道德情操论（中文导读英文版）
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作者： （英）斯密（Smith，A）原著；王勋等编译
出 版 社： 清华大学出版社
出版时间： 2008-10-1字数：版次： 1页数： 482印刷时间：开本： 16开印次：纸张：I S B N ： 9787302181941包装： 平装内容简介
The Theory of Moral Sentiments，中文译名为《道德情操论》，它由英国著名古典政治经济学家、现代西方经济学之父、哲学家亚当斯密编著。这是一部划时代的巨著，是古典经济学的哲学基础。全书共有七卷，主要阐释道德情感的本质和道德评价的性质。书中列举了支配人类行为的各种动机，包括自爱、同情心、追求自由的欲望、正义感、劳动习惯和交换倾向等，认为一个人的同情心与思维构造是形成其独特的道德情操、道德判断及美德的基础；阐述了人本性中所有的同情的情感是形成其道德取向的基础，是人类正义感和其他一切道德情感的形成根源，由此说明道德评价的性质，以此为基础表明各种基本美德的特征，并向世人强调：道德和正义对于社会乃至市场经济的运行是非常重要的。
无论是作为哲学和经济学等专业的经典读本，还是作为语言学习的课外读物，本书对当代中国读者，特别是对哲学和经济学等相关专业学习的大学生和从事研究工作的学者都将产生积极的影响。为了使读者能够了解每个论述主题的主要内容，进而提高阅读速度和阅读水平，在每个主题的开始部分增加了中文导读。
作者简介
亚当斯密（Adam Smith，1723-1790），英国著名古典政治经济学家、哲学家、现代西方经济学之父。亚当斯密1723年6月5日出生于苏格兰，青年时就读于牛津大学国；1748-1751，任爱丁堡大学讲师，讲授经济学；1751-1764年，任格拉斯哥大学哲学教授，1759年出版了他的首部巨著《道德情操论》（The Theory of Moral Sentiments）。该书缔造了以“公民的幸福生活”为目标的伦理思想体系，从而确立了亚当斯密在学术界的地位和威望。
目录
第一卷 论行为的适宜性/
Part One Of the Propriety of Action
第一篇 论适宜性/
SectionⅠ Of the Sense of Propriety2
第一章 论同情/
Chapter 1 Of Sympathy3
第二章 论相互同情的快乐/
Chapter 2 Of the Pleasure of mutual Sympathy10
第三章 论比较他人的感情与我们的感情是否一致来判断他
人感情是否适宜的方式/
Chapter 3 Of the manner in which we judge of the propriety
or impropriety of the Affections of other Men, by their
concord or dissonance with our own14
第四章 续前章/
Chapter 4 The same subject continued19
第五章 论亲切的和值得尊敬的美德/
Chapter 5 Of the amiable and respectable virtues26
第二篇 论各种适宜的激情程度/
Section Ⅱ Of the Degrees of the different Passions which are
consistent with Propriety31
引言/
Introduction32
第一章 论源于身体的激情/
Chapter 1 Of the Passions which take their origin from the body34
第二章 论源于某种特殊倾向或想象习惯的激情/
Chapter 2 Of those Passions which take their origin from a particular
turn or habit of the Imagination40
第三章 论不友好的激情/
Chapter 3 Of the unsocial Passions45
第四章 论友好的激情/
Chapter 4 Of the social Passions52
第五章 论自私的激情/
Chapter 5 Of the selfish Passions55
第三篇 论繁荣和灾祸对人们判断行为是否适宜所产生的影响；
以及为什么在一种情形下比在另一种情况下更容易获
得人们的认可/
Section Ⅲ Of the Effects of Prosperity and Adversity upon the
Judgment of Mankind with regard to the Propriety
of Action; and why it is more easy to obtain their
Approbation in the one state than in the other60
第一章 虽然我们对悲伤的同情一般比对快乐的同情更为强烈，
但是它通常远没有主要当事人自然感受到的强烈/
Chapter 1 That though our sympathy with sorrow is generally
a more lively sensation than our sympathy with joy,
it commonly falls much more short of the violence of
what is naturally felt by the person principally concerned61
第二章 论野心的起源和社会阶层的区别/
Chapter 2 Of the origin of Ambition,
and of the distinction of Ranks70
第三章 论源于钦佩富人和大人物、轻视或忽视穷人和
小人物的道德情操败坏/
Chapter 3 Of the corruption of our moral sentiments, which is
occasioned by this disposition to admire the rich and
the great, and to despise or neglect persons of poor and
mean condition83
第二卷 论优、缺点；报答与惩处的对象/
Part Two Of Merit and Demerit; or of the Objects of
Reward and Punishment
第一篇 论对优点和缺点的感觉/
Section Ⅰ Of the Sense of Merit and Demerit92
引言/
Introduction93
第一章 任何适宜的感激对象的行为显然应该得到报答；同样，
任何适宜的愤恨对象的行为显然应该受到惩罚95
Chapter 1 That whatever appears to be the proper object of
gratitude appears to deserve reward; and that, in the
same manner, whatever appears to be the proper object
of resentment, appears to deserve punishment95
第二章 论适当的感激对象和适当的愤恨对象/
Chapter 2 Of the proper objects of gratitude and resentment99
第三章 不认可施恩者的行为，就几乎不会同情受益者的感激；
相反，对损人者的动机表示认同，对受难者的愤恨就
不会有一点同情/
Chapter 3 That where there is no approbation of the conduct of
the person who confers the benefit, there is little sympathy
with the gratitude of him who receives it: and that, on the
contrary, where there is no disapprobation of the motives of
the person who does the mischief, there is no sort of
