a friend and for a contrary reason how disagreeable does he appear to be whose heart and obdurate heart feels for himself only but is altogether insensible to the happiness or misery of others we enter in this case too into the pain which his presence must give to every mortal with whom he converses to those especially with whom we are most apt to sympathize the unfortunate and the injured on the other hand what noble propriety and grace do we feel in the conduct of those who in their own case exert that recollection and self-command which constitute the dignity of every passion and which bring it down to what others can enter into we are disgusted with that clamorous grief which without any delicacy calls upon our compassion with sighs and tears and unfortunate lamentations but we reverence that reserve, that silent and majestic sorrow which discovers itself only in the swelling of the eyes, in the quivering of the lips and cheeks and in the distant but affecting coldness of the whole behavior it imposes the like silence upon us we regard it with respectful attention and watch with anxious concern over our whole behavior lest by any impropriety we should disturb that concerted tranquility which it requires so great an effort to support the insolence and brutality of anger in the same manner when we indulge its fury without check or restraint is of all objects the most detestable but we admire that noble and generous resentment which governs its pursuit of the greatest injuries not by the rage which they are apt to excite in the breast of the sufferer but by the indignation which they naturally call forth the impartial spectator which allows no word, no gesture to escape it beyond with this more equitable sentiment with dictate which never even in thought attempts any greater vengeance nor desires to inflict any greater punishment than what every indifferent person would rejoice to see executed and hence it is that to feel much for others and little for ourselves but to restrain our selfish and to indulge our benevolent affections constitutes the perfection of human nature and can alone produce among mankind that harmony of sentiments and passions in which consists their whole grace and propriety as to love our neighbor as we love ourselves is the great law of Christianity so it is the great precept of nature to love ourselves only as we love our neighbor or what comes to the same thing as our neighbor is capable of loving us as taste and good judgment when they are considered as qualities which deserve praise and admiration are supposed to imply a delicacy of sentiment and an acuteness of understanding not commonly to be met with so the virtues of sensibility and self-command are not apprehended to consist in the ordinary but in the uncommon degrees of those qualities the amiable virtue of humanity requires surely a sensibility much beyond what is possessed by the rude vulgar of mankind the great and exalted virtue of magnanimity undoubtedly demands much more than that degree of self-command which the weakest of mortals is capable of exerting as in the common degree of the intellectual qualities there is no abilities so in the common degree of the moral there is no virtue virtue is excellence something uncommonly great and beautiful which rises far above what is vulgar and ordinary the amiable virtues consist in that degree of sensibility which surprises by its exquisite and unexpected delicacy and tenderness the awful and respectable in that degree of self-command which astonishes by its amazing superiority and ungovernable passions of human nature there is in this respect a considerable difference between virtue and mere propriety between those qualities and actions which deserve to be admired and celebrated and those which simply deserve to be approved of upon many occasions to act with the most perfect propriety requires no more than that common and ordinary degree of sensibility or self-command regardless of mankind are possessive and sometimes even that degree is not necessary thus to give a very low instance to eat when we're hungry is certainly upon ordinary occasions perfectly right and proper and cannot miss being approved of as such by everybody nothing however could be more absurd than to say it was virtuous on the contrary there may frequently be a considerable degree of virtue in those actions although short of the most perfect propriety because they may still approach nearer to perfection than could well be expected upon occasions in which it was so extremely difficult to attain it and this is very often the case upon those occasions which require the greatest exertions of self-command there are some situations which bear so hard upon human nature that the greatest degree of self-government which can belong to so imperfect a creature as man is not able to stifle altogether the voice of human weakness or reduce the violence of the passions to that pitch of moderation in which the impartial spectator can entirely enter into them though in those cases therefore the behavior of the sufferer falls short of the most perfect propriety it may still deserve some applause and even in a certain sense may be denominated virtuous it may still manifest an effort of generosity and magnanimity of which the greater part of man are incapable and though it fails of absolute perfection it may be a much nearer approximation towards perfection than what upon such trying occasions is commonly either to be found or to be expected in cases of this kind when we are determining the degree of blame or applause which seems due to any action we very frequently make use of two different standards the first is the idea of complete propriety and perfection which in those difficult situations no human conduct ever did or ever can come up to and in comparison with which the actions of all men must forever appear blamable and imperfect the second is the idea of that degree of proximity or distance from this complete perfection which the actions of the greater part of men commonly arrive at when it goes beyond this degree how far so ever it may be removed from absolute perfection seems to deserve applause and whatever falls short of it to deserve blame it is in the same manner that we judge of the productions of all the arts which address themselves to the imagination when a critic examines the work of any of the great masters in poetry or painting he may sometimes examine the idea of perfection in his own mind which neither that nor any other human work will ever come up to and as long as he compares it with this standard he can