CHAPTER IX: THE CHARACTER OF VIRTUE
The science of ethics, according to Adam Smith, deals mainly with two principal questions, the first concerning the nature of moral approbation, or the origin of our feelings of right and wrong, and the second concerning the nature of virtue, or the moral elements of which virtue consists. The first question is that to which the answer has already been given; the second question to which the answer yet remains to be given, is "What is the tone of temper, and tenor of conduct, which constitutes the excellent and praiseworthy character, the character which is the natural object of esteem, honour, and approbation?" Does virtue consist in benevolence, as some have maintained, or is it but a form of self-love, as others have maintained; or does it consist in some relation of the benevolent and selfish affections to one another?
The general answer which Adam Smith makes to this question is, that virtue consists in a certain relation to one another of our selfish and unselfish affections, not exclusively in a predominance of either of them. "The man of the most perfect virtue," he says, "the man whom we naturally love and revere the most, is he who joins, to the most perfect command of his own original and selfish feelings, the most exquisite sensibility both to the original and sympathetic feelings of others." It is the man who unites the gentler virtues of humanity and sensibility with the severer virtues of self-control and self-denial. "To feel much for others, and little for ourselves, to restrain our selfish, and to indulge our benevolent affections, constitutes the perfection of humanity."
Consequently any man's character for virtue must depend upon those two different aspects of his conduct which regard both himself and others; and a character completely virtuous will consist in a combination of those qualities which have a beneficial effect alike on an individual's own happiness as on that of his fellow-men. These qualities are Prudence, Justice and Beneficence; and "the man who acts according to the rules of perfect prudence, of strict justice, and of proper benevolence, may be said to be perfectly virtuous."
1. The quality of Prudence is that side of a man's character which concerns only his own happiness, and it has for its object the care of his personal health, fortune, rank, and reputation. The first lessons in this virtue are taught us "by the voice of nature herself," who directs us by the appetites of hunger and thirst, and by agreeable or disagreeable sensations, to provide for our bodily preservation and health. As we grow older we learn that only by proper care and foresight with respect to our external fortune can we ensure the means of satisfying our natural appetites, and we are further led to a desire of the advantages of fortune by experience, that chiefly on their possession or supposed possession depends that credit and rank among our equals which is perhaps the strongest of all our desires. Security therefore of health, fortune, and rank, constitutes the principal object of Prudence.
This outline of the subject-matter of Prudence, Adam Smith proceeds to fill up with a sketch of the character of the Prudent Man, which modelled, as it appears to be, on Aristotle's delineation of imaginary types of the different virtues, is so characteristic an illustration of our author's style and thought, that it is best presented to the reader in the following extracts from the original:--
"The prudent man always studies seriously and earnestly to understand whatever he professes to understand and not merely to persuade other people that he understands it; and though his talents may not always be very brilliant, they are always perfectly genuine. He neither endeavours to impose upon you by the cunning devices of an artful impostor, nor by the arrogant airs of an assuming pedant, nor by the confident assertions of a superficial and impudent pretender; he is not ostentatious even of the abilities he really possesses. His conversation is simple and modest, and he is averse to all the quackish arts by which other people so frequently thrust themselves into public notice....
"The prudent man is always sincere, and feels horror at the very thought of exposing himself to the disgrace which attends upon the detection of falsehood. But though always sincere, he is not always frank and open; and though he never tells anything but the truth, he does not always think himself bound, when not properly called upon, to tell the whole truth. As he is cautious in his actions, so he is reserved in his speech, and never rashly or unnecessarily obtrudes his opinion concerning either things or persons.
