If the thought and understanding were alone capable of fixing the

boundaries of right and wrong, the character of virtuous and vicious

either must lie in some relations of objects, or must be a matter of

fact, which is discovered by our reasoning. This consequence is evident.

As the operations of human understanding divide themselves into two

kinds, the comparing of ideas, and the inferring of matter of fact; were

virtue discovered by the understanding; it must be an object of one of

these operations, nor is there any third operation of the understanding.

which can discover it. There has been an opinion very industriously

propagated by certain philosophers, that morality is susceptible of

demonstration; and though no one has ever been able to advance a single

step in those demonstrations; yet it is taken for granted, that this

science may be brought to an equal certainty with geometry or algebra.

Upon this supposition vice and virtue must consist in some relations;

since it is allowed on all hands, that no matter of fact is capable

of being demonstrated. Let us, therefore, begin with examining this

hypothesis, and endeavour, if possible, to fix those moral qualities,

which have been so long the objects of our fruitless researches. Point

out distinctly the relations, which constitute morality or obligation,

that we may know wherein they consist, and after what manner we must

judge of them.

If you assert, that vice and virtue consist in relations susceptible

of certainty and demonstration, you must confine yourself to those four

relations, which alone admit of that degree of evidence; and in that

case you run into absurdities, from which you will never be able to

extricate yourself. For as you make the very essence of morality to lie

in the relations, and as there is no one of these relations but what is

applicable, not only to an irrational, but also to an inanimate object;

it follows, that even such objects must be susceptible of merit or

demerit. RESEMBLANCE, CONTRARIETY, DEGREES IN QUALITY, and PROPORTIONS

IN QUANTITY AND NUMBER; all these relations belong as properly

to matter, as to our actions, passions, and volitions. It is

unquestionable, therefore, that morality lies not in any of these

relations, nor the sense of it in their discovery.[3]

[3] As a proof, how confused our way of thinking on this subject

commonly is, we may observe, that those who assert, that morality

is demonstrable, do not say, that morality lies in the relations,

and that the relations are distinguishable by reason. They only

say, that reason can discover such an action, in such relations, to

be virtuous, and such another vicious. It seems they thought it

sufficient, if they could bring the word, Relation, into the

proposition, without troubling themselves whether it was to the

purpose or not. But here, I think, is plain argument. Demonstrative

reason discovers only relations. But that reason, according to this

hypothesis, discovers also vice and virtue. These moral qualities,

therefore, must be relations. When we blame any action, in any

situation, the whole complicated object, of action and situation,

must form certain relations, wherein the essence of vice consists.

This hypothesis is not otherwise intelligible. For what does reason

discover, when it pronounces any action vicious? Does it discover a

relation or a matter of fact? These questions are decisive, and

must not be eluded.

Should it be asserted, that the sense of morality consists in

the discovery of some relation, distinct from these, and that our

enumeration was not compleat, when we comprehended all demonstrable

relations under four general heads: To this I know not what to reply,

till some one be so good as to point out to me this new relation. It is

impossible to refute a system, which has never yet been explained. In

such a manner of fighting in the dark, a man loses his blows in the air,

and often places them where the enemy is not present.

I must, therefore, on this occasion, rest contented with requiring the

two following conditions of any one that would undertake to clear up

this system. First, As moral good and evil belong only to the actions

of the mind, and are derived from our situation with regard to external

objects, the relations, from which these moral distinctions arise, must

lie only betwixt internal actions, and external objects, and must not be

applicable either to internal actions, compared among themselves, or to

external objects, when placed in opposition to other external objects.

For as morality is supposed to attend certain relations, if these

relations could belong to internal actions considered singly, it would

follow, that we might be guilty of crimes in ourselves, and independent

of our situation, with respect to the universe: And in like manner, if

these moral relations could be applied to external objects, it would

follow, that even inanimate beings would be susceptible of moral beauty

and deformity. Now it seems difficult to imagine, that any relation can

be discovered betwixt our passions, volitions and actions, compared

to external objects, which relation might not belong either to these

passions and volitions, or to these external objects, compared among

themselves. But it will be still more difficult to fulfil the second

condition, requisite to justify this system. According to the principles

of those who maintain an abstract rational difference betwixt moral good

and evil, and a natural fitness and unfitness of things, it is not only

supposed, that these relations, being eternal and immutable, are the

same, when considered by every rational creature, but their effects are

also supposed to be necessarily the same; and it is concluded they have

no less, or rather a greater, influence in directing the will of the

deity, than in governing the rational and virtuous of our own species.

These two particulars are evidently distinct. It is one thing to know

virtue, and another to conform the will to it. In order, therefore, to

prove, that the measures of right and wrong are eternal laws, obligatory

on every rational mind, it is not sufficient to shew the relations upon

which they are founded: We must also point out the connexion betwixt

the relation and the will; and must prove that this connexion is so

necessary, that in every well-disposed mind, it must take place and have

its influence; though the difference betwixt these minds be in other

respects immense and infinite. Now besides what I have already proved,

that even in human nature no relation can ever alone produce any

action: besides this, I say, it has been shewn, in treating of the

understanding, that there is no connexion of cause and effect, such

as this is supposed to be, which is discoverable otherwise than by

experience, and of which we can pretend to have any security by the

simple consideration of the objects. All beings in the universe,

considered in themselves, appear entirely loose and independent of each

other. It is only by experience we learn their influence and connexion;

and this influence we ought never to extend beyond experience.

Thus it will be impossible to fulfil the first condition required to the

system of eternal measures of right and wrong; because it is impossible

to shew those relations, upon which such a distinction may be founded:

And it is as impossible to fulfil the second condition; because we

cannot prove A PRIORI, that these relations, if they really existed and

were perceived, would be universally forcible and obligatory.

But to make these general reflections more clear and convincing, we may

illustrate them by some particular instances, wherein this character of

moral good or evil is the most universally acknowledged. Of all crimes

that human creatures are capable of committing, the most horrid and

unnatural is ingratitude, especially when it is committed against

parents, and appears in the more flagrant instances of wounds and death.

This is acknowledged by all mankind, philosophers as well as the people;

the question only arises among philosophers, whether the guilt or moral

deformity of this action be discovered by demonstrative reasoning, or

be felt by an internal sense, and by means of some sentiment, which the

reflecting on such an action naturally occasions. This question will

soon be decided against the former opinion, if we can shew the same

relations in other objects, without the notion of any guilt or iniquity

attending them. Reason or science is nothing but the comparing of ideas,

and the discovery of their relations; and if the same relations have

different characters, it must evidently follow, that those characters

are not discovered merely by reason. To put the affair, therefore, to

this trial, let us chuse any inanimate object, such as an oak or elm;

and let us suppose, that by the dropping of its seed, it produces a

sapling below it, which springing up by degrees, at last overtops and

destroys the parent tree: I ask, if in this instance there be wanting

any relation, which is discoverable in parricide or ingratitude? Is

not the one tree the cause of the other's existence; and the latter the

cause of the destruction of the former, in the same manner as when a

child murders his parent? It is not sufficient to reply, that a choice

or will is wanting. For in the case of parricide, a will does not give

rise to any DIFFERENT relations, but is only the cause from which the

action is derived; and consequently produces the same relations, that in

the oak or elm arise from some other principles. It is a will or choice,

that determines a man to kill his parent; and they are the laws of

matter and motion, that determine a sapling to destroy the oak, from

which it sprung. Here then the same relations have different causes; but

still the relations are the same: And as their discovery is not in both

cases attended with a notion of immorality, it follows, that that notion

does not arise from such a discovery.

But to chuse an instance, still more resembling; I would fain ask any

one, why incest in the human species is criminal, and why the very same

action, and the same relations in animals have not the smallest moral

turpitude and deformity? If it be answered, that this action is innocent

in animals, because they have not reason sufficient to discover its

turpitude; but that man, being endowed with that faculty which ought to

restrain him to his duty, the same action instantly becomes criminal to

him; should this be said, I would reply, that this is evidently

arguing in a circle. For before reason can perceive this turpitude, the

turpitude must exist; and consequently is independent of the decisions

of our reason, and is their object more properly than their effect.

According to this system, then, every animal, that has sense, and

appetite, and will; that is, every animal must be susceptible of all the

same virtues and vices, for which we ascribe praise and blame to human

creatures. All the difference is, that our superior reason may serve to

discover the vice or virtue, and by that means may augment the blame

or praise: But still this discovery supposes a separate being in these

moral distinctions, and a being, which depends only on the will and

appetite, and which, both in thought and reality, may be distinguished

from the reason. Animals are susceptible of the same relations, with

respect to each other, as the human species, and therefore would also be

susceptible of the same morality, if the essence of morality consisted

in these relations. Their want of a sufficient degree of reason may

hinder them from perceiving the duties and obligations of morality,

but can never hinder these duties from existing; since they must

antecedently exist, in order to their being perceived. Reason must find

them, and can never produce them. This argument deserves to be weighed,

as being, in my opinion, entirely decisive.

Nor does this reasoning only prove, that morality consists not in any

relations, that are the objects of science; but if examined, will prove

with equal certainty, that it consists not in any matter of fact, which

can be discovered by the understanding. This is the second part of our

argument; and if it can be made evident, we may conclude, that morality

is not an object of reason. But can there be any difficulty in proving,

that vice and virtue are not matters of fact, whose existence we can

infer by reason? Take any action allowed to be vicious: Wilful murder,

for instance. Examine it in all lights, and see if you can find that

matter of fact, or real existence, which you call vice. In which-ever

way you take it, you find only certain passions, motives, volitions

and thoughts. There is no other matter of fact in the case. The vice

entirely escapes you, as long as you consider the object. You never can

find it, till you turn your reflection into your own breast, and find a

sentiment of disapprobation, which arises in you, towards this action.

Here is a matter of fact; but it is the object of feeling, not of

reason. It lies in yourself, not in the object. So that when you

pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you mean nothing,

but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or

sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it. Vice and virtue,

therefore, may be compared to sounds, colours, heat and cold, which,

according to modern philosophy, are not qualities in objects, but

perceptions in the mind: And this discovery in morals, like that other

in physics, is to be regarded as a considerable advancement of the

speculative sciences; though, like that too, it has little or no

influence on practice. Nothing can be more real, or concern us more,

than our own sentiments of pleasure and uneasiness; and if these be

favourable to virtue, and unfavourable to vice, no more can be requisite

to the regulation of our conduct and behaviour.

I cannot forbear adding to these reasonings an observation, which may,

perhaps, be found of some importance. In every system of morality,

which I have hitherto met with, I have always remarked, that the author

proceeds for some time in the ordinary way of reasoning, and establishes

the being of a God, or makes observations concerning human affairs;

when of a sudden I am surprized to find, that instead of the usual

copulations of propositions, is, and is not, I meet with no proposition

that is not connected with an ought, or an ought not. This change is

imperceptible; but is, however, of the last consequence. For as this

ought, or ought not, expresses some new relation or affirmation, it is

necessary that it should be observed and explained; and at the same time

that a reason should be given, for what seems altogether inconceivable,

how this new relation can be a deduction from others, which are entirely

different from it. But as authors do not commonly use this precaution,

I shall presume to recommend it to the readers; and am persuaded, that

this small attention would subvert all the vulgar systems of morality,

and let us see, that the distinction of vice and virtue is not founded

merely on the relations of objects, nor is perceived by reason.

