Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2011 with funding from

University of Toronto

http://www.archive.org/details/enquiryconcernOOhume

£j}. %J^^tuUUL^

AN ENQUIRY

COXCERXIXG THE

PRINCIPLES OF MORALS

BY

DA VI D HUME

RE PR IX TED FROM THE EDIT J OX OF 1777

CHICAGO THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING CO.

1912

OCT 3 0 1940

11703

AUTHOR'S ADVERTISEMENT.

Most of the principles, and reasonings; contained in this vol- ume,1 were published in a work in three volumes, called A Trea- tise of H n ma 71 Nature: A work which the Author had projected before he left College, and which he wrote and published not long after. But not finding it successful, he was sensible of his error in going to the press too early, and he cast the whole anew in the following pieces, where some negligences in his former reasoning and more in the expression, are, he hopes, corrected. Yet several writers who have honoured the Author's Philosophy with answers, have taken care to direct all their batteries against that juvenile work, which the author never acknowledged, and have affected to triumph in any advantages, which, they imagined, they had ob- tained over it : A practice very contrary to all rules of candour and fair-dealing, and a strong instance of those polemical artifices which a bigotted zeal thinks itself authorized to employ. Hence- forth, the Author desires, that the following Pieces may alone be regarded as containing his philosophical sentiments and principles,

1 Volume II. of the posthumous edition of Hume's works published in 1777 and containing, besides the present Enquiry, A Dissertation on the Pas- sions, and An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding. A reprint of this latter treatise has already appeared in The Religion of Science Library (No. 45).— The Open Court Publishing Co

CONTENTS.

PAGE

I. Of the General Principles of Morals i

II. Of Benevolence 8

III. Of Justice 15

IV. Of Political Society 39

V. Why Utility Pleases 46

VI. Of Qualities Useful to Ourselves . 68

VII. Of Qualities Immediately Agreeable to Ourselves . 86

VIII. Of Qualities Immediately Agreeable to Others ... 98

IX. Conclusion 106

APPENDIX.

I. Concerning Moral Sentiment . 125

II. Of Self-love 137

III. Some Farther Considerations with Regard to Justice . 146

IV. Of Some Verbal Disputes ... 155

Index 167

8

\4O0

SECTION I.

OF THE GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.

DISPUTES with men, pertinaciously obstinate in their principles, are, of all others, the most irk- some; except, perhaps, those with persons, entirely disingenuous, who really do not believe the opinions they defend, but engage in the controversy, from affectation, from a spirit of opposition, or from a de- sire of showing wit and ingenuity, superior to the rest of mankind. The same blind adherence to their own arguments is to be expected in both; the same con- tempt of their antagonists ; and the same passionate vehemence, in inforcing sophistry and falsehood. And as reasoning is not the source, whence either dispu- tant derives his tenets; it is in vain to expect, that any logic, which speaks not to the affections, will ever engage him to embrace sounder principles.

Those who have denied the reality of moral dis- tinctions, may be ranked among the disingenuous disputants ; nor is it conceivable, that any human creature could ever seriously believe, that all charac- ters and actions were alike entitled to the affection and regard of everyone. The difference, which na- ture has placed between one man and another, is so wide, and this difference is still so much farther wi- dened, by education, example, and habit, that, where the opposite extremes come at once under our appre- hension, there is no scepticism so scrupulous, and

2 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

scarce any assurance so determined, as absolutely to deny all distinction between them. Let a man's in- sensibility be ever so great, he must often be touched with the images of Right and Wrong ; and let his prejudices be ever so obstinate, he must observe, that others are susceptible of like impressions. The only way, therefore, of converting an antagonist of this kind, is to leave him to himself. For, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, it is prob- able he will, at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come over to the side of common sense and reason.

There has been a controversy started of late, much better worth examination, concerning the general foundation of Morals ; whether they be derived from Reason, or from Sentiment ; whether we attain the knowledge of them by a chain of argument and induc- tion, or by an immediate feeling and finer internal sense ; whether, like all sound judgement of truth and falsehood, they should be the same to every rational intelligent being ; or whether, like the perception of beauty and deformity, they be founded entirely on the particular fabric and constitution of the human species.

The ancient philosophers, though they often affirm, that virtue is nothing but conformity to reason, yet, in general, seem to consider morals as deriving their existence from taste and sentiment. On the other hand, our modern enquirers, though they also talk much of the beauty of virtue, and deformity of vice, yet have commonly endeavoured to account for these distinctions by metaphysical reasonings, and by de- ductions from the most abstract principles of the un- derstanding. Such confusion reigned in these sub- jects, that an opposition of the greatest consequence

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 3

could prevail between one system and another, and even in the parts of almost each individual system; and yet nobody, till very lately, was ever sensible of it. The elegant Lord Shaftesbury, who first gave oc- casion to remark this distinction, and who, in gen- eral, adhered to the principles of the ancients, is not, himself, entirely free from the same confusion.

It must be acknowledged, that both sides of the question are susceptible of specious arguments. Moral distinctions, it may be said, are discernible by pure reason: else, whence the many disputes that reign in common life, as well as in philosophy, with regard to this subject: the long chain of proofs often produced on both sides; the examples cited, the authorities ap- pealed to, the analogies employed, the fallacies de- tected, the inferences drawn, and the several conclu- sions adjusted to their proper principles. Truth is disputable; not taste: what exists in the nature of things is the standard of our judgement ; what each man feels within himself is the standard of sentiment. Propositions in geometry may be proved, systems in physics may be controverted ; but the harmony of verse, the tenderness of passion, the brilliancy of wit, must give immediate pleasure. No man reasons con- cerning another's beauty; but frequently concerning the justice or injustice of his actions. In every crim- inal trial the first object of the prisoner is to disprove the facts alleged, and deny the actions imputed to him : the second to prove, that, even if these actions were real, they might be justified, as innocent and lawful. It is confessedly by deductions of the under- standing, that the first point is ascertained : how can we suppose that a different faculty of the mind is em- ployed in fixing the other?

4 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

On the other hand, those who would resolve al; moral determinations into sentiment, may endeavoui to show, that it is impossible for reason ever to dra^ conclusions of this nature. To virtue, say they, il belongs to be a?niable, and vice odious. This forms their very nature or essence. But can reason or argu mentation distribute these different epithets to an} subjects, and pronounce beforehand, that this musi produce love, and that hatred? Or what other reasor can we ever assign for these affections, but the orig inal fabric and formation of the human mind, whicl is naturally adapted to receive them?

The end of .all moral speculations is to teach m ourduty ; and, by proper representations of__the_de formity of vice and beauty of virtue, beget corre spondent habits, and engage usjo avoid the one, and embrace the other. But is this ever to be expectec froirTTnferences and conclusions of the understanding which of themselves have no hold of the affections oi set in motion the active powers of men? They dis cover truths : but where the truths which they dis cover are indifferent, and beget no desire or aversion, they can have no influence on conduct and behaviour. What is honourable, what is fair, what is becoming, what is noble, what is generous, takes possession o: the heart, and animates us to embrace and maintair it. What is intelligible, what is evident, what is prob- able, what is true, procures only the cool assent o: the understanding; and gratifying a speculative curi- osity, puts an end to our researches.

Extinguish all the warm feelings and preposses sions in favour of virtue, and all disgust or aversior to vice : render men totally indifferent towards thes* distinctions; and morality is no longer a practica

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 5

study, nor has any tendency to regulate our lives and actions.

These arguments on each side (and many more might be produced) are so plausible, that I am apt to suspect, they may, the one as well as the other, be solid and satisfactory, and that reason and sentiment poncur in almost all moral determinations and con- clusions. The final sentence, it is probable, which pronounces characters and actions amiable or odious, praise-worthy or blameable ; that which stamps on them the mark of honour or infamy, approbation or censure ; that which renders morality an active prin- ciple and constitutes virtue our happiness, and vice our misery; it is probable, I say, that this final sen- tence depends on some internal sense or feeling, which nature has made universal in the whole species. For what else can have an influence of this nature? But in order to pave the way for such a sentiment, and give a proper discernment of its object, it is often necessary, we find, that much reasoning should pre- cede, that nice distinctions be made, just conclusions drawn, distant comparisons formed, complicated rela- tions examined, and general facts fixed and ascer- tained. Some species of beauty, especially the natu- ral kinds, on their first appearance, command our affection and approbation ; and where they fail of this effect, it is impossible for any reasoning to redress their influence, or adapt them better to our taste and sentiment. But in many orders of beauty, particularly those of the finer arts, it is requisite to employ much reasoning, in order to feel the proper sentiment ; and a false relish may frequently be corrected by argument and reflection. There are just grounds to conclude, that moral beauty partakes much of this latter species,

6 AN EXQ I VR Y COXCERXIXG

and demands the assistance of our intellectual facul- ties, in order to give it a suitable influence on the human mind.

But though this question, concerning the general principles of morals, be curious and important, it is needless for us, at present, to employ farther care in our researches concerning it. For if we can be so happy, in the course of this enquiry, as to discover the true origin of morals, it will then easily appear how far either sentiment or reason enters into all de- terminations of this nature.1 /in order to attain this purpose, we shall endeavour to follow a very simple method : we shall analyse that complication of mental qualities, which form what, in common life, we call Personal Merit : we shall consider every attribute of the mind, which renders a man an object either of esteem and affection, or of hatred and contempt; every habit or sentiment or faculty, which, if ascribed to any person, implies either praise or blame, and may enter into any panegyric or satire of his character and manners. The quick sensibility, which, on this head, is so universal among mankind, gives a philos- opher sufficient assurance, that he can never be con- siderably mistaken in framing the catalogue, or incur any danger of misplacing the objects of his contem- plation : he needs only enter into his own breast for a moment, and consider whether or not he should de- sire to have this or that quality ascribed to him, and whether such or such an imputation would proceed from a friend or an enemy. The very nature of lan- guage guides us almost infallibly in forming a judge- ment of this nature; and as every tongue possesses one set of words which are taken in a good sense, and

lSee Appendix I.

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 7

another in the opposite, the least acquaintance with the idiom suffices, without any reasoning, to direct us in collecting and arranging the estimable or blame- able qualities of men. The only object of reasoning is to discover the circumstances on both sides, which are common to these qualities; to observe that par- ticular in which the estimable qualities agree on the one hand, and the blameable on the other; and thence to reach the foundation of ethics, and find those uni- versal principles, from which all censure or approba- tion is ultimately derived. As this is a question of fact, not of abstract science, we can only expect suc- cess, by following the experimental method, and de- ducing general maxims from a comparison of particu- lar instances. -, The other scientific method, where a general abstract principle is first established, and is afterwards branched out into a variety of inferences and conclusions, may be more perfect in itself, but suits less the imperfection of human nature, and is a common source of illusion and mistake in this as well as in other subjects. Men are now cured of their pas- sion for hypotheses and systems in natural philoso- phy, and will hearken to no arguments but those which are derived from experience. It is full time they should attempt a like reformation in all moral disquisitions ; and reject every system of ethics, how- ever subtle or ingenious, which is not founded on fact and observation.

We shall begin our enquiry on this head by the consideration of the social virtues, Benevolence and Justice. The explication of them will probably give us an opening fcy which the others may be accounted for.

SECTION II.

OF BENEVOLENCE. PART I.

IT may be esteemed, perhaps, a superfluous task to prove, that the benevolent or softer affections are estimable ; and wherever they appear, engage the approbation and good-will of mankind. The epi- thets sociable, good-natured, humane, merciful, grateful, friendly, generous, beneficent, or their equivalents, are known in all languages, and universally express the highest merit, which human nature is capable of at- taining. Where these amiable qualities are attended with birth and power and eminent abilities, and dis- play themselves in the good government or useful in- struction of mankind, they seem even to raise the possessors of them above the rank of human nature, and make them approach in some measure to the di- vine. Exalted capacity, undaunted courage, prosper- ous success; these may only expose a hero or politi- cian to the envy and ill-will of the public: but as soon as the praises are added of humane and beneficent ; when instances are displayed of lenity, tenderness or friendship ; envy itself is silent, or joins the general voice of approbation and applause. ^

When Pericles, the great Athenian statesman and general, was on his death-bed, his surrounding friends, deeming him now insensible, began to indulge their

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 9

sorrow for their expiring patron, by enumerating his great qualities and successes, his conquests and vic- tories, the unusual length of his administration, and his nine trophies erected over the enemies of the republic. You forget, cries the dying hero, who had heard all, you forget the most eminent of my praises, while you dwell so much on those vulgar advantages, in which fortune had a principal share. You have not ob- served that no citizen has ever yet worne mourning on my account.1 %

In men of more ordinary talents and capacity, the social virtues become, if possible, still more essentially requisite; there being nothing eminent, in that case, to compensate for the want of them, or preserve the person from our severest hatred, as well as contempt. A high ambition, an elevated courage, is apt, says Cicero, in less perfect characters, to degenerate into a turbulent ferocity. The more social and softer vir- tues are there chiefly to be regarded. These are always good and amiable.2

The principal advantage, which Juvenal discovers in the extensive capacity of the human species, is that it renders our benevolence also more extensive, and gives us larger opportunities of spreading our kindly influence than what are indulged to the inferior crea- tion.3 It must, indeed, be confessed, that by doing good only, can a man truly enjoy the advantages of being eminent. His exalted station, of itself but the more exposes him to danger and tempest. His sole prerogative is to afford shelter to inferiors, who re- pose themselves under his cover and protection.

But I forget, that it is not my present business to recommend generosity and benevolence, or to paint,

lPlut. in Pericle. 2Cic. de Officiis, lib. i. 3 Sat. xv. 139 aud seq.

io AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

in their true colours, all the genuine charms of the so- cial virtues. These, indeed, sufficiently engage every heart, on the first apprehension of them ; and it is difficult to abstain from some sally of panegyric, as often as they occur in discourse or reasoning. But our object here being more the speculative, than the practical part of morals, it will suffice to remark, (what will readily, I believe, be allowed) that no qual- ities are more intitled to the general good-will and approbation of mankind than beneficence arfd human- ity, friendship and gratitude, natural affection an< public spirit, or whatever proceeds from a tende sympathy with others, and a generous concern for ou kind and species. These wherever they appear seer, to transfuse themselves, in a manner, into each be holder, and to call forth, in their own behalf, th same favourable and affectionate sentiments, whic] they exert on all around.

PART II.

We may observe that, in displaying the praises c any humane, beneficent man, there is one circum stance which never fails to be amply insisted on, namely, the happiness and satisfaction, derived to society from his intercourse and good offices. To his parents, we are apt to say, he endears himself by his pious attachment and duteous care still more than by the connexions of nature. His children never feel his authority, but when employed for their advantage. With him, the ties of love are consolidated by benefi- cence and friendship. The ties of friendship approach, in a fond observance of each obliging office, to those of love and inclination. His domestics and depend-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. n

ants have in him a sure resource; and no longer dread the power of fortune, but so far as she exercises it over him. From him the hungry receive food, the naked clothing, the ignorant and slothful skill and in- dustry. Like the sun, an inferior minister of provi- dence he cheers, invigorates, and sustains the sur- rounding world.

If confined to private life, the sphere of his activ- ity is narrower; but his influence is all benign and gentle. If exalted into a higher station, mankind and posterity reap the fruit of his labours.

As these topics of praise never fail to be employed, and with success, where we would inspire esteem for any one ; may it not thence be concluded, that the utility, resulting from the social virtues, forms, at least, a part of their merit, and is one source of that approbation and regard so universally paid to them?

When we recommend even an animal or a plant as useful and beneficial, we give it an applause and recommendation suited to its nature. As, on the other hand, reflection on the baneful influence of any of these inferior beings always inspires us with the senti- ment of aversion. The eye is pleased with the pros- pect of corn-fields and loaded vine-yards ; horses grazing, and flocks pasturing : but flies the view of briars and brambles, affording shelter to wolves and serpents.

A machine, a piece of furniture, a vestment, a house well contrived for use and conveniency, is so far beautiful, and is contemplated with pleasure and approbation. An experienced eye is here sensible to many excellencies, which escape persons ignorant and uninstructed.

Can anything stronger be said in praise of a pro-

1 2 AN ENQ UIR V CONCERNING

fession, such as merchandize or manufacture, than to observe the advantages which it procures to society; and is not a monk and inquisitor enraged when we treat his order as useless or pernicious to mankind?

The historian exults in displaying the benefit aris- ing from his labours. The writer of romance allevi- ates or denies the bad consequences ascribed to his manner of composition.

In general, what praise is implied in the simple epithet useful 7 What reproach in the contrary!

Your Gods, says Cicero,1 in opposition to the Epi- cureans, cannot justly claim any worship or adora- tion, with whatever imaginary perfections you may suppose them endowed. They are totally useless and inactive. Even the Egyptians, whom you so much ridicule, never consecrated any animal but on account of its utility.

The sceptics assert,2 though absurdly, that the origin of all religious worship was derived from the utility of inanimate objects, as the sun and moon, to the support and well-being of mankind. This is also the common reason assigned by historians, for the deification of eminent heroes and legislators.3

To plant a tree, to cultivate a field, to beget chil- dren ; meritorious acts, according to the religion of Zoroaster.

In all determinations of morality, this circumstance of public utility is ever principally in view; and wher- ever disputes arise, either in philosophy or common life, concerning the bounds of duty, the question can- not, by any means, be decided with greater certainty, than by ascertaining, on any side, the true interests

IDe Nat. Deor. lib. i. 2Sext. Emp. adversus Math. lib. viii.

SDiod. Sic. passim.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.

13

of mankind. If any false opinion, embraced from ap- pearances, has been found to prevail; as soon as far- ther experience and sounder reasoning have given us juster notions of human affairs, we retract our first sentiment, and adjust anew the boundaries of moral good and evil.

Giving alms to common beggars is naturally praised ; because it seems to carry relief to the dis- tressed and indigent : but when we observe the en- couragement thence arising to idleness and debauch- ery, we regard that species of charity rather as a weakness than a virtue.

Tyrannicide, or the assassination of usurpers and oppressive princes, was highly extolled in ancient times; because it both freed mankind from many of these monsters, and seemed to keep the others in awe, whom the sword or poinard could not reach. But history and experience having since convinced us, that this practice increases the jealousy and cruelty of princes, a Timoleon and a Brutus, though treated with indulgence on account of the prejudices of their times, are now considered as very improper models for imitation.

Liberality in princes is regarded as a mark of be- neficence, but when it occurs, that the homely bread of the honest and industrious is often thereby con- verted into delicious cates for the idle and the prod- igal, we soon retract our heedless praises. The re- grets of a prince, for having lost a day, were noble and generous : but had he intended to have spent it in acts of generosity to his greedy courtiers, it was better lost than misemployed after that manner.

Luxury, or a refinement on the pleasures and con- veniences of life, had not long been supposed the

i4 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

source of every corruption in government, and the im- mediate cause of faction, sedition, civil wars, and the total loss of liberty. It was, therefore, universally re- garded as a vice, and was an object of declamation to all satirists, and severe moralists. Those, who prove, or attempt to prove, that such refinements rather tend to the increase of industry, civility, and arts regulate anew our ?noral as well as political sentiments, and represent, as laudable or innocent, what had formerly been regarded as pernicious and blameable.

Upon the whole, then, it seems undeniable, that nothing can bestow more merit on any human crea- ture than the sentiment of benevolence in an eminent degree ; and that a part, at least, of its merit arises from its tendency to promote the interests of our spe- cies, and bestow happiness on human society. We carry our view into the salutary consequences of such a character and disposition j and whatever has so be- nign an influence, and forwards so desirable an end, is beheld with complacency and pleasure. The social virtues are never regarded without their beneficial tendencies, nor viewed as barren and unfruitful. The happiness of mankind, the order of society, the har- mony of families, the mutual support of friends, are always considered as the result of their gentle domin- ion over the breasts of men.

How considerable a part of their merit we ought to ascribe to their utility, will better appear from fu- ture disquisitions;1 as well as the reason, why this circumstance has such a command over our esteem and approbation.3

1 Sect. III. and IV. 2 Sect. V.

SECTION III.

OF JUSTICE. PART I.

THAT Justice is useful to society, and consequently that part of its merit, at least, must arise from that consideration, it would be a superfluous under- taking to prove. That public utility is the sole origin of justice, and that reflections on the beneficial con- sequences of this virtue are the sole foundation of its merit; this proposition, being more curious and im- portant, will better deserve our examination and enquiry.

Let us suppose that nature has bestowed on the human race such profuse abundance of all external con- veniencies, that, without any uncertainty in the event, without any care or industry on our part, every indi- vidual finds himself fully provided with whatever his most voracious appetites can want, or luxurious im- agination wish or desire. His natural beauty, we shall suppose, surpasses all acquired ornaments : the per- petual clemency of the seasons renders useless all clothes or covering : the raw herbage affords him the most delicious fare; the clear fountain, the richest beverage. No laborious occupation required : no till- age : no navigation. Music, poetry, and contempla- tion form his sole business : conversation, mirth, and friendship his sole amusement.

16 AN ENQ UIE Y CONCERNING

It seems evident that, in such a happy state, every other social virtue would flourish, and receive tenfold increase; but the cautious, jealous virtue of justice would never once have been dreamed of. For what purpose make a partition of goods, where every one has already more than enough? Why give rise to property, where there cannot possibly be any injury? Why call this object mine, when upon the seizing of it by another, I need but stretch out my hand to pos- sess myself to what is equally valuable? Justice, in that case, being totally useless, would be an idle cere- monial, and could never possibly have place in the catalogue of virtues.

We see, even in the present necessitous condition of mankind, that, wherever any benefit is bestowed by nature in an unlimited abundance, we leave it al- ways in common among the whole human race, and make no subdivisions of right and property. Water and air, though the most necessary of all objects, are not challenged as the property of individuals; nor can any man commit injustice by the most lavish use and enjoyment of these blessings. In fertile exten- sive countries, with few inhabitants, land is regarded on the same footing. And no topic is so much insisted on by those, who defend the liberty of the seas, as the unexhausted use of them in navigation. Were the advantages, procured by navigation, as inexhaustible, these reasoners had never had any adversaries to re- fute ; nor had any claims ever been advanced of a separate, exclusive dominion over the ocean.

It may happen, in some countries, at some peri- ods, that there be established a property in water, none in land '} if the latter be in greater abundance

1 Genesis, chaps, xiii. and xxi.

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 17

than can be used by the inhabitants, and the former be found, with difficulty, and in very small quantities.

Again; suppose, that, though the necessities of human race continue the same as at present, yet the mind is so enlarged, and so replete with friendship and generosity, that every man has the utmost tender- ness for every man, and feels no more concern for his own interest than for that of his fellows; it seems evi- dent, that the use of justice would, in this case, be suspended by such an extensive benevolence, nor would the divisions and barriers of property and obli- gation have ever been thought of. Why should I bind another, by a deed or promise, to do me any good office, when I know that he is already prompted, by the strongest inclination, to seek my happiness, and would, of himself, perform the desired service; ex- cept the hurt, he thereby receives, be greater than the benefit accruing to me? in which case, he knows, that, from my innate humanity and friendship, I should be the first to oppose myself to his imprudent gene- rosity. Why raise land marks between my neighbour's field and mine, when my heart has made no division between our interests; but shares all his joys and sorrows with the same force and vivacity as if origi- nally my own? Every man, upon this supposition, being a second self to another, would trust all his in- terests to the discretion of every man ; without jeal- ousy, without partition, without distinction. And the whole human race would form only one family; where all would lie in common, and be used freely, without regard to property; but cautiously too, with as entire regard to the necessities of each individual, as if our own interests were most intimately concerned.

In the present disposition of the human heart, it

i8 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

would, perhaps, be difficult to find complete instances of such enlarged affections; but still we may observe, that the case of families approaches towards it ; and the stronger the mutual benevolence is among the in- dividuals, the nearer it approaches; till all distinction of property be, in a great measure, lost and con- founded among them. Between married persons, the cement of friendship is by the laws supposed so strong as to abolish all division of possessions; and has often, in reality, the force ascribed to it. And it is observ- able, that, during the ardour of new enthusiasms, when every principle is inflamed into extravagance, the community of goods has frequently been attempted; and nothing but experience of its inconveniencies, from the returning or disguised selfishness of men, could make the imprudent fanatics adopt anew the ideas of justice and of separate property. So true is it, that this virtue derives its existence entirely from its necessary use to the intercourse and social state of mankind.

To make this truth more evident, let us reverse the foregoing suppositions ; and carrying everything to the opposite extreme, consider what would be the effect of these new situations. Suppose a society to fall into such want of all common necessaries, that the utmost frugality and industry cannot preserve the greater number from perishing, and the whole from extreme misery; it will readily, I believe, be admitted, that the strict laws of justice are suspended, in such a pressing emergence, and give place to the stronger motives of necessity and self-preservation. Is it any crime, after a shipwreck, to seize whatever means or instrument of safety one can lay hold of, without re- gard to former limitations of property? Or if a city

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. q

besieged were perishing with hunger; can we imagine, that men will see any means of preservation before them, and lose their lives, from a scrupulous regard to what, in other situations, would be the rules of equity and justice? The use and tendency of that vir- tue is to procure happiness and security, by preserv- ing order in society : but where the society is ready to perish from extreme necessity, no greater evil can be dreaded from violence and injustice; and every man may now provide for himself by all the means, which prudence can dictate, or humanity permit. The public, even in less urgent necessities, opens gran- aries, without the consent of proprietors; as justly supposing, that the authority of magistracy may, con- sistent with equity, extend so far : but were any num- ber of men to assemble, without the tie of laws or civil jurisdiction ; would an equal partition of bread in a famine, though effected by power and even vio- lence, be regarded as criminal or injurious?

Suppose likewise, that it should be a virtuous man's fate to fall into the society of ruffians, remote from the protection of laws and government; what conduct must he embrace in that melancholy situa- tion? He sees such a desperate rapaciousness pre- vail ; such a disregard to equity, such contempt of order, such stupid blindness to future consequences, as must immediately have the most tragical conclu- sion, and must terminate in destruction to the greater number, and in a total dissolution of society to the rest. He, meanwhile, can have no other expedient than to arm himself, to whomever the sword he seizes, or the buckler, may belong : To make provision of all means of defence and security: And his particular re- gard to justice being no longer of use to his own safety

2o AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

or that of others, he must consult the dictates of self- preservation alone, without concern for those who no longer merit his care and attention.

When any man, even in political society, renders himself by his crimes, obnoxious to the public, he is punished by the laws in his goods and person; that is, the ordinary rules of justice are, with regard to him, suspended for a moment, and it becomes equit- able to inflict on him, for the benefit of society, what otherwise he could not suffer without wrong or injury.

The rage and violence of public war; what is it but a suspension of justice among the warring parties, who perceive, that this virtue is now no longer of any use or advantage to them? The laws of war, which then succeed to those of equity and justice, are rules calculated for the advantage and utility of that particu- lar state, in which men are now placed. And were a civilized nation engaged with barbarians, who observed no rules even of war, the former must also suspend their observance of them, where they no longer serve to any purpose; and must render every action or re- counter as bloody and pernicious as possible to the first aggressors.

Thus, the rules of equity or justice depend entirely on the particular state and condition in which men are placed, and owe their origin and existence to that utility, which results to the public from their strict and regular observance. Reverse, in any considerable circumstance, the condition of men: Produce extreme abundance or extreme necessity : Implant in the hu- man breast perfect moderation and humanity, or per- fect rapaciousness and malice : By rendering justice totally useless, you thereby totally destroy its essence, and suspend its obligation upon mankind.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 21

The common situation of society is a medium amidst all these extremes. We are naturally partial to ourselves, and to our friends; but are capable of learning the advantage resulting from a more equit- able conduct. Few enjoyments are given us from the open and liberal hand of nature ; but by art, labour, and industry, we can extract them in great abundance. Hence the ideas of property become necessary in all civil society : Hence justice derives its usefulness to the public : And hence alone arises its merit and moral obligation.

These conclusions are so natural and obvious, that they have not escaped even the poets, in their de- scriptions of the felicity attending the golden age or the reign of Saturn. The seasons, in that first period of nature, were so temperate, if we credit these agree- able fictions, that there was no necessity for men to provide themselves with clothes and houses, as a se- curity against the violence of heat and cold : The riv- ers flowed with wine and milk : The oaks yielded honey; and nature spontaneously produced her great- est delicacies. Nor were these the chief advantages of that happy age. Tempests were not alone removed from nature ; but those more furious tempests were unknown to human breasts, which now cause such uproar, and engender Guch confusion. Avarice, am- bition, cruelty, selfishness, were never heard of: Cor- dial affection, compassion, sympathy, were the only movements with which the mind was yet acquainted. Even the punctilious distinction of mine and thine was banished from among the happy race of mortals, and carried with it the very notion of property and obliga- tion, justice and injustice.