sympathy with the resentment of him who suffers it103
第四章 对前几章的概括/
Chapter 4 Recapitulation of the foregoing chapters106
第五章 对优点和缺点感觉的分析/
Chapter 5 The analysis of the sense of Merit and Demerit108
第二篇 论正义和仁慈/
Section two Of Justice and Beneficence115
第一章 两种美德的比较/
Chapter 1 Comparison of those two virtues116
第二章 论对正义、懊悔的感觉，兼论对优点的意识/
Chapter 2 Of the sense of Justice, of Remorse, and of the
consciousness of Merit122
第三章 论这种天性构成的效用/
Chapter 3 Of the utility of this constitution of Nature127
第三篇 关于行为的优点或缺点，论命运对人类情感的影响
Section Ⅲ Of the Influence of Fortune upon the Sentiments of
Mankind, with regard to the Merit or Demerit
of Actions136
引言/
Introduction137
第一章 论这种命运产生影响的原因/
Chapter 1 Of the causes of this Influence of Fortune140
第二章 论这种命运产生影响的程度/
Chapter 2 Of the extent of this Influence of Fortune145
第三章 论这种无规律情感变化的最终原因/
Chapter 3 Of the final cause of this Irregularity of Sentiments155
第三卷 论评判自己的情感和行为的基础，兼论责任感/
Part Three Of the Foundation of our Judgments concerning our own Sentiments and Conduct, and of the Sense of Duty
第一章 论自我认同和不认同的原则/
Chapter 1 Of the Principle of Self-approbation and
of Self-disapprobation162
第二章 论对赞扬和值得赞扬的喜欢；兼论对责备和
该受责备的恐惧/
Chapter 2 Of the love of Praise, and of that of Praise-worthiness;
and of the dread of Blame, and of that of
Blame-worthiness167
第三章 论良心的威信和影响/
Chapter 3 Of the Influence and Authority of Conscience190
第四章 论自欺欺人的本性，兼论一般准则的起源和用途/
Chapter 4 Of the Nature of Self-deceit, and of the origin and
Use of general Rules217
第五章 论道德的通常规则的影响和威信，以及它们被公正
地看作神的法则/
Chapter 5 Of the influence and authority of the general Rules of
Morality, and that they are justly regarded as the Laws
of the Deity224
第六章 在何种情况下，责任感应该成为人们行为的
唯一准则；在何种情况下，它应该同
其他动机一起发生作用/
Chapter 6 In what cases the Sense of Duty ought to be
the sole principle of our conduct; and in what
cases it ought to concur with other motives237
第四卷 论效用对认同情感的作用/
Part Four Of the Effect of Utility upon the
Sentiment of Approbation
第一章 论效用的表现赋予所有艺术作品的美，兼论这种
美所具有的广泛影响250
Chapter 1 Of the beauty which the appearance of Utility bestows
upon all the productions of Art, and of the extensive
influence of this species of Beauty250
第二章 论效用的表现赋予人的行为和品格的美，以及关于
这种美的概念可能在何种程度上被看成一种原始的
认同原则261
Chapter 2 Of the beauty which the appearance of Utility bestows
upon the characters and actions of men; and how far the
perception of this beauty may be regarded as one of the
original principles of approbation261
第五卷 习惯和风气对认同的与不认同的道德情操的影响/
Part Five Of the Influence of Custom and Fashion upon the
Sentiments of Moral Approbation and Disapprobation
第一章 论习惯和风气施加于人们对美和丑看法的影响/
Chapter 1 Of the Influence of Custom and Fashion upon
our notions of Beauty and Deformity272
第二章 论习惯和风气对道德情感的影响/
Chapter 2 Of the Influence of Custom and Fashion upon
Moral Sentiments281
第六卷 论美德的品格/
Part Six Of the Character of Virtue
引言/
Introduction298
第一篇 论个人的品格，就它对其幸福的影响而言；或论谨慎/
SECTION Ⅰ Of the Character of the Individual, so far as it
affects his own Happiness; or of Prudence299
第二篇 论个人的品格，就它对其他人幸福的影响/
SECTION Ⅱ Of the Character of the Individual, so far as it
can affect the Happiness of other People308
引言/
Introduction309
第一章 论天性致使个人成为我们关心和注意的对象
所依据的次序/
Chapter 1 Of the Order in which Individuals are recommended
by Nature to our Care and Attention311
第二章 论天性使社会团体成为人们行善对象的次序/
Chapter 2 Of the Order in which societies are by Nature
recommended to our Beneficence324
第三章 论世界性的行善/
Chapter 3 Of universal Benevolence334
第三篇 论自我支配/
SECTION Ⅲ Of Self-command338
第六卷的结论/
Conclusion of the Sixth Part371
第七卷 论道德的哲学体系/
Part Seven Of Systems of Moral Philosophy
第一篇 论应当在道德情感理论中考虑的问题/
SECTION Ⅰ Of the Questions which ought to be
examined in a Theory of Moral Sentiments376
