MASTER NEGATIVE NO. 91-80063 MICROFILMED 1991 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBI. uoiii/iNJiSV YORK ii as part of the oundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project Funded by the I ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without permission from Columbia University Library COPYRIGHT STATEMENT The copyright law of the United States - Title 17, United States Code - concerns the niaking of i)hoi( ^ .. ^^^^-^ or other reproductions of copyrighted maieriah.' Corumbia inh cfmI} Library reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order ih m its judgement, fulfillment of the order would invoi\-c -aolaiion of" the copvridit law. AUTHOR: LONG, GEORGE 1780-1868 TITLE: ESSAY ON THE MORAL NATURE PLA CE: LONDON DA TE : 1841 Restrictions on Use: COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # BIBLIOGRAPHIC MICROFORM TARGFT Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record f^^fm-m ^wi' i pi II I ■II I , mil. 12 T ' ' " II I II I , III ^ __ ^rS ^^o>SS r-^tQ3f'gfc-^n.&JL;l8i.L. E-^S^^^ o-w-tVLS. -nvo-rauV •waX.xx.-ve. o% 'b^2^A%\p.0.,_ U.\ PRINTED BY RICHARD AND JOHN E. TAYLOR, RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET. "^ iX V PREFACE. '*The proper study of mankind is man:" so said the first poet of the age more than a hundred years ago. At the time when the ' Essay on Man' was pubhshed, and for a period extending somewhat beyond the middle of the eighteenth century, many of the deepest thinkers and ablest writers of this country devoted much time and atten- tion to metaphysical and ethical inquiries. Many excellent disquisitions on moral sub- jects may be found in the works of some of the divines and philosophers of the seven- teenth century ; and it has been said of Barrow's ' Sermons on the Government of • » VI the Tongue/ by a most competent judge*, that ** they are, in moral preaching, what the best parts of Aristotle are in ethical philosophy, with more of development and a more extensive observation." Moral phi- losophy was, however, most assiduously and most successfully cultivated in this country in the early and middle periods of the eighteenth century. To the works which then appeared the author of the following Essay feels deeply indebted, and especially to the writings of Hartley and Butler, to both of whom he has sometimes referred in the following pages. These two authors he has long esteemed the best ethical writers in our language. In the latter part of the eighteenth cen- tury the selfish theory of morals found a powerful advocate in Dr. Paley, whose work on Moral Philosophy obtained, and still * Hallam's Literature of Europe, vol. iv. p. 175. vn enjoys an extraordinary degree of popu- larity. Believing that theory to be utterly false in principle, and degrading to human nature, the author has endeavoured, in the following Essay, to refute it, and to set forth and defend what he conceives to be the true principles of morals. He feels fully convinced, that the low tone of mo- rality which unhappily prevails in the pre- sent day, is to be attributed in a consider- able degree to the very general reception of the selfish theory of morals. The attempt to contribute something towards the ad- vancement of ethical science which is now presented to the pubHc, is certainly not likely to excite much interest or to engage much attention. The taste of the day is very unfavourable to speculations of this sort. The author, however, is aware that the estimation in which Paley's ' Moral Phi- losophy ' has long been held has been con- Vlll siderably shaken, and he entertains some hope that a better system will in time be adopted. It is an encouraging circum- stance, that the system of Paley has been within a few years ably attacked, and the erroneousness of its principles exposed, by a late distinguished philosopher, orator, and statesman, and by two living authors who are justly considered two of the brightest ornaments of the University of Cambridge, and whose eminence in physical science has probably attracted a larger share of public attention to their ethical disquisitions than would have been bestowed upon them if they had been known to the world as moral philosophers only*. ♦ See Sir James Mackintosh's Dissertation on Ethical Philosophy, ^ith Mr. Whewell's Preface ; Mr. Sedg- wick's Discourse on the Studies of the University of Cambridge, and Mr. WheweU's Four Sermons on the Foundation of Morals. Wimpole Street, October, 1841. AN ESSAY ON THE MORAL NATURE OF MAN. CHAPTER I. OF THE GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 1 . In all ages, and among all nations, the actions of men have been regarded with feelings and sentiments derived from their real or supposed moral qualities. While some actions have been looked upon with approbation and esteem, others have met with disapprobation and censure. Every language has terms denoting approbation and disapprobation, praise and blame, ap- plied to different actions. Though a few individuals may have professed to deny all B moral distinctions, the number of such per- sons has been so small, and their professed opinions are so inconsistent with the gene- ral sentiments of mankind, unequivocally expressed in their language, as to excite a suspicion that they are rather to be attri- buted to a love of singularity and paradox than to be regarded as the real sentiments of those who have professed them. 2. Those who direct their thoughts to the subject of our moral sentiments will soon observe that they greatly vary in degree as applied to different actions. The temperate man, who restrains his desire of present en- joyment for the sake of his health, thereby gains some share of our approbation ; but we view with far stronger feelings of esteem the act of him who freely forgives one from whom he has received a serious injury ; and our regard rises still higher for the man who exposes himself to trouble and to dan- ger for the purpose of doing good to others. 3. The virtues, — in other words, those qualities which command our esteem, — may, i-'l I think, be conveniently divided into three classes: 1. Those which have for their ob- ject our own greatest good ; as temperance, by which we preserve our health ; prudence, which enables us, in the management of our affairs, to provide for our future wants; courage, by which we meet danger with the best chance of surmounting it ; and forti- tude, which alleviates the sufferings which we are obliged to endure. 2. Those actions which have for their object the good of others ; justice, which accords to every man his due; mercy, which forgives injuries; benevolence, which displays itself in acts of kindness ; and that high degree of those qualities which is termed generosity, which induces us to confer favours on others above their deserts, to relinquish our right of re- dress for injuries received, and to encounter inconvenience and peril in our exertions for the attainment of benevolent objects. 3. The third class consists of certain senti- ments which are considered good in them- selves, without regard to consequences. b2 ' A- Some of these arise from our relation to other beings, to whom they are considered to be due, and a failure in which always ex- poses us to censure. Among these senti- ments, are gratitude to benefactors, and especially to the great Author of our being, and all the other feelings of which he is the object ; as trust and confidence in his good- ness and mercy, reliance on his promises, adoration and awe of his unspeakable per- fections, and resignation to his holy will. To the same category belong personal pu- rity and humility. 4. Let us now consider the principle of these three classes of virtues. That of the first is self-interest, or a regard to our own greatest happiness. The second class has benevolence, or a regard to the well-being of others for its principle. The principle of the third class we have stated to be its in- trinsic excellence. If any one should doubt the existence in human nature of moral sen- timents of the third class, I must beg to call his serious attention to the actual state and •I ^ feelings of his own mind respecting one par- ticular virtue, concerning which there is per- haps an agreement as nearly universal as can be found on any moral subject whatever ; in- deed it may, I think, be truly asserted that it is quite universal : the virtue in question is gratitude. The general sentiments of mankind have severely, and I beheve uni- versally, stigmatized the vice of ingratitude. Let us then ask for the reason why it is our duty to be grateful to our benefactors. It is clear that the principle of the first class of virtues above enumerated has no application here. The man who should defend his want of gratitude to one from whom he has re- ceived benefits, on the ground that his being grateful would in no way tend to forward his own interest, would be universally con- demned. Neither is the principle of the second class appUcable in all cases ; for the relative situation of the benefactor and of the party obUged may be such as to prevent the latter from being able in any way to ad- vance the well-being of the former ; and this r must always be the case as to Him to whom our highest gratitude is due. Man cannot, by any sentiment or any act of his, increase the happiness of his Maker ; yet a defect in gratitude towards a human benefactor is uniformly held a matter of serious reproach ; and ingratitude to the Author of all good is felt to be deserving of still severer reprehen- sion by all who have not unhappily thrown aside all regard to religion in any shape. So deeply is this sentiment implanted in our nature, and so difficult is it to conceive any intelligent being who does not recognise it, that Milton gives it a place even in the bo- som of Satan himself: — " he deserved no such return From me, whom he created what I was. In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none ; nor was his service hard. What could be less, than to afford him praise. The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks. How due ! Yet all his good proved ill in me. And wrought but malice ; lifted up so high, I *sdeign'd subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude. A f ir,* '1 So burdensome, still paying, still to owe. Forgetful what from him I still receive ; And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharged." 5. It may be proper to observe here, that many of those qualities which are usually considered virtuous may be derived from more than one of the above-mentioned prin- ciples. Thus prudence in the management of our affairs may result from a regard to our own future interests ; but its object is also often to provide for the wants of those who are dependent on us, or of others, or to forward public objects of beneficence. Tem- perance is not only favorable to our health, but also makes us more useful and agree- able to others. Everv modification of bene- volence is accompanied by feelings of sym- pathy for others, and of self-approbation, which are highly conducive to our own hap- piness. A rational, sober, and fervent piety is eminently favorable to our own happi- ness, and cannot fail to dispose us to pursue k^l 8 all the means in our power to promote the well-being of others. 6. The following seem to be the principal questions in dispute among ethical writers. — 1. Whether a regard to our own greatest interest be the only real principle of morals. 2. Whether moral sentiments form a part of our nature, or are mere deductions of reason. 3. Wliether any moral sentiments, distinct from a desire to advance our own happiness or that of others, exist in the hu- man mind, and are to be accounted original moral principles of our nature. Among the ethical writers of our own country, Dr. Paley is one of the most strenuous defenders of the affirmative side of the first question. According to his definition of virtue, it con- sists in '* doing good to mankind, in obe- I dience to the will of God, and for the sake ' of everlasting happiness." The third branch of this definition evidently excludes all dis- interested actions from Paley 's idea of virtue ; and he must have thought, either that such actions did not exist, or, if they did exist. I that they were not entitled to be called vir- tuous. Bishop Butler in former times. Sir James Mackintosh in our own, and manv others, have taken the opposite side, and contended with great ability, and (as it seems to me) with complete success, for the exist- ence of disinterested virtue. Paley, Ben- tham, and many others, have taken the ne- gative side of the second and third ques- tions. 7. Let us consider each of these questions in their order. And first as to disinterested benevolence ; it must be conceded by the supporters of the selfish system that the or- dinary language in use respecting moral subjects supposes the existence of disinter- ested affections and actions. Thus we hear every day of the disinterested conduct of such an individual ; of his having given up his own interest for the good of others ; and of his having devoted his time, and exercised his talents, for their benefit. The words benevolence, mercy, generosity, kindness, and the like, are in every one's mouth ; and B 5 10 it has never been shown that terms corre- sponding to these are wanting in any lan- guage. But if the doctrine, that the only end of virtue is our own greatest happiness, and that we are incapable of performing disinter- ested actions, be true, these words have no real meaning. My doing good to another for the sake of a reward to myself, undoubt- edly ought not to be called benevolence, but rather prudence, or a regard to my own well-being. If I forgive a man who has injured me from a kindly regard to him, the action is properly called mercy ; but if it be done merely with a view to a future rew^ard to myself, it loses its character, and becomes merely an act of prudence. Indeed, the selfish theory altogether excludes all those actions w^hich have been alwavs considered by the great mass ot mankind entitled to the highest applause and veneration. The pretended patriot loses his title to our esteem from the moment when we discover that his zeal to advance the welfare of his country was merely the result of a desire to H II forward his own interests. We honor the man w^ho exerts himself to repay the bene- fits which he has received ; but when we find that what we had mistaken for a grate- ful return for former favors was in truth only prompted by a desire to procure other favors, we withdraw our esteem altogether. It is no answer to these observations to draw a distinction between our well-being in this world and in that which is to come. If the motive of our conduct be merely to secure our own happiness, its moral charac- ter must be the same, whether the happiness of this or of the next world be in view\ Considered in relation to our own prudence or wisdom, indeed, the difference is immea- surably great between a regard to the hap- piness which we can enjoy in the few fleet- ing years given to us in this world, and that of the eternal state to which we are all hast- ening; but as far as others are concerned, there is no difierence. The kind acts which I do for another deserve the name of bene- volence, if their real object be his happiness ; :| 12 but ought to be called by another name, when my only purpose in serving him is to secure my own happiness, whether here or hereafter. If then the selfish theory be true, all nations have agreed in the use of lan- guage which has no proper signification. In fact, this theory has never been adopted by the generality of mankind : it is the opinion of speculative persons only, and is utterly opposed to the ordinary mode of thinking and speaking on these subjects. What man, unsophisticated by philosophi- cal subtleties, observing an aflfectionate mo- ther watching over the couch of her sick child, imputes her solicitude to the hope of a reward in heaven ; or who, that sees an amiable daughter in the bloom of youth and beauty abstaining from the ordinary enjoy- ments of life for the purpose of devoting herself wholly to attendance on her aged and infirm parents, attributes her conduct to any regard whatever to a reward here or here- after, or considers that she is actuated by any thing but that moral principle which 13 the Author of our being has implanted in the human heart ? 8. The charge of selfishness is resented and repelled with indignation by every one. Why is this, and how could this feeling have arisen, if we had been so formed as to be ca- pable of nothing beyond a regard to our own interests, in other words, had been alto- gether without feelings of disinterested be- nevolence ? The indirect mode of getting at men's real opinions and sentiments is often preferable to the direct one. We often greatly deceive ourselves as to our own feelings and sentiments, and are only made acquainted with the real state of our own hearts by the occurrence of some unexpected incident. A kind and affectionate father will sometimes fancy that all his parental love for a child has been utterly eradicated by his disobedient and vicious conduct ; but let any real calamity befall him, and how soon is the face of things changed ! how quickly does the relenting father turn to his child, and the tender overflowings of the I 14 parental heart take their natural course! and if the misery which the child has en- dured have led him to a better state of mind, and brought him to repentance, then is the heart of the parent filled with joy ; then he sees him at a distance, and runs and kisses him, and brings the best garment, and kills the fatted calf and makes merry for his son's return. So much deception is to be found in men, so often do they attempt to deceive others, and so often do they actually deceive themselves, as to make persons of reflection very sceptical in receiving the evidence of their real sentiments from their own ex- pressions, and their own conduct in matters intended to be seen by the world : but we may confidently rely on the undesigning and casual expressions of feelings and opi- nions which appear from time to time, and under such circumstances as leave no room to suspect premeditated deception. These testify the real turn of thought and feeling of the party using them. Now the strong sen- timent of indignation with which the charge 1.1 15 of selfishness is universally repelled, afibrds proofs of the kind just referred to of the ge- neral opinions of mankind on this subject. It may, indeed, be contended that the ex- pression of resentment at such a charge may arise from the desire which every one feels to be esteemed by others ; but whence does it arise that esteem follows those particular actions which appear to be of a disinterested character, but from a belief in the actual ex- istence of such actions ? Is it possible that those who really believe that all these ac- tions, which are esteemed virtuous, are based on a regard to our interest, should en- tertain these strong sentiments in favour of that pretended disinterested benevolence, which they believe to have no real existence ? What is the feeling of a benefactor whose kindness has met with a return of ingrati- tude? Does he view the conduct of the obUged person as a mere error in judgment, and blame him because his ingratitude will ultimately prove injurious to himself; or is not his feeling that of indignation at the H l! 16 conduct of him who has violated one of the strongest moral principles of our nature? This is the universal sentiment in such cases, and it affords a powerful argument in favour of the moral nature of man. 9. Though the selfish theorv of morals deprives human nature of all that is most amiable, respectable and dignified ; of *' all generous joys and generous cares beyond ourselves;" yet many are so taken with it as to embrace the most extravagant doc- trines rather than to part with it. The common feeUngs of mankind have esta- bhshed so broad a distinction between the beneficent sovereign and the cruel tyrant ; between him who dehvers his country from the yoke of oppression and him who en- slaves it ; between the man whose life is marked by piety, benevolence, and temper- ance, and him who lives without God in the world, abandoned to vice and wickedness, as to render it impossible to deny the real- ity of these distinctions. What then has been the course of the supporters of the t< I 17 selfish theory ? Unable to deny that Cato is to be preferred to Catiline, and Washing- ton to Robespierre, they have made the distinction between these characters to con- sist merely in this ; — that the self-love of Cato and Washington took a better direc- tion than that of Catiline and Robespierre, and was better fitted to advance their own happiness. According to these philoso- phers, the former are to be preferred to the latter merely because they were better cal- culators, and had formed a just estimate of the means fitted to secure their own great- est happiness. Because doing good is al- \ ways attended by a pleasure to the agent ; because it is obviously impossible to be at the same time desirous of making efforts for the good of others, and unconcerned whether those effbrts succeed or not ; be- cause having willed the happiness of an- other, we must of necessity rejoice at find- ing that the end in view has been accom- plished ; — it has been contended, that our sole object in doing good is to enjoy the / 18 pleasure attendant on our acts of benefi- cence. But surely this is an extravagant view of the subject ; and if the train of rea- soning from which it results be followed up to its legitimate consequences it seems fatal to the selfish theory itself. There are two things here to be considered ; the object of the agent, and the pleasure attendant on the act. The general way of viewing the subject is, that the good to be done is the object of the agent, and the pleasure ac- companying the act is merely an incident : otherwise such language as that a man in- tends to serve his friend or to advance the interests of his country, could never have been used. How is it to be made out that this way of representing things is not con- sistent with the real state of mind of the agent ? I can perceive only one mode, that of assuming that human nature cannot look beyond the immediate gratification of its desires. No other answer will serve the turn. If it be said that we are incapable of disinterested feelings, that assertion as- '\\ 19 sumes the matter in dispute ; and, not being self-evident, requires to be proved. What proof then can be offered ? It may be said that all our voluntary actions re- sult from a desire to obtain good or to avoid evil ; and that it is impossible to ad- mit the existence of any other motive. As- suming this for the present to be true, an important question arises ; — have we or have we not the power to refrain from a present gratification for the sake of a greater good to be attained hereafter ? Now the selfish theory rests entirely on the assumption that we are capable of repressing the desire of present gratification for the purpose of ad- vancing our own greatest happiness. The satisfying of the passion of the moment (as Butler has long ago observed) differs as widely from that regard to our own great- est happiness which is commonly called self- love, as it does from benevolence ; and is no more inconsistent with the latter than with the former. Now the restraining of the present inclination for the sake of obtain- 9f 20 ing a future good is constantly practised by almost every one. Nothing is more common than people abstaining from particular kinds of food which they are inclined to eat, from an apprehension that they would prove inju- rious to health ; or restricting themselves in the use of fermented hquors, for fear of their intoxicating effects, and of the injury to the constitution which would probably result from indulgence. If then we are capable of restraining and conquering our desires for present gratification for the sake of en- joying some greater good hereafter, how can it be proved that we are incapable of such restraint for the purpose of doing good to others ? Why, it may be asked of a man, who gives up his time to the toils of business, and refrains from indulging in many pleasures to which he is prompted by his incUnation,— why do you exercise this self-denial, and debar yourself of those pleasures in which you feel inclined to in- dulge ? The answer may be, that he is looking forward to the acquisition of such 21 a fortune as will place him in a situation of independence, and provide for the w^ants of his declining years. Every one sees that this answer is satisfactory ; that the course of conduct pursued is rational and prudent; and no one doubts that such a person has truly explained the motives of his conduct. Suppose now many years to have elapsed, and an adequate fortune to have been ac- quired, but the party in question to be still following his business, and practising the same self-denial as before. The inquirer again presents himself with the same ques- tion, but the answer varies materially. It is true, says the person of whom the in- quiry is made, that I have acquired pro- perty sufficient to secure my independence, and to provide for the wants of my old age ; but circumstances have materially changed since our last conversation ; I am now mar- ried, and the father of a large family ; and I still continue to carry on my business for the purpose of providing sufficient for the establishment of my children in the world. I 22 Here then we have a man looking beyond himself, and regulating his conduct with a view to the good of others. Is there any better reason to doubt his having given a true account of his intentions and objects in this case than in the other ? I conceive not. Here then is a case of disinterested benevolence ; and if it be conceded that a father may be actuated in his conduct by a disinterested regard to the well-being of his child, it is impossible to deny that he may have a similar feeling towards his friends or his countrv. 