This poetical fiction of the golden age, is in some

22 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

respects, of a piece with the philosophical fiction of the state of nature', only that the former is represented as the most charming and most peaceable condition, which can possibly be imagined ; whereas the latter is painted out as a state of mutual war and violence, attended with the most extreme necessity. On the first origin of mankind, we are told, their ignorance and savage nature were so prevalent, that they could give no mutual trust, but must each depend upon himself and his own force or cunning for protection and security. No law was heard of : No rule of jus- tice known : No distinction of property regarded : Power was the only measure of right ; and a perpetual war of all against all was»the result of men's untamed selfishness and barbarity.1

Whether such a condition of human nature could ever exist, or if it did, could continue so long as to merit the appellation of a state, may justly be doubted. Men are necessarily born in a family-society, at least; and are trained up by their parents to some rule of conduct and behaviour. But this must be admitted,

IThis fiction of a state of nature, as a state of war, was not first started by Mr. Hobbes, as is commonly imagined. Plato endeavours to refute an hypothesis very like it in the second, third, and fourth books de republica. Cicero, on the contrary, supposes it certain and universally acknowledged in the following passage. * Quis enim vestrum, judices, ignorat, ita naturam rerum tulisse, ut quodam tempore homines, nondum neque naturali neque civili jure descripto, fusi per agros ac dispersi vagarentur tantumque habe- rent quantum manu ac viribus, per caedem ac vulnera, aut eripere aut reti- nere potuissent ? Qui igitur primi virtute & consilio praestanti extiterunt, ii perspecto genere humanae docilitatis atque ingenii, dissipatos unum in locum congregarunt, eosque ex feritate ilia ad justitiam ac mansuetudinem transduxerunt. Turn res ad communem utilitatem, quas publicas appella. mus, turn conventicula hominum, quae postea civitates nominatae sunt, turn domicilia conjuncta, quas urbes dicamus, invento & divino & humano jure moenibus sepserunt. Atque inter hanc vitam, perpolitam humanitate, & 11am immanem, nihil tam interest quam JUS atque VIS. Horum utro uti nolimus, altero est utendum. Vim volumus extingui. Jus valeat necesse est, idi est, judicia, quibus omne jus continetur. Judicia displicent, aut nulla sunt. Vis dominetur necesse est. Haec vident omnes.' Pro Sext. §. 43.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 23

that, if such a state of mutual war and violence was ever real, the suspension of all laws of justice, from their absolute inutility, is a necessary and infallible consequence.

The more we vary our views of human life, and the newer and more unusual the lights are in which we survey it, the more shall we be convinced, that the origin here assigned for the virtue of justice is real and satisfactory.

Were there a species of creatures intermingled with men, which, though rational, were possessed of such inferior strength, both of body and mind, that they were incapable of all resistance, and could never, upon the highest provocation, make us feel the effects of their resentment; the necessary consequence, I think, is that we should be bound by the laws of hu- manity to give gentle usage to these creatures, but should not, properly speaking, lie under any restraint of justice with regard to them, nor could they possess any right or property, exclusive of such arbitrary lords. Our intercourse with them could not be called society, which supposes a degree of equality; but ab- solute command on the one side, and servile obedience on the other. Whatever we covet, they must instantly resign : Our permission is the only tenure, by which they hold their possessions : Our compassion and kindness the only check, by which they curb our law- less will : And as no inconvenience ever results from the exercise of a power, so firmly established in na- ture, the restraints of justice and property, being to- tally useless, would never have place in so unequal a confederacy.

This is plainly the situation of men, with regard to animals ; and how far these may be said to possess

24 AN ENQUIR Y CONCERNING

reason, I leave it to others to determine. The great superiority of civilized Europeans above barbarous Indians, tempted us to imagine ourselves on the same footing with regard to them, and made us throw off all restraints of justice, and even of humanity, in our treatment of them. In many nations, the female sex are reduced to like slavery, and are rendered incapable of all property, in opposition to their lordly masters. But though the males, when united, have in all coun- tries bodily force sufficient to maintain this severe tyranny, yet such are the insinuation, address, and charms of their fair companions, that women are com- monly able to break the confederacy, and share with the other sex in all the rights and privileges of so- ciety.

Were the human species so framed by nature as that each individual possessed within himself every faculty, requisite both for his own preservation and for the propagation of his kind : Were all society and intercourse cut off between man and man, by the pri- mary intention of the supreme Creator : It seems evi- dent, that so solitary a being would be as much in- capable of justice, as of social discourse and conver- sation. Where mutual regards and forbearance serve to no manner of purpose, they would never direct the conduct of any reasonable man. The headlong course of the passions would be checked by no reflection on future consequences. And as each man is here sup- posed to love himself alone, and to depend only on himself and his own activity for safety and happiness, he would, on every occasion, to the utmost of his power, challenge the preference above every other being, to none of which he is bound by any ties, either of nature or of interest.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS, 25

But suppose the conjunction of the sexes to be es- tablished in nature, a family immediately arises; and particular rules being found requisite for its subsist- ence, these are immediately embraced ; though with- out comprehending the rest of mankind within their prescriptions. Suppose that several families unite to- gether into one society, which is totally disjoined from all others, the rules, which preserve peace and order, enlarge themselves to the utmost extent of that so- ciety; but becoming then entirely useless, lose their force when carried one step farther. But again sup- pose, that several distinct societies maintain a kind of intercourse for mutual convenience and advantage, the boundaries of justice still grow larger, in propor- tion to the largeness of men's views, and the force of their mutual connexions. History, experience, reason sufficiently instruct us in this natural progress of hu- man sentiments, and in the gradual enlargement of our regards to justice, in proportion as we become acquainted with the extensive utility of that virtue.

PART 11.

If we examine the particular laws, by which justice is directed, and property determined ; we shall still be presented with the same conclusion. The good of mankind is the only object of all these laws and regu- lations. Not only is it requisite, for the peace and interest of society, that men's possessions should be separated ; but the rules, which we follow, in making the separation, are such as can best be contrived to serve farther the interests of society.

We shall suppose that a creature, possessed of reason, but unacquainted with human nature, deliber- ates with himself what rules of justice or property

26 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

would best promote public interest, and establish peace and security among mankind: His most obvious thought would be, to assign the largest possessions to the most extensive virtue, and give every one the power of doing good, proportioned to his inclination. In a perfect theocracy, where a being, infinitely intel- ligent, governs by particular volitions, this rule would certainly have place, and might serve to the wisest purposes: But were mankind to execute such a law; so great is the uncertainty of merit, both from its nat- ural obscurity, and from the self-conceit of each indi- vidual, that no determinate rule of conduct would ever result from it ; and the total dissolution of society must be the immediate consequence. Fanatics may suppose, that dominion is founded on grace, and that saints alone inherit the earth ; but the civil magistrate very justly puts these sublime theorists on the same footing with common robbers, and teaches them by the severest discipline, that a rule, which, in specula- tion, may seem the most advantageous to society, may yet be found, in practice, totally pernicious and destructive.

That there were religious fanatics of this kind in England, during the civil wars, we learn from history; though it is probable, that the obvious tendency of these principles excited such horror in mankind, as soon obliged the dangerous enthusiasts to renounce, or at least conceal their tenets. Perhaps the levellers, who claimed an equal distribution of property, were a kind of political fanatics, which arose from the re- ligious species, and more openly avowed their preten- sions ; as carrying a more plausible appearance, of being practicable in themselves, as well as useful to human society.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 27

It must, indeed, be confessed, that nature is so iberal to mankind, that, were all her presents equally divided among the species, and improved by art and .ndustry, every individual would enjoy all the neces- saries, and even most of the comforts of life; nor would ever be liable to any ills but such as might ac- cidentally arise from the sickly frame and constitution oi his body. It must also be confessed, that, wher- ever we depart from this equality, we rob the poor of more satisfaction than we add to the rich, and that the slight gratification of a frivolous vanity, in one individual, frequently costs more than bread to many families, and even provinces. It may appear withal, that the rule of equality, as it would be highly useful, is not altogether impracticable \ but has taken place, at least in an imperfect degree, in some republics; particularly that of Sparta; where it was attended, it is said, with the most beneficial consequences. Not to mention that the Agrarian laws, so frequently claimed in Rome, and carried into execution in many Greek cities, proceeded, all of them, from a general idea of the utility oi this principle.

But historians, and even common sense, may in- form us, that, however specious these ideas of perfect equality may seem, they are really, at bottom, imprac- ticable \ and were they not so, would be extremely pernicious to human society. Render possessions ever so equal, men's different degrees of art, care, and in- dustry will immediately break that equality. Or if you check these virtues, you reduce society to the most extreme indigence; and instead of preventing want and beggary in a few, render it unavoidable to the whole community. The most rigorous inquisition too is requisite to watch every inequality on its first

28 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

appearance; and the most severe jurisdiction, to pun- ish and redress it. But besides, that so much author- ity must soon degenerate into tyranny, and be exerted with great partialities; who can possibly be possessed of it, in such a situation as is here supposed? Perfect equality of possessions, destroying all subordination, weakens extremely the authority of magistracy, and must reduce all power nearly to a level, as well as property.

We may conclude, therefore, that, in order to es- tablish laws for the regulation of property, we must be acquainted with the nature and situation of man; must reject appearances, which may be false, though specious ; and must search for those rules, which are, on the whole, most useful and beneficial. Vulgar sense and slight experience are sufficient for this purpose; where men give not way to too selfish avidity, or too extensive enthusiasm.

Who sees not, for instance, that whatever is pro- duced or improved by a man's art or industry ought, for ever, to be secured to him, in order to give en- couragement to such useful habits and accomplish- ments? That the property ought also to descend to children and relations, for the same useful purpose? That it may be alienated by consent, in order to beget that commerce and intercourse, which is so beneficial to human society? And that all contracts and prom- ises ought carefully to be fulfilled, in order to secure mutual trust and confidence, by which the general in- terest of mankind is so much promoted?

Examine the writers on the laws of nature; and you will always find, that, whatever principles they set out with, they are sure to terminate here at last, and to assign, as the ultimate reason for every rule

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 29

which they establish, the convenience and necessities of mankind. A concession thus extorted, in opposi- tion to systems, has more authority than if it had been made in prosecution of them.

What other reason, indeed, could writers ever give, why this must be mine and that yours ; since un- instructed nature surely never made any such distinc- tion? The objects which receive those appellations are, of themselves, foreign to us; they are totally dis- joined and separated from us ; and nothing but the general interests of society can form the connexion.

Sometimes the interests of society may require a rule of justice in a particular case; but may not de- termine any particular rule, among several, which are all equally beneficial. In that case, the slightest anal- ogies are laid hold of, in order to prevent that indiffer- ence and ambiguity, which would be the source of perpetual dissension. Thus possession alone, and first possession, is supposed to convey property, where no body else has any preceding claim and pretension. Many of the reasonings of lawyers are of this analogi- cal nature, and depend on very slight connexions of the imagination.

Does any one scruple, in extraordinary cases, to violate all regard to the private property of individu- als, and sacrifice to public interest a distinction which had been established for the sake of that interest? The safety of the people is the supreme law : All other particular laws are subordinate to it, and de- pendent on it : And if, in the common course of things, they be followed and regarded ; it is only because the public safety and interest commonly demand so equal and impartial an administration.

Sometimes both utility and analogy fail, and leave

3o AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

the laws of justice in total uncertainty. Thus, it is highly requisite, that prescription or long possession should convey property; but what number of days or months or years should be sufficient for that purpose, it is impossible for reason alone to determine. Civil laws here supply the place of the natural code, and assign different terms for prescription, according to the different utilities, proposed by the legislator. Bills of exchange and promissory notes, by the laws of most countries, prescribe sooner than bonds, and mortgages, and contracts of a more formal nature.

In general we may observe that all questions of property are subordinate to the authority of civil laws, which extend, restrain, modify, and alter the rules of natural justice, according to the particular convenience of each community. The laws have, or ought to have, a constant reference to the constitution of government, the manners, the climate, the religion, the commerce, the situation of each society. A late author of genius, as well as learning, has prosecuted this subject at large, and has established, from these principles, a system of political knowledge, which abounds in in- genious and brilliant thoughts, and is not wanting in solidity.1

IThe author of D Esprit des Loix. This illustrious writer, however, sets out with a different theory, and supposes all right to be founded on certain rapports or relations; which is a system, that, in my opinion, never will be reconciled with true philosophy. Father Malebranche, as far as I can learn, was the first that started this abstract theory of morals, which was after- wards adopted by Cudworth, Clarke, and others; and as it excludes all sen- timent, and pretends to found everything on reason, it has not wanted fol- lowers in this philosophic age. See Section I, Appendix I. With regard to justice, the virtue here treated of, the inference against this theory seems short and conclusive. Property is allowed to be dependent on civil laws; civil laws are allowed to have no other object, but the interest of society: This therefore must be allowed to be the sole foundation of property and justice. Not to mention, that our obligation itself to obey the magistrate and his laws is founded on nothing but the interests of society.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 3I

What is a marts property? Anything which it is lawful for him, and for him alone, to use. But what rule have we, by which we can distinguish these objects? Here we must have recourse to statutes, customs, precedents, analogies, and a hundred other circum- stances ; some of which are constant and inflexible, some variable and arbitrary. But the ultimate point, in which they all professedly terminate, is the interest and happiness of human society. Where this enters not into consideration, nothing can appear more whimsical, unnatural, and even superstitious, than all or most of the laws of justice and of property.

Those who ridicule vulgar superstitions, and ex- pose the folly of particular regards to meats, days, places, postures, apparel, have an easy task; while they consider all the qualities and relations of the objects, and discover no adequate cause for that affection or antipathy, veneration or horror, which have so mighty an influence over a considerable part of mankind. A Syrian would have starved rather than taste pigeon ; an Egyptian would not have ap- proached bacon : But if these species of food be ex-

If the ideas of justice, sometimes, do not follow the dispositions of civil law; we shall find, that these cases, instead of objections, are confirmations of the theory delivered above. Where a civil law is so perverse as to cross all the interests of society, it loses all its authority, and men judge by the ideas of natural justice, which are conformable to those interests. Some- times also civil laws, for useful purposes, require a ceremony or form to any deed ; and where that is wanting, their decrees run contrary to the usual ten- our of justice; but one who takes advantage of such chicanes, is not com- monly regarded as an honest man. Thus, the interests of society require, that contracts be fulfilled ; and there is not a more material article either of natural or civil justice: But the omission of a trifling circumstance will often, by law, invalidate a contract, inforo humano, but not in foro conscien- tiae, as divines express themselves. In these cases, the magistrate is sup- posed only to withdraw his power of enforcing the right, not to have altered the right. Where his intention extends to the right, and is conformable to the interests of society; it never fails to alter the right; a clear proof of the origin of justice and of property, as assigned above

32 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

amined by the senses of sight, smell, or taste, or scru- tinized by the sciences of chemistry, medicine, or physics, no difference is ever found between them and any other species, nor can that precise circumstance be pitched on, which may afford a just foundation for the religious passion. A fowl on Thursday is lawful food ; on Friday abominable : Eggs in this house and in this diocese, are permitted during Lent; a hundred paces farther, to eat them is a damnable sin. This earth or building, yesterday was profane ; to-day, by the muttering of certain words, it has become holy and sacred. Such reflections as these, in the mouth of a philosopher, one may safely say, are too obvious to have any influence; because they must always, to every man, occur at first sight; and where they pre- vail not, of themselves, they are surely obstructed by education, prejudice, and passion, not by ignorance or mistake.

It may appear to a careless view, or rather a too abstracted reflection, that there enters a like super- stition into all the sentiments of justice; and that, if a man expose its object, or what we call property, to the same scrutiny of sense and science, he will not, by the most accurate enquiry, find any foundation for the difference made by moral sentiment. I may law- fully nourish myself from this tree ; but the fruit of another of th2 same species, ten paces off, it is crimi- nal for me to touch. Had I worn this apparel an hour ago, I had merited the severest punishment; but a man, by pronouncing a few magical syllables, has now rendered it fit for my use and service. Were this house placed in the neighbouring territory, it had been immoral for me to dwell in it ; but being built on this side the river, it is subject to a different muni-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 33

cfpal law, and by its becoming mine I incur no blame or censure. The same species of reasoning it may be thought, which so successfully exposes superstition, is also applicable to justice; nor is it possible, in the one case more than in the other, to point out, in the object, that precise quality or circumstance, which is the foundation of the sentiment.

But there is this material difference between super- stition and Justice, that the former is frivolous, useless, and burdensome ; the latter is absolutely requisite to the well-being of mankind and existence of society. When we abstract from this circumstance (for it is too apparent ever to be overlooked) it must be con- fessed, that all regards to right and property, seem entirely without foundation, as much as the grossest and most vulgar superstition. Were the interests of society nowise concerned, it is as unintelligible why another's articulating certain sounds implying con- sent, should change the nature of my actions with re- gard to a particular object, as why the reciting of a liturgy by a priest, in a certain habit and posture, should dedicate a heap of brick and timber, and ren- der it, thenceforth and for ever, sacred.1

lit is evident, that the will or consent alone never transfers property, nor causes the obligation of a promise (for the same reasoning extends to both], but the will must be expressed by words or signs, in order to impose a tie upon any man. The expression being once brought in as subservient to he will, soon becomes the principal part of the promise; nor will a man be less bound by his word, though he secretly give a different direction to his intention, and withhold the assent of his mind. But though the expression makes, on most occasions, the whole of the promise, yet it does not always so ; and one who should make use of any expression, of which he knows not the meaning, and which he uses without any sense of the consequences, would not certainly be bound by it. Nay, though he know its meaning, yet if he use it in jest only, and with such signs as evidently show, that he has no serious intention of binding himself, he would not lie under any obligation of performance ; but it is necessary, that the words be a perfect expression of the will, without any contrary signs. Nay, even this we must not carry so far as to imagine, that one, whom, by our quickness of understanding, wo

34 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

These reflections are far from weakening the obli- gations of justice, or diminishing anything from the most sacred attention to property. On the contrary, such sentiments must acquire new force from the present reasoning. For what stronger foundation can be desired or conceived for any duty, than to observe, that human society, or even human nature, could not subsist without the establishment of it ; and will still arrive at greater degrees of happiness and perfection,

conjecture, from certain signs, to have an intention of deceiving us, is not bound by bis expression or verbal promise, if we accept of it ; but must limit this conclusion to those cases where the signs are of a different nature from those of deceit. All these contradictions are easily accounted for, if justice arise entirely from its usefulness to society ; but will never be explained on any other hypothesis.

It is remarkable that the moral decisions of the Jesuits and other relaxed casuists, were commonly formed in prosecution of some such subtilties of reasoning as are here pointed out, and proceed as much from the habit of scholastic refinement as from any corruption of the heart, if we may follow the authority of Mons. Bayle. See his Dictionary, article Loyola. And why has the indignation of mankind risen so high against these casuists ; but be- cause every one perceived, that human society could not subsist were such practices authorized, and that morals must always be handled with a view to public interest, more than philosophical regularity ? If the secret direction of tne intention, said every man of sense, could invalidate a contract; where is our security ? And yet a metaphysical schoolman might think, that, where an intention was supposed to be requisite, if that intention really had not place, no consequence ought to follow, and no obligation be imposed. The casuistical subtilties may not be greater than the subtilties of lawyers, hinted at above; but as the former ax z pernicious, and the latter innocent and even necessary, this is the reason of the very different reception they meet with from the world.

It is a doctrine of the Church of Rome, that the priest, by a secret direc- tion of his intention, can invalidate any sacrament. This position is derived from a strict and regular prosecution of the obvious truth, that empty words alone, without any meaning or intention in the speaker, can never be attended with any effect. If the same conclusion be not admitted in reasonings con- cerning civil contracts, where the affair is allowed to be of so much less con- sequence than the eternal salvation of thousands, it proceeds entirely from men's sense of the danger and inconvenience of the doctrine in the former case : And we may thence observe, that however positive, arrogant, and dog- matical any superstition may appear, it never can convey any thorough per- suasion of the reality of its objects, or put them, in any degree, on a balance with the common incidents of life, which we learn from daily observation and experimental reasoning.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS 35

the more inviolable the regard is, which is paid to that duty?

The dilemma seems obvious: As justice evidently tends to promote public utility and to support civil society, the sentiment of justice is either derived from our reflecting on that tendency, 'or like hunger, thirst, and other appetites, resentment, love of life, attach- ment to offspring, and other passions, arises from a simple original instinct in the human breast, which nature has implanted for like salutary purposes. If the latter be the case, it follows, that property, which is the object of justice, is also distinguished by a sim- ple original instinct, and is not ascertained by any argument or reflection. But who is there that ever heard of such an instinct? Or is this a subject in which new discoveries can be made? We may as well expect to discover, in the body, new senses, which had before escaped the observation of all mankind.

But farther, though it seems a very simple propo- sition to say, that nature, by an instinctive sentiment, distinguishes property, yet in reality we shall find, that there are required for that purpose ten thousand different instincts, and these employed about objects of the greatest intricacy and nicest discernment. For when a definition of property is required, that relation is found to resolve itself into any possession acquired by occupation, by industry, by prescription, by inheri- tance, by contract, &c. Can we think that nature, by an original instinct, instructs us in all these meth- ods of acquisition?

These words too, inheritance and contract, stand for ideas infinitely complicated ; and to define them exactly, a hundred volumes of laws, and a thousand volumes of commentators, have not been found sum-

3 6 AN ENQ UIR Y COXCER.\ ~ING

cient. Does nature, whose instincts in men are all simple, embrace such complicated and artificial ob- jects, and create a rational creature, without trusting anything to the operation of his reason?

But even though all this were admitted, it would not be satisfactory. Positive laws can certainly trans- fer property. It is by another original instinct, that we recognize the authority of kings and senates, and mark all the boundaries of their jurisdiction? Judges too, even though their sentence be erroneous and illegal, must be allowed, for the sake of peace and order, to have decisive authority, and ultimately to determine property. Have we original innate ideas of praetors and chancellors and juries? Who sees not, that all these institutions arise merely from the necessities of human society?

All birds of the same species in every age and country, built their nests alike : In this we see the force of instinct. Men, in different times and places, frame their houses differently : Here we perceive the influence of reason and custom. A like inference may be drawn from comparing the instinct of generation and the institution of property.

How great soever the variety of municipal laws, it must be confessed, that their chief outlines pretty regularly concur ; because the purposes, to which they tend, are everywhere exactly similar. In like man- ner, all houses have a roof and walls, windows and chimneys ; though diversified in their shape, figure, and materials. The purposes of the latter, directed to the conveniencies of human life, discover not more plainly their origin from reason and reflection, than do those of the former, which point all to a like end.

I need not mention the variations, which all the

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 37

rules of property receive from the finer turns and con- nexions of the imagination, and from the subtilties and abstractions of law-topics and reasonings. There is no possibility of reconciling this observation to the inotion of original instincts.

What alone will beget a doubt concerning the the- ory, on which I insist, is the influence of education and acquired habits, by which we are so accustomed to blame injustice, that we are not, in every instance, conscious of any immediate reflection on the perni- cious consequences of it. The views the most famil- iar to us are apt, for that very reason, to escape us ; and what we have very frequently performed from certain motives, we are apt likewise to continue me- chanically, without recalling, on every occasion, the reflections, which first determined us. The conve- nience, or rather necessity, which leads to justice is so universal, and everywhere points so much to the same rules, that the habit takes place in all societies ; and it is not without some scrutiny, that we are able to ascertain its true origin. The matter, however, is not so obscure, but that even in common life we have every moment recourse to the principle of public util- ity, and ask, What must become of the world, if such practices prevail? How could society subsist under such disorders? Were the distinction or separation of pos- sessions entirely useless, can any one conceive, that it ever should have obtained in society?

Thus we seem, upon the whole, to have attained a knowledge of the force of that principle here insisted on, and can determine what degree of esteem or moral approbation may result from reflections on public in- terest and utility. The necessity of justice to the support of society is the sole foundation of that vir-

3g THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.

tue ; and since no moral excellence is more highly esteemed, we may conclude that this circumstance of usefulness has, in general, the strongest energy, and most entire command over our sentiments. It must, therefore, be the source of a considerable part of the merit ascribed to humanity, benevolence, friendship, public spirit, and other social virtues of that stamp; as it is the sole source of the moral approbation paid to fidelity, justice, veracity, integrity, and those other estimable and useful qualities and principles. It is entirely agreeable to the rules of philosophy, and even of common reason ; where any principle has been found to have a great force and energy in one in- stance, to ascribe to it a like energy in all similar in- stances. This indeed is Newton's chief rule of phil- osophizing.1

1 Principia, Lib. iiL

SECTION IV.

OF POLITICAL SOCIETY.

HAD every man sufficient sagacity to peTceive, at all times, the strong interest which binds him to the observance of justice and equity, and strength of mind sufficient to persevere in a steady adherence to a general and a distant interest, in opposition to the allurements of present pleasure and advantage ; there had never, in that case, been any such thing as government or political society, but each man, follow- ing his natural liberty, had lived in entire peace and harmony with all others. What need of positive law where natural justice is, of itself, a sufficient restraint? Why create magistrates, where there never arises any disorder or iniquity? Why abridge our native free- dom, when, in every instance, the utmost exertion of it is found innocent and beneficial? It is evident, that, if government were totally useless, it never could have place, and that the sole foundation of the duty of allegiance is the advantage, which it procures to so- ciety, by preserving peace and order among mankind. When a number of political societies are erected, and maintain a great intercourse together, a new set of rules are immediately discovered to be useful in that particular situation; and accordingly take place under the title of Laws of Nations. Of this kind are, the sacredness of the person of ambassadors, abstain- ing from poisoned arms, quarter in war, with others

4o AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

of that kind, which are plainly calculated for the ad- vantage of states and kingdoms in their intercourse with each other.

The rules of justice, such as prevail among indi- viduals, are not entirely suspended among political societies. All princes pretend a regard to the rights of other princes ; and some, no doubt, without hypoc- risy. Alliances and treaties are every day made be- tween independent states, which would only be so much waste of parchment, if they were not found by experience to have some influence and authority. But here is the difference between kingdoms and individ- uals. Human nature cannot by any means subsist, without the association of individuals ; and that asso- ciation never could have place, were no regard paid to the laws of equity and justice. Disorder, confusion, the war of all against all, are the necessary conse- quences of such a licentious conduct. But nations can subsist without intercourse. They may even sub- sist, in some degree, under a general war. The ob- servance of justice, though useful among them, is not guarded by so strong a necessity as among individ- uals; and the moral obligation holds proportion with the usefulness. All politicians will allow, and most philosophers, that reasons of state may, in particular emergencies, dispense with the rules of justice, and invalidate any treaty or alliance, where the strict ob- servance of it would be prejudicial, in a considerable degree, to either of the contracting parties. But noth- ing less than the most extreme necessity, it is con- fessed, can justify individuals in a breach of promise, or an invasion of the properties of others.

In a confederated commonwealth, such as the Achaean republic of old, or the Swiss Cantons and

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 41

United Provinces in modern times ; as the league has here a peculiar utility, the conditions of union have a peculiar sacredness and authority, and a violation of them would be regarded as no less, or even as more criminal, than any private injury or injustice.

The long and helpless infancy of man requires the combination of parents for the subsistence of their young ; and that combination requires the virtue of chastity or fidelity to the marriage bed. Without such a utility ; it will readily be owned, that such a virtue would never have been thought of.1

An infidelity of this nature is much more pernicious in women than in men. Hence the laws of chastity are much stricter over the one sex than over the other.

These rules have all a reference to generation ; and yet women past child-bearing are no more sup- posed to be exempted from them than those in the flower of their youth and beauty. General rules are often extended beyond the principle whence they first arise ; and this in all matters of taste and sentiment. It is a vulgar story at Paris, that, during the rage of the Mississippi, a hump-backed fellow went every day into the Rue de Quincempoix, where the stock-jobbers met in great crowds, and was well paid for allowing them to make use of his hump as a desk, in order to

IThe only solution, which Plato gives to all the objections that might be raised against the community of women, established in his imaginary com- monwealth, is, KdAAio"Ta yap St} tovto <a\ keyerai #cal AeAe'^erai, on to u£p axicAi- p.ov koXov, to 8e p3\afSepbi> alcr\pov- Scite enim istud et (Oritur et dicetur, Li quod utile sit honestum esse, quod autem inutile sit turpe esse. De Rep. lib. v. p. 457. ex edit. Ser. And this maxim will admit of no doubt, where public utility is concerned ; which is Plato's meaning. And indeed to what other purpose do all the ideas of chastity and modesty serve ? Nisi utile est quod facintus, frustra est gloria, says Phaedrus. Kakbv Tuif fiKafiepHtv oiiSev, says Plutarch, de vitioso pudore. Nihil eorum quae damnosa sunt, pnlchrnm est. Thr same was the opinion of the Stoics. Qacrlv ovv 01 StwikoI iyaObu tlvai. wQik'-icn' ») ov% trepov axJ>€Aet'as, a»<f>e'Aeiai' p.iv Ae'yoi'Tes ttji' dpeTrjf koX ttji' <TTrov5ai'a»' Trpa^tv. Sept. Einp. lib. iii. cap. 20.

42 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

sign their contracts upon it. Would the fortune, which he raised by this expedient, make him a handsome fellow; though it be confessed, that personal beauty arises very much from ideas of utility? The imagina- tion is influenced by associations of ideas ; which, though they arise at first from the judgement, are not easily altered by every particular exception that oc- curs to us. To which we may add, in the present I case of chastity, that the example of the old would be pernicious to the young ; and that women, continually foreseeing that a certain time would bring them the liberty of indulgence, would naturally advance that period, and think more lightly of this whole duty, so requisite to society.

