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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en co .:men9ant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'llustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte una telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole ^•- signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds 6 des taux de reduction diff^rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est film6 6 partir de I'angle supdrieur gauche, de gauche 6 droite, et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 • 6 Tin- irniK AL system OK ADAM SMITH. By KTHBI^ MITIR, M. L. Thesis presented to the l"";icult\- of Cornell l-iii\ersity for the degree of Doctor of I'hilosoph)-, M;i)', 1896. u PRKFACK. In trcatiii^M)f the ethical system of Adam Smith I have found it necessary to introduce at some length the views of sexeral of his predecessors, in order to show the source and to trace the development of fundamental principles emphasized in the Theory of the Moral Sentitncnts. This reference to previous systems was also necessar>- in order to bring (nit the independent contribution which Smith himself-made to ICnglish ethical thought. Though dealing with an ethical subject, this thesis was undertaken primarily as a study in the histor\- of Philoso- phy. I. have tried to acknou ledge m\- indebtedness to the \ arious authors from whom I ha\e receixed help in foot- notes. Mere, however, I wish to acknowledge my obliga- tions for many valuable suggestions to Professor J. \\. Creighton, under whose direction the essay v as written. !•:. M. Mount Holyokc College, Dee. i8()8. ERRATA. On 1 age 17 - igtli line Iron, top, for " atlrrts ' read effects. 28 — 4th line from top, for " /.<* t/iot " read or tluii. .V) ~ 9lh line iVom bottom, for " instrwth-e '• read instinctive. 57 — i6th line from top, for ''present " read prevent. 61 —20th line from top, for " decote '■ ,cad denote. •,N' U l^s- '•' CONTENTS. PART. II. PART I. SMITH'S PRHDKCKSSORS. CHAPTKR I. INTRODUCTION !:; I. ShAITKSIU'KV. !^ 2. HUTCHKSON. ij 3. HuMi:. SMITM'S TIll'.OKV OK THK MORAL SENTI- MKN'TS. C;HAPTER I. SV.MPATHV. Sympathy thk Soukcf. ok Mouaf. f ri>(;.\ii:Nr. Sympathy thk Soukck or .Mi.rit and Drmkrit. iNi'i.UKNcn: OF Utility, Ci'siom an'D Fasfhon i'pon .Moral Judg.mknt. CHAPTER H. -'THE NATURT: OK C'ONSCHCNf'E. § 1. Conscience and Sympathy. 5^ 2. Conscience Identified wtth Reason. § 3. Conscience the Sourcic of the .Moral Ideal. chap'ter III.- conclusion. v^ I. Relation of the Theory of (he Moral Seniiiiietits to other ETHrcAL Systems. ^ 2. Function of Reason and of Sense in the Theory of the Moral Seii/inieiit<^. ^ 2. ,.>^.\V^ '^-^ ■•• I'.,. . •.. • Kr.^ THE ETHICAL SYSTICM OF ADAM SMITH. PART i.-SMrni's i'Ri:i)i-:ci':ss()Ks. CllAn I'.R I. I\T1<()1)1( TION. The \\()i"k of the Mor.il Sense l'hil()S()|)her.s was of the first importance for MnL;iish I'lthics. As a refutation of the extreme e{^(Msin of llobbes, aiu' an exhibilion of the naturahiess of man's social affections, it was most successful. l>ei;innin^L;' with Shaftes- l)ur\', and carried on by ilutcheson and ilume, this line of th(niL,dit is bnJUi^ht to its final c:om])letion in the JV/ron' of the Moral Scutiiitoits of Adam Smith, wIkj was, undoubted!)', cjne (jf the Ljreatesi thinkers Scotland has e\er produced. In 1751, Smith, at the ai;!' of twent) -ei^ht, was chosen Professor of Loj^ic in tlis L'l^iversit)' of (ilasj^ow, and in the fol- lowing^ )'ear was elected to the chair of Moral i'hilosoph)' at the same Universitv' : ' a ])osition which had been held shortlx' before this by PVancis Ilutcheson. In the JAvv?/ .S"(7//////(7//.v and the Wealth of Nations we ha\e what has been preser\ed of Smith's lectures at Gias<4'ow, the h'conomic beiiiL;' supplementary to the I'^thical work. - Tlie former is rei^arded by Buckle as the most imi)ortant book that has e\er been written, •' is ranked by Max Miiller as the peer of Kants' Criti(]iic and is, undoubtedly, the work uj^on which the author's fame pre-eminentl\' rests. Hut Smith's ethical \ lews, as ex|)resse(l in the Thco)y are also ex- tremely \aluable, and are worth)' of far more attention than has, as yet, been bestowed ujion them. Buckle, certainly, in his History of Civilirjatioii, expresses the most im(]ualified api^roxal and enthusiastic admiration. liut he rej^^ards Smith's wcjrk as so completel)' an P'.thics of .Syin- 1 Dut^alcl Stewart, Life and Writ incis of Dr. Smith. Introduction. 2 Ibici, Introduction. Prof. J. VV. Wilson, An Old Master and other Vuliti- cal Essaijx, p. 6. 3 Buckle, History of Civ ilizutiun in England, \u\. \, \>. 214. I MiiK : patli)'. th.il lu' fail-- to riiiphasi/i.' points upon which the author was most anxious llialstico> should IX- aul Onckcn, on the otlicr hand, in his Die litliik Adiim Smith's iiiiii KdHt's draws so close a parallel between the ethical systems of tiiosc two j^rcat writers, and reL,^-lr(ls Snn'th's \iewof(lut\- as of such paramount ini|)ortanct;, that he practically ignores the ^reat fundamental doctrine of sym|)ath)'. llence, from his treatment, nothin^f l)ut the most erroneous impression as to Smith's re.d position can possibl)' be obtained. ' As the 'ilicorv of the Moral Si'iitiiiieiits was written rli th the Wia/th i\ (it ions, It is not at all surprisiiiLj that the former should suffer by contrast with the threat l''.conomic work. iUit the Theory is alscj an admir- alile book, showiiiLj a remarkal)le power of (observation and wealth of illustration. Huckle claims so close a connection between the two, that neither can be understood without the other. liut, for the understandiiiLij of the llicory of the Moral Sentiments, a knowledge of the ethical writers who preceeded Smith, is much more imp(;rtant than a kiujwled^^e of his own Wealth of Nations. l*"or, by the former, wi- _L;ain informaticjii as to his statement of the (|uestion, and some idea as tcj how far .Smith is indebted to those earlier thinkers, - nd what he has done in- tiependentl)' for the de\elopement of the ethical problem. With this in \iew we will consider briefly the systems of Shaftesbury, Hutcheson and iiume, before takins; up the special subject of " Adam Smith's Theory (jf the iMoral Sentiments." SKCTIoX I. — SilAFTl-.SIJlJRV. Shaftesbuf)- is the first of the Moral Sense Phikjsophers. With him, a new phase of ICnglish ICthics begins. Me, in coinmon with all the moralists of his time in hji54land, is an un- com|)romisinL;" opponent of Hobbes. lie, however, differs from the majority in the L;'round of his opposition ; and institutes s new method of attack. - C'udworth and his school had been aroused by Ilcjbbes's insistance that \^oo(\ and evil are deter- mined by the sovereit;n ; and had maintained the essential and eternal distinctions of morality, as independent of any arbitrary will, human or divine. This question possessed no interest for SlJ titj nuj anl thi \\\ col ini w; ini h. cr vi 1'- oi ai til si ir 1. XoTE. A more satisfactory treatment of Smith's Ethics, recognizing the importance in tlie system of both sympathy and duty, is found in a Ger- man's Dissertation, by J. Schubert, Die Moralphilosophie Adam Smith's, Lei|)zij^, iSyi, which deals particularly with Oncken's views. I shall have occasion to refer to both of those writers later in this work. 2. Sidgwick History of Ethics. Chap. iv. llli; l.niKAl, SVMKM Ol' ADAM SMIIII. Of Sliartcsl)iii'\-. who rct;anlc(l all (lisLUssi(iM>. as to substances, en- tities, and the eti-rnal and inuiuitahle relations so much eni|)t\' sound ' It was the e;4oisin of the s\ stem which ani,fered him ; and he set himself to refute so false an account of the nature of man. Shafteshur)' aj^rees with Cumberland in insistinL,^ upon the ultimatel)' social character of human nature. Cumberland had compared society to an ori^anism, and had maintained the eciual importance of .s)in|)athy with ii^oism. Ihe [greatest happiness was, for him, the ol)jective end ; and he rei^arded the i^ood of the individual and the L;ood of society as identical - Siiaftesbur)' holds that each individual beini; is a member in a swstem of creatures, wlu'ch a common nature binds toi;ether. The indi- \idual man himself is a svstem, of whicii the \arious appetites, l)assions, and affections, are all united untler the supreme control of reason. Tlie parts of this s\stem are so carefully arranged, and so interdependent, that an)- disarrauLjement or dispropor- ticui, however slight, ma\- mar and (lisfiLiin'e the whole. If a sini^le passicMi is extended loo far, or continued too h^ng, irrecoverable ruin and misei v ma\' result. •' Tliis idea of s\stem, or the harmonx' of |)arts, is the leading idea in Shaftesbur)''s ethics. I lis fundamental conce|)t is aesthetic, unity in \ariet)- is the all-per\ adini;' law of tiie world. In e\ery case where parts work toLjether toward a common result, there rules a central principle. The parts <>f thej^j^anism are held toi^ether b\- the soul ; and, in TITcr~lari;er s)stems to which man is eviden'd)' related, individuals are joined with one another into species and i^enera b)' hi,L;her imities. ■* Out of} society, and out of coninumity, man never did nor nexer can e.xist. •'' There is no sense more natural than the sense of fellow- ship ; and this sense, as evinced in lo\(,' of community, is one of the plainest means of self- preservation ; and a most neccs.sary condition of self-enjo)i^ent. '' The mf )ral a nd social system has thus its foundations dee,; in the naUire of man. "^ Just as truly as musical haruKJuy antl proportion are natural, so also is there 1. Sitlilnqvy. Vt. III. Sec. i. 2. Da LfijihuH Xaturae. Introduction. 3. Inqitiri/ conccrnimj Virtue and Mrrit. Bk. 11. I't. 11. Sec. i. 4. Ibid. The Moralists. I't. 11. Sec. i. Dp. 286. 318. 5. Ibid. Vol. II. ]). 354. Falckenl)er;; Ilistorij of rhiloKi>j)li>j, En.i,'. trans., p. iy6. 6. Essaij on the fre.edom of Wit and lluiiior. I't. III. Sec. 2. 7. Adrirjito an Autlior. I't. lii- Sec. 3. The Moralists, [>. 411. M L' I K la harmony and proportion of \irtuc in the character and the affections (jf men. Shaftesbiu)- thus finds a natural basis for .iethics, iiulepen(h:nt of self interest or conwnitional fancies. The Vood for him is the beautiful, and the beautiful is the sym- metric;'.! ; hence the essence of \ irtue consists in tlu; balance, the u'inony or proportujii, (^1 the aliections and the passujns. Shaftesbury is a thoroujjfh-Li'oinc; optimist ; whatever is is rijj^ht. The finalit)- and beauty o( the parts of the world which we can know, ju-^tifies the inference to a like constitution o fth ose w hich [u-e ima, oroac: that the numerous e\ I ils, w habk so that we may be cerram hich we find in the details, work f')r a .systein superior to them, and that all apparent imperfections contribute U) the perfection of the whole. ' i-'roni the idea of social and moral harmon\-, Shaftesbur)' infers the existence of a formative pcjwer which works [juri)(jsivel\-, an all rulint^ unity, the soul of the world, the Deity. \\'hat Shaftesbury means by the Deity is however not (|uite clear, lie, at times, uses lan- yua^^e, which, as Leslie Stephen remarks, ^ would fit into an orthodo.x sermon about a personal God ; '* \et his teaching bears much m(jre resemblance to the pantheism of Spinoza. (iizycki concludes that while passaLjes are not wantini;', in which Shaftes- bury rej^ards nature, and the life-L;i\ ini;" power of natiuv, only as the representatives of l'ro\ idence, the Creator endowed with all power, yet his jjroof onl\' leads to a world-.soul, and not to a God. ■* This is the; \iew which is held also by I'owler, ^ who s;))-s : "we ma>' infer that Shaftesbur)" conceived tlie relation of God to the Wcjrld as that of the .Soul to the body. Nature is, as it were, the vesture of God, and (iod the soul of the Universe." As the in(li\idual mind understands, thinks, and plans f(jr tlie indi\ idual self, so the Universal Mind understands and acts for the whole of Nature. " This Universal Mind i:, not only all-powerful and all-wise, but is, also, perfectly ^ood. For a general mind could have no private interests ; but the good of the whole and its own good would, necessarily, be one and the same. " Shaftesbury, consistently recognizes no conflict between the 1. Thp Moralists. Vt. i. Sets. 2, 3. Il)id. .Sec. 4. I't 1 1. 2. Leslie Su|ilicii, En^/Ush Tliomjht nf llw Nineteenth Century. 3. The Moralists. I't. 11. Sec. 3. 4. (}izycki, Die Philosojihie SliKfUshiiry's. \). 62. 5. T. Fowicr, Shiiflesbtir;/ vnd lltttrhesun. Cluip. iv. p. 106. 6. The Mordlists.' Pt. ill. Sec. 5. •/. Letter concerning Enthusiasm, Sec. 5. p. 25. I Tin: KIIIKAI SVSIl.M ()[•■ ADAM SMITH. 111(1 the fisis for 'I'lie syiii- ice, th'j 111 some cIcl;tvc in Uood of the indixidiKil .ind that ofsocictN'. Ihc natural and the self alTections, he ccjininciids as both Liood and both necessar\'. ' 15ene\()lence is the principal moral \irtue : but a due re^anl to the interests and the preser\ation (>f tlie indi\ idual is not 1)\' any means U) be neglected. As in particiiiar cases public aliection, on tlie one hand, ma)- be too hiL;!i, so pri\ate affection, on the other hand, ma\' be too weak. These affections toward pri\atc }^ood are necessar}- and ess.'iilial to \irlue. I-"or though no crea- ture can be called \irluoi:s nieitly for possessint;' these affections, yet, since the\' are es^ontia! lo the welbbein;.;' of the system, a creature wantiiiL;" in them is uantin natural rectitude, and is \ icious and defective The disinterested impulses, while aimiiiL;' at other's l;i)0(I, lead a man to his own ; while the self-affections, which aim at th- Shaftesbury throughout as no easy matter. We are led to this redective approxal and disai)proval of the just and natural, or of the unjust and unnatural b>' a first principle in our constitution, by a natural sense of right and wrong.'* 'J'his faculty, which approves of right, and disap- proves of wrong, is wit/. Shaftesbury a sense, and more than once he antici[jates Iluicheson in calling it a moral sense.'* [This doctrine of the Moral Sense is ncjt, however, b)' any me<".ns the central point (jf the system ;•'' the har mony_of the passions and affections isj as we -have seen, the main doctrine. But the Moral Sense is that which exercised the greatest influence upon future writers of the school, especially upon Hutcheson, and is therefore often mistakenl)' considered the fundamental idea of Shaftesbury's ethics. Jlhis Moral Sense is universal, livery human being is endowed with natural inclinations fitted for the percepti(;n of moral harmony. However perverted and corrupt ii heart may be, it yet finds, in all cases, a distinction between two actions or inclinations, from which it approves of the one as suitable, and rejects the other as unsuitable. We have here a cl rl i CI 1. Ingniry, Bk. n. Pt- i. Sec 3. 2. Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humor, p. 121. 3. Iiit/niry, 15k. i. I't 111. Sec. I 4. Ibid, Bk I. l*t. 3. Sections i, 2, 3. 5. Note. For continnatioii of tills view, see Sidgvvick's History of Ethics, Chap. iv. For the opposite opinion, Scliiiljcrt, Die Moral Philos- ophie, Adam iSmilh's. Introductory chapter. Tin; i/miCAi. snsik.m jv adam smith. II hint of the "Impartial Spuctator " which afterwards became so im|jortant in Smith's s\stem. This moral sense, wliich is Shaftesbury's idea of conscience, has its foundation in nature, and. while in its natural condition, is main!)- emotional ^ As emotional, it d(jes n(jt occupy so commanding" and important a position in man's nature as does reason. Hut it adnn'ts of education and improvement, and this improvement consists in a general i^redominance of the rational element. The office of this educated conscience is the reflective approval of thei^ood, and disapiiroval of the e\il. No rational creature is e\er entirelv de\t)i(l of this moral or leflex sensibility. When, by means of this ri:ilecti\e conscience, the right has been detennined, our - negations of the good, owing to the incompleteness and the limitations of our nature. The operation of the Mor.il Sense, when uncorrupt :(1, is always in harmony with rational judgment as to what is or is not conducive to the good of the human species, though it does not neccessarily involve the explicit fcjrmation (jf such a judg- ment. b-\en ;i man who had no moral sense, would alwaj's find it to his interest tf) maintaiti in himself precisely that balance of social and self-regarding affections which is best adapted to .secure the good of societ)', and such a being might be said to have goodness, though not \ irtue. lUit such a man, Shaftesbury holds, is not really to be found. The ap[)robati()n or disapprobation of this inoral sense, to- gether with the love and reverence of (iod, form the pro[)cr sanctions of conduct. Neither the fear of future punishment, nor the ho[je of future reuard can possibly be regarded as goixl affections, nor as the source of any truly good acticjn. " No acticjii prompted by these motives can be regarrled as good and virtuou.s. " - Virtue must please by its own worth and beauty, and not because of any external advantage. We are not to corrupt the love of the good f(;r its own sake by mixing with it the hope of future reward. •' We have here a hint of Kant, in 1. Till' Moralists, Vl ill. Sec. 2. Imiriiry, I't. ill. Sec. 2. 2. n>id, Rk, II. Pt. II. Sec i. Ihid. Hk. I. I't- I. Srr. 3. 3. Falckcnbcijr. History oj i'hilosuphij, Enj^. trans., p. 200, tmimemm^iimmmmmmmmmmm^a 12 ML'IU : Shaftcsbur)''s view that tlic excellence of the object, and not the reward or punishment shcnild be our ni(jti\e for conchict. As to what coiistitutes the end of moral action, Shaftesbury is not very explicit. In tr)ini; to disco\er what he reall)- c(jn- ceives to be the t^ood, there are two |)oints which it is well to keep in mind: — (i.) The j^ood of tlio individual, and the ^^ocjd of society are one and the same. (2.) .Shaftesbur_\' recoi^nizes no possible conflict between \irtue and happiness. Ilence if we can find that which constitutes a person cillicr \irtuous or happ)-, we ihall have found the pood. th der Ih lie \anous e.