SECT. II MORAL DISTINCTIONS DERIVED FROM A MORAL SENSE

Thus the course of the argument leads us to conclude, that since vice

and virtue are not discoverable merely by reason, or the comparison

of ideas, it must be by means of some impression or sentiment they

occasion, that we are able to mark the difference betwixt them. Our

decisions concerning moral rectitude and depravity are evidently

perceptions; and as all perceptions are either impressions or ideas, the

exclusion of the one is a convincing argument for the other. Morality,

therefore, is more properly felt than judged of; though this feeling or

sentiment is commonly so soft and gentle, that we are apt to confound

it with an idea, according to our common custom of taking all things for

the same, which have any near resemblance to each other.

The next question is, of what nature are these impressions, and after

what manner do they operate upon us? Here we cannot remain long in

suspense, but must pronounce the impression arising from virtue, to

be agreeable, and that proceding from vice to be uneasy. Every moments

experience must convince us of this. There is no spectacle so fair and

beautiful as a noble and generous action; nor any which gives us more

abhorrence than one that is cruel and treacherous. No enjoyment equals

the satisfaction we receive from the company of those we love and

esteem; as the greatest of all punishments is to be obliged to pass our

lives with those we hate or contemn. A very play or romance may afford

us instances of this pleasure, which virtue conveys to us; and pain,

which arises from vice.

Now since the distinguishing impressions, by which moral good or evil is

known, are nothing but particular pains or pleasures; it follows,

that in all enquiries concerning these moral distinctions, it will be

sufficient to shew the principles, which make us feel a satisfaction or

uneasiness from the survey of any character, in order to satisfy us

why the character is laudable or blameable. An action, or sentiment,

or character is virtuous or vicious; why? because its view causes

a pleasure or uneasiness of a particular kind. In giving a reason,

therefore, for the pleasure or uneasiness, we sufficiently explain the

vice or virtue. To have the sense of virtue, is nothing but to feel a

satisfaction of a particular kind from the contemplation of a character.

The very feeling constitutes our praise or admiration. We go no farther;

nor do we enquire into the cause of the satisfaction. We do not infer

a character to be virtuous, because it pleases: But in feeling that it

pleases after such a particular manner, we in effect feel that it is

virtuous. The case is the same as in our judgments concerning all kinds

of beauty, and tastes, and sensations. Our approbation is implyed in the

immediate pleasure they convey to us.

I have objected to the system, which establishes eternal rational

measures of right and wrong, that it is impossible to shew, in the

actions of reasonable creatures, any relations, which are not found

in external objects; and therefore, if morality always attended these

relations, it were possible for inanimate matter to become virtuous or

vicious. Now it may, in like manner, be objected to the present system,

that if virtue and vice be determined by pleasure and pain, these

qualities must, in every case, arise from the sensations; and

consequently any object, whether animate or inanimate, rational or

irrational, might become morally good or evil, provided it can excite

a satisfaction or uneasiness. But though this objection seems to be the

very same, it has by no means the same force, in the one case as in

the other. For, first, tis evident, that under the term pleasure, we

comprehend sensations, which are very different from each other, and

which have only such a distant resemblance, as is requisite to make them

be expressed by the same abstract term. A good composition of music and

a bottle of good wine equally produce pleasure; and what is more, their

goodness is determined merely by the pleasure. But shall we say upon

that account, that the wine is harmonious, or the music of a good

flavour? In like manner an inanimate object, and the character or

sentiments of any person may, both of them, give satisfaction; but as

the satisfaction is different, this keeps our sentiments concerning them

from being confounded, and makes us ascribe virtue to the one, and not

to the other. Nor is every sentiment of pleasure or pain, which arises

from characters and actions, of that peculiar kind, which makes us

praise or condemn. The good qualities of an enemy are hurtful to us; but

may still command our esteem and respect. It is only when a character

is considered in general, without reference to our particular interest,

that it causes such a feeling or sentiment, as denominates it morally

good or evil. It is true, those sentiments, from interest and morals,

are apt to be confounded, and naturally run into one another. It seldom

happens, that we do not think an enemy vicious, and can distinguish

betwixt his opposition to our interest and real villainy or baseness.

But this hinders not, but that the sentiments are, in themselves,

distinct; and a man of temper and judgment may preserve himself from

these illusions. In like manner, though it is certain a musical voice is

nothing but one that naturally gives a particular kind of pleasure; yet

it is difficult for a man to be sensible, that the voice of an enemy is

agreeable, or to allow it to be musical. But a person of a fine ear, who

has the command of himself, can separate these feelings, and give praise

to what deserves it.

SECONDLY, We may call to remembrance the preceding system of the

passions, in order to remark a still more considerable difference

among our pains and pleasures. Pride and humility, love and hatred are

excited, when there is any thing presented to us, that both bears a

relation to the object of the passion, and produces a separate sensation

related to the sensation of the passion. Now virtue and vice are

attended with these circumstances. They must necessarily be placed

either in ourselves or others, and excite either pleasure or uneasiness;

and therefore must give rise to one of these four passions; which

clearly distinguishes them from the pleasure and pain arising from

inanimate objects, that often bear no relation to us: And this is,

perhaps, the most considerable effect that virtue and vice have upon the

human mind.

It may now be asked in general, concerning this pain or pleasure, that

distinguishes moral good and evil, FROM WHAT PRINCIPLES IS IT DERIVED,

AND WHENCE DOES IT ARISE IN THE HUMAN MIND? To this I reply, first,

that it is absurd to imagine, that in every particular instance, these

sentiments are produced by an original quality and primary constitution.

For as the number of our duties is, in a manner, infinite, it is

impossible that our original instincts should extend to each of them,

and from our very first infancy impress on the human mind all that

multitude of precepts, which are contained in the compleatest system

of ethics. Such a method of proceeding is not conformable to the usual

maxims, by which nature is conducted, where a few principles produce all

that variety we observe in the universe, and every thing is carryed on

in the easiest and most simple manner. It is necessary, therefore, to

abridge these primary impulses, and find some more general principles,

upon which all our notions of morals are founded.

But in the second place, should it be asked, Whether we ought to search

for these principles in nature, or whether we must look for them in some

other origin? I would reply, that our answer to this question depends

upon the definition of the word, Nature, than which there is none more

ambiguous and equivocal. If nature be opposed to miracles, not only the

distinction betwixt vice and virtue is natural, but also every event,

which has ever happened in the world, EXCEPTING THOSE MIRACLES, ON WHICH

OUR RELIGION IS FOUNDED. In saying, then, that the sentiments of vice

and virtue are natural in this sense, we make no very extraordinary

discovery.

But nature may also be opposed to rare and unusual; and in this sense

of the word, which is the common one, there may often arise disputes

concerning what is natural or unnatural; and one may in general affirm,

that we are not possessed of any very precise standard, by which these

disputes can be decided. Frequent and rare depend upon the number of

examples we have observed; and as this number may gradually encrease

or diminish, it will be impossible to fix any exact boundaries betwixt

them. We may only affirm on this head, that if ever there was any thing,

which could be called natural in this sense, the sentiments of morality

certainly may; since there never was any nation of the world, nor any

single person in any nation, who was utterly deprived of them, and

who never, in any instance, shewed the least approbation or dislike of

manners. These sentiments are so rooted in our constitution and temper,

that without entirely confounding the human mind by disease or madness,

it is impossible to extirpate and destroy them.

But nature may also be opposed to artifice, as well as to what is rare

and unusual; and in this sense it may be disputed, whether the notions

of virtue be natural or not. We readily forget, that the designs,

and projects, and views of men are principles as necessary in their

operation as heat and cold, moist and dry: But taking them to be free

and entirely our own, it is usual for us to set them in opposition

to the other principles of nature should it, therefore, be demanded,

whether the sense of virtue be natural or artificial, I am of opinion,

that it is impossible for me at present to give any precise answer to

this question. Perhaps it will appear afterwards, that our sense of some

virtues is artificial, and that of others natural. The discussion of

this question will be more proper, when we enter upon an exact detail of

each particular vice and virtue.[4]

[4] In the following discourse natural is also opposed sometimes to

civil, sometimes to moral. The opposition will always discover the

sense, in which it is taken.

Meanwhile it may not be amiss to observe from these definitions of

natural and unnatural, that nothing can be more unphilosophical than

those systems, which assert, that virtue is the same with what is

natural, and vice with what is unnatural. For in the first sense of the

word, Nature, as opposed to miracles, both vice and virtue are equally

natural; and in the second sense, as opposed to what is unusual, perhaps

virtue will be found to be the most unnatural. At least it must be

owned, that heroic virtue, being as unusual, is as little natural as the

most brutal barbarity. As to the third sense of the word, it is certain,

that both vice and virtue are equally artificial, and out of nature. For

however it may be disputed, whether the notion of a merit or demerit

in certain actions be natural or artificial, it is evident, that the

actions themselves are artificial, and are performed with a certain

design and intention; otherwise they could never be ranked under any of

these denominations. It is impossible, therefore, that the character

of natural and unnatural can ever, in any sense, mark the boundaries of

vice and virtue.

Thus we are still brought back to our first position, that virtue is

distinguished by the pleasure, and vice by the pain, that any action,

sentiment or character gives us by the mere view and contemplation.

This decision is very commodious; because it reduces us to this simple

question, Why any action or sentiment upon the general view or survey,

gives a certain satisfaction or uneasiness, in order to shew the

origin of its moral rectitude or depravity, without looking for any

incomprehensible relations and qualities, which never did exist

in nature, nor even in our imagination, by any clear and distinct

conception. I flatter myself I have executed a great part of my present

design by a state of the question, which appears to me so free from

ambiguity and obscurity.

PART II OF JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE

SECT. I JUSTICE, WHETHER A NATURAL OR ARTIFICIAL VIRTUE?

I have already hinted, that our sense of every kind of virtue is not

natural; but that there are some virtues, that produce pleasure and

approbation by means of an artifice or contrivance, which arises from

the circumstances and necessity of mankind. Of this kind I assert

justice to be; and shall endeavour to defend this opinion by a short,

and, I hope, convincing argument, before I examine the nature of the

artifice, from which the sense of that virtue is derived.

It is evident, that when we praise any actions, we regard only the

motives that produced them, and consider the actions as signs or

indications of certain principles in the mind and temper. The external

performance has no merit. We must look within to find the moral quality.

This we cannot do directly; and therefore fix our attention on actions,

as on external signs. But these actions are still considered as signs;

and the ultimate object of our praise and approbation is the motive,

that produced them.

