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Part VI, Section II, Chapter III
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Of those systems which make virtue consist in benevolence.
The system which makes virtue consist in benevolence, though I think not so ancient as all of those which I have already given an account of, is, however, of very great antiquity. It seems to have been the doctrine of the greater part of those philosophers who, about and after the age of Augustus, called themselves Eclectics, who pretended to follow chiefly the opinions of Plato and Pythagoras, and who upon that account are commonly known by the name of the later Platonists.
In the divine nature, according to these authors, benevolence or love was the sole principle of action, and directed the exertion of all the other attributes. The wisdom of the Deity was employed in finding out the means for bringing about those ends which his goodness suggested, as his infinite power was exerted to execute them. Benevolence, however, was still the supreme and governing attribute, to which the others were subservient, and from which the whole excellency, or the whole morality, if I may be allowed such an expression, of the divine operations, was ultimately derived. The whole perfection and virtue of the human mind consisted in some resemblance or participation of the divine perfections, and, consequently, in being filled with the same principle of benevolence and love which influenced all the actions of the deity. The actions of men which flowed from this motive were alone truly praise-worthy, or could claim any merit in the sight of the deity. It was by actions of charity and love only that we could imitate, as became us, the conduct of God, that we could express our humble and devout admiration of his infinite perfections, that by fostering in our own minds the same divine principle, we could bring our own affections to a greater resemblance with his holy attributes, and thereby become more proper objects of his love and esteem; till at last we arrived at that immediate converse and communication with the deity to which it was the great object of this philosophy to raise us.
This system, as it was much esteemed by many ancient fathers of the christian church, so after the reformation it was adopted by several divines of the most eminent piety and learning, and of the most amiable manners; particularly, by Dr. Ralph Cudworth, by Dr. Henry More, and by Mr. John Smith of Cambridge. But of all the patrons of this system, ancient or modern, the late Dr. Hutcheson, was undoubtedly beyond all comparison, the most acute, the most distinct, the most philosophical, and what is of the greatest consequence of all, the soberest and most judicious.
That virtue consists in benevolence is a notion supported by many appearances in human nature. It has been observed already that proper benevolence is the most graceful and agreeable of all the affections, that it is recommended to us by a double sympathy, that as its tendency is necessarily beneficent, it is the proper object of gratitude and reward, and that upon all these accounts it appears to our natural sentiments to possess a merit superior to any other. It has been observed too that even the weakness of benevolence are not very disagreeable to us, whereas those of every other passion are always extremely disgusting. Who does not abhor excessive malice, excessive selfishness, or excessive resentment? But the most excessive indulgence even of partial friendship is not so offensive. It is the benevolent passions only which can exert themselves without any regard or attention to propriety, and yet retain something about them which is engaging. There is something pleasing even in mere instinctive good-will which goes on to do good offices without once reflecting whether by this conduct it is the proper object either of blame or approbation. It is not so with the other passions. The moment they are deserted, the moment they are unaccompanied by the sense of propriety, they cease to be agreeable.
As benevolence bestows upon those actions which proceed from it, a beauty superior to all others, so the want of it, and much more the contrary inclination, communicates a peculiar deformity to whatever evidences such a disposition. Pernicious actions are often punishable for no other reason than because they show a want of sufficient attention to the happiness of our neighbour.
Besides all this, Dr. Hutcheson18 observed, that whenever in any action, supposed to proceed from benevolent affections, some other motive had been discovered, our sense of the merit of this action was just so far diminished as this motive was believed to have influenced it. If an action, supposed to proceed, from gratitude, should be discovered to have arisen from an expectation of some new favour, or if what was apprehended to proceed from public spirit, should be found out to have taken its origin from the hope of a pecuniary reward, such a discovery would entirely destroy all notion of merit or praise-worthiness in either of these actions. Since, therefore, the mixture of any selfish motive, like that of a base alloy, diminished or took away altogether the merit which would otherwise have belonged to any action, it was evident, he imagined, that virtue must consist in pure and disinterested benevolence alone.