\'])lanations <4'i\ei 1 of ifu 1 akmi( the t^ood IS, however, render ine matter somewnat conuisini;". the more [general defmitions first: — [\.) That alone is in which the nature of man can rest contented and find satisfac- tion. ^ (2.) Life and ha|)piness consist in action and emphjy- nient, and nothing can be called ijood h\\\ what is constant. - (3.) Virtue is the chief of all excellencies and beauties. ^ (4.) It consists in a harmony of the passions and affections, a love of goodness for its (jwn sake, and a lo\e of beautx' and order in societ)'. ■* Tliis arra)' of definitions is not \er)' satisfactorx', and instead of thrcjwing any light up(jn the matter appears rather to 'darken counsel with words.' Hut the subject beccjnies clearer when we remember that, to Shaftesbury, the good, the beautiful, and the harmonious are one. This practically reduces (3) and (4) t(J identical propositions ; and we are left w ith the g(KKl, as that in which the nature of man can find satisfaction ; which must, also, be constant and furnish action and emplojinent. Two interpretations of this good have been offered : (1) Hedonistic, the good is pleasure; and ii) it is self-satisfaction. The Hedonistic interpretation is, in this system, indefensible. It fails to fulfil either the reciuirements of constancx', or that of affording satisfaction to the nature (jf man. Morever, Sh.iftesbury states dislinctl}' that the good is not ])leasure, which he sa}'s ma)' be \er}- great, and \-et ver\- contem])tible. ''' This in itself is a sufficient refutation of the aigument for pleasure ; for if pleasure ma)- at the same time be \ er)' great and very contemptible then surel)' it is not the good. The oidy way of escape from this would be to admit c|ualitati\e distinctions in pleasure, and this Shaftesbury denies ; and maintains that the 1. /»//((/>;/, Vol 1 1., p. 75. 2. Adcicp to an Antlior, p. 319. Tim Moralists p. 223. 3. Inijuiri/, \'(il 1 1, p. 175. 4. /hid, Vdl 1 1, p. 75. 5. The Moralists, p. 229. Till'. KIHIlAI. >VSIK\I nV A HAM SMllH. 13 IKjt the so-c.'ilU'd hii;hcr i)lc;isiircs owe their ])n.'eniiiience to tlie .'uhh'tion of new and nobler elements to thi,' pleasure, ratlier than to any change wliicli has takiii place in the character of the pleasure as such. Sifii^wick. howe\er, maintains ' that in the ij^reater part of the arL;ument, Shaftes!)ur>' i;"i\es the i^ood of the individual this Hedonistic interpretation,- makini;' it e(|uivalent to pleasure, satistaction, or er;jo\inent ; and (piotes from our author, in con- firmation, that " philosoph)- is niithini; hut the stud)' of happi- ness.'"' 'Ihis passaL;e proves nothini;. It is a mere beL,^i4inL;" of the quc;stio(i. h"or it is just upon the meanini; of " liappiness " in the systeiri that the whole discussion turns. .And whatever else happiness may mean, for .Shafleshur)-, it does not mean pleasure in ail}' ordinarx' acceptation of the term. ' The other interpretation of the ^ood, \\hich makes it equivalent to self satisfaction, brings .Sliaftesbury \ery near to Aristotle and the self-realisation moralists ; and this view is certainly more in keepini;' with the whole spirit of the system. If we can discover that which renders one |)leasure valuable and worth}', compared with another which we re;_;ard as indifferent or m(\'Ui, b}' that stamp or character which ( .uises the distinction, Shaftesbur}' sa}'s we ma}' define the L;'ood, '' but not b}' means of the pleasure itself, lie further maintains that it is reason and \irtue, which are thus called upon to ennoble j)leasure. '"' Hence we must conclude that reason and \ irtue, since the}- form the stamp, the reciuinnl characteristic of the so-called hii^her pleas- ures, constitute that for which we are in search —the c;"o(k1. In reason and in \irtue, the nature of man can rest contented and find satisfaction. ihe}' also are constant and furnish per- manent emploxinent and action. The}' thus satisf}' all the tests of the s}'stem, and ma\- therefore be recoL;ni/.ed as the s reason as an im|)ortant'7 factor in the i^ood, in the end or aim of action, he, as we have' seen, almost iijnores its ]),-ut in the formation of moral judg- ments. The S. »4 MUIR re^ardcfl the affections anrl passions as tlie object of a hit^hcr reflective jiul^ntiLj affection, an innate faculty of moral jucl^ment, or sense for rvj rht and urontr, a moral sense. W e appn^vc virtue and condemn \ ice b}- nature, and from this natural feelini^ for ^'ood and e\il, exercise develops a cultivated moral taste, (ioodness recpiires the rellectixe a])i)ro\al and disap[)roval of our own conduct, and that of others. Shaftc iburj 's account of the Moral Sense is, ho\ve\er, most unsatisfactory. While, e.\plicitl\', he alinost ii,niores the share of reason in its judgments, and t^reatly e.\ai;jt;erates the share of emotion, yet, in wliat he di-scribesas the work of the iiKM-al sense, the constant exercise of reason is imi)lied. l^'or, before we can feel either approbation or disapprobation, we must refer an act tf) a cla.ss, or connect it by association with other acts of a similiar kind. In either case, com|)arison or reflection is involved, and the process is a rational one. The \ery statement, that the approval or disa|)proval must be reflective, implies the influence of reason on the moral judL^ments ; while Shaftesbury's treatment tends to utterl}' obsci'.re the fact of this influence, lie admits that the Moral Sense is capable of cultixation and improve- ment; Init he does not state in what the process of education consists. Me L^enerall)' describes moral decisions as thoUL^h they were immediate, and makes no attempt to analyse the Moral Sense, except b\' the occasional recoL,nu'tion of a rational, as well as an emotional element. As the moral taste becoines better instructed, the rational element becomes more prominent. If, then, we resj^ard Shaftesburx-'s idea of Ljoodncss as tlie reflective approval and disapproval of our r)wn conduct and that of others, we find rea.son necessarii)' implied ; and no less is this the case if we consider his other view of t^oodness, as love to mankind in [general, the study of the um'xersal L;ood, or the promotion of the interest of the whole world in so far as lies within our power. Here ai^ain reason would be indispensable for the consideration of ineans, and the comj)arison of results. Hence, in Shaftesbur)''s s)-stem, it is impossible to reconcile the nature of his criterion of rit^ht action, and the nature of the approving act. The idea of a reflectixe love of goodness, and .i universal bene\()lence, as depenrlent upon sense, appears, however, somewhat more consistent, when we remember that .Shaftesbury regarded human nature as divine. Hence the Moral .Sense is a di\ine though natural instinct. The^^cTthree conceptions — Moral Sense, Henevolence, and tTie great fundamental idea of system or harmony, exercised a great influence upon the succeeding writers of the I'^nulish School. tl a I ajjprovc ''•'il taste. I'oval of t^r, most share of share of ;il sense, ■ can fee) act to a •siinih'ar wl, and hat the ifluence -atmcnt admits iprove- ucation thoiioii ■se the itional, --■comes nincMt. IS the id that is this fue to ^r the uithin H- the I once, laturc oving /crsal ever, ^bury ; is a ^oral stem xh'ng TIIK KTHICAI SYSTK.M OK ADAM SMUII. »5 Si:( TION 11. — lllJTCIII'.SOX. Shaftesbiu), as we have seen, difl mnch to refute llobbes. Indixidii.ih'sm was to him an utter impossibih'ty : mail is ever part f)f a s\-stem. Altruism is just as natural as is et^oism, and the bcne\()lent atid the self-re^ardint; affections both necessar\-, and both tjood. Not reason, but sense, which is, however, when uncf)rrupted, never in condict with reason, is man's moral L,aiide. The conduct ap|)ro\ed b\- this moral sense is such as tends to the i/ood of the sNstem as a whole. In this reaction against eL,foism. the cliinax is reached in llutcheson, who not only develops many of Shaftesbur)''s ideas, but, in his '/e;d for benevolence, almost overlooks the claim of the individual as such. Mis elaborate ethical s)'stem ma\-, not unfairl)', be summed up in two terms : the Mor^il Sense, and Benevolence. The doctrine of the Mctral Sense was fully de\eloped by Hutcheson. Shaftesbury had sui^^i^^ested the idea, Hutcheson formed the sys/o// of the Moral .Sense. ' By his adoption and (le\elo|)ment of this principK', and b)' thus insistinij upon human nature as the ultimate source of moral distinctions, llutcheson exercised a tremendous influence both upon the philoso|)hy and tht.' theoloj^y of Scotland, - where, perhaps more than in any other countrv, tTre~t^n7n?nc\- had been to retrard revelation as the one source of all l/ I'liilosopln/, \'ol. n., p. I2|. 3. I5iicklc, Ilistnrii of Ciisli.-iifio)! \'i)\. iii., \). 293. 4. Sijsti'm iif Miirnl I'liiloxojilnj, WA. i.. |). ()i. 5. Ini]uirii, \'()1. II., p. u/). S>/xli hi,, Ch;i\t. w., p. 53. ifi MUIR approve (if tin- moix' worth) ()!)jccts, i-\cn whi'ii, by so cloiii;^. it must ()p|)()sc the; effect of narto^ver affections, which, considered in theniseKes, would be (|uile worth)' of approval. ' The exist- ence of this senst; is proved h)- the fact that moral differences of action are admitted !))• all, I'vcn when conscious that they will not themi.elvcs be affecli'd bv' the actions. -' Ilutcheson does not distinguish with suffirii-nt clearness between emotions and ideas, j (r confnsi's the ultimate feelint^ of approbatirm or disap|)rol)ation, with the intellectual proces.s, which usuall)- precedes this feelini;'. llis conception of the Moral Sens- is rather that of an emotional, than of a perceptive facult)'. It is more analoij^ous to what lu- describes as the" I'ublic Sense," that is "our determinatioti to In' pleased with the happi- ness of others, and to be uni:as)- at their miser)-," than it is to that of the external senses. ■'• With Shaftesbur)-, the sense of beauty and the Moral Sense were one and the same sense, as applied either to external objects, or to human actions, character, and fl'M'll^-. it coiisi(|(.rt'(l The cxist- 'erciiccs of the)- uill clearness itc fed i lit,' a I process, 'II (»f the perceptive le" Public he happi- 11 it is to ■ sense of sense, as character, lishes be- to yc'^u- ui'l com- we are of moral ifference i^OOfl of le Moral s ns to at least, actions such as est and loni our acter of ity and makes petites, others. it This power jud^'es about the means, or the subordinate ends, but about the ultimate ends there is no reasoning. * Reason is ^iven U) man in order that he ma}- jud^f of the tendencies of his actions and not stupidly folloA' the first api)earance of |)ublic <^rood. - Desires, a;T.-:tions, and instincts, mu>t be previous to all exciting reasons, and a moral sense antecedent to all justilyintj reasons.'' It is al\va)'S some i^ood which men |)ursue, and the pursuit of this '^ood is prompted b}- an instinct, and ap])ro\ed b)' the Moral Sense The end is determined by our Moral Sense and affections, but it is reason which finds out the means. The difticult\- noted in .Sh;ifte->bury's system in reL,fard to the relation of rciscjn anrl the ^^oral Sense arises aj^ain here. If moral excisions are entirel\- the result of an innnediate intui- tion of the Moral .Sense, why do tlu-se decisions re(|uire to be corrected or revised. .And if the decisions of this ^Ioral ."^ense are infallible, wh)- should this facultv' be re^^arded asca|)able of education or improvement? .Almost all of the diversitv in nuM'al sentiment arises, llutclieson says, from o|)|)osite conclu- sions of reason about the affects of actions u|)on the public, or about the affections from which thev fl(jvved. Ihe Moral .Sense al\va)-s approves and condemns uniformlv' the same immediate objects, the same affections and dispositions. Hut jjeople reason verv differentl)' in rei;"ard to actions and the notions by which the}- iiave been caused.^ It is in kindlv affection, and desire of the public <^no(\ that true merit is found, and not in reason. The.se .systems, which rcLifard nioralit}' as conformity to reason, realK' presuppose a moral sense. '• Uy conscience, Ilutcheson sometimes denotes the moral faculty itself, and sometimes the judi^Uient of the understand- iuLj concerning the springs and effects of actions, upon which the Moral Sense approves or condemns them. W hen we have certain ma.xims and rules concerning the cf)nduct which is v ir- tuous and vicious, and regard them as the laws of ("icxl, or when we are persuaded that other laws are revealed to us in a differ- ent maimer, then conscience ma}- be defined as, " oiu" judgment concerning actions compared with the laws." Other circum- stances being e(]ual, the greater the diligence and caution about 1. »S'//.'t(fm, Vol. I., p. Q3. 2. ItKiHiry conccrninii oral (UxhI and Eril, Soc. 4. 3. lUustratinns on the Moral Some, Sec. i. 4. System, \'o\. i. pp. 38. 91. 5. Illustrations on the Moral Schsp. Sec. I., pp. 216. 220, 22y. Sec. IV., pj). 80, 81. Sec. v., p. 291. .»^;r-ja«<»»???*i«*«|6gS«WS«# i8 Ml' Ik our fliit)', so much the hotter is tlio character; and the less the (lih^ence and caution, so much the worse is the < haracter.y/ llaxiuLj coiisid -red thi- important doctrine ot" the Moral Sense, ue now turn to llutcheson's all-inclusive \irtue, Me- ncvolence Th ere is m hii man n itui\' a disinteres 4ed, ultimate desire for the ha|)|)ines.s <»r others ; and we onl\' approve of those actions as \irtuous, which |)roceed partl\' at least from such a desire. ' The l)est state, and the j^reatest hap|)iness of a human being, consists in uni\er->al, efricacioii^ heneNoU'iue, jind nothin;^' more than this deserves the- name of perfection. The peifeclly virtuous person acts inunediately from the lo\e of others ; while selfish actions are tlie cause of shame and confusion. - It is not any form of selfishness, however, that causes us to des.", ,' till" happiness of others ; we are not prom|)tefl to this by any prospects of personal advantage, .such as wealth, p-ovver, or pleasure. i-Or that which is most noble, [^.-nerous, and virtuous in life, is the sacrifice of all positivf interests, and tne bearin;4" all private evils for the public good ; while submitting also the interests of all smaller systems to the interests of the whole ; without anv other exci^ption or reserve than this, that every man may look upon himself as a part of this system, aiifl, consetiuentl)-, not sacrifice an imi)ortant private interest to a less important interest of other.-. •' While we can.not alwa\-s know the tendencv of our own actions, we m.iv endeavour, to the best of f)ur power, to do that which is most likel)- to tend to the public good ; and vvIhmi we are conscious of a sincere endeavour for this, no evil conseciuences which ma\- result will cause us to t .idemn our conduct. This extremely altruistic |K)sition is somewhat modified by Hutches(jn in his later work, ■* where he recognizes three calm, natural, determinations of the will: the calm desire c^f our own happiness, the calm desire of the hap])iness of othirs, and the calm desire of moral perfection ; each of these is alike ultimati;, but when the first comes into conflict with the second or the third, the Moral .Sense never fails to dictate to the agent the voiuntar}' sacrifice of the first to either of the others. Hutche- son never allows much more to the individurd dian the admission that, as a part of the svstein, his rights are to be respected. F. Inqninj, \'ol. ii. Sec. 2. 2. ll'i'l, \'()1. II., pp. 166. 177, 200. 21S. 239, 333. 3. IIIu.' "k- .M<,ral \irtik-. lic- ''I. iiltiinalc '\t-' of those <>ni such a "' 'i iuiiiiaii ifl luithinj^- ^' P<.'ifcrtl\- ''■'■-^ ; w hifc "i- - It is h to (k-s;. . i'-' in any h, [;o\vrr, l<-''"iis, and ^. and tne ^iihinitt infe- sts of the this, that tL-ni, and, t to a less ays know " the best 'fl lo the iifleavoiir isf lis to tlificd b)' ■<^'c cahii, our own and the ultimate, I or the ^vnt the Hutche- lan the <-• to be llutchcson is not a I'tih'l.irian, ahhou^h he eonies nuu li nearer to this school tlian Sliaftesbiiiy liad done, and insists repeatedl)' upon the " ^M'eatest happiness ot' thi- ;4reatest number," Ijein^, in \\v:\ th.- tlrst to make u>e of tliis |)hrase. ' That in action, which llutcheson considers of chief importance, is the affection or moti\e. The chftlcuhw ho\\f\iT, arises for him, as it has done, also, for later inora!i-.t>. lliat, in jud^iii}^' actions, we are practicalU- oblisji-d to regard onl\- their effects or consequences Thus, while the motive, the kind affection, is that which constitutes an act reallx' or form.illx' i;oo(l. the Moral Sense points out, as the only ^ood or \irtuous deed, that wiiich is materially y;ood, as tending to the welfare or ha|)|)iness of others. '^ Vet llutcheson shows plaiiil}- that neither pK'asure nor use- fulness forms the basis of moral distinction^. The notion unrler which we approve moral conduct is not:(l) that of L;i\ing us pleasure by sympath)-; nor (2; that it is pleasin;^ to our moral sense; nof ''3; that it is useful to the aL;ent himself; nor ('4) that of conformity to the I)i\ine will or laws. We do not approve all conduct, which ;4i\es us pleasure b\- s) inpath\', and sometimes we approve such conduct as does not i4i\e it. W'c are plea.sed in contemplating^ the \irt.ie of another, as an ex- cellence in that other, and not as something;, which brinies pleasure to ourselves. .