第二篇 论已对美德的本质做出的各种说明/
SECTION Ⅱ Of the different Accounts which have been
given of the Nature of Virtue379
引言/
Introduction380
第一章 论认为美德存在于适宜性之中的那些体系/
Chapter 1 Of those Systems which make Virtue
consist in Propriety382
第二章 论认为美德存在于谨慎之中的那些体系/
Chapter 2 Of those Systems which make Virtue
consist in Prudence413
第三章 论认为美德存在于善行之中的那些体系/
Chapter 3 Of those Systems which make Virtue consist in Benevolence421
第四章 论放肆的体系/
Chapter 4 Of licentious Systems430
第三篇 论已经形成的有关认同原则的各种体系/
SECTION Ⅲ Of the different Systems which have been
formed concerning the Principle of
Approbation441
引言/
Introduction442
第一章 论从自爱推断出认同原则的那些体系/
Chapter 1 Of those Systems which deduce the Principle of
Approbation from self-love444
第二章 论把理性看成认同原则的根源的那些体系/
Chapter 2 Of those Systems which make Reason the Principle of
Approbation448
第三章 论把情感看成认同原则的根源的那些体系/
Chapter 3 Of those Systems which make Sentiment the
Principle of Approbation453
第四篇 论不同的作者论述道德实践规则的方式/
SECTION Ⅳ Of the Manner in which different Authors have
treated of the practical Rules of Morality462
书摘插图
第一卷 论行为的适宜性
Part One Of the Propriety
of Action
第一篇 论适宜性
SectionⅠ Of the Sense of Propriety
第一章 论同情
Chapter 1 Of Sympathy
人天生存在怜悯或同情的本性，这种情感是人人都有的，只是可能因品行的高低差异而感受到的强弱不同。对于别人的感受我们只能通过想象获知，我们所体会的痛苦或悲伤并不是他人实际的感觉，这些自我感觉在一定程度上与我们的想象力成比例。大量事实表明，我们会对受难者的感受和动作具有类似的感受并做出相似的动作。
可以将“同情”理解为“怜悯”或“体恤”，但是它同样可以用来表示对任何一种激情的同感。同情有时候来自对一些人情绪的观察，有时候在真正了解情况之前，激情已引起了我们的厌恶和反感。
激情也会由于其表现性质不同而产生不同的影响。悲伤或高兴只能影响感受到同样情绪的人，而有关命运的想法却引起一般人的关切，因此将同情理解为看到激发这种激情的境况而产生的，似乎好过于理解为看到对方的激情而产生的。如母亲担心婴儿，人们同情死者一样，是由于内心的害怕和恐惧，使得痛苦的滋长无法控制。
ow selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it except the pleasure of seeing it. Of this kind is pity or compassion, the emotion which we feel for the misery of others, when we either see it, or are made to conceive it in a very lively manner. That we often derive sorrow from the sorrow of others is a matter of fact too obvious to require any instances to prove it; for this sentiment, like all the other original passions of human nature, is by no means confined to the virtuous and humane, though they perhaps may feel it with the most exquisite sensibility. The greatest ruffian, the most hardened violator of the laws of society, is not altogether without it.
As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner in which they are affected, but by conceiving what we ourselves should feel in the like situation. Though our brother is upon the rack, as long as we ourselves are at our ease, our senses will never inform us of what he suffers. They never did, and never can, carry us beyond our own person, and it is by the imagination only that we can form any conception of what are his sensations. Neither can that faculty help us to this any other way, than by representing to us what would be our own, if we were in his case. It is the impressions of our own senses only, not those of his, which our imaginations copy. By the imagination we place ourselves in his situation, we conceive ourselves enduring all the same torments, we enter as it were into his body, and become in some measure the same person with him, and thence form some idea of his sensations, and even feel something which, though weaker in degree, is not altogether unlike them. His agonies, when they are thus brought home to ourselves, when we have thus adopted and made them our own, begin at last to affect us, and we then tremble and shudder at the thought of what he feels. For as to be in pain or distress of any kind excites the most excessive sorrow, so to conceive or to imagine that we are in it, excites some degree of the same emotion, in proportion to the vivacity or dulness of the conception.
