Qualities Useful to Ourselves

IT seems evident, that where a quality or habit is subjected to our examination, if it appear in any respect prejudicial to the person possessed of it, or such as incapacitates him for business and action, it is instantly blamed, and ranked among his faults and imperfections. Indolence, negligence, want of order and method, obstinacy, fickleness, rashness, credulity; these qualities were never esteemed by any one indifferent to a character; much less, extolled as accomplishments or virtues. The prejudice, resulting from them, immediately strikes our eye, and gives us the sentiment of pain and disapprobation.

It seems clear that we immediately criticize a quality or habit if it appears harmful to the person who has it. We also criticize it if it makes that person incapable of work or action. We count such qualities among a person’s faults and imperfections. Laziness, carelessness, lack of order and method, stubbornness, fickleness, recklessness, and gullibility have never been considered irrelevant to a person’s character. Still less have they been praised as accomplishments or virtues. The harm these qualities cause immediately catches our attention and gives us a feeling of pain and disapproval.

No quality, it is allowed, is absolutely either blameable or praiseworthy. It is all according to its degree. A due medium, says the Peripatetics, is the characteristic of virtue. But this medium is chiefly determined by utility. A proper celerity, for instance, and dispatch in business, is commendable. When defective, no progress is ever made in the execution of any purpose: When excessive, it engages us in precipitate and ill-concerted measures and enterprises: By such reasonings, we fix the proper and commendable mediocrity in all moral and prudential disquisitions; and never lose view of the advantages, which result from any character or habit. Now as these advantages are enjoyed by the person possessed of the character, it can never be SELF-LOVE which renders the prospect of them agreeable to us, the spectators, and prompts our esteem and approbation. No force of imagination can convert us into another person, and make us fancy, that we, being that person, reap benefit from those valuable qualities, which belong to him. Or if it did, no celerity of imagination could immediately transport us back, into ourselves, and make us love and esteem the person, as different from us. Views and sentiments, so opposite to known truth and to each other, could never have place, at the same time, in the same person. All suspicion, therefore, of selfish regards, is here totally excluded. It is a quite different principle, which actuates our bosom, and interests us in the felicity of the person whom we contemplate. Where his natural talents and acquired abilities give us the prospect of elevation, advancement, a figure in life, prosperous success, a steady command over fortune, and the execution of great or advantageous undertakings; we are struck with such agreeable images, and feel a complacency and regard immediately arise towards him. The ideas of happiness, joy, triumph, prosperity, are connected with every circumstance of his character, and diffuse over our minds a pleasing sentiment of sympathy and humanity.¹⁹

It is generally agreed that no quality is absolutely blameworthy or praiseworthy. Everything depends on its degree. The Peripatetics say that virtue lies in a proper middle ground. But usefulness is the chief measure of that middle ground. For example, a suitable degree of speed and efficiency in business is commendable. Without enough speed, we never make progress toward any goal. But too much speed leads us to act hastily and undertake poorly planned projects. By such reasoning, we determine the proper and commendable middle ground in all questions of morality and practical judgment. We never lose sight of the benefits that result from any character or habit. Now, the person who has the character enjoys those benefits. So self-love can never make the prospect of those benefits pleasing to us as observers, or prompt our esteem and approval. No power of imagination can turn us into another person. Nor can it make us imagine that, as that person, we benefit from the valuable qualities that belong to him. Even if it could, no speed of imagination could immediately return us to ourselves. Nor could it make us love and esteem the person as someone different from us. Views and feelings so opposed to known truth and to each other could never exist simultaneously in the same person. Any suspicion of selfish motives is therefore completely ruled out. A quite different principle moves us and makes us take an interest in the happiness of the person we observe. His natural talents and acquired abilities may offer the prospect of elevation, advancement, prominence in life, and success. They may also promise steady control over his fortunes and the accomplishment of great or beneficial undertakings. When they do, these pleasant images strike us, and we immediately feel pleasure and regard for him. Ideas of happiness, joy, triumph, and prosperity are connected with every aspect of his character. These ideas spread a pleasant feeling of sympathy and humanity through our minds.¹⁹

Let us suppose a person originally framed so as to have no manner of concern for his fellow-creatures, but to regard the happiness and misery of all sensible beings with greater indifference than even two contiguous shades of the same colour. Let us suppose, if the prosperity of nations were laid on the one hand, and their ruin on the other, and he were desired to choose; that he would stand like the schoolman's ass, irresolute and undetermined, between equal motives; or rather, like the same ass between two pieces of wood or marble, without any inclination or propensity to either side. The consequence, I believe, must be allowed just, that such a person, being absolutely unconcerned, either for the public good of a community or the private utility of others, would look on every quality, however pernicious, or however beneficial, to society, or to its possessor, with the same indifference as on the most common and uninteresting object.

