from more trivial reasons, that delivery, or a sensible transference of
the object is commonly required by civil laws, and also by the laws of
nature, according to most authors, as a requisite circumstance in the
translation of property. The property of an object, when taken for
something real, without any reference to morality, or the sentiments of
the mind, is a quality perfectly insensible, and even inconceivable; nor
can we form any distinct notion, either of its stability or translation.
This imperfection of our ideas is less sensibly felt with regard to its
stability, as it engages less our attention, and is easily past over by
the mind, without any scrupulous examination. But as the translation
of property from one person to another is a more remarkable event, the
defect of our ideas becomes more sensible on that occasion, and obliges
us to turn ourselves on every side in search of some remedy. Now as
nothing more enlivens any idea than a present impression, and a relation
betwixt that impression and the idea; it is natural for us to seek
some false light from this quarter. In order to aid the imagination in
conceiving the transference of property, we take the sensible object,
and actually transfer its possession to the person, on whom we would
bestow the property. The supposed resemblance of the actions, and the
presence of this sensible delivery, deceive the mind, and make it fancy,
that it conceives the mysterious transition of the property. And that
this explication of the matter is just, appears hence, that men have
invented a symbolical delivery, to satisfy the fancy, where the real one
is impracticable. Thus the giving the keys of a granary is understood
to be the delivery of the corn contained in it: The giving of stone
and earth represents the delivery of a manor. This is a kind of
superstitious practice in civil laws, and in the laws of nature,
resembling the Roman catholic superstitions in religion. As the Roman
catholics represent the inconceivable mysteries of the Christian
religion, and render them more present to the mind, by a taper, or
habit, or grimace, which is supposed to resemble them; so lawyers and
moralists have run into like inventions for the same reason, and
have endeavoured by those means to satisfy themselves concerning the
transference of property by consent.
SECT. V OF THE OBLIGATION OF PROMISES
That the rule of morality, which enjoins the performance of promises, is
not natural, will sufficiently appear from these two propositions,
which I proceed to prove, viz, that a promise would not be intelligible,
before human conventions had established it; and that even if it were
intelligible, it would not be attended with any moral obligation.
I say, first, that a promise is not intelligible naturally, nor
antecedent to human conventions; and that a man, unacquainted with
society, could never enter into any engagements with another, even
though they could perceive each other's thoughts by intuition. If
promises be natural and intelligible, there must be some act of the mind
attending these words, I promise; and on this act of the mind must the
obligation depend. Let us, therefore, run over all the faculties of the
soul, and see which of them is exerted in our promises.
The act of the mind, exprest by a promise, is not a resolution to
perform any thing: For that alone never imposes any obligation. Nor is
it a desire of such a performance: For we may bind ourselves without
such a desire, or even with an aversion, declared and avowed. Neither
is it the willing of that action, which we promise to perform: For a
promise always regards some future time, and the will has an influence
only on present actions. It follows, therefore, that since the act of
the mind, which enters into a promise, and produces its obligation, is
neither the resolving, desiring, nor willing any particular performance,
it must necessarily be the willing of that obligation, which arises
from the promise. Nor is this only a conclusion of philosophy; but is
entirely conformable to our common ways of thinking and of expressing
ourselves, when we say that we are bound by our own consent, and that
the obligation arises from our mere will and pleasure. The only question
then is, whether there be not a manifest absurdity in supposing this
act of the mind, and such an absurdity as no man could fall into,
whose ideas are not confounded with prejudice and the fallacious use of
language.
All morality depends upon our sentiments; and when any action, or
quality of the mind, pleases us after a certain manner, we say it is
virtuous; and when the neglect, or nonperformance of it, displeases us
after a like manner, we say that we lie under an obligation to perform
it. A change of the obligation supposes a change of the sentiment; and
a creation of a new obligation supposes some new sentiment to arise. But
it is certain we can naturally no more change our own sentiments, than
the motions of the heavens; nor by a single act of our will, that is,
by a promise, render any action agreeable or disagreeable, moral
or immoral; which, without that act, would have produced contrary
impressions, or have been endowed with different qualities. It would
be absurd, therefore, to will any new obligation, that is, any new
sentiment of pain or pleasure; nor is it possible, that men could
naturally fall into so gross an absurdity. A promise, therefore, is
naturally something altogether unintelligible, nor is there any act of
the mind belonging to it.[7]
[7] Were morality discoverable by reason, and not by sentiment, it
would be still more evident, that promises cou'd make no alteration
upon it. Morality is suppos'd to consist in relation. Every new
imposition of morality, therefore, must arise from some new
relation of objects; and consequently the will could not produce
immediately any change in morals, but cou'd have that effect only
by producing a change upon the objects. But as the moral obligation
of a promise is the pure effect of the will, without the least
change in any part of the universe; it follows, that promises have
no natural obligation.
Shou'd it be said, that this act of the will being in effect a new
object, produces new relations and new duties; I wou'd answer, that
this is a pure sophism, which may be detected by a very moderate
share of accuracy and exactness. To will a new obligation, is to
will a new relation of objects; and therefore, if this new relation
of objects were form'd by the volition itself, we should in effect
will the volition; which is plainly absurd and impossible. The will
has here no object to which it cou'd tend; but must return upon
itself in infinitum. The new obligation depends upon new relations.
The new relations depend upon a new volition. The new volition has
for object a new obligation, and consequently new relations, and
consequently a new volition; which volition again has in view a new
obligation, relation and volition, without any termination. It is
impossible, therefore, we cou'd ever will a new obligation; and
consequently it is impossible the will cou'd ever accompany a
promise, or produce a new obligation of morality.
But, secondly, if there was any act of the mind belonging to it, it
could not naturally produce any obligation. This appears evidently
from the foregoing reasoning. A promise creates a new obligation. A new
obligation supposes new sentiments to arise. The will never creates new
sentiments. There could not naturally, therefore, arise any obligation
from a promise, even supposing the mind could fall into the absurdity of
willing that obligation.
The same truth may be proved still more evidently by that reasoning,
which proved justice in general to be an artificial virtue. No action
can be required of us as our duty, unless there be implanted in
human nature some actuating passion or motive, capable of producing
the action. This motive cannot be the sense of duty. A sense of
duty supposes an antecedent obligation: And where an action is not
required by any natural passion, it cannot be required by any natural
obligation; since it may be omitted without proving any defect or
imperfection in the mind and temper, and consequently without any vice.
Now it is evident we have no motive leading us to the performance of
promises, distinct from a sense of duty. If we thought, that promises
had no moral obligation, we never should feel any inclination to
observe them. This is not the case with the natural virtues. Though
there was no obligation to relieve the miserable, our humanity would
lead us to it; and when we omit that duty, the immorality of the
omission arises from its being a proof, that we want the natural
sentiments of humanity. A father knows it to be his duty to take care
of his children: But he has also a natural inclination to it. And if
no human creature had that inclination, no one could lie under any
such obligation. But as there is naturally no inclination to observe
promises, distinct from a sense of their obligation; it follows,
that fidelity is no natural virtue, and that promises have no force,
antecedent to human conventions.
If any one dissent from this, he must give a regular proof of these two
propositions, viz. THAT THERE IS A PECULIAR ACT OF THE MIND, ANNEXT TO
PROMISES; AND THAT CONSEQUENT TO THIS ACT OF THE MIND, THERE ARISES AN
INCLINATION TO PERFORM, DISTINCT FROM A SENSE OF DUTY. I presume, that
it is impossible to prove either of these two points; and therefore I
venture to conclude that promises are human inventions, founded on the
necessities and interests of society.
In order to discover these necessities and interests, we must consider
the same qualities of human nature, which we have already found to give
rise to the preceding laws of society. Men being naturally selfish, or
endowed only with a confined generosity, they are not easily induced to
perform any action for the interest of strangers, except with a view to
some reciprocal advantage, which they had no hope of obtaining but by
such a performance. Now as it frequently happens, that these mutual
performances cannot be finished at the same instant, it is necessary,
that one party be contented to remain in uncertainty, and depend
upon the gratitude of the other for a return of kindness. But so much
corruption is there among men, that, generally speaking, this becomes
but a slender security; and as the benefactor is here supposed to bestow
his favours with a view to self-interest, this both takes off from the
obligation, and sets an example to selfishness, which is the true mother
of ingratitude. Were we, therefore, to follow the natural course of our
passions and inclinations, we should perform but few actions for the
advantage of others, from distinterested views; because we are naturally
very limited in our kindness and affection: And we should perform as few
of that kind, out of a regard to interest; because we cannot depend upon
their gratitude. Here then is the mutual commerce of good offices in a
manner lost among mankind, and every one reduced to his own skill and
industry for his well-being and subsistence. The invention of the law of
nature, concerning the stability of possession, has already rendered
men tolerable to each other; that of the transference of property and
possession by consent has begun to render them mutually advantageous:
But still these laws of nature, however strictly observed, are not
sufficient to render them so serviceable to each other, as by nature
they are fitted to become. Though possession be stable, men may often
reap but small advantage from it, while they are possessed of a greater
quantity of any species of goods than they have occasion for, and at the
same time suffer by the want of others. The transference of property,
which is the proper remedy for this inconvenience, cannot remedy it
entirely; because it can only take place with regard to such objects as
are present and individual, but not to such as are absent or general.
One cannot transfer the property of a particular house, twenty leagues
distant; because the consent cannot be attended with delivery, which is
a requisite circumstance. Neither can one transfer the property of ten
bushels of corn, or five hogsheads of wine, by the mere expression
and consent; because these are only general terms, and have no direct
relation to any particular heap of corn, or barrels of wine. Besides,
the commerce of mankind is not confined to the barter of commodities,
but may extend to services and actions, which we may exchange to our
mutual interest and advantage. Your corn is ripe to-day; mine will be
so tomorrow. It is profitable for us both, that I should labour with
you to-day, and that you should aid me to-morrow. I have no kindness for
you, and know you have as little for me. I will not, therefore, take
any pains upon your account; and should I labour with you upon my own
account, in expectation of a return, I know I should be disappointed,
and that I should in vain depend upon your gratitude. Here then I
leave you to labour alone: You treat me in the same manner. The seasons
change; and both of us lose our harvests for want of mutual confidence
and security.
All this is the effect of the natural and inherent principles and
passions of human nature; and as these passions and principles are
inalterable, it may be thought, that our conduct, which depends on them,
must be so too, and that it would be in vain, either for moralists or
politicians, to tamper with us, or attempt to change the usual course of
our actions, with a view to public interest. And indeed, did the success
of their designs depend upon their success in correcting the selfishness
and ingratitude of men, they would never make any progress, unless aided
by omnipotence, which is alone able to new-mould the human mind, and
change its character in such fundamental articles. All they can pretend
to, is, to give a new direction to those natural passions, and teach us
that we can better satisfy our appetites in an oblique and artificial
manner, than by their headlong and impetuous motion. Hence I learn to do
a service to another, without bearing him any real kindness; because I
forsee, that he will return my service, in expectation of another of
the same kind, and in order to maintain the same correspondence of good
offices with me or with others. And accordingly, after I have served
him, and he is in possession of the advantage arising from my action,
he is induced to perform his part, as foreseeing the consequences of his
refusal.
