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THE
PHILOSOPHY
OF THE
MORAL FEELINGS.
BY
JOHN ABERCROMBIE, M.D. OXON. & EDIN.
V. P. R. S. E.
FELLOW OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS OF EDINBURGH;
MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF MEDICINE OF FRANCE;
AND FIRST PHYSICIAN TO HER MAJESTY IN SCOTLAND.
FIFTH EDITION.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
MDCCCXXXIX.
EDINBURGH:
Printed by Balfour and Jack, Niddry Street.
PREFACE.
In a former work, the Author endeavoured to delineate, in a simple and
popular form, the leading facts relating to the Intellectual Powers, and
to trace the principles which ought to guide us in the Investigation of
Truth. The volume which he now offers to the public attention, is
intended as a sequel to these Inquiries; and his object in it is to
investigate, in the same unpretending manner, the Moral Feelings of the
Human Mind, and the principles which ought to regulate our volitions and
our conduct as moral and responsible beings. The two branches of
investigation are, in many respects, closely connected; and, on this
account, it may often happen, that, in the present work, principles are
assumed as admitted or proved, which, in the former, were stated at
length, with the evidence by which they are supported.
In presenting a fifth edition of this volume, the Author feels most
deeply the favourable manner in which it has been received, and the
notice which has been bestowed upon it by those whose approbation he
regards as a distinction of the most gratifying kind. He had two objects
chiefly in view when he ventured upon this investigation. The one was to
divest his inquiry of all unprofitable speculation, and to shew that the
philosophy of the moral feelings bears directly upon a practical purpose
of the highest moment,--the mental and moral culture of every rational
being. The other was to shew the close and important relation which
exists between this science and the doctrines of revealed religion, and
the powerful evidence which is derived, for the truth of both, from the
manner in which they confirm and illustrate each other. These two
sources of knowledge cannot be separated, in the estimation of any one
who feels the deep interest of the inquiry, and seriously prosecutes the
important question,--what is truth. If we attempt to erect the
philosophy of morals into an independent science, we shall soon find
that its highest inductions only lead us to a point beyond which we are
condemned to wander in doubt and in darkness. But, on the other hand, by
depreciating philosophy, or the light which is derived from the moral
impressions of the mind, we deprive ourselves of a most important source
of evidence in support of revelation. For it is from these impressions,
viewed in connexion with the actual state of man, that we learn the
necessity, and the moral probability, of a revelation; and it is by
principles existing in the mind that we are enabled to feel the power of
that varied and incontrovertible evidence, by which revelation comes to
the candid inquirer with all the authority of truth.
EDINBURGH, _November 1838._
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS.
SECTION I.
NATURE AND IMPORTANCE OF THE SCIENCE OF THE
MORAL FEELINGS.
Division of the Mental Powers into Intellectual and Moral 1
Harmony which ought to exist between these classes 3
Causes by which this harmony is interrupted,--and means
of counteracting them 3
Interest of the science of the Moral Feelings 5
Peculiar sources of Knowledge bearing upon it, from the
light of Conscience, and of Divine Revelation 7
SECTION II.
FIRST TRUTHS IN THE SCIENCE OF THE MORAL
FEELINGS.
Analogy between First Truths, or Intuitive Principles
of Belief, in Intellectual, and in Moral Science 11
Classification of First Truths in Moral Science, as impressions
arising out of each other, by an obvious chain
of relations 16
1. Perception of the nature and quality of actions,
as just or unjust,--right or wrong;--and a
conviction of duties which a man owes to
other men.
2. Conviction of the existence and attributes of a
Great First Cause, and Moral Governor.
3. Conviction of Moral Responsibility.
4. Impression of Future Existence.
Importance of these convictions, as intuitive articles of
belief 18
* * * * *
THE PHILOSOPHY
OF THE MORAL FEELINGS.
Analysis of Man as a Moral Being 27
I. THE DESIRES--THE AFFECTIONS--and SELF-LOVE.
II. THE WILL.
III. THE MORAL PRINCIPLE, or CONSCIENCE.
IV. THE MORAL RELATION OF MAN TOWARDS THE DEITY.
* * * * *
PART I.
THE DESIRES--THE AFFECTIONS--AND SELF-LOVE.
SECTION I.
THE DESIRES 36
1. Desire of the Animal Propensities 37
2. Desire of Wealth--Avarice 38
3. Desire of Power--Ambition 39
4. Desire of Superiority--Emulation 40
5. Desire of Society 41
6. Desire of Esteem or Approbation 42
7. Desire of Knowledge 46
8. Desire of Moral Improvement 47
-- Desire of Action 49
Importance of a Due Regulation of the Desires 50
SECTION II.
THE AFFECTIONS 53
I. JUSTICE 55
1. Justice to the Interests of others--Integrity 59
2. Justice to the Freedom of Action of others 59
3. Justice to the Reputation of others 60
4. Justice in estimating the Conduct and Character of others 61
5. Justice to the Opinions of others--Candour 62
6. Justice to the Feelings of others 63
7. Justice to the Moral Condition of others 64
II. COMPASSION AND BENEVOLENCE 66
1. Benevolence towards the Distresses of others 69
2. Benevolence towards the Reputation of others 70
3. Benevolence towards the Character and Conduct of
others,--including Forgiveness of Injuries 71
4. Benevolence towards the Feelings of others 71
5. Benevolence towards improving the Moral Condition
of others 73
III. VERACITY 74
1. The Love of Truth, in the Reception of it 76
2. Veracity in delivering statements,--including Sincerity 78
3. Truth of Purpose, or Correct fulfilment of Promises 82
IV. FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND GRATITUDE 83
V. PATRIOTISM 84
THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS 85
THE DEFENSIVE AFFECTIONS, ANGER, JEALOUSY,
RESENTMENT 89
Important Influence produced upon the Exercise of the
Affections,
By Attention 92
By Habit 97
Feeling of Moral Approbation attached to the Exercise
of the Affections 100
Happiness arising from a due Exercise of the Affections;--Influence
of Temper 106
SECTION III.
SELF-LOVE 110
Sense in which the term is employed 111
Tendency of a true and Rational Self-love 111
Morbid Exercise of it,--Selfishness 116
Disinterested Conduct and Self-denial 117
* * * * *
PART II.
OF THE WILL 119
Simple Volition, its Origin from one of the Desires or
Affections 119
Operation of Moral Causes on the Will 120
Nature of these Causes, and Source of the Diversity of
their operation in different individuals 123
Circumstances required for the Uniformity of their Operation:--
1. Knowledge 128
Truths of Natural and Revealed Religion.
2. Attention 132
Its influence on Moral Decisions.
3. Moral Habits 137
Origin and Progress of Derangement of Moral Harmony.
Influence of Habits upon Character 142
Means of Correcting Injurious Moral Habits 143
Practical Conclusions from these Principles. Important
Influence of Moral Habits 145
Necessity and Probability of Divine Aid in correcting
Moral Derangement 149
Influence of the Mental operation called Faith 152
* * * * *
PART III.
OF THE MORAL PRINCIPLE, OR CONSCIENCE 155
Proofs of the Existence of Conscience as a Distinct Principle
of the mind 156
Nature of its Operation as the Regulating Principle 157
Analogy between it and Reason 158
Its Influence in conveying an Impression of the Moral
Attributes of the Deity 163
Knowledge derived from this Source 164
Comparison of the Divine Attributes with the Actual
State of Man 167
Difficulties arising from this Comparison removed only
by the Christian Revelation 169
Mental Process by which the Regulating Power of Conscience
is Impaired or Lost 172
Influence of this Condition upon the Judgment in regard
to Moral Truth 176
Influence of Attention in Moral Decisions 179
Man's responsibility for his belief 182
Important relation between Moral Emotions and
voluntary Intellectual Processes 183
APPENDIX TO PART III.
Sec. 1.--OF THE ORIGIN AND IMMUTABILITY OF MORAL
DISTINCTIONS AND THEORIES OF MORALS 190
Origin of Our Idea of Virtue and Vice 193
System of Mandeville 195
System of Clarke and Wollaston 197
System of Utility 198
Selfish System 199
System of Paley 201
Defect of these Systems in not acknowledging the
Supreme Authority of Conscience 206
Objections to the belief of a uniformity of Moral
Feeling which have been founded on the practices
of barbarous nations 216
System of Dr. Smith, or Theory of Sympathy 219
Province of Reason in Moral Decisions 222
Remarks on the Observations of some late
Writers respecting the Corruption of Conscience 227
Sec. 2.--OF THE HARMONY OF THE MORAL FEELINGS 231
Consistency of Character arising from this Harmony,--and
Defects of Character to which it is
opposed 237
* * * * *
PART IV.
OF THE MORAL RELATION OF MAN
TOWARDS THE DEITY 243
View of the Divine Character in reference to this Regulation 244
Regulation of the Moral Feelings which ought to arise out
of it 245
1. Habitual effort to cultivate a Sense of the Divine
Presence, and to regulate the Moral
Feelings and Character by it 245
2. Submission to the appointments of Providence 252
3. Sense of Moral Imperfection and Guilt, and
Supplication for Mercy, with Reliance on
Divine Aid 254
4. Sense of Gratitude, Affection, and Love 255
Conduct and Character arising out of this Condition of
the Moral Feelings 256
Means of Cultivating it 262
Nature and Operation of Faith 264
Province of Faith in the Philosophy of the Moral Feelings 269
Truths which are its more Immediate Object 273
Its Influence on the Moral Condition 276
Province of Faith in the Scheme of Christianity 282
Certain Errors regarding Faith 287
Harmony of Christian Truth with the Philosophy of the
Moral Feelings 290
PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS.
SECT. I.
NATURE AND IMPORTANCE OF THE SCIENCE OF THE MORAL FEELINGS.
Man is to be contemplated as an intellectual, and as a moral being. By
his intellectual powers, he acquires the knowledge of facts, observes
their connexions, and traces the conclusions which arise out of them.
These mental operations, however, even in a high state of cultivation,
may be directed entirely to truths of an extrinsic kind,--that is, to
such as do not exert any influence either on the moral condition of the
individual, or on his relations to other sentient beings. They may exist
in an eminent degree in the man who lives only for himself, and feels
little beyond the personal wants, or the selfish enjoyments of the hour
that is passing over him.
But, when we contemplate man as a moral being, new relations open on our
view, and these are of mightier import. We find him occupying a place in
a great system of moral government, in which he has an important station
to fill and high duties to perform. We find him placed in certain
relations to a great moral Governor, who presides over this system of
things, and to a future state of being for which the present scene is
intended to prepare him. We find him possessed of powers which qualify
him to feel these relations, and of principles calculated to guide him
through the solemn responsibilities which attend his state of moral
discipline.
These two parts of his mental constitution we perceive to be remarkably
distinct from each other. The former may be in vigorous exercise in him
who has little feeling of his moral condition,--and the latter may be in
a high state of culture in the man, who, in point of intellectual
acquirement, knows little beyond the truths which it most concerns him
to know,--those great but simple principles which guide his conduct as
a responsible being.
In a well-regulated mind, there is an intimate harmony and co-operation
between these two departments of the mental economy. Knowledge, received
through the powers of sensation and simple intellect, whether relating
to external things, or to mental phenomena,--and conclusions derived
from these through the powers of reasoning, ought all to contribute to
that which is the highest state of man,--his purity as a moral being.
They ought all to lend their aid towards the cultivation of those
principles of his nature which bind him to his fellow-men;--and those
higher principles still, which raise his feeble powers to the Eternal
Incomprehensible One, the first great cause of all things, and the moral
Governor of the universe.
A slight degree of observation is sufficient to convince us, that such a
regulated condition of the mental constitution does not exist in the
generality of mankind. It is not my present purpose to inquire into the
causes by which this is primarily deranged; but it may be interesting to
trace some of the circumstances which bear a part in producing the
derangement. In our present state of being, we are surrounded with
objects of sense; and the mind is kept, in a great degree, under the
influence of external things. In this manner it often happens, that
facts and considerations elude our attention, and deeds escape from our
memory, in a manner which would not occur, were the mind left at liberty
to recall its own associations, and to feel the influence of principles
which are really part of the mental constitution. It is thus that, amid
the bustle of life, the attention is apt to be engrossed by
considerations of a local and an inferior character;--while facts and
motives of the highest moment are overlooked, and deeds of our own, long
gone by, escape from our remembrance. We thus lose a correct sense of
our moral condition, and yield to the agency of present and external
things, in a manner disproportioned to their real value. For our highest
concern as moral beings is with things future, and things unseen, and
often with circumstances in our own moral history, long past, and
perhaps forgotten. Hence the benefit of retirement and calm reflection,
and of every thing that tends to withdraw us from the impression of
sensible objects, and lends us to feel the superiority of things which
are not seen. Under such influence, the mind displays an astonishing
power of recalling the past and grasping the future,--and of viewing
objects in their true relations, to itself and to each other. The first
of these, indeed, we see exemplified in many affections, in which the
mind is cut off, in a greater or less degree, from its intercourse with
the external world, by causes acting upon the bodily organization. In
another work I have described many remarkable examples of the mind, in
this condition, recalling its old impressions respecting things long
past and entirely forgotten; and the facts there stated call our
attention in a very striking manner to its inherent powers and its
independent existence.