Footnote 18:
See Inquiry concerning virtue, sect. 1. and 2.
When those actions, on the contrary, which are commonly supposed to proceed from a selfish motive, are discovered to have arisen from a benevolent one, it greatly enhances our sense of their merit. If we believed of any person that he endeavoured to advance his fortune from no other view but that of doing friendly offices, and of making proper returns to his benefactors, we should only love and esteem him the more. And this observation seemed still more to confirm the conclusion, that it was benevolence only which could stamp upon any action the character of virtue.
Last of all, what, he imagined, was an evident proof of the justness of this account of virtue, in all the disputes of casuists concerning the rectitude of conduct, the public good, he observed, was the standard to which they constantly referred; thereby universally acknowledging that whatever tended to promote the happiness of mankind was right and laudable and virtuous, and the contrary, wrong, blameable, and vicious. In the late debates about passive obedience and the right of resistance, the sole point in controversy among men of sense was, whether universal submission would probably be attended with greater evils than temporary insurrections when privileges were invaded. Whether what, upon the whole, tended most to the happiness of mankind, was not also morally good, was never once, he said, made a question.
Since benevolence, therefore, was the only motive which could bestow upon any action the character of virtue, the greater the benevolence which was evidenced by any action, the greater the praise which must belong to it.
Those actions which aimed at the happiness of a great community, as they demonstrated a more enlarged benevolence than those which aimed only at that of a smaller system, so were they, likewise, proportionally the more virtuous. The most virtuous of all affections, therefore, was that which embraced as its object the happiness of all intelligent beings. The lead virtuous, on the contrary, of those to which the character of virtue could in any respect belong, was that which aimed no further than at the happiness of an individual, such as a son, a brother, a friend.
In directing all our actions to promote the greatest possible good, in submitting all inferior affections to the desire of the general happiness of mankind, in regarding ones self but as one of the many, whose prosperity was to be pursued no further than it was consistent with, or conducive to that of the whole, consisted the perfection of virtue.
Self-love was a principle which could never be virtuous in any degree or in any direction. It was vicious whenever it obstructed the general good. When it had no other effect than to make the individual take care of his own happiness, it was merely innocent, and tho’ it deserved no praise, neither ought it to incur any blame. Those benevolent actions which were performed, notwithstanding some strong motive from self-interest, were the more virtuous upon that account. They demonstrated the strength and vigour of the benevolent principle.
Dr. Hutcheson19 was so far from allowing self-love to be in any case a motive of virtuous actions, that even a regard to the pleasure of self-approbation, to the comfortable applause of our own consciences, according to him, diminished the merit of a benevolent action. This was a selfish motive, he thought, which, so far as it contributed to any action, demonstrated the weakness of that pure and disinterested benevolence which could alone stamp upon the conduct of man the character of virtue. In the common judgments of mankind, however, this regard to the approbation of our own minds is so far from being considered as what can in any respect diminish the virtue of any action, that it is rather looked upon as the sole motive which deserves the appellation of virtuous.
Footnote 19:
Inquiry concerning virtue, sect 2. art. 4. also illustrations on the moral sense, sect. 5. last paragraph.
Such is the account given of the nature of virtue in this amiable system, a system which has a peculiar tendency to nourish and support in the human heart the noblest and the most agreeable of all affections, and not only to check the injustice of self-love, but in some measure to discourage that principle altogether, by representing it as what could never reflect any honour upon those who were influenced by it.
As some of the other systems which I have already given an account of, do not sufficiently explain from whence arises the peculiar excellency of the supreme virtue of beneficence, so this system seems to have the contrary defect, of not sufficiently explaining from whence arises our approbation of the inferior virtues of prudence, vigilance, circumspection, temperance, constancy, firmness. The view and aim of our affections, the beneficent and hurtful effects which they tend to produce, are the only qualities at all attended to in this system. Their propriety and impropriety, their suitableness and unsuitableness, to the cause which excites them, are disregarded altogether.
