Chapter 4 Volume I: On the Properity of Conduct (Three Parts in this Volume) Part One: On the Sense of Properity

However selfish one may think a man is, there are always evident in the man's endowments those instincts which make him interested in the fortunes of others, and regard their happiness as his own, Nothing but happiness and joy.This nature is pity or sympathy, the emotion we feel when we see or vividly imagine the misfortune of another.We are often moved by the sorrows of others, a fact so obvious that it needs no illustration.This feeling, like all the other primitive feelings of human nature, is by no means exclusive to the virtuous, though they may be most sensitive in this respect.The greatest villain, the most serious transgressor of the laws of society, is not altogether without sympathy.

Since we have no direct experience of how others feel, we have no way of knowing what others are feeling except by imagining how they are.When our brother is tortured, our senses will tell us nothing of his suffering, so long as we ourselves are free.They are never, and never can be, beyond our own perceptions, and only by means of imagination can we form an idea of ​​our brother's feelings.Nor can the imagination help us do this in any other way than it can tell us how we would feel if we were there.Our imagination simulates only the impressions of our own senses, and not of our brother's.By imagining, we put ourselves in all the same pains, we seem to enter his body, become partly one with him, and thus form certain ideas about his feelings, and even experience some To a lesser degree, but not an entirely different feeling.Thus, when his pain falls upon us, when we bear it and make it our own, we are at last affected, and tremble and tremble at the thought of his feelings.As any pain or annoyance excites a man, so when we imagine or imagine ourselves in such a situation, similar emotions are produced, in proportion to the size of our imagination.

If this is not considered clear enough, it is evident from a number of obvious observations that it is precisely because of our sympathy with the suffering of others, that is, by imagining the pain in the victim's shoes, that we can imagine what the victim felt or what the victim felt Impact.When we see a blow to another person's leg or arm about to fall, we instinctively withdraw our leg or arm; feel it, and feel hurt like a victim.As the audience gazes at the dancers on the slack rope, they involuntarily twist their bodies as the dancers twist to balance themselves because they feel compelled to do the same if they were in the other person's situation .People of feeble character and constitution complain that when they see the exposed sores of beggars in the street, they feel an itching or discomfort in the corresponding parts of their own bodies.Since that disgust comes from imagining their own possible suffering, if they are indeed the wretched beings they see, and are affected by the same pain in a particular part of their The aversion of human illness has a stronger effect on a particular part of the body than on any other.Such imagination is sufficient to produce in their delicate bodies the itching and discomfort they complain of.In the same way, when the strongest men see a festering eye, their own eye often produces a very pronounced pain from the same cause; Any other part is more vulnerable.

And it is not only those circumstances which produce pain and sorrow that arouse our sympathy.Whatever may have been the passion aroused in the person concerned for its object, a similar passion arouses in the mind of every attentive spectator, when he thinks of his situation.Our joy at the release of the heroes of tragedy or romance which concerns us is as innocent as our sorrow at their misery, but we feel no more sympathy with their misfortune than with their happiness. sincere.We sympathize with the gratitude that heroes feel for those faithful friends who have not deserted them in trouble; and we sympathize with their hatred for the treacherous traitors who have wounded, abandoned, and deceived them.Of all the passions with which the human heart may be affected, the emotion of the spectator always coincides with what he, by imagining himself in his place, thinks should be the emotion of the victim.

"Compassion" and "compassion" are words we use to empathize with someone else's grief. "Sympathy," though perhaps the original meaning of the two, is now used to express our sympathy with any passion. On some occasions it seems that sympathy comes only from the observation of certain emotions in others.Passion on certain occasions seems to pass from one person to another in an instant, and before it is known what aroused it in the principal parties.For example, sadness or gaiety, strongly expressed in the countenance or gesture of a person, may at once excite in the spectator some similar feeling of pain or joy.A smiling face is pleasing to the eye; a sad face is always sad.

But this is not always the case, or with every passion.There are some manifestations of passion, which excite not sympathy, but loathing and revulsion, until we learn what has arisen from them.The fury of the angry man is likely to provoke us against himself rather than against his enemies.As we do not know the cause of his rage, we cannot appreciate his situation, nor imagine anything resembling the passion it arouses.But we clearly see the conditions of those against whom he is angry, and the damage that the latter may suffer from being so enraged.We are therefore apt to sympathize with the fear or resentment of the latter, and immediately intend to join them against the angry one who puts them in danger.

