Chapter 10 The third volume is on the basis of our judgment of our emotions and behaviors, and on the sense of responsibility-1
The third volume deals with the basis on which we judge our own feelings and actions, and also on the sense of responsibility (there is only one in this volume). The first chapter deals with the principles of self-approval and disapproval. and the starting point and basis of behavior.I shall now examine in some detail the point of departure from which we judge our own feelings and actions.
The principles upon which we naturally approve or disapprove of our own conduct seem to be exactly the same principles upon which we judge the conduct of others.When we put ourselves in another person's shoes, we base our approval of that behavior on the basis of our ability to fully empathize with the emotions and motives that lead to it.In the same way, when we see our actions from the standpoint of others, we base our approval of them on the basis of our ability to fully understand and empathize with the emotions and motives that underlie our actions.It may be said that it is never possible to make a comprehensive review of our emotions and motives, and it is never possible to form any judgment on them, unless we leave our position and view our emotions and motives at a distance.And we can do this only by making an effort to see our emotions and motivations through the eyes of others, or as they might be viewed by others.Whatever judgments we may make about them, therefore, necessarily have, or under certain conditions have, or we suppose should have, some inner connection with the judgments of others.We try to examine our actions as we presume any other impartial and unbiased spectator might do.If we put ourselves in the place of the matter, and thus fully understand all the passions and motives which affect our conduct, we shall approve of our conduct by sympathizing with the approval of the imaginary impartial judge.If this is not the case, we sympathize with his displeasure and condemn the behavior.
If it were possible for a man to grow up in some secluded place without intercourse with anyone, it would be no more possible for him to think of his own qualities than the beauty or ugliness of his own countenance. , it is impossible to think of the propriety or inadequacy of one's own feelings and actions, nor of the beauty or ugliness of one's own soul.All these he could not easily make out, nor did he notice them, nor did he possess the mirror by which these objects would unfold before his eyes.As soon as the man is brought into society, he immediately gets the mirror that was lacking until then.This mirror exists in the expressions and actions of those with him, and it always shows when they understand or disagree with his feelings; and it is here that he first sees the propriety of his own feelings. And inappropriate, see the beauty and ugliness of your own heart.To a man cut off from society at the beginning of his life, the objects of his strong affections, the external objects which amuse or injure him, occupy his whole attention.The emotion itself, desire or dislike, joy or sorrow, which those objects arouse, though they are all things directly before him, have never been the object of his contemplation seldom.The idea of them never interested him so much as to call his attention.Though the consideration of the cause of those strong passions sometimes excites his joys and sorrows, yet the reflection of his own pleasures never excites in him new pleasures, nor the reflection of his own sorrows in him. A new sorrow.Take him into society, and all his passions at once give rise to new ones.He will see what people approve of and what they dislike.On the one occasion he will be encouraged, on the other he will be discouraged.His desires and dislikes, his joys and sorrows, often now give rise to new desires and dislikes, new joys and sorrows; and these passions, therefore, will now interest him deeply, and often arouse his most attentive thoughts.
Our initial thoughts about our own beauty and ugliness are caused by other people's body shape and appearance, not our own.However, we soon learn that others have made the same comments about us.If they approve of our posture, we are pleased; if they seem to dislike it, we are annoyed.We long to know to what extent our appearance will be criticized or appreciated by them.We try, as far as possible, to see ourselves through another's eyes, from a distance, by looking in a mirror or something like that, examining our own limb by limb.After such scrutiny, if we are satisfied with our appearance, we will calmly bear the most unfavorable judgments of others.If, on the other hand, we feel ourselves the object of natural aversion, every sign of their disapproval is utterly humiliating to us.A man who is reasonably handsome may allow you to tease him about a slight personal defect; but such jokes are usually intolerable to a really ugly man.Either way, it's clear that we're only anxious about how our beauty and ugliness affect other people.If we were not connected to society, we would not care about it at all.
Likewise, some of our first moral judgments are of the characters and conduct of others; and we are most eager to see what effect these various judgments have on ourselves.But we soon learned that others were just as outspoken with us.We are anxious to know to what extent we shall be reproached or applauded by them, and whether we must behave to them in that manner which they point out to us as agreeable or disagreeable.To do this, we begin to examine our own feelings and behaviors by considering how they would appear to us if we were in their situation, and how they would appear to them.We assume ourselves to be spectators of our own actions, and with this vision we try to imagine how it affects us.In a way, it is the only mirror in which we can examine the propriety of our actions through the eyes of others.We are more satisfied if it pleases us in this examination.We may be indifferent to praise, and to some extent despise the censure of the world; however misunderstood or perverted we may be, we are sure to be the natural and proper objects of praise.Conversely, if we feel that our conduct is questionable, we often crave praise from others all the more for it, and if we are not, as we are told, notorious, we are bewildered and tormented by blame.
Obviously, when I try to examine my actions, when I try to pass judgment on them and either approve or condemn them, on all such occasions I seem to divide myself into two persons: one I am the examiner and the one who judges. The actor, playing a different role from the other-I; the other-I is the actor being scrutinized and judged.