But though this self-interested commerce of man begins to take place,
and to predominate in society, it does not entirely abolish the more
generous and noble intercourse of friendship and good offices. I may
still do services to such persons as I love, and am more particularly
acquainted with, without any prospect of advantage; and they may make me
a return in the same manner, without any view but that of recompensing
my past services. In order, therefore, to distinguish those two
different sorts of commerce, the interested and the disinterested, there
is a certain form of words invented for the former, by which we
bind ourselves to the performance of any action. This form of words
constitutes what we call a promise, which is the sanction of the
interested commerce of mankind. When a man says he promises any thing,
he in effect expresses a resolution of performing it; and along with
that, by making use of this form of words, subjects himself to the
penalty of never being trusted again in case of failure. A resolution is
the natural act of the mind, which promises express: But were there
no more than a resolution in the case, promises would only declare our
former motives, and would not create any new motive or obligation. They
are the conventions of men, which create a new motive, when experience
has taught us, that human affairs would be conducted much more for
mutual advantage, were there certain symbols or signs instituted,
by which we might give each, other security of our conduct in any
particular incident, After these signs are instituted, whoever uses them
is immediately bound by his interest to execute his engagements, and
must never expect to be trusted any more, if he refuse to perform what
he promised.
Nor is that knowledge, which is requisite to make mankind sensible
of this interest in the institution and observance of promises, to be
esteemed superior to the capacity of human nature, however savage and
uncultivated. There needs but a very little practice of the world, to
make us perceive all these consequences and advantages. The shortest
experience of society discovers them to every mortal; and when each
individual perceives the same sense of interest in all his fellows, he
immediately performs his part of any contract, as being assured, that
they will not be wanting in theirs. All of them, by concert, enter into
a scheme of actions, calculated for common benefit, and agree to be true
to their word; nor is there any thing requisite to form this concert or
convention, but that every one have a sense of interest in the faithful
fulfilling of engagements, and express that sense to other members of
the society. This immediately causes that interest to operate upon them;
and interest is the first obligation to the performance of promises.
Afterwards a sentiment of morals concurs with interest, and becomes
a new obligation upon mankind. This sentiment of morality, in the
performance of promises, arises from the same principles as that in the
abstinence from the property of others. Public interest, education, and
the artifices of politicians, have the same effect in both cases. The
difficulties, that occur to us, in supposing a moral obligation
to attend promises, we either surmount or elude. For instance; the
expression of a resolution is not commonly supposed to be obligatory;
and we cannot readily conceive how the making use of a certain form of
words should be able to cause any material difference. Here, therefore,
we feign a new act of the mind, which we call the willing an obligation;
and on this we suppose the morality to depend. But we have proved
already, that there is no such act of the mind, and consequently that
promises impose no natural obligation.
To confirm this, we may subjoin some other reflections concerning
that will, which is supposed to enter into a promise, and to cause its
obligation. It is evident, that the will alone is never supposed to
cause the obligation, but must be expressed by words or signs, in order
to impose a tye upon any man. The expression being once brought in as
subservient to the will, soon becomes the principal part of the promise;
nor will a man be less bound by his word, though he secretly give a
different direction to his intention, and with-hold himself both from
a resolution, and from willing an obligation. But though the expression
makes on most occasions the whole of the promise, yet it does not always
so; and one, who should make use of any expression, of which he knows
not the meaning, and which he uses without any intention of binding
himself, would not certainly be bound by it. Nay, though he knows its
meaning, yet if he uses it in jest only, and with such signs as shew
evidently he has no serious intention of binding himself, he would not
lie under any obligation of performance; but it is necessary, that the
words be a perfect expression of the will, without any contrary signs.
Nay, even this we must not carry so far as to imagine, that one, whom,
by our quickness of understanding, we conjecture, from certain signs,
to have an intention of deceiving us, is not bound by his expression or
verbal promise, if we accept of it; but must limit this conclusion
to those cases, where the signs are of a different kind from those
of deceit. All these contradictions are easily accounted for, if the
obligation of promises be merely a human invention for the convenience
of society; but will never be explained, if it be something real and
natural, arising from any action of the mind or body.
I shall farther observe, that since every new promise imposes a new
obligation of morality on the person who promises, and since this new
obligation arises from his will; it is one of the most mysterious and
incomprehensible operations that can possibly be imagined, and may even
be compared to TRANSUBSTANTIATION, or HOLY ORDERS,[8] where a certain
form of words, along with a certain intention, changes entirely the
nature of an external object, and even of a human nature. But though
these mysteries be so far alike, it is very remarkable, that they
differ widely in other particulars, and that this difference may be
regarded as a strong proof of the difference of their origins. As the
obligation of promises is an invention for the interest of society, it
is warped into as many different forms as that interest requires, and
even runs into direct contradictions, rather than lose sight of its
object. But as those other monstrous doctines are mere priestly
inventions, and have no public interest in view, they are less
disturbed in their progress by new obstacles; and it must be owned,
that, after the first absurdity, they follow more directly the current
of reason and good sense. Theologians clearly perceived, that the
external form of words, being mere sound, require an intention to make
them have any efficacy; and that this intention being once considered
as a requisite circumstance, its absence must equally prevent the
effect, whether avowed or concealed, whether sincere or deceitful.
Accordingly they have commonly determined, that the intention of the
priest makes the sacrament, and that when he secretly withdraws his
intention, he is highly criminal in himself; but still destroys the
baptism, or communion, or holy orders. The terrible consequences of
this doctrine were not able to hinder its taking place; as the
inconvenience of a similar doctrine, with regard to promises, have
prevented that doctrine from establishing itself. Men are always more
concerned about the present life than the future; and are apt to think
the smallest evil, which regards the former, more important than the
greatest, which regards the latter.
[8] I mean so far, as holy orders are suppos'd to produce the
indelible character. In other respects they are only a legal
qualification.
We may draw the same conclusion, concerning the origin of promises, from
the force, which is supposed to invalidate all contracts, and to free us
from their obligation. Such a principle is a proof, that promises have
no natural obligation, and are mere artificial contrivances for the
convenience and advantage of society. If we consider aright of the
matter, force is not essentially different from any other motive of hope
or fear, which may induce us to engage our word, and lay ourselves under
any obligation. A man, dangerously wounded, who promises a competent
sum to a surgeon to cure him, would certainly be bound to performance;
though the case be not so much different from that of one, who promises
a sum to a robber, as to produce so great a difference in our sentiments
of morality, if these sentiments were not built entirely on public
interest and convenience.
SECT. VI SOME FARTHER REFLECTIONS CONCERNING JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE
We have now run over the three fundamental laws of nature, that of the
stability of possession, of its transference by consent, and of the
performance of promises. It is on the strict observance of those three
laws, that the peace and security of human society entirely depend; nor
is there any possibility of establishing a good correspondence among
men, where these are neglected. Society is absolutely necessary for the
well-being of men; and these are as necessary to the support of society.
Whatever restraint they may impose on the passions of men, they are the
real offspring of those passions, and are only a more artful and more
refined way of satisfying them. Nothing is more vigilant and inventive
than our passions; and nothing is more obvious, than the convention
for the observance of these rules. Nature has, therefore, trusted this
affair entirely to the conduct of men, and has not placed in the mind
any peculiar original principles, to determine us to a set of actions,
into which the other principles of our frame and constitution were
sufficient to lead us. And to convince us the more fully of this truth,
we may here stop a moment, and from a review of the preceding reasonings
may draw some new arguments, to prove that those laws, however
necessary, are entirely artificial, and of human invention; and
consequently that justice is an artificial, and not a natural virtue.
(1) The first argument I shall make use of is derived from the vulgar
definition of justice. Justice is commonly defined to be a constant and
perpetual will of giving every one his due. In this definition it is
supposed, that there are such things as right and property, independent
of justice, and antecedent to it; and that they would have subsisted,
though men had never dreamt of practising such a virtue. I have already
observed, in a cursory manner, the fallacy of this opinion, and shall
here continue to open up a little more distinctly my sentiments on that
subject.
I shall begin with observing, that this quality, which we shall call
property, is like many of the imaginary qualities of the peripatetic
philosophy, and vanishes upon a more accurate inspection into the
subject, when considered a-part from our moral sentiments. It is evident
property does not consist in any of the sensible qualities of the
object. For these may continue invariably the same, while the property
changes. Property, therefore, must consist in some relation of the
object. But it is not in its relation with regard to other external
and inanimate objects. For these may also continue invariably the same,
while the property changes. This quality, therefore, consists in the
relations of objects to intelligent and rational beings. But it is
not the external and corporeal relation, which forms the essence of
property. For that relation may be the same betwixt inanimate objects,
or with regard to brute creatures; though in those cases it forms no
property. It is, therefore, in some internal relation, that the property
consists; that is, in some influence, which the external relations of
the object have on the mind and actions. Thus the external relation,
which we call occupation or first possession, is not of itself imagined
to be the property of the object, but only to cause its property. Now it
is evident, this external relation causes nothing in external objects,
and has only an influence on the mind, by giving us a sense of duty in
abstaining from that object, and in restoring it to the first possessor.
These actions are properly what we call justice; and consequently it is
on that virtue that the nature of property depends, and not the virtue
on the property.
If any one, therefore, would assert, that justice is a natural virtue,
and injustice a natural vice, he must assert, that abstracting from the
nations of property, and right and obligation, a certain conduct
and train of actions, in certain external relations of objects, has
naturally a moral beauty or deformity, and causes an original pleasure
or uneasiness. Thus the restoring a man's goods to him is considered as
virtuous, not because nature has annexed a certain sentiment of pleasure
to such a conduct, with regard to the property of others, but because
she has annexed that sentiment to such a conduct, with regard to those
external objects, of which others have had the first or long possession,
or which they have received by the consent of those, who have had first
or long possession. If nature has given us no such sentiment, there is
not, naturally, nor antecedent to human conventions, any such thing as
property. Now, though it seems sufficiently evident, in this dry and
accurate consideration of the present subject, that nature has annexed
no pleasure or sentiment of approbation to such a conduct; yet that I
may leave as little room for doubt as possible, I shall subjoin a few
more arguments to confirm my opinion.
First, If nature had given us a pleasure of this kind, it would have
been as evident and discernible as on every other occasion; nor should
we have found any difficulty to perceive, that the consideration of such
actions, in such a situation, gives a certain pleasure and sentiment of
approbation. We should not have been obliged to have recourse to notions
of property in the definition of justice, and at the same time make use
of the notions of justice in the definition of property. This deceitful
method of reasoning is a plain proof, that there are contained in the
subject some obscurities and difficulties, which we are not able to
surmount, and which we desire to evade by this artifice.
Secondly, Those rules, by which properties, rights, and obligations
are determined, have in them no marks of a natural origin but many of
artifice and contrivance. They are too numerous to have proceeded from
nature: They are changeable by human laws: And have all of them a direct
and evident tendency to public good, and the support, of civil society.
