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 sec #11,110 
 
 Smith, Adani, 1723-1790. 
 
 Theory of moral sentmients, or, An essa\ 
 
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THE 
 
 THEORY 
 
 O F 
 
 MORAL SENTIMENTS; 
 
 O R, 
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 TOWARDS 
 
 An Analysis of the Principles by which Men naturally 
 
 judge concerning the Conduct and Character, firft of 
 
 their Neighbours, and afterwards of themselves. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 A DISSERTATION 
 
 O N T H E 
 
 ORIGIN OF LANGUAGES. 
 
 / 
 
 B V ADAM S M I T H, L. L. D. F. R. S. 
 
 Formerly ProfefTor of Philofophy in the Unlverfity of Glafgow j and Author 
 of the Nature and Caufe of the Wealth of Nations. 
 
 THE SIXTH EDITION. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 
 Printed for J. Beat ty and C. Jackson, No. 32, Skinner-Row. 
 
 W,DCC,LXXVII. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 O 
 
 PART I. 
 
 F the Propriety of Adlion. 
 
 SECTION L 
 
 Of therenfeof propriety Page i. 
 
 Chap. I. Of Sympathy ibid. 
 
 Chap. II. Of the P leaf tire of mutual Sympathy ^ 
 
 Chap. III. Of the manner m which we judge of the 
 propriety or impropriety of the affedions of other 
 men^ by their concord or dijfonance with our own 14: 
 
 Chap. IV. 'The fame fubje^l continued 19 
 
 Chap. V. Of the amiable and refpe^able virtues 27 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Of the degrees of the different palTions which are 
 confident with propriety 33 
 
 Chap. I. Of the pajfwns which take their origin from 
 the body 3 4 
 
 Chap. II. Of thofe pajfions which take their origin 
 from a particular turn or habit of the imagination 4 1 
 
 a 2 Chap. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. III. Of the unfocial pajfions Page 46 
 
 Chap. IV. Of the focial pajfions 5/^. 
 
 Chap. V. Of the felfifh pajfions 58 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Of the effedls of profperlty and adverfity upon the 
 judgment of mankind with regard to the propri- 
 ety of adion \ and why it is more eafy to obtain 
 their approbation in the one ftate than in the 
 other 4^ 
 
 Chap. I. "That though our fympathy with Jorrow 
 is generally a more lively fenfation than our fympathy 
 with joy ^ it commonly falls much more fhort of the 
 violence of what is naturally felt by the perfon prin- 
 cipally concerned. ibid. 
 
 Chap. il. Of the origin of ambition^ and of the dif- 
 tin5iion of ranks 74 
 
 Chap. III. Of the jloical phihjophy %^ 
 
 PART ir. 
 
 Of Merit and Demerit^ or of the objedts 
 of reward and punifhment. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Of the fenfe of merit and demerit ^"j 
 
 Chap. I. 'That whatever appears to be the proper oh- 
 jen of gratitude^ appears to deferve reward ; and 
 that^ in the fame manner^ whatever appears to be the 
 jA'oper objeH of rejentment^ appears to deferve pit* 
 nijhnent 9^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. II. Of the proper obje^s of gratitude and re- 
 fentment P^gc io2 
 
 Chap. III. ^hat where there is no approbation of the 
 €ondti^ of the per/on who confers the benefit^ there is 
 little fympathy with the gratitude of him who re- 
 ceives it : and that^ on the contrary, where there is 
 no difdpprobation of the motives of the per/on who 
 does the mi/chief there is no fort of fympathy with 
 the refent7nent of him who fuffers it \ 06 
 
 Chap. IV. Recapitulation of the foregoing chapi- 
 ters 1 09 
 
 Chap. V. The anajyjis of the fenfe of merit and 
 demerit j 1 2 
 
 S E C T I O N 11. 
 
 Of juftlce and beneficence i-^ 
 
 Chap. I. Comparifon of thofe two virtues ibid. 
 
 Chap. II. Of the fenfe of juflice^ of remorfe^ and of 
 the confdoufnefs of merit 1 4p 
 
 Chap. III. Of the utility of this conflitution of na^ 
 litre j^z 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Of the influence of fortune upon the fentiments of 
 mankind, with regard to the merit or demerit of 
 adlions 14^ 
 
 Chap. I. Of the caufes of this influence of for- 
 turn 148 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 Ch a r . II. Of the extent of this influence of fortune 
 
 Page 154 
 
 Chap. III. Of the final caufe of this irregularity of 
 fentiments 167 
 
 PART III, 
 
 Of the foundation of our judgments con- 
 cerning our own fentiments and conduft, 
 and of the fcnfe of duty. 
 
 Chap. I. Of the confcioufnefs of merited praife or 
 blame 173 
 
 Chap. II. hi what manner our own judgments refer 
 to what ought to he the judgments of others : and 
 of the origin of general rules 180 
 
 Chap. III. Of the influence and authority of the 
 general rules of morality^ and that they are juflly 
 regarded as the laws of the Deity 207 
 
 Chap. IV. /;; what cafes the fenfe of duty ought to hs 
 the fole principle of our conduB ; and in what cafes 
 it ought to concur with other motives 223 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Of theeftedof utility upon the fentiments of 
 approbation. 
 
 Chap. I. Of the beauty which the appearance of 
 Utility beflows upon all the produBions of art ^ and of the 
 .^Xt^nfive influence of this f pedes of beauty 237 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. II. Of the bmuty which the appearance of 
 utility beftows upon the chara£Jers and anions of men j 
 and how far the -perception of this beauty may be re- 
 garded as one of the original principles of approbation 
 
 Page 250 
 
 PART V. 
 
 ,i, Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion 
 upon the fentiments of moral approbation 
 and difapprobation. 
 
 Chap. I. Of the influence of cuflom and fafhion upon 
 Our notions of beauty and deformity. 261 
 
 Chap. II. Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion 
 upon moral fentiments ^ 27 1 
 
 PART VI. 
 
 Of Syftems of Moral Philofopby. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Of the queftlons which ought to be examined in a 
 theory of moral fentiments 29 1 
 
 SECTION IL 
 
 Of the different accounts which have been given of 
 the nature of virtue, 294. 
 
 Ch a p . I. Of thofe fyjlems which make virtue confifi tn 
 propriety ' ^q^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. II. Of thofe fyftems which make virtue con- 
 fift in prudence Page 3 1 i 
 
 Chap. III. Of thofe fyftems which make virtue con- 
 Jift in benevolence 321 
 
 C H A p . I V. Of licentious fyftems 331 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Of the different fyftems which have been formed 
 concerning die principle of approbation 345 
 
 Chap. I. Of thofe fyftems which deduce the principle 
 of approbation from felf-love 346 
 
 Chap. II. Of thofe fyftems which make reafon the 
 
 principle of approbation J51 
 
 Chap. III. Of thofe fyftems which make fentiment 
 
 the principle of approbation ^56 
 
 S E C T I O N IV. 
 
 Of the manner in which different authors have 
 treated of the practical rules of morality 367 
 
 Confiderations concerning the fir ft formation of languages^ 
 and the different genius of original and compound 
 languages 389 
 
PART L 
 
 Of the PROPRIETY of ACTION. 
 
 Canfifling of three Sections. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Of the Sense of Propriety. 
 
 C H A P. 1. 
 
 Of S Y M P A T H Y. 
 
 H 
 
 OW felfifh foever man may be fuppofed, 
 there are evidently fome principles in his nature, 
 which intereft him in the fortune of others, and ren- 
 der their happinefs necelTary to him, though he de- 
 rives nothing from it, except the pleafure of feeing it. 
 Of this kind is pity or compaflion, the emotion which 
 we feel for the mifery of others, when we either fee 
 it, or are made to conceive it in a very lively manner. 
 That we often derive for row from the forrow of 
 ©thcrs, is a matter of fad too obvious to require any 
 
 B " inftances 
 
2 0/ Propriety. -Parti 
 
 inilances to prove it ; for this fentiment, like all the 
 other original paflions of human nature, is by no 
 means confined to the virtuous and humane, though 
 they perhaps may feel it with the moft exquifite fen- 
 fibility. The greateft ruffian, the moft hardened 
 violator of the laws of fociety, is not altogether 
 without it. 
 
 As we have no immediate experience of what 
 other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner 
 in which they are affeded, but by conceiving what 
 we ourfelves fhould fell in the like fituation. Though 
 our brother is upon the rack, as long as we ourfelves 
 are at our eafe, our fenfes will never inform us of 
 what he fufFers. They never did and never can car- 
 ry us beyond our own perfon, and it is by the ima- 
 gination only that we can form any conception of 
 what are his fenfations. Neither can that faculty 
 help us to this any other way, than by reprefenting 
 to us what would be our own, if we were in his cafe. 
 It is the impreflions of our own fenfes only, not thofe 
 of his, which our imaginations copy. By the ima- 
 gination we place ourfelves in his fituation, we con- 
 ceive ourfelves enduring all the fame torments, we 
 enter as it were into his body and become in fome 
 meafure him, and thence form fome idea of his fenfa- 
 tions and even feel fomething which, though weaker 
 in degree, is not altogether unlike them. His agonies, 
 when they are thus brought home to ourfelves, when 
 we have thus adopted and made them our own, be- 
 gin at laft to affedl us, and we then tremble and 
 fhudder at the thought of what he feels. For as to 
 be in pain or diflrefs of any kind excites the mofl 
 excefllve forrow, fo to conceive or to imagine that 
 we are in it, excites fome degree of the fame emo- 
 tion, 
 
Sed. I. 0/ Propriety^ 3 
 
 tion, ill proportion to the vivacity oi: dulnefs of the 
 conception. 
 
 That this is the fource or oilr fellow-feeling for 
 "themilery of others, that it is by changing places in 
 fancy with the fufR^rer, that we come either to con- 
 ceive or to be affedled by what he feels, may be de- 
 Inonflrated by many obvious obfervations, if it 
 lliould not be thought fufficiently evident of itfelf. 
 When we fee a ilroke aim^d and juft ready to fall 
 upon the leg or arm of another perfon^ we naturally 
 ^^^rink and draw back our own leg or our own arm ; 
 and when it does fall, we feel it in fonie meafure^ 
 and are hurt by it as well as the fufferer. The mob,, 
 when they are gazing at a dancer on the flack rope, 
 naturally writhe and twifl and balance their own bo- 
 dies, as they fee him do, and as they feel that they 
 themfelves mufl do if in his fituation. Perfons of 
 delicate fibres and a weak conflitution of body, 
 complain that in looking on the fores and ulcers which 
 are expofed by beggars in the flreets, they are apt 
 to feel an itching or uneafy fenfation in the corre^ 
 fpondent part of their own bodies. The horror 
 which they conceive at the mifery of thofe wretches 
 affedts that particular part in themfelves more than 
 any other ^ becaufe that horror arifes from conceive 
 ing what they thernfelves would fuffer, if they really 
 were the wretches whom they are looking upon, and 
 if that particular part in themfelves was actually af- 
 fected in the fame miferable manner. The very 
 force of this conception is fufHcient, in their feeble 
 frames, to produce that itching or uneafy fenfation 
 complained of. Men of the mofl robufl make, ob- 
 ferve that in looking upon fore eyes they often feel a 
 very fenfible forenefs in their own, which proceeds 
 
 • B z from 
 
4 Of ProprietV. tart \^ 
 
 from the' fame reafon; that organ being in the 
 ftrongeft man more dehcate than any other part oi 
 the body is in the weakefl. 
 
 Neither is it thofe circuriiftances only, which 
 create pain or forrow, that call forth our fellow-feel- 
 ing. Whatever is the pallion which arifes from any 
 object in the perfon principally concerned, an ana- 
 logous emotion fprings up, at the thought of his fi- 
 tuation, in the breall of every attentive fpe6tator. 
 Our joy for the deliverance of thofe heroes of tragedy 
 or romance who interefl us, is as fmcere aa our grief 
 for their diftrefs, and our fellow-feeling with their 
 .mifery is not more real than that with their happinefs. 
 We enter into their gratitude towards thofe faithful 
 friends who did not defert them in their difficulties; 
 and we heartily go along with their refentment againfl 
 thofe perfidious traitors who injured, abandoned, oi* 
 deceived them. In every paffion of which the mind 
 of man is fufceptible, the emotions of the by-flander 
 always correfpond to what, by bringing the cafe 
 home to himfelf, he imagines, fliould be the fenti-* 
 ments of the fufferer* 
 
 Pity and compafTion are w^ords appropriated to 
 fignify our fellow-feeling with the forrow of others. 
 Sympathy, though its meaning was, perhaps, origi- 
 nally the fame, may now, however, without much 
 impropriety, be made ufe of to denote our fellow- 
 feeling with any paflion whatever. 
 
 Upon fome occafions fympathy may feem to 
 arlfe merely from the view of a certain emotion in 
 another perfon. The paflions, upon fome occafions, 
 may feem to be transfufed from one man to another, 
 
 inftantaneoufly, 
 
Sec\. I. 0/ Propriety, 5 
 
 inftantaneoufly, and antecedent to any knowledge 
 of what excited them in the perfon principally con- 
 cerned. Grief and joy, for example, ftrongly ex- 
 preiTed in the look and geftures of any one, at once 
 affed the fpedator with fome degree of a like painful 
 or agreeable emotion, A fmiling face is, to every 
 body that fees it, a chearful objed ; as a forrowful 
 countenance, on the other hand, is a melan^choly 
 one. 
 
 This, however, does not hold univerfally, or with 
 regard to every pallion. There are fome paflions of 
 v/hich the exprellions excite no fort of fympathy, 
 but before we are acquainted with what gave occa- 
 fion to them, ferve rather to difgufh and provoke us 
 againfl them. The furious behaviour of an angry 
 man is more likely to exafperate us againfl: himfelf 
 than againfk his enemies. As we are unacquainted 
 with his provocation, we cannot bring his cafe home 
 to ourfelves, nor conceive any thing like the palTions 
 which it excites. But we plainly fee what is the fi- 
 tuation of thofe with whom he is angry, and to 
 what violence they may be expofed from fo enraged 
 an adverfary. We readily, therefore, fympathize 
 with their fear or refentment, and are immediately 
 difpofed to take part againfl the man from whom 
 they appear to be in fo much danger. 
 
 If the very appearances of grief and joy infpire us 
 with fome degree of the like emotions, it is becaufe 
 they fuggefh to us the general idea of fome good or 
 bad fortune that has befallen the perfon in whom 
 we obferve them : and in thefe paflions this is fafii- 
 cient to have fome httle influence upon us. The 
 efFedts of grief and joy terminate in the perfon wh® 
 
 B 3 fe©i 
 
6 0/ P R o p R' ! E T Y. Part 1, 
 
 feels thofe emotions, of which the expreilions do 
 not, like thofe of refentment, fuggefl to us the idea 
 of any other perfon for whom we are concerned^ 
 and whofe interefls are oppofite to his. The genera! 
 idea of good or bad fortune, therefore, creates fome 
 concern for the perfon who has met with it, but the 
 general idea of provocation excites no fympathy 
 with the anger of the man who has received it. Na- 
 ture, it feems, teaches us to be more averfe to enter 
 into this pallion, and, till informed of its caufe, to be 
 difpofed rather to take part againft it. 
 
 Even our fympathy with the grief or joy of ano-» 
 ther, before we are informed of the caufe of either, 
 is always extremely imperfed. General lamentati- 
 ons, which exprefs nothing but the anguifh of the 
 fufFerer, create rather a curiofity to inquire into his 
 fituation, along with fome difpofition to fympathize 
 with him, than any actual fympathy that is very fen- 
 fible. The firfl quellion which we afk is, V/hat 
 has befallen you ? Till this be anfwered, tho* we 
 ^reuneafy both from the vague idea of his misfor- 
 tune, and (lill more from torturing ourfelves witl^ 
 conjedures about what it niay be, yet our fellow- 
 feeling is not very confiderable. 
 
 Sympathy, therefore, does not arife fo much fron> 
 the view of the paflion, as from that of the fituatioq 
 which excites it. We fometimes feel for another, 
 a paflion of which he himfelf feems to be altogether 
 incapable j becaufe when we put ourfelves in his 
 cafe, that palfion arifes in our bread from the ima- 
 gination, though it does not in his from the reality. 
 We blufh for the impudence and rudenefs of ano- 
 ther, though he liimfelf appears to have no fenfe of 
 
 th^ 
 
^e(5l. I. 0/ P R o PR I E T y. '^ 
 
 the impropriety of his own behaviour ; becaufe we 
 "cannot help feeling with what confufion we ourfelves 
 fhoiild be covered, had we behaved in fo abfurd a 
 manner. 
 
 Of all the calamities to which the condition of 
 mortality expofes mankind, the lofs of reafon ap- 
 pears, to thofe who have the leall fpark of humanity, 
 by far the mofl dreadful, and they behold that laft 
 ftage of human wretchednefs with deeper commi- 
 feration than any other. But the poor wretch, who 
 is in it, laughs and fmgs perhaps, and is altogether 
 infenfible of his own mifery. The anguifh which 
 humanity feels, therefore, at the fight of fuch an 
 objecl:, cannot be the refleclion of any fentiment of 
 the fufferer. The compalfion of the fpedtator 
 muft arife altogether from the confideration of what 
 he himfelf would feel if he was reduced to the fame 
 unhappy fituation, and, what perhaps is impofTible, 
 was at the fame time able to regard it with his pre- 
 fent reafon andjudgment. 
 
 What are the pangs of a mother when fhe hears 
 the moanings of her infant that during the agony of 
 difeafe cannot exprefs what it feels ? In her idea of 
 what it fuffers, fhe joins, to its real helplefTnefs, 
 her own confcioufnefs of that helpleflhefs, and her 
 9wn terrors for the unknown confequences of its 
 aiforder ; and out of all thefe, forms, for her own 
 forrow, the mofl complete image of mifery and 
 diftrefs. The infant, however, feels only the un- 
 cafmefs of the prefent inftant, which can never be 
 great. With regard to the future it is perfedtly fe- 
 cure, and in its thoughtlefihefs and want of fore- 
 fight poiTeffes an antidote againft: fear and anxiety, 
 
 B 4 the 
 
8 0/ P R a p R I E T Y. Part f, 
 
 the great tormentors of the human bread, from 
 which reafon and philofophy will in vain at- 
 tempt to defend it when it grows up to a 
 man. 
 