see nothing in it but faults and imperfections but when he comes to consider the rank which it ought to hold among other works of the same kind he necessarily compares it with a very different standard the common degree of excellence which is usually attained in this particular art and when he judges of it by this new measure it may often appear to deserve the highest applause upon account of its approaching much nearer to perfection than the greater part of those works which can be brought into competition with it End of Section 2 Recording by Ariadna Solovyova or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Alana Jordan in the great state of Missouri The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Adam Smith Part 1 Section 2 Part 1 of the propriety of action consisting of three sections Section 2 of the degrees of different passions consistent with propriety Introduction The propriety of every passion excited by objects peculiarly related to ourselves the pitch which the spectator can go along with must lie it is evident in a certain mediocrity if the passion is too high or if it is too low he cannot enter into it Grief and resentment for private misfortunes injuries may easily, for example be too high and in the greater part of mankind they are so they may likewise though this more rarely happens be too low we denominate the excess weakness and fury and we call the defects stupidity and sensibility and want of spirit we can enter into neither of them but are astonished by them this mediocrity, however in which the point of propriety consists is different in different passions it is high in some and low in others there are some passions which it is indecent to express very strongly even upon those occasions in which it is acknowledged that we cannot avoid feeling them in the highest degree and there are others the strongest expressions are upon many occasions extremely graceful even though the passions themselves do not perhaps arise so necessarily the first are those passions with which for certain reasons there is little or no sympathy the second are those with which, for other reasons there is the greatest and if we consider all the different passions of human nature we find that they are regarded as decent or indecent just in proportion as mankind are more or less disposed to sympathize with them chapter one of the passions which take their origin from the body one it is indecent to express any strong degree of those passions which arise from a certain situation or disposition of the body because the company being in the same disposition cannot be expected to sympathize with them violet hunger, for example though upon many occasions not only natural but unavoidable is always indecent and to eat voraciously is universally regarded as a piece of ill manners there is however some degree of sympathy even with hunger it is agreeable to see our companions in light and all expressions of loathing are offensive the disposition of body which is habitual to man in health makes his stomach easily keep time if I may be allowed so course an expression with the one and not with the other we can sympathize with the distress which excessive hunger occasions when we read the description of it in a journal of a siege or of a sea voyage we imagine ourselves in the situation of the sufferers and then readily conceive the grief the fear and consternation which must necessarily distract them we feel ourselves some degree of those passions and therefore sympathize with them but as we do not grow hungry by reading the description we cannot properly even in this case be said to sympathize with their hunger it is the same case with the passion by which nature unites the two sexes though naturally the most furious of all the passions all strong expressions of it are upon every occasion indecent even between persons in whom its most complete indulgence is acknowledged by all laws both human and divine to be perfectly innocent there seems however to be some degree of sympathy even with this passion to talk to a woman as we would to a man is improper it is expected that their company should inspire us with more gaiety more pleasantry and more attention and an entire insensibility to the fair sex renders a man contemptible in some measure even to the men such is our aversion for all the appetites which take their origin from the body all strong expressions of them and disagreeable according to some ancient philosophers these are the passions which we share in common with the brutes and which having no connection with the characteristic qualities of human nature are upon that account beneath its dignity but there are many other passions which we share in common with the brutes such as resentment natural affection even gratitude that account appear to be so brutal the true cause of the peculiar disgust which we can see for the appetites of the body when we see them in other men is that we cannot enter into them to the person himself who feels them as soon as they are gratified the object that excited them ceases to be agreeable even its present often becomes offensive to him he looks round to no purpose for the charm which transported him the moment before and he can now as little enter into his own passion as another person when we have dined we ordered the covers to be removed and we should treat in the same manner the objects of the most ardent and passionate desires if they were the objects of no other passions but those which take the origin from the body in the command of those appetites of the body consist that virtue which is properly called temperance to restrain them within those bounds which regard to health and fortune prescribes is the part of prudence but to confine them within those limits which grace which propriety which delicacy and modesty require is the office of temperance two it is for the same reason that to cry out with bodily pain how intolerable so ever always appears unmanly and unbecoming there is however a good deal of sympathy even with bodily pain if as has already been observed I see a stroke aimed and just ready to fall upon the leg or arm of another person I naturally shrink and draw back my own leg or my own arm and when it does fall I feel it in some measure and am hurt by it as well as the sufferer my hurt however is no doubt excessively slight and upon that account if he makes any violent outcry as I cannot go along with him I never fail to despise him and this is the case of all the passions which take their origin from the body they excite either no sympathy at all or such a degree