SECTION IX. CONCLUSION.

PART I.

IT may justly appear surprising that any man in so late an age, should

find it requisite to prove, by elaborate reasoning, that Personal Merit

consists altogether in the possession of mental qualities, USEFUL or

AGREEABLE to the PERSON HIMSELF or to OTHERS. It might be expected that

this principle would have occurred even to the first rude, unpractised

enquirers concerning morals, and been received from its own evidence,

without any argument or disputation. Whatever is valuable in any kind,

so naturally classes itself under the division of USEFUL or AGREEABLE,

the UTILE or the DULCE, that it is not easy to imagine why we should

ever seek further, or consider the question as a matter of nice research

or inquiry. And as every thing useful or agreeable must possess these

qualities with regard either to the PERSON HIMSELF or to OTHERS, the

complete delineation or description of merit seems to be performed as

naturally as a shadow is cast by the sun, or an image is reflected upon

water. If the ground, on which the shadow is cast, be not broken and

uneven; nor the surface from which the image is reflected, disturbed

and confused; a just figure is immediately presented, without any art

or attention. And it seems a reasonable presumption, that systems and

hypotheses have perverted our natural understanding, when a theory,

so simple and obvious, could so long have escaped the most elaborate

examination.

But however the case may have fared with philosophy, in common life

these principles are still implicitly maintained; nor is any other topic

of praise or blame ever recurred to, when we employ any panegyric or

satire, any applause or censure of human action and behaviour. If we

observe men, in every intercourse of business or pleasure, in every

discourse and conversation, we shall find them nowhere, except the

schools, at any loss upon this subject. What so natural, for instance,

as the following dialogue? You are very happy, we shall suppose one to

say, addressing himself to another, that you have given your daughter

to Cleanthes. He is a man of honour and humanity. Every one, who has

any intercourse with him, is sure of FAIR and KIND treatment. [Footnote:

Qualities useful to others.] I congratulate you too, says another,

on the promising expectations of this son-in-law; whose assiduous

application to the study of the laws, whose quick penetration and early

knowledge both of men and business, prognosticate the greatest honours

and advancement. [Footnote: Qualities useful to the person himself.]

You surprise me, replies a third, when you talk of Cleanthes as a man

of business and application. I met him lately in a circle of the gayest

company, and he was the very life and soul of our conversation: so much

wit with good manners; so much gallantry without affectation; so much

ingenious knowledge so genteelly delivered, I have never before observed

in any one. [Footnote: Qualities immediately agreeable to others,]

You would admire him still more, says a fourth, if you knew him more

familiarly. That cheerfulness, which you might remark in him, is not a

sudden flash struck out by company: it runs through the whole tenor of

his life, and preserves a perpetual serenity on his countenance, and

tranquillity in his soul. He has met with severe trials, misfortunes as

well as dangers; and by his greatness of mind, was still superior to

all of them [Footnote: Qualities immediately agreeable to the person

himself]. The image, gentlemen, which you have here delineated of

Cleanthes, cried I, is that of accomplished merit. Each of you has given

a stroke of the pencil to his figure; and you have unawares exceeded all

the pictures drawn by Gratian or Castiglione. A philosopher might select

this character as a model of perfect virtue.

And as every quality which is useful or agreeable to ourselves or others

is, in common life, allowed to be a part of personal merit; so no other

will ever be received, where men judge of things by their natural,

unprejudiced reason, without the delusive glosses of superstition and

false religion. Celibacy, fasting, penance, mortification, self-denial,

humility, silence, solitude, and the whole train of monkish virtues; for

what reason are they everywhere rejected by men of sense, but because

they serve to no manner of purpose; neither advance a man's fortune in

the world, nor render him a more valuable member of society; neither

qualify him for the entertainment of company, nor increase his power of

self-enjoyment? We observe, on the contrary, that they cross all these

desirable ends; stupify the understanding and harden the heart, obscure

the fancy and sour the temper. We justly, therefore, transfer them to

the opposite column, and place them in the catalogue of vices; nor has

any superstition force sufficient among men of the world, to pervert

entirely these natural sentiments. A gloomy, hair-brained enthusiast,

after his death, may have a place in the calendar; but will scarcely

ever be admitted, when alive, into intimacy and society, except by those

who are as delirious and dismal as himself.

It seems a happiness in the present theory, that it enters not into that

vulgar dispute concerning the DEGREES of benevolence or self-love, which

prevail in human nature; a dispute which is never likely to have any

issue, both because men, who have taken part, are not easily convinced,

and because the phenomena, which can be produced on either side, are so

dispersed, so uncertain, and subject to so many interpretations, that it

is scarcely possible accurately to compare them, or draw from them any

determinate inference or conclusion. It is sufficient for our present

purpose, if it be allowed, what surely, without the greatest absurdity

cannot be disputed, that there is some benevolence, however small,

infused into our bosom; some spark of friendship for human kind; some

particle of the dove kneaded into our frame, along with the elements of

the wolf and serpent. Let these generous sentiments be supposed ever

so weak; let them be insufficient to move even a hand or finger of our

body, they must still direct the determinations of our mind, and where

everything else is equal, produce a cool preference of what is useful

and serviceable to mankind, above what is pernicious and dangerous. A

MORAL DISTINCTION, therefore, immediately arises; a general sentiment of

blame and approbation; a tendency, however faint, to the objects of the

one, and a proportionable aversion to those of the other. Nor will those

reasoners, who so earnestly maintain the predominant selfishness of

human kind, be any wise scandalized at hearing of the weak sentiments of

virtue implanted in our nature. On the contrary, they are found as ready

to maintain the one tenet as the other; and their spirit of satire (for

such it appears, rather than of corruption) naturally gives rise to

both opinions; which have, indeed, a great and almost an indissoluble

connexion together.

Avarice, ambition, vanity, and all passions vulgarly, though improperly,

comprised under the denomination of SELF-LOVE, are here excluded from

our theory concerning the origin of morals, not because they are too

weak, but because they have not a proper direction for that purpose.

The notion of morals implies some sentiment common to all mankind, which

recommends the same object to general approbation, and makes every man,

or most men, agree in the same opinion or decision concerning it. It

also implies some sentiment, so universal and comprehensive as to extend

to all mankind, and render the actions and conduct, even of the persons

the most remote, an object of applause or censure, according as they

agree or disagree with that rule of right which is established. These

two requisite circumstances belong alone to the sentiment of humanity

here insisted on. The other passions produce in every breast, many

strong sentiments of desire and aversion, affection and hatred; but

these neither are felt so much in common, nor are so comprehensive, as

to be the foundation of any general system and established theory of

blame or approbation.

When a man denominates another his ENEMY, his RIVAL, his ANTAGONIST, his

ADVERSARY, he is understood to speak the language of self-love, and to

express sentiments, peculiar to himself, and arising from his particular

circumstances and situation. But when he bestows on any man the epithets

of VICIOUS or ODIOUS or DEPRAVED, he then speaks another language, and

expresses sentiments, in which he expects all his audience are to

concur with him. He must here, therefore, depart from his private and

particular situation, and must choose a point of view, common to him

with others; he must move some universal principle of the human frame,

and touch a string to which all mankind have an accord and symphony. If

he mean, therefore, to express that this man possesses qualities, whose

tendency is pernicious to society, he has chosen this common point of

view, and has touched the principle of humanity, in which every man, in

some degree, concurs. While the human heart is compounded of the same

elements as at present, it will never be wholly indifferent to public

good, nor entirely unaffected with the tendency of characters and

manners. And though this affection of humanity may not generally be

esteemed so strong as vanity or ambition, yet, being common to all men,

it can alone be the foundation of morals, or of any-general system of

blame or praise. One man's ambition is not another's ambition, nor will

the same event or object satisfy both; but the humanity of one man is

the humanity of every one, and the same object touches this passion in

all human creatures.

But the sentiments, which arise from humanity, are not only the same in

all human creatures, and produce the same approbation or censure; but

they also comprehend all human creatures; nor is there any one whose

conduct or character is not, by their means, an object to every one of

censure or approbation. On the contrary, those other passions,

commonly denominated selfish, both produce different sentiments in each

individual, according to his particular situation; and also contemplate

the greater part of mankind with the utmost indifference and unconcern.

Whoever has a high regard and esteem for me flatters my vanity; whoever

expresses contempt mortifies and displeases me; but as my name is known

but to a small part of mankind, there are few who come within the sphere

of this passion, or excite, on its account, either my affection or

disgust. But if you represent a tyrannical, insolent, or barbarous

behaviour, in any country or in any age of the world, I soon carry my

eye to the pernicious tendency of such a conduct, and feel the sentiment

of repugnance and displeasure towards it. No character can be so remote

as to be, in this light, wholly indifferent to me. What is beneficial

to society or to the person himself must still be preferred. And every

quality or action, of every human being, must, by this means, be ranked

under some class or denomination, expressive of general censure or

applause.

What more, therefore, can we ask to distinguish the sentiments,

dependent on humanity, from those connected with any other passion, or

to satisfy us, why the former are the origin of morals, not the latter?

Whatever conduct gains my approbation, by touching my humanity, procures

also the applause of all mankind, by affecting the same principle in

them; but what serves my avarice or ambition pleases these passions

in me alone, and affects not the avarice and ambition of the rest of

mankind. There is no circumstance of conduct in any man, provided

it have a beneficial tendency, that is not agreeable to my humanity,

however remote the person; but every man, so far removed as neither

to cross nor serve my avarice and ambition, is regarded as wholly

indifferent by those passions. The distinction, therefore, between these

species of sentiment being so great and evident, language must soon be

moulded upon it, and must invent a peculiar set of terms, in order to

express those universal sentiments of censure or approbation, which

arise from humanity, or from views of general usefulness and its

contrary. Virtue and Vice become then known; morals are recognized;

certain general ideas are framed of human conduct and behaviour; such

measures are expected from men in such situations. This action is

determined to be conformable to our abstract rule; that other, contrary.

And by such universal principles are the particular sentiments of

self-love frequently controlled and limited.