Those who live in the same family have such fre- quent opportunities of licence of this kind, that noth- ing could prevent purity of manners, were marriage allowed, among the nearest relations, or any inter- course of love between them ratified by law and cus- tom. Incest, therefore, being pernicious in a superior degree, has also a superior turpitude and moral de- formity annexed to it.

What is the reason, why, by the Athenian laws, one might marry a half-sister by the father, but not by the mother? Plainly this: The manners of the Athenians were so reserved, that a man was never permitted to approach the women's apartment, even in the same family, unless where he visited his own mother. His step-mother and her children were as much shut up from him as the woman of any other family, and there was as little danger of any criminal correspondence between them. Uncles and nieces, for a like reason, might marry at Athens ; but neither these, nor half-brothers and sisters, could contract

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 43

that alliance at Rome, where the intercourse was more open between the sexes. Public utility is the cause of all these variations.

To repeat, to a man's prejudice, anything that es- caped him in private conversation, or to make any such use of his private letters, is highly blamed. The free and social intercourse of minds must be extremely checked, where no such rules of fidelity are estab- lished.

Even in repeating stories, whence we can foresee no ill consequences to result, the giving of one's au- thor is regarded as a piece of indiscretion, if not of immorality. These stories, in passing from hand to hand, and receiving all the usual variations, frequently come about to the persons concerned, and produce animosities and quarrels among people, whose inten- tions are the most innocent and inoffensive.

To pry into secrets, to open or even read the let- ters of others, to play the spy upon their words and looks and actions ; what habits more inconvenient in society? What habits, of consequence, more blame- able?

This principle is also the foundation of most of the laws of good manners; a kind of lesser morality, calculated for the ease of company and conversation. Too much or too little ceremony are both blamed, and everything, which promotes ease, without an in- decent familiarity, is useful and laudable.

Constancy in friendships, attachments, and famil- iarities, is commendable, and is requisite to support trust and good correspondence in society. But in places of general, though casual concourse, where the pursuit of health and pleasure brings people promis- cuously together, public conveniency has dispensed

44 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

with this maxim; and custom there promotes an un- reserved conversation for the time, by indulging the privilege of dropping afterwards every indifferent acquaintance, without breach of civility or good man- ners.

Even in societies, which are established on prin- ciples the most immoral, and the most destructive to the interests of the general society, there are required certain rules, which a species of false honour, as well as private interest, engages the members to observe. Robbers and pirates, it has often been remarked, could not maintain their pernicious confederacy, did they not establish a new distributive justice among themselves, and recall those laws of equity, which they have violated with the rest of mankind.

I hate a drinking companion, says the Greek pro- verb, who never forgets. The follies of the last de- bauch should be buried in eternal oblivion, in order to give full scope to the follies of the next.

Among nations, where an immoral gallantry, if covered wi:h a thin veil of mystery, is, in some de- gree, authorized by custom, there immediately arise a set of rules, calculated for the conveniency of that attachment. The famous court or parliament of love in Provence formerly decided all difficult cases of this nature.

In societies for play, there are laws required for the conduct of the game ; and these laws are different in each game. The foundation, I own, of such socie- ties is frivolous; and the laws are, in a great meas- ure, though not altogether, capricious and arbitrary. So far is there a material difference between them and the rules of justice, fidelity, and loyalty. The general societies of men are absolutely requisite for the sub-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 45

sistence of the species; and the public conveniency, which regulates morals, is inviolably established in the nature of man, and of the world, in which he lives. The comparison, therefore, in these respects, is very imperfect. We may only learn from it the necessity of rules, wherever men have any intercourse with each other.

They cannot even pass each other on the road without rules. Waggoners, coachmen, and postilions have principles, by which they give the way ; and these are chiefly founded on mutual ease and conve- nience. Sometimes also they are arbitrary, at least dependent on a kind of capricious analogy like many of the reasonings of lawyers.1

To carry the matter farther, we may observe, that it is impossible for men so much as to murder each other without statutes, and maxims, and an idea of justice and honour. War has its laws as well as peace ; and even that sportive kind of war, carried on among wrestlers, boxers, cudgel-players, gladiators, is regulated by fixed principles. Common interest and utility beget infallibly a standard of right and wrong among the parties concerned. ,

lTbat the lighter machine yield to the heavier, and, in machines of the same kind, that the empty yield to the loaded ; this rule is founded on con- venience. That those who are going to the capital take place of those who are coming from it ; this seems to be founded on some idea of the dignity of the great city, and of the preference of the future to the past. From like rea- sons, among foot-walkers, the right-hand entitles a man to the wall, and pre- vents jostling, which peaceable people find very disagreeable and incon- venient

SECTION V.

WHY UTILITY PLEASES. PART I.

IT seems so natural a thought to ascribe to their utility the praise, which we bestow on the social virtues, that one would expect to meet with this prin- ciple everywhere in moral writers, as the chief foun- dation of their reasoning and enquiry. In common life, we may observe, that the circumstance of utility is always appealed to ; nor is it supposed, that a greater eulogy can be given to any man, than to dis- play his usefulness to the public, and enumerate the services, which he has performed to mankind and so- ciety. What praise, even of an inanimate form, if the regularity and elegance of its parts destroy not its fitness for any useful purpose ! And how satisfactory an apology for any disproportion or seeming deform- ity, if we can show the necessity of that particular construction for the use intended ! A ship appears more beautiful to an artist, or one moderately skilled in navigation, where its prow is wide and swelling be- yond its poop, than if it were framed with a precise geometrical regularity, in contradiction to all the laws of mechanics. A building, whose doors and windows were exact squares, would hurt the eye by that very proportion ; as ill adapted to the figure of a human creature, for whose service the fabric was intended.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 47

What wonder then, that a man, whose habits and conduct are hurtful to society, and dangerous or per- nicious to every one who has an intercourse with him, should, on that account, be an object of disapproba- tion, and communicate to every spectator the strong- est sentiment of disgust and hatred.1

But perhaps the difficulty of accounting for these effects of usefulness, or its contrary, has kept philos- ophers from admitting them into their systems of eth- ics, and has induced them rather to employ any other principle, in explaining the origin of moral good and evil. But it is no just reason for rejecting any prin- ciple, confirmed by experience, that we cannot give a satisfactory account of its origin, nor are able to re- solve it into other more general principles. And if we would employ a little thought on the present subject, we need be at no loss to account for the influence of utility, and to deduce it from principles, the most known and avowed in human nature.

1 We ought not to imagine, because an inanimate object may be useful as well as a man, that therefore it ought also, according to this system, to merit he appellation of virtuous. The sentiments, excited by utility, are, in the wo cases, very different ; and the one is mixed with affection, esteem, appro- bation, &c, and not the other. In like manner, an inanimate object may have good colour and proportions as well as a human figure. But can we ever be in love with the former ? There are a numerous set of passions and sentiments, of which thinking rational beings are, by the original constitu- tion of nature, the only proper objects : and though the very same qualities be transferred to an insensible, inanimate being, they will not excite the same sentiments. The beneficial qualities of herbs and minerals are, indeed, sometimes called their virtues; but this is an effect of the caprice of lan- guage, which ought not to be regarded in reasoning. For though there be a species of approbation attending even inanimate objects, when beneficial, yet this sentiment is so weak, and so different from that which is directed to beneficent magistrates or statesmen ; that they ought not to be ranked under the same class or appellation.

A very small variation of the object, even where the same qualities are preserved, will destroy a sentiment. Thus, the same beauty, transferred to a different sex, excites no amorous passion, where nature is not extremely per- verted.

48 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

From the apparent usefulness of the social virtues, it has readily been inferred by sceptics, both ancient and modern, that all moral distinctions arise from education, and were, at first, invented, and afterwards encouraged, by the art of politicians, in order to ren- der men tractable, and subdue their natural ferocity and selfishness, which incapacitated them for society. This principle, indeed, of precept and education, must so far be owned to have a powerful influence, that it may frequently increase or diminish, beyond their natural standard, the sentiments of approbation or dislike ; and may even, in particular instances, create, without any natural principle, a new sentiment of this kind as is evident in all superstitious practices and observances : But that all moral affection or dislike arises from this origin, will never surely be allowed by any judicious enquirer. Had nature made no such distinction, founded on the original constitution of the mind, the words, honourable and shameful, lovely and odious, noble and despicable, had never had place in any language; nor could politicians, had they in- vented these terms, ever have been able to render them intelligible, or make them convey any idea to the audience. So that nothing can be more super- ficial than this paradox of the sceptics ; and it were well, if, in the abstruser studies of logic and meta- physics, we could as easily obviate the cavils of that sect, as in the practical and more intelligible sciences of politics and morals.

The social virtues must, therefore, be allowed to have a natural beauty and amiableness, which, at first, antecedent to all precept or education, recommends them to the esteem of uninstructed mankind, and en- gages their affections. And as the public utility of

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 49

these virtues is the chief circumstance, whence they derive their merit, it follows, that the end, which they have a tendency to promote, must be some way agree- able to us, and take hold of some natural affection. It must please, either from considerations of self- interest, or from more generous motives and regards.

It has often been asserted, that, as every man has a strong connexion with society, and perceives the impossibility of his solitary subsistence, he becomes, on that account, favourable to all those habits or prin- ciples, which promote order in society, and insure to him the quiet possession of so inestimable a blessing, As much as we value our own happiness and welfare, as much must we applaud the practice of justice and humanity, by which alone the social confederacy can be maintained, and every man reap the fruits of mu- tual protection and assistance.

This deduction of morals from self-love, or a re- gard to private interest, is an obvious thought, and has not arisen wholly from the wanton sallies and sportive assaults of the sceptics. To mention no others, Polybius, one of the gravest and most judi- cious, as well as most moral writers of antiquity, has assigned this selfish origin to all our sentiments of virtue.1 But though the solid practical sense of that author, and his aversion to all vain subtilties, render his authority on the present subject very considerable; yet is not this an affair to be decided by authority,

lUndutifulness to parents is disapproved of by mankind, npoopu>p.ciovf to fjiikXov, Kal o-vAAoyi^b/xeVovs ore to 7rapa7rA7;crioi' CKaaToi? avriLv avyKvpqati. Ingratitude for a like reason (though he seems there to mix a more generous regard) <rvvayavaxTovvTa<; /jl(V Tip jre'Aas, aya<£epoiras 6' in' avrov? to irapan\j]cri.ov, t£ hjv viroyiyvfrai tis ivvoia nap' e>cao"Tui ttj? toO KaOrjuovTOt Svi-d/ifojf <cai Btiopias- Lib. vi cap. 4. (Ed. Gronorius.) Perhaps the historian only meant, that our* sympathy and humanity was more enlivened, by our considering the similar- ity of our case with that of the person suffering ; which is a just sentiment.

50 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

and the voice of nature and experience seems plainly to oppose the selfish theory.

We frequently bestow praise on virtuous actions, performed in very distant ages and remote countries ; where the utmost subtilty of imagination would not discover any appearance of self-interest, or find any connexion of our present happiness and security with events so widely separated from us.

A generous, a brave, a noble deed, performed by an adversary, commands our approbation; while in its consequences it may be acknowledged prejudicial to our particular interest.

Where private advantage concurs with general affection for virtue, we readily perceive and avow the mixture of these distinct sentiments, which have a very different feeling and influence on the mind. We praise, perhaps, with more alacrity, where the gener- ous humane action contributes to our particular inter- est : But the topics of praise, which we insist on *re very wide of this circumstance. And we may a; to bring over others to our sentiments, withoi deavouring to convince them, that they reap an vantage from the actions which we recommen their approbation and applause.

Frame the model of a praiseworthy character, c sisting of all the most amiable moral virtues : G instances, in which these display themselves after eminent and extraordinary manner : You readily e gage the esteem and approbation of all your audienc who never so much as enquire in what age and coui try the person lived, who possessed these noble qual- ities : A circumstance, however, of all others, the most material to self-love, or a concern for our own indi- vidual happiness.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 51

Once on a time, a statesman, in the shock and contest of parties, prevailed so far as to procure, by his eloquence, the banishment of an able adversary; whom he secretly followed, offering him money for his support during his exile, and soothing him with topics of consolation in his misfortunes. Alas! cries the banished statesman, with wha* regret must I leave my friends in this city, where even enemies are so gener- ous! Virtue, though in an enemy, here pleased him: And we also give it the just tribute of praise and ap- probation; nor do we retract these sentiments, when we hear, that the action passed at Athens, about two thousand years ago, and that the persons' names were Eschines and Demosthenes.

What is that to me? There are few occasions, when this question is not pertinent : And had it that uni- versal, infallible influence supposed, it would turn into ridicule every composition, and almost every con- versation, which contain any praise or censure of men and manners.

It is but a weak subterfuge, when pressed by these facts and arguments, to say, that we transport our- selves, by the force of imagination, into distant ages and countries, and consider the advantage, which we should have reaped from these characters, had we been contemporaries, and had any commerce with the persons. It is not conceivable, how a real sentiment or passion can ever arise from a known imaginary in- terest ; especially when our real interest is still kept in view, and is often acknowledged to be entirely dis- tinct from the imaginary, and even sometimes oppo- site to it.

A man, brought to the brink of a precipice, cannot look down without trembling; and the sentiment of

52 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

imaginary danger actuates him, in opposition to the opinion and belief of real safety. But the imagina- tion is here assisted by the presence of a striking ob- ject; and yet prevails not, except it be also aided by novelty, and the unusual appearance of the object. Custom soon reconciles us to heights and precipices, and wears off these false and delusive terrors. The reverse is observable in the estimates which we form of characters and manners; and the more we habitu- ate ourselves to an accurate scrutiny of morals, the more delicate feeling do we acquire of the most minute distinctions between vice and virtue. Such frequent occasion, indeed, have we, in common life, to pro- nounce all kinds of moral determinations, that no ob- ject of this kind can be new or unusual to us ; nor could any false views or prepossessions maintain their ground against an experience, so common and famil- iar. Experience being chiefly what forms the asso- ciations of ideas, it is impossible that any association could establish and support itself, in direct opposi- tion to that principle.

Usefulness is agreeable, and engages our appro- bation. This is a matter of fact, confirmed by daily observation. But, useful? For what? For some- body's interest, surely. Whose interest then? Not our own only: For our approbation frequently ex- tends farther. It must, therefore, be the interest of those, who are served by the character or action ap- proved of ; and these we may conclude, however re- mote, are not totally indifferent to us. By opening up this principle, we shall discover one great source of moral distinctions.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 53

PART II.

Self-love is a principle in human nature of such extensive energy, and the interest of each individual is, in general, so closely connected with that of the community, that those philosophers were excusable, who fancied that all our concern for the public might be resolved into a concern for our own happiness and preservation. They saw every moment, instances of approbation or blame, satisfaction or displeasure to- wards characters and actions; they denominated the objects of these sentiments, virtues, or vices; they ob- served, that the former had a tendency to increase the happiness, and the latter the misery of mankind; they asked, whether it were possible that we could have any general concern for society, or any disin- terested resentment of the welfare or injury of others ; they found it simpler to consider all these sentiments as modifications of self-love ; and they discovered a pretence, at least, for this unity of principle, in that close union of interest, which is so observable between the public and each individual.

But notwithstanding this frequent confusion of in- terests, it is easy to attain what natural philosophers, after Lord Bacon, have affected to call the experimen- tum cruris, or that experiment which points out the right way in any doubt or ambiguity. We have found instances, in which private interest was separate from public ; in which it was even contrary : And yet we observed the moral sentiment to continue, notwith- standing this disjunction of interests. And wherever these distinct interests sensibly concurred, we always found a sensible increase of the sentiment, and a more

54 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

warm affection to virtue, and detestation of vice, or what we properly call, gratitude and revenge. Com- pelled by these instances, we must renounce the the- ory, which accounts for every moral sentiment by the principle of self-love. We must adopt a more public affection, and allow, that the interests of society are not, even on their own account, entirely indifferent to us. Usefulness is only a tendency to a certain end; and it is a contradiction in terms, that anything pleases as means to an end, where the end itself no wise affects us. If usefulness, therefore, be a source of moral sentiment, and if this usefulness be not always considered with a reference to self; it follows, that everything, which contributes to the happiness of so- ciety, recommends itself directly to our approbation and good-will. Here is a principle, which accounts, in great part, for the origin of morality: And what need we seek for abstruse and remote systems, when there occurs one so obvious and natural1?

Have we any difficulty to comprehend the force of humanity and benevolence? Or to conceive, that the very aspect of happiness, joy, prosperity, gives pleas- ure; that of pain, suffering, sorrow, communicates uneasiness? The human countenance, says Horace,2

1 It is needless to push our researches so far as to ask, why we have hu- manity or a fellow-feeling with others. It is sufficient, that this is experienced to be a principle in human nature. We must stop somewhere in our exam- ination of causes; and there are, in every science, some general principles, beyond which we cannot hope to find any principle more general. No man is absolutely indifferent to the happiness and misery of others. The first has a natural tendency to give pleasure; the second, pain. This every one may find in himself. It is not probable, that these principles can be resolved into principles more simple and universal, whatever attempts may have been made to that purpose. /But if it were possible, it belongs not to the present subject ; and we may here safely consider these principles as original ; happy, if we can render all the consequences sufficiently plain and perspicuous! 2 ' Uti ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adfient Humani vultus.' — Hor.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 55

borrows smiles or tears from the human countenance. Reduce a person to solitude, and he loses all enjoy- ment, except either of the sensual or speculative kind ; and that because the movements of his heart are not forwarded by correspondent movements in his fellow- creatures. The signs of sorrow and mourning, though arbitrary, affect us with melancholy ; but the natural symptoms, tears and cries and groans, never fail to infuse compassion and uneasiness. And if the effects of misery touch us in so lively a manner; can we be supposed altogether insensible or indifferent towards its causes ; when a malicious or treacherous character and behaviour are presented to us?

We enter, I shall suppose, into a convenient, warm, well-contrived apartment: We necessarily receive a pleasure from its very survey; because it presents us with the pleasing ideas of ease, satisfaction, and en- joyment. The hospitable, good-humoured, humane landlord appears. This circumstance surely must em- bellish the whole ; nor can we easily forbear reflect- ing, with pleasure, on the satisfaction which results to every one from his intercourse and good-offices.

His whole family, by the freedom, ease, confi- dence, and calm enjoyment, diffused over their coun- tenances, sufficiently express their happiness. I ha\e a pleasing sympathy in the prospect of so much joy, and can never consider the source of it, without the most agreeable emotions.

He tells me, that an oppressive and powerful neighbour had attempted to dispossess him of his in- heritance, and had long disturbed all his innocent and social pleasures. I feel an immediate indignation arise in me against such violence and injury.

But it is no wonder, he adds, that a private wrong

56 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

should proceed from a man, who had enslaved prov- inces, depopulated cities, and made the field and scaf- fold stream with human blood. I am struck with horror at the prospect of so much misery, and am actuated by the strongest antipathy against its author.

In general, it is certain, that, wherever we go, whatever we reflect on or converse about, everything still presents us with the view of human happiness or misery, and excites in our breast a sympathetic move- ment of pleasure or uneasiness. In our serious occu- pations, in our careless amusements, this principle still exerts its active energy.

A man who enters the theatre, is immediately struck with the view of so great a multitude, partici- pating of one common amusement ; and experiences, from their very aspect, a superior sensibility or dispo- sition of being affected with every sentiment, which he shares with his fellow-creatures.

He observes the actors to be animated by the ap- pearance of a full audience, and raised to a degree of enthusiasm, which they cannot command in any soli- tary or calm moment.

Every movement of the theatre, by a skilful poet, is communicated, as it were by magic, to the specta- tors ; who weep, tremble, resent, rejoice, and are in- flamed with all the variety of passions, which actuate the several personages of the drama.

Where any event crosses our wishes, and inter- rupts the happiness of the favourite characters, we feel a sensible anxiety and concern. But where their sufferings proceed from the treachery, cruelty, or tyranny of an enemy, our breasts are affected with the liveliest resentment against the author of these calamities.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 57

It is here esteemed contrary to the rules of art to represent anything cool and indifferent. A distant friend, or a confident, who has no immediate interest in the catastrophe, ought, if possible, to be avoided by the poet; as communicating a like indifference to the audience, and checking the progress of the pas- sions.

Few species of poetry are more entertaining than pastoral ; and every one is sensible, that the chief source of its pleasure arises from those images of a gentle and tender tranquillity, which it represents in its personages, and of which it communicates a like sentiment to the reader. Sannazarius, who trans- ferred the scene to the sea-shore, though he presented the most magnificent object in nature, is confessed to have erred in his choice. The idea of toil, labour, and danger, suffered by the fishermen, is painful; by an unavoidable sympathy, which attends every con- ception of human happiness or misery.

When I was twenty, says a French poet, Ovid was my favourite : Now I am forty, I declare for Horace. We enter, to be sure, more readily into sentiments, which resemble those we feel every day : But no pas- sion, when well represented, can be entirely indifferent to us ; because there is none, of which every man has not, within him, at least the seeds and first principles. It is the business of poetry to bring every affection near to us by lively imagery and representation, and make it look like truth and reality: A certain proof, that, wherever that reality is found, our minds are disposed to be strongly affected by it.

Any recent event or piece of news, by which the fate of states, provinces, or many individuals is af- fected, is extremely interesting even to those whose

58 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

welfare is not immediately engaged. Such intelli- gence is propagated with celerity, heard with avidity, and enquired into with attention and concern. The interest of society appears, on this occasion, to be in some degree the interest of each individual. The im- agination is sure to be affected ; though the passions excited may not always be so strong and steady as to have great influence on the conduct and behaviour.

The perusal of a history seems a calm entertain- ment; but would be no entertainment at all, did not our hearts beat with correspondent movements to those which are described by the historian.

Thucydides and Guicciardin support with difficulty our attention ; while the former describes the trivial rencounters of the small cities of Greece, and the latter the harmless wars of Pisa. The few persons inter- ested and the small interest fill not the imagination, and engage not the affections. The deep distress of the numerous Athenian army before Syracuse; the danger which so nearly threatens Venice; these excite compassion; these move terror and anxiety.

The indifferent, uninteresting style of Suetonius, equally with the masterly pencil of Tacitus, may con- vince us of the cruel depravity of Nero or Tiberius: But what a difference of sentiment ! While the former coldly relates the facts ; and the latter sets before our eyes the venerable figures of a Soranus and a Thrasea, intrepid in their fate, and only moved by the melting sorrows of their friends and kindred. What sympathy then touches every human heart ! What indignation against the tyrant, whose causeless fear or unpro- voked malice gave rise to such detestable barbarity !

If we bring these subjects nearer : If we remove all suspicion of fiction and deceit : What powerful

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 59

concern is excited, and how much superior, in many instances, to the narrow attachments of self-love and private interest ! Popular sedition, party zeal, a de- voted obedience to factious leaders; these are some of the most visible, though less laudable effects of this social sympathy in human nature.

The frivolousness of the subject too, we may ob- serve, is not able to detach us entirely from what car- ries an image of human sentiment and affection.

When a person stutters, and pronounces with diffi- culty, we even sympathize with this trivial uneasiness, and suffer for him. And it is a rule in criticism, that every combination of syllables or letters, which gives pain to the organs of speech in the recital, appears also from a species of sympathy harsh and disagree- able to the ear. Nay, when we run over a book with our eye, we are sensible of such unharmonious com- position ; because we still imagine, that a person re- cites it to us, and suffers from the pronunciation of these jarring sounds. So delicate is our sympathy!

Easy and unconstrained postures and motions are always beautiful : An air of health and vigour is agree- able : Clothes which warm, without burthening the body; which cover, without imprisoning the limbs, are well-fashioned. In every judgement of beauty, the feelings of the person affected enter into consid- eration, and communicate to the spectator similar touches of pain or pleasure.1 What wonder, then, if we can pronounce no judgement concerning the char- acter and conduct of men, without considering the tendencies of their actions, and the happiness or mis-

I'Decentior equus cujus astricta sunt ilia; sed idem velocior. Pulcher aspectu sit athleta, cujus lacertos exercitatio expressit ; idem certamini pa- ratior. Nunquam enim species ab utilitate dividitur. Sed hoc quidem dis- cernere modici judicii est.'— Quintilian, Inst. lib. viii. cap. 3.

60 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

ery which thence arises to society? What association of ideas would ever operate, were that principle here totally unactive.1

If any man from a cold insensibility, or narrow selfishness of temper, is unaffected with the images of human happiness or misery, he must be equally in- different to the images of vice and virtue : As, on the other hand, it is always found, that a warm concern for the interests of our species is attended with a deli- cate feeling of all moral distinctions; a strong resent- ment of injury done to men ; a lively approbation of their welfare. In this particular, though great supe- riority is observable of one man above another ; yet none are so entirely indifferent to the interest of their fellow-creatures, as to perceive no distinctions of moral good and evil, in consequence of the different tendencies of actions and principles. How, indeed, can we suppose it possible in any one, who wears a human heart, that if there be subjected to his censure, one character or system of conduct, which is bene- ficial, and another which is pernicious to his species or community, he will not so much as give a cool preference to the former, or ascribe to it the smallest

1 In proportion to the station which a man possesses, according to the relations in which he is placed ; we always expect from him a greater or lrss degree of good, and when disappointed, blame his inutility; and much more do we blame him, if any ill or prejudice arise from his conduct and be- haviour. When the interests of one country interfere with those of another, we estimate the merits of a statesman by the good or ill, which results to his own country from his measures and councils, without regard to the prejudice which he brings on its enemies and rivals. His fellow-citizens are the ob- jects, which lie nearest the eye, while we determine his character. And as nature has implanted in every one a superior affection to his own country, we never expect any regard to distant nations, where a competition arises. Not to mention, that, while every man consults the good of his own commun- ity, we are sensible, that the general interest of mankind is better promoted . than by any loose indeterminate views to the good of a species, whence no beneficial action could ever result, for want of a duly limited object, on which they could exert themselves.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 61

merit or regard? Let us suppose such a person ever so selfish ; let private interest have ingrossed ever so much his attention; yet in instances, where that is not concerned, he must unavoidably feel some propen- sity to the good of mankind, and make it an object of choice, if everything else be equal. Would any man, who is walking along, tread as willingly on another's gouty toes, whom he has no quarrel with, as on the hard flint and pavement? There is here surely a dif- ference in the case. We surely take into consideration the happiness and misery of others, in weighing the several motives of action, and incline to the former, where no private regards draw us to seek our own promotion or advantage by the injury of our fellow- creatures. And if the principles of humanity are ca- pable, in many instances, of influencing our actions, they must, at all times, have some authority over our sentiments, and give us a general approbation of what is useful to society, and blame of what is dangerous or pernicious. The degrees of these sentiments may be the subject of controversy j but the reality of their existence, one should think, must be admitted in every theory or system.

A creature, absolutely malicious and spiteful, were there any such in nature, must be worse than indiffer- ent to the images of vice and virtue. All his senti- ments must be inverted, and directly opposite to those, which prevail in the human species. Whatever con- tributes to the good of mankind, as it crosses the con- stant bent of his wishes and desires, must produce uneasiness and disapprobation ; and on the contrary, whatever is the source of disorder and misery in so- ciety, must, for the same reason, be regarded with pleasure and complacency. Timon, who probably

62 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

from his affected spleen more than an inveterate mal- ice, was denominated the manhater, embraced Alci- biades with great fondness. Go on, my boy! cried he, acquire the confidence of the people: You will one day, I foresee, be the cause of great calamities to them.1 Could we admit the two principles of the Manicheans, it is an infallible consequence, that their sentiments of human actions, as well as of everything else, must be totally opposite, and that every instance of justice and humanity, from its necessary tendency, must please the one deity and displease the other. All mankind so far resemble the good principle, that, where interest or revenge or envy perverts not our disposition, we are always inclined, from our natural philanthropy, to give the preference to the happiness of society, and consequently to virtue above its oppo- site. Absolute, unprovoked, disinterested malice has never perhaps place in any human breast; or if it had, must there pervert all the sentiments of morals, as well as the feelings of humanity. If the cruelty of Nero be allowed entirely voluntary, and not rather the effect of constant fear and resentment ; it is evi- dent that Tigellinus, preferably to Seneca or Burrhus, must have possessed his steady and uniform appro- bation.