Suppose a person is born with no concern at all for others. He regards the happiness and suffering of all beings capable of feeling with complete indifference. He cares even less about them than about two neighboring shades of the same color. Suppose he is asked to choose between the prosperity of nations on one side and their ruin on the other. He would stand like the philosopher’s donkey, unable to decide between two equally appealing choices. Or rather, he would be like the same donkey standing between two pieces of wood or marble, with no desire for either one. I believe the conclusion must be accepted: such a person would be completely unconcerned with either a community’s public good or the private benefit of others. He would therefore regard every quality with indifference, however harmful or beneficial it might be to society or to the person who has it. He would care no more about such qualities than about the most ordinary and uninteresting object.

But if, instead of this fancied monster, we suppose a MAN to form a judgement or determination in the case, there is to him a plain foundation of preference, where everything else is equal; and however cool his choice may be, if his heart be selfish, or if the persons interested be remote from him; there must still be a choice or distinction between what is useful, and what is pernicious. Now this distinction is the same in all its parts, with the MORAL DISTINCTION, whose foundation has been so often, and so much in vain, enquired after. The same endowments of the mind, in every circumstance, are agreeable to the sentiment of morals and to that of humanity; the same temper is susceptible of high degrees of the one sentiment and of the other; and the same alteration in the objects, by their nearer approach or by connexions, enlivens the one and the other. By all the rules of philosophy, therefore, we must conclude, that these sentiments are originally the same; since, in each particular, even the most minute, they are governed by the same laws, and are moved by the same objects.

But suppose a human being, rather than this imagined monster, makes a judgment or decision in the case. All else being equal, that person has a clear reason to prefer one thing over another. If the person is selfish, or those affected are distant, the choice may be made with little feeling. Even so, the person must still choose or distinguish between what is useful and what is harmful. This distinction is the same in every respect as the moral distinction, whose basis has so often been sought in vain. In every circumstance, the same qualities of mind appeal to our moral feelings and to our feelings of humanity. The same temperament is capable of feeling both sentiments strongly. And the same changes in the objects of these feelings, as they draw nearer or become connected to us, make both feelings stronger. By all the rules of philosophy, then, we must conclude that these sentiments are originally the same. For in every detail, even the smallest, they are governed by the same laws and stirred by the same objects.

Why do philosophers infer, with the greatest certainty, that the moon is kept in its orbit by the same force of gravity, that makes bodies fall near the surface of the earth, but because these effects are, upon computation, found similar and equal? And must not this argument bring as strong conviction, in moral as in natural disquisitions?

Why are philosophers absolutely certain that the same force of gravity keeps the moon in orbit and makes objects fall near Earth’s surface? It is because calculations show that these effects are similar and equal. Should this argument not be just as convincing in moral inquiries as in inquiries about nature?

To prove, by any long detail, that all the qualities, useful to the possessor, are approved of, and the contrary censured, would be superfluous. The least reflection on what is every day experienced in life, will be sufficient. We shall only mention a few instances, in order to remove, if possible, all doubt and hesitation.

There is no need to prove at length that all qualities useful to their possessor are approved of, while their opposites are condemned. A little thought about everyday experience is enough. We will mention only a few examples, so as to remove, if possible, all doubt and hesitation.

The quality, the most necessary for the execution of any useful enterprise, is discretion; by which we carry on a safe intercourse with others, give due attention to our own and to their character, weigh each circumstance of the business which we undertake, and employ the surest and safest means for the attainment of any end or purpose. To a Cromwell, perhaps, or a De Retz, discretion may appear an alderman-like virtue, as Dr. Swift calls it; and being incompatible with those vast designs, to which their courage and ambition prompted them, it might really, in them, be a fault or imperfection. But in the conduct of ordinary life, no virtue is more requisite, not only to obtain success, but to avoid the most fatal miscarriages and disappointments. The greatest parts without it, as observed by an elegant writer, may be fatal to their owner; as Polyphemus, deprived of his eye, was only the more exposed, on account of his enormous strength and stature.

Discretion is the quality most needed to carry out any useful undertaking. It allows us to deal safely with others and pay proper attention to both our own character and theirs. It helps us weigh every circumstance of the business we undertake and choose the surest and safest means to achieve our aim. To a Cromwell or a De Retz, perhaps, discretion may seem a virtue fit for an alderman, as Dr. Swift calls it. Discretion was incompatible with the vast plans their courage and ambition inspired. In such men, it might indeed be a fault or imperfection. But in ordinary life, no virtue is more necessary, both for success and for avoiding the most disastrous failures and disappointments. As one elegant writer observed, the greatest talents can be fatal to their owner without discretion. Just so, when Polyphemus lost his eye, his enormous strength and size only made him more vulnerable.

The best character, indeed, were it not rather too perfect for human nature, is that which is not swayed by temper of any kind; but alternately employs enterprise and caution, as each is useful to the particular purpose intended. Such is the excellence which St. Evremond ascribes to Mareschal Turenne, who displayed every campaign, as he grew older, more temerity in his military enterprises; and being now, from long experience, perfectly acquainted with every incident in war, he advanced with greater firmness and security, in a road so well known to him. Fabius, says Machiavel, was cautious; Scipio enterprising: And both succeeded, because the situation of the Roman affairs, during the command of each, was peculiarly adapted to his genius; but both would have failed, had these situations been reversed. He is happy, whose circumstances suit his temper; but he is more excellent, who can suit his temper to any circumstances.

