me when and the person to whom he was to be married the weakness of love which is so much indulged in ages of humanity and politeness is regarded among savages as the most unpardonable effeminacy even after the marriage the two parties seem to be ashamed of a connection which is founded upon so sorted a necessity they do not live together they see one another by stealth only they both continue to dwell in the houses of their respective fathers and the open cohabitation of the two sexes which is permitted without blame in all other countries this year considered as the most indecent and unmanly sensuality nor is it only over this agreeable passion that they exert this absolute self-man they often bear in the sight of all their countrymen with the injuries reproach and the grossest insults with the appearance of the greatest insensibility and without expressing smallest resentment when a savage is made a prisoner of war and receives as is usual the sentence of death from his conquerors he hears it without expressing any emotion and afterwards submits to the most dreadful torments without ever bemoaning himself or discovering any other passion but content of his enemies while he is hung by the shoulders over slow fire he derives his tormentors and tells them of how much more ingenuity he himself had tormented such as their countrymen as had fallen into his hands after he's been scorched and burnt and lacerated in all the most tenser and sensible parts of his body for several hours together he is often allowed in order to prolong his misery a short respite and is taken down from the stake he employs this interval in talking upon all in different subjects inquires after the news of the country and seems indifferent about nothing but his own situation the spectators express the same insensibility the sight of so horrible an object seems to make no impression upon them they scarce look at the prisoner except when they lend a hand to tormenting at other times they smoke tobacco and amuse themselves with any common object as if no such matter was going on every savage is said to prepare himself from his earliest youth for the stroke will end he composes for this purpose what they call the song of death a song which used to sing when he has fallen into the hands of his enemy and is expiring under the tortures which they inflict upon him it consists of insults upon his torn enters and expresses the highest contempt of death and pain he sings the song upon all extraordinary occasions when he goes out to war when he meets his enemies in the field or whenever he has a mind to show that he has familiarized his imagination to the most dreadful misfortunes and that no human condone his resolution or alter his purpose the same contempt of death and torture prevails among all other savage nations there is not a negro from the coast of Africa who does not in this respect possess the degree of magnanimity which the soul of the sordid master is too often scarce capable of conceiving fortune never exerted more cruelly her empire over mankind then when she subjected those nations of heroes to the rough use of the jails of europe she wretches who possess the virtues neither of the countries which they come from nor of those which they go to and his levity brutality and baseness so justly exposed them to the contempt of the English this heroic and uncomfortable firmness which the custom and education of his country demand of every savage is not required that those who are brought up to live and civilized societies if these last complain when they are in pain if they agree when they are in distress if they allow themselves either to be overcome by love or to be discomposed by anger they are easily pardoned such weaknesses are not apprehended to affect the essential parts of their character as long as they do not allow themselves to be transported to do anything contrary to justice or humanity they lose but little reputation though the serenity of their continents or their composure or their discourse and behavior should be somewhat ruffled and disturbed a humane polished people who have more sensibility to passions of others can more readily enter into an animated and passionate behavior and can more easily pardons little access the person principally concerned is sensible of this and being assured of the equity of his judges indulges himself in stronger expressions of passion and is less afraid of exposing himself to their contempt by the violence of his emotions we convention to express more emotion in the presence of a friend in that of a stranger because we accept more indulgence from the one than the other and in the same manner the rules of decorum amongst civilized nations admit of a more animated behavior than is approved of among barbarians the first converse together with open friends the second with the reserve of strangers the emotion and the vacity with which the French and the Italians the two most polished nations upon the continent express themselves on occasions that are at all interesting surprise at first those strangers who happen to be traveling among them and who having been educated among the people of dollars sensibility cannot enter into this passionate behavior of which they have never seen any example in their own country a young french nobleman who weep in the presence of the whole court upon being refused a regiment and italian says the habitable expresses more emotion on being condemned in a fine of 20 shillings than an englishman on receiving the sentence of jim Cicero in the times of the highest roman politeness could without degrading himself weep with all the bitterness of sorrow in the sight of the whole senate and the whole people as it is evident he must have done in the end of almost every oration the orators of earlier and greater ages of ron could not probably consistent with the manners of the times have expressed themselves with so much emotion it would have been regarded i suppose as a violation of nature and propriety in the sypios in the leases and in the elder kato to have exposed so much tenderness to the public view those ancient warriors could express themselves with order gravity and good judgment but are said to have been strangers to that sublime and passionate elephants which was first introduced into ron not many years before the birth of cicero by the two garage life by process and by self-adjust this animated eloquence which has been long practice with or without success both in france and digitally but just beginning to be introduced into england so why does the difference between the degrees of self-command which are required in civilized and in barbarious nations and by such different standards do they judge of the propriety of behavior this difference gives occasion to many others that are not less essential abolished people upon being accustomed to give away in some measure to the movements of nature become frank open and sincere barbarians on the contrary being obliged to smother and conceal the appearance of every passion necessarily acquire the habits of falsehood and dissimulation it is observed by all those who have been conversant with savage nations whether in asia africa or america that they are all equally impenetrable and that when they have a mind to conceal the truth no examination is capable of drawing it from them they cannot be tree pond to most artful questions the torture itself is incapable of making them confess anything which they have no mind to tell the passions of a savage too though they never express themselves by any outward emotion but lie concealed in the breasts of the sufferer are notwithstanding all mounted to the highest pitch of fury though he seldom shows any symptoms of anger if his vengeance when he comes to give way to it is always sanguinarian dreadful the least affront drives him to despair his countenance and discourse indeed are still silver and composed and express nothing but the most perfect tranquility of mind but his actions are often most furious and violent among the north americans it is not uncommon for the persons of the tenderest age and more fearful sex to drown themselves upon receiving only a slight reprimand from their mothers and this too without expressing any passion or saying anything except you shall no longer have a daughter in civilized nations the passions of men are not commonly so furious or so desperate they are often clamorous and noisy but they are seldom very hurtful and seem frequently to aim at no other satisfaction but that of convincing the spectator that they are in the right to be so much moved and of procuring his sympathy and approvation all these effects of custom and fashion however upon the moral sentiments of mankind are inconsiderable in comparison of those which they give occasion to in some other cases and it is not concerning the general style of character and behavior that those principles produce the greatest perversion of judgment but concerning the propriety or incripliety of particular usages the different manners which custom teaches us to approve up in the different professions and states of life do not concern things of the greatest importance we expect truth and justice from an old man as well as from a young from a clergyman as well as an officer and it is in matters of small moment only that we look for the distinguishing marks of their respective characters with regard to these two there's often some unobserved circumstance which if it was intended to would show us that independent of custom there was a propriety in the character which custom had taught us to a lot to each profession we cannot complain therefore in this case that the perversion of natural sentiment is very great though the manners of different nations require different degrees of the same quality in the character which they think worthy of esteem yet the worst that can be said to happen even here is that the duties of one virtue are sometimes extended so as to approach a little upon the precincts of some other the rustic hospitality that is in fashion among the polls encroaches perhaps a little upon economy and good order and the frugality that is esteemed in Holland upon generosity and good fellowship the hardiness demanded of savages diminishes their humanity and perhaps the delicate sensibility required in civilized nations sometimes destroys the masculine firmness of the character in general the style of manners which takes place in any nation may commonly upon the whole be said to be that which is most suitable to its situation hardiness is the character most suitable to the circumstances of a savage sensibility to those of one who lives in a very civilized society even here therefore we cannot complain that the moral sentiments of men are very grossly perverted it is not therefore in the general style of conduct or behavior that custom authorizes the widest departure from what is in the natural propriety of action with regard to particular usages its influence is often much more destructive of good morals and is capable of establishing as lawful and blameless particular notions which stop the plainest principles of right and wrong can there be greater barbarity for example than to hurt me from its helplessness its innocence its amuletfulness call forth the compassion even of an enemy and not to spare that tender age is regarded as the most furious effort of an enraged and cruel conqueror what then should we imagine must be the heart of a parent who could enter that weakness which even a furious enemy is afraid to violate yet the exposition that is the murder of a newborn infant was a practice allowed in almost all the states decrease even among the polite and civilized defendants and whatever the circumstances of the parent rendered it inconvenient to bring up the child to abandon it to hunger or to wild beasts was regarded without blame or censure this practice had probably begun in times of the most savage barbarity the imaginations of the men had been first made familiar with it in the earliest period of society and the uniform continuance of the custom had hindered them afterwards from perceiving its immunity we find at this day that this practice prevails among all savage nations and in that rudest and lowest state of society it is undoubtedly more pardonable than in any other the extreme indigence of a savage often such that he himself is frequently exposed to the greatest extremity of hunger he often dies of pure want and it is frequently impossible for him to support both himself and his child he cannot wonder therefore that in this case he should abandon it one who in flying from an enemy whom it was impossible to resist should throw down his infant because it retarded his flight would surely be excusable since by attempting to save it he could only halt for the consolation of dying with it that in the state of society therefore a parent should be allowed to judge whether he can bring up his child not to surprise us so greatly in the later ages of Greece however the same thing was permitted from views of remote interest or conveniency which could by no means excuse it uninterrupted custom had by this time so thoroughly authorized the practice that not only the loose maxims of the world tolerated this barbarous prerogative but even the doctrine of philosophers which ought to have been more just and accurate was led away by the established custom and upon this as upon many other occasions instead of censuring supported the horrible abuse by far fetched considerations of public utility Aristotle talks of it as what the magistrate ought upon many occasions to encourage the humane Plato is of the same opinion and with all that love of mankind which seems to animate all his writings nowhere marks this practice with disapprovision when custom can give sanction to so dreadful a violation of humanity that there is scares any particular practice so gross which it cannot authorize such a thing we hear men every day saying is commonly done and they seem to think that it is a sufficient apology for what in itself is the most unjust and unreasonable conduct this is an obvious reason why custom should never pervert our sentiments with regard to the general style and character of conduct and behavior in the same degree with the regard to the propriety or unlawfulness of particular usages there can never be any such custom no society could subsist a moment in which the usual strain of men's conduct and behavior was of a piece with affordable practice I have just now mentioned and of section 24 section 25 of the theory of moral sentiments this is a liberivox recording all liberivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liberivox.org recording by jude cater the theory of moral sentiments by Adam Smith part six section one part six of the character of virtue consisting of three sections introduction when we consider the character of any individual we naturally view it under two different aspects first as it may affect his own happiness and secondly as it may affect that of other people part six of the character of virtue consisting of three sections section one of the character of the individual so far as it affects his own happiness