I^l-l 
 
 1 
 
 L I B R A- K Y 
 
 o>' TIIK 
 
 ' Theological Seminary 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 (^•^^^.g w> ^•"^^^ Division \ 
 
 sudf 3'3l3L ...p.?..*.... 
 
 Book \'n, ... . 
 
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 /^^^^^j*^^ 
 
 
A 
 
 REV IE vW 
 
 OF THE PRINCIPAL 
 
 QUESTIONS and DIFFICULTIES 
 
 I N 
 
 MORALS. 
 
 PARTICULARLY 
 
 Thofe relating to the Original of our Ideas 
 of Virtue, its Nature, Foundation^ 
 Reference to the DEITY, Obligation, 
 Subject-matter, and Sanctions. 
 
 The Second Edi/tion, Correiled. 
 
 By RICHARD PRICE, F.R.S. 
 
 Ou yap iyu eyayi afiv ma [xoi <ivccpyi( or, 6'f tsJ" > to 
 FINAI <J? o/oc T£ //?A TA KAAON t« neti AFAOON. 
 
 Plat, in Phccdone. 
 
 In Homine autem fumma omnis animi eft ; in animo, rationis ; ex qua 
 VIRTUS f,*?; ^e rationis abjolulio dcftnitur. ^a tXMVcn. atque 
 etiam explicanda putant. 
 
 Cicero, Dejinibusy lib. v. 14. 
 
 Virtus omnium rerum domina. Ibid. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for T.Cadell (Successor to 
 
 Mr. Millar) in the Strand. 
 
 MD.CC.LXIX. 
 
Tublified by the fame Author y 
 
 Printed for T. Cad ell (Succeiror to Mr. Millar) 
 in the Strand, 
 
 The Second Edition, with Additions, 
 
 FOUR DISSERTATIONS. I. On Provi- 
 dence. II. On Prayer. III. On the Reasons 
 tor expeding that virtuous Men fhall meet after 
 Death in a State of Happinefs. IV. On the Impor- 
 tance of Christianity, the Nature of HiSTORiCTAL 
 Evidence, and Miracles. 
 
 -■■■■ ^Ai^ 
 
 
[ iil ] 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 T Am very fenfible^ that the following work 
 offers it/elf to the publick under many difad- 
 vantageSy and at a time when it is not to be eX" 
 peBed that it can gain much attention. So impor^ 
 tanty however, are the quefiiom dijcuJJ'ed in it, that 
 if, amidjl many imperfections , it has any merits U 
 cannot be unfeafonable, but will probably find fome^ 
 who will give it a candid and careful perufaL 
 j; 'The notes which will be found in it^ were occafioned 
 - - chiefly by its having lain by the Author for fome 
 '^ years, and received in that time fever al revijals,^^ 
 'There is no 'Writer to whom I have Jo much rea* 
 fon to acknowledge myfelf indebted, as Dr. Butler, 
 the late Bijhop of Durham. But whenever 1 
 have been confcious of writing after him, I have aU 
 jnojl always either mentioned him, or quoted his 
 words J and the Jame I have alfo fcrupuloufy done 
 , with refpeB to other writers. 
 
 ^here is nothing in this Treatlfe, to which I 
 wifh more I could engage the Reader s attention, or 
 which, I think, will require it more, than the firft 
 Chapter, and particularly the fecond SeCiion of it. 
 If I have failed here, I have failed in my chief de^ 
 
 A 2 fgn. 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 fign. But IjJdoiiU be firry that any one JloouUfix 
 this as his jiidgmenty without going through the 
 ivhole treatijey and comparing the different parts 
 of ity which will be found to have a confderable 
 dependence on one another. The point which I have 
 endeavoured to prove in the laft JeBim ^ the 
 chapter I have mentioned^ muft appear fo plain to 
 thofe who have not Jiudied the quefion about 
 the foundation of Morals^ or who have not before 
 viewed it in the light in which I have placed it^ 
 that^ I fear y it will be difficult for them not to 
 think that I have trifled in bejiowing fo much pains 
 upon it. And indeed my own cmiviciion is fo 
 
 frong on this pointy that I cannot help confulering 
 it as fime reproach to human reafon, that, by the 
 late controverfieSy and the doubts of fime cf the 
 wifejl men^ it fiould be rendered neceffary to tife 
 many arguments to fijew, that right and wtong, 
 or moral good a?jd evil, fgnify fimewbat really 
 true of adlionsj and not merely fenfations. 
 
 PREFACE 
 
[ V ] 
 
 PREFACE to the Second Edition. 
 
 nr'HE following work is in no refpeSi materially 
 different from what it was in the former edi- 
 tion. Some pains have been taken to correal the 
 compofition in many places j and in this refpeBy 
 tho f nil in great need of the candour of the Reader y 
 it may perhaps be a little improved. A few notes 
 alfo have been omitted^ and a few new ones added .^ 
 particularly thofe in pag. 40, 54, Zi^ 440, 
 
 In note p. 54. there is a reference to a Dis- 
 sertation on the Being and Attributes of 
 God at the end of this work^ which the Reader 
 will not find there. 'This differ tation 1 have long 
 had by me^ and always intejtded topublifh as afup- 
 plement to this work. But upon revifng it with 
 this vieWy after the note I have mentioned was 
 printed^ I was led to think that it contained a 
 thread of argument which y thd in my opinion im- 
 portant ^ fo few would enter into or approve ^ that 
 it would only fwell this work too much without re- 
 commending it. This has engaged me to drop my 
 intention^ and to refolve to keep this differtation 
 for the prefent, and perhaps for ever, in obfcurity. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
<i IZa 
 
 
 
 is.-' 
 
 Arfi 
 
 
 
 
 
 oil"- , 
 
 
 ©^. : 
 
 
 ii *J 
 
 
[ vii ] 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction. Page i 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Sect. I. The ^ejlionjlated concerning the Fount 
 dation of Morals. p. 7 
 
 Sect. II. Of the Original of our Ideas in ge- 
 neral. p. 16 
 
 Sect. III. Of the Original of our Ideas of Right 
 and Wrong in particular, P* 57 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of our Ideas of the Beauty and Deformity of 
 A5iions. p. 87 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the Origin of our Dejires and AffeBiom, 
 
 p. no 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of our Ideas of good and ill Defert, p. 1 28 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Of the Reference of Morality to the Divine Na- 
 
 . turcy the ReBitude of our Faculties j and the 
 
 Grounds of Belief p. 149 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 OfFitnefs, and moral Obligation y and the various 
 Forms of ExpreJJion^ which have been ufed by 
 different Writers in explaining Morality, p. 1 7 1 
 
 CHAP. 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Of the SuhjeB-matter cf Virtue^ or ifs principal 
 Heads and Divifons, Page 2 i 8 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Of the Nature and Ejfentiah of Virtue in Prac- 
 tice, as diflinguifiedfrom ablblute Virtue ; and 
 particularly of the Intention accompanying the 
 Fradlice of Virtue^ or the Principle of ABion 
 in,a virtuous Agent as fuch, ?• 293 
 
 C H A P. IX. 
 
 Of the different Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ and 
 the Methods of e/timating them. Of Difficulties 
 attending the Fra6iice of Virtue^ the life of 
 Trial and Difcipliite informing reafonable Be- 
 ings to Virtue^ and the EJfeniiats of a good 
 and bad Char aSier. P- 333 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 The Account of Morality given in this Treatife 
 applied to the Explication and Proof of fome of 
 the principal DoBrines and FaBs of Natural 
 Religion -, particularly, the moral Attributes of 
 Gody his moral Government , and a future Stat€ 
 of Rewards and Punijhments. P- 3^7 
 
 Conclufon. ?• 45^ 
 
 INTRO- 
 
[ > ] 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ■'HE liberty which all readers take to 
 pronounce concerning the merit of books, 
 'tis fit they fliould enjoy ; nor is he fufficiently 
 qualified for the province of writing, who finds 
 himfelf at all difpofed to be out of humour with 
 it, or who is not prepared for all its confequences. 
 It is however much to be wiflied, that readers 
 would, before they pronounce, take more 
 time to confider and examine, than they ge- 
 nerally do. There are hardly any fubjeds 
 fo plain, as not to require care and atten- 
 tion to form a competent judgment of them. 
 What then muft we think of thofe whom we 
 continually fee readily delivering their fentiments 
 concerning points they have never confidered^ 
 and deciding peremptorily, without thought or 
 fludy, on the moft difficult queftions ? If fucli 
 are ever right, it can be only by chance. They 
 Ipeak and think entirely at random, and there- 
 fore deferve no attention or regard. But it is 
 melancholy to obferve fo many, even of thofe 
 who take fome pains to examine, almoll: as 
 
 B little 
 
2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 little entitled to regard, and as incompetent 
 judges, as the moft carelefs and unthinking; 
 determined in their judgments by circumftances 
 •the moft trifling, and arguments the moft fo- 
 reign to the purpofe, and wholly under the 
 influence of paffions and defires the moft unfa- 
 vourable to the difcovery of truth. 
 
 Thefe are confiderations which afford a dif- 
 couraging profped: to writers in general, efpe- 
 cially to thofe who write on any abftrufe and 
 controverted fubjed:s. So great is the inattention 
 of moft perfons, their careleflhefs and hafte in 
 thinking, and yet forwardnefs to determine, and 
 fo much do they like or diflike according to their 
 pre-conceived notions and prejudices, and not ac- 
 cording to reafon, or upon any clofe and impar- 
 tial confideration, that an author who ftiould 
 entertain any fanguine hopes of fuccefs, what- 
 ever he might think of his caufe or his argu- 
 ments, would, in all probability, be greatly mor- 
 tified. It might be added, that we are, in ge- 
 neral, no lefs inclined to attach ourfelves im-, 
 moderately, and beyond all that the evidence 
 we have will warrant, to our opinions ; than 
 we are to embrace them before due examina- 
 tion, and to decide prematurely and caprici- 
 oufly.' 
 
 I have 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 I have, for my own part, fuch a notion of 
 the truth of thefe obfcrvations, that there are not 
 perhaps many vvholefs expedl to be ever able to 
 convince one perfon of a fingle error. The more 
 vye know of men, the more we find that they 
 are governed, in forming and maintaining their 
 opinions, by their tempers^ by intereft, by hu- 
 mour, and paffion, and a thoufand namelefs ^ 
 caufes, and particular turns and cafts of mind, 
 which cannot but produce the greateft diverfity 
 of fentiments among them, and render it im- 
 poffible for them not to err. There are in truth 
 none who are poflelled of that cool and dif- 
 paffionate temper, that freedom from all wrong 
 byalles, that habit of attention and patience of 
 thought, and, withal, that penetration and faga- 
 city of mind, which are the proper fecurities 
 againft error, and the neceflary qualifications for 
 finding out truth. How much then do modefty 
 and diffidence become ns ? how open ought we 
 to be to convidion, and how candid to thofe of 
 different fentiments ? Indeed the confideration 
 of the various ways, in which error may infi- 
 nuate itfelf into our minds j the many latent 
 prejudices, by which we are liable to be in- 
 fluenced J the innumerable circuniflances in our 
 own dil'pofitions, and in the appearances of 
 things which may infenfibly draw us aflray, 
 B 2 and 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and the unavoidable darknefs and infirmities of 
 the beft and ableft men, fliewing themfelves 
 frequently in miftakes of the ftrangeft kind : 
 fuch refledions are enough fometimes to difpofe 
 a confiderate man to didruft almoft all his 
 opinions. 
 
 But yet, to indulge fuch a difpofition, would 
 be very unreafonable. Notwlthftanding thefe 
 difficulties and difcouragements, truth is flill 
 dilcoverable, and the honeft and diligent may 
 exped (at leaf! in fome meafure, and on the 
 moft important points) to fucceed in their en- 
 quiries after it. Thefe refledions afford the 
 ftrongeft arguments for caution and care in en- 
 quiring, but none for defpair or a defultory le- 
 vity and ficklenefs of fentiment. They ought 
 not to make us fcepticaly though they de- 
 monftrate the folly of being pofithe and dog- 
 matical. 
 
 In the follou^ing treatife, mofl of the qiieftions 
 that are of any importance relating to morality 
 and virtuCj will be confidered, and many of 
 them in a manner different from that in Vvhich 
 they have been hitherto treated. The author 
 hopes that he has contributed a little towards 
 throwing light on feveral important truths. It 
 is, ho A ever, with real diffidence that he offers 
 
 this. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 this work to the public, fenfible of feveral de- 
 feds in it, which he knows not how to remove, 
 and confcious of his own liablenefs to the 
 caufes of blindnefs and error before-mentioned. 
 Some material difficulties, poffibly, that may 
 occur to otliers on the fubjeds he has conlidered, 
 may have efcapcd his notice 5 and others he 
 may not have fufficiently cleared ; and indeed, 
 whoever believes he has a complete view of any 
 fubjed:, or that he can clear it of all difficulties, 
 muft poifefs a very narrow mind, and be very 
 carelefs and fuperiicial in his enquiries. 
 
 What I have had chiefly in view, has been 
 to fix the foundation of morals, or to trace vic- 
 tue up to truth and the natures of things, and 
 thefe to the Deity. If I have fucceeded in this, 
 I fliall not be much concerned, in what elfe I 
 have been unfuccefsful. 
 
 B ^ A TREA- 
 
*> <*> <)^> i*}> i^^y <*> <)$(> <*> <* 
 
 TREATISE 
 
 O F 
 
 Moral Good and Evil. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the Original of our Ideas of Right 
 and Wrong. 
 
 IN confidering the actions of moral agents, 
 we fliall, I think, find in ourfelves three 
 different perceptions relating to them, which 
 it is neceffary we fhould carefully diftinguifh. 
 The^r/?, is our perception of right and wrong. 
 The Jl'condy is our perception of beauty and 
 deformity. 
 
 The third we exprefs, when we fay, that 
 adions are of good or /// defert. 
 
 B 4 Each 
 
8 ^he ^ejimi Jlated concerning 
 
 Each of thefe perceptions I propofe feparately 
 to examine, but particularly xhtfirji^ with which 
 I fliall begin. 
 
 , It is proper the reader fhould carefully attend 
 to the ftate of the queftion here to be con- 
 fideiedi which, as clearly and fully as I can, I 
 fliall lay before him. 
 
 S E C T. I. 
 
 The ^ejlion Jlated concerning the Foundation 
 of Morals, 
 
 OME adions we all feel ourfelves irre- 
 fiftibly determined to approve, and others 
 to disapprove. Some adions we cannot but 
 conceive of as 7'ight^ and others as wrongs and 
 of all adions we are led to form fome idea, as 
 either^/ to be performed or unfit y or neither fit 
 nor unfit to be performed \ that is, indifferent. 
 What the power within us is, that thus per- 
 ceives and determines, is the queftion to be 
 confidered. 
 
 A late author of great abilities and worth, 
 Dr. Hiitchejonj whofe fentiments on this fubjed 
 have been much followed, deduces all our moral 
 ideas from a moral fenje\ plainly meaning by 
 this a power of perception diflind from reafon, 
 or a principle planted in our minds render- 
 ing 
 
the Foundation of Morals. g 
 
 ing certain adions and charaders necefTarily 
 pleafing, and others difpleafing to us, which is 
 entirely arbitrary and faditious in its nature. 
 Thus, according to this writer, as we are fb 
 made, that certain impreffions on our bodily 
 organs fhall excite certain ideas in our minds, 
 or that certain outward forms, when prefented 
 to us, fliall be the neceffary occafions of plea- 
 fure or pain to us : In like manner, we are (o 
 made, that certain affedicns and adions of 
 moral agents, when confidered by us, (hall be 
 the immediate and neceffary occafions of agree- 
 able or difagreeable perceptions ; or procure our 
 love or dillike of them. He has indeed well 
 fliewn, that we have a faculty determining us 
 immediately to approve or difapprove adions, ab- 
 ftraded from all views of private advantage ; 
 and that the higheft pleafures of life depend 
 upon this faculty. Had he proceeded no farther 
 than this, and intended nothing more by the 
 moral fenfe^ than our moral faculty in general, 
 without determining what it is ; little room 
 would have been left for any objedions : But 
 then it would have denoted no more than a 
 well-known and acknowledged fad *, and 
 
 therefore 
 
 * In the Preface to his Treal'ife on the PaJJiom^ he tells 
 US i after taking notice of fome gentlemen, who, by 
 
 what 
 
I o The ^ejiion Jlated concerning 
 
 therefore nothing new or peculiar -, from which 
 confideration, and alfo from the term fenfe 
 applied by him to this faculty, in common 
 with our outward fenfes^ from his rejeding 
 all the arguments that have been ufed to prove 
 it to be the fame with reafon, and from the 
 whole of his language on this fubjed j it is 
 evident, he confidered it as the efFedt of a po^ 
 Jitive conjiitution of our minds, or as a relifh 
 given them for certain moral objedls and 
 forms and averfion to others, limilar to the 
 relidies and averfions given us for particular 
 obje(f^s of the external and internal fenfes. In 
 other words ; our ideas of morality, if this 
 writer is right, have the fame original with 
 our ideas of the fenlible qualities of bodies, 
 
 what he had writ, had been convinced of a moral fenfe j 
 that they had made him a compl'iment which he did not think 
 belonged to him, as if the world were indebted to him for the 
 difcovery of it. 'Tis not eafy to determine what the dif- 
 covery here mentioned can be. If by the moral fenfe is 
 meant only a moral approving and difapproving power in 
 general, or the determination we feel to approve fome 
 adlions and chara£lers, and condemn others, this has al- 
 ways been known, and fignifies no more than what is 
 commonly exprefled by the word confcience. Tf it means 
 an arbitrary and implanted power, to which all our ideas 
 of moral good and evil are to be afcribed, I believe this 
 will be found to be falfe, and therefore no difcovery. 
 
 c the 
 
the Foundation of Morals, i3 
 
 the harmony of founds "f-, or the beauties of 
 painting or fculpture j that is, the mere good 
 pleafure of our Maker adapting the mind and 
 its organs in a particular manner to cer- 
 tain objeds. Virtue (as thofe who embrace 
 this fcheme frequently fay) is a mere affair of 
 'tafte. Moral right and wrong, according to 
 •their account of them, fignify nothing in the 
 6bje&s ihcmfehes to which they are applied, 
 any more than agreeable and harfli ; fweet 
 and bitter ; pleafant and painful j but only cer- 
 'tain effeSfs in us. Our perception of right, or 
 moral good, in adions, is that agreeable emo^ 
 tion, or feeling, which certain actions produce 
 in us J and of wrongs or moral evil, the con- 
 trary. They are particular modifications of our 
 minds, or impreflions which they are made to 
 receive from the contemplation of certain adions, 
 •which the contrary adions might have occa- 
 fioned, had the Author of nature fo pleafed"; 
 and which to fuppofe to belong to thefe adions 
 themfelves, is as ablbrd as to afcribe the plea- 
 fure or uneafmefs, which the obfervation of a 
 
 t If any one wants to be convinced, that this is a juft 
 reprefentation of Dr. Hiitchefon^s fentiments, he need only 
 read his lllnjlratiom on the Moral Senfe, and particularly 
 the 4th fedion at the cOncrufion. See alfo z'Note at the 
 «nd ^of tlie fij-ft -of Mr.- Hume" i. PhilbfophUalEJfays. 
 
 particular 
 
12 The ^ejlion Jlnted ccncerning 
 
 particular form gives us, to the form itfelf. 'Tis 
 
 therefore by tliis account, improper to fay of 
 
 an adion, that it is rights in much the fame 
 
 fenfe that it is improper to fay of an objed of 
 
 tafte, that it is fweet 3 or of fain^ that it is in 
 
 fire. 
 
 The prefent enquiry then is; whether this 
 
 be a true account of virtue, or not ; or whe- 
 ther it has or has not a foundation in the na- 
 ture of its object ; whether right and wrong 
 are real qualities of aBions, or only of our minds, 
 and denote what ad:ions are^ or only jenjations 
 depending on the particular frame and ftrudure 
 of our natures. 
 
 I am perfuaded, all attentive perfons, who 
 have not before conlidered this point, will im- 
 mediately determine for themfelves ; wonder 
 how this fhould be a fubjecft of difpute, and 
 think I am going to undertake a very needlefs 
 work. Nor does it indeed feem eafy for any 
 perfon, whofe thoughts are under the influence 
 of no byafs, to be at any lofs what to decide 
 upon a general view of the queftion. How- 
 ever, it is undoubtedly a very important quef- 
 tion, and well worthy our particular examin- 
 ation. I have given, I think, the naked and 
 jufl flate of it. And it is worth our atten- 
 tion, as we go along, that this is the only 
 
 queflion 
 
the Foundation of Morals, 1 3 
 
 queftion about the foundation of morals, which 
 can rationally and properly be made a' fubje6t 
 of debate. For, granting that we have real and 
 diftind: perceptions of moral right and wrongs 
 they muft denote, either what the adions, to 
 which we apply them, are, or only our feelings -, 
 and agreeably to this, the power of perceiving 
 them mufl: be, either that power whofe objedt 
 is truth, or feme implanted power or fenfe. 
 There can be no medium between thefe dif- 
 ferent hypothefes. If the former is true, then 
 is morality a thing equally fteady, independent, 
 and unchangeable with all truth : If, on the 
 contrary, the latter is true, then is it that, and 
 no other, which, according to the different 
 conftitutions of the feiifes of beings, it appears 
 to be to them ; it has no other meafure or flan- 
 dard, belides every one's private ftrudture of 
 mind and fenfations. 
 
 As to the fchemes which found morality on 
 felf-love, on pofitive laws and compads, or 
 the Divine will \ they mufl: either mean, that 
 moral good and evil are only other words for 
 advantageous and difadva?itageous^ willed and 
 forbidden : Or they relate to a very different 
 queflion ; that is, not to the queftion, Vr'hat is 
 K the 
 
1 4 T^he §ueJlion Jiated concerning 
 
 tibe nature and true account of virtue ; but, 
 what is the fubjeSh-matter of it *. 
 
 As far as the former may be the intention of 
 the fchemes I have mentioned, they afford little 
 room for controverfy. Right and wrong do not 
 iignify merely fuch adipns as af-e commanded 
 or forbidden, or that will produce good or 
 harm ; but our approbation or difapprobation of 
 obeying or difobeying the will of a fuperior, and 
 producing happinefs or mifery : or fome per- 
 ception, idea, or fendment in our minds con^ 
 cerning thefe different ways of ading. This is- 
 very plain ; for it would other wife be palpably 
 abfurd in any cafe to afk, whether it is right to 
 obey a command, or wrong to difobey it ; and 
 the proportions, oheyirig a command is right y or 
 producing happinefs is right, would be moft 
 trifling, as expreffing no more than that obeying 
 a command, is obeying a command, or pro- 
 ducing happinefs, is producing happinefs. Be- 
 lides J on the fuppofition, that right and wrong 
 
 * If any one would better underftand this, let him juft 
 caft his eye over what is faid at the beginning of the laft 
 chapter, 1^ part. Or let him confider, that the phrafe 
 fcundation of virtue, having, as there flbewn, the different 
 fignifications of an account or original of virtue ; of a con- 
 lideration or principle inferring and proving it in particular 
 cafes ; and of a motive to the pra<5lice of it : It means in 
 this place the former only. 
 
 denote 
 
the Towidatkn of Morals. 15 
 
 denote only the relations of anions to will and 
 law, or to happinefs and mifery, there could be 
 no difpute about the faculty that perceives right 
 and wrong, fince it muft be owned by all, that 
 thefe relations are objeds of the inveftigations 
 of reafon^ or that this is the faculty which muft 
 find out what is or is not conformable to will, 
 and that judges of the tendencies and effeds of 
 anions. 
 
 Happinefs requires fomething in its own na- 
 ture, or in ours, to give it influence, and de- 
 termine our defire of it, and approbation of 
 purfuing it. In like manner, all laws, will, 
 and compads fuppole antecedent right to give 
 them effed j and inftead of being the confti- 
 tuents of right, they owe their whole force and 
 obligation to it. 
 
 Taking it then for granted, that right and 
 wrong are more than mere names, fynonymous 
 with ufeful and hurtful, commanded and for- 
 bidden : and that we have a power within us 
 which perceives them j the queftion before pro- 
 pofed, returns j — What is this power ? 
 
 My anfwer is. The IJnderflanding. — If this 
 aflertion can be proved, the whole contro- 
 verfy now ftated, will be decided. — In attempt- 
 ing this, it will be requifite to premife feveral 
 obfervations relating to the original of our Ideas 
 
 in 
 
1 6 Of the Original 
 
 in general, and the diftindt provinces of the 
 nnderjianding and o^ fenfe. 
 
 SECT. II. 
 
 Of the Original of our Ideas in general. And^ 
 particularly^ of the Under/landing -, wherein 
 it differs from Senfe^ and how far it is a Source 
 of Ideas. 
 
 SENSATION and Reflection have been 
 commonly reckoned the fources of all our 
 ideas : and Mr. hocke has taken no fmall pains 
 to prove this. How much foever, on the whole, 
 I admire his excellent Effay^ I cannot think 
 him fufficiently clear or explicit on this head. 
 It is hard to determine exadly what he meant 
 hy fe?if at ion and refeSlion. If by the former we 
 underfland, the efFeds ariling from the impref- 
 fions made on our minds by external objeds : 
 and by the latter, the notice the mind takes of 
 its own operations 5 it will be impoflible to de- 
 rive fome of the mod important of our ideas 
 from them. It is thus M.^. Locke defines them 
 in the beginning of his book. But we may 
 find probably by comparing what he has faid 
 in different places on this fubjcd, and confidering 
 
 how 
 
of cur Ideas in general. 1 7 
 
 how much he afcribes to the operations of the 
 mind about its ideas, that what he chiefly 
 meant, was, that all our ideas are either derived 
 immediately from thefe two Iburces, or ultimately 
 grounded upon ideas fo derived ; or, in other 
 words, that they furnidi us with all the fubjeds, 
 materials, and occafions of knowledge, com- 
 parifon, and internal perception. This, how- 
 ever, by no means rerders them in any proper 
 fenfe, the iburces of all our ideas : Nor indeed 
 does it appear, notwithftanding all he has faid 
 of the operations of the mind about its ideas, 
 that he thought we had any faculty of percep- 
 tion different from thefe, that could give rife to 
 any Jimple ideas j or that was capable of any 
 more than compounding, dividing, abfi:ra(fl:ing, 
 or enlarging ideas previouliy in the mind. But 
 be this as it may, what 1 am going to obferve, 
 will, I believe, be found true. 
 
 The power, I affert, that underflands j or the 
 faculty within us that difcerns truths and that 
 compares all objefts and ideas, and judges of 
 them, is a fpring of new ideas *. 
 
 As 
 
 * The reader is defired to rememher, that by Ideas^ I 
 mean here almoft conftantly funde ideas^ or original 
 and uncompounded perceptions of the mind. That 
 ^ur ideas of right and wrong are of this fort, will be par- 
 
 C ticularly 
 
i8 Of the Origitial 
 
 As, perhaps, this has not been enough at- 
 tended to 5 and as the queftion to be deter- 
 mined, is J whether our moral ideas arife from 
 hence, or from a Sejife 5 it will be proper to 
 enter into a particular examination of it, and 
 dininclly to confider the different natures and 
 provinces of fcnfe and reafon. 
 
 To this purpofe wc may cbferve, firfl:, that 
 what judges concerning the perceptions of the 
 
 ticularly obferved hereafter. It may alfo be right to take 
 notice, that I all along fpeak. of the underftanding, in the 
 fnoit confined and proper fenfe of it, as above explained, 
 and diftinguiflied from the po-.vers of fenfation. What 
 gives occaiion for putting the reader in mind of this, is the 
 divifion which has been made by fome v/riters, of all the 
 pov/ers of the foul into underflanding and will ; the 
 former comprehending under it, all ihe powers of external 
 and internal f(.'nfation, as well as'thofe of judging and 
 reafoningi and the latter, all the afFedlions of the mind, 
 as well as the power of adding and determining. 
 
 There may be further fome cccafion for obferving di- 
 •filn£^ly, that the two a6ls of the underftanding, being 
 intuition and dcdu£lion, I have in view the former. 'Tis 
 plain, on the contrary, that thofe writers, who argue 
 againft referring our moral ideas to reafon, have generally 
 the latter in view. What they fay at leafl: holds only 
 againfl tliis ; nor do they feem to have fufficiently attended 
 to the nature of the faculty of intuition. I fliall again 
 have occ afion to make thefe obfervations more particularly j 
 but it feems proper, to prevent all danger of miftake and 
 coafufion as we go along, to hint them here. 
 
 fenfes. 
 
of our Ideas in general, 1 9 
 
 ienfes, and contradids their deciiions, cannot 
 be itfclf fenle, but mufl be fome nobler faculty: 
 or that what difcovcrs the nature of the fenfible 
 qualities of objeds, enquires into tlie caufes 
 of fenlible perceptions, and dii^inguifl^es between 
 what is real and what is not real in them, 
 mufl: be a power within us which is fuperior 
 to fenfe. 
 
 Again, it is plain that one fenfe cannot 
 judge of the objects of another; the eye, for 
 inftance, of harmony, or the ear of colours. 
 That therefore which views and compares 
 the objects of aJl the fcnfes, and judges of 
 them, cannot be {tVi{Q. Thus, when we con^ 
 fider found and colour together, and obferve in 
 them cfjhice^ number^ identity^ droerfity^ &c. and 
 determine their reahty to confift, not in being 
 properties oi external fubflanceSy but o't cur fouls -, 
 this muft be done by a Iharper eye than that of 
 fenfe. What takes cognizance of thefe things, 
 and gives rife to thefe notions, muri: be a faculty 
 capable of fubjedling all things alike to its in- 
 fpedion, and of acquainting itfelf with neceflary 
 truth and exiftence. 
 
 Senfe confifls in the obtruding of certain im- 
 
 preffions upoh us, independently of our wills j 
 
 but it cannot perceive what they are, or whence 
 
 they are derived. It lies proflrate under its ob- 
 
 C 2 jed. 
 
20 Of the Original 
 
 jedl, and is only a capacity in the foul of hav- 
 ing its own ftate altered by the influence of 
 particular caufes. It muft. therefore remain a 
 flranger to the objeds and caufes affedling it, 
 and cannot jiidge at all or know any thing. 
 But the underjlanding takes cognizance of its 
 objed: within itfelf, and, by its own native 
 power mafters and comprehends it. 
 
 Were not fenfe and knowledge entirely dif- 
 ferent, we fliould reft fatisfied with fenfible 
 imprefiions, fuch as light, colours, and founds, 
 and enquire no farther about them, at leaft 
 when the impreffions are ftrong and vigorous : 
 Whereas, on the contrary, we neceffarily defire 
 fome farther acquaintance with them, and can 
 never be fatisfied till we have fubje(5led them to 
 the furvey of reafon. — Senfe prefcnts particular 
 forms to the mind ; but cannot rile to any gene- 
 ral i^^^^- It is the intelled that examines and 
 compares the prefented forms, that rifes above 
 individuals, to univerfal and abflra^l ideas j and 
 thus looks downwards upon objed:s, takes in at 
 one view an infinity of particulars, and is capa- 
 ble of difcovering general truths. — Senfe fees 
 only the outfide of things, reafon acquaints itfelf 
 with their natures, — Senfation is only a mode of 
 feeling in the mind ; but knowledge implies an 
 aBi'^ce and vital energy of the mind. Feeling 
 
 pain. 
 
of Qur Ideas in general, 2 1 
 
 pain, for example, is the efFed; of fenfe ; but 
 the underftanding is employed when pain itfqlf 
 is made an objedl of the mind's reflexion, or 
 held up before it, in order to difcover its nature 
 and caufes. Mere fenfe can perceive nothing 
 in the moft exquifite work of art ; fuppofe a 
 plant, or the body of an animal ; but what is 
 painted in the eye, or what might be defcribed 
 on paper. It is the intelled that muft perceive 
 in it order and proportion j variety and regu- 
 larity ; defign, connexion, art, and power; 
 aptitudes, dependencies, correfpondencies, and 
 adjuftment of parts, fo as to fubferve an end, 
 and compofe oneperfed whole *; things which 
 
 can 
 
 * See Dr. Cudworth's Treatife of eternal and immutable 
 tnorality^ Book IV. Chap. 2. where he obferves, that the 
 mind perceives, by occafion of outward objeiSts, as much 
 more than is reprefented to it by fenfe, as a learned man 
 does in the beft written book, than an illiterate perfon or 
 brute. To the eyes of both the fame characSiers will ap- 
 pear ; but the learned man in thofe charailers (to ufe 
 the author's own words) " will fee heaven, earth, fun, 
 *' and ftars ; read profound theorems of philofophy or 
 " geometry ; learn a great deal of new knowledge from 
 *' them, and admire the wifdom of the compofer : While 
 *' to the other nothing appears but black ftrokes drawn 
 *' on white paper. The reafon of which is, that the 
 " mind of the one is furniftied with certain previous, 
 ^' inward anticipations, ideas, and inflrudlion, that the 
 C 3 « other 
 
2 2 Of the Original 
 
 can never be reprefented on a fenfible organ, and 
 the ideas of which cannot be paffively commu- 
 nicated, or ftamped on the mind by the ope- 
 ration of external objedls. — Senfe cannot per- 
 ceive any of the modes of thinking beings j thefe 
 can be difcovered only by the mind's furvey of 
 itfelf. 
 
 In a word, it appears that fenje and under- 
 
 Jianding are faculties of the foul totally different: 
 
 the one being convcrfant only about particulars ; 
 
 the other about iiniverfah : The one not dif- 
 
 cerning^ but fuffering ; the other, not properly 
 
 *' other Vv^ants. In the room of this book of humqn 
 
 *' compofition, let us now (adds he) fubllitute the bonk 
 *' of nature, written all over with the characters and 
 " imprelTions of divine wifdom and goodnefs, but legible 
 " only to an intelleclual eye j for to the fenfe both of 
 ** man and brute, there appears nothing elfe in it, but as 
 " in the other, fo many inky fcravvh ; /. e. nothing but 
 '* figures and colours : But to the mind, which hath a par- 
 *' ticipation of the divine wifuom that made it, and being 
 *' printed all over with the fame archetypal feal, uponoc- 
 *' cafion of thofe fenfible delineations, and taking notice 
 *' of whatfoever is cognate to it, exerting its own inward 
 *'^ adlivity from thence, will have not only a wonderful 
 *' fceue, and large profpeils of other thoughts laid open 
 *' before it, and variety of knowledge, logical, mathema- 
 *' tical, and moral difplay'd j but alfo clearly read the di- 
 *' vine wifdom and goodnefs in every page of this great 
 *' volume, as it were written in large itnd legible charac- 
 *« lers," ■ 
 
 mnering 
 
of our Ideas in general. 2 3 
 
 fiffering, but difcerning^ and fignlfying the foul's 
 Power of furveying and examining all things, 
 in order to determine what thev are ; which 
 Power^ perhaps, can hardly be better defined, 
 than by calling it, in Phitds language, that in 
 the foul to which belongs xaxaAij-Xis tS o'r/©-, 
 or the apprehenfion of Truth -j-. 
 
 But, in order farther to (liew how little a 
 way mere fenfe, (and let me add imagination^ 
 a faculty nearly allied to Jhife) can go, and 
 how far we are dependent on our hii^t.er rea- 
 fonable powers for many of our fundamental 
 ideas ; I would inftance in the following par- 
 ticulars. 
 
 The idea of foUdity has been generally rec- 
 koned amon^ the ideas we owe to fenfe : and 
 yet perhaps it would be difficult to prove, that 
 we ever had adtual experience of that impene- 
 trability which we include in i,t, and confider as 
 Cil'ential to all bodies. In order to this, w'e 
 muft be fure, that we have, fome time or other, 
 made two bodies really touch, and found that 
 they would not penetrate one another : but it 
 is not impouible to account for all the fads we 
 
 f The above obfervations concerning the difference ber 
 tween fenfe and knowledge, are, I think, jufi: j and fe- 
 veral of them may be found in Plato's Thatetus-y or mor^ 
 amply infifted on in the laft quoted treatife. 
 
 C 4 cbfervCj 
 
24 Of the Original 
 
 obferve, without fuppofing, in any cafe, ahfolufe 
 contaSi between bodies. And though we could 
 even make the experiment I have mentioned ; 
 yet one experiment, or a miUion, could not be 
 2 lufficient tbundation for the abfolute adurance 
 we have that no bodies can penetrate one ano- 
 ther. Not to add, that all that would appear 
 to tliC lenfes in fuch experiments, would be the 
 conjunBlon of two events, not their neccjfary 
 connexion. Are we then to affirm, that there 
 is no idea of impenetrability ; that two atoms of 
 matter, continuing dlflindl and without anni- 
 hilation of either, may occupy the fame place j 
 and all the atoms of matter be crowded into 
 the room and bulk of one, and thefe, for the fame 
 reafon, into room lefs and lefs, to infinity, without 
 in the mean while making any diminution of the 
 quantity of matter in the univerfe ? This, in- 
 deed, might be the coiifequence, were it certain 
 that all our ideas, on this fubjed, are derived 
 from Jenfation ; and did nothing further than it 
 acquaints us with, appear to reajon. There are 
 many infta rices in which two material fubiiances 
 apparently run into one another. It is reafon, 
 that, from its own perceptions, determines fuch 
 to be fallacious appearances, and affures us of 
 the univerfal and flrid: neceffity of the contrary. 
 The 'fame pov/er that perceives two particles to 
 
 be 
 
of mr Ideas In general, ^5 
 
 -be different i perceives them to be impenetrable \ 
 .for they are as necefTarily the one as the other,; 
 it being felf-evident, that they cannot occupy the 
 fame place without lofing all difference. 
 
 Again, what is meant by the 'uis .inertice, 
 or inaSiivity of matter, is rather a perception 
 of reafon, than an idea conveyed to the mind 
 by fenfe. This property of matter is the 
 foundation of all our reafoning about it : And 
 thofe who rejedt it, or who will allow no other 
 fource of our knowledge of matter and mo- 
 tion, befides experience, or the information con- 
 veyed to the mind through the fenfes, would 
 do well to confider, whether the three axioms, 
 or laws of motion, with which Sir Ifaac New- 
 ton begins his philofophy, and upon which it 
 is built, are not entirely widiout evidence and 
 
 meaning. What is it acquaints us, that 
 
 every body will for ever continue in the flate 
 of reft or motion it is in, unlefs fomething 
 produces an alteration of that ftate 3 that every 
 alteration of its motion muft be proportional 
 to the force impreffed, and in the fame line of 
 diredlion j and that its adion upon another, and 
 the acftion of that other upon it, are always 
 equal and contrary ? In other words ; what 
 furnirhes us with our ideas of refiftance and in- 
 adivity ? — Not experience: for never did any 
 I man 
 
26 Of the Original 
 
 man yet fee any portion of matter that was 
 void of gravity, and many other adive powers ; 
 or that would not immediately quit its ftate of 
 reft, and begin to movej and alfo loje or ac- 
 quire motion after the impreffing of new force 
 upon it, without any vifible or dijcoverable caufe. 
 Ideas fo contradidory to knit; perceptions fo 
 oppofed by never-faihng experience, cannot be 
 derived from them. They muft therefore be 
 afcribed to a higher original. 
 
 But though we (liould fuppofe them the 
 objefls of conftant experience, as well as the 
 perceptions of reafon j yet, as difcovered by the 
 former, they muft be very different from what 
 they are, as apprehended by the latter. — Though, 
 for inftance, experience and obfervation taught us 
 always, that the alteration of motion in a body, is 
 proportional to the imprefied force, z.nA made in 
 the line of diredion in which this force ads -, yet 
 they can teach us this but very imperfectly ; they 
 cannot inform us of it with precifion and ex- 
 adnefs : They can only fiiew u?, that it is io 
 nearly ; which, ftridly fpcaking, is th.e fime 
 with not being fo at all. The eye of fenfe is 
 blunt : The conceptions of the imagination are 
 rude and grofs, falling inpiitely fliort of that 
 certainty, accuracy, univerfality, and clearnefs, 
 which belong to intelkclual dijcernment, 
 
 I The 
 
of our Ideas hi general. 27 
 
 The Idea of fubjlance, likewife, is an idea 
 to which our minds are neceffarily carried, be- 
 yond what mere fenfation fuggefts to us; 
 which can fhew us nothing but accidents, fen- 
 fible qualities, and the outfidcs of things. 'Tis 
 the underftanding that difcovers the general 
 diftindtion between fubflance and accident 3 nor 
 can any perception be more unavoidable, than 
 that motion implies Jomething that moves j ex^ 
 tenJio72j fomething extended; and, in general, 
 modes fomething modified. 
 
 The idea oi Duration^ is an idea accompany- 
 ing all our ideas, and included in every notion 
 we can frame of reality and exigence. What 
 the obfervation of the train of thouo;hts follow- 
 ing one another in our minds, or the conftant 
 flux of external objeds, immediately and pro- 
 perly fuggefts, is fuccejjion ; an idea which, in 
 common with ail others, prcfuppofes that of 
 duration ; but is as different from it as the idea 
 of motion, or figure. It would, I think, have 
 been much properer to have faid, that the re- 
 fledion on the fuccefTion of ideas in our minds, 
 is that by v.'hich we efiimate the quantity of 
 duration intervening between two periods, or 
 events ; than, that it is what gave us the origi- 
 nal idea. 
 
 Obfer- 
 
^3 Of the Ongi?ial 
 
 Obfervatlons to the fame purpofe might be 
 made concerning Space. This, as well as du- 
 ration, is included in every refledion we can 
 make on our own exiftence, or that of other 
 things ; it being felf-evideiitly the fame with 
 denying the exiftence of a thing, to fay, that it 
 .has never^ or no-where exiued. We, and all 
 ^things, exift in time and place^ and therefore as 
 fclf-confcious and intelligent beings, we muft 
 have ideas of them. 
 
 What may be farther worth obferving con- 
 .cerning fpace and duration, is, that we perceive 
 ..intuitively their neceJJ'ary exijlence. The very 
 .notion of annihilation, or non-exiHence, being 
 the removal of a thing from fpace and duration j 
 .to fuppofe thefe themfclves annihilated, would 
 .be to fuppofe their feparation from themfelves. 
 rln the fame intuitive manner wc perceive they 
 can have no bounds, and thus acquire the idea 
 of Infinity, The very notion of bounds implies 
 ;them, and therefore cannot be applicable to 
 .jhem, unlefs they could be bounded by them- 
 felves *. Thefe perceptions are plainly the 
 
 * It is alfo in the fame manner we perceive the parts 
 of fpace to be immoveable and infeparable. Vt partium 
 iemporis ordo ejl hmmttabilh, fic et'iam ordo partimn fpatii. 
 Moveantur ha de loc'is fuis, ilf movebuniur (ut ita dicam) 
 a fe'ipfis. Newt. Princip. 
 
 notice 
 
of ctir Ideas in gendal. 29 
 
 notice the undcrftanding takes of neccllt'iry 
 truths and the fame accoar.t exadly is to he 
 p-iv^n, how we come by our ideas of infinity 
 zvA necejlity m time ^ud/p'trce^ (and we may add 
 'in abftratl truth and power) as, how we come 
 by our ideas of any other felf-evident reality; 
 of the equality^ for inHiance, between the oppo- 
 fite angles of two lines croliing one another, 
 or of the identity of any particular object while 
 it continues to exifl. 
 
 There are other objeds, which the fame fa- 
 culty, with equal evidence, perceives to be cofi- 
 tingent ; or whofe atfiual exigence it fees to be 
 not jiecejjary, but only pofjible. And of this alfo 
 the fame account is to be given, as why at the 
 fame time that we perceive the equality be- 
 tween the oppofite angles of two lines crofling 
 one another to be necejjary^ we perceive the 
 quantity of motion in two bodies to be not 
 neceffiarily equal, but only pofjibk to be equal. 
 
 Thus, the Underftanding, by employing its 
 attention about different objeds, and obferving 
 what is, or is not true of tiiem, acquires the 
 different ideas of neceifity, infinity, contingency, 
 pofTibilitv, and inipofTibility. 
 
 The next ideas I fhall inftance in, as de- 
 rived from the fame fource, are thofe of Power 
 and Caufation. Some of the ideas already 
 
 mentioned 
 
3© Of the Original 
 
 mentioned imply them; but they require our 
 particular notice and attention. Nothing may, 
 at firft fight, feem more obvious, than that one 
 way in which they are conveyed to the mind, 
 is by obferving the various changes that happen 
 about us ; and our conftant experience of the 
 events ariiing upon fuch and fuch applications 
 of external objeds to one another : And yet I 
 am well perfuaded, that this experience is 
 alone quite incapable of fupplying us with thefe 
 ideas. 
 
 What we obferve by our external fenfes, is 
 properly no more than that one thing follows 
 another *, or the conftant conjunBion of cer- 
 tain events ; as of the melting of wax, with 
 placing it in the flame of a candle; and, in ge- 
 neral, of fuch and fuch alterations in the qua- 
 lities of bodies, with fach and fuch circumflan- 
 ces of their fituation. That one thing is the 
 caufe of another, or produces it, by its own ef- 
 ficacy and operation, we never fee : Nor is it 
 
 * Several obfervations to this purpofe are made by 
 Makbranche^ who ('tis well known) has maintained, that 
 nothing in nature is ever the proper caufe or efficient of 
 another, but only the occafion ; the Deity, according to 
 him, being the fole agent in all efFe£ls and events. But 
 Mr. HNme has more particularly infifled on the obferva- 
 tion here made, with a very different view. See Phil. 
 EJj'ays. ^ 
 
 indeed 
 
of our Ideas in general. 3 1 
 
 indeed true, in numberlefs inftances where 
 men commonly think they obferve it : And 
 were it in no one inftance true j I mean, were 
 there no obje6t in the world that contributed, 
 by its own proper force, to the produdion of 
 any new event ; were the apparent caufes of 
 things univerfally only their occafiom or conco- 
 mitants-, (which is nearly the real cafe, ac- 
 cording to feme philofophical principles;) yet 
 flill we fiiould have the fame ideas of caufe, 
 and effed, and power : nor could we poffibly 
 be the more at a lofs for them. Our certainty 
 that every new event requires fome caufe, de- 
 pends not at all on experience \ no more than 
 our certainty of any other the moft obvious 
 fjbje(5t of intuition. In the idea of every change 
 is included that of its being an effe5i. 
 
 The neceffity of a caufe of whatever events 
 arife, is an effential principle, a primary per- 
 ception of the underflanding ; nothing being 
 more palpably abfurd than the notion of a 
 change which has been derived from nothing, 
 and of which there is no reafon to be given ; 
 of an exiftence which has begun, but never 
 was produced ; of a body, for inftance, that has 
 ceafed to move, but has not been flopped , or. 
 that has begun to move, without being moved. 
 Nothing can be done to convince a perfon, 
 
 who 
 
32 Of the Or-lglnal 
 
 who profefles to deny this ; bcfides referring 
 him to common fenfe. If he cannot find 
 there the perception I have mentioned, he 
 is not farther to be argued with, for the fubjedt 
 will not admit of argument ; there being no- 
 thing clearer than the point itfelf difputed to 
 be brought to confirm it. And he that acknow- 
 ledging we have fuch a perception, will fay it 
 is to be afcribed to a different power from the 
 underftanding, fhould inform us why the fame 
 fliould nor be afierted of all felf-evident truth 
 and impoffibility. 
 
 It fliouid be obferved, that I have not faid 
 that we have no idea of power, but what we 
 receive from the underftanding. Adivity, life, 
 and felf-determination are as efiential to fpirit, 
 as the contrary are to matter ; and therefore 
 inward confcioufnefs gives us the idea of that 
 particular fort or energy or power which they 
 imply. But the univerfal fource of the idea of 
 power, as we conceive it necefiary to all new 
 productions, and of our notions of influence, 
 connexion, aptitude, and dependence in 'gene- 
 ral, muft be the underftanding. Some adive 
 or paffive powers, fome capacity^ or fojjihility of 
 receiving changes, or producing them, make an 
 effential part of our ideas of all objedts : And 
 thefe powers differ according to the different 
 
 natures 
 
of our Ideas ifi general. 3 3 
 
 natures of the objects, and their different rela- 
 tions to one another. What can do nothing ; 
 what is fitted to anfwer no purpofe, and has no 
 kind of dependence, aptitude, or power belong- 
 ing to it, can be nothing real or fubftantial. 
 Were all things wholly unconneded and loofe j 
 and did no one event or obje<fl, in any circum- 
 ftances, imply any thing, or crirry the mind to 
 any thing beyond itfelf ; all the foundations of 
 knowledge would be deflroyed. It is, on all 
 hands, confefTed, that things appear otherwife 
 to us, and that in numbcrltfs inftances we are 
 under a necellity of confidering them as con- 
 ned:ed, and of inferring one thing from another. 
 Why {hould this be imputed to any other rea- 
 fbn than a real connedtion between the thin^'is 
 themfelves ? Is it poffible, for example, any 
 one fliould think, that there is no fort of real 
 conned:ion perceiveable by reafon, between pro- 
 bity of mind and jufl: adlions, or between certain 
 impulfes of bodies on one another, and an al- 
 teration of their motions ? 
 
 Indeed, the whole meaning of accounting 
 for a fa<51:, is derived from what is now afllrt- 
 cd, or fuppofes fomethi ng in the nature of 
 objed:s and events that includes a connecflion 
 between them, or a fitnefs in certain ways to 
 influence one another. 'Till we can difcover 
 
 D this 
 
34 Of ihe Original 
 
 this, we are always confcious of fomevvhat 
 farther to be known. While we only fee one 
 thing conflantly attending or following ano- 
 ther, without perceiving the real dependence 
 and connedion ; without being able to trace the 
 event to its ultimate reafon and foundation, (as 
 in the cafe of gravitation, and the fenfations at- 
 tending certain impreffions on our bodily organs) 
 we are neceiTarily difatisfied, and feel a ftate of 
 mind very different from that entire acquief- 
 cence, which we experience upon confidering, 
 for example, Sir Ifaac Newtons laws of mo- 
 tion, or any other indances and fads, in which 
 we fee the neceOary connedion and truth. 
 
 Agreeably to the pad obfervations we always 
 find, that when we have adequate ideas of the 
 natures and properties of any beings or objeds, 
 we at the faiDe time perceive ihtw powers ^ and 
 can tbretel, independently of experience, what 
 they will produce in given circumftances, and 
 what will follow upon fuch and fuch applica- 
 tions of them to one another. Were we tho- 
 roughly acquainted with the heart of a man, 
 the turn of his temper, and the make of his 
 mind, we fhould never want experience to in- 
 form us, what he will do, or how far he is to 
 be truiled. In like manner, did we know the 
 inward fabrick and conflitution of the bodies 
 
 furrounding 
 
of out Ideas in general, 35 
 
 furrounding us, and on which all their proper- 
 ties and powers depend, we fliould know be- 
 fore-hand what would be the fuccefs of any 
 experiments we could make with them : Juft 
 as from having a complete idea of the real ef- 
 fenfe of a circle, we can deduce the feveral 
 properties of it depending on that effence, or 
 determine what will be the proportion of any 
 lines and angles drawn, after certain manners, 
 in it. And, had we a perfedl infight into the 
 conftitution of nature, the laws that govern it, 
 and the motions, texture, and relations of the 
 feveral bodies, great and fmall, that compofe 
 it 5 the whole chain of future events in it 
 would be laid open to us. Experie?2ce and 
 obfervation are only of ufe, when we are ig- 
 norant of the nature of the object, and can- 
 not, in a more perfect, (liort, and certain way, 
 determine what will be the event in particular 
 cafes, and what are the ufes of particular ob- 
 jeds *. LiJiinB is a ftill lower and more im- 
 
 perfed: 
 
 * The convidlion produced by experience is built on 
 the fame principles with that which affures us, that there 
 muft be a caufe of every event, or feme account of what-» 
 ever happens. The frequent repetition of a particular 
 event, as of the falling of a heavy body to the earth, wheri' 
 nothing fupports it, produces an expedlation of its hap- 
 pening again in future trials : Becaufe we fee intuitively, 
 
 D 2 that 
 
3 6 Of the Original 
 
 perfed means of lupplying the fame defedt of 
 of knowledge. 
 
 With refpecfl to all the ideas now men- 
 tioned, particularly the laft, it is v^orth ob- 
 ferving, that were it as difficult to find out 
 their true original, as it is to deduce them 
 from the common fources explained by writers 
 
 that there being fome reafon or caufe of this conjlancy of 
 events it muft be derived from caufes regularly and con- 
 ftantly operating in given circumftances. In the very 
 fame manner, and upon the fame principle, we fhould 
 conclude upon obferving a particular number on a die, 
 thrown very often without one failure, that it would be 
 thrown alfo in any fucceeding trial : And the more fre- 
 quently and uninterruptedly we knew this had happened, 
 the ftronger would be our expe6lation of its happening 
 again, becaufe the more evident would it be, that either 
 all the fides of the die were marked with the fame number, 
 or that fome art was ufed in throwing it, or that there 
 was fomething in the conftitution of it that difpofed it to 
 turn up this particular fide, rather than any other. — How- 
 ever ftrange it may appear, it is probably true, that what 
 occafions the doubts and difHculties which are raifed about 
 this, and fome other points of the cleareft nature, is their 
 being felf-evident ; and that what is meant by faying, 
 that it is not reafon that informs us, that there mult be 
 fome account of whatever comes to pafs, fome efiabhjhed 
 caufes of conftant and uniform events, or that order and 
 regularity can proceed only from defign, muft be, that 
 they are not fubjeds oi dedu^i'ion^ or that they are io plain, 
 that there is nuuiing plainer from which they can be in- 
 ftrred, 
 
 on 
 
of our Ideas in general, 3 7 
 
 on thefe fubjeds, it would furely be very un- 
 reafonable to conclude, that we have no fuch 
 ideas. And yet this is the very conclufion fome 
 have drawn *. If then we indeed have fuch 
 ideas, and if, befides, they have a foundation in 
 truth, and reprefent fomewhat really exifting 
 correfpondent to them, what difficulty can there 
 be in granting they may be apprehended by 
 that faculty, whofe natural objed: is truth ? But 
 if we have no fuch ideas, or if they reprefent 
 nothing real befides the qualities of our own 
 minds j I need not fay what confequences muft 
 follow, or into what an abyfs of fcepticifm we 
 are plunged. 
 
 Let me add, in the laft place, that our ab- 
 flraSt ideas feem moft properly to belong to 
 the underftanding. They are, undoubtedly, ef- 
 fential to all its operations; every ad: of judg- 
 ment implying fome abftrad, or univerfal idea. 
 Were they formed by the mind in the manner 
 generally reprefented, it feems unavoidable to 
 conceive that it has them at the very time that 
 it is fuppofed to be employed in forming them. 
 Thus ; from any particular idea of a triangle, it 
 is f\id we can frame the general one j but does 
 not the very reflexion faid to be neceffary to 
 
 * See Mr. Hutne's PhUofophical EJfays^ p. 104, &c. 
 
 D 3 this, 
 
38 Of the Original 
 
 this, on a greater or Icffer triangle, iQiply, 
 that the general idea is already in the mind ? 
 How elfe fliould it know how to go to work, or 
 what to refledt on ? ■ — That the univerfality 
 confifts in the iJea ; and not merely in the jiame 
 as ufed to fignify a number of particulars, re- 
 fefnbling that which is the immediate obje(5l of 
 of reflexion, is plain ; bccaufe, was the idea to 
 which the name anfwers, and which it recalls 
 into the mind, only a particular one, we could 
 not know to what other ideas to apply it, or 
 what particular objeds had the refemblance ne- 
 ceflary to bring them wlihin the meaning of the 
 name. A perfon, in reading over a mathema- 
 tical demonflration, certainly is confcious that it 
 relates to fomewhat elfe, than juil: that preclfe 
 figure prefented to him in the diagram. But if 
 he knows not what elic, of what ufe can the 
 demonflration be to him ? How is his know- 
 ledge enlarged by it ? Or how fliall he know 
 afterwards to what to apply it ? — All that can 
 be pldiured in the imagination, as well as all 
 that we take notice of by our fenfes, is indeed 
 particular. And whenever any general notions 
 are prefent in the mind, the imagination, at the 
 fame time, is commonly engaged in reprefent- 
 ing to itfelf fome of the particulars comprehend- 
 ed under them, But it would be a very ftrange 
 2 ■ inference 
 
of our Ideas in general. 39 
 
 inference from hence, that we have none but 
 particular ideas. As well almofl: might we con- 
 clude, that we have no other notion of any thing 
 than of its name, becaufe they are fo afibciated in 
 our minds, that we cannot feparate them j or of 
 the fun, than as a white, bright circle, fuch as we 
 fee in the heavens, becaufe this impge is apt to 
 accompany all our thoughts of it "*. 
 
 It 
 
 * According to Dr. Cudworth^ abflracS ideas are implied 
 in the cognofcitive power of the mind ; wbich^ he fays ^ contains 
 in it f elf virtually (as the future plant or tree is ccniained in the 
 feed) general notions or exemplars of all things^ which are exert- 
 ed by it, or urfold and difcover themfelves as occoftons invite, 
 and proper circumflances occur. This, no doubt, many will 
 very freely condemn as whimfical and extravagant. I have 
 I own, a different opinion of itj but yet, I (liould not 
 care to be obliged to defend it. It is what he thought, 
 Plato meant by making all knowledge to be Reminifcence ; 
 and in this, as well as other refpeds, he makes the human 
 mind to refemble the Divine ; to which the ideas and com- 
 prehenfion of all things are native and effential, and not 
 to be derived from any foreign fource. 
 
 It may at leafl be faid, that thought, knowledge, ?.nd 
 underltanding, being the originals and caufes of all parti- 
 cular fenfibles, and therefore before them, and above them ; 
 cannot be derived from them, or dependent upon them ; 
 and that what is thus true of mind in genera), or of that 
 firft and all-difpofing mind, from which all inferior minds 
 fprung, and of which they participate, 'tis reafonable to 
 think true, in a lower degree alfo of thefe inferior mindsj 
 jind of their ideas and knowledge. 
 
 D 4 1 he 
 
40 Of the Original 
 
 It is a capital error, into which thofe perfons 
 run who confound the underftanding with the 
 imagination, and deny reality and poffibility to 
 evtry thing the latter cannot conceive, however 
 clear and certain to the former. The powers 
 
 of 
 
 The opinion 'thit unlverfal ideas are formed out of par- 
 ticular ones, by feparsting common from individuating 
 circumf!ancc<;, this learned writer rcje61:s as very ab- 
 furd, and foundctjl on a millake of Arijloiles fenfe. And 
 the other opinion, that they are on\y fiKguJar ideas annexed 
 to a common term ; or, in other words, names without any 
 meaning; (held formerly by thofe, who were therefore 
 C7i\\cdi Nominali/hi and of late revived) he pronounces to be 
 fo rldlculoujly falfe^ as to defer ve no confutation. Vid. Eter- 
 nal and immutable morality. 
 
 " Do we allow it poflible for God to fignify his will to 
 ** men; or for men to fignify their wants to God: — In both 
 *' thefe cafes there muft be an identity of ideas • — Whence 
 " then do thefe common identic Ideas com.e? — Thofe 
 ^' of men it feems come all ftomfenfation. And whence 
 " come God^s Ideas P Not furely from fenfat ion too : For 
 *' this we can hardly venture to affirm without giving to 
 *' body that notable precedence of being prior to the iniellei^ion 
 *« of even God himfelf — Let them then he original ; let 
 " them be connate and eflential to the Divine mind — If 
 *' this be true, is it not a fortunate event, that Ideas of 
 " corporeal rife, and others of mental (things derived from 
 *' fubjecls fo totally diflindl) fhould fo happily coincide in 
 *' the fame wonderful identity ? — Had we not better 
 " reafon thus on fo abftrufe a fubjeil \ — Either all 
 *' MINDS have their ideas derived \ or all have them i7?'z- 
 ^' ginal\ ox fome have them original^ andfoms derived. If all 
 
 " minds 
 
of our Ideas in general, 41 
 
 of the imagination are very narrow; and were the 
 underftanding confined to the fame limits, no- 
 thing could be known, and the very faculty itfelf 
 would be annihilated. — Nothing is plainer, than 
 
 that 
 
 " minds have them derived, they muft be derived from 
 *' fomething which is itfelf not mind, and thus we fall in- 
 ** fenfibly into a kind of Atheifm. If all have them ori" 
 '* ginal, then are all minds Divine j an hypothefis by far 
 *' more plaufible than the former. But if this be not 
 " admitted, then muft one mind (at leaft) have origin 
 *' nal ideas, and the reft have them derived. Now fup- 
 " pofing this laft, vi^hence are thofe minds whofe ideas are 
 *' derived moft likely to derive them ? — From mind or 
 " from BODY ? — From mind, fuch as (from the hy- 
 '' pothefis) has original ideas, or from body v^'hich we 
 *' cannot difcover to have any ideas at all ? — It is thus 
 *' we fliall be enabled with more afliirance to decide, 
 " whether we are to admit the doflrine of the Epicurean 
 ** poet, 
 
 *' CoRPOREA Natura animum conjlare^ 
 '* Animamquej 
 
 " Or truft the Mantuan Bard when he fings in Divine 
 *' numbers, 
 
 " Igneus efi ollis vigor, et C^LESTis ORIGO 
 *' Seminihus 
 
 See Hermes, or z Philofophical Inquiry concerning TJni- 
 verfalGra7nmar. By James Harris, Efqj Pag. 399, &c. 
 fecond Edition. 
 
 *' Thofe Philofophers, (faysthefame very ingenious and 
 
 learned writer,) " whofe ideas of being and knowledge are 
 
 5 " derived 
 
42 Of the Original 
 
 one of thefe often perceives, where the other is 
 blind J is furrounded with light where the other 
 finds all darknefs, and, in numberlcfs inftances, 
 knows things to exift, of which the other can 
 frame no idea. What is more impofTible, than 
 for the imagination to repre(i-nt to itlelf matter 
 void of colour j but thus is it perceived by the 
 underftanding, which pronounces, without doubt 
 or hefitation, that colour being no quality of 
 matter, it mud exift without it. Points, linesj 
 and furfaces alfo, as mathematicians coniider 
 them, are entirely intelledual objeds no notice 
 whereof ever entered the mind by the fenfes, 
 
 *' derived from hody and fenfation, have a fhort method to 
 ** explain the nature of truth. 'T\s-CifaSiiiioustW\ng* 
 ** made by every man for himfelf, which comes and goes, 
 " juft as it is remembered or forgot; which in the order of 
 *' things makes US appearance the laft of any, being not 
 " only fiibfequent to y^«/;/'iV obje£^s, but even to our y^«- 
 *' fations of them, &c. But there are other reafoners, who 
 " mufl furely have had very different notions ; thofe I 
 " mean who reprefent truth not as the A//?, but the 
 " fi^J^ of beings, who call it mmutable^ eternal^ om.niprefent\ 
 " attributes that all indicate fomething more than hu- 
 *' man, &c. For my own part, when I read the detail 
 *' dihowt fenfation and refletlion^ and am taught the procefs 
 *' at large how my ideas are all generated, I feem to view 
 *' the human foul in the light of a crucible, where truths 
 *' are produced by a kind of logical chemiftry." lb. 
 
 P-403- 
 
 and 
 
of our Ideal in general. 43 
 
 ind which are utterly inconceivable to the ima- 
 gination. Does it follow from hence, that there 
 are no fuch things ? Are we to believe that there 
 can exift no panicles of matter fmaller than we 
 can frame an image of to ourfelves, or that 
 there is no other kind or degree of equality, than 
 can be judged of by the eye? This has been 
 maintained ; and on the fame principles we 
 muft go on to fay, that the mind itlelf, and its 
 operations, are juft what they appear to every 
 one's reflexion, and that it is not poffible for us 
 to miftake in thinking of what we have for- 
 merly done, or thought, or what we fliall here- 
 after do or think. But furely, that philofophy 
 cannot be very inviting, which thus explodes all 
 independent truth and reality, refolves know- 
 ledge into particular modifications of fenfe and 
 imagination, and makes thefc.the meafures of 
 all things *. 
 
 * Man the meafure of all things, (reti?^'*' /^fHw^T^yc //?- 
 
 fxn. Id. <i,ct^voij.-va. Ika^ci', lauro Y.i.t avajt. Plai. iheat.) 
 was afavourhe maxim with Protagoras; by which he meant, 
 that every thing was that, and no other, which to every 
 one \x.feeme(l iohc ; and that there could be nothing true, 
 nothing exiftent diflind^ from the mind's own tancits or 
 perceptions. 
 
 The 
 
44 Of ih^ Original 
 
 The foregoing obfervations will receive far- 
 ther light, from attending to the following ex- 
 ample of the amazing ftock of knowledge and 
 new ideas, which the underftanding may derive 
 from one Umple objed: of contemplation. 
 
 Let us fuppofe a being to have prefented to 
 his obfervation any particular portion, (a cubic 
 inch, for inftance) of matter. If all intelligence 
 is wanting, the being will flick for ever in the 
 individual, fenfible object, and proceed to no- 
 thing beyond what it immediately prefents to 
 him. But add intelligence, and then obterve 
 what follows. 
 
 Firft, there will appear the ideas of entity, 
 fojjtbilityy and aBiial exijlence. Every percep- 
 tion being the perception of fomething, im- 
 plies fome kind of reality diftindt from and inde- 
 pendent of itfelfj nothing being moregrofsly ab- 
 furd, than to fuppofe i'he perception, or apprehen- 
 fion of a thing, to be the fame with the thing itlelf. 
 It would be as good fenfe to fuppofe examina- 
 tion, the fame with the fubjed examined j the 
 eye, the fame with vifible objecSs ; memory, the 
 fame with the fad remembered ; or defire, the 
 fame with the objed: defired. And yet this ab- 
 furdity feems to be ih^ foundation of a fyftem ©f 
 fcepticifm which has been lately taught the 
 
 world. 
 
 But 
 
of our Ideas in general. 4 - 
 
 But not to dwell on this. In every idea alfo 
 is implied the pqffibility of the aSlual exiftence of 
 its object J nothing being clearer, than that 
 there can he no idea of an i?72poJjibility, or con- 
 ception cf what cannot exift. Thefe are evident 
 intuitions of the intelledlual faculty j to which 
 it is unavoidably led by every obje(ft of its con- 
 templation. 
 
 We may, next, obferve that the poJjibUify 
 of the exiftence of matter implies the aSlual 
 exiftence oijpace, without prefuppolirig which, 
 it could not be pofflble, nor could there be any 
 idea of it. And tlie difcernment we have of 
 thh pojiblify y as neceflary and infeparable from 
 the idea of matter, is nothing elfe than the dif- 
 cernment of the necejfary aBual exiftence of 
 fpace. The idea of fpace once obtained, we 
 perceive the Injinky of it, as before reprefented. 
 — From the idea of matter, we are in the 
 fame manner informed of the necefary exift- 
 ence of Duration. 
 
 Again ; by farther examining the above-fup- 
 pofed portion of matter, the intelligent mind 
 vv'ill find that it can conceive, without a contra- 
 didion, of one part of it as in one place, and 
 another in another, and that confequently it is 
 di-oijible. For the fame reafon it will find, that 
 it can carry on this divifion ; nay, fo far can 
 
 it 
 
46 Of the Original 
 
 it penetrate beyond all the boundaries of ima- 
 gination, that it will perceive certainly, that no 
 end can be put to this divifion, or that matter 
 is infinitely divifible j it being felf-evident, that 
 nothing that is folid, and has length, breadth, 
 and thicknefs, can be fo fmall as to be incapable 
 of being divided. 
 
 From the fame foiirce it may farther gain 
 the ideas of caiife., and effeB^ and connexion. 
 For let it conceive of two oF the divided parts 
 as moving in a direct line towards one another, 
 and then confider what would follow. As it 
 cannot conceive them to pafs through one an- 
 other, it would unavoidably determine, that con- 
 taSi and impulfe will follow j and, as necejfari- 
 ly conneBed with theie, fome alteration in the 
 motions of the confiiding bodies. — By what 
 criterion can that perfon judge of what is true 
 or falfe ; and why will he refufe his affent to 
 any abfurdity that can be propofed to him, 
 who finds no difficulty in conceiving, that two 
 bodies may penetrate one another, or move to- 
 wards one another without meeting and im- 
 pelling J or impel one another without any effeB^ 
 or new modification of motion ? 
 
 But not only would the mind thus per- 
 ceive caufation aiid necejfary connexion ^ but, 
 from any fuppofed diredion and momentum 
 
 of 
 
of our Ideas in general. 47 
 
 of the movInG; bodies, before impulfe, it 
 might foretel the precife alteration of thefe 
 that would be produced by it; and go on to 
 determine a priori, and without the poffiblli- 
 ty of error, all the lavv's and effeifts of the col- 
 lllion of bodies, of the dividon and compofi- 
 tlon of motions, of the refiftance of fluids and 
 centripetal forces, as they have been inveftlgat- 
 ed and taught by natural phllofophers. 
 
 Nothing need be faid to fliew, that, from 
 the fame foundation laid, the mind would gain 
 the ideas of number, proportion, lines 2.n^Jigicres, 
 and might proceed to arithmetic^ geometry^ and 
 all the different branches of mathematics. — It 
 might, in fliort, from this lingle fubjedl of en- 
 quiry, learn not only the elements and principles, 
 but the main part of the whole body of fcience. 
 —•Such is the fecundity of reafon, and fo grea^ 
 is the injury done to it, by confining It with- 
 in the narrow limits di fenfe, fancy ^ or expe- 
 
 rience. * 
 
 When 
 
 * And fo falfeis that maxim of the fchools ; Nil eji 
 
 in ititelleSlu quod mn ■prim full in fenju. One inftance 
 
 of what is here obferved, not direclly to the purpofc, but 
 worth notice by the way, is the cafe mentioned by Mr. 
 Locke of the man fuppofed to be born blind, reftored to his 
 fighr, and required to diftinguifh between a globe anJ cube 
 fet before him, without feeling them. Mr. Locke has in 
 
 my 
 
48 Of the Original 
 
 When I confider thefe things, I cannot help 
 wondering, that, in enquiring into the original 
 
 my opinion, certainly decided wrong here. That fuch a 
 perfon would not be able readily or immediately to fay, 
 which was one, or which the other, I acknowledge ; but 
 it feems certain, that he might, with the help of a little 
 reflexion. For, inftead of the globe or cube, let the ob- 
 je£ls propofed to him be zfquare and a reSlangular paralle" 
 logram of unequal fides. To both fenfes the fides of the 
 one would appear equal, and of the other unequal : Where 
 therefore could be the difficulty of his determining, that 
 what he faw with equal fides was the fquare, and with 
 unequal the oblong ? Could he poflibly fufpedt, that feeing 
 was fo fallacious a fenfe as to reprefent as equal, the moft 
 unequal things, or as one^ the greateft number of things 5 
 and vice verfa ? In the fame manner, he might diftinguilh 
 between a fquare and a circle, and therefore between a 
 globe and a cube, and, in various other inflances, determine 
 how what \\Qfaw, would feely antecedently to experience. 
 — » He might alfo be enabled to diftinguifh between the 
 globe and cube, and, in general, between one angle and 
 figure, and another, by confidering the different alterations 
 of diredlion, which a body muft receive in moving along 
 their peripherys^ as they appeared to his fight, and com- 
 paring this with what he beforehand knew by feeling,' 
 Thus might judgment, in fuch inflances, fupply the want 
 of experience and fenfation ; as innumberlefs other inftan- 
 cesj it corre^Is fenfation, and is fubflituted in the room of it,- 
 At the time of the firfl publication of this work, I did 
 not know that Mr. Locke's decifion in this cafe had been 
 ever queftioned. But I have fince found that it had been 
 long before particularly confuted by Dr. Smith in his valu- 
 able Treatife on Opticks, 
 
 of 
 
cf our liieas in genet^al, 4 9 
 
 of our ideas, the underflandlri;-]:, which, tlio'iph 
 not firft in time, is the mofl: importaiat fource of 
 our ideas, (hould have been overlooked. It ha?, 
 indeed, been always con (idered, as, tliefource cf 
 knowledge : But it (hould have been tr.ore atten- 
 ded to, that as the fource of knowledge, it is 
 likewife the fource of new ideas, and that it 
 cannot be oneof thefe without being the other. 
 The various kinds of ogrecment^ and dijagrec- 
 ^2^";?/ between our ideas, which, Mr. Locke fays, 
 it is its oBice to difcover and trace, are fo many 
 new, fimple ideas, of which it muft itfclf have 
 been the original. Thus ; when it confidcrs 
 the two angles made by a right line, flanding 
 in any diredlion on another, and perceives the 
 agreement between them and two right angles ; 
 what is this agreement beiides their equality'^ 
 And is not the idea of this equality a new iim- 
 ple idea, derived from the underflanding, whol- 
 ly different from that of the two angles compa- 
 red, and reprefenting felf-evident truth ? — In 
 much the fame manner in other cafes, know- 
 ledge and intuition fuppofe fomewhat perceived 
 or difcovered in their objeds, denoting fimple 
 ideas to which themfelves gave rife. - — This is 
 true of our ideas of proportion, of our ideas of 
 identity and 'divcrfity, exifience^ Gonnexion^ caufe 
 and effeB, power i pojjibility zxi^ impojjibility -, and 
 
 E " let 
 
5© ' Of the Origifial 
 
 let me add, though prematurely, of our ideas 
 of moral right and wrong. The firft concerns 
 quantity \ the lad actions \ the reft all things. 
 They comprehend the moft confiderable part of 
 what wc can defire to kno-iv of things, and are 
 the objeds of almoft all reafonings and difquiii- 
 tions •^'. It 
 
 * Wc find Socrates, to the like efFe£l, in Thietet*. (af- 
 ter obferving, that it cannot be any of the powers of fenfe 
 that compares the perceptions of all the fenfes, and ap- 
 prehends the general affe<Sl:ions of things, and particularly 
 idintity^ viimber^ funiUtude, dijfim'ilitude , equality^ inequality, 
 to which he adds, k^ikov kcij aj^pov) alTerting, that this 
 power is reafon, or the foul ailing by itfelf feparately from 
 iT^atter, and independently of any corporeal impreffions or 
 paifionf; and that, confequently, in oppofition to Prota- 
 goras, hiovAcdge is not to be fought for \n fenfe, but in this 
 fiiperior part of the foul. Ms/ S'oKei — hP eivai ronijov nJ^tv 
 T'dToii c-ycLvcv iS'ioi', «tAA* cLOTtt J" I ajjrr.i « 4"%" '"<* 
 
 '/.alia, fxoi Q'JJvilc/A <ati. ■rra,i^uv iTricrno-^&iV of/.«i S'l Tc- 
 
 c>i]ov yt 'srpoCiCjiKctuii, chi ij.n ^nrac aulm {i7rt?-t]y.y)y) zv 
 oj£:;]Ji-i TO is dLpc,:'n' l'a> . clKTC si' iKeiveo ra ovoij.Arh on 'mor' 
 i'/^ei n '4-yX.*' ^^'*'' '^^^ ^'^^^ d'jTiiv 'Tz-fijf.yiJ.cirivinaji <met 
 TA ONTA. *' It feems tome, that for the perception of 
 *' thefe things, a different organ or faculty is not appointed ; 
 *' but that the foul itfelf, and in virtue of its own power, ob- 
 ** ferves thefe general affedtions of all things. — So far we 
 *' have advanced, as to find, that knowledge is by no means to 
 ** be fought \n fenfe ; but in that power of the foul which it 
 " employs when within itfelf ic contemplates and fearches 
 
 ** out TRUTH. 
 
 " Mark the order of things according to the account 
 " of our later metaphyficians. Firft, comes that huge 
 *' body, the ftnfibU World. Then this and its attributes 
 
 " begets 
 
of our Ideas in general. 5 1 
 
 It Is therefore eflentlal to the underflanding 
 to be the fountain of new ideas. As bodily 
 fight difcovers to us the qualities of outward^ iii- 
 Jibk objeds j fo does the underftanding, Vv^hich 
 is the eye of the mind, and infinitely more fub- 
 tile and penetrating, difcover to us the qualities 
 of intelligible objects j and thu=:, in a like fenfe 
 with the former, becomes the inlet of new 
 ideas. — 'Tis obvious, that the ideas now meant, 
 prefuppofe certain fubjeds of contemplation, of 
 whofe natures, connexions, and qualities they 
 
 *' hcg&t fenfjble Ideas. Then out of fenfible Ideas by a 
 *' kind of lopping and pruning are made ideas intelligibky 
 " ivhether fpecijic or general. Thus fhould they admit that 
 " Mind was coeval with Body, yet till Body gave it 
 *' ideas and awakened its dormant powers, it could at beft 
 *' have been nothing more than ^fort of dead capacity \ for 
 " Innate Ideas it could not poflibly have any. — '* At 
 '* another time we hear of bodies fo exceedingly fine, that 
 *' their very exility makes them fufceptible oi fenfation and 
 *' knowledge, as if theyftirunk into intelledl by their ex- 
 " quifite fubtlety, which rendered them too delicate to be 
 <' bodies any longer, &c." 
 
 *' But the intclle^ual (cheme, which never forgets Deity 
 *' poftpones every thing corporeal to the primary mental Cauje. 
 *' 'Tis here it looks for the origin oi intelligible ideas, eveii 
 " of thofe which exift in human capacities. For tho'y^«- 
 *' ^ble objects may be the deftined medium to awaken the 
 " dormant energies of man's underftanding, yetarethofc 
 *' energies themfelves no more contained in fenfe, th.m 
 *' the explofion of a cannon in the fpark which gave it 
 fire." Vid. Hermes, Pag. 392, &c. Second Edition. 
 
 E 2 are 
 
52 Oj the OriglnoX 
 
 are perceptions. — I need not, furely>ftay to flie\^', 
 that there is no reafon for denying them to be 
 dill:iri(fl and new ideas ; or for afcribing them 
 to any operations of the mind about its ideas, 
 which can only compound and modify old ideas. 
 
 It may not, perhaps, be an improper divifion 
 of all our fimple ideas into original ^Ludftibfequent 
 ones. The former fuppofe no other ideas as 
 necelTary to our receiving them, but are convey- 
 ed to us immediately by our organs of fenfe, 
 or our reflexion upon ourfeives. The latter 
 prefuppore other ideas, aiid are built upon them ; 
 or thev arife from attending to their natures and 
 relations. Thus ; our original ideas derived 
 {xomexiernal fenfation and refexion, lay a foun- 
 dation for other ideas derived from internal fen- 
 fation, and from the iinde?jlanding. 
 
 But the foUovving divifion of our ideas, 
 though far from perfedly exad and complete, 
 will be, on feveral accounts, better. 
 
 Firjlj Into thofe implying nothing real with- 
 out the mind, or notliing real and true beiides 
 its own aftedtions and ienfations. And, 
 
 Secondly^ Into thofe which denote fomething 
 diflind from fenfation j or imply real and in- 
 dependent exiflence and truth. 
 
 Each of thefe general clafTes may be again 
 fubdivided : The Firft, Into thofe that denote 
 the immediate effeds of imprefiions on the bo- 
 dily 
 
cf our Ideai in gene?- ah ^3 
 
 dily fenfes, without fuppofingany prevlouj Ideas, 
 as all taftes, fmells, colours, &c. and thofc thit 
 arife upon occafion only of other ideas; as the 
 effeds in us of confidering order, happinefs, and 
 the beauties of poetry, fculpture, painting, &c. 
 
 The fecond clafs may be fubdivided into fuch 
 as denote the real properties of external objeds ; 
 and the actions and paffions of the mind : And 
 thofe, which I have defcribed as derived im- 
 mediately from intelligence. By the notices 
 conveyed to the mind through the organs of 
 the body, or its obfervation of the neceflary atten- 
 dants and concomitants of certain fenfations and 
 impreffions, it perceives the figure, extcnlion, 
 motion, and other primary qualities of material 
 fubflances. By contemplating itfelF, it perceives 
 the properties o^ fpiritual fubftanccs, volition, 
 confcioufnefs, memory, &c. To all thefe ideas, 
 itiseflential that they have invariable archetypes 
 adually exifting, to which they are referred and 
 fuppofed to be conformable -f*. 
 