The best character, if it were not too perfect for human nature, would be one ruled by no particular temperament. Such a person would use enterprise or caution, depending on which served the purpose at hand. St. Evremond attributes this excellence to Marshal Turenne. As Turenne grew older, he showed more daring in his military campaigns each year. Long experience had made him thoroughly familiar with everything that could happen in war. So he advanced with greater confidence and security along a road he knew so well. Machiavel says that Fabius was cautious, while Scipio was enterprising. Both succeeded because Roman affairs under each commander were especially suited to his character. But both would have failed if their situations had been reversed. A person is fortunate when circumstances suit their temperament. But a person who can adapt their temperament to any circumstances is more excellent.

What need is there to display the praises of industry, and to extol its advantages, in the acquisition of power and riches, or in raising what we call a FORTUNE in the world? The tortoise, according to the fable, by his perseverance, gained the race of the hare, though possessed of much superior swiftness. A man's time, when well husbanded, is like a cultivated field, of which a few acres produce more of what is useful to life, than extensive provinces, even of the richest soil, when over-run with weeds and brambles.

Why praise hard work or its advantages in gaining power and riches, or in making what we call a FORTUNE? In the fable, the tortoise won the race against the hare through persistence, even though the hare was much faster. A man's time, when used wisely, is like a cultivated field. A few acres of that field produce more of what is useful for life than vast regions overrun with weeds and brambles, even if their soil is the richest.

But all prospect of success in life, or even of tolerable subsistence, must fail, where a reasonable frugality is wanting. The heap, instead of increasing, diminishes daily, and leaves its possessor so much more unhappy, as, not having been able to confine his expences to a large revenue, he will still less be able to live contentedly on a small one. The souls of men, according to Plato²⁰, inflamed with impure appetites, and losing the body, which alone afforded means of satisfaction, hover about the earth, and haunt the places, where their bodies are deposited; possessed with a longing desire to recover the lost organs of sensation. So may we see worthless prodigals, having consumed their fortune in wild debauches, thrusting themselves into every plentiful table, and every party of pleasure, hated even by the vicious, and despised even by fools.

But without reasonable thrift, all hope of success in life, or even of getting by, must fail. Instead of growing, a person’s wealth shrinks daily, leaving its owner all the more unhappy. Someone who could not keep expenses within a large income will be even less able to live contentedly on a small one. According to Plato²⁰, the souls of men are inflamed by impure appetites. When they lose the body, they lose the only means of satisfying those appetites. So they hover around the earth and haunt the places where their bodies are buried. They long to recover their lost organs of sensation. In much the same way, we may see worthless spendthrifts who have squandered their fortunes in wild debauchery. They push their way into every lavish meal and every party, hated even by the vicious and despised even by fools.

The one extreme of frugality is avarice, which, as it both deprives a man of all use of his riches, and checks hospitality and every social enjoyment, is justly censured on a double account. PRODIGALITY, the other extreme, is commonly more hurtful to a man himself; and each of these extremes is blamed above the other, according to the temper of the person who censures, and according to his greater or less sensibility to pleasure, either social or sensual.

One extreme of thrift is greed. Greed prevents a person from making any use of their wealth. It also discourages hospitality and every kind of social enjoyment. For both reasons, greed is rightly condemned. WASTEFUL SPENDING, the other extreme, usually does more harm to the person who indulges in it. Which extreme a person blames more depends on their temperament. It also depends on how sensitive they are to social or physical pleasures.

Qualities often derive their merit from complicated sources. Honesty, fidelity, truth, are praised for their immediate tendency to promote the interests of society; but after those virtues are once established upon this foundation, they are also considered as advantageous to the person himself, and as the source of that trust and confidence, which can alone give a man any consideration in life. One becomes contemptible, no less than odious, when he forgets the duty, which, in this particular, he owes to himself as well as to society.

Qualities often draw their merit from several sources. Honesty, fidelity, and truthfulness are praised because they directly promote society’s interests. But once these virtues are established on that basis, they are also seen as beneficial to the individual. They are the source of the trust and confidence without which no one can earn respect in life. A person becomes contemptible as well as hateful when they forget their duty in this regard. It is a duty they owe both to themselves and to society.

Perhaps, this consideration is one CHIEF source of the high blame, which is thrown on any instance of failure among women in point of CHASTITY. The greatest regard, which can be acquired by that sex, is derived from their fidelity; and a woman becomes cheap and vulgar, loses her rank, and is exposed to every insult, who is deficient in this particular. The smallest failure is here sufficient to blast her character. A female has so many opportunities of secretly indulging these appetites, that nothing can give us security but her absolute modesty and reserve; and where a breach is once made, it can scarcely ever be fully repaired. If a man behave with cowardice on one occasion, a contrary conduct reinstates him in his character. But by what action can a woman, whose behaviour has once been dissolute, be able to assure us, that she has formed better resolutions, and has self-command enough to carry them into execution?