The first I am a spectator who, when observing our own behavior from that particular point of view, tries to understand the emotions about our own behavior by putting ourselves in the shoes and considering how it would appear to us.The second I is the actor, properly speaking myself, whose actions I will make some kind of commentary on as a spectator.The former is the judge and the latter is the judged.But just as cause and effect cannot be the same, neither can the judge and the judged be identical.
The amiable and praiseworthy, that is, worthy of love and reward, are the noble qualities of virtue, while the distasteful and punishable are the qualities of vice.However, all of these qualities directly involve the feelings of others.Virtue, it is said, is an agreeable and praiseworthy quality, not because it is the object of self-love and gratitude, but because it excites those affections in others.Virtue is the consciousness of this agreeable object of esteem, as well as the source of that mental peace and self-satisfaction which necessarily follow, just as suspicion, on the contrary, gives rise to painful immorality.What a great blessing it is to be loved and to know that we are worthy of love.What a great misfortune we are to be hated and to know that we deserve to be hated.
Chapter II. Of the love of praise and praiseworthy; and of the fear of reproach and blameworthiness. Man naturally desires not only to be loved, but to be lovable; .He is not only born with a fear of being hated, but of being hated, or, rather, of being the natural and proper object of hatred.He wishes not only to be praised, but to be praiseworthy, or to be the natural and proper object of praise which is not praised.He is afraid not only of being blamed, but of being blamed, or of being the natural and proper object of reproach which is not reproached.
A fondness for praiseworthiness does not come entirely from a fondness for praise.Although those two principles are similar to each other, although they are related and often conflated, they are, in many respects, distinct and independent of each other.
The love and admiration which we naturally feel in those whose qualities and conduct we approve of, must lead us to wish ourselves the objects of the same agreeable affections, and to wish ourselves to be as most loved and admired by us. People who are as amiable and respectable as those you admire.Competitiveness, the urge to think we should be better than others, springs from our admiration for the merits of others.Nor can we be satisfied with merely being admired by others, because others are also admired for it.At least we must believe that we are praiseworthy, because others are also praiseworthy for it.But, in order to obtain this satisfaction, we must become impartial spectators of our own character and conduct.We must strive to see our qualities and behaviors through the eyes of others, or as others see them.After such observations, if they are as we hope, we are happy and satisfied.But if we find others--who view them with the eyes with which we only imagine our own endeavors to see our own qualities and actions--see them with exactly the same eyes as we have, This joy and contentment will be greatly strengthened.Their approval necessarily strengthens our self-approval.Their praise necessarily reinforces our sense of our own praiseworthiness.In this case, the liking of praiseworthy, far from being incompletely derived from liking for praiseworthiness, seems to derive at least a great deal from liking of praiseworthy.
The sincerest praise is hardly likely to bring much joy when it cannot be regarded as some kind of praiseworthy proof.The respect and admiration that falls upon us in one way or another through ignorance or misunderstanding is by no means sufficient.If we realize that we are not so likable, if the truth comes out and we are viewed with very different feelings, our contentment is by no means perfect.The one who praises us neither for an action we have not performed, nor for a motive that has no influence on our actions, is not praising us, but praising someone else.It is impossible for us to feel the slightest satisfaction in his praise.These praises will shame us more than any reproach, and will continually remind us of the most humble reflections which we should have but which we lack.It is conceivable that a painted woman can only get a little vanity from compliments on her complexion.We thought that these compliments should have reminded her more of the feelings her own true color would arouse, and humiliated her deeply by comparison.To take pleasure in such unwarranted praise is a proof of the most frivolous and feeble.
Here is what is rightly called vanity, and the basis of those most absurd and base vices of affectation and deceit; if experience does not teach us how vulgar they are, one can at least imagine Our sense of vulgarity will save us from stupidity, too.The foolish liar, who endeavors to excite the admiration of his fellows by telling tales of adventures which do not exist; The man who is intoxicated by the praise he gets delusional.Yet their vanity springs from an imaginary delusion so gross that it is difficult to conceive that any reasonable man could be deceived by it.Had they placed themselves in the place of those whom they thought they had been deceived, they would have been astounded at the highest admiration they had received.They do not see themselves in the way they know they should show themselves to their companions, but in the way they think their companions will actually view them.But their shallow weakness and frivolous stupidity always prevent them from introspecting themselves, or seeing themselves from that abject point of view from which their own consciousness must tell, if the truth were to be revealed at all. They themselves will be exposed to the people.