of it as is altogether disproportioned to the violence of what is felt by the sufferer it is quite otherwise with those passions which take their origin from the imagination the frame of my body can be but little affected by the alterations which are brought about upon that of my companion but my imagination is more ductile and more readily assumes if I may say so the shape and configuration of the imaginations of those with whom I am familiar a disappointment in love or ambition will upon this account call forth more sympathy than the greatest bodily evil those passions arise altogether from the imagination a person who has lost his whole fortune if he is in health feels nothing in his body what he suffers is from the imagination only which represents to him the loss of his dignity neglect from his friends contempt from his enemies dependence want and misery coming fast upon him and we sympathize with him more strongly upon this account because our imaginations can more readily mold themselves upon his imagination than our bodies can mold themselves upon his body the loss of a leg may generally be regarded as a more real calamity than the loss of a mistress it would be a ridiculous tragedy however which the catastrophe was to turn upon a loss of that kind a misfortune of the other kind how frivolous so ever it may appear to be has given occasion to many a fine one nothing is so soon forgot as pain the moment it is gone the whole agony of it is over and the thought of it can no longer give us any sort of disturbance we ourselves cannot then enter into anxiety and anguish which we had before conceived an unguarded word from a friend will occasion a more durable uneasiness the agony which this creates is by no means over with the word what at first disturbs us is not the object of the senses but the idea of the imagination as it is an idea therefore which occasions are uneasiness till time and other accidents have the danger of faced it from our memory the imagination continues to fret and wrinkle within from the thought of it pain never calls forth any very lively sympathy unless it is accompanied with danger we sympathize with the fear though not with the agony of the sufferer fear however is a passion derived altogether from the imagination which represents with an uncertainty and fluctuation which increases our anxiety not what we really feel but what we may hereafter possibly suffer the gout or the toothache though exquisitely painful excite very little sympathy more dangerous diseases though accompanied with very little pain excite the highest some people faint and grow sick at the sight of a perurgical operation and that bodily pain which is occasioned by tearing the flesh from to excite the most excessive sympathy we conceive in a much more lively and distinct manner the pain that proceeds from an external cause then we do that which arises from an internal disorder I can scarce form an idea of the agonies of my neighbor when he is tortured with the gout or the stone but I have the clearest conception of what he must suffer from an incision a wound or a fracture because however why such objects produce such violent effects upon us is their novelty one who has been witness to a dozen dissections and as many amputations sees ever after all operations of this kind with great indifference and often with perfect insensibility though we have read or seen represented more than 500 tragedies we shall seldom feel so entire an abatement of our sensibility to the objects which they represent to us in some of the Greek tragedies there is an attempt to excite compassion by the representation of the agonies of bodily pain Philoctetes cries out and faints from the extremity of his sufferings Hippolytus and Hercules are both introduced as expiring under the severest tortures which it seems even the fortitude of Hercules was incapable of supporting in all these cases however it is not the pain which interests us but some other circumstances it is not the sore foot but the solitude of Philoctetes which affects us and diffuses over that charming tragedy that romantic wildness which is so agreeable to the imagination the agonies of Hercules and Hippolytus are interesting only because we foresee that death is to be the consequence if those heroes were to recover we should think the representation of their sufferings perfectly ridiculous what a tragedy would that be of which the distress consisted in a colic yet no pain is more exquisite these attempts to excite compassion by the representation of bodily pain may be regarded as among the greatest breaches of decorum of which the Greek theater has set the example the little sympathy which we feel with bodily pain is the foundation of the propriety of constancy and patience in enduring it the man who under the severest tortures allows no weakness to escape him vents no groan gives way to no passion which we do not entirely enter into commands our highest admiration his firmness enables him to keep time with our indifference and insensibility we admire and entirely go along with the magnanimous effort which he makes for this purpose we approve of this behavior and from our experience of the common weakness of human nature we are surprised and wonder how he should be able to act so as to deserve approbation approbation mixed and animated by surprise constitutes the sentiment which is properly called admiration of which applause is the natural expression as has already been observed chapter 2 of those passions which take their origin from a particular turn or habit of the imagination even of the passions derived from the imagination those which take their origin from a peculiar turn it has acquired though they may be acknowledged to be perfectly natural are however but little sympathized with the imaginations of mankind not having acquired that particular turn cannot enter into them and such passions though they may be allowed to be almost unavoidable in some part of life are always in some measure ridiculous this is the case attachment which naturally grows up between two persons of different sexes who have long fixed their thoughts upon one another our imagination not having run in the same channel with that of the lover we cannot enter into the eagerness of his emotions if our friend has been injured we readily sympathize with his resentment and grow angry with the very person with whom he is angry if we have received a benefit we readily enter into his gratitude and have a very high sense of the merit of his benefactor but if he is in love though we may think his passion just