10. It might indeed be conceded, with- out at all affecting the argument, that in one sense all we do for others is for our own gratification ; that is to say, that we never do good to another, except when our feelings are in such a state that we receive more pleasure from doing the act than we should from refraining. To desire the good of another as we desire our own, to feel for him as we feel for ourselves, has ever been accounted virtuous, and is held by 23 the general sentiments of mankind to differ widely from that state of feeling, which in- duces us to do good to others for the pur- pose of procuring ultimately some benefit to ourselves, whether in the nature of a reward or otherwise. A man may devote much of his time to a sick friend, attend- ing his bed-side, and making every exer- tion in his power to alleviate his suffer- ings ; he may feel gratified in so doing, and his sympathies may be so far engaged, that it would be doing the utmost vio- lence to his feelings to refrain from paying those attentions to his friend ; but these feelings, so far from lessening our esteem for him, are uniformly considered to give him a higher title to it : but if the sole ob- ject of the pains he is taking were known to be the hope of receiving a legacy on the death of the sick man, all esteem for his apparently friendly conduct would immedi- ately vanish ; and, so far from being held entitled to our esteem, he would be univer- sally considered sordid and hypocritical. \ 24 Such a one would stand condemned by the general sentiments of mankind. 11. The selfish system is derived entirely from a confusion of ideas arising from mix- ing together two subjects of inquiry which are quite distinct in their nature. The first of these inquiries is, what is virtue? the second, does the pursuit of virtue tend to secure our own greatest happiness? The last question may perhaps be truly answered in the affirmative ; but, whether it be so or not, virtue does not lose its essence and character. Supposing it could be ascer- tained with certainty that the whole exist- ence of man is confined to this world, and that the belief of a future state is a mere delusion. In such a state of things, a ques- tion might arise, whether it be an act of virtue for a man to lay down his life for his country. Such an act we will assume to be calculated to confer great benefits on others, but it is clear that the loss of fife to the patriot cannot be in any way com- pensated. What then has been the feeUng 25 of mankind on this subject ? Such devo- tion to one's country has been always ap- plauded as one of the highest acts of virtue. No one has ever heard Codrus and Decius praised because they were to be rewarded in a future world ; but always because they yielded up their hves voluntarily for the good of their country. 12. But it may be asked, why am I to / exert myself for the good of others when no / reward is to be bestowed on me for so do- ing ? This is only asking, in other words, why am I to be virtuous ? To do good is in itself a virtuous act, and no further inquiry need be made. When we make it, we have gone beyond the region of moral philosophy, and have entered on another inquiry, that of adopting the best means of promoting our own interest ; an important subject no doubt, but at best only one branch of moral philosophy, as it is beUeved has been already satisfactorily proved. 13. All Christians, and, I think, all ratio- nal theists, must admit that our virtues are c ! 26 most perfect when they most nearly resem- ble the moral perfections of the Deity. But what conception are we capable of forming of the moral attributes of God but that of perfect goodness which induces him to con- fer happiness on his creatures for their own sakes ? Regarding him as a Being perfectly happy in himself, and secure in his omnipo- tence from any interruption to his happi- ness, we can imagine no motive for the ex- ercise of his creative energy but the will to confer happiness on his creatures. The sole foundation of the love of God is his moral perfection. His unbounded and uni- versal power might well alarm us, and his unspeakable knowledge and wisdom must excite our highest admiration ; but it is his goodness and mercy which we love. If then human nature be, in some degree, capable of imitating his moral perfections, it is to qualities resembling them that our highest esteem is due ; and this is consist- ent with the general sentiments of the hu- man race. 'V > 27 14. The doctrine of the disinterestedness of human actions was zealously opposed by Brown, the able and ingenious author of the * Essays on the Characteristics of Lord Shaftesbury/ According to this author*, ** the only reason or motive by which indivi- duals can possibly be induced to the practice of virtue, must be the feeUng immediate, or the prospect of future private happiness." This is dogmatically asserted ; but no proof is given, nor, I conceive, can be given, that w^e are not as capable of acting with a view to the happiness of others as for the promo- tion of our own future happiness. It might be contended, with some plausibility, that all our actions are determined by our im- mediate feelings ; but if it be once admitted, that a desire to advance our future happi- ness can be strong enough to overcome the immediate feeling, there can be no difficulty in conceiving that a regard to the happiness of others may have the same effect. When the human mind has sufficiently enlarged its * Essay 2nd, sect. 6. p. 159. c2 28 comprehension to take into its consideration future events, and to act with reference to them as if they were present, there does not appear to be any reason whatever why the object proposed to be attained should not be the good of others. 15. Brown speaks with great confidence on this subject. He has the boldness to en- counter Hume ; and he flatters himself that he has confuted an argument of that pro- found thinker respecting the matter in hand. '"Tis evident," says Brown'^, *'even to demonstration, that no affection can, in the strict sense, be more or less selfish or disin- terested than another; because, whatever be its object, the aff'ection itself is still no other than a mode either of pleasure or of pain ; and is therefore equally to be referred to the mind or feeling of the patient, what- ever be its external occasion. Indeed a late writer of subtilty and refinement hath attempted to make a distinction here. He » Page 163. 29 says, * It hath been observed, that every act of / virtue or friendship is attended with a secret pleasure; from whence it hath been con- cluded, that friendship and virtue could not be disinterested. But the fallacy of this is obvious. The virtuous sentiment or passion } produces the pleasure, and does not arise from it. I feel a pleasure in doing good to my friend, because I love him ; but I do not love him for the sake of that pleasure.' Now to me the fallacy of this is obvious. For, , in fact, neither the passion nor the pleasure! are either the cause or the consequence of each other ; they neither produce nor arise from each other, because, in reality, they are the same thing under different expres- sions. This will be clear, if we state the case as follows : ' to love my friend, is to feel a pleasure in doing him good :' and con- versely, * to feel a pleasure in doing good to my friend, is to love him.' Where 't is plain that the terms are synonymous. The pleasure, therefore, is the very passion it- i! 30 self ; and neither prior nor posterior to it, as this gentleman supposeth." 16. We will now proceed to a minute examination of this passage. Affection, ac- cording to the representation of Brown, is only a mode of pleasure or of pain. Ad- mitting this to be true, the conclusion is clear, that in all voluntary actions the agent must be determined to the act by the desire to procure immediate pleasure or to avoid immediate pain. If this be denied, the au- i thor's principle fails ; for if our voluntary ^ actions be, in any degree, determined by re- flection and a view to future good, then is pleasure and pain, at least immediate plea- sure and pain, not the only determining power of the will. But that our actions are thus determined is admitted by the author himself, when he allows that the prospect of future happiness is a motive by which indi- viduals may be induced to the practice of virtue. If this be true, voluntary actions are not always determined merely by the i I I ID. 31 pleasure or pain of the moment, but are sometimes regulated by a view to future good. Admitting man to be capable of thus acting, there is no reason why it should not be allowed that he may act with a disinter- ested regard to the good of others. This motive only requires us to overcome the desire of present good in the same manner as the attainment of our own future happi- ness requires it, but no further. 17. In the comment on the passage of Hume which has been just cited, Brown charges that philosopher with a fallacy, as Hume had charged the supporters of the selfish system. We will endeavour to show with whom the fallacy really lies. '* To love my friend," says Brown, '* is to feel a plea- sure in doing him good." Surely this is a most strange and unphilosophical assertion. It makes the affection entertained for a friend to consist in the pleasure attendant on doing him good. Previously, therefore, to that act friendship could have no existence. Hume's statement, on the other hand, is 32 strictly just. *' I feel a pleasure,'* he says, ** in doing good to my friend, because I love him ; but I do not love him for the sake of that pleasure." The love of a friend is here assumed to be, what it really is, a desire to promote his happiness. This desire must exist previously to the act to which it gives birth ; and is, therefore, clearly to be di- stinguished from the pleasure attending the act. If Brown's doctrine be true, no man can love his friend unless he have the power of doing him good ; and the degree of his friendship must be regulated by that of his power. A father may have the most tender affection for his son, and mav be contribu- ting to his happiness every day ; but if the son should become a soldier, and be taken prisoner by the enemy, and be in such a condition that his father should be unable to afford him any assistance, the parental love must cease, or at least be suspended during the period when things remain in this state ; since to love another is nothing more than feeling a pleasure in doing him good. M 33 18. This doctrine of Brown, which con- founds the disposition to do a particular act with the pleasure accompanying the per- formance of the act, is, in truth, fatal to the whole theory of morals, even on the selfish system. All that we call virtue, at least so far as its object is our own good, the only end admitted by the selfish theory, takes its character from its looking to an ulterior ob- ject beyond the satisfying of the present desire. No one considers eating a good dinner, or going to the opera, acts of virtue, however great may be the pleasure enjoyed thereby. By virtue is always understood an act of the will, having reference to some object beyond mere present gratification. That object may be either some personal good to the individual, or some benefit to others. Those who restrain their immediate desires for the sake of some future good to themselves always enjoy a share of our esteem on that account ; but those who act for the good of others are far more highly esteemed ; and this distinction is, and always c 5 34 has been, made universally. There is, there- fore, all the evidence in favour of its reality which the case requires, or indeed admits of ; and the supporters of the selfish scheme are reduced to the necessity of asserting that this universal feeling is founded on a gross delusion. 19. The language used by Brown on this subject tends to confuse the minds of his readers as to what is the real point of dif- ference between him and Hume, which is this : whether, in the actions which are usu- ally called benevolent, the real object of the agent be to do good to another, or to enjoy the pleasure which arises from the perform- ance of the beneficent action. Now if there be no desire to serve a man's friend previ- ously to the act, from whence can the plea- sure resulting from the act itself arise ? If A be indifferent about the happiness of B, it seems quite clear that A's doing good to B can produce no satisfaction to A. If the benevolent action give him pleasure, it can be for no other reason but because he pre- 35 viously desired the happiness of his friend. I can conceive no other intelligible account of this matter. 20. The strange error into which the sup- porters of the selfish system have fallen on this subject, may, perhaps, ha^^e arisen from their attention having been directed to the great pleasure derived by benevolent per- sons from doing good, which is undoubt- edly one of the principal sources of human happiness. The existence of this pleasure, however, is so far from proving their point, as to afford a direct proof of the contrary doctrine, as has been already observed ; the pleasure arising altogether from the bene- volent desire which had previously existed in the mind of the agent, and which prompt- ed him to perform the act. It may be ob- served however that this pleasure varies, and must from its nature varv, in different cases, in exact proportion to the real benevolence felt by the agent for the object of his bene- volent action, which, indeed, is hardly more than saying, that the more a man desires a I 36 particular event, the more he will rejoice at the happening of that event, which few, it is presumed, will feel inclined to deny. Now this circumstance opens a delightful view of the moral principles of our nature, and tends strongly to prove that disinterested virtue is the true road to our greatest happiness. Thus the more enlarged and extended our benevolence, the stronger feelings of pleasure we sliall enjoy in doing good to others ; and we shall reach our greatest happiness (so far as it is derived from our connexions with our fellow-creatures) when we have attained to a general benevolence extended to all with whom we have any relation, and to whom we have any opportunity of doing good. The more perfect, therefore, our be- nevolence, the greater will be our happiness ; and the same observation may be justly ap- plied to our other moral sentiments, as we shall endeavour to show hereafter. 21. It is hoped that the arguments which have been produced are sufficient to sup- port the negative side of the question, 37 whether a regard to our greatest interest is the only principle of morals. 22. We will now proceed to the second question, whether moral sentiments form a part of our nature, or are mere deductions of reason. 23. In proceeding to consider the ques- tion, whether we come into the world with a moral as well as with a rational nature, I must observe, that much confusion has arisen from the strange and unfounded no- tions which have often been entertained concerning what is called the moral sense or conscience. This has been represented to be a principle of the mind which is an infallible guide in all moral questions ; al- ways pointing out, with unerring certainty, what course of conduct should be followed, and what avoided. This doctrine is shown to be false by the fact that very different sentiments on moral subjects are held in different nations and in different ages, and that these sentiments are often inconsistent with each other. Where then, it is justly 38 asked, is the infallible moral sense to be found? and which of the conflicting doc- trines are to be considered the dictates of this unerring guide? This refutation of the opinion in question is unanswerable ; but it has been too hastily concluded, from the fact that human nature can boast of no infallible guide in questions of moral con- duct, that man has no moral nature. No one denies that man is a rational being, and 1 that his reason is an instrument for the dis- i covery of truth. But how^ different are the conclusions at which different individuals arrive in matters of reasoning ! How great, I had almost said, how infinite, are the di- versities of opinion in the world 1 No one, however, on account of these diff'erences, denies the existence of reason. The diver- sity of sentiment on moral subjects in dif- ferent ages and among different nations seems to afford no better ground for deny- ing the existence of man's moral nature. 24. Let us now proceed to consider what is the distinct meaning of the proposition. ' 39 that man has a moral nature. Some con- sideration of our rational nature, the exist- ence of which no one doubts, will tend to elucidate the subject. A new-born infant cannot be truly said to be a rational being in any other sense than this, that he pos- sesses what may be called the germ of rea- son, which in process of time will come to be fully developed. An infant is neither capable of reasoning nor of moral senti- ment. He has for some time only bodily wants and desires. When he feels hungry, he cries till his hunger is satisfied ; and when he feels any other pain, till it is alle- viated. His rational powers unfold them- selves, or are formed by slow degrees. Ex- actly a similar process is gone through in the formation or development of moral sen- timents. In time a child finds out that his present conduct will have an influence on his future well-being ; and he learns to re- frain from indulgence in such things as would ultimately prove injurious to him. His moral sentiments seem to arise in the same I 40 way. He finds that he has the power of communicating enjoyment or suffering to others. This knowledge is usually, indeed I believe universally, when there are no disturbing causes, accompanied by sympa- thy with that enjoyment or suffering. This sympathy appears so clearly to belong to our nature as to render it difficult to under- stand how any sentient and inteUigent being can be without it. Where there is no con- flicting interest, no feeUng of resentment to be gratified, nor any extraneous circum- stance calculated to incline one individual to injure another, the universal feeling seems to be that of sympathy. No one de- nies that he ought to do good rather than evil in all ordinary cases. Every man who voluntarily inflicts evil on another finds some excuse for doing so ; either by assert- ing that he has been injured, and has a right to punish the party who has injured him ; or that the bad conduct of the other party is deserving of punishment. Possibly some of the very worst of the Roman em- 41 perors and some few other individuals may have lost all sympathy with their fellow- creatures, and all moral principle ; but (ad- mitting the fact) these cases are only ex- ceptions, and it would be as absurd to deny the moral constitution of man on ac- count of these anomalous instances, as to deny his rational nature because some men are madmen. 25. If the correctness of these views should be admitted, it follows that our moral nature, or, as it is commonly called, conscience, is as essential a part of our- selves as our reason, to which it is closely analogous. Both are our guides for differ- ent purposes ; and both are far from being infallible guides. If it be said that con- science frequently errs, so it may be answer- ed does reason. If diversity of moral senti- ments is found among different nations and" in different ages, so are differences of opi- nion on all subjects which are not capable of being reduced to mathematical certainty. The existence, then, of the moral nature of 42 man can with no more reason be denied than the existence of his rational nature, unless it can be proved that the former is derived from the latter. 26. Our next inquiry then must be, whe- ther our moral sentiments are merely de- ductions of reason. In entering on this in- quiry it seems impossible not to be forcibly struck with the palpable distinction between the strong and vivid feelings with which we are wont to contemplate moral actions, and the calm and quiet state of mind which ac- companies our perception of truth when it is discovered by a process of reasoning. If moral sentiments be merelv founded on rea- soning, how does it happen that certain ac- tions generate in us the highest esteem and regard for the agent, while those of a con- trary character lead us to hate and despise the person who has performed them ? There is indeed a pleasure, and a very great one, in the discovery of truth, but it is of a very different character from the emotion which attends the contemplation of virtuous con- 43 duct. What resemblance can be found be- tween the deUght resulting from having solved a mathematical problem, and the re- spect with which we view the conduct of a patriot, or the veneration felt for the forti- tude of a martyr ? In the first case we have merely a feeling of pleasure at the disco- very of truth ; in the other we are irresist- ibly impelled to admire and love the agent, and the strongest feelings of the human heart are called into action. 