Notes on Hume’s Treatise

by G. J. Mattey

Book 3
Of MORALS
PART 3
Of the other virtues and vices.

Sect. 1. Of the origin of the natural virtues and vices.

1. The examination of the natural virtues and vices, which have no dependence on the artifices of men, concludes the system of morals.

2. Pleasure and pain are the “chief spring or actuating principle of the human mind.” Without them, we are “in a great measure, incapable of passion or action, of desire or volition.” Variations in pleasure and pain produce motions of the mind, either toward the pleasure or away from the pain. The motions produced include volition, desire and aversion, grief and joy, hope and fear. The variations in “situation” make pleasure and pain probable or improbable, certain or uncertain, or presently out of our power. The objects causing pleasure and pain, when related to us, “still continue to excite” the direct passions just listed, as well as the indirect passions of pride and humility, love and hatred, as described in the Part 1 and Part 2, respectively, of Book 2. The mechanism described there was the double relation of impressions and ideas.

3. Moral distinctions depend entirely on “certain peculiar sentiments of pain and pleasure,” as has been observed in Part 1, Section 2 of the present Book. This sentiment is one of satisfaction or uneasiness, and an object is counted as virtuous insofar as it produces “by survey or reflection” satisfaction and vicious if it produces uneasiness. Moreover, the same satisfaction or uneasiness gives rise to the indirect passions. So the author counts virtue as being “equivalent” to the power of producing pride and love, whereas vice is equivalent to the power of producing humility and hatred. So a quality of a mind that produces pride and love is virtuous and the quality of a mind that produces humility and hatred is vicious.

4. The virtue or viciousness of an action is only a sign of a quality or character of mind. “It must depend upon durable principles of the mind, which extend over the whole conduct, and enter into the personal character.” Those actions which do not so depend do not produce the indirect passions, “and consequently are never consider’d in morality.” [So I would not hate someone who, in a fit of temporary insanity, causes me pain, in which case the act that causes the pain is not considered vicious. See Book II, Part II, Section 3, paragraph 4 for a discussion of the need for durable principles as conditions of the production of passions of love and hatred.]

5. This fundamentally important reflection is “self-evident.” The only thing relevant in considering the origin of morals is the qualities of character from which an action proceeds, never the action itself. Only they are durable enough to give rise to the requisite sentiment. Actions may indicate character better than words, wishes, or sentiments, but it is only when they indicate [durable] character that they have moral significance.

6. The discovery of the true principles of morals, and of the production of love and hatred, require taking “the matter pretty deep,” examining some issues that already have been covered.

7. The author revives the discussion of sympathy, which was described in Book II, Part I, Section 11. He observes that we are all affected by the sentiments of others, at least to some degree. This he compares to the sympathetic movement of strings “equally wound up.” Seeing the effects of a passion produces an idea that becomes so lively that it is “presently converted into the passion itself.” An example is a surgery: my observing the preparations and the anxiety of the patient “wou’d have a great effect upon my mind, and excite the strongest sentiments of pity and terror.” The author notes that these passions in others are not observed directly, but only inferred, and only what is observed gives rise to the passion.

8. The analogy with beauty, originally made in Part I, Section 2, is again made. An object which tends to produce pleasure is called beautiful, and one which produces pain is called deformed. A number of examples are given (e.g., the convenient layout of a house or the strength of a horse), and in every case the object is called beautiful because it produces the effect of pleasure. Sympathy allows the production of pleasure in a spectator as the result of the production of pleasure in the possessor of a beautiful thing. The author reiterates how usefulness increases beauty, in that a useful object produces an agreeable end.

9. Justice works the same way. It is useful to mankind and is in fact an artificial invention to promote the good of mankind. The other virtues covered in the last Part, allegiance, the laws of nations, modesty, and good manners work the same way. “All these are mere contrivances for the interest of society.” Although those who invented these things had their own interests in mind, we are pleased by them even when they have nothing to do with our own interests, as with good manners in a distant country. This occurs through the reflection “on the tendencies of characters and mental qualities.” The only way to account for this is through sympathy, since these are means to an end (the interests of others), and we must connect these interests to ourselves. “It follows, that sympathy is the source of the esteem, which we pay to all the artificial virtues.”

