grace of style, and logical ability, he distanced all rival writers on
religion in his time, and what is of no small importance, his life was
as blameless as his intellect was unapproachable.
Our first extract from his writings is a felicitous statement of
the _pro_ and _con_., on the questions of polygamous and single,
marriages:--
"A man, in conjoining himself to a woman, is bound to her according to
the terms of his engagement. In begetting children, he is bound, by all
the ties of nature and humanity, to provide for their subsistence and
education. When he has performed these two parts of duty, no one
can reproach him with injustice or injury. And as the terms of his
engagement, as well as the methods of subsisting his offspring, may
be various, it is mere superstition to imagine that marriage can be
entirely uniform, and will admit only of one mode or form. Did not human
laws restrain the natural liberty of men, every particular marriage
would be as different as contracts or bargains of any other kind
or species. As circumstances vary, and the laws propose different
advantages, we find, that in different times and places, they impose
different conditions on this important contract. In Tonquin, it is usual
for the sailors, when the ship comes into the harbor, to marry for
the season; and, notwithstanding this precarious engagement, they are
assured, it is said, of the strictest fidelity to their bed, as well as
in the whole management of their affairs, from those temporary spouses.
I cannot, at present, recollect my authorities; but I have somewhere
read, that the Republic of Athens, having lost many of its citizens by
war and pestilence, allowed every man to marry two wives, in order the
sooner to repair the waste which had been made by these calamities.
The poet Euripides happened to be coupled to two noisy vixens, who so
plagued him with their jealousies and quarrels, that he became ever
after a professed _woman hater_; and is the only theatrical writer,
perhaps the only poet, that ever entertained an aversion to the sex....
The advocates for polygamy may recommend it as the only effectual remedy
for the disorders of love, and the only expedient for freeing men from
that slavery to the females which the natural violence of our passions
has imposed upon us. By this means alone can we regain our right of
sovereignty and, sating our appetite, re-establish the authority of
reason in our minds, and, of consequence, our own authority in our
families. Man, like a weak sovereign, being unable to support himself
against the wiles and intrigues of his subjects, must play one faction
against another, and become absolute by the mutual jealousy of
the females. To divide and to govern is an universal maxim; and
by neglecting it, the Europeans undergo a more grievous and a more
ignominious slavery than the Turks or Persians, who are subjected indeed
to a sovereign that lies at a distance from them, but in their domestic
affairs rules with an uncontrollable sway. On the other hand, it may be
urged with better reason, that this sovereignty of the male is a real
usurpation, and destroys that nearness of rank, not to say equality,
which nature has established between the sexes. We are, by nature, their
lovers, their friends, their patrons. Would we willingly exchange such
endearing appellations for the barbarous title of master and tyrant? In
what capacity shall we gain by this inhuman proceeding? As lovers, or
as husbands? The _lover_ is totally annihilated; and courtship, the most
agreeable scene in life, can no longer have place where women have
not the free disposal of themselves, but are bought and sold like the
meanest animal. The _husband_ is as little a gainer, having found
the admirable secret of extinguishing every part of love, except its
jealousy. No rose without its thorn; but he must be a foolish wretch
indeed, that throws away the rose and preserves only the thorn. But the
Asiatic manners are as destructive to friendship as to love. Jealousy
excludes men from all intimacies and familiarities with each other. No
one dares bring his friend to his house or table, lest he bring a lover
to his numerous wives. Hence, all over the East, each family is as much
separate from another as if they were so many distinct kingdoms. No
wonder then that Solomon, living like an Eastern prince, with his seven
hundred wives, and three hundred concubines, without one friend, could
write so pathetically concerning the vanity of the world. Had he tried
the secret of one wife or mistress, a few friends, and a great many
companions, he might have found lite somewhat more agreeable. Destroy
love and friendship, what remains in the world worth accepting?"