That this is the source of our fellow-feeling for the misery of others, that it is by changing places in fancy with the sufferer, that we come either to conceive or to be affected by what he feels, may be demonstrated by many obvious observations, if it should not be thought sufficiently evident of itself. When we see a stroke aimed and just ready to fall upon the leg or arm of another person, we naturally shrink and draw back our own leg or our own arm; and when it does fall, we feel it in some measure, and are hurt by it as well as the sufferer. The mob, when they are gazing at a dancer on the slack rope, naturally writhe and twist and balance their own bodies, as they see him do, and as they feel that they themselves must do if in his situation. Persons of delicate fibres and a weak constitution of body complain, that in looking on the sores and ulcers which are exposed by beggars in the streets, they are apt to feel an itching or uneasy sensation in the correspondent part of their own bodies. The horror which they conceive at the misery of those wretches affects that particular part in themselves more than any other; because that horror arises from conceiving what they themselves would suffer, if they really were the wretches whom they are looking upon, and if that particular part in themselves was actually affected in the same miserable manner. The very force of this conception is sufficient, in their feeble frames, to produce that itching or uneasy sensation complained of. Men of the most robust make, observe that in looking upon sore eyes they often feel a very sensible soreness in their own, which proceeds from the same reason; that organ being in the strongest man more delicate, than any other part of the body is in the weakest.
Neither is those circumstances only, which create pain or sorrow, that call forth our fellow-feeling. Whatever is the passion which arises from any object in the person principally concerned, an analogous emotion springs up, at the thought of his situation, in the breast of every. attentive spectator. Our joy for the deliverance of those heroes of tragedy or romance who interest us, is as sincere as our grief for their distress, and our fellow-feeling with their misery is not more real than that with their happiness. We enter into their gratitude towards those faithful friends who did not desert them in their difficulties; and we heartily go along with their resentment against those perfidious traitors who injured, abandoned, or deceived them. In every passion of which the mind of man is susceptible, the emotions of the by-stander always correspond to what, by bringing the case home to himself, he imagines should be the sentiments of the sufferer.
Pity and compassion are words appropriated to signify our fellow-feeling with the sorrow of others. Sympathy, though its meaning was, perhaps, originally the same, may now, however, without much impropriety, be made use of to denote our fellow-feeling with any passion whatever.
Upon some occasions sympathy may seem to arise merely from the view of a certain emotion in another person. The passions, upon some occasions, may seem to be transfused from one man to another, instantaneously, and antecedent to any knowledge of what excited them in the person principally concerned. Grief and joy, for example, strongly expressed in the look and gestures of any one, at once affect the spectator with some degree of a like painful or agreeable emotion. A smiling face is, to every body that sees it, a cheerful object; as a sorrowful countenance, on the other hand, is a melancholy one.
This, however, does not hold universally, or with regard to every passion. There are some passions of which the expressions excite no sort of sympathy, but before we are acquainted with what gave occasion to them, serve rather to disgust and provoke us against them. The furious behaviour of an angry man is more likely to exasperate us against himself than against his enemies. As we are unacquainted with his provocation, we cannot bring his case home to ourselves, nor conceive any thing like the passions which it excites. But we plainly see what is the situation of those with whom he is angry, and to what violence they may be exposed from so enraged an adversary. We readily, therefore, sympathize with their fear or resentment, and are immediately disposed to take part against the man from whom they appear to be in so much danger.
If the very appearances of grief and joy inspire us with some degree of the like emotions, it is because they suggest to us the general idea of some good or bad fortune that has befallen the person in whom we observe them: and in these passions this is sufficient to have some little influence upon us. The effects of grief and joy terminate in the person who feels those emotions, of which the expressions do not, like those of resentment, suggest to us the idea of any other person for whom we are concerned, and whose interests are opposite to his. The general idea of good or bad fortune, therefore, creates some concern for the person who has met with it, but the general idea of provocation excites no sympathy with the anger of the man who has received it. Nature, it seems, teaches us to be more averse to enter into this passion, and, till informed of its cause, to be disposed rather to take part against it.
Even our sympathy with the grief or joy of another, before we are informed of the cause of either, is always extremely imperfect. General lamentations, which express nothing but the anguish of the sufferer, create rather a curiosity to inquire into his situation, along with some disposition to sympathize with him, than any actual sympathy that is very sensible. The first question which we ask is, What has befallen you? Till this be answered, though we are uneasy both from the vague idea of his misfortune, and still more from torturing ourselves with conjectures about what it may be, yet our fellow-feeling is not very considerable.
Sympathy, therefore, does not arise so much from the view of the passion, as from that of the situation which excites it. We sometimes feel for another, a passion of which he himself seems to be altogether incapable; because, when we put ourselves in his case, that passion arises in our breast from the imagination, though it does not in his from the reality. We blush for the impudence and rudeness of another, though he himself appears to have no sense of the impropriety of his own behaviour because we cannot help feeling with what confusion we ourselves should be covered, had we behaved in so absurd a manner.
