noble qualities; such as
a philosophical spirit, a fine taste, a delicate wit, or a relish for
pleasure and society. But take any other case: Suppose a quality, that
without being an indication of any other good qualities, incapacitates
a man always for business, and is destructive to his interest; such as
a blundering understanding, and a wrong judgment of every thing in life;
inconstancy and irresolution; or a want of address in the management
of men and business: These are all allowed to be imperfections in a
character; and many men would rather acknowledge the greatest crimes,
than have it suspected, that they are, in any degree, subject to them.

It is very happy, in our philosophical researches, when we find the
same phaenomenon diversified by a variety of circumstances; and by
discovering what is common among them, can the better assure ourselves
of the truth of any hypothesis we may make use of to explain it. Were
nothing esteemed virtue but what were beneficial to society, I am
persuaded, that the foregoing explication of the moral sense ought still
to be received, and that upon sufficient evidence: But this evidence
must grow upon us, when we find other kinds of virtue, which will not
admit of any explication except from that hypothesis. Here is a man,
who is not remarkably defective in his social qualities; but what
principally recommends him is his dexterity in business, by which he
has extricated himself from the greatest difficulties, and conducted the
most delicate affairs with a singular address and prudence. I find an
esteem for him immediately to arise in me: His company is a satisfaction
to me; and before I have any farther acquaintance with him, I would
rather do him a service than another, whose character is in every other
respect equal, but is deficient in that particular. In this case, the
qualities that please me are all considered as useful to the person, and
as having a tendency to promote his interest and satisfaction. They are
only regarded as means to an end, and please me in proportion to their
fitness for that end. The end, therefore, must be agreeable to me. But
what makes the end agreeable? The person is a stranger: I am no way
interested in him, nor lie under any obligation to him: His happiness
concerns not me, farther than the happiness of every human, and indeed
of every sensible creature: That is, it affects me only by sympathy.
From that principle, whenever I discover his happiness