or of prudence the preservation and healthful state of the body seem to be the objects which nature first recommends to the care of every individual the appetites of hunger and thirst the agreeable or disagreeable sensations of pleasure and pain of heat and cold etc may be considered as lessons delivered by the voice of nature herself directing him what he ought to choose and what he ought to avoid for this purpose the first lessons which he is taught by those to whom his childhood is entrusted tend the greater part of them to the same purpose their principal object is to teach him how to keep out of harm's way as he grows up he soon learns that some care and foresight are necessary for providing the means of gratifying those natural appetites of procuring pleasure and avoiding pain of procuring the agreeable and avoiding the disagreeable temperature of heat and cold in the proper direction of this care and foresight consists the art of preserving and increasing what is called his external fortune though it is in order to supply the necessities and conveniences of the body that the advantages of external fortune are originally recommended to us yet we cannot live long in the world without perceiving that the respect of our equals our credit and rank in the society we live in depend very much upon the degree in which we possess or are supposed to possess those advantages the desire of becoming the proper objects of this respect of deserving and obtaining this credit and rank among our equals is perhaps the strongest of all our desires and our anxiety to obtain the advantages of fortune is accordingly much more excited and irritated by this desire than that by supplying all the necessities and conveniences of the body which are always very easily supplied our rank and credit among our equals to depend very much upon what perhaps a virtuous man would wish them to depend entirely our character and conduct or upon the confidence esteem and goodwill which these naturally excite in the people we live with the care of the health of the fortune of the rank and reputation of the individual the objects upon which his comfort and happiness in this life are supposed to principally depend is considered as the proper business of that virtue which is commonly called prudence we suffer more it has already been observed when we fall from a better to a worse situation than we ever enjoy when we rise from a worse to a better security therefore is the first in the principal object of prudence it is a verse to expose our health our fortune our rank or reputation to any sort of hazard it is rather cautious than enterprising and more anxious to preserve the advantages which we already possess then forward to prompt us to the acquisition of still greater advantages the methods of improving our fortune which it principally recommends to us are those which expose to no loss or hazard real knowledge and skill in our trade or profession aciduity and industry in the exercise of it frugality and even some degree of parsimony in all our expenses 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 endeavors to impose upon you by the cunning devices of an artful imposter nor by the arrogant errors of an assuming pedant nor by the confident assertions of a superficial and imprudent pretender he is not ostentatious even of the abilities which 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 and reputation or reputation in his profession he is naturally disposed to rely a good deal upon the solidity of his knowledge and abilities and he does not always think of cultivating the favor of those little clubs and cabals who in the superior arts and sciences so often erect themselves into the supreme judges of merit and who make it their business to celebrate the talents and virtues of one another and to decry whatever can come into competition with them if he ever connects himself with any society of this kind it is merely in self-defense not with a view to impose upon the public but to hinder the public from being imposed upon to his disadvantage by the clamors the whispers or the intrigues either of that particular society or of some other of the same kind 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 uptrudes 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-tried and 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 common 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 within almost religious scrupulosity all the established decorums and ceremonials of society and in this respect he sets a much better example than has frequently been done by men of much more splendid talents and virtues who in all ages from that of Socrates and Aristipus down to that of Dr. Swift and Voltaire and from that of Philip and Alexander the Great down to that of the great Tsar Peter of Moscovy have too often distinguished themselves by the most improper and even insolent contempt of all the ordinary decorums of life and conversation and who have thereby set the most pernicious example to those who wish to resemble them and who too often content themselves with imitating their follies without even attempting to attain their perfections in the steadiness of his industry and frugality in his steadily sacrificing the ease and enjoyment of the present moment for the probable expectation of the still greater ease and enjoyment of a more distant but more lasting period of time the prudent man is always both supported and rewarded by the entire approbation of the impartial spectator and of the representative of the impartial spectator the man within the breast the impartial spectator does not feel himself worn out by the present labor of those whose conduct he surveys nor does he feel himself solicited by the important calls of their present appetites to him their present and what is likely to be their future situation are very nearly the same he sees them at nearly the same distance and is affected by them very nearly in the same manner he knows however that to the person's principally concerned they are very far from being the same and that they naturally affect them in a very different manner he cannot therefore but approve and even applaud that proper exertion of self-command which enables them to act as if their present and their future situation affected them nearly in the same manner in which they affect him the man who lives within his income is naturally contented with his situation which by continual those small accumulations is growing better and better every day he is enabled gradually to relax both in the rigor of his parsimony and in the severity of his application and he feels with double satisfaction this gradual increase of ease and enjoyment from having felt before the hardship which attended the want of them 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 tranquility which he actually enjoys if he enters into any new projects or enterprises they are likely to be well concerted and well prepared he can never be hurried or drove 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 counselor or advisor who obtrudes his advice where nobody is asking it he confines himself as much as his duty will permit to his own affairs and he 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 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 tranquility not only to all the vain splendor of successful ambition but to the real and solid glory of performing the greatest and most magnanimous actions prudence in short when directed merely to the care of the health of the fortune of the rank and reputation of the individual though it is regarded as the most respectable and even in some degree as an amiable and agreeable quality yet it is never considered as one either of the most endearing or of the most ennobling of the virtues it commands a certain cold esteem but seems not entitled to any very ardent love or admiration wise and judicious conduct when directed to greater ennobler purposes than the care of the health the fortune the rank and the reputation of the individual is frequently and very properly called prudence we talk of the prudence of the great general of the great statesman of the great legislator prudence is in all these cases combined with many greater and more splendid virtues with valor with extensive and strong benevolence with a sacred regard to the rules of justice and all these supported by a proper degree of self-command this superior prudence when carried to the highest degree of perfection necessarily supposes the art the talent and the habit or disposition of acting with the most perfect propriety in every possible circumstance and situation it necessarily supposes the utmost perfection of all the intellectual and of all the moral virtues it is the best head joined to the best heart it is the most perfect wisdom combined with the most perfect virtue it constitutes very nearly the character of the academic or a parapetetic sage as the inferior prudence does that of the epicurean mere imprudence or the mere want of the capacity to take care of oneself is with the generous and humane the object of compassion with those of less delicate sentiments of neglect or at worst of contempt but never of hatred or indignation when combined with other vices however it aggravates in the highest degree the infamy and disgrace which would otherwise attend them the artful nave whose dexterity and address exempt him though not from strong suspicions yet from punishment or distinct detection is too often received in the world with an indulgence which he by no means deserves the awkward and foolish one who for the want of this dexterity and address is convicted and brought to punishment is the object of universal hatred contempt and derision in countries where great crimes frequently pass unpunished the most atrocious actions become almost familiar and seize to impress the people with that horror which is universally felt in countries where an exact administration of justice takes place the injustice is the same in both countries but the imprudence is often very different in the latter great crimes are evidently great follies in the former they are not always considered as such in Italy during the greater part of the 16th century assassinations murders and even murders under trust seem to have been almost familiar among the superior ranks of people Caesar Borgia invited four of the little princes in his neighborhood who all possessed little sovereignty and commanded little armies of their own to a friendly conference at Senegaglia where as soon as they arrived he put them all to death this infamous action though certainly not approved of even in that age of crimes seems to have contributed very little to the discredit and not in the least to the ruin of the perpetrator that ruin happened a few years after from causes altogether disconnected with this crime Machiavelle not indeed a man of the nicest morality even for his own times was resident as minister from the Republic of Florence at the court of Caesar Borgia when this crime was committed he gives a very particular account of it and in that pure elegant and simple language which distinguishes all his writings he talks of it very coolly is pleased with the address with which Caesar Borgia conducted it as much contempt for the dupery and weakness of the sufferers but no compassion for their miserable and untimely death and no sort of indignation at the cruelty and falsehood of their murderer the violence and injustice of the great conquerors are often regarded with foolish wonder and admiration those of petty thieves, robbers, and murderers with contempt, hatred, and even horror upon all occasions the former though they are a hundred times more mischievous and destructive yet when successful they often pass for deeds of the most heroic magnanimity the latter are always viewed with hatred and aversion as the follies as well as the crimes of the lowest and most worthless of mankind the injustice of the former is certainly at least as great as that of the latter but the folly and imprudence are not near so great a wicked and worthless man of parts often goes through the world with much more credit than he deserves a wicked and worthless fool appears always of all mortals the most hateful as well as the most contemptible as prudence combined with other virtues constitutes the noblest so imprudence combined with other vices constitutes the vilest of all characters end of section 25 section 26 of The Theory of Moral Sentiments this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Jude Cader The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Adam Smith part 6 of The Character of Virtue consisting of three sections section 2 of The Character of the Individual so far as it can affect the happiness of other people introduction the character of every individual so far as it can affect the happiness of other people must do so by its disposition either to hurt or to benefit them proper resentment for injustice attempted or actually committed is the only motive which in the eyes of the impartial spectator can justify our hurting or disturbing in any respect the happiness of our neighbor to do so from any other motive is itself a violation of the laws of justice which force ought to be employed either to restrain or to punish the wisdom of every state or commonwealth endeavors as well as it can to employ the force of the society to restrain those who are subject to its authority from hurting or disturbing the happiness of one another the rules which it establishes for this purpose constitute the civil and criminal law of each particular state or country the principles upon which those rules either are or ought to be founded are the subject of a particular science of all sciences by far the most important but hitherto perhaps the least cultivated that of natural jurisprudence concerning which it belongs not to our present subject to enter into any detail a sacred and religious regard not to hurt or disturb in any respect the happiness of our neighbor even in those cases where no law can properly protect him constitutes the character of the perfectly innocent and just man a character which when carried to a certain delicacy of attention is always highly respectable and even venerable for its own sake and can scarce ever fail to be accompanied with many other virtues with great feeling for other people with great humanity and great benevolence it is a character sufficiently understood and requires no further explanation in the present section I shall only endeavor to explain the foundation of that order which nature seems to have traced out for the distribution of our good offices or for the direction and employment of our very limited powers of beneficence first towards individuals and secondly towards societies the same unearing wisdom it will be found which regulates every other part of her conduct directs in this respect to the order of her recommendations which are always stronger or weaker in proportion as our beneficence is more or less necessary or can be more or less useful part six of the character of virtue consisting of three sections section two of the character of the individual so far as it can affect