A statesman or patriot, who serves our own coun- try in our own time, has always a more passionate re- gard paid to Him, than one whose beneficial influence operated on distant ages or remote nations; where the good, resulting from his generous humanity, be- ing less connected with us, seems more obscure, and affects us with a less lively sympathy. We may own the merit to be equally great, though our sentiments

1 Plutarch in vita Ale,

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 63

are not raised to an equal height, in both cases. The judgement here corrects the inequalities of our in- ternal emotions and perceptions; in like manner, as it preserves us from error, in the several variations of images, presented to our external senses. The same object, at a double distance, really throws on the eye a picture of but half the bulk; yet we imagine that it appears of the same size in both situations ; because we know that on our approach to it, its image would expand on the eye, and that the difference consists not in the object itself, but in our position with regard to it. And, indeed, without such a correction of ap- pearances, both in internal and external sentiment, men could never think or talk steadily on any subject ; while their fluctuating situations produce a continual variation on objects, and throw them into such differ- ent and contrary lights and positions.1

The more we converse with mankind, and the greater social intercourse we maintain, the more shall we be familiarized to these general preferences and distinctions, without which our conversation and dis- course could scarcely be rendered intelligible to each other. Every man's interest is peculiar to himself,

1 For a like reason, the tendencies of actions and characters, not their real accidental consequences, are alone regarded in our moral determina tions or general judgements; though in our real feeling or sentiment, we cannot help paying greater regard to one whose station, joined to virtue, renders him really useful to society, than to one, who exerts the social vir- tues only in good intentions and benevolent affections. Separating the char- acter from the fortune, by an easy and necessary effort of thought, we pro- nounce these persons alike, and give them the same general praise. The judgement corrects or endeavours to correct the appearance : But is not able entirely to prevail over sentiment.

Why is this peach-tree said to be better than that other; but because it produces more or better fruit? And would not the same praise be given it, though snails or vermin had destroyed the peaches, before they came to full maturity? In morals too, is not the tree knenvn by the fruit? And cannot we easily distinguish between nature and accident, in the one case as well as in the other?

f4 AH ENQUIRY CONCERNING

. the aversions and desires, which result from it, cannot be supposed to affect others in a like degree. General language, therefore, being formed for general use, must be moulded on some more general views, and must affix the epithets of praise or blame, in con- formity to sentimen:- h arise from the general interests of the community. And if these sentiments, in most men, be not so strong as thcs ve a reference to private good ; yet still they must make »n in persons the most depraved and selfish; and must attach the notion of good to a beneficent conduct, and of evil to the contrary. Sym- pathy, we shall allow, is much fainter than our con-

i for our- ad sympathy with persons remote

from us much fainter than that with persons near and contiguous ; but for this very reason it is necessary for us, in our calm judgements and discourse con- cerning the characters of men, to neglect all these differences, and render our sentiments more pu and social. Besides, that we ourselves often change our situation in this particular, we every day meet with persons who are in a situation different from us, and who could never converse with us were we to re- main constantly in that position and point of view, which is peculiar to ourselves. The intercourse of sentiments, therefore, in society and conversation, makes us form some general unalterable standard, by a may approve or disapprove of characters and manners. And though the heart takes not part entii general notions, nor regulates all

its love and hatred by the universal abstract dii ences of vice and virtue, without regard to self, or persons with -.ve are more intimately con-

nected ;. yet have these moral differences a consider-

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 65

able influence, and being sufficient, at least for course, serve all our purposes in company, in the pulpit, on the theatre, and in the schools.1

Thus, in whatever light we take this subject, the merit, ascribed to the social virtues, appears still uni- form, and arises chiefly from that regard, which the natural sentiment of benevolence engages us to pay to the interests of mankind and society. If we con- sider the principles of the human make, such as they appear to daily experience and observation, we must, a priori, conclude it impossible for such a creature as man to be totally indifferent to the well or ill-being of his fellow-creatures, and not readily, of himself, to pronounce, where nothing gives him any particular bias, that what promotes their happiness is good, what tends to their misery is evil, without any farther regard or consideration. Here then are the faint rudi- ments, at least, or outlines, of a general distinction between actions; and in proportion as the humanity of the person is supposed to encrease, his connexion with those who are injured or benefited, and his lively conception of their misery or happiness ; his conse- quent censure or approbation acquires proportionable vigour. There is no necessity, that a generous ac- tion, barely mentioned in an old history or remote gazette, should communicate any strong feelings of applause and admiration. Virtue, placed at such a distance, is like a fixed star, which, though to the eye

lit is wisely ordained by nature, that private connexions should com- monly prevail over universal views and considerations; otherwise our affec- tions and actions would be dissipated and lost, for want of a proper limited object. Thus a small benefit done to ourselves, or our near friends, excites more lively sentiments of love and approbation than a great benefit done 10 a distant commonwealth : But still we know here, as in all the senses, to cor- rect these inequalities by reflection, and retain a goneral standard cf vice and virtue, founded chiefly on general usefulness.

66 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

of reason it may appear as luminous as the sun in his meridian, is so infinitely removed as to affect the senses, neither with light nor heat. Bring this virtue nearer, by our acquaintance or connexion with the persons, or even by an eloquent recital of the case ; our hearts are immediately caught, our sympathy en- livened, and our cool approbation converted into the warmest sentiments of friendship and regard. These seem necessary and infallible consequences of the gen- eral principles of human nature, as discovered in com- mon life and practice.

Again; reverse these views and reasonings : Con sider the master a posteriori; and weighing the con- sequences, enquire if the merit of social virtue be not, in a great measure, derived from the feelings of hu- manity, with which it affects the spectators. It ap- pears to be matter of fact, that the circumstance of utility, in all subjects, is a source of praise and appro- bation : That it is constantly appealed to in all moral decisions concerning the merit and demerit of actions: That it is the sole source of that high regard paid to justice, fidelity, honour, allegiance, and chastity: That it is inseparable from all the other social virtues, hu- manity, generosity, charity, affability, lenity, mercy, and moderation : And, in a word, that it is a founda- tion of the chief part of morals, which has a reference to mankind and our fellow-creatures.

It appears also, that, in our general approbation of characters and manners, the useful tendency of the social virtues moves us not by any regards to self- interest, but has an influence much more universal and extensive. It appears that a tendency to public good, and to the promoting of peace, harmony, and order in society, does always, by affecting the benevo-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 67

lent principles of our frame, engage us on the side of the social virtues. And it appears, as an additional confirmation, that these principles of humanity and sympathy enter so deeply into all our sentiments, and have so powerful an influence, as may enable them to excite the strongest censure and applause. The present theory is the simple result of all these infer- ences, each of which seems founded on uniform ex- perience and observation.

Were it doubtful, whether there were any such principle in our nature as humanity or a concern for others, yet when we see, in numberless instances, that whatever has a tendency to promote the interests of society, is so highly approved of, we ought thence to learn the force of the benevolent principle ; since it is impossible for anything to please as means to an end, where the end is totally indifferent. On the other hand, were it doubtful, whether there were, implanted in our nature, any general principle of moral blame and approbation, yet when we see, in numberless in- stances, the influence of humanity, we ought thence to conclude, that it is impossible, but that everything which promotes the interest of society must commu- nicate pleasure, and what is pernicious give uneasi- ness. But when these different reflections and obser- vations concur in establishing the same conclusion, must they not bestow an undisputed evidence upon it?

It is however hoped, that the progress of this ar- gument will bring a farther confirmation of the pres- ent theory, by showing the rise of other sentiments of esteem and regard from the same or like principles.

SECTION VI.

OF QUALITIES USEFUL TO OURSELVES.

PART

IT seems evident, that where a quality or habit is subjected to our examination, if it appear in any respect prejudicial to the person possessed of it, or such as incapacitates him for business and action, it is instantly blamed, and ranked among his faults and imperfections. Indolence, negligence, want of order and method, obstinacy, fickleness, rashness, credulity; these qualities were never esteemed by any one indif- ferent to a character ; much less, extolled as accom- plishments or virtues. The prejudice, resulting from them, immediately strikes our eye, and gives us the sentiment of pain and disapprobation.

ISlo quality, it is allowed, is absolutely either blame- able or praiseworthy. It is all according to its de- gree. A due medium, says the Peripatetics, is the characteristic of virtue. But this medium is chiefly determined by utility. A proper celerity, for instance, and dispatch in business, is commendable. When de- fective, no progress is ever made in the execution of any purpose : When excessive, it engages us in pre- cipitate and ill-concerted measures and enterprises : By such reasonings, we fix the proper and commend- able mediocrity in all moral and prudential disquisi- tions ; and never lose view of the advantages, which result from any character or habit.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 69

Now as these advantages are enjoyed by the per- son possessed of the character, it can never be self- love which renders the prospect of them agreeable to us, the spectators, and prompts our esteem and ap- probation. No force of imagination can convert us into another person, and make us fancy, that we, be- ing that person, reap benefit from those valuable qualities, which belong to him. Or if it did, no celer- ity of imagination could immediately transport us back, into ourselves, and make us love and esteem the person, as different from us. Views and senti- ments, so opposite to known truth and to each other, could never have place, at the same time, in the same person. All suspicion, therefore, of selfish regards, is here totally excluded. It is a quite different prin- ciple, which actuates our bosom, and interests us in the felicity of the person whom we contemplate. Where his natural talents and acquired abilities give us the prospect of elevation, advancement, a figure in life, prosperous success, a steady command over for- tune, and the execution of great or advantageous un- dertakings; we are struck with such agreeable im- ages, and feel a complacency and regard immediately arise towards him. The ideas of happiness, joy, tri- umph, prosperity, are connected with every circum- stance of his character, and diffuse over our minds a pleasing sentiment of sympathy and humanity.1

lOne may venture to affirm, that there is no human creature, to whom the appearance of happiness (where envy or revenge has no place) does not give pleasure, that of misery, uneasiness. This seems inseparable from our make and constitution. But they are only the more generous minds, that are thence prompted to seek zealously the good of others, and to have a real passion for their welfare. With men of narrow and ungenerous spirits, this sympathy goes not beyond a slight feeling of the imagination, which serves only to excite sentiments of complacency or censure, and makes them apply- to the object either honourable or dishonourable appellations. A Rriping miser, for instance, praises extremely industry and frugality even in othcis.

70 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

Let us suppose a person originally framed so as to have no manner of concern for his fellow-creatures, but to regard the happiness and misery of all sensible beings with greater indifference than even two contig- uous shades of the same colour. Let us suppose, if the prosperity of nations were laid on the one hand, and their ruin on the other, and he were desired to choose ; that he would stand like the schoolman's ass, irresolute and undetermined, between equal motives; or rather, like the same ass between two pieces of wood or marble, without any inclination or propensity to either side. The consequence, I believe, must be allowed just, that such a person, being absolutely un- concerned, either for the public good of a community or the private utility of others, would look on every quality, however pernicious, or however beneficial, to society, or to its possessor, with the same indifference as on the most common and uninteresting object.

But if, instead of this fancied monster, we suppose a man to form a judgement or determination in the case, there is to him a plain foundation of preference, where everything else is equal ; and however cool his choice may be, if his heart be selfish, or if the per- sons interested be remote from him ; there must still be a choice or distinction between what is useful, and what is pernicious. Now this distinction is the same in all its parts, with the moral distinction, whose foun- dation has been so often, and so much in vain, en- quired after. The same endowments of the mind, in every circumstance, are agreeable to the sentiment of

and sets them, in his estimation, above all the other virtues. He knows the good that results from them, and feels that species of happiness with a more lively sympathy, than any other you could represent to him ; though perhaps he would not part with a shilling to make the fortune of the industrious man, whom he praises so highly.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 7i

morals and to that of humanity; the same temper is susceptible of high degrees of the one sentiment and of the other ; and the same alteration in the objects, by their nearer approach or by connexions, enlivens the one and the other. By all the rules of philosophy, therefore, we must conclude, that these sentiments are originally the same j since, in each particular, even the most minute, they are governed by the same laws, and are moved by the same objects.

Why do philosophers infer, with the greatest cer- tainty, that the moon is kept in its orbit by the same force of gravity, that makes bodies fall near the sur- face of the earth, but because these effects are, upon computation, found similar and equal? And must not this argument bring as strong conviction, in moral as in natural disquisitions?

To prove, by any long detail, that all the quali- ties, useful to the possessor, are approved of, and the contrary censured, would be superfluous. The least reflection on what is every day experienced in life, will be sufficient. We shall only mention a few in- stances, in order to remove, if possible, all doubt and hesitation.

The quality, the most necessary for the execution of any useful enterprise, is discretion; by which we carry on a safe intercourse with others, give due at- tention to our own and to their character, weigh each circumstance of the business which we undertake, and employ the surest and safest means for the attainment of any end or purpose. To a Cromwell, perhaps, or a De Retz, discretion may appear an alderman-like virtue, as Dr. Swift calls it; and being incompatible with those vast designs, to which their courage and ambition prompted them, it might really, in them, be

y

72 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

a fault or imperfection. But in the conduct of ordi- nary life, no virtue is more requisite, not only to ob- tain success, but to avoid the most fatal miscarriages and disappointments. The greatest parts without it, as observed by an elegant writer, may be fatal to their owner; as Polyphemus, deprived of his eye, was only the more exposed, on account of his enormous strength and stature.

The best character, indeed, were it not rather too perfect for human nature, is that which is not swayed by temper of any kind ; but alternately employs enter- prise and caution, as each is useful to the particular purpose intended. Such is the excellence which St. Evremond ascribes to Mareschal Turenne, who dis- played every campaign, as he grew older, more temer- ity in his military enterprises; and being now, from long experience, perfectly acquainted with every in- cident in war, he advanced with greater firmness and security, in a road so well known to him. Fabius, says Machiavel, was cautious; Scipio enterprising: And both succeeded, because the situation of the Ro- man affairs, during the command of each, was peculi- arly adapted to his genius ; but both would have failed, had these situations been reversed. He is happy, whose circumstances suij_his__temper; but^ he is more excellent, whnran^siiit his temper to any r.irrfirm- stances.

~~What need is there to display the praises of in- dustry, and to extol its advantages, in the acquisition of power and riches, or in raising what we call a for- tune in the world? The tortoise, according to the fable, by his perseverance, gained the race of the hare, though possessed of much superior swiftness. A man's time, when well husbanded, is like a culti-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 73

vated field, of which a few acres produce more of what is useful to life, than extensive provinces, even of the richest soil, when over-run with weeds and brambles.

But all prospect of success in life, or even of toler- able subsistence, must fail, where a reasonable fru- gality is wanting. The heap, instead of encreasing, diminishes daily, and leaves its possessor so much more unhappy, as, not having been able to confine his expences to a large revenue, he will still less be able to live contentedly on a small one. The souls of men, according to Plato,1 inflamed with impure ap- petites, and losing the body, which alone afforded means of satisfaction, hover about the earth, and haunt the places, where their bodies are deposited ; possessed with a longing desire to recover the lost organs of sensation. So may we see worthless prodi- gals, having consumed their fortune in wild debauches, thrusting themselves into every plentiful table, and every party of pleasure, hated even by the vicious, and despised even by fools.

The one extreme of frugality is avarice, which, as it both deprives a man of all use of his riches, and checks hospitality and every social enjoyment, is justly censured on a double account. Prodigality, the other extreme, is commonly more hurtful to a man himself; and each of these extremes is blamed above the other, according to the temper of the person who censures, and according to his greater or less sensibility to pleas- ure, either social or sensual.

Qualities nft-pn <\?x'"7f> th^r m£lil from complicated sources. Honesty, fidelity, truth, are praisecLlox their mmediate tendency to promote the interests of so- ciety; but after those virtues are once established

1 Phacdo.

74 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

upon this foundation, they are also considered as ad- vantageous to the person himself, and as the source of that trust and confidence, which can alone give a man any consideration in life. One becomes con- temptible, no less than odious, when he forgets the duty, which, in this particular, he owes to himself as well as to society.

Perhaps, this consideration is one chief source of the high blame, which is thrown on any instance of failure among women in point of chastity. The greatest regard, which can be acquired by that sex, is derived from their fidelity ; and a woman becomes cheap and vulgar, loses her rank, and is exposed to every insult, who is deficient in this particular. The smallest fail- ure is here sufficient to blast her character. A female has so many opportunities of secretly indulging these appetites, that nothing can give us security but her absolute modesty and reserve ; and where a breach is once made, it can scarcely ever be fully repaired. If a man behave with cowardice on one occasion, a con- trary conduct reinstates him in his character. But by what action can a woman, whose behaviour has once been dissolute, be able to assure us, that she has formed better resolutions, and has self-command enough to carry them into execution?

All men, it is allowed, arR equally desirous f f hap- piness ; but few are successful in the pursuit : One considerable cause is the want of strength of mind, which might enable them to jxsist the temptation of present ease or pleasure, and carry them forward in the search of more distant profit and enjoyment. Our affections, on a general prospect of their objects, form certain rules of conduct, and certain measures of pref- erence of one above another : and these decisions,

\

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 75

though really the result of our calm passions and pro- pensities, (for what else can pronounce any object eligible or the contrary?) are yet said, by a natural abuse of terms, to be the determinations of pure rea- son and reflection. But when some of these objects approach nearer to us, or acquire the advantages of favourable lights and positions, which catch the heart or imagination ; our general resolutions are frequently confounded, a small enjoyment preferred, and lasting shame and sorrow entailed upon us. And however poets may employ their wit and eloquence, in cele- brating present pleasure, and rejecting all distant views to fame, health, or fortune ; it is obvious, that this practice is the source of all dissoluteness and dis- order, repentance and misery. A man of a strong and determined temper adheres tenaciously to his general resolutions, and is neither seduced by the allurements of pleasure, nor terrified by the menacesj)f pain ; but ke'eps still in view lliusb" disla"nT pursuits, by which , he, at once, ensures nis happiness and his honour.

Self-satisfaction, at least in some degree, is an ad- vantage, which equally attends the fool and the wise man: But it is the only one ; nor is there any other circumstance in the conduct of life, where they are upon an equal footing. Business, books, conversa- tion; for all of these, a fool is totally incapacitated, and except condemned by his station to the coarsest drudgery, remains a useless burthen upon the earth. Accordingly, it is found, that men are extremely jeal- ous of their character in this particular; and many instances are seen of profligacy and treachery, the most avowed and unreserved ; none of bearing pa- tiently the imputation of ignorance and stupidity. Dicaearchus, the Macedonian general, who, as Polybius

76 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

tells us,1 openly erected one altar to impiety, another to injustice, in order to bid defiance to mankind; even he, I am well assured, would have started at the epi- thet of fool, and have meditated revenge for so injuri- ous an appellation. Except the affection of parents, the strongest and most indissoluble bond in nature, no connexion has strength sufficient to support the disgust arising from this character. Love itself, which can subsist under treachery, ingratitude, malice, and infidelity, is immediately extinguished by it, when perceived and acknowledged ; nor are deformity and old age more fatal to the dominion of that passion. So dreadful are the ideas of an utter incapacity for any purpose or undertaking, and of continued error and misconduct in life!

When it is asked, whether a quick or a slow ap- prehension be most valuable? Whether one, that, at first view, penetrates far into a subject, but can per- form nothing upon study; or a contrary character, which must work out everything by dint of applica- tion? Whether a clear head or a copious invention? Whether a profound genius or a sure judgement? In short, what character, or peculiar turn of understand- ing, is more excellent than another? It is evident, that we can answer none of these questions, without considering which of those qualities capacitates a man best for the world, and carries him farthest in any undertaking.

If refined sense and exalted sense be not so useful as common sense, their rarity, their novelty, and the nobleness of their objects make some compensation, and render them the admiration of mankind : As gold,

ILib. xvii. Cap. 35.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 77

though less serviceable than iron, acquires from its scarcity a value which is much superior.

The defects of judgement can be supplied by no art or invention ; but those of memory frequently may, both in business and in study, by method and industry, and by diligence in committing everything to writing ; and we scarcely ever hear a short memory given as a reason for a man's failure in any under- taking. But in ancient times, when no man could make a figure without the talent of speaking, and when the audience were too delicate to bear such crude, undigested harangues as our extemporary ora- tors offer to public assemblies ; the faculty of memory was then of the utmost consequence, and was accord- ingly much more valued than at present. Scarce any great genius is mentioned in antiquity, who is not celebrated for this talent ; and Cicero enumerates it among the other sublime qualities of Caesar himself.1

Particular customs and manners alter the useful- ness of qualities : they also alter their merit. Partic- ular situations and accidents have, in some degree, the same influence. He will always be more esteemed, who possesses those talents and accomplishments, which suit his station and profession, than he whom fortune has misplaced in the part which she has as- signed him. The private or selfish virtues are, in this respect, more arbitrary than the public and social. In other respects they are, perhaps, less liable to doubt and controversy.

In this kingdom, such continued ostentation, of late years, has prevailed among men in active life with regard to public spirit, and among those in speculative

1 Fuit in illo ingenium, ratio, memoria, literae, cura, cogitatio, diligentia &c. Philip. 2.

78 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

with regard to benevolence ; and so many false preten- sions to each have been, no doubt, detected, that men of the world are apt, without any bad intention, to discover a sullen incredulity on the head of those moral endowments, and even sometimes absolutely to deny their existence and reality. In like manner I find, that, of old, the perpetual cant of the Stoics and Cynics concerning virtue, their magnificent professions and slender performances, bred a disgust in mankind ; and Lucian, who, though licentious with regard to pleasure, is yet in other respects a very moral writer, cannot sometimes talk of virtue, so much boasted without betraying symptoms of spleen and irony. But surely this peevish delicacy, whence-ever it arises can never be carried so far as to make us deny the ex- istence of every species of merit, and all distinction of manners and behaviour. Besides discretion, caution, enterprise, industry, assiduity, frugality, economy, good- sense, prudence, discernment; besides these endowments, I say, whose very names force an avowal of their merit, there are many others, to which the most de- termined scepticism cannot for a moment refuse the tribute of praise and approbation. Temperance, so- briety, patience, constancy, perseverance, forethought, con- siderateness, secrecy, order, insinuation, address, presence of mind, quickness of conception, facility of expression, these, and a thousand more of the same kind, no man will ever deny to be excellencies and perfections. As their merit consists in their tendency to serve the per- son, possessed of them, without any magnificent claim

I'ApeTJji* Tiva, koX a<rt*>p.ara, kcu Aijpovs fieydXj) rjj <f>uv{} gweipovTuv. Luc. Timon. 9. Again, Kai (TwayayovTfs (oi ^lAdcro^oi) eve£airart)Ta /uetpaKia jr\v re no\v9pvkr]Tov aperqv TpayvSovai.. Icaro-men. In another place, *H 7rov yap i<TTiv i) iro\v6pvkr)TOS ape-nj, *ai <^u(rts, ko.1 ei/xap/xewj, /cat tv^ij, awnoaTara r.a\ Ktva irpayfiaTwv avofxara ; Deor. Concil. 13.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 79

to public and social desert, we are the less jealous of their pretensions, and readily admit them into the catalogue of laudable qualities. We are not sensible that, by this concession, we have paved the way for all the other moral excellencies, and cannot consist- 9 ently hesitate any longer, with regard to disinterested benevolence, patriotism, and humanity.

It seems, indeed, certain, that first appearances are here, as usual, extremely deceitful, and that it is more difficult, in a speculative way, to resolve into self-love the merit which we ascribe to the selfish vir- tues above mentioned, than that even of the social virtues, justice and beneficence. For this latter pur- pose, we need but say, that whatever conduct pro- motes the good of the community is loved, praised, and esteemed by the community, on account of that utility and interest, of which every one partakes ; and though this affection and regard be, in reality, grati- tude, not self-love, yet a distinction, even of this ob- vious nature, may not readily be made by superficial reasoners ; and there is room, at least, to support the cavil and dispute for a moment. But as qualities, which tend only to the utility of their possessor, with- out any reference to us, or to the community, are yet esteemed and valued ; by what theory or system can we account for this sentiment from self-love, or de- duce it from that favourite origin? There seems here a necessity for confessing that the happiness and mis- ery of others are not spectacles entirely indifferent to us; but that the view of the former, whether in its causes or effects, like sunshine or the prospect of well- cultivated plains (to carry our pretensions no higher), communicates a secret joy and satisfaction ; the ap- pearance of the latter, like a lowering cloud or barren

80 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

landscape, throws a melancholy damp over the im- agination. And this concession being once made, the difficulty is over; and a natural unforced interpreta- tion of the phenomena of human life will afterwards, we may hope, prevail among all speculative enquirers. /

V

PART II.

It may not be improper, in this place, to examine the influence of bodily endowments, and of the goods of fortune, over our sentiments of regard and esteem, and to consider whether these phenomena fortify or weaken the present theory. It will naturally be ex- pected, that the beauty of the body, as is supposed by all ancient moralists, will be similar, in some re- spects, to that of the mind; and that every kind of esteem, which is paid to a man, will have something similar in its origin, whether it arise from his mental endowments, or from the situation of his exterior cir- cumstances.

It is evident, that one considerable source of beauty in all animals is the advantage which they reap from the particular structure of their limbs and members, suitably to the particular manner of life, to which they are by nature destined. The just proportions of a horse, described by Xenophon and Virgil, are the same that are received at this day by our modern jockeys; because the foundation of them is the same, namely, experience of what is detrimental or useful in the animal.

Broad shoulders, a lank belly, firm joints, taper legs ; all these are beautiful in our species, because signs of force and vigour. Ideas of utility and its

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 81

contrary, though they do not entirely determine what is handsome or deformed, are evidently the source of a considerable part of approbation or dislike.

In ancient times, bodily strength and dexterity, being of greater use and importance in war, was also much more esteemed and valued, than at present. Not to insist on Homer and the poets, we may ob- serve, that historians scruple not to mention force of body among the other accomplishments even of Epa- minondas, whom they acknowledge to be the greatest hero, statesman, and general of all the Greeks.1 A like praise is given to Pompey, one of the greatest of the Romans.2 This instance is similar to what we observed above with regard to memory.

What derision and contempt, with both sexes, at- tend impotence; while the unhappy object is regarded as one deprived of so capital a pleasure in life, and at the same time, as disabled from communicating it to others. Barrenness in women, being also a species of inutility, is a reproach, but not in the same degree : of which the reason is very obvious, according to the present theory.

There is no rule in painting or statuary more in- dispensible than that of balancing the figures, and placing them with the greatest exactness on their proper centre of gravity. A figure, which is not justly

ICum alacribus, saltu; cum velocibus, cursu; cum validis rede certabat. Sallust apud Veget.

2Diodorus Siculus, lib. xv. It may not be improper to give the character of Epaminondas, as drawn by the historian, in order to show the ideas of per- fect merit, which prevailed in those ages. In other illustrious men, says he, you will observe, that each possessed some one shining quality, which was the foundation of his fame : Tn Epaminondas all the virtues are found united ; force of body, eloquence of expression, vigour of mind, contempt of riches, gentleness of disposition, and -what is chiefly to be regarded^ courage and con- duct in war.

82 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

balanced, is ugly; because it conveys the disagree- able ideas of fall, harm, and pain.1

A disposition or turn of mind, which qualifies a man to rise in the world and advance his fortune, is entitled to esteem and regard, as has already been ex- plained. It may, therefore, naturally be supposed, that the actual possession of riches and authority will have a considerable influence over these sentiments.

Let us examine any hypothesis by which we can account for the regard paid to the rich and powerful; we shall find none satisfactory, but that which derives it from the enjoyment communicated to the spectator by the images of prosperity, happiness, ease, plenty, authority, and the gratification of every appetite. Self-love, for instance, which some affect so much to consider as the source of every sentiment, is plainly insufficient for this purpose. Where no good-will or friendship appears, it is difficult to conceive on what we can found our hope of advantage from the riches of others ; though we naturally respect the rich, even before they discover any such favourable disposition towards us.

We are affected with the same sentiments, when we lie so much out of the sphere of their activity, that they cannot even be supposed to possess the

1 All men are equally liable to pain and disease and sickness; and may again recover health and ease. These circumstances, as they make no dis- tinction between one man and another, are no source of pride or humility, re- gard or contempt. But comparing our own species to superior ones, it is a very mortifying consideration, that we should all be so liable to diseases and in- firmities ; and divines accordingly employ this topic, in order to depress self- conceit and vanity. They would have more success, if the common bent of our thoughts were not perpetually turned to compare ourselves with others. The infirmities of old age are mortifying; because a comparison with the young may take place. The king's evil is industriously concealed, because it affects others, and is often transmitted to posterity. The case is nearly the same with such diseases as convey any nauseous or frightful images; the epilepsy, for instance, ulcers, sores, scabs, &c.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. S3

power of serving us. A prisoner of war, in all civil- ized nations, is treated with a regard suited to his condition; and riches, it is evident, go far towards fixing the condition of any person. If birth and qual- ity enter for a share, this still affords us an argument to our present purpose. For what is it we call a man of birth, but one who is descended from a long suc- cession of rich and powerful ancestors, and who ac- quires our esteem by his connexion with persons whom we esteem? His ancestors, therefore, though dead, are respected, in some measure, on account of their riches; and consequently, without any kind of expec- tation.

But not to go so far as prisoners of war or the dead, to find instances of this disinterested regard for riches ; we may only observe, with a little attention, those phenomena which occur in common life and conversation. A man, who is himself, we shall sup- pose, of a competent fortune, and of no profession, being introduced to a company of strangers, naturally treats them with different degrees of respect, as he is informed of their different fortunes and conditions; though it is impossible that he can so suddenly pro- pose, and perhaps he would not accept of, any pecu- niary advantage from them. A traveller is always admitted into company, and meets with civility, in proportion as his train and equipage speak him a man of great or moderate fortune. In short, the different ranks of men are, in a great measure, regulated by riches ;~and that with regard to superiors as well as i n fenors. strangers as well as acquaintanc e .