This subject is one of intense interest, and suggests reflections of the
most important kind, respecting the powers and properties of the
thinking principle. In particular, it leads us to a period, which we are
taught to anticipate even by the inductions of intellectual science,
when, the bodily frame being dissolved, the thinking and reasoning
essence shall exercise its peculiar faculties in a higher state of
being. There are facts in the mental phenomena which give a high degree
of probability to the conjecture, that the whole transactions of life,
with the motives and moral history of each individual, may then be
recalled by a process of the mind itself, and placed, as at a single
glance, distinctly before him. Were we to realize such a mental
condition, we should not fail to contemplate the impressions so
recalled, with feelings very different from those by which we are apt to
be misled amid the influence of present and external things.--The tumult
of life is over;--pursuits, principles, and motives, which once bore an
aspect of importance, are viewed with feelings more adapted to their
true value.--The moral principle recovers that authority, which, amid
the contests of passion, had been obscured or lost;--each act and each
emotion is seen in its relations to the great dictates of truth, and
each pursuit of life in its real bearing on the great concerns of a
moral being;--and the whole assumes a character of new and wondrous
import, when viewed in relation to that Incomprehensible One, who is
then disclosed in all his attributes as a moral governor.--Time past is
contracted into a point, and that the infancy of being;--time to come is
seen expanding into eternal existence.
* * * * *
Such are the views which open on him who would inquire into the essence
by which man is distinguished as a rational and moral being. Compared
with it, what are all the phenomena of nature,--what is all the history
of the world,--the rise and fall of empires,--or the fate of those who
rule them. These derive their interest from local and transient
relations,--but this is to exist for ever. That science, therefore, must
be considered as the highest of all human pursuits, which contemplates
man in his relation to eternal things. With its importance we must feel
its difficulties; and, did we confine the investigation to the mere
principles of natural science, we should feel these difficulties to be
insurmountable. But, in this great inquiry, we have two sources of
knowledge, to which nothing analogous is to be found in the history of
physical science, and which will prove infallible guides, if we resign
ourselves to their direction with sincere desire to discover the truth.
These are,--the light of conscience,--and the light of divine
revelation. In making this statement, I am aware that I tread on
delicate ground,--and that some will consider an appeal to the sacred
writings as a departure from the strict course of philosophical inquiry.
This opinion, I am satisfied, is entirely at variance with truth,--and,
in every moral investigation, if we take the inductions of sound
philosophy, along with the dictates of conscience, and the light of
revealed truth, we shall find them to constitute one uniform and
harmonious whole, the various parts of which tend, in a remarkable
manner, to establish and illustrate each other. If, indeed, in any
investigation of moral science, we disregard the light which is
furnished by the sacred writings, we resemble an astronomer who should
rely entirely on his unaided sight, and reject those optical inventions
which extend so remarkably the field of his vision, as to be to him the
revelation of things not seen. Could we suppose a person thus
entertaining doubts respecting the knowledge supplied by the telescope,
yet proceeding in a candid manner to investigate its truth, he would
perceive, in the telescopic observations themselves, principles
developed which are calculated to remove his suspicions. For, in the
limited knowledge which is furnished by vision alone, he finds
difficulties which he cannot explain, apparent inconsistencies which he
cannot reconcile, and insulated facts which he cannot refer to any known
principle. But, in the more extended knowledge which the telescope
yields, these difficulties disappear, facts are brought together which
seemed unconnected or discordant, and the universe appears one beautiful
system of order and consistency. It is the same in the experience of the
moral inquirer, when he extends his views beyond the inductions of
reason, and corrects his conclusions by the testimony of God. Discordant
principles are brought together, doubts and difficulties disappear, and
beauty, order, and harmony are seen to pervade the government of the
Deity. In this manner there also arises a species of evidence for the
doctrines of revelation, which is entirely independent of the external
proofs of its divine origin; and which, to the candid mind, invests it
with all the characters of authenticity and truth.
From these combined sources of knowledge, thus illustrating and
confirming each other, we are enabled to attain, in moral inquiries, a
degree of certainty adapted to their high importance. We do so when,
with sincere desire to discover the truth, we resign ourselves to the
guidance of the light which is within, aided as it is by that light from
heaven which shines upon the path of the humble inquirer. Cultivated on
these principles, the science is fitted to engage the most powerful
mind; while it will impart strength to the most common understanding. It
terminates in no barren speculations, but tends directly to promote
peace on earth, and good-will among men. It is calculated both to
enlarge the understanding, and to elevate and purify the feelings, and
thus to cultivate the moral being for the life which is to come. It
spreads forth to the view, becoming smoother and brighter the farther it
is pursued; and the rays which illuminate the path converge in the
throne of Him who is Eternal.
SECT. II.
OF FIRST TRUTHS IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE MORAL FEELINGS.
The knowledge which we receive through our intellectual powers is
referable to two classes. These may be distinguished by the names of
acquired knowledge, and intuitive or fundamental articles of belief. The
former is procured by the active use of our mental powers, in collecting
facts, tracing their relations, and observing the deductions which arise
out of particular combinations of them. These constitute the operations
which I have referred to in another work, under the heads of processes
of investigation, and processes of reasoning. The full exercise of them
requires a certain culture of the mental faculties, and consequently is
confined to a comparatively small number of men. We perceive, however,
that such culture is not essential to every individual,--for many are
very deficient in it who yet are considered as persons of sound mind,
and capable of discharging their duties in various situations of life in
a creditable and useful manner.
But the knowledge which we derive from the other source is of immediate
and essential importance to men of every degree; and, without it, no
individual could engage, with confidence, in any of the common
transactions of life, or make any provision for his protection or
comfort, or even for the continuance of his existence. These are the
principles also treated of, in a former work, under the name of First
Truths. They are not, like our knowledge of the other kind, the result
of any process either of investigation or of reasoning, and, for the
possession of them, no man either depends upon his own observation, or
has recourse to that of other men. They are a part of his mental
constitution, arising, with a feeling of absolute certainty, in every
sound mind; and, while they admit of no proof by processes of reasoning,
sophistical objections brought against them can be combated only by an
appeal to the consciousness of every man, and to the absolute conviction
which forces itself upon the whole mass of mankind.
If the Creator has thus implanted in the mind of man principles to guide
him in his intellectual and physical relations, independently of any
acquired knowledge, we might naturally expect to find him endowed, in
the same manner, with principles adapted to his more important relations
as a moral being. We might naturally expect, that, in these high
concerns, he would not be left to the knowledge which he might casually
acquire, either through his own powers of investigation or reasoning, or
through instruction received from other men. Impressions adapted to this
important end we accordingly find developed in a remarkable manner,--and
they are referable to that part of our constitution, which holds so
important a place in the philosophy of the mind, by which we perceive
differences in the moral aspect of actions, and approve or disapprove of
them as right or wrong. The convictions derived from this source seem to
occupy the same place in the moral system, that first truths, or
intuitive articles of belief, do in the intellectual. Like them, also,
they admit of no direct proofs by processes of reasoning; and, when
sophistical arguments are brought against them, the only true answer
consists in an appeal to the conscience of every uncontaminated
mind;--by which we mean chiefly the consciousness of its own moral
impressions, in a mind which has not been degraded in its moral
perceptions by a course of personal depravity. This is a consideration
of the utmost practical importance; and it will probably appear that
many well-intended arguments, respecting the first principles of moral
truth, have been inconclusive, in the same manner as were attempts to
establish first truths by processes of reasoning,--because the line of
argument adopted in regard to them was one of which they are not
susceptible. The force of this analogy is in no degree weakened by the
fact, that there is, in many cases, an apparent difference between that
part of our mental constitution, on which is founded our conviction of
first truths, and that principle from which is derived our impression of
moral truth:--For the former continues the same in every mind which is
neither obscured by idiocy nor distorted by insanity; but the moral
feelings become vitiated by a process of the mind itself, by which it
has gradually gone astray from rectitude. Hence the difference we find
in the decisions of different men, respecting moral truth, arising from
peculiarities in their own mental condition;--and hence that remarkable
obscuration of mind, at which some men at length arrive, by which the
judgment is entirely perverted respecting the first great principles of
moral purity. When, therefore, we appeal to certain principles in the
mental constitution, as the source of our first impressions of moral
truth, our appeal is made chiefly to a mind which is neither obscured by
depravity, nor bewildered by the refinements of a false philosophy:--it
is made to a mind in which conscience still holds some degree of its
rightful authority, and in which there is a sincere and honest desire to
discover the truth. These two elements of character must go together in
every correct inquiry in moral science; and, to a man in an opposite
condition, we should no more appeal, in regard to the principles of
moral truth, than we should take from the fatuous person or the maniac
our test of those first principles of intellectual truth, which are
allowed to be original elements of belief in every sound mind.
To remedy the evils arising from this diversity and distortion of moral
perception, is one of the objects of divine revelation. By means of it
there is introduced a fixed and uniform standard of moral truth; but, it
is of importance to remark, that, for the authority of this, an appeal
is made to principles in the mind itself, and that every part of it
challenges the assent of the man in whom conscience has not lost its
power in the mental economy.
* * * * *
Keeping in view the distinction which has now been referred to, it would
appear, that there are certain first principles of moral truth, which
arise in the mind by the most simple process of reflection,--either as
constituting its own primary moral convictions, or as following from its
consciousness of these convictions by a plain and obvious chain of
relations. These are chiefly the following.
I. A perception of the nature and quality of actions, as just or
unjust,--right or wrong;--and a conviction of certain duties, as of
justice, veracity, and benevolence, which every man owes to his
fellow-men. Every man, in his own case, again, expects the same offices
from others; and, on this reciprocity of feeling, is founded the
precept, which is felt to be one of universal obligation, to do to
others as we would that they should do to us.
II. From this primary moral impression, there arises, by a most natural
sequence, a conviction of the existence and superintendence of a great
moral Governor of the universe,--a being of infinite perfection and
infinite purity. A belief in this Being, as the first great cause, is
derived, as we have formerly seen, by a simple step of reasoning, from a
survey of the works of nature, taken in connexion with the First Truth,
that every event must have an adequate cause. Our sense of his moral
attributes arises, with a feeling of equal certainty, when, from the
moral impressions of our own minds, we infer the moral attributes of him
who thus formed us.
III. From these combined impressions, there naturally springs a sense of
moral responsibility;--or a conviction, that, for the due performance of
the duties which are indicated by the conscience, or moral
consciousness, man is responsible to the Governor of the universe;--and
farther, that to this Being he owes, more immediately, a certain homage
of the moral feelings, entirely distinct from the duties which he owes
to his fellow-men.
IV. From this chain of moral convictions, it is impossible to separate a
deep impression of continued existence, or of a state of being beyond
the present life,--and of that as a state of moral retribution.
* * * * *
The consideration of these important objects of belief will afterwards
occur to us in various parts of our inquiry. They are briefly stated
here, in reference to the place which they hold as First Truths, or
primary articles of moral belief, which arise by a natural and obvious
chain of sequence, in the moral conviction of every sound understanding.
For the truth of them we appeal not to any process of reasoning,
properly so called, but to the conviction which forces itself upon every
regulated mind. Neither do we go abroad among savage nations, to inquire
whether the impression of them be universal; for this may be obscured in
communities, as it is in individuals, by a course of moral degradation.
We appeal to the casuist himself, whether, in the calm moment of
reflection, he can divest himself of their power. We appeal to the
feelings of the man who, under the consciousness of guilt, shrinks from
the dread of a present Deity and the anticipation of a future reckoning.
But chiefly we appeal to the conviction of him, in whom conscience
retains its rightful supremacy, and who habitually cherishes these
momentous truths, as his guides in this life in its relation to the life
that is to come.
In applying to these important articles of belief the name of First
Truths, or primary principles of moral conviction, I do not mean to
ascribe to them any thing of the nature of innate ideas. I mean only
that they arise, with a rapid or instantaneous conviction entirely
distinct from what we call a process of reasoning, in every regulated
mind, when it is directed, by the most simple course of reflection, to
the phenomena of nature without, and to the moral feelings of which it
is conscious within. It appears to be a point of the utmost practical
importance, that we should consider them as thus arising out of
principles which form a part of our moral constitution; as it is in
this way only that we can consider them as calculated to influence the
mass of mankind. For, if we do not believe them to arise, in this
manner, by the spontaneous exercise of every uncorrupted mind, there are
only two methods by which we can suppose them to originate;--the one is
a direct revelation from the Deity,--the other is a process of reasoning
or of investigation, properly so called, analogous to that by which we
acquire the knowledge of any principle in natural science. We cannot
believe that they are derived entirely from revelation, because we find
the belief existing where no revelation is known, and because we find
the sacred writers appealing to them as sources of conviction existing
in the mental constitution of every man. There is an obvious absurdity,
again, in supposing that principles, which are to regulate the conduct
of responsible beings, should be left to the chance of being unfolded by
processes of reasoning, in which different minds may arrive at different
conclusions, and in regard to which many are incapable of following out
any argument at all. What is called the argument _a priori_ for the
existence and attributes of the Deity, for instance, conveys little
that is conclusive to most minds, and to many is entirely
incomprehensible. The same observation may be applied to those
well-intended and able arguments, by which the probability of a future
state is shewn from analogy and from the constitution of the mind. These
are founded chiefly on three considerations,--the tendency of virtue to
produce happiness, and of vice to be followed by misery,--the unequal
distribution of good and evil in the present life,--and the adaptation
of our moral faculties to a state of being very different from that in
which we are at present placed. There is much in these arguments
calculated to elevate our conceptions of our condition as moral beings,
and of that future state of existence for which we are destined; and
there is much scope for the highest powers of reasoning, in shewing the
accordance of these truths with the soundest inductions of true
philosophy. But, notwithstanding all their truth and all their utility,
it may be doubted whether they are to any one the foundation of his
faith in another state of being. It must be admitted, at least, that
their force is felt by those only whose minds have been in some degree
trained to habits of reasoning, and that they are therefore not adapted
to the mass of mankind. But the truths which they are intended to
establish are of eternal importance to men of every degree, and we
should therefore expect them to rest upon evidence which finds its way
with unerring aim to the hearts of the unlearned. The unanswerable
reasonings of Butler never reached the ear of the gray-haired pious
peasant, but he needs not their powerful aid to establish his sure and
certain hope of a blessed immortality. It is no induction of logic that
has transfixed the heart of the victim of deep remorse, when he withers
beneath an influence unseen by human eye, and shrinks from the
anticipation of a reckoning to come. In both, the evidence is within,--a
part of the original constitution of every rational mind, planted there
by him who framed the wondrous fabric. This is the power of
conscience;--with an authority, which no man can put away from him, it
pleads at once for his own future existence, and for the moral
attributes of an omnipotent and ever-present Deity. In a healthy state
of the moral feelings, the man recognises its claim to supreme
dominion. Amid the degradation of guilt, it still raises its voice and
asserts its right to govern the whole man; and, though its warnings are
disregarded, and its claims disallowed, it proves within his inmost soul
an accuser that cannot be stilled, and an avenging spirit that never is
quenched.