Next we quote his famous statement of the principle of _utility_ in
morals:--
"There has been a controversy started of late much better worth
examination, concerning the general foundation of morals; whether
they be derived from reason or from sentiment; whether we attain
the knowledge of them by a chain of argument and induction, or by an
immediate feeling and finer internal sense; whether, like all sound
judgment of truth and falsehood, they should be the name to every
rational intelligent being; or whether like the perception of beauty
and deformity, they be founded entirely on the particular fabric and
constitution of the human species. The ancient philosophers, though they
often affirm that virtue is nothing but conformity to reason, yet, in
general, seem to consider morals as deriving their existence from taste
and sentiment. On the other hand, our modern inquirers, though they
also talk much of the beauty of virtue, and, deformity of vice, yet have
commonly endeavored to account for these distinctions by metaphysical
reasonings, and by deductions from the most abstract principles of
the understanding. Such confusion reigned in these subjects, that an
opposition of the greatest consequence could prevail between one system
and another, and even in the parts of almost each individual system: and
yet nobody, till very lately, was ever sensible of it. The elegant Lord
Shaftesbury, who first gave occasion to remark this distinction, and
who, in general, adhered to the principles of the ancients, is not,
himself, entirely free from the same confusion.... In all determinations
of morality, the circumstance of public utility, is ever principally in
view; and wherever disputes arise, either in philosophy or common life,
concerning the bounds of duty, the question cannot, by any means, be
decided with greater certainty, than by ascertaining, on any side,
the true interests of mankind. If any false opinion, embraced from
appearances, has been found to prevail; as soon as farther experience
and sounder reasoning have given us juster notions of human affairs,
we retract our first sentiment, and adjust anew the boundaries of moral
good and evil. Giving alms to common beggars is naturally praised;
because it seems to carry relief to the distressed and indigent;
but when we observe the encouragement thence arising to idleness and
debauchery, we regard that species of charity rather as a weakness than
a virtue. Tyrannicide, or the assassination of usurpers and oppressive
princes, was highly extolled in ancient times; because it both freed
mankind from many of these monsters, and seemed to keep the others
in awe whom the sword or poniard could not reach. But history and
experience having since convinced us, that this practice increases the
jealousy and cruelty of princes, a Timoleon and a Brutus, though treated
with indulgence on account of the prejudices of their times, are now
considered as very improper models for imitation. Liberality in princes
is regarded as a mark of beneficence. But when it occurs, that the
homely bread of the honest and industrious is often thereby converted
into delicious cakes for the idle and the prodigal, we soon retract our
heedless praises. The regrets of a prince, for having lost a day, were
noble and generous; but had he intended to have spent it in acts of
generosity to his greedy courtiers, it was better lost than misemployed
after that manner.... That justice is useful to society, and
consequently that _part_ of its merit, at least, must arise from that
consideration, it would be a superfluous undertaking to prove. That
public utility is the _sole_ origin of justice, that reflections on the
beneficial consequences of this virtue are the _sole_ foundation of its
merit; this proposition being more curious and important, will better
deserve our examination and inquiry. Let us suppose that nature has
bestowed on the human race such profuse abundance of all external
conveniences, that, without any uncertainty in the event, without any
care or industry on our part, every individual finds himself fully
provided with whatever his most voracious appetite can want, or
luxurious imagination wish or desire. His natural beauty, we shall
suppose, surpasses all acquired ornaments; the perpetual clemency of the
seasons renders useless all clothes or covering: the raw herbage affords
him the most delicious fare; the clear fountain, the richest beverage.