This last circumstance is remarkable upon two accounts. First, because,
though the cause of the establishment of these laws had been a regard
for the public good, as much as the public good is their natural
tendency, they would still have been artificial, as being purposely
contrived and directed to a certain end. Secondly, because, if men had
been endowed with such a strong regard for public good, they would never
have restrained themselves by these rules; so that the laws of justice
arise from natural principles in a manner still more oblique and
artificial. It is self-love which is their real origin; and as the
self-love of one person is naturally contrary to that of another, these
several interested passions are obliged to adjust themselves after such
a manner as to concur in some system of conduct and behaviour. This
system, therefore, comprehending the interest of each individual, is of
course advantageous to the public; though it be not intended for that
purpose by die inventors.
(2) In the second place we may observe, that all kinds of vice and
virtue run insensibly into each other, and may approach by such
imperceptible degrees as will make it very difficult, if not absolutely
impossible, to determine when the one ends, and the other begins; and
from this observation we may derive a new argument for the foregoing
principle. For whatever may be the case, with regard to all kinds
of vice and virtue, it is certain, that rights, and obligations, and
property, admit of no such insensible gradation, but that a man either
has a full and perfect property, or none at all; and is either entirely
obliged to perform any action, or lies under no manner of obligation.
However civil laws may talk of a perfect dominion, and of an imperfect,
it is easy to observe, that this arises from a fiction, which has no
foundation in reason, and can never enter into our notions of natural
justice and equity. A man that hires a horse, though but for a day, has
as full a right to make use of it for that time, as he whom we call its
proprietor has to make use of it any other day; and it was evident, that
however the use may be bounded in time or degree, the right itself is
not susceptible of any such gradation, but is absolute and entire, so
far as it extends. Accordingly we may observe, that this right both
arises and perishes in an instant; and that a man entirely acquires the
property of any object by occupation, or the consent of the proprietor;
and loses it by his own consent; without any of that insensible
gradation, which is remarkable in other qualities and relations, Since,
therefore, this is die case with regard to property, and rights, and
obligations, I ask, how it stands with regard to justice and
injustice? After whatever manner you answer this question, you run into
inextricable difficulties. If you reply, that justice and injustice
admit of degree, and run insensibly into each other, you expressly
contradict the foregoing position, that obligation and property are not
susceptible of such a gradation. These depend entirely upon justice and
injustice, and follow them in all their variations. Where the justice is
entire, the property is also entire: Where the justice is imperfect, the
property must also be imperfect And vice versa, if the property admit of
no such variations, they must also be incompatible with justice. If you
assent, therefore, to this last proposition, and assert, that justice
and injustice are not susceptible of degrees, you in effect assert,
that they are not naturally either vicious or virtuous; since vice
and virtue, moral good and evil, and indeed all natural qualities,
run insensibly into each other, and are, on many occasions,
undistinguishable.
And here it may be worth while to observe, that though abstract
reasoning, and the general maxims of philosophy and law establish this
position, that property, and right, and obligation admit not of
degrees, yet in our common and negligent way of thinking, we find great
difficulty to entertain that opinion, and do even secretly embrace the
contrary principle. An object must either be in the possession of
one person or another. An action must either be performed or not. The
necessity there is of choosing one side in these dilemmas, and the
impossibility there often is of finding any just medium, oblige us,
when we reflect on the matter, to acknowledge, that all property and
obligations are entire. But on the other hand, when we consider the
origin of property and obligation, and find that they depend on public
utility, and sometimes on the propensities of the imagination, which are
seldom entire on any side; we are naturally inclined to imagine, that
these moral relations admit of an insensible gradation. Hence it is,
that in references, where the consent of the parties leave the referees
entire masters of the subject, they commonly discover so much equity and
justice on both sides, as induces them to strike a medium, and divide
the difference betwixt the parties. Civil judges, who have not this
liberty, but are obliged to give a decisive sentence on some one side,
are often at a loss how to determine, and are necessitated to proceed
on the most frivolous reasons in the world. Half rights and obligations,
which seem so natural in common life, are perfect absurdities in their
tribunal; for which reason they are often obliged to take half arguments
for whole ones, in order to terminate the affair one way or other.
(3) The third argument of this kind I shall make use of may be explained
thus. If we consider the ordinary course of human actions, we shall
find, that the mind restrains not itself by any general and universal
rules; but acts on most occasions as it is determined by its present
motives and inclination. As each action is a particular individual
event, it must proceed from particular principles, and from our
immediate situation within ourselves, and with respect to the rest of
the universe. If on some occasions we extend our motives beyond those
very circumstances, which gave rise to them, and form something like
general rules for our conduct, it is easy to observe, that these rules
are not perfectly inflexible, but allow of many exceptions. Since,
therefore, this is the ordinary course of human actions, we may
conclude, that the laws of justice, being universal and perfectly
inflexible, can never be derived from nature, nor be the immediate
offspring of any natural motive or inclination. No action can be either
morally good or evil, unless there be some natural passion or motive
to impel us to it, or deter us from it; and it is evident, that die
morality must be susceptible of all the same variations, which are
natural to the passion. Here are two persons, who dispute for an estate;
of whom one is rich, a fool, and a batchelor; the other poor, a man of
sense, and has a numerous family: The first is my enemy; the second
my friend. Whether I be actuated in this affair by a view to public or
private interest, by friendship or enmity, I must be induced to do my
utmost to procure the estate to the latter. Nor would any consideration
of the right and property of the persons be able to restrain me, were I
actuated only by natural motives, without any combination or convention
with others. For as all property depends on morality; and as all
morality depends on the ordinary course of our passions and actions; and
as these again are only directed by particular motives; it is evident,
such a partial conduct must be suitable to the strictest morality, and
could never be a violation of property. Were men, therefore, to take
the liberty of acting with regard to the laws of society, as they do in
every other affair, they would conduct themselves, on most occasions, by
particular judgments, and would take into consideration the characters
and circumstances of the persons, as well as the general nature of the
question. But it is easy to observe, that this would produce an infinite
confusion in human society, and that the avidity and partiality of men
would quickly bring disorder into the world, if not restrained by some
general and inflexible principles. Twas, therefore, with a view to this
inconvenience, that men have established those principles, and have
agreed to restrain themselves by general rules, which are unchangeable
by spite and favour, and by particular views of private or public
interest. These rules, then, are artificially invented for a certain
purpose, and are contrary to the common principles of human nature,
which accommodate themselves to circumstances, and have no stated
invariable method of operation.
Nor do I perceive how I can easily be mistaken in this matter. I see
evidently, that when any man imposes on himself general inflexible
rules in his conduct with others, he considers certain objects as
their property, which he supposes to be sacred and inviolable. But
no proposition can be more evident, than that property is perfectly
unintelligible without first supposing justice and injustice; and that
these virtues and vices are as unintelligible, unless we have motives,
independent of the morality, to impel us to just actions, and deter us
from unjust ones. Let those motives, therefore, be what they will, they
must accommodate themselves to circumstances, and must admit of all the
variations, which human affairs, in their incessant revolutions, are
susceptible of. They are consequently a very improper foundation for
such rigid inflexible rules as the laws of nature; and it is evident
these laws can only be derived from human conventions, when men have
perceived the disorders that result from following their natural and
variable principles.
Upon the whole, then, we are to consider this distinction betwixt
justice and injustice, as having two different foundations, viz, that
of interest, when men observe, that it is impossible to live in society
without restraining themselves by certain rules; and that of morality,
when this interest is once observed and men receive a pleasure from the
view of such actions as tend to the peace of society, and an uneasiness
from such as are contrary to it. It is the voluntary convention
and artifice of men, which makes the first interest take place;
and therefore those laws of justice are so far to be considered as
artificial. After that interest is once established and acknowledged, the
sense of morality in the observance of these rules follows naturally,
and of itself; though it is certain, that it is also augmented by a
new artifice, and that the public instructions of politicians, and the
private education of parents, contribute to the giving us a sense of
honour and duty in the strict regulation of our actions with regard to
the properties of others.
SECT. VII OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT
Nothing is more certain, than that men are, in a great measure, governed
by interest, and that even when they extend their concern beyond
themselves, it is not to any great distance; nor is it usual for
them, in common life, to look farther than their nearest friends and
acquaintance. It is no less certain, that it is impossible for men to
consult, their interest in so effectual a manner, as by an universal and
inflexible observance of the rules of justice, by which alone they can
preserve society, and keep themselves from falling into that wretched
and savage condition, which is commonly represented as the state of
nature. And as this interest, which all men have in the upholding of
society, and the observation of the rules of justice, is great, so is
it palpable and evident, even to the most rude and uncultivated of human
race; and it is almost impossible for any one, who has had experience of
society, to be mistaken in this particular. Since, therefore, men are
so sincerely attached to their interest, and their interest is so much
concerned in the observance of justice, and this interest is so certain
and avowed; it may be asked, how any disorder can ever arise in
society, and what principle there is in human nature so powerful as to
overcome so strong a passion, or so violent as to obscure so clear a
knowledge?
It has been observed, in treating of the passions, that men are mightily
governed by the imagination, and proportion their affections more to
the light, under which any object appears to them, than to its real and
intrinsic value. What strikes upon them with a strong and lively idea
commonly prevails above what lies in a more obscure light; and it
must be a great superiority of value, that is able to compensate this
advantage. Now as every thing, that is contiguous to us, either in space
or time, strikes upon us with such an idea, it has a proportional effect
on the will and passions, and commonly operates with more force than any
object, that lies in a more distant and obscure light. Though we may be
fully convinced, that the latter object excels the former, we are
not able to regulate our actions by this judgment; but yield to the
sollicitations of our passions, which always plead in favour of whatever
is near and contiguous.
This is the reason why men so often act in contradiction to their known
interest; and in particular why they prefer any trivial advantage,
that is present, to the maintenance of order in society, which so much
depends on the observance of justice. The consequences of every breach
of equity seem to lie very remote, and are not able to counter-ballance
any immediate advantage, that may be reaped from it. They are, however,
never the less real for being remote; and as all men are, in some
degree, subject to the same weakness, it necessarily happens, that
the violations of equity must become very frequent in society, and
the commerce of men, by that means, be rendered very dangerous and
uncertain. You have the same propension, that I have, in favour of
what is contiguous above what is remote. You are, therefore, naturally
carried to commit acts of injustice as well as me. Your example both
pushes me forward in this way by imitation, and also affords me a new
reason for any breach of equity, by shewing me, that I should be the
cully of my integrity, if I alone should impose on myself a severe
restraint amidst the licentiousness of others.
This quality, therefore, of human nature, not only is very dangerous
to society, but also seems, on a cursory view, to be incapable of any
remedy. The remedy can only come from the consent of men; and if men be
incapable of themselves to prefer remote to contiguous, they will never
consent to any thing, which would oblige them to such a choice, and
contradict, in so sensible a manner, their natural principles and
propensities. Whoever chuses the means, chuses also the end; and if it
be impossible for us to prefer what is remote, it is equally impossible
for us to submit to any necessity, which would oblige us to such a
method of acting.