[Footnote: It seems certain, both from reason and experience,

that a rude, untaught savage regulates chiefly his love and hatred by

the ideas of private utility and injury, and has but faint conceptions

of a general rule or system of behaviour. The man who stands opposite

to him in battle, he hates heartedly, not only for the present moment,

which is almost unavoidable, but for ever after; nor is he satisfied

without the most extreme punishment and vengeance. But we, accustomed

to society, and to more enlarged reflections, consider, that this man

is serving his own country and community; that any man, in the same

situation, would do the same; that we ourselves, in like circumstances,

observe a like conduct; that; in general, human society is best

supported on such maxims: and by these suppositions and views, we

correct, in some measure, our ruder and narrower positions. And though

much of our friendship and enemity be still regulated by private

considerations of benefit and harm, we pay, at least, this homage to

general rules, which we are accustomed to respect, that we commonly

perver our adversary's conduct, by imputing malice or injustice to him,

in order to give vent to those passions, which arise from self-love

and private interest. When the heart is full of rage, it never wants

pretences of this nature; though sometimes as frivolous, as those from

which Horace, being almost crushed by the fall of a tree, effects to

accuse of parricide the first planter of it.]

From instances of popular tumults, seditions, factions, panics, and

of all passions, which are shared with a multitude, we may learn the

influence of society in exciting and supporting any emotion; while the

most ungovernable disorders are raised, we find, by that means, from the

slightest and most frivolous occasions. Solon was no very cruel, though,

perhaps, an unjust legislator, who punished neuters in civil wars; and

few, I believe, would, in such cases, incur the penalty, were their

affection and discourse allowed sufficient to absolve them. No

selfishness, and scarce any philosophy, have there force sufficient to

support a total coolness and indifference; and he must be more or less

than man, who kindles not in the common blaze. What wonder then, that

moral sentiments are found of such influence in life; though springing

from principles, which may appear, at first sight, somewhat small

and delicate? But these principles, we must remark, are social and

universal; they form, in a manner, the PARTY of humankind against vice

or disorder, its common enemy. And as the benevolent concern for others

is diffused, in a greater or less degree, over all men, and is the same

in all, it occurs more frequently in discourse, is cherished by society

and conversation, and the blame and approbation, consequent on it, are

thereby roused from that lethargy into which they are probably lulled,

in solitary and uncultivated nature. Other passions, though perhaps

originally stronger, yet being selfish and private, are often

overpowered by its force, and yield the dominion of our breast to those

social and public principles.

Another spring of our constitution, that brings a great addition of

force to moral sentiments, is the love of fame; which rules, with such

uncontrolled authority, in all generous minds, and is often the grand

object of all their designs and undertakings. By our continual and

earnest pursuit of a character, a name, a reputation in the world, we

bring our own deportment and conduct frequently in review, and consider

how they appear in the eyes of those who approach and regard us. This

constant habit of surveying ourselves, as it were, in reflection,

keeps alive all the sentiments of right and wrong, and begets, in noble

natures, a certain reverence for themselves as well as others, which

is the surest guardian of every virtue. The animal conveniencies and

pleasures sink gradually in their value; while every inward beauty and

moral grace is studiously acquired, and the mind is accomplished in

every perfection, which can adorn or embellish a rational creature.

Here is the most perfect morality with which we are acquainted: here is

displayed the force of many sympathies. Our moral sentiment is itself

a feeling chiefly of that nature, and our regard to a character with

others seems to arise only from a care of preserving a character with

ourselves; and in order to attain this end, we find it necessary to prop

our tottering judgement on the correspondent approbation of mankind.

But, that we may accommodate matters, and remove if possible every

difficulty, let us allow all these reasonings to be false. Let us allow

that, when we resolve the pleasure, which arises from views of utility,

into the sentiments of humanity and sympathy, we have embraced a wrong

hypothesis. Let us confess it necessary to find some other explication

of that applause, which is paid to objects, whether inanimate, animate,

or rational, if they have a tendency to promote the welfare and

advantage of mankind. However difficult it be to conceive that an object

is approved of on account of its tendency to a certain end, while the

end itself is totally indifferent: let us swallow this absurdity,

and consider what are the consequences. The preceding delineation

or definition of Personal Merit must still retain its evidence and

authority: it must still be allowed that every quality of the mind,

which is USEFUL or AGREEABLE to the PERSON HIMSELF or to OTHERS,

communicates a pleasure to the spectator, engages his esteem, and is

admitted under the honourable denomination of virtue or merit. Are not

justice, fidelity, honour, veracity, allegiance, chastity, esteemed

solely on account of their tendency to promote the good of society?

Is not that tendency inseparable from humanity, benevolence, lenity,

generosity, gratitude, moderation, tenderness, friendship, and all

the other social virtues? Can it possibly be doubted that industry,

discretion, frugality, secrecy, order, perseverance, forethought,

judgement, and this whole class of virtues and accomplishments, of which

many pages would not contain the catalogue; can it be doubted, I

say, that the tendency of these qualities to promote the interest and

happiness of their possessor, is the sole foundation of their merit?

Who can dispute that a mind, which supports a perpetual serenity and

cheerfulness, a noble dignity and undaunted spirit, a tender affection

and good-will to all around; as it has more enjoyment within itself,

is also a more animating and rejoicing spectacle, than if dejected with

melancholy, tormented with anxiety, irritated with rage, or sunk into

the most abject baseness and degeneracy? And as to the qualities,

immediately AGREEABLE to OTHERS, they speak sufficiently for themselves;

and he must be unhappy, indeed, either in his own temper, or in his

situation and company, who has never perceived the charms of a facetious

wit or flowing affability, of a delicate modesty or decent genteelness

of address and manner.

I am sensible, that nothing can be more unphilosophical than to be

positive or dogmatical on any subject; and that, even if excessive

scepticism could be maintained, it would not be more destructive to all

just reasoning and inquiry. I am convinced that, where men are the most

sure and arrogant, they are commonly the most mistaken, and have there

given reins to passion, without that proper deliberation and suspense,

which can alone secure them from the grossest absurdities. Yet, I must

confess, that this enumeration puts the matter in so strong a light,

that I cannot, at PRESENT, be more assured of any truth, which I learn

from reasoning and argument, than that personal merit consists entirely

in the usefulness or agreeableness of qualities to the person himself

possessed of them, or to others, who have any intercourse with him. But

when I reflect that, though the bulk and figure of the earth have been

measured and delineated, though the motions of the tides have been

accounted for, the order and economy of the heavenly bodies subjected to

their proper laws, and Infinite itself reduced to calculation; yet men

still dispute concerning the foundation of their moral duties. When I

reflect on this, I say, I fall back into diffidence and scepticism, and

suspect that an hypothesis, so obvious, had it been a true one, would,

long ere now, have been received by the unanimous suffrage and consent

of mankind.

PART II.

Having explained the moral APPROBATION attending merit or virtue, there

remains nothing but briefly to consider our interested OBLIGATION to

it, and to inquire whether every man, who has any regard to his own

happiness and welfare, will not best find his account in the practice of

every moral duty. If this can be clearly ascertained from the foregoing

theory, we shall have the satisfaction to reflect, that we have

advanced principles, which not only, it is hoped, will stand the test

of reasoning and inquiry, but may contribute to the amendment of men's

lives, and their improvement in morality and social virtue. And though

the philosophical truth of any proposition by no means depends on its

tendency to promote the interests of society; yet a man has but a bad

grace, who delivers a theory, however true, which, he must confess,

leads to a practice dangerous and pernicious. Why rake into those

corners of nature which spread a nuisance all around? Why dig up the

pestilence from the pit in which it is buried? The ingenuity of your

researches may be admired, but your systems will be detested; and

mankind will agree, if they cannot refute them, to sink them, at least,

in eternal silence and oblivion. Truths which are pernicious to society,

if any such there be, will yield to errors which are salutary and

ADVANTAGEOUS.

But what philosophical truths can be more advantageous to society, than

those here delivered, which represent virtue in all her genuine and most

engaging charms, and makes us approach her with ease, familiarity, and

affection? The dismal dress falls off, with which many divines, and

some philosophers, have covered her; and nothing appears but gentleness,

humanity, beneficence, affability; nay, even at proper intervals, play,

frolic, and gaiety. She talks not of useless austerities and rigours,

suffering and self-denial. She declares that her sole purpose is to make

her votaries and all mankind, during every instant of their existence,

if possible, cheerful and happy; nor does she ever willingly part with

any pleasure but in hopes of ample compensation in some other period

of their lives. The sole trouble which she demands, is that of just

calculation, and a steady preference of the greater happiness. And if

any austere pretenders approach her, enemies to joy and pleasure, she

either rejects them as hypocrites and deceivers; or, if she admit them

in her train, they are ranked, however, among the least favoured of her

votaries.

And, indeed, to drop all figurative expression, what hopes can we

ever have of engaging mankind to a practice which we confess full of

austerity and rigour? Or what theory of morals can ever serve any useful

purpose, unless it can show, by a particular detail, that all the duties

which it recommends, are also the true interest of each individual?

The peculiar advantage of the foregoing system seems to be, that it

furnishes proper mediums for that purpose.

That the virtues which are immediately USEFUL or AGREEABLE to the person

possessed of them, are desirable in a view to self-interest, it would

surely be superfluous to prove. Moralists, indeed, may spare themselves

all the pains which they often take in recommending these duties.

To what purpose collect arguments to evince that temperance is

advantageous, and the excesses of pleasure hurtful, when it appears that

these excesses are only denominated such, because they are hurtful;

and that, if the unlimited use of strong liquors, for instance, no more

impaired health or the faculties of mind and body than the use of air or

water, it would not be a whit more vicious or blameable?

It seems equally superfluous to prove, that the COMPANIONABLE virtues of

good manners and wit, decency and genteelness, are more desirable than

the contrary qualities. Vanity alone, without any other consideration,

is a sufficient motive to make us wish for the possession of these

accomplishments. No man was ever willingly deficient in this particular.

All our failures here proceed from bad education, want of capacity, or a

perverse and unpliable disposition. Would you have your company coveted,

admired, followed; rather than hated, despised, avoided? Can any one

seriously deliberate in the case? As no enjoyment is sincere, without

some reference to company and society; so no society can be agreeable,

or even tolerable, where a man feels his presence unwelcome, and

discovers all around him symptoms of disgust and aversion.

But why, in the greater society or confederacy of mankind, should not

the case be the same as in particular clubs and companies? Why is

it more doubtful, that the enlarged virtues of humanity, generosity,

beneficence, are desirable with a view of happiness and self-interest,

than the limited endowments of ingenuity and politeness? Are we

apprehensive lest those social affections interfere, in a greater and

more immediate degree than any other pursuits, with private utility,

and cannot be gratified, without some important sacrifice of honour and

advantage? If so, we are but ill-instructed in the nature of the human

passions, and are more influenced by verbal distinctions than by real

differences.