 After the mind, from v^hatever poffible cau- 
 fes, has been furnifhed with ideas of various ob- 
 je<fts and exiftences, they become themfelves far- 
 
 t It is a very juft obfervation of Tit. Hutcbefons, that 
 extenfion, figure, motion, and ref^, are more properly 
 ideas accompanying the fenfations of Hght and touch, than 
 fenfations of either of thefe fsnfes. Sec Treatije on the Paf- 
 Jions^ Se^. i. 
 
 E 3 ther 
 
54 Of i^^ Original 
 
 ther objeds to our intelledive faculty ; from 
 whence arifes a new fet of ideas, which are the 
 perceptions of this faculty, and the objedts of 
 which are, not the mind's own afFedions, but 
 NECESSARY TRUTH. Autccedendy to thefe, 
 whatever other ideas we may be furnidied with, 
 nothing is imderjlood *. Whatever feeds, or 
 
 fubjedls 
 
 * It would, I believe, be beft never to give the name 
 of ideas to fenfations themfelves any more than to actual 
 volitions ordefires; but to confine this word to the mind's 
 conception ox notice of any objetSl. An idea would thus al- 
 ways imply fomething diftinft from itfeif vi^hich is its ob- 
 jedl:; and the proper divifion of o«r ideas would be, ac- 
 cording to their different objecSls, into thofe whofe obje£ls 
 are matter and fpirit and their qualities, the general af- 
 fe£lions cf all things, and neceflary truth. 
 
 It fliould be obferved that I have all along endeavoured 
 to avoid fpeakingof an idea as an image in the mind of the 
 object we think of. It is difficult not to fall fometimes 
 into language of this kind ; but it may be mifunderftood 
 and abufed, A writer of deep reflexion and great merit 
 has charged it with laying the foundation of all modern 
 fcepticifm. Vid. Jn enquiry into the human mind on the prin- 
 ciples cf co?nmon fenfe, by Dr. Reid. 
 
 In lliort. There are three fenfes in which the word 
 idea has been ufed, and which it is neceflary to diftinguifh.. 
 — It has been ufed to fignify fcnfation itfelf. Thus taftes, 
 founds and colours are often called ideas. But this is 
 ufmg the word very unwarrantably — It is alfo ufed to 
 fignify the mind's conception or apprehenfion of any objecS. 
 This, I think, is its moft juft and proper fenfe — It is fur- 
 ther 
 
of our Idem in general. 5 ^ 
 
 fubjeds of knowledge there may be in the 
 mind, nothing is known. 
 
 It fhould not be forgotten, that t]:e under- 
 ftanding is greatly concerned in fi]pplying us 
 with feveral of the ideas of the lird fort under 
 this latter clafs. Its proper objeds are fads and 
 real exillence. It is the nature of it, as already 
 fliewn, to fuggefl thefe to u?, and, by a power 
 and fagacity innate and unlimited, to apprehend 
 
 ther ufed to fignify the immcdlaie objecl: of the mind in thii:k- 
 ing, considered as fomething in the mind which rrprcfents 
 the real obje6i but is different from it. This fenfe of an 
 idea is derived from the notion that v/hen we think of any 
 external exigence, there is iorixt\.\\\x\':^immcdiately prelent to 
 the mind which it contemplates didindl: from the obje<St 
 itfelf, that being at a diftance. But what is this ? It is 
 bad language to call it an wmge in the mir.d of the objc^l. 
 Shall we fay then that there is indeed no fuch thine: ? — 
 But would not this be the fame as to fay that, when the 
 mind is employed in viewing and examining any object 
 which is either not prefent to it or does not cxifr, it is em- 
 ployed in viewing and examining nothing, and therefore 
 does not then think at all? — When abftrail truth is con- 
 templated, is not the very objetSl itfelf prefent to the mind ? 
 When millions of intelle<5ts contemplate the equality of 
 every angle in afemicircle to a right angle, have they not 
 all the fame obje£t in view ? Is this object nothing? Or is 
 it only an image^ or kind of fhadow ? — Thefe enquiries 
 carry our thoughts high. What anfwcr I am for giving 
 to them will appear in the fifth chapter of this Work, and 
 the additional differtation at the end. 
 
 E 4 and 
 
'56 , Of the Original 
 
 and difcover what is true or falfe, pOiTibls cr 
 imponible. 
 
 Of all the different kinds of ideas now men- 
 tioned, the inferior, animal creation Teems pof- 
 fefs'd chiefly, if not folely, ofthofe derived fioiii 
 the external fenfes. Brutes think, and will, and 
 remember; but are not capable of making thefe 
 the cbje^ls of a reflex a6t, fo as to obtain ideas 
 of them. They may hear all the founds in 
 tnuiic, and fee all the lines and colours in a pic- 
 ture ; but they perceive not harmony, cr beauty. 
 All the ideas, therefore, founded on inward re- 
 flexion, on a previous allem.blage and compari- 
 fon of idQ^s mid on iiitelligencej feem, in a great 
 rneafure, peculiar to ourfelves. 
 
 It is an obfervation very neceffary to be made, 
 before we leave what we are now upon, that 
 the fource of ideas on which I have infifted, is dif- 
 ferent from deduBioii, and ought, by no means, 
 to be confounded with it. This confilts in in- 
 veftigating, by proper mediums, certain relations 
 &c. between cbjeds; ideas of which muft have 
 been previoufly in the mind, and got from intui- 
 tion. That is; it fuppofes us already to have the 
 ideas we want to trace; and therefore cannot give 
 rife to new ones. No mind can be engaged in 
 jnveftigating it knows not what; or in endeavour- 
 ing 
 
cf our Ideas In general. ^j 
 
 inc^tofind out any thing concerning an objed:, 
 of which it has no conception. When ; from 
 the view of objeds to which they belong felf- 
 evldently, we have gained ideas of proportion, 
 identity, connexion &c. we employ dedudion, or 
 reafoning, to trace thefe farther amongft other 
 objedts, and in other inffcances, where they can- 
 not be perceived immediately. 
 
 SECT. III. 
 
 Of the Original of our Ideas of moral Right 
 and Wrong. 
 
 E T us now return to our firft enquiry, 
 and the particular application of the fore- 
 going obfervations to our ideas of right and 
 wrong in adlions. 
 
 'Tis a very necefTary previous obfcrvation, 
 that right and wrong denote fimple ideas, and 
 are therefore to be afcribed to fome immediate 
 power of perception in the human mind. He 
 that doubts this, need only try to enumerate the 
 fimple ideas they fignlfy ; br to give definitions 
 of them when applied, (fuppofe, to beneficence 
 or cruelty^ which fliall amount to more than 
 fynonymous exprefiions. From not attending 
 to this 3 from giving definitions of thefe ideas, 
 
 find 
 
58 Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 and attempting to derive them from dcduBion^ or 
 reafoning^ has proceeded moftofthat confufion, 
 in which the queftion concerning the foundation 
 of morals Ims been involved. — There are, un- 
 doubtedly, feme adions that are idii?nately ap- 
 proved, and for juftifying which no reafon can 
 be affigned ; as there are fome ends, which are 
 ultimately delired, and for chufing which no rea- 
 fon can be given. Were not this true ; there 
 would be an infinite feriesor progrellion of rea- 
 fons and ends fubordinate to one another. There 
 would be nothir.g at which to flop, and there- 
 fore nothing that could be at all approved or 
 delired. 
 
 Suppofing it then clear, that we have a 
 power immediately perceiving right and wrong ; 
 the point I am novv' to endeavour to prove, is, 
 that this power is the Underftanditig^ agreeably 
 to the alTertion at the end of the^r// fedion. 
 Pag. 1 5. I cannot but flatter myfelf, that the 
 main obftacle to the acknowledgment of this, 
 has been already removed, by fliewing in the 
 preceding fedion that the underftanding is a 
 power of immediate perception, giving rife to 
 new original ideas ^ nor do I think it poffible that 
 there fliould have been many difputes on this fub- 
 jed had this been properly confidered. 
 
 But, 
 
of Moral Right and V/rong. 59 
 
 But, in order more explicitly and diftindly 
 to evince what I have afferted (in the only way 
 of which the nature of the queftion feems ca- 
 pable) let me, 
 
 Firfl, Obferve, that it implies no abfurdity, 
 but evidently may be true. It is undeniable, 
 that many of our ideas are derived from the 
 INTUITION of truth, or the difcernment of the 
 natures of things by the underftanding. This 
 therefore may be the fource of our moral ideas. 
 It is at leaft fojjible, that right and wrong may 
 denote what we iinderftand and know concerning 
 certain objeds, in like manner Vv^ith proportion 
 and difproportion, connexion and repugnancy, 
 and the other ideas before-mentioned. — I will 
 add, that nothing has been offered by any writers 
 Vv^ith whom I am acquainted, which has any 
 diredl tendency to prove that this is not the real 
 truth, as well as poffible. All that can appear, 
 from the objedions and reafonings of the Author 
 of the Enquiry into the original of our ideas of 
 beauty and 'uirtue^ is only, what has been alrea- 
 dy obferved, and what does not in the leaft af- 
 fed the point in debate : That we have an im- 
 mediate power which perceives morality} that 
 the words right and wrongs fit and iinft^ exprefs 
 fimple ideas 3 and that much confufion has arifen 
 irorq a;tempting to define them. But that this 
 
 power 
 
6o Of the Orighml of our Ideas 
 
 power is properly a/^^ and not reafcn-y that thefe 
 ideas denote nothing true of actions, nothing in 
 the nature of actions, but only effe£l sin usj this, 
 I think, has been left entirely without proof. He 
 appears, indeed, to have taken for granted, that 
 if virtue and vice are immediately perceived, or 
 exprefs fimple and undefinable ideas 5 they mufl: 
 be perceptions of an implanted fenfe. But no 
 conclufion could have been more hafty. For 
 will any one take upon him to fay, that all 
 powers of immediate perception muft be arbitra- 
 ry and implanted j or that there can be no fim- 
 ple ideas denoting any thing beiides the quali- 
 ties and pafTions of the mind ? — In fhcrt. What- 
 ever fome have faid to the contrary, it is I think, 
 certainly, a point not yet decided, that virtue is 
 wholly factitious, and to hefelt^ not underfiood. 
 
 As there are fome proportions, which, when 
 attended to, necefTarily determine all minds 
 to believe them : And as (which will be fhewii 
 hereafter) there are fome ends, Vv^hofe nature^ 
 arc fuch, that, when perceived, all beings im- 
 mediately and neceffarily defre them : So is it 
 very credible and ealy to be admitted, that, in 
 like manner, there are fome adions whofe na- 
 tures are fuch, that, when obferved, ail rational 
 beings immediately and necell'arily approve them. 
 
 lam 
 
^f Moral Right and Wrong. 6 1 
 
 I am not at all concerned what follows from 
 fuppofing all our ideas to be either imprejfiotuy 
 or * copies of impre[/:ons y or deducihle. from sen- 
 sation and RF.FLEXiON. — The firdcf thcfe 
 alTertions is, I think, deftkiiteof all proofj liip- 
 pofes, when applied in this as well as many other 
 cafes, the point in queflion j and, \vhen purfued 
 to its confcquences, ends in the deftruclion of all 
 truth and the fabverfion of cur inleliedual 
 faculties. -— The ether wants much explication 
 to render it confinient with any tolerable account 
 (of the original of cur moral ideas: Nor doe§ 
 there feem to be any thing neceflary to convince 
 a perfon, that all our ideas are not deducibls 
 from fenfation and reflexion, except taken in a 
 very large and comprehenfive fenfe, befides con- 
 iidering, how Mr. Locke derives from them our 
 moral ideas. He places them among our ideas 
 of relations, and reprefents reBitude as fignifying 
 only the conformity of adions to fome rules 
 or laws ', which rules or law?, he fays, are ei* 
 ther the will of God ^ the decrees of the magijirate^ 
 0r the fafiion of the coujitry : From whence it 
 follows, that it is the greateft abfurdity to ap- 
 ply re5lifude to rules and laws themfelves j to 
 fuppofe the divifie will to be direded by it ; or ta 
 conlider it as itjelf a rule and law. But, it is 
 
 * See Mr. Hume's Treatife of Human Nature^ and 
 Philofophual EJfiys. . 
 
 undoubted, 
 
62 Of the Original of cur Ideas 
 
 undoubted, that this great man would have de- 
 teftcd thefe confequences^ and, indeed, it is 
 fufliciently evident, that he was flrangely embar- 
 rafled and inconfiftent in his notions on this, as 
 well as fome other fubjeds. But, 
 
 Seco7idly, I know of no better way of deter- 
 mining this point, than by referring men to 
 their own confcioufnefs, and putting them upon 
 examining and comparing their own percep- 
 tions. — Could we fuppofe aperfon, who, when 
 he perceived an external objedt, was at a lofs to 
 determine whether he perceived it by means 
 of his organs of fight or touch j what better 
 method could be taken to fatisfy him ? There 
 is no poffibility of doubting in any fuch cafes. 
 And it feems not, in any very great degree, 
 harder to determine in the cafe before us. 
 
 Were the queftion j what that perception is, 
 which we have of number, diverfity, caufation 
 or proportion j and whether our ideas of them 
 fignify truth and reality perceived by the under- 
 ftanding, or particular impreiiions, made by the 
 objcds to which we afcribe them, on our minds j 
 were, I fay, this the queftion j would it not be 
 fufficient to appeal to common fenfe ? — Thefe 
 ideas feem to me to have no greater pretence to 
 be denominated perceptions of the underftand- 
 ing, than right and wrojig. 
 
 5 ^^ 
 
of Moral Right and Wrong, 6 3 
 
 It is true/ome imprcffions of pleafure or pain, 
 fatisfadtion or dilgufl:, generally, if not always, 
 attend our perceptions of virtue and vice. But 
 thefe are merely their eftedts and concomitants, 
 and not the ideas themfelves, which ought no 
 more to be confounded with them, than a par- 
 ticular truth (as a particular property of a curve 
 or figure) ought to be confounded with the plea- 
 fure that may attend the difcoveryor contempla- 
 tion of it. Some emotion or other and fome al- 
 teration in the ftate of the mind, accompany, 
 perhaps, all our perceptions ; but more remark- 
 ably our perceptions of right and wrong. And 
 this, as will be again obferved in the next chap- 
 ter, is what has led to the miftake of making 
 them to fignify nothing but emotions in us ; 
 which error fome have extended even to all 
 the objedls of knowledge j and thus have funk 
 into the mofi: monftrous fcepticifm. 
 
 But to return j let any one compare in his 
 mind, the ideas arifing from ouv powers offenfa^ 
 tion, with thofe ai'ifing fram intuition of the natures 
 of things^ and enquire which of them his ideas 
 of right and wrong mod refemble. On the 
 iflue of fuch a ccmparifon may we fafely reft 
 this queftion, v»Mth all thofe whofe thoughts are 
 not yet prepoffeffed in favour of any particular 
 icheme . — He that can impartially attend to the 
 
 nature 
 
64 Of the Original cf our Ideas 
 
 nature of his own perceptions, and determine 
 that, when he conceives gratitude or beneficence 
 to be rights he perceives nothing true of them, 
 or underflands nothing, but only faffers from a 
 fenfe, has a turn of mind which appears to mc 
 unaccountable. — Was it pofiible for a perfon 
 to queftlon, whether his idea of equality was 
 gained from fenfe or intelligence -, he might foon 
 be convinced, by conlidering, whether he does 
 not knoWy that between certain quantities there 
 exifts real, felf-evident equality, which muft be 
 perceived by all minds, as foon as the objeds 
 themfelves are perceived. -— In the fame man- 
 ner may we fatisfy ourfelves concerning the 
 original of the idea of right : For have we 
 not a like confcioufnefs, that we difcern the one^ 
 as well as the other, in certain objecfls ? Upon 
 what poflible grounds can we pronounce the one 
 to be fenfe y and the other reafcn ? Would not a 
 Being purely intelligent, having happinefs within 
 his reach, approve cf fecuring it for himielf ? 
 Would he not thijtk this right ; and would it not 
 be right ? When we contemplate the happinefs 
 of a fpecies, or of a world, and pronounce con- 
 cerning the adions of reafonable beings which 
 promote it, that they are right; is this judging 
 erroneouily ? Or is it no determination of the 
 judgment at all, but a fpecies of mental tafte ? 
 
 5 —^^^ 
 
of Moral Right and Wrong, 6^ 
 
 —-Are not fuch adions really rights and defter than 
 the contrary actions ? Or is every apprehenfion 
 of reditude in fuch adions falfe and deludve, 
 juft as are the Hke apprehenfions concerning co- 
 lour, found, and all the effeds of external and 
 internal fenfation, when taken to belong to the 
 caufes producing them ? 
 
 It feems beyond contradidion certain, that 
 every being muft dejire happinefs for himfelf ; 
 and can thoie natures of things, from whence 
 the defire of happinefs and averiion to mifery ne- 
 cefTarily arife, leave, at the fame time, a ratio- 
 nal nature totally indifferent as to any approba- 
 tio7i of adions procuring the one, or preventing 
 the other ? Is there nothing that any under- 
 jlanding can perceive to be amifs in a creature's 
 bringing upon himfelf, or others, calamities and 
 ruin ? Is there nothing truly wrong in the ab- 
 folute and eternal mifery of an innocent being ? 
 ' — " It appears wrong to us." — And what rea- 
 fon can you have for doubting, whether it ap- 
 pears to you what it is ? — Should a being, af- 
 ter being flattered with hopes of blifs, and 
 having his expectations raifed by encouragements 
 and promifes, find himfelf, without reafon, 
 plunged into irretrievable torments j would he 
 not JuJIy complain ? Would he want dijenfe to 
 caufe the idea of ''jDrong to arife in his mind ? 
 
 F Is 
 
66 Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 Is it not true, that here would be fomewhat that 
 ought not to be ? — Can goodnefs, gratitude, and 
 veracity appear to any mind, with the fame 
 charadtcrs, and in the fame moral view, with 
 cruelty, ingratitude, and treachery? — Daric- 
 nels may as foon appear to be light. 
 
 It would, I doubt, be to little purpofe to 
 plead further here ; the natural and univerfal 
 apprehenfions of mankind, that our ideas of 
 right and wrong belong to the underftanding, 
 and denote real charadters of adions j becaufe 
 it will be eafy to reply, that they have a like 
 opinion of the fenfible qualities of bodies j and 
 that nothing is more common or eafy, than for 
 men to miftake their own fenfations for the 
 properties of the objeds producing them, or to 
 apply to the objed itfelf, what they find always 
 accompanying it, whenever obferved. Let it 
 therefore be obferved. 
 
 Thirdly, That if right and wrong denote ef- 
 feds of fenfation, it mufl imply the greatefl 
 abfurdity to fuppofe them applicable to ac- 
 tions : Or, the ideas of right and wro?ig, and 
 of adiion, muft be incompadble, and eflbntially 
 repugnant to one another ; as much fo, as the 
 idea of pleafure and a regular form, or of pain 
 and the collifions of bodies. — All fenfations, 
 as fuch, are modes of confcioufnefs, or feelings 
 2 of 
 
of Moral Right and Wrong, 67 
 
 of a fentient being, which muft be of a nature 
 totally different from the particular caufes which 
 produce them. A coloured body^ if we fpeak 
 accurately, is the fame abfurdity and impoffibi- 
 lity with a fquare found. We need no experi- 
 ments to prove that heat, cold, colours, tafles, &c. 
 are not real qualities of bodies ^ becaufe the ideas 
 of matter and of thefe qualities, are incompa- 
 tible*. — Let the reader now confider, whether 
 
 * It is chiefly from hence ; from our own idea?, or the 
 reafon of the thing ; from the unintelligtblenefs of colour, 
 and other fecondary qualities, when confidered as modifi- 
 cations of matter, or the repugnancy to coexiftence in 
 the fame fubje<3: which we perceive between thefe qua- 
 lities and folidity and extenfionj that we conclude they are 
 not properties of matter, but different effedis produced in 
 our minds by the adion of matter upon them, Moft of 
 the experiments and fads alledged in confirmation of this, 
 are in themfelves no fufficient proofs of it, becaufe equally 
 applicable, as may be eafily feen, to the real and primary 
 qualities of matter. — It is a remark, I know not how to 
 forbear adding here ; that, fenfible qualities bein'T now 
 univerfally allowed not to be qualities inherent in matter- 
 it is ftrange, the fame fhould not be allowed to be 
 equally evident with refpecl to thought and confcioufnefs. 
 Is the notion of confdoiis^ thinkings rcafrjiahlc niatter lefs 
 abfurd than that of ivh'tte or red matter? Is there lefs re- 
 pugnancy between the ideas ? Is it lefs plain, that figure, 
 folidity, magnitude, motion, and juxta pofition of parts are 
 not, and cannot be defire, volition, and judgment ; than 
 it is that they cannot be cold or four, or that any one thino- 
 is not and cannot be another ? 
 
 F 2 there 
 
63 Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 there is indeed any fuch incompatibility between 
 aciions and right '^ Or any fuch abfurdity in 
 affirmino; the one of the other? — > Are the ideas 
 of them as different as the idea of a fenfation, 
 and its caufe ? 
 
 On the contrary ; the more we examine, the 
 more indifputable, I imagine, it will appear to 
 us, that we exprefs neceflary truth, when we 
 fay of fome adions, they are right ; and of others, 
 they are wrong. Some of the moft careful en- 
 quirers think thus, and find it out of their power 
 not to be perfuaded that thefe are real didindions 
 belonging to the natures of actions and charac- 
 ters. Can it be fo difficult, for attentive and 
 impartial perfons, to diftingulili between the 
 ideas of fenfibility and reafon; between the 
 intuitions of truth and the paffions of the mindt 
 Is that a fcheme of morals we can be very fond 
 of, which makes our perceptions of moral good 
 and evil in adions and manners, to be all vifion 
 and fancy ? Who can help feeing, that right 
 and wrong are as abfolutely unintelligible, and 
 void of fenfe and meaning, when fuppofed to 
 fignify nothing true of adtions, no efTential, in- 
 herent difference between them ; as the percep- 
 tions of the external and internal fenfes are, 
 when thouglit to be properties of the objeds 
 that produce them ? 
 
 2 How 
 
of Moral Right and Wroiig. 69 
 
 How flrange would it be to maintain, that 
 there is no poffibility of mijlaking with refped: 
 to right and wrong * j that the apprehenfions 
 of all beings, on this fubjedt, are alike juft, fince 
 all fenfation muft be alike true fenfation ? ^ — Is 
 there a greater abfurdity, than to fuppofe, that 
 the moral rectitude of an adion is nothing ab- 
 folute and unvarying j but capable, like all the 
 modifications of pleafure and fenfation, of being 
 intended and remitted, of increafing and lefTen- 
 ing, of rifing and finking with the force and 
 livelinefs of our feelings ? Would it be Jefs ridi- 
 culous to fuppofe this of the relations between 
 given quantities, of the equality of numbers, or 
 the figure of bodies ? 
 
 In the lafl place ; let it be confidered, that 
 all adions, undoubtedly, have a nature. That 
 is, fome charaBer certainly belongs to them, 
 and fomewhat there is to be truly affirmed of 
 them. This may be, that fome of them are 
 right, others wrong. But if this is not allowed ; 
 if no anions are, in themfelveSy either right or 
 wrong, or any thing of a moral and obligatory 
 nature which can be an object to the under- 
 
 * It will be obferved prefently, that the antient fceptics 
 aflerted univerfally there could be no fuch thing as error ; 
 and for the very reafon here affigned. 
 
 F 3 {landing; 
 
70 Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 landing ; it follov/s, that, in themfelves, they 
 are all indifferent. This is what is eflentially 
 true of them, and this is what all underftandings, 
 that perceive right, miift perceive them to be. 
 But are we not confcious, that we perceive the 
 contrary ? And have we not as much reafon 
 to believe the contrary, as to believe or trull at 
 all our own difcernment ? 
 
 In other words j every thing having a de- 
 termined nature or effence^ from whence fuch 
 and fuch truths concerning it neceff;rily refult, 
 and which it is the proper province of the un- 
 derflanding to perceive j it follows, that nothing 
 whatever can be exempted from its inlpedlion 
 and fentence, and that of every thought, fenti- 
 ment, and fubjed, it is the natural and ultimate 
 judge. Aclions^ therefore, ends and e"jei2ts are 
 within its province. Of thefe, as well as all 
 other objtds, it belongs to it to judge.- — What 
 now is this judgment? — One would think it 
 impoffible for any perfon, without fome hefita- 
 tion and reluctance, to reply j that the judgment 
 his underftanding forms of them is thisj that 
 they are all effentially indifferent, and that there 
 is no one thing righter or better to be done than 
 gnother. If this is judging truly 3 if, indeed, 
 there is nothing which it is, in itfelf, right or 
 
 wrong 
 
of Moral Right and Wrong. j r 
 
 wrong to do j how obvious is it to infer, that it 
 fignifies not what we do ; that there is nothing 
 which, in truth and reality, we, or any other 
 beings, ought, or ought not to do j and that the 
 determination to think otherwife, is an impofi- 
 tion upun rational creatures. Why then {hould 
 they not labour to fupprefs in themfelves this de- 
 termination, and to extirpate from their natures 
 all the delufive ideas of morality, worth, and vir- 
 tue? What though, from hence, fliould follow 
 the utter deformarion and ruin of the world ? — 
 There would be nothing really wrong in this. 
 
 A rational agent, void of all moral judgment, 
 incapable of perceiving a difference, in refpedlof 
 fitnefs and unfitnefs to be performed, between 
 anyadionsj and ading from blind propenfions, 
 without any fentiments concerning what he 
 does, is not poffible to be conceived of. And, 
 do what we will, we fhall find it out of our 
 power, in earned: to perfuade ourfelves, that 
 reafon can have no concern in judging of and 
 direding our condudl -, or to exclude from 
 our minds all notions of right and wrong in 
 adions. 
 
 But what deferves particular confideration 
 
 here is this. If all adlions and all difpolitions 
 
 of beings, however different or oppofite, are in 
 
 F 4 tbetn- 
 
72 Of the Orightal of our Ideas 
 
 themfehes indifferent ; the divine all-perfed Un- 
 derftanding, without doubt, perceives this j and 
 therefore cannot approve ^ or di [approve of any 
 of his own adions, or of the adions of his 
 creatures : It being a contradiction to approve 
 or difapprove, where it is known that there is 
 nothing in itfelf right or wrong. — How he 
 governs the world j what ends he purfues ; 
 how he treats his creatures ; whether he is 
 faithful, juft, and beneficent, or falfe, unjuft, 
 and cruel 5 appears to him what it is, indifferent. 
 What then can we expert from him ? Or 
 what foundation is left for his moral perfedions ? 
 How can we conceive him to purfue univerfal 
 happinefs as his end, when, at the fame time, 
 we fuppofe nothing in that end to engage the 
 choice of any being; and that, as perfedly 
 intelligent, he knows univerfal mifery to be no 
 lefs worthy of his choice, and no lefs right to be 
 purfued ? Is it no derogation to his infinite 
 excellencies, to fuppofe him guided by mere 
 unintelligent inclination, without any diredtion 
 from reafon, or any ?noral approbation ? 
 
 In fliort; it feems fufiicient to overthrow any 
 fcheme, that fuch confequences, as the follow- 
 ing, fhould arife from it : — That no one being 
 can judge one end to be better than another, 
 
 or 
 
of Moral Right and Wrong. 73 
 
 or believe excellence in objeds, or a real, moral 
 difference between adions j witbont giving his 
 afl'ent to an impoffibility and contradidion ; 
 without miilaking the affeBions of his own mind 
 for truth y and fcjifation for knonsolcdge. — That 
 there being nothing intrinfically proper or im- 
 proper, fit or unfit, juft or unjufi: ; there is, 
 therefore, nothing obligatory'^' -^ but all beings 
 enjoy, from the reafons of things and the na- 
 tures of actions, full and everlafting liberty to 
 ad as they will. 
 
 Upon the whole i I find it unavoidable to 
 conclude, that the point I have endeavoured to 
 explain and prove, is as evident as we can well 
 defire any point to be. — The following im- 
 portant corollary arifes from it : 
 
 That morality is eter?ial and immutable. 
 
 Right and wrong, it appears, denote what 
 adlions are. Now whatever any thing /j, that 
 it is not by will, or decree, or power, but by 
 
 * Moral right and wrong, and moral obligation or 
 duty, muft remain, or vanifh together. They necefTarily 
 accompany one another, and make but as it were one idea. 
 As far as the former are fi<ftitious and imaginary, the latter 
 muft be fo too. This connexion or coincidence between 
 moral rectitude and obligation, will be at large confiuered 
 hereafter. 
 
 nature 
 
74 Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 nature and necefity. Whatever a triangle or 
 circle is, that it is unchangeably and eternally. 
 It depends upon no will or power, whether the 
 three angles of a triangle and two right ones 
 fliall be equal y whether the periphery of a 
 circle and its diameter (hall be incommen[iirable\ 
 or whether matter (hall be divfhle^ moveable, 
 paffive, and inert. Every objed: of the under- 
 ftanding has an indivifible and invariable eilence; 
 from v*/hence arife its properties, and number- 
 lefs trudis concerning it. And the command 
 which Omnipotence has over things, is noi to dlter 
 their abflrail: natures, or to deftroy neceflary 
 truth ; for this is ccntradid:ory, and would infer 
 the deftru(5tion of all reafon, wifdom^and know- 
 ledge. But the true idea of Omnipotence is 
 an abfolute command over all particular ^ exfer^ 
 nal exiftences, to create or deftroy them, or 
 produce any pofiible changes among them. — 
 The natures of things then being immutable} 
 whatever we fuppofe the natures of adions to 
 be, that they muft be immutably. If they are 
 indifferent, this indifference is itfelf immutable, 
 and there neither is nor can be any one thing 
 that, in reality^ we ought to do rather than ano- 
 ther. The fame is to be faid of right and wrong, 
 moral good and evil, as far as they exprefs real 
 
 cha- 
 
of Moral Right and Wro fig, y^ 
 
 charaSiers of actions. They, muft immutably 
 and necefTarily, belong to thofe adions of which 
 they are truly affirmed. 
 
 No will, therefore, can render miy thing good 
 and obligatory, which was not fo antecedently, 
 and from eternity ; or any adion right, that is 
 not fo in itfelf -, meaning by aBion^ here, not 
 the bare external efFedt produced ; but the ul- 
 timate principle or rule of condu6t, or the 
 determination of a reafonable being, confidered 
 as accompanied with and arifing from the per- 
 ception of fome motives and reafons, and in- 
 tended for fome end. According to this fenfe 
 of the word aBioUi whenever the principle from 
 which we ad is different, the adion is diffe- 
 rent, though the fteps purfued, or the external 
 effeds produced, may be exadly the fame. If 
 we attend to this, the meaning and truth of 
 what I have juft obferved, will be ealily feen. — - 
 Put the cafe of any thing, the doing of which is 
 indifferent, or attended with no circumftancesof 
 the agent that render it, on any account, better 
 or fitter to be done than omitted. Is it not 
 plain that, vjhile all things continue the fame, it 
 js as impoflible for any will or power to make 
 ading obligatory here, as it is for them to make 
 two equal things unequal, without producing any 
 
 change 
 
76 Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 change in either ? It is true, the doing any in- 
 different thing may become obligatory, in con- 
 fequence of being commanded by a being pof- 
 feffed of rightful authority over us : But then 
 it is obvious, that there is a change produced in 
 the circumftances of the agent, and that what 
 now is obligatory, is not the fame with what 
 before was indifferent. The external effedl, or 
 event, or, in other v/ords, the matter of the aBion 
 is indeed the fame ; but nothing is plainer, than 
 that adions materially the fame, may be not 
 only different, but oppofite, according to the 
 various ends aimed at, or principles of morality 
 with which they are conneded ; othcrwife 
 cruel and beneficent acflions might be the fame y 
 as when, by the fame fteps, a man defignedly 
 faves, or ruins his country. 
 
 When an adion,otherwife indifferent, becomes 
 obligatory, by being made the fubje6t of a pro- 
 mifer, we are not to imagine, that our own will 
 or breath alters the nature of things, or proper- 
 ly makes what is indifferent, not fo. But what 
 was indifferent before the promife (for example, 
 in given circuwfiances, walking to fuch a place) 
 is ftill fo J and it cannot be fuppofed, that, after 
 the promife, it becomes obligatory, without a 
 plain contradidion. AH that the promife does, 
 
 iSa 
 
of Moral Right and Wrofig, 7 7 
 
 is, to alter the connexion of a particular efFedtj 
 or to caufe that to be an injiance of a general and 
 eternal duty, which was not fo before. There 
 are few or no effedts producible by us, which 
 may not be, in this manner, varioully modifi- 
 ed; fall under different principles of morality; 
 acquire connexions fometimes with happinefs, 
 and fometimes with mifery; and thus ftand in 
 different relations to a reafonable nature. 
 
 The objed:ion, therefore, to what is here af- 
 ierted, taken from the effeds of pofitive laws 
 and promifes, has no weight. It appears, that 
 when an obligation to particular indifferent 
 things arifes from the command of the Deity, 
 or pofitive laws ; it is by no means to be infer- 
 red from hence, that obligation is the creature 
 of will, or that the nature of what is indifferent 
 is changed : nothing then becoming obligatory, 
 which was not fo from eternity ; that is, obeyifjg 
 the divine willy and juji authority » And had 
 there been nothing right in this, no reafon from 
 the natures of things for obeying God's will ; 
 it is certain, it could have induced no obligation, 
 nor at all affeded an intelledual nature as fuch. 
 — Will and laws fignify nothing, abf^raded 
 from fomething previous to them, in the cha- 
 rader of the law-giver, and the relations of 
 
 beings 
 
yS Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 beings to one another, to give them force, and 
 render difobedience a crime. If mere will ever 
 obliged, what reafbn can be given, why the will 
 of one being (liould oblige, and of another notj 
 why it fliould not oblige alike to every thing it 
 requires ; and why there (hould be any difFe-^ 
 rence between power and authoj'ity. It is eter- 
 nal truth and reafon, then, that, in all cafes, 
 oblige, and not mere will. So far, we fee, is it 
 from being poffible, that any will or laws fliould 
 create right ; that they can have no effedl, but 
 in virtue of natural and antecedent right and 
 juflice. 
 
 Thus, then, is morality fixed on a fure and 
 immoveable bajis, and appears not to be, in 
 ?iX\y {QV\kj faBitious ; or iht arbitrary produBion 
 of any power human or divine; but equally 
 e'uerlajling and neceffary with all truth and rea- 
 fon. And this we find to be as evident, as that 
 right and wrong fignify a reality * in what is 
 {o denominated. How much more fatisfadlory 
 to our minds, and honourable to virtue, is this, 
 than to make it mutable and precariou?, entirely 
 dependant on mental tafte and pofitive confli- 
 
 * Ou yet^ iyu iyeoyt aS'iV ma [xoi ivetpya or, ui rnrof 
 TO EINAI eui OIOP TS (AdKlTA KAKOV 75 Kctl ctyA^OV. Plat» 
 
 in Phad. Sea. iS. 
 
 tution J 
 
of Moral Right and Wrojig, 7^ 
 
 tutlon; and without any foundation or ftan- 
 dard in truth and nature ? I think it has been 
 (hewn that this is properly and efFedually to 
 annihilate * it. 
 
 I fliall put an end to this chapter, with ob- 
 ferving j that the opinion of thofe, who main- 
 tain that cur ideas of morality are derived from 
 fenfe, is far from being entirely modern. There 
 were among the antients, philofophers, FrO" 
 tagcraSt in particular and his followers, who 
 entertained a like opinion -, but extended it 
 much farther ; that is, to all Jciejice \ denied all 
 abfolute and immutable truth j and aflerted 
 every thing to be relative to perception. And 
 indeed it feems not a very unnatural tranfition, 
 from denying abfolute moral truth, to denying 
 all abfolute truth j from making right and wrong, 
 juft and unjuft, relative to perception, to alfert- 
 ing the fame of whatever we commonly rank 
 among the objeds of the underflanding. Why 
 may not he who rejeds the reality of rightnefs 
 in beneficence, of wrong in producing needlefs 
 mifery, be led, by the fame Heps, to deny the 
 certainty of other felf-evident principles ? Why 
 
 * As much fo, as It would be to annihilate matter and 
 motion, to make them merely ideas, or modes of fenfation 
 in our miads. 
 
 may 
 
8o Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 may he not as well deny the reality, for ex- 
 ample, Q^fraitnefs in a line drawn the fliorteft 
 way between two points ; or of aptnefs and un- 
 aptnefs, of connexion and proportion between 
 certain obje<5ts and quantities? He that diftrufts 
 his reafon in the one cafe, why fiiould he not 
 alfo in the other ? He that refers the former 
 perceptions to a fenfej why fliould he not, 
 with the be fore- mentioned philofopher, make 
 dll hwwkJge to l?e fejifef — It may, at leaft, be 
 faid, that confequences much worfe cannot fol- 
 low from making all the principles of know- 
 ledge arbitrary and factitious, than from mak- 
 ing morality fo; from fuppofing that all we 
 perceive of the natures and relations of things, 
 denote qualities of our own minds, and not 
 any diilind and independent reality, than from 
 fuppofing this of the objeds of our moral dif- 
 cernment. If the one overthrows, by necelTary 
 confequence, all 'truth and reafon j the other 
 has the like efFed: on that, which is the moft 
 important part of truth, and the nobleft obje<St 
 of our minds. If the one deftroys the necefTary 
 wifdom and intelligence of the Deity (the very 
 idea of a mind and of knowledge, being im- 
 poilible, if there is nothing permanent in the 
 natures of things, nothing necejfarily true, and 
 
 therefore 
 
of Moral Right and Wrong, 8 r 
 
 therefore nothing to be known) the other equally 
 deftroys what to us is an equally interefting 
 part of his character j his moral perfedions*. 
 
 One argument which, it feems, Protagoras 
 made great ufe of in maintaining his opinions, 
 was, that colours, taftes, and founds, and the 
 other fenfible qualities of bodies have exigence 
 only when perceived, and therefore are not qua- 
 lities inherent in bodies, but fenfations, or im- 
 preflions ever-varying, begot between" the kn- 
 
 * Let us fuppofe an enquiry, fimilar to that which is 
 the fubjedt of this chapter, concerning that necejjity which 
 is meant when we fay, " that it is neceJJ'ary there ftiould 
 " be a caufe of whatever begins to exift." When we 
 fpeak. thus, do we only exprefs a feeling oi fenfe, or fome 
 tnod'tfication of our own thoughts, and not a judgment of 
 the underjianding? Is it indeed true that there is no fuch 
 necejjliy in the natures of things ? — If thefe quefiions are 
 to be anfwered in the afHrniative, there is an end of all 
 knowledge, and we are plunged into the abyfs of atheifm. 
 
 — Modern fcepticifm has not ftuck at this ; and it is no 
 inconfiderable apology for it, that in doing this, it has 
 only extended further what fome writers of the beft cha- 
 racter have contended for, with refpeil to moral reSiitude, 
 
 — Vv'^liile, however, men retain common fenfe, it cannot 
 be poflible for fuch opinions to gain ground. The facul- 
 ty by which we diftinguifl:! between felf-evident truth and 
 palpable contradidion may be puzzled by the refinements 
 ind fubtleties of men of genius, but it muft for ever pre- 
 ferve its authority, nor can any real and lafting conviction 
 be produced \\\ oppofition to it. 
 
 G fible 
 
82 Of the Original of our Ideas 
 
 lible 'obje<£t and organ, and produced by the 
 iidicn of the one en the other i the fame ob- 
 jedl, as he re^foned, often appearing to have 
 different qualities to different perfonsj and no 
 two perfons perhaps having pxadly the fame 
 ideas of any one fenfible quahty of any object*. 
 From hence, and from a notion, not very con- 
 fluent with it, that confcioufnefs and under- 
 Aanding were to be refolved into matter and 
 o-otion; he concluded, that all things are in a 
 perpetual flux -f- ; and that nothing is true or 
 
 faife. 
 
 * This opinion was rejefled hy Plato iv\A Arijlotle ; its 
 being fo abufed to fcepticifm and the taking away the natu- 
 ral difcrimination of good and evil, begetting in the for- 
 mer, as Dr. Cudivorth fays, a prejudice againft it. 
 
 Vid. Eternal and wwniiable Morality^ Chap. IV. 21. 
 
 t ^yco ifcc, zcLi fj.a.}C a caxiAov Koycy, Sec. " I will fay, (nor 
 *' will it be faid amifs) chat nothing is any thing in itfelf j 
 " and that we never juftly fay of any objeil, that it is this 
 " or that. If we call an objecSl: great, it appears alfo little ; 
 *' if heavy, it is alfo light ; and fo of all objeds ; nothing 
 " being any one thing more than another. But all things, 
 *' of which we wrongly fay, that they arc^ fpring o"t of 
 " motion, and the mixture and compofition of things with 
 " one another; for nothing ever abfolutely is, but is 
 *' always generated." ?r/ f^.iv yap acTs ■t^oj'' isePiv. e/.et 
 yiyvzTci'i. Vid. Plat, in ^Iheat. — oia iy.a^-ct zijiot (pajvircUi 
 roioyjjct ^.zv z^tv iuoi. oia. ai aot loiaxjla. cw co'.. " Vv^hat a 
 " thing appears to me, that it is to me." " What it appears 
 " to you, that it is tgyou." — at^tiffn ac^ m o;7©- eue< sriv, 
 
 KOU 
 
of Moral Right and IVrojig. 83 
 
 falfe, any more than fvveet or four, in itfejf, but 
 relatively to the perceiving mind. That he 
 applied this particularly to moral good and evil, 
 appears from feveral paflliges in Plato's '^ Thea- 
 
 fetus, 
 
 Koj ei-l.cvS')H, Jf j-T/rH/ztf zaa. " The obje£l of fenfe is 
 *' always truth, nor can it deceive j for it is knowledge." 
 
 Ibid. It was a controverfy much agitated among 
 
 the antient philofophers ; whether all things flood ftill, or 
 whether all things flowed. Parmenides held the former ; 
 HeracUtus^ and, after him, Protagoras and others, the 
 latter. The meaning of this controverfy (in part at Jeaft) 
 was, whether there was or was not any thing perma- 
 nent and neceflary in the natures of things ; or, '* as 
 *' Aryioik declares (Arifx. Met. Lib. iii. cap. 5.) whether 
 *' there were any other objecis of the mind, befides 
 *' fingular fenfibles, that were immutable; and, confe- 
 *' quently, whether there was any fuch thing as proper 
 " fcience or knowledge." The former denied this, and 
 aflerted ^s^o^/.e! iif vo-iav, a moveable efTence. " The Par" 
 " }m7iidcans and Pythagoreans -^ on the contrary, maintained, 
 *' that, befides fingular fenfibles, there were other objects 
 *' of the mind univerfal, eternal, and immutable, which 
 *' they called the intelligible ideas, all originally contained 
 *' in one Archetypal mind or underftanding." Vid. In~ 
 telledual Syjiern by Dr. Cudworih, p. 387. 2d Edit. 
 
 * A.iyi Toivuij -TraXiv, c-i (r 01 cip':(ry.c-i Tr loiti T-INAI af^KA 
 rirNETAl a.bi ccya^ov kcu ku?.ov. Sec Tell me, is it your 
 opinion, that nothing ever /;,but is 7.'W^good and virtuous? 
 cAA' s/.lH k hiyc', zv T0/5 S'.'Kc/ni^ KOJ al'iKcii, kcu cJioif 
 
 KA,l CLVifflOli iilK^(TIV lO'Xy^^'''^^ '^^ K" S^' (pvaei CUJ' 
 fUV kJ^cV aS'tctV i(fjj]<i iX^-' f->-^>^Ct T' KOIV\'' S'^7\^.P T flo 
 
 G 2 . " &c. 
 
84 Of ^^^^ Original of our Ideas 
 
 fctuSi where thefe notions of Protagoras s are at 
 large explained and confuted. — He that would 
 have a fuller view of what is here faid, may 
 confult this Dialogue of Plato h^ or Dr. Cud- 
 worth's Treatife of Immutable and Rternal Mo- 
 rality, 
 
 So much alike are men and their opinions 
 in all ages, that what has happened in our own 
 times, has been conformable to what thus hap- 
 pened in Socrates s time, and to what was ob- 
 ferved to be the natural tendency of the account 
 of morality I have oppofed j and it is aftonifliing 
 how far fome, who have embraced it, have ex- 
 tended the fame opinion to our other percep- 
 tions, and revived, perhaps even exceeded, the 
 wildeft dodrines of antient fcepticifm. The 
 primary, as well as y^rW^ry qualities of matter, 
 caufe, effect, connexion, extenfion, duration, 
 identity, and almofl: all about which knowledge 
 is converfant, have been reprefented as only qua- 
 lities of our minds : the idea confounded with 
 its objed : The ejfe and the percipi maintained 
 to be imiverfally the fame j and the impoffibility 
 afferted of any thing different from impreJ/ionSy or 
 various kinds of weak and lively fenfation.— ^ 
 
 &c. ?. e. They more efpecially aflcrted, that nothing is 
 juft or unjuft, holy- or unholy, naturally and efTentially, 
 but relatively to opinion or fenfe, 
 
 2 Thus, 
 
of Moral Right and Wrong. ^5 
 
 Tbus is here neither matter, nor morality, nor 
 Deitv, nor truth, nor any kind of external 
 exiftence left. All our imagined difcoveries 
 and boafted knowledge vanifh, and the whole 
 univerfe is reduced into a mere ens rationis. 
 Every fancy of every being is equally juft. 
 Nothing being prelent to our minds be- 
 fides our own ideas, there can be no con- 
 ception of any thing diftind: from them ; no 
 beings but * ourfelves -, no diftindion between 
 
 paft 
 
 * Nor ourfelves neither ; for to exiji^ and to le ■per- 
 ceived^ being the fame, perceptions themfelves can have no 
 exigence, unlefs there can be perceptions of perceptions 
 in infinitum. Befides, by this fyftem, the only idea of what 
 we call ourfelvei is the contradidlory and monfirous one of 
 a feries of fucceffive and feparable perceptions, not one of 
 which continues^ that is, exijis at all j and without any fub- 
 ftance that perceives. —-« It might be further remarked j 
 that the very fcheme that takes away the difiindtion be- 
 tween paft and future, and admits of no real exiflence in- 
 dependent of perception, is itfelf derived from and founded 
 upon the fuppofition of the contrary j I mean, the fuppo- 
 fition that there have been paji impreflions, of which all 
 ideas are copies ; and that certain objects have been 
 ,obferved to have been conjoined in pajl inftances, and 
 by this means produced that cuftomary tranfition in 
 the imagination from one of them to the other, in 
 which reafoning is faid to confift. It would have been 
 abufing the reader to mention thefe extravagancies, had 
 not fome of them been ftarted by Bifliop B^rhley j and 
 G 3 his- 
 
86 Of the 'Origin id of our Ideas ^ &c. 
 paft and future time ; no poffibility of remem- 
 bering wrong, or forefeeing wrong. He is the 
 wifeft man, who has the mod hvely and fertile 
 imagination, and in whofe mind are affociated 
 the greateft number of ideas and fentiments ; 
 for their correfpondency to the reality or truth of 
 things, it is the greateft abfurdity ever to call in- 
 to queftion. — ^When perfons are got thele lengths, 
 or avow principles diredlly implying them, it 
 becomes high time to leave them to themfelves. 
 
 his principles adopted and purfued to a fyftem of fcepti- 
 cifm, that plainly includes them all, by another writer of 
 the greateft talents, to whom I have often had occafion to 
 refer. See Treatife of Human Naturey and Philofophical 
 EJJaySy by Mr. Hume. 
 
 C H A P. 
 
[ 8/ ] 
 
 C fl A P. IL 
 
 Of our Ideas of the Beauty and De- 
 formity of AEiions. 
 
 A V I N G, in the preceding chapter, 
 coniidered our ideas of right and larong-y 
 I come now to confider the ideas oi heaiit\\ and 
 its contrary, which arife in us upon the obfer- 
 vation of adtions. 
 
 This is the y^r<?W kind of fentiment, or per- 
 ception, with refped; to ad:ions, which, I have 
 obferved, we ought carefully to attend to and 
 diftinguidi. Little need be laid to lliew, that it 
 is different from the former. We are plainly 
 confcious of more than the bare difcernment of 
 right and wrong, or the cooi judgment of rea- 
 fon concerning the natures of adicns. We of- 
 ten fay of fome acftions, not only that- they are 
 rights but that they are amiable -, and of others, 
 not only that they are ic^roA^o^, but odious ^jljockinrr^ 
 vile. Every one muft fee, that thefe epithets de- 
 note the delight -j or, on the contrary, the horror 
 and detejiation felt by ourfelves j and, confe- 
 G 4 quently 
 
88 Of our Ideas of 
 
 quently, fignlfy not any real qualities or cha- 
 racters of actions, but the effeBs in us^ or the 
 particular pleafure and pain, attending the con- 
 templation of them. 
 
 " What now is the true account and original 
 *' of thefe perceptions? muft they not arife en- 
 " tirely from an original arbitrary ftru(5ture of 
 *' our mindSj by which certain objeds, when 
 ^' obferved, are rendered the occafions of cer- 
 " tain fenfations and affections ? And thus, are 
 ** we not, here at leajl^ under a neceffity of re- 
 " curring to ?ifenje? Can there be any con- 
 " nexion, except what arifes from pofitive con- 
 '* flitution, or the good pleafure of our Maker, 
 *' between any objeds and particular modifi- 
 " cations of pleafure and pain in the perceiving 
 " mind ?" 
 
 I anfwer ; There may be fuch a connexion ; 
 and, I thinic, there is luch a connexion in many 
 inflances j and particularly in that before us. 
 
 Why or how the impreffions made by exter-^ 
 r.al objeBs on our bodily organs, produce the 
 fenfations conilantly attending them, it is not 
 poffible for us to difcover. The fame is true 
 of the fenfadons or affedions of mind produced 
 by the objeds of many of tlie i?2temal fenfes^ 
 In fuch inflances, we can conceive of no con- 
 nexion betv/een the effeds in us and their ap- 
 parent 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of ABions. 89 
 
 parent caufes ; and the only account we can 
 give is, that " fuch is our frame j fo God has 
 *' feen fit to adapt our faculties and parti- 
 " cular objedls to one another." But this 
 is far from being true imiverfally. There are 
 objedts which have a natural aptitude to pleafe, 
 or difpleafe our minds. And thus in the ^/n- 
 tual world, the cafe is the fame, as in the corpo- 
 real; where, though there are events which we 
 cannot explain, and numberlefs caufes and ef- 
 feds, of which, for want of being acquainted 
 v/ith the inward ftrudure and conftitution of 
 bodies, we know no more than their exiftence : 
 There are yet caufes likewife, the manner of 
 whofe operation we underftand ; and events, 
 between which we difcern a real and neceffary 
 connexion. 
 
 One account, therefore, of the fentiments we 
 are examining, is ; " that fuch are the natures 
 " of certain adlions, that, when perceived, as 
 " they are, by a reafonable being, there mufl; 
 V refult in him certain emotions and affeflions." 
 
 That there are objed:s which have a natural 
 aptitude to pleafe or offend, or between which 
 and the contemplating mind there is a neceffary 
 congruity or incongruity, feems to me unquef^ 
 tionable. • — For, what fhall v/e fay of fuprcme 
 and complete excellence? Is what we mean 
 
 by 
 
^6 Of the Ideas of 
 
 by this only a particular kind of renfation, or, if 
 fomething real and objediv6, can it be contem- 
 plated without emotion ? Muft there be the 
 aid of a fenfe to make the charader of the 
 'Deity appear amiable ; or, would pure and ab- 
 ftradt reafon be neceflarily indifferent to it ? 
 Is there any thing more neceffary to caufe it to 
 be loved and admired belides knc^nng it ? The 
 more it is known, and the better it is under- 
 ftood, muft it not the more delight ? 
 
 Again, A reafonable being, void of all fuper- 
 added determinations or fenfes, who knows 
 what order and happinefs are, would, I think, 
 unavoidably, receive pleafure from the furvey of 
 a univerfe where perfect order prevailed ; and 
 the contrary profpedl of univerfal confufion and 
 mifery. would offcttd bjm. 
 
 But his own happinefs and mifery are, unde- 
 niably, objeds, which no being can contemplate 
 with indifference. Of which in the next 
 chapter. 
 
 What is thus true, in thefe and other in- 
 ftances, is particularly evident in the prefent cafe. 
 It is not indeed plainer, that, in any inftances, 
 there are correfpondencies and connexions of 
 things among themfelves ; or that one motion 
 has a tendency to produce another 3 than it is, 
 that virtue is naturally adspted to pkafe every 
 
 obferving 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of Aciions, pt 
 
 obferving mind ; and vice the contrary. . 
 
 I cannot perceive an adion to be right, without 
 approving it j or approve it, without being con- 
 fcious of fome degree oi fatiifaBion and com- 
 placency. I cannot perceive an adion to be 
 wrong, without difappro'Oing it ; or dipipprwe it, 
 without being difpkafed with it. Right adions 
 then, as fuch, muft be grateful^ and Avron^ ones 
 ungrateful to us. The one muft appear amiable^ 
 and the other unamiable and bafe. — Goodnefs, 
 faithfuhiefs, juftice, and gratitude, on the one 
 hand j and cruelty, treachery, injuftice, and in- 
 gratitude, on the other, cannot appear alike, or 
 convey like fentiments to any mind. On all 
 who can perceive and compare them, they muft 
 have oppofite efFeds. The firji muft be liked, 
 the laft diiliked j the jirft muft be loved, the 
 /^ hated. Nor can the contrary be afoted, or 
 thefe fentiments iuppofed to be reverfed, v/ithout 
 a eontradidion. To behold virtue, is to admire 
 her. To behold her as {he is, in her intrinfic 
 and complete importance, dignitv, and excel- 
 lence, is to pofTefs fupreme affedion for her. 
 On the contrary ; to perceive vice, is the very 
 fame as to blame and condemn. To perceive it 
 in its naked form and malignity, is to dread and 
 deteft it above all things. 
 
 Self- 
 
§2 Of our Idem of 
 
 Self-approbation and felf-reproach are the 
 chief fources of private happinefs and mifery. 
 Thefe are connected with, and entirely depen- 
 dent upon, our confcioufnefs of pradiling, or not 
 pradiling virtue. Self-approbation cannot be 
 feparated from the remembrance of having done 
 well', nor felf-condemnation from the remem- 
 brance of having done wrong. Nothing can be 
 of more confequence to a being, who is obliged 
 to be perpetually reflecting on himfelf and his 
 adlions, than to be at peace with himfelf, and able 
 to bear the furvey of his adlions. Virtue and vice, 
 therefore, from the natures of things, are the im- 
 mediate and principal, and the moftconftant and 
 intimate caufes of private happinefs or mifery. 
 
 It fliould be remembered here, that thefe 
 cfFeds, ariling from the confideration of virtue 
 and vice, mud be different, and in different de- 
 grees in different beings, or in the fame being 
 in different circumftances of his exiftence. The 
 pleafure received from virtuous actions, or the 
 fenfe oi beauty in them, muff be varied by num- 
 berlefs caufes, both in the circumftances and na- 
 tures of the a(ftions,and in the underftandings and 
 conditions of the percipient beings. One, who 
 has been a frequent obferver of adls of the 
 greateff virtue, or who has feen but little of the 
 extravagance of vice, would be but little moved 
 
 with 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of ABions . 93^ 
 
 with the fame adion, which a perfon who had 
 always lived among ruffians, and to whom wick- 
 ednefs is become familiar, might obferve with 
 wonder. Pain or ficknefs j the influence of im- 
 planted byafles and propenfions ; many different 
 difpofitions of the temper, and affociated ideas, 
 may leffen or prevent the effeds that would 
 otherwife follow the perception of moral good 
 and evil : But ftill the eflential tendencies con- 
 tinue the fame J and to every rational mind pro- 
 perly difpofed, morally good adions muil for 
 ever be acceptable^ and can never of themfehes 
 offend 5 and morally evil adions muft for ever 
 be difagreeable , and can never of themfehes pleafe. 
 — The effeds produced by all caufes depend on 
 the particular circumftances in which they ope- 
 rate, and muft differ as thefe differ. And, 
 agreeably to this general obfervation, the fame 
 objeds of moral difcernment, whatever may be 
 their natural aptitude, muft affed reafonable be- 
 ings differently, according to the different dif- 
 pofitions they are in, and the different clearnefs 
 of their perceptions. 
 
 Thefe obfervations feem to furnifti us with a 
 hint concerning the happinefs of the Deity, that 
 may deferve to be juft mentioned, as we go 
 along. Were the foundations of happinefs of a 
 
 nature 
 
^4 Of our Ideas of 
 
 nature entirely faditious, it would be ImpoiTiblc 
 to conceive, how that Being, who is himfelf the 
 caufe of all things, and can derive nothing from 
 any foreign or precarious fource, could be happy. 
 But it has been fliewn, that there are percep- 
 tions, between which and pleafure, there is a 
 neceflary connexion. There are objeds of con- 
 templation naturally produdive of delight j and 
 perfedions or qualities implying blelTednefs. A 
 reafonable being is capable of greater happinefs 
 than a being merely fenlitive. He has, in him- 
 felf.th^ fources of fuperior enjoyment. And as 
 much more wifdom and reafon as any being 
 poffelTesj fo much the higher happinefs he is 
 capable of. There is, therefore, in the natures 
 of things, a flable and permanent foundation 
 of happinefs. And that of the Deity may re- 
 fult neceffarily and wholly from what he is * j 
 from his polTeffing in himfelf all truth, all good, 
 all perfedion, all that is beatifying. 
 
 But to return from this digreffion. What 
 has been faid is not alone fufficient to account 
 for all the kinds and decrees of aifedion in our 
 minds, with refped to virtue and vice, In 
 fome fuperior beings, it is poffible, it may be 
 
 * 'Oi iuJ'ojfy.av y-zv sr/ KOi f/.ctKaex'Q- » J'l* a-^iv cTg 7mv 
 Tli Hi'At 'T',)V (pvaiv. Ariji. de Rep. Lib. vii. cap. I. 
 
 2 the 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of ASiiom. 95 
 
 ilie whole account ; but, in us, the intell^dual 
 faculty is yet in its infancy. The loweft de- 
 grees of it are, indeed, fufficient to difcover moral 
 dijlinoliom in general j becaufe thefe are felf- 
 evident, and neceffarily conneded with, or 
 included in, the very ideas themfclves of cer- 
 tain adions and charaders. They muft, 
 therefore, appear to all who are capable of 
 making adions, and the natures of things, the 
 objeds of their reflexion. But the degree in 
 which they appear ; the clearnefs, accuracy, 
 force, and extent with which they are difcerned; 
 and, confequently, their eife6ls and influence, 
 muft, fofar as the beings are confidcredas/'/^rf^ 
 intelligent, be in proportion to the fl:rength and 
 improvement of their rational faculties, and 
 their acquaintance v/ith truth and the natures 
 of things. 
 
 From hence, it mufl appear, what occafion 
 there is that, in 7nai, the rational principle, or 
 tiie ititelleclual difcernment of right and wrongs 
 fliould be aided by infiinSiive determi?2atio7is. — 
 The didlates of mere reafon, which are flow, 
 calm, and deliberate, would otherwife be infuf- 
 ficient to dired: us, and much too weak in our 
 frame. This will more plainly appear upon 
 confidering, how many ftrong paflions and ap- 
 petites, the condition in which we are placed, 
 
 render 
 
96 Of our Ideas of 
 
 render neceflary for us, but which, frorh the 
 nature of them, cannot but often draw us con- 
 trary to reafon, and interfere with its didates. 
 For thefe paffions and appetites, reafon alone, 
 tender and imperfe(ft as it is in us, would 
 not be a fufficient match. This is particular- 
 ly true of our firft years, when our lower 
 powers exert their full force, and reafon has 
 fcarcely unfolded itfelf, or wants cultivation and 
 improvement by ufe, Inftrud:ion, and experience. 
 How wifely then has our Maker provided re- 
 medies for its imperfedions j and enforced 
 our intelledual perceptions by 2^ fenfe \ fo that 
 now, what appears worthy and right, has 
 a pofitive determination of our natures in 
 its favour ; a particular luftre is beftowed upon 
 it, and it is made the objedt of attachment, be- 
 yond what we fhould have otherwife felt ; and 
 wrong, on the contrary, is madetoexcite additional 
 fenfations of averfion and horror. Thus are we 
 more etfedtually engaged to virtue, and deterred 
 from vice j a due balance is preferved between 
 the feveral parts of our conftitution ; weight and 
 ardour are given to the perceptions of the un- 
 derftanding, and its dilates properly fupport- 
 ed, which, elfe, would have been liable to be 
 overpowered by every appetite and tendency of 
 animal nature. 
 
 Upon 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of Anions. 97 
 
 Upon the whole ; it appears, I think, from 
 what has been faid in this and the preceding 
 chapters, that, ** in contemplating the actions 
 " of moral agents, we have both a perception of 
 *' the under ftanding^ and a feeling of the hea?'t y 
 " and that the latter, or the effeds in us accom- 
 " panying our moral perceptions, are deducible 
 *' from two fprings. They depend partly on 
 " the poiitive conllitution of our natures : But 
 " the mofl fteady and univerfal ground of them 
 ** is, that eflential congruity or incongruity be- 
 " tween moral obje(5ls and our intellectual fa- 
 " culties*, which I have taken notice of." 
 
 It may be difficult to determine the precife 
 limits between thefe two fources of our mental 
 feelings ; and to fay, how far the effeds of the 
 one are blended with thoie of the other. It is 
 undoubted, that we (hould have felt and aded 
 otherwife than we now do, if the decifions and 
 influence of reafon had been left entirely without 
 fupport in our frame j nor is it eaiy to imagine 
 how pernicious the confequences of this would 
 have proved. For this reafon, and alfo becaufe 
 we find, that the fenfitive and animal part of 
 our natures is quite unaffeded in few or none of 
 
 * Placet fuapte natura virtus. Sen. 
 
 Etiamft a nulla kucktury natura eji laudabile. Tully, 
 
 H the 
 
98 Of our Ideal of 
 
 the operations of our minds ; it cannot be doubt- 
 ed, but that Doth the caufes I have menticned 
 unite their influence : And the great queftion 
 is, not whether implanted determinations, fenfes, 
 or inftinds are, in any way, concerned in mo- 
 rality ; but, whether all is to be refolved to 
 them ? 
 
 It was, probably, for want of duly confider- 
 ing the difference I have infiftcd on between 
 the hcnejlum and pulchrum^ the S'lxouov and ytctXopj 
 or for want of carefully diftinguifhing between 
 the difcernment of the mind, and the fenfations 
 attending it in our moral perceptions j that the 
 Author of the Efiquiry into the Original of our 
 Ideas of Beauty and Virtue ^ was led to derive all 
 our id^as of virtue from an implanted fenfe. 
 Moral good and evil, he every v/here defcribes, 
 by the effcsfls in us accompanying the percep- 
 tion of them. The reBitude of an adlion feems, 
 with him, to be the fame with its gratefulnefs to 
 the obferver^ and wrong the contrary. Were 
 this juft, there would be more reafon for con- 
 cluding, that they owe their origin, as main- 
 tained by him, to a moral fenje. But what can 
 be more evident, tlian that right and pleafure, 
 wrong and pain^ are things totally different ? As 
 different as a caufe and its efftdl ; what is iin- 
 dcrjhody and what is fit -, ablolute truth, and 
 
 its 
 
the Beauty ajid Deformity of ASfions. 99 
 
 its agreeablenefi to the mind. ■ — Let it be grant- 
 ed, as undoubtedly It muft, that fome degree of 
 pleafure is inleparable from the obfervation of 
 virtuous adions *. It is juft as unreafonable to 
 infer from hence, that the difcernment of virtue 
 is nothing diftindl from the reception of this 
 pleafure; as it would be to infer, u'ith fome, 
 that folidity, extenijon, and figure are, in like 
 manner, on\y pai'ticular modes of feiifatiow, be- 
 caufe attended, whenever they are perceived, 
 with fome feniations of fight or touch, and im- 
 poflible to be conceived by the imagination with- 
 out them. 
 
 A well-known and able writer on thefe fub- 
 jedts, tells us that, after fome -f- doubts, he at 
 laft fatisfied himfelf, that all beauty, whether 
 natural or moral, is a fpecies of abfolute truth j 
 as refulting from, or confifting in, the neceffary 
 relations and congruities of ideas. It is not eafy 
 to fay what is meant by this. "Natural beauty 
 will be confidered piefently. And as to moral 
 beauty, one would think, that the meaning muft 
 be, that it denotes a real quality of certain ac- 
 tions. But the word beauty feems always to 
 
 * The virtue of an a£tion, Mr. Htime (zys, is \x.% pleaf- 
 ing us after a particular manner. Treatije of Human Nature , 
 Vol. iii. pa^e 103. 
 
 t See Mr. Bal^ufs Tra5l on the Foundation of Moral 
 Goodnefs^ p. 61, 
 
 H 2 refer 
 
100 Of our Ideas of 
 
 refer to the reception of pleafure j and the beau^ 
 ty^ therefore, of an action or chara6er, mufl 
 fignify its being fuch as pkafes us^ or has an 
 aptnefs to pleafe when perceived : Nor can it be 
 juft to conceive any thing in the action itfelf, or 
 to affirm any thing of it, belides this aptnefsy 
 or that objedive goodnefs or reditude from 
 which it proceeds. Beauty and lovehnefs are 
 fynonimous ; but an objed: fef lovely can only 
 mean an object, by its nature, fitted to engage 
 love. 
 
 But it may be further worth obferving, be- 
 fore we quit this fubjed:, that the epithets beau^ 
 tiful and amiable are, in common language, 
 confined to adions and charaders that pleafe us 
 highly^ from the pecuhar degree of moral worth 
 and S'irtue apprehended in them. All virtuous 
 adions muft be pleafing to an intelligent obfer- 
 verj but they do not all pkafe to the degree 
 necefiary to enti'le them to thefe epithet?, as we 
 generally apply them. — What is meant by the 
 difFereat degrees of virtue and vice, requires 
 fome explication, and will be the fubjed here- 
 after of a particular enquiry. 
 
 I will now add a few words concerning natui 
 7'al beauty ; which, though not a fubjed diredly 
 in my way, requires fome notice. What has 
 
 been 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of Adiions. i o i 
 
 been faid of the former fpecles of beauty, is, 
 with a little variation, applicable to this. The 
 general fource of it, as obferved by Dr. Hutche^ 
 
 foUy is UNIFORMITY AMIDST VARIETY. If 
 
 we afk, why this pJcifesf There feems no 
 greater occaiion here to have reccurfe to an ar- 
 bitrary, internal fenfe, than there was in the for- 
 mer cafe. The principal reafon, I think, is the 
 natures of variety and uniformity, which are 
 fucii, that they are adapted to pleafe every mind 
 that di!cerns them. — Some objeds, we have 
 feen, are naturally fatisfadory to our thoughts, 
 or carry in themfelves a power to give plcafure, 
 when I'urveyedi to which, in the prefent cafe 
 as well as the former, it is no obiedion that this 
 pleafure may be overcome or prevented in ma- 
 ny circumftances of the mind ; as, when under 
 any indifpofition j when the attention is en- 
 gaged by more interefting objeds and impref- 
 fions ; or through the influence of aflbciated and 
 difagrccable ideas. And though, for thefe reafons, 
 regular and harmonious forms mav not always 
 equally gratify, or even may fometimes offend; 
 yet they are incapable of offending, as fiich, or 
 under the conception of regular and harmo- 
 nious : That is, in flrid and proper language, 
 it is not they ever give pain, but Tome other 
 caufc, or conneded circumftance and idea. 
 
 H 3 The 
 
102 Of our Ideas of 
 
 The following fadts delcrve oarticular notice, 
 and may be conlidcred as contributing greatly 
 towards producing the compjacency of our nnnds 
 in regular objedls, and the preference we give 
 to them. 
 
 Firjiy They are more eafily viewed and com- 
 prehended by our minds. Every one knows, 
 how much more difficult it is to retain in the 
 memory, a multitude of things which are unr 
 conneded and lie in confufion, than of things 
 difpofed according to a rule and plan, one, or 
 a few of which, when conceived, infer all the 
 reft. It is order that unites the parts of a com- 
 plicated objed, fo that we can furvey it at once 
 with diflindnefs and fatisfadion > whereas, if 
 it wanted this, it would become not one, but a 
 multiplicity of objeds: our conceptions of it 
 v/ould be broken and embarraffed, between ma- 
 ny different * parts, which flood in no fixed re- 
 lations, and had no correfpondence to one ano- 
 ther, and each of which would require adifUnd 
 idea of itfelf. By regularity is variety meafured 
 and determined, and infinity itlelf, as it were, 
 conquered by the mind, and brought within 
 its view. The juftnefs of thefe obfervations 
 will appear to any one, by conlidering abftrad 
 
 * See The Enquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty, 
 Seil. viii. 2. 
 
 truths^ 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of Atiions. 103 
 
 truths, and the general laws of nature ; or by 
 thinking of a thoufand equal lines, as ranged 
 into the form of a regular Polygon, or, on the 
 contrary, as joined to one another at adventures 
 without any order. 
 
 Further. Order and fymmetry give objeds 
 their ftability and ftrength, and fubferviency to 
 any valuable purpofe. What fircngth w. uld 
 an army have, without order ? Upon what de- 
 pends the health of animal bodies, but upon 
 the due order and adjuftuietits of their feveral 
 parts ? What happinefs could prevail in the 
 world, if it was a general chaos ? 
 
 Thirdly. Regularity and order evidence art 
 and delign. The objeds in which they appear 
 bear the imprefTes of mind and intelligence 
 upon them ; and this, perhaps, is one of the 
 principal foundations of their agreeablenefs. 
 
 Difcrder and confufion denote only the ne- 
 gation of regularity and order ; or any arrange- 
 ment of things, which is not according to a law 
 or plan, and proves not defign. Thefe are not 
 poiitively difplcafing j except where we pre- 
 vioully expeded order 5 or where impotence and 
 want of fkill appear, and the contriver has either 
 failed of his defign or executed it ill. 
 
 It is fcarceiy needful to obferve, that 
 
 brutes are incapable of the pleafures of beau- 
 
 H 4 ty, 
 
1 04 Of our Ideas of 
 
 ty, becaufe they proceed from a comparifon of 
 objeds, and the difcernment of analogy^ defigUy 
 and proporticnj to which their faculties do not 
 reach. 
 
 There are fome who aiTert that, if we except 
 the pleafure arifing from the apprehended art; 
 jt is variety alone that pleafes in beautiful ob- 
 jeds 3 and the uniformity only as necefiary to 
 make it diftindly perceivable by the mind. It 
 might, perhaps, with more reafon, be affirmed 
 that it is the uniformity alone that pleafes, and 
 ^^ variety only as requilite to its being exhibited 
 and diiplayed in a greater degree. But neither 
 of thefe affertions would be exadly true. 
 
 It is alfo afferted, as before obferved, that na" 
 iural beauty is a real quality of objects, — What has 
 been faid of moral beauty ^ may be ealiiy applied 
 here. It is impoffible for any one to conceive 
 the objects themfelves to be endowed with 
 more, than a particular order of parts, and with 
 powers^ or an affinity to our perceptive faculties, 
 thence arifing 3 and, if we call this beauty^ then 
 it is an abfolute, inherent quality of certain ob- 
 jeds 3 and equally exiftent whether any mind 
 difcerns it or not. But, furely, order and regu- 
 larity are, more properly, the caufes of beauty than 
 beauty itfelf. — This difpute after all, when duly 
 
 5 co^- 
 
the Beauty mid Deformity of Anions, 105 
 
 corifidered, muft be chiefly about the meaning 
 of the word beauty j and therefoi^e deferves lit- 
 tle regard. 
 
 I {hall only obferve further on this head; -hat 
 k may be worth the reader's attention and en- 
 quiry, how far the account given bf the plea^rwTc^ 
 received from the contemplation of moral j;ood 
 and of natural objedts, vimy fee applied to the 
 pleafures received from many other fourcc© ] a9 
 the approbation of our fellow- creatures, gr^atneft 
 of objccis, difcovery of truth and mcrcaf: of 
 knowledge. 
 
 Having now finished my enquiry into the 
 nature and origin of our ideas of right and 
 wrong -J beauty and deformity ; it will xm^x. be 
 amifs, by way of fupplement to this and the 
 preceding chapter, to take notice of our general 
 notions of perfeStion and excellency in objects. — 
 Some oblervations have been before made upon 
 this fub^eft ; and it coincides io far with the 
 Subjects already dilcuiTed, that little or nothrng 
 particular can be faid on it. It will, however, 
 be proper here juft to turn the reader's attention 
 to it. 
 
 Thofe who think that there is no diftindion, 
 in point of real objeBive excellence and worth, 
 
 between 
 
lo6 Of our Ideas of 
 
 between aBions and charaSierSy may be expe<Sled 
 to think in the fame way of all things ; and will pro- 
 bably fly to 2ifenfe to account for 2iny preference vjq 
 give in our ideas to any objeds *. We have, ne- 
 ceffarily, the notion of different degrees of perfec- 
 tion in different objeds ; but, upon this fcheme, 
 this is all illufion. The whole compafs and pof- 
 fibility of being is, to the eye of right reafon, 
 entirely on a level. The very notion of intrin- 
 fie excellence, felf -woiih. or different degrees of 
 obje^ive perfedion and imperfedion, implies an 
 impoffibility and contradidtion. — How can it be 
 pofTible for any perfon to acquiefce in fuch an 
 opinion ? When we conceive of an intelligent 
 being as a more 7wble and perfe5i nature than a 
 clod of earth ; do we then err ? Or is it owing 
 to an implanted power, that we make fuch a 
 diftindion ; or that, in particular, we give the 
 
 * We have the ideas of greater decency and dignity in 
 fome pleafures than in others ; as, in the pleafures of the 
 imagination or the underftanding, than in thofe of the 
 bodily fenfes. Dr. Hutcbefon^ after obferving this, feems 
 uncertain whether it ought to be afcribed to a conftant 
 opinion of innocence in the former pleafures ; which 
 would reduce the preference we give them, as he fays, to 
 the moral fenfe\ or whether there be not in thefe cafes a 
 different fort of perceptions to be reckoned another clafs of 
 fenfations. See Treatife of the Pojftonsy Sed. i. Art. i. 
 
 pre- 
 
the Beauty and T>eformify of Anions. 1 07 
 
 preference in our efteeni to the divine nature, as 
 furpaf?ing infinitely in excellence and dignify y all 
 other natures ? The truth is ; thefe, like the 
 other ideas already infifted on, are ideas of the 
 underflanding. They are derived from the 
 cognizance it takes of the comparative eflences 
 of things J and arife neceffarily in the mind, 
 upon confidering certain obje<fts and qualities, 
 as denoting what they are. 
 
 There is in nr.ture an infinite variety of ex- 
 iftences and objedls, which we as unavoidably 
 conceive endowed with various degrees of per- 
 fetlion, as we conceive of them at all, or cciiiider 
 them as dijf'erenf. It is not poffible to contem- 
 plate and compare dead matter and life; bru- 
 tality and reafon -, mifery and happinefs ; vir- 
 tue and vice j ignorance and knowledge; im- 
 potence and pov;er ; the deity and inferior be- 
 ings ; without acquiring the ideas of better and 
 worje ; perfeB and imperjeB ; noble and ignoble ; 
 excellent and hafe. — The fitft remove from no- 
 thing is unvvrought matter. Next above this is 
 vegetative life j from whence we afcend to i^vv- 
 litive and animal life, and from thence to happy 
 and adive intelligence ; which admits of an in- 
 finite variety of degrees, and of different orders 
 and clafTcs of beings, rifing without end, above 
 5 one 
 
Io8 Of our Ideas of 
 
 one another. Every fucceffive ftep and advance 
 of our thoughts in this gradation, conveys the 
 noti'-n of higher and higher excellence and 
 worth i till at iaft we arrive at uncreated, com- 
 plete and fupreme excellence. If this is not 
 intelltSiiLol perception, but jenfation merely; 
 then may all nature as it now ftands in our 
 ideas be reverfed ; the top may be placed at the 
 bottom, and the bottom at the top; and an atom 
 of uiconfcious, inactive matter be conceived 
 to pofTefs fupreme excellence, as juftly and truly 
 as now the contrary is conceived. 
 
 I am pleafed to find a worthy and excellent 
 writer expreffing fully my fentiments on this 
 fubjedt, with whofe words I fhall conclude this 
 chapter*. " We cannot (fays he) avoid ob- 
 " ferving, that of things which occur to our 
 *' thoughts, the idea of fuperior excellence ac- 
 *' companies fome upon a comparifon with 
 " others. As the external fenfes diftinguifh 
 ** between pleafant and painful in their objedts, 
 ** and the internal fenfe perceives a difference 
 *' between the beautiful and the deformed ; fo 
 ** the under jianding not only feparates truth from 
 " falfehood, but difcerns a dignity in fome be- 
 
 * See Mr. Abernethy's Sermons, Vol, II. p. 219. 
 
the Beauty and Deformity of ABions, 109 
 
 " ings and fome qualities beyond others. It is 
 " not poflible for a man to confider inanimate 
 " nature and life, the brutal and the rational 
 ** powers, or virtue and vice, with a perfedt in- 
 " difference, or without preferring one before 
 " the other in his efteem. And the idea of 
 " a difference in the degrees of their perfec- 
 ** tion, as neceffarily arifes in his mind, as that 
 " of a difference in their being." 
 
 CHAP, 
 
[ 110 ] 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the Original of our Defires and 
 AffeBions* 
 
 WHAT comes next to be enquired in- 
 to, according to the method which has 
 been laid down, is our perception of good and 
 ILL'DESERT. But I chufc, firft, to take into 
 confideration the original of our affedions in 
 genera], and erpecially of the two leading ones ; 
 felf-love and benevolejice. This is a fuhjed which 
 has a near relation to thofe which have been 
 already examined, and to the defign of this 
 Treatife. I cannot find a more proper place for 
 what it is necelTary I fhould fay upon it ; and, 
 therefore, doubt not, but I fhail be excufed, for 
 interrupting fo far the order at firfl propofed, as 
 to introduce it here. 
 
 Each of our aff^dions has its particular ob- 
 ject and t?A> Self-love leads us to defire and 
 purdiQ pri'vafe j and Bene vol e n c e , puhlick L f.p- 
 pincfs. Ambition is the love of fame, power 
 
 and 
 
Of the Original of our Defres^ &c. in 
 
 and diftindtion ; and Curiosity is the love of 
 what is new and uncommon. The objeds of 
 thefe and all our other afFedions, are defired for 
 their own fakes ; and conftitute fo many dif- 
 tindl principles of adion. This is efTential to an 
 affedion or appetite, and the very notion of it. 
 What is not at all defiredy^r itfelj^ but only as a 
 means of fomething elfe, cannot, with any pro- 
 priety, be called the objed of an afFedion. So, 
 for example j if, according to the opinion of 
 fome, we defire every thing merely as the means 
 of our own good, and with an ultimate view to 
 it, then in reality we delire nothing but our own 
 good, and have only the one fingle afFedion of 
 felf-love. 
 
 We are, I believe, capable of obtaining abun- 
 dant fatisfadion about the original of fome of 
 the tendencies and defires we feel ; and the at- 
 tentive reader, from the nature and drift of the 
 preceding reafonings, may have been already led 
 to anticipate what I fliall fay. 
 
 As all moral approbation and difapprobation, 
 and our ideas of beauty and deformity, have 
 been afcribed to an internal sense ^ mean- 
 ing by this, not '' miy inward power of percep4, 
 *^ tion," but " an implanted power^ diiFerent 
 *' {^om reaf on 'j' fo, all our delires and affec- 
 tions have, in like manner, been, afcribed to 
 
 INSTINCT, 
 
1 1 2 Of the Original of 
 
 INSTINCT, meaning by iJiJiinB, not merely " the 
 *' immediate defire of ail objedty' but " the r^^- 
 *' fan o^ this defirej or an implanted propenfionr 
 — The former opinion I have already at large 
 examined. I am now to examine the latter. 
 