After the same manner, when we require any action, or blame a person for

not performing it, we always suppose, that one in that situation should

be influenced by the proper motive of that action, and we esteem it

vicious in him to be regardless of it. If we find, upon enquiry, that

the virtuous motive was still powerful over his breast, though checked

in its operation by some circumstances unknown to us, we retract our

blame, and have the same esteem for him, as if he had actually performed

the action, which we require of him.

It appears, therefore, that all virtuous actions derive their merit

only from virtuous motives, and are considered merely as signs of those

motives. From this principle I conclude, that the first virtuous motive,

which bestows a merit on any action, can never be a regard to the virtue

of that action, but must be some other natural motive or principle. To

suppose, that the mere regard to the virtue of the action may be the

first motive, which produced the action, and rendered it virtuous, is to

reason in a circle. Before we can have such a regard, the action must

be really virtuous; and this virtue must be derived from some virtuous

motive: And consequently the virtuous motive must be different from the

regard to the virtue of the action. A virtuous motive is requisite to

render an action virtuous. An action must be virtuous, before we can

have a regard to its virtue. Some virtuous motive, therefore, must be

antecedent to that regard.

Nor is this merely a metaphysical subtilty; but enters into all our

reasonings in common life, though perhaps we may not be able to place it

in such distinct philosophical terms. We blame a father for neglecting

his child. Why? because it shews a want of natural affection, which is

the duty of every parent. Were not natural affection a duty, the care of

children could not be a duty; and it were impossible we could have the

duty in our eye in the attention we give to our offspring. In this case,

therefore, all men suppose a motive to the action distinct from a sense

of duty.

Here is a man, that does many benevolent actions; relieves the

distressed, comforts the afflicted, and extends his bounty even to the

greatest strangers. No character can be more amiable and virtuous. We

regard these actions as proofs of the greatest humanity. This humanity

bestows a merit on the actions. A regard to this merit is, therefore,

a secondary consideration, and derived from the antecedent principle of

humanity, which is meritorious and laudable.

In short, it may be established as an undoubted maxim, THAT NO ACTION

CAN BE VIRTUOUS, OR MORALLY GOOD, UNLESS THERE BE IN HUMAN NATURE SOME

MOTIVE TO PRODUCE IT, DISTINCT FROM THE SENSE OF ITS MORALITY.

But may not the sense of morality or duty produce an action, without any

other motive? I answer, It may: But this is no objection to the present

doctrine. When any virtuous motive or principle is common in human

nature, a person, who feels his heart devoid of that motive, may hate

himself upon that account, and may perform the action without the

motive, from a certain sense of duty, in order to acquire by practice,

that virtuous principle, or at least, to disguise to himself, as much

as possible, his want of it. A man that really feels no gratitude in his

temper, is still pleased to perform grateful actions, and thinks he has,

by that means, fulfilled his duty. Actions are at first only considered

as signs of motives: But it is usual, in this case, as in all others, to

fix our attention on the signs, and neglect, in some measure, the thing

signifyed. But though, on some occasions, a person may perform an action

merely out of regard to its moral obligation, yet still this supposes

in human nature some distinct principles, which are capable of producing

the action, and whose moral beauty renders the action meritorious.

Now to apply all this to the present case; I suppose a person to have

lent me a sum of money, on condition that it be restored in a few days;

and also suppose, that after the expiration of the term agreed on, he

demands the sum: I ask, What reason or motive have I to restore the

money? It will, perhaps, be said, that my regard to justice, and

abhorrence of villainy and knavery, are sufficient reasons for me, if

I have the least grain of honesty, or sense of duty and obligation. And

this answer, no doubt, is just and satisfactory to man in his civilized

state, and when trained up according to a certain discipline and

education. But in his rude and more natural condition, if you are

pleased to call such a condition natural, this answer would be rejected

as perfectly unintelligible and sophistical. For one in that situation

would immediately ask you, WHEREIN CONSISTS THIS HONESTY AND JUSTICE,

WHICH YOU FIND IN RESTORING A LOAN, AND ABSTAINING FROM THE PROPERTY

OF OTHERS? It does not surely lie in the external action. It must,

therefore be placed in the motive, from which the external action is

derived. This motive can never be a regard to the honesty of the action.

For it is a plain fallacy to say, that a virtuous motive is requisite

to render an action honest, and at the same time that a regard to the

honesty is the motive of the action. We can never have a regard to the

virtue of an action, unless the action be antecedently virtuous. No

action can be virtuous, but so far as it proceeds from a virtuous

motive. A virtuous motive, therefore, must precede the regard to the

virtue, and it is impossible, that the virtuous motive and the regard to

the virtue can be the same.

It is requisite, then, to find some motive to acts of justice and

honesty, distinct from our regard to the honesty; and in this lies the

great difficulty. For should we say, that a concern for our private

interest or reputation is the legitimate motive to all honest actions;

it would follow, that wherever that concern ceases, honesty can no

longer have place. But it is certain, that self-love, when it acts at

its liberty, instead of engaging us to honest actions, is the source

of all injustice and violence; nor can a man ever correct those vices,

without correcting and restraining the natural movements of that

appetite.

But should it be affirmed, that the reason or motive of such actions is

the regard to publick interest, to which nothing is more contrary than

examples of injustice and dishonesty; should this be said, I would

propose the three following considerations, as worthy of our attention.

First, public interest is not naturally attached to the observation of

the rules of justice; but is only connected with it, after an artificial

convention for the establishment of these rules, as shall be shewn more

at large hereafter. Secondly, if we suppose, that the loan was secret,

and that it is necessary for the interest of the person, that the money

be restored in the same manner (as when the lender would conceal his

riches) in that case the example ceases, and the public is no longer

interested in the actions of the borrower; though I suppose there is no

moralist, who will affirm, that the duty and obligation ceases. Thirdly,

experience sufficiently proves, that men, in the ordinary conduct

of life, look not so far as the public interest, when they pay their

creditors, perform their promises, and abstain from theft, and robbery,

and injustice of every kind. That is a motive too remote and too sublime

to affect the generality of mankind, and operate with any force in

actions so contrary to private interest as are frequently those of

justice and common honesty.

In general, it may be affirmed, that there is no such passion in human

minds, as the love of mankind, merely as such, independent of personal

qualities, of services, or of relation to ourself. It is true, there is

no human, and indeed no sensible, creature, whose happiness or misery

does not, in some measure, affect us when brought near to us, and

represented in lively colours: But this proceeds merely from sympathy,

and is no proof of such an universal affection to mankind, since this

concern extends itself beyond our own species. An affection betwixt the

sexes is a passion evidently implanted in human nature; and this passion

not only appears in its peculiar symptoms, but also in inflaming every

other principle of affection, and raising a stronger love from beauty,

wit, kindness, than what would otherwise flow from them. Were there an

universal love among all human creatures, it would appear after the same

manner. Any degree of a good quality would cause a stronger affection

than the same degree of a bad quality would cause hatred; contrary to

what we find by experience. Men's tempers are different, and some have a

propensity to the tender, and others to the rougher, affections: But

in the main, we may affirm, that man in general, or human nature, is

nothing but the object both of love and hatred, and requires some other

cause, which by a double relation of impressions and ideas, may excite

these passions. In vain would we endeavour to elude this hypothesis.

There are no phaenomena that point out any such kind affection to

men, independent of their merit, and every other circumstance. We

love company in general; but it is as we love any other amusement. An

Englishman in Italy is a friend: A Euro paean in China; and perhaps a

man would be beloved as such, were we to meet him in the moon. But

this proceeds only from the relation to ourselves; which in these cases

gathers force by being confined to a few persons.

If public benevolence, therefore, or a regard to the interests of

mankind, cannot be the original motive to justice, much less can private

benevolence, or a regard to the interests of the party concerned, be

this motive. For what if he be my enemy, and has given me just cause to

hate him? What if he be a vicious man, and deserves the hatred of all

mankind? What if he be a miser, and can make no use of what I would

deprive him of? What if he be a profligate debauchee, and would rather

receive harm than benefit from large possessions? What if I be in

necessity, and have urgent motives to acquire something to my family?

In all these cases, the original motive to justice would fail; and

consequently the justice itself, and along with it all property, tight,

and obligation.

A rich man lies under a moral obligation to communicate to those in

necessity a share of his superfluities. Were private benevolence the

original motive to justice, a man would not be obliged to leave others

in the possession of more than he is obliged to give them. At least

the difference would be very inconsiderable. Men generally fix their

affections more on what they are possessed of, than on what they never

enjoyed: For this reason, it would be greater cruelty to dispossess a

man of any thing, than not to give it him. But who will assert, that

this is the only foundation of justice?

Besides, we must consider, that the chief reason, why men attach

themselves so much to their possessions is, that they consider them

as their property, and as secured to them inviolably by the laws of

society. But this is a secondary consideration, and dependent on the

preceding notions of justice and property.

A man's property is supposed to be fenced against every mortal, in every

possible case. But private benevolence is, and ought to be, weaker in

some persons, than in others: And in many, or indeed in most persons,

must absolutely fail. Private benevolence, therefore, is not the

original motive of justice.

From all this it follows, that we have no real or universal motive for

observing the laws of equity, but the very equity and merit of that

observance; and as no action can be equitable or meritorious, where

it cannot arise from some separate motive, there is here an evident

sophistry and reasoning in a circle. Unless, therefore, we will allow,

that nature has established a sophistry, and rendered it necessary and

unavoidable, we must allow, that the sense of justice and injustice is

not derived from nature, but arises artificially, though necessarily

from education, and human conventions.

I shall add, as a corollary to this reasoning, that since no action can

be laudable or blameable, without some motives or impelling passions,

distinct from the sense of morals, these distinct passions must have a

great influence on that sense. It is according to their general force

in human nature, that we blame or praise. In judging of the beauty of

animal bodies, we always carry in our eye the economy of a certain

species; and where the limbs and features observe that proportion, which

is common to the species, we pronounce them handsome and beautiful.

In like manner we always consider the natural and usual force of the

passions, when we determine concerning vice and virtue; and if the

passions depart very much from the common measures on either side, they

are always disapproved as vicious. A man naturally loves his children

better than his nephews, his nephews better than his cousins, his

cousins better than strangers, where every thing else is equal. Hence

arise our common measures of duty, in preferring the one to the other.

Our sense of duty always follows the common and natural course of our

passions.

To avoid giving offence, I must here observe, that when I deny justice

to be a natural virtue, I make use of the word, natural, only as opposed

to artificial. In another sense of the word; as no principle of the

human mind is more natural than a sense of virtue; so no virtue is more

natural than justice. Mankind is an inventive species; and where an

invention is obvious and absolutely necessary, it may as properly be

said to be natural as any thing that proceeds immediately from original

principles, without the intervention of thought or reflection. Though

the rules of justice be artificial, they are not arbitrary. Nor is

the expression improper to call them Laws of Nature; if by natural we

understand what is common to any species, or even if we confine it to

mean what is inseparable from the species.