Perhaps this consideration is one chief reason why any lapse in chastity is so harshly condemned in women. The greatest respect women can earn comes from their fidelity. A woman who lacks it becomes cheap and vulgar, loses her social standing, and is exposed to every insult. The smallest lapse is enough to ruin her reputation. A woman has so many opportunities to satisfy these desires in secret that only complete modesty and reserve can reassure us. Once she has broken that standard, she can scarcely ever fully repair the damage. If a man acts cowardly on one occasion, he can restore his reputation by acting bravely later. But how can a woman who has once behaved immorally assure us that she has resolved to do better? How can she show that she has enough self-control to carry out those resolutions?

All men, it is allowed, are equally desirous of happiness; but few are successful in the pursuit: One considerable cause is the want of strength of mind, which might enable them to resist the temptation of present ease or pleasure, and carry them forward in the search of more distant profit and enjoyment. Our affections, on a general prospect of their objects, form certain rules of conduct, and certain measures of preference of one above another: and these decisions, though really the result of our calm passions and propensities, (for what else can pronounce any object eligible or the contrary?) are yet said, by a natural abuse of terms, to be the determinations of pure REASON and reflection. But when some of these objects approach nearer to us, or acquire the advantages of favourable lights and positions, which catch the heart or imagination; our general resolutions are frequently confounded, a small enjoyment preferred, and lasting shame and sorrow entailed upon us. And however poets may employ their wit and eloquence, in celebrating present pleasure, and rejecting all distant views to fame, health, or fortune; it is obvious, that this practice is the source of all dissoluteness and disorder, repentance and misery. A man of a strong and determined temper adheres tenaciously to his general resolutions, and is neither seduced by the allurements of pleasure, nor terrified by the menaces of pain; but keeps still in view those distant pursuits, by which he, at once, ensures his happiness and his honour.

Everyone agrees that all people equally desire happiness, but few succeed in finding it. One important reason is a lack of mental strength. Mental strength would enable them to resist the temptation of immediate ease or pleasure and pursue more distant benefits and enjoyment. When we consider the objects of our desires in general, our feelings lead us to form rules of conduct and decide which objects to prefer. These decisions are really the result of our calm passions and inclinations. After all, what else can judge whether anything is worth choosing? Yet, through a natural misuse of language, we call these decisions the judgments of pure reason and reflection. But some of these objects come closer to us or appear in a favorable light or position that catches our heart or imagination. When this happens, our general resolutions often collapse. We choose a small pleasure and bring lasting shame and sorrow upon ourselves. Poets may use their wit and eloquence to celebrate immediate pleasure and reject any concern for future fame, health, or fortune. Even so, this practice is clearly the source of all moral laxity and disorder, repentance and misery. A person with a strong and determined character holds firmly to general resolutions. Such a person is neither seduced by the attractions of pleasure nor frightened by the threats of pain. Instead, that person keeps distant goals in view, securing both happiness and honor.

Self-satisfaction, at least in some degree, is an advantage, which equally attends the fool and the wise man: But it is the only one; nor is there any other circumstance in the conduct of life, where they are upon an equal footing. Business, books, conversation; for all of these, a fool is totally incapacitated, and except condemned by his station to the coarsest drudgery, remains a useless burthen upon the earth. Accordingly, it is found, that men are extremely jealous of their character in this particular; and many instances are seen of profligacy and treachery, the most avowed and unreserved; none of bearing patiently the imputation of ignorance and stupidity. Dicaearchus, the Macedonian general, who, as Polybius tells us²¹, openly erected one altar to impiety, another to injustice, in order to bid defiance to mankind; even he, I am well assured, would have started at the epithet of FOOL, and have meditated revenge for so injurious an appellation. Except the affection of parents, the strongest and most indissoluble bond in nature, no connexion has strength sufficient to support the disgust arising from this character. Love itself, which can subsist under treachery, ingratitude, malice, and infidelity, is immediately extinguished by it, when perceived and acknowledged; nor are deformity and old age more fatal to the dominion of that passion. So dreadful are the ideas of an utter incapacity for any purpose or undertaking, and of continued error and misconduct in life!

Self-satisfaction, at least to some degree, is an advantage shared by the fool and the wise person. But it is the only one. In every other aspect of life, they are not on equal footing. A fool is entirely incapable of business, reading, or conversation. Unless condemned by their station to the coarsest drudgery, a fool remains a useless burden on the earth. Accordingly, people are extremely protective of their reputation for intelligence. We see many examples of people openly and unreservedly displaying vice and treachery. But we see no one patiently accept an accusation of ignorance and stupidity. As Polybius tells us²¹, the Macedonian general Dicaearchus openly erected one altar to impiety and another to injustice, to defy mankind. Yet even he, I am quite sure, would have recoiled at being called a FOOL. He would have plotted revenge for so insulting a name. Apart from parental affection, the strongest and most enduring bond in nature, no relationship can withstand the disgust that stupidity inspires. Love itself can survive treachery, ingratitude, malice, and infidelity. But once stupidity is recognized and acknowledged, love is immediately extinguished. Deformity and old age are no more fatal to love's power. So dreadful are the thoughts of being utterly incapable of any purpose or undertaking, and of constant error and misconduct in life!