 " Is then all dtfire to be confidered as wholly 
 ** iiijiinclivef Is it, in particular, owing to 
 *' nothing but an original bias given our na- 
 *' tures, which they might have either wanted, 
 " or have received in a contrary dire(5tion ; 
 " that we are at all concerned for our own good, 
 " or for the good of others ?" 
 
 As far as this enquiry relates to private good, 
 we may without hefitation or doubt anfwer in the 
 negative. The defire of happinefs for ourfehes, 
 certainly arifes not from instinct, in the fenfe 
 in which I have juft defined it. The full and 
 adequate account of it, is, the nature of hap- 
 pinefs. It is impoffible, but that creatures capa- 
 ble ,of pleafant and painful fen fations, fliould 
 love and chiife the one, and dijlike and avoid the 
 other. No being, who knows what happinefs 
 and mifcry are, can be fuppofed indifferent to 
 them, without a plain contradidion. Pain is 
 ^lot a pofjible objecfl of defire j nor happinefs, of 
 aver/ion. No power whatfoever can caufe a 
 creature, in the agonies of torture and mifery, 
 to be pleafed with his ftate, to like it for itfelf, 
 
 or 
 
ciir Dejires and AffeBions. 113 
 
 or to wifli to remain fo. Nor can any power 
 caufe a creature rejoicing in blifs to difiike his 
 ftate, or be afraid of its continuance. Then 
 only can this happen, when pain can be agree- 
 iibky and pleafure difagrecable \ that is, when 
 pain can be pleafure ; and pleafure, pain. 
 
 From hence I infer, that it is by no means, 
 in general, an abfurd method of explaining our 
 afFedions, to derive them from the natures of 
 things and of beings. For thus we fee are we 
 to account for one of the moft important and 
 adlive affections within us. To the preference 
 and defire oi private happinefs by all beings, no- 
 thing rnore is requifite than to know what it is, 
 — " And may not this be true, likewife, of 
 *' piiblick happinefs } May not benevolence in 
 **■ fome degree be ejjential to ijitelUgent beings, 
 ** as well as felf-love iojenjible beings f" 
 
 But let us enter into a more diftind confide- 
 ration of this point, and try what may be par- 
 ticularly offered, to fliew this to be indeed the 
 true foundation of Benevolence. 
 
 What I have already (hewn feems to carry 
 great weight with it. For, let us, once more, • 
 put the cafe of a being purely reafonable. It is 
 fufficiently evident, that (though by fuppofition 
 void of implanted byaffes) he would not want 
 all principles of adtion, and all inclinations ; or 
 
 I b9 
 
114 Of the Original of 
 
 be in a ftate of abfolute and univerfal indolence 
 and indifference. It has been {hewn he would 
 perceive Virtue, and poffefs affedion to it, in 
 proportion to the degree of his knowledge and 
 underflanding. At jeaft, the nature of happinefs 
 would engage iiim to chufe and defire it for him- 
 fdf. And is it credible that, at the Hime time,- 
 he would be neceflarily indifferent about it for 
 others ? Can it be fuppofed to have that in it, 
 which would infallibly determine him to feek it 
 for himfelf', and yet to have nothing in it, which 
 can excite him to a lingle wifli, or the leaft ap- 
 probation of it for others ? Would the nature 
 of things, upon this fuppofition, be confiftent? 
 Would he not be capable of feeingj that 
 the happinefs of others is to them as im- 
 portant as his is to him ; and that it is in itfelf 
 the fame, equally valuable and equally de- 
 lirable, whoever pofTefles it ? — Every one will 
 acknowledge it to be impoflible, that he (liould 
 defire pkafure for himfelf, and mifery for others. 
 It fhould feem alike impoflible, that he (hould 
 defire pleafure for himfelf, but not for others. 
 
 In confidering this point we fhould be careful 
 to keep in view the fuppofed circumflances of 
 the being about whom I argue, or to conceive of 
 him as left to the effeds of mere reafon 5 and 
 under no influence from any interfering prin- 
 
 ples 
 
cur Def.res end Affections . 1 1 ^ 
 
 clples or caufes, which might have a tendency 
 to prejudice or deceive him. 
 
 Let us again enquire 5 would not this being 
 afTent to this propofition ; " happinefs is better 
 than mifery ?" — A definition has been afked of 
 the word better here. With equal reafon might a 
 definition be afked of the word greater^ when 
 the whole is affirmed to be greater than a part. 
 Both denote fimple ideas, and both truth. The 
 one, what happinefs is, compared with mifery 5 
 and the other, what the whole is, compared 
 with a part. And a mind that fhould think 
 happinefs not to be better than mifery, would 
 miftake as grofsly, as a mind that fhould be- 
 lieve the whole not to be greater than a part. 
 It" cannot therefore be reafonably doubted, but 
 that fuch a being, contemplating and comparing 
 happinefs and mifery, would as unavoidably as 
 he perceives their difference, prefer the one to 
 the other J and chiife the one rather than the 
 other, for his fellow-beings. Nor can it, I 
 fliould think, be eafy for any to bring them- 
 felves to difpute this ^ and to believe, that there 
 is not any being, who, as reafcnable^ if the ever- 
 lafting happinefs or w//?r)"of the whole univerfe de- 
 pended on the flightefl aftion in his power, would 
 not be neceflarily unconcerned what he did, 
 and as readily determine for the one as the other. 
 I 2 This 
 
1 1 6 Of the Original of 
 
 This Is no further poffible, nor can happinefs 
 and mifery appear any farther alike good and eli^ 
 gible to any agent, than he conceives them the 
 fame \ judges the one to be the other; believes 
 contradidlions true, and confounds the eflences 
 of things. 
 
 If the idea the word better ftands for, in the 
 before-mentioned propofition, is indeed to be 
 referred to a fenfe^ and imphes nothing true ; if 
 to the judgment of right reafon, happinefs and 
 mifery are obje<5ts in themfelves indifferent, 
 this muft be perfedly underftood by the Deity. 
 There can, in him, therefore, be no preference 
 of one to the other. There is nothing in hap- 
 pinefs to engage or juftify his choice of it. What 
 account, then, is to be given of his goodnefs? — 
 Some, I know, will fay ; the fame account that 
 is to be given of his exiftence ; meaning no ac- 
 count at all. But there is, furely, an account to 
 be given of his exiftence ; even the fame with 
 that which is to be given of all neceffary truth : 
 And this account is fully applicable to his bene- 
 'vokftce, as the original of it has been here ex- 
 plained. But were this, univerfally, an im- 
 planted and faditious principle; it would be un- 
 avoidable to conclude, that it cannot exift in a 
 nature from which muft be excluded every thing 
 implanted and factitious. How much, therefore, 
 
 upon 
 
our Dejires and AffeSilom. ijy 
 
 upon this fuppofition, will our evidences for this 
 attribute be leflened ? Can we admit a fuppofition 
 which obliges us to conceive of him asgood, w/V/6- 
 out, nay, contrary to, his intelligence? — This is a 
 fimilar argument to that ufed before in the firft 
 chapter ; and it may be further proper to hint, 
 though it can fcarce efcape obfervation, that, 
 what I have endeavoured to eftablilh in that 
 chapter, infers and includes what I have faid 
 on the prefent fubjed ; and if either be right, 
 both muft be fo. 
 
 It is confefTed, that, in our inward fentlments, 
 we are determined to make a diftindion between 
 publick happinefs and mifery -, and to appre- 
 hend a preferablenefs of the one to the other. 
 But it is affertedj that this is owing to our frame j 
 that it arifes from fenfes and inflinds given us, 
 and not from the nature of happinefs and mifery. 
 — But why is this aflerted? What proof can 
 be given of it ? — It may be owing to the latter 
 caufe. The inftance of felf-love demonjirates 
 this. — Let any thing equivalent be offered for 
 the contrary. 
 
 After the fame manner in which felf-love 
 and benevolence have been accounted for, may 
 we account for fome of our other affedions. 
 But thefe being of lefs importance, and the con- 
 fideration of them not fo much in my way, I 
 I 3 fliali 
 
1 1 8 Of the Original of 
 
 fliall only juft touch upon the love of fame and 
 of knowledge. 
 
 Approbation and difapprobation of ourfelvcs 
 and others, as our own actions and difpofitions, 
 Oi- thofe of others, are obferved to be right or 
 wrcng, are unavoidable. The intelligent nature 
 therefore, alone, being fufficient for the percep- 
 tion of morality, lays the foundation of fame 
 and honour. And it is not much lefs evident 
 that it will, likewife, give rife to the defire and 
 purfuit of them. 
 
 Can a reafonable being be indifferent about 
 his own approbation? If not about his own; 
 why ihould we think him necefTarily fo about 
 that of others? Is there nodiing in the good 
 opinion, love,, and efeem of iiis fellow-beings, or 
 of an obferving world, which can incline him 
 to prefer and chufe them, rather, than their con- 
 tempt and averfon f Js it, in particular, only 
 from inftinifs-, that any creature has any concern, 
 ah traded from its effeds, about the approba- 
 tion of God ? 
 
 The deiire of knowledge alfo, and the prefe- 
 rence of TRUTH, muft arife in every intel- 
 ligent mind. Truth is the proper objed of 
 mind, as light is of the eye, or harmony of the 
 ear. To this it is, by its nature, fitted, and up- 
 on this depends its very exiflence ; there being 
 
 no 
 
our Dejlres and Affe5ilom, 119 
 
 no idea poffible of mind^ or underjianding^ with- 
 out fuppofing fomething to be imderjiood. Truth 
 and fcience are of infinite extent; and it is in- 
 conceivable, that the underftanding can be in- 
 different to them ; that it (liould want inclina- 
 tion to fearch into them j that its progrefs, in 
 the difcovery of them, (liould be attended with 
 no fatisfadion ; or that, with the profpedt be- 
 fore it of unbounded fcope for improvement 
 and endlefs acquifitions, it fliould be capable of 
 being equally contented with error, darknefs, 
 and ignorance. 
 
 Why, therefore, reafonable beings love truthy 
 knowledge^ and honour-, is to be anfwered in 
 the fame manner with the enquiry; why they 
 love and defire happmefs ? This, we have feen, is, 
 and cannot but be defiredy^r itfelf; and as, to a 
 ojeneral reflexion, it muil appear unlikely, that it 
 fhould be the only objedt of this kind, we have 
 fufficient reafbn to think that, in faO, it is not. 
 
 In the method now purfued, we might go on 
 to give a particular explication of the caufes and 
 grounds of the various fentiments of veneration, 
 awe, love, wonder, eftecm, &c. produced with- 
 in us by the contemplation of certain objeds. 
 As fome objeds are adapted to pkafe, and as 
 Qthers neceflarilv excite defire -, fo almoft every 
 I 4 diffe- 
 
120 Of the Original of 
 
 different objed has a different efFe6l on ouf 
 minds, according to its different nature and qua- 
 lities. And thefe emotions, or feelings, are al- 
 moft as different and various, as the objefls 
 themfelves of our confideration. Why fliould 
 we fcruple afcribing this, to a neceffary corref- 
 pondence, in the natures of things, between 
 thefe feelings and their refpedive obje6ls ? — It 
 cannot, furely, be true, that, antecedently to 
 arbitrary conflitution, any affecftions of our minds 
 are equally and indifferently applicable to any 
 objeds and qualities : Nor would it be con- 
 fiflent in any one to affert this, who does not go 
 fo far, as to deny all real connexion between 
 caufes and effedls ; all real dependence of events 
 on one another ; all proper fubferviency of 
 means to ends, or efiential aptnefs of things to 
 particular purpofes, in the material and rational 
 world. 
 
 But it mufl: not be forgotten, that, in men, 
 the fentiments and tendencies of the intelligent 
 nature, are, in a great degree, mingled with the 
 effeds of arbitrary conftitution. It is very ne- 
 celfary that this obfervation, before infifled on, 
 iliould be here called to mind. Rational and 
 difpaflionate benevolence would, in us, be a 
 principle much too weak, and utterly infufH- 
 
 cient 
 
our Defires and AffeBiom, 121 
 
 cient for the purpofes of our prefent ftate. And 
 the fame is true of our other rational principles 
 and defires. 
 
 This, perhaps, will afford us a good reafbn 
 for diflinguifliing between offeBiom 2LvApaJjions, 
 The former, which we apply indifcriminately 
 to all reafonablc beings, may niofl: properly fig- 
 nify the defires and inclinations founded in the 
 reafonable nature itfelf, and ellential to it; fuch 
 as felf-love, benevolence, and the love of truth. 
 — Thefe, when aided and ftrengthened by in- 
 ftindtive determinations, take the latter denomi- 
 nation J or are, properly, pajfions. — Thofe ten- 
 dencies within us, that are merely arbitrary and 
 inftindtive, fuch as hunger and thirft, and the 
 defires between the fexes, we commonly call 
 appetites or pajjiom indifferently, but feldom or 
 never affeBions, 
 
 I cannot help, in this place, ftepping afide a lit- 
 tle, to take more particular notice of an opinion 
 already referred to j J mean, the opinion of thofe, 
 who will allow of no ultimate obje6t of defirf, 
 or motive to action, h^^idts, private good. What 
 has given rife to this opinion, has been, the not 
 taking care to difi:inguifh between dejirey and 
 the pkafure implied in the gratification of it. 
 The latter is fubfequent to the former, and 
 
 founded 
 
122 Of the Original of 
 
 ■founded in it: That is, an objed, fuch ^%fame^ 
 knowledge^ or the welfare of a friend^ is defired, 
 not becaufe we forefee, that when obtained, it 
 will give us pleafure j but, vice verfa-y the ob- 
 taining it gives us pleafure, becaufe we previ- 
 oufly defired it, or h^d an affeSfion carrying us 
 immediately to it, and refling in it. And, were 
 there no fuch affedions, the very foundations of 
 private enjoyment and happinefs would be de- 
 ftroyed. It cannot be conceived, that the ob- 
 taining what we do not defire, fliould be the 
 caufe of pleafure to us; or that what we are 
 perfedly indifferent to, and is not the end of 
 any affedion, fhould, upon being poffeffed, be 
 the means of any kind of indulgence, or gra- 
 tification*. 
 
 Befides ; if every objed of defire is confidered 
 merely as the caufe of pleafure ; one would 
 think, that, antecedently to experience, no one 
 objed could be deiired more than another ; and 
 that the fird time we contemplated fame, know- 
 ledge, or the happinefs of others ; or had any 
 
 * " The very idea of happinefs or enjoyment, (as Dr. 
 ■*' Butler fays) is this, an appetite or afteilion having its 
 *' obje£l." See Sermons p^-eached at the Roll's chapel. 
 ,My chief defign here is to throw together a few obferva- 
 tions, which feem to have a tendency to confirm what this 
 writer has fo well faid on this fubjedl. 
 
 of 
 
mir Liefires and AffeBlons. 123 
 
 of the objeds of our natural pafiions and deiires 
 propofed to us, we muft have been abfolutely 
 indifferent to them, and muft have remained 
 fo, till, by fome means, we were convinced of 
 the connexion between them and pleafure. 
 
 For further fatisfadion on this point, nothing 
 can be more proper than to confider ; whether, fup- 
 pofing we could enjoy the fame pleafure without 
 the objed of our defire, or by negleding it, we 
 fhould be indifferent to it. Could we enjoy 
 pleafures equivalent to thofe attending know- 
 ledge, or the approbation of others, without 
 them, or with infamy and ignorance, would we 
 no longer wifh for the one, or be averfe to the 
 other ? Would a perfon lofe all curiofity, and 
 be indifferent whether he ftirred a ftep to fee the 
 greateft wonder, were he affured hefliould receive 
 equal fenfations of pleafure by flaying where 
 he is ? Did you believe, that the profperity of 
 your neareft kindred, your friends or your coun- 
 try, would be the means of no greater happinefs 
 to you, than their mifcry ; would you lofe all love 
 to them, and all defires of their good ? — Would 
 you not chufe to enjoy the fame quantity of 
 pleafure with virtue, rather than without it ? — An 
 unbiaffed mind muft fpurn at fuch enquiries; 
 ,and any one, who would, in this manner, exa- 
 mine himfelf, might eafily find, that all his af- 
 I fedions 
 
124- Of the Original of 
 
 fedions and appetites (felf-love itfelf excepted) 
 are, in their nature, difrnterejied; and that, 
 though the feat of them be felf and the efFed 
 of them the gratification of felf their diredt 
 tendency is always to fome particular objedl 
 different from private pleafure, beyond which 
 they carry not our view. So far is it from be- 
 ing true, that, in following their impulfes, we 
 aim at nothing but our own interefl ; that we 
 continually feel them drawing us aftray from 
 what we k?iow to be our interefl j and may ob- 
 ferve men every day carried by them to adions 
 and purfuits, which they acknowledge to be 
 ruinous to them. 
 
 But to return from this digrefiion. — Of our 
 feveral pafiions and appetites, fome are fubor- 
 dinate to felf-love, and given with a view to 
 the prefer vation and welfare of individuals. O- 
 thers are fubordinate to benevolence, and given 
 in order to fecure and promote the happinefs 
 of the fpecies. The occafion for them arifes en- 
 tirely from our deficiencies and weakneiTes. 
 Reafon alone, did we poffefs it in a higher de- 
 gree, would anfwer all the ends of them. — 
 Thus ; there would be no need of the parental 
 afecfion, were all parents fufficiently acquainted 
 with the reafons for taking upon them the 
 
 guidance 
 
cur Defires and AffcSllons, 125 
 
 guidance and fupport of thofe whom nature has 
 placed under their care, and were they virtuous 
 enough to be always determined by thofe rea- 
 fons. And, in all other inllances of implanted 
 principles, it is plain, that there is a certain de- 
 gree of knowledge and goodnefs, by which they 
 would be rendered fuperfluous. 
 
 It is incumbent on thofe who fee this, and 
 can regard appetite^ as, in the defign of nature, 
 merely minifterial and fupplemental to reafon^ 
 and neceflary only on the account of its abfence 
 or imperfedlions, to labour to improve it, and 
 to extend its influence as much as poflible ; to 
 learn more and more, in all inflances, to fubfti- 
 tute it in the room o^ appetite^ and to diminifh 
 continually the occafion for infiindive principles 
 in themfelves. — All the inferior orders of crea- 
 tures, and men themfelves during their firfl 
 years, have no other guide than injliiidi. The 
 further men advance in exiftence, and the wifer 
 and better they grow, the more they are difen- 
 gaged from it. And there may be numberlefs 
 orders of fuperior beings, who are abfolutely a- 
 hove it, and under the fole influence and guid- 
 ance of reafon. 
 
 We cannot, indeed, confldering the prefent 
 weak and imperfedt ftate of human reafon, fuf. 
 ficiently admire the wifdom and goodnefs of 
 
 I God, 
 
126 Of the Original of 
 
 God, in the provifion he has made agalnfl the 
 evils which would arife from hence, by parti- 
 cular, inftindive determinations. As long as 
 men have not that wifdom which would afcer- 
 tain their taking regularly the fuflenance necef- 
 fary for their fupport, upon barely knowing it 
 to be proper at certain intervals ; how kind is it 
 to remind them of it, and urge them to it, by 
 the painful and conflantly returning folicitations 
 oi hunger? As it is probable, they would not 
 be fufficiently engaged to the relief of the mife- 
 rable, without the tender fympathies and im- 
 puiles oi compafjion j how properly are //6^ given 
 them ? And as, in like manner, if left to mere 
 reafon, the care of their offspring would be little 
 attended to j how wifely are they tied to them by 
 the parental fondnefs^ and not fufFercd to negledt 
 them without doing violence to themfelves ? 
 
 In general j were we trufled wholly with the 
 care of ourfelves, and was our benevolence de- 
 termined alike to all mankind, or no further to 
 particular perfons, according to our different re- 
 lations to them, than unaffifted reafon would 
 determine it; what confufion would enfue ? 
 What defolation and mifery would be foon in- 
 troduced into human affairs ? 
 
 How evidendy, therefore, do the wifdom and 
 benevolence of our Maker appear in the frame 
 
 of 
 
our Defires ami AffcB ions. ny 
 
 of our natures ? — It is true, that thefe very 
 principles, the neceflity of which to the piefer- 
 vation and happinefs of the fpecies, we fo evi- 
 dently fee, often prove, in event, the caufes of 
 many grievous evils. But they are plainly in- 
 tended for good. Thefe evils are the accidental^ 
 not the proper confeqiiences of them. They 
 proceed from the unnatural abufe and corrup- 
 tion of them, and happen entirely through our 
 own fault, contrary to what appears to be the 
 conftitutlon of our nature and the will of our 
 Maker. It is impoflible to produce one inftance 
 in which the original direction of nature is to 
 evil, or to any thing not, upon the whole, 
 beft. 
 
 I am not at all folicitous about determining 
 nicely, in all cafes, what in our natures is to be 
 refolved into injlinB^ and what not. It is fuf- 
 ficient, if it appears, that the moft important of 
 our defires and afFedtions are deducible from a 
 lefs precarious and higher original. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
[ 128 ] 
 
 CHAP. IV, 
 
 Of our Ideas of good aitd ill Defer t. 
 
 IT Is neediefs to fay any thing to fhew, that 
 the ideas of good and ill defert necelTanly 
 arifd in us upon confidering certain adions and 
 characflers; or, that we conceive virtue as always 
 woj-tljyy and vice as the contrary. Thefe ideas 
 are plainly a fpecies of the ideas of right and 
 wrong. There is, however, the following dif- 
 ference between them, which may be worth 
 mentioning. The epithets, right and wrong are, 
 with ftrid propriety, applied to aSiionSj hui good 
 and /// defert belong rather to the agent. It is 
 the agent alone, that is capable of happinefs or 
 mifery j and, therefore, it is he alone that pro- 
 perly can be faid to dejerve thefe. 
 
 I apprehend no great difficulty in explaining 
 thefe ideas. They fuppofe virtue pradifed, or 
 negleded, and regard the treatment due to be- 
 ings in confequence of this. They fignify the* 
 propriety or fitnefs which we difcern in making 
 virtuous agents happy, and difcountenancing the 
 ^ vicious 
 
good and ill Defert. 129 
 
 vicious and corrupt. When we fay, a man de- 
 Jh'ves well, we mean, that his charadter is fuch, 
 that we approve of (l^ewing \\\m favctir }, or that 
 it is right he lliould be happier than if he had 
 been of a different character. V/e cannot but love 
 a virtuous agent, and deiire his happine(s above 
 that oT othtrs. Reafon determines at once, that 
 he ought to be the better for his vi- tue. — A vi- 
 cious being, on the contrary, as fuch, we can- 
 not but hate and condemn. Our concern for 
 his happinefs is neccili-rily diminiflied j nor can 
 any truth appear more feif-evidently to our 
 minds, than that it is wrong he (hould profper 
 in his wickednefs, or that happinefs (hould be 
 conferred on him in the fame manner and to 
 the fame degree, as it is on others of amiable 
 chari'.ders ; or as it vvculd have been conferred 
 on himfelf, had he been virtuous. 
 
 Different charaders require different treat- 
 ment. Virtue affords a reafcji for communicat- 
 ing additional happinefs to the agent j vice is a 
 reafon for withdrawing favour, or for punifhing. 
 — This feems to be very intelh'gible. But in. 
 order further to explain this point, it is neceffa- 
 ry toobferve particularly, that the whole founda- 
 tion of the fentiments now mentioned is by no 
 means this ; '' the tendency of virtue to the 
 " happinefs of the world, and of vice to its 
 K "miferys 
 
130 Of our Idem of 
 
 ** mifery ; or the publick utility of the one, and 
 *' inutih"tv of the other." — We have an imme^. 
 <//^^t' approbation of making the virtuous happy, 
 and dilbouraging the vicious, abflraded from all 
 confequences. Were there but tu^o beings in 
 the univerfe, one of whom was virtuous, the 
 other vicious j or, were we to conceive two fuch 
 beings, in other refpeds alike, governed apart 
 from the reft of the world, and removed for ever 
 from the notice of all other creatures j we {l:iould 
 flill approve of a different treatment of them. 
 That the good being fhould be lefs happy, or a 
 greater fufferer, than his evil fellow being, would 
 appear to us wrong. 
 
 Suppofe a perfon had any particular benefit 
 to communicate, and that the only confideration 
 to determine which of two competitors ihall 
 have it, is their contrary moral charaders -, what 
 room would there be for hefitation ? What 
 wife and difinterefted perfon v/ould not imme- 
 diately determine in favour of the virtuous cha- 
 radler ? Or will any one fay, that he would 
 want all reafon for fuch a determination, and 
 be neceflarily indifferent on which of the com- 
 petitors he beftowed the fuppofed bleffing, if 
 there were no other beings in the world ; or if 
 he knew that all memory of the fadl would be 
 immediately loft ; or that, in any other way, ajl 
 
 hurtful 
 
good and ill Defert, 131 
 
 hurtful efFeds from his deterinin?.tIon would be 
 prevented ? The virtuous perfon, every one 
 would fay, is worthy of the benefit j the other 
 tmworthy : That is, their refpedive charaders 
 are fuch, that it is right it (liould be conferred 
 on the one, rather than the other. But, why 
 right f Not merely on account of tl'ie effeds 5 
 (which, in thefe inftances, we are faf from 
 taking time always to confider) but iwmediately 
 and ultimately right j and, for the fame rcafoa 
 that beneficence is right, and that objeds and 
 relations, in general, are what they are. 
 
 The moral worth or merit of an agent, 
 then, is, *' his virtue conlidercd as implying 
 *' the fuitablenefs or fitnefs, that good fhould be 
 ** communicated to him preferably to others ; 
 " and as difpoling all obfervers to eileem, and 
 " love him, and fludy his happinefs."^- Virtue 
 naturally, and of itfelf, recommends to favour 
 and happinefs, qualifies for them, and renders 
 the being pofiefTed of it the proper objedl of 
 encouragement and reward. It is, in a like 
 fenfe, we fay that a perfon, who has been a be- 
 nefador to another, defer'ves well of him j that 
 benefits received ought to be acknowledged and 
 recompenfedj and, that the perfon who beftows 
 them is, preferably to others, the proper objed 
 of our regard and benevolence. 
 
 K 2 I deny 
 
132 Of our Ideas of' 
 
 I deny not, but that one circumflance of great 
 importance, upon which is grounded the fitnefs 
 of countenancing virtue, and difcountenancing 
 vice, among reafonable beings, is, the manifeft 
 tendency of this to prevent mifery, and to pre- 
 ferve order and happinefs in the world. What 
 I aflert is, that it is not all that renders fuch a 
 procedure right j but that, fetting afide the con- 
 fideration of pubHck intcrsft, it would ftill, 
 though with fome difference in the degree and 
 manner, remain right to make a diftindion be- 
 tween the lots of the virruous and vicious. Vice 
 is of ESSENTIAL DKMEKiT; and virtuc is ifl 
 ttfeJf rewardabk. For, once more, let us ima- 
 gine an order of reafonable beings, made to pafs 
 through a particular ftage of exigence, at the 
 end of which they are annihilated*: Among 
 whom, during the period they exifted, no diftinc- 
 tion was made on account of their different 
 charatfters : Virtue was not favoured, nor vice 
 puniflied : Happinefs and mifery were diftri- 
 buted promifcuoufly ; the guilty often eafy, prof- 
 perous, and fiourilhing; the good, as often, af- 
 flided, robbed of every enjoyment, and brought 
 to untimely ends by their virtue, or by the 
 opprefTion and cruelties of their more happy, 
 
 * As men are, fuppofing no future ftate. 
 
 though 
 
good and ill Defter t, 133 
 
 though wicked fellow- beings : The /??;/'? wicked, 
 generally, the A"^ Tuftcrers; and the mo/l up- 
 right, iheleafl happy. Notwithftanding all this, 
 the quantity of pleafure or good enjoyed by the 
 whole order, and by every fingle individual of 
 it, may be conceived greatly to exceed the ill. 
 But will any one fay, that were there no con- 
 nexion between fucb an order of beings and the 
 reft of the univerfe, there would not be any 
 thing in the difpofitlon of its affairs that would 
 be wrong? — It will be faid probably, for no- 
 ticing elfe can be faid with reafon, " that fuch 
 ** a ftate of reafonable beings cannot be ap- 
 " proved by us, becaufe tli^re would have been 
 " ?nore happinefs among them, had their af- 
 " fairs been ordered agreeably to the rules of 
 '' diftributive juftice." But is it fo unavoid- 
 able to fee this, that every one's difapprobation 
 muft be always immediately determined by it ? 
 Or was it impoffible that fuch a fcheme of na- 
 ture fliould be eftablillied and carried on for a 
 time, as that this might not have been true ? Or, 
 allowing the unreafonablenefs of making fuch a 
 fuppofition, do we always conceive of God, as 
 obliged, in every Jingle injlajice, to produce all 
 the happinefs poiiible, and operate to the utmoft 
 extent of his power ? Is there no greater harm, 
 K 3 or 
 
^34 Of our Ideas of 
 
 or other kind of wrong in a fyfteni of beings 
 fo governed, than in producing a fmaller quan^ 
 •.icv of happinefs rather than a greatej- \ creating 
 -• earth, for inflance, of the fize of ours, rather 
 ihan one bigger, and, confequently, capable of 
 fupporting a greater number of inhabitants ? 
 Or, are all things relating to this fyflem and its 
 events ordered as equitably and well, and as 
 much to the fatisfadlion of our minds, as if there 
 had been in it, upon the whole, the fame quan- 
 tity of happinefs, but dillributed according to 
 the moral charaders of the beings ? 
 
 In the cafe of a fingle, folitary evil being, 
 it may perhaps be very true, that the only thing 
 that could juRify putting him into a ft ate of 
 abfolute mifery, would be its conducivenefs to 
 his reformation. But then the reafon why we 
 approve of ufing methods to accomplifh his 
 reformation, is not merely this ; " that it is ex- 
 ^' pedient to his happinefs." For were this true, 
 we fhould equally approve the following things; 
 funifii?ig\\im, and thus bringing him to a fenfe 
 of his duty,, and, in confequence of this, to hap- 
 pinefs ; or lb originally conftituting his frame 
 and ordering his circumftances of being, as that, 
 though unreftrained in his vices, he fhould en- 
 joy, for the defigned period of his exiftence, 
 
 the 
 
good and ill Deftrt. 135 
 
 the fame quantity of pleafurej or (fuppofing 
 this impoffible) fo over-ruling, in various vvays, 
 the effeds of his wickednefs, making fuch im- 
 preffions upon his mind, granting him fuch a 
 fucceffion of agreeable fenfations, fixing him in 
 a fituation of fo much external affluence and de- 
 light, and conferring fo many extraordinary ad- 
 vantages upon him, as fliall compcnfate, or, in 
 any degree, more than compenfate any futfer- 
 ings, or any diminution of happinefs necelTari- 
 ly arifing from his guilt. — Is there nothing to be 
 chofen between thefe methods of making a 
 being happy ? Suppofing the fame quantity of 
 happinefs enjoyed, is it indiiferent whether a 
 being enjoys it in a courfe of wickednefs, or of 
 virtue ? — It would be extravagant toaffert, that 
 there is no pojjible method whereby a being 
 can, in any degree, efcape the hurtful effeds 
 of his vices, or loie the happy effeds of his 
 virtue. We fee enough in the prefent world to 
 convince us of the contrary. 
 
 There are feveral queftions which may be 
 afked on the fubjed of this chapter. There 
 are many particular cafes and different circum- 
 flances of agents and of guilt, in which it may 
 be difficult for us to determine what is right to 
 be done -, nor is it at all neceffary to my prefent 
 K 4 purpofe 
 
136 Of our Ideas of 
 
 purpofe that I fliould take notice of fucb cafes. 
 It is fafficient, if I have, in general, juftly ex- 
 plained good and ill defert ; and if, from the 
 confiderations propofed, it appears, that virtue 
 is eflcntially a /?r(5/>^r objed: o'i fa^cmir^ vice of 
 difcouragement ':, and that the rewardablenefs of 
 the one, and the dement of the other, are in^ 
 ftances of abfolute and eternal reditude, the 
 ideas of which arife in us immediately upon the 
 confidcration of virtuous and vicious charac- 
 ters, appear always along with them, and are, 
 by no means, wholly coincident with or re*- 
 folvable into views of publick utility and /«» 
 utility. 
 
 Upon this perception of good and ill de-r 
 fert, is founded the paffion of refentment ; the 
 hopes unavoidably fpringing up in every vir-^r 
 tuous mind ; and the preiaging terrors and an^ 
 ticipations of punilhment accompanying a con- 
 fcioufnefs of guilt. 
 
 Let me add \ that there is no perception of 
 our minds which it becomes us more to attend 
 to. It points out to us clearly> the nnay to hap^ 
 pinefs and the conditions of it. It is feeing, 
 that according to juft order and equity, fin is 
 the forfeiture of all our expedations of good 5 
 and virtue, the ground of the higheft hope. -— 
 
 Con- 
 
good and ill Befirt. 137 
 
 Confidered merely, as a principle of the natures 
 which God has given us, or as a determination 
 which we find elTential to our minds and in- 
 terwoven with our frame j it implies a decla- 
 ration from the author of our minds of his will 
 and intentions J it acquaints us how he will 
 deal with us, and what treatment we may ex- 
 pert from hitn, according to our different cha- 
 raders ; or upon v^^hat the exercife of his good- 
 
 nefs to us is fufpended. But, confidered as 
 
 a neceffary perception of reafon, it demofiftrates 
 to us what the Jupreme reafon will do j what 
 laws and rules it obferves in carrying on the 
 happinefs of the univerfej and that its end is, 
 not fimply happinefs, but ** happinefs enjoyed 
 ** with virtue*." 
 
 Before 
 
 * '< Perhaps divine goodnefs, with which, if I miftake 
 *' not, we make very free in our fpeculations, may not 
 *' be a bare fingle difpofition to produce happinefs; but 
 ♦' a difpofition to make the good, the faithful, the honeft 
 " man happy. Perhaps an infinitely perfedl mind may 
 ** be pleaftd, with feeing his creatures behave fuitably to 
 ** the nature he has given them j to the relations rn 
 f which he has placed them to each other ^ and to that 
 *' which they ftand in to h^mfelf : that relation to him- 
 '* felf, which, during their cxiflence, is even neceflary, 
 f ^nd which is the moft important one of all : perhaps, 
 
 ** I fay. 
 
138 Of our Ideas of 
 
 Before we proceed to the next chapter, I can- 
 not help defiring the reader, once more, to 
 refled on that reverfe of nature, which is pof- 
 iible, and which might have obtained, if the 
 opinion concerning the foundarion of morals 
 which I have oppofed be true. Let him try to con- 
 ceive of the world, and of all our ideas of good, 
 of morality, of perfedion, and of the Deity as 
 inverted ; the principal objeds of the confidera- 
 tion of our minds as not being what they now 
 feem to be, but as perceived by all intelligent 
 beings under notions entirely contrary : what is 
 now approved and efteemed, as difapproved and 
 hated : all that is now contemplated as fit, as 
 'worthy i as amiable and excellent ^ appearing evil 
 cnd,bafe: cruelty, impiety, ingratitude and trea- 
 chery apprehended to be virtue -y and benefi- 
 cence, piety, gratitude and faithfulnefs, to be 
 Kvickednefs : The very averlion arifing in us 
 from confidering the former, produced by the 
 latter : refped and love excited by ill otiices j 
 
 *' I fay, an infinitely perfe6l mind may be pleafed with 
 " this moral piety of* moral agents, in and for itfelf ; as 
 ** well as upon account of its being eflcntially conducive 
 *' to the happinefs of his creation." 
 
 See Butler's Analogy^ Part I. Ch. 2. 
 
 contempt 
 
good and ill Deferf, i^g 
 
 contempt and refentment by ads of kindnefs : 
 mifery, private and publick, conveying the fame 
 fentiments tiiat happinefs now conveys j pre- 
 vailing in the fame degree throughout the world, 
 and chofen and purlued with the fame univer- 
 fal approbation and ardour : virtue^ conceived 
 as having demerit j and "oicCy as well-deferving 
 and rewardable. — Can thefe things be ? Is 
 there nothing in any of them repugnant to the 
 zjatures of things ? 
 
 CHAP. 
 
[ 140 ] 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 'Of the Refer e7Ke cf Morality to the 
 Divine Nature ; the ReElitude of 
 our Faculties ; and the Grounds of 
 Belief. 
 
 MORALITY has been reprefented as 
 neceflary and immutable. There is an 
 objedion to this, which to feme has appeared 
 of confiderable weight, and which it will be 
 proper for me to examine. 
 
 It may feem ** that this is fetting up fome- 
 •* thing diftindt from God, which is inde- 
 " pendent of him, and equally eternal and 
 ^ neceflary." 
 
 It is eafy to lee that this difficulty afFeds 
 morality, no more than it dees all truth, ii for 
 this reafon, we mufl give up the unalterable 
 natures of right and wrong, and make them 
 •dependent on the Divine wills we muft, for the 
 fame reafon, deny any thing to be necejfarily 
 true^ and alTert the poffibility of contradidions j 
 that is, the poffibility of impoffibilities ; our 
 
 only 
 
Of the Reference of Morality^ &c. 141 
 
 only idea of an impoflibility, being, ** what 
 ** implies a contradidion." 
 
 What I have hitherto aimed at has been^ 
 to prove that morality is a branch of necefjary 
 truths and that it has the fame foundation with 
 it. If I have fucceeded in this, the main point is 
 fettled, and we may be very well contented that 
 ti'uth and morr.lity fhould fland and fall toge- 
 ther. This fiibjedt however cannot be pur- 
 fued far enough, or mornlity be traced to its 
 fource, without entering particularly into the 
 confideration of the difficulty now propofed ; 
 which naturally occurs i\\ ail enquiries of this 
 fort. 
 
 In the firft place, therefore, let it be obferved, 
 that fomethiiJg there certainly is which we 
 muft allow not to be dependent on the will 
 of God. Forinftancej this will itfelfj his own 
 exiftence; his eternity and immenfity j the dii- 
 ference between power and impotence, wildom 
 and folly, truth and faKliood, exiftence and 
 non-exiftence. To fuppofe thefe dependent on 
 his will, is fo extravagant, that no one can 
 afTert it, who will beflow any thought on the 
 fubjedt. It would imply, that he is a change- 
 able and precarious being, and render it impof- 
 I lible 
 
142 Of thi Reference of 
 
 iible to form any rational and confiftent idea^ 
 of his exiftence and attributes. But thefe 
 muft be the creatures of will, if all truth be 
 io. ' — There is another view of this notion, 
 which alfo fhews that it overthrows the Divine 
 attributes and exiftence. For, 
 
 Secondly, Mind fuppofes truth ; and intelli- 
 gence, fomething intelligible* Wifdom fup- 
 pofes certain objedis about which it is conver- 
 fant; and knowledge, knowables. — An eternal, 
 necelTary mind fuppofes eternal, neceffary truth ; 
 and infinite knowledge, infinite knowables. If 
 then there were no infinity of knowables 5 no 
 eternal, neceflary, independent * truths ; there 
 could be no infinite, independent necellary mind 
 or intelligence -, becaufe there would be nothing 
 to be certainly and eternally known. Jufl: as, 
 if there were nothing pojjible, there could be no 
 power 'y or, if there were no necelTary infinity of 
 pofiibles, there could be no necelTary, infinite 
 power i becaufe power fuppofes objects, and 
 eternal, necelTary, infinite power, an infinity of 
 eternal and ntct^zxy pofiibles. 
 
 In like manner it may be faid, that if there 
 were no moral dijiin5ltons, there could be no 
 moral attributes in the Deity, If there were 
 
 * kiS'tA vGHra, in P/ato's language. 
 
 I nothing 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 14 j 
 
 nothing eternally and unalterably right and 
 wrong, there could be nothing meant by his 
 eternal, unalterable rectitude or holinefs. — It 
 is evident, therefore, that annihilating truth, 
 poffibility, or moral differences, is indeed anni- 
 hilating all mind, all power, all goodnefs ; and 
 that fo far as we make the former precarious, 
 dependent, or limited , fo far we make the lat- 
 ter fo too. 
 
 Hence we fee clearly, that to conceive of 
 truth as depending on God's will, is to con- 
 ceive of his intelligence and knowledge as de- 
 pending on his will. And is it poffible, that 
 any one can prefer this to the opinion, that, on 
 the contrary, h\s will (which, from the nature 
 of it, requires fomethitig to guide and determine 
 it) is dependent on, or regulated by, his under- 
 Jlanding? — What can be more prepofterous, 
 than to make the Deity nothing but will ; and 
 to exalt this, on the ruins of all his other at- 
 tributes ? 
 
 But it may ftill be urged, that thefe obferva- 
 tions remove not the propofed difficulty ; but 
 rather ftrengthen and fix it. We are ftill left 
 to conceive of " certain objeds diftind: from 
 *' Deity, which are neceflary and independent; 
 ** and on which too his exiftence and attributes 
 
 " are 
 
144 ^f ^^^ Refer e7jce of 
 
 " are founded J and without which, we cannot 
 ** fo much as form any idea of them." I an- 
 fwer ; we ought to diliinguilh between the will 
 of God and his nature. It by no means fol- 
 lows, becaufe they are independent of his will^ 
 that they are alfo independent of his nature. 
 To conceive thus of them would indeed involve 
 us in the greateft abfurdities and inconfiftencies. 
 Wherever, or in v/hatever obje(!is, necefjity and 
 infnity occur to our thoughts, the divine, eternal 
 nature and perfections are to be acknov^^ledged 5 
 to which nothing of this kind can be unallied. 
 — And the truth is, that the objeds we are now 
 contemplating, inftead of being difiin6l from or 
 independent of the Deity ; are only different 
 views, modes, or attributes of his nature. 
 
 We fhall, I believe, be more willing to own 
 this, when we have attentively confide red what 
 abftradl truth and poffibility are. They open a 
 profpecft before us, which is, in all refpeds, 
 amazing and unbounded. Our thoughts are 
 here loft in an unfathomable abvfs, where vv'c 
 find room for an everlafling progrefs, and v/here 
 the very notion of arriving at a point, beyond 
 which there is nothing further, implies a con- 
 tradiction. There is no ^\^^ of what is per- 
 ceivable and difcoverablc. There is a proper 
 
 infinity 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 145 
 
 infinity of ideal objeds and verities pojjible to be 
 known j and of fyilems, worlds, and fcenes of 
 being, perception, order, and art, wholly incon- 
 ceivable to finite minds, pojjible to exifl. This 
 infinity of truth and pofiibility we cannot in 
 thought deftroy. Do what we will, it always 
 returns upon us. Every thought and every idea 
 of every mind 5 every kind of agency and power, 
 and every degree of intelledual improvement 
 and pre-eiuinence amongfi ail reafonable beings, 
 fuppofe and imply its neceiTary and unchangeable 
 exiilence. — Can this be any thins befides the 
 divine, uncreated, infinite r^^/o?? and powtr^ from 
 whence all other reaibn and power are derived, 
 ofifering themfelves to our minds, and forcing 
 us to fee and acknowledge them? — What is the 
 true conclufion from* fuch conliderations, but 
 that there is an incomprehenfible firfi wifdom, 
 knowledge, and power neccfj'arily exijiingy which 
 contain in themlelves all things, from which all 
 things fprung*, and upon which all things de- 
 pend ? — There is nothing fo intimate with us, 
 fo blended with our tijoughts, and one with our 
 
 * It was, in all probability, fomcthing of this kind, and 
 not modern Panlbeijhi, or Spinozifm^ that fome of the 
 antients meant, when they reprefented God as being all 
 things J. as the unchangeable and infinite to ov and zv ov.' 
 
 See Dr. Cudworth's Intellectual Syjlm^ Vol. I. 
 
 L natures, 
 
146 Of the Reference of 
 
 natures, as God, He is included, as appears, in 
 all our conceptions, and necelTary to all the ope- 
 rations of our minds : Nor could he be neceffa- 
 rily exijienty were not this true of him. For it 
 is implied in the idea of necefjary exijlence^ that 
 it is fundamental to all other exiilence, and pre- 
 fuppofed in every notion we can frame of every 
 thing. — In (lioit, it feems very plain, that truth 
 having always a reference to mind ; infinite, 
 eternal truth implies an infinite, eternal mind: 
 And that, not being likXidLjiibfajice, nor yet nothi?ig, 
 it muft be y^mode oj afubftance ; or the ejfential ivif 
 dom and intelligence of the one^ necefjary Being. 
 
 It is worth obferving that, in this way of con- 
 fidering things, we have a kind of intuition of 
 the unity of God- Infinite, abflraft truth is ef- 
 fentially one. This is no lefs clear of truth, than 
 it is of fpace or duration *. When we have 
 fixed our thoughts on infinite truth, and after- 
 wards try to imagine ^.fecondj or another infinity 
 of it; we find ourfelves endeavouring abfurdly 
 to in:iagine another infinity of the fame truth. 
 It is felf- evident, then, that there can be but 
 
 * More than one infinite fpace or duration, is not con- 
 ceivable, or poffible. Such, likewife, will appear to him, 
 who duly confiders this fubjeft, the connection between 
 all the parts of truth, as well as between thofe of fpace^ 
 that we cannot conceive of them asfeparable ; or annihilate 
 one abflrad truth, without annihilating the whole. 
 
 one 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature, 147 
 
 one infinite mind. Infinite truth fuppofes and 
 
 infers the exiftence of one infinite effence, as its 
 
 fubjlratum^ and but one. Were there more, 
 
 they would not be necejfary. Particular 
 
 truths, contemplated at the fame time by many 
 different Uiinds, are, on this account, no more 
 different, than the prefent moment cf duration 
 is different in one place from what it is in ano- 
 ther ; or, than the fun is different, becaufe viewed 
 at the fame time bv myriads of eves. — All cre- 
 ated minds contemplating truth, and enquiring 
 into the natures 01 things, are to be confidered 
 as employed in viewing and examining one and 
 the fame original and 07nniprefent ifitelligence^ or 
 eternal reajon. 
 
 Let it be remembered here, that in univerfal, 
 aeceff'ary truth, are included the comparative na- 
 tures of happinefs arid mifery ; the ?'ight in pro- 
 ducing the one, and the wrong in producing the 
 other; and, in general, moral tvulh, moral fftnefs 
 and excellence, and all that is l^eji to be done in 
 all cafes, and with refped to all the variety of 
 adlual or poflible beings and worlds. —— This 
 is the neceflary goodness of the divine na- 
 ture. — It demonffrates, that, in the divine 
 intelligence, abfolute redtitude is included ; 
 and that eternal, infinite power and reafon arc 
 in effential conjunction with, and imply com- 
 
 L 2 plete. 
 
148 Of the Reference of 
 
 plete, moral exxellence, and, particularly perfect 
 and boundlefs Benevolence'^. It fliews us, that 
 whenever we tranfLrrefs truth and rish.t, or de- 
 viate from goodnefs, we immediately affront that 
 God, who is truth and goodnefs j and that, on 
 the contrary, whenever we are influenced to 
 action by thefe, or determine ourfelves agreeably 
 to them, we pay immediate homage to him. 
 
 From the whole it is plain, that none have 
 any reafon to be offended, when morality is re- 
 prefented as eternal and immutable ; for it ap- 
 pears that it is not afferting that there is any 
 thinly diftindt from Deity, which is eternal and 
 necelTary and independent i but " refolving all 
 " to the Divine nature, founding all ultimately 
 *' on this, and afferting this only to be eternal, 
 " neceffary, and independent -f-." 
 
 * Kat'io profe5la a rerum natura^ i^ ad retle faciendum 
 impdlenSy tff a deli£lo avocam : qua non turn denique incipit 
 lex ejfe^ cum fcripta efi^ fed turn cum orta eji : orta autem 
 
 fmul efl cum mente d'lvina. Cic. de Leg. Lib. ii. Jta 
 
 principem legem illam i3 ultimam, mentem ejfe omnia ratione 
 aut cogentis aut vctaniis Dei. Ibid. — Xoya cpd-u •srtH6«e&«/ 
 Kai '^iu 7(w\ov sr/. Hier. Carm. Pythag. 
 
 f The high and facred original of virtue is therefore 
 God himfelf, who " is all in all ; the fole fountain of all 
 *' that is true, right or perfect." The words of Dr. Sharp, 
 in one of his Letters to Mrs. Cockhurn on the foundation of 
 Virtue. See the works of the latter, vol. ii. 
 
 The 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 149 
 
 The fame kind of reafoning with fome that 
 I have here ufed has been, by Dr. Clark, applied, 
 (and I think julHy) to /pace and duration : But 
 thefe fentiments are more particularly counte- 
 nanced by Dr. Cudworth, who, at the end of his 
 Treat ife on Eternal and immutable Morality^ has 
 confidered the lame difficulty, and given a like 
 folution of it. Yet it would be vain to ex- 
 pe(fl that what is here advanced, will be received : 
 One can fcarce hope, indeed, that the authority 
 of thefe great men, (and alfo of the admirable 
 Flato^i and feveral of the wifeft of the ancient 
 
 philo- 
 
 * Thofe who are acquainted with P/^/o's writings, know 
 that he reprefents the ideas, or intelligible eflences of 
 things, as the only feat of truth, the only objedb of know- 
 ledge and mind, and the only things that moft properly 
 deferve the name of entities. Here only, according to him, 
 can we find unity; it being plainly impoffible to conceive 
 of more than one fpecies or abdract cffence of a triangle, or 
 of any other object of the underftanding. Thefe likewife 
 he reprefents as the originals and exemplars of all created 
 exiftences ; as eternal and incorruptible ; above all motion 
 and mutation, and making up together the one infinite, firji 
 intelligence, or TO on. Particular fenfible exiftences, on 
 the contrary, he reprefents as being nothing fixed, or per- 
 manent in themfelves ; but the feats of multiplicity, ge- 
 neration, and motion ; the objecSls not oi knowledge, but of 
 opinion and imo'/inotion ; and to be looked upon as rather 
 J})adovu5, than realities. — He ridicules thole earth-born men, 
 {yi)yiV(rii, in Sophijla) as he ftyles them, who rejeiSling all 
 L 3 invilible. 
 
1 5© Of the Reference of 
 
 philofophers) will prove fufficient to fave it even 
 froin ridicule. 
 
 There 
 
 invifible, incorporeal efiences, and abflradl ideas, (enTtf, 
 tti^-iretminfjcty accofMetra, kou ao^ra. eiS')U Ibid.) allow 
 nothing to have exiftence befices the objeds of fcnfe and 
 fancy, or what they can fee and handle : and fays, that 
 thofe who have not learnt to loolc above ail fenfibles and 
 individuals to abftradl truth and the natures of things, to 
 beauty or good itfelf, are not to be ranked amongft true 
 philofophers, but among the ignorant, the vulgar, and 
 blind.— What he has delivered to this purpofe has been 
 carried into myfticifm and jargon, by the latter Platonijis \ 
 
 but this is no reafon for reje6ling it. See the note at 
 
 the end of the firft chapter. 
 
 I cannot help particularly recommending to the reader's 
 perufal here, the two laft chapter^ of Mr. Harris's 
 Hermes, quoted before j pag. 44 and 53. 
 
 This able writer has entered far into this part of Plato's 
 philofophy ; and I am glad to find that I can mention him 
 as one of its patrons and friends. 
 
 " Thefe etymologies (fays he, pag. 371, 2d edition) 
 « prove their authors to have confiiered science and 
 " UNDERSTANDING, not as fleeting powers of perception, 
 *' likey^w/^; but rather as fteady, permanent, and durable 
 *' COMPREHENSIONS. But if fo, We mufl, fomewhere or 
 " other, find for them ^^aJy, permanent, and durable 
 
 «* OBJECTS, &c. — 1 he following, then, are quef- 
 
 *' tions worth confidering. What thefe objeds are ? Where 
 *•• they refide? And how they are to be difcovered? — Not 
 *' by experimental philofophy it is plain, for that meddles 
 '« with nothing but what is tangible, corporeal, and mu- 
 ^* table." &c. — " May we be allowed (page 3S9} to credit 
 
 '' thofe 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 151 
 
 There is, perhaps, no fubjed: where more 
 muft be trurted to every perfon's own attentive 
 reflexion ; where the deficiencies of language 
 are more fenfible ; or on which it is more dif- 
 ficult to write, fo as to be entirely underflood. 
 Many needlefs difputes and impertinent objec- 
 tions would be prevented, on this as well as all 
 other fubjedls, would perfons be fo candid as al- 
 ways to attend more to what is meant, than to 
 the accuracy of the expreffions. 
 
 A great deal might have been added to what 
 has been faid ; and the whole argument, now 
 very imperfe^flly touched, explained at large and 
 purfued throughout, would, I think, contain one 
 of the highefl of all fpeculations. 
 
 There has been another difficulty ftarted-f*, 
 in which morality is concerned, which will be 
 
 *' thofe fpeculative men, who tell us, it is in thefe penna- 
 " nent and comprehenfive forms, that the Deity views at 
 *' once, without looking abroad, all poflible produitions, 
 *' both prefent, pad, and future. — That this great and 
 '* flupendous view is but the view of himfelf," &c. 
 
 f It is probable I fhould not have taken much notice 
 of this objedlion, had I not found it confidered by Dr. 
 Cudworth at the end of his treatife of eternal and immutable 
 morality \ and anfwered in a manner, I judged not quite 
 clear and fatisfadtory. 
 
 L 4 proper 
 
152 Of the Reference of 
 
 proper for our prefent examination. It has been 
 afked, '* whether the truth of all our know- 
 *' ledge does not fuppofe the true or right make 
 *' of our faculties ? whether it is not poilible, 
 " that thefe might have been fo conftituted, as 
 *' unavoidably to deceive us in all our appre- 
 *' henfions ? and how can we know that this is 
 ** not adually the cafe?" 
 
 Some may imagine that thefe enquiries pro- 
 pofe difficulties which are impolTible to be fur- 
 mounted, and that Vv'e are here tied down to 
 univerfal and invincible fcepticifm. For, *' how 
 " are we to make cut the truth of our faculties, 
 *' but by thefe very fufpeded faculties themfclves? 
 *' andhowvain would be fuch an attempt? where 
 " could it leave us but v^^here it found us ?" — 
 It may be obferved, that it is not only us, but 
 the whole rational creation, who are thus reduced 
 to a flate of everlafting fcepticifm : Nay, that it 
 muft be impoffible, God fhould make any crea- 
 ture, who fhali be able to fatisfy himfelf on any 
 point, or believe even his own exiflence. For 
 what fatisfa(flion can he obtain, in any cafe, but 
 by tlie intervention of his faculties ? and how 
 fhall he know that they are not delufive? — 
 Thefe are very ftrange confequences ^ but let us 
 con fide r. 
 
Morality to the Dhine Nature. 153 
 
 Firfli That we are informed of this difficulty 
 by our faculties, and that, confcquently, if we do 
 not know that any regard is due to their infor- 
 mation, we likewife do not know that there is 
 any regard due to this difficulty. — It will appear 
 prefently to be a contradiction, to fuppofe that 
 our faculties can teach us univerfally to fufpedt 
 themfelves. 
 
 Seco?2dlyy Our natures are fuch, that whatever 
 we fee, or think we fee prevailing evidence againft, 
 we cannot believe. If then there lliould appear 
 to us, on the whole, any evidence againft the 
 fuppofition, that our faculties are fo contrived as 
 always to deceive us, we are obliged to rejedl it. 
 Evidence muft produce convidion proportioned 
 to the imagined degree of it ; and convidion is 
 inconfiftent with fufpicion. It will fignify no- 
 thing to urge that no evidence in this cafe can 
 be regarded, becaufe difcovered by our fufpedled 
 faculties j for, we cannot fufpecl, we cannot in 
 any cafe doubt without reafon, or againji reafon. 
 Doubting fuppofes evidence 3 and there cannot, 
 therefore, be any fuch thing as doubting, whe- 
 ther evidence itfclf is to be regarded. A man 
 who doubts of the veracity of his faculties, muft: 
 do it on their own authority and credit 3 that is, 
 at the very time, and in the 'very adi of fufpecling 
 thenij he muft: truft them. As nothing is more 
 
 plainly 
 
'54 ^f ^^^^ Reference of 
 
 plainly felf-deftrudlive and contradidory, than 
 to attempt to prove by reafon, that reafon de- 
 ferves no credit, or to afTert that we have reafon 
 for thinking, that there is no fuch thing as reafon -y 
 it is, certainly, no lefs fo, to pretend, that we 
 have reafon to doubt whether reafon is to be re- 
 garded ; or, which comes to the fame, whether 
 apparent evidence, or our faculties, are to be re- 
 garded. And, as far as any will acknowledge 
 they have no reafon to doubt, fo far it will be 
 ridiculous for them to pretend to doubt. 
 
 Thefe obfervations alone might be fufficient 
 on this fubjed, for they fliew us that the point 
 in debate is a point we are obliged to take for 
 granted, and which is not capable of being 
 queftioned. But yet, however trifling it may 
 fcem after what has been faid, it will be of 
 fonie ufe to point out more particularly the 
 meaning of this enquiry, " Do not our faculties 
 " always deceive us ?" And to fhew what the 
 evidence really is which we have for the 
 contrary. 
 
 Let it be confidcred then further, that it is 
 impoffible what /i not, or (which is all one) 
 what is not true^ Ihould be perceived. — Now, 
 it is certain, that there is a great variety of truths 
 which we think we perceive 9 and, the whole 
 qneftion, confequcntly, is, whether we really 
 I perceive 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 15^ 
 
 perceive them, or not. The exiftence of ab*- 
 folute truth is fuppofed in the objection. Suf- 
 picion of our faculties and fear of being deceived 
 evidently imply it ; nor can we deny, that it 
 exifts, without contradiding ourfelves j for it 
 would be to aflert, that it is true, that nothing 
 is true. The fame may be faid of doubting 
 whether there is any thing true ; for doubting 
 denotes a hefitation or fufpenfe of the mind 
 about the truth of what is doubted of j and, 
 therefore, a tacit acknowledgment that there is 
 fomewhat true. Take away this, and there is 
 no idea of it left *. So impoffible is univerfal 
 fcepticifm j and fo neceffarily does truth remain, 
 even after we have taken it away. There be- 
 ing then truth perceivable, we are unavoidably 
 led to believe, that we may^ and that, in many 
 inftances, we do perceive it. But what I meant 
 here to obferve was, that to doubt of the recti- 
 tude of our faculties, is to doubt, whether our 
 reafon is not fo formed and fituated, as to mif- 
 reprcfent every objed: of fcience to us 5 whether 
 we ever knoio^ or only imagine we know j whe- 
 ther, for example, we aBually perceive, or only 
 fancy that we perceive a circle to be different 
 
 * Thus ignorance implies fomething to be known, and 
 doubting about the way to a place, that there is a way. 
 
 from 
 
^5^ O/" /^^ Reference of 
 
 from a triangle, or the whole to be bigger than 
 a part. 
 
 As far as we cannot doubt of thefe things, 
 or find ourfelves forced to think we perceive 
 them } fo far we cannot doubt our faculties : 
 
 So far we are forced to think them right. 
 
 It appears, therefore, that we have all the rea- 
 fon for believing our faculties, which we have 
 for affenting to any felf-evident propofitions j or 
 for believing that we have any real perceptions. 
 — Whatever we perceive, we perceive as it is ;- 
 and to perceive nothing as it is, is to perceive no- 
 thing at all. A mind cannot be without ideas, 
 and as far as it has ideas they mufl be true 
 ideas ; a wrong kiea of an object being the fame 
 with no idea of it, or the idea of fome other 
 objedt. 
 
 Obfervations of this kind may (liew us that 
 the following things are impoffible to infinite 
 power, in regard to our faculties and percep- 
 tions. 
 
 Firjl^ No being can be made who fhall 
 perceive falfchood. What is falfc, is nothing. 
 Error is always the efFed:, not of perception, 
 but of the want of it. As far as our percep- 
 tions go, they mufl correfpond to the truth of 
 things. 
 
 I Sccondh\ 
 
Morality to the Divhie Nature. r 57 
 
 Secondly, No being can be made who fliall 
 have different ideas, and yet not fee. them diffe- 
 rent. This would be to have them, and at the 
 fame time not to have them *. There can, 
 therefore, be no rational beings, who do not 
 affent to all the truths which are included in 
 the apprehended difference between ideas. — 
 Thus ; To have the ideas of a whole and a part, 
 is the fame vvi:h feeing the one to be greater 
 than the other. To have the ideas of two 
 figures, and an exad: co-incidence between them 
 when laid on one another, is the fame with fee- 
 ing them to be equal. The like may be obferved 
 of many of the truths which we make out by 
 demonftration ; for demonflration is only the 
 felf-evident application of felf-evident prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 In a word ; either there are truths, which, 
 after the fullefl confideration, we are forced to 
 think that we know, or there are not. None 
 
 * We may mif-name our ideas, or imagine that an idea 
 prefent at one time in our minds, is the fame with one dif- 
 ferent from it, that was prefent at another. But no one 
 can conceive, that a being, contemplating at the fa?/ie time 
 two ideas, can then think them not two but the fame. 
 He cannot have two ideas before his mind without bcinor 
 
 to 
 
 confcious of it ; and he cannot be confdous of it, without 
 knowing them to be different, and having a complete vicwr 
 and difcernment of them, as far as they are his ideas. 
 
 probably 
 
1 5§ Of the Reference of 
 
 probably will aflert the latter ; and declare fe-^ 
 rioufly, there is nothing they find themfelves 
 under any neceffity of believing. Were there 
 any fuch perfons they would be incapable of 
 being reafoned with, nor would it be to any 
 purpofe to tell them, that this very declaration 
 gives itfelf the lye. - — If, therefore, there are 
 truths which we thi?jk we perceive, it is the moft 
 contemptible abfurdity to pretend, at the fame 
 time, to doubt of the reditude of our under- 
 flandings with refped: to them ; that is, to doubt 
 whether we perceive them or not. — Thinking 
 we are right, believing, and thinking our facul- 
 ties right, are one and the fame. He that fays, 
 he doubts whether his eyes are not fo made as 
 always to deceive him, cannot without contra- 
 dieting himfelf, fay, he believes he ever fees any 
 external objed. If we have a neceflary deter- 
 mination to believe at all, we have a neceflary 
 determination to believe our faculties j and in 
 the degree we believe them, we cannot dijirujl 
 them ; unlefs thefe two things are reconcileable ; 
 believing the report of another, and queftioning 
 whether any credit is due to him. An expref- 
 iion then which has been ufed (liould be in- 
 verted, and inilead of faying, " upon fuppofi- 
 " tion my faculties are duly made, I am fure of 
 *' fuch and fuch things j" it ihould be faid, 
 
 " I am 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 159 
 
 ** I am fure of fuch and fuch truths; and, 
 " therefore, I am in the fame degree fure my 
 *' faculties inform me rightly." — On the whole; 
 it appears undeniably, that, to fufpedt our facul- 
 ties, in the manner and fenfe now oppofed, is to 
 fufpecl, not only without reafon, but againji all 
 reafun. 
 
 Shall it ftill be objeded ; " I have found 
 *' myfelf miftaken in many cafes ; and how 
 *' ihall I know but I may be fo in allT — I 
 anfwer; look into yourfelf and examine your 
 own conceptions. Clearnefs and diftindlnefs of 
 apprehenfion, as you have or want it, will and 
 muft fatisfy you, when you are right, and when 
 it is pofiibie you may be wrong. Do not you 
 really know, that you are not deceived, when 
 you think, that if equals are taken from equals, 
 the remainders will be equal ? Can you enter- 
 tain the leaft doubt, whether the body of the 
 fun is bigger than it appears to the naked eye ? 
 or is it any reafon for queftioning this, that you 
 once may have thought otherwife ? Is it rea- 
 fonable, becaufe you have judged v/rong in fome 
 cafesy through ignorance, hafte, prejudice, or 
 partial views, to fufpe(5t that you judge wrong /"« 
 all cafes, however clear ? Becaufe, through bo- 
 dily indifpofition or other caufes, our fenfesy^;//^- 
 times mifreprefent outward objeds to us, are they 
 
 for 
 
1 6o Of the Reference 6f 
 
 for ever to be dllcredited ? Becaufe Vv'e fometimes 
 dream, muft it be doubtful whethcrwe are ever 
 awake ? Becaufe one man impofed upon us, 
 are we to conclude that no faith is due to any 
 human teflimony ? or becaufe our memories 
 have deceived us with refpedt to fome events, 
 mull: we queftion whether we remember right 
 what happened the lafl moment ? * 
 
 But 
 
 * Conclufions of this fort, (ftrange as they may fecm) 
 have been actually drawn ; and it has been ailerted, that 
 becaufe in adding together a long feries of numbers, we 
 are liable to err, we cannot be fure that we are right in 
 the addition* of the fmallefl numbers ; and, therefore, not 
 in reckoning twice two to be four. 
 
 Another fceptical argument which has been infifled on, 
 is this. In every judgment we can form, befides the un- 
 certainty attending the original confideration of the fub- 
 je61: itfelf ; there is another derived from the confideration 
 of the fallibility of our faculties, and the paft inftances in 
 which we have been miftaken ; to which muft be added 
 a third uncertainty, derived from the poflibility of error in 
 this eftimation we make of the fidelity of our faculties; 
 and to this a fourth of the fame kind, and fo on in infi- 
 nitum \ till at laft the firft evidence, by a conflant diminu- 
 tion of it, muft be reduced to nothing. See Mr. Hume's 
 Treatife of Human Nature, Vol. I. p. 315, &c. As much 
 of this very flrange reafoning as is not above my com- 
 prehenfion, proves juft the reverfe of what was intended by 
 it. For let it be acknowledged, that the confideration of 
 the fallibility of our underflandings, and the inftances in 
 which they have deceived us, necelTarily diminiOies our 
 
 affurance 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 1 6 1 
 But let it, for this or any other reafon, be 
 granted pojjibk^ that all our recolledions are 
 wrong, all our opinions falfe, and all our know* 
 ledge delufion i flill there will be only a bare 
 pojjibility again ll: all reafon and evidence, and 
 the whole weight and bent of our minds obliging 
 us to think the contrary. It is not in our power 
 to pay the lead regard to a fimple may be, in 
 oppofition to a?iy apparent evidence *, much 
 lefs in oppofition to iht Jb'ojigeji . — Let it be ad- 
 mitted further, that there may be a fet of ra- 
 tional beings in a ftate of neceffary and total 
 deception, or to whom nothing of truth and 
 reality ever appears ; though this be abfolutely 
 impoifible, the fame, as I have before obferved, 
 with fuppofing them to be void of all intellec- 
 
 aflurance of the rcflitudc of our fentiments ; the fubfe- 
 quent reflection on the uncertainty attending this judgment 
 -tvhich we make of our faculties, diminifhes not, but con- 
 tributes to reftore to its firft ftrength, our original afTurance ; 
 becaufe the more precarious a judgment or probability un- 
 favourable to another appears, the Icfs muft be its efFedl in 
 weakening it. 
 
 * How trifling then is it to alledge againft any thing, 
 for which there appears to be an overbalance of evidence, 
 ,that, did we know more of the cafe, perhaps we might fee 
 equal evidence for the contrary. It is always a full an- 
 
 fvver to this, to fay ; perhaps not. What we are whol- 
 
 *'ly unacquainted with, may, for ought we know, make as 
 much yr any of our opinions, as againji them. 
 
 M tual 
 
1 62 Of the Reference of 
 
 tual perception, and inconfiftent with the very 
 idea of their exigence, as thinking and reafon- 
 able beings \ yet, granting this, we cannot help 
 thinking, that it is not the cafe with us j and 
 that fuch beings can by no means think and 
 perceive as we do. 
 
 In a word: What things y^^*;;? to us, we muft 
 take them to be ; and whatever our faculties in- 
 form us of, we mufl: give credit to.' — A great 
 deal, therefore, of the fcepticifm which fome 
 profefs and defend, is certainly either mere af- 
 fedation, or felf- deception. 
 
 I fl:iall conclude this chapter with a few ob- 
 fervations on the general grounds of belief and 
 alTent. Thefe may be all comprehended under 
 the three following heads. 
 
 The firftis immediate confcioufnefs or feel- 
 ing. It is abfurd to afk a reafon for our be- 
 lieving what we feel^ or are inwardly confcious 
 of. A thinking being muft necefTarily have a 
 capacity of difcovering fome things in this way. 
 It would be a contradid:ion to fuppofe that all 
 we know is difcovered by the intervention of 
 mediums.— It is from hence particularly we ac- 
 quire the knowledge of our ov/n exiftence, and 
 of the feveral operations, paffions, and fenfations 
 of our minds. 
 
 The 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 163 
 
 They^<:(?,W ground of belief is Intuition ; 
 by which I mean the mind's furvey of its own 
 idess, and the relations between them, and the 
 notice it takes, by its own innate light and intel- 
 ledive power, of what abfolutely and neceffa- 
 rily is or is not true and falfe, coniiftent and in-^ 
 confiftent, poffible and impoflible in the natures 
 of things. It is to this, as has been explained at 
 large in the firft chapter, we owe our belief of 
 all felf- evident truths; our ideas of the general, 
 abftrad affe(ftions and relations of things ; our 
 moral ideas, and whatfoever elfe we difcover, 
 without m.aking ufe of any procefs of reafoning. 
 — It is on this power of intuition, elTential, in 
 fome degree or other, to all rational minds, 
 that the whole poffibility of all reafoning is 
 founded. To it the laft appeal is ever made. , 
 Many of its perceptions are capable, by atten- 
 tion, of being rendered more clear; and many 
 of the truths difcovered by it, may be illuftrated 
 by an advantageous reprefentation of them, 
 or by being viewed in particular lights ; but 
 feldom will admit of proper proof. — Some 
 truths there mud be, which can appear only by 
 their own light, and which are incapable of 
 proof J otherwife nothing could be proved, or 
 known ; in the fame manner as, if therp were 
 no letters, there could be no words, or if there 
 M 2 were 
 
164 Of the 'Reference of 
 
 were no fimple and undefinable ideas, there 
 
 could be no complex ideas. I might 
 
 mention many inflances of truths difcern- 
 ible no other way than inttdthely^ which 
 learned men have flrangely confounded and 
 obfcured, by treating them as fubje6ls of rea^ 
 foning and deduBkn. One of the moft* impor- 
 tant inftances, the fubjedl of this treatife affords 
 us ; and another we have, in our notions of the 
 neccfiity of a caiife of whatever begins to exift, 
 or our general ideas of powe?' and connexion * : 
 And, fometimef, rcafon has been ridiculoufly 
 employed to prove even our own exiftence. 
 
 The third ground of belief is argumenta- 
 tion or DEDUCTION. This we have recourfe 
 to when intuition fails us ; and it is, as juft 
 now hinted, highly neceffary, that' we carefully 
 dillinguilli betwen thefe two, mark their diffe- 
 rences and limits, and obferve what information 
 we owe to the one or the other of them. — Our 
 ideas are fiich, that, by comparing them amongft 
 themfelves, we can find out numberlefs truths 
 concerning them, and, confequently, ocncerning 
 actually exiftent objecfls, as far as correfpondent 
 to them, which would be otherwife undifcover- 
 able. Thus, a particular relation between two 
 
 * See the fecond fedlion of the firft chapter, p. 29, &c. 
 2 ideas. 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 165 
 
 ideas, which cannot be difcerned by any imme- 
 diate comparifon, may appear, to the greateft 
 fatisfadion, by the help of a proper, intermediate 
 idea, whofe relation to each is either felf-evident, 
 or made out by fome precedent reafoning. — It 
 is very agreeable here to coniider, how one truth 
 infers other truths j and what vaft acceffions of 
 knowledge may arife from the addition of but one 
 new idea, by fupplying us with a proper me- 
 dium for difcovering the relations of thole we 
 had before ; which difcoveries might themfelves 
 help to further difcoveries, and thefe to yet fur- 
 ther, and To on without end. — - If one new idea 
 may have this effect j what inconceivable im- 
 provements may we fuppofe poffible to ariie, 
 from the unfolding of one new fenfe or fa- 
 culty ? How great is the dignity, and how ex- 
 teniive the capacities of an intclledual nature ? 
 
 It would be needlefs to give any inftances of 
 knowledge derived from Argumentation. All is 
 to be afcribed to it, which we have not received 
 from either of the preceding fources. 
 
 It may be worth obferving, that all we be- 
 lieve on any of thefe grounds, is not equally 
 evident to us. This is obvious with refped: to 
 the laft ; which fupplies us with all the degrees 
 of evidence, from that producing full certair.ty, 
 to the lowed: probability. Intuition^ likevvife, is 
 M 3 fuaad 
 
i66 Of the Reference of 
 
 found in very various degrees. It is fometimes 
 clear and perfect, and fometimes faint and ob- 
 fcure. Several propolitions in geometry would 
 appear very likely to it, though we had no de- 
 inoiiflrations of them. — Neither docsfeelifig or 
 rcjiexion on ourfehes convinct us equally of every 
 thing that we difcover by it. It gives us the 
 utmoft alTurance of our own exiftence ; but it 
 does not give the fame ailiirance of a great deal 
 that pafles within us j of the fprings of our ac- 
 tions, and the particular nature, ends, tendencies, 
 and workings of our paffions and affedions, 
 which is fufficiently proved by the difputes on 
 thefe fubjeCts. 
 
 It may alfo be worth mentioning, that fome 
 things we difcover only in one of thefe ways, 
 and fome in more, or in all of them. All that 
 we now prove by Reqfo?2i/ig, might be ftill 
 equally thus proved, though it were in the fame 
 degree intuitrve to us, that it may be to beings 
 above us. Intuition is not always incompatible 
 with argumentation, though, v/hen perfed, it 
 fuperfedes it j and, when imperfecfl:, is often in- 
 capable of receiving any aid from it } and there^ 
 fore, in fuch cafes, ought to be reded entirely 
 on its own evidence. Every procefs of reafoning 
 is compofed of intuitions, and all the feveral 
 fteps in it are fo many difcindl intuitions ; which, 
 when, clear and unqueflionable, produce ^(f/?w;z- 
 8 Jlration 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. i6y 
 
 Jlration and certainty % when otherwife, give rife 
 to opinion and probability. Nothing would be 
 a greater advantage to us, in the fearch of truth, 
 than taking time often to refolve our reafonings 
 into their conftituent intuitions j and to cbfeive 
 carefully, what light and evidence attend each, 
 and in what manner, and with what degree of 
 force, they infer the conclufion. Such a cuf- 
 tom of analyfing our fentiments, and tracing 
 them to their elements and principles, would 
 prevent much error and confufion, and iLew us 
 what deo;ree of alTent is due to the conclufions 
 we receive, and on what foundation our opinions 
 really ftand. 
 
 An inftance of what is difcovered in all the 
 ways above-named, is the exigence of matter. 
 Immediate feeling difcovers to us our own organs, 
 and the modifications of them. Thefe the foal 
 perceives by being prefent with them, — - We 
 have the ideas of matter, and of a material 
 world J and we, therefore, fee intuitively the 
 pojjibility of their exigence ; for pojjibility oi ex- 
 iting is implied in the idea of every objedtj 
 what is impoffible being nothing, and no objedt 
 of reflexion. — We are confcious of certain im- 
 preffions made upon us, and of certain notices 
 tranfmitted to us from without, and know they 
 are produced by fome foreign caufe. We touch 
 M 4 a folid 
 
1 68 Of the Reference of 
 
 a folid fubflance, and feel refinance. We fee 
 certain images drawn on our organs of fight, 
 and know they are adted upon by fomething. 
 The refiftance made may be owing to a refifting 
 body ; and the fcenes painted before us may be 
 derived from a correfpondent, external fcene, 
 difcovering itfelf to us by means of intermediate 
 matter. Suppofing an external world, in v>^hat 
 better manner than this could the information 
 of it be communicated to us ? What more in- 
 credible, than that all the notices conveyed to 
 us by our fenfes, and all the impreffions made 
 upon them, correfponding in all refpeds to the 
 fuppofition of an external world, and confirm- 
 ing one another in numberlefs ways, (lioold be 
 entirely vifionary and delufive ? It is, I own, 
 ftill poffbky that matter may not exifi: ; and that 
 all thefe appearances and notices may be derived 
 from the regular and conftant adion of the 
 Deity, or of fome other invifible caufe upon our 
 minds. So likewife is it pof/ibk, that i\\t planets 
 may not be inhabited, tho' every particle of matter 
 on the earth abounds with inhabitants ; that gra- 
 vity may not be the power that keeps them in their 
 orbits, though it be certainly the power that keeps 
 the 7nocn in its orbit 3 and that we may be the only 
 beings in the world, and the only produdions of 
 divine power, though thegreatefl reafon to con- 
 clude 
 
Morality to the Divine Nature. 169 
 
 elude the contrary offers itfelf to us, from the 
 coniideration barely of our own exiftence, and 
 the confequent, intuitive poffibility and likelihood 
 of the exigence of numberlefs other beings. A- 
 nalogy and intuition, in thefe cafes, immediately 
 inform us what is fad:, and produce convidlion 
 which we cannot refift. In fliort, it i^f elf- 
 evident^ that a material worlds anfwerable to our 
 ideas, and to what we feel and fee, \s pojible. 
 We have no reafon to think that it does not 
 exift. Every thing appears as if it did exift; and 
 againft the reality of its exigence there is nothing 
 but a bare poffibility againft adual feeling, and 
 all the evidence which our circumftances and 
 condition, as embodied fpirits, feem capable of. 
 
 It is well known what controverlies have of 
 late been raifed on this fubjed 5 fome denying 
 the exiftence of a material world ; while others, 
 not finding it poffibie ferioufly to doubt, refolve 
 their 'conviOion into a determination given us to 
 believe, which cannot be accounted for. I 
 fhould go too far out of my way, were I to fay 
 much more of the nature and grounds of our 
 convidion in this inftance. I fliall therefore 
 only obferve further, that the fame principles on 
 which the exigence of matter is c ppofcd, lead us 
 equally to deny the exiftence oijpiritual beings. 
 And thofe who rejedt the one, while they be- 
 lieve 
 
1 70 Of the Reference of Sec. 
 
 lieve the other, fliould tell us, " on what 
 ** grounds they believe there exlft any other 
 " men, or any beings whatfoever befides them- 
 « felves." 
 
 This difpute, after all, turns chiefly on the 
 qneftion j whether matter, confidered as fome- 
 thing adually exifting without the mind, and /«- 
 dependent of its perceptions^ be pofjihle^ or not ? 
 For there are few, probably, who will deny its 
 exiftence for any reafon befides an apprehenfion 
 of the impoilibility of it, in any other fenfe, than 
 as an idea, mode, or conception of the mind. 
 — One would think that there can be no occa- 
 iion for fpending time in refuting this. What 
 is indifputable, if it be not fo, that whatever is 
 conceivable cannot be ivipoffible^ What pre- 
 tence can there be for afferting, i\\2.ifgure, mo- 
 tion., and folid extenf.on are fenfations, which 
 cannot, any more than pleafiire and pain^ have 
 any real exigence without the mind, that will not 
 imply the fame of the objeB of every idea, and 
 of all that is commonly thought to have a diJiinB 
 and continued exijience? — But it is time to pro- 
 ceed to what has a nearer relation to the defign 
 of this treatife. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
[ 171 ] 
 
 CHAR VI. 
 
 Of Fitnefs^ and Moral Obligation^ and 
 the various Forms of ExpreJ/to?ty 
 which have been ufed by different 
 Writers in explainiiig Morality, 
 
 AFTER the account that has been given 
 of the nature and origin of our ideas of 
 morahtyj it will be eafy to perceive the meaning 
 of feveral terms and phrafes, which are com- 
 monly ufed in fpeaking and writing on this 
 fubjed. 
 
 Fitnefs and unfit nefs moft frequently denote 
 the congruity or incongruity, aptitude or inap- 
 titude of any objedl or means to accomplidi an 
 end. But when applied to adtions, they gene- 
 rally fignify the fame with right and wrong ; 
 nor is it often hard to determine in which of 
 thefe fenfes thcfe words are to be underflood. 
 It is worth obfcrvin?, i\\?ii Jit nefs^ in the former 
 fcnfe, is equally undefinablc with fitnefs in the 
 latter i or, that it is as impoffible to exprefs, in 
 
 any 
 
172 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 any other than fynonymous words, what wc 
 mean by it, when we fay of certain objeds, 
 ** that they have a Jitnefi to one another y or 
 ** are Jit to anfwer certain purpofes," as it is 
 when we fay, " reverencing the Deity is^^, or 
 " beneficence is Jit to be pradifed." In the 
 firfl of thefe inftances, none can avoid owning 
 the abfurdity of making an arbitrary fenle the 
 iburce of the idea ol Jitnefs^ and of concluding 
 that it fignifies nothing real in objedls, and that 
 no one thing can be properly the means of ano- 
 ther. In both cafes the term Jt^ fignifies a 
 fimple perception of the underfianding. 
 