\or floes our apj)ro\al ()f the conduct of another depend U|)f)n its usefulness; for the approver ne\er expects a reward for the \ irtue of another ; he a|)i)ro\es when he feels no interest of his own promoted; and he would the less ajjprove such actions as are beneficial, the more he considered them as advar.tajjeous to the aL;eiit, and imaj^n'ned him influenced by views of his own adxantat^e. Nor is the notion under which we ap])rovc conformit\- to the l)i\ine will ; for this must mean conformity to his goodness, justice, etc ; so these moral perfec- tions must be {previously known, or else the flefinition by conformity to them is useless. We cannot describe our moral approval, either, as fitness or congrin'tx'. The fitness of means or subordinate ends docs not pro\e them to be good, imless the ultimate end is go(jd ; and the term " fitness " cannot be applied to an end trul\- ultimate. An ultimate end must be settled by an original determination of our nature. Neither cust(jm, association of ideas, nor education can form the original of moral approbation, as these can gi\e us no new senses ; and the ^ 1. Inquiry concerning ^foral Good and Evil, Sec. 3. 2. Ibid, Vol. II. Sec. iii,p i8} Ml'IR opinion or notion !)>• which uc approve n\u^{ he an ori|^nnaI priiui|)k', hi IS prMici|)lc, as wc lia\e sclmi, is the Moral Sense by means ot' whieh \vc" identity \ irtue and benevolence; and yet it is the fact that we natural!)' appr(»\e of benevolence, that proves thai we ha\e a Mt)ral Sense. While llutchcson admits "the calm desire of moral perfec- tion" as one of tin- ultimates of our nature, and claims that not only universal Ljood-vvill, but also the love of moral excellence, may be ranked as a ri^ht affection, - )et the former, alon^^ with the Moral Sense, so occuj))' his attiMition that the latter is piacticall)' ignored. Had he di-vfloped his sjstem in this direc- tion lie would have approached closrly tlie selt-realization moralists. Hut this he has not dtjne, and, as the s) stem stands, we must rej^ard llutcheson as the j^real exptJiient of the Moral Sense and of IkMievolence. Shaftesbury had found no conflict, but a complete lianiio)iy> between the t^ood of the individual and that of Society, and ha<^l shown that it is not selt'ishness which makes us desire the j^ood of others. But he h-u! insisted stronj.,dv' upon the |)leasurc which accompam'es the exercise of the benevolent affections, and lest it mii^ht still be thouL,dU that tin- ac(|uisition of this pk-as- ure was the real motive of the benevolent man, liutclieson establi.shed most carefull)- the utterl)- disinterested character of those affections. He also made, as we have seen, Shafles- burj^'s Moral Sense a central doctrine of his svstem, and regarded benevolent actions as the onh* objects of this sense. This brinn of tlie irret;ularity of our sentiments in regard to motives and to acticjns. In considerinj^f the sanctions of conduct, Hiitcheson is atone with Shaftesbiu')-. He art^ues aLjainst those who imagine that an action can onlv be \ irtuous when undertaken with the design of pleasing or obej'ing the Deity. ^ ^'ct the love and veneration of (lod, together with the moral sancti(jn, strictlv' so-called, furnishes the purest of all motives to the exercise of virtue. 'I'his love is a|)prf)ved by the moral facultv' as the greatest excellence of mind, and is most useful from ilutcheson's point t. Inifn'mj. \'u\. i., yy. 1 16, 120, \z\, 128. l\)id. i». 2^2. 3. Illnstrdtionx upon the Mcrol Sfuse. Sec. 6. THK KIHICAI, SVhll.M OK ADAM SMI 111. 3t '1 orif^M'iial tlic Moral iL'\()Icncc ; 'ii'\()lcncc, pt-rfcc- >^ thai not xccllciicc, o'lK' with latter is 11"^ (hrcc- '-■'hzation 11 stands, i<-' A/oral 'laniioiO'^ I'lfl liad he j^oofl pleasure "lis, and i-s plcas- itchc'son liaractcr Shaftcs- "1, and ^ sense, ■lain'sm, 3' n-om ttif^n of and tf) at one ic that rlesij^n lation :alled, virtue, catest point (.f \ii-'\v ; since the love of moral perfection is a natural ineite- nicnt to all {.food offices, i liutehe.son n ^'ards the Sanctions of luiinan law as sinipl\- pre\enti\e and deterrent. Iluinan punish- ments are onl)- methods of >elf-di reiice, ii) whiih the decrees of ^nill are not the pn)])i'r measure; hut thi> measure is to he found in the neccssit)' of ri'strainin<.,f actions lor the safet)' of the puhlic. -' This theor>- (»f punishment is in harmoii)' with ilutiheson's \ iew of morality, .md forms aiiotlu'r point of a^rei'inent hetweiMi his s) stem ..wA that of later rtilitaiians. While the main coiueptioiis of I lutcheson's system are those of the Moral Sense and Hene\ oleiice, ) et his idt'al of moralitv" was, like that of Hutk-r, of a life accordiii;^ to the hiL;hest principl' -s of our nature. ihis \ie\\, as has heeii noted, receives hut litt ,' de\elopinent in the s\stem ; hut that llutcheson re^Mrded it as the ^oal to l)e attained 1)\ the exerci.sc of the Moral .Sense and the practice of uni\ er>al HeiKAolence is shown h\' the follouiiiLr (Uiotalion : "()ur Moral Sense shows this calm extensi\e affection to he the hiL^hest perfection of our nature, what we ma\- see to he the end or desi;^!) of such a structure, anrl, conse(iuentl_\-, what is ie(|uirecl of us hy the author of our nature ; and, therefore, if an\- one like this des- cription hettcr, he ma\' call \iilue- the actini;' accordini; to what we ma)' see from the constitution of our nature we were intended for h\- our Creator." ^ Sr.c TION III i It MK. In opposition to l^Ljoism as the hasis of conduct, Shaftes ])ur\- had shown the complete harmoiu' hetue en the affecticais (jf s elf lo\e and lo \c for o thers. lie had found also in the natufcTTJT inan a .sense which dislini^niished hetween ri^jht and wronj^, and which led to self-sacrifice for others, if the ^ood of others reciuired that sacrifice. Hut Shatteshurv had emphasized .so stronj.;l)' the pleasure resullinj^' iVom henevolence, and the complete identit}' of \ irtue aiul happiness, that his system was left open to the sus|)icion of still harhourini,'^ a suhtle form of Ilobbes' hated cUjctrine. Hutcheson prevents an}' such misapprehension in reL;ard to his views by makinj^ benevolence the (Jtie all-inclusi\e virtue, 1. T. Fowler, iShnftesltKry niid IfntrlifixiDi, ^), Kjy. Sijstrin (ij Miirdl riiilnsniiluj. Hk. i. Clui|). lo. 2. llluntratiiiHs n)>i>n tin' Moral Srnsi>. Sec. 6. Art 6. 3. Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections, Preface, p. 16. ii MUIR : which cDiistitutos the only object of the Moral Sense. He insists th.'it the |)Icasure resulting', from benevolent actions can on!}- be olitained b\- a disinterested desire for the good of others, and is never to be had b\- merely desirini^ it. Hence the wish to benefit others is (luite distinct from the desire for the pleasure arisinL,^ from benexolence. JUit even here a difficulty arose. The onl\- objects of the moral sense are actions which tend to the general good. Ikit w hat if such an action shall have been performed from an interested moti\e? Hutcheson decided that in such a case the act was materiall\- good, but not formally so ; for to be formal!}- or reall\- good, the motive, al.so, must be ber,e\(jlent. Hume entirel)- does away with all such distinctions. His first great problem in the 7";7v;//.sv' is regarding the source of our moral judgments, lie agrees with Shaftesbury and Hutcheson that this is found not in reason, but in sense. J^'or morals have an influence upon the actions and the affections, and .so active a principle as conscience or a sense ol morals could never have as its source an) thing so w holl)' inactixe as reason. ^ Our approv- al or disapproval of an action simpl\- means that from the con- stitution f-jf c)in' nature, we ha\e a feeling or sentiment of prai.se or blame from tlie contemplation of it. Moralit)- is neither a relation of objects, nor a matter of fact, and hence can be, to Hume, no object of the understanding. '^ It was difficult to see, e\en in Shaftesbury's .s}stem, any objective \alidit}- for morality, when e\il is regarded as but a negation of the good, and our moral judgments as based on sensations. Hut both Shaftes bury and Hutcheson regarded those judgments as objecti\eI\' called forth, and as not ultimately referable to the person judging. With Hume, however, com- plete ethical sul)jecti\it\- is reached. Vjrtue and „.vice are dislinguished b\- particular i)leasures and pains. We do not ihlerll characTer to be \irtuous merely bixause it i)leases, but in feeling that it pleases after a particular maimer, we, in effect, feel that it is \ irtuous. Hume thus makes virtue and vice .syn- on}'mous with pleasure and j)ain. h'.ach of the passions and operations of the mind has a particular feeling which must be either agreeable or disagreeeable; the first is virtuous, the second vicious. The jjarticular feeling constitutes the very nature of the passion, and, therefore, need not be accounted for. ^ ( il tl i. 1. Trentii^e of Ilianaii \^s■l•|:\I .u- .\i>,\m >miiii 23 Sense. He t actions can "(1 of others, ' tlie wish to tJie pleasure culty arose, ich tend to have been ccided that ^nnally so ; must be tions. fifs ince of our Hutcheson als ha\ e an 'O active a er ha\e as Jr approv- 1 the con- <^f praise neither a -in be, to stem, any as but a based on :lcd those Jtiinately er, com- vice are ' do not s, but in n effect, ice syn- ons and tnust be e second iture of ( i riiis ir.oral pleasure is only excited by tlie character and sentiments of a person, and onl)- 1)\- ihcin when considered with- out any lererence to our particular interest. It is onl}' in means t)f s\ inpath}' that \\e can obtain the pleasure which enal)les us to recognize others as \ u'laous. i lutcheson liad nested as an im- portant determination or sen^e of the soul, the s}-m|jalhetic sense, which he pronounced \cvy (hlTerent iVom any e.\ternal sense. ' H)' its means, whi'U we ,i])prehend the state of others, we natur.ill}' lia\e a fellow -feeliiiLi witli them. In considering^ the pain or distress of another, we feel a strong' sense of pit\- and a _L;re^, or resemble t»ein<,r has an " the imar^ina- tJie pains and :e. ^ lime rr/vcs up ^''' -ilLlf' sj'm- ^'1 the later n-om that of cial feelin<»- is '". which has '-'t'ly- This -lit by which Its.-' J JLit in i_evolence, or process by J^ non -social 'nan in the ume goes so iman minds "f personal 3y means of -ss and the "P'-ithy has 1 instances, ' instances, an nature, refers to •oversy be- vvhich can 'elfish and I the selfish •" There and none rHI': KIIIK .\1, SVSTF.M OF ADAM SMITU. 25 more suitable for this can be found than benexoience or humanit)-. The happiness of otluMs in\;u'iabl\- causes us pleas- ure, their miscr\- causes us pain. Hence, Hume concludes, these are ori^^inal principles, which cannot be resohed into otiars whicli are more sinipk'. ' As will be seen from this use of sxinpatlu' and an original feelinL,^ of hi'.nianity, 1 1 ume is far removed from the l\t;oism of Ilobbes. Hut equall)- distant, if not still fartlier, is he, in his earlier work, from the extreme bcue\()lent theorx- of Ilutcheson. W'l-ile he holds that the natural selfishness of man lias been ^reatl)' o\ er-estimaterl, and that it is rare to meet with a i)erson, in whom the kind affections do not overbalance the selfish, he )-et admits that each man lo\es himself better than an\' other j)erson, - and upholds a certain amount of selfishness as natural. While, also, the increased beiRwolence of the liiiqiiiry is import- ant, its increased utilitaria!n'sm must be remembered, and, as Selb}- HiL;'!.;c' points out, conseiiuences mis4ht be drawn from this later use of utilit}-, which would completeK' neutralize all the concessions made to benevolence. '■' As the .s\-stem stands, however, Hume is broui^ht much nearer to Ilutcheson in the /w/r/////-)' b\' this treatment of benevolence, which is not only of vastly increased importance on its own account, but has also taken the place of the s}-m|)athy c)f the Tiratisr. i'robabl}- Hume's greatest departure from views of the Moral Sense ])hilosophers is to be found in his treatment of nat- ural and artificial \ irtues. Natural virtues are those which have no dependence on the artifice or contrivance of man, ■* while the artificial virtues are inventions, which we rank as moral virtues, simplv because thev tend to the i^^ood of mankind. The i;-ood which results from a natural virtue results from ev erv' single act ; while, from an artificial virtue, a siuLjle act, considered in itself, ma\- often be contrarv' to the public ^^ood, and it is only die concurrence of mankind in a y;eneral scheme or s\-stem of action which is advantai;eous. Now it is onl)- bv' means of sv'in- path) that we are pleased u ith the j^ood of societv', where our own interest is not concerned. Hence sj-mpath)- is the source of the esteem, which v.e pay to all of the artificial virtues and to tho.se of the natural virtues, which tcMid to the ^^ood (jf others. " 1. KiKiiiinj, Sec. 250. Xiitc. 2. TrcMti^'r, P.k. 111. I'l. M. p. 1X7. 3. Kminirij {lSf)4), Introduction. 4. Tnatisf, p|). 471;, 577, 580. S- I hid, Bk. m. J). 57H. 26 MUIR : Hume insists that justice is not a natural hut an artificial virtue. It arises artificall}-, thou^di necessarily, from education and human invention. ^ It has its origin in the selfishness of mankind, combined w ith the scant)' provision Nature has made for their wants. Hoth man's disposition and his circumstances are thus adverse to societ}'. Hut for this " Nature provides a remedy in the judgment and understanding;, for what is irregular and incommodious in the affections. " - The remed)' suL;<;ested is \ery similar to that of Hobbes, but there are here no promises i^i\en. The members of societ)' e.xpress to each other a s^^eneral sense of commtjn interest, and immediately the idea of justice arises, and depenrlent on this idea, such others as those of propert)-, obliL^ation, and r\[.\\\t.. come into existence. This con\ention is not at all one of i^^ood- ness or wickedness, but is entirel)' one of prudence or of folly. Hume's treatment of justice is ver\- much modified in the Enquiry. Its origin he still finds m utilit\', but he no lont^er rej^ards it as an artificial virtue ; for he here pronounces it as natural as sclf-lo\e, benevolence, reason, or forcthoui^ht, and claims that " in so sai^acicus an aiu'mal as man, the necessar)- pnxluct of his reason maj' ji'stly be esteemed natural. " 'I'he keepini^ of promises, and submission to go\ernment, Hume also ranks as artificial virtues. We have seen that .Shaftesbur)' rej^arded the judgments of the Moral Sense as al\\a)'s in accord with reason, and that reas- on became in his sj'stem the su[)remc ruler of the moral life. Ilut- ♦-cheson departed from Shaftesbury's doctrine on this point and said : "not in reason, but in kind affection, and desire of the public good is virtue found.." .\nd now with Hume, reason, once -the supreme governor of the will, has bect^me merel}' the slave of the passions. •' Its functions, along with that of the Moral Sense, have been delegated to sxiripathy. Sxnipath)', or the symimthetic sense, had been mentioned 1))' Jlutcheson as an important inipulse of our nature, which spontaneous!)' assumes any feeling observed in another. ^ This s)'ni|)athy becomes with Hume the basis of our moral judgments, but it is also, by him, curious!)- com|)licated with utilit)-. X'irtue and \ice are .synonymous with pleasure and pain. It is on!)" b)- means of itil vh| wai obi \V dol mil th( ini| te HI oV h:J 1. TreatwAW^. in. I't. ii. Sec i. 2. Ihid, Bk. III. |). 487. 3. Ihid, Bk. II. I't. III. So(-. III. p. 415. FalckenberL,s lUMory of liiilosujilin, p. 233. 4. Hulchcson, tSystem. Vol, i. p. ly. THK KIHUAI. SVSTKM OK ADAM SMITH. 27 I't 'til artificial ''■f"n ^'flucation "^' ■'Selfishness of i^i"-e has made <-i|-cui)istaiiccs i"v provides a '''^'' what is 'lat of Hobbcs, ><-''s of societ)' '"^^''■L'.st, and "f't^iit on this ^'1. and rij^ht. ' '"leofn-ood- ^ f>r ,,f folly '''ified in the he no longer '"ounces it as 'it. and claims ;^ao- product J he keepino- If also ranks - inf'j4'ment.s 'If' that reas- ilhfe. Jlut- Point and esirc of the ■cason, once '' the slave tlie M(„-al '13'. or the eson as an y assumes becomes ■'^ also, by vice are means of Syinpalhv that \vc recot;nizc this moral |>Icasurc and pain ; but it is, nc\ertholess, thcutilit}', the pleasure or pain produced, upon l^'hich f)ur judi^ment of the action depends. As bencxolencc vvas the only object of the Moral Sense, so pleasure is the only object of the s\-in|)athetic sense. ' With all these admissions to the |)leasure-pain theor\- we naturall}' class Hume as a Hedonist. And, indeed, with his ps\ cholo^)-, it is somewhat doubtful how he can ccjiisistentl)- hold any other theor\'. If the mind has, or, rather, is, nothini; but a series of fleeting states, then the onl)' rational procedure would be, to make those fleet- ing states as pleasant as possible. Hut Hume is no Utilitarian in an)' recognised sense of the terin. He denies the fundamental principle of the theor)'. He was not led away b}- tin; fallac\- that the desire for an object, e\en an object which, when attained, shall be foimd, or has been found, to gi\e j leasure, is necessarily and always a desire for pleasure. He follows Hutler in holding that self-love is but a secondarv impulse, whose appearance presupposes |)rimar)- im|)ulses. Only after we ha\e experienced the pleasure which comes from the satisfaction of an original impulse, can this become the object of a conscious search after pleasure, or lead to (^goisim. C)n the other hand benexolence, Hume claims, is a primar)' impulse. It is an original affection of the mind, immefli;\tel}- directed toward the happiness of others. After we have experienced the self satisfaction which follows u[K)n its exercise, it is then possible that the exjjectation of their natural consequences may influence us in performing benevolent actions. Hut the original motive is not for pleasure.j Hume's treatment of morality is most unsatisfactory. Virtue and vice are synon\'m(^us, as we have seen, with pleasure and jjain, and }-et this pleasure is utterK' disinterested ; it is only when a character is considered in general, without an)' reference to our particular interest tliat this feeling or sentiment of moral good and evil arises. '^ It is from the influence of characters and (jualities, upon those who have intercourse with any person, that ue blame or praise him. ■* Our own interest or pleasure does not at all enter into the case. I'or, in judging of character, men could never agree in their sentiments and judgements, unless they chose some common point of view, from which they might 1. Martineau. Typpfi of Etinral Thrartj, p. 535. 