If it is these expressions of sorrow or joy which arouse in us a degree of likeness, it is because they bring to mind general thoughts of good or bad fate befell the persons we behold; These passions are enough to move us.Sorrow or joy affects only those who feel those emotions, and their expression does not, like an expression of resentment, bring to mind thoughts of any other with whom we are concerned, and whose interests are opposed to his.Common thoughts, therefore, of a good or bad fate, arouse in us a certain concern for the one who suffers such a fate; but common thoughts of rage do not excite us any sympathy for the offended.Nature seems to teach us to be more opposed to appreciating such passions.Until we know the cause of our anger, we intend to object to it.

Even before we know the cause of other people's sorrow or joy, our sympathy for them is always very inadequate.It is evident that ordinary lamentation, which expresses nothing but the anguish of the victim, arouses in us not so much genuine sympathy as curiosity into the other's situation and a certain sympathy for him. intention.The first question we ask is: what's wrong with you?Till the question is answered, our sympathy is insignificant, though we may be disturbed by vague thoughts of his misfortune, and torment ourselves by trying to figure out what happened to the other. Sympathy, therefore, arises not so much from seeing the other person's passion as from seeing the circumstances which arouse it.We sometimes sympathize with others with a passion which they do not seem to feel at all, because it arises from our own hearts when we put ourselves in their place, but it does not arise from reality. born from his heart.We are ashamed of the insolence and rudeness of another, though he does not seem to know the impropriety of his conduct; this is because we cannot help being embarrassed by our own absurdity.

To the less human, of all the calamities which bring man to a state of ruin, the loss of reason seems the most dreadful.They regard this greatest misfortune of mankind with stronger sympathy than others. But the poor sane person may laugh and sing, without feeling at all that he is unlucky.The pain one feels at seeing such a scene is not, therefore, a reflection of the patient's feelings.The sympathy of the spectator must arise entirely from imagining how he would feel if he were in the above-mentioned dire situation and could think with sound reason and judgment (which is impossible).

What is the pain of a mother when she hears her baby moaning in the agony of sickness and cannot express his feelings?When she thought of the child's suffering, she connected her own feeling of helplessness, her fear of the unforeseen consequences of the child's illness, with the actual helplessness of the infant.From this, in her own melancholy, a very complete imagination of misfortune and pain arose.However, the baby only feels uncomfortable at this time, the illness is not serious, and it can be completely recovered later. Lack of thought and foresight is a good medicine for the baby to avoid fear and worry.However, once the great pain in the hearts of adults grows up, it cannot be restrained by reason and philosophy.

We even sympathize with the dead, ignoring what is really important in their situation, the terrible future that awaits them, and we are moved chiefly by circumstances that stimulate our senses but have no influence in the slightest on the happiness of the dead.We believe that the dead, deprived of sunshine, cut off from the world, buried to rot and maggot in cold graves, vanish from the world, and soon disappear in the sentimentality and remembrance of the closest friends and relatives, are How unfortunate!We really cannot, we think, have much sympathy for those who have suffered so terrible a calamity.But when they are in danger of being forgotten, our sympathetic compliments seem to be multiplied; and by the vanity we add to the memory of the dead, we try to artificially keep to ourselves the knowledge of their misfortunes, for our own grief. melancholy memories.Our sympathy does not comfort the dead, and seems