 We fympathize even with the dead, and over- 
 looking what is of real importance in their iltuation, 
 that awful futurity which awaits them, we are 
 chiefly afFedted by thofe circumftances which flrike 
 our fenfes, but can have no influence vipon their 
 happinefs. It is miferable, we think, to.be depriv- 
 ed of the light of the fun ; to be fhut out frorn life 
 and converfation ; to be laid in the cold grave, a 
 prey to corruption and the reptiles of the earth ; 
 to be no more thought of in this world, but to b^ 
 obliterated in a little time from the affections and 
 almoft from the memory of their deareft frienda 
 and relations. Surely, we imagine, we can never 
 feel too much for thofe who have fuffered fo dreads 
 ful a calamity. The tribute of our fellow-feeling 
 feems doubly due to them now, when they are ir^ 
 danger of being forgot by every body ; and, by 
 the vain honours which we pay to their me- 
 mory, we endeavour, for our own mifery, ar- 
 tificially to keep alive our melancholy remem- 
 brance of their misfortune. That our fymr 
 pathy can afford them no confolation feems to he 
 an addition to their calamiity ; and to think that all. 
 we can do is unavailing, and that, what alleviates^ 
 all other diftrefs, the regret, the love, and the la- 
 mentations of their fi'iends, can yield no comfort to 
 them, ferves only to exafperate our fenfe of their 
 mifery. The happinefs of the dead, however, moil 
 affuredly, is affeded by none of diefe circumfbances ; 
 j]or is it the thought of theic things which can ever 
 
 ■Mmk 
 
Sed. I. 0/ P R O P R I E T V. 4| 
 
 diflurb the profound fecurity of their repofe. The 
 idea of that dreary and endlefs melancholy, which 
 the fancy naturally afcribes to their condition, arifes 
 altogether from our joining to the change which 
 has been produced upon them, our own confciouf- 
 nefs of that change, from our putting ourfelves in 
 their fituation, and from our lodging, if I may be 
 allowed to fay fo, our own living fouls in their inani- 
 mated bodies, and thence conceiving what would 
 be our emotions in this cafe. It is from this very 
 illufion of the imagination, that the forefight of our 
 own diilolution is fo terrible to us, and that the idea 
 of thofe circumftances, which undoubtedly can give 
 lis no pain when we are dead, makes us miferable 
 while we are alive. And fropi thence arifes one of 
 the mojft important principles in human nature, the 
 dread of death, the great poifon to the happinefs, 
 but the great rellraint upon the injuflice of man- 
 J^ind, which, while it afflicts and mortifies the indi- 
 vidual, guards and proteds the fociety. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of the Pkafure of mutual Sympathy, 
 
 B 
 
 U T whatever may be the caufe of fympathy, 
 or however it may be excited, nothing pleafes us 
 more than to obferve in other men a fellow-feeling: 
 with all the emotions of our own breaft ^ nor are 
 we ever fo much fhocked as by the appearance of 
 the contrary. Thofe who are fond of deducing all 
 our fentiments from certain refinements of Celf-love, 
 
 think 
 
io 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. ~ Part i; 
 
 think themfelves at no lofs to account, according to 
 their own principles, both for this pleafure and this 
 pain. Man, fay they, confcious of his own weak- 
 nefs and of the need which he has for the aiTiflance 
 of others, rejoices whenever he obferves that they 
 adopt his own paflions, becaufe he is then affured 
 ©f that ailiftancc; and grieves whenever he ob- 
 ferves the contrary, becaufe he is then aiTured of 
 their oppofition. But both the pleafure and the pain 
 are always felt fo inflantaneoufly, and often upon 
 fuch frivolous occafions, that it feems evident that 
 neither of them can be derived from any fach felf- 
 interefted confideration. A man is mortified when^ 
 after having endeavoured to divert the company, he 
 looks round and fees that no body laughs at his jefls 
 but himfelf. On the contrary, the mirth of the com- 
 pany is highly agreeable to him, and he regards this 
 correfpondence of their fentiments with his own as 
 the greatefl applaufe. 
 
 Neither does his pleafure feem to arife altogether 
 from the additional vivacity which his mirth may 
 receive from fympathy with theirs, nor his pain 
 from the difappointment he meets with when he 
 miffes this pleafure ; though both the one and the 
 other, no doubt, do in fome meafure. When we 
 have read a book or poem fo often that we can no 
 longer find any amufement in reading it by our- 
 felves, we can flill take pleafure iri reading it to a 
 companion. To him it has all the graces of novel- 
 ty ', we enter into the furprize and admiration which 
 it naturally excites in him, but which it is no longer 
 capable of exciting in us ; we confider all the ideas 
 which it prefents rather in the light in which they 
 appear to him, than in that in v/hich they appear 
 
 to 
 
Se(ft. I. (y P R O P R 1 E T Y. Xt 
 
 to ourfelves, and we are amufed by fympa- 
 thy with his amufement which thus enlivens our 
 own. On the contrary, we (hould be vexed if he 
 did not feem to be entertained with it, and we could 
 no longer take any pleafure in reading it to him. 
 It is the fame cafe here. The mirth of the company^ 
 no doubt, enlivens our own mirth, and their filence, 
 no doubt, difappoinis us. But tliough this may 
 contribute both to the pleafure which we derive 
 from the one, and to the pain which we feel from 
 the other, it is by no means the fole caufe of either ; 
 and this correfpondence of the fentiments of others 
 with our own appears to be a caufe of pleafure, and 
 the want of it a caufe of pain, which cannot be ac- 
 counted for in this manner. The fympathy, which 
 my friends exprefs with my joy, might, indeed, give 
 me pleafure by enlivening that joy : but that which 
 they exprefs with my grief could give me none, if 
 it ferved only to enliven that grief. Sympathy, 
 however, enlivens joy and alleviates grief. It en- 
 livens joy by prefenting another fource of fatisfadi- 
 on ; and it alleviates grief by infmuating into the 
 heart almofl the only agreeable fenfation which 
 it is at that time capable of receiving. 
 
 It is to be obferved accordingly, that we are 
 (lill more anxious to communicate to our friends 
 our difagreeable than our agreeable paffions, that 
 we derive ftill more fatisfa6lion from their fympa- 
 thy with the former than from that with the latter, 
 and that we are flill more fhocked by the want of it. 
 
 How are the unfortunate relieved when they 
 have found out a perfon to whom they can com- 
 municate the caufe of their forrow ? Upon his fym- 
 pathy 
 
12 0/ P R p R I E T Y. Part L 
 
 1 
 pathy they feem to difbiirthen themfelves of a part 
 of their diflrefs : he is not improperly faid to ihare 
 
 ; it with them. He not only feels a forrow of the 
 fame kind with that which they feel, but as if he 
 had derived a part of it to himfelf, what he feels 
 feems to alleviate the weight of what they feeL 
 Yet by relating their misfortunes^ they in feme 
 meafure renew their grief.. They awaken in their 
 memory the remembrance of thofe circumtlances 
 which occafion their affliclion. Their tears accord- 
 ingly flow fafter thaa before, and they are apt to 
 abandon ther^felves to all the weaknefs of forrow. 
 They take pleafure, however, in all this, and, it is 
 evident, are fenfibly relieved by It; becaufe the 
 fweetnefs of his fympathy more than compenfates 
 the bitternefs of that forrow, which, in order to 
 excite that fympathy, they had thus enlivened and 
 jenev/ed. The cruelleft infult, on the contrary, 
 which can be offered to the unfortunate, is to ap- 
 pear to make light of their calamities. To feem 
 not to be affedted with the joy of our companions 
 is but want of politenefs ; but not to wear a ferious 
 countenance when they tell us their afflidions, is real 
 and grofs inhumanity. 
 
 I.ove is an agreeable, refentment a difagreeablc 
 pafhon; and accordingly we are not half fo anxious 
 ihat our friends fliould adopt our friendfliips, as 
 that they fhould enter into out refentments. We 
 can forgive them though they feem to be little af- 
 fected with the favours which we may have receiv- 
 ed, but lofe all patience if they feem indifferent 
 about the injuries v/hich may have been done tons: 
 nor are we lialf fo angry with them for not entering 
 into our gratitude, as for not fympailiizing with our 
 
 reft^ntment. 
 
fSe^l. i ; 6/ P R T R I E T y'. 13 
 
 lefentment. They can eafily avoid being friends 
 to our friends, but can hardly avoid being enemies 
 to thofe with whom we are at variance. We fel- 
 dom refent their being at enmity widi the firft, 
 though lipon that account we may fometimes affedt 
 to make an aukward quarrel with them ; but we 
 quarrel with them in good earneft if they live in 
 friendllilp with the lafl. The agreeable pallions of 
 love and joy can fatisfy and fupport the heart with- 
 out any auxiliary pleafure. The bitter and painful 
 emotions of grief and refentment more ftrongly re- 
 quire the healing confclation of iympathj. 
 
 As the perfon who is principally interefhed in any 
 cv^nt is pleafed with our fympathy, and hurt by the 
 want of it, fo we, too, feem to be pleafed v/hen wc 
 are able to fympathize with him, and to be hurt 
 when we are unable to do fo. We run not only to 
 congratulate the fuccefsful, but to condole with the 
 jTifilided ; and the pleafure which we find in the 
 converfation of one whom in all the paflions of his 
 heart we can entirely fympathize with, feems to do 
 more than compenfate the painfulnefs of that for- 
 rov/ with which the view of his fituation affedts us. 
 On the contrary, it is always difagreeable to feci 
 that we cannot fympathize with him, and inilead of 
 being pleafed with this exemption from fympathetic 
 pain, it hurts us to find that we cannot fhare his 
 uneafmefs. If v/e hear a perfon loudly lamenting 
 his misfortunes, which, however, upon bringing 
 the cafe home to ourfelves, we feel, can produce no 
 fuch violent effedt upon us, we are fnocked at his 
 grief; and, becaufe we cannot enter into it, call 
 it pufiilanimity and weaknefs. It gives us the 
 fpjeen, on the other hand, to fee another too hap- 
 
14 Q/" P R o p R I E T Y. Part L 
 
 py or too much elevated, as we call it, with any- 
 little piece of good fortune. We are difobliged 
 even with his joy, and, becaufe we cannot go along 
 with it, call it levity and folly. We are even put 
 out of humour if our companion laughs louder or 
 longer at a joke than we think it defer ves ; that 
 is, than we feel that we ourfelves could laugh at 
 it. 
 
 I CHAP. III. 
 
 Gfthe manner in which we judge of the propriety or im-^ 
 propriety of the affections of other men^ by their concord 
 or diffonance with our own. 
 
 WHEN the original paflions of the perfoil 
 principally concerned are in perfedt con- 
 cord with the fympathetic emotions of the fpedta- 
 tor, they necellarily appear to this laft jufl and 
 proper, and fuitable to their objeds ; and, on the 
 contrary, when, upon bringing the cafe home to 
 himfelf, he finds that they do not coincide with 
 what he feels, they necelTarily appear to him unjuil 
 and improper, and unfuitable to the caufes which 
 excite therii. To approve of the pafTions of ano- 
 ther, therefore, as fuitable to their objedts, is the 
 fame thing as to obferve that we entirely fympathize 
 with them ; and not to approve of them as fuch, 
 is the fame thing as to obferve that we do not en- 
 tirely fympathize with them. The man who re- 
 fents the injuries that have been done to me, and 
 
 obferves 
 
Se<!t. I. 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. 15 
 
 obferves that I refent them precifely as he does, ne- 
 
 ceflarily approves of my refentment. The man 
 
 whofe fympathy keeps time to my grief, cannot 
 
 but admit the reafonablenefs of my forrow. He 
 
 who admires the fame poem, or the fame picture, 
 
 and admires them exadly as I do, mufh furely allow 
 
 the juftnefs of my admiration. He who laughs at 
 
 the fame joke, and laughs along with me, cannot 
 
 well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the 
 
 •contrary, the perfon who, upon thefe different oc- 
 
 cafions, either feels no fuch emotion as that which 
 
 I feel, or feels none that bears any proportion to. 
 
 mine, cannot avoid difapproving my fentiments on 
 
 account of their diffonance with, his own. If my 
 
 animofity goes beyond what the indignation of my 
 
 friend can correfpond to ; if my grief exceeds what 
 
 his mod tender corapallion can go along with ; if 
 
 my admiration is either too high or too low to tally 
 
 with his own ; if I laugh loud and heartily when he 
 
 only fmiles, or, on the contrary, only fmile when he 
 
 laughs loud and heartily ; in all thefe cafes, as foon 
 
 as he comes from confidering the objed:, to obferve 
 
 how I am^ affected by it, according as there is more 
 
 or lefs difproportion between his fentiments and 
 
 mine, I muft incur a greater or lefs degree of his 
 
 difapprobation : and upon all occafions his own 
 
 fentiments are the ftandards and meafures by which 
 
 "he judges of mine. 
 
 To approve of another man's opinions is to adopt 
 'thofe opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of 
 them. If the fame arguments which convince you 
 convince me likewife, I neceffariiy approve .of your 
 convidion -, and if they do not, I neceifarily difap- • 
 prove of it : neidier can I pofTibly conceive that I 
 
 flioujd 
 
i6 0/ Propriety. Parti- 
 
 fhould do the one without the other. To approve 
 or difapprove, therefore, of the opinions of others 
 is acknowledged, by every body, to mean no more 
 tlian to obferve their agreement or difagreement 
 with our own. But this is equally the cafe with 
 regard to our approbation or difapprobation of the 
 fentiments or palTions of others; 
 
 There are, indeed, fome cafes in which we feerri 
 to approve without any fympathy or correfpondence 
 of fentiments, and in which, confequently, the fen- 
 timent of approbation would feem to be different 
 from the perception of this coincidence. A little 
 attention, however, will convince us that even in 
 thefe cafes our approbation is ultimately founded 
 upon a fympathy or correfpondence of this kind. 
 I fhall give an inftance in things of a very frivolous 
 nature, becaufe in them the fjudgments of mankind 
 are lefs apt to be perverted by wrongTyflems. We 
 may often approve of a jell, and think the laughter 
 of the company quite jufh and proper, though we 
 ourfelves do not laugh, becaufe, perhaps, we are in 
 a grave humour, or happen to have our attention 
 engaged with other objeds. We have learned, 
 however, from experience, what fort of pleafantry 
 is upon rriofl occafions capable of rhaking us laugh, 
 and we obferve that this is one of that kind. We 
 approve, therefore, of the laughter of the company, 
 and feel that it is natural and fuitable to its obje6t ; 
 becaufe, though in our prefent mood we cannot eafily 
 enter into it, we are fenfible that upon moft occa- 
 fions we fhould very heartily join in it. 
 
 The fame thing often happens with regard to all 
 the other pafiions. A ftranger paffes by us in the 
 
 ftreet 
 
Scdi. I. CyPROPRIETY. xy 
 
 llreet with all the marks of the deepell afflidion 5 
 and we are immediately told that he has jufl re- 
 ceived the news of the death of his father. It is im- 
 poflible that, in this cafe^ we fhould not approve of 
 his grief. Yet it may often happen, without any 
 defect of humanity on our part, that, fo far from 
 entering into the violence of his forrow, we iLouid 
 fcarce conceive the firll movements of concern upon 
 his account. Both he and his fadier, perhaps, are 
 intirely unknov/n to us, or we happen to he employed 
 about other things, and do not take time to pivflure 
 out in our imagination the different circumilances of 
 diftrefs which mufl occur to him. We have learn- 
 ed, however, from experience, that fuch a misfor- 
 tune naturally excites fach a degree of forrow, and 
 we know that if we took time to confider his fitua- 
 tion, fully and in all its parts, we fhould, without 
 doubt, mofl fmcerely fympathize with him. It is 
 upon the confcioufnefs of this conditional fympathy, 
 that our approbation of his forrow is founded, even 
 in thole cafes in which that fympathy does not ac- 
 tually take place ; and the general rules derived 
 from our preceding experience of what our fenti- 
 ments v/ould com.monly correfpond with, correct 
 upon this, as upon many other occafion.s, the impro- 
 priety of our prefent emotions. 
 
 The fentiment or aiTedion of the Jieart from 
 v/hich any adion proceeds, and upon which its v/hoie 
 virtue or vice mufl ultimately depend, may be con- 
 fidered under two different afpeds, or in tv/o diffe- 
 rent relations; iirfl, in relation to the caufe which 
 excites it, or the motive v/hich gives occafion to it; 
 and fecondly, in relation to the end wliich it propofes, 
 or the effedt which it tends to produce. 
 
 C In 
 
iB 0/ Propriety. Parti. 
 
 In the fuitablenefs or unfuitablenefs, in the pro- 
 portion or difproportion which the aifedtion feems 
 to bear to the caufe or object which excites it, con- 
 fifts the propriety or impropriety, the decency or 
 iingracefulnefs of the confequent action. 
 
 In the beneficial or hurtful nature of the eflfeds 
 which die affeClion aims at, or tends to produce, 
 confifls the merit or demerit of the action, tlie qua- 
 hties by which it is entitled to reward, or is deferv- 
 ing of punifhrnent. 
 
 Philofophers have, of late years, confidered chiefly 
 the tendency of affedtions, and have given little 
 attention to the relation v/hich they ftand in to tlie 
 caufe which excites them. In common life, however, 
 when we judge of any perfon's condudl, and of the 
 fentiments v/hich directed it, we confliantly confider 
 them under both thefe afpedls. When we blame in 
 another m.an the excefles of love, of grief, of refent- 
 ment, we not only confider the ruinous etTecls 
 which they tend to produce, but the little occafion 
 which was given for them. The merit of his favou- 
 rite, Vv'e fay, is not fo great, his misfortune is not fo 
 dreadful, his provocation is not fo extraordinary, as 
 to jiiftify fo violent a palTion. We fhould have in- 
 dulged, we fayj perhaps, have approved of the vio- 
 lence of his emotion, had the caufe been in any re- 
 fped; proportioned to it. 
 
 When we judge in this manner of any aue<flion, 
 as proportioned or difproportioned to the caufe v/hich 
 excites it, it is fcarce polfible. that we ihould make 
 ufe of any other rule or canon but the correfpondent 
 affection in ourfelves. If, upon hiingmg the. cafe 
 
 holTiC 
 
Se6t. I. 0/Propri£ty, i^ 
 
 home to our own breaft, we find that the fentiments 
 which it gives occafion to, coincide and tally with 
 our own, we neceflarily approve of them as propor- 
 tioned and fuitable to their objeds; if other wife, 
 we neceilarily difapprove of them, as extravagant 
 ^nd out of proportion. 
 
 tvery faculty in one man is the meafure by which 
 he judges of the like faculty in another. I judge of 
 your fight by my fight, of your ear by my ear, of 
 your reafon by my reafon, of your refentment by 
 my refentment, of your love by my love. I neither 
 have nor can have any other way of judging about 
 them. 
 
 CHAP. r/. 
 
 The fame fubje^f. continued 
 
 Wi 
 
 E may judge of the propriety or impropriety 
 of the fentiments of another perfon by their corre- 
 fpondence or difagreement w^ith our own, upon two 
 different occafions ; either, firft, when the objedts 
 which excite them are conlidcred without any pe- 
 cuHar relation, either to themfelves or to the perfon 
 whofe fentiments we judge of; or^ fecondly, when 
 they are confidered as peculiarly atfedting one or 
 ©ther of us. 
 
 C 2 T.Witli 
 
^o 0/ Pr o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 I. With regard to thofe objeds which are con- 
 fidered without any peculiar relation either to our- 
 felves or to the perfon whofe fentiments we judge 
 of; wherever his fentiments intirely correfpond 
 with our own, we afcribe to him the qualities of tafle 
 and good judgment. The beauty of a plain, the 
 greatnefs of a mountain, the ornaments of a build- 
 ing, the expreffion of a picture, the compofition of 
 a difcourfe, the condu6t*of a third perfon, the pro- 
 portions of different quantities and numbers, the 
 various appearances which the great machine of the 
 iiniverfe is perpetually exhibiting, with the fecret 
 wheels and fprings which produce them ; all the 
 general fabjeCls of fcience and tafte, are what v/e 
 and our companions regard, as having no peculiar 
 relation to either of us. We both look at them 
 from the fame point of vievir, and we have no oc- 
 cafion for fympathy, or for that imaginary change 
 of fituations from which it arifes, in order to pro-^ 
 duce, with regard to thefe, the mod perfed harmony 
 of fentiments and affedlions. If, notwithftanding, 
 we are often differently affected, it arifes either from 
 the different degrees of attention, which our diffe- 
 rent habits of life allow us to give eafily to the feveral 
 parts of thofe complex objects, or from the different 
 degrees of natural acutenefs in the faculty of the 
 mind to which they are addreffed. 
 
 When the fentiments pf our companion coincide 
 with our own in things of this kind, which are ob- 
 vious and eafy, and in which, perhaps, we never 
 found a fmgle perfon who differed from us, though 
 we, no doubt, mufl approve of them, yet he feems 
 to deferve no praife or admiration on account of 
 them. But when they not only coincide with our 
 
 own^ 
 
Sedl. 1. 0/ Pr o p R I E T V. ai 
 
 own, but lead anddired: our own; when in forming 
 them he appears to have attended to many things 
 which we had overlooked, and to have adjufted 
 them to all the various circumilances of their objeds; 
 we not only approve of them, but wonder and are 
 furpiifed at their uncommon and unexpected ac- 
 cutenefs and comprehenfivenefs, and he appears to 
 deferve a very high degree of admiration and ap- 
 plaufe. For approbation heightened by wonder and 
 furprife, conflitutes the fentiment which is properly 
 palled admiration, and of which applaufe is the na- 
 tural expreflion. The decifion of the man v/ho 
 judges that exquifite beauty is preferable to the 
 groffeft deformity, or that twice tv/o are equal to 
 four, mufb certainly be approved of by all the world^ 
 but will not, furely, be much admired. It is the 
 acute and delicate difcernment of the man of tafte, 
 who diftinguiHies the minute, and fcarce perceptible,^ 
 differences of beauty and deformity ; it is the com- 
 prehenfive accuracy of the experienced mathemiati- 
 cian, who unravels, with eafe, the moll intricate 
 and perplexed proportions ; it is the great leader in 
 fcience and tafle, the man who directs and condudts 
 our own fentiments, the extent and fuperior juilnefs 
 of v/hofe talents aftonifn us with wonder and fur- 
 prife, who excites our admiration and feeins to de- 
 ferve our applaufe : and upon this foundation is 
 grounded the greater part of the praife v/hich is 
 bellowed upon what are called the intelle«5lual 
 virtues. 
 