Regard to our own private happiness and interest too, appear upon many occasions very laudable principles of action. The habits of œconomy, industry, discretion, attention, and application of thought, are generally supposed to be cultivated from self-interested motives, and at the same time are apprehended to be very praise-worthy qualities, which deserve the esteem and approbation of every body. The mixture of a selfish motive, it is true, seems often to sully the beauty of those actions which ought to arise from a benevolent affection. The cause of this, however, is not that self-love can never be the motive of a virtuous action, but that the benevolent principle appears in this particular case to want its due degree of strength, and to be altogether unsuitable to its object. The character, therefore, seems evidently imperfect, and upon the whole to deserve blame rather than praise. The mixture of a benevolent motive in an action to which self-love alone ought to be sufficient to prompt us, is not so apt indeed to diminish our sense of its propriety, or of the virtue of the person who performs it. We are not ready to suspect any person of being defective in selfishness. This is by no means the weak side of human nature, or the failing of which we are apt to be suspicious. If we could really believe, however, of any man, that, was it not from a regard to his family and friends, he would not take that proper care of his health, his life, or his fortune, to which self-preservation alone ought to be sufficient to prompt him, it would undoubtedly be a failing, tho’ one of those amiable failings, which render a person rather the object of pity than of contempt or hatred. It would still, however, somewhat diminish the dignity and respectableness of his character. Carelessness and want of œconomy are universally disapproved of, not, however as proceeding from a want of benevolence, but from a want of the proper attention to the objects of self-interest.
Though the standard by which casuists frequently determine what is right or wrong in human conduct, be its tendency to the welfare or disorder of society, it does not follow that a regard to the welfare of society should be the sole virtuous motive of action, but only that, in any competition, it ought to cast the balance against all other motives.
Benevolence may, perhaps, be the sole principle of action in the Deity, and there are several, not improbable, arguments which tend to persuade us that it is so. It is not easy to conceive what other motive an independent and all perfect being, who stands in need of nothing external, and whose happiness is complete in himself, can act from. But whatever may be the case with the Deity, so imperfect a creature as man, the support of whose existence requires so many things external to him, must often act from many other motives. The condition of human nature were peculiarly hard, if those affections, which, by the very nature of our being, ought frequently to influence our conduct, could upon no occasion appear virtuous, or deserve esteem and commendation from any body.
Those three systems, that which places virtue in propriety, that which places it in prudence, and that which makes it consist in benevolence, are the principal accounts which have been given of the nature of virtue. To one or other of them, all the other descriptions of virtue, how different soever they may appear, are easily reducible.
That system which places virtue in obedience to the will of the Deity, may be counted either among those which make it consist in prudence, or among those which make it consist in propriety. When it is asked, why we ought to obey the will of the Deity, this question, which would be impious and absurd in the highest degree, if asked from any doubt that we ought to obey him, can admit but of two different answers. It must either be said that we ought to obey the will of the Deity because he is a being of infinite power, who will reward us eternally if we do so, and punish us eternally if we do otherwise: Or it must be said, that independent of any regard to our own happiness, or to rewards and punishments of any kind, there is a congruity and fitness that a creature should obey its creator, that a limited and imperfect being should submit to one of infinite and incomprehensible perfections. Besides one or other of these two it is impossible to conceive that any other answer can be given to this question. If the first answer be the proper one, virtue consists in prudence, or in the proper pursuit of our own final interest and happiness; since it is upon this account that we are obliged to obey the will of the Deity. If the second answer be the proper one, virtue must consist in propriety, since the ground of our obligation to obedience is the suitableness or congruity of the sentiments of humility and submission to the superiority of the object which excites them.
That system which places virtue in utility coincides too with that which makes it consist in propriety. According to this system all those qualities of the mind which are agreeable or advantageous, either to the person himself or to others, are approved of as virtuous, and the contrary disapproved of as vicious. But the agreeableness or utility of any affection depends upon the degree which it is allowed to subsist in. Every affection is useful when it is confined to a certain degree of moderation, and every affection is disadvantageous when it exceeds the proper bounds. According to this system therefore, virtue consists, not in any one affection, but in the proper degree of all the affections, The only difference between it and that which I have been endeavouring to establish, is, that it makes utility, and not sympathy, or the correspondent affection of the spectator, the natural and original measure of this proper degree.