But here it is observable, that this infirmity of human nature becomes
a remedy to itself, and that we provide against our negligence about
remote objects, merely because we are naturally inclined to that
negligence. When we consider any objects at a distance, all their minute
distinctions vanish, and we always give the preference to whatever is in
itself preferable, without considering its situation and circumstances.
This gives rise to what in an improper sense we call reason, which is
a principle, that is often contradictory to those propensities that
display themselves upon the approach of the object. In reflecting on any
action, which I am to perform a twelve-month hence, I always resolve to
prefer the greater good, whether at that time it will be more contiguous
or remote; nor does any difference in that particular make a difference
in my present intentions and resolutions. My distance from the final
determination makes all those minute differences vanish, nor am I
affected by any thing, but the general and more discernible qualities of
good and evil. But on my nearer approach, those circumstances, which
I at first over-looked, begin to appear, and have an influence on my
conduct and affections. A new inclination to the present good springs
up, and makes it difficult for me to adhere inflexibly to my first
purpose and resolution. This natural infirmity I may very much regret,
and I may endeavour, by all possible means, to free my self from it. I
may have recourse to study and reflection within myself; to the advice
of friends; to frequent meditation, and repeated resolution: And having
experienced how ineffectual all these are, I may embrace with pleasure
any other expedient, by which I may impose a restraint upon myself, and
guard against this weakness.
The only difficulty, therefore, is to find out this expedient, by which
men cure their natural weakness, and lay themselves under the necessity
of observing the laws of justice and equity, notwithstanding their
violent propension to prefer contiguous to remote. It is evident such a
remedy can never be effectual without correcting this propensity; and as
it is impossible to change or correct any thing material in our nature,
the utmost we can do is to change our circumstances and situation, and
render the observance of the laws of justice our nearest interest,
and their violation our most remote. But this being impracticable with
respect to all mankind, it can only take place with respect to a few,
whom we thus immediately interest in the execution of justice. There are
the persons, whom we call civil magistrates, kings and their ministers,
our governors and rulers, who being indifferent persons to the greatest
part of the state, have no interest, or but a remote one, in any act of
injustice; and being satisfied with their present condition, and with
their part in society, have an immediate interest in every execution of
justice, which is so necessary to the upholding of society. Here then is
the origin of civil government and society. Men are not able radically
to cure, either in themselves or others, that narrowness of soul, which
makes them prefer the present to the remote. They cannot change their
natures. All they can do is to change their situation, and render the
observance of justice the immediate interest of some particular persons,
and its violation their more remote. These persons, then, are not
only induced to observe those rules in their own conduct, but also
to constrain others to a like regularity, and inforce the dictates of
equity through the whole society. And if it be necessary, they may also
interest others more immediately in the execution of justice, and
create a number of officers, civil and military, to assist them in their
government.
But this execution of justice, though the principal, is not the only
advantage of government. As violent passion hinder men from seeing
distinctly the interest they have in an equitable behaviour towards
others; so it hinders them from seeing that equity itself, and gives
them a remarkable partiality in their own favours. This inconvenience is
corrected in the same manner as that above-mentioned. The same persons,
who execute the laws of justice, will also decide all controversies
concerning them; and being indifferent to the greatest part of the
society, will decide them more equitably than every one would in his own
case.
By means of these two advantages, in the execution and decision of
justice, men acquire a security against each others weakness and
passion, as well as against their own, and under the shelter of their
governors, begin to taste at ease the sweets of society and mutual
assistance. But government extends farther its beneficial influence; and
not contented to protect men in those conventions they make for their
mutual interest, it often obliges them to make such conventions, and
forces them to seek their own advantage, by a concurrence in some common
end or purpose. There is no quality in human nature, which causes more
fatal errors in our conduct, than that which leads us to prefer whatever
is present to the distant and remote, and makes us desire objects more
according to their situation than their intrinsic value. Two neighbours
may agree to drain a meadow, which they possess in common; because it is
easy for them to know each others mind; and each must perceive, that the
immediate consequence of his failing in his part, is, the abandoning the
whole project. But it is very difficult, and indeed impossible, that a
thousand persons should agree in any such action; it being difficult for
them to concert so complicated a design, and still more difficult for
them to execute it; while each seeks a pretext to free himself of the
trouble and expence, and would lay the whole burden on others. Political
society easily remedies both these inconveniences. Magistrates find an
immediate interest in the interest of any considerable part of their
subjects. They need consult no body but themselves to form any scheme
for the promoting of that interest. And as the failure of any one piece
in the execution is connected, though not immediately, with the failure
of the whole, they prevent that failure, because they find no interest
in it, either immediate or remote. Thus bridges are built; harbours
opened; ramparts raised; canals formed; fleets equiped; and armies
disciplined every where, by the care of government, which, though
composed of men subject to all human infirmities, becomes, by one of the
finest and most subtle inventions imaginable, a composition, which is,
in some measure, exempted from all these infirmities.
SECT. VIII OF THE SOURCE OF ALLEGIANCE
Though government be an invention very advantageous, and even in some
circumstances absolutely necessary to mankind; it is not necessary in
all circumstances, nor is it impossible for men to preserve society
for some time, without having recourse to such an invention. Men, it is
true, are always much inclined to prefer present interest to distant
and remote; nor is it easy for them to resist the temptation of any
advantage, that they may immediately enjoy, in apprehension of an evil
that lies at a distance from them: But still this weakness is less
conspicuous where the possessions, and the pleasures of life are few,
and of little value, as they always are in the infancy of society. An
Indian is but little tempted to dispossess another of his hut, or to
steal his bow, as being already provided of the same advantages; and as
to any superior fortune, which may attend one above another in hunting
and fishing, it is only casual and temporary, and will have but small
tendency to disturb society. And so far am I from thinking with
some philosophers, that men are utterly incapable of society without
government, that I assert the first rudiments of government to arise
from quarrels, not among men of the same society, but among those of
different societies. A less degree of riches will suffice to this latter
effect, than is requisite for the former. Men fear nothing from public
war and violence but the resistance they meet with, which, because
they share it in common, seems less terrible; and because it comes from
strangers, seems less pernicious in its consequences, than when they are
exposed singly against one whose commerce is advantageous to them, and
without whose society it is impossible they can subsist. Now foreign war
to a society without government necessarily produces civil war. Throw
any considerable goods among men, they instantly fall a quarrelling,
while each strives to get possession of what pleases him, without regard
to the consequences. In a foreign war the most considerable of all
goods, life and limbs, are at stake; and as every one shuns dangerous
ports, seizes the best arms, seeks excuse for the slightest wounds, the
laws, which may be well enough observed while men were calm, can now no
longer take place, when they are in such commotion.
This we find verified in the American tribes, where men live in concord
and amity among themselves without any established government and never
pay submission to any of their fellows, except in time of war, when
their captain enjoys a shadow of authority, which he loses after
their return from the field, and the establishment of peace with the
neighbouring tribes. This authority, however, instructs them in the
advantages of government, and teaches them to have recourse to it,
when either by the pillage of war, by commerce, or by any fortuitous
inventions, their riches and possessions have become so considerable as
to make them forget, on every emergence, the interest they have in the
preservation of peace and justice. Hence we may give a plausible reason,
among others, why all governments are at first monarchical, without any
mixture and variety; and why republics arise only from the abuses of
monarchy and despotic power. Camps are the true mothers of cities; and
as war cannot be administered, by reason of the suddenness of every
exigency, without some authority in a single person, the same kind of
authority naturally takes place in that civil government, which succeeds
the military. And this reason I take to be more natural, than the common
one derived from patriarchal government, or the authority of a father,
which is said first to take place in one family, and to accustom the
members of it to the government of a single person. The state of society
without government is one of the most natural states of men, and must
submit with the conjunction of many families, and long after the first
generation. Nothing but an encrease of riches and possessions could
oblige men to quit it; and so barbarous and uninstructed are all
societies on their first formation, that many years must elapse before
these can encrease to such a degree, as to disturb men in the enjoyment
of peace and concord. But though it be possible for men to maintain a
small uncultivated society without government, it is impossible
they should maintain a society of any kind without justice, and the
observance of those three fundamental laws concerning the stability of
possession, its translation by consent, and the performance of promises.
These are, therefore, antecedent to government, and are supposed to
impose an obligation before the duty of allegiance to civil magistrates
has once been thought of. Nay, I shall go farther, and assert, that
government, upon its first establishment, would naturally be supposed.
to derive its obligation from those laws of nature, and, in particular,
from that concerning the performance of promises. When men have once
perceived the necessity of government to maintain peace, and
execute justice, they would naturally assemble together, would chuse
magistrates, determine power, and promise them obedience. As a promise
is supposed to be a bond or security already in use, and attended with
a moral obligation, it is to be considered as the original sanction of
government, and as the source of the first obligation to obedience. This
reasoning appears so natural, that it has become the foundation of our
fashionable system of politics, and is in a manner the creed of a party
amongst us, who pride themselves, with reason, on the soundness of their
philosophy, and their liberty of thought. All men, say they, are born
free and equal: Government and superiority can only be established by
consent: The consent of men, in establishing government, imposes on them
a new obligation, unknown to the laws of nature. Men, therefore, are
bound to obey their magistrates, only because they promise it; and if
they had not given their word, either expressly or tacitly, to preserve
allegiance, it would never have become a part of their moral duty. This
conclusion, however, when carried so far as to comprehend government in
all its ages and situations, is entirely erroneous; and I maintain, that
though the duty of allegiance be at first grafted on the obligation
of promises, and be for some time supported by that obligation, yet
it quickly takes root of itself, and has an original obligation and
authority, independent of all contracts. This is a principle of moment,
which we must examine with care and attention, before we proceed any
farther.
It is reasonable for those philosophers, who assert justice to be a
natural virtue, and antecedent to human conventions, to resolve all
civil allegiance into the obligation of a promise, and assert that it is
our own consent alone, which binds us to any submission to magistracy.
For as all government is plainly an invention of men, and the origin of
most governments is known in history, it is necessary to mount higher,
in order to find the source of our political duties, if we would assert
them to have any natural obligation of morality. These philosophers,
therefore, quickly observe, that society is as antient as the human
species, and those three fundamental laws of nature as antient as
society: So that taking advantage of the antiquity, and obscure origin
of these laws, they first deny them to be artificial and voluntary
inventions of men, and then seek to ingraft on them those other duties,
which are more plainly artificial. But being once undeceived in this
particular, and having found that natural, as well as civil justice,
derives its origin from human conventions, we shall quickly perceive,
how fruitless it is to resolve the one into the other, and seek, in
the laws of nature, a stronger foundation for our political duties than
interest, and human conventions; while these laws themselves are built
on the very same foundation. On which ever side we turn this subject,
we shall find, that these two kinds of duty are exactly on the same
footing, and have the same source both of their first invention and
moral obligation. They are contrived to remedy like inconveniences, and
acquire their moral sanction in the same manner, from their remedying
those inconveniences. These are two points, which we shall endeavour to
prove as distinctly as possible.