"The prudent man, though not always distinguished by the most exquisite sensibility, is always very capable of friendship. But his friendship is not that ardent and passionate but too often transitory affection which appears so delicious to the generosity of youth and inexperience. It is a sedate, but steady and faithful attachment to a few well-chosen companions; in the choice of whom he is not guided by the giddy admiration of shining accomplishments, but by the sober esteem of modesty, discretion, and good conduct. But though capable of friendship, he is not always much disposed to general sociality. He rarely frequents, and more rarely figures in, those convivial societies which are distinguished for the jollity and gaiety of their conversation. Their way of life might too often interfere with the regularity of his temperance, might interrupt the steadiness of his industry, or break in upon the strictness of his frugality.
"But though his conversation may not always be very sprightly or diverting, it is always perfectly inoffensive. He hates the thought of being guilty of any petulance or rudeness; he never assumes impertinently over anybody, and upon all occasions is willing to place himself rather below than above his equals. Both in his conduct and conversation he is an exact observer of decency, and respects with an almost religious scrupulosity all the established decorums and ceremonials of society.....
"The man who lives within his income is naturally con- tented with his situation, which by continual though small accumulations is growing better and better every day. He is enabled gradually to relax both in the rigour of his parsimony and in the severity of his application;..... He has no anxiety to change so comfortable a situation, and does not go in quest of new enterprises and adventures which might endanger, but could not well increase, the secure tranquillity which he actually enjoys. If he enters into any new projects, they are likely to be well concerted and well prepared. He can never be hurried or driven into them by any necessity, but has always time and leisure to deliberate soberly and coolly concerning what are likely to be their consequences.
"The prudent man is not willing to subject himself to any responsibility which his duty does not impose upon him. He is not a bustler in business where he has no concern; is not a meddler in other people's affairs; is not a professed counsellor or adviser, who obtrudes his advice where nobody is asking it; he confines himself as much as his duty will permit to his own affairs, and has no taste for that foolish importance which many people wish to derive from appearing to have some influence in the management of those of other people; he is averse to enter into any party disputes, hates faction, and is not always very forward to listen to the voice even of noble and great ambition. When distinctly called upon he will not decline the service of his country; but he will not cabal in order to force himself into it, and would be much better pleased that the public business were well managed by some other person than that he himself should have the trouble and incur the responsibility of managing it. In the bottom of his heart he would prefer the undisturbed enjoyment of secure tranquillity, not only to all the vain splendour of successful ambition, but to the real and solid glory of performing the greatest and most magnanimous actions."
Such is Adam Smith's account of the character of the Prudent Man, a character which he himself admits commands rather a cold esteem than any very ardent love or admiration. He distinguishes it from that higher form of prudence which belongs to the great general, statesman, or legislator, and which is the application of wise and judicious conduct to greater and nobler purposes than the mere objects of personal interest. This superior prudence necessarily supposes the utmost perfection of all the intellectual and all the moral virtues; it is the most perfect wisdom combined with the most perfect virtue; it is the best head joined to the best heart.
2. Justice and Benevolencethe disposition either to refrain from injuring our neighbour, or else to benefit himare the two qualities of a virtuous character which affect the happiness of other people. A sacred and religious regard not to hurt or disturb the happiness of others, even in cases where no law can protect them, constitutes the character of the perfectly innocent and just man, and is a character which can scarcely fail to be accompanied by many other virtues, such as great feeling for others, great humanity, and great benevolence. But whilst benevolence is a positive moral factor, justice is only a negative one; benevolence, therefore, requires the greater consideration of the two.
3. Benevolence comprises all the good offices which we owe to our family, our friends, our country, and our fellow- creatures. This is the order in which the world is recommended to our beneficent affections by Nature, who has strictly proportioned the strength of our benevolence to the degree in which it is necessary or likely to be useful.
Thus every man is first and principally recommended to his own care, being better able to take care of himself than of any other person. After himself, the members of his own family, those who usually live in the same house with him his parents, children, or brothers and sistersare naturally the objects of his warmest affections. The earliest friendships are those among brothers and sisters, whose power for giving pleasure or pain to one another renders their good agreement so much the more necessary for the happiness of the family. The sympathy between more distant relations, being less necessary, is proportionately weaker.