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.
Of the systems that make virtue consist in benevolence.
The system that makes virtue consist in benevolence, though not, I think, as old as every system I have already described, is nevertheless very ancient. It seems to have been the doctrine of most philosophers who, around and after the age of Augustus, called themselves Eclectics. They claimed chiefly to follow Plato and Pythagoras, and for this reason are commonly known as the later Platonists.
According to these thinkers, benevolence or love was the sole principle of action in the divine nature, guiding the exercise of every other divine attribute. The Deity's wisdom found the means to attain the ends proposed by his goodness, and his infinite power carried them out. Yet benevolence remained the supreme, governing attribute, which the others served and from which all the excellence—or, if I may use the term, all the morality—of divine action ultimately sprang. All the perfection and virtue of the human mind consisted in some likeness to, or share in, the divine perfections. It therefore consisted in being filled with the same benevolence and love that governed every action of the Deity. Only human actions arising from this motive were truly worthy of praise, or could claim merit in the Deity's sight. Only through acts of charity and love could we imitate God's conduct as we should, express our humble and devout admiration of his infinite perfections, and, by cultivating the same divine principle within ourselves, bring our feelings nearer to his holy attributes and become fitter objects of his love and esteem—until at last we attained the direct communion with the Deity to which this philosophy sought above all to raise us.
Many ancient fathers of the Christian church held this system in high regard. After the Reformation, it was adopted by several divines of outstanding piety and learning and most amiable manners, notably Dr. Ralph Cudworth, Dr. Henry More, and Mr. John Smith of Cambridge. But among all its advocates, ancient or modern, the late Dr. Hutcheson was beyond comparison the sharpest, clearest, most philosophical, and, most importantly, the most sober and judicious.
Many features of human nature support the notion that virtue consists in benevolence. We have already seen that proper benevolence is the most graceful and pleasing of all the affections; that it wins our sympathy twice over; that its necessarily beneficent tendency makes it a proper object of gratitude and reward; and that for all these reasons our natural sentiments assign it a merit greater than any other. We have also seen that even benevolence's weaknesses do not much displease us, whereas weaknesses in every other passion are intensely distasteful. Who does not recoil from excessive malice, selfishness, or resentment? Yet even the most excessive indulgence of a partial friendship is less offensive. Benevolent passions alone can act without any regard to propriety and still retain something engaging. Even unreflecting goodwill that does favors without once considering whether its conduct merits blame or approval has something pleasing about it. Other passions are different. The moment the sense of propriety leaves them, the moment it ceases to accompany them, they cease to please.
As benevolence lends the actions arising from it a beauty surpassing all others, so its absence—and still more its opposite—imparts a distinctive ugliness to anything that displays such a disposition. Harmful actions are often punishable for no reason beyond their showing too little concern for our neighbor's happiness.
Besides all this, Dr. Hutcheson observed that whenever an action thought to arise from benevolent feelings proved to have another motive, our sense of its merit declined in proportion to the influence we attributed to that motive. If an action believed to spring from gratitude proved to have sprung from the expectation of a further favor, or one believed to arise from public spirit turned out to have arisen from the hope of a monetary reward, the discovery would destroy all sense of merit or praiseworthiness in either action. Since any admixture of selfish motive, like base metal mixed into precious metal, reduced or wholly removed the merit an action would otherwise have had, it was evident to him that virtue must consist solely in pure, disinterested benevolence. See Inquiry concerning virtue, sections 1 and 2.
Conversely, when actions ordinarily attributed to selfish motives prove to have sprung from benevolence, our sense of their merit increases greatly. If we believed someone sought to improve his fortune only so that he could do favors for friends and repay his benefactors as he ought, we would love and esteem him all the more. This observation seemed to confirm still further that benevolence alone could mark an action as virtuous.