 The utility of thofe qualities, it may be thought, 
 is what firil recommends them to us ; and, no doubt, 
 the confideration of this, when we come to attend 
 to it, gives them a new value. Originally, however, 
 
 C -^. we 
 
g2 0/Propriity. Parti. 
 
 we approve of another man's judgment, not as fome- 
 thing ufeful, but as right, as accurate, as agreeable 
 to truth and reality : and it is evident we attribute 
 thofe qualities to it for no other reafon but becaufe 
 we find that it agrees with our own. Ta^fle, in the 
 fame manner, is originally approved of, not as ufe- 
 ful, but asjufl, as delicate, and as precifely fuited to 
 its objedt. The idea of the utility of all qualities of 
 this kind, is plainly an after-thought, and not what 
 firfl. recommended them to our approbation. 
 
 2. With regard to thofe objects, which affed in 
 a particular manner either ourfelves or the perfon 
 whofe fentiments we judge of, it is at once more 
 difficult to prcferve this harmony and correfpon- 
 dencCj and at the fame time, vaftiy more important. 
 My companion does not naturally look upon the 
 misfortune that has befallen me, or the injury that 
 has been done me, from the fame point of view in 
 which I confider them. They affect me much 
 more nearly. We do not view them from the fame 
 ftation, as we do a pidure, or a poem, or a fyflera 
 of philofophy, and are, therefore, apt to be very 
 differently affeded by them. But I can much more 
 jcafily overlook the want of this correfpondence of 
 fentiments with regard to fuch indifferent objeds 
 as concern neither me nor my companion, tliaii v/ith 
 regard to what intereils m.e fo much as the misfor- 
 tune that has befallen me, or the injury that has been 
 done me. Though you defj^ife tliat piclure, or 
 that poem, or even that f) flem of philofophy, which 
 I admire, there is little danger of oiir quarrelling 
 upon that account. Neidier of us can reafonably 
 be much interefhed about them. Tliey ought all 
 pf tlicm to be matters of great indiftereace to us 
 
 both 
 
Sedt. I. 0/ Propriety. 23 
 
 both; fo that, though our opinions may be oppofite, 
 our affections may ilill be very nearly the fame. 
 But it is quite otherwife with regard to thofe objeds 
 by which either you or I are particularly affected. 
 Though your judgment in matters of fpeculation, 
 though your fentiments in m.atters of taile, are 
 quite oppofite to mine, I can eafily overlook this 
 oppofition; and if I have any degree of temper, I 
 may flill find fom.e entertainment in you: conver- 
 fation, even upon thofe very fubjeCts. But if you 
 have either no fellow-feeling for the misfortunes I 
 liave rnet with, or none that bears any proportion 
 10 the grief which diilrafts me ; or if you have either 
 no indignation at the injuries I have fuftered, or 
 none that bears any proportion to the refentment 
 which tranfports me, v/e can no longer converfe 
 upon thefe fubjedts. We become intolerable to one 
 another. I can neither fupport your company, nor 
 you mine. You are confounded at my violence 
 and pullion, and I am enraged at your cold infenfi- 
 bilirv and v/ant of feelint^. 
 
 In all fuch cafes, that there may be fome corref- 
 pondence of fentiments between the fpedtator and 
 the perfon principally concerned, the fpeclator 
 mufl, firfl of all, endeavour, as mucii as he can, to 
 put himieif in the fituation of the other, and to bring 
 home to himfelf every little circumftance of diflrefs 
 which can pcfiibly occur to the fufferer. Kemuil 
 adopt the v/hole cafe of his companion Vv-ith ail its 
 minuteft incidents ; and ilrive to render as perfect 
 as poilible, that imaginary change of fituation upon 
 v/liich his fyrapathy is founded. 
 
 After all this, however, the emotions of the fpec* 
 tator will fltll be very apt to fall fnort of the violence 
 
 C 4 of 
 
2,4. Of^ H o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 of what is felt by the fufferer. Mankind, though 
 naturally fympathetic, never conceive, for what has 
 befallen another, that degree of pallion which na- 
 turally animates the perfon principally concerned. 
 That imaginary change of fitnation, upon which 
 their fympathy is founded, is but momentary. 
 The thought of their own fafety, the thought that 
 they themielves are not really the fufferers, contin- 
 ally intrudes itfelf upon them ; and though it does 
 Hot hinder them from conceiving a paffion fome- 
 what analogous to what i§ felt by the fufferer, hin- 
 ders them from conceiving any thing that approaches 
 to the fame degree of violence. The perfon princi- 
 pally concerned is fenfible of this, and, at the fame 
 time pafiionately defires a more complete fympathy. 
 He longs for that relief which nothing can afford 
 him but the entire concord of the affedlions of the 
 fpedators with his own. To fee the emotions of 
 their hearts, in every refpedl, beat time to his own, 
 in the violent and difagreeable paffions, conflitutes 
 his fole confolation. Bat he can only hope to ob- 
 tain this .by lowering his paffion to that pitch, in 
 which the fpedlators are capable of going along 
 with him. He mufl flatten, if I may be allowed 
 to fay fo, the Iharpnefs of its natural tone, in order 
 to reduce it to harmony and concord with the emo- 
 tions of tliofe wlio are about him.. What they 
 feel, v/ill, indeed, always be, in fome refpedts, dif- 
 ferent from what he feels, and compaliion can never 
 be exadly the fam.e with original forrow ; becaufe 
 the fecret confcioufnefs that the clrangeof fituations, 
 from which the fympathetic fentiment arifes, is but 
 imaginary, not only lowers it in degree, but in fome 
 ipie^fure, varies it la kind, and gives it a quite diffe- 
 rent 
 
Sea. I. 0/ Propriety. 25 
 
 rent modification. Thefe two fentiments, how- 
 ever, may, it is evident, have fuch a correfpondence 
 with one another, as is fufficient for the harmony of 
 fociety. Though they will never be unifons, they 
 may be concords, and this is all that is wanted or 
 required. 
 
 In order to produce this concord, as nature teaches 
 the fpectators to affume the circumftances of the 
 perfon principally concerned, fo fhe teaches this laft 
 in fome meafure to ailume thofe of the fpedators. 
 As they are continually placing themfelves in this 
 fituation, and thence conceivmg emotions fimilar to 
 what he feels ; fo he is as conftantly placing himfelf 
 in theirs, and thence conceiving fome degree of that 
 coolnefs about his own fortune, with v/hich he is feU" 
 fible that they will view it. As they are conflantly 
 confidering what they themfelves would feel, if they 
 adually were the fuff erers, fo he is as conftantly led 
 to imagine in what manner he would be affected if 
 he was only one of the fpectators of his own fitu- 
 ation. As their fympathy makes them look at it, 
 in fome meafure, with his eyes, fo his fympathy 
 makes him look at it, in {ome meafure, with theirs, 
 efpecially when in their prefence and adting under 
 their obfervation : and as the reflected palfion, which 
 he thus conceives, is much weaker than the original 
 one, it necellarily abates the violence of what he felt 
 before he came into their prefence, before he began 
 to recolleft in what manner they would be affected 
 by it, and to view his fituation in this candid and 
 impartial light. 
 
 The 
 
tS Of Propriety. Part L 
 
 The mind, therefore, is rarely fo clifcLirbed, biit 
 that the company of a friend will refhore it to fome 
 degree of tranquillity and fedatenefs. The breafl 
 IS, in fome meafure, calmed and compofed the mo- 
 ment we come into his prefence. Wc are imme- 
 diately put in mind of the light in which he wil} 
 view our fituation, and we begin to view it ourfelves 
 in the fame light ; for the effedl of fympathy is in- 
 flantaneous. We expedt lefs fympathy from a com- 
 mon acquaintance than from a friend : we cannot 
 open to the former all thofe little circumflancesr 
 which we can unfold to the latter : we aiTume, 
 therefore, more tranquillity before him, and endea- 
 vour to fix our thoughts upon thofe general out- 
 lines of our fituation which he is willing to confider. 
 We expert flill leis fympathy from an aifembly of 
 flran^ers, and we afTume, therefore, ftill more tran- 
 quillity before them., and always endeavour to bring 
 down our paflion to thaf pitch, which the particular 
 company we are in may be expeded to go along 
 with. Nor is this only an aflumed appearance : 
 for if we are at all maflcrs of ourfelves, the prefence 
 of a mere acquaintance will really compofe us, fiil! 
 more than that of a friend ; and that of an aifembly 
 of ilrangers ilill more than that of an acquaint- 
 *ance. 
 
 Society and coverfation, therefore, are tlie m.oft 
 powerful remedies for reiloring the mind to its 
 tranquillitv, if, at any time, it has unfortunately loft 
 it • as weil as the befl prefervatives of that equal 
 and happy temiper, which is fo necefiary to fclf- 
 fatisfadtion and ejijoyment. Men of r'^; ' rement and' 
 fpeculation, who are apt to fit brooding at home 
 
 over 
 
Se6l. I. 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. 27 
 
 over either grief or refentment, though they may 
 often have more humanity, more generofity, and a 
 nicer fenfe of honour, yet feldom poiTefs that equality 
 of temper which is fo common among men of the 
 world. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Of the amiable and refpe^ahle virtues. 
 
 u 
 
 PON thefe two different efforts, upon that 
 of the fpedator to enter mto the fentiments of the 
 perfon principally concerned, and upon that of the 
 perfon principally concerned, to bring down his 
 emotions to what the fpedlator can go along with, 
 arc founded two different fets of virtues. The foft, 
 the gentle, the amiable virtues, the virtues of candid 
 condefcenfion and indulgent humanity, are founded 
 upon the one : the great, the av/ful and refpectable, 
 the virtues of feif-denial, of felf-government, of that 
 command of the paihons which fubjedts all the 
 movements of our nature to what our own dignity 
 and honour, and the propriety of our own conduct 
 require, derive their origin from the other. 
 
 How amiable does he appear to be, whofe fym- 
 pathetic heart feems to re-echo all the fentiments 
 of thofe with whom he converfes, who grieves for 
 their calamities, who refents their injuries, and re- 
 
 loices 
 
2S 0/" P R o ? R r E T ¥. Part L 
 
 joices at their good fortune ! When we bring home 
 to Gurfelves the fituation of his companions, we 
 €nter into their gratitude, and feel what confolatioii 
 they muil derive from the tender fympathy of fo 
 affedtionate a friend. And for a contrary reafon, 
 how difagreeable does he appear to be, whofe hard 
 and obdurate heart feels for himfeif only, but is alto- 
 gether infenfible of the happinefsor mifery of others! 
 We enter, in this cafe too, into the pain which his 
 prefence mufl give to every mortal with whom he 
 converfes, to thofe efpecially with whom v/e are 
 moft apt to fympathize, the unfortunate and the in- 
 jured. 
 
 On the other hand, what noble propriety and 
 grace do we feel in the conduct of thofe who, in 
 their own cafe, exert that recoUedtion and felf- 
 command which conftitute the dignity of every 
 pafiion, and which bring it down to what others, 
 can enter into.^ We are difguiled with that clam.o- 
 rous grief, which, without any delicacy, calls upon 
 our companion with fighs and tears and importunate 
 lamentations. But we reverence that referved, that 
 filent and majeflic forrow, which difcovers itfeif 
 only in the fwelling of the eyes, in the quivering of 
 the lips and cheeks, and i-n the diftant, but affedling, 
 coldnefs of the v/hole behaviour. It impofes th^ 
 like filence upon us. We regard it with refpecflful 
 attention, and watch with anxious concern over our 
 whole behaviour, left by any impropriety we (liould 
 diilurb that concerted tranquillity, which it requires 
 fo great an effort to fapport. 
 
 The infolence and brutality of anger, in the fame 
 mariner when we indulge its tury wiili(3lit- check or 
 
 rcRraint, 
 
Seek. I. Of Propriety. s^ 
 
 reflraint, is, of all fabjects, the mofl deteflabie. 
 But v/e admire that noble and generous refentment 
 which governs its purfuit of the greateit injuries, 
 not by the rage which they are apt to excite in the 
 breafl of the fulTerer, but by the indignation which 
 they naturally call forth in that of the impartial fpec- 
 tator; which allows no word, no gefliure.^ to efcape 
 it beyond what this more equitable fentiment would 
 didcate; which never, even in thought, attempts any 
 greater vengeance, nor defires to inflict any greater 
 punilhment, than what every indifferent perfon 
 would rejoice to fee executed. 
 
 And hence it is, that to feel much for others and 
 little for ourfelves, that toreflrain our felfifii, and to 
 indulge our benevolent aifedtions, conflitutes the 
 perfedion of human nature; and can alone produce 
 amiong mankind that harmony of fentiments and 
 pailions in which confifl their whole grace and pro- 
 priety. As to love our neighbour as we love our- 
 felves is the great lav/ of chnftianity, fo it is the great 
 precept of nature to love ourfelves only as we love 
 our neiglibour, or what comes to the fame thing, as 
 our neighbour is capable of loving us. 
 
 As tafte and good judgmenr, when they are con- 
 fidered as qualities which deferve praife and admi- 
 ration, are fuppofed to imply a delicacy of fentiment 
 and an acutenefs of underilanding not commonly 
 to be met with; fo the virtues of fenfibility and felf- 
 comnoand are not apprehended to coniVil in the or- 
 iiinary, but in the uncommon degrees of thofe qua- 
 lities. Tl»e amiable virtue of humanity requires, 
 fureiy, a fenfibility, much beyond what i.*-. poifeired 
 by tlie rude vulgar of mankind The great and 
 
 exalted 
 
30 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 exalted virtue of magnanimity undoubtedly de- 
 mands much more than that degree of felf-com- 
 mand, which the weakeft of mortals are capable of 
 exerting. As in the common degree of the intel- 
 lectual qualities, there are no abilities ; fo in the 
 common degree of the moral, there is no virtue. 
 Virtue is excellence, fomething uncommonly great 
 and beautiful, which rifes far above what is vulgar 
 and ordinary. The amiable virtues confift in that 
 degree of fenfibility v/hich furprizes by its exquifite 
 and unexpedled delicacy and tendernefs. The aw- 
 ful and refpedtable, in that degree of felf-command 
 which aflonifhes by its amazing fuperiority over the 
 moft ungovernable paffions of human nature. 
 
 There is, in this refpe6t, a confiderable difference 
 between virtue and mere propriety ; between thofe 
 qualities and actions which deferve to be admired 
 and celebrated, and thofe which fimply deferve to 
 be approved of. Upon many occafions, to adl 
 with the moil perfedt propriety, requires no more 
 than that common and ordinary degree of fenfibility 
 or felf-command which the moft worthlefs of man- 
 kind are polTeffed of, and fometimes even that de- 
 gree is not neceffary. Thus, to give a very low in- 
 llance, to eat when we are hungry, is certainly, up- 
 on ordinary occafions, perfedly right and proper, 
 and cannot mlfs being approved of as fuch by every 
 body. Nothing, however, Could be more abfurd 
 than to fay it is virtuous. 
 
 On the contrary, there may frequently be a con- 
 fiderable degree of virtue in thofe adions, which 
 fall fhort of the moft perfect propriety -, becaufe 
 they may ftill approach nearer to perfedlion than 
 
 coul4 
 
SfeCt. I. Of Propriety. 31 
 
 could well be expedted upon occafions iii which it 
 was fo extremely difficult to attain it : and this is 
 very often the cafe upon thofe occafions which re- 
 quire the greateft exertions of felf-command. There 
 iire fome fituation^ v/hich bear fo hard upon human 
 nature, that tlie greatefl degree of felfrgovernment, 
 which can belong to fo imperfedl a creature as man, 
 is not able to fliile, altogether, the voice of human 
 Vveaknefs, or reduce the violence of the pallions to 
 that pitch of moderation, ia which the impariial. 
 fped-lator can entirely ePxter into them. Though in 
 thofe cafes, therefore, the behaviour of the fufferer 
 fall lliort of the moil perfed: propriety, it may ftill 
 deferve fome applaufe, and even in a certain {Q\\{^t^ 
 iiTay be denominated virtuous. It may iiill mani- 
 fefl fill effort of generofity and magnanimity of 
 which the greater part of men are incapable ; and 
 though it fails of <:.bfoiute perfection, it may he a 
 much nearer approximation towards perfedtion, than 
 what, upon fuch trying occafions, is commonly ei- 
 t^ier to be found or to be expedited^ 
 
 In cafes of this kind, when we are determining 
 the degree of blame or applaufe which feems due to 
 any adtion, we very frequently make ufe of two 
 different fiandards. The firH: is the idea of com- 
 plete propriety and perfeclion, which, in thofe .dif- 
 £cult fituations, no human conduct ever did, or 
 even can come up to ; and in comparifon v/ith 
 xvhlch the actions of all men muft for ever appear 
 blameable and imperfectt. 1'he fecond is the idea of 
 that degree of proz^dmiity or difhance from this com- 
 plete perfedion, which the ajltious of the greater 
 part of men commonly arrive at, \¥hate<ver goes 
 beyond this degree^ Iiqw far foeVitr It may be re- 
 moved 
 
52 O/Tropriety. Part I. 
 
 moved from abfolute perfedtion, feems to deferve 
 apolaufe ; and whatever falls ihort of it, to deferve 
 blame. 
 
 It Is in the fame manner thatr we judge of the 
 produdtions of all arts which addrefs themfelves to 
 the imagination. When a critic examines the work 
 of any of the great maflers for poetry or painting, 
 he may fometimes examine it by an idea of perfec- 
 tion, in his own mind, which neither that nor any 
 other human work will ever come up to ^ and as 
 long as he compares it with this ftandard, he can 
 fee nothing in it but faults and imperfedtions. But 
 when he come to confider the rank which it ought 
 to hold among other works of the fame kind, he 
 neceffarily compares it with a very different ftandard, 
 the common degree of excellence which is ufuaily 
 attained in this particular art ; and when he judges 
 of it by this new meafure, it may often appear to 
 deferve the highefl applaufe, upon account of its 
 approaching much ilearer to perfedion than the 
 greater part of thofe works which can be brought 
 into competition with it. 
 
 SECTION 
 
 f*'.?. ■ 
 
Sec'i. 2. Qf Profriety. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 SECTION 11 
 
 Of the degrees of the different paflions which are 
 Gonfiflent with propriety; 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 A HE propriety of every paflion excited by ob- 
 jects peculiarly related to ourfelveSj the pitch 
 which the fpev^lator can go along with, mull lie, it 
 IS evident, in certain mediocrity. If the pallion is 
 too high, or if it is too low, he cannot enter into it. 
 Grief and refentment for private misfortunes and in- 
 juries may eafily, for example, be too high, and in 
 the greater part of mankind they are fo. They 
 may likewife^ though this more rarely happens, be 
 too low. We denominate the excefs, weaknefs and 
 fury : and v/e call the defedt, ftupidity, infenfibility, 
 and want of fpirit. We can enter into neither of 
 them, but are afloniihed and confounded to fee 
 them. 
 