27. If our moral sentiments were wholly founded on reasoning, itwould seem to follow that they would be most strongly felt by those whose intelligence is the most clear, profound, and comprehensive. But is this the case? Certainly all that history and observation teach us of human nature shows that persons of the highest intelligence are often extremely deficient in moral feeUngs and sentiments; nor are the cases unfre- quent where great moral excellence is found with but a moderate portion of intellect. 28. It is now time to attend to the senti- 44 ments of Paley respecting the moral princi- ple of man. That celebrated writer begins the fifth chapter of the first book of his * Moral Philosophy ' with the following story from Valerius Maximus : — '' The father of Caius Toranius had been proscribed by the triumvirate. Caius Toranius, coming over to the interests of that party, discovered to the officers who were in pursuit of his father's life, the place where he concealed himself, and gave them withal a description, by which they might distinguish his person, when they found him. The old man, more anxious for the safety and the fortunes of his son than about the little that might re- main of his own life, began immediately to 'inquire of the officers who seized him, whe- ther his son w^as well ; whether he had done his duty to the satisfaction of his generals ? * That son (repUed one of the officers) , so dear to thy affections, betrayed thee to us ; by his information thou art apprehended, and diest !' The officer with this struck a poniard to his heart, and the unhappy pa- 45 rent fell, not so much affected by his fate as by the means to which he owed it. Now the question is, whether, if this story were related to the wild boy caught some years ago in the woods of Hanover, or to a savage without experience, and without instruction, cut off in his infancy from all intercourse with his species, and consequently under no pos- sible influence of example, authority, edu- cation, sympathy, or habit ; whether, I say, such a one would feel, upon the relation, any degree of that sentiment of disapproba- tion of Toranius's conduct which we feel, or not ? They who maintain the existence of a moral sense ; of innate maxims ; of a na- tural conscience; that the love of virtue and hatred of vice are instinctive, or the perception of right and wrong intuitive (all which are only different ways of expressing the same opinion), affirm that he would. They who deny the existence of a moral sense, &c. affirm that he would not. And, upon this, issue is joined." \ 46 29. This is certainly a most extraordinary way of attempting to solve a moral problem. Instead of the question put, one might just as easily, and just as much to the purpose, have asked whether, if the story had been told in Arabic to one who knew not a word of that language, he would have been affected by it. Dr. Paley's savage would undoubt- edly have had no feeUng of disapprobation excited in his mind by the recital of a story of which he could understand nothing. Not being aware of the existence of fathers, sons, triumvirs or officers, he could certainly have no sentiments at all about such persons or their actions. All that can possibly be de- duced from what is said by Paley on this subject is, that there are not in the mind anv distinct infallible moral maxims direct- ing the conduct of individuals in particular cases, before they have acquired by experi- ence a knowledge of the relation in which thev stand to others : a doctrine w^hich had been long before estabhshed by Locke, and 47 which opinion of innate infallible moral maxims would probably find few, if any, supporters in the present day. 30. The important question of the moral nature of man is left wholly untouched by the above story, and Paley's application of it; but the chapter in which it is found contains some arguments to prove that mo- rality is not at all founded on sentiment, but is wholly derived from the deductions of reason. We will proceed to examine the validity of these arguments. 31. Moral sentiments w^e have considered to be a part of human nature ; and the proof adduced is, that they exist in every human being, and are as surely developed in the progress of life as the rational facul- ties. Sympathy with others, and a regard for their well-being, we have said, is always looked upon w^ith approbation where there are no disturbing causes in operation. Let us now consider whether the arguments of Paley prove anything inconsistent with this opinion. 48 32. The first fact produced by Paley to disprove the existence of the moral sense is, that in some countries children are accus- tomed to destroy their parents, or (as he expresses it) to *' despatch them out of the way;" and that this practice is ** counte- nanced by public opinion." If this be true, it neither proves that such children are en- tirely devoid of sympathy for their parents, nor that such a want of feeling would be generally approved of. The fact stated is rather to be accounted for from an ill-direct- ed sympathy than from a negation of it. In countries in an early stage of society, where the necessaries of life are procured by hunting and other precarious means, it is impossible either to provide adequately for the wants of the feeble and the aged, or to administer to them the comforts which their infirmities require. The fact of chil- dren ** despatching their parents out of the way," therefore, ought not to be attributed to a desire to save themselves the trouble of taking care of them, but to a belief that. 49 in their situation, death is preferable to life. The fact does not tend to disprove the ex- istence of our moral nature, but only shows that our moral sentiments sometimes take a wrong direction ; just as the absurd opi- nions which are often entertained do not prove that men are not rational beings, but only that on particular occasions they fail to make a proper use of their reason. It may well be doubted, till further proof be adduced, whether the language of Paley states the case fairly. '' In one country," he says, '' it is esteemed an oflice of piety in children to sustain their aged parents ; in another, to despatch them out of the way." It remains to be proved, that in any coun- try the cherishing of aged parents is not esteemed a virtue in all cases where the children have the power of supporting them in comfort ; and whether destroying them is approved of anywhere, except in those cases in which no adequate means of sustaining them are at the command of their children, and consequently putting them to death 50 seems to be conferring a boon rather than inflicting an injury. The advocates of the doctrine of a moral nature in man are not at all concerned to deny that the exercise of our reason is required for the regulation of those moral sentiments, which, as they contend, belong to us by nature, and that a sound ethical system cannot be attained except by the just and sober exercise of our rational faculties. Our moral nature alone could never show us the necessity of general rules in morality. How essential these are has been shown by many writers, and by none more clearly than Paley ; and the de- ductions of reason alone point out this ne- cessity. 33. It must be borne in mind that our present inquiry is, whether morality is wholly founded on reason ; and that we are endeavouring to show that moral sentiments are natural to man, and are developed as he advances towards maturity. Many of the facts produced by Paley in denial of the existence of an infallible moral sense have ' 51 no tendency to disprove the moral nature of man, as it has been stated and explained above. It will, however, be necessary to remark on a few of them. '' Theft," he says, '' which is punished by most laws, by the laws of Sparta was not unfrequently rewarded." Theft was undoubtedly allowed by the laws of Lycurgus ; but the object of this permission was to teach the young Spartans skill and dexterity in carrying on the stratagems of war ; and if they failed to manage the business so skilfully as to pre- vent their being caught in the fact, they were severely punished. Admitting, how- ever, the immoraUty of this law in the fullest extent, how does the fact that lawgivers have sometimes enacted immoral laws dis- prove the existence of moral principles in human nature ? The whole of the Spartan institutions, duly considered, affords an ar- gument against the selfish system of morals, instead of supporting it. The general good of the nation was its great object, and individual interests were made to yield to it d2 i. 52 in a degree which has perhaps never been attained by any other nation. 34. The case of suicide being approved of in some countries can certainly afford no argument against the proposition for which we are now contending, that sympathy with our fellow-creatures is a moral principle of our nature ; and the same observation will apply to the promiscuous commerce of the sexes, which is said to prevail among '* the savages of the tropical regions without re- serve, compunction or disgrace/' as well as to other odious vices mentioned by Paley. 35. The fact next brought forward may seem to be really at variance with our doctrine . ''If,'' says Paley, ''an inhabitant of the polished nations of Europe be delighted with the appearance, wherever he meets with it, of happiness, tranquillity, and comfort, a wild American is no less diverted with the writhings and contortions of a victim at the stake." How, it may be asked, can it be made consistent with the doctrine that sym- pathy for others belongs to our nature, that 53 human beings should thus delight in inflict- ing tortures on their fellows, and that to the utmost extent that their ingenuity can de- vise ? Now let it be steadily borne in mind that our inquiry is, not what passions men are subject to, but what is by nature the object of our moral approbation. That thei passions of the human heart are capable of taking an evil direction all are agreed, and every day's experience proves it. It has been already laid down, that sympathy with others is natural to man, and is always the object of his approbation, except where some disturbing cause prevents the natural and just operation of this principle. Revenge, one of the most powerful, as well as one of the most hateful of human passions, when it fully possesses the mind, will undoubt- edly destroy our sense of what is just and right towards the object of it ; but this is a distorted state of the human mind ; and it would be as erroneous to form our judgment of the mind, in its ordinary and healthy state, from what we see of it when under / 54 the dominion of this passion, as to draw conclusions as to the general clearness of sight of an individual from the errors of vision to which we might find him exposed while in a state of intoxication. True it is that the North American savage carried his revenge against his enemies to a frightful extreme, but it still remains to be proved that he had no sympathy w^ith his family, his friends, and his country ; that he did not approve of those sympathies in others ; and that these sympathies are not the natu- ral workings of the human heart. 36. Paley's view of this subject is sum- med up in the following words: — '*Even amongst ourselves, and in the present im- proved state of moral knowledge, we are so far from a perfect consent in our opinions or feelings ; that you shall hear duelling alter- nately reprobated and applauded, according to the sex, age, or station of the person you converse with ; that the forgiveness of inju- ries and insults is accounted by one sort of people magnanimity, by another meanness ; DO that in the above instances, and perhaps in most others, moral approbation follows the fashions and institutions of the country we live in ; that fashions also, and institutions themselves have grown out of the exigen- cies, the climate, situation, or local circum- stances of the country ; or have been set up by the authority of an arbitrary chieftain, or the unaccountable caprice of the multi- tude ; all which looks very little like the steady hand and indelible characters of Nature." 37. The real question between the sup- porters and the impugners of the selfish system of morals is this : Whether the phae- nomena of human nature are more ratio- nally explained by resolving all our moral sentiments and feelings into a regard to our own interest ; or whether we have also feel- ings and sentiments which are original prin- ciples of our nature, and are to be valued and esteemed either as being intrinsically excellent, or calculated to advance the hap- piness of others. We shall now endeavour 56 to show that we have all the evidence which can be reasonably expected, that sympathy with our fellow-creatures is a part of our nature. It certainly exists very generally, and there is no evidence that a single human being has ever been without some share of it. The most worthless and selfish characters have usually some ob- ject of affection. Very vicious and ma- lignant persons are often found to have a strong regard for their near connexions; and even where a man is so depraved as to oppress and injure those whom it is his par- ticular duty to love and cherish, some ex- ception is often found to the general ob- liquity of moral feeUng and conduct. The tyrannical father is sometimes an affection- ate husband ; and he who seems to have cast off all affection for his wife, and, in general, for his children, will sometimes retain a strong regard for a particular child. So natural do our sympathies appear, that it may well be doubted whether any human being has ever existed who was altogether t>7 cut off from all regard to his fellow- creatures. The direction which our sym- pathies take is indeed indefinitely varied bv pre-existing and surrounding circumstances ; but its apparent universaUty, in some shape or other, in every human being, seems to indicate clearly and unequivocally *' the steady hand and indelible characters of Na- ture." 38. The interest felt for particular indi- viduals often leads in practice to the perpe- tration of injustice to others. Thus parents who really love their children are often in- duced, for the purpose of providing for them, to cheat and defraud others. The patriot- ism so much vaunted in ancient times was a mixed principle, partly virtuous and partly vicious. The history of no other people, perhaps, shows this in so striking a light as that of the Romans. The power, the ex- tended dominion, the riches, and the dignity of the republic were regarded as the things to be principally looked to and advanced. These were to be promoted at all times and d5 r 58 by all means ; while injustice and oppression, exercised on other nations, though usually attempted to be concealed by some plausible pretence, were carried to a shocking extent. On the other hand, the individual interests of particular citizens seem to have been in many instances merged in a devotion to those of the republic, with which the Roman citizen in a great degree identified himself. This state of things, however, only proves that the Romans followed the light of Nature in their principles and feelings towards their own countrymen, and departed from it in their intercourse with other nations. 39. Dr. Paley was gifted by nature with a remarkably clear and sound intellect : no writer has surpassed him in expressing di- stinctly and concisely what he had to say, and very few indeed have approached his excellence in that respect. His understand- ing, however, does not seem to have been distinguished either by depth or comprehen- sion of thought. In refinement of mind, and in all that variety of mental perceptions and \ 59 feelings which are perhaps best expressed by the word sentiment, he appears to have been remarkably deficient. If the theory contend- ed for in this work be true, such a mind was very ill fitted to form a system of ethics. The character of his mind is distinctly indi- cated in the following passage from the third chapter of the second book of his ' Moral Philosophy' :—'' When I first turned my thoughts to moral speculations, an air of mystery seemed to hang over the whole sub- ject ; which arose, I beHeve, from hence, that I supposed, with many authors whom I had read, that to be obliged to do a thing was very different from being induced only to do it ; and that the obhgation to practise virtue, to do what is right, just, &c., was quite another thing, and of another kind, than the obligation which a soldier is under to obey his ofiicer, a servant his master, or any of the civil and ordinary obligations of human life. Whereas, from what has been said, it appears that moral obligation is like all other obligations ; and that obligation is 60 nothing more than an inducement of suf- ficient strength, and resulting, in some way, from the command of another." 40. In this passage morahty is treated as a mere matter of contract. Paley does not at all recognise the relation in which we stand to the Deity as our Creator, and the obhgation under which we lie to him for all the happiness we have enjoyed, as giving him any right to our services, or imposing on us any obhgation to obey his will. That such a theory should have been propounded in an enhghtened age, and in a country blessed with the knowledge of Christianity, and not only propounded, but very exten- sively received, and that by many of the most distinguished individuals of the time, does seem a most strange and unaccountable fact. 41. But it may be objected, that Paley does in fact lay the foundation of morality in the will of God alone. This is true ; but the reason assigned by him is, that God will reward or punish us in the world to come, I 61 according to our obedience or disobedience to his laws. The right of God to our service then is founded entirely on his attribute of power, and is in no degree drawn from the circumstance of his being our Creator and Benefactor. Real love and gratitude to God have in truth no place in Paley's ethics. '* The love of God, indeed," he says, *'is the subUmest gratitude ;" but his readers will not forget that he has affirmed, by his definition of virtue, that nothing is virtuous but what is done for the sake of everlasting happiness. Is not the term gratitude w^hoUy misapplied to a feeling towards the Deity, in no degree founded on the benefits already received, but deriving its existence solely from the hope and expectation of benefits to come? According to Paley 's system, grati- tude is only a false pretence, and adds the vice of hypocrisy to its own worthlessness. 42. The following observation on the dif- ference between prudence and duty is to my mind sufficient to show the error of the whole system of Paley : — " The difference. 62 63 and the only difference, is this ; that in the one case we consider what we shall gain and lose in the present world ; in the other case we consider what we shall gain or lose in the world to come." Can anything be plainer, than that this is a difference in degree only, and not in kind ; and that if the actions which are derived from a regard to our own happiness in another world are deserving of esteem and moral approbation, a degree of the very same sentiment should follow all acts of worldly prudence ? But every per- son feels that his admiration of the heroism of the patriotic soldier, of the generosity of the active philanthropist, and of the forti- tude of the martyr, is of a wholly different character from the approbation with which he regards the prudent management and honest industry by which a man is enabled to accumulate a fortune. 43. From all these considerations, Paley's work seems to me not to deserve the name of a treatise on moral philosophy ; the whole inquiry being, in truth, not what a man ii ought to do, but what it is most prudent for him to do. The entire system is founded on a regard to the mere power of the Deity, without any reference to his moral attri- butes, and is, in all its essential features, identified with the principles of Hobbes. 44. The passage about to be cited from the writings of that extraordinary man ex- empUfies the extravagances into which the supporters of the selfish system are forced, for the purpose of explaining the ordinary feelings and sentiments of human nature. Hobbes resolves not only beneficence to friends, but even the love of parents for their own children, into the love of power*. ''There is yet another passion, sometimes called love, but more properly good-will or charity. There can be no greater argument to a man of his own power, than to find himself able not only to accomplish his own desires, but also to assist other men in theirs : and this is that conception wherein consist- eth charity. In which, first, is contained * Human Nature, chap. ix. s. 17. 64 that natural affection of parents to their children which the Greeks call ^ropyri, as also that affection wherewith men seek to assist those who adhere unto them. But the affection wherewith men many times bestow their benefits on strangers is not to be called charity ; but either contract, where- by they seek to purchase friendship ; or fear, which maketh them to purchase peace." Such is the forced and extravagant explana- tion given of those human sympathies, which, from their universality, wx may justly con- clude to be original priaciples of our na- ture. 45. Not content with denying the exist- ence of what are generally and justly esteem- ed the highest moral qualities of human na- ture, Hobbes denies their existence alto- gether, even in God himself; or at least, that they are of any value, or that our reve- rence and adoration of him is rightly founded upon them. He sees nothing to admire or to adore in the Deity but his supreme un- limited power. In his tract on ' Liberty and .1 65 Necessity' (a work distinguished by extra- ordinary vigor of intellect) , after quoting a passage from St. Paul's epistle to the Ro- mans, he proceeds as follows: — *' Accord- ing therefore to this answer of St. Paul, I answer my lord's objection, and say, the power of God alone, without other helps, is sufficient justification of any act he doth. That which men make amongst themselves here by pacts and covenants, and call by the name of justice, and according where- unto men are accounted and termed rightly just or unjust, is not that by which God Almighty's actions are to be measured or called just, no more than his counsels are to be measured bv human wisdom. That which he does is made just by his doing it ; just, I say, in him, though not always just in us." And in another passage in the same work he says, " Piety consisteth in two things : one that we honor God in our hearts ; which is, that we think as highly of his power as we can (for to honor anything is nothing else but to think it to be of great 66 power) ; the other is, that we signify that honor and esteem by our words and ac- tions, which is called cultus, or the worship of God." According to this doctrine, then, we are to honor the Deity on account of his power alone ; audit is perfectly indiffer- ent, as to our estimation of him, whether he possess one moral attribute or not. If instead of creation being, as there is abun- dant reason to think it is, a work of bene- volence ; if, instead of the Almighty having created his creatures for the purpose of making them happy, we could for a mo- ment entertain the horrid idea that he has formed them expressly to inflict misery upon them, he would have been nevertheless equally entitled to our adoration and love. This extravagant doctrine is so clearly con- tradicted by the reason and by the feeUngs of man, as to warrant us in at once discard- ing it as an outrageous absurdity. 