10. Sympathy:

We may “presume” from these things that sympathy “also gives rise to many of the other virtues; and that qualities acquire our approbation, because of their tendency to the good of mankind.” This presumption rises to certainty upon the discovery that most of what we approve of naturally (the natural virtues) also functions in this way, rendering “a man a proper member of society.” What we naturally disapprove of, on the other hand, will “render any intercourse with the person dangerous or disagreeable.” The author appeals to one of his general rules, that if something is sufficient to explain a phenomenon, “we ought to rest satisfy’d with it, and ought not to multiply causes without necessity.” A true philosopher will rest content with the author’s account of the artificial virtues, that a quality that is really beneficial to society meets with our approval. This is because benefit to society is the sole cause of our approval.

11. We cannot doubt that many of the natural virtues are also beneficial to society. The author lists the following.

These virtues “bear the greatest figure among the moral qualities,” and they are called social virtues due to their tendency to benefit society. Some philosophers [e.g., Mandeville] have claimed that these virtues are the product of “artifice and education,” in that the skill of politicians, working with the notions of honor and shame, move people toward those qualities that promote the public good. The author agrees that the interests of society promoted by these virtues, but he disagrees with the claim that they are instilled by artful education, in that experience shows otherwise. 1) These are not the only virtues and vices which promote the interests of society. 2) As already argued in Part II, Section 2, paragraph 25, honor and shame are concepts based entirely on “a natural sentiment of approbation or blame,” and so could not be incited by politicians without it. The words ‘laudable,’ ‘blameable,’ etc. would be unintelligible without the natural sentiment, as if they were spoken in an unknown language. Instead of this system, it is sympathy which explains the virtues, “which takes us so far out of ourselves, as to give us the same pleasure or uneasiness in characters which are useful or pernicious to society, as if they had a tendency to our own advantage or loss.”

12. The only difference between the natural and the artificial virtues is that each act manifesting the former produces good, while some acts manifesting the latter do not. An act of justice, considered by itself, may work against the public good, while it works for the good only in the context of “the concurrence of mankind, in a general scheme or system of action, which is advantageous.” An act of charity benefits another, but an act of justice might take money from a poor man and give it to a rich man, take the fruits of labor from an industrious man and give it to an indolent one, etc. It is only the advantage of the whole scheme that led to its establishment. Our sympathy with the interests of society renders the scheme naturally accompanied by a strong moral sentiment. “We need no other explication of that esteem, which attends such of the natural virtues, as have a tendency to the public good.”

13. Several circumstances back up the hypothesis that the natural virtues always produce approval. The imagination is more affected by the particular and definite than by the general and uncertain. Because this tracks the difference between natural and artificial virtues, we can see why in the case of natural virtues, approval is more easily produced. The author again cites a general rule, which states that a cause for one effect ought to be extended to similar effects which it can account for. “But much more, if these other effects be attended with peculiar circumstances, which facilitate the operation of that cause.” In this case, the circumstances are particularity and definiteness.

14. Two “remarkable circumstances” may pose objections to the system. The first is that the degree of sympathy may vary in many cases, which would lead to a variation in approval. Although we sympathize more with our countrymen, “we give the same approbation to the same moral qualities in China as in England.” The conclusion seems to be that our esteem does not come from sympathy.

15. The author responds as follows. He reiterates his claim that approval of moral qualities is not based on reason, but on “a moral taste” which gives rise to pleasure or disgust upon the view of particular qualities or characters. These sentiments of pain and pleasure will vary with distance or contiguity, as in the case of someone who lived in Greece two thousand years ago, versus a familiar friend. Therefore, there will be a variation in moral evaluation, in which case the system of sympathy is no worse off than any other. In fact, it is “the easiest matter in the world” to account for the phenomenon. This is by reflection, which brings the fainter sentiment into proportion. An analogy is made with someone beautiful appearing at a distance. She is no less beautiful from there, even though the sentiment is fainter due to the lack of detail in the appearance. So we must transcend our “peculiar point of view” to arrive at a more stable judgment, and to avoid the “contradictions” [conflicting sentiments] introduced by different points of view. This is needed even to make conversation possible: we place ourselves in a more steady and general point of view. This allows us to know the effect of the limited perspective (“momentary appearance”) and correct it by reflection.

16. Our expressions of praise or blame begin with variable sentiments, but these variations are eliminated in our “general decisions,” which we issue “as if we remain’d in one point of view.” We learn to make these corrections from experience. We may be unable to correct our sentiments, where they are “more stubborn and inalterable,” but we can at least correct our language. If we were to approach Brutus, we would regard him more highly than our servant, even though the latter incites stronger approval in us in our actual situation, due to his contiguity. “Such corrections are common with regard to all the senses; and indeed ’twere impossible we cou’d ever make use of language, or communicate our sentiments to one another, did we not correct the momentary appearances of things, and overlook our present situation.”

