1.1.3. Chap. III
Of the manner in which we judge of the propriety or impropriety
of the affections of other men, by their concord or dissonance
with out own.
When the original passions of the person principally
concerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions of
the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and
proper, and suitable to their objects; and, on the contrary,
when, upon bringing the case home to himself, he finds that they
do not coincide with what he feels, they necessarily appear to
him unjust and improper, and unsuitable to the causes which
excite them. To approve of the passions of another, therefore, as
suitable to their objects, is the same thing as to observe that
we entirely sympathize with them; and not to approve of them as
such, is the same thing as to observe that we do not entirely
sympathize with them. The man who resents the injuries that have
been done to me, and observes that I resent them precisely as he
does, necessarily approves of my resentment. The man whose
sympathy keeps time to my grief, cannot but admit the
reasonableness of my sorrow. He who admires the same poem, or the
same picture, and admires them exactly as I do, must surely allow
the justness of my admiration. He who laughs at the same joke,
and laughs along with me, cannot well deny the propriety of my
laughter. On the contrary, the person who, upon these different
occasions, either feels no such emotion as that which I feel, or
feels none that bears any proportion to mine, cannot avoid
disapproving my sentiments on account of their dissonance with
his own. If my animosity goes beyond what the indignation of my
friend can correspond to; if my grief exceeds what his most
tender compassion can go along with; if my admiration is either
too high or too low to tally with his own; if I laugh loud and
heartily when he only smiles, or, on the contrary, only smile
when he laughs loud and heartily; in all these cases, as soon as
he comes from considering the object, to observe how I am
affected by it, according as there is more or less disproportion
between his sentiments and mine, I must incur a greater or less
degree of his disapprobation: and upon all occasions his own
sentiments are the standards and measures by which he judges of
mine.
To approve of another man's opinions is to adopt those
opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of them. If the same
arguments which convince you convince me likewise, I necessarily
approve of your conviction; and if they do not, I necessarily
disapprove of it: neither can I possibly conceive that I should
do the one without the other. To approve or disapprove,
therefore, of the opinions of others is acknowledged, by every
body, to mean no more than to observe their agreement or
disagreement with our own. But this is equally the case with
regard to our approbation or disapprobation of the sentiments or
passions of others.
There are, indeed, some cases in which we seem to approve
without any sympathy or correspondence of sentiments, and in
which, consequently, the sentiment of approbation would seem to
be different from the perception of this coincidence. A little
attention, however, will convince us that even in these cases our
approbation is ultimately founded upon a sympathy or
correspondence of this kind. I shall give an instance in things
of a very frivolous nature, because in them the judgments of
mankind are less apt to be perverted by wrong systems. We may
often approve of a jest, and think the laughter of the company
quite just and proper, though we ourselves do not laugh, because,
perhaps, we are in a grave humour, or happen to have our
attention engaged with other objects. We have learned, however,
from experience, what sort of pleasantry is upon most occasions
capable of making us laugh, and we observe that this is one of
that kind. We approve, therefore, of the laughter of the company,
and feel that it is natural and suitable to its object; because,
though in our present mood we cannot easily enter into it, we are
sensible that upon most occasions we should very heartily join in
it.
The same thing often happens with regard to all the other
passions. A stranger passes by us in the street with all the
marks of the deepest affliction; and we are immediately told that
he has just received the news of the death of his father. It is
impossible that, in this case, we should not approve of his
grief. Yet it may often happen, without any defect of humanity on
our part, that, so far from entering into the violence of his
sorrow, we should scarce conceive the first movements of concern
upon his account. Both he and his father, perhaps, are entirely
unknown to us, or we happen to be employed about other things,
and do not take time to picture out in our imagination the
different circumstances of distress which must occur to him. We
have learned, however, from experience, that such a misfortune
naturally excites such a degree of sorrow, and we know that if we
took time to consider his situation, fully and in all its parts,
we should, without doubt, most sincerely sympathize with him. It
is upon the consciousness of this conditional sympathy, that our
approbation of his sorrow is founded, even in those cases in
which that sympathy does not actually take place; and the general
rules derived from our preceding experience of what our
sentiments would commonly correspond with, correct upon this, as
upon many other occasions, the impropriety of our present
emotions.
The sentiment or affection of the heart from which any action
proceeds, and upon which its whole virtue or vice must ultimately
depend, may be considered under two different aspects, or in two
different relations; first, in relation to the cause which
excites it, or the motive which gives occasion to it; and
secondly, in relation to the end which it proposes, or the effect
which it tends to produce.
In the suitableness or unsuitableness, in the proportion or
disproportion which the affection seems to bear to the cause or
object which excites it, consists the propriety or impropriety,
the decency or ungracefulness of the consequent action.
In the beneficial or hurtful nature of the effects which the
affection aims at, or tends to produce, consists the merit or
demerit of the action, the qualities by which it is entitled to
reward, or is deserving of punishment.
Philosophers have, of late years, considered chiefly the
tendency of affections, and have given little attention to the
relation which they stand in to the cause which excites them. In
common life, however, when we judge of any person's conduct, and
of the sentiments which directed it, we constantly consider them
under both these aspects. When we blame in another man the
excesses of love, of grief, of resentment, we not only consider
the ruinous effects which they tend to produce, but the little
occasion which was given for them. The merit of his favourite, we
say, is not so great, his misfortune is not so dreadful, his
provocation is not so extraordinary, as to justify so violent a
passion. We should have indulged, we say; perhaps, have approved
of the violence of his emotion, had the cause been in any respect
proportioned to it.
When we judge in this manner of any affection, as
proportioned or disproportioned to the cause which excites it, it
is scarce possible that we should make use of any other rule or
canon but the correspondent affection in ourselves. If, upon
bringing the case home to our own breast, we find that the
sentiments which it gives occasion to, coincide and tally with
our own, we necessarily approve of them as proportioned and
suitable to their objects; if otherwise, we necessarily
disapprove of them, as extravagant and out of proportion.
Every faculty in one man is the measure by which he judges of
the like faculty in another. I judge of your sight by my sight,
of your ear by my ear, of your reason by my reason, of your
resentment by my resentment, of your love by my love. I neither
have, nor can have, any other way of judging about them.