Adam Smith · Complete work
Part I, Section II, Chapter IV
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Of the social passions.
As it is a divided sympathy which renders the whole set of passions just now mentioned, upon most occasions, so ungraceful and disagreeable; so there is another set opposite to these, which a redoubled sympathy renders almost always peculiarly agreeable and becoming. Generosity, humanity, kindness, compassion, mutual friendship and esteem, all the social and benevolent affections, when expressed in the countenance or behaviour, even towards those who are peculiarly connected with ourselves, please the indifferent spectator upon almost every occasion. His sympathy with the person who feels those passions, exactly coincides with his concern for the person who is the object of them. The interest, which, as a man, he is obliged to take in the happiness of this last, enlivens his fellow-feeling with the sentiments of the other, whose emotions are employed about the same object. We have always, therefore, the strongest disposition to sympathize with the benevolent affections. They appear in every respect agreeable to us. We enter into the satisfaction both of the person who feels them, and of the person who is the object of them. For as to be the object of hatred and indignation gives more pain than all the evils which a brave man can fear from his enemies; so there is a satisfaction in the consciousness of being beloved, which, to a person of delicacy and sensibility, is of more importance to happiness than all the advantage which he can expect to derive from it. What character is so detectable as that of one who takes pleasure to sow dissension among friends, and to turn their most tender love into mortal hatred? Yet wherein does the atrocity of this so much abhorred injury consist? Is it in depriving them of the frivolous good offices, which had their friendship continued, they might have expected from one another? It is in depriving them of that friendship itself, in robbing them of each others affections, from which both derived so much satisfaction; it is in disturbing the harmony of their hearts, and putting an end to that happy commerce which had before subsisted between them. These affections, that harmony, this commerce, are felt, not only by the tender and the delicate, but by the rudest vulgar of mankind, to be of more importance to happiness than all the little services which could be expected to flow from them.
The sentiment of love is, in itself, agreeable to the person who feels it. It sooths and composes the breast, seems to favour the vital motions, and to promote the healthful state of the human constitution; and it is rendered still more delightful by the consciousness of the gratitude and satisfaction which it must excite in him who is the object of it. Their mutual regard renders them happy in one another, and sympathy, with this mutual regard, makes them agreeable to every other person. With what pleasure do we look upon a family, through the whole of which reign mutual love and esteem, where the parents and children are companions for one another, without any other difference than what is made by respectful affection on the one side, and kind indulgence on the other; where freedom and fondness, mutual raillery, and mutual kindness, show that no opposition of interest divides the brothers, nor any rivalship of favour sets the sisters at variance, and where every thing presents us with the idea of peace, chearfulness, harmony, and contentment? On the contrary, how uneasy are we made when we go into a house in which jarring contention sets one half of those who dwell in it against the other; where amidst affected smoothness and complaisance, suspicious looks and sudden starts of passion betray the mutual jealousies which burn within them, and which are every moment ready to burst out through all the restraints which the presence of the company imposes?
Those amiable passions, even when they are acknowledged to be excessive, are never regarded with aversion. There is something agreeable even in the weakness of friendship and humanity. The too tender mother, the too indulgent father, the too generous and affectionate friend, may sometimes, perhaps, on account of the softness of their natures, be looked upon with a species of pity, in which, however, there is a mixture of love, but can never be regarded with hatred and aversion, nor even with contempt, unless by the most brutal and worthless of mankind: It is always with concern, with sympathy and kindness, that we blame them for the extravagance of their attachment. There is a helplessness in the character of extreme humanity which more than any thing interests our pity. There is nothing in itself which renders it either ungraceful or disagreeable. We only regret that it is unfit for the world, because the world is unworthy of it, and because it must expose the person who is endowed with it as a prey to the perfidy and ingratitude of insinuating falsehood, and to a thousand pains and uneasinesses, which, of all men, he the least deserves to feel, and which generally too he is, of all men, the least capable of supporting. It is quite otherwise with hatred and resentment. Too violent a propensity to those detestable passions, renders a person the object of universal dread and abhorrence, who, like a wild beast, ought, we think, to be hunted out of all civil society.
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 Social Passions.
Just as divided sympathy usually makes the passions discussed above so graceless and disagreeable, so a different set of passions, opposed to them, almost always becomes especially pleasing and becoming through a doubled sympathy. Generosity, humanity, kindness, compassion, mutual friendship and esteem—all the social and benevolent affections—please a disinterested spectator on nearly every occasion when expressed in face or conduct, even toward those particularly close to us. His sympathy with the person who feels these affections coincides exactly with his concern for the person who receives them. The interest he must take, as one human being, in the latter's happiness strengthens his fellow feeling for the former, whose emotions are directed toward the same end. We are therefore always especially disposed to sympathize with benevolent affections. They please us in every respect. We share the satisfaction of both the person who feels them and the person who receives them. To be the object of hatred and indignation causes more pain than all the injuries a brave person might fear from enemies; likewise, the knowledge of being loved gives someone of delicacy and sensibility more happiness than all the benefits that love may bring. What character could be more detestable than that of someone who delights in sowing discord among friends and turning their tenderest love into mortal hatred? Yet what makes this deeply abhorred injury so atrocious? Is it the loss of the small favors the friends might have done each other had their friendship lasted? No: it is the loss of friendship itself, the theft of each other's affection, which gave both so much satisfaction; it is the disruption of harmony between their hearts, and the end of the happy exchange that once passed between them. Not only the tender and refined but even the roughest people feel that these affections, this harmony, and this exchange matter more to happiness than all the minor services they might have yielded.