the happiness of other people chapter one of the order in which individuals are recommended by nature to our care and attention every man as the Stoics used to say is first and principally recommended to his own care and every man is certainly in every respect fitter and abler to take care of himself than of any other person every man feels his own pleasures and his own pains more sensibly than those of other people the former are the original sensations the latter the reflected or sympathetic images of those sensations the former may be said to be the substance the latter the shadow after himself the members of his own family those who usually live in the same house with him his parents his children his brothers and sisters are naturally the objects of his warmest affections they are naturally and usually the persons upon whose happiness or misery his conduct must have the greatest influence he is more habituated to sympathize with them he knows better how everything is likely to affect them and his sympathy with them is more precise and determinant than it can be with the greater part of other people it approaches nearer in short to what he feels for himself this sympathy too and the affections which are founded on it are by nature more strongly directed towards his children than towards his parents and his tenderness for the former seems generally a more active principle than his reverence and gratitude towards the latter in the natural state of things it has already been observed the existence of the child for some time after it comes into the world depends altogether upon the care of the parent that of the parent does not naturally depend upon the care of the child in the eye of nature it would seem a child is a more important object than an old man and excites a much more lively as well as a much more universal sympathy it ought to do so everything may be expected or at least hoped from the child in ordinary cases very little can be expected or hoped from the old man the weakness of childhood interests the affections of the most brutal and hard-hearted it is only to the virtuous and humane that the infirmities of old age are not the objects of contempt and aversion in ordinary cases an old man dies without much being regretted by anybody scarce a child can die without rending asunder the heart of somebody the earliest friendships the friendships which are naturally contracted when the heart is most susceptible of that feeling are those among brothers and sisters their good agreement while they remain in the same family is necessary for its tranquility and happiness they are capable of giving more pleasure or pain to one another than to the greater part of other people their situation renders their mutual sympathy of the utmost importance to their common happiness and by the wisdom of nature the same situation by obliging them to accommodate to one another renders that sympathy more habitual and thereby more lively more distinct and more determinant the children of brothers and sisters are naturally connected by the friendship which after separating into different families continues to take place between their parents their good agreement improves the enjoyment of that friendship their discord would disturb it as they seldom live in the same family however though of more importance to one another than to the greater part of other people they are of much less than brothers and sisters as their mutual sympathy is less necessary so it is less habitual and therefore proportionably weaker the children of cousins being still less connected are of still less importance to one another and the affection gradually diminishes as the relation grows more and more remote what is called affection is in reality nothing but habitual sympathy our concern in the happiness or misery of those who are objects of what we call our affections our desire to promote the one and to prevent the other are either the actual feeling of that habitual sympathy or the necessary consequences of that feeling relations being usually placed in situations which naturally create this habitual sympathy it is expected that a suitable degree of affection should take place among them we generally find that it actually does take place we therefore naturally expect that it should and we are upon that account more shocked when upon any occasion we find that it does not the general rule is established that persons related to one another in a certain degree ought always to be affected towards one another in a certain manner and that there is always the highest impropriety and sometimes even a sort of impiety in there being affected in a different manner a parent without parental tenderness a child devoid of all filial reverence appear monsters the objects not of hatred only but of horror though in a particular instance the circumstances which usually produce those natural affections as they are called may by some accident not have taken place yet respect for the general rule will frequently in some measure supply their place and produce something which though not altogether the same may bear however a very considerable resemblance to those affections a father is apt to be less attached to a child who by some accident has been separated from him in its infancy and who does not return to him till it has grown up to manhood the father is apt to feel less paternal tenderness for the child the child less filial reverence for the father brothers and sisters when they have been educated in distant countries are apt to feel a similar diminution of affection with the dutiful in the virtuous however respect for the general rule will frequently produce something which though by no means the same yet may very much resemble those natural affections even during the separation the father and the child the brothers or the sisters are by no means indifferent to one another they all consider one another as persons to and from whom certain affections are due and they live in the hopes of being some time or another in a situation to enjoy that friendship which ought naturally to have taken place among persons so nearly connected till they meet the absent son the absent brother are frequently the favorite son the favorite brother they have never offended or if they have it is so long ago that the offense is forgotten as some childish trick not worth the remembering every account they have heard of one another if conveyed by people of any tolerable good nature has been in the highest degree flattering and favorable the absent son the absent brother is not like other ordinary sons and brothers but an all-perfect son an all-perfect brother and the most romantic hopes are entertained of the happiness to be enjoyed in the friendship and conversation of such persons when they meet it is often with so strong a disposition to conceive that habitual sympathy which constitutes the family affection that they are very apt to fancy they have actually conceived it and to behave to one another as if they had time and experience however i am afraid too frequently undeceive them upon a more familiar acquaintance they frequently discover in one another habits humors and inclinations different from what they expected to which from want of habitual sympathy from want of the real principle and foundation of what is properly called family affection they cannot now easily accommodate themselves they have never lived in the situation which almost necessarily forces that easy accommodation and though they may now be sincerely desirous to assume it they have really become incapable of doing so their familiar conversation and intercourse soon become less pleasing to them and upon that account less frequent they may continue to live with one another in the mutual exchange of all essential good offices and with every other external appearance of decent regard but that cordial satisfaction that delicious sympathy that confidential openness and ease which naturally take place in the conversation of those who have lived long and familiarly with one another it seldom happens that they can completely enjoy it is only however with the dutiful and the virtuous that the general rule has even this slender authority with the dissipated the profligate in the vein it is entirely disregarded they are so far from respecting it that they seldom talk of it but with the most indecent derision and an early and long separation of this kind never fails to estrange them most completely from one another with such persons respect for the general rule can it best produce only a cold and affected civility a very slender semblance of real regard and even this the slightest offense the smallest opposition of interest commonly puts an end to all together the education of boys at distant great schools of young men at distant colleges of young ladies and distant nunneries and boarding schools seems in the higher ranks of life to have hurt most essentially the domestic morals and consequently the domestic happiness both of France and England do you wish to educate your children to be dutiful to their parents to be kind and affectionate to their brothers and sisters put them under the necessity of being dutiful children of being kind and affectionate brothers and sisters educate them in your own house from their parents house they may with propriety and advantage go out every day to attend public schools but let their dwelling be always at home respect for you must always impose a very useful restraint upon their conduct and respect for them may frequently impose no useless restraint upon your own surely no acquirement which can possibly be derived from what is called a public education can make any sort of compensation for what is almost certainly unnecessarily lost by it domestic education is the institution of nature public education the contrivance of man it is surely unnecessary to say which is likely to be the wisest in some tragedies and romances we meet with many beautiful and interesting scenes founded upon what is called the force of blood or upon the wonderful affection which near relations are supposed to conceive for one another even before they know that they have any such connection this force of blood however i am afraid exists nowhere but in tragedies and romances even in tragedies and romances it is never supposed to take place between any relations but those who are naturally bred up in the same house between parents and children between brothers and sisters to imagine any such mysterious affection between cousins or even between aunts or uncles and nephews or nieces would be too ridiculous in pastoral countries and in all countries where the authority of law is not alone sufficient to give perfect security to every member of the state all the different branches of the same family commonly choose to live in the neighborhood of one another their association is frequently necessary for their common defense they are all from the highest to the lowest of more or less importance to one another their concord strengthens their necessary association their discord always weakens and might destroy it they have more intercourse with one another than with the members of any other tribe the remotest members of the same tribe claim some connection with one another and where all other circumstances are equal expect to be treated with more distinguished attention than is due to those who have no such pretensions it is not many years ago that in the highlands of scotland the chieftain used to consider the poorest man of his clan as his cousin and relation the same extensive regard to kindred is set to take place among the tartars the arabs the turkomans and i believe among all other nations who are nearly in the same state of society in which the scott's highlanders were about the beginning of the present century in commercial countries where the authority of law is always perfectly sufficient to protect the meanest man in the state the descendants of the same family having no such motive for keeping together naturally separate and disperse as interest or inclination may direct they soon cease to be of importance to one another and in a few generations not only lose all care about one another but all remembrance of their common origin and of the connection which took place among their ancestors regard for remote relations becomes in every country less and less according as this state of civilization has been longer and more completely established it has been longer and more completely established in england than in scotland and remote relations are accordingly more considered in the latter country than in the former though in this respect the difference between the two countries is growing less and less every day great lords indeed are in every country proud of remembering and acknowledging their connection with one another however remote the remembrance of such illustrious relations flatters not a little the family pride of them all and it is neither from affection nor of anything which resembles affection but from the most frivolous and childish of all vanities that this remembrance is so carefully kept up should some more humble though perhaps much nearer kinsmen presumed to put such great men in mind of his relation to their family they seldom fail to tell him that they are bad genealogists and miserably ill-informed concerning their own family history it is not in that order i am afraid that we are to expect any extraordinary extension of what is called natural affection i consider what is called natural affection as more the effect of the moral than of the supposed physical connection between the parent and the child a jealous husband indeed nonwithstanding the moral connection nonwithstanding the child's having been educated in his own house often regards with hatred and aversion that unhappy child which he supposes to be the offspring of his wife's infidelity it is the lasting monument of a most disagreeable adventure of his own dishonor and of the disgrace of his family among well-disposed people the necessity or convenience of mutual accommodation very frequently produces a friendship not unlike that which takes place among those who are born to live in the same family colleagues in office partners in trade call one another brothers and frequently feel towards one another as if they really were so their good agreement is an advantage to all and if they are tolerably reasonable people they are naturally disposed to agree we expect that they should do so and their disagreement is a sort of a small scandal the romans express this sort of attachment by the word necessitudo which from the etymology seems to denote that it was imposed by the necessity of the situation even the trifling circumstance of living in the same neighborhood has some effect of the same kind we respect the face of a man whom we see every day provided he has never offended us neighbors can be very convenient and they can be very troublesome to one another if they are good sort of people they are naturally disposed to agree we expect their good agreement and to be a bad neighbor is a very bad character there are certain small good offices accordingly which are universally allowed to