What remains, therefore, but to conclude, that, as riches are desired for ourselves only as the means of gratifying our appetites, either at present or in some

84 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

imaginary future period, they beget esteem in others merely from their having that influence. This indeed is their very nature or offence : they have a direct reference to the commodities, conveniences, and pleas- ures of life. The bill of a banker, who is broke, or gold in a desert island, would otherwise be full as val- uable. When we approach a man who is, as we say, at his ease, we are presented with the pleasing ideas of plenty, satisfaction, cleanliness, warmth; a cheer- ful house, elegant furniture, ready service, and what- ever is desirable in meat, drink, or apparel. On the contrary, when a poor man appears, the disagreeable images of want, penury, hard labour, dirty furniture, coarse or ragged clothes, nauseous meat and distaste- ful liquor, immediately strike our fancy. What else do we mean by saying that one is rich, the other poor? And as regard or contempt is the natural consequence of those different situations in life, it is easily seen what additional light and evidence this throws on our preceding theory, with regard to all moral distinc- tions.1

A man whojias cured himself of all ridiculous pre- possessions, and is f ullv^ sincerely, and steadily con- vinced, from experience as well as philosophy, that

1 There is something extraordinary, and seemingly unaccountable in the operation of our passions, when we consider the fortune and situation of others. Very often another's advancement and prosperity produces envy, which has a strong mixture of hatred, and arises chiefly from the comparison of ourselves with the person. At the very same time, or at least in very short intervals, we may feel the~p"assion of respect, which is a species of affection or good-will, with a mixture of humility. On the other hand, the misfortunes of our fellows often cause pity, which has in it a strong mixture of good-will. This sentiment of pity is nearly allied to contempt, which is a species of dis- like, with a mixture of pride. I only point out these phenomena, as a subject of speculation to such as are curious with regard to moral enquiries. It is sufficient for the present purpose to observe in general, that power and riches commonly cause respect, poverty and meanness contempt, though particular views and incidents may sometimes raise the passions of envy and of pity.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 85

the difference of fortune makes less difference in hap- piness than is-vu-lgaily imagined; such a one does not measure out degrees of esteem according to the rent;rolls of his acquaintance. He may, indeed, ex- ternally pay a superior deference to |0fe great lord above the vassal ; because riches are the most con- venient, being the most fixed and determinate, source of distinction. But his internal sentiments are more regulated by the personal characters of men, than by the accidental and capricious favours of fortune.

In most countries of Europe, family, that is, he- reditary riches, marked with titles and symbols from the sovereign, is the chief source of distinction. In England, more regard is paid to present opulence and plenty. Each practice has its advantages and disad- vantages. Where birth is respected, unactive, spirit- less minds remain in haughty indolence, and dream of nothing but pedigrees and genealogies : the gener- ous and ambitious seek honour and authority, and reputation and favour. Where riches are the chief idol, corruption, venality, rapine prevail : arts, man- ufactures, commerce, agriculture flourish. The former prejudice, being favourable to military virtue, is more suited to monarchies. The latter, being the chief spur to industry, agrees better with a republican gov- ernment. And we accordingly find that each of these forms of government, by varying the utility of those customs, has commonly a proportionable effect on the sentiments of mankind.

V SECTION VII.

OF QUALITIES IMMEDIATELY AGREEABLE TO OUR- SELVES.

WHOEVER has passed an evening with serious melancholy people, and has observed how sud- denly the conversation was animated, and what sprightliness diffused itself over the countenance, dis- course, and behaviour of every one, on the accession of a good-humoured, lively companion; such a one will easily allow thatcheerfulness carries great mprjj withjt^an^naturally^conciliates the good-will of man- kind. No quality, indeed, more readily communicates itself to all around ; because no one has a greater pro- pensity to display itself, in jovial talk and pleasant entertainment. The flame spreads through the whole circle; and the most sullen and morose are often caught by it. That the melancholy hate the merry, even though Horace says it, I have some difficulty to allow; because I have always observed that, where the jollity is moderate and decent, serious people are so much the more delighted, as it dissipates the gloom with which they are commonly oppressed, and gives them an unusual enjoyment.

From this influence of cheerfulness, both to com- municate itself and to engage approbation, we may perceive that there is another set of mental qualities, which, without any utility or any tendency to farther good, either of the community or of the possessor,

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 87

diffuse a satisfaction on the beholders, and procure friendship and regard. Their immediate sensation, to the person possessed of them, is agreeable. Others enter into the same humour, and catch the sentiment, by a contagion or natural sympathy; and as we can- not forbear loving whatever pleases, a kindly emotion arises towards the person who communicates so much satisfaction. He is a more animating spectacle; his presence diffuses over us more serene complacency and enjoyment; our imagination, entering into his feelings and disposition, is affected in a more agree- able manner than if a melancholy, dejected, sullen, anxious temper were presented to us. Hence the affection and probation which attend the former : the aversion and disgust with which we regard the latter.1 Few men would envy the character which Caesar gives of Cassius :

He loves no play, As thou do'st, Anthony : he hears no music: Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.

Not only such men, as Caesar adds, are commonly dangerous, but also, having little enjoyment within themselves, they can never become agreeable to oth- ers, or contribute to social entertainment. In all po- lite nations and ages, a relish for pleasure, if accom- panied with temperance and decency, is esteemed a considerable merit, even in the greatest men; and

1 There is no man, who, on particular occasions, is not affected with all the disagreeable passions, fear, anger, dejection, grief, melancholy, anxiety, &c. But these, so far as they are natural, and universal, make no difference between one man and another, and can never be the object of blame. It is only when the disposition gives a propensity to any of these disagreeable pas- sions, that they disfigure the character, and by giving uneasiness, convey the sentiment of disapprobation to the spectator.

88 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

becomes still more requisite in those of inferior rank and character. It is an agreeable representation, which a French writer gives of the situation of his own mind in this particular, Virtue I love, says he, without austerity: Pleasure without effeminacy: And life, without fearing its end.1

Who is not struck with any signal instance of greatness of mind or dignity of character; with eleva- tion of sentiment, disdain of slavery, and with that noble pride and spirit, which arises from conscious virtue? The sublime, says Longinus, is often nothing but the echo or image of magnanimity; and where this quality appears in any one, even though a syllable be not uttered, it excites our applause and admiration; as may be observed of the famous silence of Ajax in the Odyssey, which expresses more noble disdain and resolute indignation than any language can convey.2

Were I Alexander, said Parmenio, / would accept of these offers made by Darius. So would I too, replied Alexander, were I Parmenio. This saying is admir- able, says Longinus, from a like principle.3

Go! cries the same hero to his soldiers, when they refused to follow him to the Indies, go tell your coun- trymen, that you left Alexander co?npleting the conquest of the world. 'Alexander,' said the Prince of Cond£, who always admired this passage, 'abandoned by his soldiers, among barbarians, not yet fully subdued, felt in himself such a dignity and right of empire, that he could not believe it possible that any one would refuse to obey him. Whether in Europe or in Asia,

1 ' J'aime la vertu, sans rudesse ; J'aime le plaisir, sans molesse; J'aime la vie, et n'en crains point la fin.' — St. Evremond.

2 Cap. 9. 8 Idem.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 89

among Greeks or Persians, all was indifferent to him: wherever he found men, he fancied he should find subjects.'

The confident of Medea in the tragedy recommends caution and submission ; and enumerating all the dis- tresses of that unfortunate heroine, asks her, what she has to support her against her numerous and impla- cable enemies. Myself, replies she; Myself I say, and it is enough. Boileau justly recommends this passage as an instance of true sublime.1

When Phocion, the modest, the gentle Phocion, was led to execution, he turned to one of his fellow- sufferers, who was lamenting his own hard fate, Is it not glory enough for you, says he, that you die with Phocion?2

Place in opposition the picture which Tacitus draws of Vitellius, fallen from empire, prolonging his ignominy from a wretched love of life, delivered over to the merciless rabble; tossed, buffeted, and kicked about; constrained, by their holding a poinard under his chin, to raise his head, and expose himself to every contumely. What abject infamy! What low humilation! Yet even here, says the historian, he dis- covered some symptoms of a mind not wholly degen^ erate. To a tnbune, who insulted him, he replied, / am still your emperor*

We ngver excuse the absolute want of spirit and dignity of character, or a proper sense of what is due^

Inflexion 10 sur Longin. 2 Plutarch in Phoc.

3Tacit. hist. lib. iii. The author entering upon the narration, says, 7L<j- niata veste,foedum spectaculunt ducebatur, mult is increpantibus, nullo inlacri- mante: deformitas exitus misericordiam abstulerat. To enter thoroughly into this method of thinking, we must make allowance for the ancient max- ims, that no one ought to prolong his life after it became dishonourable; but, as he had always a right to dispose of it, it then became a duty to part with it.

9o AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

to one's self, in society and the common intercourse of life. This vice constitutes what we properly call iTieanness; when a man can submit to the basest sla- very, in order to gain his ends ; fawn upon those who abuse him ; and degrade himself by intimacies and familiarities with undeserving inferiors. Ascertain degree of generous pride or self-value is so requisite, that the absence ot it in the mind displeases, afterjhe same manner as the" want of a nose, eye, or any of the most material feature of the face or member of the body.1

The utility of courage, both to the public and to thejTgrsnn possessed nf it, is an nhvipys foundation of merit;. _ But to any one who-dul}7 considers-oi the matter, it will appear that this quality has a peculiar lustre, which it derives_wiiolly from itself, and from that noble elevation inseparable from it. Its figure, drawn by painters and by poets, displays, in each fea- ture, a sublimity and daring confidence ; which catches the eye, engages the affections, and diffuses, by sym- pathy, a like sublimity of sentiment over every spec- tator.

Under what shining colours does Demosthenes2 represent Philip ; where the orator apologizes for his own administration, and justifies that pertinacious love of liberty, with which he had inspired the Athen-

1 The absence of virtue may often be a vice ; and that of the highest kind ; as in the instance of ingratitude, as well as meanness. Where we expect a beauty, the disappointment gives an uneasy sensation, and produces a real deformity. An abjectness of character, likewise, is disgustful and contempt- ible in another view. Where a man has no sense of value in himself, we are not likely to have any higher esteem of him. And if the same person, who crouches to his superiors, is insolent to his inferiors (as often happens), this contrariety of behaviour, instead of correcting the former vice, aggravates it extremely by the addition of a vice still more odious. See Sect. VIII.

2De Corona.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 9l

ians, 'I beheld Philip,' says he, 'he with whom was your contest, resolutely, while in pursuit of empire and dominion, exposing himself to every wound; his eye gored, his neck wrested, his arm, his thigh pierced, what ever part of his body fortune should seize on, that cheerfully relinquishing ; provided that, with what remained, he might live in honour and renown. And shall it be said that he, born in Pella, a place heretofore mean and ignoble, should be inspired with so high an ambition and thirst of fame : while you, Athenians, &c.' These praises excite the most lively admiration ; but the views presented by the orator, carry us not, we see, beyond the hero himself, nor ever regard the/future advantageous consequences of his valour, y

The material temper of the Romans, inflamed by continual wars, had raised their esteem of courage so high, that, in their language, it was called virtue, by way of excellence and of distinction from all other moral qualities. The Suevi, in the opinion of Taci- tus,1 dressed their hair with a laudable intent: not for the purpose of loving or being loved; they adorned them- selves only for their enemies, and in order to appear more terrible. A sentiment of the historian, which would sound a little oddly in other nations and other ages.

The Scythians, according to Herodotus,2 after scalping their enemies, dressed the skin like leather, and used it as a towel; and whoever had the most of those towels was most esteemed among them. So much had martial bravery, in that nation, as well as in many others, destroyed the sentiments of human- ity; a virtue surely much more useful and engaging.

It is indeed observable, that, among all unculti-

1 De moribus Germ. 2 Lib. iv.

92 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

vated nations, who have not as yet had full experience of the advantages attending beneficence, justice, and the social virtues, courage is the predominant excel- lence ; what is most celebrated by poets, recommended by parents and instructors, and admired by the public in general. The ethics of Homer are, in this partic- ular, very different from those of F£n£lon, his elegant imitator ; and such ^s were well suited to an age, when one hero, as remarked by Thucydides,1 could ask an- other, without offence, whether he were a robber or not. Such also very lately was the system of ethics which prevailed in many barbarous parts of Ireland ; if we may credit Spencer, in his judicious account of the state of that kingdom.2

Of the same class of virtues with courage is that undisturbed philosophical tranquillity, superior to pain, sorrow, anxiety, and each assault of adverse for- tune. Conscious of his own virtue, say the philoso- phers, the sage elevates himself above every accident of life; and securely placed in the temple of wisdom, looks down on inferior mortals engaged in pursuit of honours, riches, reputation, and every frivolous en- joyment. These pretentions, no doubt, when stretched to the utmost, are by far too magnificent for human nature. They carry, however, a grandeur with them, which seizes the spectator, and strikes him with ad- miration. And the nearer we can approach in prac- tice to this sublime tranquillity and indifference (for

i Lib. i.

J It is a common use, says he, amongst their gentlemen's sons, that, as soon as they are able to use their weapons, they strait gather to themselves three or four stragglers or kern, with whom wandering a while up and down idly the country, taking only meat, he at last falleth into some bad occasion, that shall be offered; which being once made known, he is thenceforth counted a man of worth, in whom there is courage.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 93

we must distinguish it from a stupid insensibility), the more secure enjoyment shall we attain within our- selves, and the more greatness of mind shall we dis- cover to the world. The philosophical tranquillity may, indeed, be considered only as a branch of mag- nanimity.

Who admires not Socrates ; his perpetual serenity and contentment, amidst the greatest poverty and do- mestic vexations ; his resolute contempt of riches, and his magnanimous care of preserving liberty, while he refused all assistance from his friends and disciples, and avoided even the dependence of an obligation? Epictetus had not so much as a door to his little house or hovel; and therefore, soon lost his iron lamp, the only furniture which he had worth taking. But re- solving to disappoint all robbers for the future, he supplied its place with an earthen lamp, of which he very peacefully kept possession ever after.

Among the ancients, the heroes in philosophy, as well as those in war and patriotism, have a grandeur and force of sentiment, which astonishes our narrow souls, and is rashly rejected as extravagant and super- natural. They, in their turn, I allow, would have had equal reason to consider as romantic and incredible, the degree of humanity, clemency, order, tranquillity, and other social virtues, to which, in the administra- tion of government, we have attained in modern times, had any one been then able to have made a fair rep- resentation of them. Such is the compensation, which nature, or rather education, has made in the distribu- tion of excellencies and virtues, in those different ages.

The merit of J)enevQlence^^rising from its utility, and its tendency to promote the good of mankind

94 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

has been already explained, and is, no doubt, the source of a considerable part of that esteem, which is so universally paid to it. But it will also be allowed, that the very softness and tenderness of the senti- ment, its engaging endearments, its fond expressions, its delicate attentions, and all that flow of mutual confidence and regard, which enters into a warm at- tachment of love and friendship : it will be allowed, I say, that these feelings, being delightful in them- selves, are necessarily communicated to the specta- tors, and melt them into the same fondness and deli- cacy. The tear naturally starts in our eye on the ap- prehension of a warm sentiment of this nature : our breast heaves, our heart is agitated, and every humane tender principle of our frame is set in motion, and gives us the purest and most satisfactory enjoyment.

When poets form descriptions of Elysian fields, where the blessed inhabitants stand in no need of each other's assistance, they yet represent them as maintaining a constant intercourse of love and friend- ship, and sooth our fancy with the pleasing image of these soft and gentle passions. The idea of tender tranquillity in a pastoral Arcadia is agreeable from a like principle, as has been observed above.1

Who would live amidst perpetual wrangling, and scolding, and mutual reproaches? The roughness and harshness of these emotions disturb and displease us : we suffer by contagion and sympathy ; nor can we re- main indifferent spectators, even though certain that no pernicious consequences would ever follow from such angry passions.

As a certain proof that the whole merit of benevo- lence is not derived from its usefulness^we may ob-

lSect. v. Part 2.

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS.

95

serve, that in a kind way of blame, we say, a person is too good-, when he exceeds his part in society, and carries his attention for others beyond the proper bounds. In like manner, we say, a man is too high- spirited, too intrepid, too indifferent about fortune : re- proaches, which really, at bottom, imply more esteem than many panegyrics. Being accustomed to rate the merit and demerit of characters chiefly by their useful or pernicious tendencies, we cannot forbear apply- ing the epithet of blame, when we discover a senti- ment, wrhich rises to a degree, that is hurtful; but it may happen, at the same time, that its noble eleva- tion, or its engaging tenderness so seizes the heart, as rather to increase our friendship and concern for the person.1

The amours and attachments of Harry the IVth of France, during the civil wars of the league, fre- quently hurt his interest and his cause ; but all the young, at least, and amorous, who can sympathize with the tender passions, will allov/ that this very weakness, for they will readily call it such, chiefly endears that hero, and interests them in his fortunes.

The excessive bravery and resolute inflexibility of Charles the Xllth ruined his own country, and in- fested all his neighbours ; but have such splendour and greatness in their appearance, as strikes us with admiration; and they might, in some degree, be even approved of, if they betrayed not sometimes too evi- dent symptoms of madness and disorder.

The Athenians pretended to the first invention of agriculture and of laws: and always valued themselves

1 Cheerfulness could scarce admit of blame from its excess, were it not that dissolute mirth, without a proper cause or subject, is a sure symptom and characteristic of folly, and on that account disgustful.

96 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

extremely on the benefit thereby procured to the whole race of mankind. They also boasted, and with reason, of their warlike enterprises; particularly against those innumerable fleets and armies of Persians, which invaded Greece during the reigns of Darius and Xer- xes. But though there be no comparison in point of utility, between these peaceful and military honours; yet we find, that the orators, who have writ such elab- orate panegyrics on that famous city, have chiefly triumphed in displaying the warlike achievements. Lysias, Thucydides, Plato, and Isocrates discover, all of them, the same partiality; which, though con- demned by calm reason and reflection, appears so natural in the mind of man.

It is observable, that the great charm of poetry consists in lively pictures of the sublime passions, magnanimity, courage, disdain of fortune; or those of the tender affections, love and friendship; which warm the heart, and diffuse over it similar sentiments and emotions. And though all kinds of passion, even the most disagreeable, such as grief and anger, are observed, when excited by poetry, to convey a satis- faction, from a mechanism of nature, not easy to be explained: Yet those more elevated or softer affec- tions have a peculiar influence, and please from more than one cause or principle. Not to mention that they alone interest us in the fortune of the persons represented, or communicate any esteem and affection for their character.

And can it possibly be doubted, that this talent itself of poets, to move the passions, this pathetic and sublime of sentiment, is a very considerable merit; and being enhanced by its extreme rarity, may exalt the person possessed of it, above every character of

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 97

the age in which he lives? The prudence, address, steadiness, and benign government of Augustus, adorned with all the splendour of his noble birth and imperial crown, render him but an unequal competitor for fame with Virgil, who lays nothing into the oppo- site scale but the divine beauties of his poetical genius.

The very sensibility to these beauties, or a deli- cacy of taste, is itself a beauty in any character ; as conveying the purest, the most durable, and- most in- nocent of all enjoyments.

These are some instances of the several species of merit, that are valued for the immediate pleasure which they communicate to the person possessed of them. No views of utility or of future beneficial con- sequences enter into this sentiment of approbation ; yet is it of a kind similar to that other sentiment, which arises from views of a public or private utility. The same social sympathy, we may observe, or fellow- feeling with human happiness or misery, gives rise to both; and this analogy, in all the parts of the present theory, may justly be regarded as a confirmation of it.

SECTION VIII.

OF QUALITIES IMMEDIATELY AGREEABLE TO OTHERS.1

AS th^ mutual shocks, in society, and the nppnsi- - tions of interest and self-love have cfric;tr^irip^ mankind to establish the lavvsof just Hcj ?ijin__orjI&r to preserve the advantages of mutual assistance_and*pro- tection :__Jn like manner, the eternal contrarieties, in company, of men's pride and self-conceit, have intro- duced the rules of Good Manners or Politeness, in order to facilitate the intercourse of minds, and an undisturbed commerce and conversation. Among_ well-bred people, a mutual deference is affected; con- tempt of others disguised; authority concealed; at- tention given to each in his turn ; and an easy stream of conversation maintained, without vehemence, with- out interruption, without eagerness for victory, and without any airs of superiority. These attentions and regards are immediately agreeable to others, abstracted from any consideration of utility or beneficial tenden- cies : they conciliate affection, promote esteem, and extremely enhance the merit of the person who regu- lates his behaviour by them.

Many of the forms of breeding are arbitrary and

1 It is the nature and, indeed, the definition of virtue, that it is a quality of the tnind agreeable to or approved of by every one who considers or contem- plates it. But some qualities produce pleasure, because they are useful to society, or useful or agreeable to the person himself; others produce it more immediately, which is the case with the class of virtues here considered.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 99

casual ; but the thing expressed by them is still the same. A Spaniard goes out of his own house before his guest, to signify that he leaves him master of all. In other countries, the landlord walks out last, as a common mark of deference and regard.

But, in order to render a man perfect good com- pany, he must have Wit and Ingenuity as well as good manners. What wit is, it may not be easy to define; but it is easy surely to determine that it is a quality immediately agreeable to others, and communicating, on its first appearance, a lively joy and satisfaction to every one who has any comprehension of it. The most profound metaphysics, indeed, might be em- ployed in explaining the various kinds and species of wit; and many classes of it, which are now received on the sole testimony of taste and sentiment, might, perhaps, be resolved into more general principles. But this is sufficient for our present purpose, that it does affect taste and sentiment, and bestowing an im- mediate enjoyment, is a sure source of approbation and affection.

In countries where men pass most of their time in conversation, and visits, and assemblies, these com- panionable qualities, so to speak, are of high estima- tion, and form a chief part of personal merit. In countries where men live a more domestic life, and either are employed in business, or amuse themselves in a narrower circle of acquaintance, the more solid qualities are chiefly regarded. Thus, I have often ob- served, that, among the French, the first questions with regard to a stranger are, Is he polite? Has he wit? In our own country, the chief praise bestowed is al- ways that of a good-natured, sensible fellow.

In conversation, the lively spirit of dialogue is

i oo AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

agreeable, even to those who desire not to have any share in the discourse : hence the teller of long stories, or the pompous declaimer, is very little approved of. But most men desire likewise their turn in the con- versation, and regard, with a very evil eye, that loqua- city which deprives them of a right they are naturally so jealous of.

There is a sort of harmless liars, frequently to be met with in company, who deal much in the marvel- lous. Their usual intention is to please and enter- tain ; but as men are most delighted with what they conceive to be truth, these people mistake extremely the means of pleasing, and incur universal blame. Some indulgence, however, to lying or fiction is given in humorous stories ; because it is there really agree- able and entertaining, and truth is not of any impor- tance.

Eloquence, genius of all kinds, even good sense, and sound reasoning, when it rises to an eminent de- gree, and is employed upon subjects of any consider- able dignity and nice discernment ; all these endow- ments seem immediately agreeable, and have a merit distinct from their usefulness. Rarity, likewise, which so much enhances the price of every thing, must set an additional value on these noble talents of the hu- man mind.

Modesty may be understood in different senses, even abstracted from chastity, which has been already treated of. It sometimes means that tenderness and nicety of honour, that apprehension of blame, that dread of intrusion or injury towards others, that Pu- dor, which is the proper guardian of every kind of virtue, and a sure preservative against vice and cor- ruption. But its most usual meaning is when it is

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. iox

opposed to impudence and arrogance, and expresses a diffidence of our own judgement, and a due attention and regard for others. In young men chiefly, this quality is a sure sign of good sense; and is also the certain means of augmenting that endowment, by pre- serving their ears open to instruction, and making them still grasp after new attainments. But it has a further charm to every spectator ; by flattering every man's vanity, and presenting the appearance of a do- cile pupil, who receives, with proper attention and respect, every word they utter.

Men have, in general, a much greater propensity to overvalue than undervalue themselves; notwith- standing the opinion of Aristotle.1 This makes us more jealous of the excess on the former side, and causes us to regard, with a peculiar indulgence, all tendency to modesty and self-diffidence ; as esteeming the danger less of falling into any vicious extreme of that nature. It is thus in countries where men's bodies are apt to exceed in corpulency, personal beauty is placed in a much greater degree of slenderness, than in countries where that is the most usual defect. Be- ing so often struck with instances of one species of deformity, men think they can never keep at too great a distance from it, and wish always to have a leaning to the opposite side. In like manner, were the door opened to self-praise, and were Montaigne's maxim observed, that one should say as frankly, I have sense, I have learning, I have courage, beauty, or wit, as it is sure we often think so ; were this the case, I say, everyone is sensible that such a flood of impertinence would break in upon us, as would render society wholly intolerable. For this reason custom has estab

3 Ethic, ad Nicomachum.

102 AN ENQ UIR V CONCERNING

lished it as a rule, in common societies, that men should not indulge themselves in self-praise, or even speak much of themselves ; and it is only among inti- mate friends or people of very manly behaviour, that one is allowed to do himself justice. Nobody finds fault with Maurice, Prince of Orange, for his reply to one who asked him, whom he esteemed the first gen- eral of the age, The Marquis of Spinola, said he, is the second. Though it is observable, that the self-praise implied is here better implied, than if it had been di- rectly expressed, without any cover or disguise.

He must be a very superficial thinker, who im- agines that all instances of mutual deference are to be understood in earnest, and that a man would be more esteemable for being ignorant of his own merits and accomplishments. A small bias towards modesty, even in the internal sentiment, is favourably regarded^ especially in young people ; and a strong bias is re- quired in the outward behaviour ; but this excludes not a noble pride and spirit, which may openly dis- play itself in its full extent, when one lies under cal- umny or oppression of any kind. The generous con- tumacy of Socrates, as Cicero calls it, has been highly celebrated in all ages ; and when joined to the usual modesty of his behaviour, forms a shining character. Iphicrates, the Athenian, being accused of betraying the interests of his country, asked his accuser, Woula you, says he, have, on a like occasion, been guilty of that cri?ne? By no means, replied the other. And can you then imagine, cried the hero, that Iphicrates would be guilty?^- In short, a generous spirit and self-value, well founded, decently disguised, and courageously supported under distress and calumny, is a great ex-

lQuinctil. lib. v. cap. 12.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 103

cellency, and seems to derive its merit from the noble elevation of its sentiment, or its immediate agreeable- ness to its possessor. In ordinary characters, we ap- prove of a bias towards modesty, which is a quality immediately agreeable to others : the vicious excess of the former virtue, namely, insolence or haughti- ness, is immediately disagreeable to others; the ex- cess of the latter is so to the possessor. Thus are the boundaries of these duties adjusted.

A desire of fame, reputation, or a character with others, is so far from being blameable, that it seems inseparable from virtue, genius, capacity, and a gen- erous or noble disposition. An attention even to triv- ial matters, in order to please, is also expected and demanded by society; and no one is surprised, if he- find a man in company to observe a greater elegance of dress and more pleasant flow of conversation, than when he passes his time at home, and with his own family. Wherein, then, consists Vanity, which is so justly regarded as a fault or imperfection. It seems to consist chiefly in such an intemperate display of our advantages, honours, and accomplishments ; in such an importunate and open demand of praise and admiration, as is offensive to others, and encroaches too far on their secret vanity and ambition. It is be- sides a sure symptom of the want of true dignity and elevation of mind, which is so great an ornament in any character. For why that impatient desire of ap- plause ; as if you were not justly entitled to it, and might not reasonably expect that it would for ever at tend you? Why so anxious to inform us of the great , company which you have kept; the obliging tilings which were said to you; the honours, the distinctions which you met with ; as if these were not things of

iaf AN ENQ U1R V CONCERNING

course, and what we could readily, of ourselves, have imagined, without being told of them?

Decency, or a proper regard to age, sex, character, and station in the world, may be ranked among the qualities which are immediately agreeable to others, and which, by that means, acquire praise and appro- bation. An effeminate behaviour in a man, a rough manner in a woman ; these are ugly because unsuit- able to each character, and different from the qualities which we expect in the sexes. It is as if a tragedy abounded in comic beauties, or a comedy in tragic, The disproportions hurt the eye, and convey a dis- agreeable sentiment to the spectators, the source of blame and disapprobation. This is that indecorum, which is explained so much at large by Cicero in his Offices.

Among the other virtues, we may also give Clean- liness a place ; since it naturally renders us agreeable to others, and is no inconsiderable source of love and affection. No one will deny, that a negligence in this particular is a fault ; and as faults are nothing but smaller vices, and this fault can have no other origin than the uneasy sensation which it excites in others ; we may, in this instance, seemingly so trivial, clearly discover the origin of moral distinctions, about which the learned have involved themselves in such mazes of perplexity and error.

But besides all the agreeable qualities, the origin of whose beauty we can, in some degree, explain and account for, there still remains something mysterious and inexplicable, which conveys an immediate satis- faction to the spectator, but how, or why, or for what reason, he cannot pretend to determine. There is a manner, a grace, an ease, a genteelness, an I-know-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 105

not-what, which some men possess above others, which is very different from external beauty and come- liness, and which, however, catches our affection al- most as suddenly and powerfully. And though this ??ianner be chiefly talked of in the passion between the sexes, where the concealed magic is easily explained, yet surely much of it prevails in all our estimation of characters, and forms no inconsiderable part of per- sonal merit. This class of accomplishments, there- fore, must be trusted entirely to the blind, but sure testimony of taste and sentiment; and must be con- sidered as a part of ethics, left by nature to baffle all the pride of philosophy, and make her sensible of her narrow boundaries and slender acquisitions.

