Adam Smith · Complete work
Part IV, Chapter II, 1
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Of the beauty which the appearance of utility bestows upon the characters and actions of men; and how far the perception of this beauty may be regarded as one of the original principles of approbation.
The characters of men, as well as the contrivances of art, or the institutions of civil government, may be fitted either to promote or to disturb the happiness both of the individual and of the society. The prudent, the equitable, the active, resolute, and sober character promises prosperity and satisfaction, both to the person himself and to every one connected with him. The rash, the insolent, the slothful, effeminate, and voluptuous, on the contrary, forebodes ruin to the individual, and misfortune to all who have any thing to do with him. The first turn of mind has at least all the beauty which can belong to the most perfect machine that was ever invented for promoting the most agreeable purpose: and the second all the deformity of the most awkward and clumsy contrivance. What institution of government could tend so much to promote the happiness of mankind as the general prevalence of wisdom and virtue? All government is but an imperfect remedy for the deficiency of these. Whatever beauty, therefore, can belong to civil government upon account of its utility, must in a far superior degree belong to these. On the contrary, what civil policy can be so ruinous and destructive as the vices of men? The fatal effects of bad government arise from nothing, but that it does not sufficiently guard against the mischiefs which human wickedness gives occasion to.
This beauty and deformity which characters appear to derive from their usefulness or inconveniency, are apt to strike, in a peculiar manner, those who consider, in an abstract and philosophical light, the actions and conduct of mankind. When a philosopher goes to examine why humanity is approved of, or cruelty condemned, he does not always form to himself, in a very clear and distinct manner, the conception of any one particular action either of cruelty or of humanity, but is commonly contented with the vague and indeterminate idea which the general names of those qualities suggest to him. But it is in particular instances only that the propriety or impropriety, the merit or demerit of actions is very obvious and discernible. It is only when particular examples are given that we perceive distinctly either the concord or disagreement between our own affections and those of the agent, or feel a social gratitude arise towards him in the one case, or a sympathetic resentment in the other. When we consider virtue and vice in an abstract and general manner, the qualities by which they excite these several sentiments seem in a great measure to disappear, and the sentiments themselves become less obvious and discernible. On the contrary, the happy effects of the one and the fatal consequences of the other seem then to rise up to the view, and as it were to stand out and distinguish themselves from all the other qualities of either.
The same ingenious and agreeable author who first explained why utility pleases, has been so struck with this view of things, as to resolve our whole approbation of virtue into a perception of this species of beauty which results from the appearance of utility. No qualities of the mind, he observes, are approved of as virtuous, but such as are useful or agreeable either to the person himself or to others; and no qualities are disapproved of as vicious but such as have a contrary tendency. And Nature, indeed, seems to have so happily adjusted our sentiments of approbation and disapprobation, to the conveniency both of the individual and of the society, that after the strictest examination it will be found, I believe, that this is universally the case. But still I affirm, that it is not the view of this utility or hurtfulness which is either the first or principal source of our approbation and disapprobation. These sentiments are no doubt enhanced and enlivened by the perception of the beauty or deformity which results from this utility or hurtfulness. But still, I say, they are originally and essentially different from this perception.
For first of all, it seems impossible that the approbation of virtue should be a sentiment of the same kind with that by which we approve of a convenient and well contrived building, or that we should have no other reason for praising a man than that for which we commend a chest of drawers.
And secondly, it will be found, upon examination, that the usefulness of any disposition of mind is seldom the first ground of our approbation; and that the sentiment of approbation always involves in it a sense of propriety quite distinct from the perception of utility. We may observe this with regard to all the qualities which are approved of as virtuous, both those which, according to this system, are originally valued as useful to ourselves, as well as those which are esteemed on account of their usefulness to others.
The qualities most useful to ourselves are, first of all, superior reason and understanding, by which we are capable of discerning the remote consequences of all our actions, and of foreseeing the advantage or detriment which is likely to result from them: and secondly, self-command, by which we are enabled to abstain from present pleasure or to endure present pain, in order to obtain a greater pleasure or to avoid a greater pain in some future time. In the union of those two qualities consists the virtue of prudence, of all the virtues that which is most useful to the individual.
With regard to the first of those qualities, it has been observed on a former occasion, that superior reason and understanding are originally approved of as just and right and accurate, and not merely as useful or advantageous. It is in the abstruser sciences, particularly in the higher parts of mathematics, that the greatest and most admired exertions of human reason have been displayed. But the utility of those sciences, either to the individual or to the public, is not very obvious, and to prove it requires a discussion which is not always very easily comprehended. It was not, therefore, their utility which first recommended them to the public admiration. This quality was but little insisted upon, till it became necessary to make some reply to the reproaches of those, who, having themselves no taste for such sublime discoveries, endeavoured to depreciate them as useless.