 This mediocrity, however, in which the point ot 
 propriety confifls, is different in different pallions. 
 it is high in fome, and low in others. There are 
 fon'ie paiTions which it is indecent to exprefs very 
 llrongly, even upon thofe occafions, in which it is 
 
 D acknowledged 
 
34 (yPRopRiETY. Part I, 
 
 acknowledged that we cannot avoid feeling them 
 in the highefl degree. And there are others of 
 which the ftrongefl exprelTions are upon many oc^ 
 cafions extremely graceful, even though the palfions 
 themfelves do not, perhaps, arife fo heceflarily. 
 The firft are thofe palTions with which, for certain 
 reafons, there is little or no fympathy : the fecond 
 are thofe with which, for other reafons, there is the 
 greateft. And if we confider all the different paf- 
 fions of human nature, we (hall find that they are 
 regarded as decent, or indecent, juft in proportion 
 as mankind are more or lefs difpofed to fympathize 
 with them. 
 
 CHAP. i. 
 
 Of the pajjons which take their origin from the hody. 
 
 .1 
 
 ,T is indecent to exprefs any flrong degree of 
 thofe pafTions which arife from a certain fituation or 
 difpofition of the body ; becaufe the company, not 
 being in the fame difpofition, cannot be expedled 
 to fympathize with them. Violent hunger, for ex- 
 am.ple, though upon many occafions not only na- 
 tural, but unavoidable^ is always indecent, and to 
 eat voracioufly is univerfally regarded as a piece of 
 ill manners. There is, however, fome degree of 
 fympathy, even with hunger. It is agreeable to fee 
 our companions eat with a good appetite, and all 
 
 expi^ions 
 
Eect. 2. 0/ P R o p R I E T y. 35 
 
 expreOions of loathing are ofFenfive. THe difpofi- 
 tion of body which is habituctl to a man in health, 
 makes- his ftomach eafily keep time, if I may be 
 allowed fo coarfe ati expreflion, with the one, and 
 not with the other. We can fympathlze with the 
 diflrefs which exceflive hunger occafions when we 
 read the defcription of it in the journal of a fiege, 
 or of a fea voyage. We imagine ourfelves in the 
 fituation of the fufFerers, and thence readily con- 
 ceive the grief, the fear and conllernation, which 
 mufl necedarily diftratt them. We feel, ourfelves, 
 fome degree of thofe paflio^s, and therefore fym- 
 pathize with them : but as we do not grow hungry 
 by reading the defcription, we cannot properly, 
 even iri this cafe, be faid to fympathize with their 
 hunger. 
 
 It is the fame cafe with the pafllon by which Na- 
 ture unites the two fexes. Though naturally the 
 mofl furious of all pafllons, all flrong expreflions of 
 it are upon every occafioii indecent, even between 
 perfons in whom its moil complete indulgence is ac- 
 knowledged by all laws, both human and divine, 
 to be perfedly innocent. There feems, however, 
 to be fome degree of fympathy even with this paf- 
 fion. To talk to a woman as we fliould to a man 
 is improper: it is expeded that their company 
 fhould infpire us with more gaiety, more pleafanfry, 
 and more attention ■ and an in tire infenfibility to 
 the fair fex, renders a man contemptible in fome 
 meafure even to the mcrl. 
 
 Such is our averfion for all the appetites which 
 take their origin from the body : all ilrong expref- 
 fions of them are loathfome and difasireeable. Ac- 
 
 D,2 ' cording 
 
o^e 0/ Propri E tif. Parti. 
 
 cording to fome antient philofcplieVs, tkefe are the 
 paliions which we Ihare in common with the brutes, 
 and which having no connexion widi the charader- 
 iflical qualities of human nature, are upon that ac^ 
 count beneath its dignity. Bat there are many 
 other paliions which we fhare in common with the 
 brutes, fuch as refentment, rtatiu'al affedion, even 
 gratitude, which do not, upon that account, ap- 
 pear to be fo brutal. The true caufe of the peculiar 
 difoufh which we conceive for the appetites of the 
 body when we fee them in other men, is that we 
 cannot enter into them. To the perfon himfelf 
 who feels them, as foon as they are gratified, the 
 obje<5l thait eXcited them ceafes to be agreeable *, 
 even its prefence often becomes offenfive to him ; 
 he looks round to no purpofe for the charm which 
 tranfported him the moment before, and he can 
 now as httle enter into his own pafiion as another 
 perfon. When we have dined, we order the cd- 
 vers to be removed ; and we (liould treat in the 
 fame m.anner the obiedls of the rnofl ardent and 
 pailionate defires, if they were the objeds of no 
 other paflions but thofe v/hieh take their origin from 
 the body. 
 
 In the commafid of thofe appetites of the body 
 confifls that virtue which is properly called tempe- 
 rance. To reflrain them witliin thofe bounds, 
 whicli regard to^ health and fortune prefcribes, is the 
 part of priKience. But to confme them within thofe 
 limits, which grace, whkh propriety, which de- 
 hcacy, and modelly, require, is the oiuce of tem- 
 perance. 
 
 2. It is for tlie fame reafon that to cry out with 
 bodily pain, how intolerable foevcr, appears alwavti 
 
 nnmaniy 
 
Se6l. 2. 0/^ P R o p R I E T Y. . 37 
 
 unmanly and unbecoming. There is, however, a 
 good deal of fympathy even with bodily pain. If, 
 as has already been obferved, I fee a flroke aimed, 
 and juft ready to fall upon the leg or arm, of anodier 
 perfon, I naturally llirink aad draw back my ov/n 
 leg, or my own arm ; and v/hen it does flill, I feel 
 it in fome meaijire, and am hurt by it as well a-o the 
 fufferer. My hurt, however, is, no doub^, excef- 
 fively flight, and, upon that account, if he makes 
 any violent out-cry, as I cannot go along with him, 
 I never fail to defpife him. And diis is the cafe of 
 all the pallions which take their origin from the body : 
 they excite either no fympathy at all, or fuch a de- 
 gree of it, as is altogether difproportioned to the 
 Violence of what is felt by the fuft'erer. 
 
 It is quite otherwife with thofe pallions which take 
 their origin from the imagination. The frame of 
 my body can be but little aiTe(^l;ed by the alterations 
 which are brought about upon that of my compa- 
 nion : but my imagination is more ducflile, and 
 more readily alTumes, if J may fo^ the fliape and 
 configuration of the imaginations of thofe with 
 whom I am familiar. A difappointment in love, 
 or ambition, will, upon this account, call forth more 
 'fympathy than the greateft bodily evil. Thoie paf- 
 fions arlfe altogether from the imagination. The 
 perfon who has loll his whole fortune, if he is in 
 health, feels nothing in his body. What he uifrers 
 is from the imagination only, which reprefents to 
 him the lofs of his dignity, negledt from his friends, 
 contempt from his enemies, dependence, v/ant, and 
 mifery, coming faft upon him ; and v/e fympathiiie 
 with him more ilrongly upon this account, becaufe 
 our imaginations can more readily mould themfehcs 
 
 D 3 upon 
 
 ^^££^^^ 
 
j^ 0/* Pr o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 upon his imagination, than bur bodies can pould 
 themfelves upon his body. 
 
 The lofs of a leg may generally be regarded as a 
 more real calamity than the lofs of a miflrefs. It 
 would be a ridiculous tragedy, however, of which 
 the cataflrophe was to turn upon a lofs of that kind. 
 A misfortune of the other kind, how frivolous fo- 
 ever it may appear to be, has given occafion to ma- 
 ny a fine one. 
 
 Nothing is fo foon forgot ^s pain. The moment 
 it is gone the whole agony of it is over, and the 
 thought of it can no longer give us any fort of dif- 
 turbance. We ourfelves cannot then enter into the 
 anxiety and angulHi which we had before conceived. 
 An unguarded v/ord from a friend will occafion a 
 TTiore durable uneafinefs. The agony which this 
 creates is by no means over with the word. What 
 at firft difturbs us is not the objecjt of the fenfes, 
 X but the idea of the imagination. As it is an idea, 
 therefore, which occafions our uneaftnefs, till time 
 and other accidents have in fome meafure effaced 
 ■J - it from our memory, the imagination continues to 
 fret and rankle within, from the thought of it. 
 
 Pain never calls forth any very lively fympathy 
 unlefs it is accompanied with danger. We fympa- 
 thize with the fear, though not with the agony of 
 ' the fufteier. Fear, however, is ^ pafiion derived 
 altogedier fi'om the imagination, which reprefents, 
 with an uncertainty and iluduatjon that increafes 
 our anxiety, not what we really feel, but what v/e 
 may hereafter poilibly fuffcr. The gout or the 
 topth-ach, though exqiiifitely painful, excite very 
 
 little 
 
Seft. 2. 0/ P i^ o ? ?. I E T Y. 39 
 
 little fympathy ; more dangerous difeafes, though 
 accompanied with very little pain, excite the high- 
 
 Some people faint and grow fick at the -fight of 
 a chirurgical operation, and that bodily pain which 
 is occafioned by tearing the flefh, feems, in them, 
 to excite the moil excefiive fympathy. We con- 
 ceive in a much more lively and 4iftin<^ manner, 
 the pain which proceeds from an external caufe, t-ha-r^ 
 we do that which arifes from an internal diforder. 
 I can fcarce form an idea of the agonies of my 
 neighbour when he is tortured with the gout, or the 
 flone ; but I have the cleareft (j;oncepi:ion of what 
 he muft fuffer from an inclfion, a wound, or a frac- 
 ture. The chief cauie, however, why fuch objedls / 
 produce fuch violent effedt^ upon us, is their novelty. / 
 One who has b'eeii witnefs to a doiien difledions, 
 and as many amputations, fees, ever after, all ope- 
 rations of this kind with great indifference, and of- 
 ten with perfe<^t infenfibility. Though v/e have 
 read or feen reprefented more than live hundred 
 tragedies, we fnall feidom fefil fo entire an abatement 
 of our fenfibility to the obje^^t which they reprefent 
 \o us. 
 
 In fome of the Greek tragedies there is an attempt 
 to excite compaliion, by the reprefentation of the 
 agonies of bodily pain. Philodetes cries out and 
 faints from the extremity of his fufferings. Hip- 
 polytus and Hercules are both introduced as expir- 
 ing under the feverefl tortures, which, it feeins, 
 even the fortitude of Hercules was incapable of fup- 
 porting. In all thefe cafes, however, it is not the 
 pain which interefls us, but fome other circumilance. 
 
 D 4 It 
 
40 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 It is not the fore foot, but the folitude, of Philoc- 
 tetes which affedls us, and diffufes over that charm- 
 ing tragedy, that romantic wildnefs, which is fo 
 agreeable to the imagination. The agonies of Her- 
 cules and Hippolytus are interefted only becaufe we 
 forefee that death is to be the confequence. If thofe 
 heroes were to recover, we fhould think the repre- 
 fentation of their fufferings perfedly ridiculous. 
 What a tragedy would that be of which the diflrefs 
 confifled in a colic. Yet no pain is more exquifite. 
 Thefe attempts to excite compaflion by the repre- 
 fentation of bodily pain, may be regarded as among 
 the greatefl breaches of decorum of which the Greek 
 theatre has fet the example, 
 
 The little fympathy which we feel with bodily 
 pain is the foundation of the propriety of conflancy 
 and patience in enduring it. The man, who under 
 the fevereft tortures allows no weaknefs to efcape 
 him, vents no groan, gives way to no palTion which 
 we do not entirely enter into, commands our high- 
 
 ^ eft admiration. His firmnefs enables him to keep 
 time with our indifference and infenfibility. We 
 admire and entirely go along v/ith the magnanimous 
 effort which he makes for diis purpofe. We ap- 
 prove of his behaviour, and from our experience of 
 the common weaknefs of human nature, we are fur- 
 prifed, and wonder how he fhould be able to ad: fo 
 
 \as to deferve approbation. Approbation, mixed 
 and animated by wonder and furprife, conftitutes the 
 fentiment which is properly called admiration, of 
 
 'which, applaufe is the natural exprefuon, as has al- 
 ready been obferved, 
 
 C H A P. 
 
&t&, Z, 0/ Pr O P R I E T Y. ^ 
 
 CHAP. 11. 
 
 Of thofe pajfwns which take their origin from a farticiilaf 
 mm or habit of the imagination. 
 
 JZjVEN of the paflions derived from the imagi- 
 nation, thofe which take their origin from a peculiar 
 turn or habit it has acquired, though they may be 
 acknowledged to be perfedtly natural, are, hoM^ever, 
 but little fympathized with. The imaginations of 
 mankind, not having acquired that particular turn, 
 cannot enter into them ; and fuch pallions, though 
 they may be allowed to be almofl unavoidable ia 
 fome part of life, are always in fome meafure ridi- 
 culous. This is the cafe with that ftrong attach- ; 
 ment which naturally grows up between tv/o perfons 
 of different fexes, who have long fixed their thoughts 
 upon one another. Our imagination not having run 
 in the fame channel with that of the lover, we can- 
 not enter into the eagernefs of his emotions. If 
 our friend has been injured, we readily fympathize 
 with his refentment, and grow angry with ^'the very 
 perfon with whom he is angry. If he has received 
 a benefit, we readily enter into his gratitude, and 
 have a very high fenfe of the merit of his benefador. 
 But if he is in love, though we may think his paf- 
 fion juil as reafonable as any of the kind, yet we 
 never think ourfdves bound to conceive a paflion of 
 the fame kind, and for the fame perfon for whom 
 he has conceived it. The -paiiion appears to eve- 
 ry body, butthe man who feels it, entirely difpro- 
 
 portioned 
 
42 0/ P R O P R I E T Yi Part I, 
 
 portioned to the value of the objed; and love, 
 though It is pardoned in a certain age becaufe wc 
 know it is natural, is always laughed at, becaufe we 
 cannot enter into it. All ferious and ftrong ex- 
 preffions of it appear ridiculous to a third perfon ; 
 and though a lover may be good company to his 
 miftrefs, he is fo to nobody elfe. He himfelf is fen- 
 fible of this; and as long as. he continues in his fober 
 fenfes, endeavours to treat his own paiTion with rail- 
 lery and ridicule. It is the only ftyle in which we 
 care to hear of it; becaufe it is the only flyle ia 
 which we ourfeh/es are difpofed to talk of it. We 
 grow weary of the grave, pedantic, and long-fen- 
 tenced love of Cowley and Propertius, who never 
 have done with exaggerating the violence of their 
 attachments; but the gaiety of Ovid, and the gal-^ 
 Jantry of Horace, are always agreeable. {- 
 
 But though we feel no proper fympathy with an 
 attachment of this kind, though we never approach 
 ieven in imaginatiori towards conceiving a pafllon 
 for that particular perfqn, yet as we either have 
 conceived, or may be difpofed to conceive, pafTions 
 of the fame kind, we readily enter into thofe high 
 hopes of happinefs which are propofed from its gra- 
 tification, as well as into that exquifite dillrefs which 
 is feared from its ^i^^Ppo'^^^^^nt. It interefls us 
 not as a pailion, but as a fituation that gives occafion 
 to other palfions which intereil us; to hope, to fear, 
 and to diflrefs of every kind ; in the fame manner as 
 in a defcription of a fea voyage, it is not the hunger 
 which interefls us, but the diilrefs which that hunger 
 occafions. Thvough we do not properly enter into 
 the attachment of the lover, we readily go along 
 with thofe expectations of romantic happinefs v/hich 
 
 he 
 
Secfi. 2." 0/ P R O P R I E T Y. ^ 
 
 he derives frofn it. We feel how natural it is for 
 the mind, in a certain fituation, relaxed with indo-* 
 lence, and fatigued with the violence of defire, to 
 long for ferenity and quiet, to hope to £nd them in 
 the gratification of that paflion which diflradls it, 
 and to frame to itfelf the idea of that life of pafto-» 
 ral tranquillity and retirement which the elegant, the 
 tender, and the pallionate Tibullus takes fo much 
 pleafure in defcribing; a life like what the poets de-» 
 fcribe in the Fortunate Iflands, a life of frrendfhip, 
 liberty, and repofe -, free from labour, and froni 
 care, and from all the turbulent palHons which atten4 
 them. Even fcenes of this kind interefl us moft, 
 when they are painted rather as what is hoped, than 
 as what is enjoyed. The grolTnefs of that paffiori. 
 which mixes with, and is, perhaps, the foundation 
 of love, [difappears when its gratification is far ofF 
 and at a diflance ; but renders the whole ofFenfiye, 
 when defcribed as what is immediately poffelTed. 
 The happy paflion, upon this account, interefls u<j 
 much lefs than the fearful and the melancholy. 
 We tremble for whatever can difappoint fuch natu- 
 ral and agreeable hopes : and thus enter into all the 
 anxiety, and concern, and diftrefs of the lover. 
 
 Hence it is, that, in fome modern tragedies and 
 romances, this paflion appears fo wonderfully inte- 
 refling. It is not fo much the love of Caftalk) and 
 Monimia which attaches us in the Orphan, as the di- 
 ftrefs which that love occafions. The author who 
 ftiould introduce two lovers, in a fcene of perfed^ 
 fecurity, expreiTmg their mutual fondnefs for one 
 another, would excite laughter, and not fyrapathy. 
 If a fcene of this kind is ever admitted into a tra- 
 gedy, it is always, in fome meafure, improper, and 
 
 is 
 
44 Of? R o p R ! E T Y. Part L 
 
 is endured, not from any fympathy with iht paflion 
 that is expreffed in it, but from concern for the 
 dangers and difficulties with which the audience 
 forefee that its gratification is likely to be attended. 
 
 The rcferve which the laws of fociety impofe 
 upon the fair fex, with regard to this weaknefs, ren- 
 ders it more peculiarly diftrefsful in them, and, upon 
 that very account, more deeply intereiling. We 
 are charmed with the love of Phaedra, as it is ex- 
 preffed in the French tragedy of that name, not- 
 withftanding all . the exa'avagance and guilt which 
 attends it. That very extravagance and guilt 
 may be faid, ia fome meafure, to recommend it to 
 us. Her fear, her fhame, her remorfe, her horror, 
 her defpair, become thereby more natural and in- 
 tcrefting. All the fecondary paffions, if I may be 
 allowed to call them fo, which arife from the fitu- 
 ation of love, become necelTarily more furious and 
 violent : and it is with thefe fecondary pafiions only 
 that we can properly be faid to fympathize. 
 
 Of all the pafTions, however, which are fo ex- 
 travagantly difproportioned to the value of their 
 objects, love is the only one that appears, even to 
 the weakeil minds, to have any thing in it that is 
 either graceful or agreeable. In itfelf, firft of all, 
 though it may be ridiculous, it is not naturally 
 odious; and though its coiifequences are often fatal 
 and dreadful, its intentions are feldom mifchievous. 
 And then, though there is little propriety in the 
 paflion itfelf, there is a good deal in fome of thofe 
 which always accompany it. There is in love a 
 ftrong mixlure of humanity, genercfity, kindnefs, 
 friendfhip, efteem-, palTions with which, of all 
 
 others. 
 
Sed. 2. 0/ Pr 1^ R I E t y. ^^ 
 
 others, for reafons which (hall be explained imme- 
 diately, we have the greatefl propenfity to fympa^ 
 thize, even notwidi^flanding we are fenfible that 
 they are^ i?i Tome meafure, exceflive. The fympathy 
 which we feel with them, renders the pailion which 
 they accompany lefs difagreeable^ and fupports it 
 in our imagination, notwithflanding all the vices 
 which commonly go along with it; though in the 
 one fex it neceifarily leads to ruin and infamy; and 
 though in the other, where it is apprehended to be 
 kail fatal, it is almofl always attended with an in- 
 capacity for labour, a negledl of duty, a contempt 
 of fame, and even of common reputation. Not- 
 withflanding all this, the degree of fenfibihty and 
 generofity with which it is fuppofed to be accom- 
 panied, renders it to many the objedl of vanity; 
 and they are fond of appearing capable of feeling 
 what would do them no honour if they had really 
 felt it. 
 
 It Is for a reafon of the fame kind, that a certain \ 
 referve is neceffary when we talk of our own friends, \ 
 our own iludies, our own profefilons. All thefe are 
 objedls vyhich we cannot exped fhould interefl our 
 companions in the fame degree in which they interelt 
 tis. And it is for want of this referve, that the one 
 half of mankind make bad company to the other. 
 A philofopher is company to a philofopher only; ^ 
 the member of a club, to his own little knot of 
 .companions. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
46 Cy P R o p R I E T Y. Part h 
 
 CHAP. llf. 
 