We approve of another, because of his wit, polite- ness, modesty, decency, or any agreeable quality which he possesses ; although he be not of our acquaintance, nor has ever given us any entertainment, by means of these accomplishments. The idea, which we form of their effect on his acquaintance, has an agreeable in- fluence on our imagination, and gives us the senti- ment of approbation. This principle enters into all the judgements which we form concerning manners and characters.

SECTION IX.

CONCLUSION. PART I.

IT may justly appear surprising that any man in so late an age, should find it requisite to prove, by elaborate reasoning, that. Personal Merit consists ajto- gether in the possession of mental^iBlitle^ jugful -or agreeable to the person himself or tojitJitrs. It might be expected that this principle would have occurred even to the first rude, unpractised enquirers concern- ing morals, and been received from its own evidence, without any argument or disputation. Whatever is valuable in any kind, so naturally classes itself under the division of useful or agreeable, the utile or the dulce, that it is not easy to imagine why we should ever seek further, or consider the question as a matter of nice research or inquiry. And as every thing useful or agreeable must possess these qualities with regard either to the person himself or to others, the complete delineation or description of merit seems to be per- formed as naturally as a shadow is cast by the sun, or an image is reflected upon water. If the ground, on which the shadow is cast, be not broken and uneven ; nor the surface from which the image is reflected, dis- turbed and confused ; a just figure is immediately pre- sented, without any art or attention. And it seems a reasonable presumption, that systems and hypotheses have perverted our natural understanding, when a

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 107

theory, so simple and obvious, could so long have es- caped the most elaborate examination.

But however the case may have fared with philos- ophy, in common life these principles are still impli- citly maintained ; nor is any other topic of praise or blame ever recurred to, when we employ any pane- gyric or satire, any applause or censure of human ac- tion and behaviour. If we observe men, in every in- tercourse of business or pleasure, in every discourse and conversation, we shall find them nowhere, except in the schools, at any loss upon this subject. What so natural, for instance, as the following dialogue? You are very happy, we shall suppose one to say, ad- dressing himself to another, that you have given your daughter to Cleanthes. He is a man of honour and humanity. Every one, who has any intercourse with him, is sure of fair and kind treatment.1 I congratu- late you too, says another, on the promising expecta- tions of this son-in-law; whose assiduous application to the study of the laws, whose quick penetration and early knowledge both of men and business, prognosti- cate the greatest honours and advancement.2 You surprise me, replies a third, when you talk of Clean- thes as a man of business and application. I met him lately in a circle of the gayest company, and he was the very life and soul of our conversation : so much wit with good manners; so much gallantry without affectation ; so much ingenious knowledge so genteelly delivered, I have never before observed in any one.3 You would admire him still more, says a fourth, if you knew him more familiarly. That cheerfulness,

1 Qualities useful to others.

2 Qualities useful to the person himself.

8 Qualities immediately agreeable to others.

xo8 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

which you might remark in him, is not a sudden flash struck out by company : it runs through the whole tenor of his life, and preserves a perpetual serenity on his countenance, and tranquillity in his soul. He has met with severe trials, misfortunes as well as dan- gers ; and by his greatness of mind, was still superior to all of them.1 The image, gentlemen, which you have here delineated of Cleanthes, cried I, is that of accomplished merit. Each of you has given a stroke of the pencil to his figure ; and you have unawares exceeded all the pictures drawn by Gratian or Castig- lione. A philosopher might select this character as a model of perfect virtue.

And as every quality which is useful or agreeable to ourselves or others is, in common life, allowed to be a part of personal merit ; so no other will ever be received, where men judge of things by their natural, unprejudiced reason, without the delusive glosses of superstition and false religion. Celibacy, fasting, penance, mortification, self-denial, humility, silence, solitude, and the whole train of monkish virtues ; for what reason are they everywhere rejected by men of sense, but because they serve to no manner of pur- pose ; neither advance a man's fortune in the world, nor render him a more valuable member of society; neither qualify him for the entertainment of company, nor increase his power of self-enjoyment? We ob- serve, on the contrary, that they cross all these desir- able ends ; stupify the understanding and harden the heart, obscure the fancy and sour the temper. We justly, therefore, transfer them to the opposite col- umn, and place them in the catalogue of vices ; nor has any superstition force sufficient among men of the

1 Qualities immediately agreeable to the person himself.

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 109

world, to pervert entirely these natural sentiments. A gloomy, hair-brained enthusiast, after his death, may have a place in the calendar ; but will scarcely ever be admitted, when alive, into intimacy and so- ciety, except by those who are as delirious and dismal as himself.

It seems a happiness in the present theory, that it enters not into that vulgar dispute concerning the de- grees of benevolence or self-love, which prevail in hu- man nature; a dispute which is never likely to have any issue, both because men, who have taken part, are not easily convinced, and because the phenomena, which can be produced on either side, are so dis- persed, so uncertain, and subject to so many inter- pretations, that it is scarcely possible accurately to compare them, or draw from them any determinate inference or conclusion. It is sufficient for our pres- ent purpose, if it be allowed, what surely, without the greatest absurdity cannot be disputed, that there is some benevolence, however small, infused into our bosom; some spark of friendship for human kind; some particle of the dove kneaded into our frame, along with the elements of the wolf and serpent. Let these generous sentiments be supposed ever so weak ; let them be insufficient to move even a hand or finger of our body, they must still direct the determinations of our mind, and where everything else is equal, pro- duce a cool preference of what is useful and service- able to mankind, above what is pernicious and dan- gerous. A moral distinction, therefore, immediately arises; a general sentiment of blame and approbation; a tendency, however faint, to the objects of the one, and a proportionable aversion to those of the other. Nor will those reasoners, who so earnestly maintain

no AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

the predominant selfishness of human kind, be any wise scandalized at hearing of the weak sentiments of virtue implanted in our nature. On the contrary, they are found as ready to maintain the one tenet as the other; and their spirit of satire (for such it appears, rather than of corruption) naturally gives rise to both opinions ; which have, indeed, a great and almost an indissoluble connexion together.

Avarice, ambition, vanity, and all passions vul- garly, though improperly, comprised under the de- nomination of self-love, are here excluded from our theory concerning the origin of morals, not because they are too weak, but because they have not a proper direction for that purpose. The notion of morals im- plies some sentiment common to all mankind, which recommends the same object to general approbation, and makes every man, or most men, agree in the same opinion or decision concerning it. It also im- plies some sentiment, so universal and comprehensive as to extend to all mankind, and render the actions and conduct, even of the persons the most remote, an object of applause or censure, according as they agree or disagree with that rule of right which is established. These two requisite circumstances belong alone to the sentiment of humanity here insisted on. The other passions produce in every breast, many strong sentiments of desire and aversion, affection and hatred; but these neither are felt so much in common, nor are so comprehensive, as to be the foundation of any general system and established theory of blame or approbation.

When a man denominates another his enemy, his rival, his antagonist, his adversary, he is understood to speak the language of self-love, and to express sen-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. m

timents, peculiar to himself, and arising from his par- ticular circumstances and situation. But when he bestows on any man the epithets of vicious or odious or depraved, he then speaks another language, and expresses sentiments, in which he expects all his au- dience are to concur with him. He must here, there- fore, depart from his private and particular situation, and must choose a point of view, common to him with others; he must move some universal principle of the human frame, and touch a string to which all man- kind have an accord and symphony. If he mean, therefore, to express that this man possesses qualities, whose tendency is pernicious to society, he has chosen this common point of view, and has touched the prin- ciple of humanity, in which every man, in some de- gree, concurs. While the human heart is compounded of the same elements as at present, it will never be wholly indifferent to public good, nor entirely un- affected with the tendency of characters and manners. And though this affection of humanity may not gen- erally be esteemed so strong as vanity or ambition, yet, being common to all men, it can alone be the foundation of morals, or of any general system of blame or praise. One man's ambition is not another's ambition, nor will the same event or object satisfy both ; but the humanity of one man is the humanity of every one, and the same object touches this pas- sion in all human creatures.

But the sentiments, which arise from humanity, are not only the same in all human creatures, and produce the same approbation or censure ; but they also comprehend all human creatures; nor is there any one whose conduct or character is not, by their means, an object to every one of censure or approba-

ii2 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

tion. On the contrary, those other passions, com- monly denominated selfish, both produce different sentiments in each individual, according to his partic- ular situation ; and also contemplate the greater part of mankind with the utmost indifference and uncon- cern. Whoever has a high regard and esteem for me flatters my vanity ; whoever expresses contempt mor- tifies and displeases me ; but as my name is known but to a small part of mankind, there are few who come within the sphere of this passion, or excite, on its account, either my affection or disgust. But if you represent a tyrannical, insolent, or barbarous beha- viour, in any country or in any age of the world, I soon carry my eye to the pernicious tendency of such a conduct, and feel the sentiment of repugnance and displeasure towards it. No character can be so re- mote as to be, in this light, wholly indifferent to me. What is beneficial to society or to the person himself must still be preferred. And every quality or action, of every human being, must, by this means, be ranked under some class or denomination, expressive of gen- eral censure or applause.

What more, therefore, can we ask to distinguish the sentiments, dependent on humanity, from those connected with any other passion, or to satisfy us, why the former are the origin of morals, not the lat- ter? Whatever conduct gains my approbation, by touching my humanity, procures also the applause of all mankind, by affecting the same principle in them ; but what serves my avarice or ambition pleases these passions in me alone, and affects not the avarice and ambition of the rest of mankind. There is no circum- stance of conduct in any man, provided it have a ben- eficial tendency, that is not agreeable to my humanity,

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 113

however remote the person ; but every man, so far removed as neither to cross nor serve my avarice and ambition, is regarded as wholly indifferent by those passions. The distinction, therefore, between these species of sentiment being so great and evident, lan- guage must soon be moulded upon it, and must invent a peculiar set of terms, in order to express those uni- versal sentiments of censure or approbation, which arise from humanity, or from views of general useful- ness and its contrary. Virtue and Vice become then known; morals are recognized; certain general ideas are framed of human conduct and behaviour; such measures are expected from men in such situations. This action is determined to be conformable to our abstract rule ; that other, contrary. And by such uni- versal principles are the particular sentiments of self- love frequently controlled and limited.1

From instances of popular tumults, seditions, fac- tions, panics, and of all passions, which are shared with a multitude, we may learn the influence of so-

llt seems certain, both from reason and experience, that a rude, un- taught savage regulates chiefly his love and hatred by the ideas of private utility and injury, and has but faint conceptions of a general rule or system of behaviour. The man who stands opposite to him in battle, he hates heart- ily, not only for the present moment, which is almost unavoidable, but for ever after; nor is he satisfied without the most extreme punishment and vengeance. But we, accustomed to society, and to more enlarged reflec- tions, consider, that this man is serving his own country and community; that any man, in the same situation, would do the same; that we ourselves, in like circumstances, observe a like conduct; that, in general, human so- ciety is best supported on such maxims : and by these suppositions and views, we correct, in some measure, our ruder and narrower passions. And though much of our friendship and enmity be still regulated by private con- siderations of benefit and harm, we pay, at least, this homage to general rules, which we are accustomed to respect, that we commonly pervert our adversary's conduct, by imputing malice or injustice to him, in order to give vent to those passions, which arise from self-love and private interest. When the heart is full of rage, it never wants pretences of this nature; though sometimes as frivolous, as those from which Horace, being almost crushed by the fall of a tree, affects to accuse of parricide the first planter of it.

ii4 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

ciety in exciting and supporting any emotion; while the most ungovernable disorders are raised, we find, by that means, from the slightest and most frivolous occasions. Solon was no very cruel, though, perhaps, an unjust legislator, who punished neuters in civil wars; and few, I believe, would, in such cases, incur the penalty, were their affection and discourse allowed sufficient to absolve them. No selfishness, and scarce any philosophy, have there force sufficient to support a total coolness and indifference ; and he must be more or less than man, who kindles not in the com- mon blaze. What wonder then, that moral sentiments are found of such influence in life ; though springing from principles, which may appear, at first sight, somewhat small and delicate? But these principles, we must remark, are social and universal ; they form, in a manner, the party of humankind against vice or disorder, its common enemy. And as the benevolent concern for others is diffused, in a greater or less de- gree, over all men, and is the same in all, it occurs more frequently in discourse, is cherished by society and conversation, and the blame and approbation, consequent on it, are thereby roused from that leth- argy into which they are probably lulled, in solitary and uncultivated nature. Other passions, though per- haps originally stronger, yet being selfish and private, are often overpowered by its force, and yield the do- minion of our breast to those social and public prin- ciples.

Another spring of our constitution, that brings a great addition of force to moral sentiments, is the love of fame ; which rules, with such uncontrolled authority, in all generous minds, and is often the grand object of all their designs and undertakings.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 115

By our continual and earnest pursuit of a character, a name, a reputation in the world, we bring our own deportment and conduct frequently in review, and consider how they appear in the eyes of those who approach and regard us. This constant habit of sur- veying ourselves, as it were, in reflection, keeps alive all the sentiments of right and wrong, and begets, in noble natures, a certain reverence for themselves as well as others, which is the surest guardian of every virtue. The animal conveniencies and pleasures sink gradually in their value ; while every inward beauty and moral grace is studiously acquired, and the mind is accomplished in every perfection, which can adorn or embellish a rational creature.

Here is the most perfect morality with which we are acquainted : here is displayed the force of many sympathies. Our moral sentiment is itself a feeling chiefly of that nature, and our regard to a character with others seems to arise only from a care of pre- serving a character with ourselves ; and in order to attain this end, we find it necessary to prop our tot- tering judgement on the correspondent approbation of mankind.

But, that we may accommodate matters, and re- move if possible every difficulty, let us allow all these reasonings to be false. Let us allow that, when we resolve the pleasure, which arises from views of util- ity, into the sentiments of humanity and sympathy, we have embraced a wrong hypothesis. Let us con- fess it necessary to find some other explication of that applause, which is paid to objects, whether inanimate, animate, or rational, if they have a tendency to pro- mote the welfare and advantage of mankind. How- ever difficult it be to conceive that an object is ap-

1 16 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

proved of on account of its tendency to a certain end, while the end itself is totally indifferent : let us swal- low this absurdity, and consider what are the conse- quences. The preceding delineation or definition of Personal Merit must still retain its evidence and au- thority : it must still be allowed that every quality of the mind, which is useful or agreeable to the person himself or to others, communicates a pleasure to the spectator, engages his esteem, and is admitted under the honourable denomination of virtue or merit. Are not justice, fidelity, honour, veracity, allegiance, chas- tity, esteemed solely on account of their tendency to promote the good of society? Is not that tendency inseparable from humanity, benevolence, lenity, gen- erosity, gratitude, moderation, tenderness, friendship, and all the other social virtues? Can it possibly be doubted that industry, discretion, frugality, secrecy, order, perseverance, forethought, judgement, and this whole class of virtues and accomplishments, of which many pages would not contain the catalogue ; can it be doubted, I say, that the tendency of these qualities to promote the interest and happiness of their posses- sor, is the sole foundation of their merit? Who can dispute that a mind, which supports a perpetual se- renity and cheerfulness, a noble dignity and undaunted spirit, a tender affection and good-will to all around ; as it has more enjoyment within itself, is also a more animating and rejoicing spectacle, than if dejected with melancholy, tormented with anxiety, irritated with rage, or sunk into the most abject baseness and degeneracy? And as to the qualities, immediately agreeable to others, they speak sufficiently for them- selves; and he must be unhappy, indeed, either in his own temper, or in his situation and company, who

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 117

has never perceived the charms of a facetious wit or flowing affability, of a delicate modesty or decent gen- teelness of address and manner.

I am sensible, that nothing can be more unphilo- sophical than to be positive or dogmatical on any subject ; and that, even if excessive scepticism could be maintained, it would not be more destructive to all just reasoning and inquiry. I am convinced that, where men are the most sure and arrogant, they are commonly the most mistaken, and have there given reins to passion, without that proper deliberation and suspense, which can alone secure them from the grossest absurdities. Yet, I must confess, that this enumeration puts the matter in so strong a light, that I cannot, at present, be more assured of any truth, which I learn from reasoning and argument, than that personal merit consists entirely in the usefulness or agreeableness of qualities to the person himself pos- sessed of them, or to others, who have any intercourse with him. But when I reflect that, though the bulk and figure of the earth have been measured and de- lineated, though the motions of the tides have been accounted for, the order and economy of the heavenly bodies subjected to their proper laws, and Infinite it- self reduced to calculation; yet men still dispute con- cerning the foundation of their moral duties. When I reflect on this, I say, I fall back into diffidence and scepticism, and suspect that an hypothesis, so obvi- ous, had it been a true one, would, long ere now, have been received by the unanimous suffrage and consent of mankind.

1 18 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

PART II.

Having explained the moral approbation attending merit or virtue, there remains nothing but briefly to consider our interested obligation to it, and to inquire whether every man, who has any regard to his own happiness and welfare, will not best find his account in the practice of every moral duty. If this can be clearly ascertained from the foregoing theory, we shall have the satisfaction to reflect, that we have advanced principles, which not only, it is hoped, will stand the test of reasoning and inquiry, but may contribute to the amendment of men's lives, and their improvement in morality and social virtue. And though the philo- sophical truth of any proposition by no means depends on its tendency to promote the interests of society; yet a man has but a bad grace, who delivers a theory, however true, which, he must confess, leads to a prac- tice dangerous and pernicious. Why rake into those corners of nature which spread a nuisance all around? Why dig up the pestilence from the pit in which it is buried? The ingenuity of your researches may be ad- mired, but your systems will be detested ; and man- kind will agree, if they cannot refute them, to sink them, at least, in eternal silence and oblivion. Truths which are pernicious to society, if any such there be, will yield to errors which are salutary and advantage- ous.

But what philosophical truths can be more advan- tageous to society, than those here delivered, which represent virtue in all her genuine and most engaging charms, and makes us approach her with ease, fami- liarity, and affection? The dismal dress falls off, with

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 119

wnich many divines, and some philosophers, have covered her; and nothing appears but gentleness, humanity, beneficence, affability; nay, even at proper intervals, play, frolic, and gaiety. She talks not of useless austerities and rigours, suffering and self- denial. She declares that her sole purpose is to make her votaries and all mankind, during every instant of their existence, if possible, cheerful and happy; nor does she ever willingly part with any pleasure but in hopes of ample compensation in some other period of their lives. The sole trouble which she demands, is that of just calculation, and a steady preference of the greater happiness. And if any austere pretenders ap- proach her, enemies to joy and pleasure, she either rejects them as hypocrites and deceivers ; or, if she admit them in her train, they are ranked, however, among the least favoured of her votaries.

And, indeed, to drop all figurative expression, what hopes can we ever have of engaging mankind to a practice which we confess full of austerity and rigour? Or what theory of morals can ever serve any useful purpose, unless it can show, by a particular detail, that all the duties which it recommends, are also the true interest of each individual? The peculiar advan- tage of the foregoing system seems to be, that it fur- nishes proper mediums for that purpose.

That the virtues which are immediately useful or agreeable to the person possessed of them, are desir- able in a view to self-interest, it would surely be su- perfluous to prove. Moralists, indeed, may spare themselves all the pains which they often take in rec- ommending these duties. To what purpose collect arguments to evince that temperance is advantageous, and the excesses of pleasure hurtful, when it appears

1 20 AN ENQ UIR y CONCERNING

that these excesses are only denominated such, be- cause they are hurtful; and that, if the unlimited use of strong liquors, for instance, no more impaired health or the faculties of mind and body than the use of air or water, it would not be a whit more vicious or blameable?

, It seems equally superfluous to prove, that the companionable virtues of good manners and wit, decency and genteelness, are more desirable than the contrary qualities. Vanity alone, without any other considera- tion, is a sufficient motive to make us wish for the possession of these accomplishments. No man was ever willingly deficient in this particular. All our failures here proceed from bad education, want of capacity, or a perverse and unpliable disposition. Would you have your company coveted, admired, followed; rather than hated, despised, avoided? Can any one seriously deliberate in the case? As no en- joyment is sincere, without some reference to com- pany and society; so no society can be agreeable, or even tolerable, where a man feels his presence unwel- come, and discovers all around him symptoms of dis- gust and aversion.

But why, in the greater society or confederacy of mankind, should not the case be the same as in par- ticular clubs and companies? Why is it more doubt- ful, that the enlarged virtues of humanity, generosity, beneficence, are desirable with a view of happiness and self-interest, than the limited endowments of in- genuity and politeness? Are we apprehensive lest those social affections interfere, in a greater and more immediate degree than any other pursuits, with pri- vate utility, and cannot be gratified, without some important sacrifice of honour and advantage? If so,

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 121

we are but ill-instructed in the nature of the human passions, and are more influenced by verbal distinc- tions than by real differences.

Whatever contradiction may vulgarly be supposed between the selfish and social sentiments or disposi- tions, they are really no more opposite than selfish and ambitious, selfish and revengeful, selfish and vain. It is requisite that there be an original propensity of some kind, in order to be a basis to self-love, by giv- ing a relish to the objects of its pursuit ; and none more fit for this purpose than benevolence or human- ity. The goods of fortune are spent in one gratifica- tion or another : the miser who accumulates his an- nual income, and lends it out at interest, has really spent it in the gratification of his avarice. And it would be difficult to show why a man is more a loser by a generous action, than by any other method of expense ; since the utmost which he can attain by the most elaborate selfishness, is the indulgence of some affection.

Now if life, without passion, must be altogether insipid and tiresome; let a man suppose that he has full power of modelling his own disposition, and let him deliberate what appetite or desire he would choose for the foundation of his happiness and enjoyment. Every affection, he would observe, when gratified by success, gives a satisfaction proportioned to its force and violence; but besides this advantage, common to all, the immediate feeling of benevolence and friend- ship, humanity and kindness, is sweet, smooth, tender, and agreeable, independent of all fortune and acci- dents. These virtues are besides attended with a pleasing consciousness or remembrance, and keep us in humour with ourselves as well as others; while we

122 AN ENQ UIR V CONCERNING

retain the agreeable reflection of having done our part towards mankind and society. And though all men show a jealousy of our success in the pursuits of avarice and ambition ; yet are we almost sure of their good-will and good wishes, so long as we persevere in the paths of virtue, and employ ourselves in the execution of generous plans and purposes. What other passion is there where we shall find so many advantages united ; an agreeable sentiment, a pleas- ing consciousness, a good reputation? But of these truths, we may observe, men are, of themselves, pretty much convinced ; nor are they deficient in their duty to society, because they would not wish to be generous, friendly, and humane ; but because they do not feel themselves such.

Treating vice with the greatest candour, and mak- ing it all possible concessions, we must acknowledge that there is not, in any instance, the smallest pretext for giving it the preference above virtue, with a view of self-interest; except, perhaps, in the case of jus- tice, where a man, taking things in a certain light, may often seem to be a loser by his integrity. And though it is allowed that, without a regard to prop- erty, no society could subsist ; yet according to the imperfect way in which human affairs are conducted, a sensible knave, in particular incidents, may think that an act of iniquity or infidelity will make a con- siderable addition to his fortune, without causing any considerable breach in the social union and confed- eracy. That honesty is the best policy, may be a good general rule, but is liable to many exceptions; and he, it may perhaps be thought, conducts himself with most wisdom, who observes the general rule, and takes advantage of all the exceptions.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. I23

I must confess that, if a man think that this rea- soning much requires an answer, it would be a little difficult to find any which will to him appear satisfac- tory and convincing. If his heart rebel not against such pernicious maxims, if he feel no reluctance to the thoughts of villainy or baseness, he has indeed lost a considerable motive to virtue ; and we may ex- pect that this practice will be answerable to his spec- ulation. But in all ingenuous natures, the antipathy to treachery and roguery is too strong to be counter- balanced by any views of profit or pecuniary advan- tage. Inward peace of mind, consciousness of integ- rity, a satisfactory review of our own conduct ; these are circumstances, very requisite to happiness, and will be cherished and cultivated by every honest man, who feels the importance of them.

Such a one has, besides, the frequent satisfaction of seeing knaves, with all their pretended cunning and abilities, betrayed by their own maxims ; and while they purpose to cheat with moderation and se- crecy, a tempting incident occurs, nature is frail, and they give into the snare ; whence they can never ex- tricate themselves, without a total loss of reputation, and the forfeiture of all future trust and confidence with mankind.

But were they ever so secret and successful, the honest man, if he has any tincture of philosophy, or even common observation and reflection, will discover that they themselves are, in the end, the greatest dupes, and have sacrificed the invaluable enjoyment of a character, with themselves at least, for the acqui- sition of worthless toys and gewgaws. How little is requisite to supply the ?iecessities of nature? And in a view to pleasure, what comparison between the un-

i24 AN~ ENQ. UIR Y CONCERNING

bought satisfaction of conversation, society, study, even health and the common beauties of nature, but above all the peaceful reflection on one's own con- duct ; what comparison, I say, between these and the feverish, empty amusements of luxury and expense? These natural pleasures, indeed, are really without price ; both because they are below all price in their attainment, and above it in their enjoyment. ,-

APPENDIX I.

CONCERNING MORAL SENTIMENT.

IF the foregoing hypothesis be received, it will now be easy for us to determine the question first started,1 concerning the general principles of morals; and though we postponed the decision of that question, lest it should then involve us in intricate speculations, which are unfit for moral discourses, we may resume it at present, and examine how far either reason or sentiment enters into all decisions of praise or censure. One principal foundation of moral praise being supposed to lie in the usefulness of any quality or ac- tion, it is evident that reason must enter for a consid- erable share in all decisions of this kind; since noth- ing but that faculty can instruct us in the tendency of qualities and actions, and point out their beneficial consequences to society and to their possessor. In many cases this is an affair liable to great controversy: doubts may arise; opposite interests may occur; and a preference must be given to one side, from very nice views, and a small overbalance of utility. This is particularly remarkable in questions with regard to justice; as is, indeed, natural to suppose, from that species of utility which attends this virtue.2 Were every single instance of justice, like that of benevo- lence, useful to society; this would be a more simple

lSect. I. aSeeApp. III.

126 AX EXQ UIR V COXCERXIXG

state of the case, and seldom liable to great contro- versy. But as single instances of justice are often pernicious in their first and immediate tendency, and as the advantage to society results only from the ob- servance of the general rule, and from the concurrence and combination of several persons in the same equit- able conduct; the case here becomes more intricate and involved. The various circumstances of society; the various consequences of any practice; the various interests which may be proposed ; these, on many oc- casions, are doubtful, and subject to great discussion and inquiry. The object of municipal laws is to fix all the questions with regard to justice: the debates of civilians; the reflections of politicians; the prece- dents of history and public records, are all directed to the same purpose. And a very accurate reason or judgement is often requisite, to give the true determi- nation, amidst such intricate doubts arising from ob- scure or opposite utilities.

But though reason, when fully assisted and im- / proved, be sufficient to instruct us in the pernicious \ or useful tendency of qualities and actions; it is not alone sufficient to produce any moral blame or appro- bation. Utility is only a tendency to a certain end ; and were the end totally indifferent to us, we should feel the same indifference towards the means. It is requisite a sentiment should here display itself, in order to give a preference to the useful above the pernicious tendencies. This sentiment can be no other than a feeling for the happiness of mankind, and a resent- ment of their misery ; since these are the different ends which virtue and vice have a tendency to pro- mote. Here therefore reason instructs us in the sev- eral tendencies of actions, and humanity makes a dis-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 127

tinction in favour of those which are useful and beneficial.

This partition between the faculties of understand- ing and sentiment, in all moral decisions, seems clear from the preceding hypothesis. But I shall suppose that hypothesis false : it will then be requisite to look out for some other theory that may be satisfactory; and I dare venture to affirm that none such will ever be found, so long as we suppose reason to be the sole source of morals. To prove this, it will be proper to weigh the five following considerations.

I. It is easy for a false hypothesis to maintain some appearance of truth, while it keeps wholly in generals, makes use of undefined terms, and employs comparisons, instead of instances. This is particu- larly remarkable in that philosophy, which ascribes the discernment of all moral distinctions to reason alone, without the concurrence of sentiment. It is impossible that, in any particular instance, this hy- pothesis can so much as be rendered intelligible, whatever specious figure it may make in general dec- lamations and discourses. Examine the crime of in- gratitude, for instance ; which has place, wherever we observe good-will, expressed and known, together with good-offices performed, on the one side, and a return of ill-will or indifference, with ill-offices or neglect on the other : anatomize all these circumstances, and examine, by your reason alone, in what consists the demerit or blame. You never will come to any issue or conclusion.