That self-command, in the same manner, by which we restrain our present appetites, in order to gratify them more fully upon another occasion, is approved of, as much under the aspect of propriety, as under that of utility. When we act in this manner, the sentiments which influence our conduct seem exactly to coincide with those of the spectator. The spectator does not feel the felicitations of our present appetites. To him the pleasure which we are to enjoy a week hence, or a year hence, is just as interesting as that which we are to enjoy this moment. When for the sake of the present, therefore, we sacrifice the future, our conduct appears to him absurd and extravagant in the highest degree, and he cannot enter into the principles which influence it. On the contrary, when we abstain from present pleasure, in order to secure greater pleasure to come, when we act as if the remote object interests us as much as that which immediately presses upon the senses, as our affections exactly correspond with his own, he cannot fail to approve of our behaviour: and as he knows from experience, how few are capable of this self-command, he looks upon our conduct with a considerable degree of wonder and admiration. Hence arises that eminent esteem with which all men naturally regard a steady perseverance in the practice of frugality, industry, and application, though directed to no other purpose than the acquisition of fortune. The resolute firmness of the person who acts in this manner, and in order to obtain a great though remote advantage, not only gives up all present pleasures, but endures the greatest labour both of mind and body, necessarily commands our approbation. That view of his interest and happiness which appears to regulate his conduct, exactly tallies with the idea which we naturally form of it. There is the most perfect correspondence between his sentiments and our own, and at the same time, from our experience of the common weakness of human nature, it is a correspondence which we could not reasonably have expected. We not only approve, therefore, but in some measure admire his conduct, and think it worthy of a considerable degree of applause. It is the consciousness of this merited approbation and esteem which is alone capable of supporting the agent in this tenour of conduct. The pleasure which we are to enjoy ten years hence interests us so little in comparison with that which we may enjoy to-day, the passion which the first excites, is naturally so weak in comparison with that violent emotion which the second is apt to give occasion to, that one could never be any balance to the other, unless it was supported by the sense of propriety, by the consciousness that we merited the esteem and approbation of every body, by acting in the one way, and that we became the proper objects of their contempt and derision by behaving in the other.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete sixth-edition English text of all parts (the appended Dissertation on the Origin of Languages is not included) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
On the beauty that the appearance of utility lends to human character and action, and how far the perception of this beauty may be considered an original principle of approbation.
Human characters, like works of art or institutions of government, may be suited either to advance or to disturb the happiness of individuals and society alike. A prudent, fair-minded, active, resolute, and temperate character promises prosperity and satisfaction both to its possessor and to everyone connected with him. A rash, arrogant, idle, weak, and pleasure-loving character, by contrast, foretells ruin for the individual and misfortune for all who deal with him. The first disposition has at least all the beauty that could belong to the most perfect machine ever devised for the most agreeable purpose; the second has all the ugliness of a clumsy and ill-designed contrivance. What form of government could do more for human happiness than the general prevalence of wisdom and virtue? All government is merely an imperfect remedy for their absence. Whatever beauty civil government possesses by virtue of its usefulness must belong to wisdom and virtue in a far higher degree. Conversely, what policy of government could prove as ruinous and destructive as human vice? The disastrous effects of bad government arise solely from its failure to guard adequately against the harms that human wickedness occasions.
The beauty or ugliness that character seems to acquire from its usefulness or harmfulness is especially striking to those who consider human action and conduct in the abstract light of philosophy. When a philosopher asks why humanity wins approval or cruelty condemnation, he does not always form a clear and distinct conception of any particular humane or cruel act. He is commonly content with the vague, indefinite idea suggested by the general names of those qualities. Yet it is only in particular cases that the propriety or impropriety, the merit or demerit, of actions becomes clearly visible. Only when we are given concrete examples do we distinctly perceive the agreement or disagreement between our own feelings and those of the agent, or feel sympathetic gratitude toward him in one case and sympathetic resentment in the other. When we consider virtue and vice in general and abstract terms, the qualities by which they awaken these several sentiments seem largely to disappear, and the sentiments themselves become less apparent. Their consequences, on the other hand—the happy effects of virtue and the fatal effects of vice—then come into view, standing out, as it were, from every other quality of either.