SECT. II OF THE ORIGIN OF JUSTICE AND PROPERTY

We now proceed to examine two questions, viz, CONCERNING THE MANNER, IN

WHICH THE RULES OF JUSTICE ARE ESTABLISHED BY THE ARTIFICE OF MEN;

and CONCERNING THE REASONS, WHICH DETERMINE US TO ATTRIBUTE TO THE

OBSERVANCE OR NEGLECT OF THESE RULES A MORAL BEAUTY AND DEFORMITY. These

questions will appear afterwards to be distinct. We shall begin with the

former.

Of all the animals, with which this globe is peopled, there is none

towards whom nature seems, at first sight, to have exercised more

cruelty than towards man, in the numberless wants and necessities, with

which she has loaded him, and in the slender means, which she affords

to the relieving these necessities. In other creatures these two

particulars generally compensate each other. If we consider the lion as

a voracious and carnivorous animal, we shall easily discover him to be

very necessitous; but if we turn our eye to his make and temper, his

agility, his courage, his arms, and his force, we shall find, that his

advantages hold proportion with his wants. The sheep and ox are deprived

of all these advantages; but their appetites are moderate, and their

food is of easy purchase. In man alone, this unnatural conjunction of

infirmity, and of necessity, may be observed in its greatest perfection.

Not only the food, which is required for his sustenance, flies his

search and approach, or at least requires his labour to be produced, but

he must be possessed of cloaths and lodging, to defend him against the

injuries of the weather; though to consider him only in himself, he

is provided neither with arms, nor force, nor other natural abilities,

which are in any degree answerable to so many necessities.

It is by society alone he is able to supply his defects, and raise

himself up to an equality with his fellow-creatures, and even acquire a

superiority above them. By society all his infirmities are compensated;

and though in that situation his wants multiply every moment upon him,

yet his abilities are still more augmented, and leave him in every

respect more satisfied and happy, than it is possible for him, in his

savage and solitary condition, ever to become. When every individual

person labours apart, and only for himself, his force is too small to

execute any considerable work; his labour being employed in supplying

all his different necessities, he never attains a perfection in any

particular art; and as his force and success are not at all times equal,

the least failure in either of these particulars must be attended with

inevitable ruin and misery. Society provides a remedy for these three

inconveniences. By the conjunction of forces, our power is augmented:

By the partition of employments, our ability encreases: And by mutual

succour we are less exposed to fortune and accidents. It is by

this additional force, ability, and security, that society becomes

advantageous.

But in order to form society, it is requisite not only that it be

advantageous, but also that men be sensible of these advantages; and

it is impossible, in their wild uncultivated state, that by study and

reflection alone, they should ever be able to attain this knowledge.

Most fortunately, therefore, there is conjoined to those necessities,

whose remedies are remote and obscure, another necessity, which having a

present and more obvious remedy, may justly be regarded as the first

and original principle of human society. This necessity is no other than

that natural appetite betwixt the sexes, which unites them together, and

preserves their union, till a new tye takes place in their concern for

their common offspring. This new concern becomes also a principle of

union betwixt the parents and offspring, and forms a more numerous

society; where the parents govern by the advantage of their superior

strength and wisdom, and at the same time are restrained in the exercise

of their authority by that natural affection, which they bear their

children. In a little time, custom and habit operating on the tender

minds of the children, makes them sensible of the advantages, which they

may reap from society, as well as fashions them by degrees for it, by

rubbing off those rough corners and untoward affections, which prevent

their coalition.

For it must be confest, that however the circumstances of human nature

may render an union necessary, and however those passions of lust and

natural affection may seem to render it unavoidable; yet there are other

particulars in our natural temper, and in our outward circumstances,

which are very incommodious, and are even contrary to the requisite

conjunction. Among the former, we may justly esteem our selfishness to

be the most considerable. I am sensible, that generally speaking, the

representations of this quality have been carried much too far; and that

the descriptions, which certain philosophers delight so much to form

of mankind in this particular, are as wide of nature as any accounts

of monsters, which we meet with in fables and romances. So far from

thinking, that men have no affection for any thing beyond themselves,

I am of opinion, that though it be rare to meet with one, who loves any

single person better than himself; yet it is as rare to meet with one,

in whom all the kind affections, taken together, do not overbalance all

the selfish. Consult common experience: Do you not see, that though

the whole expence of the family be generally under the direction of the

master of it, yet there are few that do not bestow the largest part of

their fortunes on the pleasures of their wives, and the education of

their children, reserving the smallest portion for their own proper use

and entertainment. This is what we may observe concerning such as have

those endearing ties; and may presume, that the case would be the same

with others, were they placed in a like situation.

But though this generosity must be acknowledged to the honour of human

nature, we may at the same time remark, that so noble an affection,

instead of fitting men for large societies, is almost as contrary

to them, as the most narrow selfishness. For while each person loves

himself better than any other single person, and in his love to others

bears the greatest affection to his relations and acquaintance, this

must necessarily produce an oppositon of passions, and a consequent

opposition of actions; which cannot but be dangerous to the

new-established union.

It is however worth while to remark, that this contrariety of passions

would be attended with but small danger, did it not concur with

a peculiarity in our outward circumstances, which affords it an

opportunity of exerting itself. There are different species of goods,

which we are possessed of; the internal satisfaction of our minds, the

external advantages of our body, and the enjoyment of such possessions

as we have acquired by our industry and good fortune. We are perfectly

secure in the enjoyment of the first. The second may be ravished from

us, but can be of no advantage to him who deprives us of them. The last

only are both exposed to the violence of others, and may be transferred

without suffering any loss or alteration; while at the same time, there

is not a sufficient quantity of them to supply every one's desires and

necessities. As the improvement, therefore, of these goods is the chief

advantage of society, so the instability of their possession, along with

their scarcity, is the chief impediment.

In vain should we expect to find, in uncultivated nature, a remedy to

this inconvenience; or hope for any inartificial principle of the

human mind, which might controul those partial affections, and make us

overcome the temptations arising from our circumstances. The idea of

justice can never serve to this purpose, or be taken for a natural

principle, capable of inspiring men with an equitable conduct towards

each other. That virtue, as it is now understood, would never have

been dreamed of among rude and savage men. For the notion of injury or

injustice implies an immorality or vice committed against some

other person: And as every immorality is derived from some defect or

unsoundness of the passions, and as this defect must be judged of, in a

great measure, from the ordinary course of nature in the constitution

of the mind; it will be easy to know, whether we be guilty of any

immorality, with regard to others, by considering the natural, and usual

force of those several affections, which are directed towards them.

Now it appears, that in the original frame of our mind, our strongest

attention is confined to ourselves; our next is extended to our

relations and acquaintance; and it is only the weakest which reaches to

strangers and indifferent persons. This partiality, then, and unequal

affection, must not only have an influence on our behaviour and conduct

in society, but even on our ideas of vice and virtue; so as to make

us regard any remarkable transgression of such a degree of partiality,

either by too great an enlargement, or contraction of the affections,

as vicious and immoral. This we may observe in our common judgments

concerning actions, where we blame a person, who either centers all

his affections in his family, or is so regardless of them, as, in any

opposition of interest, to give the preference to a stranger, or

mere chance acquaintance. From all which it follows, that our natural

uncultivated ideas of morality, instead of providing a remedy for the

partiality of our affections, do rather conform themselves to that

partiality, and give it an additional force and influence.

The remedy, then, is not derived from nature, but from artifice; or

more properly speaking, nature provides a remedy in the judgment and

understanding, for what is irregular and incommodious in the affections.

For when men, from their early education in society, have become

sensible of the infinite advantages that result from it, and have

besides acquired a new affection to company and conversation; and when

they have observed, that the principal disturbance in society arises

from those goods, which we call external, and from their looseness and

easy transition from one person to another; they must seek for a remedy

by putting these goods, as far as possible, on the same footing with

the fixed and constant advantages of the mind and body. This can be

done after no other manner, than by a convention entered into by all the

members of the society to bestow stability on the possession of those

external goods, and leave every one in the peaceable enjoyment of what

he may acquire by his fortune and industry. By this means, every one

knows what he may safely possess; and the passions ale restrained

in their partial and contradictory motions. Nor is such a restraint

contrary to these passions; for if so, it could never be entered into,

nor maintained; but it is only contrary to their heedless and impetuous

movement. Instead of departing from our own interest, or from that of

our nearest friends, by abstaining from the possessions of others, we

cannot better consult both these interests, than by such a convention;

because it is by that means we maintain society, which is so necessary

to their well-being and subsistence, as well as to our own.

This convention is not of the nature of a promise: For even promises

themselves, as we shall see afterwards, arise from human conventions. It

is only a general sense of common interest; which sense all the members

of the society express to one another, and which induces them to

regulate their conduct by certain rules. I observe, that it will be for

my interest to leave another in the possession of his goods, provided he

will act in the same manner with regard to me. He is sensible of a like

interest in the regulation of his conduct. When this common sense of

interest is mutually expressed, and is known to both, it produces a

suitable resolution and behaviour. And this may properly enough

be called a convention or agreement betwixt us, though without the

interposition of a promise; since the actions of each of us have a

reference to those of the other, and are performed upon the supposition,

that something is to be performed on the other part. Two men, who pull

the oars of a boat, do it by an agreement or convention, though they

have never given promises to each other. Nor is the rule concerning the

stability of possession the less derived from human conventions, that it

arises gradually, and acquires force by a slow progression, and by our

repeated experience of the inconveniences of transgressing it. On the

contrary, this experience assures us still more, that the sense of

interest has become common to all our fellows, and gives us a confidence

of the future regularity of their conduct: And it is only on the

expectation of this, that our moderation and abstinence are founded.

In like manner are languages gradually established by human conventions

without any promise. In like manner do gold and silver become the common

measures of exchange, and are esteemed sufficient payment for what is of

a hundred times their value.

After this convention, concerning abstinence from the possessions of

others, is entered into, and every one has acquired a stability in his

possessions, there immediately arise the ideas of justice and injustice;

as also those of property, right, and obligation. The latter are

altogether unintelligible without first understanding the former.

Our property is nothing but those goods, whose constant possession is

established by the laws of society; that is, by the laws of justice.

Those, therefore, who make use of the words property, or right, or

obligation, before they have explained the origin of justice, or

even make use of them in that explication, are guilty of a very gross

fallacy, and can never reason upon any solid foundation. A man's

property is some object related to him. This relation is not natural,

but moral, and founded on justice. It is very preposterous, therefore,

to imagine, that we can have any idea of property, without fully

comprehending the nature of justice, and shewing its origin in the

artifice and contrivance of man. The origin of justice explains that of

property. The same artifice gives rise to both. As our first and most

natural sentiment of morals is founded on the nature of our passions,

and gives the preference to ourselves and friends, above strangers; it

is impossible there can be naturally any such thing as a fixed right

or property, while the opposite passions of men impel them in contrary

directions, and are not restrained by any convention or agreement.