Since indecent and gratuitous praise is unlikely to excite real pleasure, nor produce any genuinely tested satisfaction, it is, on the contrary, often the thought that really comforts us: Although we actually Not applauded, but our actions deserve it, and they are in every way in conformity with those dimensions and standards, and by that measure they are usually bound to be applauded and approving.We not only take pleasure in being praised, but in doing something worthy of praise.Though we do not actually get any approval, it is pleasant to think that we have become the object of natural approval.The people we live with don't blame us, but we still feel humiliated when we reflect that we deserve their just blame.The man who realizes that he sees exactly the propriety of those actions which experience has taught him to be generally agreeable, ponders with satisfaction the propriety of his own actions.When he views these actions with the eyes of the impartial spectator, he fully understands the full range of motives which influence them.He looks back on these deeds from all sides with pleasure and approval, and though what he has done is never understood, not by what they actually think of him, but by what they would have done if they had known more fully what he had done. It is possible to generate perceptions of yourself.In this case he looks forward to the applause and praise which will fall upon himself, and applauds and praises himself with the same affection.These feelings did not actually happen, but only because everyone did not know the truth.He knows that these feelings are the natural and normal results of such actions, and his imagination associates them closely with them, and has been accustomed to regard them as some natural and normal consequences of such actions. And appropriate feelings.Men voluntarily throw their lives away in pursuit of a certain reputation which they no longer enjoy after death.At this point they imagine in their imagination that reputation will befall them.Approvals which they would never hear, and which haunted them with praise which they would never feel, banished all their most violent fears, and compelled them to behave in ways almost beyond human nature.But as a matter of fact, the approval we get when we no longer have it and the one we really don't have—but if the world is likely to be compelled properly to find out the true circumstances of our conduct, it will give us — There really isn’t much of a difference between agreeing and agreeing.If the former often exerts such a strong influence, we should not be surprised that the latter is always highly regarded.
The Creator, when she made man for society, endowed him with a certain primordial feeling which pleases his fellow beings and which dislikes offending his fellow man.She taught that one feels pleasure when one is praised by one's fellows and one suffers when one disapproves of them.She thereby makes the approval of her fellows the most gratifying and pleasant thing to man, and the disapproval of her fellows the most humiliating and dissatisfying.
But this desire for the approval of his fellow men, and his aversion for their disapproval, alone does not adapt a man to the society in which he lives.The Creator, then, endows him not only with a certain desire to be approved, but with a certain desire to be the object of approval, or to be the object of his own approval in the eyes of others.The former desire can only make him hope to fit into society superficially; the latter desire is indispensable to make him desire to really fit into society.The former desire can only lead him to hypocrisy and concealment of crime; the latter desire is necessary to arouse in him a true love of virtue and a hatred of vice.In every sane mind this second desire seems to be the strongest of the two.Only the weakest and most superficial will take great delight in a compliment which he himself knows is entirely undeserved.A weak man sometimes enjoys it, but a wise man resists it on every occasion.Though a wise man takes little pleasure in doing what he knows to be praiseworthy, he often takes great pleasure in doing what he knows to be praiseworthy, though he also knows that it is impossible for him to get any praise.Obtaining people's approval where it should not be was never an important end to him; obtaining people's approval where it really should be may sometimes be a less important end.And to be the object of that approbation must always be his greatest purpose.
To desire, or even to accept, praise where it should not be, can only be the result of the basest vanity.To desire praise where it is really due is to desire some minimum of justice due to us.Nor is it not unworthy of the wise to love just fame and true honor solely for this reason, to any advantage which may be gained from it.However, he sometimes overlooks or even despises all this, and never does so lightly until he is fully sure of the full propriety of his actions.In this case his self-approval need not be confirmed by the approval of others.This self-approval is, if not his only, at least his main end, the end which he can or should pursue.The love of this end is the love of virtue.
As our natural fondness and admiration for some qualities make us willing to make ourselves the proper objects of such pleasant affections, so our natural hatred and contempt for others may make us more Intense dread of thinking that I have similar qualities in any way.In this case, the fear of being hated and despised is not as strong as the thought of being hated and contemptible.Even with the most reliable assurance that those feelings of hatred and contempt will not in fact be vented against us, we are terrified at the thought that by doing we may make ourselves the right and proper object of the hatred and contempt of our fellowmen.Although the man who violated all those codes of conduct—which only made him popular—had the most reliable guarantee that what he did would never be seen, that was totally Invalid.When he reviews his actions, when he views them with the eye of the impartial spectator, he finds that he cannot excuse any motive which influenced it.He felt ashamed and terrified at the thought of his actions.Had his conduct become generally known, he must have felt the extreme shame which he was about to suffer.In such a case he imagines in his imagination the contempt and ridicule which he cannot avoid, unless those around him are completely ignorant of it.If it is true that those around him have vented such feelings on him, he still feels himself the natural object of these feelings, and still shudders at the thought that he might be tormented by them.But if the crime committed was not only some inappropriateness which only invites reproach, but some great crime which arouses abhorrence and resentment, then, so long as he has reason, he will never think of his own conduct. He may not feel all the anguish of terror and remorse; and though he may be assured that no one will know of his crime, and even himself convinced that his Creator will not avenge it, he still feels fully these agonies which make him grieve all his life. Terror and remorse, may still regard himself as the natural object of the hatred and wrath of all his fellow men; and if his heart had not been hardened by habitual sin, then, when the appalling truth was known, Not to mention without fear and horror the manner in which people looked at him, the emotions expressed in their faces and eyes.This natural anguish, felt by a man with a deeply troubled conscience, haunts the life of the conscious guilty man like a devil or a Fury, denies him peace and tranquility, and often drives him into despair and decadence. In the midst of distractions and distractions, from which the self-confidence of concealing crimes could not free him, and the principle of irreligion could not quite free him from them, only the basest and worst of all ranks have the greatest respect for honor and He who is wholly indifferent to infamy, crime, and virtue is spared from their torments.People whose qualities are most heinous, who, after committing the most horrific crimes, have the audacity to take steps to exonerate themselves from suspicion of guilt, and are sometimes compelled by the fear of their situation to actively expose things that human beings cannot perceive. matter.Knowing their crimes, awed by the wrath of their fellow-creatures whom they offended, and suffering the vengeance which they themselves know to be due, if it were possible to die peacefully and forgiven by all their fellow-men, Then they hope, at least in their imagination, to appease the natural resentment of people by dying; repent of his crimes, and make himself an object of sympathy rather than fear.These thoughts, too, seem appropriate in comparison with what they had thought before they revealed their crimes.