 Morally good and evil^ reafonahle and unrea- 
 fonable, are epithets alfo commonly applied to 
 adions, evidently meaning the fame with righ 
 and wrongs Jit and wjit. 
 
 Approving an adion is the fame with difcern- 
 ing it to be right ; as ajfenting to a propofition is 
 the fame with difcerning it to be true. It is, 
 however, to be remembered, that the word ap- 
 probation conveys likewife, particularly, an idea 
 of the pleafiire and fatiJaBion generally accom- 
 panying the difcernment of right. 
 
 But Obligation!^ the term moft necefiary to be 
 here confidered ; and to the explication of it, 
 the heft part of this chapter fliall be devoted, 
 — It is ftrange this fliould have perplexed fo 
 
 many 
 
various Ways of /peaking in Morals. 173 
 
 many writers. Obligation to adion, and right- 
 nefs of ad:ion, are plainly coincident or iden- 
 tical ', fo far io, that we cannot form a no- 
 tion of the one, without taking in the other. 
 This may appear to any one upon confidering, 
 what difference he can point out between what 
 is right, meet or Jit to be done, and what ought 
 to be done *. It is not indeed plainer, that fi- 
 gure implies fomething figured, folidity refif- 
 tance, or an effe(5t a caufe, than it is that right- 
 nefs implies cughtjiefs (if I may be allowed this 
 word) or obligatorinefs. And as eafily can wc 
 conceive of figure without extenfion, motion 
 without a change of place, or any the greateft 
 abfurdity; as that it can be Jit for us to do an 
 adlion, and yet that it may not be what we 
 Jlmdd do, what it is our duty to do, or what we 
 are under an obligation to do. — Right , fit, ought ^ 
 Jhould, duty, obligation, convey, then, ideas ne- 
 ceffarily including one another. From hence it 
 follows, 
 
 FirJl, That virtue, as fuch, has a real, full, 
 obligatory power antecedently to all pofitive laws, 
 and independently of all will j for obligation, 
 
 * Obligatory anfwers to cportct, decet, debitum, in Latin ; 
 and to cTft, S^-.ov sr/, ^iunov, xafltixof, S'ikmov in Greek. 
 Who can fuppofe that the origin of the to <r«oc is different 
 from that of the Ka.i}ii/.Qv, or of jujiia and fitnefi? 
 
 we 
 
174 Of Moral Obligation, and the 
 
 we (ec, is involved in the very nature of it. To 
 affirm, that the performance of that, which, to 
 omit, would be wrong, is not obligatory, unlefs 
 conducive to private good, or enjoined by a fu- 
 perior power, is a manifeft contradidion. It is 
 to fay, that it is not true, that a thing is what it 
 is 5 what isjuft, jufti or that we are obliged to 
 do what we ought to do j unlefs it be the objedl 
 of a command, or, in fome manner, privately 
 ufeful. — If there are any adlions fit to be done 
 by an agent, befides fuch as tend to his own hap- 
 pinefs, or independently of their influence on it j 
 thefe adions, by the terms, are likewife obliga- 
 tory, independently of their influence on his 
 happinefs. — Whatever it is wrong to do, that it 
 is our duty not to do, whether enjoined or not 
 by any pofitive law *. — I cannot conceive of any 
 thing much more evident than this. — It appears, 
 therefore, that thofe who maintain that all 
 obligation is to be deduced from pofitive laws, 
 the Divine will, or felf-love, aflTert what (if they 
 mean any thing contrary to what is here faid) 
 evidently implies, that the words right and jiifi 
 
 * It is obvious, that this is very different from faying 
 (what it would be plainly abfurd to fay) that every a£tion, 
 the performance of which, in certain circumfiances is 
 wrong, will continue wrong, let the circumftances be ever 
 fo much altered, or by whatever authority it is commanded. 
 
 (land 
 
various Ways of f pea king ifi Morals. 17^ 
 
 (land for no real and diftind: charafters of ac- 
 tions ; but fignify merely what is 'willed and 
 commanded^ or conducive to private advantage, 
 whatever that be ; fo that any thing may be 
 both right and wrong, morally good and evil, 
 at the fame time and in any circumftances, as 
 it may be commanded or forbidden by diiFerent 
 laws and wills ; and any the mod pernicious 
 and horrible efFedts will become juft, and fit to 
 be produced by any being, if but the minuteji 
 degree of clear advantage or pleafure may refult 
 to him from them. 
 
 Thofe who fay, nothing can oblige but the 
 will of God, generally refolve the power of this 
 to oblige, to the annexed rewards and punifh- 
 ments. And thus, in reality, they fubvert en- 
 tirely the independent natures of moral good 
 and evil ; and are forced • to maintain, that no- 
 thing can oblige^ but the profpedt of pleafure to 
 be obtained, or pain to be avoided. If this be 
 be true, it follows that ijice is, properly, no more 
 than imprudence j that nothing is right or wrong, 
 juft or unjuft, any further than it afFeds felf- 
 intereft; and that a being, independently and 
 completely happy, cannot have any moral per- 
 ceptions, or any guide of his adions. The juft- 
 nefs of thefe inferences cannot eafily be denied 
 by one, who will attend to the coincidence be- 
 tween 
 
176 Of Moral Obllgationy mid the 
 
 tween obligation and virtue here infifted on; or 
 who will confider, that as far as a being is not 
 obliged, io far nothing is incumbent upon him ; or 
 that what is the only fource of moral obligation, 
 muft be alfo the only fource oi duty^ or of moral 
 right and ivrong. 
 
 But to purfue this matter further ; let me afk, 
 would a perfon who either believes there is no 
 God, or that he does not concern himfelf with 
 human affairs, be under no moral obligations, 
 and therefore not at all accountable f Would 
 one, who (liould happen not to be convinced, 
 that virtue tends to his happinefs here or here- 
 after, be releafed from every bond of duty and 
 morality ? Or, would he, if he believed no fu- 
 ture jftate, and that, in any inftance, virtue was 
 againft his prejent intereft, be truly obliged, in 
 thefe in fiances, to be wicked ? — Thefe confe- 
 quences mufl follow, if obligation depends en- 
 tirely on the knowledge of the will of a fuperior, 
 or on the connexion between adions and private 
 interefl. - — But, indeed, the very expreffion, i;/V- 
 tue tends to our happinefs, and the fiippofition 
 that, in certain cafes, it may be inconfiflent with 
 our happinefs, imply it to be fomewhat that may 
 exifl independently of any connexion with pri- 
 vate happinefs ; and would have no fenfe, if it 
 fignified only the relation of adions to private 
 
 hap- 
 
'Various Ways of /peaking in Morals, 177 
 
 happinefs. For then, to fuppo'e virtue to be in- 
 confiftent with our happinefs, would be the fame 
 with fuppofing, that what is advantageous to us, 
 may as fuch be difadvantageous to us ^ and fay- 
 ing, that virtue tends to promote our happinefs, 
 would be faying, that what will make us hap- 
 py tends to make us happy. 
 
 It is ftrange to find thofe who plead for felf- 
 intereft, as the only ground of moral obligation, 
 aflerting that, when virtue ftands in the way of 
 our temporal intereft, or clashes with prefent en- 
 joyments, all motives to it ceafe, fuppofing no 
 future ftate. For, upon their principles, the 
 truth is not, that all motives to pradife virtue, 
 would, in thefe circumfiances, ceafe, but that 
 virtue itfelf would ceafe ; nay, would be changed 
 into vice ; and what would otherwife have been 
 fit and juft, become unlawful and wrong : For, 
 being under an obligation in thefe circumftances, 
 not to do what appeared to us fit, it could not 
 in reality be ficj we could not do it without vio- 
 lating our duty, and therefore certainly, not with- 
 out doing wrong. Thus, all who find not their 
 prefent account in virtue, would, upon thefe 
 principles, fetting afide another world, be under 
 an obligation to be wicked. Or, to fpeak more 
 properly, the fubje6t-matter of virtue and vice 
 (that is, the relation of particular actions to pri- 
 N vate 
 
I ; 8 Of Moral Obligation , and the 
 
 vate good) would be altered ; what was before 
 uickednefi would become 'virtue, and what was 
 before virtue would become wickednefs. — It 
 Ihould be carefully minded that, as far as ano- 
 ther world creates obligation, it creates virtue 5 
 for furely it is an abfurdity too grofs to be main- 
 tained, that a man may adH: contrary to his obli- 
 gations, and yet a(5t virtuoufly. 
 
 Another obfervation worthy our notice in this 
 place, is, that rewards and punifhments fuppofe, 
 in the very idea of them, moral obligation, and 
 are founded upon it. They do not make it, but 
 enforce it, or furnifh additional motives to com- 
 ply with it. They are tht fanBioijs of virtue, 
 iand not its eficients. A reward fuppofes fome- 
 thing done to deferve it, or a conformity to obli- 
 gations fub fifing previoufy to it-, a n d pu n i fh m e n t 
 is always inflidted on account of fome breach of 
 obligation. Were we under no obligations, an- 
 tecedently to the propofal of rewards and 
 punifhments, and independently of them, it 
 would be very abfurd to propofe them, and a 
 Contradidion to fuppofe us fubjeds capable of 
 them.- — A perfon without any light, belides 
 that of nature, and fuppofed ignorant of a future 
 ftate of rewards and punifhments and the will 
 of the Deity, might difcover thefe by reafoning 
 from his natural notions of right and wrong, 
 I morality 
 
'various Ways of fpeakitig m Morals, ijg 
 
 morality and duty. But were the latter depen- 
 dent on the former, and not 'vice lerja ; this 
 could not be Taid, nor fliould we have any me- 
 dium, or any principles left, from which to ga- 
 ther what the Deity required, or what the con- 
 ditions are of his favour to us. 
 
 Secondly^ From the account given of obligation^ 
 it follows that rc5litude is a laio^ as well as a ride 
 to us ; that it not only direSis, but binds all, as 
 far as it is perceived. — With refped: to its beino^ 
 a rule^ we may obferve, that a rule of adion fig- 
 nifying fome meafure or ftandard, to which we 
 are to conform our adions, or fome information 
 we poiTefs concerning what we ought to do, 
 there- can, in this fenfe, be no other rule of 
 adtion ; all befides, to which this name can be 
 properly given, implying it, or fignifying only 
 helps to the difcovery of it. To perceive or to 
 be informed how it is rights how it \sju/l, or 
 beji to adt, is the very notion of a direSlion to 
 ad:. And it muft be added, that it is fuch a 
 diredion as implies authority^ and which we 
 cannot difregard or negled without remorfe and 
 pain. Reafon is the guide, the natural and 
 authritati've guide of a rational being. Where 
 he has nodifcernment of right and wrong, there, 
 and diereonly, ishe (morally fpeaking)^;-^^. Btt 
 where he has this difcernment, where moral good 
 N 2 appear 
 
1 8o Of Moral Obligation, and the 
 
 appears to him, and he cannot avoid pronoun- 
 cing concerning an adion, that it is fit to be 
 done, and evil to omit it ; here he is tied in the 
 moft ftridl and abfolute manner, in bonds that 
 no power in nature can diffolve, and from which 
 he can at no time, or in any fingle inftance, 
 break loofe, without doing the moft unnatural 
 violence to himfelf j without making an inroad 
 into his own foul, and immediately pronouncing 
 his own fentence. 
 
 That is properly a law to us, which we al- 
 ways and unavoidably feel and own ourfelves 
 obliged to obey j and which, as we obey or dif- 
 obey it, is attended with the immediate fandions 
 of inward triumph and felf-applaufe, or of in- 
 ward (hame and felf-reproach, together with 
 the fecret apprehenfions of the favour or dif- 
 pleafure of a fuperior righteous power, and the 
 anticipations of Juture rewards and puniih- 
 ments. — That has proper authority over us, to 
 which, if we refufe fubmiffion, we tranfgrefs 
 our duty, incur guilt, and expofe ourfelves to 
 juft vengeance. All this is certainly true of 
 our moral judgment, and contained in the idea 
 of it. 
 
 Redlitude then, or virtue, is a law*. And 
 it is xhtjirjl 2C^^fupreme law, to which all other 
 
 * To [J.IV op'^iCj fs/x©- £r/ ^diJlKuQ-. Flat, Minos. 
 
 laws 
 
'various Ways of fpeaking in Morals, i8i 
 
 laws owe their force, on which they depend, 
 and in virtue of which alone they oblige. It is 
 an univerfal law. The whole creation is ruled 
 by it : under it men and all rational beings fub- 
 fift. It is the fource and guide of all the adions 
 of the Deity himfelf, and on it his throne and 
 government are founded. It is an unalterable 
 and indifpenfable i.KV^ . The repeal, fufpenfion 
 or even relaxation of it, once for a moment, in 
 any part of the univerfe, cannot be conceived 
 without a contradidion. Other laws have had 
 a date ; a time when they were enabled, and 
 became of force. They are confined to parti- 
 cular places, reft on precarious foundations, may 
 lofe their vigour, grow obfolete with time, and 
 become ufelefs and negle<fled. Nothing like 
 this can be true of this law. It has no date. It 
 never was made or enaded. It is prior to all 
 things. It isfelf-valid and felf-originatedj ftands 
 on immoveable foundations ; and can never lofe 
 its vigour or ufefulnefs, but muft for ever re- 
 tain them, without the poflibilty of diminution 
 or abatement. It is coeval with eternity ; as 
 unalterable as necelTary, everlafting truth ; as 
 independent as the exiftence of God j and as fa- 
 cred, venerable, and awful as his nature and 
 perfedions. — The authority it poflelTes is na- 
 tive and effential to it, underived and abfolute, 
 
 N 3 It 
 
I S 2 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 It is fuperior to all other authority, and the bafis 
 and parent of all other authority. It is indeed 
 felt-evident that, properly fpcaking, there is no 
 other authority J nothing elfe that can claim 
 our obedience, or that ought to guide and rule 
 heaven and earth. — It is, in (hort, the otie au- 
 thority in nature, the fame in all times and in 
 all places j or, in one word, the divine au- 
 thority. 
 
 Thirdly^ From the account given of obliga- 
 tion, it appears how abfurd it is to enquire, 
 what obliges us to pradife virtue? as if obliga- 
 tion was no part of the idea of virtue, but fome- 
 thing adventitious and foreign to it ; that is, as 
 if what was duey might not be our dtity^ or what 
 was wrong y imlawfid', or as if it might not be 
 true, that what it hjit to do, we ought to do, and 
 that what we ought to do, we are obliged to do. 
 — To afk, why are we obliged io pradife virtue, 
 to abftain from what is wicked, or perform what 
 is jufl, is the very fame as to a(k, why we are 
 obliged to do what we are obliged to do .^ — It is 
 not poflible to avoid wondering at thofe, who 
 have fo unaccountably embarrafled themfelves, 
 on a fubjed: that one would think was attended 
 with fo little difficulty ; and who, becaufe they 
 cannot find any thing in virtue and duty them- 
 fdves, whi<i can induce and oblige us to pay a 
 
 reo-ard 
 
'various Ways of /peaking in Morals. 183 
 
 regard to them in our pradice, fly to felf-love, 
 and maintain that from hence alone are derived 
 all inducement and obligation. 
 
 Fourthly^ From what has been obferved, it 
 may appear, in what fenfe obligation is afcribed 
 to God. It is no more than afcribing to him 
 the perception of reditude, or faying, that there 
 are certain ends, and certain meafures in the ad- 
 miniftration of the world, which he approves, 
 and which are better to be purfued than others. 
 — — Great care, however, fliould be taken, 
 what lanQ:ua2:e we here ufe. Obligation is a 
 word to which many perfons have affixed feveral 
 ideas, which lljould by no means he retained 
 when we fpeak of God. Our language and our 
 conceptions, whenever he is the fubjed: of them, 
 are always extremely defedive and inadequate, 
 
 and often very erroneous. There are many 
 
 who think it abfurd and fhocking to attribute 
 any thing of obligation or law to a being who is 
 necefTarily felf-fufficient and independent, and to 
 whom nothing can be prior or fuperior. How, 
 I conceive, we are to frame our appehenfions on 
 this fubjed:, has already, in fome meafure, ap- 
 peared. It fhould, methinks, be enough to fa- 
 tisfy fuch perfons, that the obligations afcribed 
 to the Deity, arife entirely from and exift in his 
 own nature 5 and that the eternal, unchangeable 
 
 N 4 LAW, 
 
1 84 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 LAW, by which it has been fald, 'he is directed 
 in all his adions, is no other than himself j hh 
 own injinite, eternal ^ all perfeSl iinderfiandiug. 
 
 Fifthly^ What has been faid alfo fliews us, 
 on what the obligations of religion and the Di- 
 vine will are founded. They are plainly branches 
 of univerfal rectitude. Our obligation to obey 
 God's will means nothing, but that obedience 
 is due to it, or that it is right and fit to comply 
 with it. What an abfurdity is it then, to make 
 oh\\g2XiQW fubfeqnent to the Divine will, and the 
 creature of it ? For why, upon this fuppofition, 
 does not all will oblige equally ? If there be 
 any thing which gives the preference to one will 
 above another j that, by the terms, is moral rec- 
 titude. What would any laws or will of any 
 being fignify, what influence could they have on 
 the determinations of a moral agent, was there 
 no good reafon for complying with them, no 
 obligation to regard them, no antecedent right of 
 command ? — To affirm that we are obliged in 
 any cafe, but not in virtue of reafon a?id right, 
 is to fay, that in that cafe we are not obliged at 
 all. — Beiides, nothing could be ever command- 
 ed by the Deity, was there no prior reafon for 
 commanding it. To which add, that one ground 
 of our obligation to obey His will is this, its 
 being under the direction of reafon, or always a 
 
 wife 
 
iiarious Ways of fpeahng in Morals. 185 
 
 wife, righteous, and good will. Thus, there- 
 fore, on all accounts, and in every view of 
 things, do will and law prefuppofe reafon and 
 right. And it is, upon the whole, unqueftion- 
 able, that if we take away the latter, the former 
 lofe all fupport and efficacy; and that were 
 there nothing in itfelf good and obligatory, 
 nothing effentially juft and unjuft, fit and unfit, 
 nothing could be made fo by law, will, com- 
 mands, compafls, or any means whatever. See 
 obfervations to the fame purpofe, Chap. I. at 
 the conclufion. 
 
 One cannot but obferve on this occafion, hov7 
 the ideas of right and wrong force themfelves 
 upon us, and in fome form or other, always re^ 
 main, even when we think we have annihilated 
 them. Thus, after we have fuppofed all adtions 
 and ends to be in themfelves indifferent, it is na- 
 tural to conceive, that therefore it is right to give 
 ourfelves up to the guidance of unreftrained in* 
 clination, and wrong to be careful of our adtions, 
 or to give ourfelves any trouble in purfuing any 
 ends. Or, if with Hol?^s and the orator in 
 Plato's Gorgiasy we fuppofe that the ftrongeft 
 may opprefs the weakefi:, and take to themfelves 
 whatever they can feize; or that unlimited 
 power confers an unlimited right; this plainly 
 ilill leaves us in pofi^efiion of the idea of rights 
 I an4 
 
1 S6 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 and only eftabliflies another /pedes of it. — In 
 like manner, when we fuppofe all the obliga- 
 tions of morality to be derived from laws and 
 compad:s, we at the fame time find ourfelves 
 under a neceffity of fuppofing fomething bejoj-e 
 them, not abfolutely indifferent in refpect of 
 choice J fomething good and evil, right and 
 wrong, which gave rife to them and occafion 
 for them ; and which, after they are made, 
 makes them regarded. 
 
 But to return to the matter under conlidera- 
 tion. The neceffary perfedions of the Deity ^ 
 the infinite excellencies of his nature, as the 
 fountain of reafon and wifdom ; the entire de- 
 pendence of all beings upon him, and their 
 deriving from his bounty exigence and all its 
 bleflings and hopes j from hence, and not 
 merely from his almighty power, arifcs his 
 SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY. Thcfc are the 
 reafons that render him the proper objecft of 
 our fupreme homage, conflitute his right of 
 government, veft him with univerfal and jufl 
 dominion, and make it the firft duty of the 
 whole intelligent world to obey, to pleafe, 
 and honour him in all they think and do. -— 
 Thofe who will allow of no other motive to re- 
 gard the Deity, no other meaning of the obli- 
 gation to obey him, befides what is implied in 
 
 his 
 
various IFays of /peaking iti Morals. 187 
 
 his power to make us happy or miferable, 
 maintain what it is wonderful how any human 
 mind can ferioufly embrace. They maintain, 
 that fuppofing we had nothing to hope or fear 
 from him, we iliould not have the leaft delire of 
 his approbation, or the leaft concern about his 
 exped:ations from us, or any reafon for paying 
 him any kind of regard j that, fetting afide the 
 conlideration of our own interefl:, it is entirely 
 indifferent what our difpolitions and behaviour 
 are with refpedt to him j that his nature, attri- 
 butes and benefits, however glorious and incon- 
 ceivable, are, in themfelves, incapable of having 
 any effe<5l upon any rational nature; and that 
 though (retaining power) we were ever fo much 
 to change or reverfe his charader, yet he would 
 ftill equally deferve our religious fubmiffion and 
 homage, it would (till, in the fame fenfe and de- 
 gree, be incumbent upon us to obey him, to 
 vt(i^n our wills to his, and endeavour to approve 
 ourfelves to him. 
 
 Further, what has been faid will fhew us, 
 what judgment to form concerning feveral ac- 
 counts and definitions, which have been eiven 
 of obligation. It is eafy here to perceive the per* 
 plexity arifing from attempting to define fimple 
 perceptions of the mind. — An ingenious and 
 
 ablq 
 
1 8 8 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 able writer * before taken notice of, defines 
 obligation to be a Jlate of the mind into "which if 
 is brought by perceiving a reafon for action. Let 
 this definition be fubftituted wherever the words 
 duty^ jlrnddj obligedy occur ; and it will foon be 
 feen, how improper and defedive it is. The 
 meaning of it is plainly, that obligation denotes 
 that attraction or excitement, which the mind 
 feels upon perceiving right and wrong. Bat 
 this is the effeB of obligation perceived, rather 
 than obligation itfelf Befides, it is proper to 
 fay, that the duty or obligation to ad, is a reafon 
 for adting j and then this definition will ftand 
 thus : Obligation is a fate of the mind into which 
 it is brought by perceiving obligation to acl. — 
 This author divides obligation into external and 
 internal', by the former, meaning the excite- 
 ment we feel to purfue pleafure ■A.^fenfible agents, 
 and, by the latter, the excitement we feel to 
 purfue virtue as reafonable and moral agents. 
 But, as merely fenfible beings, we are incapable 
 of obligation ; otherwife it might be properly 
 applied to brutes, which, 1 think, it never is. 
 What, in thefe inflances, produces confufion, is 
 the not diftinguifhing between perception and 
 the effect of it ; between obligation and a motive, 
 
 * Mr. Balguy. See his traHs on the foundation of moral 
 *oodncf$ and the kw of truth, 
 
 AU 
 
'•jarioui Ways of fpeaJdng in Morals, i 89 
 
 All motives are not obligations j though the 
 contrary is true, that wherever there is obligation, 
 there is alfo a motive to adion. ■ — Some perhaps, 
 by obligafio7jy may only mean fuch a motive to 
 adl, as (liall have the greateft influence, or be 
 mod: likely to determine us j and as far as this 
 is all that is intended, it may be allowed, that 
 the obligation to pradtife virtue depends gready, 
 as mankind are now fituated, on its connexion 
 with private intereft, and the views of future re- 
 wards and punifliments. 
 
 Obligation has, by feveral writers, been flyled, 
 the necejjify of doing a thing in order to be happy *. 
 
 I have 
 
 * " The whole force of obligation (fays Bifliop Cum- 
 
 ' berland, in his treatife of the laws of nature, chap. v. 
 
 ' fed. ii.) is this, that the legiflator hath annexed to the 
 
 * obfervance of his laws, good, to the tranfgreffion evil ; 
 ' and thofe natural : In profpedl whereof men are moved 
 
 * to perform adlions, rather agreeing than difagreeing 
 
 * with the laws." — Ibid. fed. 27. " I think that moral 
 ' obligation may be thus univerfally and properly de- 
 ' fined. Obligation is that adt of a legiflator, by which 
 ' he declares that actions conformable to his law are ne- 
 
 * ceflary to thofe for whom the law is made. An adion 
 ' is then underftoou to be necefTary to a rational agent, 
 
 * when it is certainly one of the caufes necefTarily required 
 
 * to that happinefs, which he naturally and confc-queotly 
 ' necefTarily defires." — Again, fecSt. 35. '* I cannot con- 
 
 * ceive any thing which could bind the mind of man with 
 ' any neceflity (in which ^jujiinian\ definition places tlie 
 
 " force 
 
190 Of Moral Obligation., and the 
 
 I have already taken fufficient notice of the 
 opinion from which this definition is derived ; 
 
 and 
 
 *' force of obligation) except arguments proving, that good 
 *' or evil will proceed from our adions." — The remarks 
 which Mr. Maxwell, the tranflator, makes on thefe paf- 
 fages, are fo good, that I cannot help tranfcribing fome of 
 them. — " If, fays he, this (that is, the neceflity of the 
 qbfervance of the law as a means of our happinefs) " be 
 *' the whole of the law's obligation, the tranfgreffion of the 
 *' law is not unrighteoufnejs, fm and cr'ime.^ but ox^^ impudence 
 *' and infelicity, for the fandion of the law importeth no 
 *' other evil. But the obligation or bond of the law is the 
 " jural rejlrciint vfrhich is exprefled by mn licet, you may not 
 '.* do it-y but becaufe a bare non licet or prohibition is not 
 '.* fufEc'rent to enforce the law, therefore the /in and pu- 
 ** nijhment, the precept and the fandion both concur, to 
 *' make the jural rejlraint, which muft be thus fully ex- 
 *'■ prefled, non licet impune, you may not do it with impunity. 
 ** But though fm and punilhment are clofely connefled, 
 ** yet the obligation of non licet, it may not be done, is diftinfl: 
 •* from the obligation of mn impune, not with impunity, as 
 " fin and punifhment are of diftind confideration. But a 
 ** man is hound^ both when he cannot do a thing without 
 ** Jin, and when he cannot do a thing without punijhment ; 
 ** and both tllefe obligations are in every law, and both con- 
 ** cur to make the obligation of it. But becaufe the obli- 
 " gation of non licet, is antecedent to the obligation of non 
 " impune, the precept to the fandion, and the fin is made 
 <' by the law, the law hath fo much obligation, as to make 
 *' the fin before the penalty is enaded j therefore, the law 
 ** hath an obligation antecedently to the fandion of it. For 
 *' every one is bound to avoid what is fin, becaufe none can 
 ** have a right to do what is unrighteous. — « No iogenu- 
 
 *' ous 
 
"oarious Ways of fpeaking in Moral, 191 
 
 and therefore fhall here only afk, what, if this 
 be the only fenfe of obligation, is meant when 
 we fay, a man is obliged^ or that he ought, to 
 ftudy his own happinefs ? Is it not obvious that 
 obligedy in this propofitlon, fignifies, not the ne- 
 
 " ous man looks upon himfelf as obliged to be grateful to 
 *' his benefadlors, to love his wife and children, or to love 
 '' and honour his God and Saviour, merely by the fandlion 
 *' of revi^ards and punifhments. Is there no obligation on 
 *' m«n from right and wrong, due and undue, fandlity and 
 ** fin, righteoufnefs and wickednefs, honefty and diflionef- 
 ** ty, confcience or crime, virtue or villainy, but merely 
 " from a prudent regard to their own happinefs ? — The 
 *' vulgar fay, I am hound in duty, injujllce, in gratitude ; and 
 *' the fchools fay, that the obligation of the law of nature is a 
 '* bond of confcience. — It is not pofiible to deduce a con- 
 ** fcientious obligation, merely from a politick and prudtn- 
 *' tial regard to our own happinefs. — Thelegiflator annexes 
 *' to his law the fandtion of the good of pleafure^ for the 
 •« fake o^ \\\c good of virtue, which the law enjoineth; this 
 *' therefore, is the principle in the efiimation of the law- 
 ** giver j whofe will, if it be made known, is without a 
 *' fandtion, a bond or obligation upon us ; for we owe 
 *' obedience thereto, and every one is bound to pay what 
 " he oweth." See the Jppendix to Cumberland's treatife of 
 »* the laws of nature, page 55. — A virtuous practice (fays 
 the fame writer, page 83.) is, " in the nature and reafon 
 " of the thing, indifpenfably requifite in all intelligent 
 *' agents, and is to them matter of law and obligation. For 
 " law or obligation (in a large, but very proper fenfe) is 
 *' nothing elfe, but -Amn licet, or a boundary to licence." 
 
 ■ ceflity 
 
192 Of Moral Obligatlcn^ and the 
 
 ceffity of doing a thing in order to be happy, 
 which would make it ridiculcus ; but only, that 
 it is right to fludy our own happinefs, and isorong 
 
 to negled; it ? 
 
 A very learned author * maintains, that mo- 
 ral obligation always denotes fome objedt of will 
 and law, or implies fome obliger. Were this 
 true ; it would be mere jargon ever to mention 
 cur being obliged to obey the Divine will ; and 
 yet, this is as proper language as any we can 
 ufe. But his meaning feems to be, that the 
 word obligation fignifies only the particular Jit- 
 nefs of obeying the Divine will, and cannot pro- 
 perly be applied to any other fitnefs ; which is, 
 furely, retraining the fenfe of the word, in a 
 manner which the common ufe of it by no 
 means warrants. 
 
 The fenfe of obligation given by Dr. Hutche- 
 fan -f-, agrees, in fome meafure, with the account 
 here given of it. Then, he fays, a perfon is 
 obliged to an aSlion^ when every fpeBator^ or he 
 himfelfy upon reflexion^ miijl approve his aBion, 
 a?2d difapprove omitting it. This account, how- 
 ever, is not perfedly accurate j for though obli- 
 gation to 3(51, and reflex approbation and difap- 
 
 .* See Dr. JVarburion s Divine Legation^ Vil. I. page 50. 
 f muJlraU(.n on the Moral Strife. Seft. i . 
 
 probation 
 
various Ways of [peaking in Morals. 19? 
 
 probation do, in one Zfeiife, always accompany 
 and imply one another ; yet they feem as diffe- 
 rent as an aB and an cbjeSl of the mind, or as 
 perception and the truth perceived. It is not ex- 
 actly the lame to fay, it is right, or our duty to do 
 a thing i and to lay, we appro-ve of doing it. 
 The one is the quality of the adtion, the other 
 the difcernment of that quality. Yet, fuch is 
 the connexion between thefe, that it is not very 
 necelTary to difdnguilh them; and, in common 
 language, the term obligation often fiands for 
 the fenfe and judgment of the mind concerning 
 what is right and wrong, meet or unmeet to be 
 done. It would, nevcrthelels, I imagine, pre- 
 
 % The reafon of adding this reftrii^ion is this. A man 
 may, through involuntary error, approve of doing what he 
 cugbi not to do, or think that to be his duty, which is really 
 contrary to it j- and yet it is too, in this cafe, really his. 
 duty to ad: agreeably to his judgment. — There are then 
 two views of obligation, which, if not attended to, will be 
 apt to produce confufion. — In one fenfe, a man's being 
 obliged to adl: in a particular manner depends on his knovy- 
 ingit; and in another fenfe, it does not. Was not the 
 former true, we might be contracting guilr, when ailing 
 with the fulleft and fincereft confent and approbation of 
 our confciences : And was not the latter true, It would 
 not be fenfe ever to fpeak of Jhewing another what his 
 fbllgaticns are, or how it is incumbent upon him to a£l. — 
 This entirely coincides with the diftincl^ion of virtue into 
 fibfclute and relative, hereafter to be explained, Chap.Wil. 
 
 O vent 
 
194- Of Moral Cbligation, and the 
 
 vent Tome ccnfulion, and keep our Ideas more 
 didinct and clear, to remember, that a man^s 
 conrcioulnefs that an acflion ought to be done, 
 xhc judgment concerning obligation^ and inducing 
 or inferring it, cannot, properly fpeaking, be 
 obligation itfelf-y and that, however variouily 
 and loofely this word may be ufed, its primary 
 and original fignification coincides with rec- 
 titude *. 
 
 I fliall 
 
 * I obferve that Dr. Adatm^ in an excellent Sermon on 
 t\\t Nature and Obligation of Virtue^ agrees v/ith me in the 
 account he gives of obligation. — To the qucftion, in 
 what does the obligation to virtue and right action confift ? 
 he anfwers, " that right implies duty in its idea ; that to 
 ' perceive an asSlion to be right, is to fee a reafon for do- 
 ' ing it in the aiSlion itfelf, abftrailed from all other con- 
 ' fiderations whatfoever ; and that this perception, this 
 ' acknov/ledged rectitude in the aclion, is the verveffence 
 ' of obligation, that which commands the approbation 
 ' and choice, and binds the confcience of every rational 
 ' being," page 1 1 . — '* Nothing (he fays, p. 14. ) can bring 
 ' us under an obligation to do what appears to our moral 
 ' judgment v/rong. It may be fuppofed our intereft to do this 5 
 * but it cannot be fuppofed our duty : For, 1 afk, if fome 
 ' power, which we are unable to refifl:, fliould afTume the 
 ' command over us, and give us lav.'s which are unrigh- 
 ' teous and unjuft] fnould we be under an obligation to 
 ' obey him ? Should we not rather be obliged to fliake 
 ' off the yoke, and to refift fuch ufurpation, if it were 
 ' in our power ? However then we might be fvvayed 
 
 *' bv 
 
"oarious Ways of /peaking in Morals. 195 
 
 I fliall leave the reader to judge how far 
 thefe remarks are applicable to what Dr. Clarke 
 fays on this head, who gives much the fame 
 account of obligation with that laft mentioned ; 
 and fome of v;?hofe words it may not be amifs 
 to quote. See his Evide?jces of Natural and 
 Revealed Religion, page 43, 6th Edit. " The 
 ** judgment and confcience of a m?.n's own 
 " mind, concerning the reafonablenefs and fit- 
 " nefs of the thing, that his adions fliould be 
 *' conformed to fuch or fuch a rule or law, is 
 ** the trued and formalleft obligation, even mor^ 
 *' properly and ftridly (o, than any opinion 
 " whatfoever, of the authority of the giver of a 
 *' law, or any regard he may have to its fanc- 
 " tions by rewards and punifliments; forwhoever 
 " ads contrary to this fenfe and confcience of 
 
 *' by hope or fear ; it is plaiji, that we are under an obli- 
 " gation to right, which is antecedent, and, in order and 
 " nature, fuperior to all other. Power may compel, in- 
 *' tereft may bribe, pleafure may perfuade; but reafon 
 ** only can oblige. This is the only authority v/hich ra- 
 " tional beings can own, and to which they owe obedi- 
 " ence." — The coincidence which, in other inftances, I 
 have found between the fentiments of this moft judicious 
 writer, on the fubjedt of virtue, and thofc delivered in this 
 treatife, has very agreeably furprized me, and given me a 
 degree of confidence in fome of the opinions I have main- 
 tained, which I fhould otherwife have wanted. 
 
 O 2 *' his 
 
196 Of Moral Obligation, and the 
 
 " his own mind, is neceffarily felf-condemned ; 
 " and the greatefl and ftrongcft of all obligations, 
 *' is that which a man cannot break through 
 *' without condemning himfelf. — The original 
 " obligation of all is the eternal reafon of 
 " things i that reafon which God himfelf, who 
 " has no fuperior to diredl him, and to whofe 
 ** happinefs nothing can be added, nor any 
 " thing diminifhed from it, yet conftantly o- 
 " bliges himfelf to govern the world by. — So 
 ** far, therefore, as men are confcious of what 
 *' is right and wrong, fo far they are under 
 " an obligation to ad accordingly 5 and, con- 
 *' fequently, that eternal rule of right which I 
 '' have been hitherto defcribing, it is evident, 
 ", ought as indifpenfably to govern men's ac- 
 *' tions, as it cannot but necelTarilv determine 
 *' their aflent." Page 51, he fays, " The 
 " minds of men cannot but acknowledge the 
 " reafonablenefs and fitnefs of their governing 
 " all their adions by the rule of right or equity : 
 *' And this affent is a formal obligation upon 
 *' every man adually and conftantly to conform 
 " himfelf to that rule." 
 
 Dr. Butler^ likewife, in his Sermons on 77//- 
 man Nature^ and the explanatory remarks upon 
 them in the Prefact^ infifls flrongJy on the obli- 
 gation implied in reflex approbation -, the fupre- 
 
 iTiacv 
 
'various Ways cf fpcaking in Morals. 1 97 
 
 macy belonging to the principle of reflexion 
 within us, and the authority and right of fuper- 
 intendency which are conftituent parts of the 
 idea of it. From this incomparable writer, I 
 bee: leave to borrow one obfervation more on 
 this fubje6t, of confiderable importance. 
 
 Every being endowed with reafon, and con- 
 fcious of right and wrong, is, as fuch, neceffarily 
 a /<2i£; to himfelf * : It follows, therefore, that 
 the greateft degree of ignorance or fcepticiim 
 poflible, with refpedl to the tendencies of virtue, 
 the authority of the Deity, a future ilote, and 
 the rewards and punifliments to be expected 
 in it, leaves us ftill truly and fully accountable, 
 guilty, and puniiliable, if we tranfgrefs this law 3 
 and will, by no means, exempt us from juftice, 
 or be of any avail to excufe or fave us, {houid it 
 prove true, that fuch authority and future (late 
 really exift. For what makes an agent ill-de- 
 ferving, is not any opinion he may have about 
 a fuperior power, or pofitive fandions, but his 
 doing wrong, and ading contrary to the convic- 
 tion of his mind. " What renders obnoxious to 
 *' punifhment, is not the fore- knowledge of it, 
 *' but merely violating a known obligation." 
 
 * I have not here copied Dr. Butler, but given the fenfe 
 of his obfervations in other words. See the Preface to his 
 Sermons,/). 20. 
 
 O 3 There 
 
198 Of Moral Obligation » and the 
 
 There is an objedtion to what has been now 
 faid of obligation, which deferves to be conii- 
 dered *. — It may be aiked, '' Are there not 
 " many adions, of which it cannot be faid, 
 *' that we are bound to perform them, that yet 
 *' are right to be performed 3 and the adlual 
 " performance of which appears to us even more 
 " amiable, than if they had been flridly our 
 ** duty 3 fuch as requital of good for evil, and 
 " ads of generofity and kindnefs?" 
 
 I anfvver, that allowing this, the moft that 
 can follow from it is, not that reditude does not 
 imply obligation, but that it does not imply it 
 abfolutely and univerfally, or fo far as that there 
 is no fenfe in which adions can be denominated 
 right, that does not carry in it obligation. The 
 nature of reditude may vary, according to the 
 objeds or adions to which it is afcribed. All 
 light adions are not fo in precifely the fame 
 fenfe ; and it might, with little prejudice to what 
 is above afferted, be granted, that fome things 
 are right, in fuch a fenfe as yet not to be our 
 indifpenfable duty. But then let it be remem- 
 bered : That it holds univerfally and incontef- 
 
 * See Ejfays en the Principles of Morality and iiatural 
 Religion, Part I. EfTay ii. Chap. 3. 
 
 tably. 
 
varmis Ways of fpeakmg m Morals. 199 
 
 tably, that whatever is right in fuch a fenfe, as 
 that the omiffion of it would be wrong, is al- 
 ways and indifpenfably obligatory. And, in the 
 next place, that though the idea of rightrufs 
 may be more general than that of finefsj duty^ 
 or obligation , fo that there may be inflances to 
 which we apply the one, but not the other ; 
 yet this cannot be faid of wrong. The idea of 
 this, and of obligation, are certainly, of the f'.me 
 extent ; I mean, that though there may be cafes, 
 in which it cannot be faid, that what we ap- 
 prove as right, ought to have been done j yet there 
 are no cafes in which it cannot be (aid, that 
 what is wrong to be done, or cn"iitted, ciigJjt 
 not to be done or omitted. 
 
 But, not to dwell on this : It will be found 
 on careful enquiry that the objeftion now men- 
 tioned does not require any fuch reftridions of 
 what has been advanced as, at firft fight, fome 
 may be apt to think neceifary j and the following 
 obfervations will, perhaps, fliew this. 
 
 In the yf/^? place, Beneficence, in general ^i'^ 
 undoubtedly a duty ; and it is only with refpc6l 
 to the -particular ads and inftances of it, that 
 we are at liberty. A certain perfon, fuppofe, 
 performs an acl of kindnefs to another : We fay, 
 he might not have done it, or he was not obliged 
 
 O 4 to 
 
200 Of Moral Obligation ^ and the 
 
 to do it ; that is, he was not obliged to do this 
 particular kind act. But to be kind in fome 
 inftances or other ; to do all the good he proper- 
 ly can to his fellow-creatures, every one is o- 
 bliged ', and we necelTanly look upon him, as 
 bianie-vvorthy and guilty, who aims not at ail 
 fit this; but contents himfelf with barely ab- 
 flaining from injury and mifchief. A certain part 
 of our fortunes and labour we owe to thofe about 
 us, z\'\'^ flooiiid employ in doing good j but the 
 particular ohjeds and methods of beneficence are 
 not abfolutely fixed. Here we are left to our 
 own choice, and may not be in any fenfe bound ; 
 that is, there may be nothing in any particular 
 objects or methods of beneficence, which render 
 it fit and right they (hould be chofen rather than 
 others. If a man endeavours to do all the good 
 which is fuitable to his ftation and abihties, we 
 never condemn him for not doing it in a parti- 
 cular way, or for rejecting particular objects that 
 are offered to him^ except this way and thefe 
 objeds are fuch, that it is right he fhould pre- 
 fer them. As far as this happens, fo far, even 
 here, duty takes place. Thus, cceteris paribus^ 
 it is right, friends, relations, and benefadors 
 fhould be preferred to Grangers j and, v/hoever 
 does othervvife, ads contrary to his duty. 
 
 Again \ 
 
various Ways of /peaking in Morals. '201 
 
 Again 5 the precife limits of fome general 
 duties cannot be determined by us. No one 
 can tell exaBly to what degree he ought to be 
 beneficent, and how far he is obliged to exert 
 himfelf for the benefit of other men. Thus, 
 in particular, no perfon can determine accurate- 
 ly, how far, in many cafes, his ovv^n good ought 
 to give way that of another, what determinate 
 number of diflrefled perfons he ought to relieve, 
 or what portion precijeiy of his fortune he ought 
 to lay out in charity, or of his time and labour 
 in dire<5t endeavours to ferve the publick. 
 
 In order to form a judgment in thefe cafes, 
 there are fo many particulars to be confidered in 
 our own circumftances and abilities, and in the 
 flate of mankind and the world, that we cannot 
 but be in fome uncertainty. There are indeed de- 
 grees of ^e/eB and excefsy which we eafily and 
 certainly fee to be wrong : But there is a great 
 variety of intermediate degrees, concerning which 
 we cannot abfolutely pronounce, that one of 
 them rather than another ought to be chofen. 
 — The fame is true of the genera/ duty of 
 worfhipping God. Many of tlie particular cir- 
 cumftances attending it, and the precife degree 
 of frequency with which it fhould be performed, 
 are not diftindly marked out to us. In this as 
 well as the preceding inftance, our confciences, 
 5 within 
 
202 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 within certain limits, 2,xt free *, and for a very 
 good reafon ; namely, becaufe we have no dif- 
 tind apprehenfions of rcBitude to guide us. To 
 the fame degree and extent that we fee this, we 
 are bound, in thefe as much as in any other cafes. 
 Whenever any degree of beneficence, or any 
 particular circumftances and frequency of di- 
 vine worfhip, or any behaviour in any poffible 
 inflances, appear, all things confideredy best; 
 they become obligatory. It is impoffible to put 
 a cafe, in which we fhall not be obliged to con- 
 form ourlelves to the right of it, whatever that 
 is. Even what, at any time, or in any circum- 
 flances, is, upon the whole, only inoxc proper to 
 be done, ought then to be donej and to fuppofe 
 the contrary, would be to take away the whole 
 fenfe and meaning of fuch an alfertion. 
 
 In (hort, the follov.'ing general reafoning will 
 hold univerfally. — Let a perfon be fuppofed to' 
 have under his confidcration, any ad:ion pro- 
 pofed to be performed by him. The perform- 
 ance of it mufl be either right, or wrong, or 
 
 * The latitude here taken notice of is one thing that 
 allows fo much roon) and fcope for unfairnefs and difinge- 
 nuity 5 and that renders it generally certain, that a back- 
 ward unwilling heart, that is not flrongly attached 
 to virtue, and pofielTed with an inward relifh for it, and 
 thorough love of God and man, will err on the deficient 
 fide. 
 
 indifferent. 
 
^various TVays of /peaking in Morals. 203 
 
 indifferent. Nov/ it is felf-evident, that, if it is not 
 the lafl-, it muft be one of the other two, and that 
 obligation will enfue: For what can be plainer 
 than that it is a contradidion to fay, we may aft 
 as we will, when it is not indifferent how we 
 ad ? ■ — If it is ivrong, obligation to forbear is 
 implied — If right, this may be true only of 
 fuch kindoi adions, as relieving the mifcrable, 
 or worfjijpping the Deity in general 3 and then, 
 it is only thefe general duties that are obligatory, 
 which may be confident with complete liberty 
 and perfed indifference, in regard to the parti^ 
 cidar aBion in view. — Or, it may be true of 
 this particular adion, and then it is no longer 
 indifferent ; yet ftill, there may be liberty and 
 indifference as to the time and manner of doing 
 it. But if even the time and manner are not 
 indifferent, or, if it is right the agent fl:iould do 
 thii particular aSlion at this time, and in ojie 
 particular manner; then is he alfo as to thefe 
 obliged. 
 
 " But what fliall we fay, to the greater 
 " amiablenefs of the.adions we are examinino-? 
 *' How can there be greater virtue, or any vir- 
 " tue at all, in doing particular adions which 
 " before-hand were indifferent, and which u'ith- 
 " out any blame we might have omitted ?" — 
 The anfwer is very eafv. What denominates 
 
 an 
 
204 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 an agent virtuous, and entitles him to praife, is 
 his acting from a regard to goodnefs and right. 
 Now, the perfornriance of particular inftances 
 of duty, or producing particular effeds which 
 have nothing in them that requires our pre- 
 ference, may, as much as any adions what- 
 foever, proceed from this regard. Relieving a 
 miferable objeift is virtue, though there may be 
 no reafon that obliges a perfon to feled: this ob- 
 ject in particular out of many others. Worfliip- 
 ping God may arife from a general fenfe of du- 
 ty, though it IS l<.nown that the particular times 
 and manner in which it is done, have nothing 
 morally better in them. — And as to the greater 
 merit we apprehend in many adions of this 
 kindi a^5 in many inftances of generolity, kind- 
 nefs, chanty, and forgivenefs of injuries ; it is 
 plainly to be accounted for, in the following 
 manner. — - As every a6lion of an agent is in 
 him fo far virtuous, as he was determined to 
 it by a regard to virtue ; fo the more of this re- 
 gard it difcovers, the more we muft admire it. 
 And it is plain, it is more difcovered, and a 
 ftronger virtuous principle proved, by fixing 
 (in cafes where the limits of duty are not exadly 
 defined) upon the greater rather than the lefs. 
 A perfon ads more apparently from good mo- 
 tives, and fliews a greater degree of benevolence, 
 
 and 
 
various Ways of /peaking in Morals. 20 c 
 
 and is therefore defervedly more applauded, 
 who chufes to devote more of his iortune^ his 
 time and his labour, t6 promote the happinefs of 
 his fellow-creatures, or to ierve his neighbours or 
 his country, when he knows not but that if he 
 had devoted /efs, he would have come oif with 
 innocence, fulfilled the whole part in reafon in- 
 cumbent upon him, and deferved juft commen- 
 dation. And even where there is overdoing, 
 and a perfon is led to vifible extremes, and an 
 undue negled: of his private concerns, we al- 
 ways approve, except v/e fufpedt the influence 
 of fome wrong or indire^: motives, fuch as af- 
 fe(flation, inattention, weaknefs, orfuperflition.— 
 Some of thefe obfervations will be ao-ain more 
 particularly infifted on, when I com.e to confi- 
 der the difference which they imply and require 
 us to keep in view, between the virtue of the 
 a^iony and the virtue of the agepif, 
 
 I Hiall only fay further on this fubjedl/ that 
 it appears to be fo far from bein^ true, that the 
 performance of mere duty produces no love or 
 friendfhip to the agent, (as has been afferted) 
 that, on the contrary, he who, however tempted 
 and oppofed, difcharges his whole duty, and en- 
 deavours faithfully and uniformly to Ir and Jl 
 in all refpedls jufl what he ought to Ife and do, 
 is the objedt of our higheft love aud friendfliip : 
 
 iO 
 
2 o 6 Of Moral Obligation ^ and the 
 
 To aim at ading beyond obligation, being the 
 fame with aiming at ading contrary to obliga- 
 tion J and doing more than is fit to be done, the 
 the fame with doing wrong. 
 
 Having now given, what appears to me, the 
 true and full account of the nature and founda- 
 tion of moral good and evil, and of moral obli- 
 gation, I (liall beg leave to add, as a fupplement 
 to this chapter, an examination of fome of the 
 forms of expretfion, which feveral eminent wri- 
 ters have ufed on this fubjecSt. 
 
 The meaning and defign of thefe expreffions 
 will appear, alter coniidering, that all adions 
 being neceffarily right, indiiFerent, or wrong j 
 v/hat determines which of thefe an a6iion fhould 
 be accounted, is the t7'uth of the cafe; or the re- 
 lations and circumftances of the agent and the 
 objeds. In certain relations there is a certain 
 condtidt right. There are certain manners of 
 behaviour, which we unavoidably approve, as 
 foon as thefe relations are known. Change the 
 relations, and a diiierent manner of behaviour 
 becomes right. Nothing is clearer than that 
 \vhat is Avit or undue, proper or improper to be 
 done, mud: vary according to the different natures 
 of things and the various ftates and circumflanceS 
 ef beings. If a particular treatment of o?i€ na- 
 ture 
 
^various Ways of fpeaUng in Morals. 207 
 
 ture is right ; it is impoffible that the fame treat- 
 ment of a different nature, or of all natures, 
 fhould be right. 
 
 Now, from hence arofe the expreffions, aBing 
 fuitahly to the natures of things 3 treating things as 
 they are ; conformity to truth ; agreement and dif 
 agreement^ congruity and incongruity between ac- 
 tions and relations. Thefe expreffions are of no 
 ufe, and have httle meaning, if confidered as in- 
 tended to define virtue ; for they evidently pre- 
 fuppofe it. Treating an objed as being what it 
 is, is treating it as it is right juch an objed {liould 
 be treated. Confcrmino: ourfelves to truth 
 means the fame with conforming ourfelves to 
 the true ftate and relations v/e are in ; which is 
 the fame with doing what fuch a ftate and rela- 
 lations require, or what is right in them. In 
 given circumftances, there is fomcthing peculiar 
 and determinate beji to be done; which, when 
 thefe circumftances ceafe, ceafes with them, and 
 other obligations of condud arife. This natu- 
 rally leads us to fpeak oi fuiting adions to cir- 
 cumftance?, natures, and charaders 3 and of the 
 agreement and repugnancy between them. Nor, 
 when thus confidered, is there any thing in fuch 
 ways of fpeaking, not proper and inteHigible. 
 But, at the fame time, it is very obvious, that 
 j ^ they are only different phrafes for right and 
 5 ^.irongy 
 
20 8 Of Moral OhligatiGn^ and the 
 
 wrong \ and it is a pity that thofe who have 
 made lb much ufe of them, did not more at- 
 tend to this, and avoid the ambiguity and con- 
 fufion arifing from feeming to deny an imme- 
 diate perceptiojt of morality, without any deduc- 
 tions of reafoning, and from attempting to give 
 definitions of words which admit not of them, 
 and where they can anfwer no end, except to 
 perplex and miflead. Were any one to define 
 pleafiire^ to be the agreement between a faculty 
 aad its objedl; what light or inftrudion would 
 fuch a definition convey, or what end would it 
 anfwer ? Would it be amifs to afl^, what this 
 agreement is j and Vv'hether any thing be meant 
 by it, different from the pleafure itfelj\ which the 
 obje6t is fitted to produce by its influence on the 
 organ or faculty ? 
 
 It is well known that Mr. Wollaftony in a work 
 which has obtained great and jufl reputation, 
 places the whole notion of moral good and evil 
 in fignifying and denying truth. Suppofing his 
 meaning to be, that all virtue and vice may be 
 reduced to thefe particidar inftances of them ; 
 nothing can be more plain, than that it leaves 
 the nature and original of our ideas of them, 
 as much as ever undetermined : For it ac- 
 quaints us not, whence our ideas of right in ob- 
 ferving truth, and wrong in violating it, arife ; 
 
 but 
 
'various Wap of fpcahing in Moi'-aJs. 209 
 
 but fuppofes thefe to be perceptions of felf-evi- 
 dent truths, as indeed they are j but not more 
 fo, than our ideas of the other principles of mo- 
 rality. — The evil of ingratitude and cruelty is 
 not the fame with that of denying truth, or af- 
 firming a lie : Nor can the formal ratio and 
 notion of it be juftly faid to confift in this j be- 
 caufe there may be no intention to deny any 
 thing true, or to produce in obfervers an alien t 
 to any thing falfe. Ingratitude and cruelty would 
 be in the fame manner wrong, though there 
 were no rational creatures in the world be- 
 sides the agent, and though he could have no 
 defign to declare a falfliood -, which is a quits 
 diftindt fpecies of evil. — A perfon, who ne- 
 gleds the homage and woriliip due to God, 
 may have no thought of denying his exiflence, 
 or of conveying any fuch opinion to others. It is 
 true, he ads as if he did not exift, that is, in a 
 manner which nothing elfe can juftify, or which, 
 upon any other fuppofition, is inexcufablej and 
 therefore, figuratively fpeaki?2g^ may be faid to 
 contradidl truth, and to declare himfelf to be 
 felf-originated, independent, andfelf-fufficient*. 
 
 It 
 
 * How plain is it here, that the very thing that gives 
 
 ground for the application of this language in this inftance, 
 
 is our perceiving, antecedently to this application, thiit 
 
 - P fuch 
 
210 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 It is probable, this eminent writer meant in 
 reality but little more than this ; and the lan- 
 guage he has introduced, I would not, by any 
 means, be thought abfolutely to condemn. All 
 1 aim at, is to guard againft making a wrong 
 application of it. 
 
 With the fame view I muft add, that when 
 virtue is faid to confift in conformity to the rela- 
 tions of perfons a?id things j this muft not be 
 confidered as a definition ofvi?'tue, or as intend- 
 ed to aflign a reafo?i jujiifying the praSlice of 
 it. Nothing can be gained by fuch forms of 
 expreflion, when ufed with thefe intentions : 
 And, if we will confider, why it is right to con- 
 form ourfelves to the relations in which perfons 
 and objeds ftand to us ; we {hall find ourfelves 
 obliged to terminate our views in a fimple, im- 
 mediate perception, or in fomething ultimately ap- 
 prc'iedy and for which no juftifying reafon can be 
 affigned. — Explaining virtue by faying, that it 
 IS ihc conformity oj our anions to reafon j is yet lefs 
 proper j for this conformity fignifying only, that 
 
 fuch a manner of a£ling, in fuch circumftances, is wrong ? 
 The fame is true in all other inftances : Nor, indepen- 
 dently of this perception, could we ever know when to 
 fay, that an adtion affirms or denies truth. How then does 
 fuch language explain and define right and wrong? 
 
 2 our 
 
'various Ways of /peaking in Morals. 211 
 
 our adllons are fuch as reafon didlates, approves, 
 or difcerns to be right ; it will be no more than 
 faying, that virtue is doing right*. 
 
 * To the fame purpofe Dr. Adams has obferved, 
 •' That when virtue is faid to confift in a conformity to 
 *' truth ; in acting agreeably to the truth of the cafe ; to 
 *' the reafon, truth, or fitnefs of things ; there is, if noc 
 *' impropriety, fomething of obfcurity or inaccuracy in 
 ** the expreilion ; and that the only meaning of fuch ex- 
 *' preflions will, in all cafes, be found to be this ; a61ing 
 *' according to what reafon, in the prefent circumflanco 
 *' of the agent, and the relations he (lands in to the objects 
 " before him, pronounces to be right." See his Strmon 
 
 before quoted, p. 55 — 58. " Truth (as he elfc- 
 
 where fays) " is a term of wider extent than right. The 
 " chara(5her of wifdom or prudence, of (kill in any art or 
 *' profe(fion, are, as well as virtue, founded in a regard to 
 *' truth, and imply the adling agreeably to the nature and 
 *' reafon of things ; yet are thefe ideas certainly diftincl: 
 *' from that of goodnefs, or moral reftitude. The man, 
 *' who builds according to the principles of geometry, 
 *' a(51s as agreeably to truth, and he who (hould tranf- 
 *' grefs the rules of archite6lure, as much violates truth, 
 *' as he who a<5is agreeably to the duty of gratitude, or 
 *' contrary to it. But, in the former of thefe inftances, 
 *' the conformity to truth is not virtue but (kill ; the de- 
 *' fle£tion from it is not vice, but ignorance or ioliy,"p.29. 
 — To thefe obfervations may be added, that to aft agree- 
 ably to the character of an opprcfTor, or tyrant, is, in ro 
 improper fenfe, to aiH vicioufly ; to injure and to deftroy. 
 So vague and loofe is this way of fpeaking, and fo liable to 
 objections, when ufed to define and explain virtue. 
 
 P 2 It 
 
212 Of Moral Obligation^ and the 
 
 It fliould be further confidered, that neither 
 do thefe forms of expreflion diredt us to proper 
 criteria^ by which we may be enabled to judge 
 in all cafes what is morally good or evil. For 
 if, after weighing the ftate and circumftances 
 of a cafe, we do not perceive how it is pro- 
 per to adt J it would be trifling to direct us, 
 for this end, to confider what is agreeable to 
 them. When, in given circumftances, we can- 
 not determine what is rights we muft be alfo 
 equally unable to determine what is fiiitable to 
 thofe circumftances and to the truth of things. 
 It is indeed very proper and juft to dired us, in 
 order to judge of an atflion, to endeavour to dif- 
 cover the whole truth with refpeft to its pro- 
 bable or poftlble confequences, the circum- 
 ftances and qualifications of the object, and the 
 relations of the agent ; for this, as was before 
 faid, is what determines its moral nature ; and 
 no more can be intended by reprefenting truth 
 and relations as criteria of virtue. 
 
 *' The language we are confidering then ex- 
 " prefling neither definitions nor proper criteria 
 <* of virtue, of what ufe is it ? and what is de- 
 " figned by it ?" — I anfwer, that it is evidently 
 deftp^ned to fhew, that morality is founded on 
 truth and reafon, or that it is equally neceffary 
 
 and 
 
various Ways of fpeaking in Morals. 213 
 
 and immutable, and perceived by the fame 
 power, with the natural proportions and elTential 
 differences of things. 
 
 *' But what, it may be again afked, is it 
 *' more than bare affertion ? What proof of 
 " this does it convey ?" In reply to this, one 
 might obferve, that obje(5tions of the fime na- 
 ture might be made to what has been faid by 
 thofe who have maintained the contrarv. There 
 is not, I think, on the other fide any more than 
 mere affertion j and it is highly neceffary that 
 this fubjedt (hould be better examined, and fome- 
 what more faid upon it than has been faid, be- 
 fore we confider it as a fettled and decided point, 
 that our ideas of morality are derived from an 
 arbitrary fenfe, and not ideas of the underftand- 
 
 ing. 
 
 The agreement of proportion between cer- 
 tain quantities, is real and neceffary ; and per- 
 ceived by the underftanding. Why fhould we 
 doubt, whether the agreement oi jitnefs alfo be- 
 tween certain actions and relations, is real and 
 neceffary, and perceived by the fame faculty ? 
 From the different natures, properties, and po- 
 iitions of different objed:s refult neceffarily diffe- 
 rent relative fitneffes and unfitneffes j different 
 produdive powers 5 different aptitudes to different 
 P 3 ends. 
 
214 Of Moral Obligation y and the 
 
 ends, and ao;reements or difa^reements of them 
 amongft themfelves. What is there abfurd or 
 exccptlonable in (iiying, L'kewife, that from the 
 various relations of beings and objefls, there re- 
 fult different moral fitneffes and unfitneffes of 
 adion j different obligations of conducfl j which 
 are equally real and unalterable with the for- 
 mer, and equally independent of our ideas and 
 opinions ? For any particular natural objeds to' 
 exift at all, and for them to exifl: with fuch and 
 fuch mutual proportions, is the fame. And, in 
 like manner, for reafonable beings of particular 
 natures and capacities to exift at all in fuch and 
 fuch circumftances and relations, and for fuch 
 snd fuch condu6t to be fit or proper is the fmie. 
 And as the Author of nature, in creating the for- 
 mer, willed the proportions and truths implied 
 in them to exift i fo likewife, by the very ad of 
 creating the latter, and placing them in their 
 refpedive relations to one another and to him- 
 felf, he willed that fuch and fuch adions ftiould 
 be done, and fuch and fuch duties obferved. — 
 When we compare innocence and eternal, abfo- 
 lute mifery, the idea of imfuitahlenefs between 
 them arifes in our minds. And from compar- 
 ing together many natural objeds and beings, 
 an id^ra q^ tmftiitablenefs^ likewife, but of a totally 
 
 different 
 
'various Ways of /peaking in Morals. 215 
 
 different kind, arifes within us ; that is, we per- 
 ceive fuch a repug7iancy between them, that the 
 one cannot be made to correfpond to the other ; 
 or, that their different properties cannot co-exill 
 in the fame fubjed: % or, that they are not ca- 
 pable of jointly fubferving one end, or of pro- 
 ducing fuch and fuch particular effeds on one 
 , another. Why (hould one of thefe be taken to 
 be lefs 7r^/than the other? — No one can avoid 
 owning that he has the idea oi iinfuitahle?2efSy or 
 a fentiment of wrongs in the application of ab- 
 foluts and eternal mifery to innocence. Let 
 him, if he can, find out one reafon for denying 
 it to be a fentiment of his underftanding, or the 
 perception of truth. What charader, what 
 mark of this does it want ? 
 
 To this purpofe have the advocates for 
 fitnefs, as the foundation of morality ar- 
 gued 'j and this has been the drift of their 
 affertions and reafonings. It muff, how- 
 ever, I think, be allowed, that though many 
 of them have writ excellently on this fubjedt^' 
 they have yet, by too lax a ufe of words, by 
 negleding the neceffary precilion, and often 
 only, in different language, afirmlng^ when 
 they defigned to prove^ given occafioh for the 
 objedions of thofe, who have embraced and de- 
 fended a different fcheme. 
 
 P 4 It 
 
2 1 6 Of Moral Obligation, and tJj^ 
 
 It would not be difficult to fliew, how the 
 like difpute might be raifed about the original 
 of our ideas of power and connexion , the like 
 objcdions ftarted, and the fame embarralTment 
 produced. 
 
 But it will better help to illuftrate fome of 
 thefe remarks, and give a clearer view of the 
 fiate of this controverfy, if, inftead of moral 
 good and evil, we fubftitute equality and ine- 
 quality, and fuppofe the enquiry to be con- 
 cerning the original and foundation of thefe. 
 He that {hould derive our ideas of them from 
 a fe}2fe, would be undoubtedly miftaken, if he 
 meant any thing more, than that they were 
 immediately perceived. And another, who, in 
 oppofition to this, fliould aflert them to be 
 founded on the natures and unalterable mutual 
 refpecls and proportions of ihijigSy and to denote 
 conformity to reafon, or the agreement and dif- 
 agreement, correfpondency and repugnancy be- 
 tween different objeds and quantities -, would 
 as plainly affert the truth 3 though, poffibly, 
 in language liable to be mifunderflood, and 
 really trifling, when coniidered as defigned to 
 fet afide an immediate power of perception in 
 this cafe, or independently of it, to define 
 and explain equality and inequality : Nor, in 
 2 this 
 
various Ways of /peaking in Morals. 217 
 
 this view of fuch language, would any thing 
 be more natural, than to obferve, how much 
 more proper and determinate it is to fay, that 
 the agreement between two quantities is their 
 equality y than that their equality is the agree- 
 ment between them. But how unreafonablc 
 would it be to conclude, as in the parallel cafe 
 has been done, that therefore equality and ine- 
 quality are perceived by an implanted feftfe^ and 
 not at all objedts of knowledge ? 
 
 CHAP. 
 
[ 2IS ] 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Of the SubjeB- matter of Virtue^ or its 
 'principal Heads and Divifons, 
 
 THERE remain yet three queftions to be 
 conddered in relation to virtue. 
 
 Fir/if To what particular courfe of adioD 
 we give this name, or what are the chief heads 
 of virtue. 
 
 Secondly y What is the xxuq principle or motive^ 
 from which a virtuous agent, as fuch, a(fts. 
 
 Thirdly, What is meant by the different de^ 
 grees of virtue, in different adtions and charac- 
 ters, and how we eftimate them. — Each of 
 thefe (hall be examined in the order in which 
 they are here propoled. 
 
 There would be lefs occafion for the firft of 
 thefe enquiries, if feveral writers had not main- 
 tained, that the whole of virtue confifts in bene- 
 volence, or the ffudy of publick good. No- 
 thing better can be offered on this point, than 
 what is faid under the fifth obfervation in the 
 
 Dif- 
 
Of the Siibjeci-matter of Virtue. 219 
 
 Dijfertatiojt on the Nature of Virtue^ annexed 
 
 to Dr. Butler 'i Analogy. From hence, 
 
 therefore, I fhall borrow the following pafHige; 
 — *' Benevolence and the want of it, lingly 
 " confidered, are in no fort the whole of virtue 
 " and vice; for, if this were the cafe, in the 
 *' review of one's own charadler, or that of 
 *' others, our moral underflanding, and moral 
 " fenfe, would be indifferent to every thin<T, 
 " but the degrees in which benevolence pre- 
 *' vailed, and the degrees in which it was want- 
 " ing : That is, we fhould neither approve of 
 " benevolence to fome perfons rather than to 
 " others, nor difapprove injuftice and falfliood 
 *' upon any other account, than merely as an over- 
 *' ballance of happinefs was forefeen likely to 
 ^^ be produced by the firft, and of mifery by the 
 '* laft. But now, on the contrary, fuppofe two 
 *' men competitors for any thing whatever, 
 *' which would be of equal advantage to either 
 ** of them. Though nothing indeed would 
 '' be more impertinent, than for a ftranger to 
 *^ bufy himfelf to get one of them preferred to 
 '* the other i yet fuch endeavour would be vir- 
 '* tue in behalf of a friend, or benefa(5tor, ab- 
 " ftraded from all confideration of diftant con- 
 '' fequences ; as, that examples of gratitude, 
 [^ and the cultivation of friendfhip, would be 
 
 '* of 
 
220 Of the SubjeSi-inatter ofVirfue. 
 
 " of general good to the world. — . Again, fup- 
 *^ pofe one man (hould, by fraud or violence, 
 *«^ take from another the fruit of his labour, 
 •' with intent to give it to a third, who, he 
 " thought, would have as much pleafure from 
 " it, as would ballance the pleafure which the 
 " firft pofleffor would have had in the enjoy- 
 *' ment, and his vexation in the lofs of it ; 
 '' fuppofe again, that no bad confequences 
 *' would follow, yet fuch an adion would furely 
 " be vicious." 
 
 The cafes here put are clear and decifive, 
 nor is it eafy to conceive what can be faid in 
 reply to them. Many other cafes, fads, and 
 obfervations, to the fame purpofe, might be 
 mentioned.— It cannot furely be true, for in- 
 ftance, that promifes and engagements are not 
 in any cafe binding upon any one, any further 
 than he thinks the obfervance of them will be 
 produdlive of good to particular perfons, or to 
 fociety j or, that we are releafed from all obli- 
 gation to regard them, as foon as we believe, 
 that violating them will not hurt the perfon to 
 whom they have been made, or that, if detri- 
 mental to him, it will be equally beneficial to 
 ourfelves, or, in any other way, will be attended 
 with advantages equivalent to the forefeen harm. 
 He would be looked upon by all, as having 
 
 adted 
 
Of the ^uhje5i -matter of Virtue. 221 
 
 -afled bafcly, who, having any advantage to 
 befl:ov\^, which he had engaged to give to one 
 perfon, fliould give it another j nor would it 
 be regarded as any vindication of his condudt 
 to alledge, that he knew this other would reap 
 equal profit from it. Many particular adlions, 
 or omifiions of adion, become, in confequence 
 of promifes and engagements, highly evil, which 
 Other wife would have been entirely innocent; and 
 the degree of vice in any harm done, is always 
 greatly increafed, when it is done by means of 
 deceit and treachery. — To treat a party of re- 
 bels, after they had furrendered themfelves upon 
 certain terms fiipulated with them, in the fame 
 manner as if they had been reduced by force, 
 would be generally difapproved : Andyet it might 
 be hard to fliew, that the confequences of not 
 keeping faith with them would have been very 
 detrimental to the publick. — A general would 
 be univerfally condemned, who, by means of any 
 treacherous contrivance fliould engage his ene- 
 mies to truft themfelves in his power, and then 
 deftroy them. How different are our ideas of 
 this from thofe we have of the fame end gained 
 by open and fair conqueft ? 
 
 Would it be indifferent whether a perfon, fup- 
 pofed to be jufl; returned from fome unknown 
 country or new world, gave a true or falfe account 
 
 of 
 
222 Of the SubjeB-matfer of Virtue, 
 
 of what he had feen ? Is "there a man in the 
 world who, in fuch a cafe, would not think it 
 better to tell truth than needlefsly and wantonly 
 to deceive ? Is it poflible any one can think he 
 may iniiocentlyj to fave himfelf or another from 
 fome fmall inconvenience, which he can full as 
 well prevent by other means, tell any lies or 
 make any falle proteftations, if he k7iows they 
 will never be found out ? If he mav thus im- 
 pofe upon his fellow-creatures by declaring one 
 falfliood, why may he not in like circumftances 
 declare any number of fahhoods, and with any 
 poffible circumflances of folemnity ? Why is 
 he not at liberty to make any declarations, how- 
 ever deceitful, however blafphemous, to prac- 
 tife any kinds of diffimulation and commit any 
 perjuries, whenever he believes they are likely 
 to hurt no one, and will be the means of intro- 
 ducing him to any degree of greater eafe or 
 ufefulnefs in life ? — Can v/e, w4ien we confi- 
 der thefe things, avoid pronouncing, that there 
 is intrinfick redlitude in keeping faith and finceri- 
 ty, and intrinfick evil in the contrary * ; and that 
 
 * The univerfal admiration with Vi'hich the flory of 
 yfttilius Regulus has been received and repeated, I confider 
 as a good proof, that this is the natural fenfe of mankind. 
 His conduct upon other principles would appear extrava- 
 gant and ridiculous. 
 
 it 
 
Of the Subjedf- matter of Virtue, 223 
 
 it is by no means true, that veracity and falf^ 
 hood appear in themfehes^ and exdufve of their 
 confequemeSj wholly indifferent to our moral 
 judgment ? Is it a notion capable of being fe- 
 rioufly embraced and defended, or even borne by 
 an ingenuous mind, that the goodnefs of the 
 end always confecrates the means ; or that, ce- 
 teris paribus^ it is as innocent and laudable to 
 accompliih our purpofes by lyes, prevarication 
 and perjury, as by faithful and open dealing 
 and honefl: labour ? wherein, upon fuch fenti- 
 ments, would conlift the wickednefs of pious 
 frauds, and why are they fb much condemned 
 and detefted ? 
 
 No worfe miflake, indeed, can be well con- 
 ceived than this J for, as the excellent author 
 before-cited obferves, " it is certain, that fome 
 " of the mofl (liocking inftances of injuftice *, 
 
 adultery, 
 
 * Is a man warranted to deftroy himfelf, as foon as hs 
 believes his life is become ufelefs or burthenfome to thofe 
 about him, and miferable to himfelf? How (hocking in 
 many circumftances would the moft private aflaffination be 
 of a perfon whofe death all may wifh for, and confider as 
 a benefit to himfelf and to the world ? Who would not 
 feverely reproach himfelf for referving to himfelf the pro- 
 perty of another which had been loft, and which he had 
 accidentally found, however fecretly he might do this, and 
 ivhatever reafon he might have for thinking that it would 
 
 be 
 
224 Of the SiibjeSi-matter of Virtue* 
 
 " adultery, murder, perjury, and even perfe- 
 " cution, may in many fuppofable cafes, not 
 *' have the appearance of being hkely to pro- 
 ** duce an overballance of mifery in the prefent 
 *' ftate ; perhaps, fometimes, may have a con- 
 " trary appearance." 
 
 A difapprobation in the human mind of in- 
 gratitude, injuftice, and deceit, none deny. The 
 point under examination is, the ground of this 
 difapprobation 3 v^'hether it arifes folely from 
 views of inconvenience to others and confufion 
 in fociety occafioned by them j or whether there 
 be not ahb immediate wrong apprehended in 
 them, independently of their effed:s. The in^ 
 ftances and coniiderations here produced feem 
 fufficiently to determine this. It appears, that 
 they are difapproved when produ6live of no 
 harm, and even when in fome degree bene- 
 ficial. 
 
 " Shall it be ftill urged that, in cafes of this 
 *' kind, our difapprobation is owing to the idea 
 *' of a plan or fyftem of common utility efta- 
 " blifhed by cuftom in the mind with which 
 " thefe vices are apprehened to be inconfiftent ; 
 
 be of greater ufe to him than to the proprietor ? There 
 would be no end of mentioning cafes of this fort, but I 
 have chofen to inftance particularly in veracity, 
 
 '' or 
 
Of the SubjeSi' matter of Virtue, 225 
 
 *^ or to a habit acquired of confiderlng them as 
 *' of genera] pernicious tendency, by which we 
 " are infenfibly influenced, whenever, in any 
 *' particular circumftances or inflances, we con- 
 *' template them r" — But why muft we have 
 recourfe to the influence of habits and aflbcia- 
 tions in this cafe ? This has been the refuge 
 of thofj, who would refolve all our moral per- 
 ceptions into views of private advantage, and 
 may ferve to evade almoft any evidence which 
 can be derived from experience, or from an ob- 
 
 fervatlon of the workings of our minds and the 
 
 1.' 
 
 motives of our adions. In the cafes which 
 have been mentioned, we may remove entirely 
 the idea of a public];, and fuppofe no perfons 
 exiting befides thofe immediately concerned, or 
 none whofe flate they can at all influence ; or, 
 we may fuppofe nil memory of the action to be 
 for ever loll as foon as done, and the agent to 
 forefee this ; and yet, the fame ideas of the 
 ingratitude, injuftice, or violation of truth will 
 remain. — If the whole reafon for regarding 
 truth arofe trom its influence on fociety, wherein 
 would a primi:ive Chrillian have been blame- 
 worthy for renouncing his religion, blafpheming 
 Chrill, and worfnipping the Pagan gods (all 
 which is no more than denying truth) when- 
 ever he could purchafe his life by thefe means, 
 
 Q_ and 
 
a 26 Of the Subje5i-mafter of Virtue', 
 
 and at the fame time avoid a difcovery, and thus 
 prevent the prejudice that might arife from his 
 eondudt to Chriflians and Pagans ? ■ — Peter,. 
 furely, would not have been innocent in deny- 
 ing his Tvlafter with oaths and imprecations, 
 though he had known that he fhould never be 
 detefted. A flranger, in a Pagan country, 
 would not CO right to comply with its fuper- 
 ftitions, to wcrfliip and profefs contrary to his 
 real fentiments, and abjure his faith, in order to 
 iecure his quiet or life, provided he judged the 
 deceit would not be known, that he could do 
 no good by a difterent conducft, or that his hy- 
 pocrify and compliances had no tendency to 
 eftabliih and perpetuate idolatry. 
 
 It is further to be cbferved on this argument, 
 that in thefe cafes it does not appear that man- 
 kind in 2"eneral m/ach attend to diilant confe- 
 quences. Children particularly cannot be fup- 
 pofed to ecnfider thefe, or to have fixed any ideas 
 of a publick or community j and yet, we obferve 
 in them the fame averlion to falihood, and re- 
 lifli for truth, as in the reft of mankind. There 
 is indeed no lefs evidence, that in the cafes fpe- 
 cified, we approve and difapprove immediately^ 
 than there is that we do fo, when we ecnfider 
 benevolefice or cruelty. It has been urged a- 
 gainfl: thofe who derive all our defires and ac- 
 tions 
 
()f the SnbjeSl-maficr of Virtue, 227 
 
 lions from felf-love, that they find out views 
 and reafoiilngs for men, which never entered the 
 minds of moft of them ; and which, in all pro- 
 bability, none attend to and are adtually in- 
 fluenced by in the common courfe of their 
 thoughts and . purfuits. — The fame may be 
 uroed ai^'ainft thofe, who derive all our fenti- 
 ments of moral good and evil from our appro- 
 bation of benevolenG? and difapprobation of the 
 U'ant of it ; and both, in my opinion, have un- 
 dertaken tafks almoft equally impradic^ble. 
 Any perfon, one would imagine, who will im- 
 partialiy examine his own mind, may feel fome- 
 thing different in his diHike of feveral vices, 
 from the apprehenlion of their diminilliing hap- 
 pinefs cr producing mjfery, and eafily obferve 
 that it is not merely under thcfe notions, that he 
 always cenfurcs and condemns. It is true, this 
 apprehenlion, when it occurs, always greatly 
 heightens our dif^pprobation. Fallliood, ingra- 
 titude, and injiiuicc undermine tb.e foundations 
 of all fecial intercourfe and- happinefs, and the 
 confcquences of them, were they to become uni- 
 verfal, \rould (it is evident) be terrible. — For 
 this reafon, fuppoiing morality founded on an 
 arbitrary firucftLne of our minds, there would be 
 a ncceffity for diflinft fenfes immediately con- 
 demning and forbidding them. Leaving them 
 
 0^2 to 
 
iaS Of the ^iihjeci -matter of Virtue. 
 
 to the influence of a general difapprobation of 
 all adtions evidencing a negledt of publick good,. 
 or without any particular determination againft 
 them, any farther than by every man tiiey 
 fliould be thought likely to produce more mife- 
 ry than happinefs, would be attended with the 
 worfl: efFeds. It would not in all likelihood, by 
 any means, be fufficient tolerably to fecure the 
 order of human fociety ; efpecially, conlidering 
 how many amongfl mankind there are, wlio 
 are incapable of enlarged reflexions, and whofe 
 thoughts are confined within the n a rro weft li- 
 mits, and how little prone all men naturally are 
 to be afFe<5led with or to regard remote events,, 
 as well as how liable they are to take up the 
 wrongeft opinions of the tendencies of their 
 adtions, and the good or ill to the world which 
 they may occaiion. 
 
 Perhaps, he who fhould maintain, that wc 
 have no affedtion properly reftinginourfelves, but 
 that all our defires and averfions ariie from a 
 profpedt of advantage or detriment to oSherSy 
 would not afl'ert what would be much lefs de- 
 fenfible than what thofe affsrt who maintain 
 the reverfe of this, and deny 2\\ difmterefted bene- 
 'uolence. — In like manner, to afTert that our 
 approbation of beneficence is to be refolved into 
 Gur approbation of 'veracity^ or that the whole of 
 
 morality 
 
Of the SitbjeB' matter of Virtue. 229 
 
 anorality confifts in jignfying and denying truth y 
 woulti not be much more unreaibnable than the 
 contrary afTertlon, that our approbation oi ''jera- 
 city and of all that is denominated virtue, is re- 
 Iblvable into the approbation o^. beneficence. But 
 why muft there be in the human mind appro- 
 bation only of one fort of adjons? Why muft 
 all moral good be reduced to one particular fpe- 
 cies of it, and kind afted:ions with the adions 
 •flowing from them, be reprefented, as what 
 alone can appear to our moral faculty virtuous ? 
 Why may we not a-s well have an immediate 
 reliih alfo for truth, for candour, fincerity, piety, 
 gratitude, and many other modes and principles 
 t)f condud? — Admitting all our ideas of mo- 
 rality to be derived from implanted fenfes and 
 determinations J the latter of thcfe determina- 
 tions is equally poffible with the other j and 
 what has been above hinted fhews that there is 
 the greatefl occafion for them to fecure the ge- 
 neral well\ire, and that therefore it might ante- 
 cedently be expected that a good Bein^ would 
 give them to us *. 
 