Reason judges either of matter of fact or of rela- tions. Enquire then, frst, where is that matter of fact which we here call crime; point it out; determine the time of its existence ; describe its essence or nature ;

128 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

explain the sense or faculty to which it discovers it- self. It resides in the mind of the person who is un- grateful. He must, therefore, feel it, and be conscious of it. But nothing is there, except the passion of ill- will or absolute indifference. You cannot say that these, of themselves, always, and in all circumstances, are crimes. No, they are only crimes when directed towards persons who have before expressed and dis- played good-will towards us. Consequently, we may infer, that the crime of ingratitude is not any particu- lar individual fact) but arises from a complication of circumstances, which, being presented to the specta- tor, excites the sentiment of blame, by the particular structure and fabric of his mind.

This representation, you say, is false. Crime, in- deed, consists not in a particular fact, of whose reality we are assured by reason; but it consists in certain moral relations, discovered by reason, in the same manner as we discover by reason the truths of geom- etry or algebra. But what are the relations, I ask, of which you here talk? In the case stated above, I see first good-will and good-offices in one person; then ill-will and ill-offices in the other. Between these, there is a relation of contrariety. Does the crime con- sist in that relation? But suppose a person bore me ill-will or did me ill-offices ; and I, in return, were in- different towards him, or did him good offices. Here is the same relation of contrariety ; and yet my con- duct is often highly laudable. Twist and turn this matter as much as you will, you can never rest the morality on relation ; but must have recourse to the decisions of sentiment.

When it is affirmed that two and three are equal to the half of ten, this relation of equality I under-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 129

stand perfectly. I conceive, that if ten be divided into two parts, of which one has as many units as the other; and if any of these parts be compared to two added to three, it will contain as many units as that compound number. But when you draw thence a comparison to moral relations, I own that I am alto- gether at a loss to understand you. A moral action, a crime, such as ingratitude, is a complicated object. Does the morality consist in the relation of its parts to each other? How? After what manner? Specify the relation : be more particular and explicit in your propositions, and you will easily see their falsehood.

No, say you, the morality consists in the relation of actions to the rule of right; and they are denomi- nated good or ill, according as they agree or disagree with it. What then is this rule of right? In what does it consist? How is it determined? By reason, you say, which examines the moral relations of ac- tions. So that moral relations are determined by the comparison of action to a rule. And that rule is de- termined by considering the moral relations of ob- jects. Is not this fine reasoning?

All this is metaphysics, you cry. That is enough ; there needs nothing more to give a strong presump- tion of falsehood. Yes, reply I, here are metaphysics surely ; but they are all on your side, who advance an abstruse hypothesis, which can never be made intelli- gible, nor quadrate with any particular instance or illustration. The hypothesis which we embrace is plain. It maintains that morality is determined by sentiment. It defines virtue to be whatever mental ac- tion or quality gives to a spectator the pleasing sentiment of approbation \ and vice the contrary. We then pro- ceed to examine a plain matter of fact, to wit, what

1 30 AN ENQ UIR V CONCERNING

actions have this influence. We consider all the cir- cumstances in which these actions agree, and thence endeavour to extract some general observations with regard to these sentiments. If you call this meta- physics, and find anything abstruse here, you need only conclude that your turn of mind is not suited to the moral sciences.

II. When a man, at any time, deliberates concern- ing his own conduct (as, whether he had better, in a particular emergence, assist a brother or a benefac- tor), he must consider these separate relations, with all the circumstances and situations of the persons, in order to determine the superior duty and obligation ; and in order to determine the proportion of lines in any triangle, it is necessary to examine the nature of that figure, and the relation which its several parts bear to each other. But notwithstanding this appear- ing similarity in the two cases, there is, at bottom, an extreme difference between them. A speculative rea- soner concerning triangles or circles considers the several known and given relations of the parts of these figures ; and thence infers some unknown rela- tion, which is dependent on the former. But in moral deliberations we must be acquainted beforehand with all the objects, and all their relations to each other; and from a comparison of the whole, fix our choice or approbation. No new fact to be ascertained ; no new relation to be discovered, All the circumstances of the case are supposed to be laid before us, ere we can fix any sentence of blame or approbation. If any ma- terial circumstance be yet unknown or doubtful, we must first employ our inquiry or intellectual faculties to assure us of it j and must suspend for a time all moral decision or sentiment. While we are ignorant

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 131

whether a man were aggressor or not, how can we determine whether the person who killed him be crim- inal or innocent? But after every circumstance, every relation is known, the understanding has no further room to operate, nor any object on which it could employ itself. The approbation or blame which then ensues, cannot be the work of the judgement, but of the heart ; and is not a speculative proposition or af- firmation, but an active feeling or sentiment. In the disquisitions of the understanding, from known cir- cumstances and relations, we infer some new and un- known. In moral decisions, all the circumstances and relations must be previously known; and the mind, from the contemplation of the whole, feels some new impression of affection or disgust, esteem or con- tempt, approbation or blame.

Hence the great difference between a mistake of fact and one of right ; and hence the reason why the one is commonly criminal and not the other. When Oedipus killed Laius, he was ignorant of the relation, and from circumstances, innocent and involuntary, formed erroneous opinions concerning the action which he committed. But when Nero killed Agrip- pina, all the relations between himself and the per- son, and all the circumstances of the fact, were previ- ously known to him ; but the motive of revenge, or fear, or interest, prevailed in his savage heart over the sentiments of duty and humanity. And when we express that detestation against him to which he him- self, in a little time, became insensible, it is not that we see any relations, of which he was ignorant ; but that, for the rectitude of our disposition, we feel sen- timents against which he was hardened from flattery and a long perseverance in the most enormous crimes.

x32 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

In these sentiments then, not in a discovery of rela- tions of any kind, do all moral determinations consist. Before we can pretend to form any decision of this kind, everything must be known and ascertained on the side of the object or action. Nothing remains but to feel, on our part, some sentiment of blame or ap- probation; whence we pronounce the action criminal or virtuous.

III. This doctrine will become still more evident, if we compare moral beauty with natural, to which in many particulars it bears so near a resemblance. It is on the proportion, relation, and position of parts, that all natural beauty depends ; but it would be ab- surd thence to infer, that the perception of beauty, like that of truth in geometrical problems, consists wholly in the perception of relations, and was per- formed entirely by the understanding or intellectual faculties. In all the sciences, our mind from the known relations investigates the unknown. But in all decisions of taste or external beauty, all the rela- tions are beforehand obvious to the eye ; and we thence proceed to feel a sentiment of complacency or disgust, according to the nature of the object, and disposition of our organs.

Euclid has fully explained all the qualities of the circle ; but has not in any proposition said a word of its beauty. The reason is evident. The beauty is not a quality of the circle. It lies not in any part of the line, whose parts are equally distant from a common centre. It is only the effect which that figure pro- duces upon the mind, whose peculiar fabric of struc- ture renders it susceptible of such sentiments. In vain would you look for it in the circle, or seek it,

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 133

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

Attend to Palladio and Perrault, while they ex- plain all the parts and proportions of a pillar. They talk of the cornice, and frieze, and base, and entabla- ture, and shaft, and architrave ; and give the descrip- tion and position of each of these members. But should you ask the description and position of its beauty, they would readily reply, that the beauty is not in any of the parts or members of a pillar, but re- sults from the whole, when that complicated figure is presented to an intelligent mind, susceptible to those finer sensations. Till such a spectator appear, there is nothing but a figure of such particular dimensions and proportions : from his sentiments alone arise its elegance and beauty.

Again; attend to Cicero, while he paints the crimes of a Verres or a Catiline, You must acknowledge that the moral turpitude results, in the same manner, from the contemplation of the whole, when presented to a being whose organs have such a particular structure and formation. The orator may paint rage, insolence, barbarity on the one side; meekness, suffering, sor- row, innocence on the other. But if you feel no in- dignation or compassion arise in you from this com- plication of circumstances, you would in vain ask him, in what consists the crime or villainy, which he so vehemently exclaims against? At what time, or on what subject it first began to exist? And what has a few months afterwards become of it, when every dis- position and thought of all the actors is totally altered or annihilated? No satisfactory answer can be given to any of these questions, upon the abstract hypothe- sis of morals ; and we must at last acknowledge, that

134 AX E-yQ UIR Y COXCERXIiVG

the crime or immorality is no particular fact or rela- tion, which can be the object of the understanding, but arises entirely from the sentiment of disapproba- tion, which, by the structure of human nature, we unavoidably feel on the apprehension of barbarity or treachery.

IV. Inanimate objects may bear to each other all the same relations which we observe in moral agents; though the former can never be the object of love or hatred, nor are consequently susceptible of merit or iniquity. A young tree, which over-tops and destroys its parent, stands in all the same relations with Nero, when he murdered Agripoina ; and if morality con- sisted merely in relations, would no doubt be equally criminal.

V. It appears evident that the ultimate ends of human actions can never, in any case, be accounted for by reason, but recommend themselves entirely to the sentiments and affections of mankind, without any dependance on the intellectual faculties. Ask a man why he uses exercise; he will answer, because he desires to keep his health. If you then enquire, why he desires health, he will readily reply, because sick?iess is painful. If you push your enquiries farther, and desire a rea- son why he hates pain, it is impossible he can ever give any. This is an ultimate end, and is never referred to any other object.

Perhaps to your second question, why he desires health, he may also reply, that it is necessary for the exercise of his calling. If you ask, why he is anxious on that head, he will answer, because he desires to get money. If you demand Why? It is the instrument of 'pleasure, says he. And beyond this it is an absurdity to ask for a reason. It is impossible there can be a progress

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 135

in infinitum \ and that one thing can always be a rea- son why another is desired. Something must be de- sirable on its own account, and because of its imme- diate accord or agreement with human sentiment and affection.

Now as virtue is an end, and is desirable on its own account, without fee and reward, merely for the immediate satisfaction which it conveys; it ^requi- site that there should be some sentiment which it touches, some internal taste or feeling, or whatever you may please to call it, which distinguishes moral good and evil, and which embraces the one and re- jects the other.

Thus the distinct boundaries and offices of reason and of taste are easily ascertained. The former con- veys the knowledge of truth and falsehood : the latter gives the sentiment of beauty and deformity, vice and virtue. The one discovers objects as they really stand in nature, without addition and diminution : the other has a productive faculty, and gilding or staining all natural objects with the colours, borrowed from inter- nal sentiment, raises in a manner a new creation. Reason being cool and disengaged, is no motive to action, and directs only the impulse received from appetite or inclination, by showing us the means of attaining happiness or avoiding misery: Taste, as it gives pleasure or pain, and thereby constitutes happi- ness or misery, becomes a motive to action, and is the first spring or impulse to desire and volition. From circumstances and relations, known or sup- posed, the former leads us to the discovery of the concealed and unknown : after all circumstances and relations are laid before us, the latter makes us feel from the whole a new sentiment of blame or approba-

1 36 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

tion. The standard of the one, being founded on the nature of things, is eternal and inflexible, even by the will of the Supreme Being : the standard of the other arising from the eternal frame and constitution of ani- mals, is ultimately derived from that Supreme Will, which bestowed on each being its peculiar nature, and arranged the several classes and orders of exist- ence.

APPENDIX II.

OF SELF-LOVE.

THERE is a principle, supposed to prevail among many, which is utterly incompatible with all vir- tue or moral sentiment; and as it can proceed from nothing but the most depraved disposition, so in its turn it tends still further to encourage that depravity. This principle is, that all benevolence is mere hypoc- risy, friendship a cheat, public spirit a farce, fidelity a snare to procure trust and confidence; and that while all of us, at bottom, pursue only our private in- terest, we wear these fair disguises, in order to put others off their guard, and expose them the more to our wiles and machinations. What heart one must be possessed of who possesses such principles, and who feels no internal sentiment that belies so perni- cious a theory, it is easy to imagine : and also what degree of affection and benevolence he can bear to a species whom he represents under such odious colours, and supposes so little susceptible of gratitude or any return of affection. Or if we should not ascribe these principles wholly to a corrupted heart, we must at least account for them from the most careless and precipitate examination. Superficial reasoners, in- deed, observing many false pretences among mankind, and feeling, perhaps, no very strong restraint in their own disposition, might draw a general and a hasty conclusion that all is equally corrupted, and that men,

i38 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

different from all other animals, and indeed from all other species of existence, admit of no degrees of good or bad, but are, in every instance, the same creatures under different disguises and appearances.

There is another principle, somewhat resembling the former; which has been much insisted on by phi- losophers, and has been the foundation of many a system ; that, whatever affection one may feel, or im- agine he feels for others, no passion is, or can be dis- interested; that the most generous friendship, how- ever sincere, is a modification of self-love; and that, even unknown to ourselves, we seek only our own gratification, while we appear the most deeply en- gaged in schemes for the liberty and happiness of mankind. By a turn of imagination, by a refinement of reflection, by an enthusiasm of passion, we seem to take part in the interests of others, and imagine our- selves divested of all selfish considerations : but, at bottom, the most generous patriot and most niggardly miser, the bravest hero and most abject coward, have, in every action, an equal regard to their own happi- ness and welfare.

Whoever concludes from the seeming tendency of this opinion, that those, who make profession of it, cannot possibly feel the true sentiments of benevo- lence, or have any regard for genuine virtue, will often find himself, in practice, very much mistaken. Probity and honour were no strangers to Epicurus and his sect. Atticus and Horace seem to have en- joyed from nature, and cultivated by reflection, as generous and friendly dispositions as any disciple of the austerer schools. And among the modern, Hobbes and Locke, who maintained the selfish system of mor- als, lived irreproachable lives ; though the former lay

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 139

not under any restraint of religion which might supply the defects of his philosophy.

An epicurean or a Hobbist readily allows, that there is such a thing as a friendship in the world, without hypocrisy or disguise; though he may at- tempt, by a philosophical chymistry, to resolve the elements of this passion, if I may so speak, into those of another, and explain every affection to be self-love, twisted and moulded, by a particular turn of imagina- tion, into a variety of appearances. But as the same turn of imagination prevails not in every man, nor gives the same direction to the original passion; this is sufficient even according to the selfish system to make the widest difference in human characters, and denominate one man virtuous and humane, another vicious and meanly interested. I esteem the man whose self-love, by whatever means, is so directed as to give him a concern for others, and render him ser- viceable to society : as I hate or despise him, who has no regard to any thing beyond his own gratifications and enjoyments. In vain would you suggest that these characters, though seemingly opposite, are at bottom the same, and that a very inconsiderable turn of thought forms the whole difference between them. Each character, notwithstanding these inconsiderable differences, appears to me, in practice, pretty durable and untransmutable. And I find not in this more than in other subjects, that the natural sentiments arising from the general appearances of things are easily des- troyed by subtile reflections concerning the minute origin of these appearances. Does not the lively, cheerful colour of a countenance inspire me with com- placency and pleasure ; even though I learn from phi- losophy that all difference of complexion arises from

1 4 o AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

the most minute differences of thickness? in the most minute parts of the skin; by means of which a super- ficies is qualified to reflect one of the original colours of light, and absorb the others?

But though the question concerning the universal or partial selfishness of man be not so material as is usually imagined to morality and practice, it is cer- tainly of consequence in the speculative science of human nature, and is a proper object of curiosity and enquiry. It may not, therefore, be unsuitable, in this place, to bestow a few reflections upon it.1

The most obvious objection to the selfish hypoth- esis is, that, as it is contrary to common feeling and our most unprejudiced notions, there is required the highest stretch of philosophy to establish so extra- ordinary a paradox. To the most careless observer there appear to be such dispositions as benevolence and generosity ; such affections as love, friendship, compassion, gratitude. These sentiments have their causes, effects, objects, and operations, marked by common language and observation, and plainly dis- tinguished from those of the selfish passions. And as this is the obvious appearance of things, it must be admitted, till some hypothesis be discovered, which by penetrating deeper into human nature, may prove the former affections to be nothing but modifications

1 Benevolence naturally divides into two kinds, the general and the par- ticular. The first is, where we have no friendship or connexion or esteem for the person, but feel only a general sympathy with him or a compassion for his pains, and a congratulation with his pleasures. The other species of benevolence is founded on an opinion of virtue, on services done us, or on some particular connexions. Both these sentiments must be allowed real in human nature;/but whether they will resolve into some nice considerations of self-love, fs a question more curious than important. The former senti- ment, to wit, that of general benevolence, or humanity, or sympathy, we shall have occasion frequently to treat of in the course of this inquiry; and I as- sume it as real, from general experience, without any other proof.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 141

of the latter. All attempts of this kind have hitherto proved fruitless, and seem to have proceeded entirely from that love of simplicity which has been the source of much false reasoning in philosophy. I shall not here enter into any detail on the present subject. Many able philosophers have shown the insufficiency of these systems. And I shall take for granted what, I believe, the smallest reflection will make evident to every impartial enquirer.

But the nature of the subject furnishes the strong- est presumption, that no better system will ever, for the future, be invented, in order to account for the origin of the benevolent from the selfish affections, and reduce all the various emotions of the human mind to a perfect simplicity. The case is not the same in this species of philosophy as in physics. Many an hypothesis in nature, contrary to first ap- pearances, has been found, on more accurate scrutiny, solid and satisfactory. Instances of this kind are so frequent that a judicious, as well as witty philosopher,1 has ventured to affirm, if there be more than one way in which any phenomenon may be produced, that there is general presumption for its arising from the causes which are the least obvious and familiar. But the presumption always lies on the other side, in all enquiries concerning the origin of our passions, and of the internal operations of the human mind. The simplest and most obvious cause which can there be assigned for any phenomenon, is probably the true one. When a philosopher, in the explication of his system, is obliged to have recourse to some very in- tricate and refined reflections, and to suppose them essential to the production of any passion or emotion,

iMons. Fontenelle.

i42 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

we have reason to be extremely on our guard against so fallacious an hypothesis. The affections are not susceptible of any impression from the refinements of reason or imagination ; and it is always found that a vigorous exertion of the latter faculties, necessarily, from the narrow capacity of the human mind, destroys all activity in the former. Our predominant motive or intention is, indeed, frequently concealed from ourselves when it is mingled and confounded with other motives which the mind, from vanity or self- conceit, is desirous of supposing more prevalent: but there is no instance that a concealment of this nature has ever arisen from the abstruseness and intricacy of the motive. A man that has lost a friend and patron may flatter himself that all his grief arises from gen- erous sentiments, without any mixture of narrow or interested considerations : but a man that grieves for a valuable friend, who needed his patronage and pro- tection ; how can we suppose, that his passionate tenderness arises from some metaphysical regards to a self-interest, which has no foundation or reality? We may as well imagine that minute wheels and springs, like those of a watch, give motion to a loaded waggon, as account for the origin of passion from such abstruse reflections.

Animals are found susceptible of kindness, both to their own species and to ours; nor is there, in this case, the least suspicion of disguise or artifice. Shall we account for all their sentiments, too, from refined deductions of self-interest? Or if we admit a disinter- ested benevolence in the inferior species, by what rule of analogy can we refuse it in the superior?

Love between the sexes begets a complacency and good-will, very distinct from the gratification of an

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. i43

appetite. Tenderness to their offspring, in all sensible beings, is commonly able alone to counter-balance the strongest motives of self-love, and has no manner of dependance on that affection. What interest can a fond mother have in view, who loses her health by assiduous attendance on her sick child, and after- wards languishes and dies of grief, when freed, by its death, from the slavery of that attendance?

Is gratitude no affection of the human breast, or is that a word merely, without any meaning or reality? Have we no satisfaction in one man's company above another's, and no desire of the welfare of our friend, even though absence or death should prevent us from all participation in it? Or what is it commonly, that gives us any participation in it, even while alive and present, but our affection and regard to him?

These and a thousand other instances are marks of a general benevolence in human nature, where no real interest binds us to the object. And how an im- aginary interest known and avowed for such, can be the origin of any passion or emotion, seems difficult to explain. No satisfactory hypothesis of this kind has yet been discovered ; nor is there the smallest probability that the future industry of men will ever be attended with more favourable success.

But farther, if we consider rightly of the matter, we shall find that the hypothesis which allows of a disinterested benevolence, distinct from self-love, has really more simplicity in it, and is more conformable to the analogy of nature than that which pretends to resolve all friendship and humanity into this latter principle. There are bodily wants or appetites ac- knowledged by every one, which necessarily precede all sensual enjoyment, and carry us directly to seek

144 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

possession of the object. Thus, hunger and thirst have eating and drinking for theii end; and from the gratification of these primary appetites arises a pleas- ure, which may become the object c: i species of desire or inclination that is secondary and inter- 1 In the same manner there are mental passions by which we are impelled immediately to seek partic- ular objects, such as fame or power., or vengeance without any regard to interest; and when these ob- jects are attained a pleasing enjoyment ensues., as the consequence of our indulged affections. Nature must, by the internal frame and constitution of the mind, give an original propensity to fame, ere we can reap any pleasure from that acquisition, or pursue it from motives of self-love, and desire of happiness. If 1 have no vanity, I take no delight in praise : if I be void of ambition, power gives me nc lent : if I be not angry, the punishment of an adversary is to- tally indifferent to me. In ail these cases there is a passion which points immediately to the object, and constitutes i: r good or happiness: as there are other secondary passions which afterwards arise and pursue it as a part of ippiness, when once it is constituted s r orig 1 affections. Were there no appetite of any kin ; antecedent to self-love, that pr: :ould scarcely ever exert itself: be- cause we should, in that case, ha few and si der pains or pleasures, and or hap- piness to avoid or to pursue.

Now where is the difficulty in conceiving, that this may likewise be the _ h benevolence and friend-

p, and that, from the original frame of our temper, we : .a uesire -. : a happiness or good,

which, by means of that affection, becomes our own

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 145

good, and is afterwards pursued, from the combined motives of benevolence and self-enjoyments? Who sees not that vengeance, from the force alone of pas- sion, may be so eagerly pursued, as to make us know- ingly neglect every consideration of ease, interest, r safety ; and, like some vindictive animals, infuse our very souls into the wounds we give an enemy ; l and what a malignant philosophy must it be, that will not allow to humanity and friendship the same privileges which are undisputably granted to the darker passions of enmity and resentment ; such a philosophy is more like a satyr than a true delineation or description of human nature; and may be a good foundation for paradoxical wit and raillery, but is a very bad one for any serious argument or reasoning.

1 Animasque in vulnere ponunt. Virg. Dum alteri noceat, sui negligens says Seneca of Anger. De Ira, I. i.

/>

APPENDIX III.

SOME FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS WITH REGARD TO JUSTICE.

THE intention of this Appendix is to give some more particular explication of the origin and na- ture of Justice, and to mark some differences between it and the other virtues.

The social virtues of humanity and benevolence exert their influence immediately by a direct tendency or instinct, which chiefly keeps in view the simple object, moving the affections, and comprehends not any scheme or system, nor the consequences resulting from the concurrence, imitation, or example of others. A parent flies to the relief of his child; transported by that natural sympathy which actuates him, and which affords no leisure to reflect on the sentiments or conduct of the rest of mankind in like circum- stances. A generous man cheerfully embraces an op- portunity of serving his friend ; because he then feels himself under the dominion of the beneficent affec- tions, nor is he concerned whether any other person in the universe were ever before actuated by such noble motives, or will ever afterwards prove their in- fluence. In all these cases the social passions have in view a single individual object, and pursue the safety or happiness alone of the person loved and es- teemed. With this they are satisfied : in this they acquiesce. And as the good, resulting from their be-

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. i47

nign influence, is in itself complete and entire, it also excites the moral sentiment of approbation, without any reflection on farther consequences, and without any more enlarged views of the concurrence or imita- tion of the other members of society. On the con- trary, were the generous friend or disinterested patriot to stand alone in the practice of beneficence, this would rather inhance his value in our eyes, and join the praise of rarity and novelty to his other more ex- alted merits.

The case is not the same with the social virtues of justice and fidelity. They are highly useful, or indeed absolutely necessary to the well-being of mankind : but the benefit resulting from them is not the conse- quence of every individual single act; but arises from the whole scheme or system concurred in by the whole, or the greater part of the society. General peace and order are the attendants of justice or a gen- eral abstinence from the possessions of others ; but a particular regard to the particular right of one indi- vidual citizen may frequently, considered in itself, be productive of pernicious consequences. The result of the individual acts is here, in many instances, di- rectly opposite to that of the whole system of actions; and the former may be extremely hurtful, while the latter is, to the highest degree, advantageous. Riches, inherited from a parent, are, in a bad man's hand, the instrument of mischief. The right of succession may, in one instance, be hurtful. Its benefit arises only from the observance of the general rule; and it is sufficient, if compensation be thereby made for all the ills and inconveniences which flow from particu- lar characters and situations.

Cyrus, young and unexperienced, considered only

148 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

the individual case before him, and reflected on a lim- ited fitness and convenience, when he assigned the long coat to the tall boy, and the short coat to the other of smaller size. His governor instructed him better, while he pointed out more enlarged views and consequences, and informed his pupil of the general, inflexible rules, necessary to support general peace and order in society.

The happiness and prosperity of mankind, arising from the social virtue of benevolence and its subdivi- sions, may be compared to a wall, built by many hands, which still rises by each stone that is heaped upon it, and receives increase proportional to the dili- gence and care of each workman. The same happi- ness, raised by the social virtue of justice and its sub- divisions, may be compared to the building of a vault, where each individual stone would, of itself, fall to the ground ; nor is the whole fabric supported but by the mutual assistance and combination of its corres- ponding parts.

All the laws of nature, which regulate property, as well as all civil laws, are general, and regard alone some essential circumstances of the case, without taking into consideration the characters, situations, and connexions of the person concerned, or any par- ticular consequences which may result from the deter- mination of these laws in any particular case which offers. They deprive, without scruple, a beneficent man of all his possessions, if acquired by mistake, without a good title ; in order to bestow them on a selfish miser, who has already heaped up immense stores of superfluous riches. Public utility requires that property should be regulated by general inflex- ible rules ; and though such rules are adopted as best

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 149

serve the same end of public utility, it is impossible for them to prevent all particular hardships, or make beneficial consequences result from every individual case. It is sufficient, if the whole plan or scheme be necessary to the support of civil society, and if the balance of good, in the main, do thereby preponder- ate much above that of evil. Even the general laws of the universe, though planned by infinite wisdom, cannot exclude all evil or inconvenience in every par- ticular operation.

It has been asserted by some, that justice arises from Human Conventions, and proceeds from the voluntary choice, consent, or combination of man- kind. If by convention be here meant a promise (which is the most usual sense of the word) nothing can be more absurd than this position. The observance of promises is itself one of the most considerable parts of justice, and we are not surely bound to keep our word because we have given our word to keep it. But if by convention be meant a sense of common in- terest, which sense each man feels in his own breast, which he remarks in his fellows, and which carries him, in concurrence with others, into a general plan or system of actions, which tends to public utility ; it must be owned, that, in this sense, justice arises from human conventions. For if it be allowed (what is, indeed, evident) that the particular consequences of a particular act of justice may be hurtful to the public as well as to individuals; it follows that every man, in embracing that virtue, must have an eye to the whole plan or system, and must expect the concur- rence of his fellows in the same conduct and beha- viour. Did all his views terminate in the consequences of each act of his own, his benevolence and humanity,

1 50 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

as well as his self-love, might often prescribe to him measures of conduct very different from those which are agreeable to the strict rules of right and justice.

Thus, two men pull the oars of a boat by common convention for common interest, without any promise or contract : thus gold and silver are made the meas- ures of exchange; thus speech and words and lan- guage are fixed by human convention and agreement. Whatever is advantageous to two or more persons, if all perform their part ; but what loses all advantage if only one perform, can arise from no other principle There would otherwise be no motive for any one of them to enter into that scheme of conduct.1

The word natural is commonly taken in so many senses and is of so loose a signification, that it seems vain to dispute whether justice be natural or not. If self-love, if benevolence be natural to man ; if reason and forethought be also natural; then may the same epithet be applied to justice, order, fidelity, property, society. Men's inclination, their necessities, lead them to combine ; their understanding and experience tell them that this combination is impossible where each governs himself by no rule, and pays no regard

lThis theory concerning the origin of property, and consequently of jus tice, is, in the main, the same with that hinted at and adopted by Grotius, 'Hinc discimus, quae fuerit causa, ob quam a primaeva communione rerum primo mobilium, deinde et immobilium discessum est: nimirum quod cum non contenti homines vesci sponte natis, antra habitare, corpore aut nudo agere, aut corticibus arborum ferarumve pellibus vestito, vitae genus exqui- sitius delegissent, industria opus fuit, quam singuli rebus singulis adhiberenti Quo minus autem fructus in commune conferrentur, primurn obstitit loco, rum, in quae homines discesserunt, distantia, deinde justitiae et amoris de- lectus, per quern fiebat, ut nee in labore, nee in consumtione fructuum, quae debebat, aequalitas servaretur. Simul discimus, quomodo res in proprieta- temiverint; non animi actu solo, neque enim scire alii poterant, quid alii suum esse vellent, ut eo abstinerent, et idem velle plures poterant ; sed pacto quodam aut expresso, ut per divisionem, aut tacito, ut per occupationem.' Dej'ure belli et pacts. Lib. ii. cap. 2. 8 2. art. 4 and 5.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 151

to the possessions of others : and from these passions and reflections conjoined, as soon as we observe like passions and reflections in others, the sentiment of justice, throughout all ages, has infallibly and cer- tainly had place to some degree or other in every in- dividual of the human species. In so sagacious an animal, what necessarily arises from the exertion of his intellectual faculties may justly be esteemed nat- ural.1

Among all civilized nations it has been the con- stant endeavour to remove everything arbitrary and partial from the decision of property, and to fix the sentence of judges by such general views and consid- erations as may be equal to every member of society. For besides, that nothing could be more dangerous than to accustom the bench, even in the smallest in- stance, to regard private friendship or enmity ; it is certain, that men, where they imagine that there was no other reason for the preference of their adversary but personal favour, are apt to entertain the strongest ill-will against the magistrates and judges. When natural reason, therefore, points out no fixed view of public utility by which a controversy of property can be decided, positive laws are often framed to supply its place, and direct the procedure of all courts of judicature. Where these too fail, as often happens, precedents are called for; and a former decision,

1 Natural may be opposed, either to what is unusual, miraculous or arti- ficial. In the two former senses, justice and property are undoubtedly nat- ural. But as they suppose reason, forethought, design, and a social union and confederacy among men, perhaps that epithet cannot strictly, in the last sense, be applied to them. Had men lived without society, property had never been known, and neither justice nor injustice had ever existed. But society among human creatures had been impossible without reason and forethought. Inferior animals, that unite, are guided by instinct, which sup- plies the place of reason. But all these disputes are merely verbal.