Even in persons who are not particularly vulnerable and sentimental, the fear of blame seems to completely outweigh the fear of blame under these circumstances.To assuage this fear, and to appease the reproaches of their conscience to a certain extent, they are willing to accept reproaches and punishments which they know they deserve, unless they can easily avoid them.
Only the most frivolous and superficial people take great pleasure in the kind of praise they know they don't deserve.
Yet undeserved censure is often deeply humiliating, even to the most resolute of spirits.
Indeed, they easily learn to despise the nonsense that so often circulates in society.These rumors, because of their absurdity and falsehood, will surely die down within weeks or days.But an innocent man, notwithstanding his uncommon determination, is often not only appalled, but often deeply humiliated, by the great slander of some untrue crime, which is unfortunately the same All the more so when things that seem to support it happen together.He was humiliated to find his character so disdained that he was supposed to be guilty of the above-mentioned crime.Though he was well aware of his innocence, it seems that the above-mentioned slanders often cast a shadow of dishonor and infamy over his character, even in his own fancy.His just indignation at an injury so grave—which, however, it may often be inappropriate and sometimes even impossible to retaliate—is itself a very painful feeling.Nothing is more painful to the hearts of men than this unquenchable rage.An innocent man, having been accused of having committed some dishonorable or heinous crime, is hanged and hanged, suffers the greatest misfortune that can happen to an innocent.In such cases, the pain in his heart is often greater than the pain felt by someone who has actually committed the same crime.Like the villain and the highwayman, so willful sinners are seldom aware of the evil of their deeds, and therefore never regret it.They are always accustomed to regard the gallows as a fate that is very likely to fall on them, and do not worry about the justice of this punishment.When, therefore, this fate did befall them, they simply considered themselves as unlucky as some of their fellows, and resigned themselves to their fate, without any other uneasiness than that arising from the fear of death; and we often see even Such a humble wretch can easily and completely overcome this fear.On the contrary, the anguish caused by anger at the unjust punishment that fell on him far outweighs the uneasiness that fear might cause to the innocent.Horrified at the thought of the notoriety this punishment might bring upon him, he foresaw with great pain that henceforth his closest friends and relatives would remember him not with sorrow and fondness, but with Think of his supposedly shameful act with shame, even horror.The shadow of death seemed to loom over him with a darker and suffocating gloom than usual.For the sake of the tranquility of mankind, it is hoped that in any country such unfortunate things will seldom occur; but in all countries they occur from time to time, even where justice usually reigns.
The unfortunate Callas, a man of unusual steadfastness (who was completely innocent and burned at the chariot in Toulouse on suspicion of murdering his son), prayed in his last moments to be spared Indeed, it seems chiefly not the cruelty of the sentence, but the disgrace brought upon him by the above-mentioned offenses which damaged his posthumous reputation.
When he was executed by chariot and was about to be thrown into the fire, the monks participating in the execution advised him to repent to God for the crime he had been sentenced to. Callas replied: Father, can you convince yourself that I am guilty?
A crude view of life confined to this world may, perhaps, offer little consolation to one caught in such an unfortunate situation.They can no longer do anything to ennoble life or death.They have been sentenced to death and forever left with a bad name.Only religion can give them some effective consolation.Only religion can tell them that it matters little what men may think of an all-seeing Providence, so long as it approves of their actions.Only religion can show them the vision of a world--a world brighter, more human, and more just than this world before them--where, in due course, they will be declared innocent and their virtue In the end it will be rewarded; and that great law, which can terrify the triumphant sinner, can give the only valid consolation to the innocent who is shamed and insulted.
A sensitive person is hurt not by a real crime actually committed, but by unjust slander.This happens both when the crime is minor and when it is larger.A womanizer may even laugh at the well-founded speculations circulating in society about her behaviour.The same unfounded speculation is a moral injury to an innocent virgin.It seems to me that this may be formulated as a general law: the person who willfully commits a shameful crime seldom finds it dishonorable, and the habitual Have any shameful feelings.
How can undeserved reproaches often incur so great affronts on the very wise and judging, when everyone, even those of average understanding, do not hesitate to despise undeserved praise?Perhaps some investigation should be done on the occurrence of this situation.
I have said that in almost all cases pain is a more stimulating sensation than its opposite and corresponding pleasure.Whereas the latter always elevate our feeling above the usual or so-called natural state of happiness, the former almost always depresses it much below it.A sensitive person is more likely to be humiliated by being justly reproached than ever to be justly praised.