We have already shewn, that men invented the three fundamental laws of
nature, when they observed the necessity of society to their mutual
subsistance, and found, that it was impossible to maintain any
correspondence together, without some restraint on their natural
appetites. The same self-love, therefore, which renders men so
incommodious to each other, taking a new and more convenient direction,
produces the rules of justice, and is the first motive of their
observance. But when men have observed, that though the rules of
justice be sufficient to maintain any society, yet it is impossible for
them, of themselves, to observe those rules, in large and polished
societies; they establish government, as a new invention to attain
their ends, and preserve the old, or procure new advantages, by a more
strict execution of justice. So far, therefore, our civil duties are
connected with our natural, that the former are invented chiefly for
the sake of the latter; and that the principal object of government is
to constrain men to observe the laws of nature. In this respect,
however, that law of nature, concerning the performance of promises, is
only comprized along with the rest; and its exact observance is to be
considered as an effect of the institution of government, and not the
obedience to government as an effect of the obligation of a promise.
Though the object of our civil duties be the enforcing of our natural,
yet the first[9] motive of the invention, as well as performance of
both, is nothing but self-interest: and since there is a separate
interest in the obedience to government, from that in the performance
of promises, we must also allow of a separate obligation. To obey the
civil magistrate is requisite to preserve order and concord in society.
To perform promises is requisite to beget mutual trust and confidence
in the common offices of life. The ends, as well as the means, are
perfectly distinct; nor is the one subordinate to the other.
[9] First in time, not in dignity or force.
To make this more evident, let us consider, that men will often bind
themselves by promises to the performance of what it would have been
their interest to perform, independent of these promises; as when they
would give others a fuller security, by super-adding a new obligation
of interest to that which they formerly lay under. The interest in
the performance of promises, besides its moral obligation, is general,
avowed, and of the last consequence in life. Other interests may be
more particular and doubtful; and we are apt to entertain a greater
suspicion, that men may indulge their humour, or passion, in acting
contrary to them. Here, therefore, promises come naturally in play, and
are often required for fuller satisfaction and security. But supposing
those other interests to be as general and avowed as the interest in the
performance of a promise, they will be regarded as on the same footing,
and men will begin to repose the same confidence in them. Now this is
exactly the case with regard to our civil duties, or obedience to the
magistrate; without which no government could subsist, nor any peace
or order be maintained in large societies, where there are so many
possessions on the one hand, and so many wants, real or imaginary, on
the other. Our civil duties, therefore, must soon detach themselves from
our promises, and acquire a separate force and influence. The interest
in both is of the very same kind: It is general, avowed, and prevails in
all times and places. There is, then, no pretext of reason for founding
the one upon the other; while each of them has a foundation peculiar
to itself. We might as well resolve the obligation to abstain from the
possessions of others, into the obligation of a promise, as that of
allegiance. The interests are not more distinct in the one case than the
other. A regard to property is not more necessary to natural society,
than obedience is to civil society or government; nor is the former
society more necessary to the being of mankind, than the latter to their
well-being and happiness. In short, if the performance of promises be
advantageous, so is obedience to government: If the former interest be
general, so is the latter: If the one interest be obvious and avowed, so
is the other. And as these two rules are founded on like obligations of
interest, each of them must have a peculiar authority, independent of
the other.
But it is not only the natural obligations of interest, which are
distinct in promises and allegiance; but also the moral obligations of
honour and conscience: Nor does the merit or demerit of the one depend
in the least upon that of the other. And indeed, if we consider the
close connexion there is betwixt the natural and moral obligations, we
shall find this conclusion to be entirely unavoidable. Our interest
is always engaged on the side of obedience to magistracy; and there is
nothing but a great present advantage, that can lead us to rebellion, by
making us over-look the remote interest, which we have in the preserving
of peace and order in society. But though a present interest may thus
blind us with regard to our own actions, it takes not place with regard
to those of others; nor hinders them from appearing in their true
colours, as highly prejudicial to public interest, and to our own in
particular. This naturally gives us an uneasiness, in considering such
seditious and disloyal actions, and makes us attach to them the idea of
vice and moral deformity. It is the same principle, which causes us to
disapprove of all kinds of private injustice, and in particular of the
breach of promises. We blame all treachery and breach of faith; because
we consider, that the freedom and extent of human commerce depend
entirely on a fidelity with regard to promises. We blame all disloyalty
to magistrates; because we perceive, that the execution of justice,
in the stability of possession, its translation by consent, and
the performance of promises, is impossible, without submission to
government. As there are here two interests entirely distinct from each
other, they must give rise to two moral obligations, equally separate
and independent. Though there was no such thing as a promise in the
world, government would still be necessary in all large and civilized
societies; and if promises had only their own proper obligation, without
the separate sanction of government, they would have but little efficacy
in such societies. This separates the boundaries of our public and
private duties, and shews that the latter are more dependant on the
former, than the former on the latter. Education, and the artifice of
politicians, concur to bestow a farther morality on loyalty, and to
brand all rebellion with a greater degree of guilt and infamy. Nor is
it a wonder, that politicians should be very industrious in inculcating
such notions, where their interest is so particularly concerned.
Lest those arguments should not appear entirely conclusive (as I think
they are) I shall have recourse to authority, and shall prove, from the
universal consent of mankind, that the obligation of submission to
government is not derived from any promise of the subjects. Nor need
any one wonder, that though I have all along endeavoured to establish
my system on pure reason, and have scarce ever cited the judgment even
of philosophers or historians on any article, I should now appeal to
popular authority, and oppose the sentiments of the rabble to any
philosophical reasoning. For it must be observed, that the opinions of
men, in this case, carry with them a peculiar authority, and are, in a
great measure, infallible. The distinction of moral good and evil is
founded on the pleasure or pain, which results from the view of any
sentiment, or character; and as that pleasure or pain cannot be unknown
to the person who feels it, it follows,[10] that there is just so much
vice or virtue in any character, as every one places in it, and that it
is impossible in this particular we can ever be mistaken. And though
our judgments concerning the origin of any vice or virtue, be not so
certain as those concerning their degrees; yet, since the question in
this case regards not any philosophical origin of an obligation, but a
plain matter of fact, it is not easily conceived how we can fall into
an error. A man, who acknowledges himself to be bound to another, for a
certain sum, must certainly know whether it be by his own bond, or that
of his father; whether it be of his mere good-will, or for money lent
him; and under what conditions, and for what purposes he has bound
himself. In like manner, it being certain, that there is a moral
obligation to submit to government, because every one thinks so; it
must be as certain, that this obligation arises not from a promise;
since no one, whose judgment has not been led astray by too strict
adherence to a system of philosophy, has ever yet dreamt of ascribing
it to that origin. Neither magistrates nor subjects have formed this
idea of our civil duties.
[10] This proposition must hold strictly true, with regard to every
quality, that is determin'd merely by sentiment. In what sense we
can talk either of a right or a wrong taste in morals, eloquence,
or beauty, shall be considerd afterwards. In the mean time, it may
be observ'd, that there is such an uniformity in the GENERAL
sentiments of mankind, as to render such questions of but small
importance.
We find, that magistrates are so far from deriving their authority, and
the obligation to obedience in their subjects, from the foundation of
a promise or original contract, that they conceal, as far as possible,
from their people, especially from the vulgar, that they have their
origin from thence. Were this the sanction of government, our rulers
would never receive it tacitly, which is the utmost that can be
pretended; since what is given tacitly and insensibly can never have
such influence on mankind, as what is performed expressly and openly.
A tacit promise is, where the will is signified by other more diffuse
signs than those of speech; but a will there must certainly be in the
case, and that can never escape the person's notice, who exerted it,
however silent or tacit. But were you to ask the far greatest part of
the nation, whether they had ever consented to the authority of their
rulers, or promised to obey them, they would be inclined to think very
strangely of you; and would certainly reply, that the affair depended
not on their consent, but that they were born to such an obedience. In
consequence of this opinion, we frequently see them imagine such persons
to be their natural rulers, as are at that time deprived of all power
and authority, and whom no man, however foolish, would voluntarily
chuse; and this merely because they are in that line, which ruled
before, and in that degree of it, which used to succeed; though perhaps
in so distant a period, that scarce any man alive could ever have given
any promise of obedience. Has a government, then, no authority over such
as these, because they never consented to it, and would esteem the very
attempt of such a free choice a piece of arrogance and impiety? We
find by experience, that it punishes them very freely for what it
calls treason and rebellion, which, it seems, according to this system,
reduces itself to common injustice. If you say, that by dwelling in its
dominions, they in effect consented to the established government; I
answer, that this can only be, where they think the affair depends on
their choice, which few or none, beside those philosophers, have ever
yet imagined. It never was pleaded as an excuse for a rebel, that the
first act he performed, after he came to years of discretion, was to
levy war against the sovereign of the state; and that while he was a
child he could not bind himself by his own consent, and having become
a man, showed plainly, by the first act he performed, that he had no
design to impose on himself any obligation to obedience. We find, on
the contrary, that civil laws punish this crime at the same age as any
other, which is criminal, of itself, without our consent; that is, when
the person is come to the full use of reason: Whereas to this crime
they ought in justice to allow some intermediate time, in which a tacit
consent at least might be supposed. To which we may add, that a man
living under an absolute government, would owe it no allegiance; since,
by its very nature, it depends not on consent. But as that is as
natural and common a government as any, it must certainly occasion some
obligation; and it is plain from experience, that men, who are subjected
to it, do always think so. This is a clear proof, that we do not
commonly esteem our allegiance to be derived from our consent or
promise; and a farther proof is, that when our promise is upon any
account expressly engaged, we always distinguish exactly betwixt the two
obligations, and believe the one to add more force to the other, than in
a repetition of the same promise. Where no promise is given, a man
looks not on his faith as broken in private matters, upon account of
rebellion; but keeps those two duties of honour and allegiance perfectly
distinct and separate. As the uniting of them was thought by these
philosophers a very subtile invention, this is a convincing proof, that
it is not a true one; since no man can either give a promise, or be
restrained by its sanction and obligation unknown to himself.
SECT. IX OF THE MEASURES OF ALLEGIANCE
Those political writers, who have had recourse to a promise, or original
contract, as the source of our allegiance to government, intended to
establish a principle, which is perfectly just and reasonable; though
the reasoning, upon which they endeavoured to establish it, was
fallacious and sophistical. They would prove, that our submission to
government admits of exceptions, and that an egregious tyranny in the
rulers is sufficient to free the subjects from all ties of allegiance.
Since men enter into society, say they, and submit themselves to
government, by their free and voluntary consent, they must have in view
certain advantages, which they propose to reap from it, and for which
they are contented to resign their native liberty. There is, therefore,
something mutual engaged on the part of the magistrate, viz, protection
and security; and it is only by the hopes he affords of these
advantages, that he can ever persuade men to submit to him. But
when instead of protection and security, they meet with tyranny and
oppression, they are freed from their promises, (as happens in all
conditional contracts) and return to that state of liberty, which
preceded the institution of government. Men would never be so foolish as
to enter into such engagements as should turn entirely to the advantage
of others, without any view of bettering their own condition. Whoever
proposes to draw any profit from our submission, must engage himself,
either expressly or tacitly, to make us reap some advantage from his
authority; nor ought he to expect, that without the performance of his
part we will ever continue in obedience.