be due to a neighbor in preference to any other person who has no such connection this natural disposition to accommodate and to assimilate as much as we can our own sentiments principles and feelings to those which we see fixed and rooted in the persons whom we are obliged to live and converse a great deal with is the cause of the contagious effects of both good and bad company the man who associates chiefly with the wise and the virtuous though he may not himself become either wise or virtuous cannot help conceiving a certain respect at least for wisdom and virtue and the man who associates chiefly with the profligate and the disillute though he may not himself become profligate and disillute must soon lose at least all his original abhorrence of profligacy and dissolution of manners the similarity of family characters which we so frequently see transmitted through several successive generations may perhaps be partly owing to this disposition to assimilate ourselves to those whom we are obliged to live and converse a great deal with the family character however like the family countenance seems to be owing not all together to the moral but partly to to the physical connection the family countenance is certainly all together owing to the letter but of all attachments to an individual that which is founded all together upon the esteem and approbation of his good conduct and behavior confirmed by much experience and long acquaintance is by far the most respectable such friendships arising not from a constrained sympathy not from a sympathy which has been assumed and rendered habitual for the sake of conveniency and accommodation but from a natural sympathy from an involuntary feeling that the persons to whom we attach ourselves are the natural and proper objects of esteem and approbation can exist only among men of virtue men of virtue only can feel that entire confidence in the conduct and behavior 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 they who would confine friendship to two persons seem to confound the wise security of friendship with the jealousy and folly of love the hasty fond and foolish intimacies of young people founded commonly upon some slight similarity of character altogether unconnected with good conduct upon a taste perhaps for the same studies the same amusements the same diversions or upon their agreement in some singular principle or opinion not commonly adopted those intimacies which a freak begins in which a freak puts an end to how agreeable so ever they may appear while they last can by no means deserve the sacred and venerable name of friendship of all the persons however whom nature points out for our peculiar beneficence there are none to whom it seems more properly directed than to those whose beneficence we have ourselves already experienced nature which formed men for that mutual kindness so necessary for their happiness renders every man the peculiar object of kindness to the persons to whom he himself has been kind though their gratitude should not always correspond to his beneficence yet the sense of his merit the sympathetic gratitude of the impartial spectator will always correspond to it the general indignation of other people against the baseness of their ingratitude will even sometimes increase the general sense of his merit no benevolent man ever lost altogether the fruits of his benevolence if he does not always gather them from the persons from whom he ought to have gathered them he seldom fails to gather them and with a tenfold increase from other people kindness is the parent of kindness and if to be beloved by our brethren be the great object of our ambition the surest way of obtaining it is by our conduct to show that we really love them after the persons who are recommended to our beneficence either by their connection with ourselves by their personal qualities or by their past services come those who are pointed out not indeed to what is called our friendship but to our benevolent attention and good offices those who are distinguished by their extraordinary situation the greatly fortunate and the greatly unfortunate the rich and the powerful the poor and the wretched the distinction of ranks the peace and order of society are in great measure founded upon the respect which we naturally conceive for the former the relief and consolation of human misery depend altogether upon our compassion for the latter the peace and order of society is of more importance than even the relief of the miserable our respect for the great accordingly is most apt to offend by its excess our fellow feeling for the miserable by its defect moralists exhort us to charity and compassion they warn us against the fascination of greatness this fascination indeed is so powerful that the rich and the great are too often preferred to the wise and the virtuous nature has wisely judged that the distinction of ranks the peace and order of society would rest more securely upon the plain and palpable difference of birth and fortune that upon the invisible and often uncertain difference of wisdom and virtue the undistinguishing eyes of the great mob of mankind can well enough perceive the former it is with difficulty that the nice discernment of the wise and the virtuous can sometimes distinguish the latter in the order of all those recommendations the benevolent wisdom of nature is equally evident it may perhaps be unnecessary to observe that the combination of two or more of those exciting causes of kindness increases the kindness the favor and partiality which when there is no envy in the case we naturally bear to greatness are much increased when it is joined with wisdom and virtue if not withstanding that wisdom and virtue the great man should fall into those misfortunes those dangers and distresses to which the most exalted stations are often the most exposed we are much more deeply interested in his fortune than we should be in that of a person equally virtuous but in a more humble situation the most interesting subjects of tragedies and romances are the misfortunes of virtuous and magnanimous kings and princes if by the wisdom and manhood of their exertions they should extricate themselves from those misfortunes and recover completely their former superiority and security we cannot help viewing them with the most enthusiastic and even extravagant admiration the grief which we felt for their distress the joy which we feel for their prosperity seemed to combine together in enhancing that partial admiration which we naturally conceive both for the station and the character when those different beneficent affections happen to draw different ways to determine by any precise rules in what cases we ought to comply with the one and in what with the other is perhaps altogether impossible in what cases friendship ought to yield to gratitude or gratitude to friendship in what cases the strongest of all natural affections ought to yield to a regard for the safety of those superiors upon whose safety often depends that of the whole society and in what cases natural affection may without impropriety prevail over that regard must be left altogether to the decision of the man within the breast the supposed impartial spectator the great judge and arbiter of our conduct if we place ourselves completely in his situation if we really view ourselves with his eyes and as he views us and listen with diligent and reverential attention to what he suggests to us his voice will never deceive us we shall stand in need of no casuistic rules to direct our conduct these it is often impossible to accommodate to all the different shades and gradations of circumstance character and situation to differences and distinctions which though not imperceptible are by their nicety and delicacy often altogether undefinable in that beautiful tragedy of Voltaire the orphan of china while we admire the magnanimity of zamti who is willing to sacrifice the life of his own child in order to preserve that of the only feeble remnant of his ancient sovereigns and masters we not only pardon but love the maternal tenderness of it may who at the risk of discovering the important secret of her husband reclaims her infant from the cruel hands of the tartars into which it had been delivered end of section 26 section 27 of the theory of moral sentiments this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the theory of moral sentiments by Adam Smith part six section three chapter one part six of the character of virtue consisting of three sections section three chapter one of self-command 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 but the most perfect knowledge of those rules will not alone enable him to act in this manner his own passions are very apt to mislead him sometimes to drive him and sometimes to seduce him to violate all the rules which he himself in all his sober and cool hours approves of the most perfect knowledge if it is not supported by the most perfect self-command will not always enable him to do his duty some of the best of the ancient moralists seem to have considered those passions as divided into two different classes first into those which it requires a considerable exertion of self-command to restrain even for a single moment and secondly into those which it is easy to restrain for a single moment or even for a short period of time but which by their continual and almost incessant solicitations are in the course of the life very apt to mislead into great deviations fear and anger together with some other passions which are mixed or connected with them constitute the first class the love of ease of pleasure of applause and of many other selfish gratifications constitute the second extravagant fear and furious anger it is often difficult to restrain even for a single moment the love of ease of pleasure of applause and other selfish gratifications it is always easy to restrain for a single moment or even for a short period of time but by their continual solicitations they often mislead us into many weaknesses which we have afterwards much reason to be ashamed of the former set of passions may often be said to drive the latter to seduce us from our duty the command of the former was by the ancient moralists above alluded to denominated fortitude manhood and strength of mind that of the latter temperance decency modesty and moderation the command of each of those two sets of passions independent of the beauty which it derives from its utility from its enabling us upon all occasions to act according to the dictates of prudence of justice and of proper benevolence has a beauty of its own and seems to deserve for its own sake a certain degree of esteem and admiration in the one case the strength and greatness of the exertion excites some degree of that esteem and admiration in the other the uniformity the equality and unremitting steadiness of that exertion the man who in danger in torture upon the approach of death preserves his tranquility unaltered and suffers no word no gesture to escape him which does not perfectly accord with the feelings of the most indifferent spectator necessarily commands a very high degree of admiration if he suffers in the cause of liberty and justice for the sake of humanity and the love of his country the most tender compassion for his sufferings the strongest indignation against the injustice of his persecutors the warmest sympathetic gratitude for his beneficent intentions the highest sense of his merit all join and mix themselves with the admiration of his magnanimity and often inflame that sentiment into the most enthusiastic and rapturous veneration the heroes of ancient and modern history who are remembered with the most peculiar favor and affection are many of them those who in the cause of truth liberty and justice have perished upon the scaffold and who behave there with that ease and dignity which became them had the enemies of socrates suffered him to die quietly in his bed the glory even of that great philosopher might possibly never have acquired that dazzling splendor in which it has been beheld in all succeeding ages in the english history when we look over the illustrious heads which have been engraven by virtue and how breaking there is scarce anybody i imagine who does not feel that the axe the emblem of having been beheaded which is engraved under some of the most illustrious of them under those of the sir thomas moors of the rallies the russles the sydneys etc sheds a real dignity and interestingness over the characters to which it is affixed much superior to what they can derive from all the futile ornaments of heraldry with which they are sometimes accompanied nor does this magnanimity give luster only to the characters of innocent and virtuous men it draws some degree of favorable regard even upon those of the greatest criminals and when a robber or highway man is brought to the scaffold and behaves there with decency and firmness though we perfectly approve of his punishment we often cannot help regretting that a man who possessed such great and noble powers should have been capable of such mean enormities war war is the great school both for acquiring and exercising this species of magnanimity death as we say is the king of terrors and the man who has conquered the fear of death is not likely to lose his presence of mind at the approach of any other natural evil in war men become familiar with death and are thereby necessarily cured of that superstitious horror with which it is viewed by the weak and unexperienced they consider it merely as the loss of life and as no further the object of aversion than as life may happen to be that of desire they learn from experience too that many seemingly great dangers are not so great as they appear and that with courage activity and presence of mind there is often a good probability of extricating themselves with honor from situations where at first they could see no hope the dread of death is thus greatly diminished and the confidence or hope of escaping it augmented they learn to expose themselves to danger with less reluctance they are less anxious to get out of it and less apt to lose their presence of mind while they are in it it is the habitual contempt of danger and death which ennobles the profession of a soldier and bestows upon it in the natural apprehensions of mankind a rank and dignity superior to that of any other profession the skillful and successful exercise of this profession in the service of their country seems to have constituted the most distinguishing feature in the character of the favorite heroes of all ages great warlike exploit though undertaken contrary to every principle of justice and carried on without any regard to humanity sometimes interest us and commands even some degree of a certain sort of esteem for the very worthless characters which conducted we are interested even in the exploits of the buccaneers and read with some sort of esteem and admiration the history of the most worthless men who in pursuit of the most criminal purposes endured greater hardships surmounted greater difficulties and encountered greater dangers than perhaps any which the ordinary course of history gives an account of the command