A wise man despises undeserved praise on all occasions; but often he feels deeply the injustice of undeserved blame.Tormented by praise for something he has not done, by assuming a merit that does not belong to him, he feels himself a vile liar with a guilty conscience who does not deserve praise that is misunderstood. Those who are praised, should be despised by them.Perhaps it gave him some well-founded pleasure to find that many people thought it possible for them to do what they hadn't done.But although he will be grateful for the good comments of his friends, he will still think that he is a very low sinner if he does not immediately correct the misunderstandings of his friends.It doesn't bring him much joy to see himself in the way they actually see themselves when he realizes that others might see him in a different light if they knew the truth.A weak-minded person, however, often takes great pleasure in seeing himself in that dishonest and false light.He usurps the virtues of every laudable act which is said to be his own, and boasts of himself many virtues which no one has ever attributed to him.
He pretends to have done what he has never done, to write what others have written, to invent what others have invented;But while a man of generally good sense cannot derive great pleasure from misattributing to himself a laudable act which he has never committed, a wise man will take great pleasure in misattributing The pain of having blamed oneself for the crime is great.In this case, the Creator not only makes pain more exciting than his opposite and corresponding pleasure, but also makes it more than it should be.A certain self-restraint at once removes the pursuit of absurd pleasures; but it does not always save one from pain.No one doubted his honesty when he denied wrongly attributed merit.His honesty risks being called into question as he denies the crimes he is accused of committing.
He was immediately offended by this vain slander, and saddened to see it believed.He felt that his qualities were not sufficient to protect him from slander.He felt that his fellow men, far from seeing him in the way he longed for them to see him, thought he might be guilty of the crime he was accused of.He knew full well that he was innocent.He knows exactly what he is doing; but perhaps few people can fully know what he may be doing himself.What his peculiar mood may or may not have permitted to do, may be that which is more or less suspected.The confidence and good opinion of friends and