Of all the calamities to which the condition of mortality exposes mankind, the loss of reason appears, to those who have the least spark of humanity, by far the most dreadful, and they behold that last stage of human "wretchedness" with deeper commiseration than any other. But the poor wretch, who is in it, laughs and sings perhaps, and is altogether insensible of his own misery. The anguish which humanity feels, therefore, at the sight of such an object, cannot be the reflection of any sentiment of the sufferer. The compassion of the spectator must arise altogether from the consideration of what he himself would feel if he was reduced to the same unhappy situation, and, what perhaps is impossible, was at the same time able to regard it with his present reason and judgment.
What are the pangs of a mother, when she hears the moanings of her infant that during the agony of disease cannot express what it feels? In her idea of what it suffers, she joins, to its real helplessness, her own consciousness of that helplessness, and her own terrors for the unknown consequences of its disorder; and out of all these, forms, for her own sorrow, the most complete image of misery and distress. The infant, however, feels only the uneasiness of the present instant, which can never be great. With regard to the future, it is perfectly secure, and in its thoughtlessness and want of foresight, possesses an antidote against fear and anxiety, the great tormentors of the human breast, from "which" reason and philosophy will, in vain, attempt to defend it, when it grows up to a man.
We sympathize even with the dead, and overlooking what is of real importance in their situation, that awful futurity which awaits them, we are chiefly affected by those circumstances which strike our senses, but can have no influence upon their happiness. It is miserable, we think, to be deprived of the light of the sun; to be shut out from life and conversation; to be laid in the cold grave, a prey to corruption and the reptiles of the earth; to be no more thought of in this world, but to be obliterated, in a little time, from the affections, and almost from the memory, of their dearest friends and relations. Surely, we imagine, we can never feel too much for those who have suffered so dreadful a calamity. The tribute of our fellow-feeling seems doubly due to them now, when they are in danger of being forgot by every body; and, by the vain honours which we pay to their memory, we endeavour, for our own misery, artificially to keep alive our melancholy remembrance of their misfortune. That our sympathy can afford them no consolation seems to be an addition to their calamity; and to think that all we can do is unavailing, and that, what alleviates all other distress, the regret, the love, and the lamentations of their friends, can yield no comfort to them, serves only to exasperate our sense of their misery. The happiness of the dead, however, most assuredly, is affected by none of these circumstances; nor is it the thought of these things which can ever disturb the profound security of their repose. The idea of that dreary and endless melancholy, which the fancy naturally ascribes to their condition, arises altogether from our joining to the change which has been produced upon them, out own consciousness of that change, from our putting ourselves in their situation, and from our lodging, if I may be allowed to say so, our own living souls in their inanimated bodies, and thence conceiving what would be our emotions in this case. It is from this very illusion of the imagination, that the foresight of our own dissolution is so terrible to us, and that the idea of those circumstances, which undoubtedly can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miserable while we are alive. And from thence arises one of the most important principles in human nature, the dread of death, the great poison to the happiness, but the great restraint upon the injustice of mankind, which, while it afflicts and mortifies the individual, guards and protects the society.
第二章 论相互同情的快乐
Chapter 2 Of the Pleasure of mutual Sympathy
我们通常会为别人拥有与自己同样的感受而感到高兴，反之则会感到屈辱和厌恶；同样，当我们的行为得到别人的认同或赞赏时，我们会感到愉快，反之则会产生痛苦。
无论怎样，同情具有双重效果，既增加快乐又减轻痛苦，是提供欢乐的源泉，所以通常我们向朋友诉说的都是不愉快的激情，由于朋友们的同情，会让我们因被分担了一部分痛苦而感到安慰。
朋友有时候更像是为自己分担忧伤，而不是共享快乐的对象。比起分享快乐，人们更关注分担忧伤。可以说，正面的激情不需任何添加即可满足人心，而负面的情绪则需要平息和安慰。
有时候我们会为不能为朋友分担忧伤而不愉快，能够倾听朋友的诉说其实也是一种开心。但是对于有些人的悲伤我们会认为是胆小和软弱，一些人对于好运表现得过分激动，这也会使我们不满。其实什么事情都应该把握一定分寸，在一定的尺度之内。
ut whatever may be the cause of sympathy, or however it may be excited, nothing pleases us more than to observe in other men a fellow-feeling with all the emotions of our own breast; nor are we ever so much shocked as by the appearance of the contrary. Those who are fond of deducing all our sentiments from certain refinements of self-love, think themselves at no loss to account, according to their own principles, both for this pleasure and this pain. Man, say they, conscious of his own weakness, and of the need which he has for the assistance of others, rejoices whenever he observes that they adopt his own passions, because he is then assured of that assistance; and grieves whenever he observes the contrary, because he is then assured of their opposition. But both the pleasure and the pain are always felt so instantaneously, and often upon such frivolous occasions, that it seems evident that neither of them can be derived from any such self-interested consideration. A man is mortified when, after having endeavoured to divert the company, he looks round and sees that nobody laughs at his jests but himself. On the contrary, the mirth of the company is highly agreeable to him, and he regards this correspondence of their sentiments with his own as the greatest applause.