as reasonable as any of the kind yet we never think ourselves bound to conceive a passion of the same kind and for the same person for whom he has conceived it the passion appears to everybody but the man who feels it entirely disproportion to the value of the object and love though it is pardoned in a certain age because we know it is natural is always laughed at because we cannot enter into it all serious and strong expressions of it appear ridiculous to a third person and though a lover may be good company to his mistress he is so to nobody else he himself is sensible of this and as long as he continues and devours to treat his own passion with railery and ridicule it is the only style in which we care to hear of it because it is the only style in which we ourselves are disposed to talk of it we grow weary of the grave pendantic and long sentenced love of Cowley and Petrarcha who have never done with exaggerating the violence of their attachments but the gaiety of Ovid and the gallantry of Horace are always agreeable but though we feel no proper sympathy with an attachment of this kind though we never approach even an imagination towards conceiving a passion for that particular person yet as we either have conceived or may be disposed to conceive passions of the same kind we readily enter into those high hopes of happiness we are disposed from its gratification as well as into that exquisite distress which is feared from its disappointment it interests us not as a passion but as a situation that gives occasion to other passions which interest us to hope, to fear to distress of every kind in the same manner as in a description of a sea voyage it is not the hunger which interests us which that hunger occasions though we do not properly enter into the attachment of the lover we readily go along with those expectations of romantic happiness which he derives from it we feel how natural it is for the mind in a certain situation relaxed with indolence and fatigued with the violence of desire to long for serenity and quiet to hope to find them a life of that passion which distracts it and to frame to itself the idea of that life of pastoral tranquility and retirement which is elegant, the tender and the passionate tabullous takes so much pleasure in describing a life like what the poets describe in the fortunate islands a life of friendship liberty and repose free from labor and from all the turbulent passions which attend them even scenes of this kind interest us most when they are painted rather as what is hoped than as what is enjoyed the grossness of that passion which mixes with and is perhaps the foundation of love disappears when its gratification is far off and at a distance but renders the whole offensive when described as what is immediately possessed the happy passion upon this account interests us much less than the fearful and the melancholy we tremble for whatever can disappoint such natural and agreeable hopes and thus enter into all the anxiety and concern and distress of the lover hence it is that in some modern tragedies and romances this passion appears so wonderfully interesting it is not so much the love of Castileo and Monemia which attaches us in the orphan as the distress which that love occasions the author who should introduce two lovers in a scene of perfect security expressing their mutual fondness for one another would excite laughter and not sympathy if a scene of this kind is ever admitted into a tragedy it is always in some measure improper and is endured not from any sympathy with the passion that is expressed in it but from concern for the dangers and difficulties with which the audience foresee that its gratification is likely to be attended the reserve which the laws of society oppose upon the fair sex with regard to this weakness rends it more peculiarly distressful in them and upon that very account more deeply interesting we are charmed with the love of Phaedra as it is expressed in the French tragedy of that name not withstanding all the extravagance and guilt which attend it that very extravagance and guilt may be said in some measure to recommend it to us her fear, her shame her remorse, her horror her despair become thereby more natural and interesting all the secondary passions if I may be allowed to call them so which arise from the situation of love become necessarily more furious and violent and it is with these secondary passions only that we can properly be said to sympathize of all the passions however which are so extravagantly disproportion to the value of their objects love is the only one that appears even to the weakest minds to have anything in it that is either graceful or agreeable in itself, first of all though it may be ridiculous it is not naturally odious and though its consequences are often fatal and dreadful its intentions are seldom mischievous and then though there is little propriety in the passion itself there is a good deal in some of those which always accompany it there is in love a strong mixture of humanity, generosity kindness, friendship esteem, passions with which, of all others for reasons which shall be explained immediately we have the greatest propensity to sympathize even not with standing we are sensible that they are in sub-measure the sympathy which we feel with them renders the passion which they accompany less disagreeable and supports it in our imagination not with standing all the vices which commonly go along with it though in the one sex it necessarily leads to the last ruin and infamy and though in the other where it is apprehended to be least fatal it is almost always attended for labor, a neglect of duty a contempt of fame and even of common reputation not with standing all this the degree of sensibility and generosity with which it is supposed to be accompanied renders it to many the object of vanity and they are fond of appearing capable of feeling what would do them no honor if they hadn't really felt it it is for a reason of the same kind that a certain reserve is necessary when we talk of our own friends our own studies our own professions all these are objects which we cannot expect should interest our companions in the same degree in which they interest us and it is for want of this reserve that the one half of mankind make bad company to the other a philosopher is company to a philosopher only a member of a club to his own little knot of companions end of section 3 recording by Lana Jordan in the great state of Missouri section 4 of the theory of moral sentiments this is the LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Meg