 How 
 
 * Dr. Hutcbefon^ however he may in general have ex- 
 
 preiTed himCelf, as if he thought the only obje£l of the 
 
 moral fetife^ and the whole of virtue, was benevolence, yet 
 
 apj\ear£ to have beeii coiivinced of the ne.ceffity of allowitjg 
 
 ^3 « dijlin;;^ 
 
230 Of the SubjcSf-malfe?' of Virtue. 
 
 How unreafonable is that love of uniformity 
 and iimplicity which inclines men thus to feck 
 them where it is (o difficult to find them? it is 
 this that, on other fubjeds, has often led men very 
 muchaftray. What miflakes and extravagances 
 in natural philofophy have been produced, by 
 the defire of difcovering one principle which 
 ill all account for all eftcds ? I deny not but that 
 in the human mind, as well as in the material 
 world, the mofl: wonderful fimplicity takes place ; 
 but we ought to learn to wait, till we can, by 
 careful obfervation and enouirv, find out where- 
 in it con(ifi:S3 and not fuffer ourfelves raflily to 
 determine any thing concerning it, or to receive 
 any general caufes and principles which cannot 
 be proved by experience. 
 
 If the account of morality I have given is 
 jufl;, it is not to be conceived, that promoting 
 
 adijl'intlfenfe^ recommending tons faithfulnefs and veracity. 
 — See Philofophia mcralis v!fiitiitio compend'iaria^ Cap. IX. 
 lib. ii, Faculiat'is hujus, five orat'ionh^ comes eji et moderator 
 fenfus quidajnfubtUior^ ex veri etiam cognofcendi appetitione na~ 
 tural'i non parum cotijirinatuSy quo vera omnia^ fnnplicia^ fidelia 
 comprohamus ; falfa^ p£la^ fallac'ia od'nnus. — Lib. ii. Cap. 
 X. Senfu emm cujufque proxime commendatur - is Jermonis 
 iifus^ quern commmus exigit utUitas. — Hoc vcrojlahile confdiuin 
 eo tanturn utend'i fcrmone ^ qui cum animi Jenicntia congru'it^ qui- 
 quc alios non dccipii.^ tomprobant et animi ferij us per le, et uiili- 
 t-atis communis raiio, 
 
 the 
 
Of the SuhjeB-matter of Virtue. 2 3 =i 
 
 -the happinefs of others {hould comprehend the 
 whole of our duty, or that the confideration of 
 publick good (hould be that alone in all circum- 
 ilances which can have any concern in deter- 
 mining what is right or wrong. It has been 
 obfcrved, that every different fituation of a rea- 
 fonable creature requires a diiierent manner of 
 acfling, and that concerning all that can be pro- 
 pofed to be done, fomething is to be affirmed or 
 denied, which, when known, neceffarily im- 
 plies a direBion to the agent in regard to his 
 behaviour. 
 
 Having premifed thefe obfervations, I (liall 
 now proceed to enumerate fome of the mofl im- 
 portant Branctxs of '■oirtuej or heads of 7'cditiide 
 and duty. 
 
 What requires the firft place is our duty 
 TO God, or the wholeof that regard, fubjedion 
 and homage we owe him.' Thefe feem un- 
 queftionably objeds of moral approbation, inde- 
 pendently of all confiderations of utility. They 
 are coniidered as indifpenfably cbligatorv, and 
 yet the principle upon which they are pradiied, 
 cannot be an intention, in any manner, to be 
 ufeful or profitable to the objed of them. Thofe 
 perfons muil: be uncommonly weak and igno- 
 Q^ 4 rant 
 
232 OJ the Subject-matter of Virtue. 
 
 rant, who mean, by their religious fervices, te 
 make an addition to the happinefs of the Deity, 
 or who entertain any apprehenfions, that it is on 
 his own account, and to advance his own good, 
 he expeds their gratitude and prayers. I know, 
 indeed, that fome writers of great worth have 
 expreffed themfelves, as if they doubted, whe- 
 ther the fecret fpring of all obedience to him, 
 and concurrence with his ends, is not fome de- 
 fire of contributing to his fatisfadion and delight. 
 It would be trifling with moft of my readers, to 
 employ much time, in reprefenting the prodi-? 
 gious abfurdity of fuch an opinion. 
 
 Let any pious man of plain fenfe and free 
 from grofs fuperflition, be appealed to, and 
 afked, whether he approves of piety to God as 
 proceeding from a view to his felicity ? whether 
 he fubmits to his will, and worfliips and prays 
 to him, from an opinion that thefe, in the literal 
 fenfe, pleafe or gratify him ? He v/ould un- 
 doubtedly at once, and with abhorrence, dif- 
 claim any fuch fentiments and motives. Upon 
 a little conlideration he might fay, *' he obeyed 
 " and worfliipped God, becaufc it was right, 
 " becaufe he apprehended it his duty'' Should 
 he be afked, why he thought obedience and de- 
 votion to God his duty f the reply that would 
 iirft and mod naturally occur to him, would be ; 
 2 *' becaufe 
 
Of the SiibjeB-mafter of Virtue, 233 
 
 *' becaule God was the creator, governor, and 
 *' benefatflor of the whole world, and particu- 
 -*' larly was bis creator, governor, and benefac- 
 ^' tor." But fliould he be once more afked, 
 why he thought it his duty to honour and wor- 
 fhip his Maker, benefador and governor ? he 
 would (as well he might) wonder at the quef- 
 tion, as much as if he had been afked, why 
 twenty was greater than two.? — Why (hould 
 we not admit here the natural and unperverted 
 fentiments of men, and acknowledge, what 
 leaves no difficulty, and feems fo evident, that 
 fubmiffion, reverence, and devotion to fuch a be- 
 ing as God, are, as much as any behaviour to 
 our fellow-men, inftances oi immediate duty i?2- 
 iuitively perceived j the fenfe of which, equally 
 with kind afFedions, is a fpring and motive of 
 adion. 
 
 That the flate and happinefs of the Deity, 
 cannot be affected by any thing we, or any o- 
 ther beings, can do, no one furely, upon mature 
 confideration, will deny. But let it be only 
 fuppojed, that this is the cafe j what alterations 
 will follow as to our duty to him ? Would 
 no behaviour on this fuppofition, terminating 
 Iblely in him as its objedl and end, remain pro- 
 per ? M^ould it have any effect in releafing the 
 
 rational 
 
234 Of the SuhjeB-matter of Virtue. 
 
 rational creation from their allegiance, and ren- 
 dering impiety and diiubedience lels fhocking? 
 
 It is true, all the pious and virtuous are actu- 
 ated by love to God, which implies joy in his 
 happinefsj but this would never produce any 
 ads of acknowledgment and obedience, or any 
 fludy of the good of others, in compliance with 
 his intentions j wlale there is no appreheniion 
 that they can affed: his happinefs ; and, at the 
 fame tim-e, no perception of iitnefs in them in- 
 dependent of this. 
 
 What has been now faid, is, in fome degree, 
 applicable to fuperiors and benefadors among 
 created beings j and the grounds of duty, to 
 them, are, in their general nature, the (ame with 
 thofe of our duty to the Deity. A fellow-man 
 may be raifed fo much above us in Nation and 
 charader, and fo litde within the reach of any 
 of the efieds of what we can do, that the rcalon 
 of the refpcd and fubmiffion we pay him, and 
 of our general behaviour to him, cannot be-any 
 view to his benefit, h\i\., principally^ ov folety, the 
 {tn(Q of what is in itfelf right, decent, or becom- 
 jng, — To all beings, according to their refpec- 
 tive natures, charaders, abilities, dignity, and 
 relations to us, there are fuitable affedions and 
 manners of behaviour owing, which, as long as 
 
 their 
 
Of the SiibjeB-matter of Virtue, 235 
 
 their characters and relations continue the fame, 
 are as invariable as the proportion between any 
 particular geometrical figures or quantities. — 
 The higher the rank of any being is, the more 
 perfedt his nature, the more excellent his cha- 
 raifter, the more near and intimate his con- 
 nexions with us, and the greater our obli^^ations 
 to him 5 the more flrid; and indifpenfable duty, 
 or the greater degree of regard, affedion, and 
 fiibmiffion we owe him. 
 
 This laft obfervation fhews us, what ideas we 
 ought to entertain of the inrportance of the duty 
 we owe to God, and of the place it holds 
 amongft our ether duties. There can, certainlv, 
 be no proportion between what is due from us 
 to creatures and to the Creator ; between the 
 regard and deference we owe to beings of preca- 
 rious, derived, and limited gccdnefs, and to him 
 who poffeffes original, neceffary, everlaftina; ful- 
 nefs of all that is amiable. As much as this 
 Being furpalTes other beings in perfedion and 
 excellence, fo much is he the worthier objed: of 
 our veneration and love. As much as we are 
 more dependent upon him, and indebted to him, 
 fo much the more abfolute fubjedion and ardent 
 gratitude may he claim from us. — The whole 
 univerfe, compared with God, is nothing in it- 
 felf, nothing to qi. He ought then to be all 
 
 to 
 
2^6 Of the SubjeSi -matter of Virtue. 
 
 to us ; his will our unalterable guide ; his good- 
 nefs the object of our conftant praifc and truil: ; 
 the conlideration of his all-direding providence 
 our highcft joy j the fecuring his favour our ut- 
 moft ambition, and the imitation of his righte- 
 oufnefs the great end of all our adtions. He is 
 the fountain of all power and jurifdidion, the 
 caufe of all caufes, the difpofer of the lots of all 
 beings, the life and informing principle of all na- 
 ture ; from whofc never-ceafing influence eve- 
 ry thing derives its capacity of giving us plea- 
 fure ; and in whom, as their fource and centre, 
 are united all the degrees of beauty and good 
 that we can obferve in the creation. On him 
 then ought our flrohgeft affedion and admira- 
 tion to be fixed, and to him ought our minds to 
 be continually direded. How fhameful would 
 it be to for;:;ct this Beinj:^ amidft (hadows and 
 vanities, to attend to his ii'orh more than him- 
 Jelf, or to regard any thing equally with him ? 
 — • It is here, undoubtedly, virtue ouo:ht to be- 
 gin : From hence it (l^ould take its rife. A re- 
 gard to God, as our firft and fovereign principle 
 of condud, (l^.o'uld always poffcfs us, accompany 
 us in the dilcharge of all private and focial du- 
 ties, and govern our whole lives. Inferior au- 
 thority we ought to fubmit to; but at the fame 
 time ultimately viewing that authority, which is 
 
 ths 
 
Of the SuhjeB-maftcr of Virtue. 237 
 
 the ground of all other, and fupreme in nature. 
 Inferior benefadors we {hould be grateful to, in 
 proportion to our obligations to them and de- 
 pendence upon them j hut yet confidering them 
 as only inftruments of his goodnefs, and referv- 
 ino; our firH: and chief orratitude to our firft and 
 chief benefactor. The gifts of his bounty, the 
 objects to which he has adapted our faculties, 
 and the means of happinefs he has provided for 
 us, we fhould accept and enjoy j but it would be 
 dlfingenuous and bafe to do it with little con- 
 fideration of the giver, or v/ith hearts void of 
 emotion towards him. Every degree of real 
 worth we obferve among inferior beings fhould 
 be properly acknowledged, and edeemedj but 
 yet as being no more than rays from his glory, 
 and faint refemblancesofhis perfedions. Created 
 excellence and beauty we may and muft ad- 
 mire ; but it would be inexcufable to be fo 
 much taken up with thefe, as to overlook him 
 before whom all other excellence vanifhes. To 
 him through all inferior caufes we ought to 
 look ; and his hand, it becomes us to own and 
 adore, in all the phenomena of nature, and in 
 every event. The confideration of his prefence 
 with us (hould affed us more, and be a ftron^er 
 check upon our behaviour, than if we knew we 
 were every moment expofed to the view of the 
 
 whole 
 
2 3 S Of the ^uhjedi-matter of Virtue, 
 
 whole creation. Wc ought to love him above 
 all things, to throw open our minds, as much 
 "as pofiible, to his influence, and keep up a con- 
 ftant Intercourfe with him by prayer and devo- 
 tion. We ought to refer ourfclves abfolutely to 
 his management, rely implicitly on his care, com- 
 mit, with boundlefs hope, our whole beings to 
 him in ^well-doings and ivifld for nothing, at any 
 time, but what is mofi: acceptable to his wif- 
 dom and goodnefs. — In fhort ; he ought to have, 
 in all rerpe(fls, thefupremacy in our minds; eve- 
 ry adion and defign fliould be facred to him ; 
 reverence, admiration, hope, joy, delire of ap- 
 probation, and all the affciftions fuited to fuch 
 an objcifl:, fliould exert themfelves within us, in 
 the higheil degree we are capable of them. An 
 union to him, by a refemblance and participation 
 of his perfedions, we fliould afpire to, as our 
 complete dignity and happinefs, beyond which 
 there can be nothing worthy the concern of any 
 being. No rebellious inclination fliould be once 
 indulged ; no murmur, in any events, lliew 
 itfelf in our minds ; and no defire or thouglit 
 ever entertained by us, which is inconfiflent 
 with an inviolable and chearful loyalty of heart 
 to his government. 
 
 Thefe are fome of the chief particulars of our 
 
 duty to tlie Deity; and it naturally here offers 
 
 2 itfelf 
 
Of the SuhjeB -matter of Virtue. 239 
 
 kfelfto our obfervatlon, how extremely defec- 
 tive the characters of thofe perfons are, who, 
 whatever they may be in other refpedls, live ia 
 the negl.6l of God. Nothing, indeed, can be 
 more melancholy, than to fee fo hiany ca- 
 pable of maintaining a good opinion of them- 
 felves, though they know themfelves to be 
 regardlefs of devotion and piety, and inat- 
 tentive to the Author of all Q:ood. Can anv 
 one fcrioufly think, that a mifbehaviour of this 
 kind is not as truly inconliftent with goodnefs of 
 temper and found virtue, and in the fame man- 
 ner deflructive of the foundations of hope and 
 blifs, as any other mifbehaviour ? Do negledt 
 and ingratitude, when men are the objeds of 
 them, argue great evil of temper, but none 
 when the author of the world is their objedt? 
 Why fhould impiety be le(s criminal than 
 dijhonejly? 
 
 Every man, as far as he difcharges private and 
 focial duties, is to be loved and valued, nor cant 
 any thing be faid that ought in reafon to difcou- 
 rage him. Whatever good any perfbn does, or 
 v/hatever degree of real virtue he pofTefles, he is 
 fure, in fome way or other, to be the better for. 
 Though it fhouid not be fuch as can avail to his 
 happinefs at lad, or fave him from juH: condem- 
 nation ; 
 
240 Of the ^uhjeB-matter ofVirtiid 
 
 nation ; yet it will, at leaft, render himfo much 
 the Icfs guilty and unhappy. - — But, in truths 
 as long as men continue void of religion and 
 piety, there is great reafon to apprehend they are 
 deftitute of the genuine principle of virtue, and 
 polTefs but little true moral worth. Their good 
 behaviour in other inftances, may probably flow 
 more from the influence of inftind and natural 
 temper, or from the love of difl:in6iion, credit^ 
 and private advantages, than from a fincere re- 
 gard to what is reafonable and fit asfuch. Were 
 this the principle that chiefly influenced them, 
 they would have an equal regard to all duty-, 
 they could not be eafy in the omifllon of any 
 thing they know to be right, and efpecially not 
 in the habitual negled: of him, with whom 
 they have infinitely more to do, than with all 
 the world. — He that forgets God and his 
 government, prefence and lav>^s, wants the 
 main fupport and the living root of genuine 
 virtue, as well as the mofl; fruitful fource of 
 tranquility and joy : Nor can he, Vv^ith due 
 exacftnefs, care, and faithfulnefs, be fuppofed 
 capable of performing his duties to himfelf and 
 others. He that is without the proper affec- 
 tions to the Author of his being, or who does 
 not ftudy to cultivate them by thofe ads and 
 ^xercifes, which are the natural expreffions of 
 
 them, 
 
Of the Suhjei^ -matter of Vi fine, 241 
 
 them, (liould indeed be aflianied to make any 
 pretentions to integrity and goodnefs of charac- 
 ter. — " The knowledge and love of the Deity, 
 ** the univerfal mind, is as natural a perfedioii 
 ** to fuch a being as man, as any accompli(h- 
 " ment to which we arrive by cultivating our 
 " natural difpolitions 5 nor is that mind come 
 " to the proper ftate and vigour of its kind, 
 " where religion is not the main exercife and 
 
 " delight*." 
 
 ^ It 
 
 * tUuJlraUons on the Moral Senfe by Dr. Hutchefon^ SeiEl. 6. 
 See alfo his Syjiem of Moral Philofophy^ Chap. X. Book I. 
 Vol. I. where may be found an excellent account of the 
 worfhip and affections due to God, and of their impor- 
 tance to our perfe<R;!on and happinefs. — See hl-zewife the 
 Chara^erifiicks^ Vol. ii. p. 76. " Hence we may deter- 
 *' mine juftly the relation which virtue has to piety ; the 
 *' firft being not complete but in the latter: Since where 
 " the latter is wanting, there can neither be the fame be- 
 *' nignity, firmnefs, or conftancy ; the fame good ccm- 
 *' pofure of the affections, or uniformity of mind. And 
 *' thus the perfection and height of virtue muft be owing 
 ** to the belief of a god." — And elfewhere, " Man is 
 *' not only born to virtue, friendfhip, honefty, and faith, 
 *' but to religion, piety, adoration, and a generous furren- 
 *' der of his mind to whatever happens from that fupreme 
 ** caufe, or order of things, which he acknowledges en- 
 " tirely juft and perfeCt." Vol. iii. p. 224. — " Myde-. 
 " fign is this, to make you free and happy, always looking 
 " unto God in every fmall and ii> every great matter.'* 
 
242 Of the SubjeB- matter of Virtue, 
 
 It mufl, however, be added, that the perfons 
 who fall into the contrary extreme, are, upon 
 all accounts, the moli inexcufable and wicked; 
 I mean, thofe who pretend to religion without 
 benevolence^ without honefty ; who are zealoufly 
 devout, but at the fame time envious, peevidi, 
 perverfe, fpiteful, and can cheat and trick, lie 
 and calumniate. Nothing can be conceived 
 more inconiiflent, more fhameful, or more in- 
 tolerable than this. The folemn worfhip of 
 fuch is the higheft pofTible aggravation of their 
 guilt. The regard they pretend for God is an 
 abufe and mockery of him ; and their religion 
 the worft fort of blafphemy. Religion furnifhes 
 us with the (Irongeft motives to fecial duties ; it 
 lays us under additional obligations to perform 
 them > and it is the nature of it to improve our 
 zeal for all that is juft and good, to increafe our 
 love of all men, and to render us more gentle, 
 mild, fair, candid, and upright, in proportion to 
 the degree in which it truly poffefTes our hearts. 
 He, therefore, who, while under any influence 
 from religion, and with the idea of God in his 
 
 f.li Tov Giop et^opeovretf (V 'aav]i fjilKpai kou (/.iyetXtti. £pi3. 
 apud /frr. Lib. ii. cap, 19. — " Nothing, fays M. AnU- 
 «* «/W, is well done, that is done without a refpedl: to 
 " the Divine nature." Owk av^p^'Trivov 11 aviu 7ti{ tiri 
 T* ^ii* «^'JVM«.f<i^( sy 'ifCSf^ei. Lib, iii, Se(St. 13^1 
 
Of the SubjeSi -matter of Virtue. 243 
 
 mind, does any thing wrong, is fo much the 
 more blameahle, and fliews proportionably 
 greater degeneracy and vicioufnefs of character. 
 Before we quit this fubjed:, I cannot help 
 begging the reader to paufe a-while, and to con- 
 iider particularly, what is meant by the will of 
 God, and how important and awful a motive 
 to adion it implies. ^i 
 
 What can have a tendency to imprefs an at*^" 
 tentive mind fo deeply, or (Irike it with fo much 
 force, as to think, in any circumftances, " God 
 *' wilh me to do^ or to bear this V* — One fuch 
 reflexion fhould be enough at all times to dif- 
 arm the flrongefl: temptations, to filence every 
 complaint, to defeat all oppofition, and to in- 
 fpire us with the moft inflexible courage and 
 refolution. Did we take more leifure to attend 
 to this, we could not poilibly behave as we of- 
 ten do. He that, when folicited to any thing 
 unlawful, will but ftop, till he has duly attend- 
 ed to the fenfe and felt the weight of this truth ; 
 ** the Deity difapproves and forbids my com- 
 " pliance," muft tremble at the thought of 
 complying, and lofe all inclination to it. When 
 we think rightly who God is, nothing can ap- 
 pear fo Allocking as that helplefs, indigent be- 
 ings, his own offspring, and the objeds of his 
 conftant care and bounty, fliould counterad: his 
 R 2 in ten- 
 
244 Of the SubjcB-mattcr of Virtue. 
 
 intentions, and rebel againO: his authority, or be 
 dilTatisfied with vv'hat lie appoints. The moft 
 loud applaufes and general triendfl:iip of our 
 fellow-creatures are nothing, and can have no 
 efFeift, when feparated from his. All oppofition 
 is impotence, when not approved by him : And 
 the threats of all the world, could they be fup-' 
 pofed to interfere with what we know he re- 
 quires from us, would, if we had a juft fenfe of 
 things, be as much loil to us as a whifper in 
 the midft of thunder, or the attention to a toy 
 in the moment of inftant death. 
 
 What it is he wills, we can in general be at 
 no lofs to know. Whatever afflidions or dif- 
 appointments happen to us ; whatever pains we 
 feel, or unavoidable inconveniencies are mingled 
 with the lot afligncd us ; thefe it is as certain 
 that he wills us to bear, and to acquiefce in, as 
 it is that we at all fuffer by them : Since it is 
 demonftrable, that in his world and under his 
 eye, nothing can befal us either contrary to, or 
 without his confent and diredion. Whatever 
 opportunities fall in our way of doing good, it is 
 his will that we embrace and improve. What- 
 ever our confciences didtate to us, and we know 
 to be right to be done, that he commands more 
 evidently and undeniably, than if by a voice 
 from heaven we had been called upon to do it. 
 
 — And, 
 
Of the Subje6i-matter of Virtue, 245 
 
 — And, when cnnfcious of faithful endeavours to 
 be and do every thing that we ought to be and 
 do, with what joy of heart may we look up to 
 him, and exult in the aflurance of his approba- 
 tion? When emploved in adts of kindnefs, in 
 forming good habits, and pradifing truth and 
 righteoufners ; how refolute and immoveable 
 mud: it ren.-^er an upright perfon, and with what 
 fortitude and ardour may it poffefs his breaft, to 
 confider; *' 1 am doing the will of Him to 
 ** whom the world ovt'es its birth, and whom 
 " the whole creation obeys : I am imitating the 
 " perfedions, and fecuring the friendfliip of 
 " that Being, who is everlalling truth and righ- 
 *' teoufnefs ; v>'ho cannot, therefore, be con- 
 " ceived to be indifferent to thofe who pra(5life 
 " them ; and who poillffes infinite power, 
 •* and can caufe all nature to furnifh out its 
 " ftores to blefs me ? " 
 
 Thus does religion elevate the mind ; and 
 fuch is the force and majefly it gives to virtue. 
 The moft effedual means of forming a good 
 temper and eftablii'hir.g good difpofitions, is the 
 contemplation of the divine adminiftration and 
 goodnefs. We cannot have our minds too in- 
 tent upon them, or fludy enough to make every 
 thought pay homage to the Divinity, and to 
 hallow our whole convcrfation by an habitual 
 R 3 regard 
 
246 Of the SuhjeB- matter of Virtue. 
 
 regard to him whofe prerogative it is, as the 
 firft caufe and the original of all perftdion, to 
 be the guide and end of all the adions of his 
 creatures. 
 
 It will, I fuppofe, fcarcely be thought by the 
 mod curfory reader, that what has been now 
 Taid, lays greater ftrefs upon willy than is confif- 
 tent with the foundation of morals I have been 
 defending. 
 
 It has not been aiTerted, that, of itfelf^ it can 
 have any efFed: on morality, or be an end and 
 rule of aftion. If we confider it as denoting 
 either the general power of producing effcOs, or 
 the aBual exertion of this power ; it is mod 
 manifeftj that it implies nothing of a rule^ direc- 
 tion^ or motive^ but is entirely minifterial to 
 ' thefe, and luppoles them. Understanding 
 is, in the nature of it, before will; know- 
 ledge before power : it being neceflary, that 
 every intelligent agent, in exerting his power, 
 fhould know what he does, or defign fome ef- 
 fe6t, which he underjlands to be poffihle. The 
 general idea of will is applicable alike to all be- 
 ings capable of defign and adtion ; and, there- 
 fore, merely as will, it can never have any in- 
 fluence on our determinations. 
 
 What renders obedience to the will of God 
 
 51 duty of fo high and indifpenfable a nature, is 
 
 *''"*'^'' '''' this 
 
Of the, SubjeSi-matter of Virtue. 247 
 
 this very confideratlon, that it is the will of God -^ 
 the will of the univerfal and almighty Parent, 
 benefador, and ruler j a will which is in necef- 
 fary union with perfed reditude, which always 
 executes the dictates of it, and which, whenever 
 made known, direds to what is ablblutely beft. 
 When we obey this then, it is wierring reSiitude, 
 it is the voice of eternal wifdom we obey ; and it 
 is then, therefore^ we adt moft wifely. 
 
 The /roW branch of virtue, which we may 
 take notice of, is that which has ourfehes for its 
 objed. There is, undoubtedly, a certain man* 
 ner of condudl terminating in ourfelves, which 
 is properly matter of duty to us. It is too ab- 
 furd to be maintained by any one, that no re- 
 lation which an adion may have to our own 
 happinefs or mifery, can (fuppofing other beings 
 unconcerned) have any influence in determin- 
 ing, whether it is or is not to be done, or make 
 it appear to rational and calm reflexion other- 
 wife than morally indifferent. — It is contradic- 
 tory to fuppofe, that the fame neceflity which 
 makes an end to us, and determines us to the? 
 choice and delire * of it, (hould be unaccompa- 
 nied with an approbation of ufing the means of 
 
 * See laft Section of Chapter I. page 68. 
 
 R 4 attaining 
 
248 Of the Suhje5i -matter of Virtue, 
 
 attaining it. It is, in reality, no more morally 
 indifferent, how we employ our faculties, and 
 what we do relating to our own intereft, than it 
 is how we behave to our fellow- creatures. If 
 it is my duty to promote the good of another^ 
 and to abftain from hurting him ; the fame, 
 rhofl certainly, muft be my duty with regard to 
 myfef. It would be contrary to all reafon to 
 deny this ; or to affert that I ought to confult 
 the good of another, but not my own j or that 
 the advantage an a(5lion will produce to another 
 makes it right to be done, but that an equal ad- 
 vantage to myfelf leaves me at liberty to do or 
 omit it. — So far is this from being true, that 
 it will be ftrange, if any one can avoid acknow- 
 ledging that it is right and fit that a being fhould, 
 when all circumflances on both fides are equal, 
 prefer himfelf to another j referve, for example, 
 to himfelf a certain means of enjoyment he pof- 
 feffes, rather than part with it to a flranger^ to 
 whom it will not be more beneficial. 
 
 It is evident, that this affords us another in- 
 flance of right behaviour, the principle of which 
 is not kind affection, and which no views of 
 public utility, or fympathy with others can pof- 
 fibly explain. What can prove more incontef^ 
 tably that actions evidencing kind affevSlions are 
 |iot the only ones we approve, than our approv- 
 
Of the SubjeB-matter of Viftue. 249 , 
 
 ing in many cafes of the prevalency of felf-love 
 againft them, and our being confcious that in 
 thefe cafes it fiould thus prevail ? Private inte- • 
 reft affords us, indeed, the fulleft fcope for vir- 
 tue J and the pradlice of this branch of duty is 
 no Icfs difficult, and requires no lefs refoludon. 
 and zeal, than the practice of any other branch 
 of duty. Our lower principles and appetites are 
 by do means always friendly to true felf-love. - 
 They almoft as often interfere with this as with- 
 benevolence. We continually fee men, through 
 the influence of theai, ading in oppofition to 
 their own acknowledged intereft, as well as to- 
 that of others, and facrificing to them their for- 
 tunes, healths, and lives. — Now, in cafes of 
 this kind, when a pcrfon is tempted to foregO' 
 his own happinefs by an importunate appetite, 
 it is as really praife-worthy to overcome the 
 temptation, and preferve a fteady regard to his 
 own intereft, as it is to perform any ads of ju{^ 
 tice, or to overcome temptations to be difhoneft: 
 or cruel. Reftraining licentious paffions ; ftrid: 
 temperance, fobriety, and chaftity ; rejeding 
 prefijjt for Jutiire greater good ; governing all 
 our inferior powers, fo as that they fhall never 
 diilurb the order of our minds ; ading up to 
 the dignity and hopes of reafonable and immor- 
 tal beings ; and the uniform and ftedfaft pur- 
 
 fuit 
 
250 Of the ^uhjeB -matter of Virtue. 
 
 fuit of our own true perfeftion in oppofition to 
 whatever difficulties may come in our way: 
 This is high and true virtue. We have it not 
 in our power to avoid approving and admiring 
 fuch condud:. — On t'ie contrary ; an undue 
 negle(5t of our own good ; folly arid impru- 
 dence J intemperance and voluptuoufnefs ; fenlu- 
 ality and extravagance ; ading beneath our cha- 
 raders and expedations i confining our ambi- 
 tion to low and tranfitory objeds, when we 
 might fix them on objeds of ineftimable worth 
 and eternal duration j following blind paffions 
 to beggary and diftrefs, and yielding up to them 
 our liberty, independence, and felf-enjoyment, 
 the principal blefiings of this life, and the prof- 
 ped of future happinefs: All this, hov,^ever 
 hurtful to none but the agent himfelf, is vicious 
 and criminal : The guilty perfon deferves the 
 fevereft reproaches, and necefiarily appears to 
 himfelf and others bafe and defpicable. ■ — The 
 J'elfifJmefs we blame is fuch a regard to our own 
 gratification, and fuch an attention to a narrow 
 and partial private intereft, as engrofles too much 
 of our labour, contrads our hearts, excludes a 
 due concern for others and a proper regard to 
 their good, and flifles or checks the exercife of 
 benevolence, friendfhip and generofity. Where 
 nothing of this fort takes place, the care of 
 
 M 
 
Of the SuhjeB-matter of Virtue. 251 
 
 felf is never cenfured, but always expeded and 
 praifed. 
 
 It fliould not, however, be overlooked, that 
 ading with a view to private advantage does 
 not fo generally and certainly prove virtuous in- 
 tention, as adling with a view to publick good ; 
 and that, in rejedling an evil to ourfelves, or 
 embracing a good to ourfelves, when it is fen- 
 fible and at hand, and no oppofition arifes from 
 any interfering deiires and propenfions, the vir- 
 tuous effort and defign, and, confequently, the 
 degree of virtue in the agent, can be but fmall. 
 But of this more fully hereafter. 
 
 For the reafon, why we have not fo fenfible 
 an indignation againft the negledt of private 
 good, as againft many other inftances of wrong 
 behaviour, fee what is faid under the fourth ob- 
 fervation in The Dijfertation on Virtue^ at the 
 erKl of Butlers Analogy, 
 
 Thirdly, Another part of reditude is Bene- 
 ficence, or the ftudy of the good of others. 
 Publick happinefs is an objed that muft necef- 
 farily determine all minds to prefer and defire it. 
 It is of effential and unchangeable value and 
 importance 5 and there is not any thing which 
 appears to our thoughts with greater light and 
 evidence, or of which we have more undeniably 
 
 an 
 
252 Of the Subje^- matter of Virtue. 
 
 an intuitive perception, than that it is right to 
 promote and purfue it. — So important a part 
 of virtue is this, and fo univerfally acknow- 
 ledp-ed, that it is become a confiderabls fub- 
 jecfl of debate, whether it be not the whole of 
 virtus. 
 
 As, under the preceding head, it has been ob- 
 ferved, that it would be ftrange that the good 
 of another (hould make an adtion fit to be per- 
 formed, but our own good not j the contrary 
 obfervation may be here made j namely, that it 
 cannot be confidently fuppofed that our own 
 good (liould make an adlion fit to be performed, 
 but that of others not. 
 
 All rational beings ought to haveafliare in our 
 kind v^dQies and alfed^ions : But wc are furround- 
 tdWiih fellow-men^ beings of the fame nature, in 
 the fame circumftances, and having the fame 
 wants with ourfelves; to whom therefore we 
 are in a peculiar manner linked and related, 
 and whofe happinefs and mifery depend very 
 ■much on our behaviour to them. Thefe con- 
 fiderations engage us to labour particularly to 
 be ufeful to mankind, and to cultivate to the 
 utmoft the principle of benevolence to them. 
 And how amiable does the man appear in 
 whofe breaft this divine principle reigns j who 
 ftudies to make all with whom he has any con- 
 nexion 
 
Of the ^ithjeB -matter of Virtue, i? 5 3 
 
 nexlon eafy and happy ; who loves others as he 
 defires others to love him ; whofe joy is their joy, 
 and mifery their mifery j who is humane, pa- 
 tient, humble, and generous j never gives the 
 leaft indulgence to any harfli or unfriendly dii^ 
 pofitions, and comprehends in what he counts 
 himfelf his relations, friends, neighbours, coun- 
 try, and fpecies ? 
 
 Fourthly^ The next head of virtue proper to 
 be mentioned is Gratitude. The conlidera- 
 tion that we have received benefits, lays us un- 
 der^(?r2;//^r obligations to the perfons who have 
 conferred them 5 and renders that behaviour, 
 which to others may be innocent, to them cri- 
 minal. That this is not to be looked upon as 
 the efFed: merely of the utility of gratitude, ap- 
 pears, I think, fufficiently from the citation at 
 the beginning of this chapter. 
 
 With refped to this part of virtue, it is pro- 
 per to obferve, that it is but one out of a great 
 variety of inftances, wherein particular fads and 
 circumftances conftitute a fitnefs of a different 
 behaviour to different perfons, independently of 
 its confequences. The different moral qualifi- 
 cations of different perfons 5 their different de- 
 grees of nearnefs to us in various refpeds ; and 
 
 num- 
 
254 Q/^ ^'^^ SubjeSl-matUr of Virtue. 
 
 numberlefs circumftances in their fituations, and 
 characters, have the hke effed:, and give juft 
 reafon, in innumerable inftances, for a prefer- 
 ence of fome of them to others. Some of 
 thefe ciicumftances may be of fo little moment 
 in themfelvesjthat almoft any appearance orpof- 
 iibility of greater good may fufpend their in- 
 fluence j although when there is no fuch ap- 
 pearance, they have full effed: in determining 
 what is right, A fadl of the fame kind with 
 this, we (hail have occafion to mention under 
 the head oi jtiflice. 
 
 What will be moft beneficial, or productive 
 of the greatefl public good, I acknowledge to 
 be the moft general and leading confideration in 
 all our enquiries concerning right j and fb im- 
 portant is it, when the publick intereft depend- 
 ing is very confiderable, that it may fet afidc 
 every obligation which would otherwife arife 
 from the common rules of juftice, from pro- 
 mifes, private intereft, friendship, gratitude, and 
 all particular attachments and connexions. 
 
 •cit 
 
 Fifthly, Veracity is a moft important part 
 of virtue. Of this a good deal has been already 
 faid. As it has fome dependance upon the dif- 
 ferent fentiments and affe^ions we feel with re- 
 
 fpe<a 
 
of the Suhjcdi-matter of Virtue. 25^ 
 
 fped to truth and faljhood. It will not be impro- 
 per to be a little particular in giving an account 
 of the foundation of thefe. 
 
 The difference between truth and fahhood 
 is the fame with the difference between fbme- 
 thing and nothing, and infinitely greater, than 
 the difference between realities and chimeras or 
 fi(5tions J bccaufe the latter have a real exigence 
 in the mind, and fo far, alib a pofjibk, external 
 exiftence. — There is indeed an imaginary rea- 
 lity, with which we are obliged always to cloath 
 fahhood, in order at all to write or fpeak about 
 it j but this is derived entirely from the reality 
 of its contrary. So, likewife, we commonly 
 fpeak of diforder, filence, and darknefs, as if they 
 denoted fomewhat pofitivej whereas, whatever 
 pofitive ideas we can have when we menticHi 
 them, muff be the ideas of the things them- 
 felves, of which they are negations ; and, were 
 it not for thefe, there could be no words for 
 them. — Now, it cannot be conceived, that en- 
 tity and nonentity, what is real, and what is 
 not fo, (hould be alike regarded by the mind. 
 Truth muft be pleating and defirable to an in- 
 telligent nature ; nor can it be otherwife than 
 difagreeable to it, to find itfelf in a ftate of de- 
 ception, and mocked with error. — As much er- 
 ror as there is in any mind, fo much darknefs is 
 I there 
 
^^6 Of the Subject -matter of Virtue, 
 
 there in it ; fo much, if I may fo exprefs my- 
 felf, is it lefs diilant from non-exiftence. As 
 much truth as it is in pofieffion of, fo much 
 has it of perception and knowledge. To dif- 
 affedl truth or to love error, is to defire to fee 
 i nothing as it is. We often indeed are pleafed 
 with finding that we have been miftaken ; but 
 it is never the having been millaken that pleafes, 
 but fome advantage it was the occafion of to 
 us. In the fame fenfe, an a6t of villainy may 
 pleafe usj that is, fome of its confequences 
 or circumftances may pleafe us, not the vil- 
 lainy itfelf. We frequently delight in our er- 
 rors, but not as errors. As foon as we difcover 
 in any inftance that we err, fo far in that 
 inftance we no longer err ; and this difco- 
 very is always in itfelf grateful to us, for the 
 fame reafon that truth is fo. — In fhort, we fhall, 
 I believe, find, in whatever light we confider 
 this fubjed, that the notion of the arbitrarinefs 
 of the relifh we have for truth, or of the diftinc- 
 tion we make in our inward regards between it 
 and fahhood, implies what is impoffible. 
 
 Truth then, is not fufceptible of any affec- 
 tions to it that may be arbitrarily appointed, but 
 necelfarily recommends itfelf to our preference. 
 Now, the effence of lying conlifling in uftng 
 eftablifhed ligns in order to deceive or produce 
 I affent 
 
Of the SubjeSi-maiter of Virtue. 257 
 afTent to what is falfe, it muft be difapproved 
 by all rational beings upon the fame grounds 
 with thoie on which truth and knowledge are 
 defired by them, and right judgment preferred 
 to miftake and ignorance. •— No beings, fup- 
 pofed alike indifferent to truth and falHiood 
 and carelefs which they embrace, can be con- 
 ceived to take offence at any impofition upon 
 themfelves or others 3 and he who will not fay, 
 that, confequences apart, (which is all along 
 fuppofed) to know is not better than to en\ or 
 or that there is nothing to determine any being 
 as rational, to chufe wifdom rather than folly, 
 juft apprehenlions rather than wrong, to be 
 awake and adually to fee rather than to be in a 
 continual delirium : He, I fay, who will not 
 maintain this, vs^ill fcarcely be unwilling to ac- 
 knowledge an immediate reSlitude in veracity. 
 
 Under this head, I would comprehend im- 
 partiality and honefty of mind in our enquiries 
 after truth, as well as a facred regard to it in all 
 we fay ; fair and ingenuous dealing j fuch aix 
 opennefs and fimplicity of temper as exclude 
 guile and prevarication, and all the contemptible 
 arts of craft, equivocation and hypocrify 3 fide- 
 lity to our engagements , fincerity and upright- 
 nefs in our tranfadtions with ourfelves as well as 
 others j and the careful avoiding of all fecret at- 
 
 S tempts 
 
2 5 S Of the Suhje5t-matter of Virtue. 
 
 tempts to deceive ourfelves as well as others ; and 
 to evade or difguife the truth in examining our 
 o^n chara6ters. 
 
 Some of thefe particulars, though they pro- 
 perly belong to the divilion of rectitude 1 have 
 now in view, and which has truth for its objedl ; 
 yet are not properly included in the fignification 
 of veracity. — But it requires our notice, that 
 fidelity to promifcs Vi, properly a branch or in- 
 flance oi veracity. — * The nature and obliga- 
 tion oi promijes have been reprefented as attend- 
 ed with great difficulties j which makes it ne- 
 ceiTary to defire that this obfervation may be 
 particularly confidered. 
 
 By a promife fome declaration is made, or 
 affurance given to another, which brings us un- 
 der an obligation to aft or not to aft, from 
 which we ihould have been otherwife free. 
 Such an obligation never flows merely from 
 declaring a refolution or intention ; and therefore 
 a promife mull mean more than this j and the 
 whole difference is, that the one relates to the 
 prefent^ the other to future time.- — When I fay 
 I intend to do an aftion, I affirm only a prefent 
 faft. ^Mi to promife^ is to declare that fuch 
 
 * See Treatife of Human Nature. Vol. III. Book 
 III. Part II. Sea. V, 
 
 5 a thing, 
 
Of the BubjeB -matter 'of Virtue. 259 
 
 a thing Jlmll be done, or that fuch and fuch 
 events fdcll happen. In this cafe, it is not 
 enough to acquit me from the charge of falf- 
 hood, that I intend to do what I promifcj but it 
 muft be adually done, agreeably to the affa- 
 fances given. After declaring a refolution to doi 
 an adlion, a man is under no obligation actually 
 to do it, becaufe he did not fay he would 5 his 
 word and veracity are not engaged ; and the 
 non-performance cannot infer the guilt of vio- 
 lating truth. On the contrary, when a perfon 
 declares he will do any adion, he becomes o- 
 bliged to do it, and cannot afterwards omit 
 it, without incurring the imputation of de- 
 claring falfhood, as really as if he had de- 
 clared what he knew to be a falfe paH: or 
 prefent fadj and in much the fame manner 
 as he would have done, if he had pretended 
 to know, and had accordingly afiefted, that a 
 certain event would happen at a certain time, 
 which yet did not then happen. There is, 
 however, a confiderable difference between this 
 laft cafe, and the fahhood implied in breaking 
 promifes and engagements j for the objed cf 
 thefe is fomething, the exiftence of which de- 
 pends on ourfelves, and which we have in 01 r 
 power to bring to pafs > and therefore here ths 
 falfliood muft be known and wilful, and entirely 
 S a imputable 
 
26o of the SubjeB-matter of Virtue', 
 
 imputable to our own negled and guilt. But 
 in the cafe of events predided which are not 
 lubjed to our dominion, the blame, as far as 
 there may be any, muft arife from pretending to 
 knowledge which we really want, and afferting 
 abfolutely what we are not fure of. 
 
 To promife then, being to affert a fadl de- 
 pendent on ourfelves, with an intention to pro- 
 duce faith in it, and reliance upon it, as cer- 
 tainly to happen ; the obligation to keep a pro- 
 mife is the fame with the obligation to regard 
 truth ; and the intention of it cannot be, in the 
 i&rS(i fome have afferted, to will or create a new 
 obligation ; unlefs it can be pretended that the 
 obligation to veracity is created by the mere 
 breath of men every time they fpeak, or make 
 any profeiiions. If indeed we mean by creating 
 a new obligation, that the producing a particu- 
 lar effc'^ or performance of an external action 
 becomes fit, in confequence of fome new fitua- 
 tion of a perfon, or fome preceding ads of his 
 own, which was not fit before ; it may be very 
 well acknowledged ; nor is there any thing in 
 the leaft myfterious in it. Thus, performance 
 becomes our duty after a promife, in the fame 
 fenfe that repentance becomes our duty in con- 
 fequence of doing wrong, reparation of an in- 
 iury, in confequence of committing it, or a 
 
 par- 
 
Of the Siibjedi- matter of Virtue. 261 
 
 particular manner of condu(fl, in confequencc of 
 placing ourfelves in particular circumftances and 
 relations of life. 
 
 As a confirmation of this account, if any con- 
 firmation was necefiary, it might be obferved, 
 that falfe declarations in general, and violations 
 of enga'ji;ements, admit of the fame extenuations 
 or aggravations according to the different de- 
 grees of folemnity with which they are made, 
 and the diflferent importance of the fubjeds of 
 them. 
 
 The laft part of virtue, I (hd.\\ mention, is 
 Justice : Meaning by this word, that part of 
 virtue which regzvds property y or commerce. 
 
 The original of the idea of property is the 
 fame with that of right and wrong in general. 
 It denotes fuch a relation of a particular objedl 
 to a particular perfon, as infers or implies, that 
 it is fit he fhould have the ufe and difpofal 
 of it rather than others, and that it is wrong 
 to deprive him of it. This is what every one 
 means by calling a thing his right^ or faying 
 that it is his own. 
 
 Upon this there are two queflions that may 
 be aflced. i^/r/?, How an objed obtains this 
 
 relation to a perfon ? S>ccondiyy Into what 
 
 we are to refolve, and how we are to account 
 S 3 for 
 
262 Of the SubjeB-matter of Virtue. 
 
 for the right and wrong we perceive in thefe 
 inftances ? 
 
 The writers of Ethicks are very well agreed 
 in their anfwers to the firft of thefe queftions. 
 An ohjc'd, it is obvious, will acquire the relation 
 v^^hich has been mentioned to a perfon, in con- 
 fequence of firft pofteffion ; in confequence of 
 its bein^ the fruit of his labour ; by donation, 
 fuccefiion, and many other ways not neceffary 
 to be here enumerated. 
 
 It is far from being fo generally agreed, what 
 js the true account of this : But I cannot find 
 any peculiar difficulties attending it. Number- 
 lefs are the facts and circumftances, which vary 
 and modify the general law of right, or alter 
 the relations of particular efteds to it. Taking 
 poiTeffion of an objed, and difpofing of it as I 
 pleafe, abftraded from all particular circum- 
 ftances attending fuch conduct, is innocent; but 
 fuppofe the objed was before poflefTed by an- 
 other, the fruit of whofe labour it was, and who 
 confents not to be deprived of it, and then this 
 condudt becomes wrong ; not merely upon the 
 account of its confequences, but immediately 
 wrong. - — • Taking to ourfelves any of the means 
 of enjoyment, when quite loofe from our fel- 
 low-creatures, or not related to them in any of 
 the ways which determine property, cannot be 
 
 the 
 
Of the Subje^-matter of Virtue, 263 
 
 the fame with doing this, when the contrary is 
 true ; nor is it poflible to frame the fame moral 
 judgment concerning an adtion in thefe different 
 circumftances. — That frji poUfjion, prefcrip- 
 tioTiy donation J fiiccejjion^ 5cc. fhould be circum- 
 flances which alter the nature of a cafe^ deter- 
 mine right and wrong, and induce obligation, 
 where other wife we fhould have been free, is 
 not lefs conceivable than that benefits received, 
 private or publick interefl, the will of certain 
 beings, or any of the other confiderations before 
 infifled on, fliould have this effed:. There is no 
 other account to be given of this, than that 
 " fuch is truth, fuch the nature of things." 
 And this account, wherever it diflinctly appears, 
 is ultimate and fatisfadory, and leaves nothing 
 further for the mind to defire. ' 
 
 The limbs, the faculties, and lives of perfbns 
 are theirsy or to be reckoned amongft their pro^ 
 pertieSj in much the fame fenie and upon the 
 fame grounds with their external goods and ac- 
 quifitions. The former differ from the latter, 
 no more than the latter differ among themfelves, 
 The right to them is obtained in different ways, 
 but is equally real and certain. And if, ante- 
 cedently to fociety and conventions entered into 
 for common convenience, there is no property 
 of the latter kind, and it is naturally indifferent 
 S 4 in 
 
264 Of the SubjeB-matfer of Virtue. 
 
 in what manner what we take and detain is re^ 
 lated to another ; it will be hard to {hew that 
 the fame is not true of the other kind of pro- 
 perty, or that in reality there can be any right 
 to any thing. 
 
 Were nothing meant, when we fpeak of the 
 rights of beings, but that it is for the general 
 utility, that they fhould have the exclufive en- 
 joyment of fuch and fuch things j then, where 
 this is not concerned, a man has no more right 
 to his liberty or his life, than to objeds the moft 
 foreign to him j and having no property, can be 
 no objed: of injurious or unjuft treatment. Sup- 
 pofing two men to live together, without being 
 at all conneded with or known to the reft 
 of the world ; one of them could poll'efs 
 nothing that did not in reafon lie quite open to 
 the feizure of the other, nothing that was his, 
 or that he could properly give away : There 
 would be nothing wrong in the moft wanton 
 and unprovoked invalion or.deftrudion of the 
 enjoyments of the one by the other, fuppofing 
 this in the other's power, and that in any cir- 
 cumftances he knew he fhould gain as much 
 by it as the other would lofe. What little rea- 
 fon then have we, upon thefe principles, for 
 rejeding the opinion that a ftate of nature is a 
 ftate of war ? 
 
 Thefe 
 
Of the SubjeB-matter of Virtue. 265 
 
 Thefe obfervations may be more clearly ap- 
 plied to independent focieties of men, who are 
 to be looked upon as in a ftate of nature with 
 refpedl to one another, and amongfl: whom it is 
 very ftrange (as whatever one of them can take 
 from the other may be equally ufeful to both) 
 that the notions oi property and injiijltce fhould 
 prevail almoft as much as amongft private per- 
 fons, if thefe notions are not natural, or if derived 
 wholly from the confideration of publick good. 
 But befides, if publick good be the fole meafure 
 and foundation of property and of the rights of 
 beings, it would be abfurd to fay innocent beings 
 have a right to exemption from mifery, or that 
 they may not be made in any degree miferable, 
 if but the fmalleft degree of prepollent good can 
 arife from it. Nay, any number of innocent 
 beings might be placed in a ftate of abfolute and 
 eternal mifery, provided amends is made for 
 their mifery by producing at the fame time a 
 greater number of beings in a greater degree 
 happy. For wherein would this be worfe than 
 producing a lefs rather than a greater degree of 
 good, or than producing the excefs only of the 
 happinefs above the mifery, without any degree 
 of the latter ? What makes the difference be- 
 tween communicating happinefs to a fmgle be- 
 ing in fuch a manner, as that it fhall be only 
 
 the 
 
266 Of the SubjeB-jJiatter of Virtue, 
 
 the excefs of his enjoyments above his fufFerings j 
 and communicating happinefs to a fyjietn of 
 beings in fuch a manner that a great number 
 of them (h^iW be totally miferable, but a greater 
 number happy ? Would there be nothing in 
 . fuch a procedure that was not right and juft ; 
 efpecidly could we conceive the fufferings of 
 the unhappy part to be, in anyway, the occafion 
 or means of greater happinefs to the reft ? Is a 
 man, be his relations or kindnefies to another 
 what they will, capable of receiving no injury 
 fropi him by any adions not detrimental to the 
 publick ? Might a man innocently ruin any 
 number of his fellovz-creatures, provided hecaufes 
 in a greater degree the good of others ? Such 
 confequences are plainly fliocking to our natu- 
 ral fentiments ; but I know not how to avoid 
 
 them on the principles I am examining. 
 
 It is indeed far from eafy to determine what de- 
 gree of fuperior good would compenfate the ir- 
 reparable and undeferved ruin of o?ie pcrfon ; 
 or what ovci. balance of happinefs would be great 
 enough to juilify the abfolute milery of one 
 innocent being*. Be thefe things however as 
 
 they 
 
 * There are fome a(5llons, fays Cicero, fo foul, that a 
 good mdn would not do them to fave his country. De 
 Officiisj Lib. I. Chap. XLV. — He praifes Fabius the Ro- 
 man 
 
Of the BubjeB -matter of Virtue. 267 
 
 they will ; there is at leaft enough in the con- 
 fiderations now propofed to fhew that publick 
 happinefs cannot be the fole flandard and mea- 
 sure of juftice and injuftice. But, without hav- 
 ing recourfe to them, the decifion of this quef- 
 tion might perhaps be reded entirely on the 
 determination any impartial perfon fliall find 
 himfelf obliged to give in the following cafe, 
 
 Imagine any object which cannot be 
 
 divided or enjoyed in common by two perfons, 
 and which alfo would be of equal advantage to 
 both : Is it not fit, fetting afide all diflant con- 
 fequences, that the firjl pojjcjjor^ or he whofe 
 fkill and labour had procured it, fliould have the 
 ufe and enjoyment of it rather than the other ? 
 
 man general, for fending back to Pyrrhus a deferter, who 
 had offered privately to poifon him for a proper rewarcj 
 from the Romans : And alfo Jrijiides for rejeding, be- 
 caufe not juft, a propofal very profitable to his country, 
 
 made to him hy ThemiJIodes. lb. Lib. III. Chap. XXII. 
 
 To the qucftion : Would not a good man, when ftarving 
 with hunger, force food from another man who is worth- 
 lefs ,'' he anl'wers, by no means j and gives this reafon for 
 it : Non enim mi hi eft vita mea utilior, quam animi talis cfr 
 fe£lio^ neminem ut vioUm commodi vici gratia. — The like an- 
 fwer he gives to the queftion. Whether a virtuous man 
 would, in order to fave his life in a fhipwreck, thnift a 
 worthlefs man from a plank he had feized. Ibid. Chap. 
 
 XXIII. His decifion alfo in the cafe of the famine at 
 
 Rhodes is well known. 
 
 The 
 
268 Of the Siibje6l-m<itter of Virtue, 
 
 The affirmative in this cafe is exceeding ob- 
 vious * J and he who admits it, cannot think 
 that there is no fuch origin of property as I have 
 affigned. 
 
 What may have contributed towards deceiv- 
 ing fome here, is the connexion obfervable in 
 general between cruelty and injuftice 5 but were 
 thefe more infeparable than they are, we Should 
 have no reafon for confounding them. A little 
 reflexion may fliew an unbiaflcd perfon, that the 
 
 * There is now lefs occafion for faying much on this 
 .point, fince Dr. Hutchefon, in his Syjiem of Moral Philofcphy^ 
 not long fince pubhfhed, Book 11. p. 253, t3c, Ch. III. 
 has acknowledged that we immediately approve of private 
 juftice as well as of veracity, without referring them to a 
 fyflem or to publick intereft. But I know not well how to 
 reconcile with this his general method of treating the fub- 
 je61: of juftice and rights, and particularly his faying, in the 
 fame chapter, that the ultimate notion of a rights is that 
 
 which tends to ihs univerfal good, p. 266. His chapter 
 
 on the rights ofnecejfity. Vol. II. may be particularly worth 
 confulting on this occafion ; in which he feems to allow, 
 that fome laws may be fo facred (fuch" as thofe forbidding 
 perjury, abjuring the true God, and particular kinds of 
 treachery and injuftice) that fcarce any pleas of neceffity 
 to prevent impending evils, or obtain fuperior good, will 
 juftify a departure from them. One cannot help confider- 
 ing here, what it is he means by the facrednefs of a law. 
 Surely, not its importance as a means of private or pub- 
 lick good ; for this would make even a doubt on this 
 point ridiculous. 
 
 notion 
 
Of the SiibjeB-matter of Virtue. 269 
 
 notion of an a(5tion's being unjujl is different 
 from that of its being cruel, inhuman^ or unkind. 
 How elfe could the guilt of a cruel adion ap- 
 pear always highly aggravated by its being like- 
 wife imjufl f I am fen fib le it may be re- 
 phed to this, that the injuftice attending an ad 
 of cruelty, adding to the private damage done 
 by it a damage alfo to the publick, makes it 
 appear more cruel, and therefore more vicious. 
 But how can it be imagined that remote conii- 
 derations of ill effeds to the publick (many of 
 which are not immediately difcovered by thofc 
 \m\\o fearch for them) are always adverted to by 
 the bulk of men, fo as to make the fimple and 
 illiterate in fome cafes even better judges of 
 what is jufl: and unjuft, than the learned and 
 ftudious ? Or how can any one think that 
 the guilt of adions producing on the whole 
 damages flridly equal, would not appear ag- 
 gravated, if accompanied with injury and in- 
 juftice? 
 
 An obfervation already made, is no where 
 more obvious and remarkable, than on the fub- 
 jed we are now examining. When all things 
 are alike, and no one can pretend that an objed 
 belongs to him rather than another, the moft: 
 minute circumftance is fufficient to turn the 
 ballance, and to confer a true and full right. 
 5 Thus, 
 
Ijo Of the SiihjeB-matter of Virtue, 
 
 Thus, a remote relation to what Is mypropertyj 
 contiguity, firft fight, and innumerable other 
 particulars in themielves frivolous, will give 
 ground for a claim, which when nothing equi* 
 valent can be oppofed to them, fliall be valid. 
 
 The power a perfon has to transfer his pro- 
 perty, is part of the idea of property, and equally 
 intelligible with the power he has to difpofe of 
 his labour or advice, and to employ them in 
 whatever way and for whatever purpofes he 
 thinks proper. 
 
 It may tend to remove fome further difficul- 
 ties, which may occur to one who confiders this 
 fubjedt, to remark, that amongft near relations 
 and intimate friends, and alfo with refped to 
 ufeful objedts of which there is no fcarcity, the 
 ideas of property are always relaxed in proper-^ 
 tion to the greater intimacy of the relation or 
 friendfhip, and the degree of plenty. The rea- 
 fon in the firfl: cafe, may be chiefly the con- 
 fent of the proprietor, which, where known or 
 reafonably prefumed, always removes the un- 
 lawfulnefs of taking and employing what be-» 
 longs to them. Between married perfons there 
 has been a formal furrender of their refpedive 
 pofTeffions to one another : and between inti- 
 mate friends, though no profeffions may have 
 pafled diredly expreffing fuch a furrender, there" 
 
Of the Suhje£i- matter of Virtue. 271 
 
 is always underftood to prevail that benevolence 
 and union which imply it. In the latter cafe, 
 there is alfo a tacit and prefumed furrender ; for 
 it cannot be conceived that any one fhould be 
 unwilling to reiign, or that he fhould at all at- 
 tach himfelf to any thing, the lofs of which he 
 can immediately and with perfect eafe repair. 
 — — Befides ', enquiries concerning rights are 
 only proper, as far as an objedt is of forae va- 
 lue real or imaginary, mediate or immediate. 
 To afk to whom belongs the property of what 
 is of no value, is trifling and abfurd : It is the 
 fame as to afk who ought to have the ufe of 
 what is of no ufe. Now any particular portion 
 of natural fupplies which are fo common as to 
 bear no price, as water or air, is to be deem.ed 
 really worthlefs, and fo far no objed: of proper- 
 ty. It is not certainly in the leaft wonderful, 
 that objeds procurable without any trouble ; 
 which can be the produce of no one's labour ; 
 which when taken from perfons are always re- 
 placed immediately by others of the fame value ; 
 and a fufficient quantity of which none can 
 want : It is not, I fay, in the leafl wonderful 
 that objeds of this kind fliould be incapable of 
 acquiring the relation of property to particular 
 perfons, and that no injuflice fhould be pofUble 
 to be committed by any feizure of them. No 
 
 objeG- 
 
272 Of the SubjeB-matter of Virtue, 
 
 objedlons then can, with any reafoii, be raifed 
 from hence againft the account that has been 
 given of property. 
 
 The particular rules o^jujlice are various, and 
 there are many inftances in which it is difficult 
 to determine what it requires. Of thefe it is not 
 requifite that I fliould take any notice : But it 
 IS very proper to obferve, that, though I cannot 
 allow publick good to be the fole original of 
 juftice, yet, undoubtedly, it has great influence 
 upon it, and is one important reafon or ground 
 of many of its maxims. It gives a very confi- 
 derable additional force to the rights of men, 
 Jind, in fame cafes, entirely creates them. — 
 Nothing is more evident than that, in order to the 
 happinefs of the world and the being of fociety, 
 poffeffions fliould be ftable, property facred, and 
 not liable, except upon very extraordinary occa- 
 fions, to be violated. In confidering what com- 
 mon intereft requires, we are, belides the imme- 
 diate effeds of adions, to conlidjr what their 
 general tendencies are, what they open the way 
 to, and what would adually be the confequences 
 if all were to ad alike. If under the pretence 
 of greater indigence, fuperfluity to the owner, or 
 intention to give to a worthier perioo. I may 
 take away a man's property, or adjudge it from 
 
 him 
 
Of the SiibjeSi-matter of Virtue, 27^ 
 
 him in a court of juftice; another or all, In the 
 fame circumftances, may do fo j and thus the 
 boundaries of property would be overthrown, 
 and general anarchy, diftruft and favagenefs be 
 introduced. — Men in general, however, as be- 
 fore obferved, do not conllder this ; much lefs 
 is it, by fome views of this kind and thefe only^ 
 that their fentiments on this fubjed: are always 
 regulated. 
 
 The motives to the pradlice of juflice are the 
 fame with thofe to virtuous pradice in general, 
 and will be the fubjeifl of the next chapter. 
 
 I omit taking any particular notice here of 
 jujUce, as it (ignifies the due treatment of beings 
 according to their different moral charaders, or 
 the equitable diflribution of rewards and punifli- 
 ments j becaufe it has been particularly confi- 
 dered elfewhere *. 
 
 Thefe then are the main and leading branches 
 of Virtue. It may not be poffible properly to 
 comprehend all the particular inftances of it 
 under any number of heads. It is by attending 
 to the different relations, circumftances, and qua^ 
 
 * See Chap. IV. 
 
 T llfica- 
 
274 Of the Subje5i-matter of Virtue. 
 
 lifications of beings, and the natures and ten-« 
 dencies of objeds, and by examining into the 
 whole truth of every cafe, that we judge what 
 is or is 7iQt to he done. And as there is an end- 
 lefs variety of cafes, and the fituations of agents 
 and objeds are ever changing ; the univerfal law 
 of reditude, though in the abftrad idea of it 
 always invariably the fame, mufl be continually 
 varying in its particular demands and obliga- 
 tions. 
 
 This leads me to obferve, that however dif- 
 ferent from one another the heads which have 
 been enumerated are, yet, from the very notion 
 of them, as heads of virtue ^ it is plain, that they 
 all run up to one general idea, and Ihould be 
 confidered as only different modifications and 
 views of one original, all-governing law*. It 
 is the fame authority that enjoins, the fame 
 truth and right that oblige, the fame eternal 
 reafon that commands in them all, Virtue thus 
 confidered, is neceffarily o;/^ thing. No one part 
 of it can be feparated from another. 
 
 * Qvrco S\\ Kcfj "Tree* Tc-fV ctpfruv, uttv &t TgoKKoj xeut 
 fBdvloS'ct'Traj itcriv, iv 'VS t/ eiJ^Q- tc/jjtov ata'Tcu tx^O'ij 
 cT/ a eiaiv a.^iicu. Plat, in Men : " So likewife con- 
 '* cerning the virtues ; though they are many and various, 
 *' there is one common idea belonging to them all, by 
 " which they are virtues." 
 
 From 
 
Of the SuhjeSf' matter of Virtue. 2 7 J 
 
 From hence we may learn, by the way, how 
 defedtive and inconfiftent a thing partial virtue 
 is. The fame law that requires piety, requires 
 alfo benevolence, veracity, temperance, juftice, 
 gratitude, &c. All thefe reft on the fame foun- 
 dation, and are alike our indifpenfable duty. He, 
 therefore, who lives in the negledt of any one 
 of them, is as really a rebel againfl: reafon, and 
 an apoftate from rigliteoufnefs and order, as if 
 he negleded them all. The authority of the 
 law in one point is not different from its autho- 
 rity in another, and in all points. To tranfgrefs 
 therefore in one point (I mean habitually and 
 wilfully) is to throw off effedually our alle- 
 giance, and to tramplp on the whole authority 
 of the law. True and genuine virtue muft be 
 uniform and univerfal. Nothing fiiort of an 
 entire good character can avail to our accep- 
 tance. As long as any evil habit is retained, we 
 cannot be denominated the loyal fubjeds of 
 the divine government j we continue under the 
 curfe of guilt ; flaves to vice, and unqualified 
 for blifs. -^- It will come in my way to obferve 
 more to this purpofe hereafter. 
 
 There is another coincidence between the 
 foregoing heads of virtue worth our notice. I 
 mean, their agreeing very often in requiring 
 the fame adions. An ^Qioi jujlice may be alfo 
 
 T 2 'an 
 
2-6 Of the SubjeSi-matfer ofVirUte, 
 
 an a6l of gratitude and beneficence ; and what- 
 ever any of thefe oblige us to, that alfo piety to 
 God requires. Were injujiice, fraud, faljlmd, 
 and a ncgkB o^ private good univerfally preva- 
 lent, what a dreadful flate would the world be 
 in ? and how would the ends of benevolence be 
 defeated ? — No one of the feveral virtues can 
 be annihilated without the mod pernicious con- 
 fequences to all the reft. This, in a good mea- 
 fure, appears from what happens in the prefent 
 flate of things ; but, in the final iffue of things, 
 the harmony between them will be found much 
 more ftri<£l". Whatever exceptions may now 
 happen, if we will look forwards to the whole 
 of our exiilence, the three great principles of the 
 love of God, the love of man, and true felf-love, 
 will always draw us the fame way; and we 
 have the utmoft reafon to aifure ourfelves, that 
 at laft no one will be able to fay he has better- 
 ed hlmfelf by any unjuft adtion, or that, though 
 lefs fcruptdoiis than others, he has been ujore fuc- 
 cefsjid and happy. 
 
 But thoudi the heads of virtue before-men- 
 tioned agree thus far in requiring the fame 
 courfe of adion, yet they often alfo interfere. 
 Though upon the whole, or when confider- 
 ed as making one general fyjletn or plan of con- 
 du5i^ there is a ftridt coincidence between them, 
 
 yet 
 
Of the SuhjeSl-matkr of Virtue. 277 
 
 yet in ex?.niining//i'7j-/t' a^s z.^^ particular cafes^ 
 wc find that they lead us contrary ways. — • 
 This perhaps has not been enough attended to, 
 and therefore I fliall here particularly infift up- 
 on it. 
 
 What creates the difficulty in morals of deter- 
 mining what is right or wrong, in many par- 
 ticular cafes, is chiefly the interference now 
 mentioned in fuch cafes between the different 
 general principles of virtue. — Thus, the purfuit 
 of the happinefs of others is a duty, and fo is the 
 purfuit of private happinefs ; and though, on the 
 whole, thefe are infeparably conneticd, in many 
 particular inftances, one of them cannot be pur- 
 iued without giving up the other. When the 
 publick happinefs is very great, and the private 
 very inconlidcrable, no difficulties appear. We 
 pronounce as confidently, that the one ought to 
 give way to the other, as we do, that either 
 alone ought to be purfued. But u-hcn the for- 
 mer is diminifhed, and the latter incrcafed to a 
 certain degree, doubt aiifes; and we may thus 
 be rendered entirely incapable of determining 
 what we ought to chufe. We have the mod 
 fatisfa(5tory perception, that we ougiu to fludy 
 our own good, and, within certain limits, pre- 
 fer it to that of another ; but who can fiy how 
 far, mark precifely thefe limits, and inform 
 T 3 u» 
 
278 Of the Suhj e5f -matter of Virtue, 
 
 us in all c?Scs of oppofition between tbem^ 
 where right and wrong and indifference take 
 place ? — In like manner ; the nearer attach- 
 ments of nature or friendfliip, the obligations to 
 veracity, fidelity, gratitude, or juflice, may inter- 
 fere with private and publick good, and it is not 
 poflible for us to judge always and accurately, 
 what degrees or circumftanccs of any one of 
 thefe compared with the others, will or will not 
 -cancel its obligation, and judify the violation of 
 it. — It is thus likewife, that the different foun- 
 dations of property give rife to contrary claims, 
 and that fometimes it becomes very hard to fay 
 which of different titles to an object is the heft. 
 — If we examine the various intricate and dif- 
 puted cafes in morality, we fliall, I believe, find 
 that it is always fome interference of this kind, 
 that produces the obfcurity. Truth and right 
 in all circumffances, it is certain, require one 
 determinate way ofacflingj butfo varioufly may 
 different obligations combine with or oppofe each 
 other in particular cafes ; and fo imperfeft are 
 our difcerning faculties, that it cannot but hap- 
 pen, that we fhould be frequently in the dark, 
 and that different perfonsfhould judge differently, 
 according to the different views they have of the 
 feveral moral principles. Nor is this lefs un- 
 avoidable, or more to be wondered at, than that 
 
Of the Sul^jeB-matter of Virtue. 279 
 
 in matters of mere fpeculation, we Oiould be at 
 a lofs to know what is true, when the argu- 
 ments for and againft a propolition appear 
 nearly equal. 
 
 The principles themfelves, it (liould be re- 
 membered, are felf-evident; and to conclude the 
 contrary, or to alTert that there are no moral 
 diflindions, becaufe of the obfcurity attending 
 feveral cafes wherein a competition arifes be- 
 tween the feveral principles of morality, is very 
 unreafonable. It is not unlike concluding, that, 
 becaufe in fome circumftances we cannot, by 
 their appearance to the eye, judge of the dif- 
 tances and magnitude of bodies, therefore we 
 never can j becaufe undeniable principles may 
 be ufed in proving and oppodng particular doc- 
 trines, therefore thefe principles are not unde- 
 niable ; or becaufe it may not in fome inflances 
 be eafy to determine what will be the effe6t of 
 different forces, varioufly compounded and ad:- 
 ing contrary to each other; therefore we can 
 have no aflurance what any of them ading 
 feparately will produce, or fo much as know 
 that there is any fuch thing as force*. 
 
 Thefe 
 
 * How unreafonable would it be to conclude from the 
 
 (difficulty there often is to determine the bounds of equality 
 
 ^i\d inequality between quantities, or from its appearing 
 
 T 4 doubtful 
 
280 Of the SuhjeB- matter of Vtrttie. 
 
 Thefe obfervations may be of fome ufe iii 
 helping us to determine, how far and in what 
 fenfe, morality is capable of demonftration. 
 There are undoubtedly a variety of moral prin- 
 ciples and maxims, which, to gain afient, need 
 only to be underftood : And I fee not why fuch 
 proportions as thefe, '^ gratitude is due to be- 
 " nefadlorsj reverence is due to our Creator 5 
 " it is right to ftudy our own happinefs j ari 
 ^' innocent being ought not to be abfoiutely 
 " miferable ; it is wrong to take from another 
 " the fruit of his labour," and others of the 
 like kind, may not be laid down and ufed as 
 axioms, the truth of which appears as irrefiftibly 
 
 doubtful to us In feme inftanccs, whether two quantities are 
 %hefame or different^ that fuch quantities are in reality nei- 
 ther equal nor unequal, neither the fame nor different, or 
 that in fuch infiances equality and incquafdy, famencfs and 
 difference run into one another ? Juft as unreafonable 
 would it be to conclude, from its being often difficult to 
 define the bounds of right and wrong, or from its appear- 
 ing doubtful to us in fome nice cafes what way of ailing 
 is right or ivrong^ that in fuch cafes, there is no particular 
 way of aiSTing truly and certainly right or wrong, or that 
 right and wrong in thefe cafes lofe their diftindion. The 
 weaknefs of our difcerning faculties cannot in any cafe 
 affect truth. Things themfelves continue invariably the 
 fame, however different our opinions of them may be, or 
 whatever doubts or difficulties may perplex us. 
 
Of the SiibjeSf -matter of Virtue. 2 8 1 
 
 as the truth of thofe which are the foundation 
 of Geometry. But the cafe is very different 
 when we come to consider particular effedls. 
 What is meant by demonftrating morality, can 
 only be the reducing thefe under the general 
 felf-evident principles of morality, or making 
 out with certainty their relation to them. \i 
 would be happy for us were this always pof- 
 fible. We fhculd then be eafed of many pain- 
 ful doubts, know univerfally and infallibly what 
 we Ihould do and avoid, and have nothing to 
 attend to befides conforming our practice to our 
 knowledge. How impradicable this is every 
 .one muft fee. — Were benevolence the only 
 virtuous principle, we could by no means apply 
 it always without any danger of miftake to 
 ad:ion ; becaufe we cannot be more fure, a par- 
 ticular external adion is an infbance of benefi- 
 jcence, than we are of the tendencies and confe- 
 quences of that aftion. The fame holds true up- 
 on the fuppofition that felf-love is the only prin- 
 ciple of virtue. Until we can in every particular 
 know what is good or bad for ourfelvesand others, 
 and difcQver the powers and qualities of obje(fls, 
 and what will refult from any application of 
 them to one another, we cannot always demon - 
 ilrate what either of thefe principles requires, 
 byt mud continue liable to frequent and un- 
 j avoidable 
 
282 Of the Suhjeci'tnatfcr of Virtue. 
 
 avoidable errors in our moral judgment. — In 
 like manner, what our duty to God, the regard 
 due to the properties and rights of others, and 
 gratitude require, we mull: be at a lofs about, as 
 far as in any circumflances we cannot be fure 
 what the will of God is, where property is 
 lodged, or who our benefadors are and what 
 are our obligations to them. -- — - Thus, if we 
 confider the feveral moral principles lingly, or 
 as liable to no limitations from one another, we 
 find that we muft frequently be very uncertain 
 how it is beft to acfl. 
 
 But if we further recoiled, that in order to 
 difcover what is right in a cafe, we ought to ex- 
 tend our views to all the different heads of vir- 
 tue, to examine how far each is concerned, and 
 compare their refpedive influence and demands; 
 and that at the fame time (as juft now explained) 
 they often interfere j a fecond fource of infupe- 
 rable difficulties will appear. It is not alone 
 fufficient to fatisfy us that an action is to be 
 done, that we know it will be the means of 
 good to others : we are alfo to confider how 
 it affeds ourfelves, what it is in regard to juftice, 
 and all the other circumfi:ances the cafe may 
 involve muft be taken in, and weighed, if we 
 would form a truejudgment concerning it. In 
 reality, before we can be capable of deducing 
 
 demoq^ 
 
Of the SuhjeB- matter of Virtue. 2S3 
 
 demonftrably, accurately and particularly, thd 
 whole rule of right in every inftance, we mufl 
 poflefs univerfal and unerring knowledge. It 
 mufl be above the power of any finite under- 
 ftanding to do this. He only who knows all 
 truth, is acquainted with the whole lav»' of truth 
 in all its importance, perfed:ion and extent. 
 
 Once more ; we may, by confiderations of 
 this kind, be helped in forming a judgment of 
 the different fentiments and pradices in feveral 
 points of morality, which have obtained in dif- 
 ferent countries and ages. The foregoing gene- 
 ral principles all men at all times have agreed 
 in. It cannot be fliewn that there have ever 
 been any human beings who have had no ideas 
 of property and juftice, of the reditude of ve- 
 racity, gratitude, benevolence, prudence, and re- 
 ligious wordiip. All the difference has been about 
 particular ufages and pradices, of vvhich it is 
 impoffible but different perfons mufl have diffe- 
 rent ideas, according to the various opinions they 
 entertain of their relation to the univerfally ac- 
 knowledged moral principles, or of their ends, 
 
 connexions, and tendencies. Thofe who 
 
 plead for paflive obedience and non-refiftance, 
 think that to be required by divine command, 
 hy natural juflice, or publick good 3 which 
 
 others, 
 
284 Of the Subje5f-7nait€r of Virtue. 
 
 others, with more reafon, think to be utterly 
 inconliftent with thefe, reproachful to human 
 nature, and deftru(5tive of the very end of magi- 
 ftracy and government. — Thofe nations amongft 
 whom the cufloms of expofing children and aged 
 perfons have prevailed, approved of thefe cuf- 
 toms upon the opinion of their being conducive 
 to the general advantage, and friendly to the fuf- 
 
 ferers themfelves. Self-murder amongfi: fome 
 
 of the antients was juftified and applauded, be- 
 caufe confidcred as a method of extricating 
 themfelves from mifery, which none but men 
 of fuperior bravery could ufe ; and not as, what 
 it truly is, an a(ft of very criminal difcontent and 
 impatience, a defertion of the ftation affigned 
 us by Providence, and a cowardly flight from 
 the duties and difficulties of life. — As far as any 
 have ever approved perfecution, it could only be 
 under the notion of its doing God fervice ; its be- 
 ing an execution of his wrath upon his enemiesj a 
 juft punishment of obflinacy and impiety, and the 
 neceffary means of difcountenancing pernicious 
 errors, and preventing the propagation of what 
 tends to fubvert true religion, and ruin for ever 
 the fouls of men. — The moH: fuperftitious 
 pradices, and ridiculous rights of worfliip, have 
 gained credit and fupport, merely becaufe ap- 
 prehended 
 
Of the SubjeB-?natter ofVirtii'e, 285 
 
 preliended to be pleafing to God, means of pro- 
 curing his favour, and proper expreffions of ho- 
 mage and adoration. 
 
 In thefe, and innumerable other inftances of 
 the like kind, the practical errors of men have 
 arifen plainly from their fpeculative errors ; 
 from their miftaking fads, or not feeing the 
 whole of a cafe j whence it cannot but often 
 happen, that they will think thofe pradlices 
 right, which, if they had jufter opinions of fads 
 and cafes, they would unavoidably condemn. 
 The rules of judging are univerfally the fame. 
 Thofe who approve, and thofe who difapprove, 
 go upon the fame principles. The difagree- 
 ment is produced by the different application of 
 them. The error lies in imagining that to fall 
 under a particular fpecies of virtue, which does 
 not. And it is juft as reafonable to exped dif- 
 agreement here, as in the application of the re- 
 ceived principles of knowledge and affent in ge- 
 neral. Nor would it be more extravagant to 
 conclude that men have not fpeculative reafon, 
 becaufe of the diverfity in their fpeculative opi- 
 nions, than it is to conclude, they have no 
 powers of moral perception, or that there is no 
 fixed ftandardof morality, becaufe of the diver- 
 fity in men's opinions, concerning the fitnefs or 
 unfitnefs, lawfulnefs or unlawfulnefs, of par- 
 ticular 
 
286 Of the SubjeB-jnatter of Virtus. 
 
 tlcular pra5iices. Until men can be raifed above 
 defecftive knowledge, and fecured againft par- 
 tial and inadequate views, they muft continue 
 liable to believe cafes and fadts and the ten- 
 dencies of adions, to be otherwife than they 
 are; and, confequently, to form falfejudgmentc 
 concerning right and wrong. And, till the 
 bulk of mankind can be fecured from the moft 
 grofs delufions and taking up the wildeft opi- 
 nions, they nuift continue proportionably liable 
 to the moft grofsly wrong judgments of this 
 kind. 
 
 It iliould be alfo remembered, that it is not 
 €afy to determine how far our natural fenti- 
 ments may be altered by cuftom, education, and 
 example j or to fay, what degree of undue at- 
 tachment to fome qualities, and vivacity to fome 
 ideas above others, they may give, or how much 
 depravity and blind nefs they may introduce into 
 our moral and intelleclual powers. Notions the 
 moft ftupid may, through their influence, come 
 to be rooted in the mind beyond the poftibility 
 of being ever eradicated, antipathies given toob- 
 je(5ts naturally the moft agreeable, and fenfation 
 itfelf perverted. 
 