No one can doubt, that the convention for the distinction of property,

and for the stability of possession, is of all circumstances the most

necessary to the establishment of human society, and that after the

agreement for the fixing and observing of this rule, there remains

little or nothing to be done towards settling a perfect harmony and

concord. All the other passions, besides this of interest, are either

easily restrained, or are not of such pernicious consequence, when

indulged. Vanity is rather to be esteemed a social passion, and a bond

of union among men. Pity and love are to be considered in the same

light. And as to envy and revenge, though pernicious, they operate

only by intervals, and are directed against particular persons, whom we

consider as our superiors or enemies. This avidity alone, of acquiring

goods and possessions for ourselves and our nearest friends, is

insatiable, perpetual, universal, and directly destructive of society.

There scarce is any one, who is not actuated by it; and there is no one,

who has not reason to fear from it, when it acts without any restraint,

and gives way to its first and most natural movements. So that upon

the whole, we are to esteem the difficulties in the establishment of

society, to be greater or less, according to those we encounter in

regulating and restraining this passion.

It is certain, that no affection of the human mind has both a

sufficient force, and a proper direction to counterbalance the love of

gain, and render men fit members of society, by making them abstain from

the possessions of others. Benevolence to strangers is too weak for this

purpose; and as to the other passions, they rather inflame this avidity,

when we observe, that the larger our possessions are, the more ability

we have of gratifying all our appetites. There is no passion, therefore,

capable of controlling the interested affection, but the very affection

itself, by an alteration of its direction. Now this alteration must

necessarily take place upon the least reflection; since it is evident,

that the passion is much better satisfyed by its restraint, than by its

liberty, and that in preserving society, we make much greater advances

in the acquiring possessions, than in the solitary and forlorn

condition, which must follow upon violence and an universal licence.

The question, therefore, concerning the wickedness or goodness of human

nature, enters not in the least into that other question concerning

the origin of society; nor is there any thing to be considered but

the degrees of men's sagacity or folly. For whether the passion of

self-interest be esteemed vicious or virtuous, it is all a case; since

itself alone restrains it: So that if it be virtuous, men become social

by their virtue; if vicious, their vice has the same effect.

Now as it is by establishing the rule for the stability of possession,

that this passion restrains itself; if that rule be very abstruse,

and of difficult invention; society must be esteemed, in a manner,

accidental, and the effect of many ages. But if it be found, that

nothing can be more simple and obvious than that rule; that every

parent, in order to preserve peace among his children, must establish

it; and that these first rudiments of justice must every day be

improved, as the society enlarges: If all this appear evident, as it

certainly must, we may conclude, that it is utterly impossible for men

to remain any considerable time in that savage condition, which precedes

society; but that his very first state and situation may justly be

esteemed social. This, however, hinders not, but that philosophers may,

if they please, extend their reasoning to the supposed state of nature;

provided they allow it to be a mere philosophical fiction, which never

had, and never could have any reality. Human nature being composed

of two principal parts, which are requisite in all its actions, the

affections and understanding; it is certain, that the blind motions of

the former, without the direction of the latter, incapacitate men for

society: And it may be allowed us to consider separately the effects,

that result from the separate operations of these two component parts of

the mind. The same liberty may be permitted to moral, which is allowed

to natural philosophers; and it is very usual with the latter to

consider any motion as compounded and consisting of two parts separate

from each other, though at the same time they acknowledge it to be in

itself uncompounded and inseparable.

This state of nature, therefore, is to be regarded as a mere fiction,

not unlike that of the golden age, which poets have invented; only with

this difference, that the former is described as full of war, violence

and injustice; whereas the latter is pointed out to us, as the most

charming and most peaceable condition, that can possibly be imagined.

The seasons, in that first age of nature, were so temperate, if we

may believe the poets, that there was no necessity for men to provide

themselves with cloaths and houses as a security against the violence

of heat and cold. The rivers flowed with wine and milk: The oaks yielded

honey; and nature spontaneously produced her greatest delicacies.

Nor were these the chief advantages of that happy age. The storms and

tempests were not alone removed from nature; but those more furious

tempests were unknown to human breasts, which now cause such uproar, and

engender such confusion. Avarice, ambition, cruelty, selfishness, were

never heard of: Cordial affection, compassion, sympathy, were the

only movements, with which the human mind was yet acquainted. Even

the distinction of mine and thine was banished from that happy race

of mortals, and carryed with them the very notions of property and

obligation, justice and injustice.

This, no doubt, is to be regarded as an idle fiction; but yet deserves

our attention, because nothing can more evidently shew the origin of

those virtues, which are the subjects of our present enquiry. I have

already observed, that justice takes its rise from human conventions;

and that these are intended as a remedy to some inconveniences, which

proceed from the concurrence of certain qualities of the human mind

with the situation of external objects. The qualities of the mind

are selfishness and limited generosity: And the situation of external

objects is their easy change, joined to their scarcity in comparison

of the wants and desires of men. But however philosophers may have

been bewildered in those speculations, poets have been guided more

infallibly, by a certain taste or common instinct, which in most kinds

of reasoning goes farther than any of that art and philosophy, with

which we have been yet acquainted. They easily perceived, if every man

had a tender regard for another, or if nature supplied abundantly all

our wants and desires, that the jealousy of interest, which justice

supposes, could no longer have place; nor would there be any occasion

for those distinctions and limits of property and possession, which at

present are in use among mankind. Encrease to a sufficient degree the

benevolence of men, or the bounty of nature, and you render justice

useless, by supplying its place with much nobler virtues, and more

valuable blessings. The selfishness of men is animated by the few

possessions we have, in proportion to our wants; and it is to restrain

this selfishness, that men have been obliged to separate themselves from

the community, and to distinguish betwixt their own goods and those of

others.

Nor need we have recourse to the fictions of poets to learn this; but

beside the reason of the thing, may discover the same truth by common

experience and observation. It is easy to remark, that a cordial

affection renders all things common among friends; and that married

people in particular mutually lose their property, and are unacquainted

with the mine and thine, which are so necessary, and yet cause such

disturbance in human society. The same effect arises from any alteration

in the circumstances of mankind; as when there is such a plenty of any

thing as satisfies all the desires of men: In which case the distinction

of property is entirely lost, and every thing remains in common. This

we may observe with regard to air and water, though the most valuable of

all external objects; and may easily conclude, that if men were supplied

with every thing in the same abundance, or if every one had the same

affection and tender regard for every one as for himself; justice and

injustice would be equally unknown among mankind.

Here then is a proposition, which, I think, may be regarded as certain,

that it is only from the selfishness and confined generosity of men,

along with the scanty provision nature has made for his wants, that

justice derives its origin. If we look backward we shall find, that this

proposition bestows an additional force on some of those observations,

which we have already made on this subject.

First, we may conclude from it, that a regard to public interest, or a

strong extensive benevolence, is not our first and original motive for

the observation of the rules of justice; since it is allowed, that if

men were endowed with such a benevolence, these rules would never have

been dreamt of.

Secondly, we may conclude from the same principle, that the sense

of justice is not founded on reason, or on the discovery of certain

connexions and relations of ideas, which are eternal, immutable, and

universally obligatory. For since it is confest, that such an alteration

as that above-mentioned, in the temper and circumstances of mankind,

would entirely alter our duties and obligations, it is necessary upon

the common system, that the sense of virtue is derived from reason, to

shew the change which this must produce in the relations and ideas. But

it is evident, that the only cause, why the extensive generosity of man,

and the perfect abundance of every thing, would destroy the very idea of

justice, is because they render it useless; and that, on the other hand,

his confined benevolence, and his necessitous condition, give rise to

that virtue, only by making it requisite to the publick interest, and to

that of every individual. Twas therefore a concern for our own, and

the publick interest, which made us establish the laws of justice; and

nothing can be more certain, than that it is not any relation of ideas,

which gives us this concern, but our impressions and sentiments, without

which every thing in nature is perfectly indifferent to us, and can

never in the least affect us. The sense of justice, therefore, is not

founded on our ideas, but on our impressions.

Thirdly, we may farther confirm the foregoing proposition, THAT THOSE

IMPRESSIONS, WHICH GIVE RISE TO THIS SENSE OF JUSTICE, ARE NOT NATURAL

TO THE MIND OF MAN, BUT ARISE FROM ARTIFICE AND HUMAN CONVENTIONS. For

since any considerable alteration of temper and circumstances destroys

equally justice and injustice; and since such an alteration has an

effect only by changing our own and the publick interest; it follows,

that the first establishment of the rules of justice depends on these

different interests. But if men pursued the publick interest naturally,

and with a hearty affection, they would never have dreamed of

restraining each other by these rules; and if they pursued their own

interest, without any precaution, they would run head-long into every

kind of injustice and violence. These rules, therefore, are artificial,

and seek their end in an oblique and indirect manner; nor is the

interest, which gives rise to them, of a kind that could be pursued by

the natural and inartificial passions of men.

To make this more evident, consider, that though the rules of justice

are established merely by interest, their connexion with interest is

somewhat singular, and is different from what may be observed on other

occasions. A single act of justice is frequently contrary to public

interest; and were it to stand alone, without being followed by other

acts, may, in itself, be very prejudicial to society. When a man of

merit, of a beneficent disposition, restores a great fortune to a miser,

or a seditious bigot, he has acted justly and laudably, but the public

is a real sufferer. Nor is every single act of justice, considered

apart, more conducive to private interest, than to public; and it is

easily conceived how a man may impoverish himself by a signal instance

of integrity, and have reason to wish, that with regard to that single

act, the laws of justice were for a moment suspended in the universe.

But however single acts of justice may be contrary, either to public or

private interest, it is certain, that the whole plan or scheme is

highly conducive, or indeed absolutely requisite, both to the support

of society, and the well-being of every individual. It is impossible

to separate the good from the ill. Property must be stable, and must be

fixed by general rules. Though in one instance the public be a sufferer,

this momentary ill is amply compensated by the steady prosecution of the

rule, and by the peace and order, which it establishes in society. And

even every individual person must find himself a gainer, on ballancing

the account; since, without justice society must immediately dissolve,

and every one must fall into that savage and solitary condition, which

is infinitely worse than the worst situation that can possibly be

supposed in society. When therefore men have had experience enough

to observe, that whatever may be the consequence of any single act of

justice, performed by a single person, yet the whole system of actions,

concurred in by the whole society, is infinitely advantageous to the

whole, and to every part; it is not long before justice and property

take place. Every member of society is sensible of this interest: Every

one expresses this sense to his fellows, along with the resolution he

has taken of squaring his actions by it, on condition that others will

do the same. No more is requisite to induce any one of them to perform

an act of justice, who has the first opportunity. This becomes an

example to others. And thus justice establishes itself by a kind of

convention or agreement; that is, by a sense of interest, supposed to

be common to all, and where every single act is performed in expectation

that others are to perform the like. Without such a convention, no one

would ever have dreamed, that there was such a virtue as justice, or

have been induced to conform his actions to it. Taking any single act,

my justice may be pernicious in every respect; and it is only upon

the supposition that others are to imitate my example, that I can be

induced to embrace that virtue; since nothing but this combination can

render justice advantageous, or afford me any motives to conform my self

to its rules.