Finally, he thought an obvious proof of this account of virtue lay in the standard to which casuists constantly appealed in their disputes over right conduct: the public good. In doing so, they universally acknowledged that whatever advanced humanity's happiness was right, laudable, and virtuous, and whatever did the opposite was wrong, blameworthy, and vicious. In the recent debates over passive obedience and the right of resistance, the sole question disputed among sensible people was whether universal submission would probably cause greater evils than temporary uprisings when privileges were infringed. Whether what best served the happiness of humanity as a whole was also morally good, he said, was never once in question.
If benevolence was thus the only motive capable of making an action virtuous, the more benevolence an action displayed, the more praise it deserved.
Actions aimed at the happiness of a large community displayed a wider benevolence than those aimed only at a smaller group and were accordingly more virtuous. The most virtuous affection of all, therefore, embraced the happiness of every intelligent being. The least virtuous affection still deserving the name of virtue aimed no further than the happiness of a single person, such as a son, brother, or friend.
Perfect virtue consisted in directing all our actions toward the greatest possible good, subordinating every lesser affection to the desire for humanity's general happiness, and regarding ourselves as only one among many, whose welfare should be pursued only insofar as it was consistent with, or helped advance, the welfare of all.
Self-love was a principle that could never be virtuous, in any degree or direction. It was vicious whenever it impeded the general good. When it merely led a person to look after his own happiness, it was innocent, meriting neither praise nor blame. Benevolent actions done in the face of strong self-interested motives were more virtuous for that reason: they showed the benevolent principle's strength and vigor.
Dr. Hutcheson was so far from accepting self-love as a possible motive for virtuous actions that, for him, even concern for the pleasure of approving our own conduct—the comforting applause of our conscience—lessened the merit of a benevolent act. In his view this was a selfish motive: insofar as it contributed to an action, it showed the weakness of the pure, disinterested benevolence that alone could mark human conduct as virtuous. In ordinary human judgment, however, concern for our own mind's approval is so far from diminishing the virtue of an action that it is regarded rather as the only motive worthy of being called virtuous. See Inquiry concerning virtue, section 2, article 4, and Illustrations on the moral sense, section 5, last paragraph.
Such is the account of virtue given by this amiable system. It has a special tendency to nourish the noblest and most pleasing affection in the human heart, and not only to restrain the injustice of self-love but, in some measure, to discourage self-love altogether, portraying it as a principle that can never bring honor to those moved by it.
Some systems I have already described fail to explain adequately the distinctive excellence of beneficence, the supreme virtue. This system seems to have the opposite failing: it does not adequately explain why we approve the lesser virtues of prudence, vigilance, circumspection, temperance, constancy, and firmness. It considers only the aims of our affections and the helpful or harmful effects they tend to produce. It takes no account at all of their propriety or impropriety, or how well or poorly they suit the cause that arouses them.
Concern for our own private happiness and interests, moreover, often seems a highly commendable principle of action. Habits of thrift, industry, discretion, attentiveness, and sustained thought are generally believed to arise from self-interested motives, and yet are regarded as praiseworthy qualities deserving everyone's esteem and approval. A selfish motive can indeed seem to mar the beauty of actions that ought to arise from benevolent feeling. The reason, however, is not that self-love can never motivate a virtuous action; it is that benevolence in this particular case seems too weak, quite unequal to its object. The person's character therefore seems clearly imperfect and, on balance, deserving blame rather than praise. By contrast, adding a benevolent motive to an action that self-love alone should prompt does not so readily diminish our sense of its propriety or of the actor's virtue. We are not inclined to suspect anyone of a deficiency of self-interest. That is hardly human nature's weak point, or a failing we ordinarily watch for. But if we could truly believe that a man would not take proper care of his health, life, or fortune unless he cared for his family and friends—though self-preservation alone ought to move him—it would undoubtedly be a failing. It would be one of those amiable failings that invite pity rather than contempt or hatred, but it would still somewhat diminish the dignity and respectability of his character. Carelessness and failure to manage one's affairs are universally disapproved, not for showing too little benevolence, but for showing too little proper attention to self-interest.