The same ingenious and engaging author who first explained why utility pleases was so impressed by this perspective that he traced our entire approbation of virtue to the perception of the beauty arising from apparent utility. No mental qualities, he observes, win approval as virtues unless they are useful or agreeable to their possessor or to others; and none are condemned as vices unless they tend toward the opposite. Indeed, nature seems to have fitted our sentiments of approbation and disapprobation so well to the welfare of individuals and society that, upon the closest examination, this will, I believe, prove universally true. Nevertheless, I maintain that the perception of usefulness or harm is neither the first nor the principal source of our approval and disapproval. The beauty or ugliness that arises from usefulness or harm doubtless strengthens and enlivens these sentiments. But the sentiments themselves, I insist, are originally and essentially distinct from that perception.
First, it seems impossible that approving virtue should be the same sort of feeling as approving a convenient, well-designed building, or that we should praise a human being for no other reason than we commend a chest of drawers.
Second, examination will show that the usefulness of a disposition is seldom the first ground of our approval, and that approbation always involves a sense of propriety wholly distinct from the perception of utility. We can see this in every quality approved as virtuous: those prized, according to this theory, for their usefulness to ourselves as well as those esteemed for their usefulness to others.
The qualities most useful to ourselves are, first, superior reason and understanding, which enable us to discern the distant consequences of our actions and foresee the benefit or harm likely to result; and second, self-command, which enables us to forgo present pleasure or bear present pain for a greater pleasure or the avoidance of greater pain in the future. The union of these two qualities constitutes prudence, the virtue most useful to the individual.
Concerning the first quality, I have observed before that superior reason and understanding originally win approval as sound, right, and accurate, not merely as useful or advantageous. The greatest and most admired exercises of human reason have appeared in the more difficult sciences, particularly the higher reaches of mathematics. But the usefulness of those sciences, whether to the individual or the public, is hardly obvious; proving it requires an argument not always easy to follow. Their utility, then, was not what first won them public admiration. Little stress was placed upon it until some answer was needed to critics who, having no taste for such sublime discoveries themselves, sought to disparage them as useless.
Likewise, the self-command by which we restrain our present appetites so that we may satisfy them more fully on another occasion wins approval for its propriety no less than for its usefulness. When we act in this way, the feelings guiding our conduct seem to coincide exactly with those of the spectator. The spectator does not feel the urgent entreaties of our present appetites. To him, the pleasure we may enjoy a week or a year from now matters just as much as the pleasure we may enjoy at this instant. When we sacrifice the future for the present, our conduct therefore strikes him as supremely absurd and extravagant, and he cannot share the motives behind it. When, on the contrary, we forgo present pleasure to secure a greater pleasure to come, acting as though the distant object interests us as much as the one immediately pressing on our senses, our feelings correspond exactly to his own and he cannot fail to approve our conduct. Knowing from experience how few people possess such self-command, he also regards it with considerable wonder and admiration. Hence the high esteem in which everyone naturally holds steadfast frugality, industry, and diligence, even when their only aim is to acquire a fortune. A person who, for a great but distant advantage, resolutely gives up every present pleasure and endures the hardest labor of mind and body necessarily commands our approval. His understanding of his own interest and happiness agrees exactly with the understanding we naturally form of them. His sentiments and ours correspond perfectly; yet, knowing the ordinary weakness of human nature, we could hardly have expected such correspondence. We therefore not only approve his conduct but admire it to some degree, and think it worthy of considerable praise. Only consciousness of deserving this approval and esteem can sustain him in such a course of conduct. The pleasure available ten years from now interests us so little beside what we might enjoy today, and the passion aroused by the first is naturally so weak beside the violent emotion stirred by the second, that the one could never counterbalance the other unless reinforced by a sense of propriety: by the awareness that acting in one way earns everyone's esteem and approval, while acting in the other makes us proper objects of their contempt and ridicule.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the complete sixth-edition English text of all parts (the appended Dissertation on the Origin of Languages is not included).
How the appearance of usefulness makes people's characters and actions seem beautiful, and how far seeing this beauty is one of the original reasons we approve of them.
People's characters, like works of art and institutions of government, can either help or harm the happiness of individuals and society. A prudent, fair, energetic, determined, and sober person promises well-being and satisfaction both for themselves and for everyone connected with them. A rash, arrogant, lazy, weak, and pleasure-seeking person, by contrast, promises ruin for themselves and trouble for everyone who deals with them. The first kind of character is at least as beautiful as the best machine ever designed for a pleasant purpose. The second is as ugly as the most awkward, clumsy device. What system of government could help humanity more than widespread wisdom and virtue? Government is only an imperfect remedy for the lack of these qualities. So any beauty that government gains from its usefulness must belong to wisdom and virtue to a much greater degree. Conversely, what political arrangement could be as destructive as people's vices? Bad government has disastrous effects only because it fails to protect us sufficiently against the harm human wickedness causes.