Triton the theory of moral sentiments by Adam Smith part 1 section 2 chapter 3 of the unsocial passions there is another set of passions which though derived from the imagination yet before we can enter into them or regard them as graceful or becoming must always be brought down to a pitch much lower than that to which undisciplined nature would raise them these are hatred and resentment with all their different modifications with regard to all such passions our sympathy is divided between the person who feels them and the person who is the object of them the interests of these two are directly opposite what our sympathy with the person who feels them would prompt us to wish for our fellow feeling with the other would lead us to fear as they are both men we are concerned for both and our fear for what the one may suffer dampens our resentment for what the other has suffered our sympathy therefore with the man who has received the provocation necessarily fall short of the passion which naturally animates him not only upon account of those general causes which render all sympathetic passions inferior to the original ones but upon account of that particular cause which is peculiar to itself our opposite sympathy with another person before resentment therefore can become graceful and agreeable it must be more humbled and brought down below that pitch to which it would naturally rise than almost any other passion mankind at the same time have a very strong sense of the injuries that are done to another the villain in a tragedy or romance is as much the object of our indignation as the hero is that of our sympathy and affection we detest Iago as much as we esteem Othello and delight as much in the punishment of the one as we are grieved at the distress of the other but though mankind have so strong a fellow feeling with the injuries that are done to their brethren they do not always resent them the more that the sufferer appears to resent them upon most occasions the greater his patience his mildness his humanity provided it does not appear that he wants spirit or that fear was the motive of his forbearance the higher their resentment against the person who injured him the amiableness of the character exasperates their sense of the atrocity of the injury those passions however are regarded as necessary parts a person becomes contemptible who tamely sits still and submits to insults without attempting either to repel or to revenge them we cannot enter into his indifference and insensibility we call his behavior mean spiritedness and are as really provoked by it as by the insolence of his adversary even the mob are enraged to see any man submit patiently to affronts and ill usage they desire to see this insolence resented and resented by the person who suffers from it they cry to him with fury to defend or to revenge himself if his indignation rouses at last they heartily applaud and sympathize with it it enlivens their own indignation against his enemy whom they rejoice to see him attack in his turn and are as really gratified by his revenge provided it is not a moderate as if the injury had been done to themselves but though the utility of those passions to the individual by rendering it dangerous to insult or injure him be acknowledged and though their utility to the public as the guardians of justice and of the equality of its administration be not less considerable as shall be shown here after yet there is something still disagreeable in the passions themselves which makes the appearance of them in the natural object of our aversion the expression of anger towards anybody present if it exceeds a bare intimation that we are sensible of his ill usage is regarded not only as an insult to that particular person but as a rudeness to the whole company respect for them ought to have restrained us from giving way to so boisterous and offensive in emotion it is the remote effects of these passions which are agreeable the immediate effects are mischief to the person against whom they are directed but it is the immediate and not the remote effects of objects which render them agreeable or disagreeable to the imagination a prison is certainly more useful to the public than a palace and the person who founds the one is generally directed by a much juster spirit of patriotism than he who is the other but the immediate effects of a prison the confinement of the wretches shut up in it are disagreeable and the imagination either does not take time to trace out the remote ones or sees them in too great a distance to be much affected by them a prison therefore will always be a disagreeable object and the fitter it is for the purpose for which it was intended it will be the more so a palace on the contrary will always be agreeable yet it's remote effects may often be inconvenient to the public it may serve to promote luxury and set the example of the dissolution of manners it's immediate effects however the convenience the pleasure and the of the people who live in it being all agreeable and suggesting to the imagination a thousand agreeable ideas that faculty generally rests upon them and seldom goes further in tracing it's more distant consequences trophies of the instruments of music or of agriculture imitated in painting or in stucco make a common and an agreeable ornament of our halls and dining rooms a trophy of the same kind composed of the instruments of surgery of dissecting and amputation knives of saws for cutting the bones of trapanning instruments etc would be absurd and shocking instruments of surgery however are always more finely polished and generally more nicely adapted to the purposes for which they are intended than instruments of agriculture the remote effects of them too the health of the patient is agreeable yet as the immediate effect of them is pain and suffering the side of them always displeases us instruments of war are agreeable though their immediate effect may seem to be in the same man or pain and suffering but then it is the pain and suffering of our enemies with whom we have no sympathy with regard to us they are immediately connected with the agreeable ideas of courage victory and honor they are themselves therefore supposed to make one of the noblest parts of dress and the imitation of them one of the finest ornaments of architecture it is the same case with the qualities of the mind the ancient stoics were of opinion that as the world was governed by the all-ruling providence of a wise powerful and good God every single event ought to be regarded as making a necessary part of the