Whatever contradiction may vulgarly be supposed between the SELFISH and

SOCIAL sentiments or dispositions, they are really no more opposite than

selfish and ambitious, selfish and revengeful, selfish and vain. It is

requisite that there be an original propensity of some kind, in order

to be a basis to self-love, by giving a relish to the objects of

its pursuit; and none more fit for this purpose than benevolence

or humanity. The goods of fortune are spent in one gratification or

another: the miser who accumulates his annual income, and lends it out

at interest, has really spent it in the gratification of his avarice.

And it would be difficult to show why a man is more a loser by a

generous action, than by any other method of expense; since the utmost

which he can attain by the most elaborate selfishness, is the indulgence

of some affection.

Now if life, without passion, must be altogether insipid and tiresome;

let a man suppose that he has full power of modelling his own

disposition, and let him deliberate what appetite or desire he would

choose for the foundation of his happiness and enjoyment. Every

affection, he would observe, when gratified by success, gives a

satisfaction proportioned to its force and violence; but besides this

advantage, common to all, the immediate feeling of benevolence and

friendship, humanity and kindness, is sweet, smooth, tender, and

agreeable, independent of all fortune and accidents. These virtues are

besides attended with a pleasing consciousness or remembrance, and keep

us in humour with ourselves as well as others; while we retain the

agreeable reflection of having done our part towards mankind and

society. And though all men show a jealousy of our success in the

pursuits of avarice and ambition; yet are we almost sure of their

good-will and good wishes, so long as we persevere in the paths of

virtue, and employ ourselves in the execution of generous plans and

purposes. What other passion is there where we shall find so many

advantages united; an agreeable sentiment, a pleasing consciousness, a

good reputation? But of these truths, we may observe, men are, of

themselves, pretty much convinced; nor are they deficient in their duty

to society, because they would not wish to be generous, friendly, and

humane; but because they do not feel themselves such.

Treating vice with the greatest candour, and making it all possible

concessions, we must acknowledge that there is not, in any instance, the

smallest pretext for giving it the preference above virtue, with a view

of self-interest; except, perhaps, in the case of justice, where a man,

taking things in a certain light, may often seem to be a loser by his

integrity. And though it is allowed that, without a regard to property,

no society could subsist; yet according to the imperfect way in which

human affairs are conducted, a sensible knave, in particular incidents,

may think that an act of iniquity or infidelity will make a considerable

addition to his fortune, without causing any considerable breach in the

social union and confederacy. That HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY, may be

a good general rule, but is liable to many exceptions; and he, it may

perhaps be thought, conducts himself with most wisdom, who observes the

general rule, and takes advantage of all the exceptions. I must confess

that, if a man think that this reasoning much requires an answer,

it would be a little difficult to find any which will to him appear

satisfactory and convincing. If his heart rebel not against such

pernicious maxims, if he feel no reluctance to the thoughts of villainy

or baseness, he has indeed lost a considerable motive to virtue; and we

may expect that this practice will be answerable to his speculation. But

in all ingenuous natures, the antipathy to treachery and roguery is

too strong to be counter-balanced by any views of profit or pecuniary

advantage. Inward peace of mind, consciousness of integrity, a

satisfactory review of our own conduct; these are circumstances, very

requisite to happiness, and will be cherished and cultivated by every

honest man, who feels the importance of them.

Such a one has, besides, the frequent satisfaction of seeing knaves,

with all their pretended cunning and abilities, betrayed by their own

maxims; and while they purpose to cheat with moderation and secrecy, a

tempting incident occurs, nature is frail, and they give into the snare;

whence they can never extricate themselves, without a total loss of

reputation, and the forfeiture of all future trust and confidence with

mankind.

But were they ever so secret and successful, the honest man, if he has

any tincture of philosophy, or even common observation and reflection,

will discover that they themselves are, in the end, the greatest dupes,

and have sacrificed the invaluable enjoyment of a character, with

themselves at least, for the acquisition of worthless toys and gewgaws.

How little is requisite to supply the necessities of nature? And in a

view to pleasure, what comparison between the unbought satisfaction of

conversation, society, study, even health and the common beauties of

nature, but above all the peaceful reflection on one's own conduct; what

comparison, I say, between these and the feverish, empty amusements of

luxury and expense? These natural pleasures, indeed, are really without

price; both because they are below all price in their attainment, and

above it in their enjoyment.

APPENDIX I. CONCERNING MORAL SENTIMENT

IF the foregoing hypothesis be received, it will now be easy for us to

determine the question first started, [FOOTNOTE: Sect. 1.] concerning

the general principles of morals; and though we postponed the

decision of that question, lest it should then involve us in intricate

speculations, which are unfit for moral discourses, we may resume it at

present, and examine how far either REASON or SENTIMENT enters into all

decisions of praise or censure.

One principal foundation of moral praise being supposed to lie in the

usefulness of any quality or action, it is evident that REASON must

enter for a considerable share in all decisions of this kind; since

nothing but that faculty can instruct us in the tendency of qualities

and actions, and point out their beneficial consequences to society

and to their possessor. In many cases this is an affair liable to great

controversy: doubts may arise; opposite interests may occur; and a

preference must be given to one side, from very nice views, and a small

overbalance of utility. This is particularly remarkable in questions

with regard to justice; as is, indeed, natural to suppose, from that

species of utility which attends this virtue [Footnote: See App. II.].

Were every single instance of justice, like that of benevolence, useful

to society; this would be a more simple state of the case, and seldom

liable to great controversy. But as single instances of justice are

often pernicious in their first and immediate tendency, and as the

advantage to society results only from the observance of the general

rule, and from the concurrence and combination of several persons in

the same equitable conduct; the case here becomes more intricate and

involved. The various circumstances of society; the various consequences

of any practice; the various interests which may be proposed; these,

on many occasions, are doubtful, and subject to great discussion and

inquiry. The object of municipal laws is to fix all the questions

with regard to justice: the debates of civilians; the reflections of

politicians; the precedents of history and public records, are all

directed to the same purpose. And a very accurate REASON or JUDGEMENT is

often requisite, to give the true determination, amidst such intricate

doubts arising from obscure or opposite utilities.

But though reason, when fully assisted and improved, be sufficient

to instruct us in the pernicious or useful tendency of qualities and

actions; it is not alone sufficient to produce any moral blame or

approbation. Utility is only a tendency to a certain end; and were the

end totally indifferent to us, we should feel the same indifference

towards the means. It is requisite a SENTIMENT should here display

itself, in order to give a preference to the useful above the pernicious

tendencies. This SENTIMENT can be no other than a feeling for the

happiness of mankind, and a resentment of their misery; since these are

the different ends which virtue and vice have a tendency to promote.

Here therefore REASON instructs us in the several tendencies of actions,

and HUMANITY makes a distinction in favour of those which are useful and

beneficial.

This partition between the faculties of understanding and sentiment, in

all moral decisions, seems clear from the preceding hypothesis. But I

shall suppose that hypothesis false: it will then be requisite to look

out for some other theory that may be satisfactory; and I dare venture

to affirm that none such will ever be found, so long as we suppose

reason to be the sole source of morals. To prove this, it will be proper

t o weigh the five following considerations.

I. It is easy for a false hypothesis to maintain some appearance of

truth, while it keeps wholly in generals, makes use of undefined terms,

and employs comparisons, instead of instances. This is particularly

remarkable in that philosophy, which ascribes the discernment of

all moral distinctions to reason alone, without the concurrence of

sentiment. It is impossible that, in any particular instance, this

hypothesis can so much as be rendered intelligible, whatever specious

figure it may make in general declamations and discourses. Examine the

crime of INGRATITUDE, for instance; which has place, wherever we observe

good-will, expressed and known, together with good-offices performed, on

the one side, and a return of ill-will or indifference, with ill-offices

or neglect on the other: anatomize all these circumstances, and examine,

by your reason alone, in what consists the demerit or blame. You never

will come to any issue or conclusion.

Reason judges either of MATTER OF FACT or of RELATIONS. Enquire then,

first, where is that matter of fact which we here call crime; point

it out; determine the time of its existence; describe its essence or

nature; explain the sense or faculty to which it discovers itself. It

resides in the mind of the person who is ungrateful. He must, therefore,

feel it, and be conscious of it. But nothing is there, except the

passion of ill-will or absolute indifference. You cannot say that these,

of themselves, always, and in all circumstances, are crimes. No, they

are only crimes when directed towards persons who have before expressed

and displayed good-will towards us. Consequently, we may infer, that the

crime of ingratitude is not any particular individual FACT; but arises

from a complication of circumstances, which, being presented to the

spectator, excites the SENTIMENT of blame, by the particular structure

and fabric of his mind.

This representation, you say, is false. Crime, indeed, consists not in

a particular FACT, of whose reality we are assured by reason; but it

consists in certain MORAL RELATIONS, discovered by reason, in the same

manner as we discover by reason the truths of geometry or algebra.

But what are the relations, I ask, of which you here talk? In the case

stated above, I see first good-will and good-offices in one person;

then ill-will and ill-offices in the other. Between these, there is a

relation of CONTRARIETY. Does the crime consist in that relation? But

suppose a person bore me ill-will or did me ill-offices; and I, in

return, were indifferent towards him, or did him good offices. Here is

the same relation of CONTRARIETY; and yet my conduct is often highly

laudable. Twist and turn this matter as much as you will, you can never

rest the morality on relation; but must have recourse to the decisions

of sentiment.

When it is affirmed that two and three are equal to the half of ten,

this relation of equality I understand perfectly. I conceive, that if

ten be divided into two parts, of which one has as many units as the

other; and if any of these parts be compared to two added to three, it

will contain as many units as that compound number. But when you draw

thence a comparison to moral relations, I own that I am altogether at a

loss to understand you. A moral action, a crime, such as ingratitude, is

a complicated object. Does the morality consist in the relation of its

parts to each other? How? After what manner? Specify the relation: be

more particular and explicit in your propositions, and you will easily

see their falsehood.

No, say you, the morality consists in the relation of actions to the

rule of right; and they are denominated good or ill, according as they

agree or disagree with it. What then is this rule of right? In what does

it consist? How is it determined? By reason, you say, which examines the

moral relations of actions. So that moral relations are determined

by the comparison of action to a rule. And that rule is determined by

considering the moral relations of objects. Is not this fine reasoning?

All this is metaphysics, you cry. That is enough; there needs nothing

more to give a strong presumption of falsehood. Yes, reply I, here

are metaphysics surely; but they are all on your side, who advance an

abstruse hypothesis, which can never be made intelligible, nor quadrate

with any particular instance or illustration. The hypothesis which we

embrace is plain. It maintains that morality is determined by sentiment.