Similar observations apply to the uniformity of moral distinctions, or
the conviction of a certain line of conduct which man owes to his
fellow-men. There have been many controversies and various contending
systems in reference to this subject, but I submit that the question may
be disposed of in the same manner as the one now mentioned. Certain
fixed and defined principles of relative duty appear to be recognised by
the consent of mankind, as an essential part of their moral
constitution, by as absolute a conviction as that by which are
recognised our bodily qualities. The hardened criminal, whose life has
been a course of injustice and fraud, when at length brought into
circumstances which expose him to the knowledge or the retribution of
his fellow-men, expects from them veracity and justice, or perhaps even
throws himself upon their mercy. He thus recognises such principles as a
part of the moral constitution, just as the blind man, when he has
missed his way, asks direction of the first person he meets,--presuming
upon the latter possessing a sense which, though lost to him, he still
considers as belonging to every sound man. In defending himself, also,
the criminal shews the same recognition. For, his object is to disprove
the alleged facts, or to frame excuses for his conduct;--he never
attempts to question those universal principles by which he feels that
his actions must be condemned, if the facts are proved against him.
Without such principles, indeed, thus universally recognised, it is
evident that the whole system of human things would go into confusion
and ruin. Human laws may restrain or punish gross acts of violence and
injustice; but they can never provide for numberless methods by which a
man may injure his neighbour, or promote his own interest at the expense
of others. There are, in fact, but a very few cases which can be
provided for by any human institution; it is a principle within that
regulates the whole moral economy. In its extent and importance, when
compared with all the devices of man, it may be likened to those great
principles which guide the movements of the universe, contrasted with
the contrivances by which men produce particular results for their own
convenience; and one might as well expect to move a planet by machinery,
or propel a comet by the power of steam, as to preserve the semblance of
order in the moral world, without those fundamental principles of
rectitude which form a part of the original constitution of every
rational being.
Farther, as each man has the consciousness of these principles in
himself, he has the conviction that similar principles exist in others.
Hence arises the impression, that, as he judges of their conduct by his
own moral feelings, so will they judge of him by corresponding feelings
in themselves. In this manner is produced that reciprocity of moral
impression, by which a man feels the opinion of his fellow-men to be
either a reward or a punishment; and hence also springs that great rule
of relative duty, which teaches us to do to others as we would that they
should do to us. This uniformity of moral feeling and affection even
proves a check upon those who have subdued the influence of these
feelings in themselves. Thus, a man who has thrown off all sense of
justice, compassion, or benevolence, is still kept under a certain
degree of control by the conviction of these impressions existing in
those by whom he is surrounded. There are indeed men in the world, as
has been remarked by Butler, in whom this appears to be the only
restraint to which their conduct is subjected.
Upon the whole, therefore, there seems to be ground for assuming, that
the articles of belief, which have been the subject of the preceding
observations, are primary principles arising with an immediate feeling
of conviction in our moral constitution; and that they correspond with
those elements in our intellectual economy, which are commonly called
First Truths,--principles which are now universally admitted to require
no other evidence than the conviction which forces itself upon every
sound understanding.
PHILOSOPHY
OF
THE MORAL FEELINGS.
When we analyze the principles which distinguish man as a moral being,
our attention is first directed to his actions, as the external
phenomena by which we judge of his internal principles. It is familiar
to every one, however, that the same action may proceed from very
different motives, and that, when we have the means of estimating
motives or principles, it is from these that we form our judgment
respecting the moral condition of the individual, and not from his
actions alone. When we consider separately the elements which enter into
the economy of an intelligent and responsible agent, they seem to
resolve themselves into the following:--
I. His actual conduct, or actions.
II. In determining his conduct, the immediate principle is his will, or
simple volition. He wills some act,--and the act follows of course,
unless it be prevented by restraint from without, or by physical
inability to perform it. These alone can interfere with a man following
the determination of his will, or simple volition.
III. The objects of will or simple volition are referable to two
classes,--objects to be obtained,--and actions to be performed to
others;--and these are connected with two distinct mental conditions,
which exist previously to the act of volition. In regard to objects to
be obtained, this mental condition is _Desire_;--in regard to actions
towards others, it is _Affection_. The Desires and Affections,
therefore, hold a place in the mind previous to volition. From one of
them originates the mental state which, under certain regulations,
leads to volition, or to our willing a certain act. The act, which is
then the result of the volition, consists either in certain efforts
towards attaining the object desired,--or in certain conduct towards
other men, amusing out of our affections or mental feelings towards
them. The Desires and Affections, therefore, may be considered as the
primary or moving powers, from which our actions proceed. In connection
with them we have to keep in view another principle, which has an
extensive influence on our conduct in regard to both these classes of
emotions. This is _Self-love_;--which leads us to seek our own
protection, comfort, and advantage. It is a sound and legitimate
principle of action when kept in its proper place;--when allowed to
usurp an undue influence, it degenerates into selfishness; and it then
interferes in a material degree with the exercise of the affections, or,
in other words, with our duty to other men.
IV. We have next to attend to the fact, that every desire is not
followed by actual volition towards obtaining the object;--and that
every affection does not lead to the conduct which might flow from it.
Thus a man may feel a desire which, after consideration, he determines
not to gratify. Another may experience an affection, and not act upon
it;--he may feel benevolence or friendship, and yet act, in the
particular case, with cold selfishness;--or he may feel the impulse of
anger, and yet conduct himself with forbearance. When, therefore, we go
another step backwards in the chain of moral sequences, our attention is
directed to certain principles by which the determination is actually
decided,--either according to the desire or affection which is present
to the mind, or in opposition to it. This brings us to a subject of the
utmost practical importance:--and the principles, which thus decide the
determination of the mind, are referable to two heads.
(1.) The determination or decision may arise out of a certain state of
arrangement of the moving powers themselves, in consequence of which
some one of them has acquired a predominating influence in the moral
system. This usually results from habit, or frequent indulgence, as we
shall see in a subsequent part of our inquiry. A man, for example, may
desire an object, but perceive that the attainment would require a
degree of exertion greater than he is disposed to devote to it. This is
the preponderating love of ease, a branch of self-love. Another may
perceive that the gratification would impair his good name, or the
estimation in which he is anxious to stand in the eyes of other
men;--this is the predominating love of approbation, or regard to
character. In the same manner, a third may feel that it would interfere
with his schemes of avarice or ambition,--and so in regard to the other
desires. On a similar principle, a man may experience a strong impulse
of anger, but perceive that there would be danger in gratifying it, or
that he would promote his reputation or his interest by not acting upon
it;--he may experience a benevolent affection, but feel that the
exercise would interfere too much with his personal interest or comfort.
(2.) The determination may arise from a sense of duty, or an impression
of moral rectitude, apart from every consideration of a personal nature.
This is the _Moral Principle_ or _Conscience_;--in every mind in a state
of moral health, it is the supreme and regulating principle, preserving
among the moving powers a certain harmony to each other, and to the
principles of moral rectitude. It often excites to conduct which
requires a sacrifice of self-love, and so prevents this principle from
interfering with the sound exercise of the affections. It regulates the
desires, and restrains them by the simple rule of purity;--it directs
and regulates the affections in the same manner by the high sense of
moral responsibility; and it thus maintains order and harmony in the
whole moral system.
One of the chief diversities of human character, indeed, arises from the
circumstance of one man being habitually influenced by the simple and
straight-forward principle of duty, and another merely by a kind of
contest between desires and motives of a very inferior or selfish
nature. Thus also we acquire a knowledge of the moral temperament of
different men, and learn to adapt our measures accordingly in our
transactions with them. In endeavouring, for example, to excite three
individuals to some act of usefulness, we come to know, that in one we
have only to appeal to his sense of duty; in another to his vanity or
love of approbation; while we have no hope of making any impression on
the third, unless we can make it appear to bear upon his interest.
V. The principles referred to under the preceding heads are chiefly
those which regulate the connexion of man with his fellow-men. But there
is another class of emotions, in their nature distinct from these;
though, in a practical point of view, they are much connected. These are
the emotions which arise out of his relation to the Deity. The
regulation of the moral feelings, in reference to this relation, will
therefore come to be considered in a department of the inquiry devoted
to themselves, in connexion with the views of the character and
attributes of God, which we obtain from the light of reason and
conscience.
* * * * *
This analysis of the principles which constitute the moral feelings
indicates the farther division of our inquiry in the following manner:--
I. The Desires,--the Affections,--and Self-love.
II. The Will.
III. The Moral Principle, or Conscience.
IV. The moral relation of man towards the
Deity.
These constitute what may be called the active principles of man, or
those which are calculated to decide his conduct as a moral and
responsible being. In connexion with them, there is another class of
feelings, which may be called passive or connecting emotions. They exert
a considerable influence of a secondary kind; but, in an Essay which is
meant to be essentially practical, it perhaps will not be necessary to
do more than enumerate them in such a manner as to point out their
relation to the active principles.
When an object presents qualities on account of which we wish to obtain
it, we feel _desire_. If we have reason to think that it is within our
reach, we experience _hope_; and the effect of this is to encourage us
in our exertions. If we arrive at such a conviction as leaves no doubt
of the attainment, this is _confidence_, one of the forms of that state
of mind which we call _faith_. If we see no prospect of attaining it,
we give way to _despair_,--and this leads us to abandon all exertion for
the attainment. When we obtain the object we experience _pleasure_ or
_joy_; if we are disappointed, we feel _regret_. If, again, we have the
prospect of some evil which threatens us, we experience _fear_, and are
thereby excited to exertions for averting it. If we succeed in doing so,
we experience _joy_; if not, we feel _sorrow_. If the evil seem
unavoidable, we again give way to _despair_, and are thus led to
relinquish all attempts to avert it.--Similar emotions attend on the
affections. When we experience an affection, we _desire_ to be able to
act upon it. When we see a prospect of doing so, we _hope_; if there
seem to be none, we _despair_ of accomplishing our object. When we have
acted upon a benevolent affection, or according to the dictates of the
moral principle, we experience _self-approbation_; when the contrary, we
feel _remorse_. When either a desire or an affection has acquired an
undue influence, so as to carry us forward in a manner disproportioned
to its real and proper tendencies, it becomes a _passion_.
PART I.
OF THE DESIRES, THE AFFECTIONS, AND SELF-LOVE.
SECT. I.
THE DESIRES.
Desire is the immediate movement or act of the mind towards an object
which presents some quality on account of which we wish to obtain it.
The objects of desire, therefore, embrace all those attainments and
gratifications, which mankind consider worthy of being sought after. The
object pursued in each particular case, is determined by the views,
habits, and moral dispositions of the individual. In this manner, one
person may regard an object, as above every other worthy of being sought
after, which to another appears insignificant or worthless. The
principles which regulate these diversities, and consequently form one
of the great differences in human character, belong to a subsequent part
of our inquiry.
In forming a classification of the desires, we must be guided simply by
the nature of the various objects which are desired. Those which may be
specified as the most prevalent, and the most clearly to be
distinguished as separate, may be referred to the following heads.
I. The gratification of the animal propensities,--commonly called the
appetites. These, which we possess in common with the lower animals, are
implanted in us for important purposes; but they require to be kept
under the most rigid control, both of reason and of the moral principle.
When they are allowed to break through these restraints, and become
leading principles of action, they form a character the lowest in the
scale, whether intellectual or moral; and it is impossible to
contemplate a more degraded condition of a rational and moral being.
The consequences to society are also of the most baneful nature.
Without alluding to the glutton or to the drunkard, what accumulated
guilt, degradation, and wretchedness follow the course of the
libertine,--blasting whatever comes within the reach of his influence,
and extending a demoralizing power alike to him who inflicts and to
those who suffer the wrong. Thus is constituted a class of evils, of
which no human law can take any adequate cognizance, and which therefore
raise our views, in a special and peculiar manner, to a supreme Moral
Governor.