When it is asked, whether a quick or a slow apprehension be most valuable? Whether one, that, at first view, penetrates far into a subject, but can perform nothing upon study; or a contrary character, which must work out everything by dint of application? Whether a clear head or a copious invention? Whether a profound genius or a sure judgement? In short, what character, or peculiar turn of understanding, is more excellent than another? It is evident, that we can answer none of these questions, without considering which of those qualities capacitates a man best for the world, and carries him farthest in any undertaking.

Is it more valuable to understand things quickly or slowly? Is it better to grasp a subject deeply at first glance but achieve nothing through study? Or is it better to work everything out through sustained effort? Is a clear head better than an abundant imagination? Is profound genius better than sound judgment? In short, what kind of mind or particular way of thinking is better than another? Clearly, we cannot answer any of these questions without considering which qualities best equip a person for the world and carry them furthest in any undertaking.

If refined sense and exalted sense be not so USEFUL as common sense, their rarity, their novelty, and the nobleness of their objects make some compensation, and render them the admiration of mankind: As gold, though less serviceable than iron, acquires from its scarcity a value which is much superior.

If refined and elevated judgment are less useful than common sense, their rarity, novelty, and noble aims partly make up for it. These qualities make them objects of admiration. Similarly, gold is less useful than iron, yet its scarcity makes it much more valuable.

The defects of judgement can be supplied by no art or invention; but those of memory frequently may, both in business and in study, by method and industry, and by diligence in committing everything to writing; and we scarcely ever hear a short memory given as a reason for a man's failure in any undertaking. But in ancient times, when no man could make a figure without the talent of speaking, and when the audience were too delicate to bear such crude, undigested harangues as our extemporary orators offer to public assemblies; the faculty of memory was then of the utmost consequence, and was accordingly much more valued than at present. Scarce any great genius is mentioned in antiquity, who is not celebrated for this talent; and Cicero enumerates it among the other sublime qualities of Caesar himself.²².

No skill or invention can make up for poor judgment. But a weak memory can often be compensated for, both in business and study. One can be organized, work hard, and carefully write everything down. We hardly ever hear a poor memory given as the reason someone failed at an undertaking. But in ancient times, no one could become prominent without talent as a speaker. Audiences were also too discerning to tolerate the crude, unpolished speeches our own extemporaneous speakers offer at public assemblies. Memory was therefore extremely important and was valued much more highly than it is today. Hardly any great genius from antiquity is mentioned without praise for this talent. Cicero lists memory among the other lofty qualities of Caesar himself.²².

Particular customs and manners alter the usefulness of qualities: they also alter their merit. Particular situations and accidents have, in some degree, the same influence. He will always be more esteemed, who possesses those talents and accomplishments, which suit his station and profession, than he whom fortune has misplaced in the part which she has assigned him. The private or selfish virtues are, in this respect, more arbitrary than the public and social. In other respects they are, perhaps, less liable to doubt and controversy.

Different customs and ways of life change how useful qualities are. They also change how worthy those qualities are. Particular situations and chance events have the same influence to some degree. A person whose talents and skills suit their position and profession will always be more respected than someone placed by fortune in an unsuitable role. In this respect, private or self-interested virtues are more arbitrary than public and social virtues. In other respects, private virtues are perhaps less open to doubt and debate.

In this kingdom, such continued ostentation, of late years, has prevailed among men in ACTIVE life with regard to PUBLIC SPIRIT, and among those in SPECULATIVE with regard to BENEVOLENCE; and so many false pretensions to each have been, no doubt, detected, that men of the world are apt, without any bad intention, to discover a sullen incredulity on the head of those moral endowments, and even sometimes absolutely to deny their existence and reality. In like manner I find, that, of old, the perpetual cant of the STOICS and CYNICS concerning VIRTUE, their magnificent professions and slender performances, bred a disgust in mankind; and Lucian, who, though licentious with regard to pleasure, is yet in other respects a very moral writer, cannot sometimes talk of virtue, so much boasted without betraying symptoms of spleen and irony. But surely this peevish delicacy, whence-ever it arises can never be carried so far as to make us deny the existence of every species of merit, and all distinction of manners and behaviour. Besides DISCRETION, CAUTION, ENTERPRISE, INDUSTRY, ASSIDUITY, FRUGALITY, ECONOMY, GOOD-SENSE, PRUDENCE, DISCERNMENT; besides these endowments, I say, whose very names force an avowal of their merit, there are many others, to which the most determined scepticism cannot for a moment refuse the tribute of praise and approbation. TEMPERANCE, SOBRIETY, PATIENCE, CONSTANCY, PERSEVERANCE, FORETHOUGHT, CONSIDERATENESS, SECRECY, ORDER, INSINUATION, ADDRESS, PRESENCE OF MIND, QUICKNESS OF CONCEPTION, FACILITY OF EXPRESSION, these, and a thousand more of the same kind, no man will ever deny to be excellencies and perfections. As their merit consists in their tendency to serve the person, possessed of them, without any magnificent claim to public and social desert, we are the less jealous of their pretensions, and readily admit them into the catalogue of laudable qualities. We are not sensible that, by this concession, we have paved the way for all the other moral excellencies, and cannot consistently hesitate any longer, with regard to disinterested benevolence, patriotism, and humanity.