to aggravate his misfortune.To think of the futility of all that we can do, to think that no matter how much we can remove the sorrow of the relatives and friends of the dead, no matter how much we can remove their guilt and attachment for the dead, will not comfort the dead, but will only make our feelings for the dead Misfortune felt even sadder.The happiness of the dead is in no way affected by it; nor is his own peaceful sleep disturbed by it.The idea that the dead are naturally sombre and endlessly melancholy has its origin in our connection to the change caused by them, in our own sense of that change; in our own Putting ourselves in the shoes, and attaching our living souls to the inanimate bodies of the dead—if I may say so;It is this illusory image that makes death so terrifying to us.These assumptions about what happens after death never cause us pain when we are dead, but only while we are alive.From this arises one of the most important principles of human endowment, the fear of death—a great destroyer of human happiness, but also a great restraint of human injustice; defended and protected society. CHAPTER TWO: Of the Pleasure of Mutual Sympathy Whatever may be its cause, or how it may be produced, there is nothing that pleases us more than seeing with passion the sympathy of another, nor the contrary expression of another. Shock.Those who like to deduce all our affections from a certain delicacy of self-love, think, on their principles, that they account for all the causes of this pleasure and pain.They say that when a man feels his weakness and needs help from others, he is pleased to see that others feel the same way, because it gives him the certainty of getting that kind of help; And assume that others will oppose themselves.But the feelings of pleasure and pain are so fleeting, and so often occur on such pointless occasions, that it seems evident that they cannot arise from any selfish consideration.When a man has done his best to amuse his fellows, he is humiliated when he looks around to see that no one laughs at his witticisms but himself;He regards it as the greatest admiration that the feelings of his companions agree with his own. Though it is true that some part of his pleasure and pain arose in this way, it does not seem that all the pleasure came from the laughter which his companions could add to their sympathy, nor all the pain from the disappointment at which it was not available to him.When we have read a book or a poem so many times that we no longer find any pleasure in our own reading, we can still find pleasure in reading to a companion.For companions, it is full of novelty and charm.We experience that astonishment and admiration which in him no longer naturally excites in us; Delighted that our pleasures coincided with those of our companions.If, on the contrary, our companions do not seem to take pleasure in them, we shall be annoyed, and no longer take any pleasure in reading them to them.The situation here is the same as the previous case.Doubtless, as our companions' gaiety pleases us, their silence does disappoint us.Though this gives us pleasure on one occasion and pain on another, neither is by any means the sole cause of pleasure or pain; The agreement seems to be a cause of pleasure, and their contradiction seems to be a cause of pain, but this does not explain the cause of pleasure and pain.The sympathy of my friends for my joys does cheer me up by making me happier; but the sympathy they show for my sorrows does me little joy if it only makes me sadder. .In any case, sympathy both increases pleasure and alleviates pain.It increases pleasure by providing another source of gratification, while alleviating pain by suggesting almost the only acceptable affection at the time. It may thus be said that we are more eager to confide to our friends our unpleasant passions than our pleasant ones; our friends' sympathy with the former satisfies us more than their sympathy with the latter, and their lack of sympathy with the former more gratifies us. Shock. What a relief to the unfortunate when they find someone to whom they can confide the cause of