Selections on Morality from
Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature
Part III: SECT. III
Of the influencing motives of the will
Nothing is more usual in philosophy, and even in common life, than to
talk of the combat of passion and reason, to give the preference to reason, and
assert that men are only so far virtuous as they conform themselves to its
dictates. Every rational creature, `tis said, is oblig'd to regulate his
actions by reason; and if any other motive or principle challenge the direction
of his conduct, he ought to oppose it, till it be entirely subdu'd, or at least
brought to a conformity with that superior principle. On this method of
thinking the greatest part of moral philosophy, antient and modern, seems to be
founded; nor is there an ampler field, as well for metaphysical arguments, as
popular declamations, than this suppos'd pre-eminence of reason above passion.
The eternity, invariableness, and divine origin of the former have been
display'd to the best advantage: The blindness, unconstancy, and deceitfulness
of the latter have been as strongly insisted on. In order to shew the fallacy
of all this philosophy, I shall endeavour to prove first, that reason alone can
never be a motive to any action of the will; and secondly, that it can never
oppose passion in the direction of the will.
The understanding
exerts itself after two different ways, as it judges from demonstration or
probability; as it regards the abstract relations of our ideas, or those
relations of objects, of which experience only gives us information. I believe
it scarce will be asserted, that the first species of reasoning alone is ever
the cause of any action. As its proper province is the world of ideas, and as
the will always places us in that of realities, demonstration and volition
seem, upon that account, to be totally remov'd, from each other. Mathematics,
indeed, are useful in all mechanical operations, and arithmetic in almost every
art and profession: But `tis not of themselves they have any influence:
Mechanics are the art of regulating the motions of bodies to some design'd end
or purpose; and the reason why we employ arithmetic in fixing the proportions
of numbers, is only that we may discover the proportions of their influence and
operation. A merchant is desirous of knowing the sum total of his accounts with
any person: Why? but that he may learn what sum will have the same effects in
paying his debt, and going to market, as all the particular articles taken
together. Abstract or demonstrative reasoning, therefore, never influences any
of our actions, but only as it directs our judgment concerning causes and
effects; which leads us to the second operation of the understanding.
Tis obvious, that
when we have the prospect of pain or pleasure from any object, we feel a
consequent emotion of aversion or propensity, and are carry'd to avoid or
embrace what will give us this uneasines or satisfaction. `Tis also obvious,
that this emotion rests not here, but making us cast our view on every side,
comprehends whatever objects are connected with its original one by the
relation of cause and effect. Here then reasoning takes place to discover this
relation; and according as our reasoning varies, our actions receive a
subsequent variation. But `tis evident in this case that the impulse arises not
from reason, but is only directed by it. Tis from the prospect of pain or
pleasure that the aversion or propensity arises towards any object: And these
emotions extend themselves to the causes and effects of that object, as they
are pointed out to us by reason and experience. It can never in the least concern
us to know, that such objects are causes, and such others effects, if both the
causes and effects be indifferent to us. Where the objects themselves do not
affect us, their connexion can never give them any influence; and `tis plain,
that as reason is nothing but the discovery of this connexion, it cannot be by
its means that the objects are able to affect us.
Since reason alone
can never produce any action, or give rise to volition, I infer, that the same
faculty is as incapable of preventing volition, or of disputing the preference
with any passion or emotion. This consequence is necessary. `Tis impossible
reason cou'd have the latter effect of preventing volition, but by giving an
impulse in a contrary direction to our passion; and that impulse, had it
operated alone, wou'd have been able to produce volition. Nothing can oppose or
retard the impulse of passion, but a contrary impulse; and if this contrary
impulse ever arises from reason, that latter faculty must have an original
influence on the will, and must be able to cause, as well as hinder any act of
volition. But if reason has no original influence, `tis impossible it can
withstand any principle, which has such an efficacy, or ever keep the mind in
suspence a moment. Thus it appears, that the principle, which opposes our
passion, cannot be the same with reason, and is only call'd so in an improper
sense. We speak not strictly and philosophically when we talk of the combat of
passion and of reason. Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the
passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey
them. As this opinion may appear somewhat extraordinary, it may not be improper
to confirm it by some other considerations.
A passion is an
original existence, or, if you will, modification of existence, and contains
not any representative quality, which renders it a copy of any other existence
or modification. When I am angry, I am actually possest with the passion, and
in that emotion have no more a reference to any other object, than when I am
thirsty, or sick, or more than five foot high. `Tis impossible, therefore, that
this passion can be opposed by, or be contradictory to truth and reason; since
this contradiction consists in the disagreement of ideas, consider'd as copies,
with those objects, which they represent
What may at first
occur on this head, is, that as nothing can be contrary to truth or reason,
except what has a reference to it, and as the judgments of our understanding
only have this reference, it must follow, that passions can be contrary to
reason only so far as they are accompany'd with some judgment or opinion.