I repeat it: This conclusion is just, though the principles be
erroneous; and I flatter myself, that I can establish the same
conclusion on more reasonable principles. I shall not take such a
compass, in establishing our political duties, as to assert, that men
perceive the advantages of government; that they institute government
with a view to those advantages; that this institution requires a
promise of obedience; which imposes a moral obligation to a certain
degree, but being conditional, ceases to be binding, whenever the other
contracting party performs not his part of the engagement. I perceive,
that a promise itself arises entirely from human conventions, and is
invented with a view to a certain interest. I seek, therefore, some such
interest more immediately connected with government, and which may be
at once the original motive to its institution, and the source of our
obedience to it. This interest I find to consist in the security and
protection, which we enjoy in political society, and which we can never
attain, when perfectly free and independent. As interest, therefore, is
the immediate sanction of government, the one can have no longer being
than the other; and whenever the civil magistrate carries his oppression
so far as to render his authority perfectly intolerable, we are no
longer bound to submit to it. The cause ceases; the effect must cease
also.
So far the conclusion is immediate and direct, concerning the natural
obligation which we have to allegiance. As to the moral obligation, we
may observe, that the maxim would here be false, that when the cause
ceases, the effect must cease also. For there is a principle of human
nature, which we have frequently taken notice of, that men are mightily
addicted to general rules, and that we often carry our maxims beyond
those reasons, which first induced us to establish them. Where cases
are similar in many circumstances, we are apt to put them on the same
footing, without considering, that they differ in the most material
circumstances, and that the resemblance is more apparent than real. It
may, therefore, be thought, that in the case of allegiance our moral
obligation of duty will not cease, even though the natural obligation of
interest, which is its cause, has ceased; and that men may be bound by
conscience to submit to a tyrannical government against their own and
the public interest. And indeed, to the force of this argument I so far
submit, as to acknowledge, that general rules commonly extend beyond
the principles, on which they are founded; and that we seldom make any
exception to them, unless that exception have the qualities of a general
rule, and be founded on very numerous and common instances. Now this I
assert to be entirely the present case. When men submit to the authority
of others, it is to procure themselves some security against the
wickedness and injustice of men, who are perpetually carried, by their
unruly passions, and by their present and immediate interest, to the
violation of all the laws of society. But as this imperfection is
inherent in human nature, we know that it must attend men in all their
states and conditions; and that these, whom we chuse for rulers, do not
immediately become of a superior nature to the rest of mankind, upon
account of their superior power and authority. What we expect from them
depends not on a change of their nature but of their situation, when
they acquire a more immediate interest in the preservation of order and
the execution of justice. But besides that this interest is only more
immediate in the execution of justice among their subjects; besides
this, I say, we may often expect, from the irregularity of human nature,
that they will neglect even this immediate interest, and be transported
by their passions into all the excesses of cruelty and ambition.. Our
general knowledge of human nature, our observation of the past history
of mankind, our experience of present times; all these causes must
induce us to open the door to exceptions, and must make us conclude,
that we may resist the more violent effects of supreme power, without
any crime or injustice.
Accordingly we may observe, that this is both the general practice and
principle of mankind, and that no nation, that could find any remedy,
ever yet suffered the cruel ravages of a tyrant, or were blamed for
their resistance. Those who took up arms against Dionysius or Nero, or
Philip the second, have the favour of every reader in the perusal of
their history: and nothing but the most violent perversion of common
sense can ever lead us to condemn them. It is certain, therefore, that
in all our notions of morals we never entertain such an absurdity as
that of passive obedience, but make allowances for resistance in the
more flagrant instances of tyranny and oppression. The general opinion
of mankind has some authority in all cases; but in this of morals it
is perfectly infallible. Nor is it less infallible, because men cannot
distinctly explain the principles, on which it is founded. Few persons
can carry on this train of reasoning:
Government is a mere human invention for the interest of society. Where
the tyranny of the governor removes this interest, it also removes the
natural obligation to obedience. The moral obligation is founded on the
natural, and therefore must cease where that ceases; especially where
the subject is such as makes us foresee very many occasions wherein the
natural obligation may cease, and causes us to form a kind of general
rule for the regulation of our conduct in such occurrences.
But though this train of reasoning be too subtile for the vulgar, it is
certain, that all men have an implicit notion of it, and are sensible,
that they owe obedience to government merely on account of the public
interest; and at the same time, that human nature is so subject to
frailties and passions, as may easily pervert this institution, and
change their governors into tyrants and public enemies. If the sense of
common interest were not our original motive to obedience, I would fain
ask, what other principle is there in human nature capable of subduing
the natural ambition of men, and forcing them to such a submission?
Imitation and custom are not sufficient. For the question still recurs,
what motive first produces those instances of submission, which we
imitate, and that train of actions, which produces the custom? There
evidently is no other principle than public interest; and if interest
first produces obedience to government, the obligation to obedience
must cease, whenever the interest ceases, in any great degree, and in a
considerable number of instances.
SECT. X OF THE OBJECTS OF ALLEGIANCE
But though, on some occasions, it may be justifiable, both in sound
politics and morality, to resist supreme power, it is certain, that in
the ordinary course of human affairs nothing can be more pernicious
and criminal; and that besides the convulsions, which always attend
revolutions, such a practice tends directly to the subversion of all
government, and the causing an universal anarchy and confusion among
mankind. As numerous and civilized societies cannot subsist without
government, so government is entirely useless without an exact
obedience. We ought always to weigh the advantages, which we reap from
authority, against the disadvantages; and by this means we shall become
more scrupulous of putting in practice the doctrine of resistance. The
common rule requires submission; and it is only in cases of grievous
tyranny and oppression, that the exception can take place.
Since then such a blind submission is commonly due to magistracy, the
next question is, to whom it is due, and whom we are to regard as our
lawful magistrates? In order to answer this question, let us recollect
what we have already established concerning the origin of government and
political society. When men have once experienced the impossibility
of preserving any steady order in society, while every one is his own
master, and violates or observes the laws of society, according to his
present interest or pleasure, they naturally run into the invention of
government, and put it out of their own power, as far as possible, to
transgress the laws of society. Government, therefore, arises from the
same voluntary conversation of men; and it is evident, that the same
convention, which establishes government, will also determine the
persons who are to govern, and will remove all doubt and ambiguity in
this particular. And the voluntary consent of men must here have the
greater efficacy, that the authority of the magistrate does at first
stand upon the foundation of a promise of the subjects, by which they
bind themselves to obedience; as in every other contract or engagement.
The same promise, then, which binds them to obedience, ties them down to
a particular person, and makes him the object of their allegiance.
But when government has been established on this footing for some
considerable time, and the separate interest, which we have in
submission, has produced a separate sentiment of morality, the case
is entirely altered, and a promise is no longer able to determine the
particular magistrate since it is no longer considered as the foundation
of government. We naturally suppose ourselves born to submission; and
imagine, that such particular persons have a right to command, as we on
our part are bound to obey. These notions of right and obligation are
derived from nothing but the advantage we reap from government, which
gives us a repugnance to practise resistance ourselves, and makes us
displeased with any instance of it in others. But here it is remarkable,
that in this new state of affairs, the original sanction of government,
which is interest, is not admitted to determine the persons, whom we are
to obey, as the original sanction did at first, when affairs were on
the footing of a promise. A promise fixes and determines the persons,
without any uncertainty: But it is evident, that if men were to regulate
their conduct in this particular, by the view of a peculiar interest,
either public or private, they would involve themselves in endless
confusion, and would render all government, in a great measure,
ineffectual. The private interest of every one is different; and though
the public interest in itself be always one and the same, yet it becomes
the source of as great dissentions, by reason of the different opinions
of particular persons concerning it. The same interest, therefore,
which causes us to submit to magistracy, makes us renounce itself in
the choice of our magistrates, and binds us down to a certain form of
government, and to particular persons, without allowing us to aspire to
the utmost perfection in either. The case is here the same as in that
law of nature concerning the stability of possession. It is highly
advantageous, and even absolutely necessary to society, that possession
should be stable; and this leads us to the establishment of such a rule:
But we find, that were we to follow the same advantage, in assigning
particular possessions to particular persons, we should disappoint
our end, and perpetuate the confusion, which that rule is intended to
prevent. We must, therefore, proceed by general rules, and regulate
ourselves by general interests, in modifying the law of nature
concerning the stability of possession. Nor need we fear, that our
attachment to this law will diminish upon account of the seeming
frivolousness of those interests, by which it is determined. The impulse
of the mind is derived from a very strong interest; and those other more
minute interests serve only to direct the motion, without adding
any thing to it, or diminishing from it. It is the same case with
government. Nothing is more advantageous to society than such an
invention; and this interest is sufficient to make us embrace it with
ardour and alacrity; though we are obliged afterwards to regulate and
direct our devotion to government by several considerations, which are
not of the same importance, and to chuse our magistrates without having
in view any particular advantage from the choice.
The first of those principles I shall take notice of, as a foundation of
the right of magistracy, is that which gives authority to all the most
established governments of the world without exception: I mean, long
possession in any one form of government, or succession of princes. It
is certain, that if we remount to the first origin of every nation,
we shall find, that there scarce is any race of kings, or form of a
commonwealth, that is not primarily founded on usurpation and rebellion,
and whose title is not at first worse than doubtful and uncertain. Time
alone gives solidity to their right; and operating gradually on the
minds of men, reconciles them to any authority, and makes it seem just
and reasonable. Nothing causes any sentiment to have a greater influence
upon us than custom, or turns our imagination more strongly to any
object. When we have been long accustomed to obey any set of men,
that general instinct or tendency, which we have to suppose a moral
obligation attending loyalty, takes easily this direction, and chuses
that set of men for its objects. It is interest which gives the general
instinct; but it is custom which gives the particular direction.
And here it is observable, that the same length of time has a different
influence on our sentiments of morality, according to its different
influence on the mind. We naturally judge of every thing by comparison;
and since in considering the fate of kingdoms and republics, we embrace
a long extent of time, a small duration has not in this case a like
influence on our sentiments, as when we consider any other object. One
thinks he acquires a right to a horse, or a suit of cloaths, in a very
short time; but a century is scarce sufficient to establish any
new government, or remove all scruples in the minds of the subjects
concerning it. Add to this, that a shorter period of time will suffice
to give a prince a title to any additional power he may usurp, than will
serve to fix his right, where the whole is an usurpation. The kings of
France have not been possessed of absolute power for above two reigns;
and yet nothing will appear more extravagant to Frenchmen than to
talk of their liberties. If we consider what has been said concerning
accession, we shall easily account for this phænomenon.