their grief!By his sympathy they seemed to relieve some of their pain, and it is not inappropriate to say that he shared it with the unfortunate.Not only does he feel the same grief as the unfortunate, but he feels, as if sharing a part of the pain, that the burden of the unfortunate is relieved.Yet, by speaking of their misfortune, the unhappy person, in a way, rethinks his own misery.They recalled in their recollections the circumstances which had afflicted them.So the tears flowed faster than before, and they were immersed in all kinds of pain.But they are evidently comforted by it, too, for the pleasure they derive from the other's sympathy more than makes up for the intense grief which the unfortunate recalls and thinks afresh in order to excite sympathy.On the contrary, for the unfortunate, the most cruel blow is to turn a blind eye to their disaster and be indifferent.To appear indifferent to the joy of our companions is mere faux pas, but to appear disinterested when they complain of their distresses is an act of real, brutish cruelty. Love is a pleasant affection, hatred an unpleasant one; and therefore we have more eagerness to sympathize with our resentment than to accept our friendship.Though friends are seldom moved by the good we may do, and we are able to forgive them, we lose all patience if they seem indifferent to the harm we may do.Our resentment that our friends do not empathize with us is more irritating than that they do not appreciate our gratitude.It is easy to avoid being sympathizers to our friends, but almost impossible to avoid being enemies to those who are at odds with us.We seldom complain that they are at odds with the former, though for that reason sometimes love to quarrel awkwardly with them; but if they are on friendly terms with the latter, we take them very seriously.Love and pleasure, two pleasurable passions, need no added pleasure to satisfy and motivate.Sadness and resentment, two distressing and distressing emotions, have a strong need to be appeased and comforted by sympathy. At any rate, as the person in question is delighted in our sympathy, and grieved not to have it, we seem to be delighted when we can sympathize with him, and equally distressed when we cannot.We rush not only to congratulate the successful man, but to comfort the unfortunate; and the joy we feel in conversation with a man who can fully sympathize with all the passions of his heart seems to make up for it very much at the sight of his condition. makes us feel distressed.On the contrary, it is always unpleasant to feel that we cannot sympathize with the other person; and it pains us to find ourselves incapable of sharing our sympathy, rather than to rejoice in being free from the pain of such sympathy.If we hear a man weeping aloud for his misfortune, which we suppose could not have had so violent an effect upon himself, we should be shocked by his grief; and, because we cannot understand it, Just see it as timid and weak.The other person, on the other hand, is overly excited and excited by a little bit of luck, and in our opinion would be angry about it.We even resent his delight; and, because we cannot approve of it, regard it as imprudence and folly.We may even throw a fit if our companions laugh out loud at a joke more than we think we should. CHAPTER THREE Of the mode of judging the propriety of the sentiments of others by their concordance with our own, when the original passions of the person concerned coincide exactly with those of the spectator expressing sympathy, it must appear to the latter to be true and correct. Conversely, when the latter puts himself in the position of the former and finds that the original passions of the former do not correspond to his own feelings, then these passions must appear to him to be incorrect and inappropriate, and of the same The reasons for these feelings do not match.To approve, therefore, that the passions of others correspond to their object, means that we sympathize with them at all; likewise, not approving them so, means that we do not sympathize with them at all.A man who resents what has been done to me, and sees that I