It defines virtue to be WHATEVER MENTAL ACTION OR QUALITY GIVES TO A

SPECTATOR THE PLEASING SENTIMENT OF APPROBATION; and vice the contrary.

We then proceed to examine a plain matter of fact, to wit, what actions

have this influence. We consider all the circumstances in which these

actions agree, and thence endeavour to extract some general observations

with regard to these sentiments. If you call this metaphysics, and find

anything abstruse here, you need only conclude that your turn of mind is

not suited to the moral sciences.

II. When a man, at any time, deliberates concerning his own conduct (as,

whether he had better, in a particular emergence, assist a brother or

a benefactor), he must consider these separate relations, with all the

circumstances and situations of the persons, in order to determine the

superior duty and obligation; and in order to determine the proportion

of lines in any triangle, it is necessary to examine the nature of that

figure, and the relation which its several parts bear to each other. But

notwithstanding this appearing similarity in the two cases, there is,

at bottom, an extreme difference between them. A speculative reasoner

concerning triangles or circles considers the several known and given

relations of the parts of these figures; and thence infers some unknown

relation, which is dependent on the former. But in moral deliberations

we must be acquainted beforehand with all the objects, and all their

relations to each other; and from a comparison of the whole, fix our

choice or approbation. No new fact to be ascertained; no new relation to

be discovered. All the circumstances of the case are supposed to be laid

before us, ere we can fix any sentence of blame or approbation. If any

material circumstance be yet unknown or doubtful, we must first employ

our inquiry or intellectual faculties to assure us of it; and must

suspend for a time all moral decision or sentiment. While we are

ignorant whether a man were aggressor or not, how can we determine

whether the person who killed him be criminal or innocent? But after

every circumstance, every relation is known, the understanding has no

further room to operate, nor any object on which it could employ itself.

The approbation or blame which then ensues, cannot be the work of the

judgement, but of the heart; and is not a speculative proposition or

affirmation, but an active feeling or sentiment. In the disquisitions of

the understanding, from known circumstances and relations, we infer some

new and unknown. In moral decisions, all the circumstances and relations

must be previously known; and the mind, from the contemplation of the

whole, feels some new impression of affection or disgust, esteem or

contempt, approbation or blame.

Hence the great difference between a mistake of FACT and one of RIGHT;

and hence the reason why the one is commonly criminal and not the other.

When Oedipus killed Laius, he was ignorant of the relation, and from

circumstances, innocent and involuntary, formed erroneous opinions

concerning the action which he committed. But when Nero killed

Agrippina, all the relations between himself and the person, and all the

circumstances of the fact, were previously known to him; but the motive

of revenge, or fear, or interest, prevailed in his savage heart over the

sentiments of duty and humanity. And when we express that detestation

against him to which he himself, in a little time, became insensible,

it is not that we see any relations, of which he was ignorant; but that,

for the rectitude of our disposition, we feel sentiments against which

he was hardened from flattery and a long perseverance in the most

enormous crimes.

In these sentiments then, not in a discovery of relations of any kind,

do all moral determinations consist. Before we can pretend to form any

decision of this kind, everything must be known and ascertained on the

side of the object or action. Nothing remains but to feel, on our part,

some sentiment of blame or approbation; whence we pronounce the action

criminal or virtuous.

III. This doctrine will become still more evident, if we compare moral

beauty with natural, to which in many particulars it bears so near a

resemblance. It is on the proportion, relation, and position of parts,

that all natural beauty depends; but it would be absurd thence to

infer, that the perception of beauty, like that of truth in geometrical

problems, consists wholly in the perception of relations, and was

performed entirely by the understanding or intellectual faculties. In

all the sciences, our mind from the known relations investigates the

unknown. But in all decisions of taste or external beauty, all the

relations are beforehand obvious to the eye; and we thence proceed to

feel a sentiment of complacency or disgust, according to the nature of

the object, and disposition of our organs.

Euclid has fully explained all the qualities of the circle; but has not

in any proposition said a word of its beauty. The reason is evident. The

beauty is not a quality of the circle. It lies not in any part of the

line, whose parts are equally distant from a common centre. It is only

the effect which that figure produces upon the mind, whose peculiar

fabric of structure renders it susceptible of such sentiments. In vain

would you look for it in the circle, or seek it, either by your senses

or by mathematical reasoning, in all the properties of that figure.

Attend to Palladio and Perrault, while they explain all the parts and

proportions of a pillar. They talk of the cornice, and frieze, and base,

and entablature, and shaft, and architrave; and give the description and

position of each of these members. But should you ask the description

and position of its beauty, they would readily reply, that the beauty

is not in any of the parts or members of a pillar, but results from the

whole, when that complicated figure is presented to an intelligent mind,

susceptible to those finer sensations. Till such a spectator appear,

there is nothing but a figure of such particular dimensions and

proportions: from his sentiments alone arise its elegance and beauty.

Again; attend to Cicero, while he paints the crimes of a Verres or a

Catiline. You must acknowledge that the moral turpitude results, in the

same manner, from the contemplation of the whole, when presented to a

being whose organs have such a particular structure and formation. The

orator may paint rage, insolence, barbarity on the one side; meekness,

suffering, sorrow, innocence on the other. But if you feel no

indignation or compassion arise in you from this complication of

circumstances, you would in vain ask him, in what consists the crime or

villainy, which he so vehemently exclaims against? At what time, or

on what subject it first began to exist? And what has a few months

afterwards become of it, when every disposition and thought of all the

actors is totally altered or annihilated? No satisfactory answer can be

given to any of these questions, upon the abstract hypothesis of morals;

and we must at last acknowledge, that the crime or immorality is

no particular fact or relation, which can be the object of the

understanding, but arises entirely from the sentiment of disapprobation,

which, by the structure of human nature, we unavoidably feel on the

apprehension of barbarity or treachery.

IV. Inanimate objects may bear to each other all the same relations

which we observe in moral agents; though the former can never be the

object of love or hatred, nor are consequently susceptible of merit or

iniquity. A young tree, which over-tops and destroys its parent, stands

in all the same relations with Nero, when he murdered Agrippina; and

if morality consisted merely in relations, would no doubt be equally

criminal.

V. It appears evident that--the ultimate ends of human actions can

never, in any case, be accounted for by reason, but recommend themselves

entirely to the sentiments and affections of mankind, without any

dependance on the intellectual faculties. Ask a man WHY HE USES

EXERCISE; he will answer, BECAUSE HE DESIRES TO KEEP HIS HEALTH. If

you then enquire, WHY HE DESIRES HEALTH, he will readily reply, BECAUSE

SICKNESS IS PAINFUL. If you push your enquiries farther, and desire a

reason WHY HE HATES PAIN, it is impossible he can ever give any. This is

an ultimate end, and is never referred to any other object.

Perhaps to your second question, WHY HE DESIRES HEALTH, he may also

reply, that IT IS NECESSARY FOR THE EXERCISE OF HIS CALLING. If you ask,

WHY HE IS ANXIOUS ON THAT HEAD, he will answer, BECAUSE HE DESIRES TO

GET MONEY. If you demand WHY? IT IS THE INSTRUMENT OF PLEASURE, says he.

And beyond this it is an absurdity to ask for a reason. It is impossible

there can be a progress IN INFINITUM; and that one thing can always be a

reason why another is desired. Something must be desirable on its own

account, and because of its immediate accord or agreement with human

sentiment and affection.

Now as virtue is an end, and is desirable on its own account, without

fee and reward, merely for the immediate satisfaction which it conveys;

it is requisite that there should be some sentiment which it touches,

some internal taste or feeling, or whatever you may please to call it,

which distinguishes moral good and evil, and which embraces the one and

rejects the other.

Thus the distinct boundaries and offices of REASON and of TASTE are

easily ascertained. The former conveys the knowledge of truth and

falsehood: the latter gives the sentiment of beauty and deformity, vice

and virtue. The one discovers objects as they really stand in nature,

without addition and diminution: the other has a productive faculty, and

gilding or staining all natural objects with the colours, borrowed from

internal sentiment, raises in a manner a new creation. Reason being cool

and disengaged, is no motive to action, and directs only the impulse

received from appetite or inclination, by showing us the means of

attaining happiness or avoiding misery: Taste, as it gives pleasure or

pain, and thereby constitutes happiness or misery, becomes a motive to

action, and is the first spring or impulse to desire and volition. From

circumstances and relations, known or supposed, the former leads us to

the discovery of the concealed and unknown: after all circumstances and

relations are laid before us, the latter makes us feel from the whole

a new sentiment of blame or approbation. The standard of the one, being

founded on the nature of things, is eternal and inflexible, even by the

will of the Supreme Being: the standard of the other arising from the

eternal frame and constitution of animals, is ultimately derived from

that Supreme Will, which bestowed on each being its peculiar nature, and

arranged the several classes and orders of existence.

APPENDIX II. OF SELF-LOVE.

THERE is a principle, supposed to prevail among many, which is utterly

incompatible with all virtue or moral sentiment; and as it can proceed

from nothing but the most depraved disposition, so in its turn it tends

still further to encourage that depravity. This principle is, that

all BENEVOLENCE is mere hypocrisy, friendship a cheat, public spirit a

farce, fidelity a snare to procure trust and confidence; and that while

all of us, at bottom, pursue only our private interest, we wear these

fair disguises, in order to put others off their guard, and expose them

the more to our wiles and machinations. What heart one must be possessed

of who possesses such principles, and who feels no internal sentiment

that belies so pernicious a theory, it is easy to imagine: and also what

degree of affection and benevolence he can bear to a species whom he

represents under such odious colours, and supposes so little susceptible

of gratitude or any return of affection. Or if we should not ascribe

these principles wholly to a corrupted heart, we must at least account

for them from the most careless and precipitate examination. Superficial

reasoners, indeed, observing many false pretences among mankind, and

feeling, perhaps, no very strong restraint in their own disposition,

might draw a general and a hasty conclusion that all is equally

corrupted, and that men, different from all other animals, and indeed

from all other species of existence, admit of no degrees of good or bad,

but are, in every instance, the same creatures under different disguises

and appearances.