46. It is not intended to assert that all the supporters of the selfish system of morals are willing to go the extravagant lengths of \ 67 Hobbes, but these opinions seem to be very legitimately drawn from their doctrines. Hobbes was a man of a most powerful in- tellect; and although his arrogant spirit prompted him to lay down dogmatically, as the foundation of his doctrines, principles which are not self-evident, and therefore should have been proved by argument, without proving or attempting to prove their truth, yet those principles being once admitted, he often draws conclusions from them with admirable force and consistency (though sometimes his reasonings are clearly sophistical) ; and if his followers have not gone the same length as their leader, it is probably to be imputed to their not possess- ing minds so powerful and logical as his. Ohsta principiis must be the rule to those who desire successfully to oppose the opi- nions of Hobbes. The first principles be- ing admitted, his opponents are sure to be defeated ; but those principles are assumed without reason, and in defiance of it. 47. It must not be supposed that the #. 68 opinions just mentioned were peculiar to Hobbes. It appears from Plato and Ari- stotle that similar sentiments were held by some of the early Greek philosophers^. 48. The following observations of Lord Shaftesbury, in direct opposition to the doc- trines we have been combating, are consist- ent with all our knowledge and experience of human nature, and with every concep- tion which we can form of rational beings : '' 'T is impossible to suppose a mere sensi- ble creature originally so ill-constituted and unnatural, as that, from the moment he comes to be tried by sensible objects, he should have no one good passion towards his kind, no foundation either of pity, love, kindness, or social affection. T is full as impossible to conceive, that a rational crea- ture coming first to be tried by rational ob- jects, and receiving into his mind the images or representations of justice, generosity, gratitude, or other virtue, should have no * See on this subject the first chapter of Cudworth's ' Eternal and Immutable Morality.' \ 69 liking of these, or dislike of their contraries ; but be found absolutely indifferent towards whatever is presented to him of this sort*." 49. An important argument in favour of the moral nature of man is derived from the consideration that all virtuous actions have a tendency to lead to other similar actions, and thus to form habits of virtue. The performance of every duty is attended with some degree of pleasure, and is always looked back upon with satisfaction. Now this pleasure, by the great mental law which is usually called the association of ideas, is presented to the mind in connexion with the act which gives rise to it, and as we all must desire happiness, we become incUned to a repetition of such acts as are accom- panied with pleasurable sensations. This doctrine of association of ideas is explained by Locke, Hume, and others ; but the most detailed and satisfactory account of it is to be found in Hartley's ' Observations onMan.' 50. As actions which flow from a be- * Inquiry concerning Virtue, book i. part iii. s. 1. 70 nevolent intention have a tendency to strengthen and improve the benevolent principle, evil actions, on the other hand, are always attended with more or less of pain, and, consequently, are usually looked back upon with a greater or lesser degree of regret. That pain attends all the malevo- lent passions must be obvious to every one. Anger, revenge and envy always occasion unhappiness to the mind which they pos- sess, and the pain which is felt must have some tendency to correct the evil passion. That it does not effect this in all cases, is explained by the circumstance, that all our actions, good and bad, tend to form habits, that is, to occasion the recurrence of similar acts again and again. The differ- ence between virtuous and vicious actions is, that both have a tendency to produce similar acts in future ; but in the former case_the tendency is strengthened by the pleasure which accompanies the good action, while the pain which belongs to evil deeds acts as an antagonist force in at least dirai- 71 nishing the general tendency of actions to produce habits, and in some instances overcoming it. 51. The following quotation from a note on Bishop Butler's first sermon on Human Nature is an excellent summary of the doc- trine which we have been endeavouring to establish. " If any person can in earnest doubt whether there be such a thing as good- will in one man towards another ; (for the question is not concerning either the degree or extensiveness of it, but concern- ing the affection itself) let it be observed, that, whether man be thus or otherwise constituted, what is the inward frame in this particular, is a mere question of fact or natural history, not proveable immediately by reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other matters of fact or natural history are ; by appeaUng to the external senses, or inward perceptions respectively, as the matter un- der consideration is cognizable by one or the other : by arguing from acknowledged 72 facts and actions ; for a great number of actions of the same kind, in different cir- cumstances and respecting different objects, will prove to a certainty what principles they do not, and, to the greatest probability, what principles they do proceed from : and lastly, by the testimony of mankind. Now that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no other wavs than those in w^hich it may be shown, that there is such a thing, in some degree, as real good-will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is own- ed, much left for us to do upon our own heart and temper ; to cultivate, to improve, 73 to call it forth, to exercise it in a steady uniform manner. This is our work: this is virtue and religion." 52. We have now arrived at the last question respecting the theory of morals ; whether any moral sentiments, distinct from a desire to advance our own happiness or that of others, exist in the human mind, and are to be accounted parts of our moral nature. 53. Some light may be thrown on this subject by directing our attention to the ordinary use of language. Now that there are in all languages terms denoting appro- bation and disapprobation of actions in themselves, without any reference to their consequences, cannot be fairly denied. The feeling of shame too is of a totally different character from that disapprobation of parti- cular actions which we entertain on account of their injurious effects to the agent or others. But the sentiment which I would particularly select on this part of our sub- ject is gratitude. Gratitude is, I believe, £ 74 universally esteemed. No instance has, to my knowledge, been produced of a single human being who has approved of ingrati- tude. On the contrary, it is universally reprobated, even by bad men. 54. Though the language of men, which expresses their opinions and feelings, has recognised the existence of the virtues now under consideration, it is not easy to find a word appUcable to the whole class, which is not, in some degree, objectionable. The word *' sentiment" has been used so loosely, and in so many different senses, and has been sometimes applied to feeUngs so httle entitled to respect or consideration, as to expose the use of it to censure, and even to ridicule. It seems, however, to be the word best adapted to express the moral principles which we now have in view ; and I shall, in this Essay, use it freely, as denoting all those moral feelings which attach to actions considered in themselves, and without re- gard to their consequences with respect to the well-being of ourselves or others. 75 55. In consistency then with the above classification, we will consider the virtues as divided into three classes: — I. Those which conduce to our own greatest good, of which what is usually called self-love is the principle. 2. Those which have for their object the good of others, w^hich may all be resolved into benevolence. 3. Those which arrange themselves under the head of moral sentiment ; as gratitude, temperance, purity, and the like. 56. If any one should be disposed to censure the author for an improper use of words in these divisions, he may not per- haps be prepared to defend himself ; nor is he anxious to do so. It is enough for the purpose in hand to state expUcitly, that the words self-love, benevolence, and moral sen- timent, will, in this work, be used in the sense which has been just explained. 57. The substance of what has been stated above may be expressed in another way, which may appear to some minds more clear and satisfactory than that which e2 iimiiiimii^raii;aii«aiiiMriMta*iiiiiai^^ 76 n has been adopted. Virtue then will be di- vided into three classes as before, the cha- racters of which will be expressed as follows : 1. Sentiments and actions good in them- selves. 2. Such as derive their merit from their tendency to promote our own happi- ness. 3. Such as tend to promote the good of others. Here it is evident, that the first class is identical with the third of the former arrangement, the second with the first, and the third with the second. I prefer the first order as the most convenient one in which we can treat of the subject ; and shall therefore commence with the consideration of those virtues which have for their object our own greatest happiness. \ CHAPTER n. OF SELF-LOVE. 1. A HUMAN being, on its first introduc- tion into the world, appears to differ little, if at all, from the inferior orders of animals ; it is a creature of mere physical sensation and appetite. When assailed by hunger or any other pain it expresses its feeUngs by cries, and continues those manifestations of uneasiness till its hunger is satisfied by food, or sleep, or some other mode of reUef puts an end to its pain. Of the rational nature, which all allow it to possess, and of the moral nature, which it is contended in this Essay is also an essential part of hu- manity, it shows no indications. By slow de2:rees its rational nature unfolds itself; 78 it observes some things uniformly to follow others; forms the ideas of cause and ef- fect ; and thus commences that process of reasoning which is to continue through life, to direct in a large degree its future con- duct, and to influence its future happiness. Thus he learns to control the desire of the moment ; and to regulate his conduct, not merely with a view to present pleasure, but so as to secure a greater enjoyment in fu- ture, in preference to indulging his inclina- tion for a shghter one at the present time. As the views of the mind are enlarged, an idea is formed of what it is that constitutes the greatest amount of happiness which can be enjoyed in the whole of life ; and the more rational and moral of the human spe- cies are led to act with a view to obtain the greatest felicity which they can reach. This is called self-love ; and a rational regard to our own happiness is considered by the sup- porters of what has been all along called the selfish system to be the only real moraUty. 2. The term self-love has been objected t 1 79 to •by a very able ethical writer of our own times, the late Sir James Mackintosh ; but perhaps without much reason. If we are rightly said to love others when we desire this happiness, and pursue such a course of conduct as we think calculated to promote it, there does not appear to be any good reason to object to the term self-love as de- signating those voluntary actions which have for their end the attainment of our own greatest happiness. 3. It is not material for the purpose aimed at in this work, to examine with any minuteness the theories which have been proposed for the purpose of explaining the origin of self-love. Whether it be consi- dered as formed by the association of ideas, in the manner described by Hartley in his ' Observations on Man,' or in any other way, does not greatly concern the inquiry in which we are engaged. It is sufficient to say, that at an early period of life a regard to our future happiness is sure to arise; that it becomes more and more comprehen- / \ \ \ ■\ 80 sive in its range, till it takes in the whole of our existence ; and that it exercises a con- siderable influence on our conduct. 4. Those authors who have embraced what we believe to be the true theory of morals, have sometimes treated self-love as incon- sistent with benevolence, and consequently have wTitten about it in disparaging terms. It has, however, been wtII observed by Bishop Butler, that there is no inconsistency between self-love and benevolence ; and that so far from men in general being influ- enced too much by self-love, it is most cer- tain that thev are not usually sufficiently under its influence. The immediate desire, the passion of the moment, is often found to be far too strong for the calm regard to our greatest interest which is commonly called self-love. It is only when we endeavour to secure our own greatest happiness by inflict- ing injuries on others that self-love is the proper object of blame. When just ideas have been formed respecting what will con- tribute to our greatest good, we shall gene- 81 rally find that doing good to others is much more likelv to assist us in the attainment of our object than injuring them ; and, of course, so far as we are influenced by self- love, we shall be disposed to regulate our conduct accordingly. 5. Paley's chapter on Human Happiness, in his ' Moral Philosophy,' contains the fol- lowing very characteristic passage : ' ' I will omit much usual declamation on the dig- nity and capacity of our nature ; the supe- riority of the soul to the body, of the ra- tional to the animal part of our constitu- tion ; upon the worthiness, refinement, and deUcacy of some satisfactions, or the mean- ness, grossness, and sensuality of others; be- cause I hold that pleasures differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity ; from a just computation of which, confirmed by what we observe of the apparent cheerful- ness, tranquillity, and contentment of men of different tastes, tempers, stations, and pursuits, every question concerning human happiness must receive its decision." Now E 5 \ i 82 the assertion, that pleasures differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity, either means nothing more than that the greatest pleasure is the greatest pleasure, or it is wholly false. If it be asserted, that plea- sures do not differ in their effects upon the mind and character, nothing can be clearer than that this assertion is void of foundation. Supposing the pleasure which a particular individual enjoys from indul- gence in intemperance to be precisely equal to that which another derives from acts of benevolence ; how difli'erently ought these pleasures to be estimated, when considered as regards their ultimate results on our hap- piness ! The pleasures of intemperance will probably lead to disease, and perhaps to I premature death ; while those of benevolence tend to produce perpetually increasing en- joyment. 6. Hartley, a far more profound thinker than Paley, has made three classes of the pleasures of self-interest; which he calls gross self-interest, refined self-interest, and \ i 83 rational self-interest. His classification, however, is not very satisfactory ; nor is it consistent with the common use of language, as he includes the pleasures of sensation and those of imagination under the same head of gross self-interest. The best clas- sification perhaps will be, sensual, intelkc:i_ tual, and moralj)leasurgs. Now it will be rm difficult matter to show, that, with a view to the attainment of our own greatest hap- piness alone, and without taking into the ac- count the effects of our conduct on the well- being of others, the second class of these pleasures is to be preferred to the first, and the third to the second. 7. That intellectual are to be preferred to sensual pleasures, few thinking persons will be disposed to deny. The latter indeed are not to be despised. When we consider how frequently we are in the habit of taking food, and that eating and drinking afford us real enjoyment, it is impossible not to consider them as holding a part, though an inferior one, among the real pleasures of / 84 life. These pleasures, however, seem to be enjoyed in the highest degree by those who are least solicitous about them. All ex- quisite refinement respecting food and drink tends to defeat its own purpose, and usually ends in a fastidiousness which prevents the epicure from receiving satisfaction from al- most anything. On the other hand, hardly any wholesome food or beverage fails to give pleasure to those who have prepared themselves for enjoying it by labour or ex- ercise. Intellectual pleasures have not the same tendency to destroy themselves. Those indeed who addict themselves to the pursuit of poetry, belles lettres, and the fine arts, will go on refining their taste, but that refinement will add to their pleasure. We may read what books we please ; and op- portunities of beholding and admiring fine specimens of the arts are within the reach of a great number of individuals. These refined pleasures of the mind do not cloy like sensual pleasures ; but their tendency is rather to increase, and to yield greater I 85 and greater enjoyment in proportion to the time we bestow upon them. Even those who have not attained any great refinement of taste will often find perpetual enjoyment in intellectual pursuits. Tlie^nature of the human mind is such, that anything which fully occupies it is capable of becoming a source of considerable happiness. The application of the mind to business, though for no higher purpose than that of getting money, affords very great enjoyment ; and if the desire of gain be not excessive, and the mind be not particularly liable to anxiety, it is a source of almost unmingled satisfaction, where the pursuit of the object in view is successful. Higher intellectual pursuits are often accompanied with a strong desire of literary distinction, and a jealousy of rivals, feeUngs calculated to produce great uneasiness ; but when the mind rises above such considerations, and devotes it- self in earnest to the pursuit of knowledge from a love of its intrinsic excellence, the pursuit becomes a source of great satisfaction. ^i 1^ f; 86 8. One of the most unhappy mistakes of the human race is the preference of intellec- tual to moral excellence. This seems to arise from that strong desire to be thought well of by others, which is common to all men; and the generally prevaiUng but vicious feeling by which we are prompted to pursue intellectual improvement, not on account of its own excellence, but for the purpose of excelling others, and thereby attracting admiration to ourselves. Now intellectual superiority obtains a far higher degree of reputation and fame than moral excellence. Power is the great object of idolatry with a large portion of our species ; and the possession of superior intellectual endowments always confers some degree of it. Knowledge is power, as was long ago said by Bacon Genius and talents are powers ; for these words denote the power to effect what is beyond the reach of others. Power of all sorts is usually looked up to with respect, but especially that which enables us to exert a direct and extensive influence 87 over others. Thus kings and statesmen, and, most of all, successful warriors, attain a degree of celebrity which surpasses that of all others, at least in the generation in which they flourish. Their influence is in- deed less felt in general in succeeding times ; and therefore, in the end, the intellectual exertions of those who have produced great original works of genius, or largely advanced science, becomes more extended than that of statesmen and w^arriors. The fame of the Duke of Marlborough was greater in his day than that of Sir Isaac Newton ; but in our times Newton is far more celebrated than Marlborough. When the successes of the statesman and the warrior produce lasting eff'ects, such as the founding of a new dy- nasty, changing the constitution of a coun- try, or a permanent conquest of it, a cor- responding degree of fame attends and fol- lows it. The fame of Alexander and of Caesar is not exceeded by that of any human being. If Napoleon had succeeded in esta- blishing his dynasty in France, and had died ■ T"TMii'~i' »;■ 88 before his reverses began in Russia, his fame would probably have even excelled theirs; but his defeat and fall, and the crumbling to pieces of the vast political edifice which he had raised, will probably greatly diminish the admiration of posterity for his unparalleled conquests. 9. The spirit of moral excellence is di- rectly opposed to that desire of honour and of distinction which is most frequently the motive of strenuous intellectual exertion. It is in its nature calm, peaceable, and un- assuming; it pursues laudable objects for their own sakes, and entertains no desire to excel others. That desire is indeed ob- viously inconsistent with benevolence, at least with that high degree of it which prompts us to feel an interest for others as we do for ourselves. Moral excellence seeks not fame, nor does it often attain it ; it pursues its noiseless course quiet and undisturbed ; and the man whose goodness makes him a blessing to the circle within which he moves, is often scarcely known 89 beyond it. '' Thousands," Burke justly ob- serves, in his admirable sketch of the cha- racter of Rousseau, '' admire the sentiment- al writer ; the affectionate father is hardly known in his parish." 10. Notwithstanding, however, the pre- ference given by the world to intellectual eminence above moral excellence, there can be no doubt that the latter is far more fa- vourable to the happiness of the individual than the former. The desire of power and \ of distinction is evidently unfavorable to happiness, as every degree of success will j only lead to further wants. The most suc- cessful conquerors, so far from being satis- fied with their conquests, have been con- tinually seeking further opportunities of subduing other nations, and extending their dominions. The man who has acquired reputation in science, art, or literature, if the desire of distinction be his leading ob- ject, can never be without something fur- ther to desire. The most successful there- fore of those who ardently seek for extended 90 power, or high reputation, find themselves engaged in a perpetual pursuit of some fresh accession of reputation or power, and are exposed to all the annoyances w^hich arise from the fear of rivals and the uncer- tainty of success. It may indeed be truly said, that intellectual pursuits are not ne- cessarily attended wdth the disquieting feel- ings of ambition ; it is however certain that they are so very generally. Supposing them, however, to be followed for their own sakes, they are, in general, far from yielding equal dehght with the kindly feelings, by which we are induced to exert ourselves for the good of others. The human character is essentially social. Solitude is alw^ays a state of unhappiness, or, if there be any exceptions, they are to be found in cases of reUgious enthusiasm. On this subject we cannot enter at present. Putting then re- ligious enthusiasm aside, w^e may safely lay it down, that mere solitary pleasure can never satisfy the human mind. If any one should doubt this, let him imagine the case 91 of a most successful investigator of science, whose industry had made him acquainted with its most abstruse parts, and whose genius had enlarged its bounds, but who should be cut off from the possibility of communicating his knowledge or his disco- veries to others. The question is, would such a one be happy ; and I am greatly indeed mistaken if all persons competent to judge would not, without hesitation, return a negative answ^er to the question'*. If then the pleasures of science be incomplete unless w^e couple with them the communication of the results to others, the necessity of such communication must arise either from the desire of extending the reputation of the vo- tary of science, or from that sympathy with our fellow-creatures which we have all along * Cicero expresses himself very strongly on the sub- ject ; " Si contigerit ea vita sapienti, ut, omnium rerum affluentibus copiis, quamvis omnia, quee cognitione digna sint, summo otio secum ipse consideret, et contempletur ; tamen, si solitudo tanta sit, ut hominem videre non pos- sit, excedat a vita."