In this kingdom, men active in public life have lately made a great show of public spirit. Men engaged in study and speculation have done the same with benevolence. No doubt, many false claims to both qualities have been exposed. As a result, worldly people tend, without any bad intention, to view these moral qualities with sullen disbelief. Sometimes they even deny outright that such qualities exist. Similarly, I find that, in ancient times, the Stoics and Cynics constantly preached about virtue. Their grand claims and meager actions disgusted people. Lucian, though self-indulgent in his pursuit of pleasure, is otherwise a very moral writer. Yet he cannot sometimes speak of this much-praised virtue without showing signs of bitterness and irony. But surely this irritable distaste, whatever its source, can never lead us to deny every kind of merit. Nor can it lead us to deny all distinctions between ways of acting and behaving. Take discretion, caution, enterprise, industry, diligence, frugality, economy, good sense, prudence, and discernment. The very names of these qualities force us to admit their merit. But there are many others that even the most determined skeptic cannot refuse to praise and approve, even for a moment. These include temperance, sobriety, patience, constancy, perseverance, foresight, thoughtfulness, discretion in keeping secrets, orderliness, tact, skill in dealing with others, presence of mind, quick understanding, and ease of expression. No one will ever deny that these and a thousand similar qualities are virtues and accomplishments. These qualities are valuable because they tend to benefit the people who possess them. They make no grand claim to merit by serving the public or society. We are therefore less suspicious of the claims made for them and readily include them among praiseworthy qualities. We do not realize that this admission has paved the way for all the other moral excellences. We cannot consistently hesitate any longer to recognize selfless benevolence, patriotism, and humanity.

It seems, indeed, certain, that first appearances are here, as usual, extremely deceitful, and that it is more difficult, in a speculative way, to resolve into self-love the merit which we ascribe to the selfish virtues above mentioned, than that even of the social virtues, justice and beneficence. For this latter purpose, we need but say, that whatever conduct promotes the good of the community is loved, praised, and esteemed by the community, on account of that utility and interest, of which every one partakes; and though this affection and regard be, in reality, gratitude, not self-love, yet a distinction, even of this obvious nature, may not readily be made by superficial reasoners; and there is room, at least, to support the cavil and dispute for a moment. But as qualities, which tend only to the utility of their possessor, without any reference to us, or to the community, are yet esteemed and valued; by what theory or system can we account for this sentiment from self-love, or deduce it from that favourite origin? There seems here a necessity for confessing that the happiness and misery of others are not spectacles entirely indifferent to us; but that the view of the former, whether in its causes or effects, like sunshine or the prospect of well-cultivated plains (to carry our pretensions no higher), communicates a secret joy and satisfaction; the appearance of the latter, like a lowering cloud or barren landscape, throws a melancholy damp over the imagination. And this concession being once made, the difficulty is over; and a natural unforced interpretation of the phenomena of human life will afterwards, we may hope, prevail among all speculative enquirers.

Indeed, it seems certain that first appearances here are, as usual, extremely misleading. In theory, it is harder to explain our praise of the selfish virtues mentioned above as a product of self-love than to explain our praise of the social virtues, justice and beneficence. To explain our praise of the social virtues, we need only say that the community loves, praises, and values conduct that promotes its good. The community does so because everyone shares in the benefits such conduct brings. In reality, this affection and regard is gratitude, not self-love. Yet superficial thinkers may not readily make even so obvious a distinction. There is, at least, room to quibble and argue about it for a moment. But we also esteem and value qualities that benefit only the person who possesses them. We do so even when those qualities have no bearing on us or on the community. What theory or system can explain this regard as a product of self-love, or trace it to that favored source? We seem forced to admit that we are not entirely indifferent to the sight of other people’s happiness or misery. Seeing happiness, whether in its causes or its effects, gives us a quiet joy and satisfaction. To claim no more, it is like seeing sunshine or a landscape of well-cultivated plains. The sight of misery, like a darkening cloud or a barren landscape, casts a melancholy gloom over the imagination. Once we have admitted this, the difficulty is resolved. We may then hope that all those who study these questions in theory will accept a natural, unforced interpretation of human life.

It may not be improper, in this place, to examine the influence of bodily endowments, and of the goods of fortune, over our sentiments of regard and esteem, and to consider whether these phenomena fortify or weaken the present theory. It will naturally be expected, that the beauty of the body, as is supposed by all ancient moralists, will be similar, in some respects, to that of the mind; and that every kind of esteem, which is paid to a man, will have something similar in its origin, whether it arise from his mental endowments, or from the situation of his exterior circumstances.

It may be appropriate here to examine how physical gifts and good fortune affect our feelings of regard and esteem. We can also consider whether these effects strengthen or weaken the present theory. As all ancient moralists assume, we would naturally expect physical beauty to resemble beauty of mind in some respects. We would also expect every kind of esteem given to a person to have a similar origin. This would be true whether the esteem arises from mental gifts or from external circumstances.