neighbors, more than anything, helped to alleviate the pain he felt from this unpleasant suspicion; their distrust and unpleasant opinion, more than anything Things are more likely to add to this pain.He may be quite confident that their unpleasant judgments are wrong, but this confidence is seldom large enough to prevent that judgment from impressing him; ability, the deeper this impression is likely to be.
It must be said, that in all cases the agreement of the sentiments and judgments of other people with our own is just as much of an importance to us as we are uncertain of the propriety of our own sentiments and the correctness of our own judgments.
A sensitive person may at times be deeply disturbed that he will indulge too much what may be called a noble sentiment, or that the righteous indignation at which he or his friends have been hurt is too strong.He dreaded that he might, by being too emotionally charged, or by doing justice, do some other real harm; people who, though not innocent, were perhaps not quite the sinners he first knew them to be.在这种情况下，他人的看法对他来说极为重要。他们的赞同是最有效的安慰；他们的不赞同则可能成为注入他那不安心理的最苦、最剧烈的毒药。如果他对自己行为的每一方面都感到充分满意，别人的判断对他来说就常常是不太重要的了。
有一些非常高尚和美好的艺术，只有运用某种精确的鉴赏力才能确定其杰出程度，然而，在某种程度上，鉴赏的结果似乎总是不一致。另外有些艺术，其成就既经得起充分论证，又经得起令人满意的检验。在上述不同艺术精品候选者中， 前者比后者更加渴望得到公众的评价。
诗歌的优美是一个有关精细鉴赏力的问题。一个年青的初学者几乎不可能确定自己的诗歌是否优美，因此，再也没有什么比得到朋友和公众的好评更能使他喜气洋洋；再也没有什么比相反的评价更能使他深感羞辱。前者确定了他急于获得的对自己诗歌的好评，后者动摇了这种好评。经验和成就也许会适时地给他对自己的判断增加一点信心。然而，他老是容易为公众作出相反的判断而感到极度的羞辱。拉辛对自己的《费得尔》-一部最好的悲剧，或许已译成各国文字—— 获得不大的成功深为不满，因而他虽然风华正茂，写作技能处于顶峰，也决意不再写作任何剧本。这位伟大的诗人经常告诉他的孩子：毫不足取和极不恰当的批评给他带来的痛苦，往往超过最高度的和最正确的赞颂给他带来的快乐。众所周知，伏尔泰对同样极轻微的指责极为敏感。蒲柏先生的《邓西阿德》如同一切最优美和最和谐的英国诗篇一样，是不朽的著作，却为最低劣和最卑鄙的作家们的批评所伤害。据说格雷（他兼有弥尔顿的壮丽和蒲柏的优美和谐，同他们相比， 除了写作再多一点之外，并没有什么使他不配成为第一流的英国诗人）由于自己最好的两首颂诗被人拙劣和不恰当地模仿而受到很大的伤害，因而此后不想再写重大的作品。那些自夸善于写作散文的文人，其敏感性有点儿接近于诗人。
相反，数学家对自己的发现的真实性和重要性充满自信，因此对于人们怎样对待自己毫不介意。我有幸接触到的两位最伟大的数学家，而且接照我的主观看法也是当代最伟大的两位数学家，即格拉斯哥大学的罗伯特西姆森博士和爱丁堡大学的马修斯图尔特博土，从来没有因为无知的人们忽视他们的某些最有价值的著作而感到过丝毫不安。有人告诉我，艾萨克牛顿爵士的伟大著作《自然哲学的数学原理》被公众冷落了好几年。也许那个伟人的平静从未因之受到片刻的搅扰。自然哲学家们，就其不受公众评价的制约来说，同数学家相近；就其对自己发现和观察所得知识的优点的判断来说，具有其程度同数学家相等的自信和泰然自若。
或许，各类不同文人的道德品行，有时多少受他们与公众的这种大不相同的关系的影响。
数学家和自然哲学家们由于不受公众评价的制约，很少受到要维护自己声誉和贬低对方声誉的诱惑而组成派别和团体。他们通常是态度亲切举止坦率的人， 他们相互之间和睦相处，彼此维护对方的声誉，不会为了获得公众的赞扬而参与阴谋诡计，他们在自己的著作得到赞同时会感到高兴，受到冷遇时也不会很恼火或非常愤怒。