Neither does his pleasure seem to arise altogether from the additional vivacity which his mirth may receive from sympathy with theirs, nor his pain from the disappointment he meets with when he misses this pleasure; though both the one and the other, no doubt, do in some measure. When we have read a book or poem so often that we can no longer find any amusement in reading it by ourselves, we can still take pleasure in reading it to a companion. To him it has all the graces of novelty; we enter into the surprise and admiration which it naturally excites in him, but which it is no longer capable of exciting in us; we consider all the ideas which it presents rather in the light in which they appear to him, than in that in which they appear to ourselves, and we are amused by sympathy with his amusement which thus enlivens our own. On the contrary, we should be vexed if he did not seem to be entertained with it, and we could no longer take any pleasure in reading it to him. It is the same case here. The mirth of the company, no doubt, enlivens our own mirth, and their silence, no doubt, disappoints us. But though this may contribute both to the pleasure which we derive from the one, and to the pain which we feel from the other, it is by no means the sole cause of either; and this correspondence of the sentiments of others with our own appears to be a cause of pleasure, and the want of it a cause of pain, which cannot be accounted for in this manner. The sympathy, which my friends express with my joy, might, indeed, give me pleasure by enlivening that joy. but that which they express with my grief could give me none, if it served only to enliven that grief. Sympathy, however, enlivens joy and alleviates grief. It enlivens joy by presenting another source of satisfaction; and it alleviates grief by insinuating into the heart almost the only agreeable sensation which it is at that time capable of receiving.
It is to be observed accordingly, that we are still more anxious to communicate to our friends our disagreeable than our agreeable passions, that we derive still more satisfaction from their sympathy with the former than from that with the latter, and that we are still more shocked by the want of it.
How are the unfortunate relieved when they have found out a person to whom they can communicate the cause of their sorrow? Upon his sympathy they seem to disburthen themselves of a part of their distress., he is not improperly said to share it with them. He not only feels a sorrow of the same kind with that which they feel, but as if he had derived a part of it to himself, what he feels seems to alleviate the weight of what they feel. Yet by relating their misfortunes they in some measure renew their grief. They awaken in their memory the remembrance of those circumstances which occasioned their affliction. Their tears accordingly flow faster than before, and they are apt to abandon themselves to all the weakness of sorrow. They take pleasure, however, in all this, and, it is evident, are sensibly relieved by it; because the sweetness of his sympathy more than compensates the bitterness of that sorrow, which, in order to excite this sympathy, they had thus enlivened and renewed. The cruelest insult, on the contrary, which can be offered to the unfortunate, is to appear to make light of their calamities. To seem not to be affected with the joy of our companions is but want of politeness but not to wear a serious countenance when they tell us their afflictions, is real and gross inhumanity.
Love is an agreeable; resentment, a disagreeable passion; and accordingly we are not half so anxious that our friends should adopt our friendships, as that they should enter into our resentments. We can forgive them though they seem to be little affected with the favours which we may have received, but lose all patience if they seem indifferent about the injuries which may have been done to us. nor are we half so angry with them for not entering into our gratitude, as for not sympathizing with our resentment. They can easily avoid being friends to our friends, but can hardly avoid being enemies to those with whom we are at variance. We seldom resent their being at enmity with the first, though upon that account we may sometimes affect to make an awkward quarrel with them; but we quarrel with them in good earnest if they live in friendship with the last. The agreeable passions of love and joy can satisfy and support the heart without any auxiliary pleasure. The bitter and painful emotions of grief and resentment more strongly require the healing consolation of sympathy.
As the person who is principally interested in any event is pleased with our sympathy, and hurt by the want of it, so we, too, seem to be pleased when we are able to sympathize with him, and to be hurt when we are unable to do so. We run not only to congratulate the successful, but to condole with the afflicted; and the pleasure which we find in the conversation of one whom in all the passions of his heart we can entirely sympathize with, seems to do more than compensate the painfulness of that sorrow with which the view of his situation affects us. On the contrary, it is always disagreeable to feel that we cannot sympathize with him, and instead of being pleased with this exemption from sympathetic pain, it hurts us to find that we cannot share his uneasiness. If we hear a person loudly lamenting his misfortunes, which, however, upon bringing the case home to ourselves, we feel, can produce no such violent effect upon us, we are shocked at his grief; and, because we cannot enter into it, call it pusillanimity and weakness. It gives us the spleen, on the other hand, to see another too happy or too much elevated, as we call it, with any little piece of good fortune. We are disobliged even with his joy; and, because we cannot go along with it, call it levity and folly. We are even put out of humour if our companion laughs louder or longer at a joke than we think it deserves that is, than we feel that we ourselves could laugh at it.