do resent it as much as he, must share my resentment.A man who has remained sympathetic to my grief cannot but admit that I am justified in my grief.The man who praises the same poem or picture and really agrees with me must think my praise is just.The man who laughs at the same joke and laughs with me has no reason to deny the propriety of my laughter.On the contrary, in these different cases, the person who does not feel the same as I do, and does not feel my emotions, will inevitably criticize my emotions, because his feelings do not coincide with mine.If my hatred exceeds the proportionate indignation of my friends, if my sorrow exceeds the kindest sympathy my friends can express, if my praise of him is too high or too low to be worthy of his person , if I laugh when he merely smiles, or conversely, when he laughs; He must be more or less dissatisfied with me according to the more or less difference between our affections: in all the above cases his own affection is the standard and measure by which mine is judged. To agree with others' opinions is to adopt them, and to adopt them is to agree with them.If the same argument convinces you and me, I naturally agree with your reasoning; if it does not, I naturally do not agree with it; nor can I imagine myself agreeing with you without accepting it.Therefore, people admit that whether they agree with other people's opinions is just to say whether they agree with their own opinions.The same is true of our approbation of other people's emotions or passions. There are, indeed, occasions when we seem to express assent without any sympathy or feeling of agreement; and on these occasions, therefore, the emotion of assent seems to differ from this feeling of agreement.With a little care, however, we shall be convinced that, even on these occasions, our assent is ultimately grounded in sympathy, or this agreement.I will give an example from very common cases, where the judgment of men is not so easily distorted by a false system.We often agree with a joke, and think our companion's laughter is quite right and appropriate, although we are not laughing ourselves, because perhaps we are in a sad mood, or our attention happens to be drawn to something else.However, we know from experience what kind of joke makes people laugh most of the time, and which category it falls into.Although in the mood at the time, we cannot easily express this, but because we feel that on most occasions we will laugh like everyone else from the bottom of our hearts, we approve of the laughter of our companions, and feel that this laughter is important to the objective It is natural and proportionate to the object. The same thing often happens with all other passions.In the street a stranger passed us with an expression of great distress; and we knew at once that he had just received the news of his father's death.In this case, it is impossible to disapprove of his grief.It often happens, however, that we are not devoid of humanity, and yet, far from being able to share his intense grief, we can hardly imagine showing him the slightest concern.We may not have known him or his father at all, or we may have been too busy with other affairs to use our imaginations to describe the circumstances that must have grieved him. We know, however, from experience that this misfortune must have caused him so much grief, and we know that if we had taken the time to consider his situation fully in all its aspects, we would have had no doubts in extending to him our deepest sympathies.It is on the basis of awareness of this conditional sympathy that we share his grief.This is true even on those occasions where that sympathy does not actually take place; and here, as on many other occasions, the general rule, derived from our previous experience with which our sentiments usually coincide, corrects our inappropriateness at the time. Emotions. The inner feeling or sentiment which produces every action and determines all good and evil may be studied in two different respects, or in two different relations: first, from the relation between it and the cause which produces it, or the motive