It is evident, that one considerable source of BEAUTY in all animals is the advantage which they reap from the particular structure of their limbs and members, suitably to the particular manner of life, to which they are by nature destined. The just proportions of a horse, described by Xenophon and Virgil, are the same that are received at this day by our modern jockeys; because the foundation of them is the same, namely, experience of what is detrimental or useful in the animal.

Clearly, a major source of BEAUTY in all animals is the usefulness of their limbs and body parts. Their structure suits the particular way of life for which nature has destined them. The ideal proportions of a horse described by Xenophon and Virgil are still accepted by jockeys today. This is because they are based on the same thing: experience of what is harmful or useful to a horse.

Broad shoulders, a lank belly, firm joints, taper legs; all these are beautiful in our species, because signs of force and vigour. Ideas of utility and its contrary, though they do not entirely determine what is handsome or deformed, are evidently the source of a considerable part of approbation or dislike.

Broad shoulders, a lean belly, firm joints, and tapering legs are all beautiful in humans because they are signs of strength and vigor. Ideas of usefulness and uselessness do not entirely determine what we find attractive or unattractive. But they clearly account for a considerable part of what we like or dislike.

In ancient times, bodily strength and dexterity, being of greater USE and importance in war, was also much more esteemed and valued, than at present. Not to insist on Homer and the poets, we may observe, that historians scruple not to mention FORCE OF BODY among the other accomplishments even of Epaminondas, whom they acknowledge to be the greatest hero, statesman, and general of all the Greeks.²³ A like praise is given to Pompey, one of the greatest of the Romans.²⁴ This instance is similar to what we observed above with regard to memory.

In ancient times, physical strength and skill were more useful and important in war. So people valued them much more than they do today. Leaving aside Homer and the poets, we can see that historians readily mention physical strength among Epaminondas’s accomplishments. They acknowledge him as the greatest hero, statesman, and general of all the Greeks.²³ They give similar praise to Pompey, one of the greatest Romans.²⁴ This example is similar to what we observed earlier about memory.

What derision and contempt, with both sexes, attend IMPOTENCE; while the unhappy object is regarded as one deprived of so capital a pleasure in life, and at the same time, as disabled from communicating it to others. BARRENNESS in women, being also a species of INUTILITY, is a reproach, but not in the same degree: of which the reason is very obvious, according to the present theory.

IMPOTENCE is met with ridicule and contempt by both sexes. The unfortunate person is seen as deprived of a major pleasure in life and unable to give that pleasure to others. BARRENNESS in women is also a form of USELESSNESS and is a source of shame, but not to the same degree. The reason for this difference is very obvious according to the present theory.

There is no rule in painting or statuary more indispensible than that of balancing the figures, and placing them with the greatest exactness on their proper centre of gravity. A figure, which is not justly balanced, is ugly; because it conveys the disagreeable ideas of fall, harm, and pain.²⁵

No rule in painting or sculpture is more essential than balancing figures precisely on their proper centers of gravity. A figure that is not properly balanced is ugly because it brings to mind the unpleasant ideas of falling, harm, and pain.²⁵

A disposition or turn of mind, which qualifies a man to rise in the world and advance his fortune, is entitled to esteem and regard, as has already been explained. It may, therefore, naturally be supposed, that the actual possession of riches and authority will have a considerable influence over these sentiments.

As already explained, a person deserves esteem and respect for having a character that helps them rise in the world and improve their fortune. We may therefore naturally suppose that actually possessing wealth and authority will greatly influence how much esteem and respect they receive.

Let us examine any hypothesis by which we can account for the regard paid to the rich and powerful; we shall find none satisfactory, but that which derives it from the enjoyment communicated to the spectator by the images of prosperity, happiness, ease, plenty, authority, and the gratification of every appetite. Self-love, for instance, which some affect so much to consider as the source of every sentiment, is plainly insufficient for this purpose. Where no good-will or friendship appears, it is difficult to conceive on what we can found our hope of advantage from the riches of others; though we naturally respect the rich, even before they discover any such favourable disposition towards us.

Let us examine every explanation for why we respect the rich and powerful. We will find only one that satisfies us. We respect them because we enjoy imagining their prosperity, happiness, comfort, abundance, authority, and satisfaction of every desire. For example, self-interest is clearly an insufficient explanation. Yet some people insist on treating it as the source of every feeling. Where there is no sign of goodwill or friendship, it is hard to see why we should hope to benefit from another person's wealth. Yet we naturally respect the rich even before they show any such favorable attitude toward us.

We are affected with the same sentiments, when we lie so much out of the sphere of their activity, that they cannot even be supposed to possess the power of serving us. A prisoner of war, in all civilized nations, is treated with a regard suited to his condition; and riches, it is evident, go far towards fixing the condition of any person. If birth and quality enter for a share, this still affords us an argument to our present purpose. For what is it we call a man of birth, but one who is descended from a long succession of rich and powerful ancestors, and who acquires our esteem by his connexion with persons whom we esteem? His ancestors, therefore, though dead, are respected, in some measure, on account of their riches; and consequently, without any kind of expectation.