2. F;ilckonberi,s lUstorij of I'liilosoii/uf, p. 235. 3. J''r('nlis(>,Bk. ni. I't. i. |>. 472. 4. Ibid, Part iii. Sec. i. p. 582. 1 1 'd ;■ •'(! 28 ML'Ik 4 I '■", survey their object, and which mi^ht cause it to appear the same toall of theni. The only interest or pleasure that appears the same to every spectator, is tliat of the person himself, whose character is examined, is tlh'u of those w ho have some connection with him. These, then, hc'uv^ more constant and universal than our own interest and pleasures, are alf)ne admit- ted in speculation as the standard of \ irtue iiKjrality. They alone produce that [^articular feelinj;- or sentiment, on which moral distinctions dej:)end. ^ Thus, while on the one hand, Hume has made morality entireK' suhjecti\e, dependent on a feeling of j)leasure or pain, which proclaims the presence of virtue and vice, j'et, on the other hand, the feeling of moral approval or disapproval is entirely dependent in its orij^in upon the influence of the character of the jjcrson, who has jjcrformed the i;()od or the evil deed. Hence, lookiuL; at the tjuestion from this point of view, we may say that, with Hume, moral distinc- tions ultimately depend upon, and are called forth by character. When we praise actions, we rei^ard onl)- t he motives that pro- duced them, and consider the ac_ti()ns as si<;hs OT'Tndications of certain p rinciples in the mTn cTor temper. 'rjie^exTernal perform- "aiice has no merit. We must TcxTR \vitTiin to find' tiTe moral qualit}'. We re<;ard tlie actions as sii^ns, and the ultimate object of our praise or blame is the motive that produced them. '^ Hume, however, regards actions as infallible sic^iis of character. There is just so much vice or \ irtue in any character as every one places in it, and it is impossible that we can ever be mistaken in regard to this. •' In order that our inference from actions to motives and character should so ine\itably result in a correct judgment, we would natural 1}' conclude that the process was pre-eminentl}' that of reason. Ikit this, as we have seen, is not at all Humes's idea. It is b)- means cjf sj'mpathy that we enter into the pain and pleasure caused by the characters of others, and thus obtain ourselves the sentiment which assures us of the moral quality of the character. Actions can never be finally accounted for by reason, but only by some desire for which no reason can be given. All moraiit)' depends upon our sentiments ; and when any action or qualit)' of the mind is capable of affording a certain kind of pleasure, either to the agent hiinself or to those affected by his character or his acts, we call such an action or (juality virtuous. When the ne;/i simi perf can I nii-'i| mail VV 1. Treatise, Pt. 2. Ibid, Bk. in. 3. Ibid, Bk. HI. III. Sec. I. p. 591. Ft. II. Sec. I. p. 477. I't. II. Sec. VIII. p. 547- THK RTHICAI. SVSTKM OF ADAM SMITH. 29 lf> appear the that appears •erson himself, 10 have some ' constant anrl alone adinit- i-ahty. 'I'liey 'It, on which li<-^ one hand, -pendent on a presence of '\s of moral ■'^ ori'^in upon as perf(.)i-med luestion from loral distille- ry character, es that pro- id ications of ^al perform - cT th^rrmoral ;lie ultimate need tJiem. 2 Jc sic^ns of ly character ■c can ever 11" inference inevitably "chide that • his, as v\e means of caused by sentiment Actions ' by .some )' depends it>' of the , either to er or his A'hen the nc;j;lect or non-perf(»rmance of an action displea.ses us in a siiin'lar manner, we consider that we arc under an obligation to perform such an act. ^ "The ultimate ends of human action can iievei-. in anv case, be accounted for by rea.son, but recom- niciul thiMusehes entirely to the sentiments and affections of niaukiud, w ithoul aii\' dependence on the intellectual faculties." - 1 VARY [[-.SMITH'S '['[[I'.ORV ()[• nil': MORAL Sl'.XTI- mi<:n rs. ClIAPriCR I.^ SVMPArilY. SIX'IION I .SVMI'ATIIV TJIi: .SOL'RCK OF OUR MOK.VL JUDCMKNT.S. Adam Smith brings to a final comi^letion in his s\-stem the work of the Moral .Sense Philosophers. Hut his importance d(jcs not altogether, or main]}-, consist in the fact that he de\elo[rjd the thought or the work of others ; his Tlicoy is also of great independent \alue. He makes a most ambitious att 'inpt to find in s}'mpath\' a common answer to the two great questions of moralit}* : that of the origin and that of the critcrioti f)f \irtue. .S\nipath)' is the key-note, the central idea of the Theory of the Moral Scntii)tc>its. In our treatment of the work, we shall consider s)inpath\' \\) as the source of our moral distinctions, and (.3) as the source of our judgments of merit and demerit. We shall then treat of the influence of custom, fashion, and utilit}- upon our moral judgments, before taking up in chajjter II. the cjuestion of our Sen.se of Duty. The Moral Sense of Shaftesbur)- and Ilutcheson had been discarded by Hume in ffi\(jr of s)-mpath\'. Hut this sj-mpathy is, in the I>ratisi\ nothing more than a means b}' which to resolve our feelings of benexolence into a mere .sensitivity to pain and pleasure. In the llucjuiry on the other hand sjmpathy becomes a feeling of humanit}-, and Hume's system is almost indistinguishable from that of Ilutcheson. Sympathy, also, in both the Treatise and the /inquiry, is so hopelessly mixed Trent i Bk n I. I't. 11. Ewiuirij, Ajipcndix i. ICC. V. p. 517. i '. 30 MUIR : with utility, that, as the source of moral distinctions, it was mos- unsatisfactor}-. SiTiith purificfl this principle of the utilitariai colouring it had received with liiune, and made it the main doc trine of his Theorx'. Sj'mpathy primarily implies nothinjj; bul the power of imitating the feelin^^s of others, but Smith finds it an essential element not only in our moral jud<,nnents of others, but also in our judc^nients of our own charactet and conduct, and in our sense of duty, Sinith's treatment of sympathy has caused much and serious misunderstanding^ of his work. It has called forth the most widely different interpretations of his views. The relation of reason to .symjiath}- in llie Tlworv is, undoubtedly, the great problem of the work ; but that relation is such, that it is impos- sible to see how one writer can proclaim the sj-stem a purely rational one, and the basis of Kant's Moral Philosophy, ' or how another can regard s)'mpathy as the one great principle, from which Smith reasons, and to w hich all others .ue subservient. - Rea.son and s}mpathy are both important in the Tlico)y and an attempt will be made later to sh.ow what Smith regards as the true relation of those great principles in a system of inorality. We will consider first the treatment of s)'mpathy in the system. In distinguishing his princij)le from that of Hume, Snn'th gives an account of the sj-mpathy of !'^e previous sjstein. Hume held that qualities and actions, according to their utility, produce pleasure, and that with the pleasure thus produced we .sympathize. The tendency of qualities to the good of societ}' is the sole cause of approbation, without any sus|jicion of the concurrence of another motive. Virtue is thus placed in utility, and the pleasure, with which we surve)' the utility of any quality, arises on account of our s\-mpathy with the happiness of tho.se who are affected by it. ^ This account of the source of moral a()probation .^eems very objectionable to .Smith, who sa)'s that approbation bestowed for such a cause is just the same as the approval we feel, when we observe a well-contrived machine, a .sympathy with the pleasure of those who are benefitted by it. Such an approbation, Smith does not regard as a moral judgment at all. He insists that true sympathy is .something very different from this. According to his principle, we do not sympathize 1. Oncken, Die, Elhik Smith's und Kant's, p. 100. 2. Bucklr, Ilistory of Cii'ili.-ation, p. 344. 3. Theory of th*. Moral Sentiments. Pt. viii. Sec. 1 11. Clia]). 3. Hume, Treatise, Hk. ifi. I't. ill. Sec. I, pni i- up* tioi Vr>lKM OK ADAM nMIIM ;i '^. it was mos- tlic utilitariai tlic main doe- 's tiothin^f bui 'niitli finds it "ts of others, ■iiifl conduct, much and c'd forth the 11k; relation l\', the -. ' or Iiow inciple, from subservient. - lico)y and an arris as the of mf)rnlity. h the system, fume, Snuth ious s^-stem. their utility, produced we of societ}' is icion of the 2d in utility, ility of any happiness of le source of h, who sa)'s he same as cd machine, fitted by it. al judgment ry different sympathize !>• 3- with, or enter into the pleasmr which is received from an>' source, but into the m(jti\es of the a^eiit, and the gratitude (jf the per^^.ons benefited. ' L'tility is neither the first nor the printipal source of our ap|»robation. A sentiment of propriety i-^ in\()l\ed. which is (|uile fli-^tiiict from that of ulilit)'. It is upon this propriety of sef.timeiUs and actions that (iur appn^ba- tion is founded, and not upon utility. - Tlv." source of sympath\- .Smith finds in the ima|^nnation. It is onl\- by means of this facult) that we can form an\' con- ce|)t'.)n of the sensations of another. The ima^dnation enables us tfj do so by representing to us what our own sensations would be in a similar case. We |)lace oursehes in the situation of the other persoPi, and enter, as it were, int(j his bod\-, and become, in some measure the ■.ime person \vith him. In jo\-, .sorrtnv, L^ratitude, or in an)- other passion whate\er. we can. b)- imat,M'na- lion, enter into the circumstances, which call forth the passi(jn. and thus create in oursehes emotions similar to those of the |).rson principally affected. •■ We are led to imitate the feelini^s (jf another either b\- the perception of its expression and conse(]Uences. or b)' the circum- stances anrl e.Nperiences which occasion it. The latter. .Smith considers a much more powerful inlluence than the former. We are sometimes so influenced by such circumstances atul experi- ences, that we feel for another a jjassion of which he himself is totally incapable. The passion arises in us through iin;ii;ination when we put oursehes in his place, though the circumstances which ha\e thus aroused f)ur imagination, have failed to produce the passion in him. ■* The case of those who have lost their reason furnishes an example of this. The compassion of the spectator cannot be the reflecticm of any sentiment of the sufferer. It must arise altogether from the consideration of what he himself would feel, if he were in the same unhappy situation, and were, at the same time, able to regard it w ith his present reason and judgment. Another example. gi\en by .Smith, of a case in which we feel for others a passion, of which they themsehes are altogether incapable, is f:)ur sympathy with the dead. Our sorrow, here, can be but an illusion of the Tlfurih F't. VI 1. Sec. 3. jp. 386. Ibid, 't. IV. Cha V Ibid, Ft. I. Ser. 1. 4. Ibid. Vt. I. Sc<-. 1. p 32 Milk iina^in;iti the consifleration of s\mpathy. When a pcr.son is in a situation that excites an\' passion, it is agreeable 1. Theory, Pt. i. Sec i. Note. — In givini^ this instance of our sorrow with the dead. Smith mentions as " that which is of real importance in their situation, tliat awful futurity whicii awaits tlieni." This is the first of tiie many references to a future state, which Oncken considers the chief distinction between the ethical system of Smith, and that of any previous English writer. He says : " This belief in a future state is the principal point of distinction between Smith's system and that of earlier writers. It is not found in tiie Moral Piiilosophy of any previous writer in Great Britain, even wliere the concept of God was, though incidently, admitted."" {Die Ethik SiaUh's und Kant's p. go). This is surely a most astonisliing statement. Smith"s belief in a future state in no way differentiates him from previous English writers. The Dissertation of Gay, which appeared in 1731, twenty-eight years before Sinith"s Theory of the Moral Sentiments was published, necessarily implied this belief. And the concept of God was admitted, by no means incidentally, by Cumberland, Cudworth, Clarinct>- of a 'ii/(^' with the '*^'r, aii'l siiit- \\c can only tioii with our In jii(I;,niij; ijortioiiate la cm iufl^e is ■^t jii'Ij^v by -•r method of |>l*-' of nu)r.il 1 act would " which it til's theory? »uld not the ate\er? We societ}' than bdced a part Tiial in so far tc ideal it is md is, there his point of When a is agreeable • dead, Smith nn, that awful Jfcrcnccs to a ;en the ethical ?.says: "This tvveen Smith's al Piiilosophy of God was, I'- 90). This ire state in no 'yf-ssertntion of Theory of iht 'f' And the Cumbedand, philosophers lo him to know that the spectators of his siiuati< >n enter w itii y him into all its \ari'ius circum-^tanco. and are affi-cted In- them in the same manner as he himself is. ' On the other hand, it is pleasant to tlie s-i ;|,,t;r to observe the correspoiuk-iice of his sentiments with those of another. Hut, though naturally s)'mppects, different from w hat the person wlio is princi|)ally interested feels. ('ompass- ion can ne\er be (.-Nacth' the -ame as ori_L;inal sorrow. These tuf) sentiments ma)-, however, have such a corri'spondence with one another, as is sulTicient for the harmotu' ofs(jciet}'. In order to attain the pK-asure of nmtual sympath)-, nature teaches the sjjectator to strive, as much as he can, to raise his emotions to a K'\el with that which tlu- object would rt-all}- produce. .And she teaches the person, also, whose |)assion ihi-. object has excited, to brinj^ it dow-n as much as he can to a level with that of the spectator. - I'ljon tin: att<-mpt to elev ate, and U])on theattenipt to lower the expression of passion, Smith lounds two different sets of vir- tues. L'i)on the effort of the si)ectat(jr to enter into the situation of the person princii)ally concerned, and to raise his emotions to a level with those of the actor, are foundefj the identic, the amiabk: virtues ; while upon the effort ol the person |)rincipall\' concerned to lower his emotion^ to corre>|)ond with those of the spectator, are foimded what Smith call>, "the j^reat, the awful, the respectable " virtues. •' These are the virtues of self-denial, of self-Ljovernment, of that command of the |)assions, which subjects all the movements of our natvuv, to what our own disunity and lionour. and the proi)riet> of our conduct reciuiro. This latter class is of the utmost imi)ortance. j-'or tiie most perfect knowledj^^e, if not supported bv the most perfect self- command, will not alwav's en;Jile one to do one's dut\-. 4' Smith's classification of the passions is, in idea, thous^h not in expression, like that of Shat"tesbur\'. ' I Ic distinguishes the Chap. 2. 1. I'll ear ij, I't. i. Sec. I. 2. //>/'/, Pt. 1. Chap. 4. ^foTK. — In lluH noi'oiiiit of till' niDilf liitiiiii iinil clovatioii of paHninti, until i» pdint i^< reaolifd al whicli th<' purnon interi'ntcil unci till' Hjicctator I'lUi hyiii|ialtii/t' Siirlli Hci^nis to have in mind .Vil.xtotl.-'n wine man, who fei'kHthf mran. t^t'e Aiixlolle'x h't/iiis, lik. ii. Cliap. li. 3. Thi'iirii, Pt. I. Chap. 5. p. 20. 4. Ihid, i't. VI. Sec. 3. [). 277. 34 ML' IK i;!' (■|| ! : social, the unsocial, and the selfish passions. ' 'I'he unsocial [)assions are necessai)" parts of the character of human nature. Resentment, when i^uarded and (lualified, is e\fn s.jenerous and noble.- i^ut with all the unsocial passion- , our s)inpathy is divided l)etween the pi-rson who feels llu-in, a..d the person who is the object of them. It is this divirled ssinpath)', which renders the whole set of jjassions, of which resentment is the type, so ungraceful and (lisa^M'eeable. There is another set, the opposite of these, which a redoubled s\inpath\' renders peculiar- ly aj^^recible and becomini^. These are the social passions, such as j^enerosity, humam't)', kindness, etc. •' Tlu'se please the in- different spectator upf)n almost e\er\' occasion. liis s\-mpath)- with the person who feels the |)assion, e.\actl\' coincides with his concern for the person who is the object of it. Between these two oppositt^ sets of passions, there is another, which holds a sort of middle place between the social and the unsocial, which is never so aL;ree tble as is the one set. nor so odious as is the other, (irief and jO)- upon account of our own private i^ood or bad fortune constitute this third set of passions. l'",\en when excessive, these arc never so disa_L,neeable as t^.xcessive resent- ment, because no opposite sympath}' can e\er interest us a<^ainst them. Anfl when most suitable to their objects, the)' are ne\er so ajrrecable as impartial humanit}' and just benevf)lence, because no double sympath}- can e\er interest us for them. * Smith insists that s)-mpath)' camir)t, in any sense, be re- garded as a selfish principle ; and he considers .sjnipath)- as the real foundation of those .systems which deduce the principle of ap()robation from .self-love. But it is an entirel)' mistaken idea, he says, that .sympathy can ever be selfish. •' When I sx-mpath- ize with the sorrow or the inclij^nation of another, it ma)' be pretended that my emotion is founded in self-lo\e, because it arises from brint^int:^ the case of that other home to myself; from puttinj.^ myself in his situation, and thence conceiving what I shoulcl feel in the liki> circumstances. Hut, thout^h s)'mpathy arises from an imaginary chant^e of situation with the person principally concerned, )et this imai^inar)' chanije is not sujjposed to happen to me in nn- own person and character, but in that of the person with whom I s\inpathi/.e. My grijf is entirely upon 1. Thconj, Pf. I. Sec. 2. Cliap. 