which arouses it. Second, it can be studied from the relationship between it and the result it intends to produce, or the result it often produces. The propriety and propensity of this affection in relation to the cause or object which arouses it, determines the propriety, decorum, or vulgarity of the corresponding conduct. The beneficent or injurious nature of the results which this affection intends, or tends to produce, determines the merit or demerit of the action it occasions, and determines whether it deserves reward or punishment. In recent years, philosophers have mainly examined the dispositions of emotions, paying little attention to the relationship between emotions and the causes that arouse them.In everyday life, however, when we judge someone's behavior and the emotions that lead to it, we often consider these two aspects.When we blame excesses of love, sorrow, and resentment in others, we consider not only the destructive consequences they often have, but also the small causes that arouse them.Perhaps the people he loved were not so great, his misfortunes so terrible, and the things that annoyed him so serious, to justify the intensity of certain passions.But if the cause of a passion is in all respects proportionate to it, we will accommodate, or possibly approve of, his passion. When we judge in this manner whether any affections are proportionate to the causes which arouse them, it is scarcely possible to employ any other rule or standard than that of their accord with our own.If we put ourselves in our place, we shall find that the emotions it arouses coincide with our own, and we naturally assent to them as they correspond to the object which arouses them; Naturally, he would not agree with this. The faculties of one man are the yardstick by which the same faculties of another are judged.I will judge your sight by my sight, your hearing by my hearing, your reason by my reason, your resentment by my resentment, your love by my love .I have not and cannot have any other way of judging them. CHAPTER IV CONTINUED From the preceding chapter, there are two different occasions in which we may judge the propriety of the sentiments of others by their conformity with our own; when they don't have any special relationship with someone else; and when they are thought to have a special influence on one of us. 1. As regards objects which are supposed to have no special relation to ourselves, or to the person whose sentiments we judge; we regard him as a man of good character when his sentiments are everywhere in perfect harmony with our own, People with good taste.Beautiful fields, majestic mountains, decorations of buildings, expressions of pictures, structures of essays, actions of third parties, various quantities and proportions of numbers, the great machine of the universe, with its mysterious gears and springs, is constantly producing The phenomena which are continually unfolding; all these general subjects of science and taste, are objects which we and our companions regard as having no special relation to any one.We shall observe them from the same point of view, and it is not necessary to sympathize with them, or to imagine the changes of circumstances which result from them, in order to achieve the most perfect correspondence of feeling and emotion with the object concerned.Nevertheless, we are often affected differently, either because our different habits of life predispose ourselves to different degrees of attention to various parts of complex objects, or because our intelligences attach different degrees to these objects. caused by his natural sensitivity. When the sentiments of our companions towards such objects coincide with ours towards them, and we have perhaps never found anyone different from us, there can be no doubt that, though we necessarily agree with him, he seems It should not be praised and admired for it.But when their sentiments not only coincided with ours, but directed them, he seemed to notice many things which we neglected in forming them, and adjusted his attitude to the various situations of these objective objects. We are not only approving, but