There is another principle, somewhat resembling the former; which has

been much insisted on by philosophers, and has been the foundation of

many a system; that, whatever affection one may feel, or imagine he

feels for others, no passion is, or can be disinterested; that the most

generous friendship, however sincere, is a modification of self-love;

and that, even unknown to ourselves, we seek only our own gratification,

while we appear the most deeply engaged in schemes for the liberty

and happiness of mankind. By a turn of imagination, by a refinement of

reflection, by an enthusiasm of passion, we seem to take part in the

interests of others, and imagine ourselves divested of all selfish

considerations: but, at bottom, the most generous patriot and most

niggardly miser, the bravest hero and most abject coward, have, in every

action, an equal regard to their own happiness and welfare.

Whoever concludes from the seeming tendency of this opinion, that those,

who make profession of it, cannot possibly feel the true sentiments

of benevolence, or have any regard for genuine virtue, will often find

himself, in practice, very much mistaken. Probity and honour were no

strangers to Epicurus and his sect. Atticus and Horace seem to have

enjoyed from nature, and cultivated by reflection, as generous and

friendly dispositions as any disciple of the austerer schools. And

among the modern, Hobbes and Locke, who maintained the selfish system of

morals, lived irreproachable lives; though the former lay not under any

restraint of religion which might supply the defects of his philosophy.

An epicurean or a Hobbist readily allows, that there is such a thing as

a friendship in the world, without hypocrisy or disguise; though he may

attempt, by a philosophical chymistry, to resolve the elements of this

passion, if I may so speak, into those of another, and explain every

affection to be self-love, twisted and moulded, by a particular turn

of imagination, into a variety of appearances. But as the same turn of

imagination prevails not in every man, nor gives the same direction to

the original passion; this is sufficient even according to the selfish

system to make the widest difference in human characters, and denominate

one man virtuous and humane, another vicious and meanly interested. I

esteem the man whose self-love, by whatever means, is so directed as to

give him a concern for others, and render him serviceable to society:

as I hate or despise him, who has no regard to any thing beyond his

own gratifications and enjoyments. In vain would you suggest that these

characters, though seemingly opposite, are at bottom the same, and that

a very inconsiderable turn of thought forms the whole difference between

them. Each character, notwithstanding these inconsiderable differences,

appears to me, in practice, pretty durable and untransmutable. And

I find not in this more than in other subjects, that the natural

sentiments arising from the general appearances of things are easily

destroyed by subtile reflections concerning the minute origin of these

appearances. Does not the lively, cheerful colour of a countenance

inspire me with complacency and pleasure; even though I learn from

philosophy that all difference of complexion arises from the most minute

differences of thickness, in the most minute parts of the skin; by

means of which a superficies is qualified to reflect one of the original

colours of light, and absorb the others?

But though the question concerning the universal or partial selfishness

of man be not so material as is usually imagined to morality and

practice, it is certainly of consequence in the speculative science of

human nature, and is a proper object of curiosity and enquiry. It

may not, therefore, be unsuitable, in this place, to bestow a few

reflections upon it.

[Footnote: Benevolence naturally divides into two kinds, the

GENERAL and the PARTICULAR. The first is, where we have no friendship

or connexion or esteem for the person, but feel only a general sympathy

with him or a compassion for his pains, and a congratulation with his

pleasures. The other species of benevolence is founded on an opinion

of virtue, on services done us, or on some particular connexions. Both

these sentiments must be allowed real in human nature: but whether they

will resolve into some nice considerations of self-love, is a question

more curious than important. The former sentiment, to wit, that of

general benevolence, or humanity, or sympathy, we shall have occasion

frequently to treat of in the course of this inquiry; and I assume it as

real, from general experience, without any other proof.]

The most obvious objection to the selfish hypothesis is, that, as it is

contrary to common feeling and our most unprejudiced notions, there is

required the highest stretch of philosophy to establish so extraordinary

a paradox. To the most careless observer there appear to be such

dispositions as benevolence and generosity; such affections as love,

friendship, compassion, gratitude. These sentiments have their causes,

effects, objects, and operations, marked by common language and

observation, and plainly distinguished from those of the selfish

passions. And as this is the obvious appearance of things, it must

be admitted, till some hypothesis be discovered, which by penetrating

deeper into human nature, may prove the former affections to be nothing

but modifications of the latter. All attempts of this kind have hitherto

proved fruitless, and seem to have proceeded entirely from that love

of SIMPLICITY which has been the source of much false reasoning in

philosophy. I shall not here enter into any detail on the present

subject. Many able philosophers have shown the insufficiency of these

systems. And I shall take for granted what, I believe, the smallest

reflection will make evident to every impartial enquirer.

But the nature of the subject furnishes the strongest presumption, that

no better system will ever, for the future, be invented, in order to

account for the origin of the benevolent from the selfish affections,

and reduce all the various emotions of the human mind to a perfect

simplicity. The case is not the same in this species of philosophy as

in physics. Many an hypothesis in nature, contrary to first appearances,

has been found, on more accurate scrutiny, solid and satisfactory.

Instances of this kind are so frequent that a judicious, as well as

witty philosopher, [Footnote: Mons. Fontenelle.] has ventured to affirm,

if there be more than one way in which any phenomenon may be produced,

that there is general presumption for its arising from the causes which

are the least obvious and familiar. But the presumption always lies on

the other side, in all enquiries concerning the origin of our passions,

and of the internal operations of the human mind. The simplest and

most obvious cause which can there be assigned for any phenomenon, is

probably the true one. When a philosopher, in the explication of his

system, is obliged to have recourse to some very intricate and refined

reflections, and to suppose them essential to the production of any

passion or emotion, we have reason to be extremely on our guard against

so fallacious an hypothesis. The affections are not susceptible of any

impression from the refinements of reason or imagination; and it

is always found that a vigorous exertion of the latter faculties,

necessarily, from the narrow capacity of the human mind, destroys all

activity in the former. Our predominant motive or intention is, indeed,

frequently concealed from ourselves when it is mingled and confounded

with other motives which the mind, from vanity or self-conceit, is

desirous of supposing more prevalent: but there is no instance that a

concealment of this nature has ever arisen from the abstruseness and

intricacy of the motive. A man that has lost a friend and patron may

flatter himself that all his grief arises from generous sentiments,

without any mixture of narrow or interested considerations: but a

man that grieves for a valuable friend, who needed his patronage and

protection; how can we suppose, that his passionate tenderness arises

from some metaphysical regards to a self-interest, which has no

foundation or reality? We may as well imagine that minute wheels and

springs, like those of a watch, give motion to a loaded waggon, as

account for the origin of passion from such abstruse reflections.

Animals are found susceptible of kindness, both to their own species and

to ours; nor is there, in this case, the least suspicion of disguise or

artifice. Shall we account for all THEIR sentiments, too, from refined

deductions of self-interest? Or if we admit a disinterested benevolence

in the inferior species, by what rule of analogy can we refuse it in the

superior?

Love between the sexes begets a complacency and good-will, very distinct

from the gratification of an appetite. Tenderness to their offspring,

in all sensible beings, is commonly able alone to counter-balance the

strongest motives of self-love, and has no manner of dependance on that

affection. What interest can a fond mother have in view, who loses

her health by assiduous attendance on her sick child, and afterwards

languishes and dies of grief, when freed, by its death, from the slavery

of that attendance?

Is gratitude no affection of the human breast, or is that a word merely,

without any meaning or reality? Have we no satisfaction in one man's

company above another's, and no desire of the welfare of our friend,

even though absence or death should prevent us from all participation in

it? Or what is it commonly, that gives us any participation in it, even

while alive and present, but our affection and regard to him?

These and a thousand other instances are marks of a general benevolence

in human nature, where no REAL interest binds us to the object. And how

an IMAGINARY interest known and avowed for such, can be the origin of

any passion or emotion, seems difficult to explain. No satisfactory

hypothesis of this kind has yet been discovered; nor is there the

smallest probability that the future industry of men will ever be

attended with more favourable success.

But farther, if we consider rightly of the matter, we shall find that

the hypothesis which allows of a disinterested benevolence, distinct

from self-love, has really more SIMPLICITY in it, and is more

conformable to the analogy of nature than that which pretends to resolve

all friendship and humanity into this latter principle. There are bodily

wants or appetites acknowledged by every one, which necessarily precede

all sensual enjoyment, and carry us directly to seek possession of the

object. Thus, hunger and thirst have eating and drinking for their end;

and from the gratification of these primary appetites arises a pleasure,

which may become the object of another species of desire or inclination

that is secondary and interested. In the same manner there are mental

passions by which we are impelled immediately to seek particular

objects, such as fame or power, or vengeance without any regard to

interest; and when these objects are attained a pleasing enjoyment

ensues, as the consequence of our indulged affections. Nature must,

by the internal frame and constitution of the mind, give an original

propensity to fame, ere we can reap any pleasure from that acquisition,

or pursue it from motives of self-love, and desire of happiness. If I

have no vanity, I take no delight in praise: if I be void of ambition,

power gives me no enjoyment: if I be not angry, the punishment of an

adversary is totally indifferent to me. In all these cases there is a

passion which points immediately to the object, and constitutes it

our good or happiness; as there are other secondary passions which

afterwards arise, and pursue it as a part of our happiness, when once it

is constituted such by our original affections. Were there no appetite

of any kind antecedent to self-love, that propensity could scarcely ever

exert itself; because we should, in that case, have felt few and slender

pains or pleasures, and have little misery or happiness to avoid or to

pursue.

Now where is the difficulty in conceiving, that this may likewise be the

case with benevolence and friendship, and that, from the original frame

of our temper, we may feel a desire of another's happiness or good,

which, by means of that affection, becomes our own good, and is

afterwards pursued, from the combined motives of benevolence and

self-enjoyments? Who sees not that vengeance, from the force alone of

passion, may be so eagerly pursued, as to make us knowingly neglect

every consideration of ease, interest, or safety; and, like some

vindictive animals, infuse our very souls into the wounds we give an

enemy; [Footnote: Animasque in vulnere ponunt. VIRG, Dum alteri noceat,

sui negligens says Seneca of Anger. De Ira, I. i.] and what a malignant

philosophy must it be, that will not allow to humanity and friendship

the same privileges which are undisputably granted to the darker

passions of enmity and resentment; such a philosophy is more like a

satyr than a true delineation or description of human nature; and may

be a good foundation for paradoxical wit and raillery, but is a very bad

one for any serious argument or reasoning.

APPENDIX III. SOME FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS WITH REGARD TO JUSTICE.

The intention of this Appendix is to give some more particular

explication of the origin and nature of Justice, and to mark some

differences between it and the other virtues.