— De Officiis, i. 43. 92 considered to be an essential part of our nature, and the fruitful source of our virtues. There seems to be no other conceivable way of accounting for the fact. Now if the desire of making others acquainted with the re- sults of our scientific investigations proceed from the wish to advance our own reputa- tion, it is the very feeling which we have seen in the last section is insufficient for our happiness ; if, on the other hand, it arise from our sympathy with others, it brings us at once into the region of mo- rality. It is not merely an intellectual, but also a moral pleasure. . 11. Now let us direct our attention to a consideration of the pleasure attendant on virtuous feeUngs and conduct. Every one of the virtues tends directly to increase our own happiness. Prudence enables us to provide for our future wants; temperance promotes our health ; integrity in our deal- ings conciUates the esteem of all with whom we have to do. '' Mercy," says Shakspeare, ** is twice bless'd ; it blesseth him that 93 gives, and him that takes ;" and the same remark may be truly extended to every modification of benevolence. The act of voluntarily doing good to another is never unaccompanied by pleasure to the agent, — a = fact so notorious, as to be the foundation of the selfish svstem of morals, against which i we have been contending. 12. But an objection will here present itself, and it cannot fairly be denied to have some force. If it be allowed that pleasure is a constant attendant on acts of benevolence, it must also be admitted that much pain must be endured by those whose benevolent efforts fail of producing the in- tended effect. And how^ often is this the case ! Frequently is the benevolent man unable to stop the hand of the spoiler and oppressor ; often does he witness scenes of distress which he wants the power to re- lieve ; his exertions for others will some- times meet with an ungrateful return, and will often be defeated by the folly of those whom he had intended to serve. 94 13. Allowing, however, all the force to this objection which fairly belongs to it, it still only proves that the pleasures of bene- volence are attended by a certain mixture of pain, which must be deducted from the pleasure to enable us accurately to measure its amount. That the pLeasure is, in ordi- nary cases, far greater than the pain, seems to be satisfactorily proved by what probably few will be disposed to deny, that persons of great benevolence are generally blessed with calmness of mind and cheerfulness of temper. This is certainly not universally the case, but it will, I beheve, be found to be so in a very great majority of instances. Benevolence, indeed, seldom entirely fails in attaining its object. Scarcely an indi- vidual can be found who does not possess some means of adding to the happiness of others. Every day, in ordinary cases, af- fords an opportunity of doing this. The intercourse of men is in a great degree made up of reciprocal kindness. Parents are constantly bestowing benefits on their 95 children, and children have frequent oppor- tunities of making a grateful return. The relation of master and servant affords con- tinual occasions for the exercise of this virtue. On the whole we may safely as- sert, that a man's circumstances must be unusually unfavourable who does not possess the means of adding, in some degree, to the enjoyments of those who compose the circle in which he moves. Now every act of be- nevolence has its attendant pleasure ; the number, therefore, of pleasures of this kind is very great. It must be added, that the feeling of benevolence is essentially plea- surable ; even compassion, which has a mixture of pain, has also a pleasure pecu- liar to itself. 14. The observations just made respect- ing the comparative value of sensual, moral, and intellectual pleasure, must be taken to have only a very general application, and cannot be rigidly appUed to every particular case. Even with respect to sensual plea- sure, there are some men whose constitu- 96 tions are vigorous enough to resist the in- jurious effects of intemperance and extreme indulgence in sensual pleasures ; and some individuals of strong minds and robust con- stitutions, and urged by a vehement desire of acquiring knowledge, become so com- pletely absorbed in their intellectual pur- suits, particularly those which require a very close abstract attention, such as the mathe- matics, as to exclude all external annoy- ances, and to attain, in their studies, a state of almost unmixed enjoyment. 15. The disquieting nature of all the ma- levolent passions must be obvious to every observer. Ovid's admirable description of envy will, in some degree, apply to them all : Pallor in ore sedet : macies in corpore toto : Nusquam recta acies : livent rubigine dentes : Pectora feUe virent : lingua est suffusa veneno. Risus abest. nisi quern visi movere dolores. Nee fruitur somno, vigilacibus excita curis : Sed videt ingratos, intabescitque videndo. Successus hominum ; carpitque et carpitur una ; Suppliciumque suum est*. ^ * Met., lib. ii. fab. xii. 68. 97 16. Another most fruitful source of hap- piness is a cheerfulness of temper, which seems to be a gift of nature to particular individuals, and which can apparently be attained by no others. It is perhaps not too much to say, that a temper of this sort is the greatest source of happiness in the world; it does not appear to be necessarily associated with any mental or moral peculiarity of character ; it is, how- ever, incompatible with the malevolent pas- sions. Whether those passions ever take a permanent hold on characters originally of the sort described, I cannot pretend to say ; but if so, they will most assuredly destroy the cheerfulness of spirit which is their characteristic. The incompatibility of the two is proved by all experience. This happy temper always takes the most cheer- ful view of all matters which their cir- cumstances admit of; is full of hope, easily susceptible of joy, and wholly indis- posed to yield to anxiety or despair. I'his I believe to be the happiest of all dis- F aaMfe«.-iit,fiafe.^»..tfa»----^.. .^i.:^ 98 positions ; but it affords us no materials in the discussion before us. No art is able to confer it on those to whom nature has denied it, and the circumstances of life must be very unfortunate indeed to eradi- cate it where it is given by nature. 17. The pleasures which arise from a just sense of the relation in which we stand to our Maker, and from the feelings of reverence, love, confidence, and resignation which we ought to entertain towards him, will be treated of in a subsequent part of this Essay. 18. The foregoing observations tend to show that self-love and benevolence are not generally inconsistent with each other, but would often lead to the same course of cor- duct ; still they are principles clearly distin- guishable, and in some instances (at least as far as this world is concerned) opposed to each other. Thus the patriot, who devotes his life for his country, can hardly be said to receive an adequate compensation in the feeling of approbation which attends his 99 self-sacrifice. Yet this is a case which has always commanded the applause of the world; and that fact seems sufficient in itself to destroy the selfish system of morals. f2 100 CHAPTER III. OF BENEVOLENCE. 1. The theory which we have been endea- vouring to support affirms, that sympathy with our fellow-creatures, and a desire to advance their happiness, are parts of our nature ; and that they are, with few ex- ceptions, developed in a greater or lesser degree in every human being at an early period of life. With respect to the excep- tions just mentioned, we may observe, that no one denies that man is a rational being, although some few come into the world in a state of idiocy, and remain so during their whole lives. A human being, without moral feelings or principles of any kind, is as rarely to be found as an idiot. Indeed 101 the cases are identical ; at least I am not aware that any instance can be produced of one, who possessed the faculty of reason, having not only thrown off all the re- straints of morality in his conduct, but having also gone the length of denying the existence of all moral distinctions. We at- tribute, then, a moral nature to man on the same grounds on which he is admitted to have a rational nature. 2. As the rational nature of man is by no means a certain guide, but often falls into great errors, in Hke manner is the moral nature subject to err. It requires careful cultivation rightly to direct the moral sentiments, and great care to pre- vent the corruption of the natural sources of good feeUng in the human heart. We are hable to be misled by evil example, and to be seduced from the hne of duty by the passions. It is necessary, in order to our moral nature's attaining its proper end, that it should be regulated by our reason. It is only when the rational and the moral 102 faculties act together, that the highest re- sults of virtue are produced. This will be easily understood by famiHar examples. A tender mother is very desirous to give her children all the pleasure in her power, and is unwilUng to refuse them any gratification which she can bestow; but she speedily finds that, by indulging them in all their wishes, she will be forming habits which must ultimately prove injurious to their virtue and to their happiness. Compassion is natural to the human heart ; but to yield to our kindly feelings on every appearance of distress, to give to all who ask, as our sympathy might prompt us to do, without investigation of the reality of the professed distress, and with no consideration of the probable consequences of the relief afforded on the future character and conduct of the recipient of our bounty, is a mode of pro- ceeding far more hkely to produce injurious than beneficial consequences. 3. In endeavouring to explain the nature of benevolence, it will be necessary to con- 103 sider it as a feehng and as a principle. The principle of benevolence should be extended to all whom we have the power of serving ; and this supposes that they should all be the objects of the general feehng. But be- sides this general feehng, our benevolent affections are attracted to particular indi- viduals in a much higher degree than that which is necessary to enable us to fulfil our duty to our fellow- creatures in general. Here, as everywhere else, we shall be wise in following nature. Could a man feel the same lively interest in the well-being of each individual inhabitant of a large town which he does for his own children, such a feehng would be entirely useless, as he can never possess the means of advancing the happiness of a large number of individuals in the same degree as he can that of his own family. The strong feeling of attach- ment to individuals by no means lessens general benevolence towards the species, but seems rather to increase it. The tender husband and affectionate father is usually 104 a person of general benevolence of cha- racter, while those who are without objects of near and strong affection are often cold and hard-hearted. Married men are generally more benevolent than bachelors ; for " wife and children," as Bacon justly observes, "are a kind of disciphne of humanity." " Single men," he goes on to say, " though they be many times more charitable, be- cause their means are less exhaust, yet on the other side they are more cruel and hard-hearted, (good to make severe inqui- sitors,) because their tenderness is not so oft called upon." We must not indeed carry this too far. It is certain that all married men are not benevolent, while some single men are so in an eminent degree. It will, however, I think, in general be found that single are far more selfish than married men. 4. The deepest feelings are implanted by nature where they are most required, and where they will produce the most beneficial effects. In general, the highest degree of 105 benevolence is that felt by married persons for each other, and by parents for their chddren nd these are precisely the cases in which most good can be conferred The love of children for their parents is the next degree of affection, and in some cases, par- ticularly in daughters, it is hardly less in- tense than the connubial and parental af- foctions. Women are in general more benevolent than men, at least in the do- mestic circle ; and as unmarried daughters usually hve constantly at home with their parents while sons are absent pursuing their different calhngs elsewhere, the lov: h- .K ' '' ^'P' "P ^"'J i'^^reased, while that of sons is in general diminish: mg. \/e love those on whom we have be- stowed benefits more than those who have benefited us ; and men are attached not only to their hving offspring, but to inani- mate things, as books, pictures, &c. which they have produced. It is a curious saying of Aristotle*, that an artist loves a work of * Eth. Nic, ix. 7. F 5 106 his own better than it would love him if it could become animated and sensible. In general, the love of children for their pa- rents is by no means equal to that of their parents for them, nor is it desirable that it should be so. They are intended to form other relations, and to find new objects of affection in the married state; nature has therefore provided that they shall strongly desire to enter into that state, and, of course, their attachment to all that belongs to the single state is, in some degree, less- ened by that desire. The ordinary use of language has a reference to this state of things. People are said to be settled when they are married, which term indicates that the single is considered merely preparatory to the married state. 5. But though the benevolent feehngs of children towards their parents are less strong than those of parents to their children, yet are they in all well-disposed natures' ex- tremely powerful, and in general exceed in intensity all other affections except the 107 connubial- and the parental. This feeling usually exists during the whole of the life of the parents, particularly in daughters, for in sons it is often much weakened by the causes mentioned above. 6. Benevolent feelings, with regard to friends, form an important branch of human affections. Much of the happiness of life IS made up of the intercourse which sub- sists between those, who, from similarity of tastes and pursuits, or from some other cause, have contracted friendship for each other. Of the importance of friendship nothing need be said ; it is a necessary want of our nature ; and a man who has no friend, be his outward possessions and his intellectual attainments what they may, can have little enjoyment of life. 7. As the advantages of friendship are very great, it is desirable that some degree of it, or at least a feeling approaching to it, should be felt by those with whom we are most in communication ; and this is gene- rally the case. The mere circumstances of 108 near neighbourhood and frequent meetings almost necessarily leads to some degree of kindness and good-will between the neigh- bours. The relations of tutor and pupil, and master and servant, are, in all well- disposed individuals, in general attended by feelings of mutual kindness. 8. The difference of feeling between men and women is remarkably adapted to their respective situations in life. In strong at- tachment to her immediate connexions, and in compassion for distress directly presented to her, woman is in general far superior to man; while man has much more of en- larged and general benevolence than woman. This is as it should be. The tenderness of woman is fitted for her station. To her care are committed the helplessness of infancy and the decrepitude of age. She will tend her sick child with a love which knows no bounds ; and will keep her station by the bed from which her aged parent is to rise no more, with unwearied and unconquerable affection. Neither tlie waywardness of child- 109 hood nor the peevishness of age has power to weaken her affection. She makes every kmd of allowance for their infirmities • pos sesses her soul in peace ; " beareth all thmgs, hopeth all things, endureth all thmgs." Often is she doomed to suffer harsh treatment from the husband who has solemnly vowed to love and cherish her and mgratitude from the children whose welfare she has watched over with anxious and unceasing solicitude. These things she will bear without a murmur, and without relaxmg in attention to her duties The circumstances of human hfe call man to dif- ferent scenes ; and his actions have a far wider operation upon the general good. As a legislator he has to assist in enacting laws which influence largely the well-being of the community ; as a soldier he must expose himself to imminent danger in the service of his country ; he is sometimes called on o assist and protect the weak and helpless from the aggression of the powerful oppress or. at no small risk of injury to himself k-rr 110 If he fill a public station, he may be exposed to calumny and misrepresentation ; to the frowns of the powerful, or to the insane fury of the multitude. To fit him for the per- formance of his duties, nature has given him a more firm but less delicate moral texture than that which she has bestowed on woman. Sometimes, indeed, (as if to give us a fore- taste of what may be expected in a higher state of existence,) we find in man a tender- ness of feeling almost equal to that of wo- man ; while some few women possess that comprehensive and vigorous moral senti- ment, which is generally found in men onlv. 9. We have already adverted to our bene- volent feeUngs towards our familv connex- ions, our friends, and our neighbours. The two next objects of benevolence to be con- sidered, are the particular district with which we are immediately connected, and our country. The interest felt in the affairs of the parish, county, &c. in which an indivi- dual resides, varies greatly in particular per- sons, and is in general proportioned to the 111 part which he takes in its affairs. He whose exertions are chiefly confined to his parish is likely to feel a stronger interest respecting it than those whose situation places them more in connexion with the in- terests of a whole county. The general prosperity of the country which one inha- bits ,s an object of interest to all ; and its importance is so great, as often to establish a supremacy over more confined but nearer interests. The love of their country has earned some noble spirits to the very heights of virtue. Genuine patriotism is, however perhaps a rarer virtue than it is usually thought to be. The Romans have been long celebrated as a patriotic people ; but if the motives of most of their great men could be fully analysed, it may well be doubted whether their great actions were not, m a high degree, stimulated by the hope of enjoymg the power and dignity of consul, dictator, &c., of having the sweet sound of imperator shouted forth by the troops whom they should lead on to victory. -i 112 and of enjoying the magnificent triumphs by which their victories would be rewarded. Certainly, when we calmly consider the in- justice and cruelty exercised by the Romans on other nations, it seems difficult to give them credit for so much real virtue as has been usually assigned to them. 10. Having given a general account of several modifications of the benevolent af- fections, we will now proceed to show that they all require to be directed and controlled by reason. The greatest and the most pre- valent errors respecting human nature have arisen from partial views of it. Some have highly estimated the intellectual, and thought Httle of the moral part of man. Genius and learning have been too often the exclusive objects of admiration. In our own days, what is called imagination is idoUzed ; and the production of any novelty, however in- consistent with good taste, and however de- void of sound sense, is admitted by the mul- titude as satisfactory evidence of the pos- session of this admired quality. Affected 113 and exaggerated sentiments, incongruous metaphors, hyperbolical tropes, unnatural characters, and incredible incidents, are ex- travagantly admired by many who have no mean opinion of their own critical sagacity; while the just sentiments, the characters true to nature, the probable incidents, the purity and simplicity of style, which have bestowed immortahty on the great works of ancient and modern genius, would probably be thought '' flat and unprofitable " by the same class of critics. This perverted taste has unhappily extended to moral subjects. The calm and unostentatious virtues, which in truth form the staple commodity of hu- man happiness, are, it is to be feared, but very inadequately estimated in our own times. Be that, however, as it may, it is certain that our moral sentiments require to be restrained and directed by reason, and that both parts of our nature must move harmoniously together to produce the ends for which they were given. 11. The production of happiness is the 114 only rational object of our voluntary actions ; and it is a sufficient answer to the inquiry, why we perform any particular action, that it tends to produce happiness, either to our- selves or to others. The question, why we are to do good to others, (as has been ah^eady observed,) lies beyond the limits of moral philosophy, and is only one branch of the larger question, whether it is our interest to be virtuous. Those who embrace what is usually termed the Utilitarian theory of morals, seem to be perfectly right as to the end of our moral actions, but to err greatly in not perceiving that the principles of our nature prompt us to such actions long before we are capable of forming an opinion re- specting the great question of what tends to the greatest general good. A child finds that he possesses the power of giving plea- sure to his brothers and sisters, and feels a disposition to do so long before his faculties have sufliciently expanded to enable him to form a notion of general good, and of the proper means of attaining it. When in pro- 1! 115 cess of time this idea is formed, it may, and it ought, in some degree, to enter into our consideration and to influence our conduct. After all, how^ever, its operation is very con- fined. We can in no instance calculate, with anything approaching to certainty, on the probable effects of our conduct in all their ramifications, and must therefore be content to perform such actions as we have reason to beheve will produce immediately beneficial consequences, without being soH- citous about their remote effects. That is the real practical principle on which men act ; and the Utilitarians themselves would laugh at one who delayed to assist his friend till he had calculated all the probable con- sequences, direct and remote, of his so doing. 