We feel the same way even when we are so far beyond their reach that they cannot possibly help us. In all civilized nations, a prisoner of war is treated with the respect due to his status. And wealth clearly plays a large part in determining anyone’s status. If noble birth and rank also play a part, this still supports our present argument. What do we mean by a man of noble birth? We mean someone descended from a long line of wealthy and powerful ancestors. We esteem him because he is connected with people we esteem. His ancestors, then, though dead, are respected partly because of their wealth. And so they are respected without any expectation of benefit.

But not to go so far as prisoners of war or the dead, to find instances of this disinterested regard for riches; we may only observe, with a little attention, those phenomena which occur in common life and conversation. A man, who is himself, we shall suppose, of a competent fortune, and of no profession, being introduced to a company of strangers, naturally treats them with different degrees of respect, as he is informed of their different fortunes and conditions; though it is impossible that he can so suddenly propose, and perhaps he would not accept of, any pecuniary advantage from them. A traveller is always admitted into company, and meets with civility, in proportion as his train and equipage speak him a man of great or moderate fortune. In short, the different ranks of men are, in a great measure, regulated by riches; and that with regard to superiors as well as inferiors, strangers as well as acquaintance.

But we do not need to look as far as prisoners of war or the dead for examples of this regard for wealth, even when we have nothing to gain from it. We need only look carefully at what happens in everyday life and conversation. Suppose a man has a comfortable fortune and no profession. When he joins a group of strangers, he naturally treats them with different degrees of respect as he learns about their wealth and social standing. Yet he could not so quickly hope to gain money from them, and perhaps he would not accept it. A traveler is always admitted into company and treated with courtesy according to the wealth suggested by his attendants and carriage. In short, people's ranks are largely determined by wealth. This applies to superiors and inferiors alike, and to strangers as well as acquaintances.

What remains, therefore, but to conclude, that, as riches are desired for ourselves only as the means of gratifying our appetites, either at present or in some imaginary future period, they beget esteem in others merely from their having that influence. This indeed is their very nature or offence: they have a direct reference to the commodities, conveniences, and pleasures of life. The bill of a banker, who is broke, or gold in a desert island, would otherwise be full as valuable. When we approach a man who is, as we say, at his ease, we are presented with the pleasing ideas of plenty, satisfaction, cleanliness, warmth; a cheerful house, elegant furniture, ready service, and whatever is desirable in meat, drink, or apparel. On the contrary, when a poor man appears, the disagreeable images of want, penury, hard labour, dirty furniture, coarse or ragged clothes, nauseous meat and distasteful liquor, immediately strike our fancy. What else do we mean by saying that one is rich, the other poor? And as regard or contempt is the natural consequence of those different situations in life, it is easily seen what additional light and evidence this throws on our preceding theory, with regard to all moral distinctions.²⁶

What remains, then, but to draw this conclusion? We desire riches for ourselves only as a means of satisfying our appetites, either now or at some imagined future time. Others esteem us for our riches only because riches have this effect. Indeed, this is their very nature or offence: they have a direct connection to the goods, comforts, and pleasures of life. Otherwise, a banknote from a failed banker or gold on a desert island would be just as valuable. When we approach a man who is, as we say, well-off, pleasant images come to mind. We imagine abundance, satisfaction, cleanliness, warmth, a cheerful house, elegant furniture, ready service, and everything desirable in food, drink, or clothing. By contrast, when a poor man appears, unpleasant images immediately come to mind. We imagine want, poverty, hard work, dirty furniture, coarse or ragged clothes, disgusting food, and unpleasant drink. What else do we mean when we say that one man is rich and the other poor? Regard or contempt naturally follows from these different situations in life. So it is easy to see how much additional light and evidence this gives to our earlier theory about all moral distinctions.²⁶

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

A man may rid himself of all ridiculous prejudices. Experience and philosophy may convince him fully, sincerely, and firmly that differences in wealth affect happiness less than people commonly imagine. Such a man does not judge how much to respect his acquaintances by the income from their estates. He may outwardly show a great lord more respect than a vassal. This is because wealth is the most convenient basis for distinction, since it is the most fixed and definite. But his inner feelings are guided more by people’s personal characters than by the accidental and unpredictable favors of fortune.

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

In most European countries, family is the chief source of social distinction. This means inherited wealth, marked by titles and symbols granted by the sovereign. In England, more importance is placed on current wealth and abundance. Each practice has advantages and disadvantages. Where noble birth is respected, inactive, spiritless people live in proud idleness and think of nothing but family trees and ancestry. Those who are generous and ambitious seek honor, authority, reputation, and favor. Where wealth is valued above all else, corruption, bribery, and plunder prevail. Arts, manufacturing, commerce, and agriculture also flourish. Respect for noble birth encourages military virtue and is therefore better suited to monarchies. Respect for wealth is the main incentive to industry and is better suited to republican government. Accordingly, each form of government changes how useful these customs are and usually affects people’s attitudes toward them to a corresponding degree.