According to this principle, which is so obvious and natural, `tis only in two
senses, that any affection can be call'd unreasonable. First, When a passion,
such as hope or fear, grief or joy, despair or security, is founded on the
supposition or the existence of objects, which really do not exist. Secondly,
When in exerting any passion in action, we chuse means insufficient for the
design'd end, and deceive ourselves in our judgment of causes and effects.
Where a passion is neither founded on false suppositions, nor chuses means
insufficient for the end, the understanding can neither justify nor condemn it.
`Tis not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the
scratching of my finger. `Tis not contrary to reason for me to chuse my total
ruin, to prevent the least uneasiness of an Indian or person wholly unknown to
me. `Tis as little contrary to reason to prefer even my own acknowledge'd
lesser good to my greater, and have a more ardent affection for the former than
the latter. A trivial good may, from certain circumstances, produce a desire
superior to what arises from the greatest and most valuable enjoyment; nor is
there any thing more extraordinary in this, than in mechanics to see one pound
weight raise up a hundred by the advantage of its situation. In short, a
passion must be accompany'd with some false judgment. in order to its being
unreasonable; and even then `tis not the passion, properly speaking, which is
unreasonable, but the judgment.
The consequences
are evident. Since a passion can never, in any sense, be call'd unreasonable,
but when founded on a false supposition. or when it chuses means insufficient
for the design'd end, `tis impossible, that reason and passion can ever oppose
each other, or dispute for the government of the will and actions. The moment
we perceive the falshood of any supposition, or the insufficiency of any means
our passions yield to our reason without any opposition. I may desire any fruit
as of an excellent relish; but whenever you convince me of my mistake, my
longing ceases. I may will the performance of certain actions as means of
obtaining any desir'd good; but as my willing of these actions is only
secondary, and founded on the supposition, that they are causes of the propos'd
effect; as soon as I discover the falshood of that supposition, they must
become indifferent to me.
`Tis natural for
one, that does not examine objects with a strict philosophic eye, to imagine,
that those actions of the mind are entirely the same, which produce not a
different sensation, and are not immediately distinguishable to the feeling and
perception. Reason, for instance, exerts itself without producing any sensible
emotion; and except in the more sublime disquisitions of philosophy, or in the
frivolous subtilties of the school, scarce ever conveys any pleasure or
uneasiness. Hence it proceeds, that every action of the mind, which operates
with the same calmness and tranquillity, is confounded with reason by all
those, who judge of things from the first view and appearance. Now `tis
certain, there are certain calm desires and tendencies, which, tho' they be
real passions, produce little emotion in the mind, and are more known by their
effects than by the immediate feeling or sensation. These desires are of two
kinds; either certain instincts originally implanted in our natures, such as
benevolence and resentment, the love of life, and kindness to children; or the
general appetite to good, and aversion to evil, consider'd merely as such. When
any of these passions are calm, and cause no disorder in the soul, they are
very readily taken for the determinations of reason, and are suppos'd to
proceed from the same faculty, with that, which judges of truth and falshood.
Their nature and principles have been suppos'd the same, because their
sensations are not evidently different.
Beside these calm
passions, which often determine the will, there are certain violent emotions of
the same kind, which have likewise a great influence on that faculty. When I
receive any injury from another, I often feel a violent passion of resentment,
which makes me desire his evil and punishment, independent of all
considerations of pleasure and advantage to myself. When I am immediately
threaten'd with any grievous ill, my fears, apprehensions, and aversions rise
to a great height, and produce a sensible emotion.
The common error of
metaphysicians has lain in ascribing the direction of the will entirely to one
of these principles, and supposing the other to have no influence. Men often
act knowingly against their interest: For which reason the view of the greatest
possible good does not always influence them. Men often counter-act a violent
passion in prosecution of their interests and designs: `Tis not therefore the
present uneasiness alone, which determines them. In general we may observe,
that both these principles operate on the will; and where they are contrary,
that either of them prevails, according to the general character or present
disposition of the person. What we call strength of mind, implies the
prevalence of the calm passions above the violent; tho' we may easily observe,
there is no man so constantly possess'd of this virtue, as never on any
occasion to yield to the sollicitations of passion and desire. From these
variations of temper proceeds the great difficulty of deciding concerning the
actions and resolutions of men, where there is any contrariety of motives and
passions
Part
III, SECT. II
Moral distinctions deriv'd from a moral sense
Thus the course of the argument leads us to conclude, that since vice
and virtue are not discoverable merely by reason, or the comparison of ideas,
it must be by means of some impression or sentiment they occasion, that we are
able to mark the difference betwixt them. Our decisions concerning moral
rectitude and depravity are evidently perceptions; and as all perceptions are
either impressions or ideas, the exclusion of the one is a convincing argument
for the other. Morality, therefore, is more properly felt than judg'd of; tho'
this feeling or sentiment is commonly so soft and gentle, that we are apt to
confound it with an idea, according to our common custom of taking all things
for the same, which have any near resemblance to each other.