When there is no form of government established by long possession,
the present possession is sufficient to supply its place, and may
be regarded as the second source of all public authority. Right
to authority is nothing but the constant possession of authority,
maintained by the laws of society and the interests of mankind; and
nothing can be more natural than to join this constant possession to the
present one, according to the principles above-mentioned. If the same
principles did not take place with regard to the property of private
persons, it was because these principles were counter-ballanced by
very strong considerations of interest; when we observed, that all
restitution would by that means be prevented, and every violence be
authorized and protected. And though the same motives may seem to
have force, with regard to public authority, yet they are opposed by a
contrary interest; which consists in the preservation of peace, and the
avoiding of all changes, which, however they may be easily produced in
private affairs, are unavoidably attended with bloodshed and confusion,
where the public is interested.
Any one, who finding the impossibility of accounting for the right of
the present possessor, by any received system of ethics, should resolve
to deny absolutely that right, and assert, that it is not authorized
by morality, would be justly thought to maintain a very extravagant
paradox, and to shock the common sense and judgment of mankind. No maxim
is more conformable, both to prudence and morals, than to submit quietly
to the government, which we find established in the country where we
happen to live, without enquiring too curiously into its origin and
first establishment. Few governments will bear being examined so
rigorously. How many kingdoms are there at present in the world, and
how many more do we find in history, whose governors have no better
foundation for their authority than that of present possession? To
confine ourselves to the Roman and Grecian empire; is it not evident,
that the long succession of emperors, from the dissolution of the Roman
liberty, to the final extinction of that empire by the Turks, could not
so much as pretend to any other title to the empire? The election of the
senate was a mere form, which always followed the choice of the legions;
and these were almost always divided in the different provinces, and
nothing but the sword was able to terminate the difference. It was by
the sword, therefore, that every emperor acquired, as well as defended
his right; and we must either say, that all the known world, for so
many ages, had no government, and owed no allegiance to any one, or
must allow, that the right of the stronger, in public affairs, is to be
received as legitimate, and authorized by morality, when not opposed by
any other title.
The right of conquest may be considered as a third source of the
title of sovereigns. This right resembles very much that of present
possession; but has rather a superior force, being seconded by the
notions of glory and honour, which we ascribe to conquerors, instead
of the sentiments of hatred and detestation, which attend usurpers. Men
naturally favour those they love; and therefore are more apt to ascribe
a right to successful violence, betwixt one sovereign and another, than
to the successful rebellion of a subject against his sovereign.[11]
[11] It is not here asserted, that present possession or conquest
are sufficient to give a title against long possession and positive
laws but only that they have some force, and will be able to call
the ballance where the titles are otherwise equal, and will even be
sufficient sometimes to sanctify the weaker title. What degree of
force they have is difficult to determine. I believe all moderate
men will allow, that they have great force in all disputes
concerning the rights of princes.
When neither long possession, nor present possession, nor conquest take
place, as when the first sovereign, who founded any monarchy, dies; in
that case, the right of succession naturally prevails in their stead,
and men are commonly induced to place the son of their late monarch
on the throne, and suppose him to inherit his father's authority. The
presumed consent of the father, the imitation of the succession to
private families, the interest, which the state has in chusing the
person, who is most powerful, and has the most numerous followers; all
these reasons lead men to prefer the son of their late monarch to any
other person.[12]
[12] To prevent mistakes I must observe, that this case of
succession is not the same with that of hereditary monarchies,
where custom has fix'd the right of succession. These depend upon
the principle of long possession above explain'd.
These reasons have some weight; but I am persuaded, that to one, who
considers impartially of the matter, it will appear, that there concur
some principles of the imagination, along with those views of interest.
The royal authority seems to be connected with the young prince even in
his father's life-time, by the natural transition of the thought; and
still more after his death: So that nothing is more natural than to
compleat this union by a new relation, and by putting him actually in
possession of what seems so naturally to belong to him.
To confirm this we may weigh the following phaenomena, which are pretty
curious in their kind. In elective monarchies the right of succession
has no place by the laws and settled custom; and yet its influence is
so natural, that it is impossible entirely to exclude it from the
imagination, and render the subjects indifferent to the son of their
deceased monarch. Hence in some governments of this kind, the choice
commonly falls on one or other of the royal family; and in some
governments they are all excluded. Those contrary phaenomena proceed
from the same principle. Where the royal family is excluded, it is
from a refinement in politics, which makes people sensible of their
propensity to chuse a sovereign in that family, and gives them a
jealousy of their liberty, lest their new monarch, aided by this
propensity, should establish his family, and destroy the freedom of
elections for the future.
The history of Artaxerxes, and the younger Cyrus, may furnish us with
some reflections to the same purpose. Cyrus pretended a right to the
throne above his elder brother, because he was born after his father's
accession. I do not pretend, that this reason was valid. I would only
infer from it, that he would never have made use of such a pretext, were
it not for the qualities of the imagination above-mentioned, by which
we are naturally inclined to unite by a new relation whatever objects we
find already united. Artaxerxes had an advantage above his brother, as
being the eldest son, and the first in succession: But Cyrus was more
closely related to the royal authority, as being begot after his father
was invested with it.
Should it here be pretended, that the view of convenience may be
the source of all the right of succession, and that men gladly take
advantage of any rule, by which they can fix the successor of their late
sovereign, and prevent that anarchy and confusion, which attends all
new elections? To this I would answer, that I readily allow, that this
motive may contribute something to the effect; but at the same time I
assert, that without another principle, it is impossible such a
motive should take place. The interest of a nation requires, that the
succession to the crown should be fixed one way or other; but it is
the same thing to its interest in what way it be fixed: So that if the
relation of blood had not an effect independent of public interest, it
would never have been regarded, without a positive law; and it would
have been impossible, that so many positive laws of different nations
could ever have concured precisely in the same views and intentions.
This leads us to consider the fifth source of authority, viz. positive
laws; when the legislature establishes a certain form of government and
succession of princes. At first sight it may be thought, that this must
resolve into some of the preceding titles of authority. The legislative
power, whence the positive law is derived, must either be established
by original contract, long possession, present possession, conquest, or
succession; and consequently the positive law must derive its force
from some of those principles. But here it is remarkable, that though
a positive law can only derive its force from these principles, yet it
acquires not all the force of the principle from whence it is derived,
but loses considerably in the transition; as it is natural to imagine.
For instance; a government is established for many centuries on
a certain system of laws, forms, and methods of succession. The
legislative power, established by this long succession, changes all on a
sudden the whole system of government, and introduces a new constitution
in its stead. I believe few of the subjects will think themselves bound
to comply with this alteration, unless it have an evident tendency to
the public good: But men think themselves still at liberty to return to
the antient government. Hence the notion of fundamental laws; which are
supposed to be inalterable by the will of the sovereign: And of this
nature the Salic law is understood to be in France. How far these
fundamental laws extend is not determined in any government; nor is it
possible it ever should. There is such an indefensible gradation from
the most material laws to the most trivial, and from the most ancient
laws to the most modern, that it will be impossible to set bounds to
the legislative power, and determine how far it may innovate in the
principles of government. That is the work more of imagination and
passion than of reason.
Whoever considers the history of the several nations of the world; their
revolutions, conquests, increase, and diminution; the manner in which
their particular governments are established, and the successive right
transmitted from one person to another, will soon learn to treat very
lightly all disputes concerning the rights of princes, and will be
convinced, that a strict adherence to any general rules, and the rigid
loyalty to particular persons and families, on which some people set so
high a value, are virtues that hold less of reason, than of bigotry
and superstition. In this particular, the study of history confirms the
reasonings of true philosophy; which, shewing us the original qualities
of human nature, teaches us to regard the controversies in politics as
incapable of any decision in most cases, and as entirely subordinate
to the interests of peace and liberty. Where the public good does not
evidently demand a change; it is certain, that the concurrence of all
those titles, original contract, long possession, present possession,
succession, and positive laws, forms the strongest title to sovereignty,
and is justly regarded as sacred and inviolable. But when these titles
are mingled and opposed in different degrees, they often occasion
perplexity; and are less capable of solution from the arguments of
lawyers and philosophers, than from the swords of the soldiery. Who
shall tell me, for instance, whether Germanicus, or Drufus, ought to
have succeeded Tiberius, had he died while they were both alive, without
naming any of them for his successor? Ought the right of adoption to be
received as equivalent to that of blood in a nation, where it had the
same effect in private families, and had already, in two instances,
taken place in the public? Ought Germanicus to be esteemed the eldest
son, because he was born before Drufus; or the younger, because he was
adopted after the birth of his brother? Ought the right of the elder to
be regarded in a nation, where the eldest brother had no advantage in
the succession to private families? Ought the Roman empire at that time
to be esteemed hereditary, because of two examples; or ought it, even
so early, to be regarded as belonging to the stronger, or the present
possessor, as being founded on so recent an usurpation? Upon whatever
principles we may pretend to answer these and such like questions, I
am afraid we shall never be able to satisfy an impartial enquirer, who
adopts no party in political controversies, and will be satisfied with
nothing but sound reason and philosophy.
But here an English reader will be apt to enquire concerning that famous
revolution, which has had such a happy influence on our constitution,
and has been attended with such mighty consequences. We have already
remarked, that in the case of enormous tyranny and oppression, it is
lawful to take arms even against supreme power; and that as government
is a mere human invention for mutual advantage and security, it no
longer imposes any obligation, either natural or moral, when once it
ceases to have that tendency. But though this general principle
be authorized by common sense, and the practice of all ages, it is
certainly impossible for the laws, or even for philosophy, to establish
any particular rules, by which we may know when resistance is lawful;
and decide all controversies, which may arise on that subject. This may
not only happen with regard to supreme power; but it is possible, even
in some constitutions, where the legislative authority is not lodged in
one person, that there may be a magistrate so eminent and powerful, as
to oblige the laws to keep silence in this particular. Nor would this
silence be an effect only of their respect, but also of their prudence;
since it is certain, that in the vast variety of circumstances,
which occur in all governments, an exercise of power, in so great
a magistrate, may at one time be beneficial to the public, which at
another time would be pernicious and tyrannical. But notwithstanding
this silence of the laws in limited monarchies, it is certain, that the
people still retain the right of resistance; since it is impossible,
even in the most despotic governments, to deprive them of it. The same
necessity of self-preservation, and the same motive of public good,
give them the same liberty in the one case as in the other. And we may
farther observe, that in such mixed governments, the cases, wherein
resistance is lawful, must occur much oftener, and greater indulgence
be given to the subjects to defend themselves by force of arms, than in
arbitrary governments. Not only where the chief magistrate enters into
measures, in themselves, extremely pernicious to the public, but even
when he would encroach on the other parts of the constitution, and
extend his power beyond the legal bounds, it is allowable to resist and
dethrone him; though such resistance and violence may, in the general
tenor of the laws, be deemed unlawful and rebellious. For besides that
nothing is more essential to public interest, than the preservation of
public liberty; it is evident, that if such a mixed government be once
supposed to be established, every part or member of the constitution
must have a right of self-defence, and of maintaining its ancient bounds
against the encroachment of every other authority. As matter would have
been created in vain, were it deprived of a power of resistance, without
which no part of it could preserve a distinct existence, and the whole
might be crowded up into a single point: So it is a gross absurdity to
suppose, in any government, a right without a remedy, or allow, that the
supreme power is shared with the people, without allowing, that it is
lawful for them to defend their share against every invader. Those,
therefore, who would seem to respect our free government, and yet deny
the right of resistance, have renounced all pretensions to common sense,
and do not merit a serious answer.