We come now to the second question we proposed, viz. Why we annex the

idea of virtue to justice, and of vice to injustice. This question

will not detain us long after the principles, which we have already

established, All we can say of it at present will be dispatched in a few

words: And for farther satisfaction, the reader must wait till we come

to the third part of this book. The natural obligation to justice, viz,

interest, has been fully explained; but as to the moral obligation, or

the sentiment of right and wrong, it will first be requisite to examine

the natural virtues, before we can give a full and satisfactory account

of it. After men have found by experience, that their selfishness and

confined generosity, acting at their liberty, totally incapacitate

them for society; and at the same time have observed, that society is

necessary to the satisfaction of those very passions, they are naturally

induced to lay themselves under the restraint of such rules, as may

render their commerce more safe and commodious. To the imposition then,

and observance of these rules, both in general, and in every particular

instance, they are at first induced only by a regard to interest; and

this motive, on the first formation of society, is sufficiently strong

and forcible. But when society has become numerous, and has encreased to

a tribe or nation, this interest is more remote; nor do men so readily

perceive, that disorder and confusion follow upon every breach of these

rules, as in a more narrow and contracted society. But though in our own

actions we may frequently lose sight of that interest, which we have in

maintaining order, and may follow a lesser and more present interest,

we never fail to observe the prejudice we receive, either mediately or

immediately, from the injustice of others; as not being in that case

either blinded by passion, or byassed by any contrary temptation.

Nay when the injustice is so distant from us, as no way to affect our

interest, it still displeases us; because we consider it as prejudicial

to human society, and pernicious to every one that approaches the person

guilty of it. We partake of their uneasiness by sympathy; and as every

thing, which gives uneasiness in human actions, upon the general survey,

is called Vice, and whatever produces satisfaction, in the same manner,

is denominated Virtue; this is the reason why the sense of moral good

and evil follows upon justice and injustice. And though this sense,

in the present case, be derived only from contemplating the actions

of others, yet we fail not to extend it even to our own actions. The

general rule reaches beyond those instances, from which it arose; while

at the same time we naturally sympathize with others in the sentiments

they entertain of us. Thus self-interest is the original motive to the

establishment of justice: but a sympathy with public interest is the

source of the moral approbation, which attends that virtue.

Though this progress of the sentiments be natural, and even necessary,

it is certain, that it is here forwarded by the artifice of politicians,

who, in order to govern men more easily, and preserve peace in human

society, have endeavoured to produce an esteem for justice, and an

abhorrence of injustice. This, no doubt, must have its effect; but

nothing can be more evident, than that the matter has been carryed too

far by certain writers on morals, who seem to have employed their

utmost efforts to extirpate all sense of virtue from among mankind.

Any artifice of politicians may assist nature in the producing of those

sentiments, which she suggests to us, and may even on some occasions,

produce alone an approbation or esteem for any particular action; but

it is impossible it should be the sole cause of the distinction we

make betwixt vice and virtue. For if nature did not aid us in this

particular, it would be in vain for politicians to talk of honourable or

dishonourable, praiseworthy or blameable. These words would be perfectly

unintelligible, and would no more have any idea annexed to them, than

if they were of a tongue perfectly unknown to us. The utmost politicians

can perform, is, to extend the natural sentiments beyond their original

bounds; but still nature must furnish the materials, and give us some

notion of moral distinctions.

As publick praise and blame encrease our esteem for justice; so private

education and instruction contribute to the same effect. For as parents

easily observe, that a man is the more useful, both to himself and

others, the greater degree of probity and honour he is endowed with;

and that those principles have greater force, when custom and education

assist interest and reflection: For these reasons they are induced to

inculcate on their children, from their earliest infancy, the principles

of probity, and teach them to regard the observance of those rules,

by which society is maintained, as worthy and honourable, and their

violation as base and infamous. By this means the sentiments of honour

may take root in their tender minds, and acquire such firmness and

solidity, that they may fall little short of those principles, which are

the most essential to our natures, and the most deeply radicated in our

internal constitution.

What farther contributes to encrease their solidity, is the interest

of our reputation, after the opinion, that a merit or demerit attends

justice or injustice, is once firmly established among mankind. There is

nothing, which touches us more nearly than our reputation, and nothing

on which our reputation more depends than our conduct, with relation to

the property of others. For this reason, every one, who has any regard

to his character, or who intends to live on good terms with mankind,

must fix an inviolable law to himself, never, by any temptation, to be

induced to violate those principles, which are essential to a man of

probity and honour.

I shall make only one observation before I leave this subject, viz, that

though I assert, that in the state of nature, or that imaginary state,

which preceded society, there be neither justice nor injustice, yet

I assert not, that it was allowable, in such a state, to violate the

property of others. I only maintain, that there was no such thing

as property; and consequently could be no such thing as justice or

injustice. I shall have occasion to make a similar reflection with

regard to promises, when I come to treat of them; and I hope this

reflection, when duly weighed, will suffice to remove all odium from the

foregoing opinions, with regard to justice and injustice.

SECT. III OF THE RULES WHICH DETERMINE PROPERTY

Though the establishment of the rule, concerning the stability of

possession, be not only useful, but even absolutely necessary to human

society, it can never serve to any purpose, while it remains in such

general terms. Some method must be shewn, by which we may distinguish

what particular goods are to be assigned to each particular person,

while the rest of mankind are excluded from their possession and

enjoyment. Our next business, then, must be to discover the reasons

which modify this general rule, and fit it to the common use and

practice of the world.

It is obvious, that those reasons are not derived from any utility or

advantage, which either the particular person or the public may reap

from his enjoyment of any particular goods, beyond what would result

from the possession of them by any other person. Twere better, no doubt,

that every one were possessed of what is most suitable to him, and

proper for his use: But besides, that this relation of fitness may be

common to several at once, it is liable to so many controversies, and

men are so partial and passionate in judging of these controversies,

that such a loose and uncertain rule would be absolutely incompatible

with the peace of human society. The convention concerning the stability

of possession is entered into, in order to cut off all occasions of

discord and contention; and this end would never be attained, were

we allowed to apply this rule differently in every particular case,

according to every particular utility, which might be discovered in such

an application. Justice, in her decisions, never regards the fitness or

unfitness of objects to particular persons, but conducts herself by more

extensive views. Whether a man be generous, or a miser, he is equally

well received by her, and obtains with the same facility a decision in

his favours, even for what is entirely useless to him.

It follows therefore, that the general rule, that possession must be

stable, is not applied by particular judgments, but by other general

rules, which must extend to the whole society, and be inflexible

either by spite or favour. To illustrate this, I propose the following

instance. I first consider men in their savage and solitary condition;

and suppose, that being sensible of the misery of that state, and

foreseeing the advantages that would result from society, they seek each

other's company, and make an offer of mutual protection and assistance.

I also suppose, that they are endowed with such sagacity as immediately

to perceive, that the chief impediment to this project of society and

partnership lies in the avidity and selfishness of their natural temper;

to remedy which, they enter into a convention for the stability of

possession, and for mutual restraint and forbearance. I am sensible,

that this method of proceeding is not altogether natural; but besides

that I here only suppose those reflections to be formed at once, which

in fact arise insensibly and by degrees; besides this, I say, it is very

possible, that several persons, being by different accidents separated

from the societies, to which they formerly belonged, may be obliged to

form a new society among themselves; in which case they are entirely in

the situation above-mentioned.

It is evident, then, that their first difficulty, in this situation,

after the general convention for the establishment of society, and for

the constancy of possession, is, how to separate their possessions,

and assign to each his particular portion, which he must for the future

inalterably enjoy. This difficulty will not detain them long; but it

must immediately occur to them, as the most natural expedient, that

every one continue to enjoy what he is at present master of, and

that property or constant possession be conjoined to the immediate

possession. Such is the effect of custom, that it not only reconciles

us to any thing we have long enjoyed, but even gives us an affection for

it, and makes us prefer it to other objects, which may be more valuable,

but are less known to us. What has long lain under our eye, and has

often been employed to our advantage, that we are always the most

unwilling to part with; but can easily live without possessions,

which we never have enjoyed, and are not accustomed to. It is evident,

therefore, that men would easily acquiesce in this expedient, that every

one continue to enjoy what he is at present possessed of; and this is

the reason, why they would so naturally agree in preferring it.[1]

[1] No questions in philosophy are more difficult, than when a

number of causes present themselves for the same phænomenon, to

determine which is the principal and predominant. There seldom is

any very precise argument to fix our choice, and men must be

contented to be guided by a kind of taste or fancy, arising from

analogy, and a comparison of familiar instances. Thus, in the

present case, there are, no doubt, motives of public interest for

most of the rules, which determine property; but still I suspect,

that these rules are principally fixed by the imagination, or the

more frivolous properties of our thought and conception. I shall

continue to explain these causes, leaving it to the reader's

choice, whether he will prefer those derived from publick utility,

or those derived from the imagination. We shall begin with the

right of the present possessor.

It is a quality, which I have already observed in human nature,

that when two objects appear in a close relation to each other, the

mind is apt to ascribe to them any additional relation, in order to

compleat the union; and this inclination is so strong, as often to

make us run into errors (such as that of the conjunction of thought

and matter) if we find that they can serve to that purpose. Many of

our impressions are incapable of place or local position; and yet

those very impressions we suppose to have a local conjunction with

the impressions of sight and touch, merely because they are

conjoined by causation, and are already united in the imagination.

Since, therefore, we can feign a new relation, and even an absurd

one, in order to compleat any union, it will easily be imagined,

that if there be any relations, which depend on the mind, it will

readily conjoin them to any preceding relation, and unite, by a new

bond, such objects as have already an union in the fancy. Thus for

instance, we never fail, in our arrangement of bodies, to place

those which are resembling in contiguity to each other, or at least

in correspondent points of view; because we feel a satisfaction in

joining the relation of contiguity to that of resemblance, or the

resemblance of situation to that of qualities. And this is easily

accounted for from the known properties of human nature. When the

mind is determined to join certain objects, but undetermined in its

choice of the particular objects, It naturally turns its eye to

such as are related together. They are already united in the mind:

They present themselves at the same time to the conception; and

instead of requiring any new reason for their conjunction, it would

require a very powerful reason to make us over-look this natural

affinity. This we shall have occasion to explain more fully

afterwards, when we come to treat of beauty. In the mean time, we

may content ourselves with observing, that the same love of order

and uniformity, which arranges the books in a library, and the

chairs in a parlour, contribute to the formation of society, and to

the well-being of mankind, by modifying the general rule concerning

the stability of possession. And as property forms a relation

betwixt a person and an object, it is natural to found it on some

preceding relation; and as property Is nothing but a constant

possession, secured by the laws of society, it is natural to add it

to the present possession, which is a relation that resembles it.

For this also has its influence. If it be natural to conjoin all

sorts of relations, it is more so, to conjoin such relations as are

resembling, and are related together.

But we may observe, that though the rule of the assignment of property

to the present possessor be natural, and by that means useful, yet its

utility extends not beyond the first formation of society; nor would any

thing be more pernicious, than the constant observance of it; by which

restitution would be excluded, and every injustice would be authorized

and rewarded. We must, therefore, seek for some other circumstance, that

may give rise to property after society is once established; and of

this kind, I find four most considerable, viz. Occupation, Prescription,

Accession, and Succession. We shall briefly examine each of these,

beginning with Occupation.