3. 2. Ihiil, Vt. II. Sec. II. Chaj). 3. Sidj;wick, Historij of Ethics, p. 183. 3. Thcori/, I't. I Sl'c.ii. Chap. 4." 4. //*/(/, I't. I. S?r. ii. Chap. S- [>• |2. 5 Iliid, Vi- vii- Sec. III. Chap. I. p. 373. I /! I nil' IIIIUAI. SVSITM OF ADAM SMITir. 35 Tlu- unsocial luiinaii nature. II ifc'iicious and ur .s\ inpatli)' i> tlu- person uhc) npatli)-, which ntnicnt is the mother set, the nders peculiar- passions, such please the in- flis sympathy ncifles with his k'tv\een these which holds a -social, which is )us as is the irivate <;ood or I".\en when :essi\e resent- 'est us aj^ainst the}' are never bene\fileiice, "or them. ■* sense, be re- npathy as the u principle of mistaken idea, II I sympath- her, it ma)- be e, because it ^myself; from ivin<]j what I ^h sjmpathy h the person not supposed but in that of entirely upon his account, and not upon my own, and is not, therefore, in the least selfish. That caimot possibly be a selfish passion, which rjoes not arise e\en from the ima;4ination of anything' that has befallen, or that rel I'j "^ to ni\ self 'I'hal |)ity or com|)assion,. which llobbes explained as the consciousness of a |)o-.sible mis-' fortuiK" to oursebt's, similar to that seen to befall another, isi with .Smith, a primary, not a secondar)' emotion ot our nature 1 an oriL^in.iI and not a deri\ati\e passion, and one that is purelji (h'sinterestcd in its manifestations, Oncken iiL;htl)- claims thal^ we cannot possibl\- find a more en(.'rL;i'tic o|)ponent of the selfisli view of morality tluui the autlun- of tlu* Abiral .Sentiments. ' What .Smith terms "conditional" s\'mpath\- is iinportant. Our a|)probation and disap|)robation of the sentiment of others do not, in e\ery case, depend U|)on their a,L;reement or oisa^rree- iTient with our own. This our author admits, - but adds that e\en in those cases, our approbation is ultimately founded upon .syinpath)'. .\s an illustration, he cites tlie case of a stranger, whom wi' max" observe to be in deep Ljrief on accoimt of the death of liis father. Moth he and his father, probably, are un- known to us, but it is impossible that we should not a|)prove of his ^rief We iiave learned from experience that such a misfortune natural!)' excites such a sorrow ; and we know that if we took time to consider his situation fully, and in all it.s parts, we should, w ithout doubt, most sincerely sympathize with liim. It is upon the consciousness of this conditional sym])athy, that our approbation of his sorrow is founded, e\en in those cases, in which that s)nipath)- does not actuall)' take place ; anrl the general rules derived froiu our preceding experience of what our sentiments would commonl)' correspond with, correct Uf)on this, as upon man)' other occasions, the impropriety of our present emotions. Smith treats this "conditional" sxinpathy as an exception to tlie general rule. Hut is it not much rather itself, ordinarily, the rule, and an originall)' excited s)'mpathetic feeling the exception? In our constant contact with others, it is impossible that we sh(Hild react to all of their affections and actions, with an originally e.xcited, .sympathetic feeling. New or unusual events may produce this, l)ut the more frecjuently the case is repeated, so much the more does the emotional character of the judgment disappear. Smith differentiates his s)'mpathy, as we have seen, from ^ 1. Dip Etliik Smiths^ unci Kants, p. 87. 2. Theory, Part 1. Sec. i. pp. 6, 12. Ill 1 i' I 3^> MUIR that of I funic, in that the syin')athy itself, and not utiUt)-, is the ' measure of the propriety of affections and actions. Imagination lis the source of sx'mpath)', and our \ie\v of the situation which .excites the passiiju, rather than our \ie\v of the expression of 'the passion, is its cause. Sympathy is the onl}' true test of the propriety of passions and actions. Vov our entire approbation means our complete s\-mpathy, and this inympath)' is our standard or measure for judj^MiiJjj others. S)'mpath}- is pleasin;^, both to the person principally concerned, and to the spectator; and, owint^ to the attempt of the one to lower and of the other to elevate his emotions to the point where this mutual- ./ly pleasing .sympathy ma}' be enjoj-ed, it becomes the foundation ■) of both the "amiable and gentle" and the "awful and respeetal)le " virtues. As regards the passions, we mret the social with a redouble 1 s)'m|jathy, the unsori.d with a dixided sj nipath)- ; while self-regarding passions, such as joj- and grief on our own account, occupy a midway position, and receive a moderated .sympathy, ncitlier so extreme as that accf)rded to the social, nor to the unsocial passions. The real foundation of the selfish systems of moralit)', which deduce the principle of approbation from self-love, is a misunderstood form of sympathy. Hut sympathy can ne\cr, pro[)erl)', be regarded as a selfish |)rinciple. SECTION 11. — .SVMi'ATHV TIIK SorRCK OF J 1 ' I KIM KNTS OK MKRIT AM) DHMKRIT. The sympathy of the spectator is, as we ha\ e .seen, directed to the fitness of the moti\es, or the propriet}' of an action. Hut it is also called forth b}' the utilit}' of the consetjuences, or the merit of an action. An action is proper when the impartial spectator is able to sympathii/.e with the motive f)f the agent. It is meritorious when he can s\'mpathi/,e also '.vith its end or effect. Propriety demands that the feelings shall be suitable to their object ; merit, that the consequences of an act shall be beneficial to others. Propriety and impropriety', then, express the suitableness or unsuitableness of an affection tc/ its exciting cause ; merit and dcincrit refer to the result which the affection tends to produce. ' When the tendenc)' of an affection is beneficial, the agent appears to us a proper (object of reward ; when it is hurtful, lie appears to be the proper object of punishment. - Gratitude and resentment are the natural principles, which 1. Theory yW. ii. Sec. i. Iiitrodurtion. 2. Tbid, Pt. II. Cliiip. I p. 75. THE ETHICAI, SVSIKM OF AliAM SMITH. 37 ')t utilit>-, is the i. Imagination situatif)n which expression of true test of the re approbation npathx' is our tli>" is i^Ieasiuf^, , and to the o lower and of ■re this mutual- ' the foundation id respectable " le social with a cd s) mpathy ; f on our o-.\n a iTioderated tlie social, nor of the selfish if approbation nipath)'. Jiut ifish |)rinciple. ii(;mk\ts of seen, directed I action, J^it ences, or the the impartial thea^ent. It lith its end or be suitable to act shall be then, express o its exciting the affection II affection is t of reward ; )er object of iciplcs, which prompt us to reward and punish. I'ut we do n(jt sympathize with the gratitude of one man, merel)' because aiu^ther has been the cause of his good fortune, unless this other has been tiie cause of it fn.'n moti\es of which we can ap[)ro\e. Our sense, therefore, of the gotjfl desert of an action, is made up of an indirect sympath\- with the pers(jn to whom the action is beneficial, and ot a direct s)mpath\- with the affections and motives of the agent. ^ Hence the onI\- actions which appear to us deser\ing of reward, are actions of a beneficial tendencx', j)roceeding from pn^per motives. The onl}' actions, which seem to demand puiu'shment, are actions of a hurtful tendency pro- ceeding from improjjcr motives. The ff)rmer, alone, seem to require a reward, because the\' alone are the a[;proved objects of gratitude, or excite the s\Tn[)athetic gratitude of the spectator. The latter, alone, deserve punishment because the)' alone are the api)nAed objects of resentment, or excite the s\'mpathetic resentment of the spectator. ''' Our s)ini)ath}- w ith unavoidable distress is not more real than is on. fello\\ -feeling with just and natural resentment." .Smith's treatment of resentment is one of the most important parts of his work. lie finds in it a natural means of detence which has been bestowed upon man.'' Ilume had sought in vain for a passion from which our sense of justice might be derived. He concluded that self interest was the original motive U> the establishment of ju.^tice, and s\inpath\- with [)ublic interest the source of the moral approbation which attends that virtue. •' iioth these c\j)lanations are rejected by Smith, wh(j finds in our natural sympatli}' with resentment a sufiicient ground and exjilanation of our sense of justice. Re- taliation seems to be the great law, which is dictated to us by natine ; as ever)' man cioeth so shall it be done to him. " Hjneficeiice an 1 gL^njrosity, we think are due to the generous and beneficent. V' The violator of the laws of justice (>ught to be made to feel himself that evil, which he has (U^nc t(j another; and since no rei^ard to the sufferings of others is ca|)able of restraining him, he ought to be overawed by the fear of his own. 'I'he iTian, also, who is bareh' iimocent, who onl)' observe^ the law.s of justice with regard to others ; and merely abstain^^ 1. Thforn, I't. II, Sec. I. C'lia|). 5. 2. Ihi(U i't i[. Sec II. Ch;i|). 1. 3. II>!,1, I'l. 11. See. I. Cliiip. 5. 4. //'/(/, Ft. II See. Ti. Cl-.ap. i. 5. Hume, Trcatint', Bk. in p. 500. 6. Thconj, Vl. 11. Sec. 11. Chap. i. 82. ■mmmmsm^f^. I '!i! ',!) J' i ' ' , I, il . .11 r\ 38 iMUik : from hurtin^f his neii^hbours, can merit only that his nei<^hbours in their turn, should res|>ect his inncjcence ; and that the same laws should be religiously observed with regard to him. ^ In thus insisting upon our sympath)' with resentinent, and finchng in it the source of justice, Smith is e\ idcntl}' influenced by Butler, l^utler claimed that in resentment every man carries about with him that which affords him demonstration that the rules of justice and ecjuity are to be the guide of his actions. For every man naturall)' feels an incHgnation u[K)n seeing instances of cruelty and injustice, and, therefore, cannot commit the same without being self-condemned. Resentment is one of the bonds by which society is held together, a fellow-feeling which each individual has in behalf of the whole species as well as himself This passion in us is plainl)' connected with a sense of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil. It is not called forth either by natural evil or b\' suffering, but its objects are moral evil and injur)'. Cruelt\', injustice, and wrong arouse this indignation, and it is innocently em|jlo)'ed against them. - In treating of justice and self-love, .Smith admits that each man is much more d:;( p'\' interested in whatever immediately concerns himself, than in what concerns an}' other man. Yet, when he \iews himself in the light in which he is conscious that others will \iew him, he sees that, to them, he is but one of the multitude, in no respect better than any other in it. Hence he must humble the arrogance of his self-love, and bring it down to something of which others will ap[)rove. He knows that if he violates the rules of justice in his treatment of others, the spectator will natural!}' s}'mpathi/e with the resentment of the injured, anrl that he himself will become the object of hatred and indignation. "' There can be no proper motive for hurting or doing evil "to another, w ith which mankind will sympathize exce[:)t just indignation for evil, which that other has done to us. In comparing the virtues rf justice and benefience, Smith finds that the latter is much ic: s c sential to the existence of .society than is the former. ' ; ■ «■ ..ociety ma}' exist from a sense of its utiiit}-, without any n.iiural lo\'e and affection; but it cannot exist ]ikc and disappointment, but it cannot provoke an)' resentment >assion of men would render this pum'shment exceeding!)- dil'ticult, indis^nation against \ice and wickedness forms a balance to this weakness of pit)-. The hnv of retaliation is the most important of all natural laws, for upon it justice de|)ends, and U])on justice dei)en(ls the existence of societ)'. ■' Nature, antecedent to all rellections uijon the utility of punishment, has im|)ressed u|)on the human mind in the strongest and most inck'lible characti-rs, an immediate and instructive approbation of the sacred law- of retaliati(.>n. The natural t>-ratification of resentment tends, of its own accord, to produce all the political ends of punishment ; the correction of the crimin.d, and the example to the public. It is even of con- siderable iinp(jrtance, that the e\il which is done without design, should be regarded as a misfortune to the doer as well as to the sufferer. Men are taught, b)- this means, to regard carefully the happiness of others ; and to he cautious, lest b)' an)' carelessness, the)- should arouse the resentment, which the)- feel is ready to I. Throrii, Vi. ii. Sec. ii. Chap. i. -J. I''i into punishinent, and sav's : " the ques- tion is not whether, apart from its effects, there would be any moral propriet)- in the mere infliction of pain for pain's sake. Why separate the act from its effects in this wa\'. In reality they are inseparable. The total conception of punishment may contain various elements indiss( lubly united. The cjuestion is : which is the fundamental ? out of wliich do the others grow? Punishment is an act of justice, and the essence of punishment is retribution. Satisfaction is the primary object of punishment, and th.e other objects include reformation and deterrence. In all punishment, dt>mestic, social, and even civil, justice should be tempered with mere)- and compassion \'et we must re- member that there is a moral order, of which the phj'sical and the civil orders are parts, and that an}' breach of that order must be rectified. Such rectification is punishment." ^ Schubjrt points out, as a defect in the Theory^ the fact that Smith nowhere discusses the problem of the Will. In any case where the word Will or Free-Will is mentioned, it b^ars so 1. Theoriu I't. II. Sec. iii. Cliap. 3. 2. Ihul, I't. II. Sec. II. Chaj). 3. 3. Internuliunul Joiirndl of Ethics. Jan. 1S92. )!;! NoTK. — For a siinil.ir view, see International Journal of Ethics, July, i8g6, pji. 479, 483. Jlri/i'V.t Thcunj of Punishtnent, l)y J. Ellis MacTaggart, of Trinity Collcj;e, Canibiidj^c. sli; ju^ IS IIIK K'lHICAI. SVSIKM Ol ADAM .s.MUH. 4' without design, ';<'tlier. ' As ,, 'Oil (;f societ\ , crimes con'i iccrii which we '^, (l(K\s not, ill 10 fortune and unjustly taken Vom a regard m a regard to a single man shment of the Hn concern for '1 for the very t some modern -ory of punish- r James Seth that converts r>^ : "the ques- would be any or pain's sake, ay. In reah"ty mishment may ic (luestion is : others grow ? of punishment jf punishment, iterrence. In justice should : ue must re- ph>sical and ')f that order nt." ■'' , the fact that In any case 1, it b-ars so >l" F.tliics, July, Mac I'liggart, of slighll}- anfl so accidental!)- upon the problem that we are not juslilied in drawint; an)' conclusion as to Smith's real position on this (|iu slioM. W hile luvsitaling to express a decided judg- nient on the (|Uestion, Schubert is led, for two reasons, to sup|josc that Smith \\(aild natur.dl\- occui))- the stand-point of Determinism. Hi.-, reasons are fl) the spirit of the Tlicoiy is (k't( iim'niNtic ; '2 if .Smith h.id not approved of Ihnme's l)etermiin'stic \ lews, Ik- uouM h,r>c e\i)ressed his disapproval. ' ill the s|)irit of the Theorx- I fail to find the Determinism referred to. There would seem to be, on the contrar)-, in Smith's idea of retributiw pum'shment, and of justice, asdei)endent U])r)n resentment, the strongest evidence that our autb.or held the i>pposite view. It would be difficult, otherwise, to gi\'t; an)- UKNUiing to his statement that, "Nature has implanted in the human Ijreast that consciousness of ill desert, and those terrors of merited pum'shment, wh.ich attend up.on the violation of justice." As to the ficl that .Smith makes no mention of Hume's Deterniim"sm, the two writers occuj))- so diametrically opposed s..u)ilpoints in regard to justii:e, that .Snn'th nn'ght, on tliat account, consider it uimecessai-\- t(. draw attention to their equal))' antagonistic jjositions, on a question s(.) intimately related t(j justice and resentment, as is that of b'ree Will and Determinism, if resentment be onci: adnntted as the basis of justice. freedfMU would seem to be at the same time sclmitteii as a necessar)- postulatt.-. \\ hile, theoreticall)'. prai-- and 1)1. .ne are due to tlie good and e\il motive alone, )'et, in actual life. Smith finds that the judgment is pronounced on the conseiiuences which folhnv an action. - .Such punishments as are inflicted for breachi's of w hat i;; called civil police or militar)- discipline, are both inflicted and approved of merel)- fi'om a view to the general interest of societ)-, which, we imagine, camiot otherwise be secured. A sentitH'l, lor example, who falls asleep upon his \\ atch, suffers death b)- the laws of war, because such carelessness might endanger the whole ami)'. Although such carelessness appears very blameable, )ct the thought of this crime does lujt naturally e.xcite au) such resentment as would prompt to such dreadful revenge, (ireat firmness and resolution are required before a person can bring himself either to inflict it, or to apprcjve of it when it is inflicted b)' others. " It is plainly, here, not the 1. Adam Smith';, Mdrn/philoxiiji/iic pp. 55-56. 2. 'Jlieori/, V{. 11. Sec. 11 1. Chap. 2. 