the virtuous regulate their conduct; and every crime that is unpunished tends to destroy the strongest barrier which human society can oppose to vice. But such remote and contingent results of actions, though they exert a powerful influence on our moral sentiments, do<xxviii> not affect us equally with their more direct and obvious effects. We enter more readily into what is immediately present to us, than into general and distant consequences, which it requires much experience and attention to discover, and some effort of imagination to delineate. Existing and present happiness makes a lively impression; future and contingent utility is more faintly and obscurely felt.
Although the system of utility thus accounts for much of our moral sentiments, Mr. Millar was convinced, that, by itself, it could afford no satisfactory solution of many difficulties suggested by the experience of mankind. The sentiment of approbation arising from utility seems cold and languid, when compared with the warm burst of applause sometimes excited by a virtuous action; an applause, too, which bears no proportion to that experience and knowledge, which might enable the spectator to grasp all the distant consequences of the action, but frequently is most enthusiastic in the young and ignorant. Nor does the degree, in which we approve of the different classes of virtues,12 correspond to the respective degrees of utility; Prudence is, in most situations, a more useful, though certainly a less admired quality, than Courage; and Justice, the most essential of all the vir-<xxix>tues to human welfare, meets with less rapturous applause than irregular, and perhaps thoughtless, Generosity.
What was thus defective in the theory of utility seemed to Mr. Millar, in a great measure, to be supplied, by the systems which found our approbation of virtue on the sentiment of Propriety. We approve of such actions as we are led to expect from the particular circumstances in which the agent is placed, of such as appear to us agreeable to the general standard of human nature; and, as any remarkable deviation from the ordinary figure of the human body is disgusting, so are we displeased with any remarkable deviation from the constitution of the human mind. These sentiments of approbation and dislike have, by some authors, been referred to the influence of Custom; but they seem too steady and regular in their operations, to be the offspring of what is so very capricious. It is true that custom may bestow a higher applause on particular classes of virtues than, in themselves, they deserve; that it may diminish the abhorrence of certain vices, by rendering them objects of more cursory observation; that it may even reconcile us to flagitious crimes, which, from particular circumstances, we have associated with some of the higher<xxx> virtues; but all such effects of custom are merely to modify, and that in a smaller degree than is usually apprehended, the other sentiments of moral approbation springing from more regular sources.
Dr. Smith has given a most ingenious and eloquent account of our sentiments of propriety, which he derives from the pleasure of Sympathy with the feelings of the agent.13 He has shewn, in the most satisfactory manner, that the perception of the coincidence of our own sentiments with those of others, is always attended with an exquisite enjoyment; and that the appearance of any repugnance between our feelings and those of our fellow-men is productive of disgust. Not only is this true with regard to moral sentiment, but in every taste, opinion, and emotion. Hence the charms of pure and disinterested friendship, and the difficulty of continuing an intimate intercourse with those who, on subjects of much interest and frequent occurrence, think very differently from ourselves. It is in judging of human conduct, however, that this principle acts its most important part. When our attention is called to the behaviour of another, we immediately conceive how we should have acted in similar circumstances; and, according as our sentiments do, or do not, correspond to those he<xxxi> has discovered, we feel pleasure and approbation, or pain and dislike. Nor are these moral feelings liable to any important irregularities. When removed from temptation, and free from the influence of passion, all men are brave, temperate, just, and generous; consequently, these virtues must always appear proper, and the opposite vices improper, to the unconcerned spectator.
Mr. Millar fully adopted this opinion of Dr. Smith; but still he thought the system would prove defective, unless more weight were given to an observation which had been stated, rather in a cursory manner, both by that author and Mr. Hume. The degree of applause excited by virtue is not dependent solely on the propriety and utility of the action, but also on the difficulty which we know the agent must have overcome, and the mental energy which he has displayed, in reducing his feelings to the level of those of the unconcerned spectator. The passions, in many cases, being slightly affected, a small exertion is sufficient; in other situations, the utmost effort of self-command is indispensible: The one we simply approve; the other we applaud and admire. In this view, our moral sentiments bear a striking analogy to the principles of taste; and, though Mr. Millar did not admit that intimate and necessary connection between them which has<xxxii> been asserted by an eminent author,* he traced, with much ingenuity, and much felicity of illustration, the likeness which exists, both between the sentiments themselves, and the means by which they are excited. That virtue which is new or extraordinary in its nature, which breaks forth when we expect and dread the opposite vice, which exhibits high powers of self-control, and produces some great and striking benefit to man, raises our admiration to sublimity and rapture; while a life spent in acts of beneficence and kindness, like a rich and beautiful landscape, excites the more gentle emotions of complacence and delight.
Such are the outlines of the analysis of our moral sentiments, according to which Mr. Millar accounted for the various rights acknowledged and protected by society. In doing this, he was careful to separate and distinguish Justice from the other virtues. The rules of Justice,14 he observed, are satisfied, when a man abstains from injuring others, although he should make no addition whatever to general or particular happiness. He who fails in prudence, in temperance, in courage, or beneficence, may become an object of dislike; he may destroy his own happiness, and disregard many<xxxiii> opportunities of promoting that of others; but, having done no direct injury, he can scarcely become the object of general indignation. The infringement of the rules of Justice, on the other hand, never fails to excite resentment in the breast of the person injured, and indignation in that of the spectators;—an indignation, sometimes satisfied with the redress of the wrong, sometimes demanding the infliction of farther pain or mortification on the delinquent. At the same time, he who has thus subjected himself to merited punishment, can never complain of a sentence, which his own conscience must approve, or pretend that he was not aware of the natural consequence of his crimes. The rules of conduct prescribed by Justice, unlike the dictates of the other virtues, are always clear and precise. Frequently it may be a matter of some difficulty to determine what measure, in the particular circumstances of the case, may be most prudent or most beneficent; but never can any person be at a loss to know, when he deliberately diminishes the comforts or enjoyments of others, or be unconscious, that by so doing, he renders himself the object of merited punishment. For these reasons, it is on the virtue of Justice, and on that virtue alone, that Laws, the object of which is to maintain<xxxiv> rights and repress injuries, must be altogether founded.
General systems of Law have rarely, if ever, been formed by the prospective wisdom of legislators, but have arisen gradually, and almost insensibly, from the slow progress of human experience. When a dispute has taken place between two individuals, the spectators will naturally assist him, with whose motives they sympathize; who seeks no undue advantage, but merely wishes to retain what, without loss to others, is already in his possession. They will disapprove of the conduct and motives of that person, who, disregarding the good of his fellow-men, seeks his own advantage by the direct injury of another, and they will perceive that, by preventing his intentions, they take nothing from those comforts, which, with innocence, he can command. Between two such competitors for the possession of any object, there being no room for hesitation, the spectators are led immediately to interfere, and prevent injustice. Being also sensible that they themselves are liable to similar wrongs, against which a general combination is the only effectual protection, they are farther prompted to such an interference, by a species of self-interest. Such simple and obvious considerations must occur to<xxxv> men even in the rudest state of society; and, in Mr. Millar’s opinion, they sufficiently account for that general resemblance, which may be discovered in the laws of all countries, however different in their circumstances, or remote