12. Every sensible moral writer admits the necessity of general rules. These rules, however, are not, as they are often repre- sented to be, mere abstractions of reason, but have foundations laid deep in the moral nature of man. Children know and feel that they ought to love and obey their pa- 116 rents, long before their minds have been led far enough into speculation to see the great importance of this duty to the well-being of the species ; and thousands pass through life without having advanced far enough in generalization to reach this general prin- ciple. 13. But though it is impossible for the most enlarged and cultivated human capa- city to estimate with any approach to pre- cision all the consequences which will result from any particular action, it is certain that our ability to estimate probable conse- quences goes on enlarging in proportion to the improvement of the rational faculties, and the pains we take to ascertain, as nearly as we can, what effects are likely to follow from our actions. No subject, perhaps, is better calculated to illustrate this, than that of giving alms. The first natural impulse is, to give in all cases where there is an ap- pearance of distress. It is, however, soon perceived that great deceit is often practised by those who solicit alms ; that the assumed 117 distress is often apparent, and not real ; and that the money given frequently tends to no other purpose but to the encouragement of idleness and profligacy. This view of the subject may, however, lead to a very great error, by inducing persons to abstain from giving alms altogether ; and, by so doing, passing by cases of real and severe distress which they have the power of relieving, and hardening their own hearts, and destroying that sympathy for the sufferings of their fellow-creatures which naturally belongs to the human heart. 14. The necessity of directing and re- straining the natural impulses of our bene- volent feeUngs by reason and a regard to consequences, is nowhere more apparent than in the conduct of parents towards their children. The more affectionate the parent, the greater is the risk of that inju- dicious indulgence which is commonly and expressively called, spoihng children. It cannot be necessary to enlarge on this sub- ject, as the very name of a spoiled child will 118 not fail to suggest to every mind the mise- rable effects of the foolish fondness by which parents are led to an indiscriminate indul- gence of the wishes of their children. It may not be amiss, however, to observe, that over-much indulgence is not the only way of spoiling children ; and that the plan of undue severity adopted by some parents, in addition to the infliction of present misery on the children, often draws after it conse- quences not less to be deplored than those which are the result of too much indulgence ; and that it is better that the conduct of the parent, if it must deviate from the rational middle course, should lean rather to the mild than to the severe extreme, as more conso- nant to the best feeUngs of the human heart, and better calculated to strengthen and con- firm that natural affection between the pa- rent and the child, which is one of the most fruitful and important sources of all that is most lovely and excellent in human nature. 15. The necessity of general rules is ad- mitted by all moralists ; and it is one of the 119 greatest difficulties in ethical science to form them correctly. The inquiry into this sub- ject seems to have stopped short of its le- gitimate extent. The following remarks of Cicero will afford a suitable introduction to what I have to say on this subject. After treating morals as made up of the honestum and the utile, and stating some objections to a threefold ethical division made by Pan- aetius, he proceeds as follows : *' Hac divi- sione duo praetermissa sunt : nee enim solum, utrum honestum an turpe sit, deliberari solet ; sed etiam duobus propositis honestis, utrum honestius ; itemque duobus propositis utili- bus, utrum utilius : ita, quam ille triplicem putavit esse rationem, in quinque partes distribui debere reperitur. Primum igitur est de honesto, sed dupliciter; tum pari ratione de utili ; post de comparatione eorum, disserendum''^." 16. In laying down general rules for the regulation of our conduct, then, we should keep steadily in mind what is the end of all * De Officiis, i. 3. 120 morality. Now the only intelligible object to be attained by moral principles, is hap- piness, either that of the individual or of others. That both these objects are rational and ultimate ones, no one can deny. But among actions which tend to produce hap- piness, some are fitted to do so in a higher, and others in a lower degree. In order, then, duly to estimate the importance of a particular action, we must consider in what degree it is calculated to produce happiness. There is also a negative side of the question, as the prevention of misery is as legitimate an object of our moral exertions as the pro- duction of happiness. It is an act of virtue to advance a loan of money to an industri- ous man, for the purpose of giving him the means of exercising his industry for the support of himself and his family ; and it is also virtuous to endeavour, by w^hatever just means we may have in our power, to induce a man to break off habits of intemperance, by w^hich he is bringing ruin upon himself and those he is bound to support. Of these 121 two modes of doing good, the latter is obvi- ously more important than the former. In one case, industry may enable the person intended to be benefitted to surmount his difficulties ; in the other, he is proceeding in the sure road to destruction. In another view, too, the latter is by far the more important act. An alliance exists between all the virtues ; and habits of vice of every kind are, more or less, injurious to the general character. That intemperance is closely allied with imprudence is obvious ; nor can any one fail to perceive its incon- sistency with that calmness of mind and self-possession, which enable a man to ac- quire the mastery of his passions, and to resist the temptations by which he is in danger of being seduced from the paths of virtue. 17. As this work does not profess to be a treatise on morals, but is merely an in- quiry into the moral nature of man, nothing more is to be expected than a general state- ment of the principles from which it is con- 6 122 ceived that moral doctrines are properly deduced. We may, I think, safely lay it down, that moral is to be preferred to phy- sical good, and, of course, the larger to the smaller quantity in all cases. It is a plea- sure to all to follow their own incUnations, or, in the homely language often used, to have their own way. Nobody is fond of being restrained from indulging his wishes. A kind parent, therefore, will desire to re- frain as much as he can from laying re- straint upon his children ; but if the parent be wise as well as kind, he will be mind- ful of the importance of forming in the mind of his child that habit of self-control, w^ithout which his future life can be neither virtuous nor happy. He will bear in mind, that indulging him in all his incUnations, even those which are in themselves indiffer- ent, will, in all probability, lay the foun- dation of a self-willed temper, and an impatience of restraint, which will be a source of great unhappiness to himself and others. 123 18. Our incompetence to trace all the consequences of our actions on the future well-being of ourselves and others, creates the necessity of rules more restricted than what may be justly called the great general rule of personal and social morality, that a man ought in all cases to do all the good, and to prevent all the evil in his power. It must not, however, be lost sight of, that this is the universal principle, and a reference to it will be constantly necessary for the purpose of assigning proper limits to our other moral rules, to ascertain to what exceptions they are Uable, and to decide between different rules which appear to be conflicting with each other. A very Httle reflection on this subject will show us the necessity of distin- guishing between general and particular consequences. The particular consequence of kiUing a wicked rich man, who makes use of his riches to oppress others and to promote vice and immoraUty, and by whose death his property would descend to a son of a virtuous character, would no doubt be g2 124 beneficial ; but, on the other hand, the per- mission to kill another on account of the bad use which he makes of his property (and if allowed in one case, as Paley justly observes, it must be allowed in all,) would be a most pernicious principle, which would fill the world with bloodshed, and make men live under a continual apprehension of being assassinated. Nothing can be plainer than that this general evil consequence far out- w^eighs any partial good which can be ex- pected from the act above-mentioned. 19. The duty of children to obey their parents in the earlier periods of life, and to treat them with the utmost respect and kindness throughout the whole of their lives, is of such paramount importance to the well-being of the human race as scarcely to admit of any exception, although there are instances in which the conduct of the pa- rent is such as to induce one to think, on the first view of the subject, that the child is emancipated from the filial duties altogether. Possibly indeed in some very extreme cases 125 this may be allowed ; as where parents have attempted to take away the lives of their children ; or a father has violated, or at- tempted to violate, his own daughter. That the history of the world contains authentic accounts of such moral monsters there is no reason to doubt. Putting aside, however, these extreme cases, it seems plain, that very bad conduct on the part of the parents will not exonerate the children from their fiUal duties. If the other side of the ques- tion be taken, the consequence will be, the utter destruction of one of the most import- ant moral principles. Few parents do their duty to their children in all particulars ; and if the obhgation of the child to obev, honor and succour the parent were allowed to be diminished in proportion to the defect of duty on the part of the parent, a conti- nual investigation of the conduct of the pa- rent would be going on in the minds of the children, and fihal duty would be continually weakening, till it became nothing but a name. 126 20. The obligation to perform our pro- mises is a very important rule of morals, yet there are many circumstances which will justify a man in breaking his promise. These excepted cases are admirably summed up by Paley (who is as excellent in detail as he seems to me to be erroneous in his general principle) in the 5th chapter of the 3rd book of the ' Moral Philosophy.' TelUng a falsehood is undoubtedly in general a moral offence ; yet few will doubt, that to '' tell a falsehood to a madman for his own advantage, or to an assassin to defeat or divert him from his purpose"*^," and many similar cases, which might easily be adduced, are justifiable on moral principles. These are instances in which the particular bene- ficial consequences outweigh the general in- jurious one of the breach of a moral rule, and therefore we are justified by our great leading principle, ' that we ought to do all the good, and to prevent all the evil in our power/ — to resort to falsehood in such cases. * Paley. 127 21. No question which respects the ne- cessity of adhering to general rules has been more discussed, and few perhaps have more difficulties, than that of the right of resistance to the supreme authority of the country in which we live. The absolute necessity of some form of government to restrain the bad passions of men, to esta- blish and to preserve rights of property, and to prevent the virtuous part of society from becoming a prey to those whose conduct is unrestrained by religious or moral princi- ples ; and the undoubted fact, that even constitutions which are very full of defects and vices, yield, on a fair comparison of their results, a great balance of good to the people ; that no government can be worse than, and scarcely any can be conceived to be so bad as, a state of anarchy ; these and the like considerations have often disposed good and wise persons to support the doctrine of absolute obedience to the civil government, with no exception whatever. 22. One of the ablest defences of the 128 doctrine in question is contained in a dis- course on passive obedience by that most acute and able writer, and truly excellent man, Bishop Berkeley. The principle which he lays down, and of the truth of which he appears to entertain an unhesitating convic- tion, is*, that '' there is an absolute un- limited non-resistance or passive obedience due to the supreme civil power wherever placed in any nation." After laying the foundation of morals f in '' the Divine will, or the general design of Providence with re- gard to mankind, and the methods most di- rectly tending to the accomplishment of that design,'' he goes on to state, that it is *' the general well-being of all men, of all nations, of all ages of the world, which God designs should be procured by the concurrent ac- tions of each individual. The well-being of mankind," he proceeds to say j, ** must necessarily be carried on in one of these two ways : either first, without the injunction of any certain universal rules of morality, only * Sect. 2. t Sect. 7. X Sect. 8. 129 by obliging every one, upon each particular occasion, to consult the public good, and always to do that which to him shall seem in the present time and circumstances most to conduce to it ; or, secondly, by enjoining the observance of some determinate, esta- bUshed laws, which, if universally practised, have, from the nature of things, an essential fitness to procure the well-being of man- kind ; though in their particular application they are sometimes, through untoward acci- dents, and the perverse irregularity of hu- man wills, the occasion of great sufferings and misfortunes, it may be, to very many good men." He then very clearly shows the impracticability of adopting the first of these modes, and, of course, the necessity of resorting to the second; and the re- mainder of the discourse consists of reason- ing to show the necessity, and of exhorta- tions to persuade to the practice of abiding, under all circumstances, by the rule which requires obedience to the established civil power of the state. G 5 130 23. Berkeley's argument is pursued with great acuteness, and the conclusion from the premises assumed seems irresistible. The question therefore is, whether the pre- mises themselves be sound. It is certain that the doctrine of absolute passive obedi- ence has fallen into great disrepute, and very few indeed would probably, at the present day, assert it. It becomes, therefore, of importance to discover the foundation of the error (if such it be) of Berkeley and other supporters of the doctrine of passive obedience. 24. Now Berkeley's error seems to lie in not distinguishing between general and uni- versal rules. No one has shown more clearly than this eminent author the neces- sity of general rules ; but he always calls them, not general but universal ; and there- in has, it is conceived, committed a great error. 25. We have seen, that the proper ob- jects of our relative duties are the produc- tion of happiness and the prevention of mi- 131 sery. We have also seen, that in order to accomplish these purposes, it is necessary that some of the most important of these rules, as in the case of promises and of the obligation to tell the truth, should be de- parted from in cases where the particular evil consequences likely to result from the rule are such as to outweigh the general beneficial one of adhering to it ; and we have justified these exceptions by the ap- plication of the universal, or at least the most general rule which can be laid down on the subject, namely, that our duty re- quires us to produce all the happiness, and to prevent all the misery in our power. 26. Let us now consider whether, in the language of Berkeley (and no better is to be found), '* the general well-being of all men, of all nations, of all ages of the world," is likely to be best promoted by holding the rule of obedience to established government to be absolutely universal ; or only a general rule, subject to exception in extreme cases of misgovernment. 132 27. No reasonable person can admit the necessity of general rules in morals, without at the same time allowing that, in order to justify a departure from them, an excepted case should be very distinctly made out. The absolute necessity of some sort of govern- ment to protect the weak from the aggression of the powerful ; to keep peace and order in society; to secure the rights of property, without which industry cannot be expected to exert itself to procure the necessaries, comforts, and conveniences of life, must be obvious to all; and its importance is as evident as its necessity. The importance then of the rule which requires obedience to the established authority in every coun- try being admitted, the question to be con- sidered is, whether it will most conduce to the good of mankind that the rule should be held to be universal, or that it should be subject to some exceptions. 28. The best means of coming to a con- clusion on this subject seem to be, to con- sider the ordinary effects of the possession 133 of power on the human character. Now that power does in general tend to corrupt the mind, appears to be the opinion of man- kind in all ages, as far as we can collect it from their practice. To make those who possess power responsible in some way or other is the universal practice of all nations, in all cases except that of the supreme power of the state. Nothing can be of greater consequence in any country than the independence of the judicial power ; and, in this country, that independence is fully established; but even in the case of the highest judges in the land a responsibility exists, as they are liable to be removed from their offices by the sovereign, on an address from both houses of parHament for that purpose. 29. As then it has been thought neces- sary in all countries to make the possessors of inferior offices responsible to the supreme power of the state— which fact satisfactorily proves, that by the common opinion of man- kind power is likely to be abused unless it M iiiniiiiriiiiflii sat 134 be subject to responsibility — it becomes a question of no small importance, whether even the supreme power of the state should not be held responsible, in extreme cases, to the people, for whose good all political power is a trust. 30. I have assumed political power to be a trust for the good of the people, because it seems to be universally admitted to be so. The only conceivable reason why the mass of the community should yield obedience to the small part of it which enjoys political power, is, that it is for their benefit so to do. The most strenuous supporters of the doc- trine of passive obedience do not deny that sovereigns are answerable to God for their misdeeds ; and the only reason why they are held to be absolutely irresponsible to men is, that the w^ell-being of the world will be advanced by a strict and undeviating submission to the rule which requires obe- dience to the supreme civil power of the state. The first question then to be decided is, whether the supreme power in every 135 country is Ukely to be administered most for the advantage of the people by those who possess it considering themselves irre- sponsible to any human power, however unjust, tyrannical and cruel their admini- stration of government may be, and the peo- ple feeling bound to submit to any tyranny which the sovereign may set up; or by those who understand, that in the event of their misusing the power which they enjoy for the benefit of the whole community to their oppression, they will run an imminent risk of losing the power which has been thus abused. No reason can be given why the good effects of responsibiUty, which are acknowledged to exist in all other cases, should not equally apply to this. The doc- trine, therefore, of unlimited obedience, under all circumstances, to the supreme power, must fall to the ground, unless it can be supported on some other ground. 31. But though it cannot be denied, that an apprehension that a day of retribution may come will operate as a motive to pre- 136 vent tyrannical and oppressive rule by the supreme power of the state, yet it may be very plausibly said, that allowing resistance by force to the supreme power in any case, will infallibly lead to such disloyalty to legitimate government, and to such an interference by the people at large with the supreme power, as will give an anarchical character to the state of society, which will far outweigh the evils (great as they must be admitted to be) which arise from the acts of tyranny sometimes resorted to by the supreme power. But notwithstanding the plausibility of this argument, it will admit of a ready and satisfactory answer. Let us steadily bear in mind that we are pursuing an investigation of a question of morals, and inquiring what principles should be adopted by those who really desire to regulate their conduct by a just and sound principle. It makes nothing in such an inquiry, that many will be found to act without regard to the just limitation of the principle for which we are contending. The 137 rules of morality are unhappily but little regarded by a large portion of mankind. Lay down what rules we may, they will be only partially respected. The seltish and unprincipled will not be prevented from pursuing a career of disloyalty, and from resorting to rebellion against the supreme power whenever they think that their in- terests will be advanced by their doing so, be our theories what they may. It is of no use to tell a man that a strict moral rule forbids his resisting the supreme power of the state on any occasion, when his whole conduct plainly shows that he has no regard for moral rules, and that he disdains to re- gulate his conduct by them. In endeavour- ing to ascertain the probable consequences of embracing one or the other side of the disputed question, we have only to look to those who really intend to regulate their conduct by the principle which they believe to be the right one. 32. Is it then hkely to produce the most beneficial results, not merely in this or that 138 particular country, but in all countries, that those who are really disposed to regulate their conduct by moral principles should entertain the opinion that resistance to the civil power may be justified in extreme cases, rather than the doctrine of unlimited passive obedience, however unjust, tyran- nical, and cruel a government may be? 33. The only good suggested to arise from the doctrine of passive obedience is, that it prevents anarchy, which is said to be worse than the worst government. The argument on the other side is, that the doc- trine of passive obedience is a direct encou- ragement to those who possess the supreme power in any country to abuse it, whenever they may feel disposed to do so, by taking away (so far as it operates) all terror of responsibiUty for their tyrannical acts. 34. The evil likely to result from the prevalence of the doctrine of passive obe- dience is so obvious, and its injurious ef- fects are likely to have so large an extension, as to render it quite unnecessary to go in I 139 detail into the subject; the stress, there- fore, of the argument must be on the other side ; and the opposers of the doctrine of passive obedience are mainly concerned to show that the apprehensions of the anarchy which would result from the adoption of the principle, that the tyranny of the su- preme power may, in extreme cases, be resisted by force, has been carried much further than reason will warrant ; and that the mischief which may probably result from the adoption of that principle is not likely to be of such an extent as to over- balance the probable evils resulting from the opposite opinion. 