II. The Desire of Wealth, commonly called Avarice;--though avarice is
perhaps justly to be regarded as the morbid excess or abuse of the
propensity. This is properly to be considered as originating in the
desire to possess the means of procuring other gratifications. But, by
the influence of habit, the desire is transferred to the thing itself,
and it often becomes a kind of mania, in which there is the pure love of
gain, without the application of it to any other kind of enjoyment. It
is a propensity which may, in a remarkable manner, engross the whole
character, acquiring strength by continuance, and it is then generally
accompanied by a contracted selfishness, which considers nothing as
mean or unworthy that can be made to contribute to the ruling passion.
This may be the case even when the propensity is regulated by the rules
of justice;--if it break through this restraint, it leads to fraud,
extortion, deceit, and injustice,--and, under another form, to theft or
robbery. It is therefore always in danger of being opposed to the
exercise of the benevolent affections, leading a man to live for
himself, and to study only the means calculated to promote his own
interest.
III. The Desire of Power, or Ambition. This is the love of ruling,--or
giving the law to a circle whether more or less extensive. When it
becomes the governing propensity, the strongest principles of human
nature give way before it,--even those of personal comfort and safety.
This we see in the conqueror, who braves every danger, difficulty, and
privation, for the attainment of power; and in the statesman, who
sacrifices for it every personal advantage, perhaps health and peace.
The principle, however, assumes another form, which, according to its
direction, may aim at a higher object. Such is the desire of exercising
power over the minds of men; of persuading a multitude, by arguments or
eloquence, to deeds of usefulness; of pleading the cause of the
oppressed;--a power of influencing the opinions of others, and of
guiding them into sound sentiments and virtuous conduct. This is a
species of power, the most gratifying by far to an exalted and virtuous
mind, and one calculated to carry benefit to others wherever it is
exerted.
IV. The Desire of Superiority, or Emulation. This is allied to the
former, except that it does not include any direct wish to rule, but
aims simply at the acquirement of pre-eminence. It is a propensity of
extensive influence, and not easily confined within the bounds of
correct principle. It is apt to lead to undue means for the
accomplishment of its object; and every real or imagined failure tends
to excite hatred and envy. Hence it requires the most careful regulation
and, when much encouraged in the young, is not free from the danger of
generating malignant passions. Its influence and tendency, as in other
desires, depend in a great measure on the objects to which it is
directed. It may be seen in the man who seeks to excel his associates in
the gaiety of his apparel, the splendour of his equipage, or the luxury
of his table. It is found in him whose proud distinction is to be the
most fearless rider at a steeple-chase or a fox-hunt,--or to perform
some other exploit, the only claim of which to admiration consists in
its never having been performed before. The same principle, directed to
more worthy objects, may influence him who seeks to be distinguished in
some high pursuit, calculated to confer a lasting benefit upon his
country or on human kind.
V. The Desire of Society. This has been considered by most writers on
the subject as a prominent principle of human nature, shewing itself at
all periods of life, and in all conditions of civilization. In persons
shut up from intercourse with their fellow-men, it has manifested itself
in the closest attachment to animals; as if the human mind could not
exist without some object on which to exercise the feelings intended to
bind man to his fellows. It is found in the union of men in civil
society and social intercourse,--in the ties of friendship, and the
still closer union of the domestic circle. It is necessary for the
exercise of all the affections; and even our weaknesses require the
presence of other men. There would be no enjoyment of rank or wealth, if
there were none to admire;--and even the misanthrope requires the
presence of another to whom his spleen may be uttered. The abuse of this
principle leads to the contracted spirit of party.
VI. The Desire of Esteem and Approbation. This is a principle of most
extensive influence, and is in many instances the source of worthy and
useful displays of human character. Though inferior to the high sense of
moral obligation, it may yet be considered a laudable principle,--as
when a man seeks the approbation of others by deeds of benevolence,
public spirit, or patriotism,--by actions calculated to promote the
advantage or the comfort either of communities or individuals. In the
healthy exercise of it, a man desires the approbation of the good;--in
the distorted use of it, he seeks merely the praise of a party, or
perhaps, by deeds of a frivolous or even vicious character, aims at the
applause of associates whose praise is worthless. According to the
object to which it is directed, therefore, the desire of approbation may
be the attribute either of a virtuous or a perverted mind. But it is a
principle, which, in general, we expect to find operating in every
well-regulated mind, under certain restrictions. Thus a man who is
totally regardless of character,--that is, of the opinion of all others
respecting his conduct, we commonly consider as a person lost to correct
virtuous feeling. On the other hand, however, there may be instances in
which it is the quality of a man of the greatest mind to pursue some
course to which from adequate motives, he has devoted himself,
regardless alike of the praise or the disapprobation of other men. The
character in which the love of approbation is a ruling principle is
therefore modified by the direction of it. To desire the approbation of
the virtuous, leads to conduct of a corresponding kind, and to
steadiness and consistency in such conduct. To seek the approbation of
the vicious, leads, of course, to an opposite character. But there is a
third modification, presenting a subject of some interest, in which the
prevailing principle of the man is a general love of approbation,
without any discrimination of the characters of those whose praise is
sought, or of the value of the qualities on account of which he seeks
it. This is vanity; and it produces a conduct wavering and
inconsistent,--perpetually changing with the circumstances in which the
individual is placed. It often leads him to aim at admiration for
distinctions of a very trivial character,--or even for qualities which
he does not really possess. It thus includes the love of flattery.
Pride, on the other hand, as opposed to vanity, seems to consist in a
man entertaining a high opinion of himself, while he is indifferent to
the opinion of others;--thus we speak of a man who is too proud to be
vain.
Our regard to the opinion of others is the origin of our respect to
character, in matters which do not come under the higher principle of
morals; and is of extensive influence in promoting the harmonies,
proprieties, and decencies of society. It is thus the foundation of good
breeding, and leads to kindness and accommodation in little matters
which do not belong to the class of duties. It is also the source of
what we usually call decorum and propriety, which lead a man to conduct
himself in a manner becoming his character and circumstances, in regard
to things which do not involve any higher principle. For, apart entirely
from any consideration either of morality or benevolence, there is a
certain line of conduct which is unbecoming in all men; and there is
conduct which is becoming in some, though it might not in other
men,--and in some circumstances, though it might not be so in others. It
is unnecessary to add, how much of a man's respectability in life often
depends upon finding his way, with proper discrimination, through the
relations of society which are amenable to this principle; or, by how
many actions, which are not really wrong, a man may render himself
despised and ridiculous. The love of esteem and approbation is also of
extensive influence in the young,--both in the conduct of education and
the cultivation of general character; and it is not liable to the
objections, formerly referred to, which apply to the principle of
Emulation. It leads also to those numerous expedients by which persons
of various character seek for themselves notoriety or a name: or desire
to leave a reputation behind them, when they are no more. This is the
love of posthumous fame, a subject which has afforded an extensive theme
both for the philosopher and the humorist.
VII. The Desire of Knowledge, or of Intellectual Improvement,--including
the principle of Curiosity. The tendency of this high principle must
depend, as in the former cases, on its regulation, and the objects to
which it is directed. These may vary from the idle tattle of the day, to
the highest attainments in literature or science. The principle may be
applied to pursuits of a frivolous or useless kind, and to such
acquirements as lead only to pedantry or sophism;--or it may be directed
to a desultory application, which leads to a superficial acquaintance
with a variety of subjects, without a correct knowledge of any of them.
On the other hand, the pursuit of knowledge may be allowed to interfere
with important duties which we owe to others, in the particular
situation in which we are placed. A well-regulated judgment conducts
the propensity to worthy objects; and directs it in such a manner as to
make it most useful to others. With such due regulation, the principle
ought to be carefully cultivated in the young. It is closely connected
with that activity of mind which seeks for knowledge on every subject
that comes within its reach, and which is ever on the watch to make its
knowledge more correct and more extensive.
VIII. The Desire of Moral Improvement. This leads to the highest state
of man: and it bears this peculiar character, that it is adapted to men
in every scale of society, and tends to diffuse a beneficial influence
around the circle with which the individual is connected. The desire of
power may exist in many, but its gratification is limited to a few:--he
who fails may become a discontented misanthrope; and he who succeeds may
be a scourge to his species. The desire of superiority or of praise may
be misdirected in the same manner, leading to insolent triumph on the
one hand, and envy on the other. Even the thirst for knowledge may be
abused, and many are placed in circumstances in which it cannot be
gratified. But the desire of moral improvement commends itself to every
class of society, and its object is attainable by all. In proportion to
its intensity and its steadiness, it tends to make the possessor both a
happier and a better man, and to render him the instrument of diffusing
happiness and usefulness to all who come within the reach of his
influence. If he be in a superior station, these results will be felt
more extensively; if he be in a humble sphere, they may be more limited;
but their nature is the same, and their tendency is equally to elevate
the character of man. This mental condition consists, as we shall
afterwards have occasion to shew more particularly, in a habitual
recognition of the supreme authority of conscience over the whole
intellectual and moral system, and in a habitual effort to have every
desire and every affection regulated by the moral principle, and by a
sense of the divine will. It leads to a uniformity of character which
can never flow from any lower source, and to a conduct distinguished by
the anxious discharge of every duty, and the practice of the most active
benevolence.
The Emotions which have been now briefly mentioned seem to include the
more important of those which pertain to the class of Desires. There is,
however, another principle which ought to be mentioned as a leading
peculiarity of human nature, though it may be somewhat difficult to
determine the class to which it belongs. This is the Desire of
Action,--the restless activity of mind, which leads it to require some
object on which its powers must be exercised, and without which it preys
upon itself and becomes miserable. On this principle we are to explain
several facts which are of frequent observation. A person accustomed to
a life of activity longs for ease and retirement, and, when he has
accomplished his purpose, finds himself wretched. The frivolous
engagements of the unoccupied are referable to the same principle. They
arise, not from any interest which such occupations really possess, but
simply from the desire of mental excitement,--the felicity of having
something to do. The pleasure of relaxation, indeed, is known to those
only who have regular and interesting employment. Continued relaxation
soon becomes a weariness; and, on this ground, we may safely assert,
that the greatest degree of real enjoyment belongs, not to the luxurious
man of wealth, or the listless votary of fashion, but to the middle
classes of society, who, along with the comforts of life, have constant
and important occupation. Apart, indeed, from actual suffering, I
believe there is nothing in the external circumstances of individuals,
of greater or more habitual importance for promoting personal happiness,
than stated, rational, and interesting employment.
* * * * *
The mental condition which we call Desire appears to lie in a great
measure at the foundation of character;--and, for a sound moral
condition, it is required that the desires be directed to worthy
objects,--and that the degree or strength of them be accommodated to the
true and relative value of each of these objects. If the desires are
thus directed, worthy conduct will be likely to follow in a steady and
uniform manner. If they are allowed to break from the restraints of
reason, and the moral principle, the man is left at the mercy of
unhallowed passion, and is liable to those irregularities which
naturally result from such a derangement of the moral feelings. If,
indeed, we would see the evils produced by desire, when not thus
controlled, we have only to look at the whole history of human kind.
What accumulated miseries arise from the want of due regulation of the
animal propensities, in the various forms in which it degrades the
character of rational and moral beings.--What evils spring from the love
of money, and from the desire of power;--from the contests of rivals,
and the tumults of party,--what envy, hatred, malignity, and
revenge.--What complicated wretchedness follows the train of
ambition,--contempt of human suffering, countries depopulated, and
fields deluged with blood. Such are the results of desire, when not
directed to objects worthy of a moral being, and not kept under the
rigid control of conscience, and the immutable laws of moral rectitude.
When, in any of these forms, a sensual or selfish propensity is allowed
to pass the due boundary which is fixed for it by reason and the moral
principle, the mental harmony is destroyed, and even the judgment itself
comes to be impaired and distorted in that highest of all inquiries, the
search after moral truth.
The desires, indeed, may exist in an ill-regulated state, while the
conduct is yet restrained by various principles, such as submission to
human laws, a regard to character, or even a certain feeling of what is
morally right, contending with the vitiated principle within. But this
cannot be considered as the healthy condition of a moral being. It is
only when the desire itself is sound, that we can say the man is in
moral health. "He who grieves at his abstinence," says Aristotle, "is a
voluptuary;"--and this also is the great principle so often and so
strikingly enforced in the sacred writings; "Keep thy heart with all
diligence, because out of it are the issues of life." "Blessed are the
pure in heart, for they shall see God." Thus, there are desires which
are folly, and there are desires which are vice, even though they should
not be followed by indulgence; and there are desires which tend to
purify and elevate the moral nature, though their objects should be
beyond the reach of our full attainment in the present state of being.
Perfect moral purity is not the lot of man in this transient state, and
is not to be attained by his own unaided efforts. But, subservient to
it is that warfare within, that earnest and habitual desire after the
perfection of a moral being, which is felt to be the great object of
life, when it is viewed in relation to the life which is to come. For
this attainment, however, man must feel his total inadequacy,--and the
utmost efforts of human reason have failed in unfolding the requisite
aid. The conviction is thus forced upon us, that a higher influence is
necessary, and this influence is fully disclosed by the light of
revealed truth. We are there taught to look for a power from on high,
capable of effecting what human efforts cannot accomplish,--the
purification of the heart.
Sect. II.
The Affections.