152 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

though given itself without any sufficient reason, justly becomes a sufficient reason for a new decision. If direct laws and precedents be wanting, imperfect and indirect ones are brought in aid ; and the contro- verted case is ranged under them by analogical rea- sonings and comparisons, and similitudes, and corres- pondencies, which are often more fanciful than real. In general, it may safely be affirmed that jurispru- dence is, in this respect, different from all the sci- ences ; and that in many of its nicer questions, there cannot properly be said to be truth or falsehood on either side. If one pleader bring the case under any former law or precedent, by a refined analogy or com- parison ; the opposite pleader is not at a loss to find an opposite analogy or comparison : and the prefer- ence given by the judge is often founded more on taste and imagination than on any solid argument. Public utility is the general object of all courts of judicature; and this utility too requires a stable rule in all controversies : but where several rules, nearly equal and indifferent, present themselves, it is a very slight turn of thought which fixes the decision in favour of either party.1

iThat there be a separation or distinction of possessions, and that this separation be steady and constant; this is absolutely required by the inter- ests of society, and hence the origin of justice and property. What posses- sions are assigned to particular persons; this is, generally speaking, pretty indifferent; and is often determined by very frivolous views and considera- tions. We shall mention a few particulars.

Were a society formed among several independent members, the most obvious rule, which conld be agreed on, would be to annex property to pres- ent possession, and leave every one a right to what he at present enjoys. The relation of possession, which takes place between the person and the object, naturally draws on the relation of property.

For a like reason, occupation or first possession becomes the foundation of property.

Where a man bestows labour and industry upon any object, which before belonged to no body; as in cutting down and shaping a tree, in cultivating a field, &c, the alterations, which he produces, causes a relation between him

THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS. 153

We may just observe, before we conclude this subject, that after the laws of justice are fixed by views of general utility, the injury, the hardship, the harm, which result to any individual from a violation

and the object, and naturally engages us to annex it to him by the new rela- tion of property. This cause here concurs with the public utility, which con- sists in the encouragement given to industry and labour.

Perhaps too, private humanity towards the possessor concurs, in this in- stance, with the other motives, and engages us to leave with him what he has acquired by his sweat and labour; and what he has flattered himself in the constant enjoyment of. For though private humanity can, by no means, be the origin of justice; since the latter virtue so often contradicts the former; yet when the rule of separate and constant possession is once formed by the indispensable necessities of society, private humanity, and an aversion to the doing a hardship to another, may, in a particular instance, give rise to a particular rule of property.

I am much inclined to think, that the right succession or inheritance much depends on those connexions of the imagination, and that the relation to a former proprietor begetting a relation to the object, is the cause why the property is transferred to a man after the death of his kinsman. It is true; industry is more encouraged by the transference of possession to children or near relations: but this consideration will only have place in a cultivated society ; whereas the right of succession is regarded even among the greatest Barbarians.

Acquisition of property by accession can be explained no way but by hav- ing recourse to the relations and connexions of the imaginations.

The property of rivers, by the laws of most nations, and by the natural turn of our thoughts, is attributed to the proprietors of their banks, except- ing such vast rivers as the Rhine or the Danube, which seem too large to fol- low as an accession to the property of the neighbouring fields. Yet even these rivers are considered as the property of that nation, through whose dominions they run; the idea of a nation being of a suitable bulk to corres- pond with them, and bear them such a relation in the fancy.

The accessions, which are made co land, bordering upon rivers, follow the land, say the civilians, provided it be made by what they call alluvion, that is, insensibly and imperceptibly; which are circumstances, that assist the imagination in the conjunction.

Where there is any considerable portion torn at once from one bank and added to another, it becomes not his property, whose land it falls on, till it unite with the land, and till the trees and plants have spread their roots into both. Before that, the thought does not sufficiently join them.

In short, we must ever distinguish between the necessity of a separation and constancy in men's possession, and the rules, which assign particular objects to particular persons. The first necessity is obvious, strong, and in- vincible : the latter may depend on a public utility more light and frivolous, on the sentiment of private humanity and aversion to private hardship, on positive laws, on precedents, analogies, and very fine connexions and turns of the imagination.

i54 THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.

of them, enter very much into consideration, and are a great source of that universal blame which attends every wrong or iniquity. By the laws of society, this coat, this horse is mine, and ought to remain perpetu- ally in my possession : I reckon on the secure enjoy- ment of it : by depriving me of it, you disappoint my expectations, and doubly displease me, and offend every bystander. It is a public wrong, so far as the rules of equity are violated : it is a private harm, so far as an individual is injured. And though the sec- ond consideration could have no place, were not the former previously established : for otherwise the dis- tinction of mine and thine would be unknown in so- ciety : yet there is no question but the regard to general good is much enforced by the respect to par- ticular. What injures the community, without hurt- ing any individual, is often more lightly thought of. But where the greatest public wrong is also conjoined with a considerable private one, no wonder the high- est disapprobation attends so iniquitous a behaviour.

APPENDIX IV.

OF SOME VERBAL DISPUTES.

NOTHING is more usual than for philosophers to encroach upon the province of grammarians ; and to engage in disputes of words, while they im- agine that they are handling controversies of the deep- est importance and concern. It was in order to avoid altercations, so frivolous and endless, that I endeav- oured to state with the utmost caution the object of our present enquiry; and proposed simply to collect, on the one hand, a list of those mental qualities which are the object of love or esteem, and form a part of personal merit; and on the other hand, a catalogue of those qualities which are the object of censure or reproach, and which detract from the character of the person possessed of them ; subjoining some reflections concerning the origin of these sentiments of praise or blame. On all occasions, where there might arise the least hesitation, I avoided the terms virtue and vice\ because some of those qualities, which I classed among the objects of praise, receive, in the English language, the appellation of talents, rather than of virtues; as some of the blameable or censurable qual- ities are often called defects, rather than vices. It may now, perhaps, be expected that before we conclude this moral enquiry, we should exactly separate the one from the other; should mark the precise boundaries of virtues and talents, vices and defects ; and should

1 56 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

explain the reason and origin of that distinction. But in order to excuse myself from this undertaking, which would, at last, prove only a grammatical enquiry, I shall subjoin the four following reflections, which shall contain all that I intend to say on the present subject. First, I do not find that in the English, or any other modern tongue, the boundaries are exactly fixed between virtues and talents, vices and defects, or that a precise definition can be given of the one as contra- distinguished from the other. Were we to say, for instance, that the esteemable qualities alone, which are voluntary, are entitled to the appellations of vir- tues ; we should soon recollect the qualities of cour- age, equanimity, patience, self-command; with many others, which almost every language classes under this appellation, though they depend little or not at all on our choice. Should we affirm that the qualities alone, which prompt us to act our part in society, are entitled to that honourable distinction ; it must imme- diately occur that these are indeed the most valuable qualities, and are commonly denominated the socio-* virtues ; but that this very epithet supposes that there are also virtues of another species. Should we lay hold of the distinction between intellectual and mora* endowments, and affirm the last alone to be the real and genuine virtues, because they alone lead to action; we should find that many of those qualities, usually called intellectual virtues, such as prudence, penetra- tion, discernment, discretion, had also a considerable influence on conduct. The distinction between the heart and the head may also be adopted : the qualities of the first may be defined such as in their immediate exertion are accompanied with a feeling of sentiment; and these alone may be called the genuine virtues :

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 157

but industry, frugality, temperance, secrecy, perseve- rance, and many other laudable powers or habits, generally stiled virtues are exerted without any imme- diate sentiment in the person possessed of them, and are only known to him by their effects. It is fortu- nate, amidst all this seeming perplexity, that the question, being merely verbal, cannot possibly be of any importance. A moral, philosophical discourse needs not enter into all these caprices of language, which are so variable in different dialects, and in dif- ferent ages of the same dialect. But on the whole, it seems to me, that though it is always allowed, that there are virtues of many different kinds, yet, when a man is called virtuous, or is denominated a man of virtue, we chiefly regard his social qualities, which are, indeed, the most valuable. It is, at the same time, certain, that any remarkable defect in courage, temperance, economy, industry, understanding, dig- nity of mind, would bereave even a very good-natured, honest man of this honourable appellation. Who did ever say, except by way of irony, that such a one was a man of great virtue, but an egregious blockhead?

But, secondly, it is no wonder that languages should not be very precise in marking the boundaries be- tween virtues and talents, vices and defects; since there is so little distinction made in our internal esti- mation of them. It seems indeed certain, that the sentiment of conscious worth, the self-satisfaction pro- ceeding from a review of a man's own conduct and character; it seems certain, I say, that this sentiment, which, though the most common of all others, has no proper name in our language,1 arises from the endow-

1 The term, pride, is commonly taken in a bad sense ; but this sentiment seems indifferent, and may be either good or bad, according as it is well or

1 58 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

ments of courage and capacity, industry and ingenu- ity, as well as from any other mental excellencies. Who, on the other hand, is not deeply mortified with reflecting on his own folly and dissoluteness, and feels not a secret sting or compunction whenever his mem- ory presents any past occurrence, where he behaved with stupidity of ill-manners? No time can efface the cruel ideas of a man's own foolish conduct, or of af- fronts, which cowardice or impudence has brought upon him. They still haunt his solitary hours, damp his most aspiring thoughts, and show him, even to himself, in the most contemptible and most odious colours imaginable.

What is there too we are more anxious to conceal from others than such blunders, infirmities, and mean nesses, or more dread to have exposed by raillery and satire? And is not the chief object of vanity, our bra- very or learning, our wit or breeding, our eloquence or address, our taste or abilities? These we display with care, if not with ostentation ; and we commonly show more ambition of excelling in them, than even in the social virtues themselves, which are, in reality, of such superior excellence. Good-nature and hon- esty, especially the latter, are so indispensably re- quired, that, though the greatest censure attends any violation of these duties, no eminent praise follows such common instances of them, as seem essential to the support of human society. And hence the reason, in my opinion, why, though men often extol so lib- erally the qualities of their heart, they are shy in com- mending the endowments of their head : because the

ill founded, and according to the other circumstances which accompany it* The French express this sentiment by the term, amour propre, but as they also express self-love as well as vanity by the same term, there arises thence a great confusion in Rochefoucault, and many of their moral writers.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 159

latter virtues, being supposed more rare and extra- ordinary, are observed to be the more usual objects of pride and self-conceit ; and when boasted of, beget a strong suspicion of these sentiments.

It is hard to tell, whether you hurt a man's char- acter most by calling him a knave or a coward, and whether a beastly glutton or drunkard be not as odi- ous and contemptible, as a selfish, ungenerous miser. Give me my choice, and I would rather, for my own happiness and self-enjoyment, have a friendly, hu- mane heart, than possess all the other virtues of De- mosthenes and Philip united : but I would rather pass with the world for one endowed with extensive genius and intrepid courage, and should thence expect stronger instances of general applause and admira- tion. The figure which a man makes in life, the re- ception which he meets with in company, the esteem paid him by his acquaintance; all these advantages depend as much upon his good sense and judgement, as upon any other part of his character. Had a man the best intentions in the world, and were the farthest removed from all injustice and violence, he would never be able to make himself be much regarded, without a moderate share, at least, of parts and un- derstanding.

What is it then we can here dispute about? If sense and courage, temperance and industry, wisdom and knowledge confessedly form a considerable part of personal merit: if a man, possessed of these quali- ties, is both better satisfied with himself, and better entitled to the good-will, esteem, and services of oth- ers, than one entirely destitute of them ; if, in short, the sentiments are similar which arise from these en- dowments and from the social virtues ; is there an)'

160 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING

reason for being so extremely scrupulous about a word, or disputing whether they be entitled to the denomination of virtues? It may, indeed, be pre- tended, that the sentiment of approbation, which those accomplishments produce, besides its being in- ferior, is also somewhat different from that which at- tends the virtues of justice and humanity. But this seems not a sufficient reason for ranking them entirely under different classes and appellations. The charac- ter of Caesar and that of Cato, as drawn by Sallust, are both of them virtuous, in the strictest and most limited sense of the word ; but in a different way: nor are the sentiments entirely the same which arise from them. The one produces love, the other esteem : the one is amiable, the other awful : we should wish to meet the one character in a friend ; the other we should be ambitious of in ourselves. In like manner the approbation, which attends temperance or indus- try or frugality, may be somewhat different from that which is paid to the social virtues, without making them entirely of a different species. And, indeed, we may observe, that these endowments, more than the other virtues, produce not, all of them, the same kind of approbation. Good sense and genius beget esteem and regard: wit and humour excite love and affection.1

1 Love and esteem are nearly the same passion, and arise from similar causes. The qualities, which produce both, are such as communicate pleas- ure. But where this pleasure is severe and serious; or where its object is great, and makes a strong impression, or where it produces any degree of humility and awe: in all these cases, the passion, which arises from the pleasure, is more properly denominated esteem than love. Benevolence at- tends both: but is connected with love in a more eminent degree. There seems to be still a stronger mixture of pride in contempt than of humility in esteem; and the reason would not be difficult to one, who studied accurately the passions. All these various mixtures and compositions and appearances of sentiment form a very curious subject of speculation, but are wide of our present purpose. Throughout this enquiry, we always consider in general, what qualities are a subject of praise or of censure, without entering into all

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 161

Most people, I believe, will naturally, without premeditation, assent to the definition of the elegant and judicious poet:

Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool) Is sense and spirit with humanity.1

What pretensions has a man to our generous as- sistance or good offices, who has dissipated his wealth in profuse expenses, idle vanities, chimerical projects, dissolute pleasures or extravagant gaming? These vices (for we scruple not to call them such) bring misery unpitied, and contempt on every one addicted to them.

Achaeus, a wise and prudent prince, fell into a fatal snare, which cost him his crown and life, after having used every reasonable precaution to guard himself against it. On that account, says the histo- rian, he is a just object of regard and compassion : his betrayers alone of hatred and contempt.2

The precipitate flight and improvident negligence of Pompey, at the beginning of the civil wars, ap- peared such notorious blunders to Cicero, as quite palled his friendship towards that great man. In the same manner, says he, as want of cleanliness, dece?icy, or discretio?i in a mistress are found to alienate our ajfec- tions. For so he expresses himself, where he talks, not in the character of a philosopher, but in that of a statesman and man of the world, to his friend Atti- cus.3

the minute differences of sentiment, which they excite. It is evident, that whatever is contemned, is also disliked, as well as what is hated ; and we here endeavour to take objects, according to their most simple views and ap- pearances. These sciences are but too apt to appear abstract to common readers, even with all the precautions which we can take to clear them from superfluous speculations, and bring them down to every capacity. 1 The Art of preserving Health. Book 4. SPolybius, lib. iii. cap. 2. 3Lib. ix. epist. 10.

162 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

But the same Cicero, in imitation of all the ancient moralists, when he reasons as a philosopher, enlarges very much his ideas of virtue, and comprehends every laudable quality or endowment of the mind, under that honourable appellation. This leads to the third reflection, which we proposed to make, to wit, that the ancient moralists, the best models, made no ma- terial distinction among the different species of men- tal endowments and defects, but treated all alike un- der the appellation of virtues and vices, and made them indiscriminately the object of their moral rea- sonings. The prudence explained in Cicero's Offices,1 is that sagacity, which leads to the discovery of truth, and preserves us from error and mistake. Magnanim- ity, temperance, decency, are there also at large dis- coursed of. And as that eloquent moralist followed the common received division of the four cardinal virtues, our social duties form but one head, in the general distribution of his subject.2

ILib. i. cap. 6.

2The following passage of Cicero is worth quoting, as being the most clear and express to our purpose, that any thing can be imagined, and, in a dispute, which is chiefly verbal, must, on account of the author, carry an authority, from which there can be no appeal.

•Virtus autem, quae est per se ipsa laudabilis, et sine qua nihil laudari potest, tamen habet plures partes, quarum alia est alia ad laudationem aptior. Sunt enim aliae virtutes, quae videntur in moribus hominum, et quadam comitate ac beneficentia positae : aliae quae in ingenii aliqua facul- tate, aut animi magnitudine ac robore. Nam dementia, justitia, benignitas, tides, fortitudo in periculis communibus, jucunda est auditu in laudationibus. Omnes enim hae virtutes non tarn ipsis, qui eas in se habent, quam generi hominum fructuosae putantur. Sapientia et magnitudo animi, qua omnes res humanae tenues et pro nihilo putantur, et in cogitando vis quaedam in- genii, et ipsa eloquentia admirationis habet non minus, jucunditatis minus- Ipsos enim magis videntur, quos laudamus, quam illos, apud quos laudamus ornare ac tueri : sed tamen in laudenda jungenda sunt etiam haec genera vir- tutum. Ferunt enim aures hominum, cum ilia quae jucunda et grata, turn etiam ilia, quae mirabilia sunt in virtute, laudari.' De orat. lib. ii. cap. 84.

I suppose, if Cicero were now alive, it would be found difficult to fetter his moral sentiments by narrow systems ; or persuade him, that no qualities

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 163

We need only peruse the titles of chapters in Aris- totle's Ethics to be convinced that he ranks courage, temperance, magnificence, magnanimity, modesty, prudence, and a manly openness, among the virtues, as well as justice and friendship.

To sustain and to abstain, that is, to be patient and continent, appeared to some of the ancients a sum- mary comprehension of all morals.

Epictetus has scarcely ever mentioned the senti- ment of humanity and compassion, but in order to put his disciples on their guard against it. The virtue of the Stoics seems to consist chiefly in a firm temper and a sound understanding. With them, as with Sol- omon and the eastern moralists, folly and wisdom are equivalent to vice and virtue.

Men will praise thee, says David,1 when thou dost well unto thyself. I hate a wise man, says the Greek poet, who is not wise to himself.2

Plutarch is no more cramped by systems in his philosophy than in his history. Where he compares the great men of Greece and Rome, he fairly sets in opposition all their blemishes and accomplishments of whatever kind, and omits nothing considerable, which can either depress or exalt their characters. His moral discourses contain the same free and natu- ral censure of men and manners.

The character of Hannibal, as drawn by Livy,3 is esteemed partial, but allows him many eminent vir- tues. Never was there a genius, says the historian, more equally fitted for those opposite offices of corn- were to be admitted as virtues, or acknowledged to be a part of personal merit, but whatwere recommended by The Whole Duty 0/ Man.

1 Psalm 49th.

2 Mitroj <ro^n.<Tr\v octtk: ov/c avru> ao<f>6s. Euripides

3 Lib. xxi. cap. 4

i64 AN ENQ UIR Y CONCERNING

manding and obeying; and it were, therefore, difficult to determine whether he rendered himself dearer to the general or to the army. To none would Hasdru- bal entrust more willingly the conduct of any danger- ous enterprize ; under none did the soldiers discover more courage and confidence. Great boldness in fa- cing danger ; great prudence in the midst of it. No labour could fatigue his body or subdue his mind. Cold and heat were indifferent to him : meat and drink he sought as supplies to the necessities of na- ture, not as gratifications of his voluptuous appetites. Waking or rest he used indiscriminately, by night or by day. — These great Virtues were balanced by great Vices; inhuman cruelty; perfidy more than punic ; no truth, no faith, no regard to oaths, promises, or re- ligion.

The character of Alexander the Sixth, to be found in Guicciardin,1 is pretty similar, but juster; and is a proof that even the moderns, where they speak natu- rally, hold the same language with the ancients. In this pope, says he, there was a singular capacity and judgement : admirable prudence ; a wonderful talent of persuasion; and in all momentous enterprizes a diligence and dexterity incredible. But these virtues were infinitely overbalanced by his vices \ no faith, no religion, insatiable avarice, exorbitant ambition, and a more than barbarous cruelty.

Polybius,2 reprehending Timaeus for his partiality against Agathocles, whom he himself allows to be the most cruel and impious of all tyrants, says : if he took refuge in Syracuse, as asserted by that historian, fly- ing the dirt and smoke and toil of his former profes- sion of a potter ; and if proceeding from such slender

ILib. i. 2 Lib. xii.

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. i65

beginnings, he became master, in a little time, of all Sicily; brought the Carthaginian state into the utmost danger; and at last died in old age, and in possession of sovereign dignity : must he not be allowed some- thing prodigious and extraordinary, and to have pos- sessed great talents and capacity for business and action? His historian, therefore, ought not to have alone related what tended to his reproach and infamy; but also what might redound to his Praise and Hon- our.

In general, we may observe, that the distinction of voluntary or involuntary was little regarded by the ancients in their moral reasonings; where they fre- quently treated the question as very doubtful, whether virtue could be taught or not?1 They justly considered that cowardice, meanness, levity, anxiety, impatience, folly, and many other qualities of the mind, might appear ridiculous and deformed, contemptible and odious, though independent of the will. Nor could it be supposed, at all times, in every man's power to attain every kind of mental more than of exterior beauty.

And here there occurs the fourth reflection which I purposed to make, in suggesting the reason why modern philosophers have often followed a course in their moral enquiries so different from that of the an- cients. In later times, philosophy of all kinds, espe- cially ethics, have been more closely united with the- ology than ever they were observed to be among the heathens; and as this latter science admits of no terms of composition, but bends every branch of

1 Vid. Plato in Menone, Seneca de otto sap. cap. 31. So also Horace, I'ir- tutem doctrina paret, naturane donet. Epist. lib. i. ep. 18. iEschines Socrat- icus, Dial. 1.

1 66 THE PRIXCIPLES OF MORALS.

knowledge to its own purpose, without much regard to the phenomena of nature, or to the unbiassed sen- timents of the mind, hence reasoning, and even lan- guage, have been warped from their natural course, and distinctions have been endeavoured to be estab- lished where the difference of the objects was, in a manner, imperceptible. Philosophers, or rather di- vines under that disguise, treating all morals as on a like footing with civil laws, guarded by the sanctions of reward and punishment, were necessarily led to render this circumstance, of voluntary or involuntary, the foundation of their whole theory. Every one may employ terms in what sense he pleases : but this, in the mean time, must be allowed, that sentiments are every day experienced of blame and praise, which have objects beyond the dominion of the will or choice, and of which it behoves us, if not as moral- ists, as speculative philosophers at least, to give some satisfactory theory and explication.

A blemish, a fault, a vice, a crime; these expres- sions seem to denote different degrees of censure and disapprobation ; which are, however, all of them, at the bottom, pretty nearly all the same kind of species. The explication of one will easily lead us into a just conception of the others; and it is of greater conse- quence to attend to things than to verbal appella- tions. That we owe a duty to ourselves is confessed even in the most vulgar system of morals; and it must be of consequence to examine that duty, in order to see whether it bears any affinity to that which we owe to society. It is probable that the approbation attending the observance of both is of a similar na- ture, and arises from similar principles, whatever ap- pellation we may give to either of these excellencies.

INDEX,

Agreeable qualities, 86 et seq., 98 et

seq. Alcibiades, 62. Alexander the Great, 88. Alexander the Sixth, 164. Analogy, 29 et seq. Animals, 23.

Approbation, moral, 106 et seq. Aristotle, 163. Associations of ideas, 42. Augustus, 97.

Beauty, 5.

Benevolence, 8 et seq., 94, 157, 140.

Breeding, forms of, 98 et seq.

Caesar, 77, 87, 160.

Cato, 160.

Charles the Twelfth, 95.

Chastity, 41, 74.

Cicero, 9, 12, 22, 133, 161, 162.

Clarke, 30.

Cleanthes, 107.

Companionable virtues, 120.

Conde, 88.

Contract, 35.

Crime, 127 et seq.

Cromwell, 71.

Cudworth, 30.

Customs, religious, 32.

Cynics, 78.

Cyrus, 147.

David, 163. Decency, 104. Defects, 155.

Demosthenes, 51,90, 159. Dc Ret/;. 71.

Dicaearchus, 75. Duty, 4 et seq.

Elysian Fields, 94.

Epaminondas, 81.

Epictetus, 95, 163.

Epicureans, 12.

Epicurus, 138.

Equality, political, 27.

Eschines, 51.

Esteem, 16b.

Ethics, foundation of, 7; theolog;

and, 165. Euclid, 132.

Fabius, 72.

Fame, desire for, 103, 114. Fanatics, 26. Federations of states, 40. Fenelon, 92. Fontenelle, 141. Fool, the epithet, 75. Frugality, 73.

Golden Age, 21. Good manners, 98 et seq. Grotius, 150. Guicciardin, 58, 164.

Hannibal, 163.

Harry the Fourth, 95.

Heart and head, distinction betweeD,

156. Herodotus, 91. Hobbes, 22, 138. Homer, 81, 92. Horace, 54, 57, 115.

i68

INDEX.

Humanity, sentiment of, 112. Human nature. 8.

Incest, 42. Inheritance, 35. Interest, 143. Inventions, human, 149. Iphicrates, 102.

Jesuits, 34.

Jurisprudence, 152.

Justice, 15 et seq., 146 et seq.

Language, general, 64.

Laws, of society, 19 et seq.: social,

43- Livy, 163. Locke, 138. Love, 160.

Malebranche, 30.

Manicheans, 62.

Matters of fact, 137.

Meanness, 90,

Medea, 89.

Memory, 77.

Modesty, 100.

Montesquieu, 30.

Moral distinctions, 1 et seq., 70, 109;

source of, 52 et seq. Moral sentiment, 125 et seq. Morals, the general principles of, 1

et seq.

Nations, laws of, 39.

Natural, the word, 150.

Nature, state of, 22; laws of, 28, 148.

Nero, 62, 131.

Newton, 38.

Odyssey, the, 88. Orange, Prince of, 102. Ovid, 57. Ownership, 151.

Paladio, 133.

Pericles, 8.

Peripatetics, 68 et seq.

Perrault, 133.

Personal merit, 6, 106, 159.

Philip, 91, 159.

Phocion, 8g.

Plato, 22, 41, 73.

Pleasing qualities, 51.

Plutarch, 41, 163.

Poetry, 96.

Poetry, pastoral, 57.

Politeness, 98 et seq.

Political society, 15 et seq.

Polybius, 49, 164.

Pompey, 81, 161.

Power and riches, 84.

Prisoners of war, 83.

Propensity to the good, in man, 61.

Property, 16 et seq., 31, 151.

Qualities, amiable, 8 et seq.; useful to ourselves, 68 et seq.; immediately agreeable to ourselves, 86 et seq.; immediately agreeable to others, 98 et seq.

Quintilian, 59.

Reason, in moral determinations, 5 et seq.; in moral approbation, 125 et seq.; office of, 135.

Relations, 137.

Riches and power, 84.

Right, 16 et seq.; images of, 2 et seq.

Rochefoucault, 158.

Sallust, 160.

Sanazarius, 57.

Scipio, 72.

Scythians, the, 91.

Self-love, 53, 69, 79, no, 121, 137 et seq.

Seneca, 145.

Sentiment, 4; in moral determina- tions, 5 et seq.; in moral approba- tion, 125 et seq.

Sentiments, 156 et seq.

Shaftesbury, 3.

Social organizations, rules of, 44.

Social virtues, 9, 65 et seq., 147, 156.

Society, foundations of, 36; political, 39 et seq.

Socrates, 93.

Solon, 114.

St. Evremond, 88.

Stoics, 78.

Suetonius, 58.

IXDEX.

i6g

Suevi, the, 91. Superstitions, vulgar, 31. Swift, 71. Symmetry, 81.

Tacitus, 58, 8g.

Talents, 155.

Taste, 3 ; office of, 135.

Thucydides, 58.

Timaeus, 164.

Timon, 61.

Tree known by its fruit, 63.

Truth, 3.

Turenne, 72.

Tyrannicide, 12,

Useful qualities, n et seq.

Utility, 20 et seq.; 29 et seq., 39; as a criterion of ethics, n et seq.; why it pleases, 46 et seq.

Verbal disputes, 155. Vice, 129, 155. Virgil, 80.

Virtue, z, 129, 155; social, 47 et seq.; 147, 156.

Wit, 99.

Women, 24.

Wrong, images of, 2 et seq,

Xenophon, 80.

Zoroaster, 12.

PONTIFIC/

59 QUEEN'S

N

inos

■

M

iMi'iS

w