The social virtues of humanity and benevolence exert their influence

immediately by a direct tendency or instinct, which chiefly keeps in

view the simple object, moving the affections, and comprehends not any

scheme or system, nor the consequences resulting from the concurrence,

imitation, or example of others. A parent flies to the relief of his

child; transported by that natural sympathy which actuates him, and

which affords no leisure to reflect on the sentiments or conduct of

the rest of mankind in like circumstances. A generous man cheerfully

embraces an opportunity of serving his friend; because he then feels

himself under the dominion of the beneficent affections, nor is he

concerned whether any other person in the universe were ever before

actuated by such noble motives, or will ever afterwards prove their

influence. In all these cases the social passions have in view a single

individual object, and pursue the safety or happiness alone of the

person loved and esteemed. With this they are satisfied: in this they

acquiesce. And as the good, resulting from their benign influence, is

in itself complete and entire, it also excites the moral sentiment of

approbation, without any reflection on farther consequences, and without

any more enlarged views of the concurrence or imitation of the other

members of society. On the contrary, were the generous friend or

disinterested patriot to stand alone in the practice of beneficence,

this would rather enhance his value in our eyes, and join the praise of

rarity and novelty to his other more exalted merits.

The case is not the same with the social virtues of justice and

fidelity. They are highly useful, or indeed absolutely necessary to the

well-being of mankind: but the benefit resulting from them is not the

consequence of every individual single act; but arises from the whole

scheme or system concurred in by the whole, or the greater part of the

society. General peace and order are the attendants of justice or a

general abstinence from the possessions of others; but a particular

regard to the particular right of one individual citizen may frequently,

considered in itself, be productive of pernicious consequences. The

result of the individual acts is here, in many instances, directly

opposite to that of the whole system of actions; and the former may

be extremely hurtful, while the latter is, to the highest degree,

advantageous. Riches, inherited from a parent, are, in a bad man's

hand, the instrument of mischief. The right of succession may, in one

instance, be hurtful. Its benefit arises only from the observance of the

general rule; and it is sufficient, if compensation be thereby made for

all the ills and inconveniences which flow from particular characters

and situations.

Cyrus, young and unexperienced, considered only the individual case

before him, and reflected on a limited fitness and convenience, when he

assigned the long coat to the tall boy, and the short coat to the other

of smaller size. His governor instructed him better, while he pointed

out more enlarged views and consequences, and informed his pupil of the

general, inflexible rules, necessary to support general peace and order

in society.

The happiness and prosperity of mankind, arising from the social virtue

of benevolence and its subdivisions, may be compared to a wall, built by

many hands, which still rises by each stone that is heaped upon it,

and receives increase proportional to the diligence and care of each

workman. The same happiness, raised by the social virtue of justice and

its subdivisions, may be compared to the building of a vault, where each

individual stone would, of itself, fall to the ground; nor is the whole

fabric supported but by the mutual assistance and combination of its

corresponding parts.

All the laws of nature, which regulate property, as well as all civil

laws, are general, and regard alone some essential circumstances of the

case, without taking into consideration the characters, situations, and

connexions of the person concerned, or any particular consequences which

may result from the determination of these laws in any particular case

which offers. They deprive, without scruple, a beneficent man of all his

possessions, if acquired by mistake, without a good title; in order to

bestow them on a selfish miser, who has already heaped up immense stores

of superfluous riches. Public utility requires that property should be

regulated by general inflexible rules; and though such rules are adopted

as best serve the same end of public utility, it is impossible for them

to prevent all particular hardships, or make beneficial consequences

result from every individual case. It is sufficient, if the whole plan

or scheme be necessary to the support of civil society, and if the

balance of good, in the main, do thereby preponderate much above that of

evil. Even the general laws of the universe, though planned by infinite

wisdom, cannot exclude all evil or inconvenience in every particular

operation.

It has been asserted by some, that justice arises from Human

Conventions, and proceeds from the voluntary choice, consent, or

combination of mankind. If by CONVENTION be here meant a PROMISE (which

is the most usual sense of the word) nothing can be more absurd than

this position. The observance of promises is itself one of the most

considerable parts of justice, and we are not surely bound to keep our

word because we have given our word to keep it. But if by convention be

meant a sense of common interest, which sense each man feels in his

own breast, which he remarks in his fellows, and which carries him, in

concurrence with others, into a general plan or system of actions, which

tends to public utility; it must be owned, that, in this sense, justice

arises from human conventions. For if it be allowed (what is, indeed,

evident) that the particular consequences of a particular act of justice

may be hurtful to the public as well as to individuals; it follows that

every man, in embracing that virtue, must have an eye to the whole plan

or system, and must expect the concurrence of his fellows in the same

conduct and behaviour. Did all his views terminate in the consequences

of each act of his own, his benevolence and humanity, as well as

his self-love, might often prescribe to him measures of conduct very

different from those which are agreeable to the strict rules of right

and justice.

Thus, two men pull the oars of a boat by common convention for common

interest, without any promise or contract; thus gold and silver are made

the measures of exchange; thus speech and words and language are fixed

by human convention and agreement. Whatever is advantageous to two or

more persons, if all perform their part; but what loses all advantage

if only one perform, can arise from no other principle There would

otherwise be no motive for any one of them to enter into that scheme of

conduct.

[Footnote: This theory concerning the origin of property, and

consequently of justice, is, in the main, the same with that hinted at

and adopted by Grotius, 'Hinc discimus, quae fuerit causa, ob quam a

primaeva communione rerum primo mobilium, deinde et immobilinm discessum

est: nimirum quod cum non contenti homines vesci sponte natis, antra

habitare, corpore aut nudo agere, aut corticibus arborum ferarumve

pellibus vestito, vitae genus exquisitius delegissent, industria opus

fuit, quam singuli rebus singulls adhiberent. Quo minus autem fructus

in commune conferrentur, primum obstitit locorum, in quae homines

discesserunt, distantia, deinde justitiae et amoris defectus, per quem

fiebat, ut nee in labore, nee in consumtione fructuum, quae debebat,

aequalitas servaretur. Simul discimus, quomodo res in proprietatem

iverint; non animi actu solo, neque enim scire alii poterant, quid alil

suum esse vellent, ut eo abstinerent, et idem velle plures poterant;

sed pacto quodam aut expresso, ut per divisionem, aut tacito, ut per

occupationem.' De jure belli et pacis. Lib. ii. cap. 2. sec. 2. art. 4

and 5.]

The word NATURAL is commonly taken in so many senses and is of so

loose a signification, that it seems vain to dispute whether justice

be natural or not. If self-love, if benevolence be natural to man; if

reason and forethought be also natural; then may the same epithet

be applied to justice, order, fidelity, property, society. Men's

inclination, their necessities, lead them to combine; their

understanding and experience tell them that this combination is

impossible where each governs himself by no rule, and pays no regard

to the possessions of others: and from these passions and reflections

conjoined, as soon as we observe like passions and reflections in

others, the sentiment of justice, throughout all ages, has infallibly

and certainly had place to some degree or other in every individual of

the human species. In so sagacious an animal, what necessarily arises

from the exertion of his intellectual faculties may justly be esteemed

natural.

[Footnote: Natural may be opposed, either to what is UNUSUAL,

MIRACULOUS or ARTIFICIAL. In the two former senses, justice and property

are undoubtedly natural. But as they suppose reason, forethought,

design, and a social union and confederacy among men, perhaps that

epithet cannot strictly, in the last sense, be applied to them. Had

men lived without society, property had never been known, and neither

justice nor injustice had ever existed. But society among human

creatures had been impossible without reason and forethought. Inferior

animals, that unite, are guided by instinct, which supplies the place

for reason. But all these disputes are merely verbal.]

Among all civilized nations it has been the constant endeavour to remove

everything arbitrary and partial from the decision of property, and to

fix the sentence of judges by such general views and considerations as

may be equal to every member of society. For besides, that nothing

could be more dangerous than to accustom the bench, even in the smallest

instance, to regard private friendship or enmity; it is certain,

that men, where they imagine that there was no other reason for the

preference of their adversary but personal favour, are apt to entertain

the strongest ill-will against the magistrates and judges. When natural

reason, therefore, points out no fixed view of public utility by which

a controversy of property can be decided, positive laws are often

framed to supply its place, and direct the procedure of all courts

of judicature. Where these too fail, as often happens, precedents are

called for; and a former decision, though given itself without any

sufficient reason, justly becomes a sufficient reason for a new

decision. If direct laws and precedents be wanting, imperfect and

indirect ones are brought in aid; and the controverted case is ranged

under them by analogical reasonings and comparisons, and similitudes,

and correspondencies, which are often more fanciful than real. In

general, it may safely be affirmed that jurisprudence is, in this

respect, different from all the sciences; and that in many of its nicer

questions, there cannot properly be said to be truth or falsehood on

either side. If one pleader bring the case under any former law or

precedent, by a refined analogy or comparison; the opposite pleader

is not at a loss to find an opposite analogy or comparison: and the

preference given by the judge is often founded more on taste and

imagination than on any solid argument. Public utility is the general

object of all courts of judicature; and this utility too requires a

stable rule in all controversies: but where several rules, nearly equal

and indifferent, present themselves, it is a very slight turn of thought

which fixes the decision in favour of either party.

[Footnote: That there be a separation or distinction of

possessions, and that this separation be steady and

constant; this is absolutely required by the interests of

society, and hence the origin of justice and property. What

possessions are assigned to particular persons; this is,

generally speaking, pretty indifferent; and is often

determined by very frivolous views and considerations. We

shall mention a few particulars.

Were a society formed among several independent members, the

most obvious rule, which could be agreed on, would be to

annex property to PRESENT possession, and leave every one a

right to what he at present enjoys. The relation of

possession, which takes place between the person and the

object, naturally draws on the relation of property.

For a like reason, occupation or first possession becomes

the foundation of property.

Where a man bestows labour and industry upon any object,

which before belonged to no body; as in cutting down and

shaping a tree, in cultivating a field, &c., the

alterations, which he produces, causes a relation between

him and the object, and naturally engages us to annex it to

him by the new relation of property. This cause here concurs

with the public utility, which consists in the encouragement

given to industry and labour.

Perhaps too, private humanity towards the possessor concurs,

in this instance, with the other motives, and engages us to

leave with him what he has acquired by his sweat and labour;

and what he has flattered himself in the constant enjoyment

of. For though private humanity can, by no means, be the

origin of justice; since the latter virtue so often

contradicts the former; yet when the rule of separate and

constant possession is once formed by the indispensable

necessities of society, private humanity, and an aversion to

the doing a hardship to another, may, in a particular

instance, give rise to a particular rule of property.