of anger appears upon many occasions not less generous and noble than that of fear the proper expression of just indignation composes many of the most splendid and admired passages both of ancient and modern eloquence the philippics of demos tennis the catalanarians of cicero derive their whole beauty from the noble propriety with which this passion is expressed but this just indignation is nothing but anger restrained and properly attempted to what the impartial spectator can enter into the blustering and noisy passion which goes beyond this is always odious and offensive and interest us not for the angry man but for the man with whom he is angry the nobleness of pardoning appears upon many occasions superior even to the most perfect propriety of resenting when either proper acknowledgments have been made by the offending party or even without any such acknowledgments when the public interest requires that the most mortal enemies should unite for the discharge of some important duty the man who can cast away all animosity and act with confidence and cordiality towards the person who had most grievously offended him seems justly to merit our highest admiration the command of anger however does not always appear in such splendid colors fear is contrary to anger and is often the motive which restrains it and in such cases the meanness of the motive takes away all the nobleness of the restraint anger prompts to attack and the indulgence of it seems sometimes to shoo a sort of courage and superiority to fear the indulgence of anger is sometimes an object of vanity that of fear never is vain and weak men among their inferiors or those who dare not resist them often affect to be ostentatiously passionate and fancy that they show what is called spirit in being so a bully tells many stories of his own insolence which are not true and imagines that he thereby renders himself if not more amiable and respectable at least more formidable to his audience modern manners which by favoring the practice of dueling maybe said in some cases to encourage private revenge contribute perhaps a good deal to render in modern times the restraint of anger by fear still more contemptible than it might otherwise appear to be there is always something dignified in the command of fear whatever may be the motive upon which it is founded it is not so with the command of anger unless it is founded all together in the sense of decency of dignity and propriety it never is perfectly agreeable to act according to the dictates of prudence of justice and proper beneficence seems to have no great merit where there is no temptation to do otherwise but to act with cool deliberation in the midst of the greatest dangers and difficulties to observe religiously the sacred rules of justice in spite both of the greatest interests which might tempt and the greatest injuries which might provoke us to violate them never to suffer the benevolence of our temper to be damped or discouraged by the malignity and ingratitude of the individuals towards whom it may have been exercised is the character of the most exalted wisdom and virtue self command is not only itself a great virtue but from it all the other virtues seem to derive their principal luster the command of fear the command of anger are always great and noble powers when they are directed by justice and benevolence they are not only great virtues but increase the splendor of those other virtues they may however sometimes be directed by very different motives and in this case those still great and respectable they may be excessively dangerous the most intrepid valor may be employed in the cause of the greatest injustice amidst great provocations apparent tranquility and good humor may sometimes conceal the most determined and cruel resolution to revenge the strength of mind requisite for such dissimulation though always and necessarily contaminated by the baseness of falsehood has however been often much admired by many people of no contemptible judgment the dissimulation of kathryn of meditus is often celebrated by the profound historian davila that of lord digby afterwards earl of bristol by the grave and conscientious lord clarendon that of the first ashley earl of shaftesbury by the judicious mr. lock even cicero seems to consider this deceitful character not indeed as of the highest dignity but as not unsuitable to a certain flexibility of manners which he thinks may notwithstanding be upon the whole both agreeable and respectable he exemplifies it by the characters of homers ulysses of the ethanian thymistocles of the spartan lisander and of the roman marcus crassus this character of dark and deep dissimulation occurs most commonly in times of great public disorder amidst the violence of faction and civil war when law has become in a great measure impotent when the most perfect innocence cannot alone ensure safety regard to self-defense obliges the greater part of men to have recourse to dexterity to address and to apparent accommodation to whatever happens to be at the moment the prevailing party this false character too is frequently accompanied with the coolest and most determined courage the proper exercise of it supposes that courage as death is commonly the certain consequence of detection it may be employed indifferently either to exasperate or to allay those furious animosities of adverse factions which impose the necessity of assuming it and though it may sometimes be useful it is at least equally liable to be excessively pernicious the command of the less violent and turbulent passions seems much less liable to be abused to any pernicious purpose temperance decency modesty and moderation are always amiable and can seldom be directed to any bad end it is from the unremitting steadiness of those gentler exertions of self-command that the amiable virtue of chastity that the respectable virtues of industry and frugality derive all that sober luster which attends them the conduct of all those who are contented to walk in the humble paths of private and peaceable life derives from the same principle the greater part of the beauty and grace which belong to it a beauty and grace which though much less dazzling is not always less pleasing than those which accompany the more splendid actions of the hero the statesman or the legislator after what has already been said in several different parts of this discourse concerning the nature of self-command i judge it unnecessary to enter into any further detail concerning those virtues i shall only observe at present that the point of propriety the degree of any passion which the impartial spectator approves of is differently situated in different passions in some passions the excess is less disagreeable than the defect and in such passions the point of propriety seems to stand high or nearer to the excess than to the defect in other passions the defect is less disagreeable than the excess and in such passions the point of propriety seems to stand low or nearer to the defect than to the excess the former are the passions which the spectator is most the latter those which he is least disposed to sympathize with. The former, too, are the passions of which the immediate feeling or sensation is agreeable to the person principally concerned, the latter, those of which it is disagreeable. It may be laid down as a general rule 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. This general rule, so far as I have been able to observe, admits not of a single exception. A few examples will at once both sufficiently explain it and demonstrate the truth of it. The disposition to the affections which tend to unite men in society, to humanity, kindness, natural affection, friendship, esteem, may sometimes be excessive. Even the excessive this disposition however renders a man interesting to everybody. Though we blame it, we still regard it with compassion and even with kindness and never with dislike. We are more sorry for it than angry at it. To the person himself, the indulgence even of such excessive affections is upon many occasions not only agreeable but delicious. Upon some occasions indeed, especially when directed as is too often the case towards unworthy objects, it exposes him to much real and heartfelt distress.  The defect of this disposition on the contrary what is called hardness of heart, while it renders a man insensible to the feelings and distresses of other people, renders other people equally insensible to his and by excluding him from the friendship of all the world excludes him from the best and most comfortable of all social enjoyments. The disposition to the affections which drive men from one another and which tend as it were to break the bands of human society, the disposition to anger, hatred, envy, malice, revenge is on the contrary much more apt to offend by its excess than by its defect. The excess renders a man wretched and miserable in his own mind and the object of hatred and sometimes even of horror to other people. The defect is very seldom complained of, it may however be defective. The want of proper indignation is a most essential defect in the manly character and upon many occasions renders a man incapable of protecting either himself or his friends from insult and injustice. Even that principle in the excess and improper direction of which consists the odious and detestable passion of envy may be defective. Envy is that passion which views with malignant dislike the superiority of those who are really entitled to all the superiority they possess. The man however who in matters of consequence tamely suffers other people who are entitled to no such superiority to rise above him or get before him is justly condemned as mean spirited. This weakness is commonly founded in indolence sometimes in good nature in an aversion to opposition to bustle and solicitation and sometimes too in a sort of ill-judged magnanimity which fancies that it can always continue to despise the advantage which it then despises and therefore so easily gives up. Such weakness however is commonly followed by much regret and repentance and what had some appearance of magnanimity in the beginning frequently 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 life or our fortune. Our sensibility to personal danger and distress like that to personal provocation is much more apt to offend by its excess than by its defect. No character is more contemptible than that of a coward. No character is more admired than that of the man who faces death with intrepidity and maintains his tranquility and presence of mind amidst the most dreadful dangers.   A calm one which does not allow its tranquility to be disturbed either by the small injuries or by the little disasters incident to the usual course of human affairs but which amidst the natural and moral evils infesting the world lays its account and is contented to suffer a little from both is a blessing to the man himself and gives ease and security to all his companions. Our sensibility however both to our own injuries and to our own misfortunes though generally too strong may likewise be too weak. The man who feels little for his own misfortunes must always feel less for those of other people and be less disposed to relieve them. The man who has little resentment for the injuries which are done to himself must always have less for those which are done to other people and be less disposed either to protect or to avenge them.  We can feel little anxiety about the propriety of our own actions when we are indifferent about the events which may result from them. The man who feels the full distress of the calamity which has befallen him who feels the whole baseness of the injustice which has been done to him but who feels still more strongly what the dignity of his own character requires who does not abandon himself to the guidance of the undisciplined passions which his situation might naturally inspire but who governs his whole behavior and conduct according to those restrained and corrected emotions which the great inmate the great demigod within the breast prescribed and approved of is alone the real man of virtue the only real and proper object of love respect and admiration. Insensibility and that noble firmness that exalted self-command which is founded in the sense of dignity and propriety are so far from being altogether the same that in proportion as the former takes place the merit of the latter is in many cases entirely taken away. But though the total want of sensibility to personal injury to personal danger and distress would in such situations take away the whole merit of self-command that sensibility however may very easily be too exquisite and it frequently is so. When the sense of propriety when the authority of the judge within the breast can control this extreme sensibility that authority must no doubt appear very noble and very great but the exertion of it may be too fatiguing it may have too much to do. The individual by a great effort may behave perfectly well but the contest between the two principles the warfare within the breast may be too violent to be at all consistent with internal tranquility and happiness. The wise man whom nature has endowed with this too exquisite sensibility and whose two lively feelings have not been sufficiently blunted and hardened by early education and proper exercise will avoid as much as duty and propriety will permit the situations for which he is not perfectly fitted. The man whose feeble and delicate constitution renders him too sensible to pain to hardship and to every sort of bodily distress should not wantonly embrace the profession of a soldier. The man of too much sensibility to injury should not rashly engage in the contest of affection. Though the sense of propriety should be strong enough to command all those sensibilities the composure of the mind must always be disturbed in the struggle. In this disorder the judgment cannot always maintain its ordinary acuteness and precision and though he may always mean to act properly he may often act rashly and imprudently and in a manner which he himself will in the succeeding part of his life be forever ashamed of. A certain intrepidity a certain firmness of nerves and hardiness of constitution whether natural or acquired are undoubtedly the best preparatives for all the great exertions of self-command. End of section 27. Section 28 of The Theory of Moral Sentiments. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Preston McConkey. The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Adam Smith. Part 6, Section 3, Chapter 1. The war and faction are certainly the best schools for forming every man to this hardiness and firmness of temper. Though they are the best remedies for curing him over the opposite weaknesses, yet if the day of trial should happen to come before he has completely learned his lesson, before the remedy has had time to produce its proper effect, the consequences might not be agreeable. Our sensibility to the pleasures, to the amusements and enjoyments of human life may offend in the same manner either by its excess or by its defect. Of the two however the excess seems less disagreeable than the defect, both to the spectator and to the person principally concerned, a strong propensity to joy is certainly more pleasing than a dull insensibility to the objects of amusement and diversion. We are charmed with the gaiety of youth and even with the playfulness of childhood, that we soon grow weary of the flat and tasteless gravity which too frequently accompanies old age. When this propensity indeed is not restrained by the sense of propriety, when it is unsuitable to the time or to the place, to the age or to the situation of the person, when to indulge it he neglects either his interest or his duty, it is justly blamed as excessive and is hurtful both to the individual and to the society. In the greater part of such cases however, what is chiefly to be found fault with is not so much the strength of the propensity to joy as the weakness of the sense of propriety and duty. A young man who has no relish for the diversions and amusements that are natural and suitable to his age, who talks of nothing but his books or his business, is disliked as formal and pedantic, and we give him no credit for his abstinence even from improper indulgences to which he seems to have so little inclination. The principle of self estimation may be too high and it may likewise be too low. It is so very agreeable to think highly and so very disagreeable to think meanly of ourselves that to the person himself it cannot be well doubted, but that some degree of excess must be much less disagreeable than any degree of defect. But to the impartial spectator it may perhaps be thought things must appear quite differently, and that to him the defect must always be less disagreeable than the excess, and in our companions no doubt we much more frequently complain of the latter than of the former. When they assume upon us or set themselves before us, their self estimation mortifies our own. Our own pride and vanity prompt us to accuse them of pride and vanity, and we cease to be the impartial spectators of their conduct. When the same companions however suffer any other man who assume over them a superiority which does not belong to him, we not only blame them, but often despise them as mean spirited. When on the contrary among other people they push themselves a little more forward and scramble to an elevation disproportioned as we think to their merit, though we may not perfectly approve of their conduct we are not often upon the whole diverted with it, and when there is no envy in the case we are almost always much less displeased with them than we should have been had they suffered themselves to sink below their proper station. In estimating our own merit, in judging of our own character and conduct, there are two different standards to which we naturally compare them. The one is the idea of exact propriety and perfection, so far as we are each of us capable of comprehending that idea. The other is that degree of approximation to this idea which is commonly attained in the world and which the greater part of our friends and companions, of our rivals and competitors may have actually arrived at. We very seldom, I am disposed to think we never, attempt to judge of ourselves without giving more or less attention to both these different standards. But the attention of different men, and even of the same man at different times, is often very unequally divided between them, and is sometimes principally directed toward the one, and sometimes toward the other. So far as our attention is directed toward the first standard, the wisest and best of us all can, in his own character and conduct, see nothing but weakness and imperfection, can discover no ground for arrogance and presumption, but a great deal for humility, regret, and repentance. So far as our attention is directed toward the second, we may be affected either in the one way or in the other, and feel ourselves either really above or really below the standard to which we compare ourselves. The wise and virtuous man directs his principal attention to the first standard, the idea of exact propriety and perfection. There exists in the mind of every man an idea of this kind gradually formed from his observations upon the character and conduct, both of himself and of other people. It is the slow, gradual, and progressive work of the great demigod within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of conduct. This idea is in every man more or less accurately drawn. Its coloring is more or less just, its outlines are more or less exactly designed, according to the delicacy and acuteness of that sensibility with which those observations were made, and according to the care and attention employed in making them. In the wise and virtuous man they have been made with the most acute and delicate sensibility, and the utmost care and attention have been employed in making them. Every day some feature is improved, every day some blemish is corrected. He has studied this idea more than other people. He comprehends it more distinctly, he has formed a much more correct image of it, and is much more deeply enamored of its exquisite and divine beauty. He endeavors as well as he can to assimilate his own character to this archetype of perfection, but he imitates the work of a divine artist which can never be equaled. He feels the imperfect success of all his best endeavors and sees, with grief and defliction, in how many different features the mortal copy falls short of the immortal original. He remembers, with concern and humiliation, how often, from want of attention, from want of judgment, from want of temper, he has, both in words and actions, both in conduct and conversation, violated the exact rules of perfect propriety, and has so far departed from that model, according to which he wished to fashion his own character and conduct. When he directs his attention toward the second standard, indeed that degree of excellence which his friends and acquaintances have commonly arrived at, he may be sensible of his own superiority. But, as his principal attention is always directed toward the first standard, he is necessarily much more humbled by the one comparison than he ever can be elevated by the other. He is never so elated as to look down with insolence even upon those who are really below him. He feels so well his own imperfection, he knows so well the difficulty with which he attained his own distant approximation to rectitude, that he cannot regard with contempt the still greater imperfection of other people. Far from insulting over their inferiority, he views it with the most indulgent commissuration, and, by his advice as well as example, is at all times willing to promote their further advancement. If, in any particular qualification, they happen to be superior to him, for who is so perfect as not to have many superiors in many different qualifications, far from envying their superiority, he who knows how difficult it is to excel, esteems and honors their excellence, and never fails to bestow upon it the full measure of applause which it deserves. His whole mind, in short, is deeply impressed, his whole behavior and deportment are distinctly stamped with the character of real modesty, with that of a very moderate estimation of his own merit, and at the same time of a full sense of the merit of other people. In all the liberal and ingenious arts, in painting, in poetry, in music, in eloquence, in philosophy, the great artist feels always the real imperfection of his own best works, and is more sensible than any man how much they fall short of that ideal perfection in which he has formed some conception, which he imitates as well as he can, but which he despairs of ever-equaling. It is the inferior artist only who is ever perfectly satisfied with his own performances. He has little conception of this ideal perfection about which he has little employed his thoughts, and it is chiefly to the works of other artists of, perhaps a still lower order, that he deigns to compare his own works. Wallot, the great French poet, in some of his works, perhaps not inferior to the greatest poet of the same kind, either ancient or modern, used to say that no great man was ever completely satisfied with his own works.  Wallot replied with, perhaps an arch-ambiguity, that he certainly was the only great man that ever was so. Wallot, in judging of his own works, compared them with a standard of ideal perfection, which in his own particular branch of the poetic art he had, I presume, meditated as deeply and conceived as distinctly as it is possible for men to conceive it. Sontu, in judging of his own works, compared them, I suppose, chiefly to those of the other Latin poets of his own time, to the greater part of whom he was certainly very far from being inferior. But to support and finish off, if I may say so, the conduct and conversation of a whole life, to some resemblance of this ideal perfection, is surely much more difficult than to work up to an equal resemblance any of the productions of any of the ingenious arts. The artist sits down to his work undisturbed, at leisure, in the full possession and recollection of all his skill, experience, and knowledge. 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 awakened 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 appall him. Of the persons who, in estimating their own merit, in judging of their own character and conduct, direct by far the greater part of their attention to the second standard, to that ordinary degree of excellence which is commonly attained by other people, there are some who really and justly feel themselves very much above it, and who, by every intelligent and impartial spectator, are acknowledged to be so. The attention of such persons, however, being always principally directed, not to the standard of ideal, but to that of ordinary perfection, they have little sense of their own weaknesses and imperfections. They have little modesty, are often assuming, arrogant, and presumptuous, great admirers of themselves, and great condemners of other people, though their characters are in general much less correct, and their merit much inferior to that of the man of real and modest virtue, yet their excessive presumption founded upon their own excessive self-admiration dazzles the multitude, and often imposes even upon those who are much superior to the multitude. The frequent and often wonderful success of the most ignorant quacks and imposters, both civil and religious, sufficiently demonstrate how easily the multitude are imposed upon by the most extravagant and groundless pretensions. But when those pretensions are supported by a very high degree of real and solid merit, when they are displayed with all the splendor which ostentation can bestow upon them, when they are supported by high rank and great power, when they have often been successfully exerted, and are upon that account attended by the loud acclamations of the multitude, even the man of sober judgment often abandons himself to the general admiration. The very noise of those foolish acclamations often contributes to confounding his understanding, and while he sees those great men only at a certain distance, he is often disposed to worship them with a sincere admiration, superior even to that with which they appear to worship themselves. When there is no envy in the case, we all take pleasure in admiring, and are upon that account naturally disposed in our own fancies to render complete and perfect in every respect the characters which, in many respects, are so very worthy of admiration. The excessive self admiration of these great men is well understood, perhaps, and even seen through with some degree of derision by those wise men who are much in their familiarity, and who secretly smile at those lofty pretensions which, by people at a distance, are often regarded with reverence, and almost with adoration. Such, however, have been, in all ages, the greater part of those men who have procured to themselves the most noisy fame, the most extensive reputation, a fame and reputation too which have often descended to the remotest posterity. Great success in the world, great authority over the sentiments and opinions of mankind, have very seldom been acquired without some degree of the excessive self admiration. The most splendid characters, the men who have performed the most illustrious actions, who have brought about the greatest revolutions, both in the situations and opinions of mankind, the most successful warriors, the greatest statesmen and legislators, the eloquent founders and leaders of the most numerous and most successful sects and parties, have many of them been not more distinguished for their very great merit than for a degree of presumption and self-admiration, altogether disproportioned even to that very great merit. This presumption was perhaps necessary, not only to prompt them to undertakings which a more sober mind would never have thought of, but to command the submission and obedience of their followers to support them in such undertakings. When crowned with success, accordingly, this presumption has often betrayed them into a vanity that approached almost to insanity and folly. Alexander the Great appears not only to have wished that other people should think him a god, but to have been at least very well disposed to fancy himself such. Upon his deathbed, the most ungodlike of all situations, he requested of his friends that, to the respectable list of deities into which himself had long before been inserted, his old mother Olympia might likewise have the honor of being added. Amidst the respectful admiration of his followers and disciples, amidst the universal applause of the public, after the oracle which probably had followed the voice of that applause, had pronounced him the wisest of men. The great wisdom of Socrates, though it did not suffer him to fancy himself a god, it was not great enough to hinder him from fancying that he had secret and frequent intimations from some invisible and divine being. The sound head of Caesar was not so perfectly sound as to hinder him from being much pleased with his divine genealogy from the goddess Venus, and before the temple of this pretended great-grandmother to receive, without rising from his seat, the Roman Senate, when that illustrious body came to present him with some decrees conferring upon him the most extravagant honors. This insolence, joined to some other acts of an almost childish vanity, little to be expected from an understanding at once so very acute and comprehensive, seems by exasperating the public jealousy to have emboldened his assassins, and to have hastened the execution of their conspiracy. The religion and manners of modern times give our great men little encouragement to fancy themselves either gods or even prophets. Success, however, joined to great popular favor, as often so far turned the heads of the greatest of them, as to make them ascribe to themselves both an importance and an ability much beyond what they really possessed, and by this presumption to precipitate themselves into many rash and sometimes ruinous adventures. It is a characteristic almost peculiar to the great Duke of Marlborough that ten years of such uninterrupted and