17. So we consider other persons just on the basis of their characters and qualities, and not by whether they are acquaintances or strangers. We even overlook our own interests, not blaming someone who opposes them based on his own interests. We “make allowance for a certain degree of selfishness in men; because we know it to be inseparable from human nature, and inherent in our frame and constitution. By this reflection we correct those sentiments of blame, which so naturally arise upon any opposition.”

18. This works only up to a point: our passions or general principles may not entirely rise above our particular circumstances. “’Tis seldom men heartily love what lies at a distance from them, and what no way redounds to their particular benefit.” Conversely, there are few who can forgive another who opposes their interests, no matter how justified they are “by the general rules of morality.” All the author can say here is that our passions do not always conform to “the determination of our judgment.” What we call “reason’s” ability to oppose the passions is “nothing but a general calm determination of the passions, founded on some distant view or reflection.” [In Book II, Part III, Section 3, paragraph 8, several “calm desires and tendencies” are described, including “the general appetite to good and aversion to evil, consider’d merely as such.”] The sympathy which we form when considering others distant from us is weak, but it has an authority over our reason due to its conformity to “our calm and general principles.” These allow us to reason counterfactually. An action undertaken a long time ago is equally blameworthy as one that has taken place in our neighborhood, because “we know from reflection, that the former action wou’d excite as strong sentiments of disapproval as the latter, were it plac’d in the same position.”

19. Now the second objection is raised. It might seem that sympathy can only operate where there is an actual benefit to mankind in play. “The goodness of an end can bestow a merit on such means alone as are compleat, and actually produce the end.” Yet we attribute virtues to persons who cannot, by “particular accidents,” exercise them. “Virtues in rags is still virtue, and the love, which it procures, attends a man into a dungeon or desert, where the virtue can no longer be exerted in action, and is lost to the world.”

20. The author’s answer points to the potential for good as being pleasing in itself. A commodious house pleases even if it is clear that no one could ever live in it. Various other examples are given. The author attributes to the imagination “a set of passions belonging to it.” Our sentiments of beauty depends on these. They are “mov’d by degrees of liveliness and strength, which are inferior to belief, and independent of the real existence of objects.” This is attributed to general rules, which create a probability that causes us to move easily from a potential to its completion. This probability “sometimes influences the judgment, and always the imagination.”

21. The spectator gets a stronger sentiment on observing the completed cause, and this is accompanied by “a more lively sympathy.” We do not, on that account, call it more virtuous or esteem it more. The correction is the same as with the first objection. “The passions do not always follow our corrections; but these corrections serve sufficiently to regulate our abstract notions, and are alone regarded, when we pronounce in general concerning the degrees of vice and virtue.”

22. Words difficult to pronounce are hard on the ear, as critics observe, and this even if read silently. It is the force of the imagination which creates an idea of the sound, thus producing the uneasiness that hearing it spoken would produce. Although “the uneasiness is not real,” the mind has a painful sentiment, which renders the style disagreeable. “’Tis a similar case, where any real quality is, by accidental circumstances, render’d impotent, and is depriv’d of its natural influence on society.”

23. There is a conflict [“contradiction”] between extensive sympathy and limited generosity. Sympathy influences the imagination, but it may fail to give rise to generosity by touching the heart. The author makes the customary analogy with beauty to reinforce the point. We may know through reason that a building is solid, yet this cannot prevent a disagreeable sensation of ugliness because it “seems ugly and tottering.” This sensation is produced by fear. Now when we are standing beneath a wall that we really think is tottering, we have a different passion. The emotions are similar (“of a like species”) “but their feeling is different,” so much so as to be contrary, though not “destroying each other.” We may think a solidly fortified city held by the enemy to be beautiful. “The imagination adheres to the general view of things, and distinguishes betwixt the feelings they produce, and those which arise from our particular and momentary sensation.” Extensive sympathy is the result of a general point of view, and is the product of the imagination. It may not incite a feeling of interest on our behalf.