amazed and amazed by his unusual and unexpected sensitivity and understanding, for which he seems to deserve a high degree of admiration and praise.This approbation, deepened by astonishment and wonder, constitutes the emotion which may well be called admiration, for which praise is its natural expression.A man who decides that the flowery beauty is more beautiful than the most ugly deformity, or that two and two make four, is certainly approved by the world, but certainly not admirable.Just the keen and precise discernment of the appreciative man--who recognizes the almost imperceptible nuances between the beautiful and the monstrous; only the manifold precision of the skilled mathematician-- They easily solve the most intricacies and entanglements of mathematical proportions; it is only those masters of science and taste who direct our feelings, whose breadth and excellence amaze us, and who alone excite us. Our admiration seems to deserve our admiration; and upon this foundation is a great part of our admiration of so-called prudence. The usefulness of these talents, it has been supposed, is what first wins our admiration; no doubt, when we take notice of this, they ascribe a new value to them.At first, however, we applaud other people's judgments, not because they are useful, but because they are correct, consistent with truth and reality; and it is obvious that we consider other people's judgments to be talented for no other reason than because we find that our own Judgment is consistent with it.In the same way taste at first approves, not because of its usefulness, but because of its propriety and exactness, which is justly proportioned to the object of taste.The notion of the usefulness of all these talents is obviously an afterthought, not those that first earned our admiration. 2. It is both difficult and at the same time extremely important to maintain this harmony with respect to those objective phenomena which in a particular way affect us, or persons whose sentiments we judge.My companions naturally do not view the misfortunes or injuries that befall me in the same light as I view them.They affect me more closely.We do not look at them from the same vantage point from which we look at a painting, a poem, or a system of philosophy, and we are therefore susceptible to very different influences.But I am much less tolerant of my companion's feeling for objects in general which do not concern me and him than mine, with my fellow-feelings, than for the misfortune or injury which befell me. Things that are close to me have emotions that do not coincide with mine.Although you despise that picture, that poem, or even that system of philosophy that I admire, there is little danger of us having an argument about it.None of us would legitimately care too much about it.They don't matter to any one of us; so, though our views may be contrary, our feelings can still be very close.It is very different with respect to objects upon which you and I are specially affected.Though your judgments as far as speculative, and your sentiments as regards inclinations, are diametrically opposed to mine, I may well tolerate these oppositions; and, if I have the will to reconcile, find some pleasure in your discourse, even in these subjects. But if you take neither sympathy nor share in the sorrow that drives me mad at my misfortune; There can no longer be conversations on these subjects.We can no longer tolerate each other.I will neither support your companion nor you will support mine.You will be disgusted with my fanaticism and passion, and I will be angry with your indifference. In all such cases there may be some sympathy between the spectator and the person involved.First, the bystander must try as hard as he can to put himself in the other person's shoes, to put himself in every detail of the situation that might distress the victim.He accepts the fact of his companion in all its details; he seeks to describe perfectly the imagined altered situation from which his sympathy springs. After such an effort, however, the emotions of the bystanders are still less likely to reach the intensity felt by the sufferer.Though man is endowed with sympathy, he never contemplates the degree of passion which must agitate that person for the pain which befalls him.The imagining of a change of situation which makes the spectator sympathetic is only temporary.