对诗人或那些自夸自己作品优秀的人来说，情况总是与此相异。他们非常容易分成各种文人派别；每个团体往往公开地和几乎总是隐秘地把别人当作不共戴天的仇敌，并运用各种卑劣的诡计和圈套以抢先获得公众对自己成员作品的好评，攻击仇敌和对手的那些作品。在法国，德彼雷奥斯和拉辛并不认为起先为了贬低基诺和佩罗的声誉，后来为了贬低丰特奈尔和拉莫特的声誉，而充当某一文学团体的领袖，甚至以一种极为无礼的方式对待善良的拉封丹，会有失自己的身分。在英国，和蔼可亲的艾迪生先生并不认为为了贬低蒲柏先生与日俱增的声誉而充当某一小文学团体的领袖，会同自己高尚和谦虚的品质不相称。丰特奈尔先生在撰写科学院——一个数学家和自然哲学家的团体——成员的生活和为人时， 经常有机会颂扬他们亲切朴实的风度；他认为，这在数学家和物理学家中间是如此普遍，以致成为整个文人阶层，而不是任何个人的特有的品质。达朗贝先生在撰写法兰西学会——一个诗人和优秀作家们的团体——的成员，或者人们认为是该团体成员的那些人的生活和为人时，似乎并不是经常有这种机会去作这一类评论，甚至找不到任何借口来把这种和蔼可亲的品质说成是他所称颂的这帮文人特有的品质。
对自己的优点难以确定，以及期望它得到好评，自然足以使我们渴望了解别人对我们优点的评价；当别人的评价良好时，我们的精神就比平时更为振奋；当别人的评价不好时，我们的精神就比平时更为沮丧；但是它们不足以使我们以阴谋诡计和结党营私来获得良好的评价或回避不好的评价。如果一个人贿赂了所有的法官，虽然这种做法可以使他获得胜诉，但是法院全体一致的判决也不能够使他相信自己有理；而如果只是为了证明自己有理而进行诉讼，他就决不会去贿赂法官。不过，虽然他希望法院判决自己有理，但他也同样希望获得胜诉；他因此而会贿赂法官。如果赞扬对我们来说并不重要，而只是能证明我们应该受到赞扬， 我们就决不会力图用不正当的手段去得到它。不过，虽然对聪明人来说，至少在受到怀疑的情况下，赞扬主要是因为能证明应该受到赞扬而具有重要性，但是赞扬也在某种程度上因为其自身的缘故而具有重要性；因此，（在这种情况下，我们实际上不能把他们称作聪明人，而只能称其为）远远高于一般水准的人们有时也企图用很不正当的手段去获得赞扬和逃避责备。
赞扬和责备表达别人对我们的品质和行为的情感实际上是什么；值得赞扬和应当责备表达别人对我们的品质和行为的情感自然应该是什么。对赞扬的喜爱就是渴望获得同胞们的好感。对值得赞扬的喜爱就是渴望自己成为那种情感的合宜对象。到此为止，这两种天性彼此相似和类似。同样的近似和相似也存在于对责备和该受责备的畏惧之中。
那个想做或者实际上作出某种值得赞扬的行为的人，同样会渴望获得对这种行为应有的赞扬，有时，或许会渴望获得更多的赞扬。在这种情况下，两种天性混成一体。他的行为在何种程度上受到前者的影响，又在何种程度上受到后者的影响，常常连自己也分辨不清。对别人来说通常必然更是如此。倾向于贬低他的行为中的优点的那些人，主要或完全把它归结为只是对赞扬的喜爱，或归结为他们称为虚荣心的东西。倾向于更多地考虑其行为中优点的那些人，主要或完全把它归结为对值得赞扬的喜爱；归结为对人类行为之中真正光荣而又高尚行为的喜爱；归结为不仅对获得而且对应该获得其同胞的赞同和称赞的渴望。旁观者根据自己思考的习惯，或者根据对他正在考察的人们的行为所能产生的好恶，既可把这种行为中的优点想象成这个样子，又可把它想象成另一个样子。
某些居心不良的哲学家，在判断人类的天性时，如同脾气乖戾的人在互相判断对方的行为时往往采取的做法一样行事并把应该归于对值得赞扬的那种行为的喜爱归结为对赞扬的喜爱，或者归结为他们称作虚荣心的东西。我在后面会有机会来对他们的某些哲学体系作一说明，现在且存而不论。
很少有人会满足于他们自己的感觉，即他们已具备自己所钦佩、并在别人看来是值得赞扬的那些品质，或者已实施那些行为；除非人们同时公认他们具备了前者，或实施了后者；或者，换言之，除非他们实际上获得了自己认为应当给予前者和后者的那种赞扬。然而，在这一方面，人们相互之间大有不同。某些人， 当他们自以为他们已充分证明是值得赞扬的人时，似乎对赞扬并不感兴趣。另外一些人似乎对值得赞扬比对赞扬更加满不在乎。
没有人能够对避免了自己行为中所有该受责备的东西而感到完全满意或尚可满意；除非他也避免了责备或非议。一个智者甚至在他完全应该得到赞扬的时候也常常会对此毫不在意；但是，在一切至关紧要的事情上，他会极为小心地尽力控制自己的行为，以不仅避免该受责备的东西，而且尽可能避免一切可能遭到的非难。的确，由于做了自己断定该受责备的事，由于玩忽了自己的任何职责， 或者由于放过了做自己断定真正非常值得赞扬的任何事情的机会，他无论如何逃脱不了责备。不过，由于存在这些顾忌，他将极为急切和小心地避免责备。甚至因为作出值得赞扬的行为，而显露出对赞扬较强烈的渴望，也往往不是一个伟大智者的特征，而通常是某种程度虚弱的标记。但是，在渴望避免责备或非议的兆头之中，也许不存在虚弱，而常常包含着极其值得赞扬的谨慎。
西塞罗说：“许多人蔑视荣誉，但是他们又因不公正的非议而感到莫大的屈辱；而这是极为矛盾的。”然而，这种自相矛盾似乎扎根于不变的人性原则之中。
全知全能的造物主以这种方式教人尊重其同胞们的情感和判断；如果他们赞同他的行为，他就或多或少地感到高兴；如果他们不赞同他的行为，他就或多或少地感到不快。造物主把人——如果我可以这样说的话——变成了人类的直接审判员；造物主在这方面正如在其它许多方面一样，按照自己的设想来造人，并指定他作为自己在人间的代理者，以监督其同胞们的行为。天性使他们承认如此赋予他的权力和裁判权，当他们遭到他的责难时或多或少地感到丢脸和屈辱，而当他们得到他的赞许时则或多或少地感到得意。