 Of tbe unfocial pajftons. 
 
 X HERE is another fet of paffions," which though 
 derived from the imagination^ yet before we can 
 enter into them, or regard them as graceful or be- 
 coming, mufl always be brought down to a pitch 
 much lower than that to which undifciplined na- 
 ture would raife them. Thefe are hatred and re- 
 fentment, with all their different modifications. 
 With regard to all fuch pafTions, our fympathy is 
 divided between the perfon who feels them and the 
 perfon who is the objedl of them. The interefts of 
 thefe two are diredly oppofite. What our fympa- 
 thy with the perfon who feels them would prompt 
 us to wifh for, our fellow-feeling with the other 
 Ivould lead us to fear. As they are both men, we 
 are concerned for both, and our fear for what the 
 one may fuffer, damps our refentment for what the 
 other has fuftered. Our fympathy, therefore, with 
 the man who has received the provocation, neceffa- 
 riiy falls (hort of the pafTion which naturally animates 
 him, not only upon account of thofe general caufes 
 which render all fympathetic paflions inferior to the 
 original ones, but upon account of that particular 
 caufe which is peculiar to itfelf, our oppofite fympa- 
 thy 
 
Sedl. 2. 0/ P R o p ii t E T Y. 47 
 
 thy with another perfon. Before refentment, there- 
 fore, can become graceful and agreeable, it mult, 
 be more humbled and brought down below that 
 pitch to which it would naturally rife, than almoft 
 any other pallion. 
 
 Mankind, at the fame time, have a very flrong 
 fenfe of the injuries that are done to another. The 
 villain, in a tragedy or romance, is as much the ob- 
 jed^ of oiir indignation, as the hero is that of our 
 fympathy and affection. We detefl lago as much 
 as we efheem Othello ; and delight as much in the 
 punilhment of the one, as we are grieved at the di^ 
 ftrefs of the other. But though mankind have fo' 
 ilrong a fellow-feeling with the injuries that are 
 done to their brethren, they do not always refent 
 them the more that the fufferer appears] to refent 
 them. Upon moft occafions, the greater his pa- 
 tience, his mildnefs^ his humanity, provided it does 
 not appear that he wants fpirit, or that fear was the 
 motive of his forbearance, the higher the refentment 
 againll the perfon who injured him. The amiable- 
 nefs of the chara(5ter exafperates their fenfe of the 
 atrocity of the injury, 
 
 Thefe pallions, however^ are regarded as necelTary 
 parts of the charadter of human nature. A perfon- 
 becomes contemptible who tamely fits flill, and fub- ., 
 mits to infults, without attempting either to repel or 
 to revenge them. We cannot enter into his indif- 
 ference and infenfibility : we call his behaviour mean- 
 fpiritednefs, and are as really provoked by it as by 
 the infolence of his adverfary. Even the mob rire 
 enraged to fee any man fubmit patiently to afFrc «iits 
 and ill ufige, Thi^y dejQre to fee this infolence re- 
 fen tedv 
 
(yf Propriety. Part I. 
 
 felted, and refented by the perfon who fufFers from 
 it. They cry to him with fury, to defend, or to re- 
 venge himfelf. If his indignation rouzes at laft, 
 they heartily applaud, and fympathize with it. It 
 enlivens their own indignation againll his enemy, 
 ■whom they rejoice to fee him attack in turn, and 
 are as reaHy gratified by his revenge, provided it is 
 not immoderate, as if the injury had been done to 
 themfelves. 
 
 But though the utility of thofe pafllons to the in^ 
 dividual, by rendering it dangerous to infult or in- 
 jure him, be acknowledged; and though their utility 
 to the public, as the guardians of juftice, and of the 
 equality of its adminillration, be not lefs confider- 
 able, as fhall be fhewn hereafter-, yet there is ilill 
 fomething difagreeable in the pailions themfelves, 
 which makes the appearance of them in other men 
 the natural objedt of cur avernon. The expreHion 
 of anger towards any body prefent, if it exceeds a 
 bare intimation that we are fenfible of his ill ufage, 
 IS regarded not only as an infult to that particular 
 perfon, but as a rudenefs to the whole company. 
 Refpedl for them ought to have reftrained us from 
 mving way to fo boiflerous and offenfive an emotion. 
 It is the remote effeds of thefe pailions which are 
 agreeable; the immediate effeds are mifchief to 
 the perfon againft whom they are direded. But it 
 !s the inunediate, and not the remote effeds of ob- 
 jeds which render them agreeable or difagreenble 
 ,to the imagination. A prifon is certainly more 
 U'Tefiil to the public than a palace; and the p's^rfon 
 wiHo founds the one is generally direded by a much 
 jufl'er fpirit of patriotlfm, than he,v/ho builds the 
 other. , J^ur the immediate effeds of a prifon, the 
 
 confinement 
 
Sedt. 2. Of F R O.P .R I E T Y. ^ 
 
 confinement of the wretches fhut up in It, are dif- 
 agreeabie ; and the imagination either does not take 
 time to trace out the remote ones, or fees them at 
 too great a diflance to be much affedled by them. 
 A prifon, therefore, will aiv/ays be a difagreeable 
 objedl; and the fitter it is for the purpofe for which 
 it was intended, it will be the more fo. A palace, 
 •on the contrary, will always be agreeable ; yet its 
 remote effeds may often be inconvenient to the 
 public. It may ferve to promote luxury, and fet 
 the example of the diiTolution of m.anners. Its im- 
 mediate efFedts, however, the conveniency, the plea- 
 fure, and the gaiety of the people who live in it, 
 being all agreeable, and fuggeiling to the imagi- 
 nation a thoufand agreeable ideas, that faculty ge- 
 nei'ally refts upon them, and feldom goes further 
 in tracing its more diflant confequences. Trophies 
 of the inftruments of mufic or of agriculture, imi- 
 tated in painting or in ftucco, make a common and 
 an agreeable ornament of our halls and dining-rooms. 
 A trophy of the fam.e kind, compofed of the inflru- 
 ments of furgery<j of diilecting and am.putation- 
 knives, of faws for cutting the bones, of trepanning 
 inftruments, &c. would be abfurd and fhockins:. 
 Inflruments of furgery, however, are always more 
 finely polifhed, and generally more nicely adapted 
 to the purpofes for which they are intended, than 
 inflruments of agriculture. The remote effedts of 
 them too, the health of the patient, is agreeable, 
 yet as the immediate efiedl of them is pain and fuf- 
 fering, the fight of them aKvays difpLafes us. In- 
 ftruments of war are agreeable, though their imme- 
 diate effed may feem to be in the fame manner pain 
 and futTering. But then it is the pain and fuffering 
 of our enemies, v.ith whom we have no fympathy. 
 
 E With 
 
50 0/ P R o p R I E T Y." Part I. 
 
 With regard to us, they are immediately connected 
 with the agreeable ideas of courage, vidlory, and 
 honour. They are themfelves, ^therefore, fuppofed 
 to make one of the noblell parts of drefs, and the 
 imitation of them one of the fineft ornaments of 
 architedture. * It is the fame cafe with the qualities 
 of the mind. The ancient ftoics were of opinion, 
 that as the \vorld was governed by the all-ruling 
 providence of a wife, powerful, and good God, 
 every fmgle event ought to be regarded, as making 
 a necelTary part of the plan of the univerfe, and as 
 tending to promojie the general order and happinefs 
 of the whole: that the vices and follies of mankind, 
 therefore, made as neceffary a part of this plan as 
 their wifdom or their virtue ; and by that eternal 
 art which educes good from ill, were made to tend 
 equally to the profpsrity and perfedtion of the great 
 fyflem of nature. No fpeculation of this kind, 
 however, how deeply foever it might be rooted in 
 the mind, could diminifh oiir natural abhorrence for 
 vice, whofe immediate efFedts are fo deftructive, and 
 whofe remote ones are too diflant to be traced' by 
 the imagination. 
 
 It is the fame cafe with thofe palTions we have 
 been jufl now confidering. Their immediate effedls 
 are fo difagreeable, that even when they are moft 
 juHly provoked, there is dill fomething about them 
 which difgufts us. Thefe, therefore, are the only 
 paffions of which the expreflions, as I formerly ob- 
 ferved, do not difpofe and prepare us to fympathize 
 with them, before we are informed of the caufe 
 which excites them. The plaintive voice of mifery, 
 when heard at a diflance, will not allow us to be 
 indifferent about the perfon from whom it comes. 
 
 As 
 
Sedl. 2. 0/ Pr O P R I E T Y. £j 
 
 As foon as it flrikes our ear, it interefls us in his for- 
 tune, and, if continued, forces us almoft involun- 
 tarily to fly to his affiilance. The fight of a fmiiing 
 countenance, in the fame manner, elevates even the 
 penfive into that gay and airy mood, which difpofes 
 him to fympathize with, and (hare the joy which it 
 exprelfes ; and he feels his heart, v/hich with thought 
 and care was before that fhrunk and deprefled, in- 
 ftantly expanded and elated. But it is quite other- 
 wife with the exprefTions of hatred and refentment. 
 The hoarfe, boiflerous, and difcordant voice of 
 anger, when heard at a diftance, infpires us either 
 with fear or averfion, We do not fly towards it 
 as to one who cries out w^ith pain and agony. Wo- 
 men, and men of weak nerves, tremble and are 
 overcome with fear, though fenfible that themfelves 
 are not the objeds of the anger. They conceive 
 fear, however, by putting themfelves in the fitua- 
 tion of the perfon who is fo. Even thofe of ftouter 
 hearts are diilurbed; not indeed enough to make 
 them afraid, but enough to make them angry; for 
 anger is the pailion which they would feel in the fitu- 
 ation of the other perfon. It is the fame cafe with 
 hatred. Mere exprellions of fpite infpire it ao-ainfb 
 no body, but the man v/ho ufes them. Both thefe 
 paflions are by nature the objeds of our averfion. 
 Their difagreeable and boiflerous appearance never 
 excites, never prepares, and often diflurb.s our fym- 
 pathy. Grief does not more powerfully engage 
 and attradt us to the perfon in whom we obferve it, 
 than thefe, v/hile v/e are ignorant of their caufe, 
 difguft and detach us from him. It was, it feems 
 the intention of Nature, that thofe rougher and more 
 unamiable emotions, v/hich drive men from one 
 another, fnould be lefs eafiiy and more rarely com- 
 municated. 
 
 E 2 - When 
 
fT^ 
 
 "< -w 
 
 0/ Pr o p R I E T Y. Part L 
 
 When muiic imitates the modulations of grief or 
 joy, it either adlually infpires us with thofe paillons, 
 or at kail puts us in the mood which difpofes us to 
 conceive them. But when it imitates the notes of 
 anger, it infpires us with fear. Joy, grief, love, 
 admiration, devotion, are all of them palTions v/hich 
 are naturally mufical. Their natural tones are all 
 foft, clear, and m.elodious-, and they naturally ex- 
 prefs themfelves in periods which are diflinguifhed 
 by regular paufes, and which upon that account are 
 eafily adapted to the regular returns of the correfpon- 
 dent airs of a tune. The voice of anger, on the 
 contrary, and of all the paffions v^/hich are akin to 
 it, is harfh and difcordant. It periods too are all 
 irregular, fometimes very long, and fometimes 
 very fliort, and diilinguifned by no regular paufes. 
 It is with difficulty, therefore, that mufic can imitate 
 any of thofe paffions ; and the mAific' which does 
 imitate them is not the mofl agreeable. A whole 
 entertainment may confii^, without any impropriety, 
 of the imitation cf the focial and agreeable paillons. 
 It would be a flrange entertainment which confuled 
 altogether of the imitations of hatred and refent- 
 
 ment 
 
 . If thofe palTions are difagreeable to the fpedlator, 
 they are not lefs fo to the perfon v/ho feels them. 
 Hatred and anger are the greatefl poifon to the 
 happinefs of a good mind. There is, in the very 
 feeling of thofe paifions, fomething hardi, jarring, 
 and convulfive, fom.ething that tears and dillrads 
 the breafl, and is altogether defcrudive of that com- 
 pofure and tranquillity of mind which is fo necelTary 
 to happinefs, and which is befl prom^oted by the 
 
 contrary 
 
1 
 
 Sedl. 2. (yPROPRIETY, ^^ 
 
 contrary paflions of gratitude and love. It is nor. 
 the value of v/hat they lofe by the perfidy and in- 
 gratitude of thofe they live with, which the gene- 
 rous and humane are mofl apt to regret. Whatever 
 they may have loft, they can generally be very 
 happy without it. What mofc diilurbs them is the 
 idea of perfidy and ingratitude exercifed towards 
 themfelves; and the difcordant and difagreeable 
 paflions which this excites, conilitutes, in their own 
 opinion, the chief part of the injury which they 
 fuffer. . 
 
 How many things are requifite to render the 
 gratification of refentmicnt com.pleatiy agreeable, 
 and to make the fpe6lator thoroughly fympathize 
 with our revenge? The provocation mutl firil of 
 all be fuch that we (liould become contemptible, and 
 be expofed to perpetual infults, if v/e did not, in 
 fome meafure, refent it. Smaller offences are al- 
 ways better neglecfled; nor is there any. thing more 
 defpicable than that froward and captious humour 
 which takes fire upon every flight occafion of quar^ 
 rel. We Ihould refent more from a knfe of the 
 propriety of refentment, from a fenfe that mankind 
 expecft and require it of us, than becaufe we feel 
 in ourfelves the furies of tliat difagreeable paflion. 
 There is no paliion, of which tlie human mind is 
 capable, concerning whofe juilnefs we ought to be 
 fo doubtful, concerning whofe indulgence we ought 
 fo carefully to confult our natural fenfeof propriety, 
 or fo diligently to confider what will be the fenti- 
 ments of the impartial fpedtator. Magnanimity, or 
 a regard to maintain our ov/n rank and dignity in 
 fociety,. is the only motive v;hich can ennoble the 
 expFeilions of this difagreeable paflion. This mo- 
 
 E 3 tivC 
 
54 0/ Propriety. Parti. 
 
 tive muft characterize our v/hole ftile and deport- 
 ment. Thefe mufl be plain, open, and direct; 
 determined without pofitivenefs, and elevated with-^ 
 out infolence; not only free from petulance and 
 low fcurrility, but generous, candid, and full of all 
 proper regards, even for the perfon who has offend- 
 ed us. It muft appear, in lliort, from our whole 
 manner, without our labouring affededly to exprefs 
 it, thatpaffion has not extinguifhed our humanity; 
 and that if we yield to the dictates of revenge, it is 
 with reludtance, from neceflity, and in confequence 
 of great and repeated provocations. When refent- 
 ment is guarded and qualified in this manner, it may 
 be admitted to be even generous and noble. 
 
 CHAP. rv. 
 
 Of t'he Jocial pajfions. 
 
 jLjL S it is a divided fympathy which renders the 
 whole fet of pallions juft now mentioned, upon 
 moft occafions, fo ungraceful and difagreeabie ; fo 
 there is another fet oppofite to thefe, which a re- 
 doubled fympathy renders almoft always peculiarly 
 agreeable and becoming. Generofity, humanity, 
 kindnefs, compafTion, mutual friendfhip and elteem, 
 ail the focial and benevolent affedions, when ex- 
 preffed in the countenance or beliaviour;, even to- 
 wards 
 
Sed. 2. 0/ Pr OP R I E»T Y. 55 
 
 wards thofe who are peculiarly conneded with our- 
 felves, pleafe the indifferent fpedator upon almoft 
 every occafion. His fympathy with the perfon who 
 feels thofe paflions, exadly coincides with his con- 
 cern for the perfon who is the objed of them. The 
 intereft, which, as a man, he is obliged to take in 
 the happinefs of this laft, enlivens his fellovz-feelino- 
 with the fentiments of the other, whofe emotions are 
 employed about the fame objed. We have always, 
 therefore, the ftrongeft difpofition to fympathize 
 with the benevolent affedions. They appear in 
 every refped agreeable to us. V/e enter into the 
 fatisfadion both of the perfon who feels them and 
 of the perfon v^ho is the objed of them. For as to 
 to be the object of hatred and indignation gives more 
 pain than all the evils which a brave man can fear 
 from his enemies ; fo there is a fatisfadion in the 
 qonfcioufnefs of being beloved, which, to a perfon 
 6f d^^licacy and fenfibility, is of more importance 
 to happinefs than all the advantage which he can 
 exped to derive from it. What charader is fo de- 
 teftable as that of one who takes pleafure to fow 
 diffeTxfion among friends, and to turn their mofi: ten- 
 der love into mortal hatred ,? Yet wherein does the 
 atrocity of this fo much abhorred injury confift? 
 Is it in depriving them of the frivolous good offices 
 which had their friendfhip continued, they mio-ht 
 have expeded from one another .? It is in deorivinp- 
 them of that friendfliip itfelf, in robbing them of 
 each others affedions, from v/hich both derived fo 
 much fatisfadion ; it is in diiturbing the harmony of 
 their hearts, and putting an end to that happy com- 
 merce which had before fubfifted between them. 
 Thefe affedions, that harmony, this commerce, are 
 felt, not only by the tender and the delicate, but by 
 
 E 4 ' thf 
 
^6 0/ P R o p R I B T Y. Part t 
 
 the rudeil vulgar of mankind, to be of more impor- 
 tance to happinefs than all the little fervices which 
 could be expeded to flow from them. 
 
 The fentiment of love is, in itfelf, agreeable to 
 the perfon vx^ho feels it. It fooths and compofes 
 the breafl, feems to favour the vital motions, and 
 to promote the healthful ftate of the human confti- 
 tution; and it is rendered ftill more delightful by 
 the confcioufnefs of the gratitude and fatisfa(Stion 
 which it muft excite in him v/ho is the objedt of it. 
 Their mutual regard renders them happy in one 
 another, and fympathy, with this mutual regard^ 
 makes them agreeable to every other perfon. With 
 what pleafure do we lock upon a family, through 
 the whole of v/hich reign mutual love and efteem^ 
 v/here the parents and children are com.panions for 
 one another, without any other difference than what 
 is made by refpedlful affection orl the one fide, and 
 kind indulgence on the other; v/here freedom and 
 fondnefs, mutual raillery, and mutual kindnefs, 
 ihow that no oppofition of intereil divides the bro- 
 thers, nor any rivalfliip of favour fets the fillers at 
 variance, and where every thing prefents us with 
 the idea of peace, chearfulnefs, harmony, and con- 
 tentmxcnt ? On the contrary, how uneaiy are v^^e 
 made when we go into a houfe in which jarring 
 contention fets one half of tliofe who dweil in it 
 againft the other; v/here arnidft affeded fmooth- 
 nefs and complaifance, fufpicious looks and fudden 
 Harts of pailioii betray the mutual jealoufies which 
 burn within them, and v/hich are every moment 
 ready to burfl: cut through all the reftraints which 
 the prefence of the company irnpofes ^ 
 
 Thofe 
 
Sedt. 2. 0/ P R O P R I E T Y. 57 
 
 Thafe amiable pallions, even when they are ac- 
 knowledged to be exceflive, are never regarded v/ith 
 averfion. There is fomething agreeable even in the 
 weaknefs of friendfhip and humanity. The too 
 tender mother, the too indulgent father, the too ge- 
 nerous and afFedlionate friend, may fometimes, per- 
 haps, on account of the foftnefs of their natures, be 
 looked upon with a fpecies of pity, in which, how- 
 ever, there is a mixture of love, but can never be 
 regarded with hatred and averfion, nor even with 
 contempt, unlefs by the mod brutal and v/orthlefs 
 of mankind: It is always with concern, with fym- 
 pathy and kindnefs, that we blame them for the ex- 
 travagance of their attachment. There is a heip- 
 lefTnefs in the charadter of extreme humanity which 
 more than any thing interefls our pity. There is 
 nothing in itfelf which renders it either ungraceful 
 or difagreeable. We only regret that it is unfit for 
 the world, becaufe the world is unworthy of it, and 
 becaufe it mufl expofe the perfon who is endov/ed 
 with it as a prey to the perfidy and ingratitude of 
 infmuating falfhood, and to a thcufimd pains and 
 uneafmelles, which, of all men, he the ieaft de- 
 ferves to feel, and v/hich generally too he is, of all 
 men, the leail capable of fupporting. It is quite 
 otherwife with hatred and refentment. Too violent 
 a propcnfity to thofe detellabie paffions, renders a 
 perfon the objed of univerfal dread and abliorrence, 
 who, like a wild beaft, ought, we think, to be hint- 
 ed out of all civil fociety. 
 