As the desires are calculated to bring some gratification to ourselves,
the Affections lead us to our relations to other men, and to a certain
line of conduct which arises out of these relations. They are to be
viewed as original principles of our nature, planted in us for wise
purposes, and the operation of them is to be considered as distinct,
both from that of the moral principle and of reason,--that is, from any
sense of duty or the moral rectitude of the conduct to which they lead,
and from any calculation of its propriety and utility. Thus, when the
mother devotes her attention by day and night to her infant, if from
sickness or helplessness in want of her special care, and perseveres in
doing so, with total disregard to her own ease, health, or comfort, she
is not influenced either by a sense of duty, or by any feeling of the
utility of her conduct: she acts upon an impulse within, which she feels
to be a part of her constitution, and which carries her forward in a
particular course of anxious and protracted exertion by the power of
itself alone. This distinction appears to be of the utmost practical
importance, and we shall have occasion to refer to it more particularly
in the sequel.
An Affection, therefore, maybe considered as an original feeling or
emotion existing in ourselves, which leads us to a particular conduct
towards other men, without reference to any principle except the
intuitive impulse of the emotion itself. The Affections have been
divided into the Benevolent and Malevolent; but these titles appear to
be incorrect, especially the latter,--as the due exercise of the
emotions to which it refers does not properly include what is called
malevolence. They only tend to guard us against certain conduct in other
men; and, when they are allowed to go beyond this, that is, to actual
malevolence or revenge, the application is morbid. It will therefore
accord better with the nature of these emotions, to give them the names
of Uniting, and Defensive Affections;--the former including justice,
benevolence, veracity, friendship, love, gratitude, patriotism, and the
domestic affections;--the latter, jealousy, disapprobation, and anger.
I. JUSTICE.
There may be some difference of opinion in regard to the propriety of
including justice among the affections; but it seems to be more nearly
allied to them than to any of the other classes of moral emotions which
have been mentioned, and it may, therefore, as a mere matter of
arrangement, be conveniently introduced here. Strictly speaking, it
might perhaps be considered as a combined operation of an affection and
the moral principle; but this is matter of speculation alone. The
important consideration relating to it is,--that, in whatever manner it
arises, the sense of Justice is a primary and essential part of our
moral constitution, conveying the distinct impression of certain conduct
which a man owes to his fellow-men, without regard to any considerations
of a personal nature, and apart from all positive enactments or laws,
either divine or human. The requirements of Justice embrace certain
points in which every man has an absolute right, and in regard to which
it is the absolute duty of every other man not to interfere with him.
These rights have usually been divided into three classes;--what I have
a right to possess, and no man has any right to take from me,--what I
have a right to do, and no man has any title to prevent me from
doing,--what I have a right to expect from other men, and it is their
absolute duty to perform. These principles form the basis of what is
called Natural Jurisprudence, a code of relative duty deriving its
authority from impressions which are found in the moral feelings of all
mankind, without regard to the enactments of any particular civil
society. In the actual arrangements of civil communities, these great
principles of justice are combined with others which are derived merely
from utility or expediency, as calculated to promote the peace or the
advantage of the community. These may differ in different countries, and
they cease to be binding when the enactments on which they rest are
abrogated or changed. But no difference of place can alter, and no laws
can destroy, the essential requirements of justice.
In these observations, it will be remarked, the word Justice is used as
expressing a principle of individual character; and it is in this sense
that it is to be properly classed with the affections. The term is
employed in another sense, namely, that of distributive and corrective
justice, which regulates the claims of individuals in a community,
requires restitution or compensation for any deviation from such claims,
or punishes those who have violated them. It is in the former sense that
justice is properly to be considered as a branch of the philosophy of
the moral feelings; but the same general principles apply to both.
The sense of Justice, therefore, consists in a feeling experienced by
every man, of a certain line of conduct which he owes to other men in
given circumstances; and this seems to be referable to the following
heads,--attending to their interest,--not interfering with their freedom
of action,--preserving their reputation,--estimating their character and
motives,--judging of their opinions,--consulting their feelings,--and
preserving or improving their moral condition. As a guide for his
conduct in particular instances, a man has usually a distinct impression
of what he thinks due by other men towards himself; justice requires
that he rigidly extend to others the same feelings and conduct which, in
similar circumstances, he expects from them.
(1.) Justice is due to the persons, property, and interest of others.
This constitutes Integrity or Honesty. It, of course, implies abstaining
from every kind of injury, and preserving a conscientious regard to
their rights. In this last respect, it allows us to exercise a prudent
attention to our own interest, provided the means be fair and
honourable, and that we carefully abstain from injuring others by the
measures we employ for this purpose. The great rule for our guidance, in
all such cases, is found in the immutable principles of moral rectitude;
the test of our conduct in regard to individual instances is, that it be
such as, were our own interest concerned, we should think fair and
honourable in other men.
(2.) Justice requires us not to interfere with the freedom of action of
others. This constitutes personal liberty;--but in all civil communities
the right is liable to certain restrictions;--as when a man uses his
freedom of action to the danger or injury of other men. The principles
of justice may also recognise a man's surrendering, to a certain extent,
his personal liberty, by mutual and voluntary compact, as in the case of
servants, apprentices, soldiers, &c.; but they are opposed to slavery,
in which the individual concerned is not a party to the arrangement.
(3.) Justice enjoins a regard to the reputation of others. This consists
in avoiding every thing that could be injurious to their good name,
either by direct evil speaking, or such insinuations as might give rise
to suspicion or prejudice against them. It must extend also to the
counteracting of such insinuations, when we hear them made by others,
especially in circumstances in which the individual injured has no
opportunity of defending himself. It includes, farther, that we do not
deny to others, even to rivals, any praise or credit which is justly due
to them. There is, however, one modification, equally consistent with
justice, to which the former of these rules is liable; namely, that, in
certain cases, we may be required to make a statement prejudicial to an
individual, when duty to a third party or to the public makes it
incumbent on us to do so. In such a case, a person guided by the rules
of justice will go no farther than is actually required by the
circumstances; and will at all times beware of propagating a report
injurious to another, though he should know it to be strictly true,
unless he is called upon by special duty to communicate it.
(4.) Justice requires us not only to avoid injuring an individual in the
estimation of other men, but to exercise the same fairness in forming
our own opinion of his character, without being misled or biased by
passion or prejudice. This consists in estimating his conduct and
motives with calmness and impartiality; in regard to particular
instances, making full allowance for the circumstances in which he was
placed, and the feelings by which he was, or might be, at the time,
naturally influenced. When an action admits of being referred to
different motives, justice consists in taking the more favourable view,
if we can do so with strict regard to truth, instead of harshly and
hastily assigning a motive which is unworthy. Such justice in regard to
character and motives we require to exercise with peculiar care, when
the conduct referred to has been in any way opposed to our own
self-love. In these cases we must be especially on our guard against
the influence of the selfish principle, which might lead to partial and
distorted views of actions and motives, less favourable to others, and
more favourable to ourselves, than justice warrants. When viewed in this
manner, we may often perceive, that conduct, which gave rise to emotions
of displeasure as injurious to us, was fully warranted by some conduct
on our own part, or was required by some higher duty which the
individual owed to another.
(5.) Justice is to be exercised in judging of the opinions and
statements of others. This constitutes Candour. It consists in giving a
fair and deliberate hearing to opinions, statements, and arguments, and
weighing fairly and honestly their tendency. It is, therefore, opposed
to prejudice, blind attachment to preconceived opinions, and that narrow
disputatious spirit which delights in captious criticism, and will hear
nothing with calmness that is opposed to its own views; which distorts
or misrepresents the sentiments of its opponents, ascribing them to
unworthy motives, or deducing from them conclusions which they do not
warrant. Candour, accordingly, may be considered as a compound of
justice and the love of truth. It leads us to give due attention to the
opinions and statements of others,--in all cases to be chiefly
solicitous to discover truth, and, in statements of a mixed character,
containing perhaps much error and fallacy, anxiously to discover and
separate what is true. It has accordingly been remarked, that a turn for
acute disputation, and minute and rigid criticism, is often the
characteristic of a contracted and prejudiced mind; and that the most
enlarged understandings are always the most indulgent to the statements
of others,--their leading object being to discover truth.
(6.) Justice is due to the feelings of others; and this applies to many
circumstances which do not affect either their interest or their
reputation. Without injuring them in any of these respects, or in our
own good opinion, we may behave to them in such a manner as to wound
their feelings. There are minds of an extreme delicacy, which, in this
respect, are peculiarly sensitive;--towards these a person of correct
feelings strives to conduct himself with suitable tenderness. We may
find, however, persons of honest and upright minds, who would shrink
from the least approach to real injury, but yet neglect the necessary
attention to the feelings; and may even confer a real benefit in such a
manner as to wound the individual to whom they intended kindness. The
lower degrees of this principle pertain to what is called mere good
breeding, which has been defined "benevolence in trifles;" but the
higher degrees may restrain from conduct which, without any real injury,
inflicts permanent pain. To this head we may perhaps also refer a due
regard to the estimate which we lead a man to form of himself. This is
opposed to flattery on the one hand, and on the other to any unnecessary
depreciation of his character. Flattery indeed is also to be considered
as a violation of veracity.
(7.) While, upon the principles which have been referred to, we abstain
from injuring the interests, the reputation, or the feelings of others,
there is another class of injuries, of still higher magnitude, which
the conscientious mind will avoid with peculiar anxiety, namely,
injuries done to the moral principles of other men. These form a class
of offences of which no human law takes any adequate cognizance, but we
know that they possess a character of the deepest malignity. Deep guilt
attaches to the man who, by persuasion or ridicule, has unhinged the
moral feelings of another, or has been the means of leading him astray
from the paths of virtue. Of equal, or even greater malignity, is the
aspect of the writer, whose works have contributed to violate the
principles of truth and rectitude,--to pollute the imagination, or
corrupt the heart. Inferior offenders are promptly seized by public
authority, and suffer the award of public justice; but the destroyer of
the moral being often walks securely through his own scene of moral
discipline, as if no power could reach the measure of his guilt but the
hand of the Eternal.
To the same head we are to assign the extensive and important influence
of example. There are few men who have not in this respect some power,
but it belongs more particularly to persons in situations of rank and
public eminence. It is matter of deep regret, both to the friend of
virtue and the friend of his country, when any of these are found
manifesting disregard to sacred things, or giving an air of fashion to
what is calculated to corrupt the moral principles of the unthinking
classes of society. If they are restrained by no higher motive, the
feelings of patriotism, and even of personal safety, ought to produce a
solemn caution; and it becomes them seriously to consider, whether they
may not thus be sowing among the ignorant multitude the seeds of tumult,
revolution, and anarchy.
II. COMPASSION AND BENEVOLENCE.
Great diversity exists in the condition of different individuals in the
present state,--some being in circumstances of ease, wealth, and
comfort,--others of pain, deprivation, and sorrow. Such diversities we
must consider as an arrangement established by the great Disposer of all
things, and calculated to promote important purposes in his moral
government. Many of these purposes are entirely beyond the reach of our
faculties; but, as holding a prominent place among them, we may safely
reckon the cultivation of our moral feelings, especially the affections
of compassion and benevolence. The due exercise of these is, therefore,
calculated to promote a double object, namely, the alleviation of
distress in others,--and the cultivation in ourselves of a mental
condition peculiarly adapted to a state of moral discipline. By bringing
us into contact with individuals in various forms and degrees of
suffering, they tend continually to remind us, that the present scene is
but the infancy of our existence,--that the beings whom we thus
contemplate are the children of the same Almighty Father with ourselves,
inheriting the same nature, possessed of the same feelings, and soon to
enter upon another state of existence, when all the distinctions which
are to be found in this world shall cease for ever. They tend thus to
withdraw us from the power of self-love, and the deluding influence of
present things; and habitually to raise our views to that future life,
for which the present is intended to prepare us. The due cultivation of
the benevolent affections, therefore, is not properly to be considered
as the object of moral approbation, but rather as a process of moral
culture. They may enable us in some degree to benefit others, but their
chief benefit is to ourselves. By neglecting them, we both incur much
guilt, and deprive ourselves of an important mean of improvement. The
diligent exercise of them, besides being a source of moral advantage, is
accompanied with a degree of mental enjoyment which carries with it its
own reward. Such appears to be the correct view which we ought to take
of the arrangement established by the Creator in this part of our
constitution. It is calculated to correct a misconception of an
important kind, which considers the exercise of the benevolent
affections as possessing a character of merit. To this subject we shall
have occasion to refer more particularly in the sequel.
The exercise of the benevolent affections may be briefly treated of,
under nearly the same heads as those referred to when considering the
principle of Justice;--keeping in mind that they lead to greater
exertion for the benefit of others, and thus often demand a greater
sacrifice of self love, than is included under the mere requirements of
justice. On the other hand, benevolence is not to be exercised at the
expense of Justice; as would be the case, if a man were found relieving
distress by such expedients as involve the necessity of withholding the
payment of just debts, or imply the neglect or infringement of some duty
which he owes to another.
(1.) Compassion and benevolent exertion are due towards alleviating the
distresses of others. This exercise of them, in many instances, calls
for a decided sacrifice of personal interest, and, in others, for
considerable personal exertion. We feel our way to the proper measure of
these sacrifices, by the high principle of moral duty, along with that
mental exercise which places us in the situation of others, and, by a
kind of reflected self-love, judges of the conduct due by us to them in
our respective circumstances.--The details of this subject would lead us
into a field too extensive for our present purpose. Pecuniary aid, by
those who have the means, is the most easy form in which benevolence
can be gratified, and that which often requires the least, if any,
sacrifice of personal comfort or self-love. The same affection maybe
exercised in a degree much higher in itself, and often much more useful
to others, by personal exertion and personal kindness. The former,
compared with the means of the individual, may present a mere mockery of
mercy; while the latter, even in the lowest walks of life, often exhibit
the brightest displays of active usefulness that can adorn the human
character. This high and pure benevolence not only is dispensed with
willingness, when occasions present themselves; but seeks out
opportunities for itself, and feels in want of its natural and healthy
exercise when deprived of an object on which it may be bestowed.