第三章 论比较他人的感情与我们的感情是否一致来判断他人感情是否适宜的方式
Chapter 3 Of the manner in which we judge of the propriety or impropriety of the Affections of other Men, by their concord or dissonance with our own
如果旁人对于当事人的激情表现出同样的情绪，那么在旁观者眼中，当事人的情绪就是完全正确且适宜的；相反，若旁观者认为当事人情绪过分激动或者不符合自己的感受时，则会认为其行为或情绪是不正确且不适宜。也就是说，旁观者的情感是用来判断当事人的情感的标准和尺度。
通常人们对于旁人的意见的认同或否定其实是其自身意见的一种反映。是否认同别人的意见不过是对于它们与自己的意见是否一致的表现，同样对于别人的情绪或激情的认同与否也是基于这样的原因。
认同无论在何种情况下其实都是建立在同情或情感一致的基础上。有时候根据经验也可以纠正自己的不适宜的情绪。各种情感可以体现在两个方面：产生它的原因和它意欲产生的结果。日常生活中判断别人的行为和情感时通常是从以上两方面考虑的，这也是判断行为或情绪是否适宜的 两类因素。
hen the original passions of the person principally concerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions of the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and proper, and suitable to their objects; and, on the contrary, when, upon bringing the case home to himself, he finds that they do not coincide with what he feels, they necessarily appear to him unjust and improper, and unsuitable to the causes which excite them. To approve of the passions of another, therefore, as suitable to their objects, is the same thing as to observe that we entirely sympathize with them; and not to approve of them as such, is the same thing as to observe that we do not entirely sympathize with them. The man who resents the injuries that have been done to me, and observes that I resent them precisely as he does, necessarily approves of my resentment. The man whose sympathy keeps time to my grief, cannot but admit the reasonableness of my sorrow. He who admires the same poem, or the same picture, and admires them exactly as I do, must surely allow the justness of my admiration. He who laughs at the same joke, and laughs along with me, cannot well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the contrary, the person who, upon these different occasions, either feels no such emotion as that which I feel, or feels none that bears any proportion to mine, cannot avoid disapproving my sentiments on account of their dissonance with his own. If my animosity goes beyond what the indignation of my friend can correspond to; if my grief exceeds what his most tender compassion can go along with if my admiration is either too high or too low to tally with his own; if I laugh loud and heartily when he only smiles, or, on the contrary, only smile when he laughs loud and heartily;in all these cases, as soon as he comes from considering the object, to observe how I am affected by it, according as there is more or less disproportion between his sentiments and mine, I must incur a greater or less degree of his disapprobation. and upon all occasions his own sentiments are the standards and measures by which he judges of mine.
To approve of another man's opinions is to adopt those opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of them. If the same arguments which convince you convince me likewise, I necessarily approve of your conviction and if they do not, I necessarily disapprove of it. neither can I possibly conceive that I should do the one without the other. To approve or disapprove, therefore, of the opinions of others is acknowledged, by every body, to mean no more than to observe their agreement or disagreement with our own. But this is equally the case with regard to our approbation or disapprobation of the sentiments or passions of others.
There are, indeed, some cases in which we seem to approve without any sympathy or correspondence of sentiments, and in which, consequently, the sentiment of approbation would seem to be different from the perception of this coincidence. A little attention, however, will convince us that even in these cases our approbation is ultimately founded upon a sympathy or correspondence of this kind. I shall give an instance in things of a very frivolous nature, because in them the judgments of mankind are less apt to be perverted by wrong systems. We may often approve of a jest, and think the laughter of the company quite just and proper, though we ourselves do not laugh, because, perhaps, we are in a grave humour, or happen to have our attention engaged with other objects. We have learned, however, from experience, what sort of pleasantry is upon most occasions capable of making us laugh, and we observe that this is one of that kind. We approve, therefore, of the laughter of the company, and feel that it is natural and suitable to its object; because, though in our present mood we cannot easily enter into it, we are sensible that upon most occasions we should very heartily join in it.
The same thing often happens with regard to all the other passions. A stranger passes by us in the street with all the marks of the deepest affliction; and we are immediately told that he has just received the news of the death of his father. It is impossible that, in this case, we should not approve of his grief. Yet it may often happen, without any defect of humanity on our part, that, so far from entering into the violence of his sorrow, we should scarce conceive the first movements of concern upon his account. Both he and his father, perhaps, are entirely unknown to us, or we happen to be employed about other things, and do not take time to picture out in our imagination the different circumstances of distress which must occur to him. We have learned, however, from experience, that such a misfortune naturally excites such a degree of sorrow, and we know that if we took time to consider his situation, fully and in all its parts, we should, without doubt, most sincerely sympathize with him. It is upon the consciousness of this conditional sympathy, that our approbation of his sorrow is founded, even in those cases in which that sympathy does not actually take place; and the general rules derived from our preceding experience of what our sentiments would commonly correspond with, correct upon this, as upon many other occasions, the impropriety of our present emotions.