24. In fact, examination of the way great men are praised reveals two classes of virtues: those relating to their role in society and those relating to their ability to promote their own interests. Generosity and humanity are of the first sort, and prudence, temperance, frugality, industry, assiduity, enterprize, dexterity are of the second. A person is praised for both. The case of indolence (laziness) is then examined. We tend to be forgiving of it because it does not affect the existence of the person’s talents, but we deem it to be a fault because it prevents their exercise. Friends only admit that a person is lazy to explain away his failure, i.e., so that it will not be attributed to lack of ability. People even take it to be a virtue in themselves, as their lack of diligence is seen to be indicative of some nobler virtue. The author notes that one would be loath to admit any other quality that is totally incapacitating.

25. The author takes his case to be reinforced by cases in which we attribute virtue to someone who has no social value. (He thinks his case would be sufficiently strong even if every virtue were to have social value.) “We find the same phænomenon diversify’d by a variety of circumstances; and by discovering what is common among them, can the better assure ourselves of the truth of any hypothesis we may make us of to explain that phænomenon.” The circumstance he picks is one of a man with great business skills, which he has successfully exercised, and who is “not remarkably defective in his social qualities.” His company satisfies the author, and he would rather do a service to this man than to someone else whose character is just like his, minus the skill. The reason he is pleased by the person is that he has the skill that serves his own end. But that person’s end has nothing to do with the author’s. Why is his end agreeable? Only sympathy will account for this. “From that principle, whenever I discover his happiness and good, whether in its causes or effects, I enter so deeply into it, that it gives me a sensible emotion. The appearance of qualities, that have a tendency to promote it, have an agreeable effect upon my imagination, and command my love and esteem.”

26. Another virtue of the author’s theory is its ability to explain why it is that what produces love in me when found in another produces pride in me when I find it in myself. It also explains the parallel phenomenon, that “the same man is always virtuous or vicious, accomplish’d or despicable to others, who is so to himself.” This is because the other person, who, say, has a quality that is “incommodious to himself,” would find that quality disagreeable “as long as he is sensible of that disadvantage.” Other examples are given: a violent cough by another makes us uneasy without affecting us materially; a person with bad breath is mortified, even though he cannot smell it himself. This is due to the imagination, which changes the point of view, “and either surveying ourselves as we appear to others, or considering others as they feel themselves, makes us enter, by that means, into sentiments, which no way belong to us, and in which nothing but sympathy is able to interest us.” This can go so far as to to make disagreeable a quality that is useful to ourselves, because it makes us disagreeable in the eyes of others, “tho’ perhaps we never can have any interest in rendering ourselves agreeable to them.”

27. The author now summarizes his position. There are two possible systems of morality, those which distinguish moral good and evil on the basis of reason and those which distinguish them on the basis of sentiment. The author has established that only the latter will work as an explanation. Sentiments can be aroused in two ways: by the appearance of a character or passion or by reflection on their tendency to produce the happiness of mankind in general as well as of particular persons. “My opinion is, that both these causes are intermix’d in our judgments of morals.” They are mixed in the same way in judgments of beauties. The greatest influences, which “determine all the great lines of our duty,” are those derived from reflection. In less important particular cases, “immediate taste or sentiment” is what produces our approval. Passions that are particularly agreeable immediately are “wit, and a certain easy and disengag’d behaviour.” Some of these qualities produce the satisfaction they do according to basic principles of human nature, while others are derivative from more general principles.

28. The qualities that are immediately agreeable or disagreeable need not be accounted for further, as “this particular feeling constitutes the very nature of the passion.”

29. Yet some of these immediately agreeable qualities are of no use to us or to anybody else. This can be accounted for from the principles already given.

30. The source of the pleasure which makes us deem a quality virtuous may vary. It may be a quality of a character naturally fitted for usefulness to others or to himself. We may, to our surprise, forget our own interests in such a case. This is not a problem, though. We have to overcome the vast variation in the pleasure and interests of every person, and rise to a more general consideration. We can only do this by regarding the person whose character is under examination, since this is “the only interest or pleasure, which appears the same to every spectator.” (The author adds that we might also regard persons connected with the one in question.) These interests touch us more faintly than do our own, but they are more constant and universal. They counter-balance our own interests even in practical matters, and “are alone admitted in speculation at the standard of morality. They alone produce that particular feeling or sentiment, on which moral distinctions depend.”

31. The desert (deservedness) attached to virtue and vice is explained through a chain of passions. The character produces pleasure (say), which produces a feeling of love, which produces a feeling of benevolence, a desire for the happiness of the other.

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