I am much inclined to think, that the right succession or

inheritance much depends on those connexions of the

imagination, and that the relation to a former proprietor

begetting a relation to the object, is the cause why the

property is transferred to a man after the death of his

kinsman. It is true; industry is more encouraged by the

transference of possession to children or near relations:

but this consideration will only have place in a cultivated

society; whereas the right of succession is regarded even

among the greatest Barbarians.

Acquisition of property by accession can be explained no way

but by having recourse to the relations and connexions of

the imaginations.

The property of rivers, by the laws of most nations, and by

the natural turn of our thoughts, is attributed to the

proprietors of their banks, excepting such vast rivers as

the Rhine or the Danube, which seem too large to follow as

an accession to the property of the neighbouring fields. Yet

even these rivers are considered as the property of that

nation, through whose dominions they run; the idea of a

nation being of a suitable bulk to correspond with them, and

bear them such a relation in the fancy.

The accessions, which are made to land, bordering upon

rivers, follow the land, say the civilians, provided it be

made by what they call alluvion, that is, insensibly and

imperceptibly; which are circumstances, that assist the

imagination in the conjunction.

Where there is any considerable portion torn at once from

one bank and added to another, it becomes not his property,

whose land it falls on, till it unite with the land, and

till the trees and plants have spread their roots into both.

Before that, the thought does not sufficiently join them.

In short, we must ever distinguish between the necessity of

a separation and constancy in men's possession, and the

rules, which assign particular objects to particular

persons. The first necessity is obvious, strong, and

invincible: the latter may depend on a public utility more

light and frivolous, on the sentiment of private humanity

and aversion to private hardship, on positive laws, on

precedents, analogies, and very fine connexions and turns of

the imagination.]

We may just observe, before we conclude this subject, that after the

laws of justice are fixed by views of general utility, the injury, the

hardship, the harm, which result to any individual from a violation of

them, enter very much into consideration, and are a great source of that

universal blame which attends every wrong or iniquity. By the laws of

society, this coat, this horse is mine, and OUGHT to remain perpetually

in my possession: I reckon on the secure enjoyment of it: by depriving

me of it, you disappoint my expectations, and doubly displease me, and

offend every bystander. It is a public wrong, so far as the rules of

equity are violated: it is a private harm, so far as an individual is

injured. And though the second consideration could have no place, were

not the former previously established: for otherwise the distinction of

MINE and THINE would be unknown in society: yet there is no question

but the regard to general good is much enforced by the respect to

particular. What injures the community, without hurting any individual,

is often more lightly thought of. But where the greatest public wrong

is also conjoined with a considerable private one, no wonder the highest

disapprobation attends so iniquitous a behaviour.

APPENDIX IV. OF SOME VERBAL DISPUTES.

Nothing is more usual than for philosophers to encroach upon the

province of grammarians; and to engage in disputes of words, while they

imagine that they are handling controversies of the deepest importance

and concern. It was in order to avoid altercations, so frivolous and

endless, that I endeavoured to state with the utmost caution the object

of our present enquiry; and proposed simply to collect, on the one hand,

a list of those mental qualities which are the object of love or esteem,

and form a part of personal merit; and on the other hand, a catalogue of

those qualities which are the object of censure or reproach, and which

detract from the character of the person possessed of them; subjoining

some reflections concerning the origin of these sentiments of praise or

blame. On all occasions, where there might arise the least hesitation,

I avoided the terms VIRTUE and VICE; because some of those qualities,

which I classed among the objects of praise, receive, in the English

language, the appellation of TALENTS, rather than of virtues; as some of

the blameable or censurable qualities are often called defects, rather

than vices. It may now, perhaps, be expected that before we conclude

this moral enquiry, we should exactly separate the one from the other;

should mark the precise boundaries of virtues and talents, vices and

defects; and should explain the reason and origin of that distinction.

But in order to excuse myself from this undertaking, which would,

at last, prove only a grammatical enquiry, I shall subjoin the four

following reflections, which shall contain all that I intend to say on

the present subject.

First, I do not find that in the English, or any other modern tongue,

the boundaries are exactly fixed between virtues and talents, vices

and defects, or that a precise definition can be given of the one as

contradistinguished from the other. Were we to say, for instance, that

the esteemable qualities alone, which are voluntary, are entitled to

the appellations of virtues; we should soon recollect the qualities of

courage, equanimity, patience, self-command; with many others, which

almost every language classes under this appellation, though they depend

little or not at all on our choice. Should we affirm that the qualities

alone, which prompt us to act our part in society, are entitled to that

honourable distinction; it must immediately occur that these are indeed

the most valuable qualities, and are commonly denominated the SOCIAL

virtues; but that this very epithet supposes that there are also virtues

of another species. Should we lay hold of the distinction between

INTELLECTUAL and MORAL endowments, and affirm the last alone to be the

real and genuine virtues, because they alone lead to action; we should

find that many of those qualities, usually called intellectual virtues,

such as prudence, penetration, discernment, discretion, had also a

considerable influence on conduct. The distinction between the heart and

the head may also be adopted: the qualities of the first may be defined

such as in their immediate exertion are accompanied with a feeling

of sentiment; and these alone may be called the genuine virtues: but

industry, frugality, temperance, secrecy, perseverance, and many other

laudable powers or habits, generally stilled virtues are exerted without

any immediate sentiment in the person possessed of them, and are only

known to him by their effects. It is fortunate, amidst all this seeming

perplexity, that the question, being merely verbal, cannot possibly be

of any importance. A moral, philosophical discourse needs not enter

into all these caprices of language, which are so variable in different

dialects, and in different ages of the same dialect. But on the whole,

it seems to me, that though it is always allowed, that there are virtues

of many different kinds, yet, when a man is called virtuous, or is

denominated a man of virtue, we chiefly regard his social qualities,

which are, indeed, the most valuable. It is, at the same time, certain,

that any remarkable defect in courage, temperance, economy, industry,

understanding, dignity of mind, would bereave even a very good-natured,

honest man of this honourable appellation. Who did ever say, except

by way of irony, that such a one was a man of great virtue, but an

egregious blockhead?

But, Secondly, it is no wonder that languages should not be very

precise in marking the boundaries between virtues and talents, vices

and defects; since there is so little distinction made in our internal

estimation of them. It seems indeed certain, that the SENTIMENT of

conscious worth, the self-satisfaction proceeding from a review of a

man's own conduct and character; it seems certain, I say, that this

sentiment, which, though the most common of all others, has no proper

name in our language,

[Footnote: The term, pride, is commonly taken in a bad sense; but

this sentiment seems indifferent, and may be either good or bad,

according as it is well or ill founded, and according to the other

circumstances which accompany it. The French express this sentiment by

the term, AMOUR PROPRE, but as they also express self-love as well

as vanity by the same term, there arises thence a great confusion in

Rochefoucault, and many of their moral writers.]

arises from the endowments of courage and capacity, industry and

ingenuity, as well as from any other mental excellencies. Who, on the

other hand, is not deeply mortified with reflecting on his own folly and

dissoluteness, and feels not a secret sting or compunction whenever his

memory presents any past occurrence, where he behaved with stupidity of

ill-manners? No time can efface the cruel ideas of a man's own foolish

conduct, or of affronts, which cowardice or impudence has brought

upon him. They still haunt his solitary hours, damp his most aspiring

thoughts, and show him, even to himself, in the most contemptible and

most odious colours imaginable.

What is there too we are more anxious to conceal from others than such

blunders, infirmities, and meannesses, or more dread to have exposed by

raillery and satire? And is not the chief object of vanity, our bravery

or learning, our wit or breeding, our eloquence or address, our taste or

abilities? These we display with care, if not with ostentation; and

we commonly show more ambition of excelling in them, than even in the

social virtues themselves, which are, in reality, of such superior

excellence. Good-nature and honesty, especially the latter, are so

indispensably required, that, though the greatest censure attends

any violation of these duties, no eminent praise follows such common

instances of them, as seem essential to the support of human society.

And hence the reason, in my opinion, why, though men often extol so

liberally the qualities of their heart, they are shy in commending the

endowments of their head: because the latter virtues, being supposed

more rare and extraordinary, are observed to be the more usual objects

of pride and self-conceit; and when boasted of, beget a strong suspicion

of these sentiments.

It is hard to tell, whether you hurt a man's character most by calling

him a knave or a coward, and whether a beastly glutton or drunkard be

not as odious and contemptible, as a selfish, ungenerous miser. Give me

my choice, and I would rather, for my own happiness and self-enjoyment,

have a friendly, humane heart, than possess all the other virtues of

Demosthenes and Philip united: but I would rather pass with the world

for one endowed with extensive genius and intrepid courage, and should

thence expect stronger instances of general applause and admiration. The

figure which a man makes in life, the reception which he meets with in

company, the esteem paid him by his acquaintance; all these advantages

depend as much upon his good sense and judgement, as upon any other part

of his character. Had a man the best intentions in the world, and were

the farthest removed from all injustice and violence, he would never

be able to make himself be much regarded, without a moderate share, at

least, of parts and understanding.

What is it then we can here dispute about? If sense and courage,

temperance and industry, wisdom and knowledge confessedly form a

considerable part of PERSONAL MERIT: if a man, possessed of these

qualities, is both better satisfied with himself, and better entitled

to the good-will, esteem, and services of others, than one entirely

destitute of them; if, in short, the SENTIMENTS are similar which arise

from these endowments and from the social virtues; is there any reason

for being so extremely scrupulous about a WORD, or disputing whether

they be entitled to the denomination of virtues? It may, indeed,

be pretended, that the sentiment of approbation, which those

accomplishments produce, besides its being INFERIOR, is also somewhat

DIFFERENT from that which attends the virtues of justice and humanity.

But this seems not a sufficient reason for ranking them entirely under

different classes and appellations. The character of Caesar and that of

Cato, as drawn by Sallust, are both of them virtuous, in the strictest

and most limited sense of the word; but in a different way: nor are the

sentiments entirely the same which arise from them. The one produces

love, the other esteem: the one is amiable, the other awful: we should

wish to meet the one character in a friend; the other we should be

ambitious of in ourselves. In like manner the approbation, which attends

temperance or industry or frugality, may be somewhat different from that

which is paid to the social virtues, without making them entirely of a

different species. And, indeed, we may observe, that these endowments,

more than the other virtues, produce not, all of them, the same kind

of approbation. Good sense and genius beget esteem and regard: wit and

humour excite love and affection.