No laborious occupation required: no tillage: no navigation. Music,
poetry, and contemplation, form his sole business: conversation, mirth,
and friendship his sole amusement. It seems evident, that, in such
a happy state, every other social virtue would flourish, and receive
tenfold increase; but the cautious, jealous virtue of justice, would
never once have been dreamed of. For what purpose make a partition of
goods, where every one has already more than enough? Why give rise
to property, where there cannot possibly be any injury? Why call this
object _mine_, when, upon seizing of it by another, I need but stretch
out my hand to possess myself of what is equally valuable? Justice, in
that case, being totally useless, would be an idle ceremonial, and could
never possibly have place in the catalogue of virtues. We see, even in
the present necessitous condition of mankind, that, wherever any benefit
is bestowed by nature in an unlimited abundance, we leave it always in
common among the whole human race, and make no subdivisions of right and
property. Water and air, though the most necessary of all objects, are
not challenged as the property of individuals; nor can any man commit
injustice by the most lavish use and enjoyment of these blessings. In
fertile extensive countries, with few inhabitants, land is regarded
on the same footing. And no topic is so much insisted on by those
who defend the liberty of the seas, as the unexhausted use of them in
navigation. Were the advantages procured by navigation as inexhaustible,
these reasoners had never had any adversaries to refute; nor had any
claims ever been advanced of a separate, exclusive dominion over
the ocean.... Suppose a society to fall into such want of all common
necessaries, that the utmost frugality and industry cannot preserve the
greater number from perishing, and the whole from extreme misery. It
will readily, I believe, be admitted that the strict laws of justice are
suspended in such a pressing emergence, and give place to the stronger
motives of necessity and self-preservation. Is it any crime, after a
shipwreck, to seize whatever means or instrument of safety one can lay
hold of, without regard to former limitations of properly? Or if a city
besieged were perishing with hunger; can we imagine that men will see
any means of preservation before them, and lose their lives from a
scrupulous regard to what, in other situations, would be the rules of
equity and justice? The use and tendency of that virtue is to procure
happiness and security, by preserving order in society. But where the
society is ready to perish from extreme necessity, no greater evil can
be dreaded from violence and injustice; and every man may now provide
for himself by all the means which prudence can dictate, or humanity
permit. The public, even in less urgent necessities, opens granaries
without the consent of proprietors; as justly supposing, that the
authority of magistracy may, consistent with equity, extend so far. But
were any number of men to assemble, without the tie of laws or civil
jurisdiction; would an equal partition of bread in a famine, though
effected by power and even violence, be regarded as criminal or
injurious? Suppose, likewise, that it should be a virtuous man's fate
to fall into the society of ruffians, remote from the protection of
laws and government; what conduct must he embrace in that melancholy
situation? He sees such a desperate rapaciousness prevail; such a
disregard to equity, such contempt of order, such stupid blindness
to future consequences, as must immediately have the most tragical
conclusion, and must terminate in destruction to the greater number, and
in a total dissolution of society to the rest. He, meanwhile, can have
no other expedient than to arm himself, to whomever the sword he seizes,
or the buckler may belong: to make provision of all means of defence and
security: and his particular regard to justice being no longer of use
to his own safety or that of others, he must consult the dictates of
self-preservation alone, without concern for those who no longer merit
his care and attention.... But perhaps the difficulty of accounting for
these effects of usefulness, or its contrary, has kept philosophers from
admitting them into their systems of ethics, and has induced them to
employ any other principle, in explaining the origin of moral good and
evil. But it is no just reason for rejecting any principle, confirmed
by experience, that we cannot give a satisfactory account of its origin,
nor are able to resolve it into other more general principles. And if we
would employ a little thought on the present subject, we need be at
no loss to account for the influence of utility, and deduce it from
principles the most known and avowed in human nature....
Usefulness is agreeable, and engages our approbation. This is a matter
of fact, confirmed by daily observation. But useful! For what? For
somebody's interest, surely! Whose interest then? Not our own only; for
our approbation frequently extends farther. It must therefore be the
interest of those who are served by the character or action approved of;
and these, we may conclude, however remote, are not totally indifferent
to us. By opening up this principle, we shall discover one great source
of moral distinctions."
The origin and mischiefs of Theistic influences is the subject of the
following passage:--
"It must necessarily, indeed, be allowed, that in order to carry men's
attention beyond the present course of things, or lead them into any
inference concerning invisible intelligent power, they must be actuated
by some passion which prompts their thought and reflection, some motive
which urges their first inquiry. But what passion shall we here have
recourse to, for explaining an effect of such mighty consequence? Not
speculative curiosity, surely, or the pure love of truth. That motive
is too refined for such gross apprehensions; and would lead men into
inquiries concerning the frame of nature, a subject too large and
comprehensive for their narrow capacities. No passions, therefore, can
be supposed to work upon such barbarians, but the ordinary affections
of human life; the anxious concern for happiness, the dread of future
misery, the terror of death, the thirst of revenge, the appetite for
food and other necessaries. Agitated by hopes and fears of this nature,
especially the latter, men scrutinize, with a trembling curiosity, the
course of future causes, and examine the various and contrary events
of human life. And in this disordered scene, with eyes still more
disordered and astonished, they see the first obscure traces of
divinity.... We hang in perpetual suspense between life and death,
health and sickness, plenty and want, which are distributed amongst
the human species by secret and unknown causes, whose operation is oft
unexpected, and always unaccountable. These _unknown causes_, then,
become the constant object of hope and fear; and while the passions are
kept in perpetual alarm by an anxious expectation of the events, the
imagination is equally employed in forming ideas of those powers on
which we have so entire a dependence. Could men anatomize nature,
according to the most probable, at least the most intelligible
philosophy, they would find that these causes are nothing but the
particular fabric and structure of the minute parts of their own bodies
and of external objects; and that by a regular and constant machinery,
all the events are produced, about which they are so much concerned....