such splendid success as scarce any other general could boast of, never betrayed him into a single rash action, scarce into a single rash word or expression. The same temperate coolness and self-command cannot, I think, be ascribed to any other great warrior of later times, not to Prince Eugene, not to the late King of Prussia, not to the great Prince of Condé, not even to Gustavus Adolphus. Turan seems to have approached the nearest to it, but several different transactions of his life sufficiently demonstrate that it was in him by no means so perfect as in the great Duke of Marlborough. End of Section 28 Recording by Jennifer W. The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Adam Smith. Part 6 Section 3 of Self-Command In the humble project of private life, as well as in the ambitious and proud pursuit of high stations, great abilities and successful enterprise in the beginning have frequently encouraged undertakings which necessarily led to bankruptcy and ruin in the end. The esteem and admiration which every impartial spectator conceives for the real merit of those spirited, magnanimous and high-minded persons, as it is a just and well-founded sentiment, so it is a steady and permanent one, and altogether independent of their good or bad fortune. It is otherwise with that admiration which he is apt to conceive for their excessive self-estimation and presumption. While they are successful, indeed, he is often perfectly conquered and overborn by them. Success covers from his eyes not only the great imprudence, but frequently the great injustice of their enterprises, and far from blaming this defective part of their character, he often views it with the most enthusiastic admiration. When they are unfortunate, however, things change their colors and their names. What was before heroic magnanimity resumes its proper appellation of extravagant rashness and folly, and the blackness of that avidity and injustice which was before hid under the splendor of prosperity comes full interview and blots the whole luster of their enterprise. Had Caesar, instead of caning, lost the battle of Farsalia, his character would, at this hour, have ranked a little above that of Catelyn, and the weakest man would have viewed his enterprise against the laws of his country in blacker colors than perhaps even Cato, with all the animosity of a party man ever viewed it at the time. His real merit, the justness of his taste, the simplicity and elegance of his writings, the propriety of his eloquence, his skill and more, his resources and distress, his cool and sedate judgment and danger, his faithful attachment to his friends, his unexampled generosity to his enemies, would all have been acknowledged. As the real merit of Catelyn, who had many great qualities, is acknowledged at this day. But the insolence and injustice of his all-grasping ambition would have darkened and extinguished the glory from all that real merit. Fortune has in this, as well in some other respects already mentioned, great influence over the moral sentiments of mankind, and according as she is either favorable or adverse, can render the same character, the object, either of general love and admiration, or of universal hatred and contempt. This great disorder in our moral sentiments is, by no means, however, without its utility, and we may on this, as well as on many other occasions admire the wisdom of God even in the weakness and folly of man. Our admiration of success is founded upon the same principle with our respect for wealth and greatness, and it is equally necessary for establishing the distinction of ranks and the order of society. By this admiration of success we are taught to submit more easily to those superiors whom the course of human affairs may assign to us, to regard with reverence, and sometimes even with a sort of respectful affection, that fortunate violence which we are no longer capable of resisting. Not only the violence of such splendid characters as those of a Caesar or Alexander, but often that of the most brutal and savage barbarians of an Attila or a Genghis or a Tamerlane. To all such mighty conquerors, the great mob of mankind are naturally disposed to look up with a wondering, though, no doubt with a very weak and foolish admiration. By this admiration, however, they are taught to acquiesce with lesser reluctance under that government which an irresistible force imposes upon them, and from which no reluctance could deliver them. Though in prosperity, however, the man of excessive self-estimation may sometimes appear to have some advantage over the man of correct and modest virtue. Although the applause of the multitude and of those who see them both only at a distance is often much louder in favor of the one than it is ever in favor of the other. Yet, all things fairly computed, the real balance of advantage is, perhaps in all cases, greatly in favor of the latter and against the former. The man who neither ascribes to himself nor wishes that other people should ascribe to him, any other merit besides that which really belongs to him, fears no humiliation, dreads no detection, but rests contented and secure upon the genuine truth and solidity of his own character. His admirers may neither be very numerous nor very loud in their applause, but the wisest man who sees him the nearest and knows him the best admires him the most. To a real wise man the judicious and well-weighted approbation of a single wise man gives more heartfelt satisfaction than all the noisy applause of ten thousand ignorant, though enthusiastic admirers. He may say with who upon reading a philosophical discourse before a public display at Athens and observing that except Plato, the whole company had left him, continued, not withstanding, to read on and said that Plato alone was audience sufficient for him. It is otherwise with a man of excessive self-estimation. The wise men who see him the nearest admires him the least amidst the intoxication of prosperity their sober and just esteem falls so short of the extravagance of his own self-admiration that he regards it as merely malignity and envy. He suspects his best friends. Their company becomes offensive to him. He drives them from his presence and often rewards their services not only with ingratitude but with cruelty and injustice. He abandons his confidence to flatterers and traders who pretend to idolize his vanity and presumption and that character which in the beginning though in some respects defective was upon the whole both amiable and respectable becomes contemptible and odious in the end.  This was that Parminio of whom Philip used to say that the Athenians were very fortunate who could find ten generals every year while he himself in the whole course of his life could never find but one Parminio. It was upon the vigilance and attention of this Parminio that he reposed at all times with confidence and security. In the hours of his mirth and jollity he used to say let us drink my friends we may do it with safety for Parminio never drinks. It was the same Parminio with whose presence and council it had been said Alexander had gained all of his victories and without whose presence and council he had never gained a single victory. The humble admiring and flattering friends whom Alexander left in power and authority behind him divided his empire among themselves and after having thus robbed his family and kindred of their inheritance put one after another every single surviving individual of them whether female or male to death. We frequently not only pardon but thoroughly enter into and sympathize with the excessive self-estimation of those splendid characters in which we observe a great and distinguished superiority above the common level of mankind. We call them spirited, magnanimous and high-minded words which all involve in their meaning a considerable degree of praise and admiration but we cannot enter into and sympathize with the excessive self-estimation of those characters in which we can discern no such distinguished superiority. We are disgusted and revolted by it and it is with some difficulty that we can either pardon or suffer it. We call it pride or vanity two words of which the latter always and the former for the most part involve in their meaning a considerable However, though resembling in some respects as being both modifications of excessive self-estimation are yet in many respects very different from one another. The proud man is sincere and in the bottom of his heart is convinced of his own superiority though it may sometimes be difficult to guess upon what that conviction is founded. He wishes you to view him in no light other than that in which when he places himself in your situation he really views himself. He demands no more view than what he thinks justice. If you appear not to respect him as he respects himself he is more offended than mortified and feels the same indignant resentment as if he had suffered a real injury. He does not even then however deign to explain the grounds of his own pretensions. He disdains to court your esteem. He affects even to despise it and endeavors to maintain his assumed station not so much by making you sensible of his superiority as of your own meanness. He seems to wish not so much to excite your esteem for himself as to mortify that for yourself. The vain man is not sincere and in the bottom of his heart is very seldom convinced of that superiority which he wishes you to ascribe him. He wishes you to view him in much more splendid colors than those in which when he places himself in your situation and supposes you to know all that he knows he can really view himself. When you appear to view him therefore in different colors perhaps in his proper colors he is much more mortified than offended. The grounds of his claim to that character which he wishes you to ascribe to him he takes every opportunity of displaying both by the most ostentatious and unnecessary exhibition of good qualities and accomplishments which he possesses in some tolerable degree and sometimes even by false pretensions to those which he either possesses in no degree or in so very slender a degree that he may well enough be said to possess them in no degree. Far from despising your esteem he courts it with the most anxious assiduity. Far from wishing to mortify your self estimation he is happy to cherish it in hopes that in return you will cherish his own. He flatters in order to be flattered. He studies to please and endeavours to bribe you into a good opinion of him by politeness and complacence and sometimes even by real and essential good offices though often displayed perhaps with unnecessary ostentation. The vain man sees the respect which is paid to rank and fortune and wishes to usurp this respect as well as that for talents and virtues. His dress his equipage his way of living accordingly all announced both a higher rank and greater fortune than really belong to him and in order to support this foolish imposition for a few years in the beginning of his life he often reduces himself to poverty and distress long before the end of it. As long as he can continue his expense however his vanity is delighted with viewing himself not in the light in which you would view him if you knew all that he knows but that in which he imagines he has by his own address induced you actually to view him. Of all the illusions of vanity this is perhaps the most common obscure strangers who visit foreign countries or who from a remote province come to visit for a short time the capital of their own country most frequently attempt to practice it. The folly of the attempt though always very great and most unworthy of a man of sense may not be all together so great upon such as upon most other occasions. If their stay is short they may escape any disgraceful detection. And after indulging their vanity for a few months or a few years they may return to their own homes and repair by future parsimony the waste of their past profusion. The proud man can very seldom be accused of this folly. His sense of his own dignity renders him careful to preserve his independency and when his fortune happens not to be large though he wishes it to be decent he studies to be frugal and attentive in all his expenses. The ostentatious expense of the vain man is highly offensive to him. It outshines perhaps his own. It provokes his indignation as an insolent assumption of a rank which is by no means due and he never talks of it without loading it with the harshest and severest reproaches. The proud man does not always feel himself at his ease in the company of his equals and still less in that of his superiors. He cannot lay down his lofty pretensions and the countenance and conversation of such company over awe him so much that he dare not display them. He has recourse to humbler company for which he has little respect which he would not willingly choose and which is by no means agreeable to him that of his inferiors, his flatters and dependents. He seldom visits his superiors or if he does it's rather to show that he's entitled to live in such company than for any real satisfaction that he enjoys in it. It is as Lord Clarendon says of the Earl of Arundel that he sometimes went to court because he could there only find a greater man than himself but that he went very seldom because he found there a greater man than himself. It is quite otherwise with the vain man. He courts the company of his superiors as much as the proud man shuns it. Their splendor, he seems to think, reflects a splendor upon those who are much about them. He haunts the courts of kings and the levies of ministers. He gives himself the air of being a candidate for fortune and preferment when in reality he possesses the much more precious happiness if he knew how to enjoy it of not being one. 