Although casuists often judge the rightness or wrongness of human conduct by whether it tends to help or harm society, it does not follow that concern for society's welfare must be the sole virtuous motive for action. It follows only that, whenever motives conflict, that concern ought to outweigh the rest.
Benevolence may perhaps be the sole principle of action in the Deity; several arguments, not without force, suggest that it is. It is hard to imagine what other motive could move an independent, all-perfect being who needs nothing beyond himself and is completely happy in himself. But whatever is true of the Deity, human beings are imperfect creatures who need so many things outside themselves merely to survive, and must often act from many other motives. Our condition would be peculiarly harsh if feelings that ought, by our very nature, often to guide our conduct could never appear virtuous or deserve anyone's esteem and praise.
These three systems—one placing virtue in propriety, another in prudence, and the third in benevolence—are the principal accounts of the nature of virtue. Every other description of virtue, however different it may seem, can readily be reduced to one or another of them.
The system that places virtue in obedience to the Deity's will can be counted either among systems of prudence or among those of propriety. Why ought we to obey the Deity's will? The question would be impious and absurd in the highest degree if it expressed doubt about whether we ought to obey him, but it permits only two answers. Either we ought to obey because he is infinitely powerful and will reward us eternally if we do and punish us eternally if we do not; or, independently of any concern for our happiness or for rewards and punishments of any kind, it is fitting that a creature obey its creator, that a limited and imperfect being submit to one of infinite and incomprehensible perfections. No third answer to this question is conceivable. If the first is right, virtue consists in prudence, the proper pursuit of our ultimate interest and happiness, since this is why we are bound to obey the Deity's will. If the second is right, virtue consists in propriety, since our obligation to obey rests on the fitness of humility and submission toward the superior being who inspires them.
The system that places virtue in utility likewise coincides with the system that places it in propriety. It approves as virtuous every quality of mind that is pleasing or advantageous to its possessor or to others, and disapproves the opposite qualities as vicious. But whether any affection is pleasing or useful depends on the degree to which it is allowed to operate. Every affection is useful within certain moderate bounds, and every affection becomes harmful when it exceeds its proper limits. Virtue according to this system therefore consists not in any single affection, but in the proper degree of every affection. Its only difference from the system I have sought to establish is that it treats utility, rather than sympathy or the spectator's corresponding feeling, as the natural and original measure of this proper degree.
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).
Systems that make virtue a matter of benevolence.
The idea that virtue consists of benevolence is very old, though I do not think it is as old as all the systems I have already described. It seems to have been held by most of the philosophers who called themselves Eclectics around and after the time of Augustus. They claimed to follow mainly Plato and Pythagoras, and for that reason they are commonly known as the later Platonists.
According to these thinkers, benevolence or love was God's only motive for action. It guided the use of all his other attributes. God's wisdom found the means to achieve the ends proposed by his goodness, and his infinite power carried them out. Benevolence remained the supreme, governing attribute. The others served it. All the excellence, or, if I may say so, the morality of God's actions ultimately came from it. The entire perfection and virtue of the human mind lay in resembling or sharing in God's perfections. It therefore meant being filled with the same benevolence and love that guided all God's actions. Only human actions arising from this motive were truly praiseworthy or had any merit in God's sight. Only through acts of kindness and love could we imitate God as we should and express our humble, devout admiration for his infinite perfections. By developing that same divine principle in ourselves, we could bring our feelings closer to his holy attributes and become more deserving of his love and esteem. Finally, we could reach the direct conversation and communion with God that this philosophy sought above all to make possible.
Many early fathers of the Christian church valued this system. After the Reformation, several exceptionally devout, learned, and likable theologians adopted it, especially Dr. Ralph Cudworth, Dr. Henry More, and Mr. John Smith of Cambridge. Yet among all its ancient and modern defenders, the late Dr. Hutcheson was by far the most perceptive, clearest, and most philosophical. Most importantly, he was also the most sober and sound in his judgment.