Here, again, may be noticed the influence of custom over our moral sentiments. Affection is really habitual sympathy; and, from our general experience that the state of habitual sympathy in which near relations stand to one another pro- duces a certain affection between them, we expect always to find such affection, and are shocked when we fail to do so. Hence the general rule is established, from a great number of instances, that persons related to one another in a certain degree ought to be affected towards one another in a certain manner, and that the highest impropriety exists in the absence of any such affection between them.
This disposition to accommodate and assimilate our sentiments and principles to those of persons we live with or see oftena disposition which arises from the obvious convenience of such a general agreementleads us to expect to find friend- ship subsisting between colleagues in office, partners in trade, or even between persons living in the same neighbourhood. There are certain small good offices which are universally regarded as due to a neighbour in preference to any other person; and a certain friendliness is expected of neighbours, from the mere fact of the sympathy naturally associated with living in the same locality.
But these sort of attachments, which the Romans expressed by the word necessitudo as if to denote that they arose from the necessity of the situation, are inferior to those friendships which are founded not merely on a sympathy, rendered habitual for the sake of convenience, but on a natural sympathy and approbation of a man's good conduct. Such friendship can subsist only among the good. "Men of virtue only can feel that entire confidence in the conduct and behaviour of one another, which can at all times assure them that they can never either offend or be offended by one another. Vice is always capricious, virtue only is regular and orderly. The attachment which is founded upon the love of virtue, as it is certainly of all attachments the most virtuous, so it is likewise the happiest, as well as the most permanent and secure. Such friendships need not be confined to a single person, but may safely embrace all the wise and virtuous with whom we have been long and intimately acquainted, and upon whose wisdom and virtue we can, upon that account, entirely depend."
And the same principles which direct the order of our benevolent affections towards individuals, likewise direct their order towards societies, recommending to them before all others those to which they can be of most importance. Our native country is the largest society upon which our good or bad conduct can have much influence. It is that to which alone our good-will can be directed with effect. Accordingly, it is by nature most strongly recommended to us, as comprehending not only our own personal safety and prosperity, but that of our children, our parents, our relations, and friends. It is thus endeared to us by all our private benevolent, as well as by our selfish affections. Hence its prosperity and glory seem to reflect some sort of honour upon ourselves, and "when we compare it with other societies of the same kind, we are proud of its superiority, and mortified, in some degree, if it appears in any respect below them."
But it is necessary to distinguish the love of our own country from a foolish dislike to every other one. "The love of our own nation often disposes us to view, with the most malignant jealousy and envy, the prosperity and aggrandizement of any other neighbouring nation. Independent and neighbouring nations, having no common superior to decide their disputes, all live in continual dread and suspicion of one another. Each sovereign, expecting little justice from his neighbours, is disposed to treat them with as little as he expects from them. The regard for the laws of nations, or for those rules which independent states profess or pretend to think themselves bound to observe in their dealings with one another, is often very little more than mere pretence and profession. From the smallest interest, upon the slightest provocation, we see those rules every day either evaded or directly violated without shame or remorse. Each nation foresees, or imagines it foresees, its own subjugation in the increasing power and aggrandizement of any of its neighbours; and the mean principle of national prejudice is often founded on the noble one of the love of our own country. France and England may each of them have some reason to dread the increase of the naval and military power of the other; but for either of them to envy the internal happiness `and prosperity of the other, the cultivation of its lands, the advancement of its manufactures, the increase of its commerce, the security and number of its ports and harbours, its proficiency in all the liberal arts and sciences, is surely beneath the dignity of two such great nations. These are the real improvements of the world we live in. Mankind are benefited, human nature is ennobled by them. In such improvements each nation ought not only to endeavour itself to excel, but, from the love of mankind, to promote, instead of obstructing, the excellence of its neighbours. These are all proper objects of national emulation, not of national prejudice or envy."