3. //'/(/, I't. 11. Sec. II. Chap. 3. .: I H 42 MUIK iij ii!'i :;i 'I'll ri' I';' motives of the offciulcr, but the coiiscqueiiccs of the action, which call f(jrth such severe punishment^ Smith considers that this divcrsit)' of our theory and practice, in regard to praise and blame, is intendefl b)- nature for the hapj)incss and the perfection of the species. ^ If the hurt fulness of the desit^n, and the male\ olence of the affection, wen alone the causes, which excited our resentment, we should feel all the force of that passion ai;ainst an)' person whom w( sus|)ected of such a design, even thou<;h they had not committed any action of which we could disapprove. Tluni^^hts and intentions would become the objects of punishment, and if the indignation of mankind ran as hitj^h against them as against actions, every court of judicature wcnild become a real inquisition. There would be no safety fc^r the most innocent conduct. It is, therefc^re, a necessar}' rule (jf justice in this life, that men are liable to punishment for their actions only, and not for their designs and intentions. Hence this irregularity in human sentiments, concerning merit and demerit, is both .salutary and useful although, at first sight, it appears absurd and unaccountable. In examining this irregularit\' of our moral sentiments, Smith is considering a difficult)', which is present in c\'er)' theor)', that has ever been proposed. 1 )ugald Stewart, speaking of this, says : "So far as I know, .Smith is the first philoso- pher, who has been fully aware of the importance of the difficulty. And his remarks on the important [)urposes to which this irregularit)' (jf sentiment is subser\ient, are particular- ly ingenicjus and pleasing. Their object is to show, in opposition to what we should be disposed at first to a[)prehencl. that when Nature miplanted the seeds of this irregularity in the human breast, her leading intention was to prc;mote the happi- ness and the {)erfection of the species." ^ Sympathy, then, is not oid)' the source of our judgments of right and wrong, or, as Smith terms it, of propriety and improprict)', but also of our judgments of merit and demerit, or of the qualities of deser\ing" reward and punishment. Where there is no approbation of the conduct (;t the person who con- fers the benefit, there is little sj-mpathy with the gratitude of him who receives it. And where there is no disapprobation of 1. TfiPorifyVt. II. Sec. in. Cliap. 3. 2. Life und Writiui/s of Dr. Smith, \>. 40. i f IHK I.IIIKAI, .-V>11.\1 dl' AHAM SMllll. 43 }( the action, r theory and b)' nature foi If the hurt liffection, wen e should feei >u whom \vc lot committed hou^dits and lit, and if the Mn as against :ome a real most innocent e in this life, ons only, and irrei;ularity in erit, is both irs absurd and 1 1 sentiments, sent in c\er)- uart, speakini,^ first philoso- rtance of the I)ur|)oses to are particular- to show, in to a|)prehend, ;ularity in the te the happi- judnsistenc}- of our theor)- and our practice ; bnt claims that this irregularit\- is a wise pro\ ision of Nature, which leads to th.e increased happiness and the welfare o^ mankind. .sK( Tiox III." rut; im i.n.Nc i: oi- t rii.n\-, cisto.m, .and iwsiiiox ii'MX oTR si:niimi;x r.s nv moral Al'I'kdllATIOX AXI) l»l,SAri'R()l!.MI()X. \y Smith's discussion of the influence of Utilit)' u|)on our moral si'iitiments is mainl)- a criticism of Idume's principle of i .s)'m|jath}-, w hich \\as called forth b)' utilit)'. and a justification ^ of his own |)rinciple of sxmpath)' w ith pro[)riet\-. According to llimie, the utilit}' of all)' object pleases b)' per|)etuall)' suggest- ing the pleasure which it is fitted to |)roniote. luer)- time we look at it, we are put in mind of this pleasure; and the object thus becomes the source of perpetual satisfaction and enjoj-ment. - Smith, on the other hand, claims that e\en in regard to a 1. Hume, Tiratixf, ]\k. ii. I't. ill. Sec, Thcurn, I'.k. III. I't. II. Sec. i. 2. Tfu'orii, I't. IV. Chap. I. 44 MUik : production of art, it is the fitness, the happ)- coiitri\ance, the propriety, that we \akie ratlier than the end for which the object was intended. I'he .xact adjustment of means for obt, lining any pleasure is often of more imp(jrtance to us than the very pleasure, in the attainment of which the \alue of the means would seem to consist. luen as thus stated, Smith does not seem to ha\c a j^ood arLjument against ilume. Within the moral sphere, where |)rojjriet)', tiie suitabilit)' of a passion to its exciting cause, was itself an end. Smith's principle appcarcfl of much greater \alue than ilume's s)-mpathy with utilitx' ; but the case is \er\' different when we come to appl\' these principles to an object, or to a work of art. We must, sureK', in this case regard the end or aim for which the object was created, as more valuable than the means used to bring about that end. The pcMUt upon which Smith is insisting here, will, howe\er, be better understood if we take some of his own illustrations. A i)erson comes into a room, and finds all the chairs stand- ing in the middle of the room. Rather than sec them contimie in that disorder, he takes the trouble to set them all in their places with their backs to the wall. Tlu; whole propriet}- of this new arrangement arises from tliC superior convenience of leaving tlie floor free and disengaged. To attain this convenience, he voluntarily puts himself to more trouble than all he could have suffered from the want of it. l-'or nothing was easier than to have set himself dcjwn upon one of the chairs, which is, probably, what he does when his labour is over. It seems, therefore, what he wanted was not so much the convenience, as that arrange- ment of things which promotes it. \'et it is the convenience, which ultimately recommends that arrangement, and bestowes upon it the whole of its propriety cUid beaut)'. This instance, while it shows plainly that the question under discussion is that of the relative importance of means and of ends, does not add anything to Smith's side of the argu- ment. The propriety of arrangement spoken of, is entirely derived from the utility or the convenience which it tends to promote, and must be regarded as subordinate to this utility. This instance is, therefore, in favour of Hume's standard of utility as oj)posed to propriet)'. For even granting that the end in view, the utility, has practically dropped out of sight, v'et it is that end which bestows all that they possess of value upon the means ; and in this, as in anj' other car.e, the end is best .secured, not by being kept c(jnstantl)- before the mind, but by concen- trating tlie attention upon the means best adapted to secure the THi: ETHICAI. SVSII.M (iK ADAM SMIIH. 45 end. With this concentration of the atti-ntion, it would be strange if its immediate objects (lid not sometimes possess for the minfi a si<;nificanc(.; and importfince, sufficient to overbalance for the time, that of the end to which they are subser\ient; but \'et these means rjo not appear of jj^reater \alue than the end to which the\- are the means. Smith c|uotes and endors(\s llume's opim'on that "no qualities of the mind are approwd of as \irtuous, but such as are useful and a^ret-'able either to the person himself or to others." ' This, .Snn'lh sa\'s, is a fact, but, ne\ ertheless, it is not the view of this beaut)- or utilit\-, which is either the first or the principal source of our approbation. 'I'hose useful (jualities, and the actions which flow from thinn, meet with ap|>roI)ation, much mo'-e upon account of their threat pro|)riet)-, than ujjon account C)f their utilit\-. I'tilit)' bestows upon them an addi- tional beaut)', and thus recommends them still further to our approbation. Hut this beaut)- is not easil)- percei\efi, and is, certainl)', not the c]ualit)- which first recommends such actions to the majority of men. While Smith utterl)' rejects utilit)' as an ethical principle, and e\-en tries to show here that it is not the cause of our approbation of an)' object or work of art, he )'et admits one case in which the principh* of utilit)' is of the first importance. l^\en in this case, hf)W(ner, its importance is not real, but is due to an illusion of the imai^ination. The t^ood which results from this illusion, however, is real, and is of the \er)- first conse(|uence. This important deception, upon which industrial proi^ress mainl)' depends, is the influence that the utilit) of wealth and [greatness has upon the imaj^ination. - .All commercial pros[)erit)', and all progress in the arts and sciences are due to this false view of the utility of wealth. OwinL,^ to this illusion (if the ima^nnation, wealth comes to be reijjarded as one of the threat ends and aims of life, and as worth)' of all the trouble and anxiet)' which its attainment involves. In considering^ the importance of this illusion of the imagination in regard to wealth, and the i;reat and momentous interests it subserves. Smith endea\oi.n's to show that the principle best adapted to secure this utilit)', the principle of commercial ambitif)!! or selfishness, brinijs about a ver\' similar state of affairs, to that which would ha\e resulted, had the I Theory, Pt iv. Chaj). 3. 2. Ifiid, I't. IV. Chaj). i. 46 MriR opposite pn'iici|)k' dI" s\ inpalhy \k\'U (.'inployed. Fhere are in;ui>" ends of life hesidi-s wi-alth, i)Ut, this ;^i\en a-> an end, selfishness, the ^reat ])iin(iple of economics, offers the best ineans of securini^ it. ' I'.acii man is, naturall)', in-tter fitted to take care of himself than of an)' other person, lie is, also, more deeply interested in what concerns himself than in what concerns an>' one else. llis chief business is to i;()\ern the affairs of his own dail\- life, but, in doin^ this, hf)\\e\er. while intendin^f onl)' his own t^ain, he promotes also an end which was no |)art of his intention, the ^oocl of society. And this end he could not so well ha\e promoted, if he had deliberately aimed at the public ^i(()od. Sympathy is thus the -^reat ethical principle, and selfishness the great ])rinciple of l'"conomics, and each of these is sui^reme in its own sphere. liut e\en between those distant and clissimilar princijiles there is a connection. h"or selfishness, as we have .seen, proves to be a princi|)le of de\elo[)ment anrl works out the same beneficial results in societ)-, that would ha\e been promot- ed by bene\'olence or s)-m|)ath\'. The wealthy hindowner may have no thought for an\-one but himself, and may most selfishly regard the produce of his fields, but he cannot possibl)- consume the whole harvest. His em|)loyees deri\e from his extravagance a share of the necessaries of life, which the)- ne\'er would have obtained from his humanit)- or his justice. The produce of the soil maintains at all times nearl)- that number of inhabitants it is capable of maintaining. The rich ma\- select that which is most precious, but the)- cannot really consume \er)- much m(M-e than the poor. And, in spite of their selfishness, though they intend only their own comfort, the)' divide with the poor the produce of all their impro\emcnts. - The necessaries of life are distributed in an almost similar nanner, to what the)' would have been if the earth had been dixided into equal i)ortions among all its inhabitants. I'he influence of utility upon the imagination is thus of great l^conomic xalue. While utterly useless as a prmci pie of tnora lit^, it is, nevertheless, of supreme imp.ortance for Economics, and, indirectly, brings about what w c ma)' regard as ethical or moral results. The influence of custom is also important both from the aesthetic and from the moral point of \iew. •' Smith ascribes all 1. Theory, Pt. ii. Sec ii. Chap. 2. 2. Ihid, Pt. IV. Cha[). i. 3. Ibid, Pt. I. Chap. 5. THF, KI'IIK AI. sVM IM (i|' ADAM SMIIH. 47 clian'jcs ill architecture and lit.-raturc, as well as those in dress and furniture, to this ca USl' le holds that it is because artistic productions are more lastini;, so that a poem or a musical com- position may contimie for a;4i's to remain the same and be in much We ima>rine voLTUe, that we are unwilling to allow that custom ha- influence u[3on our iu(k;nuiU in regard to them. that these arts are founrled upon reason and natiue, not U|)on habit ;md prejudice, 'i'his. ho\\e\er, Smith reL;ards as an error, and claims thai the inlhience of custom and fashion is not more absolute overdress and furniture, than over architecture, poetry, and music. The influence of custom and fashion upon moral senti- ments, while not so irrea.t, is similar to what it is evei where else. Th ose w ho h b ia\e heen educateri ainul \ ice Decome so accustomed to it that the\ lose larsje \v th I' sense o f it^ im|)ro- priet}', and fail to uiuKrstand or a|)|)reciate the evil or the punishment due tc) it. l-'.ach .i^c and countr\-. also, rei^ards that decree of each (|ualit)', which is commonly to be met with in those who are esteemed amoiiLi tliemsehes, as the golden mean of that particular talent or \irtue. This \aries according as different circumstances render different (lualities more or less habitual to them ; liencc tlicir sentiments concernini,^ the e.xact propriet)- of character and behaviour \ar\- accordinf^ls'. Custom and fashion do not exercise so ^n'eat influence in regard to the ^eni-ral st\-le of behaviour and character, as the\- do concerninj^f the pntpriety and impropriet}' (>( particular usages. In matters of threat importance, it is expected that there shall be no \ariation in conduct. Truth and justice, for example, are demanded of all. It is only in matters of small consequence, or with rei^ard to particular usages, that the influ- ence of custom is destructixe of good morals, aiul is capable of establishing as law ful, |)articular usages, which are contrary to the plainest principle of right and wrong. ' In this account of the influence and importance of ISIOI Smith surely gf)cs too far in regartling the great revolutions whi ich ha\e taken place in art and in literature, as sim ply change in fashion. The conditions which bring about the form- er, must lie dee|) in the spirit and the needs of the time. If the chanue had not been, unc on SCI ousl\-, first w rouuht in the minds of the peo[jle, such a re\'oluti(jn could never have influenced Theory, Pt. v. Chap. 2. 48 Ml'IK those who wcvc iinpivpjui'd f<;r it. So also in moral ri'latioiis, tl'ioii<^li custom and fashion arc, muloiihtrdl)-, influential in certain classcvs of soci(.-ty, \'et the dilferent moral perceptions are rooted det'p in tin; conditions ot tlu- people and the aj^e. Hallour considi-rs this (juestion of the inlliience of custom and fasluon from the Naturalistic point of \ie\\. lie a" ^emn'ne ; and to an ori|^in similar in kind, hov\e\er different in dignity and ])c-rmanence, should l)e traced much of I lie characteristic (|ualil). which seises its special flavour to the hiL;her artistic sentiments of each successive i;eneration.''i 'Ihe princi|)le to which Balfour ascribes all such artistic senti- ments and ai'sthetic changes of fashion is a uni\i"rsal "tendenc)' to agreement," which he describes, howe\i:r, as b}- no means a sim|)le, undecomposabie social force, but rather as hii;hl)- com- plex, having as one of its most important I'knients the instinct of uncritical imitation. This instinct he reL;ards as the xcry basis of all effective education and it is this same instinct of im- itation which is the funflainental element in s\-mj)tra)- rcflrctions, whose dilTi-rent aspects uc cannot now co-oidinate, whosi' import wc cannot liill\- compre- hend, but which at least is somelhint,' other than the chance |)Iay' of suhjecti\e siMisii,int\' or the tar-oCf ixdio ofaiucstral hists. No such mystical creed can, ii(<\\e\c'r, be s(|uee/i"fl out of observation and experiment. Scii-nce cannot ,L;i\e it us ; nor can it be forced into an\' sort ol con-^istencv with the Nat ur.ili-.tic ri ieor\ ot th( I ni\erse I" 1 ch.\pti:r II. ^11 II-: N.xirki-: oi' con.sciI'.nci-: SIXTION 1. (().\S( lI.Mi; .\M) SNMI'AIIIV. In treatinij[ of inoralit)', there arc, Smith says, two ([uestion-s to be considered. I irst : wherein does \ irtue consist, or what i.s the tone, temper, nr tenor of conduct, which constitutes the ex- cellent and pr.iiseworthv character, the character which is the natural object of esteem, honour and approbation ? And, sccondl\- ; b\' what power or facult\- in the nn'nd is it, that this character, whate\er it is, is recommended to u> ; (jr, in other words, how, and b\' what means does it come to pass that the mind prefers one tenor of conduct to another, denominates the one right, and the other w roni;", considers one as the object of approbation, honour, and reward, and the other of blame, cen- sure and punishment? - In the preccfliiiL,^ chapters cniraiin was to explain how, accord ini,^ to .Smith, we learn to judi^e of the conduct of our neighbors ; and, as we ha\e seen, he there an- swered his two great (.juestions in regard U) moralit)' b)- fmding that virtue consists '\x\ proprictw or in that degree of sentiment or affection, which is fitting and suitable to its exciting cause : and by finding in s)-mpath\', the s\-mpathetic feelings of the impartial and well-informeel spectator, the power or faculty of the mind which recommends this character to us. 1. Fi)vii(l(Uions of Iii'lie/,\'l i. Ch:ii). 1 1. p. 66. 2. Theorij of the. Mural Sentiiii'mts, Vi. \ ii. St.c. i. so Ml'IU The chc'ijitcr, with which \\c are nou- to deal, is concerned with a totall)' (Hstinct entjuir)' : Smith's opinions in regard to our judgments concerning our own sentiments and cc)nduct, and particular!}' our sense of dut\-. In reference to our own conduct. Smith answers the two great ([uestions of morality very similarl)' to what he did when c(jnsidering them in their applica- tion to tile conduct of others. \'irtue consists in an exalted propriety, and it is b)- means of the sympath)' of the impartial spectator that this \irtue is reconnnended to us. The work of the impartial s|)ectator is, howe\er, much more difficult when our own conduct forms the object of judgment. P'or it is compara- tivel)- eas)- to judge im|)artiall)' of another, but exceedingl)' dif- ficult to become the impartial spectators of our own conduct. Hence Smith finds it necessary to introduce much more prominently into this part of the discussion, the function and importance of that which is reall)- the great underlying princijjle of his .s)-stem, namely reason. l^\en in judging others, reason was found to be indispensable. l-'or in all cases of conditional sym- pathy, we are depende?i; upon general rules, and genera' rules are formed by reason. Much more are we dependent up( n rea- son when judging of the propriet\- of our own .sentiments and actions. For in order that we ma}' form an}- imjjartial judgment in reference to our own conduct, general rules are necessary, that we ma}' not be imduly influenced by self lo\e and passion, which would tend to bias our judgments, or the judgments of the impartial s|)ectator, in favour of oursebcs. ^ The relation o^ this fundamental ]jrinci[)le of reason to .sympathv, the central doctrine of the TJtcory, has been alread} mentioi^ed, and will later be considered more at length. \Vc ha\ e now to see what is implied in Smith's idea of Conscience. 