There is an universal tendency among mankind to conceive all beings like
themselves, and to transfer to every object those qualities with
which they are familiarly acquainted, and of which they are intimately
conscious. We find human faces in the moon, armies in the clouds; and,
by a natural propensity, it not corrected by experience and reflection,
ascribe malice or good will to everything that hurts or pleases us.
Hence the frequency and beauty of the _prosopopoia_ in poetry; where
trees, mountains, and streams are personified, and the inanimate parts
of nature acquire sentiment and passion. And though these poetical
figures and expressions gain not on the belief; they may serve, at
least, to prove a certain tendency in the imagination, without which
they could neither be beautiful nor natural. Nor is a river-god or
hamadryad always taken for a mere poetical or imaginary personage, but
may sometimes enter into the real creed of the ignorant vulgar; while
each grove or field is represented as possessed of a particular genius
or invisible power which inhabits and protects, it. Nay, philosophers
cannot entirely exempt themselves from this natural frailty; but have
oft ascribed to inanimate matter the horror of a _vacuum_, sympathies,
antipathies, and other affections of human nature. The absurdity is
not less, while we cast our eyes upwards; and, transferring, as is too
usual, human passions and infirmities to the Deity, represent him as
jealous and revengeful, capricious and partial, and, in short, a
wicked and foolish man in every respect but his superior power and
authority.--No wonder, then, that mankind, being placed in such an
absolute ignorance of causes, and being at the same time so anxious
concerning their future fortune, should immediately acknowledge a
dependence on invisible powers, possessed of sentiment and intelligence.
The _unknown causes_ which continually employ their thought, appearing
always in the same aspect, are all apprehended to be of the same kind or
species. Nor is it long before we ascribe to them thought, and reason,
and passion, and sometimes even the limbs and figures of men, in
order to bring them nearer to a resemblance with ourselves.... It is
remarkable, that the principles of religion have a kind of flux and
reflux in the human mind, and that men have a natural tendency to rise
from idolatry to Theism, and to sink again from Theism into idolatry.
The vulgar--that is, indeed, all mankind, a few excepted--being ignorant
and uninstructed, never elevate their contemplation to the heavens, or
penetrate by their disquisitions into the secret structure of vegetable
or animal bodies; so far as, to discover a Supreme Mind or Original
Providence, which bestowed order on every part of nature. They consider
these admirable works in a more confined and selfish view; and finding
their own happiness and misery to depend on the secret influence, and
unforeseen concurrence of external objects, they regard, with perpetual
attention, the _unknown causes_ which govern all these natural events,
and distribute pleasure and pain, good and ill, by their powerful but
silent operation. The unknown causes are still appealed to on every
emergency; and in this general appearance or confused image, are the
perpetual objects of human hopes and fears, wishes and apprehensions.
By degrees, the active imagination of men, uneasy in this abstract
conception of objects, about which it is incessantly employed, begins to
render them more particular, and to clothe them in shapes more suitable
to its natural comprehension. It represents them to be sensible,
intelligent beings like mankind; actuated by love and hatred, and
flexible by gifts and entreaties, by prayers and sacrifices. Hence the
origin of religion: and hence the origin of idolatry or polytheism."
More has been written by theologians in endeavors to refute the
following passage, than has ever been called forth by the wit of man
before by the same number of words:--