(2.) Benevolence is to be exercised towards the reputation of others.
This consists not only in avoiding any injury to their characters, but
in exertions to protect them against the injustice of others,--to
correct misrepresentations,--to check the course of slander, and to
obviate the efforts of those who would poison the confidence of friends,
or disturb the harmony of society.
(3.) Benevolence is to be exercised towards the character and conduct of
others; especially when these have been in opposition to our personal
interest or self-love. This consists in viewing their conduct with
indulgence and forbearance, assigning the most favourable motives,--and
making every allowance for their feelings, and the circumstances in
which they were placed. It leads us also to avoid all suspicions and
jealousies which are not clearly justified by fact; and to abstain to
the utmost from taking offence,--by putting upon the conduct of others
the best construction of which it will possibly admit. It extends still
farther to the actual forgiveness of injuries, and the repaying of evil
with good,--a conduct represented in the sacred writings as one of the
highest attainments the human character can reach, in so far as regards
its relation to other men.
(4.) Benevolence is to be exercised towards the feelings of others; and
this applies to many situations in which neither their interest nor
their character is concerned. It includes those exercises of the kindly
affections which produce so powerful an influence in all the relations
of life, but which it is impossible for any description to delineate. It
comprehends all our social and civil connexions, but seems peculiarly to
belong to our intercourse with inferiors and dependents. Its most
anxious exercise may often relate merely to trifles, but it extends to
innumerable circumstances in which we may surrender our own feelings to
those of others, and our own convenience or gratification to theirs. It
implies solicitude to avoid wounding the feelings by pride, selfishness,
or fretfulness,--by suspicions, imputations, and jealousies,--or by
allowing insignificant things to ruffle the temper and derange the
social comfort. Many, who are not deficient in what we usually call
deeds of benevolence, are too apt to forget, that a most important
exercise of true benevolence consists in the habitual cultivation of
courtesy, gentleness, and kindness; and that on these dispositions often
depends our influence upon the comfort and happiness of others, in a
greater degree than on any deeds of actual beneficence.--To this
department, also, we may refer the high character of the peace-maker,
whose delight it is to allay angry feelings, even when he is in no
degree personally interested, and to bring together as friends and
brethren, those who have assumed the attitude of hatred and revenge.
(5.) Benevolence is to be exercised in regard to the moral degradation
of others, including their ignorance and vice. This prevents us from
deriving satisfaction from moral evil, even though it should contribute
to our advantage, as might often happen from the misconduct of rivals or
enemies. It implies also that highest species of usefulness which aims
at raising the moral condition of man,--by instructing the ignorant,
rescuing the unwary, and reclaiming the vicious. This exalted
benevolence will therefore also seek to extend the light of divine truth
to nations that sit in moral darkness; and looks anxiously for the
period when the knowledge of Christianity shall dispel every false
faith, and put an end to the horrors of superstition.
III. Veracity.
In our mental impressions relating to veracity, we have a striking
illustration of the manner in which we rely on this class of moral
feelings, as instinctive in the constitution of the mind. On a certain
confidence in the veracity of mankind is founded so much of the
knowledge on which we constantly depend, that, without it, the whole
system of human things would go into confusion. It relates to all the
intelligence which we derive from any other source than our own personal
observation:--for example, to all that we receive through the historian,
the traveller, the naturalist, or the astronomer. Even in regard to the
most common events of a single day, we often proceed on a confidence in
the veracity of a great variety of individuals. There is, indeed, a
natural tendency to truth in all men, unless where this principle is
overcome by some strong selfish purpose to be answered by departing
from it:--and there is an equally strong tendency to rely on the
veracity of others, until we have learnt certain cautions by our actual
experience of mankind. Hence children and inexperienced persons are
easily imposed upon by unfounded statements:--and the most practised
liar confides in the credulity of those whom he attempts to deceive.
Deception, indeed, would never accomplish its purpose, if it were not
from the impression that men generally speak truth. It is obvious also,
that the mutual confidence which men have in each other, both in regard
to veracity of statement, and to sincerity of intention respecting
engagements, is that which keeps together the whole of civil society. In
the transactions of commerce it is indispensable, and without it all the
relations of civil life would go into disorder. When treating of the
intellectual powers in another work, I considered the principles which
regulate our confidence in human testimony; and it is unnecessary to
recur to them in this place. Our present object is briefly to analyze
the elements which are essential to veracity, when we view it as a moral
emotion, or a branch of individual character. These appear to be
three,--correctness in ascertaining facts,--accuracy in relating
them,--and truth of purpose, or fidelity in the fulfilment of promises.
(1.) An important element of veracity is correctness in ascertaining
facts. This is essential to the _Love of Truth_. It requires us to
exercise the most anxious care respecting every statement which we
receive as true; and not to receive it as such, until we are satisfied
that the authority on which it is asserted is of a nature on which we
can fully rely, and that the statement contains all the facts to which
our attention ought to be directed. It consequently guards us against
those limited views, by which party spirit or a love of favourite dogmas
leads a man to receive the facts which favour a particular opinion, and
neglect those which are opposed to it. The sound exercise of judgment,
which is connected with this love of truth, differs therefore from the
art of ingenious disputation, and is often found directly at variance
with it. The same principle is applicable to the truths which are
derived as deductions from processes of reasoning. It is thus opposed
to all sophistical arguments, and partial or distorted reasonings, by
which disputants strive to establish particular systems, instead of
engaging in an honest and simple inquiry after truth. The love of truth,
therefore, is of equal importance in the reception of facts, and in the
formation of opinions; and it includes also a readiness to relinquish
our own opinions, when new facts or arguments are presented to us which
are calculated to overturn them. The practice of this sincere and candid
search after truth, on every subject to which the mind may be directed,
ought to be cultivated in early life with the most assiduous care. It is
a habit of the mind which must exercise a most important influence in
the culture both of moral and intellectual character.
In the reception of truth, especially on the evidence of testimony, we
acquire by experience a degree of caution, arising from having been
sometimes deceived. In minds of a certain description, this may be
allowed to produce a suspicion with regard to all evidence,--in other
words, _Scepticism_. The want of the necessary and proper caution,
again, leads to _Credulity_. It is the part of a well-regulated mind to
avoid both these extremes, by attentively weighing the evidence and the
character of the witnesses, and giving to each circumstance its due
influence in the conclusion.
(2.) Closely connected with the love of truth in receiving, is the
exercise of veracity in the statement of facts, whether derived from our
personal observation or received by testimony from others. It consists
not only in the most scrupulous accuracy of relation, but also in giving
it in such a manner as to convey a correct impression to the hearer. It
is consequently opposed to all those methods by which either a false
statement may be made to assume the appearance of truth, or one
essentially true may be so related as to convey a false impression.
Direct fallacy may consist in the alleged facts being absolutely false,
or in some of them being so,--in facts being wanting or kept out of view
which would give a different import to the whole statement,--or in some
of the facts being disguised, distorted, or coloured, so as to alter
materially the impression conveyed by them. But, besides such actual
fallacy, there are various methods by which a statement literally true
may be so related as to convey an erroneous impression. Facts may be
connected together in such a manner as to give the appearance of a
relation of cause and effect, when they are in truth entirely
unconnected;--or an event may be represented as common which has
occurred only in one or two instances. The character of an individual
may be assumed from a single act, which, if the truth were known, might
be seen to be opposed to his real disposition, and accounted for by the
circumstances in which he happened at the time to be placed. Events may
be connected together, which were entirely disjoined, and conclusions
deduced from this fictitious connexion, which are of course unfounded.
Several of these sources of fallacy may be illustrated by a ludicrous
example. A traveller from the continent has represented the venality of
the British House of Commons to be such, that, whenever the minister of
the Crown enters the house, there is a general cry for "places." It may
be true that a cry of "places" has gone round the house at certain
times, when business was about to commence, or to be resumed after an
interval,--meaning, of course, that members were to take their seats. It
is very probable, that, on some occasion, this may have occurred at the
moment when the minister entered,--so that the statement of the
traveller might, in point of fact, be strictly true. The erroneous
impression which he endeavours to convey by it, arises from three
sources of fallacy, which the anecdote will serve to illustrate,
namely,--the false meaning he gives to the word employed,--connecting it
with the entrance of the minister as cause and effect,--and representing
the connexion as uniform which happened to occur in that particular
instance. In the same manner it will appear, that a false impression may
be conveyed respecting the conduct of an individual,--by assigning
motives which are entirely imaginary,--by connecting things together
which have no relation,--by keeping out of view circumstances which
would afford an explanation or palliation of his conduct,--or by
attaching to his words a different meaning from that which he intended
to convey by them. The common saying, that there are two ways of telling
a story, does not therefore refer to what is strictly to be called
fabrication or falsehood; but to those distortions or colourings of
circumstances, which, however slight in themselves, have the effect of
essentially changing the impression made by the whole.
To veracity, under this department, we are also to refer the rule,--of
giving to others an honest and fair impression of our views, motives,
and intentions. This is _Sincerity_. It is opposed to hypocrisy, that
unworthy display of human character, in which a man disguises his real
sentiments, and, on the contrary, professes principles which he neither
feels nor values, merely for the purpose of promoting his selfish
interests. Such a character exhibits a singular combination of moral
delinquencies. It is founded on the lowest selfishness, and includes a
departure from veracity and honesty. But besides, it implies a knowledge
of virtuous principles, and of their proper tendencies, while there is a
practical denial of their influence. Sincerity is also opposed to
flattery, which tends to give a man a false impression of our opinion,
and of our feelings towards him, and likewise leads him to form a false
estimate of his own character. It is opposed also to simulation or
double dealing, by which a man, for certain purposes professes
sentiments towards another which he does not feel, or intentions which
he does not entertain.
(3.) The third element of veracity is Truth of Purpose, or fidelity in
the fulfilment of promises. This is opposed to actual departure from
what was distinctly promised; likewise to all those evasions by which
one may convey an impression, or excite the hope of an intention which
he does not mean to fulfil,--or avoid the performance of a real or
implied engagement on any other ground than inability to perform it. By
this straight-forward integrity of purpose, an individual gives a clear
impression of what he honestly intends to perform; and performs it,
though circumstances may have occurred to make the fulfilment
disagreeable or even injurious to himself:--"he sweareth to his own
hurt," says a sacred writer, "and changeth not."
IV. FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND GRATITUDE.
These affections are so nearly allied, that, in this slight analysis,
they may be taken together. They consist in a personal and peculiar
attachment to an individual, founded either upon some qualities in
himself, or some benefits he has conferred on us, or on some one in whom
we are interested. The feelings and conduct to which they give rise
correspond with those referred to under the preceding affections, with
this difference, that, in many instances, they lead to a much greater
sacrifice of personal interest and comfort, than usually proceeds either
from justice or simple benevolence. The exertions arising out of them
are directed, according to the division formerly given, to promoting the
interest or comfort of the object of our regard,--preserving, defending,
or advancing his reputation,--treating his feelings with peculiar
tenderness,--and his failings with peculiar indulgence,--receiving his
opinions with peculiar favour,--and anxiously endeavouring to improve
his intellectual and moral condition. This last consideration is justly
reckoned the highest office of friendship;--it is to be regretted that
its operation is sometimes impeded by another feeling, which leads us to
be blind to the failings and deficiencies of those whom we love.--In
exercising simple love and friendship, we rejoice in the advantage and
happiness of the object, though they should be accomplished by
others,--but, in exercising gratitude, we are not satisfied unless they
be effected in some measure by ourselves.
V. PATRIOTISM.
Patriotism is, perhaps, not properly to be considered as a distinct
principle of our nature; but rather as a result of a combination of the
other affections. It leads us, by every means in our power, to promote
the peace and the prosperity of our country,--and to discourage, to the
utmost of our ability, whatever tends to the contrary. Every member of
the community has something in his power in this respect. He may set an
example, in his own person, of dutiful and loyal respect to the first
authority, of strict obedience to the laws, and respectful submission to
the institutions of his country. He may oppose the attempts of factious
individuals to sow among the ignorant the seeds of discontent, tumult,
or discord. He may oppose and repress attempts to injure the revenue of
the state; may aid in the preservation of public tranquillity, and in
the execution of public justice. Finally, he may zealously exert himself
in increasing the knowledge and improving the moral habits of the
people,--two of the most important means by which the conscientious man,
in any rank of life, may aid in conferring a high and permanent benefit
on his country.
VI. THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS.
In this extensive and interesting class are included, conjugal
affection,--the parental feelings,--filial reverence,--and the ties of
brothers and sisters.--These call forth, in a still higher degree, the
feelings and exertions already referred to, and a still greater
sacrifice of personal ease, advantage, and comfort, in the anxious and
diligent discharge of the duties resulting from them. In the conjugal
relation, they lead us to the tenderness, the confidence, the mutual
forbearance, the united exertions of those, who have one hope, one
interest, and one course of duty. The parental relation implies the
highest possible degree of that feeling which studies the advantage of
the object of our care,--the promotion of his happiness,--the
improvement of his mind,--the culture of his affections,--the formation
of his habits; the anxious watching over the development of his
character, both as an intellectual and a moral being. The filial
relation requires, in an equal degree, respect, affection, submission,
and confidence,--a deference to parental opinion and control; and an
impression that those parts of parental management, which may often be
disagreeable, are guided by a sincere desire to promote the highest
interests of the object of this affectionate regard.
