Chapter I. is 'Of the Principle of Self-approbation and of Self-disapprobation.' Having previously assigned the origin of our judgments respecting others, the author now proceeds to trace out our judgments respecting ourselves. The explanation is still the same. We approve or disapprove of our own conduct, according as we feel that the impartial spectator would approve or disapprove of it.
To a solitary human being, moral judgments would never exist. A man would no more think of the merit and demerit of his sentiments than of the beauty or deformity of his own face. Such criticism is exercised first upon other beings; but the critic cannot help seeing that he in his turn is criticised, and he is thereby led to apply the common standard to his own actions; to divide himself as it were into two persons—the examiner or judge, and person examined into, or judged of. He knows what conduct of his will be approved of by others, and what condemned, according to the standard he himself employs upon others; his concurrence in this approbation or disapprobation is self-approbation or self-disapprobation. The happy consciousness of virtue is the consciousness of the favourable regards of other men.
Chapter II. is 'Of the love of Praise, and of Praise-worthiness; the dread of Blame, and of Blame-worthiness;' a long and important chapter. The author endeavours to trace, according to his principle of sympathy, the desire of Praise-worthiness, as well as of Praise. We approve certain conduct in others, and are thus disposed to approve the same conduct in ourselves: what we praise as judges of our fellow-men, we deem praise-worthy, and aspire to realize in our own conduct. Some men may differ from us, and may withhold that praise; we may be pained at the circumstance, but we adhere to our love of the praise-worthy, even when it does not bring the praise. When we obtain the praise we are pleased, and strengthened in our estimate; the approbation that we receive confirms our self-approbation, but does not give birth to it. In short, there are two principles at work within us. We are pleased with approbation, and pained by reproach: we are farther pleased if the approbation coincides with what we approve when we are ourselves acting as judges of other men. The two dispositions vary in their strength in individuals, confirming each other when in concert, thwarting each other when opposed. The author has painted a number of striking situations arising out of their conflict. He enquires why we are more pained by unmerited reproach, than lifted up by unmerited approbation; and assigns as the reason that the painful state is more pungent than the corresponding pleasurable state. He shows how those men whose productions are of uncertain merit, as poets, are more the slaves of approbation, than the authors of unmistakeable discoveries in science. In the extreme cases of unmerited reproach, he points out the appeal to the all-seeing Judge of the world, and to a future state rightly conceived; protesting, however, against the view that would reserve the celestial regions for monks and friars, and condemn to the infernal, all the heroes, statesmen, poets, and philosophers of former ages; all the inventors of the useful arts; the protectors, instructors, and benefactors of mankind; and all those to whom our natural sense of praise-worthiness forces us to ascribe the highest merit and most exalted virtue.
Chapter III. is 'On the influence and authority of Conscience;' another long chapter, occupied more with moral reflections of a practical kind than with the following out of the analysis of our moral sentiment. Conceding that the testimony of the supposed impartial spectator does not of itself always support a man, he yet asserts its influence to be great, and that by it alone we can see what relates to ourselves in the proper shape and dimensions. It is only in this way that we can prefer the interest of many to the interest of one; the interest of others to our own. To fortify us in this hard lesson two different schemes have been proposed; one to increase our feelings for others, the other to diminish our feelings for ourselves. The first is prescribed by the whining and melancholy moralists, who will never allow us to be happy, because at every moment many of our fellow-beings are in misery. The second is the doctrine of the Stoics, who annihilate self-interest in favour of the vast commonwealth of nature; on that the author bestows a lengthened comment and correction, founded on his theory of regulating the manifestations of joy or grief by the light of the impartial judge. He gives his own panacea for human misery, namely, the power of nature to accommodate men to their permanent situation, and to restore tranquillity, which is the one secret of happiness.
Chapter IV. handles Self-Deceit, and the Origin and Use of General Rules. The interference of our passions is the great obstacle to our holding towards ourselves the position of an impartial spectator. Prom this notorious fact the author deduces an argument against a special moral faculty, or moral sense; he says that if we had such a faculty, it would surely judge our own passions, which are the most clearly laid open to it, more correctly than the passions of others.
To correct our self-partiality and self-deceit is the use of general rules. Our repeated observations on the tendency of particular acts, teach us what is fit to be done generally; and our conviction of the propriety of the general rules is a powerful motive for applying them to our own case. It is a mistake to suppose, as some have done, that rules precede experience; on the contrary, they are formed by finding from experience that all actions of a certain kind, in certain circumstances, are approved of. When established, we appeal to them as standards of judgment in right and wrong, but they are not the original judgments of mankind, nor the ultimate foundations of moral sentiment.