 It would be unreafonable to conclude from 
 hence, as fome are difpofed to do, that all 
 we are is derived from education and ha-* 
 
 biti 
 
Of the SuhjeB-matttr of Virtue. 287 
 
 bit ; that we can never tell, when we are 
 free from their influence, and believe on jufl 
 evidence; or that there are no natural fenfa- 
 tions and defires at all, and no principles of 
 truth in themfelves certain and invariable, and 
 forcing univerfal aflent. — Education and ha- 
 bit can give us no new ideas. The power 
 they have fuppoles fomewhat natural as 
 their foundation. Were it not for the natural 
 powers by which we perceive pleafure and 
 pain, good and evil, beauty and deformity, the 
 ideas of them could never be excited in us, 
 any more than the ideas of colour in perfons 
 born bhnd ; and no prejudices could be com- 
 municated to us for or againft particular objeds, 
 under any notions of this kind. — Were there 
 no ideas of proportion, fimilitude, exigence, 
 identity, 6cc. natural and eifential to our un- 
 derflandings, we fhould lofe all capacity of 
 knowledge and judgment, and there would be 
 no poflibility df being miiled, or of being in 
 any way influenced by wrong byafles. Nei- 
 ther, had we no natural ideas of virtue and 
 vice, could we be capable of any approbation 
 ordifapprobation, any love or hatred of aif^ions 
 and characters otherwife than as advantageous 
 or difadvantageous to us. All that cuflom and 
 education can do, is to alter the diredion of 
 I natural 
 
^88 Of the StihjeB-matfer of Virtue. 
 
 natural fentiments and ideas, or to conned them 
 with wrong objeds. — It is that part of our 
 moral conftitution which depends on inftindj 
 that is chiefly liabk to the corruption produced 
 by thefc caufes. The fcnfMe horror at vice,, 
 VLwd attachment to virtue, may be impaired, the 
 confcicnce feared, the nature of particular prac- 
 tices miftaken, the fcnfe of (hame weakened^ 
 the judgment darkened, the voice of reafon 
 flifled, and felf-deception pradifed, to the moft 
 lamentable and fatal degree. Yet the grand 
 lines and primary principles of morality are fo 
 deeply wrought into our hearts, and one with 
 our minds, that tliey will be for ever legible. 
 The general approbation of certain virtues, and 
 diflike of their contraries, muft always remain^ 
 and cannot be erafed but with the deftrudion of 
 all intelledual perception. The moft depraved 
 never fink fo low, as to lofe all moral difcern- 
 meiit, all ideas of right and wrong, judice and 
 injuftice, honour and difhonour. This appears 
 fufficiently from the judgments they pafs on the 
 adions of others ; from the refentment they djf- 
 eover whenever they are them/ehes the obj«ds 
 of ill treatment ; and from the inward unea- 
 finefs and remorfe, which they cannot avoid 
 feeling, and by which, on fome occafions, they 
 are' feverely tormented. All the fatisfadion and 
 
 peace 
 
Of the SubjeB -matter of Virtue. 289 ^ 
 
 peace within themfelves, which they are ca- 
 pable of enjoying, proceeds, in a great meafure, 
 from a ftudied negledt of reflexion, and from 
 their having learned to difguife their vices under 
 the appearance of fome virtuous or innocent 
 qualities j v/hich (hews, that ftill vice is an ob- 
 je(ft io foul and frightful, that they cannot bear 
 the dired: view of it in themfelves, or embrace 
 it in its naked form. But, after all, were every 
 obfervation of this kind wrong, little regard 
 would be due, in thefe enquiries, to what takes 
 place amongft thofe whom we know to be the 
 corrupt and perverted part of the fpecies. Such, 
 moft certainly, cannot be the proper perfons by 
 whom to judge of truth, or from whom to 
 take our eftimate of human nature. 
 
 The fources of error and difagreement now 
 infifted on, would produce very conliderable 
 effeds, though all the particulars of duty and 
 reditude were, in themfelves, plain and eafy to 
 be determined ; for that ought to be very plain 
 indeed, about which great differences would 
 not be occafioned by educations, tempers, views, 
 and degrees of fagacity, fo different as thole 
 of mankind, and inattention, prejudices, and 
 corruptions fo great as thofe which prevail a- 
 mongA them. — But, if we recolledl the ob- 
 U fervations 
 
290 OftJjc SuhjcSl -matter of Virtue. 
 
 fervations made concerning the interference be- 
 tween the p rinciples of morality, and the im- 
 poffibility of a complete and fcientlfick deduc- 
 tion of what we ought to do and avoid in all 
 particular circumftances, we fhall own, that the 
 fubje(St itfelfis involved in real darknefs, and at- 
 tended with infurmountable difficulties, which, 
 therefore, muft be a further ground of much 
 greater and more lafting and unavoidable difa- 
 greements. 
 
 Upon the whole ; what has been faid (eems 
 fufficiently to account for the diverfity of men's 
 fentiments concerning moral matters; and it 
 appears to be reafonable to expedl, that, in the 
 fenfe and manner I have explained, they fliouid 
 be no lefs various, than their fentiments concern- 
 ing any other matters. 
 
 I fhall only add, that though all men, in all 
 cafes, judged rightly what is virtue and right 
 behaviour, there would ftill prevail a very con- 
 fiderable variety in their moral pradtices in dif- 
 ferent ages and countries. The reafon is ob- 
 vious : In different ages and circumftances of 
 the world, the fame pradices often have not the 
 fame connexions, tendencies, and efi"ed:s. The 
 ftate of human affairs is perpetually changing, 
 and, in the fame period of time, it is very dif- 
 I ferent 
 
Of the StibjeB-mafier of Virtue » 291 
 
 ferent in different nations. Amidft this variety 
 and thefe changes, it is impolTible that the fub- 
 jed:- matter of virtue fliould continue prccifely 
 the fame. New obligations muft arife, and the 
 proprieties of condu.<ft mufl: vary, as nev/ con- 
 nexions take place, and new cuftoms, laws, and 
 political conftitutions are introduced. Many 
 practices, very warrantable and proper under 
 one form of government, or in the firft efta- 
 blifhment of a community, or amongft people 
 of a particular genius, and where particular re- 
 gulations and opinions prevail, may be quite 
 wrong in another fl:ate of things, or amongft 
 people of other chara(fl:ers and cuftoms. A- 
 mongft the antient Spartans^ we are told, theft 
 was countenanced. The little value they had 
 for wealth, and many circumftances in the ftate 
 of their affairs, might judly relax their ideas of 
 property, and render every inflance of taking from 
 another what he polfeffed, not the fame that it 
 is now among us. Some virtues or accomplifh- 
 ments may be more ufeful and more difficult, 
 in fome circumftances of countries and govern- 
 ments, than in others j and this may give juft 
 occafion for their being more applauded. Other 
 inflances, more obvious and unexceptionable of 
 what is now meant, may eafily offer themfelves 
 U 2 to 
 
292 Of the SiibjeSi-matter of Virtue, 
 
 to the reader ; and, in confidering the diverfity 
 of fentiments amongft mankind concerning any 
 particular pradices, it will be right, amongft 
 other things, not to overlook the difference in 
 the real ftate of the cafe, which the differences 
 of times and places make, and how far they alter 
 the relation of the pradlices to the general prin- 
 ciples of morality. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
I 293 ] 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Of the Nature and EJfentials of Virtue 
 in Practice, as diflinguifhed from ab- 
 folute Virtue; and^ particularly^ of 
 the Intention accompanymg the Prac- 
 tice of Virtue^ or the Principle of 
 AEiion in a virtuous Agent asfuch, 
 
 BEFORE we come to the difcuflion of 
 the point to be confidered in this chapter, 
 it is neceflary a diftindtion on which what will 
 be faid in it is founded, and to which I have 
 before had occafion to refer, (hould be diftindly 
 explained ; I mean, the' dii1:ind:ion of virtue 
 into ABSTRACT or ABSOLUTE virtuc, and 
 
 PRACTICAL or RELATIVE viltue *. 
 
 It will, I think, plainly appear, that there is a 
 juft ground for this diftindtion : And we cannot, 
 
 * A diftlnclion much the fame with this may be found 
 in the letters between Dr. Sharp and Mrs. Cocklfurn. See 
 .Mrs. Cockburn'i Works, Vol. II. 
 
 U 1 without 
 
294 Of the Principle of ABicn 
 
 without attending to it, have an accurate view 
 of the nature of virtue, or avoid a good deal 
 of embarralilnent and confufion in our enquiries 
 into it. 
 
 Abstract virtue is, mofl properly, a quality 
 of the external adion or event. It denotes what 
 an aftion is, confidered independently of the 
 fenfe of the agent ; or what, i?i itfelf 2Ln6. abfo- 
 lutely, it is riglit jucb an agent, in Juch circum- 
 ftances, (liould do ; and what, if he judged 
 truly, he would judge he ought to do. - 
 V K ACT ic Ah virtue J on the contrary, has a ne- 
 ceflary relation to, and dependence upon, the 
 opinion of the agent concerning his acl:ions. It 
 lignifies what, it is true he ought to do, upon 
 fuppofitio?i of his having fuch ar.d fuch fenti- 
 ments. - — In a fenfe, not entirely different from 
 this, good adions have been by fome divided 
 into fuch as are materially good, and fuch as 
 are formally fo. • — Moral agents are liable to 
 miftake the circumftances they are in, and, 
 confequendy, to form erroneous judgments con- 
 cerning their own obligations. This fuppofes, 
 that thefe obligations have a real exillence, in- 
 dependent of their judgments. But, when they 
 are in any manner mif!:aken, it is not to be ima- 
 gined, that then nothing remains obligatory; 
 for there IS a fenfe in which it may be faid, that 
 
 what 
 
in a virtuous Agent, 29c 
 
 what any being, in the fincerity of his heart, 
 thinks he ought to do, he indeed ought to do, 
 and would be juftly blaraeable if he omitted to 
 do, though contradictory to what, in the former 
 itn{^ is his duty. •— It would "be trifling to ob- 
 je<3; to this, that it implies, that an adion may, 
 at the fame time, be both right and wrong ; for 
 it implies this only, as the rightnefs and wrong- 
 nefs of adions arc confidered in different views. 
 A magiftrate who fliould adjudge an eftate to 
 the perfon whofe right il appears to be, upon a 
 great preponderation of evidence, would certainly 
 do right in one fenfej though, fliould the oppofite 
 claimant, after all, prove to be the true proprie- 
 tor, he would as certainly do wrong in another 
 fenfe. 
 
 This diftinftion indeed cannot be rejeded, 
 without afferting, that whatever we think things 
 to be, that, and nothing elfe, they are -, that, 
 we can, in no fenfe, ever do wrong, without in- 
 curring guilt and blame ; that while we follow 
 our judgments, we cannot ^rr in our condud; 
 that though, through involuntary miftake, aman 
 breaks the moft important engagements, hurts his 
 bed friends, or beftows his bounty on the moft 
 worthlefs objedsj though, through religious zeal 
 and ^ blind fupcrftition, he commits the moft 
 Ihocking barbarities, imagining he hereby does 
 U 4 God 
 
296 X)f the Principle of ABion 
 
 God fervice, and, from an apprehenfion of their 
 lawfulnefs, pradices violence and deceit j there 
 is yet no fenfe in which he contradids redlitude, 
 or in which it can be truly affirmed he ads 
 atnlfs, and inconfiftently with the relations in 
 which he ftands. Thus the difference between an 
 enlightened and an erroneous confcience would 
 vanifh entirely 5 no miftake of right would be 
 poffible ; all the fancies of men concerning 
 their duty would be alike juft, and the moft ig- 
 norant as well acquainted with the fubjed-mat- 
 ter of virtue, as the moft knowing. — But to 
 what purpofe is it to multiply words on this oc- 
 cafion, when it is fo apparent, that all enquiries 
 after our duty, all inftrudions in it, all delibe- - 1 
 rations how it becomes us to adt in the various 
 circumftances into which we are caft, and the ve- 
 ry expreflions, doing rights and perceiijing rights 
 imply ohjeSiive reSlitude^ or fomething feparate 
 from, and independent of the mind and its per- 
 ceptions, to be enquired after and perceived ? 
 
 It may be worth our notice here, that froni 
 knowing the nature and capacities of a being, 
 his relations, connexions, and dependencies, and 
 the confequences of his adlions j the whole of 
 what he ought to do, in ih^jirji fenfe, may be 
 determined, v/ithout once attending to his private 
 
 judgment. 
 
in a virtuous Agent, 297 
 
 judgment. But, in order to determine this in the 
 latter fenfe, the fingle point necefTary to be confi- 
 dered is this judgment; or the real apprehenfions 
 of the being concerning what he does, at the time 
 of doing it. — The former requires the greateft 
 variety of circumftances to be taken into conil- 
 deration, and is no more poflible to be by us 
 univerfally and unerringly determined, than the 
 whole truth on any other fubjedt. The latter, 
 on the contrary, has few difficulties attending it. 
 The greateft degree of doubt about the former, 
 may leave us in no fufpence about this. Our 
 rule is to follow our confciences fteadily and 
 faithfully, after we have taken care to inform 
 them in the beft manner we can j and, where 
 we doubt, to take the fafeji fide, and not to 
 venture to do any thing concerning which we 
 have doubts, when we know there can be 
 nothing amifs in omitting it ; and, on the con- 
 trary, not to omit any thing about which we 
 doubt, when we know there can be no harm 
 in doing it. But, if we doubt whether the per- 
 formance, and alfo whether the omiffion is right; 
 in thefe circumftances, when the doubts on 
 both iides are equal, and we cannot get better 
 information, it becomes praBically indifferent 
 which way we act. When there is any pre- 
 
 pondcrancy, 
 
298 Of the 'Principle of ABion 
 
 ponderancy, it is evident we ought to take that 
 way, in which there feems to us the leaft dan- 
 ger of going a-ftray. — It is happy for us, that 
 our title to the charader of virtuous bein<T^s de- 
 
 o 
 
 pends, not upon the juflnefs of our opinions, or 
 the conftant cbjeBive reditude of all wc do ; 
 but upon the conformity of our actions to the 
 fincere convi<£tion of our minds. A fufpicion 
 of the contrary, were it to prevail, u'ould prove 
 of very bad confequence, by cauling us to dif- 
 truft our only guide, and throwing us into a 
 ftate of endlefs and inextricable perplexity. In 
 this ftate it would be no relief to us to refolve up^- 
 on total inaction, as not knowing but that, when 
 ading with the moft upright views, we may be 
 the moft blame- worthy j for fuch a refolution 
 might itfelf prove the greateft cripie, and fix 
 upon us the greateft guilt. 
 
 I have applied the epithets real and abjolute 
 to the firft kind of virtue, for an obvious reafon ; 
 but care fliould be taken not to imagine, that 
 the latter is not alfo, in a different fenfe and 
 view, real virtue. It is truly and abfolutely 
 right, that a being fhould do what the reafon of 
 his mind, though perhaps unhappily mifinform- 
 ed, requires of him ; or what, according to his 
 beft judgment, he is perluaded to be the will of 
 
 God. 
 
i?t a 'virtuous AgenU 299 
 
 God. If he negleds this, he becomes necefla- 
 rily and juftly the objed: of his own diflike, and 
 forfeits all pretenlions to integrity *. 
 
 Thefe 
 
 * How abfard then are all claims to dominion over 
 confcience ? Such a dominion is little to the purpofe of 
 thofe who have pleaded for it, if it does not mean a pow- 
 er or right to oblige perfons to a£l againft their private 
 judgment, that is, a right to oblige perfons to do wrong. 
 Every man ought to be left to follow his confcience be- 
 caufe then only he adis virtuoufly. Where the plea of 
 confcience is real, (and who but the ftarcher of hearts can 
 judge how far in general it is or is not fo ?) it is wicked 
 to lay reftraints upon it. For it is violating the rights of 
 what is above all things facred, attempting to make hypo- 
 crites and knaves of men, and eftablifiiing human authority 
 on the ruins of divine. — All that can ever be right, is 
 necellary felf- defence, when the confciences of men lead 
 them to hurt others, to take away their liberty, or to fub- 
 vert the publick. — It is indeed no lefs a contradi^ion to 
 common Jenfe, than it is impietyy for any to pretend to a 
 power to oblige their fellow- men to worfnip God in any 
 manner different from that which is moft agreeable to 
 their confciences ; that is, in any way but that in which 
 alone it is acceptable and right for them to do it. — The 
 civil magiftrate goes out of his province, when he inter- 
 pofes in religious differences. His office is only to fecure 
 the liberties and properties of thofe under his jurifdiition j 
 to protect all good fubjed^s ; to preferve the peace amongft 
 the different parties, and to hinder them from encroaching 
 on one another. 
 
 I hope 
 
500 Of the Principle of ASiion 
 
 Thefe different kinds of reditude have fuch 
 an affinity that we are very prone to confound 
 them in our thoughts and diicourfes j and a par- 
 ticular attention is neceffary, in order to know 
 when we fpeak of the one or the other. It is 
 hardly poffible in writing on n^orality, to avoid 
 blending them in our language, and frequently 
 including both, even in the fame fentence. But 
 a careful and ingenuous perfon may fee when, 
 
 I hope I fliall be excufcd, if I take this opportunity to 
 add, that we have not much lefs than demonftration, that 
 God will not and cannot grant, to any particular men or 
 fet of men, a power to direfl the faith and pradices of 
 others in religious matters, without making them, at the 
 lame time, infallible and impeccable. For what, otherwife, 
 mufl fuch a grant ifi'ue in ? What would it be, befides a 
 grant ©f power to miflead and deceive ? What errors, 
 what corruptions, what defolation do we know have been 
 actually produced by the pretence to it without thefe qua- 
 lifications ? — It is a part of the peculiar happinefs of this 
 nation, that principles of thiy kind have been (o well ex- 
 plained, and are now fo much received in it. May they 
 be flill more received, and better underftood ; and our con- 
 ftitution and laws, already the befl: in the world, grow to 
 a perfe<51: conformity to them. May the number of thofe 
 who are forgiving up their liberty and independency, and 
 fubmitting to human authority in religious matters, be 
 continually decreafmg ; and the joyful time foon come, 
 when all flavifh principles (hall be univerfally contemned 
 and detefted. 
 
 and 
 
in a virtuous Agent. 301 
 
 and how this is done, and generally, if not al- 
 ways, diftinguifh and feparate them. — What is 
 paft of this work has related chiefly to the for- 
 mer. It would be too tedious minutely to ob- 
 ferve how far the other has been concerned, or 
 to point out thofe parts of what has been faid, 
 which are moft properly applicable to it. E- 
 nough, it is prefumed, has been here faid to 
 enable any one to judge of this for himfelf, as 
 well as to prepare the way for that to which I 
 am now to proceed ; namely, explaining parti- 
 cularly the nature and eflentials of practical 
 *uirtue. 
 
 What firft of all offers itfelf here, is, that 
 praSiical virtue fuppofes Liberty. — Whe- 
 ther all will acknowledge this or not, it cannot 
 be omitted. 
 
 The true idea of liberty is the fame with that 
 oiijdiing and determining: And it is felf-evident, 
 that where all adive powers are wanting, there 
 can be no moral capacities. A being who can-^ 
 not aSi at all, moft certainly cannot ad: virtu- 
 oufly or vicioufly. Now, as far as it is true of 
 a being that he aBs^ fo far he muft himfelf be 
 the caufe of the adion, and therefore not ne- 
 ceflarily determined to ad. Let any one try to 
 put a fenfe on the expreiTionsj I willy I aci, 
 
 which 
 
302 Of the Principle of ABion 
 
 which is confident with fuppofing, that the vo- 
 lition or adion proceeds, not from myfelf, but 
 from fomewhat elfe. Virtue fuppofes determi- 
 nation, and determination fuppofes a determiner j 
 and a determiner that determines not himfelf, is 
 a palpable contradidion. Determination requires 
 an efficient caufe. If this caufe is the being 
 himfelf, I plead for no more. If not, then it is 
 no longer his determination j that \%^he is no long- 
 er the determiner, but the motive, or whatever 
 elfe any one will maintain to be the caufe of 
 the determination. To alk, what efFedts our 
 determinations, is the very fame with afking 
 who did an action, after being informed that 
 fuch a one did it. In fhort -, who rauft not feel 
 the abfurdity of faying, my volitions are produced 
 by 2i foreign caufe, that is, are not 7mne ; I de- 
 termine vohmtarih\ and yet ncceffarily f 
 
 We have, in truth, the fame conllant and ne- 
 cefTary confcioufnefs of liberty, that we have 
 that we think, chufe, will, or even exift j and 
 whatever to the contrary men may fay, it is im- 
 poxTible for them in earned to think they have 
 no active, felf-moving powers, and are not the 
 caufes of their own volitions, or not to afcribe 
 to themfehes, what they mull: be confcious they 
 think and do. 
 
 But, 
 
in a -vi fatuous Agent, 303 
 
 But, not to enter much further into a quef- 
 tion which has been (Irangely darkened by fal- 
 lacious reafonings, and where men are fo apt 
 to fall into a confudon of ideas; I would only 
 obferve, that it is hard to fay what virtue and 
 vice, commendation and blame, mean, if they 
 do not fuppofe agency^ voluntary motion, free 
 choice, and an abfolute dominion over our re- 
 folutions *. — It has always been the gene- 
 ral^ and it is evidently the natural fenfe of 
 mankind, that they cannot be accountable for 
 what they have no power to avoid. No- 
 thing can be more glaringly abfurd, than ap- 
 plauding or reproaching ourfelves for what we 
 were no more the caufes of, than our own be- 
 ings, and what it was no more poffible for us to 
 prevent, than the returns of the feafons, or the 
 revolutions of the planets. The whole lan- 
 guage of men, all their practical fentiments and 
 fchemes, and the whole frame and order of 
 human affairs, are founded upon the notion of 
 liberty, and are utterly inconfiftent with the 
 fuppolition, that nothing is made to depend on 
 ourfelves, or that our purpofes and determina- 
 tions are not fubjeded to our own command, 
 
 * Motus enim voluntarius earn naturam in feipfo cont'met, ut 
 fit in nojira potejiatey nobifque par eat. Cic. de fato. 
 
 but 
 
304 0/ ^^^ Principle of Action 
 
 but the refult of an invincible, natural ne- 
 
 ceffity. 
 
 If, upon ftii6t examination, any fliould find, 
 as probably feveral may, that what they mean 
 by neceffity is not inconfiftent with the ideas of 
 agency zwA f elf -determination^ there will be little 
 occafion for farther difputes with them ; and 
 that liberty, which I infift upon as efTential to 
 morality, will be acknowledged ^ nor will it be 
 at all neceflary to take into confideration, or to 
 pay much regard to any difficulties relating * ta> 
 
 * With refpedl to this, however, one may obferve, that 
 there feems to be very little myfterious in a man's chufing 
 to follow his judgment and defires, or in his actually doing 
 what he is inclined to do ; which is what we mean when 
 we fay, motives determine him : Though, at the fame 
 time it be very plain, that motives can have no concern in 
 effeSiing his determination, or that there is no phyjical coti' 
 nexion between his judgment and views, and the actions 
 confequent upon them. What would be more abfurd 
 than to fay, that our inclinations a£l upon us, or compel 
 us ; that our defires and fears put us into motion, or pro- 
 duce our volitions j that is, are agents F And yet, what is 
 more conceivable, than that they may be the occaftom 
 
 of our putting ourfclves into motion? That there 
 
 js an efTential and total difference between the ideas of an 
 tfficient caufe and an account or occajion^ it would be trifling 
 to go about to prove. What fenfe would there be in fay- 
 ing, that the fituation of a body, which may properly be 
 the occafion or account of its being flruck by another body, 
 is the efficient of its motion, or its impeller ? 
 
 I the 
 
m a virtuous Agerd. ^^^ 
 
 the nature of that influence we commonly a^ 
 fcribe to motives. 
 
 Secondly, IntelUgence is another requliite of 
 pradical morality. Some degree of this is ne- 
 celTary to the perception of moral good and evil j 
 and without this perception, there can be no 
 moral agency. It muft not be imagined, that 
 liberty comprehends or infers intelligence ; for 
 all the inferior orders of beings poflefs true li** 
 berty. Self-motion and aftivity, of fome kind, 
 are elTential to every confcious, living being. 
 There feems no difference between wanting all 
 fpontaneity, and being quite inanimate. •— But 
 though liberty does not fuppofe intelligence, yet 
 intelligence plainly fuppofes liberty. For what 
 has been now affirmed of all fenfitive natures, is 
 much more unexceptionably true of intelligent 
 natures. A thinking, defigning, reafbniiig be- 
 ing, without liberty, without any inward, fpon- 
 taneous, adive, felf-direding principle, is what 
 no one can frame any idea of. So unreafonable 
 are all objedions to the making of free crea- 
 tures J and fo abfurd to afk, why men were 
 made fo. But, 
 
 ^hirdlyy The main point now to be infifted 
 
 on is, " that an agent cannot be juflly denomi- 
 
 ** nated virtuous , except he a6ts from a confci* 
 
 ^^ oufnefs of reditude, and with a regard to ic 
 
 X " aa 
 
3o6 Of the Principle of ASlion 
 
 *' as his rule and endl' Though this obferva- 
 tion appears to me undoubtedly true, and of 
 the greatefl: importance on this fubjedt j yet I 
 know there are many, whofe afTent to it will 
 not be eaiily gained -, and, therefore, it will be 
 proper that I (liould endeavour particularly to 
 explain and prove it. 
 
 Liberty and Reafon conftitute the capacity of 
 virtue. What I have now faid is what gives it 
 aSiual being in a charader. — The reader muft 
 not here forget the diftindion before explained. 
 To mere theoretical virtue, or (if I may fo fpeak) 
 the abflrad: reafons and fitneffes of things, 
 praife-worthinefs is not applicable. It is the 
 adual conformity of the wills of moral agents 
 to what they fee or believe to be the fitneffes of 
 things, that is the objedlof our praife and efteem. 
 One of thefe may, perhaps, very properly be 
 called the wV/^/f of the aBion^ in contradiftindion 
 from the other, which may be called the 'virtue 
 of the agent. To the former, no particular in- 
 tention is requifite j for what is objeBively right, 
 may be done from any motive good or bad -, 
 and, therefore, ■ from hence alone, no merit is 
 communicated to the agent ; nay, it is con- 
 fiftent with the greateft guilt. Gn the contra- 
 ry, to the other the particular intention is what 
 iS moft effential. When this is good, there is 
 
 fo 
 
m a 'virtuous Agent, 307 
 
 lb far virtue, whatever is true of the matter of 
 the adion ; for an agent, who does what is 
 objeBively ivrojig^ may often be entitled to com- 
 mendation. 
 
 It may poflibly be of feme advantage to- 
 wards elucidating this matter, to conceive that 
 only as, in ilriil: propriety, done by a moral agentj 
 which he intends to do. What ^rifes beyond 
 or contrary to his intention, however it may 
 eventually happen, or be derived, by the con- 
 nexion of natural caufes, from his determina- 
 tion, fhould not be imputed to him. Our own 
 determinations alone are, mofl: properly, our ac^ 
 tions. Thefe alone we have abfolute power over, 
 and are immediately and truly the caules of, and 
 refponfible for. It is at lead worth confidering, 
 in what different fenfes, we are faid to do what 
 we did, and what we did not defign to do. The 
 cafuality or efficiency implied in thefe cafes, is 
 certainly far from being the fame. — There 
 feems indeed fcarcely any thing more evident, 
 than that there are two views or fenfes, in which 
 we commonly confider and fpeak of adlions* 
 Sometimes we mean by them, the determi- 
 nations or volitions themfelves of a being, 
 of which the intention is an effential part ; 
 And fometimes we mean the real event, 
 or external effedl produced. Vv^ith refpedt to a 
 X 2 being 
 
3o3 Of the principle of ABlon 
 
 being pofTe fled of infinite knowledge and power, 
 thefe are always coincident. What fuch a be- 
 ing defigns and determines to do, is always the^ 
 fame with the adual event produced. But we 
 have no reafon to think this is true of any infe- 
 rior beings. 
 
 In further explaining and proving the point 
 I have now ih view, it v/ill be proper to fliew, 
 " that the perception of right and wrong does 
 " excite to a6lion, and is alone a fufficient /?r/?2- 
 " ciple of ad;ion j" after which we iliall be bet- 
 ter prepared for judging, " how far, without it, 
 " there can be praBical 'virtue," 
 
 Experience, and the reafon of the thing, wiil, if 
 we attentively confult them, foon fatisfy us about 
 the firfl: of thefe. All m.en continually feel, that 
 the perception of right and wrong excites to 
 adion ; and it is fo much their natural and un- 
 avoidable fenfe that this is true, that there are 
 few or none, who, upon having it at firfl pro- 
 pofed to them, would not wonder at its being 
 queftioned. There are many fuppofable cafes 
 and circumfcances, in which it is impoflible to 
 aflign any other reafon of adion . Why would 
 we, all circumftances on both fides being the 
 fame, help a benfaSior rather than a ft ranger -, 
 or, one to whom we had given promifes, and 
 made pj;oikirions of kindnefs, rather than one 
 
 to 
 
ifj a 'Virtuous Agent. 309 
 
 to whom we were under no engagements ? Why 
 would any good being chufe fuch methods to 
 •accomplifh his end as were confident ^nih faith- 
 fulnefs and veracity^ rather than fuch as implied 
 deceit 2Lnd falJJjood , though he knew the iatter 
 to be equally fafe, or, in a great degree, even 
 more fafe, more eafy and expeditious ? — Is it 
 only for our own fakes, or out of a view to pub- 
 lic utility, that we ofcey and honour the Deity ? 
 
 How are we to account for a man's 
 
 refraining from fecret fraud, or his pradiiing 
 truth, linceriiy, equity, juftice, and honour, in 
 ■many particular inftances of their interfering, 
 or feeming to interfere, with private and publick 
 good, as well as with his ftrongeft natural de- 
 (ires ? — Let any one, for example, try what 
 rcafons he can find from benevolence or felf-in- 
 tereft, why an honeft man, though in want^ 
 though fure of being never fufpeded, would not 
 fecure a good eftate, eafe and plenty to himfelf, 
 and relief and aid to his neighbours, by fecreting 
 or interpolating; a will by which it of right de- 
 volved on a worthlefs perfon, already fuffici- 
 ently provided for, and who, in all likelihood, 
 would ufe it only to make himfelf and others 
 miferable ? What could influence, in fuch and 
 many other like circumiiances, befidcs 2ifenfe of 
 X 3 duty 
 
3 1 o Of the Principle of AStlon 
 
 duty and honcjiy? Or what other unlverfal mo« 
 tivecan there be to the pradice of juftlce? 
 
 But further, it feems extremely evident, that 
 excitement belongs to the very ideas of moral 
 right and wrong, and is eflentially infeparable 
 from the appreheniion of them. What in a 
 former chapter has been faid of obligatioUy is 
 enouo-h to fhew this. — When we are confcir- 
 ous that an adion \^ ft to be done, or that it 
 ought to be done, it is not conceivable that we 
 can remain uninfuenced^ or want a motive to 
 action *. It would be to little purpofe to argue 
 much with a perfon, who would deny this ^ or 
 who would maintain, that the hecomingnef or 
 reafonablenefi of an adion is no reafon for doing 
 it ; and the immorality or unreafonablenefs of an 
 adion, no reafon againjl doing it. An affedion 
 or inclination to rectitude cannot be feparated 
 from the view of it-j-. The knowledge of 
 
 v/hat 
 
 * Opiifni qu'ique permulia, oh earn unam caufam^ fac'iunt^ 
 quia decet^ quia re£lum, quia honejium e/l. Cic. de finibus, 
 Lib. ii. 
 
 t Thofe who own, that an adion may not be lefs 
 right, though certain to produce no over-ballance of 
 private pleafure j and yet affert that nothing, but the 
 profpecl of this to be obtained, can influence the will, 
 inuft alfo maintain, that the mere rightnefs of an adion. 
 
m a "oirtiiom Agent, 311 
 
 what is right, without any approbation of it, or 
 concern to praftife it, Is not conceivable or pof^ 
 lible. And this knowledge will certainly be at- 
 tended with correfpondait^ aBual praBice^ when- 
 ever there is nothing to oppofe it. Why a 
 reafonable being adts rtafonably ; why he has a 
 difpofition to follow reafon, and is not without 
 averiion to wrongs why he chufes to do what 
 he knows he JJjoidd do, and cannot be wholly 
 indifferent, whether he abdains from that which 
 he knows is evil and criminal, and not to be 
 donCj are qucfllons which need not, and which 
 delcrve not to be anfwered. 
 
 Inllinds, therefore, as before obferved in other 
 inftanccs, are not neceffary to the choice of ends. 
 
 or the confideration that it is fit to be done, apart from 
 the confideration of the pleafure attending or following 
 it, would leave us quite uninclineJ, and indifFerent 
 to the performance or omilHon of it. This is fo in- 
 conceivable, that thofe whofe principles oblige them to 
 admit it, cannot, one would think, really mean by right 
 and wrong the fame with the reft of mankind. That, 
 fuppofing virtue to denote any thing diftinct from pleafure 
 and independent of it, it is poflibleto conceive^ that a virtuous 
 aflion may not produce an overballance of private pleafure ; 
 or, which anfwers the purpofe as well, that an agent may 
 believe this of an action to be done by him, which yet he 
 does not the lefs confider as virtuous, it would be trifling 
 to fay any thing to prove: But this it is necefTary thofe, 
 whofe opinion I have now in view, (hould deny. 
 
 X 4 The 
 
-^12 Of the Primipk of AStion 
 
 The Intelledual nature is its own law. It has, 
 within itfelf, a fpring and guide of adion which 
 it cannot fupprefs or reject. Rectitude is itfelf 
 an end, an ultimate end, an end fuperior to all 
 other ends, governing, directing and limiting 
 them, and whofe exiftence and influence de- 
 pend on nothing arbitrary. It prefides over all. 
 Every appetite and faculty, every inftind: and 
 will, and all nature are fuhjedted to it. To ad: 
 from affedion to it, is to ad with light, and 
 convidion, and knowledge. But ading from 
 inflind is fo far ading in the dark, and follow- 
 ing a blind guide. Inftind dishes and precipi- 
 tates ; but reafon commands. The impulfes of 
 injiindi we may refifl, without doing any vio^ 
 lence to ourfelves. Our higheft merit and per- 
 fedion often confift in this. The didates of 
 reafon we can, ifi no inftance^ contradid, with- 
 out a fenfe of fliame, and giving our beings a 
 wound in their moft effentiai and fenfible part. 
 The experience we have of the operations of 
 the former, is an argument of our imperfedion, 
 and meannefs, and low rank. The other pre- 
 vails mod in the higher ranks of beings. It is 
 the chief glory of God, that he is removed in- 
 finitely from the poffibility of any other principle 
 gf adion. 
 
 It 
 
in a virtuous Agent. 313 
 
 It being therefore apparent that the determi- 
 nation of our minds concerning the nature of 
 actions as morally good or bad, fuggefts a mo- 
 tive to do or avoid them ; it being aho plain 
 that this determination or judgment, though of- 
 ten not the prevailing, yet is always the firft, 
 the proper, and mod natural and intimate fpring 
 and oruide of the adions of reafonable beings : 
 Let us now enquire, whether it be not further 
 the only fpring of adion in a reafonable being, 
 as far as he can be deemed morally good and 
 worthy ; whether it be not the ojily principle 
 from which all adions flow which eno-ao^e our 
 eflcem of the agents j or in other words, whe- 
 ther virtue be not itfelf the end of a virtuous 
 agent as fuch. 
 
 If we coniider that alone as mofl properly 
 done by an agent, which he defigm to do, and 
 that what was no way an objed of his defign 
 is not ftridly imputable to him, or at leaft can- 
 not give him any claim to merit or praife, it will 
 follow that he cannot be properly faid topradife 
 virtue who does not defign to pradife it, to whom 
 it is no objed of regard, or who has it not at all 
 in his view. It feems indeed as evident as we 
 can wifh any thing to be, that an adion which 
 is under no influence or diredion from a moral 
 judgment^ cannot be in the pradical fenfe moral-y 
 I that 
 
314 Of the Principle of Adfion 
 
 that when virtue is net purfued or intended, 
 there is no virtue in the agent. Morally good 
 intention, without any idea of moral good, is a 
 contradi(5tion. To ad: virtuoufly is to obey or 
 follow reafon: But can this be done without 
 knowing and defigning it ? 
 
 I know, indeed, that according to the ac- 
 count fome have given of virtue, it pre-fuppofes 
 an intention in the agent different from that to 
 itfelf, becaufe, according to this account, it de- 
 notes only the emotion ariling in us upon 
 obferving adions flowing from certain motives 
 and affedions, and, in the original conftitution 
 of our natures, is applicable alike to adions 
 flowing from any motives. Were this account 
 true, it would be a grofs fallacy to fuppofe that 
 a fenfe of virtue and duty, or any regard to mo- 
 ral good, can ever influence to adion. But this 
 confequencc cannot be regarded by one who 
 believes not the opinion which implies it; 
 nor is it with me a fmall objedion to this opi- 
 nion, that fuch a confequence arifes from it. 
 
 If a perfon can juftly be ftyled virtuous and 
 praife wortby^ when he never refieds upon vir- 
 tue, and the reafon of his adting is not taken 
 from any conlideration of it, intelligence cer- 
 tainly is not neceflary to moral agency, and 
 brutes are full as capable of virtue and moral 
 
 merit 
 
in a 'virtuous Agent, 3 1 ^ 
 
 riierit as we are. — Befides, might not a perfon 
 with equal reafon be reckoned piiblick fpiritedy 
 who without any view to publick good, fliould 
 accidentally make a difcovery that enriches his 
 country ? May not that courfe of behaviour 
 be as well ftyled ambitious , to which tlie love of 
 honour and power did not excite j or thztfelfi/Jj^ 
 which did not aim at private intereft; or that 
 friendly, which was attended with no friendly 
 intention * ? 
 
 I have the pleafure to find the author of the 
 CharaBeriJIicks agreeing with me in thefe fen- 
 timents. " In this cafe alone, fays he, it is we 
 '* call any creature worthy or virtuous, when 
 *' it can have the notion of a publick intereft, 
 " and can attain to the fpeculation or fenfe of 
 •** what is morally good or ill, admirable or 
 " blameable, right or wrong. For though we 
 ^* may vulgarly call an ill horfe vicious, yet we 
 " never fay of a good one, nor of any mere 
 " ideot or changeling, though ever fo good- 
 *' natured, that he is worthy or virtuous. So 
 
 * F.r/ yeta aim) h zvr/^jf.^&iA nhQ-. 'Ariji. Ethic. Lib. vi. 
 Cliap. 5. — atli Ketj' a.c.i7iiv 'sr^a'^tif KUhcfi, Kttt tb x«Ak 
 
 IViKcL tTs cT/Af Oli //M J^t<» H /^ill TK /.clKh kviy.a, AKKA ^lA 
 
 in-AeLKK^v etniu.v, <s;c i^iv^ioi!!^, clKaa c/.K^.Q- 7l( fi)&il0^iTai. 
 Ibid. Lib. iv. Chap. i. And to the fame purpofu in ma- 
 py other places. 
 
 I '' that 
 
3 1 6 Of the Principle of Aoiion 
 
 *' that if a creature be generouSj kind, confiant, 
 " and companionate, yet if he cannot refledlon 
 *' what he himielf does or fees others do, fo as 
 " to take notice of what is worthy and honeO", 
 *' and make that notice or conception of worth 
 " and honefty to be an objed of his affedion, 
 " he has not the character of being virtuous ; 
 " for thus and no otherwife he is capable of 
 " having a fenfe of right or wrong, &c." See 
 the Enquiry^ Part II. Sed. III. And elfewhcrc 
 he obferves that, " if that v.'hich reftrains a per- 
 " fon and holds him to a virtuous-like beha- 
 '* viour be no affedion towards virtue or gcod- 
 *' nefs itfelf, but towards private good merely, 
 *' he is not in reality the more virtuous." Ibid. 
 Sed. IV. * 
 
 But 
 
 * " Others may putfue different forms and fix their 
 " eyes on different fpecies, as all men do on one or other ; 
 ** the real honeft man, however plain he appears, has 
 *' that higheft fpecies, honcfly itielf, in view." Characl. 
 Vol. III. page 34. See alfo page 66. " But as foon as 
 " he comes to have afFeclion towards what is morally 
 *' good, and can like or afFeci: fuch good for its own 
 *' fake, as good and amiable in itfelf, then i^s he in 
 *' fome degree good and virtuous, and not till then." — 
 This truly noble author has no where exprefTed clearly 
 and diflindly his fentiments concerning the original of our 
 ideas of virtue 3 but from fome expreflions he has ufed, it 
 
 fecms 
 
in a 'virtuous J^gent* 317 
 
 But it may be aiked, " is not Betiewlence o. 
 " virtuous principle ? And do we not approve 
 *' all actions proceeding from it ?" — I anfwer. 
 Benevolence, it has been (hewn, is of two kinds, 
 rational and inflinBive. 'Rational benevolence en- 
 tirely coincides with reditude, and the adtions 
 proceeding from it, with the adions proceeding 
 from a regard to reditude. And the fame is to 
 be faid of all thofe affedions and defires, which 
 would arife in- a nature as intelligent. It is not 
 poffible that endeavours to obtain an end which, 
 as reafonable, we cannot but love and chufe, 
 fhould not be by reafon approved -, or that what 
 is neceffarily defirabk to all beings, (hould not be 
 alfo necejfarily right to be pursued. 
 
 feems probable that he was for a furer and deeper foon- 
 dation of morals, than either arbitrary will or implanted 
 fenfes. ^ee Vol. II. pag. 36, 43, 49, 50, 53, 257. — 
 Vol. III. page 33. — Kis account of virtue in his Enquiryy 
 is, indeed, on feveral accounts extremely deficient, parti- 
 cularly on account of his limiting virtue fo much as in 
 general he feems to do, to the cultivation of natural af- 
 fection and benevolence ; and overlooking entirely, as 
 Dr. ButJer obferves, the authority belonging to virtue and 
 the principle of reflexion. Yet he has, I think, made 
 many excellent obfervations on virtue and providence, 
 on life and manners ; nor can it be enough lament- 
 ed, that his prejudices againft Chriflianity have contributed 
 fo much towards defeating the good effefts of them, and 
 ilaining his works. 
 
 But 
 
3 1 8 Of the Principle of ASiion 
 
 But injiincli've benevolence is no principle of 
 virtue, nor are any adions flowing merely from 
 it virtuous. As far as this influences, fo far 
 Ibmething elfe than reafon and goodnefs influ- 
 ence, and fo much I think is to be fubtraded 
 from the moral worth of any adion or charac- 
 ter. This is very agreeable to the common 
 fentiments and determinations of mankind. 
 Wherever the influence of mere natural temper 
 or inclination appears, and a particular condud 
 is known to proceed from hence, we may, it is 
 true, love the perfon, as we commonly do the 
 inferior creatures when they difcover mildnefs 
 and tradablenefs of difpofition j but no regard 
 to him as a 'virtuous agent will arife within us. 
 A foft and filly man, let him be ever fo com- 
 plying, liberal, and good-tempered, never fl:ands 
 high in our efteem -, becaufe we always appre- 
 hend him to be what he is, not (o much from 
 any influence of reafon and moral good, as from 
 a happy infl:ind and bent of nature born with 
 him : And, in the fame manner, the tendernefs 
 of parents for their offspring, a fond mother's 
 expofing her life to fave her child, and all ac- 
 tions proceeding from the nearer attachments of 
 nature appear to have as much lefs moral value, 
 as they are derived niore from natural inftind, 
 and lefs attended with reflexion on their reafon- 
 
 ablenefs 
 
i?i a virtuous Agent, 319 
 
 ablenefs and fitnefs. As long as this reflexion 
 is wanting, it is in a moral account indifferent, 
 vv'hether the adion proceeds from kind affec- 
 tion or any other affed:ion. — But it mufl not 
 be forgot, that fuch reflexion will, in general, 
 accompany friendly and benevolent adions, and 
 cannot but have fome concern in producing 
 them. Approbation is infeparable from the view 
 of them, and fome ideas of right and wrong are 
 prefent always with all men, and muft more or 
 lefs influence almoft all they do. We have an 
 unavoidable confcioufnefs of redtitude in relieving 
 mifery, in promoting happinefs, and in every of- 
 fice of love and good-will to others. It is this 
 cojtfecrates kindnefs and humanity, and exalts 
 them into virtues. 
 
 Actions proceeding from univerfal, calm, dif- 
 paflionate benevolence, are by all efteemed more 
 virtuous and amiable than adions producing e- 
 qual or greater moments of good, direded to 
 thofe to whom nature has more particularly 
 linked us, and arifing from kind determinations 
 in our minds which are more confined and ur- 
 gent. The reafon furely is, that in the former 
 cafe the operations of inftindt have lefs effed, 
 and are lefs fenfible, and the attention to what is 
 morally good and right is more explicit and pre- 
 valent. Were we prompted to the ads of uni- 
 verfal 
 
320 Of the Trinclpk of Acilon 
 
 verfal benevolence in the fame manner that p^l-* 
 rents are to the care of their children, we fliould 
 not conceive of them as more virtuous. Thefe 
 fads cannot be explained confidently with the 
 notion, that virtue confifts in ading from kind 
 afFedions which have no connexion with, and 
 cannot be derived from intelligence, and are 
 incapable, in their immediate exercife, of being 
 attended with any influence from it. For why 
 then fhould not the virtue be greateft where the 
 kind impulfe is firongeft ? ¥/hy fliould it, on 
 the contrary, in fuch a cafe, be leaft of all, and 
 entirely vanifli, when all ufe of reafon is pre- 
 cluded, and nothing but the force of inftind ap- 
 pears ? Why, in particular, {hould refifting our 
 ftrongeft inftinds, and following fleadily in con- 
 tradidion to them ■*, the determinations of cool 
 unbiaiTed reafon, be conlidered as the very higheft 
 .virtue ? Probably, thofe who plead for this o^ 
 pinion would give it up, and acknowledge what 
 is now aiTerted, could they be convinced that 
 benevolence is eiTential to intelligence, and not 
 merely an implanted principle or inftind. 
 
 All thefe obfervations may very juftly be ap- 
 plied to felf-love. Reafonable and calm felf-love, 
 
 * More to this purpofe has been faid by Mr. Balguy^ in 
 hrs TraSi on the Foundation of Moral Goodnej'i, 
 
 as 
 
in a 'virtuous Agent > 321 
 
 as well as the love of mankind, is entirely a vir- 
 tuous principle. They are both parts of the 
 idea "of virtue. Where this is greateft, there 
 will be the mofl ardent and adive benevolence, 
 and likewife the greateft degree of true pru- 
 dence, the higheft concern about bettering our- 
 felves to the utmoft, and the moft effectual and 
 conftant purfuit of private happinefs and per- 
 fedion, in oppofition to whatever hindrances 
 and temptations to negledl them may be thrown 
 in our way. 
 
 Our natural defires carrying us to private 
 good are very ftrong, and the purfuit of it is 
 more likely to arife from thefe defires without 
 any rational reflexion, or interpofition of moral 
 judgment, than the purfuit of publick good ; 
 which is one reafon why it is lefs confidered as 
 virtue; Avoiding a prejent danger or fecuring a 
 prefent good to ourfelves, is not often looked 
 upon as in any degree virtuous : but the fame 
 cannot be faid of endeavouring to prevent a 
 future danger, or to fecure 2. future good : The 
 reafon of which is, that we are drawn towards 
 what is prefent with a greater degree of inftinc- 
 tive defire *. It makes more fenfible impref- 
 
 lions 
 
 * This is a very wife and necefTary difpofition of our 
 natures. Had we the fame fenfible determination to dif- 
 
 Y tant 
 
322 Of the Principle of Adiion 
 
 lions upon us, and ftrikes our minds more for- 
 cibly. Yet, in fome circumftances of oppofi- 
 
 tion 
 
 tant gooi that we have to prejent^ how diftra£led fhould wc 
 be in our purfuits ? How regardlefs of what is prefent, 
 how impatient, how miferable would it render us ? — 
 The ccnfequence on the other hand of giving us a greater 
 propenfity to prefent than future good, it was eafy to fore- 
 fee, would prove, that men would be in great danger of 
 chufnig and refting in the one to the neglecl of the other. 
 This inconvenience, however, (which it is the bufinefs of 
 reafon and a principal part of virtue to prevent) is far from 
 being equal to the contrary inconveniencies which would 
 have attended a different conftitution of our natures. — It 
 may feem upon a general reflexion very ftrange, that per- 
 fons, when acling folely from a regard to private good, 
 Ihould be capable of knowingly chufmg a lefs rather than 
 a greater, a prefent rather than a future much more im- 
 portant good. If we were on fuch occafions determined by 
 nothing but the fimple and calm vieu^ of good as fuch, this 
 fa(St would indeed be entirely unaccountable. But when 
 we confider, that this is not the cafe, and attend to the ob- 
 fervation now made, that we have a iironger inftindive de- 
 termination to prefent than to future good, the difficulty 
 in a great meafure vanifhes. The fa6l I have mentioned 
 will not be more unaccountable than a man's following 
 his pafiions and inftincts in any other inftances, in oppo- 
 fition to his own happinefs, and all the reafons that can be 
 propofed to him. — In other words ; we have a particular 
 tendency or appetite to prefent good, from whence it happens, 
 that <^ood is far from always afFecling and influencing us, in 
 proportion to the apprehended degree of its abfolute worth. 
 The view of prefent good, therefore, getting the better of 
 
 the 
 
in a virtuous Age?tf. 323 
 
 tion from particular paffions and competition 
 between different pleafures, ading from a re- 
 gard even to p7^efe7it good may be really virtuous. 
 And, always, the more remote a good is, and 
 the more temptations we have to forego our 
 own intereft, the greater is our virtue in main- 
 taining a proper regard to them. In thefe cafes, 
 reafon is neceffarily more called forth to interpofe 
 and decide ; our paffions lefs concur with its 
 didlates ; and our determinations are more de- 
 rived from its authority. Some kinds of future 
 good there are, the purfuit of which always 
 proves virtue. Others are fo agreeable to the 
 lower parts of our natures, and fo connedled with 
 ftrong inftindtive defires within us, that adions 
 produced by the view of them can argue little 
 or no virtue, though reafon jfhould in general 
 approve the choice of them. But when reafon 
 condemns any particular gratifications -, when 
 pleafures of a bafer nature ftand in competition 
 with thofe of a higher nature j or when, upon 
 any account, pleafures in themfelves innocent 
 
 the calm and difpafHonate views o^ om great eji Inter ejl upon 
 the whole^ is only one inftance of what happens continually 
 in the world, namely, " blind defire, unintelligent incli- 
 ** nation or brute impulfe, getting the better of motives 
 *' and confiderations, known by the mind to be of in- 
 *' comparably greater weight." 
 
 Y 2 are 
 
324 Of the Principle of ASiion 
 
 are proper to be refignedj in thefe cafes, guilt 
 and blame become the confequences of purfuing 
 them. 
 
 From hence we may fee plainly, how far 
 hope and fear may be virtuous principles ; and 
 why, for inftance, though doing an adion to 
 efcape an ignominious death, or obtain a profi- 
 table place, be not virtue; yet it is virtue, in 
 many inflances, to refrain from gratifications 
 which we know are hurtful to us, or to quit a 
 courfe of debauchery to which paflion and habit 
 flrongly urge us, from an apprehenfion of their 
 bad effeds on our healths and fortunes. 
 
 Thefe obfervations (to which might be ad- 
 ded many more of the fame kind) are all very 
 evident proofs of the truth of the conclufion I 
 would eftablifli ; namely, " that the virtue of 
 *' an agent is always lefs in proportion to the 
 " degree in which natural temper and propen- 
 " fities fall in with his adions, inftindive prin- 
 " ciples operate, and rational reflexion on what 
 " is right to be done, is wanting." 
 
 It is further worth our particular notice, that 
 
 the obfervations which have been now made 
 
 on felf-love, and the adions flowing from it, 
 
 fhew us plainly how far a condud founded on 
 
 2 religious 
 
in a 'virtuous Agent, 325 
 
 religious principles, and influenced by the con- 
 fideration of the rewards and punifhment to fol- 
 low virtue and vice in another flate, can be juft- 
 ly reprefented as deftitute of moral goodnefs. 
 It is indeed furprizing, that extending our care 
 to the whole of our exiftence, adting with a view 
 to the final welfare of our natures, and elevating 
 our minds above temporal objeds out of a re- 
 gard to a bleffed immortality 3 it is, I fay, fur- 
 prifing, that fuch condu(5t fhould have been ever 
 in any degree depreciated. If any thing gives 
 dignity of charatfler, and raifes one man above 
 another, this does. If any thing is virtue, this 
 is. Efpecially ; as the very reward expeded is 
 itfelf virtue ; the higheft degrees of moral im- 
 provement ; a near refemblance to God ; op- 
 portunities fdr the moft extenfive beneficence, 
 and admiffion into a flate into which nothing 
 that defileth can enter, and the love and hope 
 of which imply the love of goodnefs. — In a 
 word J if in all cafes, a reafonable and fleady 
 purfuit of private happinefs amidfl: temptations 
 to forego it from paflion and prefent gratifica- 
 tions, be virtuous > how eafy is it to determine 
 what opinion we ought to entertain of the pur- 
 fuit of fuch 3. happinefs as virtuous men are 
 taught to expedl in another world ? 
 
 Let me add, on this occafion, that the firm 
 y 3 belief 
 
326 Of the Principle of ASiicn 
 
 belief of future rewards is in the greateft degree 
 advantageous to virtue, as it raifes our ideas of 
 its dignity by fliewing us the Deity engaged in 
 its favour, and as it takes off every obftacle to 
 the practice of it aridng from felf-lovc, fets us at 
 liberty to follow the good inclinations of our 
 hearts, gives all good affedtions within us room 
 to exert themfelves, nay engages us, by an ad- 
 ditional motive of the greateft weight, to culti- 
 vate them as much as poffible, and thus, by oc- 
 cafioning a courfe of external a<^ions flowing 
 from them, gradually {Irengthens and exalts 
 them, and fixes, confirms, and cherishes the 
 habit and love of virtue in the mind. 
 
 But to return to the main purpofe of thia 
 chapter. — What has been faid of virtuous ac- 
 tions may eafily be applied to vicious adions. 
 Thefe can be no farther in the agent vicious, 
 than he knew or might have known them 
 to be fo. The wrong can be no farther charge- 
 able upon him^ than h^faw it, and aded inop- 
 pofition to his fefife of it. Or, to fpeak agree- 
 ably to a foregoing obfervation, and perhaps 
 more properly, the vicioufnefs in an adion is no 
 farther the agent's, than the vicious adion is 
 his J and no more of the vicious adion is hiSj 
 tjian was included in his intention. 
 
 z When 
 
in a virtuous Agent. 327 
 
 When it appears, that a perfon had no fuf- 
 picion of wrong in an action performed by him, 
 and that he would certainly not have done it, 
 had he entertained fuch a fufpicion, nothing can 
 be more unjuft than to charge him, in this par- 
 ticular, with guilt and rll-defert. His being 
 thus unfufpicious, it is true, may be the effed of 
 criminal error and carelelTnefs ; but then in thefe 
 lies the guilt, and not in the. confequent anions 
 themfelves which are performed with the ap- 
 prehenfion that they are innocent. Every iin- 
 gle adion of a being has in it fbme precife and 
 fixed degree of guilt, innocence or virtue, which 
 is entirely determined by his perceptions, views, 
 and ftate of mind at the time of doing it, and 
 cannot be rendered greater or lefs by what went 
 before it, or what comes after it. What 
 has been once true of an event, muft al- 
 ways remain true of it. What is at the time 
 of performance, the real determinate charac- 
 ter of an adion, in refpett of commendable- 
 nefs or blameablenefs, mud for ever remain its 
 charader without increafe or diminution. — The 
 pernicious confequences arifing from an adion 
 aggravate its guilt, only fo far as the agent, 
 when he did it, forefaw or fufpeded them, or 
 had fome confcioufnefs that he ought to have 
 taken greater care, and confidered better what 
 
 Y 4 might 
 
328 Of the Principle of A5iion 
 
 might prove the effeds of his condud:. A feries 
 of evil adtions may alfo be the occafion of other 
 evil adions, which when only materially evil, 
 may indeed often be a very fevere punifhment 
 of former wickednefs, but cannot increafe the 
 agent's guilt, or fubjedl to further punifhment. 
 This can be the confequence only, when fuch 
 ad:ions are themfelves criminal, or inftances of 
 the violation of confcience and repetitions of 
 former wickednefs. If we are to lay it down 
 for true, that one faulty ftep may taint all the 
 adions to which it may unhappily have been the 
 introdudion, whatever our prefent fenfe of them 
 may be ; or, that confequences arifing from 
 adions which we did not forefee, render them 
 criminal 5 how deplorable is our condition ? 
 For who can ever know all the effeds that will 
 refult from his adions ? or be fure, in many in- 
 ftances, when adting upon particular opinions, 
 that throughout the whole progrefs of his 
 thoughts in forming them, he was under no 
 influence from any undue byafs * ? 
 
 Let 
 
 * It might have been further worth remarking here, 
 that true opinions are often the effects of guilt as well as 
 falfe ones, and that when they are fo, they are no lefs cul- 
 pable, and muft have the fame efFedls on the imputable na- 
 ture of the adtions occafioned by them. — This, by the 
 way, ihould be more confidered by us, when we juftify 
 
 our 
 
in a virtuous Agent, 329 
 
 Let it not be imagined that what has been 
 now aflerted, has a tendency to render men 
 negligent in their enquiries. Though a crazy 
 or drunken man may not be immediately blame- 
 able in doing many anions in themfelves very 
 evil, yet for a man to put himfelfinto a ftatein 
 which he knows he {hall be liable to do fuch 
 adions, is extremely wicked. The ditFerence is 
 not great, between doing what we forefee may 
 caufe us to do an evil blindly and unknowing- 
 ly, and doing the evil deliberately. 
 
 This (hews us, how inexcufable all voluntary 
 ignorance is, and of how great importance it is, 
 that we avoid all unfairnefs in forming our fen- 
 timents. No upright perfon can be indifferent 
 about this. We have not indeed on any occa- 
 iion more fcope for virtue, or better opportuni- 
 ties for exercifing fome of the nobleft difpofitions 
 of mind, than wh^n employed in enquiring af- 
 ter truth and duty ; and, confidering the dif- 
 mal evils which may arifc from difhonefly 
 here ; how fad it is to have the light that is 
 
 our cenfures of others for their errors, by faying, they pro- 
 ceed from criminal difpofitions and prejudices. For we 
 ourfelves, however right our opinions may be, are equally 
 blameable on their account, as far as they are owing to the 
 like criminal difpofitions, or proceed from pride, implicit- 
 nefs, negligence, or any other wrong caufes. 
 
 XXi 
 
330 Of the Frinciple of ASiion 
 
 in us darknefs, and to what mazes of error, 
 fuperftition and deftrudive conduct, a mifguided 
 judgment may lead us ; we cannot be too di- 
 ligent in labouring rightly to inform our con- 
 fciences3 or too anxious about obtaining juft 
 apprehenfions, and freeing ourfelves from the 
 power of whatever prejudices or paflions tend to 
 warp our minds, and are inconfiftent with that 
 coolnefs, candour, and impartiality which are 
 jndifpenfibly neceffary qualifications in one who 
 would difcover what is true and right. 
 
 Thus have I given what I think the true ac-^ 
 count of the nature and requifites of praBical 
 virtue, I obferved firft of all, that it requires 
 liberty and intelligence. But what I have chief- 
 ly infixed on, is, that we charaderize as virtuous 
 no adions flowing merely from inftindive de- 
 fires, or from any principle except a regard to 
 virtue itfeif. ThiSf I have endeavoured to prove, 
 to be the objed of the fupreme affedion and 
 the ultimate end of a virtuous * agent asfuch. — ^ 
 
 * This, in reality, is but little more than maintaining 
 what cannot poflibly be denied, that it ought to be the firft 
 care of every reafonable being to do all that he thinks to be 
 right, and to abftain from all that he thinks to be wrong ; 
 or, that reafon, as it is the principal^ ought to be the lead-^ 
 ing and governing faculty, in every reafonabje being. 
 
 Virtue, 
 
in a 'virtuous Agent, 331 
 
 Virtue, if I have argued right, muft be defired, 
 loved, and pradifed on its ov^^n account -f-. 
 Nothing is any exercife of it, but what proceeds 
 from an inward relifh for it and regard to it, for 
 its own fake. — It has alfo, I hope, been fuffici* 
 ently explained, hovi^ benevolence and felf-love, 
 and the actions to vt^hich they excite us, as far as 
 morally good and praife-worthy, are derived 
 from this fource. Nothing would be more un- 
 reafonable than for any one further to urge, that 
 a regard to the divine will is a principle of vir- 
 tuous condudt, not reducible to that I have in- 
 iifted on. Is it not from a fenfe of duty that vir- 
 
 t " From the diftindlion between felf-love, and the fe^ 
 *' veral particular principles or afFeclions in our nature, 
 " we may fee how good ground there was for the afTertion 
 " maintained by the feveral antient fchools of philofophy, 
 " againft the Epicureans^ namely, that virtue is to be pur- 
 *' fued as an end eligible in and for itfelf. For if there be 
 *' any principles or affedtions in the mind of man diftinil 
 " from felf-love ; that the things the principles tend to- 
 ** wards, or that the ohjedls of thefe aft'edtions are each of 
 *' them in themfelves eligible, to be purfued on its own 
 ** account, and to be refted in as an end, is implied in the 
 *' very idea of fuch principle or afFeiflion. They, indeed, 
 ** aflerted much higher things of virtue, and with very 
 " good reafon ; but to fay thus much of it, that it is to 
 *^ be purfued for itfelf, is to fay no more of it than may 
 " be truly faid of the obje6l of every natural afFediion 
 ♦' whatfoever." Preface to Dr. Butler's Sermons, p. 32. 
 
 tuous 
 
332 Of the Principle of A5lim, Sec, 
 
 tuous agents obey the will of God ? What 
 merit would there be in obeying it, out of a 
 blind awe or fervile dread, unaccompanied with 
 any knowledge of it as ft and becoming f The 
 true ground then of moral merit in this cafe, is 
 evidently the influence of moral difcernment. 
 Here, as in all other inftances, " the ultimate 
 " fpring of virtuous pradice in reafonable be- 
 ** ings, is the reafonable faculty itfelf, the con- 
 ** fderation of duty, or the perception of right '\ 
 
 CHAP. 
 
[ 333 ] 
 
 CHAR IX. 
 
 Of the differ e?tt Degrees of Virtue and 
 Vice^ and the Methods of ejlimating 
 them. Of Difficulties attending the 
 PraBice of Virtue^ the Ufe of Trial 
 in forming reafonahle Beings to 
 Virtue^ and the Effentials of a good 
 and had CharaBer, 
 
 THROUGHOUT the whole of this Trea- 
 tife, until the laft chapter, I had confi- 
 dered virtue more generally and abflradtly ; its 
 nature, foundation, obligation, and principal di- 
 vifions. I have, in that chapter, confidered it 
 more particularly in its reference to a<flual prac- 
 tice, and the capacities and wills of moral 
 agents ; and I am now to proceed in thus con- 
 fidering it, and to fhew, what is meant by the 
 various degrees of it in different a<5tions and cha- 
 raders, and how we compute them ; how far 
 the temper fhould be formed by it; and what 
 relation the faculty that perceives it bears to our 
 other powers. 
 
 What 
 
334 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 What has been already faid has, in fome 
 meafure, prevented me on feveral of thefe heads, 
 and therefore the lefs fhall be faid concerning 
 them now. 
 
 From the preceding chapter, we may eafily learn 
 the true fource of the various degrees of virtue and 
 vice which we conceive in adlions and charadlers. 
 It is, as there fhewn, the reflexion on the rea- 
 fon of the things or the right of the cafe^ and the 
 influence this has upon us, that conftitutes us 
 'virtuous and rewardable. It is the intention or 
 purpofe of virtue itfelf, that renders an adtion 
 the objedl of moral praiie and efteem. Now 
 the greater this influence -, or the more explicit, 
 fimple, fl:ri6b, and fteady this intention, the 
 greater neceflarily muft we account the virtue, 
 and the more muft we admire the action. 
 Hence then, " the degree of regard or difre- 
 *' gard, of attachment or want of attachment to 
 " truth and redlitude evidenced by actions, is 
 " what determines the judgment we make of 
 " the degree of moral good and evil in them.'* 
 'External aciions are to be confidered as figns of 
 the motives and views of agents. We can, in 
 genera], infer the latter from the former with 
 fuflicient certainty. But when this happens to 
 be impradicable, we are rendered incapable of 
 
 pronoun- 
 
the Ejjentiah of a good CharaBer. 335 
 
 pronouncing any thing concerning the merit or 
 demerit of actions. 
 
 The rule I have now laid down, will be fuf- 
 ficiently explained and proved, by attending to 
 the following fadls. 
 
 Doing a good action which we have few or 
 fmall temptations to omit, has little virtue in it j 
 for the regard to virtue muft indeed be very low 
 in that being, who will not be engaged by it to 
 do a good ad:ion, which will coft him but little 
 trouble and expence, or which thwarts not fen- 
 fibly any of his natural defires. — When fecular 
 intereft, love of fame, curiofity, refentment, or 
 any of our particular propenfions confpire with 
 virtue in exciting to an ad:ion, it is in the fame 
 proportion virtuous as the appreheniion of its 
 red:itude influenced to it, which can never be 
 accounted much, when the action is known to 
 fall in with the bent and humour of our minds 
 and the current of our pafiions. — When diffi- 
 culties occur, and fecular intereft, humour, vani- 
 ty, or any of our inferior powers clafh with vir- 
 tue, the degree of it is in proportion to the diffi- 
 culties furmounted, or the number and violence 
 of the paffions it overcomes. — When all or fe- 
 veral of the different fpecies of virtue unite in 
 engaging to one and the fame atftion, doing it 
 iw thefe circumllances, argues lefs virtue than 
 
 if 
 
336 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 if it had been done from the confideration of 
 one of them lingly. Thus ; any given right 
 adlion attended with given difficulties, and per- 
 formed with equal effe(fl, and flowing merely 
 from gratitude, is more virtuous, than if alfo a 
 regard to publick and private intereft, to juftice 
 and to veracity had required it, and had con- 
 curred in producing it. Hence, therefore, the 
 virtue muft be greateft when any Angle fpecies 
 of it, when every view of what is decent and fit, 
 every decifion of our practical judgments, is 
 fufficient to determine us in oppofition to all 
 temptations; when we are ready to follow 
 where-ever virtue leads us, and pofTefs fuch a 
 moral fenfibility as to ihrink from every appear^ 
 ance of wrong, and fuch a horror at guilt as to 
 dread all the approaches to it. 
 
 With refpe6l to vicious adtions, we may ob- 
 ferve in general, that the fame circumftances 
 which diminijlo the virtue of any acftion, increafe 
 the vice in omitting it, and 'uice verfa. The 
 commiffion of an evil to which we have little 
 temptation, though there can be but little virtue 
 in abftaining from it, is yet always very crimi- 
 nal ; for it fhews very great weaknefs of the 
 moral principle. — When an adion is not at all 
 reflected upon as evil, there can be no difregard 
 
 to 
 
the Ejjimtiah of a good CharaBer, 337 
 
 to virtue fhewn, and therefore no guilt contrafl- 
 ed. — When an adllon is reflecfted upon as evil, 
 but the motives to commit it arc very ftrong 
 and urgent, the guilt attending the coinmifiTion 
 of it is diminifhed, and all tb:it Q-a.\\ be inferred 
 is, not the abfolutc, but the ccmparatroe wcaknefs 
 of the virtuous principle, or its inferiority in 
 ftrength to forne other principles. - — The more 
 deliberately any wrong adion is done, the more 
 wicked it appears to us; hecaufe, in this cafe, 
 reafon and confcience have time to gather theic 
 whole force, and exert their utmoft flrengthj 
 but neverthelefs are conquered. For this rea- 
 fon, a fingle ad: of vice, v^-hen thus deliberate 
 and wilful, may be the ftrongefl: proof of a bad 
 moral ftate, or a fufficient indication of the 
 whole moral charadcri which cannot be faid 
 of any faults of furpiize, to which the violence 
 of fudden paflions may fometimes hurry men. 
 .«— In a word ; the greater the evil itfelf is that 
 a man commits, the more it contradids, not 
 only his ideas of reditude, but his inflindive 
 defines j the greater number of the difrerent 
 kinds of moral obligation it violates ; the 
 clearer his perception is of wrong in it ; the 
 longer his time for reflexion, and the lefs 
 the number and flrength of his tempta- 
 tions ; the greater vice is he chargeable with, 
 Z and 
 
33 S Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 and the more flagrant is his guilt. On the 
 other hand, it is evident, that by increafing the 
 number and flrength of the temptations, and 
 leflening the time for reflexion and the fenfe of 
 wrong, the degree of guilt in an evil adion will 
 be diminifhed, and may thus be reduced fo 
 low, that all difapprobation of the agent fliall 
 vanifh. 
 
 From thefe obfervations we may draw the 
 following inferences. 
 
 Firji, The difiiculties furmounted enhancing 
 the virtue of the characfler, no otherwife than 
 as they evidence a flridter attachment to righ- 
 teoufnefs, and more influence of the virtuous 
 principle j it is plain, that they can by no 
 means be ejfential to virtue. As long as the 
 degree of virtuous attachment is the fame, it 
 matters not whether or no any oppofltion is fub- 
 dued : The character remains equally worthy. 
 The man who, in a courfe of goodnefs, meets 
 with lefs hindrance than another from his 
 paflions and temper, may be equally virtuous, 
 if he has in him that afl^edion to goodnefs, 
 which would engage him, if he had the fame 
 opportunities and trials with another, equally to 
 maflier the fame hindrances. Difficulties and 
 inconveniencies attending virtue are the means 
 
 of 
 
the BJJentiais of a good CharaSfer, 3 j 9 
 
 of fliewing to others, who cannot fee imme- 
 diately into our hearts, what is in us, or what 
 our moral temper is* And they have alfo the 
 following effeds upon ourfelves. They awaken 
 our attention to righteoufnefs and goodnefs ; 
 they call forth the moral principle to exert itfelf 
 in a manner not otherwife poffible, and thus 
 become the means of producing ftronger vir- 
 tuous efforts, and of increafing the force and 
 dominion of reafon within us, and of improving 
 and confirming virtuous habits*. — Thefe are 
 the ufes of the difficulties and temptations at- 
 tending virtuous pradice; but then it mufl: be 
 acknowledged that, in fome refpedts, they are 
 likewife the caufes of very great evils and dif- 
 advantages. If they are the means of improv- 
 ing virtue, they are alfo the means of over^ 
 mohehning and ruining it. \i they give rife to 
 moral difcipline, they likewife hinder it -, they 
 produce moral depravity, and occafion all the 
 corruptions and vices of the world. It would 
 be foreign to my prefent purpofe to enter into an 
 
 * If rurmouiuing of difficulties, or fubduing oppofi- 
 tion, is not what properly C(7^//ft7/?j the virtue of an agent, 
 it follows, that neither is it what conftitutes his merit or 
 retvardahlenefsy any further than as it may be the means of 
 improving his virtue, and, at the fame time, of diminifliing 
 the prefent happinefs attending it. 
 
 Z 2 expla- 
 
340 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 explanation of this fad. I cannot however 
 omit digreinng fo far as to obferve, that we 
 cannot certainly fay, how faj* the evils I have 
 mentioned, might have been prevented among 
 beings like ourfelves, growing up gradually to 
 the ufe of reafon, and, in the mean time, under 
 a neceffity of acquiring fome habits or other, 
 and of being guided by inftindtive principles ? 
 Can virtue be dldpli?jed and tried without being 
 endangered'? or enda?igered without being fome- 
 times loft ? Can we acquire any fecurity or 
 coniirmation in virtue, till we are habituated to 
 it ? And before the habit is acquired, and in 
 the dawn of reafon, muft there not be the ha- 
 zard of degenerating ? 
 
 It may, indeed^ be laid, that an order of be- 
 ings may be fo made, and, in the beginning 
 of their beings, fo circumftanced, that, while 
 they are advancing tov/ards maturity of reafon, 
 and acquiring fufficient views of the nature and 
 excellence of virtue to keep them fteady in the 
 pradlice of it, their inclinations and defires (hall 
 always coincide with their duty, and no habits 
 be liable to be contradled which are unfavour- 
 able to it. And this, for aught I know, may be 
 poflible j and, for this reafon and many others, 
 it muft be owned, that the prcfent ftate of men 
 has a great deal in it, which we are not capable 
 
 of 
 
the mfentiah of a good CharaBer, ^ 41 
 
 of accounting for. It would in truth be very 
 ftrange if it had not, or if any objeit in nature 
 had not, confidering our Ration and (landing in 
 the univerfe and the fiiortnefs of our views. — 
 But, be this as it will, it cannot be improper to 
 obferve, that, as the natures and circumftances 
 of men now are, had their defires and their 
 duty always coincided, we might, after much 
 time rpentin 2. ^x2iGiiCQ materially virtuous, been 
 fo little eftablilhed in true virtue, the moral 
 principle might, all the while, have lain fo dor- 
 mant, that, upon a change in our fituation, the 
 flighteft temptation might have led us adray. 
 But difficulties attending the difcharge of our 
 duty, and particular defires drawing us contrary 
 to it, have a tendency, by obliging us to a more 
 anxious, attentive, and conftant exercife of vir- 
 tue, in a peculiar manner, to accelerate our pro- 
 grefs in it and cftabliih our regard to it. And 
 though, at firft, the virtuous principle may be 
 fcarcely able to turn the balance in its own fa- 
 vour, or but jufl: prevail ; yet every repeated in- 
 flance, in which the inward fpring of virtue thus 
 exerts its utmoft force, and overcomes oppofi- 
 tion, gives new power to it * : And it has often 
 jidlually happened, that virtuous men by a courfe 
 
 * See the Chapter on Moral Government in the Anah'jy. 
 
 Z 3 of 
 
342 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ and 
 
 of virtuous ftruggles and long pradVice of felf- 
 denial, by being accuflomed to repel tempta- 
 tions, to reftrain appetite, and to contemn fuf- 
 ferings, when not to be avoided with innocence, 
 have gradually fo ftrengthened the virtuous prin- 
 ciple and eftabliflied the fovereignty of confci- 
 ence in themfelves, that their difficulties have 
 in a manner vaniflied j temptations have grown 
 feeble, and virtue has become eafy and delight- 
 ful. And let it be well minded, that though 
 this is the period in which the difficulties of 
 fuch perfons are kajl^ yet it is alfo the period 
 in which their virtue is greatefi. The truth 
 therefore is, that the difficulties a virtuous agent 
 meets with prove, in general, only the defeBs of 
 his virtue. Had he a fufficient degree of virtue, 
 he could meet v^'ith no difficulties ; and the more 
 of it he pofleffes, the lefs effi^d: has any given 
 degree of temptation in turning him afide from 
 it, or difturbing his refolutions j the more maf- 
 ter he is of every inclination within him j the 
 more fuperior he is to every foe that can attack 
 him; the lefs reludance he feels in the dif- 
 charge of his duty, and with the more pleafure 
 and ardor he adheres to it. 
 
 How unreafonable now muft it appear to af- 
 firm, that human virtue exceeds that of angels, 
 bccaufe of the oppofition it encounters ; or to 
 
 regarcj 
 
the EJJentlah of a good CharaBer. 343 
 
 regard it as a queftion of difficulty, whether the 
 excellence of the moral charader of the Deity 
 would not be increafed, if he had within him 
 fome difpofitionss contrary to goodnefs ? — Can 
 the very circumftances which argue imperfediion 
 in virtue J add to the merit of it ? As much fu- 
 perior as is the virtue of angels, fo much the lefs 
 capable muft it be of being endangered by any 
 difficulties, or at all affeded by caufes which 
 would put an entire end to ours. As much 
 higher as their reafon is and more perfedt their 
 natures, fo much the lefs muft every thing weigh 
 with them, when fet in oppofition to virtue ^ 
 fo much the more fenfible they muft be, that 
 nothing is of confequence, nothing worth wish- 
 ing for, when compared with virtue, or when 
 not to be obtained without violating it. — With 
 refped to the Deity particularly ; fuch is the per- 
 fedion of his nature, and fuch his difcernment 
 of the nature, glory, and obligation of the eter- 
 nal laws of righteoufnefs *, that nothing what- 
 
 foever 
 
 * The manner of fpeaking here ufed concerning the 
 Deity is fuitable to our common ways of conceiving of his 
 perfedlions ; and it is fuch as we are under a neceflity of 
 ufmg, though not ftridlly proper. It is generally indeed 
 fcarce poflible to fpeak otherwife than improperly of him. 
 He that approves the fentiments on this fubjedt, which 
 Z 4 have 
 
344 Of Degrees of Virtue and VicCy and 
 
 foever can come in competition with them, or 
 have any tendency to draw him afide from 
 them. Kis moral excellence confifts in fuch a 
 degree of purity or holinefs, as renders him in- 
 capable of being tempted to evil, and railes him 
 infinitely above all poflibility of a byafs to de- 
 viate from what is right. To fuppofe fuch a 
 byafs in him, is to fuppofe him of finite and de- 
 rived wifdom and goodnefs. If he prevails over 
 it, but only in a limited degree, or fo, that 
 fome backwardnefs is left, it will follow, that 
 he is not completely good *. If he prevails over 
 it iniinitely or perfedly, fo that no reludance 
 remains, and no proportion exifls between its 
 
 have been delivered in the fifth chapter, may eafily cor- 
 re6l by them all fuch forms of expreffion, whenever they 
 occur. 
 
 * What is here faid, may be illuftrated by fubftituting 
 power in the room of virtue, and comparing the oppofition 
 the latter may meet with, to that which the former may 
 meet with, in producing any particular efFe6ls. The power 
 ■of a being is the fame, whether it meets with any oppofi- 
 tion or not. The difficulties it finds, in overcoming op- 
 pofition, prove in general only its weaknefs ; The greater 
 the power is, the lefs difficulty it mufi: find in producing 
 any given effc3: ; and, when fuppofed infinite, as in the 
 Deity, the very notion of dii^culty and oppofition becomes 
 ^ contradi£tion, 
 
 influence 
 
the EJfentiah of a good Char aSler, 34^ 
 
 influence and the influence of moral reditude ; 
 this will be the fame as to have no fuch byafs, 
 or to meet with no oppofition. So apparent is 
 it, that the fuppofition of difficulties attending 
 the perfect goodnefs of the Deity, or of difpo- 
 fitions in him contrary to rectitude, by which it 
 may at firll: fight feem, that his moral perfec- 
 tion would be increafed, overthrows it. — But, 
 in truth, we know not what we fay, when we 
 talk in this manner, or make fuppofitions of this 
 fort. In a neceffary, fimple nature there can be 
 no jarring principles. It is fuppofing a contra- 
 diction to fuppofe, that a being, who is pure, 
 abJlraBy original^ i?jfi?iite reafon^ can pofTefs any 
 tendencies repugnant to reafouy or any that do 
 not coincide with it, and refolve themfelves in- 
 to it. 
 
 From thefe obfervations alfo it appears, that 
 what has been faid of the extenuation of guilt 
 by the flrength of temptations, mufl be under- 
 ftood with fome reflridlions. For that tempta- 
 tations are Jirong^ may argue nothing more, 
 than that our power of refiftance is weak y that 
 the fpring of virtue, the contrary force in our 
 minds which fhould repel them, is relaxed or 
 broken. How wretched an excufe then for vice 
 is this, as it is frequendy pleaded ? To what 
 do temptations commonly owe their ftrength, 
 I but 
 
346 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ and 
 
 but to ftrong evil habits the guilty perfon has 
 contracted, and the low and languifhing ftate 
 of his moral powers ? And how abilird is 
 it to make the want of virtue a plea for the 
 want of virtue, and to juftify guilt by guilt? — 
 However ; though the idea affixed to the term 
 greatj when applied to temptations, like the 
 fame idea when applied to bodies, be wholly re- 
 lative, or the refult of a comparifon between our 
 moral and our other principles; yet there are un- 
 doubtedly different degrees of temptation, and 
 fome conceivable by us, for which no human 
 virtue could be a match. And though our lia- 
 blenefs to be overcome by a^iy temptations, 
 arifes from the imperfeOion of human virtue ; 
 yet, as all temptations are far from equal, being 
 overcome by fome of them may argue far lefs 
 defedt of virtue, than being overcome by others ; 
 which is all that is meant by their extenuating 
 guilt. No one, for inftance, will fay, that a 
 crime committed through fear of immediate tor- 
 tures and death, implies equal guilt with the 
 fame crime committed to avoid fome flight in- 
 convenience. 
 