The possession of all external goods is changeable and uncertain; which

is one of the most considerable impediments to the establishment of

society, and is the reason why, by universal agreement, express or

tacite, men restrain themselves by what we now call the rules of justice

and equity. The misery of the condition, which precedes this restraint,

is the cause why we submit to that remedy as quickly as possible; and

this affords us an easy reason, why we annex the idea of property to the

first possession, or to occupation. Men are unwilling to leave property

in suspense, even for the shortest time, or open the least door to

violence and disorder. To which we may add, that the first possession

always engages the attention most; and did we neglect it, there would be

no colour of reason for assigning property to any succeeding

possession.[2]

[2] Some philosophers account for the right of occupation, by

saying, that every one has a property in his own labour; and when

he joins that labour to any thing, it gives him the property of the

whole: But, 1. There are several kinds of occupation, where we

cannot be said to join our labour to the object we acquire: As when

we possess a meadow by grazing our cattle upon it. 2. This accounts

for the matter by means of accession; which is taking a needless

circuit. 3. We cannot be said to join our labour to any thing but

in a figurative sense. Properly speaking, we only make an

alteration on it by our labour. This forms a relation betwixt us

and the object; and thence arises the property, according to the

preceding principles.

There remains nothing, but to determine exactly, what is meant by

possession; and this is not so easy as may at first sight be imagined.

We are said to be in possession of any thing, not only when we

immediately touch it, but also when we are so situated with respect

to it, as to have it in our power to use it; and may move, alter,

or destroy it, according to our present pleasure or advantage. This

relation, then, is a species of cause and effect; and as property is

nothing but a stable possession, derived from the rules of justice, or

the conventions of men, it is to be considered as the same species of

relation. But here we may observe, that as the power of using any object

becomes more or less certain, according as the interruptions we may meet

with are more or less probable; and as this probability may increase

by insensible degrees; it is in many cases impossible to determine when

possession begins or ends; nor is there any certain standard, by which

we can decide such controversies. A wild boar, that falls into our

snares, is deemed to be in our possession, if it be impossible for him

to escape. But what do we mean by impossible? How do we separate this

impossibility from an improbability? And how distinguish that exactly

from a probability? Mark the precise limits of the one and the other,

and shew the standard, by which we may decide all disputes that may

arise, and, as we find by experience, frequently do arise upon this

subject.[3]

[3] If we seek a solution of these difficulties in reason and

public interest, we never shall find satisfaction; and if we look

for it in the imagination, it is evident, that the qualities, which

operate upon that faculty, run so insensibly and gradually into

each other, that it is impossible to give them any precise bounds

or termination. The difficulties on this head must encrease, when

we consider, that our judgment alters very sensibly, according to

the subject, and that the same power and proximity will be deemed

possession in one case, which is not esteemed such in another. A

person, who has hunted a hare to the last degree of weariness,

would look upon it as an injustice for another to rush in before

him, and seize his prey. But the same person advancing to pluck an

apple, that hangs within his reach, has no reason to complain, if

another, more alert, passes him, and takes possession. What is the

reason of this difference, but that immobility, not being natural

to the hare, but the effect of industry, forms in that case a

strong relation with the hunter, which is wanting in the other?

Here then it appears, that a certain and infallible power of

enjoyment, without touch or some other sensible relation, often

produces not property: And I farther observe, that a sensible

relation, without any present power, is sometimes sufficient to

give a title to any object. The sight of a thing is seldom a

considerable relation, and is only regarded as such, when the

object is hidden, or very obscure; in which case we find, that the

view alone conveys a property; according to that maxim, THAT EVEN A

WHOLE CONTINENT BELONGS TO THE NATION, WHICH FIRST DISCOVERED IT.

It is however remarkable that both in the case of discovery and

that of possession, the first discoverer and possessor must join to

the relation an intention of rendering himself proprietor,

otherwise the relation will not have its effect; and that because

the connexion in our fancy betwixt the property and the relation is

not so great, but that it requires to be helped by such an

intention.

From all these circumstances, it is easy to see how perplexed many

questions may become concerning the acquisition of property by

occupation; and the least effort of thought may present us with

instances, which are not susceptible of any reasonable decision. If

we prefer examples, which are real, to such as are feigned, we may

consider the following one, which is to be met with in almost every

writer, that has treated of the laws of nature. Two Grecian

colonies, leaving their native country, in search of new feats,

were informed that a city near them was deserted by its

inhabitants. To know the truth of this report, they dispatched at

once two messengers, one from each colony; who finding on their

approach, that their information was true, begun a race together

with an intention to take possession of the city, each of them for

his countrymen. One of these messengers, finding that he was not an

equal match for the other, launched his spear at the gates of the

city, and was so fortunate as to fix it there before the arrival of

his companion. This produced a dispute betwixt the two colonies,

which of them was the proprietor of the empty city and this dispute

still subsists among philosophers. For my part I find the dispute

impossible to be decided, and that because the whole question hangs

upon the fancy, which in this case is not possessed of any precise

or determinate standard, upon which it can give sentence. To make

this evident, let us consider, that if these two persons had been

simply members of the colonies, and not messengers or deputies,

their actions would not have been of any consequence; since in that

case their relation to the colonies would have been but feeble and

imperfect. Add to this, that nothing determined them to run to the

gates rather than the walls, or any other part of the city, but

that the gates, being the most obvious and remarkable part, satisfy

the fancy best in taking them for the whole; as we find by the

poets, who frequently draw their images and metaphors from them.

Besides we may consider, that the touch or contact of the one

messenger is not properly possession, no more than the piercing the

gates with a spear; but only forms a relation; and there is a

relation, in the other case, equally obvious, tho' not, perhaps, of

equal force. Which of these relations, then, conveys a right and

property, or whether any of them be sufficient for that effect, I

leave to the decision of such as are wiser than myself.

But such disputes may not only arise concerning the real existence of

property and possession, but also concerning their extent; and these

disputes are often susceptible of no decision, or can be decided by no

other faculty than the imagination. A person who lands on the shore of

a small island, that is desart and uncultivated, is deemed its possessor

from the very first moment, and acquires the property of the whole;

because the object is there bounded and circumscribed in the fancy, and

at the same time is proportioned to the new possessor. The same person

landing on a desart island, as large as Great Britain, extends his

property no farther than his immediate possession; though a numerous

colony are esteemed the proprietors of the whole from the instant of

their debarkment.

But it often happens, that the title of first possession becomes obscure

through time; and that it is impossible to determine many controversies,

which may arise concerning it. In that case long possession or

prescription naturally takes place, and gives a person a sufficient

property in any thing he enjoys. The nature of human society admits not

of any great accuracy; nor can we always remount to the first origin of

things, in order to determine their present condition. Any considerable

space of time sets objects at such a distance, that they seem, in a

manner, to lose their reality, and have as little influence on the mind,

as if they never had been in being. A man's title, that is clear and

certain at present, will seem obscure and doubtful fifty years hence,

even though the facts, on which it is founded, should be proved with

the greatest evidence and certainty. The same facts have not the same

influence after so long an interval of time. And this may be received as

a convincing argument for our preceding doctrine with regard to property

and justice. Possession during a long tract of time conveys a title to

any object. But as it is certain, that, however every thing be produced

in time, there is nothing real that is produced by time; it follows,

that property being produced by time, is not any thing real in the

objects, but is the off-spring of the sentiments, on which alone time is

found to have any influence.[4]

[4] Present possession is plainly a relation betwixt a person and

an object; but is not sufficient to counter-ballance the relation

of first possession, unless the former be long and uninterrupted:

In which case the relation is encreased on the side of the present

possession, by the extent of time, and diminished on that of first

possession, by the distance, This change in the relation produces a

consequent change in the property.

We acquire the property of objects by accession, when they are

connected in an intimate manner with objects that are already our

property, and at the same time are inferior to them. Thus the fruits of

our garden, the offspring of our cattle, and the work of our slaves,

are all of them esteemed our property, even before possession. Where

objects are connected together in the imagination, they are apt to be

put on the same footing, and are commonly supposed to be endowed with

the same qualities. We readily pass from one to the other, and make no

difference in our judgments concerning them; especially if the latter

be inferior to the former.[5]

[5] This source of property can never be explained but from the

imaginations; and one may affirm, that the causes are here unmixed.

We shall proceed to explain them more particularly, and illustrate

them by examples from common life and experience.

It has been observed above, that the mind has a natural propensity

to join relations, especially resembling ones, and finds a hind of

fitness and uniformity in such an union. From this propensity are

derived these laws of nature, that upon the first formation of

society, property always follows the present possession; and

afterwards, that it arises from first or from long possession. Now

we may easily observe, that relation is not confined merely to one

degree; but that from an object, that is related to us, we acquire

a relation to every other object, which is related to it, and so

on, till the thought loses the chain by too long a progress,

However the relation may weaken by each remove, it is not

immediately destroyed; but frequently connects two objects by means

of an intermediate one, which is related to both. And this

principle is of such force as to give rise to the right of

accession, and causes us to acquire the property not only of such

objects as we are immediately possessed of; but also of such as are

closely connected with them.

Suppose a German, a Frenchman, and a Spaniard to come into a room,

where there are placed upon the table three bottles of wine,

Rhenish, Burgundy and Port; and suppose they shoued fall a

quarrelling about the division of them; a person, who was chosen

for umpire would naturally, to shew his impartiality, give every

one the product of his own country: And this from a principle,

which, in some measure, is the source of those laws of nature, that

ascribe property to occupation, prescription and accession.

In all these Cases, and particularly that of accession, there is

first a natural union betwixt the idea of the person and that of

the object, and afterwards a new and moral union produced by that

right or property, which we ascribe to the person. But here there

occurs a difficulty, which merits our attention, and may afford us

an opportunity of putting to tryal that singular method of

reasoning, which has been employed on the present subject. I have

already observed that the imagination passes with greater facility

from little to great, than from great to little, and that the

transition of ideas is always easier and smoother in the former

case than in the latter. Now as the right of accession arises from

the easy transition of ideas, by which related objects are

connected together, it shoued naturally be imagined, that the right

of accession must encrease in strength, in proportion as the

transition of ideas is performed with greater facility. It may,

therefore, be thought, that when we have acquired the property of

any small object, we shall readily consider any great object

related to it as an accession, and as belonging to the proprietor

of the small one; since the transition is in that case very easy

from the small object to the great one, and shoued connect them

together in the closest manner. But In fact the case is always

found to be otherwise, The empire of Great Britain seems to draw

along with it the dominion of the Orkneys, the Hebrides, the isle

of Man, and the Isle of Wight; but the authority over those lesser

islands does not naturally imply any title to Great Britain. In

short, a small object naturally follows a great one as its

accession; but a great one Is never supposed to belong to the

proprietor of a small one related to it, merely on account of that

property and relation. Yet in this latter case the transition of

ideas is smoother from the proprietor to the small object, which is

his property, and from the small object to the great one, than in

the former case from the proprietor to the great object, and from

the great one to the small. It may therefore be thought, that these

phaenomena are objections to the foregoing hypothesis, THAT THE

ASCRIBING OF PROPERTY TO ACCESSION IS NOTHING BUT AN AFFECT OF THE

RELATIONS OF IDEAS, AND OF THE SMOOTH TRANSITION OF THE

IMAGINATION.