The next question
is, Of what nature are these impressions, and after what manner do they operate
upon us? Here we cannot remain long in suspense, but must pronounce the
impression arising from virtue, to be agreeable, and that proceding from vice
to be uneasy. Every moments experience must convince us of this. There is no
spectacle so fair and beautiful as a noble and generous action; nor any which
gives us more abhorrence than one that is cruel and treacherous. No enjoyment.
equals the satisfaction we receive from the company of those we love and
esteem; as the greatest of all punishments is to be oblig'd to pass our lives
with those we hate or contemn. A very play or romance may afford us instances
of this pleasure, which virtue conveys to us; and pain, which arises from vice.
Now since the
distinguishing impressions, by which moral good or evil is known, are nothing
but particular pains or pleasures; it follows, that in all enquiries concerning
these moral distinctions, it will be sufficient to shew the principles, which
make us feel a satisfaction or uneasiness from the survey of any character, in
order to satisfy us why the character is laudable or blameable. An action, or
sentiment, or character is virtuous or vicious; why? because its view causes a
pleasure or uneasiness of a particular kind. In giving a reason, therefore, for
the pleasure or uneasiness, we sufficiently explain the vice or virtue. To have
the sense of virtue, is nothing but to feel a satisfaction of a particular kind
from the contemplation of a character. The very feeling constitutes our praise
or admiration. We go no farther; nor do we enquire into the cause of the
satisfaction. We do not infer a character to be virtuous, because it pleases:
But in feeling that it pleases after such a particular manner, we in effect
feel that it is virtuous. The case is the same as in our judgments concerning
all kinds of beauty, and tastes, and sensations. Our approbation is imply'd in
the immediate pleasure they convey to us.
I have objected to
the system, which establishes eternal rational measures of right and wrong,
that `tis impossible to shew, in the actions of reasonable creatures, any
relations, which are not found in external objects; and therefore, if morality
always attended these relations, `twere possible for inanimate matter to become
virtuous or vicious. Now it may, in like manner, be objected to the present
system, that if virtue and vice be determin'd by pleasure and pain, these qualities
must, in every case, arise from the sensations; and consequently any object,
whether animate or inanimate, rational or irrational, might become morally good
or evil, provided it can excite a satisfaction or uneasiness. But tho' this
objection seems to be the very same, it has by no means the same force, in the
one case as in the other. For, first, tis evident, that under the term
pleasure, we comprehend sensations, which are very different from each other,
and which have only such a distant resemblance, as is requisite to make them be
express'd by the same abstract term. A good composition of music and a bottle
of good wine equally produce pleasure; and what is more, their goodness is
determin'd merely by the pleasure. But shall we say upon that account, that the
wine is harmonious, or the music of a good flavour? In like manner an inanimate
object, and the character or sentiments of any person may, both of them, give
satisfaction; but as the satisfaction is different, this keeps our sentiments
concerning them from being confounded, and makes us ascribe virtue to the one,
and not to the other. Nor is every sentiment of pleasure or pain, which arises
from characters and actions, of that peculiar kind, which makes us praise or
condemn. The good qualities of an enemy are hurtful to us; but may still
command our esteem and respect. `Tis only when a character is considered in
general, without reference to our particular interest, that it causes such a
feeling or sentiment, as denominates it morally good or evil. `Tis true, those
sentiments, from interest and morals, are apt to be confounded, and naturally
run into one another. It seldom happens, that we do not think an enemy vicious,
and can distinguish betwixt his opposition to our interest and real villainy or
baseness. But this hinders not, but that the sentiments are, in themselves,
distinct; and a man of temper and judgment may preserve himself from these
illusions. In like manner, tho' `tis certain a musical voice is nothing but one
that naturally gives a particular kind of pleasure; yet `tis difficult for a
man to be sensible, that the voice of an enemy is agreeable, or to allow it to
be musical. But a person of a fine ear, who has the command of himself, can
separate these feelings, and give praise to what deserves it.