Love is pleasant in itself to the person who feels it. It soothes and settles the heart, seems to encourage the motions of life, and to promote bodily health; it becomes even more delightful through awareness of the gratitude and pleasure it must awaken in the person loved. Their mutual regard makes them happy with each other, and our sympathy with that regard makes them pleasing to everyone else. How delighted we are to see a family filled throughout with mutual love and esteem: parents and children who are companions, differing only in the children's respectful affection and the parents' kindly indulgence; brothers whose freedom, fondness, shared teasing, and mutual kindness show no conflicting interests; sisters whose affection shows no rivalry for favor; everything suggesting peace, cheerfulness, harmony, and contentment! By contrast, how uncomfortable we feel in a house where discord sets one half of its inhabitants against the other; where, beneath affected smoothness and courtesy, suspicious glances and sudden flashes of passion betray the jealousies burning within, always ready to break through the restraint imposed by visitors' presence!
These lovable passions are never regarded with aversion, even when we acknowledge that they are excessive. There is something pleasing even in the weakness born of friendship and humanity. An overly tender mother, an overly indulgent father, or an overly generous and affectionate friend may sometimes, because of a gentle nature, be regarded with a kind of pity mixed with love. But none can be viewed with hatred or aversion, or even with contempt, except by the most brutal and worthless people. We always blame their excessive attachment with concern, sympathy, and kindness. Extreme humanity has a vulnerability that engages our pity more than anything else. Nothing about it is inherently graceless or disagreeable. We regret only that it is unsuited to the world because the world does not deserve it, and because it leaves its possessor prey to the treachery and ingratitude of persuasive deceivers, and exposed to countless pains and anxieties that he, of all people, least deserves and is generally least able to bear. Hatred and resentment are quite different. An excessive disposition toward these detestable passions makes someone an object of universal fear and abhorrence, a person who, like a wild animal, should, we think, be driven out of civilized society.
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).
On the social passions.
Our divided sympathy usually makes the passions just discussed unpleasant and unattractive. But another group of passions has the opposite effect: we sympathize with both sides, which makes these passions especially pleasant and proper in nearly every case. Generosity, humanity, kindness, compassion, shared friendship, and esteem are all friendly and benevolent feelings. When someone shows them through their face or behavior, even toward a person close to them, a neutral spectator is almost always pleased. Sympathy with the person expressing these feelings matches the spectator’s concern for the person receiving them. The spectator naturally cares, as one human being for another, about the recipient’s happiness. That concern strengthens sympathy with the giver, whose feelings focus on that same person. So we are always strongly inclined to share benevolent feelings. We find them pleasant in every respect. We share the happiness both of the person who feels them and of the person who receives them. Being hated or resented hurts more than anything a brave person might fear an enemy could do. Likewise, for a sensitive person, knowing they are loved matters more to their happiness than any practical benefit they expect from that love. What kind of person is more hateful than one who enjoys setting friends against each other and turning deep affection into deadly hatred? Yet what makes that injury so terrible? Is it the loss of the small favors those friends might have done each other? No. It is the loss of the friendship itself. Each loses the other’s affection, which brought them both so much pleasure. The harmony between them is broken, and their happy relationship comes to an end. Even the least refined people feel that this affection, harmony, and relationship matter more to happiness than all the little favors that might result from them.
Love feels pleasant to the person who experiences it. It soothes and settles the heart, seems to support the body’s vital functions, and promotes health. It becomes even more delightful when we know that it must bring gratitude and happiness to the person we love. The two people make each other happy through their mutual affection. Our sympathy with that affection makes both of them pleasant to us. How gladly we look at a family in which everyone loves and respects each other! Parents and children enjoy each other’s company, distinguished only by the children’s respectful affection and the parents’ kind indulgence. Their openness, affection, mutual teasing, and kindness show that the brothers are not divided by conflicting interests and the sisters are not competing for favor. Everything suggests peace, cheerfulness, harmony, and contentment. By contrast, how uncomfortable we feel entering a home divided by constant conflict! Half its residents are at odds with the other half. Behind a show of polite friendliness, suspicious looks and sudden bursts of feeling reveal the jealousy burning inside them. It is ready at any moment to break through the restraint imposed by visitors’ presence.
Even when these lovable feelings are admittedly excessive, we never find them hateful. There is something pleasing even in being too generous in friendship and humanity. We may sometimes pity an overly tender mother, an overly indulgent father, or a friend who is too generous and affectionate, because of their gentle nature. But our pity includes affection. We cannot hate or recoil from them, or even look down on them, unless we are among the most brutal and worthless people. When we criticize their excessive attachment, we do so with concern, sympathy, and kindness. Extreme humanity has a vulnerability that particularly moves us to pity. It is not unattractive or unpleasant in itself. We regret only that it is unsuited to the world, because the world does not deserve it. Such humanity leaves its possessor open to the betrayal and ingratitude of persuasive liars, and to countless pains and troubles. No one deserves these less, and often no one is less able to bear them. Hatred and resentment are entirely different. Someone too inclined toward these hateful passions becomes feared and detested by everyone. We think such a person should be driven out of civilized society like a wild animal.