Among the feelings of our nature "which have less of earth in them than
heaven," are those which bind together the domestic circle in the
various sympathies, affections, and duties, which belong to this class
of tender relations. It is beautiful also to observe, how these
affections arise out of each other, and how the right exercise of them
tends to their mutual cultivation.--The father ought to consider the son
as, of all earthly concerns, the highest object of his anxious
care;--and should watch over the development of his intellectual
character, and the culture of his moral feelings. In the zealous
prosecution of this great purpose, he should study to convey a clear
impression, that he is influenced purely by a feeling of solemn
responsibility, and an anxious desire to promote the highest interests.
When parental watchfulness is thus mingled with confidence and kindness,
the son will naturally learn to estimate alike the conduct itself, and
the principles from which it sprung, and will look to the faithful
parent as his safest guide and counsellor, and most valued earthly
friend. If we extend the same principles to the relation between the
mother and the daughter, they apply with equal or even greater force.
In the arrangements of society, these are thrown more constantly into
each other's company; and that watchful superintendence may be still
more habitually exercised, which, along with the great concern of
cultivating the intellectual and moral being, neglects not those graces
and delicacies which belong peculiarly to the female character. It is
not by direct instruction alone, that, in such a domestic circle, the
highest principles and best feelings of our nature are cultivated in the
minds of the young. It is by the actual exhibition of the principles
themselves, and a uniform recognition of their supreme importance;--it
is by a parental conduct, steadily manifesting the conviction, that,
with every proper attention to the acquirements, the accomplishments,
and the comforts of life, the chief concern of moral beings relates to
the life which is to come. A domestic society, bound together by these
principles, can retire, as it were, from the haunts of men, and retreat
within a sanctuary where the storms of the world cannot enter.--When
thus met together in the interchange of mutual affection and mutual
confidence, they present the anticipation of that period, when, after
the tumults of life are over, they shall meet again, "no wanderer lost,
a family in heaven".
THE DEFENSIVE AFFECTIONS.
The feelings of jealousy, anger, and resentment, are, not less than the
other affections, to be considered as part of our moral constitution;
and they are calculated to answer important purposes, provided they are
kept under the strict control of reason and the moral principle. Their
proper object is primarily a sense of blameable conduct in others; and
they lead us to use proper measures for protecting ourselves against
such conduct. While we thus disapprove of the character and conduct of
men in certain circumstances, we are led, by our feelings of justice and
benevolence, to take part with the injured and oppressed against the
oppressors,--or to protect those who are threatened with injuries, by
measures for defeating the schemes of their enemies. A still more
refined exercise of this class of feelings leads us to seek the
reformation of the offender, and to convert him from an enemy into a
friend.
Resentment, in cases which concern the public peace, naturally leads to
the infliction of punishment; the object of which is to prevent similar
conduct in others, not to gratify personal vengeance. Hence it is
required to be done in a public manner,--with proper deliberation and
coolness,--and with an exact adaptation of the penalty to the offence,
and to the object to be attained. The person injured is not likely to do
this with the requisite impartiality and candour; for we are apt to feel
too deeply injuries offered to ourselves, and not to make the propel
allowance for the feelings of others, and the circumstances which led to
the offence. The higher degrees, indeed, of these tendencies usually go
together,--they, who are most susceptible of offences, and most
irritable under them, being generally least inclined to make allowances
for others. Hence, in all cases, our disapprobation of personal
vengeance, or of a man taking the law into his own hands; and our
perfect sympathy with the protectors of the public peace, when they
dispassionately investigate a case of injury, and calmly adapt their
measures to the real object to be attained by them,--the protection of
the community.
The defensive affections are exercised in an unwarranted manner, when
they are allowed to be excited by trifling causes; when they are, in
degree, disproportioned to the offence, or prolonged in a manner which
it did not require; and when they lead, in any measure, to retaliation
or revenge. The sound exercise of them, therefore, is opposed to that
irascibility which takes fire on trivial occasions, or without due
consideration of the intentions of the agent, or the circumstances in
which he was placed,--to a disposition to resentment on occasions which
do not warrant it,--and, on all occasions, to harbouring the feeling
after the offence and all its consequences have passed over.
* * * * *
Before concluding the subject of the affections, there are three points
respecting them which remain to be mentioned as briefly as
possible,--the influence of Attention, combined with a certain act of
Imagination,--the influence of Habit,--and the estimate of the feeling
of Moral Approbation which the exercise of the affections is calculated
to produce.
I. In every exercise of the affections, a most important influence is
produced by Attention, aided by a certain act of imagination. This
consists of directing the mind intensely and habitually to all the
considerations which ought to guide us in the particular relation to
which the affection refers. It leads us to place ourselves in the
situation of others, and, with a kind of personal, or almost selfish
interest, to enter into their wants, their anxieties, and their
feelings; and thus, in their place, to judge of the emotions and the
conduct which are due from us to them. Such is the exercise of one who
wishes to follow the great rule of doing to others as he would that they
should do to him. He is not satisfied with the merely decent discharge
of the duties which arise from the affections, but studies intensely the
requirements which attach to his particular situation,--searches out
the individuals, towards whom they ought to be exercised, and enters
into their condition and their feelings with minute and tender interest.
Many who shew no want of friendly and benevolent affection, when an
individual case is strongly brought before them, are deficient in the
kind of exercise which would lead them, in this manner, to find their
way to that correct exercise of the affections which really belongs to a
scene of moral discipline. Such an exercise is adapted to every
situation in life, and tends to guard a man, in his various relations,
against the hindrances which indolence, self-love, and pure inattention
are apt to bring in the way of his peculiar duties,--and of his
discharging them with due regard to the feelings of others.
This mental exercise, of extensive application to the benevolent
affections, constitutes what is usually called _Sympathy_. It is
composed of an act of Imagination and Self-love, by which we transfer
ourselves, as it were, into the situation of other men, and thereby
regulate our conduct towards them. It is however to be kept in mind,
that the principle of self-love, thus brought into action, is the test,
not the rule of our conduct. This is a point on which there has been
much vague and useless speculation; and from not attending to the
distinction, some have referred our ideas of benevolence entirely to the
principle of selfishness. Such discussions are equally unsound and
unprofitable, and are to be placed on a footing with the speculations of
the scholastic philosophy, which we now look back upon merely as matters
of historical curiosity. The application of self-love, in the manner
which has been referred to, is chiefly useful in enabling us fully to
appreciate the facts of the individual case, as we would do if we were
personally interested. The rule of our conduct is quite distinct from
this, and rests on those fundamental principles of justice and
compassion which form a part of our moral constitution. In the practical
application of them, they are very much aided by the moral principle or
conscience.
The man, who acts habitually under the influence of these rules, learns
to question himself rigidly respecting the claims and duties which
result from his moral relations; and the feelings and circumstances of
those with whom they bring him into contact. What, (he asks himself) is
the line of action which belongs to me in regard to that
individual,--what are his feelings in his present situation,--what are
the feelings and conduct which he expects from me,--and what are those
which I would expect from him were I in his circumstances and he in
mine? It is not a due regulation of the affections alone that arises
from this wholesome state of mental discipline. It is a moral culture to
the mind itself, which may often be fraught with the most important
results. For the man who exercises it realizes to himself the feelings
of poverty,--the agonies of bereavement, the impressions of the bed of
death;--and thus, without the pain of suffering, he may reap a portion
of those important moral benefits which suffering is calculated to
yield.
There is another view still to be taken of the advantages derived from
that mental discipline which consists in attention to all the relations
included under the affections. When habitually exercised, it may often
bring before the mind important circumstances in our moral relations,
which are apt to make an inadequate impression amid the distractions of
present things. When the parent, for example, looks around the objects
of his tender affection, what a new impulse is communicated by the
thought, that the present life is but the infancy of their being; and
that his chief and highest concern is to train them for immortality. A
similar impulse must be given to the philanthropist, when he considers
that the individuals, who share his benevolent attentions, are, like
himself, passing through a scene of discipline to a higher state of
existence, where they will assume a place corresponding to their rank in
the scale of moral beings. The refined philanthropy thus arising, while
it neglects no proper attention to the distresses of the present life,
will seek chiefly to contend with those greater evils which degrade the
moral nature, and sever the immortal spirit from its God. He, who judges
upon this extended principle, will learn to form a new estimate of the
condition of man. Amid the pride of wealth and the splendour of power,
he may mourn over a being lost to every feeling of his high destiny;
and, by the death-bed of the peasant, amid discomfort and suffering, he
may contemplate with interest a purified spirit rising to immortality.
II. Next to the power of attention, we have to notice the influence
produced upon the affections by Habit. This is founded upon a principle
of our nature, by which a remarkable relation exists between the
affections and the actions which arise out of them. The tendency of all
emotions is to become weaker by repetition, or to be less acutely felt
the oftener they are experienced. The tendency of actions, again, as we
have seen when treating of the Intellectual Powers, is to become easier
by repetition,--so that those, which at first require close and
continued attention, come to be performed without effort, and almost
without consciousness. Now an affection properly consists of an emotion
leading to an action; and the natural progress of the mind, in the
proper exercise of the affection, is, that the emotion becomes less
acutely felt, as the action becomes easier and more familiar.--Thus, a
scene of wretchedness, or a tale of sorrow, will produce in the
inexperienced an intensity of emotion not felt by him whose life has
been devoted to deeds of mercy; and a superficial observer is apt to
consider the condition of the latter as one of insensibility, produced
by familiarity with scenes of distress. It is, on the contrary, that
healthy and natural progress of the mind, in which the emotion is
gradually diminished in force as it is followed by its proper
actions,--that is, as the mere intensity of feeling is exchanged for the
habit of active benevolence. But that this may take place in the sound
and healthy manner, the emotion must be steadily followed by the action
which belongs to it. If this be neglected, the harmony of the moral
process is destroyed, and, as the emotion becomes weakened, it is
succeeded by cold insensibility or barren selfishness.
This is a subject of much importance,--and there are two conclusions
which arise out of it respecting the cultivation of the benevolent
affections. The one relates to the bad effects of fictitious scenes of
sorrow, as represented on the stage, or in works of fancy. The evil
arising from these appears to be that which has now been referred
to;--the emotion is produced without the corresponding action, and the
consequence is likely to be a cold and useless sentimentalism, instead
of a sound cultivation of the benevolent affections.--The second
is,--that, in cultivating the benevolent affections in the young, we
should be careful to observe the process so clearly pointed out by the
philosophy of the moral feelings. They should be familiarized with
actual scenes of suffering, but this ought to be accompanied by deeds of
minute and active kindness, so as to produce a full and lively
impression of the wants and feelings of the sufferer. On this ground,
also, I think we should at first even abstain, in a great measure, from
giving young persons the cautions they will afterwards find so
requisite, respecting the character of the objects of their benevolence,
and the impositions so frequently practised by the poor. Suspicions of
this kind might tend to interfere with the important moral process which
ought to be our first object,--the necessary cautions will afterwards be
learned with little difficulty.
The best mode of contending with the evils of pauperism, on the
principles of political economy, is a problem on which I presume not to
enter. But, on the principles of moral science, a consideration of the
utmost importance should never be forgotten,--the great end to be
answered by the varieties of human condition in the cultivation of the
benevolent affections. Political science passes its proper boundary when
it is permitted in any degree to interfere with this high
principle;--and, on the other hand, it is not to be denied, that this
important purpose is in a great measure frustrated by many of those
institutions, which cut off the direct intercourse of the prosperous and
the wealthy with those whom providence has committed to them, in this
scene of moral discipline, as the objects of their benevolent care.
III. The third point, which remains to be briefly mentioned, is the
feeling of moral approbation, or rather the impression of merit, which
is frequently attached to the exercise of the affections. This important
subject has been already referred to. When the mother, with total
disregard to her health and comfort, devotes herself to watching over
her child, she is not influenced by any sense of duty, nor do we attach
to her conduct the feeling of moral approbation. She acts simply upon
an impulse within, which she perceives to be a part of her constitution,
and which carries her forward with unshrinking firmness in a particular
course of laborious and anxious service. She may, indeed, be sensible
that the violation of these feelings would expose her to the reprobation
of her kind; but she does not imagine that the zealous fulfilment of
them entitles her to any special praise. The same principle applies to
all the affections. They are a part of our moral constitution, intended
to bind men together by certain offices of justice, friendship, and
compassion; and have been well named by a distinguished writer, "the
voice of God within us." They serve a purpose in our moral economy,
analogous to that which the appetites answer in our physical system. The
appetite of hunger, for example, ensures a regular supply of
nourishment, in a manner which could never have been provided for by any
process of reasoning; though an exercise of reason is still applicable
to preserving over it a certain regulation and control. In the same
manner, the various feelings of our moral nature have each a defined
purpose to answer, both in respect to our own mental economy and our
relations to our fellow-men; and in the due exercise of them they ought
to be controlled and regulated by the moral principle. The violation of
these feelings, therefore, places man below the level of a moral being;
but the performance of them does not entitle him to assume the claim of
merit. He is merely bearing his part in a certain arrangement, from
which he is himself to derive benefit, as a being holding a place in
that system of things which these feelings are intended to keep together
in harmony and order. In regard to the great principles of veracity and
justice, every one perceives this to be true. In all mercantile
transactions, for example, a character for high honour and integrity
leads not only to respect, but to that confidence which is closely
connected with prosperity.--These qualities, indeed, are as essential to
a man's own interest as they are to his duty to other men; and if he
does gain an advantage by fraud and deceit, it is only when he escapes
detection;--that is, while he preserves the reputation of the very
qualities which he has violated. But this truth applies equally to the
affections more strictly benevolent. The man who lives in the habitual
exercise of a cold and barren selfishness, and seeks only his own
gratification or interest, has indeed, in some sense, his punishment in
the contempt and aversion with which he is viewed by his fellow-men.