The beauty or ugliness that characters seem to gain from being useful or harmful is especially striking to people who think about human conduct in general, philosophical terms. When a philosopher asks why we approve of humanity or condemn cruelty, they do not always picture a specific humane or cruel act clearly. They are often satisfied with the vague idea suggested by the general names of these qualities. Yet the propriety or impropriety, the merit or demerit, of actions is clearly visible only in particular cases. Only with concrete examples can we clearly see whether our feelings agree with the agent's feelings. Only then do we feel grateful toward the agent in one case or share another person's resentment toward the agent in the other. When we consider virtue and vice in the abstract, the qualities that produce these feelings largely fade from view. The feelings themselves become less clear. Instead, virtue's happy results and vice's disastrous consequences stand out from their other qualities.
The same perceptive and engaging writer who first explained why usefulness pleases us was so impressed by this idea that he traced all our approval of virtue to the beauty we see in apparent usefulness. He observes that we call mental qualities virtues only when they are useful or agreeable to the person who has them or to others. We call qualities vices only when they tend to do the opposite. Indeed, nature seems to have fitted our approval and disapproval to the interests of individuals and society so well that, I believe, careful examination will find this true in every case. But seeing whether a quality is useful or harmful is neither the first nor the main source of our approval and disapproval. Certainly, seeing the beauty or ugliness that follows from its usefulness or harmfulness strengthens and sharpens these feelings. Even so, these feelings begin as something essentially different from that perception.
First, surely approving of virtue cannot be the same sort of feeling as approving of a convenient, well-designed building. Surely we do not praise a person for exactly the same reason we praise a chest of drawers.
Second, examination shows that the usefulness of a disposition is rarely our first reason for approving of it. Approval always involves a sense of propriety distinct from seeing its usefulness. We can see this in every quality approved as a virtue: those that this theory says we value for being useful to ourselves and those valued for being useful to others.
The qualities most useful to ourselves are, first, excellent reasoning and understanding. They let us recognize the long-term consequences of our actions and foresee their likely benefits or harms. Second comes self-command. It lets us give up pleasure now or endure pain now to gain more pleasure or avoid more pain later. Together, these two qualities make up prudence, the virtue most useful to the individual.
As noted earlier, we initially approve of excellent reasoning and understanding because they are correct, sound, and accurate, not just useful or advantageous. The most remarkable and admired uses of human reason have appeared in the more difficult sciences, especially advanced mathematics. But it is not obvious how these sciences benefit individuals or the public. Proving their usefulness requires an argument that is not always easy to understand. So their usefulness was not what first won them public admiration. People hardly stressed that quality until they needed to answer critics who had no taste for such great discoveries and tried to dismiss them as useless.
Likewise, we approve of the self-command with which we hold back our present desires so that we can satisfy them more fully later. We approve of it for its propriety as well as its usefulness. When we act this way, the feelings guiding us seem to agree exactly with the spectator's. A spectator does not feel our present desires pressing on us. To the spectator, a pleasure we will enjoy in a week or a year is just as interesting as one we will enjoy right now. If we sacrifice the future for the present, then, our conduct looks extremely foolish and excessive to the spectator. They cannot share the feelings behind it. But suppose we give up present pleasure to secure greater pleasure later. We act as though the distant goal matters as much to us as what immediately appeals to our senses. Our feelings then agree exactly with the spectator's, and they cannot help approving of our behavior. Experience has shown them how few people can exercise such self-command, so they also regard us with considerable wonder and admiration. This is why people naturally hold steady thrift, hard work, and diligence in such high esteem, even when their only purpose is to make a fortune. Someone determined to gain a great but distant benefit may give up every immediate pleasure and endure the hardest mental and physical work. That determination necessarily wins our approval. Their view of their own interests and happiness matches our natural view of them exactly. Their feelings agree perfectly with ours, although common human weakness made such agreement more than we could reasonably expect. We therefore not only approve of the conduct but admire it to some extent and consider it worthy of real praise. Only an awareness that they deserve this approval and esteem can keep someone acting this way. A pleasure ten years from now matters so little to us beside a pleasure available today that the desire for the first is naturally much weaker than the intense feeling stirred by the second. The first could never outweigh the second without support from a sense of propriety: the awareness that acting one way earns everyone's esteem and approval, while acting the other way makes us deserving objects of their contempt and ridicule.