'I'he principle b}- which we naturally approve or disapprove of our own conduct is \er}' similar to that by which we judge concerning the conduct of others. VVe ;.-ppro\e or disapprove of our own conduct, according as we feel that when we place ourselves in the situation of another man, and \ iew our actions, as it were, with his e}es, and from his station, we either can or cannot entirel}' enter into and s}'mpathize w ith the sentiments and motixes which influenced them. The only wa}' in which we can justly estimate our ow n sentiments and motives is by endeaxoring to \ iew them with the e}es of other people, or as 1. Tlit'orn, I'L VII. Sec III. Cliap. Ifiitl, I't. 111. Chap. 4. THi; KTHUAI, SVSl'KM OK ADAM SMIIII. 51 c ciulccU (Hir to examine other people are likely to \ icw them. \\ our own conduct, as we imaL;iiH' an}- fair and impartial spectator would examine it. If. u\nm placm^- oursehes iii h IS s w ituation. n- e thoroughly enter into all the passions and motixes which i fluenced our conduct, we approxe of it h\- s\'mpathy with the approbation of this su|)p()sed e(|uitable judL;"e. If otherwise, we enter into his disap])robation, and condemn it. ' it is, thus, by means of s\'mpath\' alone, that uc can make a just decision in estimatin*;- our own moti\es and conduct. Our first moral criticisms are exercised upon the character and conduct of f)ther people, and we observe \er\' (luickl)' how each of these affects us Hut uc soon learn tliat other people arc equally frank with res^arrl to our own conduct. We become anxious to know how far we deserx e theii- censure C)r applause, anrl whether we must necessaril)' appear such as thcx' rejjresent us to be. We be^iii, therefore, to examine our own passions and conduct, and to consider how thi'se must a|)pear to them, by considerini; how the\' would appear to us if in their situation. VVe suppose oursehes the spectators of our fnvn behaviour, and endeavour to ima^n'ne what effect it wiuild, in this h'i;ht, produce upon us. If, in this \iew, it pleases us, we are tolerabl\- well sat- isfied. We can be more indifferent about the actual opinions of others, when we are sure that we are the natural and j^roper ob- jects of ap|)robation. VVe here become the im|)artial spectators of our own con- duct, and, in sitting;" thus in judt^inent upon ourselves, the self becomes the hit^iiest court of a|)peal in all cases of morality. From our observations upon the conduct of others, reason has formed rules and measures b\- which to judge, - and these r<"'es, each man, as an impartial spectator, ap|jlies to himself. n endeavoring to exan^.ine and to pass sentence upon m\' own con- duct, I divide m)self, as it were, into two persons. I, the ex- aminer and the judge, represent a different character from the other, I, the person whose conduct is examined into and judged of. The first is the s|)ectator, w hose sentiments with regard to my own conduct, I endeavour to enter into, b}- phicing myself in his situation, and bj- considering how it would appear to me, when seen fiom that jjarticular point of \iew. The second is the agent, the person whom I propcrl}' call m\self, and ofwho.se 1. Thcori/, Pt. III. ('"nap. i. 2. IbUl,i'i.vii. Sec. III. Chap 2, 52 MUIR conduct, under tiic character of a spectator, I am endeavoring to form soine o|)inion. Ihe first is the judge, the second the person judged of ' SK( TKJN II.— CONSi Il-.Xri-; IDKNTIFIEl) WITH RKASON. Conscience is, in tlie I'licory, identified with reason. Speak- ing of IMato's s\-stem. Smith sa\-s : " Tiie judging facult)', I'lato called, as it is \er\- propcrl}' called, reason, and considered it the go'.erning principle of the \\hole. Under this appellation, he comprehended not onl}' that facult\' b}' which we judge of truth and falsehood, but that by which we judge, also, of the propriety or impr(j|)riet}' of desires or affections. -" W'lien considering the motive power to self-sacrifice. Smith plainly identifies reason and conscience. 1 le says : " it (this motive power) is not humanity, it is not benevolence etc. It is a stronger power, a iriore forcible motive, which exerts itself u|)on such occasions. It is reason^ principle, coiisiiriici\ the inhabitant of the breast, the man within, tlie great judge and arbiter of conduct, "" Smith regards the judgment of conscience as ver\ different from an>' individual judgment of man. I le says : " an apjieal lies from the sentence of man, to tnat of a much higlier tribun.d, to the tribunal of con- science, to that of the supposed impartial and well-informed s])ectator. to that of the man within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of conduct. The jurisdiction of the man without is founded in the desire of actual praise, anl in the aversion to ac- tual blame. The jurisdiction of the man withii is founded alto- gether in the desire of praise-worthiness and in the aversion to blame-worthiness." •* The judgments of Conscience are thus very different from those of an\- ituiividiial spectator. In estimating our own merit, in judging of our own conduct and character, there are two different standards to which we com|)are them. The one is the idea of e.xact propriet}- and per- fection which conscience sets up for the guidnnce of the life ; the other is that degree of approximation to this idea, which is com- monl}' attained ir. the world, or which is the recognized standard of our own age and country. The wise and virtuous man directs his principal attention to the standard of e.xact propriety and perfection. •' Mis great object is not to act in such a manner as to obtain the actual ap[)robation of those around him, but to act 1. Thoorij, Ft. Ml. Sec. in. Cluip. i. 2. Ibid, I't. VII. Sec. II. Chai). i. 3. IhiO, I't. III. Chap. 3. 4. Ihid, I't. III. Chap. 2. 5. Ihid, I't. VII. Sec. 3. TtlE r.lHIC.M. SYSTEM Ol" ADAM SMITH. 53 in such a manner as to rciuicr himself the just and proper object of that approbation. His satisfaction with his own conduct de- pends much m.ore upon this consciousness of deserving ap[)roba- tion, than upon that of really enj(jying it. i Smith holds that Conscience is not infallible. The violence and injustice of f)ur selfish passions are son. times so great as utterly to per\ert our judgments concerning our own conduct. The "man within the breast" is induced to make a report \ery different from w hat the real circumstances of the case (lemand. - Tht ere are two different occasions on w hich we examme our own m- conduct, aufl endeavour to \v)w it in the light in which die i partial spectator would \iew it. I'irst, when we are about to act, and, second, when we have acted. In both cases our views, are very apt to be partial. When we are about to act, passion seldoiTi allows us to consider what we are doing with the candour of an indifferent person. W hen the action is over, although we can then enter into the sentiments of the indifferent spectator more C(j()ll\- than before, yet it is so disagreeable to us to think ill of ourselves, that we often purposely turn away our \iew from those circumstances which niight render our judgment unfavour- able. '1 he impartial spectator is not onl}- liable to be influenced by our own |)assions, so ;is to give a judgment more favourable to us than the case warrants, but he is als(j liable to err in the other direction. When th.; judgment of others, that of all tlie real spectators, is un mim:)iisl\' and violently against us, the im[)artial spectator seems to give his o|)im'on in our favour with fear and hesitation. On this account, .Smith likens the impartial s|)ecta- tor to the demigods of the poets, who, though parti)' of immor- tal, are yet partly of mortal extraction. When his judgments are directed bv' ihe sense of praise-worthiness and blame-worthi- ness, he seems to act suitably to his divine extraction. When he is astonished and confounded by the judgments of ignorant men, he discovers his connection with mortalitj', and acts suitably rather to the human than to the divine part of his origin. In order to guard (nn'selves against the delusions and the self-deceit brought about b\- oin* selfish passions, nature leads us to form insensibh', by observations upon the conduct of others, general rules, concerning what is fit and proper to be done. We observe that some actions shock us, and also shock other people. 1. Thponj, Pt. III. Chip. 2. 2. Ihitl, i't. III. Chip. 4. 54 M V I R VVc concluflc that all such actions arc to he cuoidcd, and we fix this j^eiieial rule in our minds, in order to correct the niisrepre- sentati(jns of self-lo\e. ' It is from reason that we derive all those j^eneral niaxiins and ideas, and it is by these that we regu- late the greater part of our moral judgments. - A regard for general rules constitutes our sense of duty, a princijile which Smith pronounces of the greatest consecjuence in human life. It is the only principle b\' which the bulk of man- kind are capable of directing their actions. '■'' Our reverence for tliese general rules is (urther enhanced by an opinion, which is first impressed b\' nature, and afterwards confirmed by reason- ing and philosoph}', that these imp(jrtant rules of morality are the commands of the iJeity, who will finalh' reward the obedient and punish the transgressors.'* .Although the sense of duty should be the ruling and the go\erning principle of life, yet Smith maintains, that it should not, b}- any means, be the .sole principle of our conduct. '' It dejiends upon the natural agree- ableness or deformit)- of an affection itself, liow far our actions ought to arise from it, or entirely proceed from a regard to the general rule. The acti(iis to which the bene\olent affections prompt, fHight to proceed as much from the passions as from any regard to general rule.; of conduct. We ought, on the contrary, to resist injuries more from the sense that they deserve and are the proper objects of resentment ; and ought always to punish with reluctance, and more from a sense of dut\-, a sense of the propriet)' of punishing, than from an)' sa\age disposition to re- venge. " Jt depends, also, partly upon the precision and exact- ness, ov the looseness and the inaccuracy of the rules themselves how far our conduct ought to proceed entirely from a regard to them. The general rul<^s of almost all of the virtues : of prudence of charity, of generosity, of friendship, are in many respects loose and inaccurate. The}- admit of many exceptions and require so many modifications, that it is scarcely possible to regulate our conduct entirely by a regard to them. The general rules of jus- tice, on the other hand, determine w ith the greatest exactness, every external action w hich it requires. These rules are perfectly clear and most undoubted; they are precise, accurate, and incHs- I. 2. 3- 4- 5- 6. Thfori/, I't, III. Chap. 4. Ibid, Pt. VII. Il>i', which this \irtue requires, are never so properly per- formcu, as when the chief motive for performing them is a reve- rential rcL^ard to those general rules, which re(]uire them. ^ Smith's opposition to IIuuk; is no where more clearly shown i than in his treatment of justice. We have already noted, that where Hume i^roiKJunced tiiis \irtue artificial, depending upon i the contri\ance of man, Smith regarded it as the chief of the virtues, and the corner stone of society. He liere again emfjha- sizes its preeminence insisting on the precision, exactness, and supreme importance of the general rules by which the acts re- quired by this virtue are regulated. .Sl'XTlUX III. — COXSCIKNCK TIIK SOlRCK OF TllK MORAL IDLAL. (Jruided b}- general rules, conscience forms within us an idea of e.xact propriet}- and perfection, -i There exists in the mind of every irian such an idea, graduall\- ff)rmed from his observations upon the character and conduct b(i(l, ]\k. III. Sec. 3. 4. Ihid, Pt. 1 1. Clia|). I. S^' MUiR : of blame. Instead of the lo\ e of praise- worthiness being derived from the lo\e of praise, the love of praise is largely derived from that of praise-worthiness. Virtue, in every particular instance, necessarily pleases for its own sake. To obtain approbaticjn, even where it is due, may sometimes be of no great importance ; but to deserve approba- tion must alwajs be of the highest. A maa's self-approbation if not the highest, is at least the principal thing about which he can or ought to be an.xious. The lo\e of it is the love of virtue. It is not the thought of being hated and despised that we are afraid of, but that of being hateful and despicable. ^ Moreover it must be noted that \irtue and happiness are united in the Theory. Happiness is said to consist in tranquillity and enjoy- ment. Without tranquillitx' there can be no enjoyment, and where there is traiKiuillit\-, but little else is required I'eace of mind does not, to an\- great e.xtent depend upon outward cir- j:umstances. Virtue is the most desirable thing in life, for it is always accompanied by self satisfaction, and with self-satisfac- tion there never can be misery and wretchedness. - The supreme judge of conduct, then, is the self. An appeal lie.s from, the sentence of our fellow men to this higlier tribunal — the tribunal of conscience. That which prompts us to sacrifice our own interests to the interests of others is not reall)' benevo- lence. It is a much stronger power and more forcible motive : the love of what is honourable and noble, a sense of the grand- eur and dignity and superiority of our own character, which is given by reason, or the principle of conscience. Without the approbation of the self, of this highest principle of our natiiie, no action can, properly, be called virtuous. •' The really vir- tuous man governs his whole behaviour and conduct according to the sentiments and emotions which conscience [)rescribes and ap[)ro\es. ■* The sentiment or affection of the heart from which any action proceeds is that upon which it.s whole virtue must ulti- mately depend. The grand motive of life must be the desire and atteinpt to realise an ideal which has been divinely implant- ed in man. In order that there may be any progress in the realisation of this ideal, society is necessary. ^ To feel much for 1. Throrii, Ft. in. Chap. 2. 2. IMd, l^t. VII, Sec. II. Cliap. i. 3. /^>('(/, Pt. VII. Sec. III. Chap. 2. IhUl, I't. VI. Chap. I, 4. 11>id, Ft. III. Clia|)ters 3 and 6. 5. Ibid, Ft. I. Ctiap. I. Sec 5. tHt: ETHICAL SVSTK.M OK ADAM SMITH. 57 I others and little for ourselves, to restrain our selfisli, and strength- en our benevolent affections, constitutes the perfection of human nature, and can alone produce the harmoii}' of sentiments and passions in which their whole grace and |)ropriet>' consists. As, to love our neighbors as we lo\ e oursehes, is the great law of Chris- tianity, so the great precept of nature is to love ourselves only as we love our neighbors, or what comes to the same thing, as our neighbor is capable of loving us. Society is thus necessary for the development of moral character. Hut it is necesar)', also, in a )'et more fundamental wa)' than is here implied. lM)r, as we have alread}' seen, we are not (inl\- dependent upon others as a for thi rfecti )f 'ter, but, also, for first means tor tne periection oi moral character, out, also, lorour knowledge of moral distinctions, j-'or these are formed, in the first instance, from our observations u|X)n the conduct of others We find, then, that conscience, in the Tlicory is identified with reason ; and in order to present its judgments upcMi our sentiments and conduct from being influenced b\- self-lo\e and passion, reason is said to form, from our obser- ations upon the conduct of others, general rules b\- which its decisions may be guided. We thus Ijecome, b\- means of reason, or conscience, the im|jartial spectatc^rs of our own conduct, and the self is thus constituted the highest cf)urt of appeal in all cases of morality-. Moreover our re\eience for general rules constitutes our sense of dut}' and we come at length, to regard those ules as the laws of God. The sense of dut\' is not here, as it s ii. Kant's s\stem, the sole principal of moralit)', but it is, nexcrtheless the ruling and the governing princijjle, and the only principle b\' which the majority of men are capable of- guiding their conduct. It de- pends upon the natural agreeableness of an affection itself, in how far it, or our sense of dut\-, should have the preeminence in regulating conduct. In acts which should spring from affection or benevolence, the very highest form of conduct must depend upon the affection, and cannot arise solely from our sense of duty. All acts of justice, on the other hand, should proceed entirely from our res|ject for the general rules of this \irtue, as justice is best secured by the most exact compliance with the demands of duty. Guided by general rules, conscience forms within us a per- fect ideal of conduct, and our sense of duty leads us constantly to strive to realise this ideal. This perfect \ irtue is not, in any way, dependent upon the opinion of others : it, in every instance necessarily pleases for its own sake. Self-a|)probation is the principal thing about which we can, or ought to be anxious. 