35. It will perhaps tend to lessen an at- tachment to the principle of unlimited pas- sive obedience to observe, that the preser- ving of the people from a state of anarchy, which is considered to be its great excel- lence, can hardly take place, except under despotic governments, and not always there. If we look into history, we shall usually find that, in all free countries, rebellions and 140 civil wars have been, at least in part, occa- sioned by a contest for the right to possess the supreme power, or a portion of it. In our own country, the wars between Wil- liam and Harold, and the Empress Maud and Stephen, arose out of a disputed suc- cession ; and in all such cases the principle of passive obedience cannot prevent the evils arising from civil war, and the partial anarchy which attends it. One who really beUeved that WiUiam the Norman had de- rived a just title from Edward the Con- fessor (as he professed to have done) to the throne of England, could never have been induced to think that Harold was, in any proper sense, in possession of the royal authority from the mere circumstance of WiUiam being out of the kingdom at the death of the Confessor. The case of the Empress Maud is still stronger, as her title to the crown was undoubted, and Stephen was a mere usurper, without a shadow of right. But supposing, in these contests, it should be held that Harold and Stephen 141 were really in possession of the sovereign authority, and consequently entitled to the unlimited obedience of their subjects, still many other cases may arise, as where, on the death of the sovereign, a doubt exists as to who is really his heir, and both parties claiming to be so get possession of some part of the country. This is a state of things which may happen, as well in a despotic as in a free country ; and when it does take place, the doctrine of passive obedience does not at all operate to prevent the evils of anarchy, or at least of civil war. 36. In a free country, contests for politi- cal power very generally arise between those parties, who, by the principles of the con- stitution, possess some share of it ; and the dispute consists of conflicting claims re- specting the boundaries of the constitu- tional authority of the contending parties. In the great civil war between Charles the First and the parliament, the respective supporters of the two sides, no doubt, thought that the powers in contention be- 142 tween the king and the parliament belonged to the side which they espoused, and each party professed to act as if they were actu- ally in possession of those powers, as no doubt they were thought by themselves to be. 37. The state of anarchy which is said to arise from resistance to the supreme power of a state is, after all, a fiction. No such state does or can arise. Civil war is in- deed, undoubtedly, one of the greatest cala- mities which can befall a countrv, and its evils can hardly be exaggerated, but they still fall short of a state of mere anarchy. Perhaps the most wretched periods of our own history were the civil wars of Maud and Stephen, and of the White and Red Roses ; but the country was, even in its worst state, certainly not altogether with- out some regular government. The great civil war between Charles and the parlia- ment was followed by a very tyrannical government set up by Cromwell ; and there has seldom been a time when the existing 143 government of the country has been less powerful for any beneficial purpose than during the period which elapsed between the death of that extraordinary man and the restoration of Charles the Second ; yet it may well be doubted whether, at either of the two last-mentioned periods, the people were exposed to greater calamities than those which were occasioned by the unopposed tyranny of Henry the Eighth. We may add, that that state of imperfect obedience to existing authority, which is sometimes called anarchy, never lasts long, but is sure to be succeeded, at no great distance of time, by a regular government of some sort or other. 38. It will not, it is hoped, be inferred from anything which has been said, that the author of these observations esteems resistance to the supreme power of the state as any other than a most awful necessity ; never to be resorted to but in extreme cases, and about which every conscientious man will feel himself bound deeply and 144 anxiously to consider, before he embraces the bold and hazardous step of opposing by force the government under which he is living. But it seems that the circumstances of the great importance of the measure, the peril of the individual who engages in it, and the evils to which it can hardly fail to lead, even when just in its principle and successful in its termination, afford argu- ments in favor of admitting a right in the people to resist tyranny by force. We are inquiring by what principles a moral, con- scientious man should regulate his conduct ; and there can scarcely be conceived a more satisfactory guarantee against his going wrong, than the belief that the laudable end at which he aims cannot be accomplished without occasioning some evils, and often very great ones, which will be a drawback, to the extent in which they exist, from the good to be obtained by the successful result of the intended resistance. 39. What I had to say on this subject may be summed up as follows : — Resistance 145 to the supreme power of a state is likely, in almost all cases, to produce a great deal of injury and suffering to the community ; nevertheless cases will at times arise when the oppressive and tyrannical conduct of a government is such as to render it probable that the evils resulting from resistance will not be so great as those which will follow from submission to the tyrannical acts of the government. When these extreme cases occur, a man is fully justified^ by a regard to the well-being of the whole community, to resist by force the supreme authority of his country. It is obvious, as Paley justly observes, that as '* in contentions between the sovereign and the subject, the parties acknowledge no common arbitrator, every man must judge for himself" when the right to resist arises. 40. It is hardly necessary to add, that every conscientious man must feel himself bound to consider the subject deeply before he resolves to enter on so hazardous and uncertain an enterprise as that of opposing H 146 by force the established government of his country. Among the subjects of considera- tion, one of the most important is the pro- babiUty of success. This must be decidedly preponderant to justify resistance. The de- gree of probabiUty must, as well as all other circumstances of the case, be left to the pri- vate judgment of each individual ; and no well-intentioned man will engage in such an enterprise till he has fully satisfied himself that there exists a high degree of proba- bility of succeeding. All attempts of a single individual, or of a small number of individuals, to effect a revolution or a change in the government by force, are evidently unjustifiable, as there is little chance of such efforts succeeding. 41. It is quite essential, before we resort to force, that everv constitutional and peace- able means of redress should be tried. It must always, too, be borne in mind, when the necessity of forcible resistance to ty^ ranny arises, that a great evil is to be endured, for the sake of putting an end to 147 a still greater ; and that a state of insur- rection and civil war is never to be entered upon but with the greatest reluctance, and with a sincere desire to bring it to a close at the earliest possible period. In engaging in such a violent cause, we are bound to take such measures as are most likely speedily to end it ; " bellum ita suscipiatur ut nihil aliud nisi pax qu8esita videatur"*." This observation is just, as applied to every war; and the doctrine it inculcates ought never to be lost sight of by those who think it their duty to engage in resistance to the supreme power of the state, which will probably end in a civil war. * Cic. de Off., i. 23. H 2 148 CHAPTER IV. OF MORAL SENTIMENT. 1. We have now arrived at the period when, in pursuance of the analysis of our moral principles contained in the early part of this essay, it will be necessary to enter on the subject of those moral sentiments which we have considered to be a part of our nature, and distinguishable from the prin- ciples of self-love and benevolence. 2. It has been already stated, that the words Moral Sentiment have been adopted as being, on the whole (though liable to objection), the best calculated to express those feelings of our moral nature which we may say terminate in themselves, and are universally considered laudable, without 149 regard to any consequences, immediate or remote. 3. The objection to the admission of these principles, which will immediately present itself to the mind, is, that the only desirable end of existence is happiness ; and that an action or sentiment which has no tendency to produce happiness, either to ourselves or to others, must be in its moral nature indifferent. 4. Formidable as this objection may ap- pear, the following considerations seem suf- ficient to show that it does not present an insuperable objection to the principles for which we are contending. The object of the last chapter was to show that benevo- lence, or a disinterested regard to the well- being of others, is a moral principle of our nature ; and this was argued from the ap- probation which it universally receives in the world. Now it will be found, that those dispositions of the mind to which we have given the name of moral sentiments, and which we have considered to terminate in I 150 themselves, are distinguished by the same character of universal approbation. The virtue called gratitude was particularly spe- cified, and it was stated that the approba- tion of this virtue seems to be quite uni- versal. Assuming this to be true, we will proceed to inquire into the nature of grati- tude, and how it comes to be universally considered a virtue. 5. Gratitude being admitted to be a virtue, it must belong either to the first or to the second class of virtues already enumerated ; in other words, it must be a virtue, because it contributes either to our own greatest hap- piness or to that of others ; or if neither of these tendencies can account for its being universally considered a virtue, we must look for some other foundation. Now that gratitude has not universally a tendency to advance our happiness, by procuring any thing external for our advantage, is clear. Our benefactor may be in a state of poverty and sickness, and utterly unable to do any- thing to forward our interests \ but these 151 circumstances are never allowed to be an excuse for a want of gratitude on our part. The only way, then, in which gratitude can universally advance our happiness, is, that the feeling of gratitude is in itself plea- surable. This we shall consider presently. 6. As gratitude does not in all cases lead to results beneficial to ourselves, it is quite clear that it does not, of necessity, procure happiness to others. The person obUged may be in such a situation as to be without the power of doing anything for the ser- vice of him to whom he owes an obligation ; but that circumstance is never held to ab- solve him from the duty of gratitude. Our highest gratitude is due to the Author of our being ; but it is certain that no efforts of ours can augment his happiness. The duty of gratitude, therefore, does not derive its obligation from its tendency to advance the happiness of the person who has con- ferred the obligation, and it is obvious that it has no direct tendency to promote the happiness of any other individual. I 152 7. That gratitude is generally a plea- surable state of mind cannot be doubted ; and the same assertion may be made of all the virtues, the whole of which have undoubt- edly a tendency to make their possessor happy. Virtue is, in truth, the proper busi- ness of the human race. It may, however, easily happen, that the sentiment of grati- tude, in particular instances, produces far more pain than pleasure ; as where the benefactor is in a situation which makes him unhappy. The grateful mind must strongly wdll the happiness of him to whom it owes the debt of gratitude, and of course must greatly sympathize with him in what- ever circumstances he may be placed. It is plain then that sympathy with a suffering benefactor may greatly outweigh the satis- faction which generally flows from the sen- timent of gratitude. But the circumstance that the benefactor is a prisoner, or suffer- ing a painful disease, is never held to dis- charge the obhgation of gratitude in the person whom he has obhged. 153 8. It seems impossible for those who ad- mit that the virtuous character, which is universally ascribed to gratitude, is not de- rived from its tendency to promote either our ow^n happiness or that of others, to avoid the conclusion, that the sentiment of gratitude is a part of our moral nature. Neither is there any great difficulty in co- ming to this conclusion ; nor is it in any way inconsistent with any acknowledged truth, or with any moral doctrine, admitted by those who allow a moral system independent of mere self-interest. So entirely are all agreed in accounting gratitude a part of virtue, that it is never conceived possible that a good man should be without it. I cannot tell how others think and feel on this subject, but to my mind there is some- thing closely approaching to a contradic- tion and an absurdity in imagining a be- nevolent man without gratitude to his bene- factor. Benevolence and gratitude appear to be in every instance united ; and all our experience seems to show that they cannot h5 154 be severed. Never vet has the world seen a man accounted virtuous, of whose cha- racter gratitude formed no part. It may, therefore, be properly considered an essen- tial part of our moral nature. 9. The sense of shame seems also to be an original moral principle ; its tendency is indeed to prevent a repetition of the act of which we feel ashamed ; but the question is, why do we feel shame at all? and the proper answer seems to be, that certain actions are in themselves indecorous, and unsuitable to a moral being, and that we are formed by nature to feel them to be so. To this principle may be referred all acts of indecency and impropriety, instances of which will readily suggest themselves to every reflecting person, but an enumeration of them would expose us to the very feeling of self-reproach of which we are treating. 10. In one sense, indeed, and that a most important one, the moral sentiments of which we have been treating may be re- ferred to our own happiness, as they are es- 155 sential to a perfect moral character. If the doctrine intended to be inculcated in this essay be true, that morality is part of our nature, it follows that none but the virtuous can be happy ; for no one probably will contend that the well-being of any creature can be attained by acting contrary to its nature ; and, in truth, all we know of hu- man nature seems to confirm this opi- nion. 156 CHAPTER V. GENERAL VIEW OF HUMAN NATURE. 1. The errors contained in the different ethical theories which have been proposed for the re2:ulation of the conduct of man- kind, have apparently arisen much more frequently from a partial view of human nature than from any other cause. This might be fully and satisfactorily made out by an examination of the various systems of moral duty, which in different ages and countries have been presented to the world. As the work now offered to the public does not profess to be a history of ethical philo- sophy, or even a sketch of its history, but is merely an investigation of its principles, it will not be attempted to go into the proof of what has just been advanced ; which, it 157 is however believed, will be readily admitted to be true by those who are conversant with ethical inquiries. 2. Man, according to the view of human nature contained in this essay, is^ a being coinpgunded of appetites and passions, a -»-.«»»,j „,..,, „j^,,,^,.^^„.^,,^^.„,.«. ^ .V.-., ,.-- ^ >-r«. moral and a _ rational^ natj^^ A1L-.!M?-? parts of his nature are given, by the Great Being who formed him, for the most bene- ficial ends, and, when rightly directed, tend to advance the general happiness of the species, and that of each individual. Each of them ought to exert its proper degree of influence on his conduct ; and the inferior part of his nature should be held in subjec- tionjx) the superior. In the first stages of his existence he is a mere creature of appe- tite ; from his appetites his passions are compounded ; and, by slow degrees, his moral and his rational nature unfold them- selves, and assert their superiority. His moral nature tells him that he must restrain his appetites and passions whenever the in- dulgence of them is inconsistent with his \ / 158 own future welfare, or with the good of others ; and his reason shows him that his moral principles require to be directed in their action by rational considerations. The unrestrained indulgence of his appetite is alike condemned by his moral sense and by his reason, and infalUbly tends to degrada- tion and misery. His passions, given for the best of purposes, are Uable, from excess or from wrong direction, to become instru- ments of misery to himself and others. His moral feelings, when indulged without re- gard to consequences, often lead to great evils, and produce the very results which he is anxious to avoid ; and reason itself, when it vainly attempts to absorb the whole man, and seeks the annihilation of the appetites, passions, and moral sentiments, leads to re- sults most unfavorable to virtue and to hap- piness. It is only when all the principles of our nature move harmoniously together, that human nature attains its highest excel- lence. 3. That the appetites and passions should 159 be restrained by reason, no one doubts; and it is quite clear, that the best of the moral feelings, as compassion and mercy, require to be restrained and guided by rational con- siderations. Mercy would prompt a judge to pardon all criminals, but reason shows that the infallible result would be the en- couragement of crime. Compassion would dispose us to relieve suffering in all cases, but reason will speedily inform us, that if all the evils which men bring upon them- selves by imprudence, folly, and the im- proper indulgence of the appetites and pas- sions, were to be remedied by the benevolent exertions of others, a most important re- straint on evil actions would be removed ; and that the good of society demands that men should suffer those evils which natu- rally result from their bad conduct, and that duty can only require us to relieve them when they become excessive. The kind and tender feelings of parents to their chil- dren require to be continually checked and guided by reason, as must be felt by all 160 those who have witnessed (and who has not?) the unhappy effects of over-much indul- gence. Resentment of injuries is necessary in order to prevent a repetition of them ; but when carried beyond its proper limits, it is inconsistent with those feelings of benevolence with which we ought to re- gard our fellow-creatures. It is the busi- ness of reason to find out what are the pro- per limits within which resentment should be restrained =*. A regard to the reputation of others is a truly virtuous sentiment, and we ought to be very sure that we proceed upon good grounds when we censure them. It must, however, never be lost sight of, that the freely canvassing of each other's actions is one of the most important preservatives of good conduct. Every one is aware that his actions will be observed and commented upon by his acquaintance and those to whom ♦ For a full and just account of the nature of resent- ment as a moral principle, see Bishop Butler's admirable Sermons on Resentment and Forgiveness of Injuries. 161 he is known, and that every base and dis- honorable action of which he is guilty will draw upon him the censure of the world. Can it then be doubted, that, but for this consequence, dishonourable and base actions would be far more frequent than they are at present ? 4. It is very difficult to settle the exact boundaries within which our benevolent feelings should be allowed to regulate our conduct, and to discover the precise degree in which those feelings should be restrained by reason. It is quite possible to endeavour to be too rational ; and in many cases the ordinary promptings of our natural feelings should be given way to, although reason may suggest strong doubts as to the proba- ble effects of our conduct. It is of extreme importance that we should do nothing to check the current of our benevolent feelings. He who allows himself to behold any object of distress unmoved, however deserved the distress may be, is in the way of becoming hard-hearted and indifferent to the sufl^rings 162 of his fellow-creatures. Tliere is, perhaps, no subject in which the conflict between our benevolent feeUngs and our reason leads to greater difficulties than the case of giving relief to common beggars. There is no doubt that a great majority of persons of this description are impostors, and that by giving indiscriminately to common beggars, we are encouraging idleness and profligacy ; but, on the other hand, there are assuredly among them many cases of severe, and some of unmerited distress, and the habit of in- discriminately refusing rehef can hardly fail to harden the heart. Paley's observa- tions on this subject are excelleat. *' I by no means approve the indiscriminate rejec- tion of all w^ho implore our alms in this way. Some may perish by such a conduct. Men are sometimes overtaken by distress, for which all other relief would come too late. Besides which, resolutions of this kind com- pel us to offer such violence to our huma- nity, as may go near, in a little while, to suflfocate the principle itself ; which is a very 163 serious consideration. A good man, if he do not surrender himself to his feelings without reserve, will at least lend an ear to importunities which come accompanied with outward attestations of distress ; and after a patient audience of the complaint, will di- rect himself, not so much by any previous resolution which he may have formed upon the subject, as by the circumstances and credibility of the account that he receives=^." It mav be observed, too, that the course thus recommended, is, after all, really the most rational course. 