认为自已是安全的，不是真正的受难者的想法，硬是频繁地在他脑海里出现。虽然这不至于妨碍他们想象跟受难者的感受多少有些相似的激情，但是妨碍他们想象跟受难者的感情激烈程度相近的任何情况。当事人意识到这一点。但还是急切地想要得到一种更充分的同情。他渴望除了旁观者跟他的感情完全一致之外所无法提供的那种宽慰。看到旁观者内心的情绪在各方面都同自己内心的情绪相符，是他在这种剧烈而又令人不快的激情中可以得到的唯一安慰。但是，他只有把自己的激情降低到旁观者能够接受的程度才有希望得到这种安慰。 如果我可以这样说，他必须抑制那不加掩饰的尖锐语调，以期同周围人们的情绪保持和谐一致。确实，旁观者的感受与受难者的感受在某些方面总会有所不同， 对于悲伤的同情与悲伤本身从来不会全然相同；因为旁观者会隐隐意识到，同情感由以产生的处境变化只是一种想象，这不仅在程度上会降低同情感，而且在一定程度上也会在性质上改变同情感，使它成为完全不同的一种样子。但是很显然， 这两种情感相互之间可以保持某种对社会的和谐来说足够的一致。虽然它们决不会完全协调，但是它们可以和谐一致，这就是全部需要或要求之所在。 为了产生这种一致的情感，如同天性教导旁观者去设想当事人的各种境况一样，天性也教导后者在一定程度上去设想旁观者的各种境况。如同旁观者不断地把自己放在当事人的处境之中，由此想象同后者所感受到的相似的情绪那样，当事人也经常把自已放在旁观者的处境之中，由此相当冷静地想象自己的命运，感到旁观者也会如此看待他的命运。如同旁观者经常考虑如果自己是实际受难者会有什么感觉那样，后者也经常设想如果自己是他处境唯一的旁观者的话，他会如何被感动。如同旁观者的同情使他们在一定程度上用当事人的眼光去观察对方的处境那样，当事人的同情也使他在一定程度上用旁观者的眼光去观察自己的处境，特别是在旁观者面前和在他们的注视下有所行动时更是这样；并且，因为他作了这样的设想以后，其激情比原来的激情大为减弱，所以在他面对旁观者之后， 在他开始想到他们将如何被感动并以公正而无偏见的眼光看待他的处境之后，他所感觉的激烈程度必然会降低。 因此，不管当事人的心情如何被人扰乱，某个朋友的陪伴会使他恢复几分安宁和镇静。一同他见面，我们的心就会在一定程度上平息和安静下来。同情的效果是瞬息发生的；所以我们会立即想到他将用来观察我们处境的那种眼光，并开始用相同的眼光来观察自己的处境。我们并不期望从一个泛泛之交那里得到比朋友更多的同情；我们也不能向前者揭示能向后者诉说的所有那些详细情况；因此， 我们在他的面前显得非常镇静，并且倾注心力于那些他愿意考虑的有关我们处境的概要说明。我们更不期望从一伙陌生人那里得到更多的同情，因此我们在他们面前显得更为镇静，并且总是极力把自己的激情降低到在这种特殊的交往之中可以期待赞同的程度。这也不仅仅是一种装出来的样子；因为如果我们能在各方面控制自己，则一个点头之交在场确实比一个朋友在场更能使我们平静下来，一伙陌生人在场确实比一个熟人在场更能使我们平静下来。 因此不管什么时候，如果心情不幸失去控制的话，那么交际和谈话是恢复平静的最有效的药物；同样也是宁静、愉快心情最好的保护剂，宁静的心情对自足和享受来说是不可或缺的。隐居和好深思的人，常在家中郁闷地想自己的悲伤事或生气事，虽然他们较为仁慈、宽宏大量并具有高尚的荣誉感，但却很少具有世人所常有的那种平静心情。 第五章论和蔼可亲和令人尊敬的美德在这两种不同的努力，即旁观者努力体谅当事人的情感和当事人努力把自己的情绪降低到旁观者所能赞同的程度这样两个基础上，确立了两种不同的美德。 在前一种努力的基础上，确立了温柔、有礼、和蔼可亲的美德，确立了公正、谦让和宽容仁慈的美德；而崇高、庄重、令人尊敬的美德，自我克制、自我控制和控制各种激情——它们使我们出乎本性的一切活动服从于自己的尊严、荣誉和我们的行为所需的规矩——的美德，则产生于后一种努力之中。 旁观者的同情心似乎反映出他对同自己交往的那些人的全部情感，他为他们的灾难感到悲伤，为他们受到的伤害表示不平，为他们的好运感到高兴，他看来是何等和蔼可亲啊！如果我们设身处地地想一下他的同伴们的处境，我们就会同情他们对他的感激，并体会他们从一个如此充满深情的朋友的亲切同情中肯定会得到的那种安慰。并且，由于相反的原因，其冷酷无情的心只是同情自己，而对别人的幸福或不幸无动于衷的人，看来又是多么令人厌恶啊！在这种场合，我们也体谅他的态度在同他交往的每一个普通人身上所引起的痛苦，特别是在我们最容易同情的那些不幸者和受害者身上所引起的痛苦。 另一方面，我们从那些在自己的处境中尽力做到心境平静和自制——这构成了一切激情的尊严并使自己的激情降低到别人能够体谅的程度——的人的行为中，可以感到多么高尚的礼貌和情理啊！我们厌恶那喧扰不已的悲痛——它缺乏细腻之情，用叹息、眼泪和讨厌的恸哭来要求我们给予同情。但是我们对有节制的悲哀、那种无声而恢弘的悲痛却表示敬意，这种悲痛只是在红肿的眼睛、颤抖的嘴唇和脸颊以及隐约的但是感人的全部行为的冷漠中才能发现。它使我们同样地沉默。我们对它表示敬意，抱着不安的心情注意我们的一切行为，唯恐我们不得体的举止扰乱这种和谐的宁静——它需要作出巨大的努力来保持。 同样，蛮横无礼和狂暴的愤怒，在我们听任猛烈的怒火无休止地发作时，是最令人讨厌的客观对象。但是我们钦佩那种高尚和大度的憎恨，它不是按照受害者心中容易激起的狂怒，而是根据公正的旁观者心中自然引起的义愤来抑制随着最大伤害而来的愤恨；这种高尚和大度的憎恨不允许言语、举止超出这很合乎情理的情感所支配的程度；甚至在思想上，也既不图谋进行比每个普通人乐见其实现的那种报复更大的任何报复，又不想施加比每个普通人乐见其实现的那种惩罚更重的任何惩罚。 因此，正是这种多同情别人和少同情自己的感情，正是这种抑制自私和乐善好施的感情，构成尽善尽美的人性；唯有这样才能使人与人之间的情感和激情协调一致，在这中间存在着人类的全部情理和礼貌。如同像爱自已那样爱邻居是基督教的主要教规一样，仅仅像爱邻居那样爱自已，或者换一种结果相同的说法， 仅仅像邻居能爱我们那样爱自已，也成了自然的主要戒律。 如同鉴赏力和良好的判断力，当它们被认为是那种应加赞扬和钦佩的品质时，应该是指一种不常遇到的细腻感情和锐利的洞察力那样，情感和自我控制的美德也不被理解为存在于一般的品质之中，而是存在于那些绝非寻常的品质之中。仁爱这种和蔼可亲的美德确实需要一种远比粗俗的人所具有的优越的情感。 宽宏大量这种崇高的美德，毫无疑问需要更高程度的自我控制，它远非凡人的菲薄力量所能做到。一如平常的智力之中无才智可言，普通的品德中也无美德可言。 美德是卓越的、决非寻常的高尚美好的品德，远远高于世俗的、一般的品德。和蔼可亲的美德存在于一定程度的情感之中，它以其高雅、出人意料的敏感和亲切而令人吃惊。令人敬畏和可尊敬的美德存在于一定程度的自我控制之中，它以其使人惊异地优越于人类天性中最难抑制的激情而令人吃惊。 在这一方面，在那些应该得到钦佩和赞颂的品行和那些只应该得到赞同的品行之间，存在着很大的差别。在许多场合，最完美合宜的行为，只需要具备大部分凡夫俗子所具有的普通程度的情感或自我控制就行了，有时甚至连这种程度的自我控制也不是必要的。举一个非常粗俗的例子，例如，在普通场合，当我们饥饿的时候吃东西当然是完全正当和合宜的。因此，每个人都会表示赞同。然而说吃东西就是德行，却是再荒唐不过的了。 相反，在那些并不是最合适的行为中往往会存在一种值得注意的美德；因为这些行为在一些场合可能比人们所能合理地期望的更加接近于尽善尽美，在这些场合，要达到尽善尽美是极其困难的；在需要竭尽全力进行自我控制的那些场合， 就常出现这种情况。有些情况对人类的天性发生的影响如此剧烈，以致像这样不完善的生灵所有的最大程度的自我控制，不能完全抑制人类虚弱的叫声，不能把强烈的激情降低到公正的旁观者完全可能体谅它们的适当程度。因此，在这种情况下，受难者的行为虽然不是完全合宜，但仍然可以得到一些称赞，甚至在一定意义上可以称做有道德的行为。这些行为还可以表明大部分人所不能做到的宽大和高尚的努力；虽然它未达到尽善尽美，但是同在这种困难场合通常可以看到或可以预料的行为相比，仍然大大接近于尽善尽美。 在这种情况下，当我们决定对某一行为进行责备或称赞的程度时，经常会运用两个不同的标准。第一是关于完全合宜和尽善尽美的概念。在那些困难情况下， 人类的行为从来不曾、或不可能达到完全合宜和尽善尽美；人们的行为同它们相比，总是显得应该受到责备和不完美的。第二是关于同这种尽善尽美接近的程度或相距多远的概念，这是大部分人的行为通常达到的标准。无论什么行为超过了这个标准，不管它同尽善尽美相距多远，似乎都应该得到称赞；无论什么行为达不到这个标准，就应该受到责备。 我们还以同样的方式来判断所有那些致力于想象的艺术作品。当一个批评家研究大师们的诗歌和绘画等作品时，有时可以在自己心中运用这一作品和其它作品从未达到过的尽善尽美这一概念作为标准来加以考察；并且，只要他用这个标准来同大师的作品相比，他就除了缺点和不完美之外什么也看不到。但是，如果他开始考虑这位大师的作品在其它性质相同的作品中应占的地位，他就必然会把它同一个非常不同的标准，即这一特殊艺术中通常达到的一般优秀程度相比；而当他运用这个新的尺度来判断它时，因为它同大部分可以与之媲美的作品相比更显得接近于尽善尽美，所以常常应该得到最高的赞赏。