 Secondly^ We may remark, that what has 
 been faid on the fubje(fl of the prefent enquiry, 
 has little or no relation to the queftion, whether 
 
 there 
 
ih E fen ft ah of a good Charadier. 347 
 
 there are any different degrees of objeBive right 
 and wrong in adions, and determines nothingcon- 
 cerning it. Though there were no different de- 
 grees of right and wrong in this fenfe s though 
 thefe characters were fuppofed to be abfblute and 
 complete, or not at all, in every fingle objedt to 
 which they are applied ; there would ftill be the 
 fame room left for an infinite variety of degrees 
 of virtue and vice, of merit and guilt /;; agents -, 
 and alfo in anions ^ confidered, not in their ab- 
 
 folute and abjiradi fenfe, but relatively to the in- 
 tentions and views of reafonable beings, or as 
 
 Jigm and effeSis of their regard to abfolute virtue^. 
 It is thus mofl commonly we confider adions, 
 and this is the true fource and meaning of the 
 different degrees of commendation and blame, 
 of praife and cenfure we beflow upon them, 
 and of the various appellations and phrafes by 
 which thefe are fignified. And though, ibme- 
 times, we fpeak of adions as being, in the for- 
 
 * This diftin£tion has, I beh'eve, been greatly over- 
 looked in the difpute I have here in view. An ingenious 
 writer, in proving the inequality of good and bad actions, 
 in oppofition to the Stoicks^ plainly means their inequality 
 in this laft fenfe ; and, one would think, the Stoicks could 
 never mean ferioufly, to afTert their equality in any other, 
 than the former of thefe fenfes. See Mr. Grove's SyJIem of 
 ^Joral Philofophy, p. 262, &c, Vol. I. |See alfo OV. ?arad. 
 
 mer 
 
34^ Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ ani 
 
 mer fenfe, more or lefs right or wrong; this, 
 perhaps, is to be underflood in much the fame 
 manner with the greater or lefs ratios of ma- 
 thematicians, or with the different degrees of 
 equality and inequality in quantities. 
 
 Thirdly, It may be worth obferving, how 
 very deficient Dr. Hutchefons manner of com- 
 puting the morality of adions is *. For this 
 purpofe he gives us this general Canon. " The 
 •' virtue is as the moment of good produced, 
 " diminifhed or increafed, by the private inte- 
 ** reft concurring with or oppofing it, divided by 
 *' the ability." This plainly takes for granted, 
 as all his fubfequent rules likev^'ife do, that be- 
 nevolence is the whole of virtue; and that no 
 adion, direded merely to private happinefs, or 
 by which any thing is intended, befides fome 
 overbalance of publick good, can be, in any 
 degree, virtuous. How very maimed fuch an 
 idea of virtue is, I have endeavoured to {liew. 
 Some of the nobleft ads of virtue, and worft 
 ads of wickednefS) may be thofe which have 
 only ourfelves, or the Deity, for their objeds ; 
 and many relating to our fellov/ - creatures> 
 
 * Vid. Enquiry concerning Moral Good and Evily Se«2:. 3. 
 Art. II. and Se6l. 7. Art. 9. 
 
 which, 
 
the Ejfentiah of a good Chara^fer. 349 
 
 ■ which, not being viewed as the means of any 
 moment of good, or of mifery, muft, according 
 to the foregoing canon, be wholly indifferent. 
 — If, inftead of benevolence, we fubftitate, in 
 the rules he has given, regard to right, or attach- 
 ment to virtue and duty, they will, I think, be 
 in the mainjuft. 
 
 Fourthly. We may farther obferve, that the 
 reafon, which has been fometimes given for the 
 greater amiablenefs of fome good actions thaa 
 others, namely, their being more free, cannot 
 be juft. It is very improper to fpeak of degrees 
 of natural liberty and neceffity. Between 
 being the efficient of an efied-, and not the 
 efficient J bctv/een determining ourfelves, and 
 not determining ourfelves 5 between ^^^;7fy and 
 its contrary, there feems no conceivable medium. 
 Every ad: of volition I am confcious of, if tny 
 adt, muft be entirely mine, and cannot be more 
 or lefs inifie. It is no objedion to this, that two 
 or three or any number of caufes may concur 
 in producing one and the fame effe(S : For then 
 each caiife has its own proper ffiare of the effe<fl 
 to produce, which this caufe alone produces, 
 and which it would be abfurd to fay, he was 
 helped to produce. — Befides, voluntary deter- 
 mination is not a complex and compounded, but 
 
 fimple 
 
3 5^ Of Degrees of Virtue and V'lce^ and 
 
 fimple efFed:, which admits not of more than 
 one caufe or principle, it being a contradidion 
 to fuppofe, that the determination of a being 
 may be partly hisy and i^2ixi\y fomewhat elfe's. 
 
 But waving this ; let us turn our thoughts to 
 what will be more eafily underftood, and confi- 
 der, that, by the necefTity which is faid to dimi- 
 nifh the merit of good adlions, mufl: be meant, 
 not a natural (which would take away the whole 
 idea of adion and will) but a moral neceffity, or 
 fuch as arifes from the influence of motives and 
 affedtions on the mind j or that certainty of de- 
 termining one way, which may take place upon 
 fuppofition of certain views, circumftances, and 
 principles of an agent. Now, it is undeniable, 
 that the very greateft neceflity of this fort is 
 confiftent with, nay, is implied in, the idea of 
 the moft perfecSt and meritorious virtue; and, 
 confequently, can by no means be what, oj it- 
 felf^wtx lelTens it *. The more confidently we 
 
 * If, when it is faid, that a virtuous adtion is more ami- 
 able the lefs neceflary it is, the meaning be, that it will be 
 more amiable the lefs the agent is urged to it by inftindtive 
 defires, or any motives diftindt from virtuous ones ; this 
 will be very true. But then, what increafes the virtue of 
 the adlion in this cafe, is not the mere circumftance of its 
 being lefs neceflary, but its proceeding more from the fole 
 influence of love to virtue ; agreeably to what has been 
 obferved in the beginning of this chapter. 
 
 may 
 
the Ejfetitiah of a good CharaSfer* 351 
 
 may depend on a being's doing an action, when 
 convinced of its propriety, whatever obftacles 
 may lie in his way ; or, morally fpeaking, the 
 more efficacious and unconquerable the influence 
 of confcience is within him, the more amiable 
 we mufl: think him. — In like manner, the moft 
 abandoned and deteftable ftate of wickednefs 
 implies the greateft neceffity of finning, and the 
 greateft degree of moral impotence. He is the 
 moft vicious man, who is mod enflaved by evil 
 habits, or in whom appetite has gained fo far the 
 afcendant, and the regard to virtue and duty is 
 fo far v/eakened, that we can, at any time, with 
 certainty foretel, that he will do evil when 
 tempted to it. Let me therefore, by the way, 
 remark, that every idea of liberty mufl be very 
 erroneous, which makes it inconfiftent with the 
 moft abfolute and complete certainty or neceflity 
 of the kind I have now taken notice of, or 
 which fuppofes it to overthrow all fteadinefs of 
 charader and condud. The greateft influence 
 of motives that can rationally be conceived, or 
 which it is poflible for any one to maintain, 
 without running into the palpable and intole- 
 rable abfurdity of making them phyfical efficients 
 and agents^ can no way affed liberty. And it 
 is, furely, very furprifing, that our 7noJl willing 
 determinations lliould be imagined to have moft 
 I cf 
 
352 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 of the appearance of not proceeding from o«r- 
 fehes'y or, that what a man does with the fulkft 
 confent of his will, with the leaft reludance, 
 and the greatefl defire and refolution, he fhould, 
 for this very reafon, be fufpeded not to ^o freely, 
 that isj not to do at all. 
 
 Again ; from the account which has been 
 given of the various degrees of virtue and me- 
 rit in adions and of the manner in which we efti- 
 mate them, we may fee why, " when we judge 
 " calmly and impartially," we form much the 
 fame judgment of good adions afFeding ilran- 
 gers, that we do of thofe affeding ourfelves or 
 friends ; and alfo, why our efteem of an agent 
 is never the lefs, though he has no opportunities 
 for exerting his virtue, or though his good en- 
 deavours may produce effeds contrary to thofe 
 he deligned. There is no account to be given 
 of thefe fads, if virtue be (what it muft be if we 
 owe our ideas of it to an implanted fenfe) no 
 more than a particular kind of agreeable feeling 
 or fenfation : For it feems plain upon this fuppoii- 
 tion, that the fenfiblepleafure or impreffion being, 
 in the cafe I have mentioned, fo much magnified 
 orlefTened, our conceptions of the degree of vir- 
 tue muft alfo be proportionably varied : Whereas 
 the account here given, affords us a ftable and 
 
 fixed 
 
the EJfentials of a good Characfer. 353 
 
 fixed rule of judgment, and fliews us the obje^l 
 concerning which we judge to be real and de- 
 terminate in itfelf, and unchangeably the fame, 
 whatever our apprehenfions of it may be, what- 
 ever the impreffions are on our minds, and in 
 whatever point of view we contemplate it*. 
 But the notion of virtue I have mentioned, 
 makes it plainly no object of any rational efti- 
 mate, leaves no fixed flandard of it, and im- 
 plies that all men's apprehenfions of it at all 
 times are equally juft j no man, while he ex- 
 prefies truly what he feels, or the emotion ac- 
 companying his obfervation of a particular adion 
 or character, being capable of pronouncing any 
 thing wrong concerning the morality or immo- 
 rality of it -f". He may, it is true, err with re- 
 ipedl to tile quantity of good produced, or the 
 degrees of kind affedion influencing the agent 5 
 but thefe are properly, by this fcheme itfelf, 
 
 * See Chap. I. Sea. 3. 
 
 t " The diftindlion of moral good and evil is founded 
 *' on the pleafure or pain, which refuhs from the view of 
 ** any fentiment, or charaflerj and as that pleafure or 
 '* pain cannot be unknown to the perfon who feels it, it 
 *' follows, that there is juft fo much vice or virtue in any 
 *' character, as every one places in it, and that it is im- 
 *' poffible, in this particular, we can ever be miftaken.'* 
 See Mr. Hume'i Treatife of Human Nature^ Vol. Ill, 
 page 154- 
 
 A a as 
 
354 Of Degrees cf Virtue and Vice^ and 
 
 as different from virtue, as the caufe is different 
 from the etfed:, or as certain tafles are diffe- 
 rent from the motion and textures of the fub- 
 ftances producing them. 
 
 1 have added above, " when we judge calmly 
 •' and impartially,'' becaufe it is too evident to 
 be denied, that the caufes I have mentioned, do 
 frequently pervert and millead our judgments. 
 The partiality of perfons to ourfelves is always 
 apt to biafs our judgments in their favour, and 
 to enhance our good opinion of them j while a 
 ftranger, a competitor, an adverfary, or a perfon 
 of a different religious perfualion, can often be 
 hardly allowed to have any thing good in him. 
 In like manner, an enterprize which has proved 
 unfuccefsful, or iffued in harm inflead of good, 
 we cannot eafily give thofe commendations to, 
 which it may really deferve j as, on the contra- 
 ry, the happy confequences of an undertaking, 
 efpecially if we ourfelves or thofe related to us 
 Ihare in them, have a tendency, by intereftingour 
 affedions, to engage us to afcribe much greater 
 merit to it than it may truly have. Againft thefe 
 and the like fources of falfe judgment, by which 
 we are fo very liable to be infenfibly led aflray, we 
 ought carefully to guard ourfelves, if we would 
 keep clear of the inconceivable mifchiefs arifing 
 from party attachments 5 if we would efcape 
 
 the 
 
the EJfentiaJs of a good CharaSier, 255 
 
 the fad efFedts of following a blind guide, and 
 fee characters and men juft as they are. We 
 fliould attend to the fituation in which we are 
 placed, and the ftate and temper of mind in 
 which we view objeds, ftudy to make proper 
 allowances for them, and remember that the 
 degree of approbation or blame due to an 
 action, is determined by Ibmewhat more fled- 
 fafl than private paffion, variable impreffions, 
 or cafual confequences ; and that the true de- 
 fert of a charader is never altered by the mere 
 circumftances of our intereft in it, or relation 
 to it. 
 
 Having thus explained the general founda- 
 tion of the different degrees of virtue and vice 
 in actions, and flated the principles and rules 
 by which we judge of them ; it will be ufeful 
 next diftindly to confider what is requifite to 
 conftitute an agent properly a virtuous agent, 
 or to give his charaBer this denomination, ra- 
 ther than the contrary. 
 
 All beings, who have any idea of moral good, 
 
 muft have fome propenfity or affedion to it> 
 
 which cannot fail to hz^Q fome effed, and, more 
 
 or lefs, to influence their aflions and temper. 
 
 A a 2 — It 
 
3 5 6 Of Degrees of Virtue and VicCy and 
 
 — • It is not conceivable t-hat a reafonable creature 
 {hould be void of nil regard to reafon and its 
 dictates ; tliat he (hould want all notion of the 
 diftindion which we exprefs when we fay, 
 f * this is to be done, or that is not to be done ^" 
 or that, having fuch a perception efTential to 
 him and always prefent with him it fhould 
 ever become wholly inefficacious. — Nor, ftridtly 
 ipeaking, can a reafonable being have any ten- 
 dencies within him contrary to reditude. I 
 mean, he can have no averfion to re<5titude con- 
 lidered fmiply and in itfelf, or tendency to wrong 
 as wrong, to what is unreafonable and evil as 
 unreafonable and evil. — Both thefe feem to 
 me quite impoffible. -— The former cannot be 
 fuppofed without fuppoiing the entire deftruc- 
 tion of the intelligent powers of the being j 
 and the very idea of the latter is felf-repugnant 
 and contradidory. In other words ; there can 
 be no being fo corrupt as that the unreafon- 
 ablenefs of an action, that is, his feeing reafon 
 againji it, fhall be to him a reafon yor, or not 
 a reafon againfl doing it : Or, whofe regard to 
 truth and right fliatl not at leaft have weight 
 enough to turn the fcale when even, and be 
 fufficient to render it certain, that he will 
 determine agreeably to them, when he has no 
 5 tempta- 
 
the Ejfentiah of a good Cbm-aSler, 3 57 
 
 temptation to violate them ; nothing to divert or 
 miflead him ; nothing to incline or biafs him any 
 other way. 
 
 Thefe things then not being poffible, and 
 making no part of the idea of an evil charadler, 
 it (hould be remembered, that the fources of all 
 vice are our inferior propenfities and appetites, 
 which, though in themfelves natural, innocent, 
 and ufeful, cannot but, in our prefent ftate, on 
 many occafions, interfere v^^ith reafon, and re- 
 main to influence us, as v^ell when they cannot 
 be lawfully gratified, as when they can. Hence 
 it comes to pafs, that we often actually deviate j 
 and that the reflecting principle is found in 
 men in all degrees of proportion to their in- 
 ftindive powers and deflres. Its rightful place 
 in the mind is that of fuperiority to all thefe 
 powers and defires, and of abfolute dominion 
 over them. In the nature of it is implied (to fpeak 
 after T>\: Butler J that it belongs to it, in all 
 cafes, to examine, judge, decide, direct, com- 
 mand, and forbid -, that it (hould yield to no- 
 thing whatfoever^ that it ought to model and 
 fuperintend our whole lives; and that every 
 motion and thought, every affedlion and defire, 
 ihould be fubjeded confl:antly and wholly to its 
 infpec^ion and influence. So intimate to men is 
 reafon, that a deliberate refolution net to be gp- 
 A a 3 verned 
 
35^ Of Degrees of Virtue and Fice, and 
 
 verned by it, is fcarcely poflible j and that, even 
 when urged by paflion and appetite, they can 
 feldom avowedly contradict it, or in any inftance 
 break loofe from its guidance, without the help 
 of diflioneft art and fophiftry ; without many 
 painful winkings at the light, and hard ftruggles 
 to evade the force of convidion 3 without ftu- 
 dioufly fearching for excufes and palliatives, and 
 thus making fome fhift to throw a cloud before 
 their eyes, to reconcile themfelves to the guilty 
 practice, hide its deformity, and deceive them- 
 felves into an opinion of its warrantablenefs or 
 innocence in their circumftances. How plainly 
 may we hence learn how great the force of rea- 
 fon is J how fovereign and unfurmountable it is 
 in its nature j how it adheres to us when we 
 are endeavouring to caft it off; and what fway 
 it will, in fome manner or other, have in our 
 minds, do what we will to obfcure, abufe, or 
 fubvert it. 
 
 The eilential pre-eminence now obferved to 
 belong to the reafonable faculty, is what ought 
 chiefly to be conlidered, in fettling the true idea 
 of human nature^. It proves to us, beyond con- 
 
 tradidtion, 
 
 * The human mind would appear to have little order 
 or confiftency in it, were we to confider it as only a fyftem 
 of paffions and afFeflions, which are continually drawing 
 
 us 
 
the EffcJttiah of a good Chara&er. 3 j-p 
 
 tradition, that the original, proper, and found ftate 
 of our natures, is that in which this faculty, this 
 
 their 
 
 us different ways, without any thing at the head of them 
 to govern them, and the ftrongeft of which for the time 
 neceffkrily determmes the conduct. But this is far from 
 being its real ftate. It has a faculty efl'ential to it, to 
 which every power within it is fubje6led, the proper of- 
 fice of which is to reconcile the differences between all 
 our particular affedlions, to point out to us when and how 
 far every one of them fhall or fliall not be gratified, and 
 to determine which, in all cafes of competition, fiiall give 
 way. This izcn\x.y h out Moral faculty^ and it is therefore 
 the reference of all within us to this, that gives us the true 
 idea of human nature, that harmonizes its various powers, 
 and makes this complex and otherwife confufed ftruflure 
 properly one things one regular and confiftent whole. This 
 fupremacy of the moral faculty, I have obferved, is im- 
 plied in the idea of it j but we have alfo a demonftration 
 of it from fa6l : For whereas the haji violation of this fa- 
 culty, in compliance with all our other powers in conjunc- 
 tion, would give us pain and fhame ; the greatcfl violation, 
 on the contrary, of our other powers, in compliance with 
 th'is^ is approved by us ; nay, the more we contradict our 
 other powers in compliance with it, and the greater facri- 
 fice we make of their enjoyrnents and gratifications to it, 
 the more we are pleafed with ourfelves, and the higher in- 
 ward fatisfaiStion and triumph we feel. — See Dr. Butltr\ 
 Ser.mons on Human Npture^ and the Preface. I find alfo 
 Dr. Hutchefin, in his Syjiem of Moral Philofophy, afferting to 
 the fame purpofe that our moral faculty, or, as he calls it, 
 the Moial fenfe^ is the " direding principle within us, 
 *' deftined to command all our other powers ; and that 
 A a 4 " the 
 
360 Of "Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 their dif ingiiijhing and pre-eminent part , is indeed, 
 or as to its effed on the lite and temper, pre- 
 
 eminent^ 
 
 *« the defire of moral excellence is the fupreme determi- 
 *' nation or affeflion of our minds, and different from all 
 *' our hind affe^ions." See p. 61, 67, 68, 70, 77, &c. 
 Vol. I. 
 
 Though I entirely approve thefe fentiments, I cannot 
 help detaining the reader while I make a few remarks, in 
 order to fliew him how difficult it is to reconcile them with 
 this writer's other fentiments of virtue. It is much to be 
 wiflied that he had been more explicit on this fubjedt, and 
 explained himfelf more particularly. Had he done this, 
 he would, I fancy, either not have writ in this manner, 
 or given a different account of the nature of moral appro- 
 bation, and of our moral faculty. 
 
 li Moral approbation be only a kind oi fuhlimer fenfation, 
 or z /pedes of mental tajie, it can furely have no influence on 
 pur purpofes and adlions ; much lefs can it have fuch in- 
 fluence, as to be the fupreme and commanding principle 
 within us. The Moral fen fe is properly the determina- 
 tion in our natures to be pleafed or difpleafed with adlions 
 proceeding from certain motives. It therefore always fup- 
 pofes fome diftinft motives, and can never be itfelf a fpring 
 of a6tion. Is it not then wonderful to find this very in- 
 genious and able writer, contrary to what he had done in 
 Jiis * lllujirations on the Moral Senfe-, confoundingy^w/^; with 
 wJlinSii ; and, contrary to what the very idea of the Mo- 
 ral fenfe^ as he feems to have explained it, admits of, re- 
 prefenting it as a diftinfl fpring of condudl in the mind, 
 talking of its force and efforts within us, its recommenzling^ en- 
 
 ♦ §ee Cliap. \> 
 
 joining. 
 
the Ejfentlah of a good CharaSler, 361 
 
 eminent, and all the other powers and principles 
 are obedient to it. — Now Goodnefs in mankind 
 
 IS 
 
 joinings controuUng^ and governing* , nay, fctting it up as the 
 fovereign direiior of our affeSiom and aSiions^fuperior even to 
 Benevolence. This can be confiftent and proper on no 
 other fuppofition, than that our Moral faculty is the Un- 
 derftanding, and that moral approbation implies in it the 
 perception of truth, or the difcernment of a real charader 
 of anions. 
 
 Again j what is Moral excellence ? On the principles I 
 am confidering, it muft mean, either thofe affections and 
 aftions themfelves to which we give the denomination of 
 excellent^ or that grateful fenfaiiGn, which, when obferved, 
 they are the occafions of in us. — If it means the former, 
 or, in other words, the having and exercifing an extenfive 
 and ardent benevolence ; how can the defire of it be dif- 
 ferent from benevolence ? How can it be, as Dr. Huiche- 
 fon fays it is, f in another order of affeBiom ? — If it means 
 the latter, how can it be proper to fpeak of the defire and 
 love of it ? Can the defire of the relijh we have for particu- 
 lar obje<5ts, as diftindt from the defire of the objects them- 
 felves, mean any thing, befides the defire of enjoyino- the 
 pleafures attending it; and can it therefore influence our 
 aflions any otherwife than by means of felf-love? In 
 fhort, it muft appear, I fliould think, to every one, very 
 abfurd to fpeak of the defire of Moral excellence, to fup- 
 pofe a calm, immediate determination to Moral good itfelf^ 
 and to afcribe a commanding power to the faculty which 
 perceives it, if Moral gcody or Maral excellence, fignifies no- 
 
 * See his Moral Philofophy. f Ibid. p. 70. See 
 
 alfo the Preface by the excellent Dr. Lee<h?nan, p. 44, &c. 
 
 thing' 
 
362 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 is this ftate reftored and eftablidied. It is the 
 power of reflexion raifed to its due feat of di- 
 
 ' redion 
 
 thing diftinit from z feeling of the hearty or nothing abfolute 
 and immutable and independent of the mind. It is how- 
 ever lome indication of the truth on this fubjedt, that thofe, 
 with whofe fentiments it is inconfiftent, find themfelves 
 led infenfibly to write and think of our moral faculty, or 
 .the fenfe of duty and moral excellence, as the ultimate 
 and fupreme guide of our actions. Nor can it be eafy for 
 any one who will examine this matter, not to feel how un- 
 avoidable it is to conceive this to be indeed the cafe, and 
 how falfe therefore every account of morality muft be that 
 implies the contrary. 
 
 Once more. Our moral faculty, Dr. Hutchfon, we find, 
 acknowledges to be the fupreme commanding power 
 within us. Confider now, what within us is moft likely 
 to be this power. Can there be a higher power in a rea- 
 fonable being than reafon ? and is this power ix fenfe? 
 How ftrange would this feem ? — I do not find that PlatOy 
 and others of the antient moralifls, had any notion that 
 the TO >);yeMoi'/;tov in man, which they infift fo much 
 upon, was any thing elfe than reafon^ to pvaet Szu'ttotimv, 
 Tajer/ 7 Koyi^tKOVt fays Jkinous de Dodrina Platonis 
 Chap, xxviii. 
 
 .i.i Let me add, that the very queftion which has been 
 afked, and which naturally arifcs when we are fettling a 
 fcheme of life and condu6l ; " what ought to be the end of 
 *' our deliberate purfuit, private ox publick happinefs ;" or, 
 " which ought to give way, (that is, which is it right fliould 
 t« give way) in cafe of oppofition, the calm felfifh, or the 
 ** calm benevolent affection ?" See the Pr^^£:i?juft quoted, 
 page 45, &c. This queftion itfelf, I fay, plainly implies, 
 that the idea of right in a»5lions is fomething different from 
 5 a"d 
 
the Ejfehtiah of a good CharaSier. 363 
 
 reifilon and Ibvereignty in the mind ; confcience 
 fixed and kept in the throne, and holding under 
 -its fway all our paiiions. The lead it implies is 
 ,fome predominancy^ of good affed:ions, and fupe- 
 riority of virtuous principles in us above all others. 
 — Wickednefs, on the contrary, is the fubverjion 
 
 and independent of the idea of their flowing from kind af- 
 feiSlions, or having a tendency to univerfal happinefs ; for 
 certainly, the meaning of the queftion cannot be, which will 
 proceed from kind afFe(5tion,orv/hich has atendency to pro- 
 mote univerfal happinefs, following ourdefires of private or 
 univerfal happinefs. — It alfo fuppofcs, that the perception 
 of right influences our choice ; for otherwife fuch a queftion 
 could never be afked with any view to the determination of 
 our choice, nor could the refolution of it have any efFedl this 
 way. — It fuppofes finally, that the appeal in all cafes is to 
 our moral faculty, as the ultimate judge and determiner of 
 our condudl ; and, that the regard to rights to duiy, or to 
 moral excellence^ is a fuperior affetflion within us to bene- 
 volence-, for it comes in, in cafes of interference between 
 felf-love and benevolence, to turn the fcale in favour 
 of benevolence, to recommend and order the generous 
 part, or, as Dr. Hutchefon fpeaks*, to make the determi- 
 nation to publick happinefs the fupreme one in the foul. 
 
 Thus then, here, as in other parts of this work, we find 
 an obje6l, " Moral good, of unrivalled worth ; of fupreme 
 *' influence ; eternal, divine, all-governing ; perceived by 
 *' reafon; necefiarily loved and defired as foon as perceiv- 
 *' ed; and the affection to which (including benevolence, but 
 *' not the fame with it) is the chief afFedion in every good 
 *' being, and the higheft dignity and excellence of every 
 ^' mind." 
 
 * Ibid, page 77. 
 
 of 
 
364 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 of this original and natural ftate of the mind, or 
 the prevalency of the lower powers in oppofition 
 to the authority of reafon. It implies the infc' 
 riority of good principles to others within us, 
 a greater attachment to fome particular objeds 
 than to truth and righteoufnefs, or fuch a defec- 
 tive regard to virtue, as is confiftent with indulg- 
 ing, in any infiancey known guilt. It is the vio- 
 lent and unnatural ftate of the mind 5 the de* 
 pofition of reafon, and the exaltation of appetite j 
 the death of the man, and the triumph of the 
 brute 5 flavery in oppofition to liberty ; ficknefs 
 in oppofition to health j and uproar and anarchy 
 in oppofition to order and peace. 
 
 If then we would know our own charadters, 
 and determine to which clafs of men we belong, 
 the good or the bad ; we muft compare our re- 
 gard to everlafting truth and righteoufnefs with 
 our regard to friends, credit, pleafure, and life, 
 our love of God and moral excellence with our 
 love of inferior objeds, the dominion of reafon 
 with the force of appetite, and find which ^r£"U^//. 
 Until the rational part gets the vidory over the 
 animal part, and the main bent of the heart is 
 turned towards virtue; until the principles of piety 
 and goodnefs obtain in fome degree the fupre- 
 macy, and the paffions have been made to refigri 
 their ufurped power^ we are within the confines 
 
 of 
 
the Effentiais of a good Ch&raSfer, 36^ 
 
 of vice and danger and mifery. — There is rca- 
 fon to believe that many deceive themfelves by 
 concluding, that fince they poflefs many valu- 
 able qualities and feel the workings of good 
 principles, fince they love virtue and hate vice, 
 and do perhaps good in their ftations, they can 
 have little reafon to diftruft their characters; 
 not duly confidering the point here infifted upon; 
 or that v/hat they ought chiefly to attend to is the 
 place and degree of thefe principles in compa- 
 rifon with others ; and that it is not thofe who 
 hate vice, but thofe who hate it above pain, 
 difhonour, or any thing whatever; not thoie 
 who love virtue, but thofe who love it above all 
 that can come in competition with it, and pofFefs 
 2ifupreme regard to it, who are truly the virtuous 
 and worthy. -^ It is a common obfervation, that 
 it is the riding pajjion that denominates the cha- 
 rader. The ruling love of power, fame, and 
 diflindion, denominates a man ambitious \ the 
 ruling love of pleafure, a man of pleafure ; of 
 itioney, a covetous man. And, in like manner, 
 the ruling love of God, of our fellow-creatures, 
 and of reditude and truth, denominates a man 
 virtuous. 
 
 It is natural to enquire here, how in particu- 
 lar we may know, that the love of virtue is thus 
 
 pre- 
 
366 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 predominant in us i or what are the marks and 
 effcds of that fuperiority of good affedions 
 which has been reprefented as effential to a good 
 charader. In anfwer to this, it will be proper 
 to obferve, 
 
 Firjlj That the predominant paffion always 
 draws after it the thoughts, furnifhes them with 
 their principal employment, and gives a tindure 
 of itfelf to all our ftudies and deliberations. 
 What we mofl love, is that which we ofteneft 
 think of, and which engages mofl of our at- 
 tention. If then we would know whether vir- 
 tue and confcience rule within us, we muft exa- 
 mine which way the main current of our 
 thoughts runs 5 what objects prefent themfelves 
 to them mofl: frequently and unavoidably ; what 
 lies upon them with the greatefi: weight; and 
 what, in fettling all our fchemes and refolutions, 
 we dwell mofl upon and take mofl into confi- 
 deration. 
 
 Particularly j when deliberating about any 
 undertaking, do you confider, not fo much how 
 it will affed your credit, fortune, or eafe, as 
 what, all things confidered, do reafon and right 
 require of you ; what would you exped that 
 another fhould do in the fame circumflances j 
 what good may it produce; how wilt it appear 
 to you hereafter; what efFed; will it have on ' 
 
 the 
 
the Efentuih of a good Chara6ier. 367 
 
 the divine favour to you ; how does it confift 
 with your interefl on the whole, and fuit the 
 dignity of a being endowed with fuch faculties, 
 flanding in fuch relations, and having fuch ex- 
 pe(ftations ? But, 
 
 Secondly, This predominancy will principally 
 fhew itfelf in a^ual praSiice, or in tlx courfe of 
 the Ufe and converfation. What ftands foremoft 
 in our thoughts and hearts, our adions never 
 fail to exprefs. The flrength of inward affec- 
 tions is always in proportion to their effeds on 
 the external condiiB. When the intelledual and 
 moral principle, therefore, is the reigning prin- 
 ciple, it excludes every thing irregular and im- 
 moral from the behaviour j all unreafonable 
 courfes are forfaken 3 the whole of duty is faith- 
 fully attended to and difcharged j no ill habits 
 are fpared; no wrong difpolitions indulged; 
 no known obligation wilfully and ftatedly neg- 
 leded. 
 
 It is above all things neceflary to conflitute 
 our charaders good, that our virtue be not par" 
 tial-j that we conform ourfeLves to every rela- 
 tion in which vv'e fland, however made known 
 to us ; attend, not to one duty or part of right 
 condud to the negled of others, but regard with 
 equal zeal every fpecies of duty, and the whole 
 
 of 
 
368 of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 of moral redlitude. He that is juft, kind, meek, 
 and humble, but at the fame time an habitual 
 drunkard, can have no pretence to genuine vir- 
 tue. The fame is true of him vi^ho is fober and 
 temperate, but will deceive and cheat ; of him 
 who prays and fafts, is exadt in all the external 
 parts of religion, and zealous for truth and piety, 
 but wants candour, gentlenefs, meeknefs, vera- 
 city, and charity j of him who is chafte, gene- 
 rous, friendly, and faithful, but wants piety, or 
 negkSis any relations higher than thcfe to men^ 
 in which he may have realbn to think he (lands. 
 The reafon of this has been in part already 
 given in the feventh chapter j and we may 
 here add, that an habitual breach of one divine 
 law, or retention of one favourite failure or 
 bofom-vice, demonftrates, that had the perfon 
 equal temptations to tranfgrefs in all other in- 
 ftances, he would do it, and become totally a- 
 bandoned. As long as any paffion preferves an 
 afcendency over us, and remains rebellious and 
 l^wlefs, there is plainly fomething within us 
 Jironger than virtue, fomething that mailers and 
 fubdues its God and confcience have not the 
 throne ; the due balance continues wanting in 
 the mind, and its order and health are net re- 
 covered. Until we poifefs an equal and entire 
 ajj'cBion to goodnefs, we poifefs none that is 
 
 triih 
 
the Effejitials of a good CharaBer, '^(^a 
 
 truly acceptable^ or that can be of much account 
 and value* However unblameable a perfon of 
 the charader we are now conlidering may in 
 feveral refpeds bej with whatever ardour he 
 may apply himfelf to the pradtlce of fome 
 branches of virtue which happen not to lie very 
 crofs to his inclinations and temper ; it is ob- 
 vious, that he is not to be reckoned her faithful 
 votary, and that his heart is at the bottom falfe 
 to her interells and authority. Were not this 
 the cafe, he would not in any inftance defert her: 
 He would not prefer to her the indulgence of 
 any defirCj or refign her for any enjoyments. 
 Such is her dignity and amiablenefs, that every 
 thing is fordid and contemptible compared with 
 her : Such her nature, that fhe can admit of 
 no rival. He then loves her not at all, who 
 loves her x\Qlfirft. • A partial regard to rec- 
 titude is inconfiftent and abfurd. That attach- 
 ment to it alone is genuine, which has itfelf 
 merely, its own native obligation and excellence 
 for its objed and end, and is unadulterated by 
 the mixture of any foreign and indired motives. 
 And fuch an attachment will neceffarily be di- 
 rected alike to all the parts and inftances of it. 
 What comes (hort of this is incomplete, unfa- 
 tisfadory, variable, and capricious. — Be then 
 confijlently and thoroughly good, if you would be 
 B b lb 
 
I'jo Of Degree i of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 fo effeSfually. Yield yourfelf entirely and ««/- 
 'verfally to the government of confcience, and 
 conquer every adverfe inclination, or lay no 
 claim to true virtue, and give up all hope of the 
 happinefs in referve for it. 
 
 Every one will fee, I do not mean that we 
 muft be perfeB^ or lay the ftrefs upon being 
 abfolutely free from every failure, or never do- 
 ing any thing that lliall be unwarrantable. Of 
 this we are indeed quite incapable. A work of 
 any kind may have all its elTentials, and be 
 complete in all its parts, when yet it may be 
 unfinidied, and require much more of the hand 
 and labour of its caufe. There may be real 
 life, at the fame time that it admits of great im- 
 provement, and is very weak and languifliing. 
 Some infirmities will cleave to the beft, and it is 
 impoflible at prefent always to hold our paf- 
 fions under fuch ftrid: difcipline, as that they 
 fliall never furprize or hurry us into any thing 
 which our hearts Hiall difapprove. But when- 
 ever this happens, it is effential to the character 
 of a good man, that it is his greatejl trouble and 
 Ihame, and that he is put by it upon more 
 future vigilance. His fettled prevailing regard 
 in heart and life is to truth, piety, and goodnefs; 
 though unhappily he may be fometimes mifled. 
 Confcience has the afcendant 5 the fovereignty 
 
 of 
 
the 'Effentiah of a good CharaBer, 371 
 
 of reafon is eiLablilned j and ill habits are extir- 
 pated, though not to that degree, that he (liall 
 be in no danger of deviating, or that the ene- 
 mies of his virtue fliall never find him off his 
 guard, or gain any advantages over him. 
 
 Thirdly^ In order to determine whether the 
 love of virtue is predominant in us, it is proper 
 further to enquire, what degree of delight we 
 have in it. That which gives the foul its pre- 
 vailing cafl and bent, and engages its chief pur- 
 fuit, will be agreeable to it. All ads arifing 
 from eftablifhed habits are free, unconftraincd 
 and chearful. What our hearts are moO: fe£ 
 upon will make the principal part of our hap- 
 pinefs. What we love moft, or have the greateft 
 inward eftcem and relilh for, muft be the fourcs 
 of our greatcit pleafures. — Well therefore may 
 he fufpedt his charaC-ler, who finds that virtuous 
 exerciles, the duties of piety, or the various of- 
 fices of love and goodnefs to which he may be 
 Galled, are diflafteful and irkfome to him, or 
 fuch as he would be glad to avoid did he well 
 know how. Virtue is the objedl of the chief 
 complacency of every virtuous man j the e.xer- 
 cife of it is his chief delight ; and the confci- 
 oufnefs of it gives him his higheft joy. He 
 ought to be always ready to undertake whatever 
 B b 2 it 
 
3 72 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 it requires from him, never relu6tant when con- 
 vinced in any cafe of his duty, and never more 
 fatisfied or happy than when engaged in per- 
 forming it. 
 
 Some may probably be apt to enquire here, 
 
 whether the pleafures infeparable from virtue, 
 
 efpecially thofe attending the higher degrees of 
 
 it, have not a tendency to render it fo much the 
 
 kfs difinterefted, and eonfequently to link its 
 
 value. — I anfwer j this may indeed be the 
 
 confequencej as far as it is poflible, that the 
 
 pleafure itfelf merely attending virtue, can be 
 
 the motive to the practice of it : But it is fcarcely 
 
 in our power (whatever we m.ay think), to 
 
 be thus refined in our purfuits, or really to 
 
 deceive ourfelves in this manner. For that 
 
 only being the virtue which any one can juftly 
 
 applaud himfelf for, or derive pleafure from, 
 
 which proceeds from a regard to right and dutyy 
 
 or to which the confideration of thefe excites 
 
 him ; it is evidently contradidory to fuppofe, 
 
 that the defire of the pleafure attending virtue 
 
 or arifing from the reflexion upon it, can in any 
 
 inftance be the fole motive to the practice of it. 
 
 For a perfon to propofe ading thus, is exad:ly 
 
 the fame as for him to propofe adting from one 
 
 motive i in order to have the pleafure of refledt- 
 
 ing that he has aded from another, ■ — The 
 
 truth 
 
the EJfentiah zf a good CharaBer. 373 
 
 truth therefore is, that the pleafure attending 
 virtue, inftead oi debafmg^ r\cct^^i:'{[y fuppofes it, 
 and always increaies or lefTens in proportion to 
 the decree of virtue prefuppofed. The more 
 benevolent and worthy a man is, the more he 
 muft be pleafed with himfelf ^ the more fatisfac- 
 tion of mind he muft feel. As much greater 
 as his affedioQ and attachment to virtue are, fo 
 much the more muft he rejoice in it, and fo 
 much the happier it muft render him. — How 
 abfurd would it be to aftert, that the more plea- 
 fure a man takes in beneficence, the lefs difin- 
 terefted it muft be, and the lefs merit it muft; 
 have ? Whereas juft the reverfe is the truth ; 
 for the pleafure being grounded upon and de- 
 rived from the gratification of the afFedion of 
 benevolence, the greater degree of it plainly 
 argues only a proportion ably greater degree of 
 benevolence. — Such difficulties as thefe would 
 never have been much regarded, had an obfer- 
 vation already made been more confidered, 
 namely, *' That pleafure is founded in defire, 
 *' and not defire in pleafure; or that, in all 
 *i cafes, enjoyment and happinefi are the efftBs^^ 
 ^ij»Qt the caujh an4 epdi of our aiFedions." 
 
 There remains another criterion of a good 
 <;hara(Slcr, which niuft not be overlooked ; I 
 mmi B b 3 mean. 
 
374 Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ and 
 
 mean, a conftant endeavour to improve. True 
 goodnefs muft be a growing thing. All habits 
 by time and exercife gain flrength. It is not 
 to be imagined, that he has found principles of 
 virtue in him, who is not concerned about con- 
 firming them to the utmoil, and obtaining a 
 total vidtory over all the enemies of his happi- 
 nefs and perfe6tion. Whoever has tafted of the 
 joys of benevolence and righteoufnefs, afpires af- 
 ter rKore of them, and grieves under the remains 
 of moral imperfedion in his character. He 
 cannot polTefs fo little zeal, as only to defire to 
 keen within the bounds of what is innocent or 
 lawful. A perfon who thinks himfelf good e- 
 nough, may be fure that he is not good at all. 
 When the h-ve of virtue becomes the reign- 
 ing affeBion^ it will not be poilible for us to 
 fatisfy ourfelves with any degrees of virtue 
 we poffefs, or with any acquiiitions we can 
 make. — ■ What is analogous to this, we find 
 to take place, v/henever any of our lower affec- 
 tions obtain the afcendency. Every paffion, 
 when it becomes uppermoft, is always finding 
 out new work for the inind, and putting us 
 upon providing new gratifications for it. A m^n 
 w\\o{q prevailiijg pajjion is the love of power, or 
 of money, feldom thinks (bs his acquifidons 
 what they will) that he has acquired enough ; 
 
 but 
 
the EJfentiah of a good CharaBer. 375 
 
 but is continually grafping at fomewhat fur- 
 ther, and labouring to add to his glory and trea- 
 lures. — This infatiablenefs which attends the 
 paffions, when they pafs their natural bounda- 
 ries, is a fad pervertion of a difpofition which is 
 truly noble, and becomes often the occafion of 
 the mod infupportable mifery. To virtue it 
 ought to be direded. This alone is true gain 
 and true glory. The more afpiring and infa- 
 tiable we are here, the more amiable and bleffed 
 we are rendered. One of the mofl: pidable 
 fpedacles in nature, is a covetous, an ambitious 
 or voluptuous perfon, who is ever crying out for 
 " more;" who, for want of contentednefs with 
 what he has, lofes the whole enjoyment it might 
 afford him, and is tortured perpetually on the 
 rack of wild and reftlefs deiire. But how de- 
 firable and happy is the ftate of him, who, in 
 goodnefs, cannot content himfeif with prefent 
 acquidtions j who anxioufly cheriflies in him- 
 feif the high and facred ambition to grow wifer 
 and better, to become liker to the Deity, and 
 advance continually nearer and nearer to per- 
 fedion ? 
 
 It would perhaps in fome refpeds be a need- 
 
 lefs work, as well as not much to my prefent 
 
 purpofe, to point out particularly what occaiion 
 
 B b 4 and 
 
376 Cf Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ and 
 
 and what room the beft have for improvement. 
 It may, hovt'ever, be worth obferving in this 
 place, that, as what renders men more or lefs vir- 
 tuous, is the greater or lefs degree of the fupe- 
 riority of the moral principle within them above 
 others ; fo this principle is capable of increafe 
 and advancement without end. 
 
 The underftanding may be very properly 
 eonfidered, as either moral or fpeculati-ve. Our 
 fpeadative underjianding is evidently capable of 
 infinite improvement J and therefore o\y\: moral 
 tmderfianding muft be fo likewife ; for thefe be- 
 ing only different views of the fame faculty, muft 
 be infeparably connected, and cannot be con- 
 ceived not to influence each other. Every im- 
 provement of the fpeculative knowledge of a 
 good being J every advance in the diTcovery of 
 jruth, and addition to the flrength of his reafon, 
 and the extent and clearnefs of its perceptions, 
 muft be attended with views of moral good pro- 
 pprticnably more enlarged and extenfive 5 with 
 a more clear and perfeft acquaintance with its 
 pature, importance and excellence j and confe- 
 quentlv with more fcope for prad:lfing it, and a 
 more invariable diredion of the will to it. 
 This, joined with the growing effects of habit 
 '^'CiA conftant exercife, may by degrees fo ftreng- 
 then and exalt the pradical principle of red!- 
 
 tude. 
 
the Effentiah of a good CbaraBer. yjj 
 
 tSsAt^ as to caufe it to ablbrb every other prin- 
 ciple, and annihilate every contrary tendency. 
 
 There 's uiercfore no point of moral as well 
 as intelkClual improvement, beyond which we 
 may not go by induftiy, attention, a due culd* 
 vation of our minds, and the help of proper 
 advantages and opportunities. — The contrary 
 may perhaps, with good reafon, be faid of vice. 
 It is not very eafy to conceive of any degree 
 of this, beyond which beings may not alfo go 
 through a carelefs negled: of themfelves, through 
 voluntary depravation, fophiftical reafonings, and 
 an obftinate perfeverance in evil practices. The 
 kafl wickednefs of charader fuppofes fomething 
 which conquers confcience, and leads a being 
 habitually aftray ; and the greate/i, confequently, 
 would imply, that confcience is fo far over- 
 powered as to be wholly extirpated, and all 
 regard to right and wrong and ^//influence from 
 it deftroyed , which is a pitch of corruption 
 at which, as I have before obferved, no being 
 can arrive while he remains, in any degree, rea- 
 fonable and accountable. Within this limit, the 
 force of the higher moral and refleding powers 
 admits of endlefly various degrees of weaknefs 
 and inferiority, compared with the other pow- 
 ers of an agent ; and thus may he be, in any der- 
 crce, more or leis corrupt, his nature more or 
 X lels 
 
37^ Of Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and 
 
 lefs perverted, and his mind more or lefs a Chaoi 
 and a Hell. 
 
 I might, on this head, further take notice of 
 the extent of our duty j the various hindrances 
 of our improvement ; the degeneracy into which 
 we are iunk, and the numerous enemies which 
 befet our frail natures. Such is the prefent con- 
 dition of man j fo great is the diforder vice and 
 folly have introduced into our frame ; and fo 
 many are the furprizes to which we are hable ; 
 that to preferve in any degree the integrity of 
 our charaders and peace within ourfelves, is dif- 
 ficult. But, to find out and corred the various 
 diforders of our minds ; to preferve an unfpotted 
 purity of life and manners ; to deflroy all the 
 feeds of envy, pride, ill-will, and impatience j 
 to liften to nothing but reafon in the midft of 
 the clamour of the paffions, and continue al- 
 ways faithful to our duty, however courted by 
 the world, allured by pleafure, or deterred by 
 fear; to cultivate all good difpofitions, guard a- 
 gainfl: all fnares, and clear our breads of all de- 
 filements — What an arduous work is this ? — 
 What unwearied dilieence does it call for? — 
 And how much of it, after our utmofl care 
 and labour, mull remain undone? 
 
 But 
 I 
 
the EJfentiah of a good CharaBcr. 279 
 
 But with what a deeper fenfe of imperfedion 
 mud it fill us, to view ourfelves in the light of 
 God's perfect and eternal reditude ? How low 
 muft this fink us in our own efteem ; and what 
 a boundlefs profpedt does it fet before us, of 
 higher moral excellence, to which we fhould 
 afpire ? 
 
 We have then infinite fcope for improvement, 
 and an everlafting progrefs before us. With 
 what zeal fhould we fet ourfelves to that work 
 now, which we muft be purfuing for ever, ap- 
 ply ourfelves to the pradice of true righteouf- 
 nefs, and refolve to make it our whole ambition, 
 to fubjed all our powers to the reafonable and di- 
 vifje part of us, to weaken tlie force of rebellious 
 appetites as much as poiTible, to grow in a con- 
 formity to the divine nature and laws, andcaufe 
 goodnefs and love and refignation to be effectu- 
 ally wrought into our tempers, and to poffefs 
 themfelves more and more of the whole frame 
 and bent of our fouls ? 
 
 One queftion more on this fubjedb may be 
 
 proper to be attended to. It may be afked, 
 
 *' whether a due order of the feveral inferior 
 ** powers of our natures amongft themfelves, 
 *' ought not to be taken into our idea of a good 
 *' charader, as well as their common fubordi- 
 ^* nation to the faculty of reafon ? " ^ It will 
 
 bs 
 
380 Of "Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ and 
 
 be a fufficient anfwer to this, to obferve, that 
 this fubordination of the lower powers implies 
 likewife their due flate, meafure, and proportion 
 in refped: of one another.. Though fome of 
 them (hould be ftronger than of right they 
 ought to be in comparifon with others j yet, if 
 reafon governs, the irregularity which would 
 otherwife follow will be prevented, and the 
 right balance will by degrees be reftored ; the 
 defed: on the one iide will be fupplied by a 
 higher principle, and the excefs on the other, 
 will, by the fame principle, be refrained -y fo 
 that no harm fhall enfue to the character, and 
 nothing criminal difcover itfelf in the life and 
 temper. — It has been elfev/here obferved, that, 
 as far as we increafe the force of reafon, we di- 
 minifh the occafion for appetite and inftincft. 
 By confequence, then, no inconvenience could 
 poflibly arife from any depreffion of inftind, if 
 reafon is proportionably exalted. But in men 
 it is in fa<5l impoffible fo far to improve this 
 faculty, as that the grcateft evils fhall not arife 
 from taking away our inAinds and paffions. 
 They were very wifely and kindly given us to 
 anfwer the purpofes of our prefent flate ; to be 
 the fources of many pleafures to us ; to be our 
 fole guides till reafon becomes capable of taking 
 the dirci^ion of us, and, after this, to remedy 
 ?/ its 
 
the Ejfentlah of a good CharaSler, 3^1 
 
 Its defedts, to enforce its dictates, and aid us in 
 the execution of them ; to give vigour and 
 fpirit to our purfuits, and be, as it were, fail and 
 wind to the velTel of life. What we are to fludy 
 then is, not to eradicate our paffions, (which, 
 ^vere it poffible, would be pernicious and wick- 
 ed) but to keep reafon vigilant and immoveable 
 at the helm, and to render them more eafily go- 
 vernable by it, and more abfolutely ministerial 
 to it. When they happen to be in any way 
 unfavourable and perverfe, defective or exceffive, 
 this will indeed throw difficulties in our way, 
 and expofe us to great danger 5 but it is the 
 office of reafon, at all times, to dired: and con- 
 troul them ; to fupply the needed force when 
 they are too languid j to moderate their elFeds 
 when too impetuous, and to guard againft every 
 threatening danger. 
 
 The charaifter and temper of a man who 
 has naturally the paffion of refentment ftrong, 
 and but little compaffion to balance it, will cer- 
 tainly degenerate into malJce and cruelty, if he is 
 guided folely by inftindive principles. But, if 
 he is guided by reafon and virtue, and thefe 
 form his charadler, the exorbitancy of re- 
 fentment will be checked i all that is hard, 
 unequal, injurious, revengeful, or unkind will 
 be excluded from his condudl j his temper will 
 
 be 
 
382 Of Deg7'ees of Virtue and Vice y and 
 
 be foftened and humanized j the miferies of 
 others will be duly regarded, and every thing 
 done to eafe their burdens and encreafe their 
 joys, in the fame manner, as if the natural 
 feelings of compaffion and fympathy had been 
 much ftronger. The like may be faid of a per- 
 fon whofe fef-love and defire of diJiinBion are 
 naturally too high in proportion to his benevo- 
 lence^ and who, therefore, unlefs governed by 
 reafon, would become proud^ fiffif^i ^"^ ambi- 
 tious ; and in all other cafes of the undue ad- 
 juftment of the paffions to one another. — A 
 virtuous man as fuch cannot allow any exorbi- 
 tancy in his affe<flions, or any internal diforder 
 ■which he is fenfible of, or which he can polli- 
 bly difcover and redify. Neither anger, felf- 
 love, the defire of fame, or of eafe, nor the bo- 
 dily appetites, can be fo powerful, or fo delicient, 
 as to render him envious, morofe, covetous, luxu- 
 rious, cowardly, felf-negledful, mean-fpirited, 
 or flothful. Piety and virtue coniift in the juft 
 regulation of the paffions. No better definition 
 can be given of them. They fignify nothing 
 any farther than they exclude whatever is incon- 
 fiftent v/ith true worth and integrity j make 
 thofe who pretend to them better in every ca- 
 pacity of life J and render the peevifli, good- 
 natured J the fierce and overbearing, gentle 5 
 
 the 
 
the Ejfentiah of a good CharaSier, 383 
 
 the obftinate, complying j the haughty, humblej 
 the narrow and felfiih, open and generous ; the 
 voluptuous, temperate ; and the falfe and de- 
 ceitful, faithful and iincere. Reafon is repug- 
 nant to all kinds of unreafonablenefs and irregu- 
 larity , and whatever of this fort may be found 
 in a character, rnufl: proceed from its not having 
 obtained fufficient influence and fway. It is 
 eiTential to it to direct, as far as its dominion ex- 
 tends, the paflions to their proper objects ; to 
 confine them to their proper functions and places; 
 to prevent them from diflurbing our own peace, 
 or that of the world ; and, in fhort, to correci 
 whatever is amifs in the inward man, or incon- 
 iiftent with its found and healthful ilate. 
 
 It is fcarcelv roffible to avoid refledinfT; here, 
 on the happy ftate of the perfon whole temper 
 and life are governed by reafon in the manner 
 I have now defcribed ? What tranquility and 
 blifs muft that mind poflefs whofe oppreffbrs and 
 tyrants lie vanquiihed and expiring j which has 
 regained its health and liberty ; is independent 
 ■ of the world, and ccnfcious of the peculiar cars 
 of the Ahiiighty ; where no feditious defire 
 Ihews itfelf, and the inferior powers are all har- 
 monious and obedient ; where hope and love, 
 candour, fincerity, fortitude, temperance, benic;- 
 nitVj piety, and the whole train of heavenly 
 
 virtues 
 
384 Of Degrees of Virtue mid Fkcy and 
 
 virtues and graces, ilied their influences, and 
 have taken up their refidence ? What beauty^ 
 or what glory like that of fuch a mind ? How 
 well has it been compared * to a well regulated 
 and flourifhing ftate, vidorious over every ene- 
 my ; fecure from every invafion and infult j the 
 feat of liberty, righteoufnefs, and peace ; where 
 every member keeps his proper ftation, and 
 faithfully performs his proper duty j where fac- 
 tion and difcord never appear ; order, harmony, 
 and love prevail, and all unite in chearful fub- 
 miffion to one wife and good legiflature. — Is 
 there any thing that deferves our ambition, be- 
 fides acquiring fuch a mind ? In what elfe can 
 the true bleiTednefs and perfedlion of man con- 
 iift ? With what contempt^ as well as pity, 
 xnuft we think of thofe, who ^vt^tx Jhadoivs and 
 tinfel to this frjl and highejl good ; who take great 
 care of the order of their drefs, their houfes or 
 lands ^ while they fufFer their minds to lie wafte; 
 and anxioufly purfue external elegance, but 
 ftudy not to make tbenf elves amiable, to cultivate 
 inward order y or to acquire a regular and happy 
 ftate of the heart and affections ? 
 
 * This comparifon is finely drawn in Plato's Dialogues 
 on a Republick. See particularly the conclufion of the 
 fourth and ninth dialogues. 
 
 And 
 
the EJfentiah of a good CharaSler, 3 85 
 
 And now, to conclude this chapter ; let me 
 obferve, that the account it contains of what is 
 neceflary to conftitute a good charader, gives 
 us a melancholy profped: of the condition of 
 mankind. True goodnefs, if this account is 
 juft, is by no means fo common as we could 
 wifli ; and that indifference and careleffnefs 
 which we fee in a great part of mankind, 
 muft be utterly inconlident with it. — Many of 
 even thofe who bear fair charadlers, and whofe 
 behaviour is in the main decent and regular, 
 are perhaps what they appear to be, more on 
 account of the peculiar favourablenefs of their 
 natural temper and circumftances ; or, becaufe 
 they have never happened to be much in the 
 way of being otherwife ; than from any ge- 
 nuine and found principles of virtue eftabliihed 
 within them, and governing their hearts. The 
 bulk of mankind is not compofed of the grofly 
 wicked, or of the eminently good j for, perhaps, 
 both thefe are almoft equally fcarce; but of 
 thofe who are as far frcm being truly gcod^ as 
 they are from being very bad i of the indolent 
 and unthinking ; the negleders of God and im- 
 mortality ^ the wearers of xhcform without the 
 reality oi ^iQty J of thofe, in (liort, who may be 
 Cc ii'^«^-i» blame- 
 
386 of Degrees of Virtue and Vice^ &c, 
 
 blame-worthy and guilty, not fo much on ac- 
 count of what they do, as what they do not do. 
 
 We have, therefore, all of us the greateft 
 reafon for being very careful of ourfelves, and 
 for narrowly watching and examining our hearts 
 and lives. — It is, I doubt, much too common 
 for men to think, that iefs is incumbent on 
 them than is really foj and to exped (how- 
 ever unreafonable fuch an expecflation muft be 
 in beings, who find it contradidled by all they 
 obferve of the courfe of the world) that they 
 may rife to blifs under the divine government 
 of courfe, without much folicitude or labour of 
 their own. — There is not, indeed, any thing 
 more neceflary, than to call upon men to con- 
 lider ferioufly the nature of the prefent iiate, 
 the precarioufnefs of their fituation, and the 
 danger they are in of remaining deftitute of 
 that virtuous charadier and temper, which are 
 the necelTary qualifications for blifs. There is 
 nothing they want more, than to be warned 
 to fave themfelves from the evil of the world ; 
 and to be admonifhed, frequently, *' that if 
 " they would efcape future condemnation, and 
 " be finally happy, they mull exercife vigilance, 
 " attention and zeal, and endeavour to be better 
 " than mankind in general are." 
 
 CHAP. 
 
[ 3S7 ] 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 The Account of Morality given i?i this 
 Treatife^ applied to the Kxplication 
 and P?^oof of fo7?te of the prii2cipal 
 DoBri7ies of Natural Religion ; 
 particularly^ the moral Attributes of 
 God^ his moral Gover72ment^ and a 
 future State of Rewards a^jd Ptc- 
 nifj7ne72ts, 
 
 BEFORE I enter on the fubjeds to be con- 
 fidered in this chapter^ I fliall beg the 
 reader's patience and attention while I recapitu- 
 late part of what has been hitherto faid in this 
 treatife; and, at the fame time, endeavour to 
 fet before him in one view, and the diftindefl 
 manner, the whole ftate of the controverly about 
 the foundation of 'virtue. 
 
 In all debates and enquiries, 'tis difcouraging 
 
 to think what confufion is occafioned, and what 
 
 difficulties are created, by the ambiguous fenfes 
 
 of words. Were it poffible for us to under- 
 
 C c 2 fland 
 
388' Of the principal Dodfrines 
 
 ftand preclfely one another's meaningj to ob^ 
 ferve accurately the different views we have of 
 things, and to communicate our naked and ge- 
 nuine fentiments to one another,, without being 
 under the neceffity of having them more or lefs 
 miftaken, through the imperfedions of lan- 
 guage ; we fliould find, that there are few or 
 DO fubjeds, on which we differ fb much as we 
 feem to do, and are commonly apt to imagine. 
 Many quedions there are which have been, 
 for many ages, controverted with great zeal, 
 tho' both fides have, in reality, all along meant 
 much the fame, and been nearly agreed, as far 
 as they had ideas, I fay, ai far as they had 
 ideas 'j for it is certain, that there is nothing 
 that the generality of men want more ; and 
 that a controverfy may become very tedious and 
 voluminous, while neither party have any deter- 
 minate opinions about the fubjed of it j but their 
 seal and contention are entirely for or againft 
 a fet of phrafes and exprefiions. This evil will 
 never be cured, till men learn to think as welt 
 as talky and refolve to proceed from words to 
 things, to give up their attachment to particular 
 phrafes, and fludy more, in all cafes, what is 
 7m ant tlian what is laid. 
 
 A great 
 
rf 'Natural Religion . 389 
 
 A great deal of this perplexity, arifing from 
 the ambiguity of words, has attended the fub- 
 jed: now before us ? and particularly it feems 
 that the word, foundation, admits of various 
 fenfes, which, if not attended to, cannot but 
 produce endlefs difputes *. For how is it pof- 
 fible, that we fliould agree in determining what 
 the foundation of virtue is, when we mean dif- 
 ferent things by the XtKra foundation, and there- 
 fore have necellarily different ideas of the na- 
 ture and defign of the quefticn -f- ? 
 
 * The letters which paiTed between the judicious and 
 candid Dr. Sharp and Mrs. Codhurn, publifncd in the fe- 
 cond volume of the works of the latter, dcferve to be 
 confulted here. 
 
 f The reader fviil, perhaps, be ready to wonder, that, 
 the definitions and obfervations which follow, were not 
 introduced into the firft fedtion of tUe firft chapter, where 
 the queftion about the foiindatkn of morality is profelledlr 
 ilated and explained, rather than here. But this queftion, 
 in the fenfe of it then confidered (which is the firftof the 
 fenfes here mentioned, and its moll proper and important 
 fenfe) was in that fcdion fo diftindly explained, that 
 there feemed to be no particular occallon for any further 
 explication of terms than was there given. And, when 
 the whole of what is here faid has been perufed, it will 
 be feen, that it comes in moft advantageoully after the 
 preceding chapters, and could not have been underftoad 
 before. 
 
 C c ? Lcr 
 
390 Of the principal DoBrirm 
 
 Let us then confider accurately what we 
 mean, when we enquire what is the " foun- 
 *^' DATioN of virtue." And let it be premifed, 
 that by virtue is now meant absolute vir- 
 tue, or that RIGHTNESS, PROPRIETY, Or FIT- 
 NESS of certain actions, which all own, in fome 
 inftances or other, and which can be explained 
 no other way, than by defiring every one to 
 refled: on what, in fuch inftances, he is con- 
 fcious of. When now we a(k, what the foun- 
 dation of 'virtue thus underftood, is, we may 
 mean, *' what is the true account or rcafon that 
 *' fuch and fuch acftions are rights or appear to 
 *' us under this notion ? " — And but two accounts 
 of this can pofiibly be affigned. — It may be 
 faid either, that right is a fpecies o^ fenfationy 
 like tafte or colour, and therefore denotes no- 
 thing ubfolutely true of the adions to which we 
 apply it ; which lays the foundation of it entirely 
 in the will and good pleafure of the author of 
 our natures. Or, on the other hand, it may be 
 faid, that it denotes a real charaBer of aliens, 
 or fomething true of them 5 fomething neceflary 
 and immutable, and independent of our percep- 
 tions, like equality, differences proportion^ or 
 conneSiion -, and, therefore, that no other account 
 is to be given, why fuch and fuch adions are 
 vight, than why the patures of things are what 
 
of Natural Religion. 391 
 
 tb-ey arej why, for example, the oppofite an- 
 gles made by the interledion of two right lines 
 are equaly or why it is impojfible^ that any thing 
 iliould exift without a caufe.- — It would be ex- 
 tremely unreafonable for any to pretend to want 
 further information here, and to afk, what is 
 the foundation of truth ? When we have 
 traced a fubjed: to the natures of things, we are, 
 in all cafes, neceffarily and completely fatisfied, 
 and it is, to the laft degree, trifling and imper- 
 tinent to defire any farther account. Would 
 be deferve an anfwer, or could we think him 
 quite in his fenfes, who fhould ferioufly afk, 
 why the whole is greater than a part, or two 
 different from twenty ? It has been faid, that 
 the will of God is the foundation of truth, or 
 the original of the natures of things. This is 
 aiferting what no one can clearly underdand. 
 It is facrificing to the fmgle attribute of will 
 all the divine perfedions j and even, under the 
 appearance of magnifying it, fubverting it, and 
 taking away the very poffibility of it. For upon 
 what is it founded itfelf ? Can there be power 
 withoMt pofibks, or will mthoui obje^Sy without 
 any thing to be willed ? Or can thef, which will 
 fiippofesj be dependent upon it, and derived from 
 li ? — Some perhaps there may be, vv/ho, with 
 me, will further think, that tniib having a re- 
 ference to fiiind J neceffary truths and the eternal 
 C c 4 natures 
 
392 Of the principal DoBrines 
 
 natures of things, imply a necejjary^ eternal 
 mind, and force us upon the acknowledgment 
 of the Divine, iinoriginated, incomprehenfible wif- 
 dom and intelligence. 
 
 Again ; when we enquire what is the foun^ 
 dation of virtue, we may mean, *' what are the 
 *' primary principles and beads of virtue j or, the 
 " confideratlons inferring obligation in parti>* 
 " cular cafes and rendering particular actions 
 " right V Thus, tliould I enquire why a per- 
 ioti ought to ad: in fuch or fuch a particular 
 manner, in certain circumftances : it would be 
 proper to replv, becaufe he has received benefits 
 from others j becaufe it conduces to his happi- 
 nefs J or becaufe God commands it. And, in 
 this fenfe, there will be as many foundations of 
 virtue, as there are frji principles, heads, or 
 jnftances of it. This, probably, is what thofe 
 mean by fou?2dation, who will allow no other 
 foundation! of virtue, than private happi/iefs-, 
 that is, they mean that nothing obliges^ nothing 
 renders anions, in any circumftances, ft to be 
 performed, but fome profpedt of obtaining pri- 
 vate happinefs, or avoiding private mifery. 
 Should we enquire further of fuch perfon?, 
 what it is that renders promoting our own good 
 right, and how we are to account for its being 
 tiie objed of our ckfirc^ and fludies j they 
 
of Natural Religion. 399 
 
 would not, probably, after a little confideration, 
 be againft recurring to truth and the natures of 
 things; and thus we fliould be agreed about 
 ^z foundation of virtue, in the former fenfe, and 
 differ only about v/hat is difcuiled in the feventh 
 chapter, ov iht fui)jedl-7natter o^ virtue. — This 
 alfo muft neceffarily he the meaning of thofe, 
 who plead for the will of God as the only effi- 
 cient of virtue and obligation, as far as they 
 are not for making it like wife the efficient of 
 all truth. If they will carefully confider, why 
 we ought to do the will of God, or what they 
 mean by the obligation to obey God, they will 
 find, that they muft either make this to be an 
 injiance of neceffary felf-evident truth and duty ; 
 or account for it from the power of God to 
 make us happy or miferable, as we obey or dif- 
 obey him ; which would reduce this fcheme en- 
 tirely into that of felf-love, and make all the 
 fame obfervations applicable to it. 
 
 We may once more obferve, that, by the 
 foundation of virtue, may be meant, ** the mO' 
 *' tiveSy caufes^ and reafons^ which lead us to it, 
 ** and fupport the pra(ftice of it in the world.'* 
 This muft be what thofe mean who are for 
 uniting the feveral fchemes, and reprcfent the 
 will of God, felf inter ejly the reafons of thi?2gs, 
 smd the moral fenfe, as all diftind and coinci- 
 dent 
 
394 Q/" ^^^ principal Dodirines 
 
 dent foundations of virtue. 'Tis indeed unde- 
 niable, that thefe, with their joint force, carry 
 us to virtue. But, if we keep to the firfl fenfe 
 of the texm foundation J it will appear that only 
 one or other of the two laft can be the true 
 foundation or account of virtue. 
 
 He that would obtain a yet more accurate 
 view of this fubjedt, and avoid, as much as 
 poffible, perplexity and confufion, fhould fur- 
 ther particularly attend to the various accepta- 
 tions of the words aBio7i and 'virtue. That 
 which I have ftyled the ^virtue of the agent , or 
 praEiical virtue^ fhould be confidered and treated 
 in a very different manner from abfolute^ virtue. 
 But of this diflindion I have already, in the 
 eighth chapter, given the befc account I can. 
 
 It remains that I now make fome general re- 
 marks on the whole of what has been hitherto 
 advanced in this treatife. 
 
 What is here of mofl confequence is, to 
 point out the advantages attending the account 
 I have given of morality in our enquiries into 
 the nature and character of the firft Caufe, and 
 in explaining and proving the fads of Natural 
 Religion. Several obfervations to this purpofe 
 have been already occafionally made j but it is 
 
 proper. 
 
' of Natural Religion. 395 
 
 proper, that they fliould now be reviewed, and 
 this whole lubjccfl particularly examined. 
 
 Were it certain, that the original of our mo- 
 ral perceptions is an implanted fenfe, it could 
 no more be concluded from our having fuch 
 perceptions, that the Deity likewife has them, 
 than the like conclufion could be made concern- 
 ing any of our other mental reliflies, or even the 
 fenfations of light and hearing. Were there 
 nothing, in the natures and reafons of things, 
 to be a ground of a moral and righteous difooii- 
 tion in the mind of the Deity, or by which we 
 could account for his preferring happinefs to 
 mifery, and approving goodnefs, truth, and 
 equity, rather than their contraries, it would be 
 far lefs eafy than it is to afcertain his will and 
 charaderj nay, I think, it would be utterly in- 
 conceiveable to us, how he could have any mo- 
 ral charader at all, — This may appear, not 
 only from the reafoning ufed in the latter part of 
 chapter I. but alfo from the following reafonino'. 
 
 If in refpedl of intrinjick worth and goodnefs, 
 all rules and meafures of conduct are alike; if 
 no end can have more in it than another, to re- 
 commend it to the choice of the Deity ; if, in 
 partciular, there is nothing, in the natures of 
 things, to be the oround of his preference of 
 
 happinefs 
 
39^ or ^'^^ principal DoSfrines 
 
 happinefs to mirery, or of his approbation of 
 goodnefs rather than cruelty 5 then his nature 
 niuft be eflentially indifferent alike :o all ends ; 
 it was always as pofiible that he fhouid be male- 
 volent as benevolent -j there is abfolutely no ac- 
 count to be given of his being one of thefe, 
 rather than the other 5 and therefore he cannot 
 be either, or poffefs any determinate charader. 
 For moft certainly, whatever he is, he is ne- 
 tefarily. There can be nothing in his nature, 
 which he might have wanted, or of which he 
 can be conceived to be deprived^ without a con- 
 tradiction. 
 
 It will be of ufe, towards illuftrating this rea- 
 foning, to apply it in the follov/ing cafe: — 
 Suppofe then only one body to exift in nature, 
 find let it be conceived to be in motion in any 
 particular diredion. Now, either we might 
 certainly determine concerning this body, inde- 
 pendently of any further knowledge of it, that 
 it could not have been moving from eternit}^ in 
 this diredion without any caufe, or we might 
 not. If we might not; 'tis eafy to fee how 
 much our evidence for the exiftence of a firft 
 Caufe and Maker of the world, is weakened, 
 If we might ; it could be only on fuch princir 
 pies, and by fuch reafonings, as the following. 
 Nothing can be or happen, of which there is 
 
 no 
 
of 'Natural Religion, 3 97 
 
 no account or reafon. Whatever has been from 
 eternity without an efficient caufe, mufl have 
 been ?iecefarily. But, in the cafe under conli- 
 deration, it was from eternity equally poffiblc, 
 that the fuppofed body fliould have moved in 
 any other diredion 5 and, confequently, there 
 being no account of it's motion from neceffity, 
 or the nature of the thing, it muft have been 
 moved by fome caufe, and exclufive of all 
 caufality and efficiency, its motion and even ex- 
 iftence are impoffible. 
 
 The reafoning in the former cafe is the fame 
 with this. If, in the one cafe, among many 
 directions of motion, in themfelves alike poffi- 
 ble, 'tis abfurd to fuppofe any particular direc- 
 tion to take place without fome dire5ling caufe ; 
 it muft be equally abfurd in the ether, amongft 
 many determinations of will and chara(5ter in 
 themfelves indifferent and alike poffible, to fap- 
 pofe any particular determination to take place 
 without fome determining caufe. 
 
 I might go on to obferve, that if, from the na-- 
 tures of things andnecejjity^ there is no fuch thing as 
 a rule of condudl to intelligent beings, then there 
 is necejfarily no fuch thing; the whole notion of it 
 is contradictory. But waving this; I will beg leave 
 here to delire thofe who condemn the argument 
 from necefiity, as it has been ufed by Dx. Clarke, 
 I in 
 
3 9 8 Of the principal DoBrines 
 
 in demonftratlng the being and attributes of 
 God, and who feem to be for rejedting the 
 whole diftlndion between neceffary and contin- 
 gent exiftence, and exprefsly affert, that a being 
 mav exift without any realbn or account of his 
 exiilence, to confider carefully into what con- 
 clufions their principles muH lead them. 
 
 If any thing may have always been what it 
 now is, without any account or reafon, why 
 may not, for inilance, the body before fuppofed 
 have always been in niotion without any ac- 
 count cr reafon ; and therefore without any 
 efficient caufe of its exiftence and motion. 
 And if this may be true of one body, why 
 not alfo of any niimher of bodies with any 
 relative velocities and diredions of motion ? 
 Why not of a complete material world dif- 
 pofed into the moil perfed: form and order ? 
 The truth is, the diflindion between necejfary 
 and contingent exiftence, is the main foundation 
 of all that we believe concerning the firft caufe. 
 This diftincftion we perceive intuitively. The 
 particular objeds by the contemplation of 
 which it is fuggefted to us, force the idea of 
 it, as foon as we confider them, upon our minds. 
 Some things appear to us felf-evidently as effeSis^ 
 as precarious and arbitrary in their natures, as 
 indiftcrent to exiftence or non-exiftence, and 
 
 poffible 
 
of 'Natural Religion, 399 
 
 pcflible alike to poflefs any one of an infinity 
 of different manners of exiftence. Thefe things 
 then we know certainly to be derived^ dependent^ 
 and produced. Of this kind are matter and 
 motion ; the form and order of the world, and 
 all particular fenfible objeds. We do not fee 
 more clearly, in any cafe, that there is fuch a 
 thing as produBive power, or a dependence of 
 one thing on another, than we do, that thefe 
 objeds, and, in general, all imperfed and li- 
 mited exiflences, are effeBs, and require a caufi, 
 — In fliort; whatever we can conceive not to 
 be, 'tis certain may not be ; and whatever ?nay 
 not be, muft, if it exifts, have had its exiflence 
 produced by fome caufe. — On the contrary, 
 fome things we fee intuitively not to be rffecis, 
 to want no caufe, to be underived, felf-exiftent, 
 and unchangeable. To fuppofe otherwife of 
 them we fee to imply a contradidion. We can- 
 not pofllbly conceive them either not to be, or 
 to be in any refped difi^crent from what they 
 are. Of tliis kind are Jpace and duration, and 
 all ahftracl truth and poffibJes. — But it is out of 
 my way here to infill: on thefe obfervations. 
 
 It will he more. to the prefent purpofe to re- 
 peat an obfervation already made, namely, that 
 the account of morality I have oppofed, feems 
 to imply that the Deity, if benevolent, mufl 
 
 be 
 
400 Of the principal DoBrines 
 
 be fo contrary to his underftanding. This feems 
 to be as evident, as it is, that to be confcious of 
 doing what is indifferent, or of employing power 
 in purfuing an end which has nothing in it wor- 
 thy of purfuit, is to be confcious of trifling. 
 There is at leaft fufficlent weight in this obferva- 
 tion to fhew, that it is the groifefl difparagement 
 to the perfedtions of the Deity, to fuppofe him 
 actuated entirely by a blind, unintelligent incli- 
 nation, of his pofleffing which there is no rea- 
 fon to be given ; or to conceive of him as pro- 
 ceeding invariably in a courfe of adlion, which 
 has nothing in it right, and which, confequently, 
 he cannot really approve *. 
 
 Reafonings of this kind plainly tend to (hew 
 us, that if the diftindions of right and wrong, 
 of moral good and evil, are nothing in the na- 
 tures of things J the Deity can be of no cha- 
 rader. This indeed is a concluiion which is 
 contradldled by certain fadj by the whole 
 conftitution of nature. For his creating at all, 
 and much more final caufes, and his ading 
 with fo much uniformity and wifdom, imply 
 fome difpofitions, fome inward principle of ac- 
 tion, or fome charader. But this is only fay- 
 ing, that the whole courfe of things proves the 
 
 * See chap. I. fedl. 3. and alfo chap. III. latter end. 
 
 fcheme 
 
of Natural Religion. 401 
 
 feheme upon which I have been arguing, and 
 from whence fuch a conclufion follows, to be 
 falfe *. 
 
 But though in oppofition to the precedent 
 reafonings, and the fentiments on v/hich they 
 are founded, effeBs thus undeniably prove the 
 Deity to be of Ibme charader j yet it may be 
 doubted, whether, from thefe alone, we could 
 obtain any undeniable proofs of his being of 
 the particular charader of goodnefs ; for it 
 feems far from impollible to account for them 
 on other fuppofitions. An unintelligent agent 
 cannot produce order and regularity, and there- 
 fore where-ever thefe appear, they demonfti'ate de- 
 fign and wifdom in the caufe. But it cannot 
 be faid in like manner, that a ielfifii, a capri- 
 cious, or even a malicious agent, rnay not pro- 
 duce happinefs ; nor confequently, that the ap- 
 pearance of this in an effecl" demonftrates the 
 goodnefs of the caufe. Let it be granted, as 
 
 * *' To fiippofe God to approve one couife of aflion, 
 *' or one end, preferably to another, which yet his afling 
 *< at all from defign, implies that he does, without fup- 
 *' pofmg fomewhat prior in that end, to be the ground of 
 " the preference, is as inconceiveable, as to fuppofe him 
 " to difcern an abftraiSl propofition to be true, without 
 *' fuppofing fomewhat prior in it to be the ground of the 
 *< difccrnment." See Butler's Analogy^ p. 170. 4th edit. 
 
 D d fureiy 
 
402 of the principal DoBrines 
 
 farely it muft, that good is greatly prevalent 
 in what we fee of the works of God ; that all 
 that comes within our notice of the worlds 
 fliews kind defign j and that the primary direc- 
 tion of every law and regulation of nature, is 
 to happinefs, and of nothing to mifery ; " yet 
 *' who knows (may fome fay) what different 
 ^* fcenes may have heretofore exifted, or may 
 " 7tow exift in other diflrids of the univerfe. 
 " An evil being may Jometimes be the caufe of 
 " good, juft as a good being may of fufferings 
 ** and pain. How little do we fee of nature ?' 
 " From what we obferve in a point and a mo-- 
 " ment^ what certain conclufion can we draw 
 " with refpeft to what prevails imiverfaUy and 
 *' eternally f Concerning a plan of boundlefs 
 *' extent, and which was contrived and is car- 
 ** ried on by an incomprebenfible being, what 
 ** can be learned from fuch a fuperficial and im- 
 *' perfect obfervation as we can make of what 
 " is next to nothing of it ? Can it be right to 
 *■' eftablilh a general conclufion on a fingle ex- 
 " periment, or to deterniine the character and 
 " views of a being, of whom independently of 
 *' experience we can know nothing, from a few 
 " ads which will bear feveral different interpre- 
 *' tations ? If we had nothing diflindt from ef- 
 *' feds to rely on, nothing in neceifary truth 
 
 *' and 
 
of Natural Religion 403 
 
 ** arid reafon to argue from, would It not be 
 " natural to enquire with doubt and anxiety, 
 *' what changes may hereafter happen in the 
 ** world ; whether caprice or a love of variety, 
 *' inftead of goodnefs, may not be the principle 
 " of adlion in the firft caufe ; or whether the 
 " de/ign of what we now fee and feel ^ may not 
 * ' be to give a keener edge to future di [appointment y 
 " and thus univerfal mifery appear at lafl to be 
 ** intended * ^ " 
 
 What regard Is due to thefe objedions, every 
 one may determine as he pleafes. I do not 
 think them of weight enough to fhew that ef- 
 fedts alone, independently of all arguments from 
 moral fitnefs, can fiirnifh us with no arguments 
 for the goodnefs of God ; nor would I by any 
 means be underllood to affert this. 
 
 When we firfl: refledl, that undoubtedly he 
 is of fbme will and character, and that it is in 
 itfelf as poffible and as credible, that he fhould 
 be of this particular charader as any other ; 
 the Confideration after this, that his works as far 
 as we fee them, have upon them obvious marks 
 of benignity and love, will neceflarily incline 
 us to think that he is good. When we have 
 
 * IVifdom the fiyji [pring of aflion in the Deity^ ly Mr. 
 Grove, chap. I. letSt. 9. 
 