The sentiment or affection of the heart from which any action proceeds, and upon which its whole virtue or vice must ultimately depend, may be considered under two different aspects, or in two different relations; first, in relation to the cause which excites it, or the motive which gives occasion to it; and secondly, in relation to the end which it proposes, or the effect which it tends to produce.
In the suitableness or unsuitableness, in the proportion or disproportion which the affection seems to bear to the cause or object which excites it, consists the propriety or impropriety, the decency or ungracefulness of the consequent action.
In the beneficial or hurtful nature of the effects which the affection aims at, or tends to produce, consists the merit or demerit of the action, the qualities by which it is entitled to reward, or is deserving of punishment.
Philosophers have, of late years, considered chiefly the tendency of affections, and have given little attention to the relation which they stand in to the cause which excites them. In common life, however, when we judge of any person's conduct, and of the sentiments which directed it, we constantly consider them under both these aspects. When we blame in another man the excesses of love, of grief, of resentment, we not only consider the ruinous effects which they tend to produce, but the little occasion which was given for them. The merit of his favourite, we say, is not so great, his misfortune is not so dreadful, his provocation is not so extraordinary, as to justify so violent a passion. We should have indulged, we say; perhaps, have approved of the violence of his emotion, had the cause been in any respect proportioned to it.
When we judge in this manner of any affection, as proportioned or disproportioned to the cause which excites it, it is scarce possible that we should make use of any other rule or canon but the correspondent affection in ourselves. If, upon bringing the case home to our own breast, we find that the sentiments which it gives occasion to, coincide and tally with our own, we necessarily approve of them as proportioned and suitable to their objects; if otherwise, we necessarily disapprove of them, as extravagant and out of proportion.
Every faculty in one man is the measure by which he judges of the like faculty in another. I judge of your sight by my sight, of your ear by my ear, of your reason by my reason, of your resentment by my resentment, of your love by my love. I neither have, nor can have, any other way of judging about them.
第四章 续 前 章
Chapter 4 The same subject continued
有两种不同的场合中，我们通过比较自己与别人的情感的一致性来判断它们是否适宜。
第一种情况：对于与我们自身或者当事人没有任何关系的客观对象，如风景、图画、文章结构、数字比例等。对于这些对象，当别人的情感与我们自己的情感明显不同时我们不会感到不快。同样，对于这些事物，当他人与我们的意见一致时，我们正常表现出的是我们的认同，但未必是钦佩；只有当他们的情感不仅同我们一致，而且能够引导我们的情感时，才能激起我们的钦佩之情。
第二种情况：对于以某种方式影响我们或当事人的客观现象。对于与我们自身相关的事物，对自己的影响大于同伴的感受，因此我们往往不大会宽容同伴与自己的情感不一致；对于与我们没有关系的事物我们通常会显得更为宽容，它对我们与朋友之间的感情没有多大影响。
所以，我们往往会在熟悉的人面前情绪更为激动，而在陌生人面前则表现得更为镇静。
e may judge of the propriety or impropriety of the sentiments of another person by their correspondence or disagreement with our own, upon two different occasions; either, first, when the objects which excite them are considered without any peculiar relation, either to ourselves or to the person whose sentiments we judge of; or, secondly, when they are considered as peculiarly affecting one or other of us.
With regard to those objects which are considered without any peculiar relation either to ourselves or to the person whose sentiments we judge of; wherever his sentiments entirely correspond with our own, we ascribe to him the qualities of taste and good judgment. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a mountain, the ornaments of a building, the expression of a picture, the composition of a discourse, the conduct of a third person, the proportions of different quantities and numbers, the various appearances which the great machine of the universe is perpetually exhibiting, with the secret wheels and springs which produce them all the general subjects of science and taste, are what we and our "companion" regard as having no peculiar relation to either of us. We both look at them from the same point of view, and we have no occasion for sympathy, or for that imaginary change of situations from which it arises, in order to produce, with regard to these, the most perfect harmony of sentiments and affections. If, notwithstanding, we are often differently affected, it arises either from the different degrees of attention, which our different habits of life allow us to give easily to the several parts of those complex objects, or from the different degrees of natural acuteness in the faculty of the mind to which they are addressed.
When the sentiments of our companion coincide with our own in things of this kind, which are obvious and easy, and in which, perhaps, we never found a single person who differed from us, though we, no doubt, must approve of them, yet he seems to deserve no praise or admiration on account of them. But when they not only coincide with our own, but lead and direct our own; when in forming them he appears to have attended to many things which we had overlooked, and to have adjusted them to all the various circumstances of their objects; we not only approve of them, but wonder and are surprised at their uncommon and unexpected acuteness and comprehensiveness, and he appears to deserve a very high degree of admiration and applause. For approbation
The Theory of Moral Sentiments
The Theory of Moral Sentiments