虽然人以这种方式变为人类的直接审判员，但这只是在第一审时才如此；最终的判决还要求助于高级法庭，求助于他们自己良心的法庭，求助于那个假设的公正的和无所不知的旁观者的法庭，求助于人们心中的那个人——人们行为的伟大的审判员和仲裁人的法庭。上述两种法庭的裁判权都建立在某些方面虽然相似和类似，但实际上是不同和有区别的原则之上。外部那个人的裁决权完全以对实际赞扬的渴望、以及对实际责备的嫌恶为依据。内心那个人的裁决权完全以对值得赞扬的渴望、以及对该受责备的嫌恶为依据；完全以对具有某些品质，做出某些行为的渴望为依据，那种品质是别人具备而为我们所热爱的，那种行动也是别人作出而为我们所称赞的；也完全以对具有某些品质、作出某些行为的恐惧为依据，那种品质是别人具备而为我们所憎恨的，那种行为也是别人作出而为我们所鄙视的。如果外部的那个人为了我们并未作出的行为或并没有影响我们的动机而称赞我们，内心那个人就会告诉我们，由于我们知道自己不应该得到这种称赞， 所以接受它们就会使自己变成可卑的人，从而立即压抑住这种没有理由的喝彩可能产生的自满和振奋的心情。相反，如果外部的那个人为了我们从未作出的行为或并未对我们可能已经作出的那些行为产生影响的动机而责备我们，内心的那个人就会马上纠正这个错误的判断，并且使我们确信自己决不是如此不公正地给予自己的责难的合宜对象。但是，在这里以及其它某些场合，可以这样说，内心的那个人似乎对外界那个人抱有的激情和喧嚷感到惊讶和迷惑。有时伴随激情和喧闹的责备一古脑儿倾泻到我们身上，使自己值得赞扬或应受责备的天生感觉似乎失去作用和麻木不仁；虽然内心那个人的判断或许绝对不会被变动和歪曲，但是， 其决定的可靠性与坚定性已大为减损，因而其使我们内心保持平静的天然作用常常受到巨大的破坏。当所有的同胞似乎都高声责备我们时，我们几乎不敢宽恕自己。那个设想的我们行为的公正的旁观者好像怀着恐惧和犹豫不定的心情提出有利于我们的意见；但是，如果所有现实的旁观者的意见，如果所有那些人按照他们的地位以他们的眼光发表的意见一致而又强烈地反对我们，他就会尽力加以斟酌。在这种情况下，心中这个半神半人的人就表现出像诗中所描写的那样，虽然部分具有神的血统，但是也部分具有人的血统。当他的判断由值得赞扬和该受责备的感觉可靠和坚定地引导时，他似乎合宜地按照神的血统行事；但是，当愚昧无知和意志薄弱的人的判断使他大惊失色时，他就暴露出自己同人的联系，并且与其说他是按其血统之中神的部分还不如说是按其血统中人的部分行事。
在这种情况下，那个情绪消沉、内心痛苦的人唯一有效的安慰就存在于向更高的法庭、向洞察一切的宇宙的最高审判者的求助之中，这个审判者的眼睛从来不会看错，从来不会作出错误的裁决。在这个最高审判者前他的清白无辜将在适当的时候宣布，他的优良品德最终将得到回报。对于这个最高审判者准确无误的公正裁决的信念，是他那沮丧和失望的心情所能得到的唯一支持。在他深感不安和惊讶时，是天性把这个最高审判者作为伟大的保护者树立在他的心中，不仅保护他在现世的清白无辜，而且还保护他的心情平静。在许多场合，我们把自己在今世的幸福寄托在对于来世的微末的希望和期待之上；这种希望和期待深深地扎根于人类的天性，只有它能支持人性自身尊严的崇高理想，能照亮不断迫近人类的阴郁的前景，并且在今世的混乱有时会招致的一切极其深重的灾难之中保持其乐观情绪。这样的世界将会到来，在那里，公正的司法将普施众人；在那里，每个人都将置身于其道德品质和智力水平真正同他相等的那些人之中；那里，有具有那些谦逊才能和美德的人，那种才能和美德由于为命运所压抑而在今世没有机会显示出来；它们不仅不为公众所知而且他也不相信自己具备，甚至连内心那个人也不敢对此提供任何明显而又清楚的证明。那种谦虚的、未明言的、不为人所知的优点在那里将得到适当的评价，有时还被认为胜过在今世享有最高荣誉、并由于他们处于有利的地位而能作出非常伟大和令人叹服的行为的那些人；这样一个信条对虚弱的心灵来说各方面都如此令其尊崇和称心如意，又如此为崇高的人类天性所喜爱，以至于不幸对它抱怀疑态度的有德者，也不可避免地要极其真挚和急切地相信它。假如不是一些非常热诚的断言者告诉我们，在未来世界里，报答和惩罚的分配常常同我们全部的道德情感直接相违背，这个信条决不会遭到嘲笑者的嘲弄。
我们大家经常听到许多年高德劭但满腹牢骚的老臣抱怨说，阿谀奉承的人常常比忠诚积极的侍臣更受宠爱，谄媚奉承常常比优点或贡献更快和更有把握得到晋升，在凡尔赛宫或圣詹姆斯官献一次媚，顶得上在德国或法兰德斯打两场仗。
但是，甚至软弱的尘世君主也视为最大耻辱的事情，却被认为如同正义的行动一样，起因于神的尽善尽美；忠于职守，社会和个人对神的尊崇甚至被德才兼备的人们描述为能够给予报答或者能够不受惩罚的唯一美德。这种美德或许是同他们的身份极其相称的，是他们的主要优点；而我们自然都容易高估自己的优良品质。
雄辩而富有哲理的马亚隆在为卡蒂耐特军团的军旗祝福而作的一次讲演中，向他的军官们讲了下面一段话：“先生们，你们最可悲的处境是什么，那就是生活在艰难困苦之中，在那儿，服务和职守有时比修道院极其严格的苦修还要艰苦；你们总是苦于来世的虚无缥缈，甚至常常苦于今世的徒劳无功。哎呀！隐居的修道士在他的陋室中，克制肉体的情欲以服从精神的修养，支撑他这样做的是某种肯定能得到报偿的希望，和对减轻主的制裁的那种恩典的热忱期望。但是，你们临终时会大胆地向神陈述你们工作的辛劳和每天的艰苦吗？会大胆地向他恳求任何报偿吗？并且在你们所作的全部努力之中，在你们对自己所作的全部强制之中，什么是神应当加以肯定的呢？然而，你们把一生中最好的时光献给了自己的职业，10 年的服务可能比整个一生的悔恨和羞辱更加有损于你们的肉体。哎呀！
我的弟兄们！为神而经受仅只一天这样的辛苦，或许会给你们带来永世的幸福。
某一件事，对人性来说是痛苦的，但它是为上帝做的，或许会使你们得到圣者的称号。不过你们做了这一切，在今世是不会有报应的。 "
像这样把某个修道院的徒劳的苦修比作高尚的战争的艰难和冒险，认为在宇宙主宰的眼中修道院中一日或一小时的苦行比在战争中度过的光荣一生具有更大的功绩，是肯定同我们的全部道德情感相抵触的，是肯定同天性教导我们要据以控制自己的轻蔑和钦佩心理的全部原则相违背的。然而，正是这种精神，一方面把天国留给了僧侣修士们，或留给了言行同僧侣修士们相似的人们，同时却宣告：过去年代的所有的英雄、政治家、立法者、诗人和哲学家，所有那些在有利于人类生活的延续、为人类生活增添便利和美化人类生活的技艺方面有所发明、 有所前进或者有所创造的人，所有那些人类的伟大的保护者、指导者和造福者， 所有那些我们对值得赞扬的天生感觉促使自己把他们看成是具有最大的优点和最崇高的美德的人，皆将下地狱。我们对这个最值得尊重的信条由于被如此莫名其妙地滥用而有时遭到轻视和嘲弄会感到惊奇吗？至少是那些对虔诚的和默祷的美德或许缺乏高尚趣味或癖性的人会对此感到惊奇吗？