This passage is of interest as coming from the future author of the Wealth of Nations the future founder of the doctrine of free trade; and of historical interest, as reflecting cultivated opinion at a time when England was just in the middle of the Seven years' war, is the remark that the most extensive public benevolence is that of the statesmen who project or form alliances between neighbouring or not very distant nations, "for the preservation either of what is called the balance of power, or of the general peace and tranquillity of the states within the circle of their negotiations."
But the ordinary love of our country involves two things: a certain reverence for the form of government actually established, and an earnest desire to render the condition of our fellow-citizens as safe, respectable, and happy, as possible. It is only in times of public discontent and faction that these two principles may draw different ways, and lead to doubt whether a change in the constitution might not be most conducive to the general happiness. In such times, the leaders of the discontented party often propose "to new-model the constitution, and to alter, in some of its most essential parts, that system of government under which the subjects of a great empire have enjoyed perhaps peace, security, and even glory, during the course of several centuries together." And it may require the highest effort of political wisdom to determine when a real patriot ought to support and try to re-establish the authority of the old system, and when he ought to give way to the more daring, but often dangerous, spirit of innovation.
Nothing, indeed, is more fatal to the good order of society than the policy of "a man of system," who is so enamoured of his own ideal plan of government as to be unable to suffer the smallest deviation from any part of it, and who insists upon establishing and establishing all at once, and in spite of all opposition, whatever his idea may seem to require. Such a man erects his own judgment into the supreme standard of right and wrong, and fancies himself the only wise and worthy man in the commonwealth. "It is upon this account that of all political speculators sovereign princes are by far the most dangerous. This arrogance is perfectly familiar to them. They entertain no doubt of the immense superiority of their own judgment . . and consider the state as made for themselves, not themselves for the state."
It is otherwise with the real patriot, with the man whose public spirit is prompted altogether by humanity and benevolence. He "will respect the established powers and privileges even of individuals, and still more those of the great orders and societies into which the state is divided. Though he should consider some of them as in some measure abusive, he will content himself with moderating, what he often cannot annihilate without great violence. When he cannot conquer the rooted prejudices of the people by reason and persuasion, he will not attempt to subdue them by force, but will religiously observe what by Cicero is justly called the divine maxim of Plato, never to use violence to his country, no more than to his parents. He will accommodate, as well as he can, his public arrangements to the confirmed habits and prejudices of the people; and will remedy, as well as he can, the inconveniences which may flow from the want of those regulations which the people are adverse to submit to. When he cannot establish the right, he will not disdain to ameliorate the wrong; but, like Solon, where he cannot establish the best system of laws, he will endeavour to establish the best that the people can bear."
But although Prudence, Justice, and Benevolence comprise all the qualities and actions which go to make up the highest Virtue, another quality, that of Self-Command, is also necessary, in order that we may not be misled by our own passions to violate the rules of the other three virtues. The most perfect knowledge, unless supported by the most perfect self-command, will not of itself enable us to do our duty.
The two sets of passions which it is necessary to command are those which, like fear and anger, it is difficult to control even for a moment, or those which, like the love of ease, pleasure, applause, or other selfish gratifications, may be restrained indeed often for a moment, but often prevail in the long run, by reason of their continual solicitations. The command of the first set of passions constitutes what the ancient moralists denominated fortitude, or strength of mind; that of the other set what they called temperance, decency, moderation.
Self-command therefore is a union of the qualities of fortitude and temperance; and independently of the beauty it derives from utility, as enabling us to act according to the dictates of prudence, justice, and benevolence, it has a beauty of its own, and deserves for its own sake alone some degree of our admiration and esteem.
For self-command is not only itself a great virtue, but it is the chief source of the lustre of all the other virtues. Thus the character of the most exalted wisdom and virtue is that of a man who acts with the greatest coolness in extreme dangers and difficulties, who observes religiously the sacred rules of justice, in spite of the temptation by his strongest interests or by the grossest injuries to violate them, and who suffers not the benevolence of his temper to be damped by the ingratitude of its objects.