plan of the universe and is tending to promote the general order and happiness of the whole that the vices and follies of mankind therefore made as necessary a part of this plan as their wisdom or their virtue and by that eternal art which induces good from ill were made to tend equally to the prosperity and perfection of the great system of nature no speculation of this kind however how deeply so ever it might be rooted in the mind could diminish our natural apporance for vice whose immediate effects are so destructive and whose remote ones are too distant to be traced by the imagination it is the same case with those passions we have been just now considering their immediate effects are so disagreeable that even when they are most justly provoked there is still something about them which disgusts us these therefore are the only passions of which the expressions as I formally observed do not dispose and prepare us to sympathize with them before we are informed of the cause which excites them the plaintive voice of misery who has started a distance will not allow us to be indifferent about the person from whom it comes as soon as it strikes our ear it interests us in his fortune and if continued forces us almost involuntarily to fly to his assistance the sight of a smiling countenance in the same manner elevates even the pensive into that gay and airy mood which disposes him to sympathize with and share the joy which it expresses which with thought and care was before that shrunk and depressed instantly expanded and elated but it is quite otherwise with the expressions of hatred and resentment the horse, boisterous and discordant voice of anger when hurt at a distance inspires us either with fear or aversion we do not fly towards it as to one who cries out with pain and agony women and men of weak nerves tremble and are overcome with fear though sensible that themselves are not the object of the anger they conceive fear however by putting themselves in the situation of the person who is so even those of stouter hearts are disturbed not indeed enough to make them afraid but enough to make them angry for anger is the passion which they would feel in the situation of the other person it is the same case with hatred mere expressions of spite inspire it against nobody but the man who uses them both these passions are by nature the objects of our aversion their disagreeable and boisterous appearance never excites never prepares and often disturbs our sympathy grief does not more powerfully engage and attract us to the person in whom we observe it than these while we are ignorant of their cause discussed and detach us from him it was it seems the intention of nature that those rougher and more unameable emotions which drive men from one another should be less easily and more rarely communicated when music imitates the modulations of grief or joy it either actually inspires us with those passions or at least puts us in the mood which disposes us to conceive them but when it imitates the notes of anger it inspires us with fear joy, grief, love admiration, devotion are all of them passions which are naturally musical their natural tones are all soft, clear and melodious and they naturally express themselves in periods which are distinguished by regular pauses in which upon that account are easily adapted to the regular returns of the correspondent heirs of a tune the voice of anger on the contrary and of all the passions which are akin to it is harsh and discordant its periods too are all irregular sometimes very long and sometimes very short and distinguished by no regular pauses it is with difficulty therefore that music can imitate any of those passions and the music which does imitate them is not the most agreeable a whole entertainment may consist without any impropriety of the imitation of the social and agreeable passions it would be a strange entertainment which consisted altogether of the imitations of hatred and resentment if those passions are disagreeable to the spectator they are not less so to the person who feels them hatred and anger are the greatest poison to the happiness of a good mind there is in the very feeling of those passions something harsh, jarring and convulsive something that tears and distracts the breasts and is altogether destructive of that composure and tranquility of mind which is so necessary to happiness and which is best promoted by the contrary passions of gratitude and love it is not the value of what they lose by the perforating gratitude of those they live with which the generous and humane are most apt to regret whatever they may have lost they generally be very happy without it what most disturbs them is the idea of perfidy and ingratitude exercised towards themselves and the discordant and disagreeable passions which this excites constitute, in their own opinion the chief part of the injury which they suffer how many things are requisite to render the gratification of resentment completely agreeable and to make the spectator thoroughly sympathize with our revenge the gratification must first of all be such that we should become contemptible and be exposed to perpetual insults if we did not in some measure resent it smaller offenses are always better neglected nor is there anything more despicable than that froward and captious humor which takes fire upon every slide occasion of quarrel we should resent more from a sense of the propriety of resentment from a sense that mankind is required of us than because we feel in ourselves the furies of that disagreeable passion there is no passion of which the human mind is capable concerning whose justice we ought to be so doubtful concerning whose indulgence we ought so carefully to consult our natural sense of propriety or so diligently to consider what will be the sentiments of the cool and impartial spectator magnanimity our own rank and dignity in society is the only motive which can enable the expressions of this disagreeable passion this motive must characterize our whole style and deportment these must be plain open and direct determined without positiveness and elevated without insolence not only free from petulance and low scurrility but generous, candid and full of all proper regards to the person who has offended us it must appear, in short from our whole manner without our laboring effectively to express it that passion has not extinguished our humanity and that if we yield to the dictates of revenge it is with reluctance from necessity and inconsequence of great and repeated provocations when resentment is guarded and