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 honored there. He associates himself as much as he can with fashionable people 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 favor happens to run in any respect against them. With the people to whom he wishes to recommend himself he is not always very delicate about the means which he employs for that purpose. Unnecessary ostentation, groundless pretensions, constant assentation, frequently flattery though for the most part pleasantance, brightly flattery, and very seldom the gross and fulsome flattery of a parasite. The proud man on the contrary never flatters and is frequently scarce civil to anybody. Notwithstanding all his groundless pretensions, however, vanity is almost always a sprightly and a gay and often very good-natured passion. Pride is always a grave, a sullen, and a severe one. Even the falsehoods of the vain man are all innocent falsehoods meant to raise himself not to lower other people. To do the proud men justice he very seldom stoops to the baseness of falsehood. When he does, however, his falsehoods are by no means so innocent they are all mischievous and meant to lower other people. He is full of indignation and the unjust superiority as he thinks it which is given them. He views them with malignity and envy and in talking of them often endeavors as much as he can to extenuate and lessen whatever are the grounds upon which their superiority is supposed to be founded. Whatever tales are circulated to their disadvantage though he seldom forges them himself yet he often takes pleasure in believing them is by no means unwilling to repeat them and even sometimes with a degree of exaggeration the worst falsehoods of vanity are all what we call white lies. Those of pride whenever it condescends to falsehood are all of the opposite complexion. Our dislike to pride and vanity generally disposes us to rank the persons whom we accuse of those vices rather below than above the common level. In this judgment however I think we are most frequently in the wrong and that both the proud and the vain man are often perhaps for the most part a good deal above it though not near so much as either the one really thinks himself or as the other wishes you to think him. If we compare them with their own pretensions they may appear the just objects of contempt but when we compare them with what the greater part of their rivals and competitors really are and they may appear quite otherwise and very much above the common level. Where there is real superiority pride is frequently attended with many respectable virtues with truth with integrity with a high sense of honor with cordial and steady friendship with one of the most inflexible firmness and resolution. Vanity with many amiable ones with humanity with politeness with the desire to oblige in all little matters and sometimes with a real generosity and great ones a generosity however which it often wishes to display in the most splendid colors it can. By their rivals and enemies the French in the last century were accused of vanity the Spaniards of pride and foreign nations were disposed to consider the one as the more amiable the other as the more respectable people. The words vain and vanity are never taken in a good sense. We sometimes say of a man when we are talking of him in good humor that he is the better for his vanity or that his vanity is more diverting than offensive but we still consider it as a foible and as a ridicule in his character. The words proud and pride on the contrary are sometimes taken in a good sense. We frequently say of a man that he is too proud or that he has too much noble pride ever to suffer himself to do a mean thing. Pride is in this case confounded with magnanimity. Aristotle a philosopher who certainly knew the world in drawing the character of the magnanimous man paints him with many features which in the last two centuries were commonly ascribed to the Spanish character that he was deliberate in all his resolutions slow and even tardy in all his actions that his voice would grave his speech deliberate his step and motion slow that he appeared indolent and even slothful not at all disposed bustle about little matters but to act with the most determined and vigorous resolution upon all great and illustrious occasions that he was not a lover of danger or forward to expose himself to little dangers but to great dangers and that when he exposed himself to danger he was altogether regardless of his life the proud man is commonly too well contented with himself to think that his character requires any amendment the man who feels himself all perfect naturally enough despises all further improvement his self-sufficiency and absurd conceit of his own superiority commonly attend him from his youth to his most advanced age and he dies as Hamlet says with all his sins upon his head unanointed unannealed it is frequently otherwise with a vain man the desire of the esteem and admiration of other people when for qualities and talents which are the natural and proper objects of esteem and admiration is the real love of true glory a passion which if not the very best passion of human nature is certainly one of the best vanity is very frequently no more than an attempt to prematurely usurp that glory before it is due though your son under five and twenty years of age should be but a coxcomb do not upon that account despair of his becoming before he is forty a very wise and worthy man and a real proficient in all those talents and virtues to which at present he may only be an ostentatious and empty pretender the great secret of education is to direct vanity to proper objects never suffer him to value himself upon trivial accomplishments but do not always discourage his pretensions to those that are of real importance he would not pretend to them if he did not earnestly desire to possess them encourage this desire afford him every means to facilitate the acquisition and do not take too much offense although he should sometimes assume the air of having attained it a little before the time such I say are the distinguishing characteristics of pride and vanity when each of them acts according to its proper character but the proud man is often vain and the vain man is often proud nothing can be more natural than that man who thinks much more highly of himself than he deserves should wish that other people should think still more highly of him or that the man who wishes that other people should think more highly of him than he thinks of himself should at the same time think much more highly of himself than he deserves these two vices being frequently in the same character the characteristics of both are necessarily confounded and we sometimes find the superficial and impertinent ostentation of vanity joined to the most malignant and derisive insolence of pride we are sometimes upon that account at a loss how to rank a particular character or whether to place it among the proud or among the vain end of section 29 section 30 of the theory of moral sentiments this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Jennifer W the theory of moral sentiments by Adam Smith part 6 section 3 of self-command men of merit considerably above the common level sometimes underrate as well as overrate themselves such characters though not very dignified are often in private deciding far from being disagreeable his companions all feel themselves much at their ease in the society of a man so perfectly modest and unassuming if those companions however have not both more discernment and more generosity than ordinary though they may have some kindness for him they seldom have much respect and in the warmth of their kindness is very seldom sufficient to compensate the coldness of their respect men of no more than ordinary discernment never rate any person higher than he appears to rate himself he seems doubtful himself they say whether he is perfectly fit for such a situation or such an office and immediately give the preference to some imprudent blockhead who entertains no doubt about his own qualifications though they should have discernment yet if they want generosity they never fail to take advantage of his simplicity and to assume over him an impertinent superiority which they are by no means entitled to his good nature may enable him to bear this for some time but he grows weary at last and frequently when it is too late and when that rank which he ought to have assumed is lost irrevocably and usurped in consequence of his own backwardness by some of his more forward though much less meritous companions a man of this character must have been very fortunate in the early choice of his companions if in going through the world he meets always with fair justice even from those whom from his own past kindness he might have some reason to consider as his best friends and a youth too unassuming and too unambitious is frequently followed by an insignificant complaining and discontented old age those unfortunate persons whom nature has formed a good deal below the common level seem sometimes to rate themselves still more below it than they really are this humility appears sometimes to sink them into idiotism whoever has taken the trouble to examine idiots with attention will find that in many of them the faculties of the understanding are by no means weaker than in several other people who though acknowledged to be dull and stupid are not by anybody accounted idiots many idiots with no more than ordinary education have been taught to read write and account tolerably well many persons never accounted idiots not withstanding the most careful education and not withstanding that in their advanced age they have had spirit enough to attempt to learn what their early education had not taught them have never been able to acquire in any tolerable degree any one of those three accomplishments by an instinct of pride however they set themselves upon a level with their equals in age and situation and with courage and firmness maintain their proper station among their companions by an opposite instinct the idiot feels himself below every company into which you can introduce him ill usage to which he is extremely liable is capable of throwing him into the most violent fits of rage and a fury but no good usage no kindness or indulgence can ever raise him to converse with you as you are equal if you can bring him to converse with you at all however you will frequently find his answers sufficiently pertinent and even sensible they are always stamped with a distinct consciousness of his own great inferiority he seems to shrink and as it were to retire from your look and conversation and to feel when he places himself in your situation that notwithstanding your apparent condescension you cannot help considering him as immensely below you some idiots perhaps the greater part seem to be so chiefly or together from a certain numbness or torpedoity in the faculties of the understanding but there are others in whom those faculties do not appear more torpid or benumbed than in many other people who are not accounted idiots but that instinct of pride necessary to support them upon inequality with their brethren seems totally wanting in the former and not in the latter that degree of self-estimation therefore which contributes most to the happiness and contentment of the person himself seems likewise most agreeable to the impartial spectator the man who esteems himself as he ought and no more than he ought seldom fails to obtain from other people all the esteem that he himself thinks do he desires no more than is due to him and he rests upon it with complete satisfaction the proud and the vain man on the contrary are constantly dissatisfied the one is tormented with indignation at the unjust superiority as he thinks of it of other people the other is in continual dread of the shame which he foresees would attend upon the detection of his groundless pretensions even the extravagant pretensions of the man of real magnanimity though when supported by splendid abilities and virtues and above all by good fortune they impose upon the multitude whose applause as he little regards do not impose upon those wise men whose approbation he can only value and whose esteem he is most anxious to acquire he feels that they see through and suspects that they despise his excessive presumption and he often suffers the cruel misfortune of becoming first the jealous and secret and at last the open furious and vindictive enemy of those very persons whose friendship it would have given him the greatest happiness to enjoy with unsuspicious security though our dislike of the proud and vain often disposes us to rank them rather below than above their proper station yet unless we are provoked by some particular and personal impertence we very seldom venture to use them ill in common cases we endeavor for our own ease rather to acquiesce and as well as we can to accommodate ourselves to their folly but to the man who underrates himself unless we have both more discernment and more generosity than belong to the greater part of men we seldom fail to do at least all the injustice which he does to himself and frequently a great deal more he is not only more unhappy in his own feelings than either the proud or the vain but he is much more liable to every sort of ill usage from other people in almost all cases it is better to be a little too proud than in any respect to humble and in the sentiment of self-estimation some degree of excess seems both to the person and to the impartial spectator to be less disagreeable than any degree of defect in this therefore as well as in every other emotion passion and habit the degree that is most agreeable to the impartial spectator is likewise most agreeable to the person himself and according as either the excess or the defect is least offensive to the former so either with one or the other is in proportion at least disagreeable to the latter concerned for our own happiness recommends to us the virtue of prudence concerned for that of other people the virtues of justice and beneficence of which the one restrains us from hurting the other prompts us to promote that happiness independent of any regard either to what are or what ought to be or what upon a certain condition would be the sentiments of other people the first of those three virtues is originally recommended to us by our selfish the other two by our benevolent affections regard to the sentiments of other people however comes afterward both to enforce and to direct the practice of all those virtues and no man during either the whole of his life or that of any considerable part of it ever tried steadily and uniformly in the past of prudence of justice or proper beneficence whose conduct was not principally directed by regard to the sentiments of the supposed impartial spectator of the great inmate of the breast the great judge and arbitre of conduct if in the course of the day we have swerved in any respect from the rules which he prescribes to us if we have either exceeded or relaxed in our frugality if we have either exceeded or relaxed in our industry if through passion or inadvertency we have hurt in any respect the interest or happiness of our neighbor if we have neglected a plain and proper opportunity of promoting that interest and happiness it is this inmate who in the evening calls us to an account for all those emissions and violations and his reproaches often make us blush inwardly both for our folly and inattention to our own happiness and for our still greater indifference and inattention perhaps to that of other people but though the virtues of prudence justice and beneficence may upon different occasions be recommended to us almost equally by two different principles those of self-command are upon most occasions principally and almost entirely recommended to us by one by the sense of propriety by regard to the sentiments of the supposed impartial spectator without the restraint which this principle imposes every passion would upon most occasions rush headlong if I may say so to its own gratification anger would follow the suggestions of its own fury fear those of its own violent agitations regard to no time or place would induce vanity to refrain from the loudest and most impertinent ostentation or voluptuousness from the most open indecent and scandalous indulgence respect for what are or for what ought to be or for what upon a certain condition would be the sentiments of other people is the sole principle which in most occasions overaws all those municious and t