 C H A P. 
 
58 Of? R o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Of the felfijb fajfwm 
 
 ESIDES thofe two oppofite fets of paiTtons, 
 the fecial and unfocial, there is another which holds 
 a fort of middle place between them ; is never either 
 fo graceful as is fometimes the one fet, nor is ever 
 ,*fo odious as is fometimes the other. Grief and 
 ! joy, when conceived upon account of our own pri- 
 vate good or bad fortune, conftitute this third fet of 
 paffions. Even when exceflive, they are never fo 
 difagreeable as exceiiive refentment, becaufe no op- 
 pofite fmpathy can ever interefh us againfl them : 
 and when mofh fuitable to their objedts they are ne- 
 ver fo agreeable as impartial humanity and jufl be- 
 nevolence; becaufe no double fympathy can ever 
 interefl us for them. There is, however, this dif- 
 ference between grief and joy, that we are generally 
 moft difpofed to fympathize with fmall joys and great 
 forrows. The man, who, by fome fiidden revolu- 
 tion of fortune, is hfted up all at once into a condi- 
 tion of life, greatly above what he had formerly liv- 
 ed in, may be aifured that the congratulations of his 
 befb friends are not all of them perfedly fmcere. 
 An upflart, though of the greatefl merit, is gene- 
 rally difagreeable, and a fentiment of envy com- 
 monly prevents us from heartily fympathizing with 
 hisjoy. If he has any judgment he is fenfible of 
 
 this, 
 
,.5e6t. 2. 0/ Propriety. ^^ 
 
 this, and inflcad of appearing to be elated with his 
 good fortune, he endeavours, as much as he can, 
 to fmother his joy, and keep down that elevation of 
 mind with which his new circumfhances naturally in- 
 ; fpire him. He afFedts the fame plainnefs of drefs, 
 ' and the fame modefty of behaviour, which becam.e 
 him in his former flation.. He redoubles his atten- 
 tion to his old friends, and endeavours more than 
 ever to be humble, afliduous, and complaifant. And 
 this is the behaviour which in his fituation we mofl 
 approve of ; becaufe we expedl, it feems, that he 
 fhould have more fympathy v/ith our envy and aver- 
 fion to his happinefs, than we have with his happir 
 nefs. It is feldom that with all this he fucceeds. 
 We fufpedt the fmcerity of his humility, and he 
 grows weary of this conftraint. In a little time, 
 therefore, he generally leaves all his old friends be- 
 hind him, fome of the meanefl of them excepted, 
 who may, perhaps, condefcend to become his de- 
 pendents : nor does he always acquire any new ones; 
 the pride of his new connections is as m^uch affront- 
 ed at finding him their equal, as that of his old ones 
 had been by his becoming their fuperior : and it re- 
 quires the mofh obftinate and perfevering modefty 
 to atone for this mortification to either. He s-ene- 
 rally grows weary too foon, and is provoked, by 
 the fullen and fufpicious pride of the one, and by 
 the fancy contempt of the other, to treat the firft 
 with negled, and the fecond with petulance, till at 
 laft he grows habitually infolent, and forfeits the 
 efteem of all. If the chief part of hum.an happi- 
 nefs arifes from the confcioufnefs of being beloved, 
 as I believe it does, thofe fudden changes of for- 
 tune feldom contribute much to happinefs. He is 
 happieft who advances more gradually to greatnefs, 
 
 whom 
 
6o Q/* P R o p R I E T Y. Part L 
 
 whom the public deftines to every ilep of his pre- 
 ferment long before he arrives at it, in whom, upon 
 that account, when it comes, it can excite no ex- 
 travagant joy, and with regard to whom it cannot 
 reafonably create either any jealoufy in thofe he over- 
 takes, or any envy in thofe he leaves behind. 
 
 Mankind, however, more readily fympadiize 
 with thofe fmallerjoys which flow from lefs impor- 
 tant caufes. It is decent to be humble amidft p^reat 
 profperity ; but we can fcarce exprefs too much fa- 
 tisfaClion in all the little occurrences of common 
 life, in the company with which we fpent the even- 
 ing lad night, in the entertainment that was fet be- 
 fore us, in what v/as faid and v/hat was done, in 
 all the little incidents of the prefent converfation, 
 and in all thofe frivolous nothings which fill up the 
 void of human life. Nothing is more graceful than 
 habitual chearfulnefs, which is always founded up- 
 on a peculiar relifh for all the little pleafures v^hich 
 common occurrences afford. We readily fympa- 
 thize with it : it infpires us with the fame joy, and 
 makes every trifle turn up to us in the fame agree- 
 able afpedt in which it prefents itfelf to the perfon 
 endowed with this happy difpofition. Hence it is 
 that youth, the feafon of gaiety, fo eafily engages 
 our afFedlions. That propenfity to joy which feems 
 even to animate the bloom, and to fparkle from the 
 eyes oF youth and beauty, though in a perfon of 
 the iame fex, exalts, even the a5;ed, to a more 
 joyous mood than ordinary. They forget, for a 
 time, their infirmities, and abandon themfelves to 
 thofe agreeable ideas and emotions to v/hich they 
 have long been flrangers, but which, when the pre- 
 
 fcnc^. 
 
Sed. 2. (y Prop R I E T Y. i^i 
 
 fence of fo much happlnefs recalls them to their 
 breail, take their place there, hke old acquaintance, 
 from whom they are forry to have ever been parted, 
 and whom they embrace more heartily upon ac- 
 count of this long feparation. 
 
 It is quite otherwife with grief. Small vexations 
 excite no fympathy, but deep afflidion calls forth 
 the greatefl. The man v/ho is made uneafy by eve- 
 ry little difagreeable incident, who is hurt if either 
 the cooif or the butler have failed in the leail article 
 of their duty, w^ho feels every defe6t in the liighefl 
 ceremonial of politenefs, whether it be ihewn to 
 himfelF or to any other perfon, who takes it amifs 
 that his intimate friend did not bid him sood-mor- 
 rovv v/lien they met in the forenoon, and that his 
 brother hummed a tune all the time he himfelf vvas 
 telling a ilory ; who is put out of humour by the 
 badnefs of the weather w^hen in the country, by the 
 badnefs of the roads when upon a journe}^, and by 
 the want of company, and dullnefs of all public 
 diverfions when in town; fuch a perfon, I fay, 
 though he fhould have feme reafon, will feldom 
 meet with much fympathy. Joy is a pleafant emo- 
 tion, and we gladly abandon ourfelves to it upon 
 the ffightefl cccafion. We readily, therefore, fym- 
 patliize v/ith it in others, whenever v/e are not pre- 
 judiced by envy. But grief is painful, and the 
 mind, even when it is our ov/n mJsfortune, natu- 
 rally refills and recoils from it. We would endea- 
 vour, either not to conceive it at all, or to fliake it 
 off as foon as we liave conceived it. Our aveifion 
 to grief will not, indeed, always hinder us from 
 conceiving it in our own cafe upon very trifling oc- 
 
 cafions. 
 
62 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. Part L 
 
 cafions, but it conflantly prevents us from fympa- 
 thizing with it in others when excited by the like 
 frivolous caufes: for our fympathetic pafnons are 
 always lefs irrefiftible than our original ones. There 
 IS, befides, a malice in mankind, which not only 
 prevents all fympathy with little uneafmeiTes, but 
 renders them in fome meafure diverting. Hence 
 the delight which we all take in raillery, and in the 
 fmall vexation which Vv e obferve in our compa- 
 nion, when he is pufhed, and urged, and teafed 
 upon all fides. Men of the moft ordinary good- 
 breedino- dilTemble the pain which any little inci- 
 dent may give them ; and thofe who are more tho- 
 roughly formed to fociety, turn, of their own ac= 
 cord, ail fuch incidents into raillery, as they know 
 their companions will do for them. The habit 
 which a man, v^ho lives in the world, has acquired 
 of confidering how every thing that concerns him- 
 felf will appear to others, makes thofe frivolous ca- 
 lamities turn up in the fame ridiculous light to him, 
 in which he knows they will certainly be confidered 
 by them. 
 
 Our fympathy, on the contrary, with deep dif- 
 trefs, is very flrong and very fmcere. It is unne- 
 ceiTary to give an inflance. We weep even at the 
 feigned reprefentation of a tragedy. If you la- 
 bour, therefore, under any fignal calamity, if by 
 fome extraordinary misfortune you are fallen into 
 poverty, into difeafes, into difgrace and difappoint- 
 ment ; even though your own fault may have been, 
 in part, the cccafion, yet you may generally de- 
 pend upon the fmcereft fympathy of ail your 
 friends, and, as far as intereil aijd honour will per- 
 mit, 
 
Sea. 2. 0/ Propriety.' 6$ 
 
 mit upon their kindeft affiftance too. But if your 
 misfortune is not of this dreadful kind, if you have 
 only been a httle baulked in your ambition, if you 
 have only been jilted by your miftrefs, or are only 
 hen-pecked by your wife, lay your account with 
 the raillery of all your acquaintance. 
 
 SECTION 
 
4^ Cy PnoPTirE T Y, Parti, 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Of the effedls of profj3erIty and adverfity upon the 
 judgment of mankind with regard to the propriety 
 of adion ; and why it is more eafy to obtain their 
 approbation in the one ftate than in the other. 
 
 C H A P. I, 
 
 ^hat though oiirfympathy ivithforrow is generally a more 
 lively fenfation than our Sympathy with joy ^ it conimonly 
 falls much morejhort of the violence of what is naturally 
 felt by the perfon principally concerned, 
 
 v/UR fympathy with forrow, though not more 
 real, has been more taken notice of than our fym- 
 pathy with joy. The word fympathy, in its mcfl 
 proper and primitive fignification, denotes our fellow- 
 feeling with the fufferings, not that with the enjoy- 
 ments, of others. A late ingenious and fubtile phi-- 
 lofopher thought it neceifary to prove, by arguments, 
 that we had a real fympathy with joy, and that con- 
 gratulation was a principle of human nature. No- 
 body, 1 believe, ever thought it neceifary to prove 
 that compaflion was fuch. 
 
 Firil of all, our fympathy v/ith forrov/ is, in fome 
 fenfe, more univerfal than that with joy. Though 
 
 forrow 
 
ScCt. 3. 0/ P R O P R I E T Y. ^5 
 
 forrow is exceflive, we may ftill have fome fellow- 
 feeling with it. What we feel does not, indeed, in 
 this cafCj amount to that complete fympathv, to 
 that perfedl harmony and correipondence of ifenti- 
 ments which conftitutes approbation. We do not 
 weep, and exclaim, and lament, with the fufferer. 
 We are fenfible, on the contrary, of his weaknefs^ 
 and of the extravagance of his paflion, and yet 
 often feel a very fenfible concern upon his account. 
 But if we do not entirely enter into, and go alono- 
 with, the joy of another, we have no fort of reo-ard 
 or fellow-feeling for it. The man who llcips and 
 dances about with that intemperate and fenfelefs 
 joy which we cannot accompany him in, is the object 
 of our contempt and indignation. 
 
 Pain befides, whether of mind or body, is a more 
 pungent fenfation than pleafure, and our fympathy 
 with .pain, though it fails greatly fhort of what is 
 naturally felt by the fufferer, is generally a more 
 lively and diftindt perception than our fympathy 
 with pleafure, though this la ft often approaches 
 more nearly, as I fhall fhow immediately, to the 
 natural vivacity of the original palTion. 
 
 Over and above all this, v/e often ftruggle to keep 
 down our fympathy with the forrow of others. 
 Whenever we are not under the obfervation of the 
 fufferer, we endeavour, for our own fake, to fupprefs it 
 as much as v/e can, and v/e are not always fuccefsfuL 
 The oppofition which we make to it, and the reluc- 
 tance with Vv'hich we yield to it, neceffarily oblige us 
 to take more particular notice of it. But we never 
 have occafion to make this oppofition to our f) m- 
 pathy with joy. If there is any envy in the cafe, 
 
 F we 
 
66 (y P R o p R I E T Y. Fart I, 
 
 we never feel the lead propenfity towards it ; and 
 if there is none, we give way to it without any re- 
 ludtance. On the contrary, as we are always a- 
 fhamed of our own envy, we often pretend, and 
 fometimes really wifh to fympathize with the joy of 
 others, when by that difagreeable fentiment we are 
 difqualified from doing fo. We are glad, we fay, 
 on account of our neighbour's good fortune, when 
 in our hearts, perhaps, we are really forry. We 
 often feel a fympathy with forrow when we wifh to 
 be rid of it ; and we often mifs that with joy when 
 we would be glad to have it. The obvious obferva- 
 tion, therefore, which it naturally falls in our way 
 to make, is that our propenfity to fympathize v/itli 
 forrow mufl be very ftrong, and our inclination to 
 fympathize with joy very weak. 
 
 Notwithflanding this prejudice, however, I will 
 venture to affirm, that, when there is no envy in the 
 cafe, our propenfity to fympathize with joy is much 
 llronger than our propenfity to fympathize with for- 
 row ', and that our fellow-feeling for the agreeable 
 emotion approaches much more nearly to the viva- 
 city of what is naturally felt by the perfons princi- 
 pally concerned, than that which we conceive for the 
 painful one. 
 
 Wehave fome indulgence for that exceflive grief 
 which we cannot entirely go along with. We know 
 what a prodigious effort is requifite before the fufFerer 
 can bring down his emotions to compleat harmony 
 and concord with thofe of the fpe^ator. Though 
 he fails, therefore, we eafily pardon him. But we 
 have no fach indulgence for the intemperance of 
 joy ; becaufe we are not confcious that anj fuch vail 
 
 effort 
 
Sed. 3. 0/ P R O P R I E T Y. 67 
 
 effort is requifite to bring it down to what we can 
 entirely enter into. The rnan who^ under the 
 greatefl calamities, can command his forrow, feems 
 worthy of the highelt admiration ; but he who, in 
 the fulnefs of profperity, can in the fame manner 
 mafter his joy, feems hardly to deferve any praife. 
 We are fenfibie that there is a much wider interval 
 in the one cafe than in the other, between what is 
 naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned, 
 and v/hat the fpedlator can entirely go along with. 
 
 What can be added to the happinefs of the man who 
 IS in heakh, who is out of debt, and has a clear 
 confcience r To one in this fituation, all acceffions 
 of fortune m.ay properly be faid to be fuperfluous • 
 and if he is much elevated uDon account of them. 
 it muft be the eifedl of the moil frivolous levity. 
 This fituation, however, may very well be called 
 the natural and ordinary ilate of mankind. No-t- 
 withflanding the prefent mifeiry and depravity of the 
 world, fo juilly lamented, this really is the flate of 
 the greater part of mten. The greater part of men, 
 therefore, cannot find any great difficulty in ele- 
 vating themfelves to ail the joy which any accef- 
 fion to this fituation can well excite in their com- 
 panion. 
 
 But though little can be added to this -flate, mtich 
 may be taken from it. Though between thi^ condi- 
 tion and the highell pitch of human profperity, the 
 Interval is but a trifle ; between it and the loweil 
 depthof m.ifery thediflance is immenfeand prodigious. 
 Adverfity, on this account, •neceiTarily depreffes the 
 mind of the fafferer much more below its natural 
 ilate, than profperity can elevate him above it. 
 The fpeaaicr, therefore, mufl . fnd it much more 
 difficult to fympathize entirely, and keep perfect 
 
 F 2, time, 
 
68 (y P R o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 time, with his forrow, than thoroughly to enter in- 
 to his joy, and muft depart much further from his 
 own natural and ordinary temper of mind in the one 
 cafe than in the other. It is on this account, that, 
 though our fvmpathy with forrow is often a m.ore 
 pungent fenfation than our fympathy with joy, it al- 
 ways falls much more Ihort of the violence of what 
 is naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned. 
 
 It is agreeable to fympathize with joy ; and 
 wherever envy does not oppofe it, our heart aban- 
 dons itfelf with fatisfadtion to the higheft tranfports 
 of that delightful fentiment. But it is painful to 
 go along with grief, and we always enter into it 
 *vith reludance *. When we attend to the repre- 
 fentation of a tragedy, we flruggle againft that fym- 
 pathetic forrow which the entertainment infpires as 
 long as v.e can, and we give way to it at lafl only 
 when v,e can no longer avoid it : we even then en- 
 deavour to cover our concern from the company. 
 If we fhed any tears, we carefully conceal them, 
 and are afraid lefl the fpectators, not entering into 
 
 this 
 
 *_ It has been obje6led to me that as 1 foun3 the fentiment of 
 approbation, which is always agreeable, upon fympathy, it is in- 
 coniiilent with my fydem to adm.it any difagreeable fymipathy. I 
 anfwer, that in the fentiment of approbation there are two things to 
 be taken notice of; firfl the fympathetic pallion of the fpectator ; 
 and, fecondly, the emotion which arifes from his obferving the per- 
 fe6t coincidence between this fympathetic paffion in himfelf, and the 
 original palTion in the perfon principally concerned. This laft emo- 
 tion, in which the fentiment of approbation properly confifts, is al- 
 ways agreeable and delightful. The other may either be agreeable 
 or difagrecible, according to the nature of the original paflion, whofe 
 feature it muft always, in fome meafure, retain. Two founds I 
 fuppofe. may, each of them, taken fmgiy, be auftere, and yet, if 
 ^ey are'perfeSt concords, the perceprion of their harmony and coia- 
 -ideace mav be agreeable. 
 
Se6t. 5. 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. 59 
 
 this excellive tendernefs, fhould regard it as efferai- 
 nacy and weaknels. The wretch whofe misfortunes 
 call upon our compallion feels with what reludta nee 
 we are likely to enter into his forrow, and therefore 
 propofes his grief to us with fear and hefitation : 
 he even fmothers the half of it, and is ailiamed, 
 upon account of this hard-heartednefs of mankind, 
 to give vent to the fulnefs of hisafflidion. • It is o- 
 thei wife with the man who riots in joy and fuccefs. 
 Wherever envy does not interefl us againil him, he 
 expects our compieatefi: fympathy. He does not fear, 
 therefore, to announce himfelf with fhouts of exul- 
 tation, in full conftdence that we are heartily dif- 
 pofed to go along with him. 
 
 Why fhould we be m.ore afnamed to v/eep than to 
 laugh before company ? We may often have as real 
 occafion to do the one as to do the other : But we al- 
 ways feel that the fpeclators are more likely to go 
 along with us in the agreeable, than in the painful 
 emotion. It is always miferable to complain, even 
 when we are oppreiTed bythe mofl dreadful calamities. 
 But the triumph of victory is not always ungraceful. 
 Prudence, indeed, would often advife us to bear pro- 
 fperity with more moderation ; becaufe prudence 
 would teach us to avoid that envy which this very 
 triumph is, more than any thing, apt to excite. 
 
 How hearty are the acclamations of the mob, 
 who never bear any envy to their fiiperiors, at a 
 triumph or a public entry } And how fedate and mo- 
 derate is commonly their grief at an execution ? 
 Our forrow at a funeral generally amounts to no 
 more than aifedted gravity ; but our mirth at e. 
 cbriflening or a marriage, is always from the heart, 
 and without any affectation. Uponthefe, and a!l 
 fuch joyous occafions, our fatisfaction, though not ib 
 
 F 3 durable^ 
 
^o 0/ Pr o p R I E T Y. Part L 
 
 durable, is often as lively as that of the perfons 
 principally concerned. Whenever we cordially con- 
 gratiilate our friends, which, however, to the dif- 
 grace of human nature, we do but feldom, their 
 joy literally becomes our joy: we are for the moment, 
 as happy as they are : our heart fwells and over- 
 flows with real pleafare : joy and complacency 
 fparkle from our eyes, and animate every fea- 
 ture of our countenance, and every geflure of our 
 body. 
 