Many features of human nature support the idea that virtue consists of benevolence. I have already noted that appropriate benevolence is the most graceful and pleasant of all feelings. A double sympathy recommends it to us. Because it naturally does good, it rightly earns gratitude and reward. For all these reasons, we naturally feel it has greater merit than any other feeling. I have also noted that even the weaknesses of benevolence do not greatly offend us, while the weaknesses of every other passion disgust us. Who does not detest excessive malice, selfishness, or resentment? Yet even too much loyalty to a particular friend is less offensive. Only benevolent feelings can be expressed without any attention to propriety and still retain something appealing. There is something pleasant even in instinctive goodwill that helps people without once asking whether it deserves blame or approval. Other passions are different. As soon as they lose a sense of propriety, they cease to be pleasant.
Benevolence gives actions arising from it a beauty greater than any other. Lacking it, and still more having the opposite inclination, makes any action that shows such a disposition especially ugly. Harmful actions are often punishable for no reason except that they reveal insufficient concern for our neighbor's happiness.
Dr. Hutcheson also observed that if we discover another motive behind an action we thought benevolent, our sense of its merit falls in proportion to that motive's influence. Suppose we thought someone acted from gratitude but found that they hoped for another favor. Or suppose we thought someone acted from concern for the public but found that they hoped for a cash reward. Either discovery would completely destroy our sense that the action had merit or deserved praise. A selfish motive mixed into an action is like inferior metal mixed into a precious one: it reduces or destroys the merit the action would otherwise have. Hutcheson therefore thought it clear that virtue must consist solely of pure, unselfish benevolence.
See Inquiry concerning Virtue, sections 1 and 2.
Conversely, when actions usually thought selfish turn out to have benevolent motives, we think much more highly of them. Suppose someone sought to make a fortune only so that he could do favors for friends and properly repay those who had helped him. We would love and esteem him more for that. This observation seemed to strengthen the conclusion that only benevolence could make an action virtuous.
Finally, Hutcheson saw another clear proof of his account of virtue. He observed that when moral thinkers disagreed over whether conduct was right, they consistently appealed to the public good. They thereby generally acknowledged that whatever advanced human happiness was right, praiseworthy, and virtuous, while the opposite was wrong, blameworthy, and vicious. In recent debates about passive obedience and the right to resist, sensible people disputed only whether always submitting to authority would probably cause more harm than occasional uprisings when rights were violated. According to him, no one even questioned whether the course that best served human happiness overall was morally good.
If benevolence was the only motive that could make an action virtuous, the more benevolence an action showed, the more praise it deserved.
Actions aimed at the happiness of a large community showed a broader benevolence than actions aimed only at a smaller group. They were virtuous in proportion to that greater scope. The most virtuous feeling was therefore one directed at the happiness of every intelligent being. The least virtuous feeling that could still count as virtue was directed no further than the happiness of one person, such as a son, brother, or friend.
Perfect virtue meant directing all our actions toward the greatest possible good. We would subordinate every narrower affection to a desire for the general happiness of humanity. We would see ourselves as just one among many and pursue our own well-being only as far as it was compatible with, or helped, the well-being of all.
Self-love, in this account, could never be virtuous to any degree or in any form. It was vicious when it interfered with the general good. When it simply led a person to take care of their own happiness, it was innocent but deserved neither praise nor blame. Benevolent acts performed in the face of a strong motive of self-interest were more virtuous for that reason. They showed the benevolent principle's strength.
Dr. Hutcheson went so far in refusing to treat self-love as a virtuous motive that he thought even wanting the pleasure of approving of ourselves, or the comfort of a clear conscience, reduced the merit of a benevolent action. To him this was selfish. To the extent that it influenced an action, it showed a weakness in the pure and unselfish benevolence that alone could make human conduct virtuous. Ordinary people, however, do not think that wanting our own approval reduces the virtue of an action at all. Rather, they see it as the only motive that truly deserves to be called virtuous.
Inquiry concerning Virtue, section 2, article 4; also Illustrations on the Moral Sense, section 5, last paragraph.