The first quality in the character of self-command is Courage or the restraint of the passion of fear. The command of fear is more admirable than that of anger. The exertion displayed by a man, who in persecution or danger suffers no word or gesture to escape him, which does not perfectly accord with the feelings of the most indifferent spectator, commands a high degree of admiration. Had Socrates been suffered to die quietly in his bed, even his glory as a philosopher might never have attained that dazzling splendour which has ever been attached to him. Courage even causes some degree of regard to be paid to the greatest criminals who die with firm- ness; and the freedom from the fear of death, the great fear of all, is that which ennobles the profession of a soldier, and bestows upon it a rank and dignity superior to that of every other profession. It is for this reason that some sort of esteem is attached to characters, however worthless, who have conducted with success a great warlike exploit, though under- taken contrary to every principle of justice, and. carried on with no regard to humanity.
The command of the passion of anger, though it has no special name like that of the passion of fear, merits on many occasions much admiration. But whilst courage is always admired irrespective of its motive, our approval of the command of anger depends on our sense of its dignity and propriety. Our whole sense of the beauty of the Philippics of Demosthenes or of the Catiline orations of Cicero is derived from the propriety with which a just indignation is express ed in them. This just indignation is nothing but anger re- strained to that degree with which the impartial spectator can sympathize. It is because a blustering and noisy anger interests the spectator less for the angry man than for the person with whom lie is angry that the nobleness of pardoning so often appears superior to the most perfect propriety of resentment. But the fact that the restraint of anger may be due to the presence of fear accounts for the less general admiration that is paid to the former than is often paid to the latter. The indulgence of anger seems to show a sort of courage and superiority to fear, and for that reason it is some- times an object of vanity, whilst the indulgence of fear is never an object of a similar ostentation.
The next quality in Self-Command is Temperance, or the command of those less violent passions which appeal to our love of ease or pleasure. The command of these passions can seldom, like the command of anger or fear, be directed to any bad end. Temperance and moderation, which include such virtues as industry, frugality, or chastity, are always amiable; but inasmuch as their exercise requires a gentler though steadier exertion than is necessary for the restraint of anger or fear, the beauty and grace which belong to them are less dazzling, though none the less pleasing, than the qualities which attend the more splendid actions of the hero, the statesman, or the legislator.
It has already been observed that the point of propriety, or degree of any passion with which an impartial spectator can approve, is differently situated in different passions, in some cases lying nearer to the excess, and in others nearer to the defect. But it remains to be noticed, "that the passions which the spectator is most disposed to sympathize with, and in which, upon that account, the point of propriety may be said to stand high, are those of which the immediate feeling or sensation is more or less agreeable to the person principally concerned; and that, on the contrary, the passions which the spectator is `least disposed to sympathize with, and in which, upon that account, the point of propriety may be said to stand low, are those of which the immediate feeling or sensation is more or less disagreeable or even painful to the person principally concerned."
For instance, the disposition to the social affections, to humanity, kindness, natural affection, or friendship, being always agreeable to the person who feels them, meets with more sympathy in its excess than in its defect. Though we blame a disposition, that is too ready and indiscriminate in its kindness, we regard it with pity rather than with the dislike which we feel towards a person who is defective in kindness, or characterized by what is called hardness of heart. On the other hand, the disposition to the unsocial affectionsto anger, hatred, envy, or maliceas it is more agreeable to the person principally concerned in defect than in excess, so any defect of those passions approaches nearer to the point of propriety approved of by the spectator than any excess in their manifestation. Their excess renders a man wretched and miserable in his own mind, and hence their defect is more pleasing to others. Nevertheless even the defect may be excessive. The want of proper indignation is a most essential defect in any character, if it prevents a man from protecting either himself or his friends from insult or injustice. Or again, that defect of or freedom from envy, which, founded on indolence or good nature, or on an aversion to trouble or op position, suffers others readily to rise far above us, as it generally leads to much regret and repentance afterwards, so it often gives place "to a most malignant envy in the end, and to a hatred of that superiority which those who have once attained it may often become really entitled to, by the very circumstance of having attained it. In order to live comfortably in the world, it is upon all occasions as necessary to defend our dignity and rank as it is to defend our lives or our fortune."