58 MUlR Virtue is the most desirable thing in life for it is always accom- panied by self-satisfaction, and self-satisfaction is that which is most essential to happiness. CHAPTKR III. CONCLU.SION. Sl-XTIOX I. — RKLATION OF TIi:: TIIKORV OF TlIi: MORAL sknti.mf:nts to OTIIFIR KTIIICAL SVSTK.M.S, In procecdin<^ now to sum up the results of o''- investij^a- tion, we may first consider the relation of Smith's i ficoiy to the systeins of the precedinj^ writers of the Moral Sense School. The great work of these writers was, as we have seen, their re- cognition of the import.uice of the sentient element in morality, and the proof that man has not onh' instincts and inclinations toward his own gf)od, but that he has eciualh- important natural tendencies which seek to promote the welfare of others. Shaf- tesbury insisted upon the natural harmon\' and just proportions of egoism and altruism, mhintaining that the one is quite as nat- ural and as necessary to man as is the other. Shaftesbury al.so claimed that it was not reason which led men either to be benevolent, or to distinguish right and wrong, but a sense, which he called the Moral Sense. The judgments of this sense, how ever, when uncorruj:)ted, are alwajs in harmony with rea.'-on. Hutcheson, de\eloping Shaftesbury's ideas, found all virtue in benevolence, which he proclaimed the only object of the Moral Sense. The i.)ursuit of the good of others is for him prompt- ed by an instinct and ap|)roved by the Moral Sense. Our moral sense and affections determine the end, but it is reason which finds out the tneans. Virtue is to be found, however, not in rea- son but in kind affections towards the good of others. Hume could .see no necessit)' for the introduction of a new factor, such as the Moral Sense, into human nature when there already ex- isted, in sympathy, that which might, or, as he claimed, did per- form the work allotted to this new sen.sc. More important still, Hume utterly ignores reason, or degrades it to the rank of a passion. He holds, that, by reason, we only mean that pas- sion, which, in the particular instance, has happened to secure THK KIHKAI. SVSIKM Ol ADAM SMIIH. 50 tlie master)'. Moral jiicl^incnts rest oiil)' U|Kjn the f'.'cliii^ of jjlcasure or displeasure w hich an action excites in the spectator. Sympathy thus becomes the source of moral distinctions, but it is entireh' a sympathy with pleasure and pain ; a pleasure and |)ain which, Hume maintained, accompanied all moral actions. Ri^ht and wron<.j thus become s\iim\-mous with pleasure and pain, and with Hume complete ethical subjectivilx' is reached. The trans- ference of moral judgments from the actor to the spectator who pronounces actions ^'ood or bad llnvngli his sympathy ^.nth plea- sure and pain, is the characteristic feature that chstm^aiishes Hume's ethical system from its |)iedecessors. ' / To .Adam .Smith this appeared a most objectionable method of settling; moral cjuestioiis. Hence, while he makes .symj>ath\- or fellow feeling the cc-ntral doctrine of his s\-stem, he purifies it from all the utilitarian colouring; it hafl received in Hume's theorv, and makes the s|;ectator sympathise not with pleasure and pain, but w ith the sentiments and motives of the person acting, and tiie gratitude and resentment of the person af- fected by the action. .Smith thus receives and develops the doctrine of the moral sense, which had been transf(jrmed by Hume into a utilitarian s\-mpath\-. J^ut it is alsc; to be noted that he likewise reconsiders the function of rea.son, which Hume had completel} destroyed. Indeed, the most im[}ortant and the most difficult doctrine f)f the Theory is Smith's \iew of the nec- essity of both reason and sjmpath}' for the formation of any moral judgment, and the mutual relation of these great fun- damental principles. The problem regarding tlie function of reason and .sympathy in the system, has callecl forth two widel)' differing interpre- tatif)ns of Smith's views. I^\' one class of writers s) mpathy is said to be the one great principle from which Smith reasons, and to which all others are subser\ lent, - "the basis of the whole of moral philosophx." ^ Another writer maintains that .sympathy is no more the fundamental principle in Smith's eth- ics than it is in that of Kant, and contends that they who regard it as such totally misunderstand the .system. * This difference of opinion is not surprising, and ma}' largely be ac- counted for by a fact, which h.is caused a great deal of misun- derstanding and inisrepresentation of Smith's work generally. This fact is Smith's peculiar method of rea.soning. Buckle says 1. Erdniann, Ili^tarn of I'liiliisopli;/, \'()1. ii. p. 132. 2. Buckle, Ilistnri/ nf Cirilizdtion, p. 344. 3. Erdmann, IJistor;/ of Pliilosojiliij, \' A. 11. p. 133. 4. Oncken, Die Ethik Smith's ' with conscience. A consideration of (jne or two pa.'- .sa^^es will show conclusi\el)' that Smith did not rej.jard the ni' as one. 11 e s; I'h e word conscience does not necc;ssari devote any moral facult)' b)- which we approve or disapprove. Out ir moral judij^ments would be extremel\- uncertain and pre- carious if the)' depended alto^^ether upon what is liable to so^ many variations as immediate sentiment and feeling'.', 'It is by,' reason that we discover the "general rules of justice, prudence, genenjsit)-, etc., according to which weendeaxour, as well as wcr can, to model the tenor of our conduct.' '^ 'An appeal lies to the tribunal of their own conscience to that of the su|)posed im- l)artial and \\( 11-informed spectatf)!'." Smith here plainly iden- tifies conscience and the impartial spectator, and shows that it is primaril}- upon reason rather than upon sense and feelin^^ that our moral judgments dei)end. When sjjeakinj^r of the motive pcjwer to self-sacrifice, he sa)\s : 'It is reason, princi|)le, conscience, the inhabitant of the breast, the man within, the great judge and arbiter of our conduct.' Conscience and reason are hercj again synonymous terms, but neither here, nor anywhere else inj the Theory, does Smith regard conscience and symjjath)' as one.' Ilisturii i)f Elliirs, p. 207. R. B. Haklane, 'Life of Adnm SmUh." p. Q3. Die MordlithiJoKophip. Addia Sinith's, Pt. lii. Theitry, i't. n i. Chap. i. IhhK I't. VII. Sec. III. Chap. 2. Ibid, Ft. VII. Sec. III. Chap. 3. 62 MUIR : H.'ildaiic inaiiit.'iiiis that "Smith makes the nature aiul vahVlit) of ethical |)riiu;i|>les tlepend upon the state of mind ofan individual." So far is this from beinj^ the case that there are few |)oints which Sniitli has made more clear than this ; that the criterion of moral distinctions is not indix idual. lie sa)s : "Man has been rendered the immediate judj^^e of mankind, but he has been rendered so oid\- in tlie first instance. An appeal hes from his sentence to a much higher tribunal, to tlie tribunal of their own consciences; to that of the supposed impartial and well-informed spectator. The jurisdictions of those two tribu- nals are tountL'd ujjon principles which, thous^h in some respects similar, are in realit)' different and distinct. The jurisdiction of the man u ithout is founded altoiicther in the desire of actual j)rai.se, and in the aversion to actual blame. The jurisdiction f)f the man within is foundi'd alto-^^ether in the desire of praise- worthiness, and in the aversion to blame-worthiness. \, Con- science, the man w ithin, whose jurisdiction is founded altoijether U()on the desire of praise-worthiness is, as weha\e seen, identi- fied by Smith with reason. Ilence reason i^ the supreme ruler in the moral sphere, and the judgments of reason are alwa)'s .universal and can ne\er be re^L,farded as dependin<; upon the , state of mind ofan individual. It is from the tribunal of man that we turn for sentence to this hi<.,dier court of appeal with its standard of exact pro|)riet\- and perfeclion." 'vj Schubert holds that, in the Theory, even the general rules are re^^arded as of purel) ein|)irical derivation, '' and asks : " why abo\e all thinj^s does Smith accept such a principle as the applause of the world for the explanation of conscience "? That Smith by no means considered i^i-}icral rules as empirically derived has ;' eady been clearlx shown. The impon:ance of reason in their toriTiatioii receives ^reat cm|)hasis from him. We have had occasion .several times already to note his insistance upon this; but his \iews are clearly expressed in the following: "The <^eneral rules of moralit\- are formed, like all other general mnxims, from experience and induction. We observe in a great variety of particular cases what pleases or displeases our moral faculties, what the.sc approve or disap[)ro\c of, and by induction from this experience, we establish those {general rules. Hut induction is alwaxs rei^arded as one of the operations of rea.5on. I'Vom reason, therefore, we are ver\' i)roperly said to derive all those fi^eneral maxims and ideas. It is b)- these, however, that 1. 'nit'onj, Pt. m. Chiip. 2. 2. Jhhl, i't. VI. Sec. 3. 3. Die Muralphiluxiijiliie Adam Smilh's, Pt. 11 1. 1) Nil. I.IIIUAI, SVSIIM ol ADAM SMIIH. i 63 \vc ro^iiliitc the jj;ri'atcT part of our moral jiKlt,MiKMits, which would be extremely uiKert.iiii aiul precarious if tliey depended a ilto- ^'eth'.-r upon what is liable to so many variations as immediate sentiment and feelini;. As our most solid ju(l<^nnents, therefore, with rej^ard to riLjht and w ron<4'. are rej^nilated bj- maxims and ideas deri\ed from an induction of reason, \ irtue may \ery pro- perl)' be said to consist in a conformit\- to reason, and so far this facult)- may be considered as the source and principle of appro- Ixit ion and disapprobation In the face of such a |:assay. This, Oncken denies md mamlams that s}mpa thy is o f n o more importance to Smith's sjstem than it is to that of Kant, l^ut so far is this from bein^' the case that, as we ha\e seen. Smith holds that there can be no true moraUty without feeiin^f, while Kant maintains that there can l)e none aith it. .Smith --ajs that it depends npon the character of an affection whether it or a sense of duty should be the source of an action ; and claims that an act which proceeds from a sense of dut)', when the a^ent sliould have been urL(ed to its performance by affection, is not, in the highest sense, t^ood. ^ Kant, on the other haiul, holds that onl)' if an act shall ha\e been |)erformed from a sheer sense of dut\', and in opposition to inclination, is it truly ^ood. Kants' system is thus purely rational, and ascetic, while .Smith regards eciu.dly the rational and the sentient nature of man. Hence, instead of a mar\ellous similarity or idenlit)' between the ethical systems of these authors, there exists an insurmount- able opposition. The Tlicon\ then, is neither a purel)- rational, nor )et a purely Moral Sense s)'stiMn of ethics. Both reason and sense are indispensable to the ff)rmation of an\' moral jud|jfment, and each of these is sui)reme in its own sphere. Th e ciuestion mnv arises as to the relation of the two i;reat principles, of reason and of sympathv', in the T/ituny. Can the one in any sense be said to be more truly ultimate than the other. .Smith spi;aks of reason as "the ^o\ernin^i,r principle of the whole,""* " I le great judge and arbiter of conduct," '' and as of di\ ine e.xtraction. Sym- pathy is an impulse, a feeling, and the life of impulse and of passion is judgcHi and sentenced at the bar < 'reason. Hence we shall have to conclude that Smith regards reason as supreme, and sympath)' as occufning a subordinate positii^n. Vet it must be noticed that the first perception of right and wrong can never be deri^ ed from reason ; and second!)', that conscience, as rea.son, is dependent upon s\inpath>- for the |)articular instances or cases, out of wliich the general rules arc formed. Smith's ethical theory is, as we have seen, only related to i 1, 'J'hinri/, I't. v'li. .Slt. in. Chap. 2: 2. Dii' hthik StiiHIi's kihI KoiU'sp. I02. 2. Then)' J, I't. III. C"h.i|). 6. 4. /'//'/, I't. VII. ScH\ IP Chap. >. 5. Ihid, I't. II. Chap. 2. THi; KTHICAL SYSTKM OF ADAM SMITH. 6s I that of Kant by way of opposition. But, in a sense, we may be said to have a hint of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, in Smith's conception of the relation between sense and reason. Smith finds in the moral sphere that which Kant later discov- ered in regard to the intellect, that while our knowledge is all obtained from experience, it, nevertheless, is not all of exper- ience. To Smith, as to Kant, conception without perception is empty, and perception without conception is blind. Sym- path)-, or the sympathetic sense, is as important and, at the same time, as utterly powerless in itself, as is any bodily sense. / Indispensable to the mind for the attainment of knowledge in the field to which it is adapted, it is, nevertheless, nothing but an instrument or means through which reason can work. The general maxims of morality are formed, like all other general maxims, from experience and induction, and induction i- .il- ways regarded as one o'"the operations of reason. Perceptions are aKva\'s the beginning and constitute the express conditions of thouL^''t. We are not to remain b)' them, nevertheless, as what is .iltimatc. The concrete 'Vorstellungen' are the prelim- inar\- condition, but they must be purified into the abstract He- griff: else we never attain to mastery over ourselves, but float about a helpless prey to our own pictures. ^ As any bodily sense is utterly dependent upon reason, so that it is not the eye which sees, but reason which sees through the eye, as well as reason alone which can make use of the varied perception thus received, so also does reason work through sympathy, in ac- (juiring moral perceptions and in using these so as to form a moral judgment. Hut it is absurd and unintelligible to sup- pose, that the first perception of right and wrong can be de- rived from reason, even in those particular cases, upon the experience, of which the general rules are formed. These first perceptions are not the object of reason but of inmiediate sense and feeling. Just as Kant found that neither reason nor sense is, of itself, competent to form an object, but that the work of both is necessary, so Smith argues that, in the mor- al sphere, it is by s\'mpathy alone that the perceptions can be collected, out of which reason forms the moral object, the moral judgment. Smith thus recognizes the great fact, neglected b)' Kant in his ethics, that man is by no means purely rational. In any syateni of ethics which treats at all adequately the facts I. Stcrlin},', Secret oj JIt(jel, Vol. r, [i. 44. 66 MUIR : of the moral life, reason must reign supreme ; and yet, without the aid of sense, ^ reason is powerless. Hence, while Smith makes reason tlie governing principle, he never forgets the im- portance of sense, and maintains the necessity of both for morality, as either without the other would be utterly useless. Smith lias not at all over-emphasized the importance of sympathy. •" The root of morals, the ultimate inducement to moral conduct, is surely to be discovered in those original impulses of our nature which urge us to seek the good of our- selves and of others, and in those reflex feelings wiiich approve or disapprove of actions, according as they are or are not attended by those effects. Our emotions are, as it were, the raw material of morality. At the same time it must, undoubt- edly, be granted that they are often transformed by the action of reason into what almost assumes the character of a new product." ' The root idea of sympathy is the power of imitat- ing the feelings of others, and this instinct of imitation is, as Balfour expresses it, " the very basis of all effective education." It is, indeed, the most important factor in, if not a synonj'm for, that " consciousness of kind " which marks off the animate from the inanimate and ofwhich all association and social organiza- tion are consecjuences I - In endeavouring to find the origin of moral distinctions, Smith, neglecting for the moment man's rational nature, and seeking the fundamental sentient element in moralit>-, rightly finds this in s)'mpathy. " Out of community and out of societ}', man ne\er did nor ever can exist," and it is these inevitable social relations which form the source of morality. As an object would cease to be an object and would become, in realit}', nothing, if removed out of all possible rela- tion to anxthing but itself, so also would morality cease to be if it were not for these indispensable social relations. Hence the precognition of these relations, which is founded alone in sympa- thy or in imitation of the feelings of others, is the fundamental element of moralit)' when viewed from the stand-point of sense or the emotional nature of man. But, while this is true, there is in human nature that which is even more fundamentally important than this s\'mpathy, this instinct of imitation, this consciousness of kind. This deepest and most fundamental principle is not that by which man recognizes, imitates, and fl t. Kiiwler. Sh'i^ftrshur;/ and /fntr.hfKon. \>. 215. 2. F. \l. CAdiVmiiii, Priwtplps of Sociologii. f THK KTHICAL SYSTEM OF ADAM SMITH. 67 I #1 enters into the feelings and passions of others, but is that which alone differentiates man as man. namely reason. Tlius reason is, as Smith holds, nothing individual, but is universal, and is the supreme moral ruler. Hut reason is dependent upon sympathy, as we have seen.- .for assistance in the formation of its judgments and its rules. Fd:^ without sympathy, man would be unable to enter into any possible or where there cott judgments of reason. Morality arises nature, and in so far has endeavoured reason and sense advance upon utilitarian writers rational, and where morality would be necessity for the moral of human alism, and ?ion of both is system an phers or the upon the purely