Much more than this, however, attaches to such a character;--he has
violated the principles given him for his guidance in the social
system;--he has fallen from his sound condition as a moral being; and
incurs actual guilt in the eye of a righteous Governor, whose will the
order of this lower world is intended to obey. But it by no means
follows, that the man, who performs in a certain manner the relations of
justice, friendship, and compassion, is thereby entitled to claim merit
in the view of the Almighty Governor of the universe. He merely acts his
part in the present system of moral economy, for which he has been
adapted. He is so constituted as to derive satisfaction from the
exercise of these affections; and, on the other hand, he receives an
appropriate reward in the reciprocal exercise of similar affections by
other men, and in the general harmony of society which results from
them. An extensive culture of the affections, therefore, may go on
without the recognition of the moral principle, or that state of mind
which habitually feels the presence of the Deity, and desires to have
the whole character in subjection to his will. We are not entitled to
acknowledge the operation of that great principle, unless when the
affections are exercised in circumstances which imply a strong and
decided sacrifice of self-love to the authority of God. This appears to
correspond with the distinction so strikingly stated in the sacred
writings--"If ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not
even the publicans the same?"--"I say unto you, love your
enemies,--bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, pray
for them which despitefully use you and persecute you."
On this branch of the subject it is also to be observed, that there is a
kind of compensating power among the affections themselves, by which, in
the intercourse of men, they act as checks upon each other. Thus
resentment acts as a check upon injustice; and the dread of exciting
anger in others has probably an influence, in preserving the peace and
harmonies of society, which we often ascribe to a higher principle. In
regard to the affections more strictly benevolent, these are also
influenced, in a similar manner, by the feeling of disapprobation which
attends any remarkable departure from their requirements. When we keep
in mind, along with this consideration, the manner in which all men are
influenced, in one degree or another, by the love of approbation or
regard to character, we perceive in the moral system a beautiful
principle of compensation, tending to promote in it a certain degree of
harmony. This is remarkably illustrated, for example, in the general
feeling of disapprobation which is attached to ingratitude, and to
violation of filial affection or parental duty, and even to any marked
neglect of the common calls of humanity. Along with this we are also to
keep in mind, that a man is universally considered as in the lowest
state of human nature, who, in these respects, has become regardless of
character,--that is, of the estimation with which his conduct is viewed
by his fellow-men.
In regard to both the affections and the desires, we are farther to
remember that deep and extensive influence, upon the happiness of the
individual himself, which results from a due regulation of these
feelings;--the pure mental enjoyment of him whose affections are under
sound regulation, and whose desires are habitually directed to those
objects which are in the highest degree worthy of being sought after.
This mental tranquillity is also represented to us, in a very striking
manner, by the influence of those dispositions which we usually refer to
the head of Temper. What a constant source of pure enjoyment is a meek
and placid spirit, the desires of which are moderate and under due
regulation,--which puts upon every thing the best construction it will
admit of,--is slow to take offence,--seeks no distinction,--but views
itself with humility, and others with candour, benevolence, and
indulgence. Such a disposition makes the man happy in himself, and a
source of happiness and peace to all around him. On the other hand, what
an unceasing source of mental disquiet and turbulence is the opposite
disposition,--jealous, envious, and censorious,--ready to take offence
at trifles, and often to construe incidental occurrences into intended
and premeditated insults,--prone to put unfavourable constructions upon
the conduct of others, and thus continually to surround itself with
imaginary enemies, and imaginary neglects and injuries. Such a temper is
a continual torment to the individual himself, and the cause of disputes
and jealousies among those with whom he is connected. We cannot fail,
also, to perceive that the man of ill-regulated passions injures his own
true interest and happiness, as much as he violates his duty to others,
and that his course of life is often productive of degradation, disease,
and wretchedness. In all this we see a beautiful example of the wise
arrangements of the Creator, who, in the structure of our moral nature,
has connected our own peace and happiness with a state of feeling
calculated to promote the happiness and peace of all around us. We
cannot be at a loss to conclude what a different scene the world would
present, if such feelings were universally cultivated; and, on the other
hand, we must observe how much of the actual misery that exists in the
world arises from derangement of moral feeling, and the various
consequences which result from it both to individuals and communities.
We find also, by innumerable examples, the remarkable influence
produced, by a due cultivation of these feelings, in alleviating, both
in ourselves and others, the physical evils which are inseparable from
the present state. It is farther to be remarked, as a fact worthy of the
deepest attention, that the only distinct information conveyed to us in
Scripture, respecting the happiness of the righteous in a future state,
is,--that it will consist chiefly in a perfect knowledge of the divine
character, and a conformity of the soul to the moral perfections of the
Deity. "It doth not yet appear," says the sacred writer, "what we shall
be; but we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we
shall see him as he is."
In concluding the whole subject of the affections, I have only farther
to remark,--that the regulated state of the moral feelings, which has
been the subject of the preceding observations, seems to correspond with
the quality so emphatically described in the sacred writings under the
name of Charity. It is there uniformly represented as the great test of
the moral condition; and we find exposed, in the most striking manner,
the worthlessness of all endowments which are not accompanied by this
regulation of the whole character. We cannot, therefore, conclude this
subject in a more appropriate manner, than by a passage in which, by a
few most powerful expressions, a code of ethical science is laid before
us with a clearness and a force, which put to nought all human
composition:--"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and
have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries,
and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove
mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all
my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and
have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and
is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed
up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily
provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in
the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things. Charity never faileth; but whether there be
prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease;
whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part,
and we prophecy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then
that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as
a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I
became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a
glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall
I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity,
these three,--but the greatest of these is charity."
SECT. III.
SELF-LOVE.
There has been some dispute respecting the term Self-love, both as to
its general propriety, and as to the mental feelings which ought to be
referred to it. There can be no doubt that there is, in our
constitution, a principle or propensity which leads us to study our own
interest, gratification, and comfort; and that, in many instances, it
becomes the ruling principle of the character. It is in this sense that
I use the term self-love, without entering into any discussion regarding
the strict logical propriety of it. Like the other mental feelings, it
is to be considered as part of our moral constitution, and calculated to
answer important purposes, provided it be kept in its proper place, and
do not encroach upon the duties and affections which we owe to other
men. When thus regulated, it constitutes prudence, or a just regard to
our own interest, safety, and happiness; when it becomes morbid in its
exercise, it degenerates into selfishness.
A sound and rational self-love ought to lead us to seek our own true
happiness, and should prove a check upon those appetites and passions
which interfere with this; for many of them, it must be allowed, may be
not less adverse to our own real interest and comfort, than they are to
our duty to other men. It should lead us, therefore, to avoid every
thing, not only that is opposed to our interest, but that is calculated
to impair our peace of mind, and that harmony of the moral feelings
without which there can be no real happiness. This includes a due
regulation of the desires, and a due exercise of the affections, as a
moral condition which promotes our own welfare and comfort. Self-love,
viewed in this manner, appears to be placed as a regulating principle
among the other powers,--much inferior indeed to the great principle of
conscience, so far as regards the moral condition of the
individual,--but calculated to answer important purposes in promoting
the harmonies of society. The impression, on which its influence rests,
appears to be simply the comfort and satisfaction which arise to
ourselves from a certain regulation of the desires, and a certain
exercise of the affections, while feelings of an opposite kind follow a
different conduct. These sources of satisfaction are manifold. We may
reckon among them the pleasure attached to the exercise of the
affections themselves, a feature of our moral constitution of the most
interesting kind,--the true mental peace and enjoyment which spring
from benevolence, friendship, meekness, forgiveness, and the whole
train of the kindly feelings,--the gratitude of those who have
experienced the effects of our kindness,--the respect and approbation of
those whose esteem we feel to be valuable,--and the return of similar
affections and good offices from other men. On the other hand, we have
to keep in mind the mental agony and distraction which arise from
jealousy, envy, hatred, and resentment,--the sense of shame and disgrace
which follow a certain line of conduct,--and the distress which often
arises purely from the contempt and disapprobation of our fellow-men.
"Disgrace," says Butler, "is as much avoided as bodily pain;" we may
safely say that it is much more avoided, and that it inflicts a
suffering of a much more severe and permanent nature. It must likewise
accord with the observation of every one, that among the circumstances,
which most frequently injure our peace and impair our comfort, are those
which ruffle the mind by mortifying our self-love. There is also a
feeling of dissatisfaction and self-reproach which follows any neglect
of a due exercise of the affections, and which, in a well regulated
mind, disturbs the mental tranquillity fully as much as the
disapprobation of other men. It is farther evident, that the man of
ungoverned passions, and ill-regulated affections, impairs his own peace
and happiness as much as he violates his duties to others,--for his
course of life is productive, not only of degradation in the eyes of his
fellow-men, but often of mental anguish, misery, disease, and premature
death. There is not, perhaps, a state of more intense suffering, than
when the depraved heart, disappointed of those gratifications to which
it is enslaved, and shut up from the excitements by which it seeks to
escape from the horrors of reflection, is thrown back upon itself to be
its own tormentor. To run the risk of such consequences, for the
gratification of a present appetite or passion, is clearly opposed to
the dictates of a sound self-love, as has been distinctly shewn by
Bishop Butler; and when in such a case, self-love prevails over an
appetite or passion, we perceive it operating as a regulating principle
in the moral system. It does so, indeed, merely by the impression, that
a certain regulation of the moral feelings is conducive to our own true
and present happiness; and thus shews a wonderful power of compensation
among these feelings, referable entirely to this source. But it is quite
distinct from the great principle of conscience, which directs us to a
certain line of conduct on the pure and high principle of moral duty,
apart from all considerations of a personal nature,--which leads a man
to act upon nobler motives than those which result from the most refined
self-love, and calls for the mortification of all personal feelings,
when these interfere, in the smallest degree, with the requirements of
duty. This distinction I conceive to be of the utmost practical
importance; as it shews a principle of regulation among the moral
feelings themselves, by which a certain exercise of the affections is
carried on in a manner which contributes in a high degree to the
harmonies of society, but which does not convey any impression of moral
approbation or merit that can be applied to the agent.
Self-love, then, leads us to consult our own feelings, and to seek
directly our own interest and happiness. The affections lead us to allow
for the feelings, and consider the advantage and comfort of other men;
and a certain balance between these principles is essential to the
healthy state of the moral being. It is seldom that the affections are
likely to acquire an undue influence, but there is great danger of
self-love degenerating into selfishness, which interferes with the
duties we owe to others. We have formerly alluded to the means,
referable to the due exercise of the affections, and even to a sound and
rational self-love, by which this should be in part prevented. When
these are not sufficient, the appeal is to conscience; or a distinct
reference of individual cases is made to the great principle of moral
rectitude. We find, accordingly, this principle called into action, when
a man has become sensible of important defects in his moral habits.
Thus, we may see a man, who has long given way to a peevish or irascible
disposition, that is, to selfish acting upon his own feelings, without
due regard to the feelings of others, setting himself to contend with
this propensity upon the score of moral duty; while another, of a placid
disposition, has no need of bringing the principle into action for such
a purpose. In the same manner, a person who has indulged a cold
contracted selfishness may, under the influence of the same great
principle, perform deeds of benevolence and kindness. Thus we perceive
that the moral principle or sense of duty, when it is made the
regulating motive of action, is calculated to control self-love, and
preserve the proper harmony between it and the exercise of the
affections.
When the principle of self-love becomes deranged in its exercise and
objects, it leads to those habits by which a man seeks his own
gratification, in a way which interferes with his duties to other men.
This he may do by an undue pursuit of any of the desires,--whether
avarice, ambition, love of eminence, or love of fame;--and the desire of
knowledge itself may be so indulged as to assume the same character.
Even deeds of benevolence and kindness may be performed on this
principle,--as when a man, by such actions, seeks only the applause of
the public, or the approbation of certain individuals from whom, it may
be, he expects to derive advantage.--Hence the value we attach, in the
exercise of all the affections, to what we call disinterested
conduct,--to him who does good by stealth, or who performs acts of
exalted justice, generosity, or forbearance, under circumstances which
exclude every idea of a selfish motive,--or when self-interest and
personal feeling are strongly and obviously opposed to them. Such
conduct commands the cordial approbation of all classes of men; and it
is striking to remark how, in the highest conception of such a character
that fancy can delineate, we are met by the sublime morality of the
sacred writings, impressed upon us by the purest of all motives, the
imitation of Him who is the giver of all good;--"love your
enemies,--bless them that curse you;--do good to them that hate
you,--and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute
you;--that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for
he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain
on the just and on the unjust."--"If any man will be my disciple," says
the same great author of Christianity,--"let him deny himself."