Sensibility to our own personal dangers, injuries, or fortunes, is more apt to offend by its excess than by its defect, and here again the same rule prevails, for a fretful or timid disposition renders a man miserable to himself as well as offensive. to others. A calm temper, which contentedly lays its account to suffer somewhat from both the natural and moral evils infesting the world, is a blessing to the man himself, and gives ease and security to all his fellows. But such defect of sensibility may also be excessive, for the man who feels little for his own misfortunes or injuries will always feel less for those of other people, and be less disposed to relieve or resent them.
A defect of sensibility to the pleasures and amusements of life is more offensive than the excess, for both to the person primarily affected and to the spectator a strong propensity to joy is more pleasing than the contrary. This propensity is only blamed when its indulgence is unsuited to time or place, to the age or the situation of a person, and when it leads to the neglect of his interest or duty. But it is rather in such cases the weakness of the sense of propriety and duty that is blamed than the strength of the propensity to joy.
Self-esteem also is more agreeable in excess than in defect, for it is so much more pleasant to think highly than it is to think meanly of ourselves. And just as we apply two different standards to our judgment about others, so in self-estimation we apply to ourselves both the standard of absolute perfection and that of the ordinary approximation thereto. To these two standards the same man often bestows a different degree of attention at different times. In every man there exists an idea of exact propriety and perfection; an idea gradually formed from observations of himself and others, "the slow, gradual, and progressive work of the great demigod within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of conduct." It is an idea which, in every man, is more or less accurately drawn, more or less justly coloured and designed, according to the delicacy and care with which the observations have been made.
But it is the wise and virtuous man who, having made these observations with the utmost care, directs his conduct chiefly by this ideal standard, and esteems himself rightly in consequence. He feels the imperfect success of all his best endeavours to assimilate his conduct to that archetype of perfection, and remembers with humiliation the frequency of his aberration from the exact rules of perfect propriety. And so conscious is he of his imperfection that, even when he judges himself by the second standard of ordinary rectitude, he is unable to regard with contempt the still greater imperfection of other people. Thus his character is one of real modesty, for he combines, with a very moderate estimate of his own merit, a full sense of the merit of others.
The difference indeed between such a man and the ordinary man is the difference between the great artist who judges of his own works by his conception of ideal perfection and the lesser artist who judges of his work merely by comparison with the work of other artists. The poet Boileau, who used to say that no great man was ever completely satisfied with his own work, being once assured by Santeuil, a writer of Latin verses, that he, for his own part, was completely satisfied with his own, replied that he was certainly the only great man who ever was so. Yet how much harder of attainment is the ideal perfection in conduct than it is in art! For the artist may work undisturbed, and in full possession of all his skill and experience. But "the wise man must support the propriety of his own conduct in health and in sickness, in success and in disappointment, in the hour of fatigue and drowsy indolence, as well as in that of the most wakened attention. The most sudden and unexpected assaults of difficulty and distress must never surprise him. The injustice of other people must never provoke him to injustice. The violence of faction must never confound him. All the hardships and hazards of war must never either dishearten or appal him."
Pride and vanity are two distinct kinds of that excessive self-estimation which we blame in persons who enjoy no distinguished superiority over the common level of mankind; and though the proud man is often vain, and the vain man proud, the two characters are easily distinguishable.