 But, on the contrary, when we condole v/ith our 
 friends in their afflictions, how little do we feel, in 
 comparifon of what they feel ? We fit down b}" 
 them, we look at them, and while they relate to us 
 the circumfbances of their misfortune, we lillen 
 to them with gravity and attention. But while their 
 narration is every moment interrupted by thofe na- 
 tural burfls of paillon which often" feem almofl to 
 choak them in the midfl of it - how far are the Ian-, 
 guid emotions of our hearts from keeping time to 
 the tranfports of theirs ? We may be fenfible, at the 
 fame time, that their pafTion is natural, and no. 
 greater than what we .ourfelves might feel upon the 
 like occafion. We may even inwardly reproach our- 
 felves with our own want of fcnfibility, and per- 
 haps on that account, work ourfclves up into an ar- 
 tificial fympathy, which, however, when it is raifed, 
 is always the fiighteil and moil tranfitory imagin- 
 able i and generally, as foon as we have left the 
 room, vaniihes, and is gone for ever. Nature, it 
 feems, v/hcn fhe has ioadtd us v/ith our own for- 
 rowG, thought tjiat tliey were enough, and there- 
 fore did not command us to take any further fhare 
 ill thofe of others, than what was neceffary to 
 prompt us to relieve themf. 
 
 It 
 
St&L. 3. 0/ P R o p R i E T y . 71 
 
 It is on account of this dull fenfibility to the af- 
 ilidl:ions of others, that magnanimity amidfl great 
 diffcrefs appears always fo divinely graceful. His 
 behaviour is genteel and agreeable who can maintain 
 his chearfulnefs amidfl a number of frivolous dif- 
 aflers. But he appears to be more than mortal who 
 can fupport in the fame manner the mofl dreadful 
 calamities. We feel what an immenfe effort is re- 
 quifite to filence thofe violent emotions which natu- 
 rally agitate and diilract thofe in his fituation. 
 We are amazed to lind that he can command him- 
 felf fo intirely. His firmnefs, at the fame time, 
 perfe6tly coincides with our infenfibility. He makes 
 no demand upon us for that more exquifite de- 
 gree of fenfibility which we find, and which we 
 are mortified to find, that we do not poflefs. There 
 is the mofl: perfed correfpondence between his fen- 
 timents and ours, and on that account the mofl: per- 
 fect propriety in his behaviour. It is a propriety too, 
 which, from our experience of the ufual weak- 
 nefs of human nature, we could not reafonably have 
 expedted he fhould be able to maintain. We won- 
 der with furprife and aflonifhment at that flrength 
 of mind which is capable of fo nobk and generous 
 an effort. The fentiment of compleat fympathy 
 and approbation, mixed and animated with won- 
 der and furprife, conditutes w^hat is properly called 
 admiration, as has already been more than once 
 taken notice of. Cato, furrounded on all fides by 
 his enemies, unable to refill them, and difdainingto 
 fabmit to them, and reduced by the proud maxims 
 of that age, to the necelfity of defhroying him- 
 felf ; yet never flirinking from his misfortunes, ne- 
 ver fuppiicating with the lamentable voice of wretch- 
 ednefs, thofe miferable fympathetic tears v/hich we 
 are always (o unwilling to give ; but en the contrary, 
 
 F 4 arming 
 
7^ CyPROPRiETY. Part L 
 
 arming himfelf with manly fortitude, and the mo- 
 ment before he executes his fatal refolution, giving^ 
 with his ufual tranquillity, all neceflary orders for 
 the fafety of his friends ; appears to Seneca, that 
 great preacher of infenfibility, a fpedlacle which 
 even the gods themfelves m.ight behold with pleafure 
 and admiration. 
 
 Whenever we meet, in common life, with any 
 examples of fuch heroic magnanimity, we are al- 
 ways extrem.ely atFedted. We are more apt to v/eep 
 and fhed tears for fuch as, . in this manner, feem 
 to feel nothing for themfelves, than for thofe who 
 give way to all the weaknefs of forrow : and in this 
 particular cafe, the fympathetic grief of the fpedla- 
 tor appears to go beyond the original paflion in the 
 perfon principally concerned. The friends of So- 
 crates ail wept when he drank the lafl potion, while 
 he himfelf exprelTed the gayefl and moft chearful 
 tranquillity. Upon all fuch occafions the fpedator 
 makes no effort, and has no occafion to make any, 
 in order to conquer his fympathetic (onow. He is 
 under no fear that it will tranfport him to any thing 
 that is extravagant and improper ^ he is rather pleafed 
 with the fenfibiiity of his own heart, and gives way 
 to it Vv'ith complacence and feif-approbation. He 
 gladly indulges, therefore, the rpoll melancholy 
 views which can naturally occur to him, concerning 
 the calamity of his friend, for whom, perhaps, he 
 never felt fo exquifitely before, the tender and tearful 
 pallion of love. But it is qjuite, olherwife with the 
 perfon principally concerned. He is obliged as much 
 as polTible, to turn away his eyes from v/hatever is 
 either naturally terrible or difagreeable in his fitiia- 
 tipn. Too ferious an attention to thofe circum- 
 ftanceSj he fears, might make fo violent an im- 
 
 preiiion, 
 
Se£\;. 3, (y P R o p R I E T Y. -73 
 
 preflion upon him, that he could no longer keep 
 within the bounds of moderation, or render him- 
 felf the objedt of the complete fympathy and ap- 
 probation of the fpedtators. He fixes his thoughts^ 
 therefore, upon thofe only which are agreeable; 
 the applaufe and a4miration which he is about to 
 deferve by the heroic magnanimity of his behaviour. 
 To feel that he is capable of fo noble and generous 
 an effort, to feel that in this dreadful fituation he can 
 Hill adl as he would defire to a(ft, animates and tranf- 
 ports him with joy, and enables him to fupport that 
 triumphant gaiety which feems to exult in the vic- 
 tory he thus gains over his misfortunes. 
 
 On the contrary, he always appears, in fome 
 meafure, . mean and defpicable, who is funk in 
 forrow and dejedLion upon account of any calamity 
 of his own. We cannot brinsc ourfelves to feel for 
 him what he feels for himfelf, and v/hat, perhaps, 
 we fliould feel for ourfelves if in his fituation : we, 
 therefore, defpife him ; unjulily, perhaps, if any 
 fentiment could be regarded as unjufl, to v/hich 
 we are by nature irrefiltibly determined. The weak- 
 nefs of forrow never appears in any refpedt agree- 
 able, except when it arifes from v/hat we feel 
 for others more than from what we feel for 
 ourfelves. A fon, upon the death of an indulgent 
 and refpectable father, may give way to it v/ithout 
 much blame. His forrow is chiefly founded upon a 
 fort of fympathy with his departed parent ; and we 
 readily enter into this humane emotion. But if he 
 fnould indulge the fame weaknefs upon account of 
 any misfortune which affected him/felf only, he 
 would no longer meet with any fach indulgence. 
 If he fhould be reduced to beggary and ruin, if he 
 
 iliould 
 
j^ CyPROPRiETY. Part L 
 
 fhould be expofed to the moll dreadful dangers, if 
 he ftiould even be led out to a public execution, 
 and there fhed one fmgle tear upon the fcafFold, 
 he would difgrace himfeif for ever in the opinion of 
 ail the gallant and generous part of mankind. Their 
 companion for him, however, would be very ftrong, 
 and very fmcere ; but as it would flill fall fhort of 
 this exceflive weaknefs, they v/ould have no pardon 
 for the man who could thus expofe himfeif in the 
 ^yes of the world. His behaviour would affetl them 
 with fhame rather than with forrow ; and the d if- 
 honour which he had thus brought upon himfeif 
 would appear to them the moft lamentable circum-- 
 fiance in his misfortune. How did it diigrace the 
 memory of the intrepid Duke of Biron, v/ho had 
 fo often braved death in the field, that he wept 
 upon the fcaffoid, Vvhen he beheld theflate to vhich 
 he was fallen, and remembered the favour and the 
 glory from which his ov/n rafhnefs had fo unfor- 
 tunately throv/n him ! 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 Of the origin of ambition^ and of the difiin5lipn of 
 
 ranks. 
 
 1 T is becaafe mankind are difpofed to fympa- 
 thize more entirely with our joy than vvilh our for- 
 row, that we make parade of our riches, and con- 
 ceal our poverty. Nothing is fo mortifying as to 
 
 be 
 
Sed. 3. 0/ Propriety. 75 
 
 be obliged to expofe our diftrefs to the view of the 
 public, and to feel, that though our fituation is 
 open to the eyes of all mankind, no mortal con- 
 ceives for us tlie half of what we fuffer. Nay, it 
 is chiefly from this regard to the fentiments ot 
 mankind, that v/e purfue riches and avoid poverty. 
 For to what purpofe is all the toil and buftle of 
 this world ? what is the end of avarice and ambi-- 
 tion, of the purfuit of weahh, of power, and pre- 
 eminence? Is it to fupply the neceflities of na- 
 ture ? The wages of the meaneft labourer can 
 fupply thpm. We fee that they afford him food 
 and cloathing, the comfort of a houfe, and of a fa^ 
 mily. If we examine his oeconomy with rigor, we 
 fhould find that he fpends a great part of tliem upon 
 conveniencies, v/hich may be regarded as fuperflui- 
 ties, and that, upon extraordinary occafions, he 
 can give fomething even ^o vanity and dillin6lion. 
 What then is the caufe of our averfion to his fitua^ 
 tion, and why fhould-thofe who have been educated 
 in the higher ranks of life, regard it as worfe than 
 death, to be reduced to live, even without labour, 
 upon the fame fimple fare v/ith him, to dwell un- 
 der the fame lowly roof, and to be cloathed in the 
 fame humble attire ? Do they imagine that their 
 ftomach is better, or their fleep founder in a palace 
 than in a cottage ? the contrary has been fo often 
 obferved, and, indeed, is fo very obvious, though it 
 had never been obferved, that there is no body ig- 
 norant of it. From whence, then, arifes that e- 
 mulation which runs through all the different ranks 
 of men, and what are the advantages which we 
 propofe by that great purpofe of human life v/hich 
 we call bettering our condition ? To be obferved, 
 
 to 
 
^6 Cy Pr o p R I E T Y, Fart L 
 
 to be attended to, to be taken notice of with fym-r 
 pathy, complacency, and approbation, are ail the 
 advantages which we can propofe to derive from 
 it. It is the vanity, not the eafe, or the pieafure, 
 which interefts us.. Eut vanity is always founded 
 upon the belief of our being the objedl of atten- 
 tion and approbation. The rich man glories in 
 his riches, becaufe he feels that they naturally draw 
 upon him the attention of the world, .and that 
 mankind are difpofed to go along with him in all 
 thofe agreeable emotions with which the advan- 
 tages of his fituation f@ readily inlpire him. At 
 the thouo:ht of this, hds heart feems to fwell 
 and dilate itfelf within him, and he is fonder of 
 his wealth upon this account, than for all the 
 other advantages it procures him. The poor man, 
 on the contrary, is alliamed of his poverty. He 
 feels that it either places him out of the fight of 
 mankind, or, that, if they take any notice of him, 
 they have, however, fcarce any fellow-feeling with 
 the mifery and diftrefs which he fuffers. He is 
 mortified upon both accounts ; for though to be 
 overlooked, and to be difapproved of, are things 
 entirely different, yet as obfcurity covers us from 
 the daylight of honour and approbation, to feel 
 that we are taken no notice of neceffarily damps 
 the moil agreeable hope, and difappoints the moil 
 ardent defire, of human nature. The poor man 
 goes out and comes in unheeded, anq when in the 
 midft of a croud is in the fame obfcurity as if fhut 
 up in his own hovel. Thofe hum.ble cares and 
 painful attentions which occupy thofe in his fitua^ 
 tion, afford no amufement to the diiTipated and the 
 gay. They tuni^away their eyes from him, or tf 
 the extremity of his diftreOs forces them to look 
 
 at 
 
Sed. 3. 0/ tPv O P R I E T Y. 77 
 
 at him, it is only to fpurn fo difagreeable an objedl 
 from among, them. The fortunate and the proud 
 wonder at the infolence of human wretchednefs, 
 that it fliouid dare to 'prefent itfelf before them, 
 and with the loathfome afpe6l of its mifer}^ pre- 
 lume to difturb the ferenity of their happinefs. The 
 man of rank and diftin6l\on, on the contrary, is 
 obferved by all the world. Every body is eager to 
 look at him, and to conceive, at leail by fyrn- 
 pathy, that joy and' exultation with which his 
 circumftances naturally infpire him. His adions 
 are the objedls of the public care. Scarce a word, 
 fcarce a geiiure, can fall from him that is altoo-e- 
 ther negle(::ted. In a great affemblyhe is the perfon 
 upon whom all direct their eyes-, it is upon him that 
 their pailions feem all to wait with expectation, 
 in order to receive that movement and direction 
 which he Ihall imprefs upon them ; and if his 
 behaviour is not altogether abfurd, he has, eve- 
 ry moment, an opportunity of intereiiing man- 
 kind, and of rendering himfelf the objett of 
 the obfervation and fellow-feeling of every body 
 about him. It is this, which notwithilanding the 
 reftraint it impofes, notwithilanding the iofs of li- 
 berty with which it is attended, renders greatnefs 
 the objedl of envy, and compenfates in -the opi- 
 nion of m.ankind, all that toil, all that anxiety, all 
 thofe mortifications v/hich mull be undergone in 
 the purfait of it ; and what is of yet more con- 
 fequence, all that leifare, ail that eafe, all that 
 carelefs fecurity, which are forfeited for ever by the 
 acquifition. 
 
 When Vv'e confider the condition of the great, 
 in thofe delufive colours in which the imagination 
 is apt to paint it, it feems to be alnioil the ab- 
 
 ilraa 
 
^8 0/ P R o p R t E T Y. Part 1. 
 
 ftradt idea of a perfedt and happy ft ate. It is the 
 very fiate which, in all our waking dreams and 
 idle reveries, we had fivetched out to ourfelves as 
 the final objedt of all our defires. We feel, there- 
 fore, a peculiar fympathy v/ith the fatisfadlion of 
 thofe who are in it. We favour all their incli- 
 nations, and forward all their wi flies. What 
 pity, we think, that any thing fliould fpoil and 
 corrupt fo agreeable a fituation ! We could even 
 wifli them immortal -, and it feems hard to us, 
 that death fliould at laft put an end to fuch per- 
 fect enjoyment. It is cruel, we think, in Na- 
 ture, to compel them from their exalted ftations 
 to that humble, but hofpitable home, which flie 
 has provided for all her children. Great King, 
 live for ever 1 is the compliment, which after the 
 manner of eaftern adulation, we fliould readily 
 make them, if experience did not teach us its 
 abfurdity. Every calamity that befals them, every 
 injury that is done them, excites in the breail of 
 the fped:ator ten times more compallion and re- 
 fentment than he would have felt, had the fame 
 things happened to other men. It is the misfor- 
 tunes of Kings only which afford the proper fub- 
 jecls for tragedy. They refemble, in this re^ 
 fpect, the misfortunes of lovers. Thofe two fir na- 
 tions are the chief which intereft us upon the 
 theatre ; becaufe, in fpite of all that reafon and 
 experience can tell us to the contrary, the pre- 
 judices of the imagination attach to thefe two 
 \ ftates a happinefs fuperior to any other. To dif- 
 turb, or to put an end to fach perfed enjoy- 
 ment, feems to be the moil atrocious of all in- 
 juries. The ti'aitor who confpires againfl: the life 
 of his monarch, is thouo;ht a si"eater monfter than 
 
 any 
 
Seel. 5. Of Pr o p r I e t y. 79 
 
 any other murderer. All the innocent blood that 
 was (hed in the civil wars, provoked lefs indig- 
 nation than the death of Charles I. A Itranger 
 to human nature, who faw the indifference of 
 men about the mifery of their inferiors, and the 
 regret and indignation which they feel for the 
 misfortunes and fuiTerings of thofe above them, 
 v/ould be apt to imagine, that pain muft be more 
 agonizing, and the convulfions of death more ter- 
 rible to perfons of higher rank, than to thofe of 
 meaner fiations, - 
 
 Upon this difpofition of mankind, to go along 
 with all the paflions of the rich and the power ful, 
 is founded the difiinclion of ranks, and the order 
 of fociety. Our obfequioufnefs to our fuperiors 
 more frequently arifes from our admiration for 
 the advantages of their fituation, than from any 
 private expectations of benefit from their good- 
 will. Their benefits can extend but to a 'few ; 
 but their fortunes intereft almoft every body. We 
 are eager to alTiil them in compleating a fyftem 
 of happinefs that approaches fo near to perfec- 
 tion ^ and we defire to ferve them- for their own 
 fake, without any other recompenfe but the va- 
 nity or the honour of obliging them. Neither is 
 our deference to their inclinations founded chiefly, 
 or altogether, upon a regard to the utility of fuch 
 fubmiiTioi;i, and to the order of fociety, which is 
 beft fupported by it. Even v/hen the order of fo- 
 ciety feems to require that we fhould cppofe them, 
 we can hardly bring ourfelves to do it. That kings 
 are the fervants of the people, to be obeyed, re- 
 fifled, depofed, or punifhed, as the public con- 
 veniency may require, is the dccliiiie of rfafon 
 and philofopliy^ but it is not the ioi±i---jz of 
 
 Nature, 
 
So (y P k o p R I E T Y. Part t 
 
 Nature: Nature would teach, us to fubmit to 
 them, for their own fake, to tremble and bow 
 down before their exalted ftation, to regard their 
 fmile as a reward fufficient to compenfate any 
 fervices, and to dread their difpleafure, though 
 no other evil was to follow from it, as the fe- 
 verell of all mortifications. To treat them in 
 any refped as men, to reafon and difpute with 
 them upon ordinary occafions, requires fuch re-* 
 foiution, that there are few men whofe magna- 
 nimity can fupport them in it, unlefs they are 
 iikewife aiTifled by familiarity and acquaintance. 
 The ftrongeil motives, the mofl furious paiTions, 
 fear, hatred, and refentraent, are fcarce fufficient 
 to balance this natural difpofition to refpecSt them : 
 and their conduci mufl, either juilly or unjuftly, 
 have excited the highefb degree of all thofe paf- 
 fions, before the bulk of the people can be brought 
 to oppofe them v/ith violence, or to defire to fee 
 them either punifhed or depofed. Even when 
 the people have been brought this length, they 
 are apt to relent every moment, and eafily re- 
 lapfe into their habitual itate of deference to thofe 
 whom they have been accilftomed to look upon 
 as their natural fuperiors. They cannot (land the 
 mortification of their m.onarch. Compallion foon 
 takes the place of refentment, they forget all pafl 
 provocations, their old principles of loyalty re- 
 vive, and tliey run to re-eftabliili the ruined au- 
 thoritv of their old mafter, with the fame vio- 
 lence with which they had oppofed it. The death 
 of Charles I. brought about the Refloration of the 
 royal family. Companion for James II. when he 
 vv'as feized by the populace in making his efcape 
 on fh'p-board, had almoii: prevented the Re- 
 volution, 
 
Se(Sl. 3- 0/ Propriety. 8i 
 
 volution, and made it go on more heavily than 
 before. 
 