qualified in this manner it may be admitted to be generous and noble Chapter 4 of the social passions as it is the divided sympathy which renders the whole set of passions just now mentioned upon most occasions so ungraceful and disagreeable so there is another set opposite to these which a redoubled sympathy renders almost always peculiarly agreeable and becoming generosity humanity kindness, compassion mutual friendship and esteem all the social and benevolent affections when expressed in the countenance or behavior even towards those who are not peculiarly connected with ourselves please the indifferent spectator upon almost every occasion his sympathy with the person who feels those passions exactly coincides with his concern for the person who is the object of them the interest which as a man take in the happiness of this last enlivens his fellow feeling with the sentiments of the other whose emotions are employed about the same object we have always therefore the strongest disposition to sympathize with the benevolent affections they appear in every respect agreeable to us we enter into the satisfaction both of the person who feels them and of the person who is the object of them for as to be the object of hatred and indignation gives more pain than all the evil which a brave man can fear from his enemies so there is a satisfaction in the consciousness of being beloved which to a person of delicacy and sensibility is of more importance to happiness than all the advantage which he can expect to derive from it what character is so detestable is that of one who takes pleasure to sow dissension among friends and to turn their most tender love into mortal hatred wherein does the atrocity of this so much abhorred injury consist is it in depriving them of the frivolous good offices which had their friendship continued they might have expected from one another it is in depriving them of that friendship itself in robbing them of each other's affections from which both derive so much satisfaction it is in disturbing the harmony of their hearts and putting an end to that happy commerce which had before subsisted between them these affections that harmony, this commerce are felt not only by the tender and the delicate but by the rudest vulgar of mankind to be of more importance to happiness than all the little services which could be expected to flow from them the sentiment of love is in itself agreeable to the person who feels it it sews and composes the breast seems to favor the vital motions and to promote the healthful state of the human constitution and it is rendered still more delightful by the consciousness of the gratitude and satisfaction which it must excite in him who is the object of it their mutual regard renders them happy in one another and sympathy with this mutual regard makes them agreeable to every other person with what pleasure do we look upon a family through the whole of which reign mutual love and esteem where the parents and children are companions for one another without any other difference than what is made by respectful affection on the one side in kind indulgence on the other where freedom and fondness mutual railery and mutual kindness show that no opposition of interest divides the brothers nor any rival ship of favor sets the sisters at variance and where everything presents us with the idea of peace, cheerfulness, harmony and contentment on the contrary how uneasy are we made when we go into a house in which jarring contention sets one half of those who dwell in it against the other where amidst affected smoothness and complacence suspicious looks and sudden starts of passion betray the mutual jealousies which burn within them and which are every moment ready to burst out through all the restraints which the presence of the company imposes those amiable passions even when they are acknowledged to be excessive are never regarded with aversion there is something agreeable even in the weakness of friendship and humanity the too tender mother the too indulgent father the too generous and affectionate friend may sometimes perhaps on account of the softness of their natures be looked upon with the species of pity in which however there is a mixture of love but can never be regarded with hatred in aversion nor even with contempt unless by the most brutal and worthless of mankind it is always with concern with sympathy and kindness that we blame them for the extravagance of their attachment there is a helplessness in the character of extreme humanity which more than anything interests our pity there is nothing in itself which renders it either ungraceful or disagreeable we only regret that it is unfit for the world because the world is unworthy of it and because it must expose the person who is endowed with it as a prey to the perfidian and gratitude of insinuating falsehood and to a thousand pains and uneasiness which of all men he the least deserves to feel and which generally too he is of all men the least capable of supporting it is quite otherwise with hatred and resentment too violent a propensity to those detestable passions renders a person the object of universal dread and abhorrence who, like a wild beast ought, we think to be hunted out of all civil society chapter 5 of the selfish passions besides those two opposite sets of passions the social and unsocial there is another which holds a sort of middle place between them is never either so graceful as is sometimes the one set nor is ever so odious as is sometimes the other grief and joy when conceived upon account of our own private good or bad fortune constitute this third set of passions even when excessive they are never so disagreeable as excessive resentment because no opposite sympathy can ever interest us against them and when most suitable to their objects they are never so agreeable as impartial humanity and just benevolence because no double sympathy can ever interest us for them there is however this difference between grief and joy that we are generally most disposed to sympathize with small joys and great sorrows the man who, by some sudden revolution of fortune is lifted up all at once into a condition of life greatly above what he had formerly lived in may be assured that the congratulations of his best friends are not all of them perfectly sincere an upstart though of the greatest merit is generally disagreeable and a sentiment of envy commonly prevents us from heartily sympathizing with his joy if he has any judgment he is sensible of this and instead of appearing to be elated with his good fortune he endeavors as