The proud man is sincere, and in the bottom of his heart convinced of his own superiority. He wishes you to view him in no other light than that in which, when he places him- self in your situation, lie really views himself. He only demands justice. He deigns not to explain the grounds of his pretensions; he disdains to court esteem, and even affects to despise it. He is too well contented with himself to think that his character requires any amendment. He does not always feel at ease in the company of his equals, and still less in that of his superiors. Unable as he is to lay down his lofty pretensions, and overawed by such superiority, he has recourse to humbler company, for which he has little respect, and in which he finds little pleasurethat of his inferiors or dependants. If he visits his superiors, it is to show that he is entitled to live with them more than from any real satisfaction he derives from them. He never flatters, and is often scarcely civil to anybody. He seldom stoops to falsehood; but if he does, it is to lower other people, and to detract from that superiority which he thinks unjustly attached to them.
The Vain man is different in nearly all these points. He is not sincerely convinced of the superiority he claims. Seeing the respect which is paid to rank and fortune, talents or virtues, lie seeks to usurp such respect; and by his dress and mode of living proclaims a higher rank and fortune than really belong to him. He is delighted with viewing himself, not in the light in which we should view him if we knew all that he knows, but in that in which lie imagines that he has induced us to view him. Unlike the proud man, he courts the company of his superiors, enjoying the reflected splendour of associating with them. " He haunts the courts of kings and the levees of ministers,..... he is fond of being admitted to the tables of the great, and still more fond of magnifying to other people the familiarity with which he is honoured there; he associates himself as much as he can with fashionable people, with those who are supposed to direct the public opinion with the witty, with the learned, with the popular; and he shuns the company of his best friends, whenever the very uncertain current of public favour happens to run in any respect against them." Nevertheless, "vanity is almost always a sprightly and gay, and very often a good-natured passion." Even the falsehoods of the vain man are all innocent falsehoods, meant to raise himself, not to lower other people. He does not, like the proud man, think his character above improvement; but, in his desire of the esteem and admiration of others, is actuated by a real motive to noble exertion. Vanity is frequently only a premature attempt to usurp glory before it is due; and so "the great secret of education is to direct vanity to proper objects," by discouraging pretensions to trivial accomplishments, but not those to more important ones.
Both the proud and the vain man are constantly dissatisfied; the one being tormented by what he considers the unjust superiority of other people, and the other dreading the shame of the detection of his groundless pretensions. So that here again the rule holds good; and that degree of self-estimation which contributes most to the happiness and contentment of the person himself, is likewise that which most commends itself to the approbation of the impartial spectator.
It remains, then, to draw some concluding comparisons between the virtues of Self-command and the three primary virtuesPrudence, Justice, and Benevolence.
The virtues of self-command are almost entirely recommended to us by the sense of propriety, by regard to the sentiments of the supposed impartial spectator; whilst the virtues of prudence, justice and benevolence, are chiefly recommended to us by concern for our own happiness or the happiness of other people. They are recommended to us primarily by our selfish or benevolent affections, independently of any regard as to what are or ought to be the sentiments of other people. Such regard indeed comes later to enforce their practice; and no man ever trod steadily in their paths whose conduct was not principally directed by a regard to the sentiments of the sup- posed impartial spectator, the great inmate of the breast and arbiter of our conduct. But regard for the sentiments of other people constitutes the very foundation of the virtues of self-restraint, and is the sole principle that can moderate our passions to that degree where the spectator will give his approval.
Another difference is, that while regard to the beneficial effects of prudence, justice, and benevolence recommend them originally to the agent and afterwards to the spectator, no such sense of their utility adds itself to our sense of the propriety of the virtues of self-command. Their effects may be agreeable or the contrary, without affecting the approbation bestowed on them. Valour displayed in the cause of justice is loved and admired, but in the cause of injustice it is still regarded with some approbation. In that, as in all the other virtues of self-command, it is the greatness and steadiness of the exertion, and the strong sense of propriety necessary to maintain that exertion, which is the source of admiration. The effects are often only too little regarded.
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Author: James Anson Farrer