It will be easy to solve this objection, if we consider the agility

and unsteadiness of the imagination, with the different views, in

which it is continually placing its objects. When we attribute to a

person a property in two objects, we do not always pass from the

person to one object, and from that to the other related to it. The

objects being here to be considered as the property of the person,

we are apt to join them together, and place them in the same light.

Suppose, therefore, a great and a small object to be related

together; if a person be strongly related to the great object, he

will likewise be strongly related to both the objects, considered

together, because he Is related to the most considerable part. On

the contrary, if he be only related to the small object, he will

not be strongly related to both, considered together, since his

relation lies only with the most trivial part, which is not apt to

strike us in any great degree, when we consider the whole. And this

Is the reason, why small objects become accessions to great ones,

and not great to small.

It is the general opinion of philosophers and civilians, that the

sea is incapable of becoming the property of any nation; and that

because it is impossible to take possession of it, or form any such

distinct relation with it, as may be the foundation of property.

Where this reason ceases, property immediately takes place. Thus

the most strenuous advocates for the liberty of the seas

universally allow, that friths and hays naturally belong as an

accession to the proprietors of the surrounding continent. These

have properly no more bond or union with the land, than the pacific

ocean would have; but having an union in the fancy, and being at

the same time inferior, they are of course regarded as an

accession.

The property of rivers, by the laws of most nations, and by the

natural turn of our thought, Is attributed to the proprietors of

their banks, excepting such vast rivers as the Rhine or the Danube,

which seem too large to the imagination to follow as an accession

the property of the neighbouring fields. Yet even these rivers are

considered as the property of that nation, thro' 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 lands 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 mightily assist the imagination in the

conjunction. Where there Is any considerable portion torn at once

from one bank, and joined to another, it becomes not his property,

whose land it falls on, till it unite with the land, and till the

trees or plants have spread their roots into both. Before that, the

imagination does not sufficiently join them.

There are other cases, which somewhat resemble this of accession,

but which, at the bottom, are considerably different, and merit our

attention. Of this kind Is the conjunction of the properties of

different persons, after such a manner as not to admit of

separation. The question is, to whom the united mass must belong.

Where this conjunction is of such a nature as to admit of division,

but not of separation, the decision is natural and easy. The whole

mass must be supposed to be common betwixt the proprietors of the

several parts, and afterwards must be divided according to the

proportions of these parts. But here I cannot forbear taking notice

of a remarkable subtilty of the Roman law, in distinguishing

betwixt confusion and commixtion. Confusion is an union of two

bodies, such as different liquors, where the parts become entirely

undistinguishable. Commixtion is the blending of two bodies, such

as two bushels of corn, where the parts remain separate in an

obvious and visible manner. As in the latter case the imagination

discovers not so entire an union as in the former, but is able to

trace and preserve a distinct idea of the property of each; this is

the reason, why the civil law, tho' it established an entire

community in the case of confusion, and after that a proportional

division, yet in the case of commixtion, supposes each of the

proprietors to maintain a distinct right; however necessity may at

last force them to submit to the same division.

QUOD SI FRUMENTUM TITII FRUMENTO TUO MISTUM FUERIT: SIQUIDEM EX

VOLUNTATE VESTRA, COMMUNE EST: QUIA SINGULA CORPORA, ID EST,

SINGULA GRANA, QUAE CUJUSQUE PRO PRIA FUERUNT, EX CONSENSU VESTRO

COMMUNICATA SUNT. QUOD SI CASU ID MISTUM FUERIT, VEL TITIUS ID

MISCUERIT SINE TUA VOLUNT ATE, NON VIDETUR ID COMMUNE ESSE; QUIA

SINGULA CORPORA IN SUA SUBSTANTIA DURANT. SED NEC MAGIS ISTIS

CASIBUS COMMUNE SIT FRUMENTUM QUAM GREX INTELLIGITUR ESSE CORN

MUNIS, SI PECORA TITII TUIS PECORIBUS MISTA FUERINT. SED SI AB

ALTERUTRO VESTRUM TOTUM ID FRUMENTUM RETINEATUR, IN REM QUIDEM

ACTIO PRO MODO FRUMENTI CUJUSQUE CORN PETIT. ARBITRIO AUTEM

JUDICIS, UT IPSE AESTIMET QUALE CUJUSQUE FRUMENTUM FUERIT. Inst.

Lib. IL Tit. i. Sect 28.

(In the case that your grain was mixed with that of Titius, if it

was done voluntarily on the part of both of you, it is common

property, inasmuch as the individual items, i.e., the single

grains, which were the peculiar property of either of you, were

combined with your joint consent. If, however, the mixture was

accidental, or if Titius mixed it without your consent, it does not

appear that it is common property, Inasmuch as the several

components retain their original identity. Rather, in circumstances

of this sort the grain does not become common property, any more

than a herd of cattle is regarded as common property, If Titius

beasts should have become mixed up with yours.

However, if all of the aforesaid corn is kept by either of you,

this gives rise to a suit to determine the ownership of property,

in respect of the amount of corn belonging to each. It is in the

discretion of the judge to determine which is the corn belonging to

either party.)

Where the properties of two persons are united after such a manner

as neither to admit of division nor separation, as when one builds

a house on another's ground, in that case, the whole must belong to

one of the proprietors: And here I assert, that it naturally is

conceived to belong to the proprietor of the most considerable

part. For however the compound object may have a relation to two

different persons, and carry our view at once to both of them, yet

as the most considerable part principally engages our attention,

and by the strict union draws the inferior along it; for this

reason, the whole bears a relation to the proprietor of that part,

and is regarded as his property. The only difficulty is, what we

shall be pleased to call the most considerable part, and most

attractive to the imagination.

This quality depends on several different circumstances, which have

little connexion with each other. One part of a compound object may

become more considerable than another, either because it is more

constant and durable; because it is of greater value; because it is

more obvious and remarkable; because it is of greater extent; or

because its existence is more separate and independent. It will be

easy to conceive, that, as these circumstances may be conjoined and

opposed in all the different ways, and according to all the

different degrees, which can be imagined, there will result many

cases, where the reasons on both sides are so equally balanced,

that it is impossible for us to give any satisfactory decision.

Here then is the proper business of municipal laws, to fix what the

principles of human nature have left undetermined.

The superficies yields to the soil, says the civil law: The writing

to the paper: The canvas to the picture. These decisions do not

well agree together, and are a proof of the contrariety of those

principles, from which they are derived.

But of all the questions of this kind the most curious is that,

which for so many ages divided the disciples of Proculus and

Sabinus. Suppose a person shoued make a cup from the metal of

another, or a ship from his wood, and suppose the proprietor of the

metal or wood shoued demand his goods, the question is, whether he

acquires a title to the cup or ship. Sabinus maintained the

affirmative, and asserted that the substance or matter is the

foundation of all the qualities; that it is incorruptible and

immortal, and therefore superior to the form, which is casual and

dependent. On the other hand, Proculus observed, that the form is

the most obvious and remarkable part, and that from it bodies are

denominated of this or that particular species. To which he might

have added, that the matter or substance is in most bodies so

fluctuating and uncertain, that it is utterly impossible to trace

it in all its changes. For my part, I know not from what principles

such a controversy can be certainly determined. I shall therefore

content my self with observing, that the decision of Trebonian

seems to me pretty ingenious; that the cup belongs to the

proprietor of the metal, because it can be brought back to its

first form: But that the ship belongs to the author of its form for

a contrary reason. But however ingenious this reason may seem, it

plainly depends upon the fancy, which by the possibility of such a

reduction, finds a closer connexion and relation betwixt a cup and

the proprietor of its metal, than betwixt a ship and the proprietor

of its wood, where the substance is more fixed and unalterable.

The right of succession is a very natural one, from the presumed

consent of the parent or near relation, and from the general interest

of mankind, which requires, that men's possessions should pass to those,

who are dearest to them, in order to render them more industrious and

frugal. Perhaps these causes are seconded by the influence of relation,

or the association of ideas, by which we are naturally directed to

consider the son after the parent's decease, and ascribe to him a title

to his father's possessions. Those goods must become the property of

some body: But of whom is the question. Here it is evident the persons

children naturally present themselves to the mind; and being already.

connected to those possessions by means of their deceased parent, we are

apt to connect them still farther by the relation of property. Of this

there are many parallel instances.[6]

[6] In examining the different titles to authority in government,

we shall meet with many reasons to convince us, that the right of

succession depends, in a great measure on the imagination. Mean

while I shall rest contented with observing one example, which

belongs to the present subject. Suppose that a person die without

children, and that a dispute arises among his relations concerning

his inheritance; it is evident, that if his riches be deriv'd

partly from his father, partly from his mother, the most natural

way of determining such a dispute, is, to divide his possessions,

and assign each part to the family, from whence it is deriv'd. Now

as the person is suppos'd to have been once the full and entire

proprietor of those goods; I ask, what is it makes us find a

certain equity and natural reason in this partition, except it be

the imagination? His affection to these families does not depend

upon his possessions; for which reason his consent can never be

presum'd precisely for such a partition. And as to the public

interest, it seems not to be in the least concern'd on the one side

or the other.

SECT. IV OF THE TRANSFERENCE OF PROPERTY BY CONSENT

However useful, or even necessary, the stability of possession may be to

human society, it is attended with very considerable inconveniences.

The relation of fitness or suitableness ought never to enter into

consideration, in distributing the properties of mankind; but we must

govern ourselves by rules, which are more general in their application,

and more free from doubt and uncertainty. Of this kind is present

possession upon the first establishment of society; and afterwards

occupation, prescription, accession, and succession. As these depend

very much on chance, they must frequently prove contradictory both to

men's wants and desires; and persons and possessions must often be very

ill adjusted. This is a grand inconvenience, which calls for a remedy.

To apply one directly, and allow every man to seize by violence what he

judges to be fit for him, would destroy society; and therefore the

rules of justice seek some medium betwixt a rigid stability, and this

changeable and uncertain adjustment. But there is no medium better than

that obvious one, that possession and property should always be stable,

except when the proprietor consents to bestow them on some other

person. This rule can have no ill consequence, in occasioning wars and

dissentions; since the proprietor's consent, who alone is concerned, is

taken along in the alienation: And it may serve to many good purposes

in adjusting property to persons. Different parts of the earth produce

different commodities; and not only so, but different men both are

by nature fitted for different employments, and attain to greater

perfection in any one, when they confine themselves to it alone. All

this requires a mutual exchange and commerce; for which reason the

translation of property by consent is founded on a law of nature, as

well as its stability without such a consent.