much as he can to smother his joy and keep down that elevation of mind with which his new circumstances naturally inspire him he affects the same plainness of dress and the same modesty of behavior which became him in his former station he redoubles his attention to his old friends and endeavors more than ever to be humble, assiduous and complacent and this is the behavior which in his situation we most approve of because we expect it seems that he should have more sympathy with our envy and aversion to his happiness than we have with his happiness it is seldom that with all this he succeeds we suspect the sincerity of his humility and he grows weary of this constraint in a little time therefore he generally leaves all his old friends behind him some of the meanest of them accepted who may perhaps condescend to become his dependents nor does he always acquire any new ones the pride of his new connections is as much affronted at finding him their equal as that of the old ones had been by his becoming their superior and it requires the most obstinate and persevering modesty to atone for this mortification to either he generally grows weary too soon and is provoked by the sullen and suspicious pride of the one and by the saucy contempt of the other to treat the first with neglect and the second with petulance till at last he grows habitually insolent and forfeits the esteem of all if the chief part of human happiness arises from the consciousness of being beloved as I believe it does though sudden changes of fortune seldom contribute much to happiness he is happiest who advances more gradually to greatness whom the public destines to every step of his preferment long before he arrives at it in whom upon that account when it comes it can excite no extravagant joy and with regard to whom it cannot reasonably create either any jealousy in those he overtakes or any envy in those he leaves behind mankind however more readily sympathize with those smaller joys which flow from less important causes it is decent to be humble amidst great prosperity but we can scarce express too much satisfaction in all the little occurrences of common life in the company with which we spent the evening last night in the entertainment that was set before us in what was said and what was done in all the little incidents of the present conversation and in all those frivolous nothings which fill up the void of human life nothing is more graceful than habitual cheerfulness which is always founded upon a peculiar relish for all the little pleasures which common occurrences afford we readily sympathize with it it inspires us with the same joy and makes every trifle turn up to us in the same agreeable aspect in which it presents itself to the person endowed with this happy disposition hence it is that youth the season of gaiety so easily engages our affections that propensity to joy which seems even to animate the bloom and to sparkle from the eyes of youth and beauty though in a person of the same sex exalts even the aged to a more joyous mood than ordinary they forget for a time their infirmities and abandon themselves to those agreeable ideas and emotions to which they have long been strangers but which when the presence of so much happiness recalls them to their breast take their place there like old acquaintance from whom they are sorry to have ever been parted and whom they embrace more heartily upon account of this long separation it is quite otherwise with grief small vexations excite no sympathy but deep affliction calls forth the greatest the man who is made uneasy by every little disagreeable incident who is hurt if either the cook or the butler have failed in the least article of their duty who feels every defect in the highest ceremonial of politeness whether it be shown to himself or to any other person who takes it amiss that his intimate friend did not bid him good moral when they met in the forenoon and that his brother hummed a tune all the time he himself a story who is put out of humor by the badness of the weather when in the country by the badness of the roads when upon a journey and by the want of company and dullness of all public diversions when in town such a person I say though he should have some reason will seldom meet with much sympathy joy is a pleasant emotion and we gladly abandon ourselves to it upon the slightest occasion we readily therefore sympathize with it in others whenever we are not prejudiced by envy but grief is painful and the mind even when it is our own misfortune naturally resists and recoils from it we would endeavor either not to conceive it at all or to shake it off as soon as we have conceived it our aversion to grief will not indeed always hinder us from conceiving it in our own case upon very trifling occasions but it constantly prevents us from sympathizing with it in others when excited by the like frivolous causes for our sympathetic passions are always less irresistible than our original ones there is besides a malice in mankind which not only prevents all sympathy with little uneasinesses but renders them in some measure diverting hence the delight which we take in railery and in the small vexation which we observe in our companion when he has pushed and urged and teased upon all sides many of the most ordinary good-breeding to symbol the pain which any little incident may give them and those who are more thoroughly formed to society turn of their own accord all such incidents into railery as they know their companions will do for them the habit which a man who lives in the world has acquired of considering how everything that concerns himself will appear to others makes those frivolous calamities turn up the same ridiculous like to him in which he knows they will certainly be considered by them our sympathy on the contrary with deep distress is very strong and very sincere it is unnecessary to give an instance we weep even at the feigned representation of a tragedy if you labor therefore under any signal calamity if by some extraordinary misfortune you are fallen into poverty into diseases into disgrace and disappointment even though your own fault may have been in part the occasion yet you may generally depend upon the sincerest sympathy of all your friends and as far as interest and honor will permit upon their kindest assistance too but if your misfortune is not of this dreadful kind if you have only been a little balked in your ambition if you have only been jilted by your mistress or only henpecked by your wife lay your account with a railery of all your acquaintance End of section 4