[Footnote: Love and esteem are nearly the same passion, and arise

from similar causes. The qualities, which produce both, are such as

communicate pleasures. But where this pleasure is severe and serious;

or where its object is great, and makes a strong impression, or where

it produces any degree of humility and awe; in all these cases, the

passion, which arises from the pleasure, is more properly denominated

esteem than love. Benevolence attends both; but is connected with love

in a more eminent degree. There seems to be still a stronger mixture of

pride in contempt than of humility in esteem; and the reason would not

be difficulty to one, who studied accurately the passions. All these

various mixtures and compositions and appearances of sentiment from

a very curious subject of speculation, but are wide for our present

purpose. Throughout this enquiry, we always consider in general, what

qualities are a subject of praise or of censure, without entering

into all the minute differences of sentiment, which they excite. It is

evident, that whatever is contemned, is also disliked, as well as what

is hated; and we here endeavour to take objects, according to their most

simple views and appearances. These sciences are but too apt to appear

abstract to common readers, even with all the precautions which we can

take to clear them from superfluous speculations, and bring them down to

every capacity.]

Most people, I believe, will naturally, without premeditation, assent to

the definition of the elegant and judicious poet:

Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool) Is sense and spirit with

humanity.

[Footnote: The Art of preserving Health. Book 4]

What pretensions has a man to our generous assistance or good offices,

who has dissipated his wealth in profuse expenses, idle vanities,

chimerical projects, dissolute pleasures or extravagant gaming? These

vices (for we scruple not to call them such) bring misery unpitied, and

contempt on every one addicted to them.

Achaeus, a wise and prudent prince, fell into a fatal snare, which cost

him his crown and life, after having used every reasonable precaution to

guard himself against it. On that account, says the historian, he is a

just object of regard and compassion: his betrayers alone of hatred and

contempt [Footnote: Polybius, lib. iii. cap. 2].

The precipitate flight and improvident negligence of Pompey, at the

beginning of the civil wars, appeared such notorious blunders to Cicero,

as quite palled his friendship towards that great man. In the same

manner, says he, as want of cleanliness, decency, or discretion in

a mistress are found to alienate our affections. For so he expresses

himself, where he talks, not in the character of a philosopher, but in

that of a statesman and man of the world, to his friend Atticus. [Lib.

ix. epist. 10]. But the same Cicero, in imitation of all the ancient

moralists, when he reasons as a philosopher, enlarges very much his

ideas of virtue, and comprehends every laudable quality or endowment

of the mind, under that honourable appellation. This leads to the

THIRD reflection, which we proposed to make, to wit, that the ancient

moralists, the best models, made no material distinction among the

different species of mental endowments and defects, but treated

all alike under the appellation of virtues and vices, and made them

indiscriminately the object of their moral reasonings. The prudence

explained in Cicero's Offices [Footnote: Lib. i. cap. 6.] is that

sagacity, which leads to the discovery of truth, and preserves us from

error and mistake. MAGNANIMITY, TEMPERANCE, DECENCY, are there also at

large discoursed of. And as that eloquent moralist followed the common

received division of the four cardinal virtues, our social duties form

but one head, in the general distribution of his subject.

[Footnote: The following passage of Cicero is worth quoting, as

being the most clear and express to our purpose, that any thing can be

imagined, and, in a dispute, which is chiefly verbal, must, on account

of the author, carry an authority, from which there can be no appeal.

'Virtus autem, quae est per se ipsa laudabilis, et sine qua nihil

laudari potest, tamen habet plures partes, quarum alia est alia ad

laudationem aptior. Sunt enim aliae virtutes, quae videntur in moribus

hominum, et quadam comitate ac beneficentia positae: aliae quae

in ingenii aliqua facultate, aut animi magnitudine ac robore. Nam

clementia, justitia, benignitas, fides, fortitudo in periculis

communibus, jucunda est auditu in laudationibus. Omnes enim hae virtutes

non tam ipsis, qui eas in se habent, quam generi hominum fructuosae

putantur. Sapientia et magnitude animi, qua omnes res humanae tenues

et pro nihilo putantur, et in cogitando vis quaedam ingenii, et ipsa

eloquentia admirationis habet non minus, jucunditatis minus. Ipsos enim

magis videntur, quos laudamus, quam illos, apud quos laudamus ornare ac

tueri: sed tamen in laudenda jungenda sunt eliam haec genera virtutum.

Ferunt enim aures bominum, cum ilia quae jucunda et grata, tum etiam

ilia, quae mirabilia sunt in virtute, laudari.' De orat. lib. ii. cap.

84.

I suppose, if Cicero were now alive, it would be found difficult to

fetter his moral sentiments by narrow systems; or persuade him, that no

qualities were to be admitted as virtues, or acknowledged to be a part

of PERSONAL MERIT, but what were recommended by The Whole Duty of Man.]

We need only peruse the titles of chapters in Aristotle's Ethics to be

convinced that he ranks courage, temperance, magnificence, magnanimity,

modesty, prudence, and a manly openness, among the virtues, as well as

justice and friendship.

To SUSTAIN and to ABSTAIN, that is, to be patient and continent,

appeared to some of the ancients a summary comprehension of all morals.

Epictetus has scarcely ever mentioned the sentiment of humanity and

compassion, but in order to put his disciples on their guard against it.

The virtue of the Stoics seems to consist chiefly in a firm temper and

a sound understanding. With them, as with Solomon and the eastern

moralists, folly and wisdom are equivalent to vice and virtue.

Men will praise thee, says David, [Footnote: Psalm 49th.] when thou dost

well unto thyself. I hate a wise man, says the Greek poet, who is

not wise to himself [Footnote: Here, Hume quotes Euripedes in Greek].

Plutarch is no more cramped by systems in his philosophy than in his

history. Where he compares the great men of Greece and Rome, he fairly

sets in opposition all their blemishes and accomplishments of whatever

kind, and omits nothing considerable, which can either depress or exalt

their characters. His moral discourses contain the same free and natural

censure of men and manners.

The character of Hannibal, as drawn by Livy, [Footnote: Lib. xxi. cap.

4] is esteemed partial, but allows him many eminent virtues. Never

was there a genius, says the historian, more equally fitted for those

opposite offices of commanding and obeying; and it were, therefore,

difficult to determine whether he rendered himself DEARER to the general

or to the army. To none would Hasdrubal entrust more willingly the

conduct of any dangerous enterprize; under none did the soldiers

discover more courage and confidence. Great boldness in facing danger;

great prudence in the midst of it. No labour could fatigue his body or

subdue his mind. Cold and heat were indifferent to him: meat and

drink he sought as supplies to the necessities of nature, not as

gratifications of his voluptuous appetites. Waking or rest he used

indiscriminately, by night or by day.--These great Virtues were balanced

by great Vices; inhuman cruelty; perfidy more than punic; no truth, no

faith, no regard to oaths, promises, or religion.

The character of Alexander the Sixth, to be found in Guicciardin,

[Footnote: Lib. i.] is pretty similar, but juster; and is a proof that

even the moderns, where they speak naturally, hold the same language

with the ancients. In this pope, says he, there was a singular capacity

and judgement: admirable prudence; a wonderful talent of persuasion; and

in all momentous enterprizes a diligence and dexterity incredible. But

these VIRTUES were infinitely overbalanced by his VICES; no faith,

no religion, insatiable avarice, exorbitant ambition, and a more than

barbarous cruelty.

Polybius, [Footnote: Lib. xii.] reprehending Timaeus for his partiality

against Agathocles, whom he himself allows to be the most cruel and

impious of all tyrants, says: if he took refuge in Syracuse, as asserted

by that historian, flying the dirt and smoke and toil of his former

profession of a potter; and if proceeding from such slender beginnings,

he became master, in a little time, of all Sicily; brought the

Carthaginian state into the utmost danger; and at last died in old age,

and in possession of sovereign dignity: must he not be allowed something

prodigious and extraordinary, and to have possessed great talents and

capacity for business and action? His historian, therefore, ought not to

have alone related what tended to his reproach and infamy; but also what

might redound to his Praise and Honour.

In general, we may observe, that the distinction of voluntary or

involuntary was little regarded by the ancients in their moral

reasonings; where they frequently treated the question as very doubtful,

WHETHER VIRTUE COULD BE TAUGHT OR NOT [Vid. Plato in Menone, Seneca de

otio sap. cap. 31. So also Horace, Virtutem doctrina paret, naturane

donet, Epist. lib. I. ep. 18. Aeschines Socraticus, Dial. I.]? They

justly considered that cowardice, meanness, levity, anxiety, impatience,

folly, and many other qualities of the mind, might appear ridiculous and

deformed, contemptible and odious, though independent of the will. Nor

could it be supposed, at all times, in every man's power to attain every

kind of mental more than of exterior beauty.

And here there occurs the FOURTH reflection which I purposed to make,

in suggesting the reason why modern philosophers have often followed a

course in their moral enquiries so different from that of the ancients.

In later times, philosophy of all kinds, especially ethics, have been

more closely united with theology than ever they were observed to be

among the heathens; and as this latter science admits of no terms of

composition, but bends every branch of knowledge to its own purpose,

without much regard to the phenomena of nature, or to the unbiassed

sentiments of the mind, hence reasoning, and even language, have been

warped from their natural course, and distinctions have been endeavoured

to be established where the difference of the objects was, in a manner,

imperceptible. Philosophers, or rather divines under that disguise,

treating all morals as on a like footing with civil laws, guarded by the

sanctions of reward and punishment, were necessarily led to render this

circumstance, of VOLUNTARY or INVOLUNTARY, the foundation of their whole

theory. Every one may employ TERMS in what sense he pleases: but

this, in the mean time, must be allowed, that SENTIMENTS are every day

experienced of blame and praise, which have objects beyond the dominion

of the will or choice, and of which it behoves us, if not as moralists,

as speculative philosophers at least, to give some satisfactory theory

and explication.

A blemish, a fault, a vice, a crime; these expressions seem to denote

different degrees of censure and disapprobation; which are, however, all

of them, at the bottom, pretty nearly all the same kind of species. The

explication of one will easily lead us into a just conception of the

others; and it is of greater consequence to attend to things than to

verbal appellations. That we owe a duty to ourselves is confessed even

in the most vulgar system of morals; and it must be of consequence to

examine that duty, in order to see whether it bears any affinity to that

which we owe to society. It is probable that the approbation attending

the observance of both is of a similar nature, and arises from similar

principles, whatever appellation we may give to either of these

excellencies.