 D d 2 no 
 
404 Of the principal DoSirines 
 
 no more evidence for than againft a proportion, 
 any preponderating circumftance ought to deter- 
 mine our underftandings, and engage our aflent, 
 with an alTurance proportionable to its apparent 
 weight. And with refpedl to the objedions and 
 fufpicions before-mentioned, it may be juftly 
 faid, that we are to judge of what we do not 
 fee, by what we do fee, and not the contrary ; 
 and that, confequently, as long as the appear- 
 ance on the whole of what lies before us of 
 God's works, though comparatively little, is 
 clearly as if happinefs was their end, the fair 
 conclulion is, that this is indeed the truth. Be- 
 lides J the more extenfive w^e fuppofe the crea- 
 tion, the greater chance there was againft our 
 being caft into that part of it wherein goodnefs 
 is fo much exerted, if indeed any other principle 
 influences the author of it, to which therefore, 
 on the whole, it muft be fuppofed to be con- 
 formable. — Some however, (particularly thofe 
 who entertain difmal ideas of human life, as 
 upon the whole more miferable than happy) 
 are likely, if they think confiftently, not to be 
 much influenced by this argument. What 
 regard is in reality due to the appearances of 
 evil in the world, and what reafon arifes from 
 hence, and from the greater degrees of happi- 
 nefs which we imagine we fee might have been 
 
 com- 
 
of Natural Religion. 405 
 
 communicated, to fufpedl that goodnefs may 
 either not be at all a fpfing of adion, or at lead 
 not the fole fpring of atftion in God, are quef- 
 tions of confiderable importance, which have 
 been often we'll difcufled, and on which many 
 excellent obfervations have been made. — It de- 
 ferves particular regard, that the natural ftate of 
 a being is always his, Jmmd^ and good, and happy 
 flate ; that all the corruptions and diforders we 
 obferve are plainly unnatural deviatioits and ex-- 
 ceffh j and that no inftance can be produced 
 wherein /// as fuch is the genuine tendency and 
 Tefult of the original conftitution of things "^•'. 
 
 * It might neverthelefs have been obfcrved here, that 
 ■from effedls alone it can at heft be only poiTible to gather 
 the prefent difpofition of the Deity; and that though they 
 demonftrated this to be benevolent, yet v/e fliould ftiil 
 want evidences to prove the Jiahility of his chara6ler, or 
 that he always has been and will for ever continue to be 
 good. For if, as fome fay, he is what he now is, without 
 any account or ground for it in the natures of things, it is 
 plain he may change. Whatever any being is not neceflarily 
 that he may ceafe to be. Whatever qualities he pofTeffes 
 without any reafon, he may furely alfo lofe without any 
 reafon. One would think fuch confiderations fufiicient to 
 fhew, that the principles I have in view will not bear to be 
 argued upon ; nor do thofe who efpoufe them, find it polll- 
 ble to keep to them uniformly and confiftcntly, hut owe 
 tlieir convidtion more than they are fenfible of, on fome 
 <;f themoft important points, to the oppofite principles. 
 
 D d 3 It 
 
40 6 Of the principal TioBrines 
 
 If now, at the fame time that the voice of 
 all nature, as far as it comes within our notice, 
 furnifhes us with thefe arguments, it appears 
 to us, that all ends are not the fame to an in-^ 
 telligent regard j that there is fomething intrint- 
 fically better in goodnefs, veracity, and juftice, 
 than in their contraries, fomething morally dif- 
 ferent in their natures 5 our evidence for God's 
 moral attributes, will be increafed in the fame 
 degree, that we think we have reafon to be- 
 lieve this. ^ And if it appears to us clear and 
 certain, that intelligence implies the approbation 
 of beneficence ; that the underftanding is the 
 power which judges of moral differences; and 
 that from a necefiity in the natures of things, 
 eoodnefs rather than malice mufl conftitute the 
 
 o 
 
 difpofition and end of every mind in proportion 
 to the degree of its knowledge and perfedion ; 
 our evidence, on the prefent point, will become 
 equally clear and certain j nor can it be doubted, 
 but that it has been chiefly fentiments of this 
 kind, or the appreheniion of inherent fitnefs and 
 excellence in goodnefs and other moral qualities, 
 which has always led men to afcribe them to 
 the Deity. 
 
 But, how much inferior evidence on points 
 the mod: interefting, fhall we be forced to fa- 
 fisfy ourfelves witji, if we reje(S thefe princi- 
 ples, 
 
vf Natural Religion. 407 
 
 pies, or embrace the opinbn, that all our ideas 
 of ivorth and 'virtue^ of morality and excellence, 
 are fac^titious and vifionary, as having no founda- 
 tion in truth and reality ? — Our approbation of 
 goodnefs, if derived from intelledluai perception, 
 infers undeniably and detnonftrably the goodnefs 
 of God ; but if derived entirely from an arbi- 
 trary ftrudure of our minds, is, at beft, only 
 one inftancc among many of kind ^<t{\gx\ ; and 
 was neceflary, fuppoling the univerfal plan, 
 whatever it is, to be fuch as required that what 
 is here, and in this fart of duration, revealed of 
 it, fliould carry the appearance of benevolence. 
 A few fads, when we have antecedent evidence 
 from the nature of the fubjed, may confirm a 
 truth beyond the pofTibility of doubt} but can, 
 by no means, give equal fatisfadion when we 
 have no fuch evidence, and experience is our only 
 medium of information. 
 
 Indeed, upon the principles defended in this 
 treatife, nothing can be more eafy to be afcer- 
 tained than the moral perfedions of the Deity. 
 — The nature of happinefs is, without doubt, 
 as {liewn in the 3d chapter, the true account 
 of the defire and preference oi private happinefs. 
 This leads us unavoidably to conclude, that it 
 is alfo the true account of the defire and prer 
 ference o^ publick happinefs. And if it is, it 
 D d 4 appears 
 
40 § Of the principal DoSirines 
 
 appears at once, that the Deity muft be bene- 
 volent.— 'In fliort J if there is a rule of right, 
 arifing from the differences and relations of 
 things, and extending as far as all the poffible 
 effects of power j which, to the degree it is 
 known, forces the regard and affection of all 
 reafonable beings, and which its own nature 
 coniliitutes the proper, the fupreme, and eter- 
 nal guide and meafure of all their determinations: 
 If, I fay, there is indeed fuch a rule or law, it 
 follows demonfirably^ that ihtjirji intelligence, or 
 the Deity, muft be under the direction of it 
 more than any other nature -, as much more, as 
 his underftanding is higher, and his knowledge 
 more perfect. He is, in reality, the living in- 
 dependent fpring of it. He cannot contradid: 
 it, without con trad iding hi?nfclf. 'Tis a part of 
 the idea of reafon, and therefore^ in the felf-ex^ 
 ijlent infinite reqfon, muft be of abfolute and fo>- 
 vereign influence. 
 
 There can therefore be no difficulty in deter- 
 mining what the principle of adion is in the 
 Deity, As it is evident that the feat of infinite 
 power muft be the feat of ir finite knowledge -y 
 fo it appears from hence no lefs evident, that it 
 muft be alfo the feat of abfojute rediitiide : and 
 thefe qualities, thus implying one another and 
 onCy complete the idea of Deity, and 
 
 exhibit 
 
of Natural Religion. 409 
 
 exhibit him to us in the moft awful and glorious 
 light. Amongfl the various poffible fchemcs 
 of creation, and ways of ordering the feries of 
 events, there is a beji 5 and this is the rule and 
 end of the divine condud ; nor is it poffible, 
 that feeing this, and all things being equally 
 ealy to him, he fhould deviate from it 3 or, that 
 the being into whofe nature, as the necejj'ary 
 exemplar and original of all perfeBion, every 
 thing true, right, and good, is ultimately to be 
 refolved, fhould ever chufe what is contrary to 
 them. To underftand perfectly what upon the 
 whole is moft fit, and to follow it invariably 
 through all duration and the whole extent 
 of the univerfe, is the higheft notion we can 
 frame of moral excellence. 
 
 Here let us, by the way, confider what we 
 can wifh for beyond being under the care of this 
 being J and with what joy we may refle(5l, that 
 as certainly as God exifts, all Is well ; a perfedt 
 order of adminiftratlon prevails in nature, and 
 all affairs are under the wifefl and kindefl: di- 
 redion. 
 
 But to go on ; the independency, felf-fufH- 
 ciency and complete happinefs of God raife him 
 above the poflibility of being tempted to what 
 is wrong. 'Tis not conceivable that he il:iould 
 be fubjedl to partial views, miftake, ignorance, 
 
 paflion. 
 
4 T o Of the p7'incipcil DoSirmes 
 
 paffion, felfiflinefs, or any of the caufes of evil 
 and depravity of which we have any notion. 
 His nature admits of nothing arbitrary or in- 
 ftindive; of no determinations that are inde- 
 pendent of reafon, or which cannot be account- 
 ed for by it. In an underived being of abfo- 
 lute fimplicity, and all whofe attributes muft be 
 eflentially conneded, there can be no interfering 
 properties. The fame neceffity and reafons of 
 things cannot be the ground of the approbation 
 and love of reditude, and of bialTes contra- 
 didory to it. 
 
 Before we quit what we are now upon, it 
 will be proper, lead: I fliould be mifanderftood, 
 to obferve particularly, that whenever I reprefent 
 neceffity as the account or ground of the reSiitude 
 of the Deity, or fpeak of gooduefs as ejfential to 
 him, it is the principle of reditude or benefi- 
 cence I mean ; and not the adiiud exercife of 
 this principle. No abfurdity can be greater than 
 to fuppofe, that the divine being aS^s by the 
 fame kind of neceffity by which he exi/is, or 
 , that the exertions of his power are in the 
 fame fenfe neceifary with his power itfeify or 
 with the/>r/;2a//(?iby which they are direded. 
 All voluntary adion is, by the ter/ns, free, and 
 implies \ki^ phyfical pojjibility oi forbearing it, or 
 doing the contrary. What is meant by this 
 
 poffibility 
 
of Natural Rcligio7i. 4 1 1 
 
 poJIibilify is not in the leaft inconfiftcnt with the 
 utmoft certamty of events or with the impcj/ibilityy ■ 
 IN ANOTHER SENSE, that the adtion (hould be 
 
 omitted. It may be infinitely more depended 
 
 upon, that God will never do wrong, than that 
 the wiieft created being will not do what is 
 moft deftrudive to him, without the leaft tempta- 
 tion. There is, in truth, equal impoflibility, 
 though not the fame kind of impoflibility, that 
 he who is the abftradl of all perfedion fliould 
 deviate into imperfecflion in his condudl, infi- 
 nite reafon a^^ unreafonably, or eternal righte- 
 oufnefs unrighteoully 3 as that infinite know- 
 ledge Ihould miftake, infinite power be con- 
 quered, or necefl^ary exiflence ceafe to exift.— 
 It may be as really impoflible for a perfon in 
 his fenfes, and without any motive urging him 
 to it, to drink poifon, as it is for him to prevent 
 the effeds of it after drinking it j but who fees 
 not thefe impolTibilitics to be totally different 
 in their meaning ? or what good reafon can 
 there be againft calling the one a moraly and 
 the other a Jiatural impoffibility ? 
 
 This diftinction, which many are unwilling 
 to acknowledge, and which yet, I think, of 
 great importance, may perhaps be in fame mea- 
 fure illuiirated by what follows, 
 
 5uppofe 
 
412 Of the principal DoBrines 
 
 Suppofe a die or folid, having a million of 
 faces: It may be faid to be certain, that an 
 agent void of ikill will not, the firft trial, throw 
 an affigned face of fuch a die ; for the word 
 certain is often ufed in a fcnfe much lower. 
 But that fuch an agent fhould throw an affigned 
 face of fuch a die, a million of times together 
 without failing, few would fcruple to pro- 
 nounce impojjible. The impojjibility however 
 meant in this cafe, would plainly be very dif- 
 ferent from an abfolute phyfcal impoffibility ; 
 for if it is poffible to fucceed the firft trial, (as 
 it undoubtedly is) it is equally poffible to fuc- 
 ceed the fecond, the third, and all the fub- 
 fequent trials ; and confequently, iti this fenfe 
 of pojjibility, 'tis as poffible to throw the given 
 face * a million of times together, as the firft 
 time. — But further, that a million of dice, 
 each having a million of faces, and thrown to- 
 gether for a million of times fucceffively, 
 Ihould always turn the fame faces, will be pro- 
 nounced yet much more impoffible. Neverthe- 
 lefs, it will appear, by the fame reafoning with 
 that juft ufed, that there is the fame natural 
 poffibility of this, as of any other event. — 
 If any one thinks what is now faid of no weight, 
 
 * Nay there is an infinity of numbers of trials, in which 
 it is morally certain this v/ould adually happen. 
 
 and 
 
of Natural Religion. 4 1 •? 
 
 and continues yet at a lofs about the difference 
 between thefe two forts of impoffibility, let 
 him compare the impoffibility that the lafl 
 mentioned event fliould happen, with the im- 
 poffibility of throwing any faces which there are 
 not upon a die. 
 
 To purfue this exemplification yet further, 
 let us coniider that the improbability of throw- 
 ing any particular face of a die, is always in 
 proportion to the number of faces which it has. 
 When therefore the number of faces is ivifinite^ 
 the improbability of the event is infinite, or it 
 becomes certain it will not happen, and impof- 
 fibk that it (hould happen, in a fenfe fimilar to 
 that in which we fay, it is impqjfible a wife man 
 fhould knowingly and without temptation do 
 what will be deflrudive to him. However, 
 as one face mufl be thrown, and the given face 
 has the fame chance for being thrown with 
 any other, it is pofjihle this face may be thrown, 
 and the affigned event happen ; in the fame 
 manner as a wife man has it in his power, 
 knowingly and without temptation to do what 
 will be deftrudive to him. The certainty that 
 a particular face- of an infinite die will not be 
 thrown twice together, exceeds infini^elv the cer- 
 tainty that it will not be thrown the fir fi time-, 
 but the certainty that it will not be thrown 
 I perpetually 
 
414 ^f ^^^ prbicipal Dodirtnes 
 
 perpetually and tHvari ably for an infinity of triah^ 
 is greater than this laft mentioned certainty in 
 the fame proportion as the infiniteth power of 
 iiifinite is greater than infinite. Yet ftill the 
 impoiTibility of event which all mufl: be fen- 
 iible of in thefe cafes, is as far from a phyfical 
 one, as in the fimpied: cafes. Now, he that 
 fliould in fuch cafes, confound thefe different 
 kinds of impoffibility, or neceffity, would be 
 much more excufable, than he that confounds 
 them, when coniidering the events depending 
 on the deLcrminations of free beings, and com- 
 paring them with thoie arifing from the operation 
 of blind and unintelligent caufes. The one ad- 
 mits of endlefly various degrees ; the other of 
 none. That neceffity by which twice two is 
 not twenty, or a mafs of matter does not con- 
 tinue at reft when impelled by another, is, 
 wherever found, always the fame, and incapable 
 of the leaft increafe or diminution. 
 
 I (hall only add on this head, that -the ne- 
 ceffity or certainty of the eternal conformity of 
 all the divine adions to the rules of wifdom and 
 righteoufnefs, may be exemplified by the cer- 
 tainty, that an infinite number of dice, each 
 having an infinite number of faces, and thrown 
 all together for an infinite number of trials, 
 would not always turn precifely the fame faces ; 
 
 which 
 
of Natural Religion* 415 
 
 which though infallibly true that it will not 
 happen, yet may happen, in a fenfe not very 
 unlike that in which the Deity has a power of 
 deviating from reditude ; of creating, for in- 
 ftance, a miferable world, or of deftroying the 
 * world after a fuppofed promife not to de- 
 ftroy it. 
 
 But diiniiffing this fubje<fl: ; let us now apply 
 the account which has been given in this treatife 
 of the nature and fubjed- matter of morality, to 
 another Queftion of confiderable importance 
 relating to the Deity ; I mean, the Queftion 
 " whether all his moral attributes are reducible 
 " to benevolence ; or whether this includes the 
 *' whole of his character ?" 
 
 It has been fliewn, that the negative is true 
 of inferior beings, and in general, that virtue 
 is by no means reducible to benevolence. If 
 the obfervations made to this purpofe are juft, 
 
 * If any diflike the v/ord infinite as ufed here and above, 
 they may fubftitute the word indefinite in its room, which 
 will anfv/er my purpofe as well, and render all mor? cafily 
 conceivable. 
 
 The analogy I have here infilled on anfwers, I think, the 
 end of an illuftration with great exadnefs, and on this ac- 
 count, I hope, I fhall be excufed if it fhould appear to have 
 any thing in it unfuitable to the dignity of the fubjed to 
 which it is applied. 
 
 I the 
 
4 1 6 Of the principal Do3lrines 
 
 the queftion now prcpoied is at once determined* 
 Abfolute and eternal redltude, or a regard to 
 what is in all cales moft fit and righteous, is 
 properly the ultimate principle of the divine 
 condu6l, and the fole guide of his power. In 
 • this GOODNESS is firft and principally included. 
 But GOODNESS and rectitude, how far fo- 
 ever they may coincide, are far from being iden- 
 tical. The former refults from the latter, and 
 .is but a part, of it. Which therefore flands 
 iirft in the divine mind, and which fhould give 
 way, fuppoiing an interference ever poflible, 
 ccan (one vyould think) admit of no controverfy. 
 For will any perfon fay, that it is. not becaufe it 
 is right i that the Deity promotes the happinefs 
 of his creatures j or that he would promote It 
 in any injlances, or in any manner, wherein it 
 would be iwong to promote it? — Such rea- 
 fonings and fuppofitions will, I know, appear 
 very abfurd to fome : But it is certain they are 
 not abfurd, unlefs it muft be taken for granted, 
 that right fignifies only conducivenefs to happi- 
 nefs *, or that nothing but fuch ,conducivenefs 
 
 " * The right eoufnefs and goodnefs of a£lions is not the 
 
 <' fame notion with their tendency to univerfal happinefs^ or 
 
 ,f4. «< flowing from the defire of it. This latter is the higheft 
 
 «' fpecies of the former. Qur moral fenfe has alfo other 
 
 -." immediate objeds of approbation, ^c." Dx.HutcheJons 
 
 Syjletn of Moral Philofophy, book ii. chap. iii. fe6l. ii. 
 
 can 
 
of Natural Religion* 417 
 
 can at any time render one adtion morally better 
 than another. 
 
 It muft however be admitted, that the. cha- 
 rader of God is much more nearly reducible 
 to goodnefs, than that of any inferior beings. — 
 What I mean will be better underftood, if we 
 make the fuppofition of a folitary being -f* not 
 perfeBly happy j but capable of acquiring hap- 
 pinefs for himfelf, and improving in it; and 
 afterwards confider, into how narrow a com- 
 pafs the obligations of fuch a being would be 
 brought. Having by the fuppofition no con- 
 nexion with any other reafonable being, what 
 could require his attention befides his own in- 
 tereft ? What elfe could he calmly and delibe- 
 rately propofe to himfelf a.s the end at which it 
 would be right for him conftantly to aim ? 
 The exercife of gratitude, benevolence, juftice, 
 and veracity, would be impofTible to him j and 
 every duty would vanlfh, except that of pru- 
 dence, or a wife and Ready purfuit of his own 
 higheft good ? 
 
 If now we change the fuppodtion, and con- 
 fider a being, fuch as the Deity, who is per- 
 
 * The fame fiippofilion is made in an ingenious pamphlet 
 out of print, intitled. Divine Benevolence', or an attempt to 
 prove that the principal end of the Divine Providence and Go- 
 vrrnmentf is the Happinefs of his Creatures, printed for Noon, 
 
 E e feaiy 
 
4 1*8 Of the principal DoBrijtes 
 
 feBly happy in himfelf] ablblutely fupreme and- 
 independent, and the creator of all things ; will 
 it not evidently appear, that he can have no- 
 thing to employ his power, and no end to carry 
 on, different from the good of his creatures ? 
 As all the views, fludles and endeavours of the 
 
 folitary being we fuppofed, neceflarily terminate 
 in himfelf\ the contrary mui^ be true of this 
 being. To him others muft be all ; and the 
 care of their interefts, the due adjufiment of 
 their fiates among themfelves, and the right 
 adminijiration of their affairs muft compre- 
 hend tlie principles and views of all his adions. 
 As he can have no fuperior, is felf-fufficient, 
 and incapable of having any private end to 
 carry on, it is wholly inconceivable, what, be- 
 lides a difpofition to communicate blifs, could 
 engage him at firjl to produce any being, or 
 what afterwards can influence him to continue 
 the exercife of his power in preferving and dr-, 
 reding the beings he has made, befides fome r^ 
 gard to their good, or fome reafons taken from 
 their circumftances and wants. 
 
 Happinefs is an objedt of elTcntial and eternal 
 value. The fitnefs of communicating it gave 
 birth to the creation. It was for this the world 
 was produced, and for this it is continued and 
 governed. Beauty and order, which have been 
 
 ftrangely 
 
of Natural Religion. 419 
 
 urangely faid to be of equal, nay fupenor value, 
 are chiefly to be regarded as fubfervient to this, 
 and feem incapable of being propofed as pro- 
 per ends of adtion. How triflingly employed 
 would that being appear to us, who fhould 
 devote his time and ftudies to the making of 
 regular forms, and ranging inanimate objeds 
 into the moft perfect ftate of order and fym- 
 metry, without any further view ? What would 
 be the worth or importance of any fyfteni of 
 mere matter, however beautifully difpofed ^ or, 
 of an univerfe in which were difplayed the moft 
 cxquifite workmanihip and ikilj, and the moft 
 confummate harmony and proportion of parts, 
 but which, at the fame time, had not a fingle 
 being in it that enjoyed pleafure, or that could 
 perceive rts beauty? — Such an univerfe would 
 be equivalent to juft nothing *. 
 
 But while we thus find it neceflary to con- 
 clude, that Goodnefs is the principle from which 
 the Deity created ; we ought, in honour to it, 
 never to forget, that it is a principle founded in 
 reafoUj and guided by reafon, and eflentially free 
 in all its operations. Were not this true of it, 
 or were it a mere phyfical propenfity in the di- 
 vine nature which has no foundation in reafon 
 
 * See Wijdom the firji Spring of J^isn in the Daiy^ by 
 Mr. Grove, 
 
 E e 2 and 
 
420 Of the principal Do5frines 
 
 and wifdom, and which, from the fame ne- 
 Geffity by which the divine nature is eternal or 
 omniprefent, produces all its effefts, we could 
 perceive no moral worth or perfection in ity 
 nor reckon it at all an obje<ft of gratitude and 
 praife. 
 
 Happinefs is the end, and the only end con- 
 ceivable by us, of God's providence and go- 
 vernment : But he purfues this end in fubordi- 
 nation lo redtitude, and by thoie methods only 
 which redlitude requires, yuflice and Veracity 
 are right as well as goodnefs, and muft alfo be 
 afcribed to the Deity. — By juftice here I mean 
 principally dijlributive jujiice, impartiality and 
 equity in determining the ftates of beings, and 
 a conftant regard to their different moral qualifi- 
 cations in all the communications of happinels 
 to them. *Tis this attribute of the Deity we 
 mean, when we fpeak of his fpotlefs holinels 
 and purity. From hence arifes the everlafting 
 repugnancy of his nature to all immorahty, his 
 loving and favouring virtue, and making it the 
 unchangeable law of his creation, and the uni- 
 verfal ground and condition of happinefs under 
 his government. — It would, I think, be a very 
 dangerous error to confider goodncfs in God as 
 undirected by juftice in its exercife. Divine be- 
 newlence is a difpofition, pot to make all indif- 
 I criminately 
 
vf Natural Reh'gim, 421 
 
 criminately happy in any poffible way, but to 
 make the Jmtbfulj the pious, and upright happy. 
 
 That ju/lice is not merely a mode of good- 
 nefs, or an inftance of its taking the moft ef- 
 fedual method to accomplifl:i its end ; or that 
 the whole reafon why God favours virtue and 
 punifhes vice, is not their contrary effects on 
 the welfare of th^ world, I have endeavoured 
 particularly to Ihew in the fourth chapter, where 
 J treated of good and ill-defert *\ ^^^^^^ir^ 
 
 Again ; Veracity is another principle of recti- 
 tude, not reducible to goodnefs, which directs 
 the adions of the Deity, and by which all the 
 exertions of his goodnefs are condudled and rc- 
 .gulated. "i? 
 
 There is nothing unreafonable in beiievirig 
 it poffible, that fallfhood and deceit may fre- 
 
 «.,«6jgome men fecm to think the only character of the 
 *' jutnor of nature to be that of fimple, abfolute benevo- 
 *^ lencc; This, confidered as a principle of adlion and in- 
 
 -*^ finite, is a difpofition to produce the greateft poflible 
 " happinefs without regard to perfons behaviour, otherwife 
 *' than as fuch regard would produce higher degrees of it. 
 
 " And fuppoTingthis to be the only character of God, ve- 
 " racity and juftice in him would be nothing but benevo- 
 
 ^ ** ience Conduced by wifdom. Now furely this ought not 
 " to be aflerted unlefs Jt^.cao be proved, for we Ihould 
 " fpeak with cautious reverence upon fuch afubjecl," See 
 Bictler]i Jtiaiegy, part I. Chap. iii. 
 
42 2 Of the ■principal DoSirlncs 
 
 quently have equal aptitude to produce happinefs 
 with truth and faithfdnefs. Suppofing then this 
 fhould, in any circumftances of the world, hap-^ 
 pen, 'tis furely not to be doubted but that God 
 would prefer the latter. If this is denied; if 
 it is indeed true, that, exclufive of confequences, 
 there is nothing right in the one, or wrong in 
 the other, what can we depend on ? How 
 fliall we know that God has not adually 
 chofe the methods of fald^ood and general de- 
 ception ? What regard can we pay to any de- 
 clarations from him, or to any indications of 
 his will? Great mufl be our perplexity, if we 
 are to wait for a fatisfadory folution of iueh 
 doubts, till we can make out, that fuch are the 
 circumftances of Qur flate and of the world, 
 that it can never be equally advantageous to us 
 to deceive us ; efpecially, as experience fliews 
 us in numberlefs inftances, that an end may be 
 obtained, and often mod: expeditioully and effec- 
 tually, by deviating from truth. jdj 
 But, though we are thus to conceive of Gqd 
 as jiift and true, as well as good-, jufilce and 
 truths 'tis manifeft, could never engage him to 
 create. They fuppofe beings adually exiting 
 endc^ved with reafon and moral capacities, and 
 fisnifv a certain manner .of ading towards them, 
 
 oy 
 
of NaUiral Religion. 42 3 
 
 mv the methods in which their happinefs is to 
 be purfued, 
 
 It is, befides, rather properer to fay, that 
 they direB, than that they limit God's good- 
 nefs; for they are by no m^ians inconiiilent 
 with the moit unlimited communications of 
 happinefs, or the exercife of everlafiing, injiniu 
 beneficence. 
 
 \l will not be amifs further to obferve, the? 
 ther€ may be no great occaiion for it, that, 
 from the manner in which I have all along ex- 
 .preffed myfelf, a careful reader may eafily fee, 
 that I am not guilty of an inconfiftency in de- 
 nying that the moral attributes of God are rp- 
 folvable into benevolence, at the fame time that 
 J affirm happinefs to be the end, and, in all pro- 
 bability, the only end, for which he created and 
 ■^governs the world.-— Happinefs is the end of liis 
 ^overnnient ; but it is happinefs, I have faid, in 
 fubordination to r.ed:itude : 'Tis the happinefs of 
 the 'virtuous and 'worthy^ preferably to that of 
 -others: 'Tis happinefs obtained, not in ^7;fv way, 
 but condftently with juftice and veracity. — In. 
 ,a word J we niay admit that goodnefs compre- 
 ■hend« the whole divine moral charader, pro- 
 -vided we underhand by it a rcajonabk^ fincere^ 
 holy^ and jiijl goodnefs. 
 
 E e 4. FiniVih/ ^ 
 
424 Of the principal DoBriJies 
 
 ■'"'Finally ; it is neceffary for us, on this occav 
 fion, to recollect, that though it be proper, and 
 often unavoidable, to fpeak of goodnefs, juftice, 
 and veracity, as different attributes of the Deity 5 
 yet they are different only as they are different 
 views, effedts, or manifeftations of one fuprenie 
 principle, which includes the whole of moral 
 perfe6tion > namely, everlafting ivifdom^ reBitude^ 
 or reafon. Thefe reflexions (hall fufiice on the 
 chara^er of the Deity. \a \^i\^ 
 
 iiVC \ ' -'i -ml 'ePs 
 
 •^I Ihall now proceed, in the fime manner^ io 
 examine the other principles and fads of Na- 
 tural Religion ^ and to point out the peculiar 
 evidences for tliem, ariiing from.the account I 
 have given of the nature and foundation of 
 morals, i.a>i>milib 
 
 In the moral charadet of God, as it his 
 been juft explained and proved, is clearly im- 
 plied his moral government; or that he re- 
 quires all his reafonable creatures to pradlife 
 virtue, and eonneds with it the effeds of his 
 beneficence to them.* — Between the adions 
 and charaders of reafonable beings there is a 
 real, moral difference. This difference, he wha 
 knows all things, muff know perfedly and 
 completely. Good adions and good charaders 
 J]e piuft regard as ilich. To regard them as 
 
 : / fucl^ 
 
of Natural Religion, 425 
 
 fuch Is to approve them ; and to approve them 
 is to prefer them, and to be difpafcd to 
 favour them. — Evil adions and evil charac- 
 ters, on the contrary, he miift perceive to be 
 tvil ; that is, -he muft difapprove them, and 
 be difpofed to difcountenance them. *Tis con- 
 tradidcry then to think, that the evil and the 
 good are equally the objeds of his benevolent 
 regard i and moft unreafonable to doubt, whe-r 
 ther they will be differently treated by him.— 
 As fure as it is that God knows what virtue and 
 vice are ; fo fure is it that he delights in the one, 
 and forbids the other j and that he will regulate 
 all his diflributions of good by the refpedivc 
 degrees of them in his creatures. What is lovely 
 and of good defert, he cannot but love and 
 diftinguifh. What is hateful and of ill defert, 
 he cannot but be difpleafed with and punifh. 
 *Tis felf-evident that virtue ought to be happier 
 than vice; and we may be very confider,t, that 
 what might to be^ the univerfal, governing mind 
 ; will take care Jhall be. If the ftate cf the 
 ; world, and of every individual in it, is deter- 
 mined invariably according to rights and this is 
 -one principle of rights " that all beings fiiould 
 b^receive according to their works;" 'tis certain 
 that no events or fadts contradidory to this, can 
 ever take place in tjie world. 
 
 All 
 
426 Of the principal Docirines 
 
 All this will be greatly confirmed and illuf- 
 trated, if we coniider how reafonable it is to 
 think, that it muft be acceptable to God, that 
 his intelligent creatures iliould dire(fl their ac- 
 tions by thofe rules of goodnefs, juftice, and 
 righteoufnefs, by which he dire(9:s his own ac- 
 tions. In truth it cannot be lefs necelTary, that 
 he fliould require his fubjeBs and children to do 
 what is right, than it is that he fnould himfelf 
 do what is right. The law of truth muft be 
 tlie law of the God of truth. Thofe d uties which 
 arife from the relations in which he has placed 
 us, it muft be his will that we fticuld difcharge. 
 Thofe moral differences and obligations, which 
 have their foundation in his nature, cannot be 
 counteraded without coanterading his nature. 
 And fo far as we have contraded liabits of vice, 
 fo far have vve eftabiiftied in our natures a contra- 
 riety to his nature, and alienated ourfelves from 
 the fountain of good. — What can be plainer than 
 all this ? What may we not queftion, if we caii 
 queftion, whether God is pleafed to fee his crea- 
 tures carrying on the fame end which he carries 
 on, adling by the fame rule, and conforming 
 themfelves to the didates of that reafon, of 
 which he is himfelf the eternal fource ? Muft 
 be not have a particular complacency in thofe 
 whQ bear his own image ? And is it poffible 
 I that 
 
of Natural Religion. 427 
 
 that he (hould not diftinguifh them from ethers ? 
 Or is It conceivable that he will permit any to 
 be happy in a courfe of oppofition to him, or to 
 fuffer by endeavouring, in the heft manner they 
 can, to obey and refemble him ? 
 
 In Oiort, if there is an intelligent Being at the 
 head of all, who made things what they are ; 
 if moral good and evil are real and immutable 
 differences, and not mere names or fancies j if 
 there is a law of righteoufnefs which the Deity 
 regards, and according to which he always a6ts j 
 if virtue deferves well, and is effentially ^worthy 
 of encouragement, and vice deferves ill, and is 
 a proper objedl of puniHiment j then, it may be 
 depended on that the lots of the virtuous and 
 vicious will be different ; that God is for the 
 one, and againfi the other; or, that the admi- 
 niftration of the world is flrid\lv moral and 
 righteous. 
 
 This concludon might be further proved, 
 from the confideration of the contrary cffcds 
 virtue and vice neceffarily have on the flate of 
 the world. Virtue, by the nature of it, tends 
 to promote order and blifs ; vice is diredtly fub- 
 verfive of thefe. Goodnefs, therefore, joins with 
 fujiice in requiring, that the one fhould univerfally 
 gpdi.fof ever be encouraged under the divine 
 ..ildEiioq n c. govern meiU 
 
428 Of the principal DoSfrines 
 
 government, and the other difcou raged and 
 punKhed. 
 
 r Let it now be carefully conildered here, that 
 if it (hould appear, that, in the prefent world, 
 virtue and vice are not difhnguifhed in the man- 
 ner which thefe obfervations require j the un- 
 avoidable confequence mud be, that ** there is a 
 ** future ftate." — How this matter flands, and 
 wherein the force of this inference lies, are points 
 which deferve particular examination i and this 
 is what I fhall now enter upon. .■ ,jit;. 
 
 On the one hand, it mud be granted, that, 
 in general, virtue is the prefent good, and vice 
 the prefent ill of men j and that we fee enough 
 in the prefent ftate, without having recourfe to 
 any abftradl arguments, to fatisfy os that the 
 Deity favours the virtuous, and to point out to 
 us the beginnings of a moral government. — 
 -^ut, on the other hand, it is flo lefs evident, that 
 we -now perceive but the beginnings of fuch a 
 government j that it is by no means carried fo 
 far as we have reafon to exped;, and that the 
 rules of diftributive jufticear^ not r«w^^^/K 
 kept to. ^ ^r^- - •'■ y -■; '^>. : -;:? 
 
 Virtue tends to produce much greater happi- 
 nefs than it now actually produces, and vice to 
 oroduce much greater mifcry. Thefe contrary 
 
 tendencies 
 
of Natural Religion, 42^ 
 
 tendencies neither do nor can, during the fhort 
 period of this life, in any inftance, produce their 
 full effeds ; And often they are prevented from 
 taking the effed: they mighty and generally do 
 take, by many obftacles arifing from the wlck- 
 ednefs of mankind, and other caufes of a kind 
 plainly temporary, and which cannot be reckon- 
 ed natural or neceffary. How reafonably may 
 we prefume, that tendencies thus interrupted 
 and oppofed, and yet fo infeparable from virtue 
 and vice, and fo elTential to the conflitution of 
 things, will, feme time or other, ifTue in their 
 genuine effeds ? — Do they not declare to us 
 evidently the purpofe of him who made the 
 Hvorld what it is ? And can we think, this will 
 prove vain and ineffedual ? Will nature be de- 
 feated of its aim ; or has this part of its confti- 
 tution no meaning, or a falfe meaning? "•bCT 
 Though virtue always tends to happlnefs,. 
 and though it is the nature of it to advance our 
 happinefs, and to better our condition, in pro- 
 portion to the degree in which \\q pofTefs it; 
 yet fuch is the ftate of things here below, that 
 the event fometimes proves otherwife. 'Tis 
 impoffible to furvey the world, or to recolle(5t 
 the hiftory of it, without being convinced of 
 this. There is not the leafi: probability, that 
 all men are conftantly and invariably more or 
 
 lefs 
 
4 3 ^ Of the principal Doctrines 
 
 lefs happy, as they are more or lefs confcientious 
 and upright. How often has virtue been op- 
 prefied and perfecuted, while vice has profpered 
 and flourifhed ? Good men may have a difpoii- 
 tion to an unreafonable and perplexing fcrupii- 
 lolity, or to lownefs of fpirits and melancholy, 
 and in confequence of this may be rendered ig- 
 norant of their own charaders, and live in per- 
 petual diftrufl and terror : or they may entertain 
 falfe notions of religion and the Deity, which 
 may give them great trouble, and take away 
 from them many of the joys, that would other- 
 wife have attended their integrity. And are 
 fuch men ; or others, who, perhaps, through the 
 faults of their parents, or thofe of their educa- 
 tion, carry about with them difeafed bodies, and 
 languifli away life under pain and ficknefs, or 
 who are harralTed and defamed for their virtue, 
 driven away from all that is dear to them, and 
 obliged to fpend their days in poverty, or in an 
 inquijition ; are thefe perfons, I fay, equally 
 happy with many others, who, though not mo'rt 
 virtuous, may neverthelefs be exempted from all 
 fuch trials ? Or, indeed, are they equally happy 
 with many vicious perfons, who fwim with the 
 current of the world j comply with its cuf- 
 toms ; deny themfelves nothing they can pro- 
 cure confidently with a good name s are caft 
 
 inta 
 
of Natural Religion, 4^^! 
 
 jnto the moft affluent circumftances ; enjoy 
 health and vigour of body, and tempers na- 
 turally eafy and gay j live in a flate of ha- 
 bitual thoughtlcffnefs about what may happen 
 to them hereafter, or entertain opinions poffibly 
 that fill them with prefumption and falfe hopes j 
 and at laft die without concern or remorfe ? 
 Have there never been any inftances of this 
 kind ? Does it never, or does it feldom happen, 
 that the very honefty of perfons fubjeds them 
 to peculiar difficulties and inconveniencies, at 
 the fame time that prevarication and difbo- 
 nefty make their way to eafe, and honour, and 
 plenty ? 
 
 Indeed, all things confidered, this world ap- 
 pears fitted more to be a fchool for the educa- 
 tion of virtue, than a flation of honour to it; 
 and the courfe of human afl"airs is favourable to 
 it rather by exercifing it, than by rewarding it. 
 Though, in equal circumftances, it has always 
 greatly the advantage over vice, and is alone 
 fufficient to overbalance many and great incon- 
 veniences j yet it would be very extravagrt;;r to 
 pretend, that it is at prefent completely^ and 
 without exception, its own happinefs ; that it is 
 alone fufficient to overbalance all pojfible evils 
 of body, mind, and eftate; or that, for ex- 
 ample, a man who, by haje but private me- 
 thods. 
 
43 2 Of the principal Docfrines 
 
 thods, has fecured a good eftate, and afterwards 
 enjo3'S it for many years with difcretion and 
 credit, has lefs pleafure than another, who, 
 by his benevolence or integrity, has brought 
 himfdf to a dungeon or a ftake, or who Hves in 
 perplexity, labour, felf-denial, torture of body, 
 and melancholy of mind. It may, 'tis true, be 
 juftly faid, that virtue, tho* in the mod diftreffed 
 circumftances, is infinitely preferable to vice in 
 the moft profperous, and that expiring in flames 
 is to be chofen, rather than the greateft wages 
 of iniquity *. But the meaning of this is not, 
 that virtue in fuch circumftances is more pro- 
 
 * No one can think this aflertion in any degree incon- 
 fiftent or extravagant, who does not hold that virtue is 
 good, and eligible, and obligatory, only as the means of 
 private pleafure, and that nothing elfe can be an objedl of 
 defire and preference. Upon this fuppofition, indeed, the 
 very notion of parting with life, or of refigning an enjoy- 
 ment to preferve innocence, or for the fake of virtue, waul(l 
 imply a contradi^lion. For being obliged to nothing, and 
 therefore nothing being our dntyy but that by v/hich we 
 ihall obtain fome overbalance of pleafure j what would 
 otherwife have been right becomes wrong, when we are to 
 be, in any meafure, on the whole lofers by it. So that, on 
 thefe principles, it would be not virtue or duty^ but vice and 
 guilt, for a man to confent to give up one hour's life, or 
 the leaji degree of prefent enjoyment or happinefs, to pro- 
 cure the greateft bleflings for all mankind, fuppofing no fu- 
 ture ftate. See chap. VI. page 174, ^c, 
 
 I fiabk 
 
of Natural Religion. 4^ <» 
 
 Jitabk than vice, or attended with more pleafore ; 
 but that it is of intrinfick excellence and obliga- 
 tion i that it is to be chofen for itfelf, indepen- 
 dently of its utility ; or that it remains dellrable 
 and amiable above all other objecfls, wheq ftrip- 
 ped of every emolument, anJ in the greatefl 
 degree afflided and opprefTed. 
 
 What has been laft.faid leads us to a fur- 
 ther obfcrvation on the ftate of virtue and vice 
 in the prefent world, which, deferves particular, 
 notice j and that is, that the mofl worthy cha- 
 racters arC; fo far, in the prefent ftate of things, 
 from always enjoying the highefl happinefs, 
 that they 2x0. fometimes the greatefl: fufferers j and 
 the mofi vicious the leajl unhappy. A perfon 
 wha facrifices his life, rather than violate his 
 confcience, or betray his country, gives up all 
 poffibility of any prefent reward, and lofes the 
 more in proportion as his virtue is more glo- 
 rious. 
 
 '" But, in the ordinary courfe of \Yk\ there are 
 drcumftances which fubjeCt the beft men to 
 , fufferings, ,.to which all others muft be flrangcrs. 
 The greater their virtue is, the higher ideas ;they 
 'hat^e" of virtue, and the more difficult 'tis for 
 them to attain to that degree of it they wifh for; 
 the more anxiety . they feel about the flate of 
 tl.eir own characters v the more concerned they 
 »Uv»i\\ F f muft 
 
434 Of the principal DoBrines 
 
 muft be for paft mifcarriages > the more fenfibfe 
 of their own imperfedions j the more fcrupu- 
 lous and tender their confciences are, and the 
 more fufceptible of diflrefs from the fmalleft 
 deviations. For this reafon it may, I believe, 
 be fafely faid, that the infirmities of fome of the 
 heft men often give them more uneafinefs, than 
 the indulged vices oifome wicked men. Be this 
 however as it will, it can fcarcely be denied 
 with refpedl to wicked nefs, that it would very 
 frequently be much better for a man, (I mean, 
 more for his own prefent eafe) to be thoroughly 
 wicked than partially fo. A man who loves vir- 
 tue without uniformly pradifing it, whopoflelfes 
 m^ny good dlfpofitions, and is fufficiently con- 
 vinced of the danger and malignity of all vice, 
 to caufe him heartily to deteft it, and, in fome 
 infiances, to avoid it, but not enough to prevent 
 his being, /;/ other injiances, driven by un- 
 conquered delires into the commiffion of it ; 
 fuch a perfon muft doubtlefs be very mi- 
 ferable. He polTcffes neither virtue nor vice 
 enough to give him any quiet. He is the feat 
 of a conflant inteftine war, always full of vexa- 
 tion with himfelf, and torn and diftraded be- 
 tween contending paffions. 'Till reafon is ef- 
 fedually fubdued, it will be on all occalions 
 endeavouring to regain its throne, and raifing 
 
 in fur- 
 
of Natural "Religion 43 ^ 
 
 infurredions and tumults in the mind. The 
 greater power it retains, where it is not fufFered 
 to govern, the greater difturbances it muft pro- 
 duce, and the feverer torments it muft inflidt. 
 
 'Tis worth adding, that in much the fame 
 condition with this now defcribed is a vicious 
 perfon, during the firft period of his reforma- 
 tion. The pangs of remorfe and felf-reproach, 
 the lafhes of an awakened confcience, and the 
 painful ftruggles with evil habits and paffions 
 3ret craving and violent, cannot but for fome time 
 give him unfpeakable trouble, and prevent his 
 experiencing the peace and happinefs naturally 
 refulting from virtue : And if we fuppofe him 
 taken away from life before he has completed 
 what he has begun and attained a fettled vir- 
 tuous charadter, it will be true of him, that he 
 has only been the more miferable for his change : 
 And yet, furely, for every thing good in a man, 
 it is fit he (hould be the better rather than 
 vvorfe. 
 
 If now, on the other hand, we confider the 
 condition of the obftinately and thoroughly 
 vicious, we Ihall find it to be verv different. 
 The more the power of reafon within them is 
 "Weakened, the lefs troublefome it muft prove. 
 The nearer they are to being paft feeling, the 
 lefs they muft itz\. And, in general, we may 
 F f 2 obferve, 
 
43 6 Of the principal DoBrines 
 
 obferve, that the moji wicked endure the kaji 
 uneafinefs from the checks of confcience, at- 
 tend the leaft to moral and religious confider- 
 ations, are leaft fenfible of fhame and infamy, 
 pradtife moft readily and effedually the arts of 
 felf-deceit, and thus may efcape many of the 
 fliarpeft miferies of vice, which had they been 
 kfs obdurate, they muft have fuffered. 
 
 Do not fuch obfervations point out to us a 
 future ftate, and prove this life to be connected 
 with another ? Shall we, rather than receive 
 this conclufion, retreat to Atheifm, and deny 
 that a being perfeSfly reafonable governs all 
 things ? Or muft we maintain that it does not 
 follow from his being himfelf righteous, that 
 he approves and will fupport righteoufnefs, and 
 diftinguifti between thofe who do his will and 
 imitate his goodnefs, and thofe who do not ? If 
 nothing is to be expeded beyond this world, no 
 fuitable proviiion is made for many different 
 cales amongft men j no remarkable manifeftation 
 is feen of the divine holinefs ; and the moft 
 noble and excellent of all objeds, that on which 
 the welfare of the creation depends, and which 
 raifes beings to the neareft refemblance of the 
 Deity, ieems to be left without any adequate 
 fupport. Is this poffible under the "Divine go- 
 vernment ? Can it be conceived, that the wifdom 
 
 and 
 
tf "Natural Religion, 437 
 
 and equity of providence (liould fail only in the 
 
 inftance of virtue ? That here, where we fhould 
 
 exped: the exadeft order, there fliould be the 
 
 leaft? — But, acknowledge the reference of 
 
 this fcene to a future more important Icene, and 
 
 all It clear 5 every difficulty is removed, and 
 
 every irregularity vaniflies. A plain account 
 
 offers itfelf of all the ftrange phjEnomena in 
 
 human life. 'Tis of little confequence, how 
 
 much at any time virtue fuffers and vice triumphs 
 
 here^ if hereafter there is to be a juft diftindion 
 
 between them and every inequality is to be fet 
 
 right. Nay, it may be yijw*^///?/^^ proper, that a 
 
 vicious man fhould be permitted to enjoy the 
 
 world ', and alfo that a good man ihould be 
 
 fuffered to ftruggle with difficuhies; which may 
 
 very well happen, at the fame time, that God 
 
 leaves not himfelf without abundant witnefs to 
 
 the reafon of our minds and in the ^^'w^r^/ courfe 
 
 of things, and the frame of our natures, of his 
 
 perfedly righteous difpofition and charader. 
 
 ; A moral plan of government muft be carried 
 
 into execution gradually and llowly thro' feverai 
 
 fucceffive fteps and periods. Before retribution 
 
 there muft be probation and difcipiine. Re- 
 
 v/ards and punifhments require, that, antecedently 
 
 to them, Sufficient opportunities ffioold be given 
 
 to beings to render themfelves proper objeds ok 
 
 t..., F f 3 them, 
 
43 S Of the frindfal DoSlrines 
 
 them, and to form and difplay their charaders 5 
 during which time it is neceflary that one event 
 {hould often happen to the good and the bad. 
 Were every lingle adion, as foon as performed, 
 to be followed with its proper reward or punifli- 
 ment ; were wicked nefs, in every in fiance of it, 
 ftruck with immediate vengeance, and were 
 goodnefs always at eafe and profperous j the cha- 
 raders of men could not be formed ; virtue 
 would be rendered interefted and mercenary ; 
 ibme of the mod important branches of it could 
 not be pradifed ; ad verfity, frequently its beft 
 friend, could never find accefs to it 5 and all 
 thofe trials would be removed which are requi- 
 iite to train it up to maturity and perfedion. 
 Thus, would the regular procefs of a moral go- 
 vernment be difturbed, and its purpofes defeated; 
 and therefore, the very fads which are made 
 objections to it, appear, as mankind are now con- 
 ftitqted, to be required by it. — In a word; (hall 
 we, from prefent inequalities, draw conclufions 
 fubverfive of the mod evident principles of rea- 
 fon, though we fee the conftitution of the world 
 and the natural tendencies of things to be fuch 
 as will, if they are allowed time and fcope for 
 operating, necelTarily exclude them ? Is it rea- 
 fonable to give up the wifdom and righteoufnefs 
 ©f the univerfal mind, to contradid our cleareft 
 
 notions 
 
of Natural Religion. 430 
 
 notions of things, and to acknowledge errors in 
 the adminiftration of the Deity, notvvithftand- 
 ing innumerable appearances in the frame of the 
 world of his infinite power and perfection, ra- 
 ther than receive a plain, eafy, and natural fup- 
 pofition, which is fuggefted to us in innumerable 
 ways, which mankind in all ages have received, 
 and which is agreeable to all our beft fentiments 
 and wiihes.? 
 
 No one would doubt, whether a piece of 
 workmanship or production of art, fuppofed to 
 be accidentally difcovered and entirely new to 
 us, was made for a particular ufe, provided the 
 plan and ftrudure of it plainly anfwered to fuch 
 a ufe, and the fuppofition of this ufe of it ex- 
 plained every thing in it that would otherwife be 
 difproportioned and unaccountable, and made it 
 appear throughout regular and beautiful. What 
 would be more perverfe than obflinately to deny 
 that it was intended for fuch a ufe; and, in con- 
 fequence of this, contrary to undeniable marks 
 of the moft mafterly hand in various parts 
 of it, to maintain it to be the work of fome 
 bungling artift, who either had not knowledge^ or 
 not power enough to make it more perfedl ? 
 
 Again, how unreafonable would it be to af- 
 
 fert, that a particular paflage in t\ book which 
 
 feemed ftrange to us, was mnfenfe or bhifphemf, 
 
 F f 4 when 
 
44^ ^f ^^^ principal DoBrines 
 
 when an obvious and natural fenfe of it offered 
 itfelf to us, which the turn of the paffage itfelf 
 pointed out to us, and which rendered it of a 
 piece with the wifdom apparent in other parts 
 of the book, and agreeable to what previoufly 
 we had the beft reafon to believe concerning 
 the charader and abilities of the author ? 
 
 I have thought it neceiTary to make thefe ob-p 
 fervations, with a particular view to thofe who 
 are fearful of allowing any thin^ * irregular in 
 
 the 
 
 * I mean what would he Irregular were this life unre- 
 lated to another. 'Tis an obvious truth, which 'tis flrange 
 any (hould overlook, that a thing which is perfedlly right 
 and juft, when confidered in its relations to the ivhole to 
 which it belongs, may be quite otherwife, when confidere^ 
 by itfelf, or as a detached part. 
 
 It ought to be remembered, that the obfervations made 
 above prove nothing concerning thtnatureoi i\\e futureftatc, 
 except that, in general, it will be a ftate in which the retri- 
 bution begun in this life will he rendered adequate. Now it 
 is very plain that this may be done, and all mankind perifh 
 at laft in Tifeccnd death. Reafon, therefore, leaves us much 
 in the dark on this fubjecl. We are fure of no more than 
 that it (haji, on the v.'hole, be better or worfe for every per- 
 fon in proportion as he has been morally better or ?wrfe in 
 his conduct ^nd character. But what,, in particular^ will 
 be the different lots of the virtuous and viciops hereafter, 
 we cannot tell. The higheft human virtue is very defec- 
 tive, and were we to receive no more on the account of 
 it than we could claim from diitributive juftice, our ex- 
 
 riedations 
 
of Natural Religion, 441 
 
 the prefent diftribution of happinefs and mifery, 
 from an apprehenfion that the confequence muft 
 
 be 
 
 peftations would be very low. A (hort period hereafter 
 would fettle our account, and completely vindicate the 
 ways of Providence. — Many who are now virtuous may 
 formerly have been great offenders j and it is by no means 
 clear how far repentance muft be available to break the 
 connection eftabliftied between fm and punifiiment, or 
 what peculiar treatment the cafes of penitents, as diftin- 
 guiflied from innocents, may require under the divine go- 
 vernment.— Every perfon, I fancy, who is truly contrite 
 for the mifcarriages of his paft life is likely to feel the 
 force of thele obfervations. The confcioufnefs which he 
 muft have of his own demerit, would fcarcely fuffer him 
 to ufe any other prayer than that of the Prodigal in the 
 parable, / have finned, O father, againfl heaven and in thy 
 fight, and am no more worthy to be called thy fon. Make me as 
 one of thy hired fervants. — Here, I think, the information 
 given us by the Christian Revelation comes in moft 
 feafonably and happily. It acquaints us that the return of 
 every man to his duty (hall reftore him, not merely to fome 
 lower place in God's family, but to all thofe privileges of 
 a fon which he had forfeited, break the whole connection 
 between fin and punifhment, and iflue in full favour and 
 everlafting glory thro' that great Messiah who loved us 
 and gave himfelf for us. To this Mfjfiah the fcriptures tell 
 us the prefent ftate has, from the firft, ftood in a particular 
 relation, and had it not been for this relation our affairs 
 might perhaps have been fo ordered, that adequate retribution 
 Ihould have taken place even here, and all mankindfink in 
 death, without the hope or poflibiiity of a rcfurreCtion, — 
 That we are to be delivered at all from death to a new life 
 gf anv kind may, therefore, be owing to Jesus Christ, 
 
 con- 
 
442 Of the principal DoBrlnes 
 
 be the taking away our evidence for a perfect 
 order in nature, and the wifdom and equity of 
 providence. It has been (hewn, that there would 
 be no fufficient reafon for fuch an apprehenfion, 
 were effects the only foundation of our know- 
 ledge of the Deity. We fhould, however, in 
 this cale, lofe fome of our ftrongeft arguments ; 
 and, in reality, it would be impoffible to know 
 what to believe, or to avoid compleat Atheifm, 
 were what fome have alTerted on this head 
 true.— Thus, fliould it be alked, why, from a 
 view of what lies before us of the ccnftitiition, 
 laws, and order of the divine government, we 
 may not gather what will be hereafter under it, 
 ps well as we may in many other cafes colledl 
 what is unknown from what is knowri -, infer, 
 for inftance, the whole meaning of a perfon 
 from hearing only a part of what he faid: 
 Should this be afked, it would be replied, that 
 
 confiflently with the argument for a future ftate on which 
 I have infifted. But that we are to be delivered from death 
 to a new life that (hall never end of complete happinefs, 
 this is infinitely more than any arguments from diftributive 
 iuftice can teach us to expe6l ; and we may well acquiefce 
 in the fcripture do6lrine concerning it, and confider it, 
 under Divine goodnefs, as derived from the benevolent 
 agency of that Saviour, who came into the world ihat 
 whofoever believeth in him Jhoiiild not perijh but have everlast- 
 ing LIFE ; or that all the truly virtuous might not only 
 hive life.y hut havi it mor^ abundantly. John iii, i6. — ^x. lO. 
 
 in 
 
of Natural Religion. 445 
 
 in the laH: cafe our inference would be founded 
 plainly on a previous acquaintance with the 
 fpeaker, with language, and the general manner 
 in which men ufe it to exprefs their fentiments; 
 that, independent of fuch acquaintance, fuppof- 
 ing we underftood the meaning of the particu- 
 lar words we heard, we could not infer any 
 thing from them beyond the ideas they imme- 
 diately conveyed, or have the leaft reafon to 
 fufpedl any further intention in the fpeaker; 
 and that in like manner, having no previous ac- 
 quaintance with the divine nature and govern- 
 ment, we can know nothing more concerning 
 them than is diredly fignified to us by what we 
 obferve of the ftate of things about us ; there 
 can be no reafon to think any order prevails in 
 the creation greater than we at the prefent mo- 
 ment fee, or to conclude that the firft cauie 
 pofTefTes any powers and qualities in a higher 
 degree than they are actually exhibited to us in 
 what falls under our notice of his works. Nay, 
 as antecedently to experience, we could not frame 
 any notion, upon hearing particular articulate 
 founds, of a fpeaker^ or of any ideas fignified 
 by them, or indeed know any thing further than 
 that we were confcious of fuch and fuch par- 
 ticular impreflions or fenfations ; fo likewile 
 Vvith refped: to this vifible univerfe, it might 
 
 be 
 
444 Q/~ ^^^ principal DoSirines 
 
 be faid, (and much the fame * has been faid) 
 "that being an objed: ivholly Jingular to lis, we 
 cannot draw any conclufions from it, or deter- 
 mine any thing concerning the nature, defigns, 
 and properties of its caufe, or even fo much as 
 know that it has a caufe. 
 
 This is the upfliot of the principles I have 
 in view. But fuch objections can have no effedl 
 on one, who doubts not but that an account very 
 different from that on which thefe difficuhies are 
 founded, is to be given of the operations of our 
 minds; and that the human underftanding, how- 
 ever it may be preceded by fenfible impreffions, 
 or be fupphed by them with the firft occafiom 
 of exerting itfelf, yet far tranfcends them -f*, is 
 ^ faculty infinitely fuperior to all the powers bf 
 fenfe and imagination, and a moft important 
 fource of cur ideas, by means of which wc 
 can, independently of experience, demonftrate 
 innumerable truths concerning many objeds, 
 of which otherwife we muft have been for 
 ever ignorant. — 'Tis the peculiar advantage 
 of the principles I have maintained, and the 
 method of reafoning I have ufed, that they fur- 
 ri{h us with direCl and demonftrative proofs of 
 
 * See the Ejjay on a particular prmdence and future Jiate^ 
 in Mr. Hume's Fbilafol/hlcal EJfays, 
 
 i See Chap, I. S«a. II. _ 
 
 i . the 
 
of Natural "Rdlgton, 445 
 
 the truth of natural religion, and particularly of 
 the righteoufnefs and goodnefs of God-, at the 
 fame time, that they are not inconfiftent with, 
 but, on the contrary, aid and fupport all rea- 
 fonings a pojleriori. 
 
 I iliall conclude this chapter, with mention- 
 ing one further ufe which may be made of the 
 principles maintained in this treatife. We may 
 learn from them, I think, in the cleared man- 
 ner, " the great importance of virtue, and evil 
 " of vice.** Every part of the account I have 
 given of morals has a tendency to teach us 
 this. 
 
 I wifli I could here obtain the reader's parti- 
 cular attention, and engage him on this occ4fion 
 to recolle(5t carefully what virtue and vice are, 
 and to confider the following fummary account 
 of the importance of the one, and the evil of 
 the other. 
 
 / Virtue is of intrinfck value and good de- 
 lert, and of indifpenfible obligation j not the 
 creature of mil ^ but necejjary and immutable', 
 not local or temporary, but of equal extetit and 
 antiquity with the divine mind i not 2,mode of 
 SENSATION, but evcrlajling T KVTB. j not depen- 
 dent on power, but the guide of all po%mr. It 
 
 has 
 
44^ Of the principal Do6frlnei 
 
 has been the principal defign of this treatife t0 
 prove thefe aflertions.—- But further j Virtue is 
 the foundation of honour and efteem, and the 
 fource of all beauty, order, and happinefs in 
 nature. It is what confers value on all the other 
 endowments and qualities of a reafonable being, 
 to which they ought to be abfolutely fubfer- 
 vient, and without which the more eminent 
 they are, the more hideous deformities and the 
 greater curfes they become. The ufe of it is 
 not confined to any one ftage of our exiftence, 
 or to any particular fituation we can be in, but 
 reaches through all the periods and circumftan- 
 ces of our beings. — Many of the endowments 
 and talents we now polTefs, and of which we 
 are too apt to be proud, will ceafe entirely with 
 the prefentjiate ; but this will be our ornament 
 and dignity in every future Jiate to which we 
 may be removed. Beauty and "jok will die, 
 learning will vanifh away, and all the arts of 
 life be foon forgot j but virtue will remain fof 
 ever. This unites us to the whole rational crea-^ 
 tion, and fits us for converfing with any order 
 of fuperior natures, and for a place in any part 
 of God's works. It procures us the approbation 
 and love of all wife and good beings, and ren- 
 ders them our allies and friends. — But what is 
 of unfpeakably greater confequence is, that it 
 2 makes 
 
' ^f Natural Relmon, 44.7 
 
 makes God our friendj aflimiiates and unites 
 our minds to his, and engages his almighty 
 power in our defence. — Superior beings of all 
 ranks are bound by it no lefs than ourfelves. 
 It has the fame authority in all worlds that it has 
 in this. The further any being is advanced in ex- 
 cellence and perfedion, the greater is his attach- 
 ment to it, and the more is he under its influence. 
 — To fay no more j 'tis the law of the whole 
 univerfe ; it ftands firft in the eftimation of the 
 Deity ; its original is his nature j and it is the 
 very obje(5l that makes him lovely. 
 K, Such is the importance of virtue. — Of 
 what confequence, therefore, is it that we prac- 
 tife it ? — There is no argument or motive which 
 is at all fitted to influence a reafonable mind, 
 which does not call us to this. One virtuous 
 difpofition of foul is preferable to the greateft 
 natural accomplifhments and abilities, and of 
 more value than all the treafures of the world. 
 — If you are wife then, reader, ftudy virtue, and 
 contemn every thing that can come in compe-- 
 tition with it. Remember, that nothing elle 
 defer ves one anxious thought or wifli. Remem- 
 ber^: that ibis alone is honour, glory, wealth, 
 and happinefs. Secure this, and you fecure 
 every thing. Lofe this, and all is loft. 
 
 ..:.,, But 
 
44^ ^f ^'^^ principal Dodfrines 
 
 But let us next confider Vice. To the fame' 
 degree that Virtue is important and ami able ^ 
 this is evil and detejiahle. 'Tis of effential ma- 
 lignity and ill-defert, the only real objed: of 
 cenfure and blame, and the fource of all evils. 
 Other evils, fuch as difeafes, poverty, lofles, and 
 calumny, afFed: only what is external and fo- 
 reign to us 3 but they need not diftuib our 
 minds, or do the lead: injury to what is truly 
 oiirfehcs. But vice pierces and wounds, and 
 lays wafte curfehes. It hurts not the body, the 
 reputatioUy ov fortune y huiiht man -y and plants 
 anguifli, uproar, and death in the foul itfelf. — 
 Other evils may in the end prove to be benefits 
 to us, but this is eternally and unchangeably 
 evil J the bane of every heart into which it en- 
 ters ; the ruin of all who do not in time refcue 
 themfelves from its dominion ; and the fting and 
 mlfery in whatever clfe afilid:s us. — 'Tis impof- 
 fible to conceive what it is to fet up our own wills 
 againft Reafon and the Divifie willy to violate 
 the order of the world, and depart from that 
 law which governs all things, and by which 
 the Deity ads. There is no objed in nature 
 fo hideous and monflrous as a reafonable being 
 defiled with guilt, living in contradi6tion to the 
 remonftrances of his underftanding, trampling 
 
 on 
 
6j Natural Religion. ^^n 
 
 on the authority of God, and oppofing hlmfelf 
 to the obligations of truth and righteoufnefs. 
 
 But nothing is fitted to give us a deeper fenfe 
 of the dreadful nature of vice, than to confider 
 what would be the confequences, if it became 
 prevalent through the creation, and if all be- 
 ings were to throve off all regard to right and 
 equity. With what groans and defolation v^ould 
 this fill all nature ? Into what a dreadful con- 
 dition of anarchy and mifcry, would it convert 
 a fair and happy univerfe ? Hov/ foon would it 
 blaft the whole beauty of God's works, and in- 
 volve them in defolation and ruin ? — Now, let 
 it be well obferved, that every irijiance of moral 
 evil is a tendency to this. It is that begun which 
 carried further would ifiiie in it. — We cannot, 
 tljerefore, indulge one irregular defire or wrong 
 thought, without taking a ftep towards all that is 
 terrible, without fo far doing our part towards 
 defacing the creation, and over-turning all law, 
 order, and blifs. 
 
 What we thus, from the idea of vice, may 
 iee would be the eiTccfts of it, if univerfally 
 prevalent, we find In fome meafure verified 
 by experience and fatft. Into this world we 
 know it has entered j and what havock has 
 it made ? How has it fpread its malignant 
 effeds through all nations and lands ? ' Tis not * 
 G g . indeed. 
 
45"^ Q/' ^^^ prificipd DoBrines 
 
 indeed, eafy for a benevolent mind to bear 
 this profpeclt, or to take a particular view of 
 that flood of difafler and woe, which vice has 
 let in upon the human race. — From hence 
 proceed unnumbered calamities and evils which 
 are continually infefling us, and mingling dif- 
 appointment, vexation, and bitternefs with our 
 enjoyments and comforts. This is the cruel 
 enemy which renders men deftrudive to men j 
 which racks the body with pain, and the mind 
 with remorfe ; which produces ftrife, fa(5tion, 
 revenge, oppreffion, and fedition ; which em- 
 broils fociety, kindles the flames of war, and 
 ereds inquiiitions ; which takes away peace 
 from life, and hope from death j which brought 
 forth death at firft, and has ever fince cloathed 
 it with all its terrors j which arms nature and 
 the God of nature againft us; and againft 
 v^hich it has been the bufinefs of all ages to find 
 out provifions and fecurities, by various inftitu- 
 tions, laws, and forms of government. 
 
 But the effedls of vice in the prefent world, 
 liowever fhocking, are nothing to what we 
 have reafon to expedt will be its efFed:s here- 
 after^ when the evil and the good Ihall continue 
 no longer blended; when the natural tendencies 
 of things will be no more interrupted in their 
 oj^lei'ation ; when the moral conftitution of the 
 
 univerfe 
 
of Natural 'Religion, 45 1 
 
 univerfe will be perfeded, and every one receive 
 according to what he deferves. What ^^wrath 
 will be whith will then overtake vice, it may 
 not be jpoffible for us' to imagine. When we 
 ferioufly confider what'it'is ift its nature and ten- 
 dency, we can hardly have too dreadful appre- 
 henfions of the punifliment that may follow it, 
 and the lofs we may fufFer by it; or, be too 
 anxious about extirpating all the remains of it 
 from our tempers, 'ahd efcaping to as great a 
 diftance as poffible from the danger with which 
 it threatens us. 
 
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 bsfi}£ob xsnii 1, ' : . - 
 
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 sw Scdw o! j^,-iia3cMi sis- .goii'^pili 
 ©onbooJ liijrft boogsfit bdi^ livs ^di flsiiw , 
 
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 -^vrfi ^€) nmutiikico Jsi^jni -mi asdw ^ i^^^^/ . • 
 . ,.^^ G g ^ The 
 
[ 452 } 
 
 The conclusion. 
 
 IHave now finiilied ijiy defign in this work,. 
 Virtue has been all along my Cubje<^, ; 
 and I know not how better to clofe the whple, 
 than by propoling ih^ following argument, for 
 the Practice gf it, which, I think, deferyes^ 
 the careful confideration of all, but efpecially of 
 Jcepiical perfons. It will, if I miftake not> A^-. 
 monjlrate that whatever is doubtful, 'tis., not ip, 
 whether we are obliged, in wifdom and pru- 
 dence, to ftudy above all things to acquire a 
 virtuous charatfter and temper. 
 
 I have in the laft chapter given an account 
 of fome of the proofs of the principal fads of 
 natural religion, particularly, of a perfed moral 
 government in nature, and a future flate of re- 
 wards and punifliments. A great deal of other 
 evidence there is, which it was out of my way 
 to take any notice of. Above all, the ChrijUa?i 
 Jlevelation confirms to us whatever we can ga- 
 ther from reafon concerning the holiness of 
 the Deity, and the justice and righteous- 
 ness of his government. It promifes eternal 
 life, a HAPPY immortality to the virlnpus', 
 
 and 
 
CONCLUSION. 453 
 
 and threatens thofe of a contrary charadler with 
 the lofs of thefe, with i\it fecond death and ever-- 
 Icifiing deJiniBion. I will, however, now fup- 
 pofe the whole evidence we have infufficient to 
 prove thefe dodrines : Nay, I will fuppofe, that 
 thete is a confiderable overbalance of evidence 
 againft them ; that, for example, 'tis ten to one 
 but they arc falfe, or that for one argument or 
 prefumption for them, there are ten equally good 
 and ftrong againft them. And this, I (hould 
 think, is as far as any infidelity can well carry 
 a tnan. — Now, I aflert, that, even on this fup- 
 pofition, " our obligations, in refped of life and 
 *' manners, will remain much the fame ; df^ 
 " that ftill it will be the moji foolifl condudi riot 
 *' to conform all our adtions to the precepts of 
 *^" virtue, and to facrifice all prefent gratifications^ 
 " rather than deviate from it." 
 
 For, let it be confidered what fuch a chance 
 as this for obtaining fuch a good and avoiding 
 fiich danger, is worth. Suppofe the value of a 
 given good to a particular perfon to be truly 
 eftimated at a million. An even chance for it 
 will be worth half a million ; and a chance 
 difadvantageous as ten to one, will be worth 
 the eleventh part of a million. — Let theri the 
 value of the future reward of virtue be expreffed 
 G g 3 by 
 
454 CONCLUSION. 
 by this fum, and the eleventh part of it will be 
 what a perfoQ might reafonabJy confent to refign 
 for it, though i.iG probability were as ten to one 
 againft his obtaining it. The meaning of which 
 . in other words is this. If the future reward of 
 virtue is fuppofed but equal in value to all the 
 good we enjoy here, it will be right, notwith- 
 ilanding an improbability of ten to one againft 
 the reality of it, to give up the eleventh part 
 ' of this good for it. If we fuppofe it of eleven 
 times greater value, then it will be right to give 
 op for it the whole happinefs of life. — But the 
 future reward of virtue is oiinfimtely greater va- 
 lue than our prefent lives and enjoyments ; for, 
 as has been juft obferved, it is eternal life, 
 a HAPPV IMMORTALITY, Such a chance as 
 we are fappofing then for this, is worth infinitely 
 -more than all the good of life, or any thing 
 which it is poffible for us now to refign or en- 
 dure on the account of it. i)a 
 If, On the other hand, we conlider ^the evil 
 to be avoided, it will in the fame manner ap- 
 pear, that though we fuppofe ten toone againft 
 its happening, yet what faves us from the ftill 
 remaining danger of it is v/orth, on account of 
 its nature and degree, infinitely more than any 
 
 thing we cap part with, ,-,;.dj aiom dliow ^nou^^ 
 
 '.uTo.. '" . Let 
 
C O N C L US I O N. .^ss 
 ^■■- Let it be now further confidered, that inftead 
 of putting the improbability of fuch a reward 
 for virtue and puniihment for vice, as I have 
 fuppofed, at the proportion of tun to one, I 
 might have put it at a hundred, a thouland, 
 or any other number to one, and the fame con- 
 clufion v^^ould have followed. 
 
 This whole argument may be more concifely 
 reprefented in the following manner. 
 - Any given chance for a given good is worth 
 fbmewhat. The fame chance for a good twice 
 as great is worth twice as much ; and when 
 the- good becomes infinite, the value of the 
 chance becomes alfo infinite.— The like is to 
 be fa id of the avoiding of an evil. So that, in 
 fhort, miy apprehenfion that religion may be true, 
 lays us under the fame obligation with refped to 
 pradlice,asif we.were ever fo well convinced of its 
 truth J or, the bare pofjibility of fuch confequen- 
 ces to follow virtue and vice, as religion in ge- 
 neral, and ths Chriftian religion in particular, 
 teach us to expe(3:, demonflratds a vicious man's 
 choice to be fooliOi beyond all computation or 
 conception. U.Jfiriv,* 
 
 " The chance there is for a future ftate of re-» 
 ward to virtue, is, we fee, by the loweft calcu- 
 lation, worth more than any fum we can affign ; 
 G g 4 worth 
 
456 C O N C L U S I N^ 
 
 worth more than the happinels of millions of 
 lives, though fure to be enjoyed in the higheft 
 perfedion. But we have only one life to difpofe 
 of, and that a fl^iort and precarious hfe, the hap^- 
 pinefs of which is at be(l uncertain and unfa- 
 tisfying; fo that indeed the worft that it can 
 be ever incumbent on us to do in this affair, is, 
 to refign one uncertainty for another j a chance 
 for a few d^iys more of imperfeSl happinefs, for 
 a chance for everlafiing and e'uer-increajing hap- 
 pitiefs. 
 
 Let me add, that though it {hould be ima- 
 gined that (through forne ftrange confulion in 
 the affairs of the world, or an extravagant mercy 
 in God) by "jice as \^'ell as by 'virtue we may 
 fland a chance for happinefs hereafter j yet, if 
 we will but allow that the one is in any refpedt 
 more likely to obtain it than the other, it will 
 flill be the greateft madnefs not, at all adventures 
 and the rifque of every thing, to adhere to the 
 one^ and avoid the other. For it is evident, 
 that the fmalleft improvement of a chance to 
 obtain a good increafes in value as the good 
 increafes, and becomes infinite when the good 
 itfelf is infinite. 
 
 It is not, I think, poffible for any one to avoid 
 ^pnvidion here, v/ho will not aflert that it is 
 ,, ,,.,-- certain 
 
CONCLUSION. 455^ 
 
 t^tain that Chriftianity is falfe, and that thtit 
 is no future ftate ; or that, if there is, virtue 
 gives no better chance for ha]:iptfrers in it than 
 vice. It would be ioconfiftent in a {beptic tb 
 aflert this, and it nnay be prefmtied that no man 
 in his wits will afleft it. Ltt it hawevet hh 
 aflferted ; it Would, even in this cafe, bfe no very 
 great matter for a man to be fo far diffident of 
 himfclf, as to ufe the precaution of living i^ 
 fuch a manner that if at laft the worft fhould 
 happen, and his confidence prove vain, he may- 
 have nothing to fear. But no degree of unbelief| 
 ihort of what rifes fo high as this, can acquk 
 a man from the imputation of folly unfpeakable, 
 if he is loofe and carelefs in his life, or confentS 
 at any time to any wrong adion or omiffion t6 
 fave any thing he can enjoy in this world, or 
 to obtain any thing that can be oifered to hltn 
 In it. - 
 
 'Indeed, whoever will fairly examine the evi- 
 dences of religion may, I believe, be as fure as 
 he can be of any thing, that *tis not certain^ 
 that there is abfolutely nothing at all in them, 
 and that they deferve no regard. — He that will 
 confider how reafonable it is to prefume, that 
 infinite goodnefs will communicate infinite happi- 
 nefs, and that the creator of all deiip:ns his 
 
 creatures 
 
458 C N C L U SI O N. 
 
 creatures for fuch a happinefs, by continuing 
 thofe of them who are qualified for it in being 
 for ever to improve under his eye and care, and 
 that virtuous men if any, have moft reafon to 
 exped fuch an effe<^ of his favour ; He that will 
 conlider the various determinations which have 
 been given our minds in favour of virtue j the 
 accountablenefs of our natures j our unavoidable 
 prefaging fears and hopes; the malignant and 
 deteflable nature of vice as before reprefented ; 
 the general fentiments of mankind on the fub- 
 jeds of a future ftate and reckoning 3 and that 
 Jpotlefs holinejs of the Deity, which the facred 
 .writings in the moft ftriking manner affert and 
 difplay, and fome convidion of which naturally 
 forces itfelf upon every one; he, I fay, who 
 will conlider all this, cannot well avoid enter- 
 taining fome uneafy apprehenfions as to what 
 may hereafter happen, and be led to think, with 
 deep concern, how awful the difplays of xiivine 
 jufticcTZZ^ prove, how greatly we may be con- 
 cerned in the incomprehenfible fcheme of provi- 
 dence, how much may depend on what we now 
 are, and how very neceflary it is that by all means 
 we endeavour to fecure ourfelves. — That fome 
 time or other prefent inequalities will be fet 
 right, and a greater difference be made between 
 
 the 
 
C O N C L U S J O N. ^459 
 
 the lots of vthe virtuous andidcious than is now 
 viiible, we have a great deal to lead us to be- 
 lieve. And what kind or degree of difference 
 tlie pQunieli and ends of the divine government 
 ■ir^y require, who can be fure ? We fee enough 
 in thfepiefent ftate of things, and fufficiently 
 jExperience what the government of the world 
 admits of, to alarm our fears, and to fet us 
 'upon confideiing ferioufly and anxioufly, what 
 greater diftinctions between human beings than 
 we now obfsrve are likely in another ftate to take 
 :iplace, and what greater happinefs or mifery than 
 twe now feel, or can have any ideas of, may 
 :await us in that future, endlefs duration, through 
 which it is at kaft credible and pofTible that,we 
 jare to exift. ^ '^q^i 
 
 But with however litde regard fome may be 
 ready to treat fuch conliderations, it muft furely 
 be paft difpute among inquiiitive and impartial 
 perfons, tliat all the arguments taken together^ 
 which have been lifed to prove natural and re- 
 vealed religion,, produce fome . degree of retd 
 evidence,; and. that, confequendy, tliey lay a 
 fufficient .foiHidadon ^for^-the preceding reafoa- 
 »i§ol ifiriT—r.aavianuo 310031 J3 ■ujD7C9rin9 aw 
 ;. iTodthls^reafoning it become? us the more to 
 attend, beoaofe jit .is that which we are corj- 
 5 tinually 
 
46o CONCLUSION. 
 
 tinually ufing in the common courfe of lifej 
 
 and becaufe it explains to us the principles and 
 
 grounds upon which we ad in almoft all oxir 
 
 temporal concerns. " It * ought to be forced 
 
 " upon the reflexion of fceptical perfons, that 
 
 ** fuch is our nature and condition, that they 
 
 ** neceflarily require us in the daily courfe of 
 
 ** life; to adl upon evidence much lower than 
 
 •* what is commonly called probable j and, 
 
 " that there are numberlefs inftances refpedin? 
 
 *' the common purfuits of life, where a man 
 
 ** would be thought in a literal fenfe diftraded, 
 
 *' who would not ad, and with great applica=^^ 
 
 ** tion too, not only on an even chance, but on 
 
 •* much lefs, and where the probability vi'as 
 
 *' greatly againft his fucceeding." 
 
 What precautions will men often ufe againft 
 
 the moft diftant and imaginary dangers ?— Why 
 
 "W'ill they negled ufing an eafy and reafonable 
 
 precaution againft the w(^rjl and grcateji of all 
 
 dangers r — -What eager and reftlefs adventurers 
 
 will they become, what pains will they takej, 
 
 and what rifques will they run, where there \% 
 
 any profped of acquiring money, power, or 
 
 fame, objeds in themfelves of little value, and= 
 
 ,^ , 1 „..■..-... ;4,r-.. . •- fhod 'to 3hav 
 
 ♦'Dee Butler's Analogy, IntroduSJion^ page 4,, and chaa*^ 
 
 yi. part II. page 343. the 4th editioiir 
 
 which 
 
CONCLUSION. 461 
 
 whkli to derplfe would be our greateft dignity 
 and happinefs ? Why then are they (o unwilling 
 to take any pains, or to run any rifques, in order 
 to obtain bleffings of ineftimable worthy and to 
 ijecure a chaj^^e for eternal blifs ? How ftrange 
 is.it! that they (hould fo little care to put them- 
 fclves in the way to win this Prize, and to be- 
 cocne adventurers kere, where even to fail 
 would be glorious? When will the following 
 truths, fointerefting and indifputable, be enough 
 confidered by us, and fink deep enough into 
 our hearts J namely, " that by fuch a courfe 
 as virtue and piety require, we can in gene- 
 ral lofe 7iothij2g, but may gain infinitely j and 
 that, on the contrary, by a carelefs ill-fpent 
 life we can get nothings or at beft (happen 
 what will) next to nothing, but may lofe infi- 
 nitely V 
 
 This brings me to what cannot be omitted 
 in the prefent argument without doing it great 
 injuflice. The reader has obferved, that it has 
 gone upon the fuppofition, that there is a very 
 great probability againft religion and a future 
 retribution, and that virtue requires us to facri- 
 fice to it all our prefent enjoyments. The re- 
 verfe of both thefe fuppofitions appears in reality 
 to be the truth. There is not only an equal 
 
 chance. 
 
462 CONCLUSION. 
 
 chance, but a great probability for the truth of 
 religion. There is nothing to be got by vice, 
 but the beft part of prefent good is commonly 
 loji by it. 'Tis not the happinefs of life that vir- 
 tue requires us to give up j but our follies, our 
 difeajes, and miferies, — What nov^^, according 
 to this ftate of the cafe, muft we think of the 
 folly of a finful choice ! How fliocking does it 
 appear I — Who, that attends to thefe things, 
 can forbear crying out, *' Amazing infatuation 
 ** of man*\ 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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