It does not belong to my present purpose to shew, that these general
principles are applicable to the late revolution; and that all the
rights and privileges, which ought to be sacred to a free nation, were
at that time threatened with the utmost danger. I am better pleased to
leave this controverted subject, if it really admits of controversy;
and to indulge myself in some philosophical reflections, which naturally
arise from that important event.
First, We may observe, that should the lords and commons in our
constitution, without any reason from public interest, either depose the
king in being, or after his death exclude the prince, who, by laws and
settled custom, ought to succeed, no one would esteem their proceedings
legal, or think themselves bound to comply with them. But should the
king, by his unjust practices, or his attempts for a tyrannical and
despotic power, justly forfeit his legal, it then not only becomes
morally lawful and suitable to the nature of political society to
dethrone him; but what is more, we are apt likewise to think, that the
remaining members of the constitution acquire a right of excluding his
next heir, and of chusing whom they please for his successor. This is
founded on a very singular quality of our thought and imagination. When
a king forfeits his authority, his heir ought naturally to remain in the
same situation, as if the king were removed by death; unless by mixing
himself in the tyranny, he forfeit it for himself. But though this
may seem reasonable, we easily comply with the contrary opinion. The
deposition of a king, in such a government as ours, is certainly an act
beyond all common authority, and an illegal assuming a power for public
good, which, in the ordinary course of government, can belong to no
member of the constitution. When the public good is so great and so
evident as to justify the action, the commendable use of this licence
causes us naturally to attribute to the parliament a right of using
farther licences; and the antient bounds of the laws being once
transgressed with approbation, we are not apt to be so strict in
confining ourselves precisely within their limits. The mind naturally
runs on with any train of action, which it has begun; nor do we commonly
make any scruple concerning our duty, after the first action of any
kind, which we perform. Thus at the revolution, no one who thought the
deposition of the father justifiable, esteemed themselves to be confined
to his infant son; though had that unhappy monarch died innocent at that
time, and had his son, by any accident, been conveyed beyond seas, there
is no doubt but a regency would have been appointed till he should
come to age, and could be restored to his dominions. As the slightest
properties of the imagination have an effect on the judgments of the
people, it shews the wisdom of the laws and of the parliament to take
advantage of such properties, and to chuse the magistrates either in
or out of a line, according as the vulgar will most naturally attribute
authority and right to them.
Secondly, Though the accession of the Prince of Orange to the throne
might at first give occasion to many disputes, and his title be
contested, it ought not now to appear doubtful, but must have acquired
a sufficient authority from those three princes, who have succeeded him
upon the same title. Nothing is more usual, though nothing may, at first
sight, appear more unreasonable, than this way of thinking. Princes
often seem to acquire a right from their successors, as well as from
their ancestors; and a king, who during his life-time might justly be
deemed an usurper, will be regarded by posterity as a lawful prince,
because he has had the good fortune to settle his family on the throne,
and entirely change the antient form of government. Julius Caesar is
regarded as the first Roman emperor; while Sylla and Marius, whose
titles were really the same as his, are treated as tyrants and usurpers.
Time and custom give authority to all forms of government, and all
successions of princes; and that power, which at first was founded only
on injustice and violence, becomes in time legal and obligatory.
Nor does the mind rest there; but returning back upon its footsteps,
transfers to their predecessors and ancestors that right, which it
naturally ascribes to the posterity, as being related together, and
united in the imagination. The present king of France makes Hugh Capet
a more lawful prince than Cromwell; as the established liberty of the
Dutch is no inconsiderable apology for their obstinate resistance to
Philip the second.
SECT. XI OF THE LAWS OF NATIONS
When civil government has been established over the greatest part of
mankind, and different societies have been formed contiguous to each
other, there arises a new set of duties among the neighbouring states,
suitable to the nature of that commerce, which they carry on with each
other. Political writers tell us, that in every kind of intercourse,
a body politic is to be considered as one person; and indeed this
assertion is so far just, that different nations, as well as private
persons, require mutual assistance; at the same time that their
selfishness and ambition are perpetual sources of war and discord. But
though nations in this particular resemble individuals, yet as they are
very different in other respects, no wonder they regulate themselves by
different maxims, and give rise to a new set of rules, which we call the
laws of nations. Under this head we may comprize the sacredness of the
persons of ambassadors, the declaration of war, the abstaining from
poisoned arms, with other duties of that kind, which are evidently
calculated for the commerce, that is peculiar to different societies.
But though these rules be super-added to the laws of nature, the former
do not entirely abolish the latter; and one may safely affirm, that the
three fundamental rules of justice, the stability of possession, its
transference by consent, and the performance of promises, are duties
of princes, as well as of subjects. The same interest produces the same
effect in both cases. Where possession has no stability, there must be
perpetual war. Where property is not transferred by consent, there can
be no commerce. Where promises are not observed, there can be no leagues
nor alliances. The advantages, therefore, of peace, commerce, and
mutual succour, make us extend to different kingdoms the same notions of
justice, which take place among individuals.
There is a maxim very current in the world, which few politicians are
willing to avow, but which has been authorized by the practice of all
ages, that there is a system of morals calculated for princes, much more
free than that which ought to govern private persons. It is evident
this is not to be understood of the lesser extent of public duties and
obligations; nor will any one be so extravagant as to assert, that
the most solemn treaties ought to have no force among princes. For as
princes do actually form treaties among themselves, they must propose
some advantage from the execution of them; and the prospect of such
advantage for the future must engage them to perform their part, and
must establish that law of nature. The meaning, therefore, of this
political maxim is, that though the morality of princes has the same
extent, yet it has not the same force as that of private persons, and
may lawfully be trangressed from a more trivial motive. However shocking
such a proposition may appear to certain philosophers, it will be easy
to defend it upon those principles, by which we have accounted for the
origin of justice and equity.
When men have found by experience, that it is impossible to subsist
without society, and that it is impossible to maintain society, while
they give free course to their appetites; so urgent an interest quickly
restrains their actions, and imposes an obligation to observe those
rules, which we call the laws of justice. This obligation of interest
rests nor here; but by the necessary course of the passions and
sentiments, gives rise to the moral obligation of duty; while we approve
of such actions as tend to the peace of society, and disapprove of such
as tend to its disturbance. The same natural obligation of interest
takes place among independent kingdoms, and gives rise to the same
morality; so that no one of ever so corrupt morals will approve of a
prince, who voluntarily, and of his own accord, breaks his word,
or violates any treaty. But here we may observe, that though the
intercourse of different states be advantageous, and even sometimes
necessary, yet it is nor so necessary nor advantageous as that among
individuals, without which it is utterly impossible for human nature
ever to subsist. Since, therefore, the natural obligation to justice,
among different states, is not so strong as among individuals, the moral
obligation, which arises from it, must partake of its weakness; and we
must necessarily give a greater indulgence to a prince or minister, who
deceives another; than to a private gentleman, who breaks his word of
honour.
Should it be asked, what proportion these two species of morality bear
to each other? I would answer, that this is a question, to which we can
never give any precise answer; nor is it possible to reduce to numbers
the proportion, which we ought to fix betwixt them. One may safely
affirm, that this proportion finds itself, without any art or study
of men; as we may observe on many other occasions. The practice of the
world goes farther in teaching us the degrees of our duty, than the most
subtile philosophy, which was ever yet invented. And this may serve as a
convincing proof, that all men have an implicit notion of the foundation
of those moral rules concerning natural and civil justice, and are
sensible, that they arise merely from human conventions, and from the
interest, which we have in the preservation of peace and order.
For otherwise the diminution of the interest would never produce
a relaxation of the morality, and reconcile us more easily to any
transgression of justice among princes and republics, than in the
private commerce of one subject with another.
SECT. XII OF CHASTITY AND MODESTY
If any difficulty attend this system concerning the laws of nature and
nations, it will be with regard to the universal approbation or blame,
which follows their observance or transgression, and which some may not
think sufficiently explained from the general interests of society.
To remove, as far as possible, all scruples of this kind, I shall here
consider another set of duties, viz, the modesty and chastity which
belong to the fair sex: And I doubt not but these virtues will be
found to be still more conspicuous instances of the operation of those
principles, which I have insisted on.
There are some philosophers, who attack the female virtues with great
vehemence, and fancy they have gone very far in detecting popular
errors, when they can show, that there is no foundation in nature for
all that exterior modesty, which we require in the expressions, and
dress, and behaviour of the fair sex. I believe I may spare myself the
trouble of insisting on so obvious a subject, and may proceed, without
farther preparation, to examine after what manner such notions arise
from education, from the voluntary conventions of men, and from the
interest of society.
Whoever considers the length and feebleness of human infancy, with the
concern which both sexes naturally have for their offspring, will
easily perceive, that there must be an union of male and female for
the education of the young, and that this union must be of considerable
duration. But in order to induce the men to impose on themselves this
restraint, and undergo chearfully all the fatigues and expences, to
which it subjects them, they must believe, that the children are their
own, and that their natural instinct is not directed to a wrong object,
when they give a loose to love and tenderness. Now if we examine the
structure of the human body, we shall find, that this security is very
difficult to be attained on our part; and that since, in the copulation
of the sexes, the principle of generation goes from the man to the
woman, an error may easily take place on the side of the former, though
it be utterly impossible with regard to the latter. From this trivial
and anatomical observation is derived that vast difference betwixt the
education and duties of the two sexes.
Were a philosopher to examine the matter a priori, he would reason after
the following manner. Men are induced to labour for the maintenance
and education of their children, by the persuasion that they are really
their own; and therefore it is reasonable, and even necessary, to give
them some security in this particular. This security cannot consist
entirely in the imposing of severe punishments on any transgressions
of conjugal fidelity on the part of the wife; since these public
punishments cannot be inflicted without legal proof, which it is
difficult to meet with in this subject. What restraint, therefore, shall
we impose on women, in order to counter-balance so strong a temptation
as they have to infidelity? There seems to be no restraint possible, but
in the punishment of bad fame or reputation; a punishment, which has a
mighty influence on the human mind, and at the same time is inflicted by
the world upon surmizes, and conjectures, and proofs, that would never
be received in any court of judicature. In order, therefore, to impose
a due restraint on the female sex, we must attach a peculiar degree of
shame to their infidelity, above what arises merely from its injustice,
and must bestow proportionable praises on their chastity.
But though this be a very strong motive to fidelity, our philosopher
would quickly discover, that it would not alone be sufficient to that
purpose. All human creatures, especially of the female sex, are apt
to over-look remote motives in favour of any present temptation:
The temptation is here the strongest imaginable: Its approaches are
insensible and seducing: And a woman easily finds, or flatters herself
she shall find, certain means of securing her reputation, and preventing
all the pernicious consequences of her pleasures. It is necessary,
therefore, that, beside the infamy attending such licences, there should
be some preceding backwardness or dread, which may prevent their first
approaches, and may give the female sex a repugnance to all expressions,
and postures, and liberties, that have an immediate relation to that
enjoyment.