This is how that appealing system explains the nature of virtue. It is especially suited to nurturing the noblest and most pleasant feelings in the human heart. It not only checks the injustice that self-love can cause but also somewhat discourages self-love altogether by denying that it could ever bring honor to those it moves.
Some of the other systems I have described fail to explain adequately why beneficence, the highest virtue, is especially excellent. This system has the opposite flaw. It fails to explain adequately why we approve of the lesser virtues of prudence, vigilance, carefulness, temperance, constancy, and firmness. It considers only what our feelings aim at and whether they tend to help or harm others. It entirely ignores whether those feelings are proper or improper, and whether they fit the cause that arouses them.
Concern for our own happiness and interests also often seems like a very praiseworthy motive. People generally think thrift, hard work, discretion, attentiveness, and careful thought are developed for self-interested reasons. At the same time, they consider these admirable qualities that deserve everyone's esteem and approval. True, adding a selfish motive often tarnishes the beauty of an action that should spring from benevolence. But this is not because self-love can never motivate virtue. It is because the benevolent motive in that particular case is too weak for its object. The person's character then clearly seems imperfect and, on the whole, deserving of blame rather than praise. By contrast, adding a benevolent motive to an action that self-love alone should be enough to prompt does not usually make the action seem less proper or its doer less virtuous. We are not inclined to suspect anyone of having too little self-interest. That is hardly the weak side of human nature or a failing we look for. Suppose, however, that we truly believed a man would neglect his health, life, or fortune unless he cared for his family and friends. His instinct for self-preservation alone should have been enough to prompt him to care for these things. This would certainly be a failing, though a lovable one that would inspire pity rather than contempt or hatred. It would still somewhat reduce the dignity and respectability of his character. Carelessness and a lack of thrift are universally disapproved of, not because they reveal too little benevolence, but because they reveal too little attention to one's own interests.
Moral thinkers often judge whether conduct is right or wrong by whether it helps or harms society. But it does not follow that concern for society must be the only virtuous motive. It follows only that when motives conflict, society's welfare should outweigh all the others.
Benevolence may be God's only motive for action. Several plausible arguments suggest that it is. It is hard to imagine any other motive for an independent, completely perfect being who needs nothing outside himself and has complete happiness in himself. But whatever is true of God, an imperfect creature like a human being needs many things outside itself simply to stay alive. Such a creature must often act from other motives. Human life would be especially harsh if the feelings that our nature requires us to act on frequently could never be virtuous or worthy of anyone's esteem and praise.
The three systems that locate virtue in propriety, in prudence, and in benevolence are the main accounts of virtue. All other accounts, however different they seem, can easily be placed under one or another of these.
A system that locates virtue in obeying God's will can be placed either with those that make virtue a matter of prudence or with those that make it a matter of propriety. Asking why we should obey God would be deeply irreverent and absurd if the question implied any doubt that we should. But the question allows only two answers. We can say we should obey God because his power is infinite and he will reward obedience forever and punish disobedience forever. Or we can say that, quite apart from our own happiness or any reward or punishment, it is fitting for a creature to obey its creator and for a limited, imperfect being to submit to a being whose perfections are infinite and beyond our understanding. No other answer seems possible. If the first is right, virtue is prudence: the proper pursuit of our ultimate interests and happiness. That is why we must obey God. If the second is right, virtue is propriety. Our duty to obey then rests on the fact that humility and submission are fitting responses to the greatness of the being who inspires them.
The system that places virtue in usefulness also agrees with the system that places it in propriety. It approves as virtuous every quality of mind that is pleasant or helpful to the person who has it or to others. It condemns opposite qualities as vicious. But whether any feeling is pleasant or useful depends on how strongly we let it operate. Every feeling is useful within reasonable limits, and every feeling becomes harmful when it exceeds them. So in this system, virtue lies not in any single feeling but in the proper degree of every feeling. The only difference from the system I have tried to establish is that it treats usefulness, rather than sympathy or the corresponding feeling of a spectator, as the natural and original measure of that proper degree.