5. The question, whether mercy ought to be extended to a criminal, is often attended wdth very great difficulties. The primary object of punishment is the prevention of crime; the secondary, the reformation of the criminal. A third legitimate object of punishment is reparation to the injured party, which has been strangely overlooked in penal legislation ; but this matter has no relation to the subject before us. All pu- * Moral Philosophy, book III. part 2. ch. 5. § 3. 164 nishment is in itself an evil, and to justify its infliction, there must be a reasonable expectation of a greater good accruing to society. It may therefore be safely laid down, that punishment ought always to be remitted, when it can be done without injury to society, or to the criminal himself. The difficulty is to discover when this is really the case ; and this can only be determined by a consideration of the particular cir- cumstances of each case. It is obvious that no general rule can be laid down upon the subject. None but the igno- rant, the uncandid, and the unreflecting will form a judgment of any man's whole character from one particular action. Even crimes of great enormity have been some- times committed by those whose general cha- racters were by no means bad. It is a just observation of a late writer'^, that probably no man ever lived whose character would fully realize the idea which we form of a murderer. Many years ago a case occurred * Hazlitt, I believe, for I quote from memory. 165 of a man, whose general character was good, murdering his master and mistress, to the commission of which crime no intelligible motive has ever been assigned ; and his own account of which was, that he felt a sudden and irresistible impulse to commit the murders. The greatest of poets, in (to my taste) the greatest of his works, presents us with an account of the murder of an in- nocent and amiable wife by her husband ; and so admirably deUneated are the wicked and subtle contrivances of the wretch by whom the abused and deceived husband is led on to the commission of the crime, that every reader finishes the play with unmixed pity for Othello, and makes the infamous lago the object of all the just indignation which the perpetration of the crime is calculated to excite. 166 CHAPTER VI. OF A FUTURE STATE. 1. The most important questions which a man can ask of himself are, shall I Hve again after death, and what will be ray con- dition, if there be a future state of existence? The utmost levity of character, the most unreasonable scepticism, the greatest reck- lessness as to future events, and even aban- doned wickedness itself, are insufficient to keep this subject entirely out of sight. No man, in his senses, can be so silly and pre- sumptuous as to deny the possibility of a future state ; and there are probably none who do not, at least in times of sickness, and in contemplation of death, turn their attention, with anxiety, to their probable condition in another world. 167 2. It might be expected, that a considera- tion of this awful subject would produce so powerful an effect on the mind, would create so profound an interest, as to keep down and subdue all inferior and merely worldly considerations ; and it really seems astonishing and unaccountable that it should not do so. A reference to a future state, however, does, perhaps, really influence mankind in a higher degree than it is gene- rally supposed to do ; and it probably ope- rates frequently and powerfully in the pre- vention of the more heinous crimes. No one, I presume, can doubt, that if all hope and fear respecting the world to come were blotted out of the mind of man, the condi- tion of the world would be far more misera- ble than it is at present. That this is a general opinion, seems to be proved by the circumstance, that in common with those who have serious convictions of the truth of religion, a great number, whose conduct appears to show that they are indifferent about it, are desirous of supporting those 168 institutions which are intended to instil religious principles into the mind. A testimony to religion is also afforded by irreUgious parents giving their children a rehgious education. This is by no means uncommon. 3. The object of the present chapter is to consider the ethical principles which have been already laid down in connexion with the doctrine of a future state. 4. Assuming the existence of a future state, let us consider what expectations we should, on the principles of natural religion alone, be led to form respecting it. The human race is the workmanship of one great and incomprehensible Being, of bound- less power and wisdom. This appears plainly from the study of his works. His power has enabled him to create us, and his wisdom must have prompted him to form us for some end. No one can be so wild in thought as to imagine, that, in the creation of man, the Deity had no object in view. We can, I think, form no other inteUigible 169 idea respecting this object, but that it must either regard himself or the beings created. We can assign no limits to the power of the Deity, as we have no evidence whatever of the existence of any power capable of op- posing and resisting his will ; nor, regarding him as the Creator of all other existing per- sons and things, can we suppose it possible that any such power can exist ; and as what we see of his creation displays a wisdom far beyond our largest thoughts, we must come to the conclusion, that the Deity is perfectly happy. If we can be sure of anything, it is that every being must desire happiness ; and it is obviously absurd to suppose, that a being of boundless power and perfect wisdom can have any cause of unhappiness from without or from within, and therefore he must be perfectly happy. The object of creation, then, we cannot conceive to be to add to the happiness of the Creator, for he is perfectly happy in himself. The creation then of sentient beings we . must conclude (if we form any opinion at all on the sub- 170 ject) to have taken place for the purpose of placing them in some particular state ; and the only conceivable objects of the Creator seem to be, either to confer happiness or misery on his creatures. We can only judge of the Deity by what we observe and know of human nature ; and although we cannot but feel that the Divine mind is infinitely supe- rior to that of man, and that the analogy between them must, on that account, be ex- tremely imperfect, yet is that analogy the only foundation of all the reasoning re- specting the Deity of which we are capable. Now it may, 1 think, be truly asserted, that malignity is, in its nature, inconsistent with a state of perfect happiness. Some degree of unhappiness always attends maUgnant dispositions. Revenge has often been said to be sweet ; but does any one think that the state of a revengeful mind, when it has attained its object, is one of unmixed hap- l)iness? It appears to me to be by no means the case ; but supposing it should be allowed that the satisfaction of revenge 171 yields a pure unmixed pleasure, this will not affect our argument, the question being, whether pure unprovoked maUgnity can be a happy state of mind ; for, antecedently to the creation of sentient beings, they could have given no offence to the Creator. It seems then impossible to beheve that God formed his creatures for the purpose of making them miserable. This— which, it must be confessed, is of the nature of an a- priori argument— is to my mind irresistible ; nor am I aware that anything plausible has been advanced to weaken its force. It may indeed be said, that we are here going be- yond the reach of the human faculties, and that we cannot reason on the Divine mind at all ; but if this argument be sound, it will not stop short of destroying natural religion altogether. If the phaenomena of nature are sufficient to lay a foundation for a behef in the existence of God and in his attributes, and to place men under an obligation to obey his laws, it seems impossible to stop short of considering the nature of those at- i2 fl 172 tributes, and to draw such conclusions from a consideration of their nature as our im- perfect reason will enable us to form. 5. Another, and, as it seems to me, a con- elusive argument, maybe advanced, to show that the Deity did not, in the creation, intend to make his creatures miserable; namely, that no indications of such an in- tention have been found in his works. '' If God," says Paley with his usual clearness and aptness, '' had wished our misery, he might have made sure of his purpose, by forming our senses to be so many sores and pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratification and enjoyment ; or by placing us amidst objects so ill-suited to our percep- tions, as to have continually offended us, instead of ministering to our refreshment and delight. He might have made, for ex- ample, everything we tasted, bitter ; every- thing we saw, loathsome ; every thing we touched, a sting ; every smell, a stench; and every sound a discord.— Evil, no doubt, exists ; but is never, that we can perceive, 173 the object of contrivance. Teeth are con- trived to eat, not to ache ; their aching now and then is incidental to the contrivance, perhaps inseparable from it ; or even, if you will, let it be called a defect in the contri- vance ; but it is not the object of it. — We never discover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discovered a system of organization calculated to produce pain and disease ; or, in explaining the parts of the human body, ever said, this is to irritate ; this to inflame ; this duct is to convey gravel to the kidneys ; this gland to secrete the humour which forms the gout^." 6. Rejecting then the horrid notion, (which indeed, in its full extent, does not appear to have been held by any one,) that the intention of the Deity in forming his creatures was to make them miserable, the only remaining supposition is, that their own happiness was his object in creating them. Assuming the inquiry to lie within the limits * Moral Philosophy, Book II. ch. v. MfelttiBjlBMltiwrfl 174 of our faculties, there seems to be no other possible hypothesis. Divines indeed, of a certain class, are fond of saying that God created man for his own glory; but this notion, in the sense in which they under- stand it, is not very intelligible ; nor does it appear to have been adopted in philosophy. It is difficult to understand what (except communicating happiness to the creatures he has formed) can be intended by the glory of God, but such displays of his perfections as excite the admiration of his creatures. To ascribe a desire of glory in this sense to the Deity is to make him resemble the vain and ostentatious, certainly not the most re- spectable of the race of mankind. From the representations too often made of the state of the blessed in the world to come, it is to be feared that many persons consider heaven as a splendid palace, where God sits on a throne ; and that his supreme delight con- sists in listening to myriads of angels and men continually singing his praises. This seems to be the idea entertained of God's 175 glory; and degrading as it cannot fail to appear to all who have attained exalted and spiritual notions of the perfections of the Creator, it is apparently extremelyprevalent, though it owes its entire support to a few figurative representations in the Scriptures. The only worthy notion which we can form respecting the feeling, if we may so express ourselves, (for we really know not what language to use respecting God,) of the Deity towards his creatures, is, that he wills their happiness ; and his glory, according to our conceptions, must consist in conferring happiness upon them. 7. Another, and a most powerful argu- ment in favor of the benevolent object of the Deity in creation arises from observing the apparent design which is discerned in the structure and organization of the animal world, which, the more it has been examined, the more it has appeared calculated to secure the life of the animal, and to promote its en- joyment ; and on the adaptation of the laws of the material world to the wants and en- 176 joyments of man, and of the inferior creation. That these things are so must be taken for granted here ; but those who wish to be fully satisfied of the truth of the positions ad- vanced above will find the argument fully de- veloped and irresistibly enforced in many works on Natural Theology, with which the literature of this country is adorned. It is enough to say here, that wherever the search- ing spirit of philosophical investigation has discerned design in the works of creation, that design has appeared to be benevolent, A contrivance indicating malevolence, as has been already stated, is absolutely unknown. 8. But here the great difficulty presents itself, of the existence of physical and moral evil in the world ; and the well-known di- lemma arises : either, it is said, God could have created the good which exists in the universe without the evil, and he would not, which shows a defect of goodness ; or he would have done so, and could not, which shows a defect of power. Formidable as this objection to the perfect goodness and 177 boundless power of the Creator may appear, it seems to me susceptible of such an an- swer as may satisfy a sober inquirer. 9. It will be necessary to begin by consi- dering, after duly estimating the extent of the human faculties, in what degree we can reasonably expect to understand this diffi- cult subject. Now, in the first place, let us consider what, according to any conception which we can form, must be the difference between the Creator and the intellectual creatures which he has formed. Our idea of God is, that he is a self-existent uncaused Being, who has existed from all eternity, and whose nature and attributes are derived from no other, and can be limited and con- trolled by none. We believe the whole creation to have been formed by this incon- ceivably great Being ; and it is evident that self-existence cannot belong to any created being. No one can be at once created and uncreated, self-existent and derived from the will of another. All created beings are, and necessarily must be, inferior to their I 5 178 Creator in power ; for it is impossible to conceive that the being formed is equal to him that formed him. In relation then to the Deity, every one of his creatures maybe truly said to be imperfect. Be his power what it may, it is still immeasurably inferior to that of the great Being who gave it ; be his knowledge ever so great, it must be far below that of him who made him w^hat he is ; allow him to possess most exalted wis- dom in choosing the best ends, and contri- ving the most efficacious means for the at- tainment of those ends, his wisdom must still be far short of that of his Creator. His power, knowledge and wisdom are therefore imperfect ; and so wide does the chasm ap- pear to us between the Creator and his creatures, that whatever degree of power, knowledge and wisdom he may confer upon them, w^e are irresistibly led to believe that he might have given still higher degrees of those excellences ; and the question will arise in the restless and inquiring mind, why has he not done so ? But this ques- 179 tion, it is evident, can never be satisfactorily answered; for suppose whatever accession of power, knowledge and wisdom you please, the question continually arises, why not more ? and must do so till it takes the form of inquiring why the Creator has not made his creatures equal to himself, which we have already seen is absurd. It seems then that the full comprehension of this subject lies beyond the reach of the human facul- ties ; and that we must be contented to form our ideas of the ways of the Deity, not from what we imagine he might have done, but from what we see of his works ; and that although, according to our conception, it would have been better if higher degrees of power, wisdom and knowledge had been given than those which are enjoyed by any of the creatures of God, yet we feel that we are incompetent to judge of this matter ; and we have no right to assert that the imperfec- tions of the creatures are inconsistent with the unbounded power and perfect wisdom and goodness of the Creator. ■iattej«1iaiiiUBiiifBartM 235 and considered ; the long interval which is allowed to take place between one reading of the Scriptures and another, an interval in thousands of instances of six days, from Sunday to Sunday ; and the unhappy divi- sion of the Bible into short texts, which are often read as so many aphorisms, with- out regard to the connexion in which they stand ; — lead to such a general ignorance of the contents of the Bible as a whole, the parts of which have a connexion with each other, as is sincerely to be la- mented by every real friend of Christi- anity. Those who have really studied the Scriptures well know that there is a much larger portion than is generally supposed, which cannot be understood in a Uteral sense. No tolerably well-informed person, I presume, believes that God Hterally walked in the Garden of Eden in the cool of the day''^, or that he literally showed his back parts to Moses t; no one believes that the great Author and Ruler of the universe is * Genesis iii. 8. f Exodus xxxiii. 23. 236 subject to anger and jealousy, though he is often declared in the Old Testament to be angry and jealous. No man having any rational conception of the Deity can think that the following text is to be taken lite- rally: *' and it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart''^." The explanation of such passages as these by the most judicious writers is, that as all our ideas of God must, from the limited extent of our faculties, be very imperfect, the representation w^hich he makes of himself to his creatures must be accommodated to the state of their minds, and to the notions of him w^hich they are capable of forming. Attentive readers of the Old Testament cannot fail to perceive, that the ideas entertained of the Deity by the Israelites became more and more spirit- ual by slow degrees ; and it will be no un- interesting employment for the mind to trace this development of theistical con- ceptions from the famihar and anthropo- * Genesis vi. 6. 237 morphitical representations of the Deity in the book of Genesis to the spiritual and sublime sentiments contained in the Psalms, and in the speech of Solomon at the dedi- cation of the Temple*. 24. If the views which have been just given be admitted, they seem to me suf- ficient to remove the difficulty which had been previously stated. But even if they should not be allowed, let us see whether other views of the subject may not be taken, which will show satisfactorily that the ac- count which has been given of the divine government is not inconsistent with the re- presentations of the future punishment of the wicked which are found in the New Testament. 25. No reflecting person can, I think, deny the possibility of the Deity having created the human race with such moral faculties, and liable to such results from the * 1 Kings, viii. 27. See on the subject of this section Bishop Law's ' Theory of Religion' ; an excellent work, but little known, I fear, at the present day. 238 abuse of them, as I have described. As- suming, then, for the present, this to be the actual state of things, how, I ask, could the human race be made acquainted with the most important and most deeply interesting fact, that they were destined for a future state, and with that of their responsibility in that state for their conduct in this world, but in some such way as that contained in the New Testament ? It is evident that the views which I have been endeavouring to support can be understood and received by those only who have been prepared for them by study and reflection, though to such persons they seem to me far more con- vincing, and far more likely to have a happy effect on the character, than such notions as are ordinarily entertained on the subject. The substance of what is contained in the New Testament respecting a future state, that men will be happy or miserable in another world according to their conduct in this, is strictly true, according to the theorj' contended for ; and the manner in 239 which this great truth is announced is cal- culated to make a deep and just impression on the minds of the mass of mankind. These considerations are, to my mind, quite sufficient to justify the use of such repre- sentations. 26. Some persons of a rehgious character may perhaps be disposed to think that the Christian revelation, by setting forth the doctrine of a future Ufe, where the righteous and the wicked will be treated according to their characters, has left no room for other motives than those which directly relate to the future state. A man's eternal interests, it may be justly said, are of such paramount importance, as to make it quite idle to put any good we can do to our fellow-creatures in competition with them. Is it not then enough, that, in all our actions, we have regard to our own greatest happiness, and is not that the only legitimate motive which ought to influence us ? 27. It must be conceded to this argu- ment, that if any act which flows from a 240 regard to the good of others, or from those moral sentiments of which we have already said so much, can be proved to be incon- sistent with a regard to our own eternal happiness, no rational argument could be advanced w^hich ought to induce us to prac- tise such an action. The principles already laid down w^ould prevent us from consider- ing such an act to be any part of our duty. Benevolence to our fellow-creatures can never require us to sacrifice an incom- parably greater good to ourselves for a lesser one to them. Even the exalted mo- rality of the New Testament only requires us to love our neighbours as ourselves. Neither is there any ground for considering our moral sentiments at all inconsistent with our greatest happiness. It has already been endeavoured to be shown, that virtue, in all its forms, is calculated to advance our well-being, and indeed that it is the only road to happiness. This being admitted, the only question remaining is, whether we are bound always to keep this our greatest 241 happiness in view, or at least so to shape our conduct as that it should always be our real and only ultimate object, and conse- quently that we should entertain no bene- volent affections towards another except w^ith a view to procure our own greatest happiness. Now this is the identical ques- tion which has been already discussed in the first chapter of this essay. 28. It is remarkable how little use is made in the New Testament of the argu- ments derived from a consideration of the future state of rewards and punishments, as it is generally, but most erroneously, called ; for how can a creature deserve any reward from his Creator, even though he should always act in obedience to his laws ? The 25th chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel contains a most awful description of the day of judgment, and of the ultimate desti- nation of the righteous and of the wicked ; and in a few other parts of the New Testa- ment the same great events are referred to ; but the higher and nobler motives of love M i i i i 242 of God and of our fellow-creatures are far more frequently insisted on. The moral doctrines of the New Testament are then in no way inconsistent with the ethical principles which it is the object of this work to establish. THE END. Printed by R. and J. E. Taylor, Red Lion Court, Fleet Street. 1 iflBiiiiaaifelBilBrfflTliiiiiia COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 010680136 170 L2 .^■mi^*'- ■ uum, H!H"w**»'"f