 Do the great feem infenfible of the eafy price 
 at v/hich they may acquire the public admira^ 
 tion ; or do they feem to imagine that to them, 
 as to other men, it muft be the purchafe either of 
 fweat or of blood i By what important accom- 
 plifhments is the young nobleman inftrudted to 
 fupport the dignity of his rank, and to render 
 himfelf worthy of that fuperiority over his fellow- 
 citizens, to which the virtue of his anceftors had 
 raifed them ? Is it by knowledge, by induflry, 
 by patience, by felf-denial, or by virtue of any 
 kind ? As all his words, as all his motions are 
 attended to, he learns an habitual regard to every 
 circumftance of ordinary behaviour, and fludies to 
 perform all thofe fmall duties with the raoft ex- 
 adt propriety. As he is confcious how much he 
 is obferved, and how much mankind are difpofed 
 to favour all his inclinations, he adts, upon the 
 mod indifferent occafions, with that freedom and 
 elevation which the thought of this naturally 
 infpires. His air, liis manner, his deportment, all 
 mark that elegant and graceful fenfe of his own 
 fuperiority, Which thofe who are born to inferior 
 (tations can hardly ever arrive at : thefe are the 
 arts by which he propofes to make mankind more 
 eafily fubmit to his authority, and to govern their 
 inchnations according to his own pleafure : and 
 in this he is feldom difappointed. Thefe arts, 
 fupported by rank and pre-eminence, are, upon 
 ordinary occafions, fufficient to govern the world. 
 Lewis XIV. during the greater part of his reign, 
 was regarded, not only in France, but over all 
 
 G Europe, 
 
82 0/ Propriety. PartL 
 
 Europe, as the moft perfect model of a great 
 prince. But what were the talents and virtues by 
 which he acquired this great reputation ? Was it 
 by the fqrupulous and inflexible juflice. of all his 
 undertakings, by the immenfe daggers and dif- 
 ficulties with which they were attehded, or by 
 the unwearied and unrelenting application with 
 which he purfued them ? Was it by his extenfive 
 knowledge, by his exquifite judgment, or by his 
 lieroic valour ? It was by none of thefe qualities. 
 But he was, firfl of all, the moft powerful prince 
 in Europe, and confequently held the highefl rank 
 among kings ; and then, fays his hiftorian, " he 
 '' furpaffed all his courtiers in the gracefulnefs of 
 " his fhape, and the majeftic beauty of his features. 
 *' The found of his voice, noble and affedling, 
 " gained thofe hearts which his prefence intimi- 
 *' dated. He had a flep and deportment which 
 " could fuit only him and his rank, and which 
 " would have been ridiculous in any other per- 
 ** fon. The embarralTment which he occafioned 
 " to thofe who fpoke to him, flattered that fecret 
 " fatisfadion with which be felt his own fuperi- 
 '' ority. The old officer, who was confounded 
 " and faultered in afking him a favour, and not 
 " being able to conclude his difcourfe, faid to him, 
 *' Sir, your majefly, I hope, will believe that I 
 ** do not tremble thus before your enemies : had 
 *' no difficulty to obtain what he demanded.'* 
 Thefe frivolous accomplifnments, fupported by his 
 rank, and, no doubt, too, by a degree of other 
 talents and virtues, which feems, however, not 
 to have been much above mediocrity, efl:ablifhcd 
 this ■ prince in the elleem of his own age, and 
 have drawn, even from poflerity, a good deal of 
 
 refpe<5t 
 
Sedl. 3. 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. 83 
 
 refpedl for his memory. Compared with thofe 
 of his own times, and in his own prefence, no 
 other virtue, it feems, appeared to have any me- 
 rit. Knowledge, induflry, valour, and beneficence, 
 trembled, were abafhed, and loft all dignity be- 
 fore them. 
 
 But it is not by accomplilhments of this kind, 
 that the man of inferior rank muft hope to di- 
 flinguifh himfelf. Politenefs is fo much the virtue ' 
 of the great, that it will do little honour to any 
 body but themfelves. The coxcomb, who imi* 
 tates their manner, and affeds to be eminent by 
 the fuperior propriety of his ordinary behaviour, 
 is rewarded with a double fhare of contempt for his 
 folly and prefumption. Why fhould the man, whom 
 nobody thinks it worth while to look at, be very 
 anxious about the manner in which he holds up his 
 head, or difpofes of his arms while he walks through 
 a room ? He is occupied furely with a very fuper- 
 fluous attention, and with an attention too that 
 marks a fenfe of his own importance, which no 
 other mortal can go along w^ith. The moft per- 
 fect modefty and plainnefs, joined to as much ne- 
 gligence as is confiftent with the refpedt due to 
 the company, ought to be the chief charadterif- 
 tics of the behaviour of a private man. If ever 
 he hopes to diftinguifh himfelf, it muft be by 
 more important virtues. He muft acquire de- 
 pendants to balance the dependants of the great, 
 and he has no other fund to pay them from, 
 but the labour of his body, and the adlivity of 
 his mind. He muft cultivate thefe therefore : he 
 muft acquire fuperior knowledge in his profeflion, 
 and fuperior induftry in the exercife of it. He 
 
 G 2 muft 
 
84 (^Propriety. Part L 
 
 muft be patient in labour, refolute in danger, and 
 firm in diflrefs. Thefe talents he mull bring into- 
 public view, by the difficulty, importance, and, at 
 the fame time, good judgment of his undertakings, 
 and by the fevere and unrelenting application 
 with which he purfaes them. Probity and pru- 
 dence, generofity and franknefs, muft characte- 
 rize his behaviour upon all ordinary occafions • 
 and he muft, at the fame time, be forward to 
 engage in all thofe fituations in v;hich it requires 
 the greateft talents and virtues to a6t with pro- 
 priety, but in which the greateft applaufe is to 
 be acquired by thofe who can acquit themfelves 
 with honour. With what impatience does the man 
 of fpirit and ambition, who is deprelTed by his 
 fituation, look round for fome great oppor- 
 tunity to diftinguifti himfelf ? No circumftances, 
 which can afford this, appear to him undefirable. 
 He even looks forward with fatisfadion to the 
 profped of foreign w^ar, or civil dilfenfion -, and, 
 with feeret transport and delight, fees through 
 all the confufion and bloodfhed which attend them, 
 the probability of thofe wifhed for occafions prefent- 
 ing themfelves, in which he may draw upon him- 
 felf the attention and admiration of mankind. The 
 man of rank and diftindion, on the contrary, 
 whofe whole glory confifts in the propriety of his 
 ordinary behaviour, who is contented widi the 
 humble renown which this can afford him, and 
 has no talents to acquire any other, is unwilling 
 to embarrafs himfelf with what can be attended 
 either with difficulty or diftrefs. To figure at a 
 ball is his great triumph, and to fucceed in 
 an intrigue of gallantry, his higheft exploit. He 
 has an averfion to all public confufions, not from 
 
 the 
 
Sed. 3. 0/ P R O P R I E T Y. 85 
 
 the love of mankind, for the great never look 
 upon their inferiors as their fellow-creatures ; nor 
 yet from want of courage, for in that he is fel- 
 dom defedlive ; but from a confcioufnefs that he 
 polTelTes none of the virtues which are required 
 in fuch fituations, and that the public attention 
 will certainly be drawn away from him by others. 
 He may be willing to expofe himfelf to fome 
 little danger, and to make a campaign when it 
 happens to be the fadiion. But he Ihudders with 
 Jiorrof at the thought of any fituation which de- 
 mands the continual and long exertion of patience, 
 induftry, fortitude, and application of thought. 
 Thefe virtues are hardly ever to be met with in 
 men who are born to thofe high ftations. In ail go- 
 vernments accordingly, even in monarchies, the 
 'highefl offices are generally poffelTed, and the whole 
 detail of the adminiilration condu6led by men who 
 were educated in the middle and inferior ranks of 
 life, who have been carried forward by their own 
 indullry and abilities, though loaded with the 
 jealoufy, and oppofed by the refentment of all thofe 
 who were born their fuperiors, and to whom the 
 great, after having regarded them firil with con- 
 tempt, and afterwards with envy, are at laft con- 
 tented to truckle with the fame abjecft meannefs 
 with which they defire that the reft of mankind 
 fliould beliaye to themfelves, 
 
 It is the lofs of this eafy empire over the af ^ 
 fedlions of mankind which renders the fall from 
 greatnefs fo infuppor table. When the family of 
 the King of Macedon w^s led in triumph by 
 Paulus iEmilius, their misfortunes, it is faid, made 
 them divide with their conqueror the attention 
 
 G 3 of 
 
S6 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. Part I. 
 
 of the Romon people. The fight of the royal 
 children, whofe tender age rendered them infen- 
 fible of their fituation, ftruck the fpedlators, a- 
 midfl the public rejoicings and profperity, with 
 the tendered forrow and companion. The King 
 appeared next in the proceflion -, and feemed like 
 one confounded and aftoniflied, and bereft of all 
 fentiment, by the greatnefs of his calamities. His 
 friends and miniilers followed after him. As they 
 moved along, they often cafl their eye upon their 
 fallen fovereign, and always burll into tears at the 
 fight ', their whole behaviour demonflrating that 
 they thought not of their misfortunes, but were 
 occupied entirely by the fuperior greatnefs of his. 
 The generous Romans, on the contrary, beheld 
 him with difdain and indignation, and legarded 
 as unworthy of all compaflion the man who could 
 be fo mean-fpirited as to bear to live under fuch 
 calamities. Yet what did thofe calamities amount 
 to ? According to the greater part of hiflorians, 
 he was to fpend the remainder of his days un- 
 der the protedHon of a powerful and humane 
 people, in a llate which in itfelf fhould feem 
 v/orthy of envy, a ftate of plenty, eafe, ieifure, and 
 fecurity, from which it was impollible for him 
 even by his own folly to fall. But he was no 
 longer to be furrounded by that admiring mob 
 of fools, flatterers, and dependants, who had for- 
 merly been accuflomed to attend upon all his 
 motions. He was no longer to be gazed upon 
 by multitudes, nor to have it in his pov/er to 
 render himfelf the objed of their refpecl, their 
 gratitude, their love, their admiration. The paf- 
 fions of nations were no longer to mould them- 
 
 felves 
 
Sect. 3. 0/ P R O P R I E T Y. ^7 
 
 felves upon his inclinations. This was th^t infup- 
 portable calamity which bereaved the King of all 
 fentiment ; which made his friends forget their own 
 misfortunes ; and which the Roman magnanimity 
 could fcarce conceive how any man could be fo 
 mean-fpirited as to bear to furvive. 
 
 
 " Love, fays my Lord Rochfoucault, is com- 
 monly fucceeded by ambition ; but ambition 
 is hardly ever fucceeded by love." That paf- 
 fion when once it has got entire poiTellion of I 
 the breaft, will admit neither a rival nor a fuc- 
 ceflbr. To thofe whg have been accuftomed to 
 tlie poffeliion, or even to the hope of public ad- 
 miration, all other pleafures ficken and decay. Of 
 all the difcarded llatefmen who for their own 
 eafe have ftudied to get the better of ambition, 
 and to defpife thofe honours v^hich they couM no 
 longer arrive at, how few have been able to fuc- 
 ceed ? The greater part have fpent their time in 
 the moil lifllefs and infipid indolence, chagrined 
 at the thoughts of their own infignificancy, in- 
 capable of being interefled in the occupations 
 of private life, without enjoyment except when 
 they talked of their former greatnefs, and with- 
 out fatisfadlion except when they were employed 
 in fome vain project to recover it. Are you in 
 earnefh refolved never to barter your liberty for 
 the lordly fervitude of a Court, but to live free, 
 fearlefs, and independent ^ There feems to be one 
 way to continue in that virtuous refolution ; and 
 perhaps but one. Never enter the place from 
 whence fo few h«ve been able to return j never 
 come within the circle of ambition ; nor even bring 
 yourfelf into comparifon with thofe mafters of the 
 
 G 4 earth 
 
88 0/ P R o p R I ^ T Y. Part I. 
 
 earth who have already engrofTed the attention of 
 half mankind before you. 
 
 Of fuch mighty importance does it appear to be^ 
 in the imaginations of men, to ftand in that fituation 
 which fets them moft in the view of general fympa- 
 thy and attention. And thus, place, that great ob- 
 je6t which divides the wives of aldermen, is the end 
 of half the labours of life ^ and is the caufe of all the 
 tumult and buflle, all the rapine and injuftice, which 
 avarice and ambition have introduced into this world. 
 People of fenfe, it is faid, indeed deipife place ; that 
 is, they defpife fitting at the head of the table, and 
 are indifferent who it is that is pointed out to the 
 company by that frivolous circumftance, which the 
 fmaliell advantage is capable of overbalancing. But 
 rank, diflindion, pre-eminence, no man defpifes, 
 unlefs he is either raifed very much above, or funk 
 very much below, the ordinary llandard of human 
 nature; unlefs he is either fo confirmed in wifdom 
 and real philofophy, as to be fatistied that, while the 
 propriety of his conduft renders him thejufi: objeft 
 of approbation, it is of little confequence though he 
 be neither attended to, nor approved of; or fo habi- 
 tuated to the idea of his own rheannefs, fo funk in 
 flothful and fottifh indifference, as entirely to have 
 forgot the defire, and almoft the very wifh, for fu- 
 periority. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
Sed. 3- CyPfiopRiETY, 89 
 
 CHAP. IIL 
 
 Of the ftoical philofophy, 
 
 VV HEN we examine in this manner into the 
 ground of the different degrees of eflimation which 
 mankind are apt to beflow upon the different con- 
 ditions of life, we fhall find, that thfe exceflive pre- 
 ference, which they generally give to fome of them 
 above others, is \x\ a great meafure without any 
 foundation. If to be able to act with propriety, 
 and to render ourfelves the proper objedts of the ap- 
 probation of mankind, be, as we have been endea- 
 vouring to fhow, what chiefly recommends to us 
 one condition above another, this may equally be 
 attained in them all. The noblell propriety of con- 
 dudl may be fupported in adverfity, as well as in 
 profperity ; and though it is fomewhat more difficult 
 in the firft, it is upon that very account more ad- 
 mirable. Perils and misfortunes are not only the 
 proper fchool of heroifm, they are the only proper 
 theatre which can exhibit its virtue to advantage, 
 and draw upon it the full applaufe of the world. 
 The man, whofe whole life has been one even and 
 uninterrupted courfe of profperity, who i^ever braved 
 any danger, who never encountered any difficulty, 
 who never furmounted any diilrefs, can excite but 
 an inferior degree of admiration. When poets and 
 romance-writers endeavour to invent a train of ad- 
 ventures, which fhall give the greatefl luftre to thofe 
 
 charadters 
 
90 (yPROpRiETY. Part L 
 
 characters for whom they mean to interefl us, they 
 are all of a different kind. They are rapid and fud- 
 den changes of fortune, fituations the mofl apt to 
 drive thole who are in them to frenzy and diitratlion, 
 or to abject defpair ; but in which their heroes act 
 with fo much propriety, or at leaft with fo much 
 fpirit and undaunted refolution, as ftiil to command 
 our efleem. Is not the unfortunate magnanimity of 
 Cato, Brutus, and Leonidas, as much the object of 
 admiration, as that of the fuccefsful Caefar or Alex- 
 ander ? To a generous mind, therefore, ought it not 
 to be as much the objedt of envy ? If a more daz- 
 zling fplendor feems to attend the fortunes of fuc- 
 cefsful conquerors, it is becaufe they join together 
 the advantages of both fituations, the luflre of prof- 
 perity to the high admiration which is excited by 
 dangers encountered, and difficulties furmounted, 
 with intrepidity and valour. 
 
 It was upon this account that, according to the 
 floical philofophy, to a wife man ail the different 
 conditions of life were equal. Nature, they faid, 
 had recommended fome objects to our choice, and 
 others to our difapprobation. Our primary appe^ 
 tites direded us to the purfuit of health, flrength, 
 eafe, and perfection, in all the qualities of mind and 
 body ; and of whatever could promote or fecure 
 thefe, riches, power, authority : and the fame ori- 
 ginal principle taught us to avoid the contrary. But 
 in chufmg or rejeding, in preferring or poftponing, 
 thofe firft objects of original appetite and averfion, 
 Nature had likewife taught us, that there was a cer- 
 tain order, propriety, and grace, to be obferved, of 
 infinitely greater confequence to happinefs and per- 
 fection. 
 
Sed. 3- 0/ P R o p R I E T Y. 91 
 
 fedVion, than the attainment of thofe objects them- 
 felves. The objedls of our primary appetites or 
 averfions were to be purfued or avoided, chiefly 
 becaufe a regard to this grace and propriety requir- 
 ed fach condudl. In direding all our adions ac- 
 cording to thefe, confiiled the happinefs and glory 
 of human nature. In departing from thofe rules 
 which they prefcribed to us, its greateft wretched- 
 nefs and mofi: complete depravity. The outward 
 appearance of this order and propriety was indeed 
 more eafily maintained in fome circumflances than 
 in others. To a fool, however, to one whofe paf- 
 fions were fubjeded to no proper controul, to adl 
 with real grace and propriety, was equally impof- 
 fible in every fituation. Though the giddy multi- 
 tude might admire him, though his vanity might 
 fometimes be elevated by their ignorant praifes into 
 fomething that refembled felf-approbation, yet flill 
 when he turned his view to what paffed within his 
 own breafl, he was fecretly confcious to himfelf of 
 the abfurdity and meannefs of all his motives, and 
 inv/ardly blufhed and trembled at the thoughts of 
 the contempt which he knew he deferved, and 
 which mankind would certainly bellow upon him 
 if they faw his conduct in the light in which in his 
 own heart he was obliged to regard it. To a wife 
 man, on the contrary, to one whofe pafTions were 
 all brought under perfedl fubjedtion to the ruling 
 principles of his nature, to reafon and the love of 
 propriety, to adt fo as to deferve approbation was 
 equally eafy upon all occafions. Was he in profpe- 
 rity, he returned thanks to Jupiter for having join- 
 ed him with circumflances which were eafily maf- 
 tered, and in which there was little temptation to 
 do wrong. Was he in adverfity, he equally, re- 
 turned 
 
92 0/pROPj^iETY. Part I, 
 
 turned thanks to the diredor of this fpec- 
 tacle of human life, for having oppofed to him a 
 vigorous athlete, over whom, though the conteft 
 was likely to be more violent, the victory was more 
 glorious, and equally certain. Can there be any 
 Ihame in that difliels which is brought upon us with- 
 out any fault of our own, and in which v/e behave 
 with perfed propriety ? There can therefore, be no 
 evil, but, on the contrary, the greateit good and ad- 
 vantage. A brave man exults in thofe dangers, in 
 which, from no rallineiis of his own, his fortune has 
 involved him. They afford an opportunity of ex- 
 ercifmg that heroic intrepidity, whofe exertion gives 
 the exalted delight which flows from the coniciouf- 
 nefs of fuperior propriety and deierved admiration. 
 One who is mafler of all his exercifes has no averfiou 
 to meafure his ftrength and adivity with the ftrong- 
 efl. And in the fame manner, one who is mafter 
 of all his palTions, does not dread any circumilancea 
 in ^yhich the fuperintendant of the univerfe may 
 think proper to place him. The bounty of that Di- 
 vine Being has provided him with virtues which ren- 
 der him fuperior to every fituation. If it is pleafure, 
 he has temperance to refrain from it ; if it is pain, 
 he has conflancy to bear it ; if it is danger or death, 
 he has magnanimity and fortitude to defpife it. He 
 never complains of the defliny of providence, nor 
 thinks the univerfe in confufion when he is out of 
 order. He does not look upon himfelf, according 
 to what felf-love would fuggefl, as a whole, fepa- 
 rated and detached from every other part of nature, 
 to be takers care of by itfelf, and for itfelf. He re- 
 gards hirnfelf in the light in which he imagines the 
 great Genius of human nature, and of the world, 
 regards him. He enters, if I may fay fo, into the 
 
 fentlments 
 
Sed. 3. 0/ P R p R I E T Y. 93 
 
 fentiments of that Divine Being, and confiders him- 
 felf as an atom, a particle, of an immenfe and infi- 
 nite f) flem, which muft, and ought to be difpofed 
 of, according to the conveniency of the whole. Af- 
 fured of the wifdom which directs all the events of 
 human life, whatever lot befalls him, he accepts it 
 with joy, fatisfied that, if he had known all the con- 
 nexions and dependencies of tlie different parts of 
 the univerfe,.it is the very lot which he himfeif would 
 have wilTied for. If it is life, he is contented to 
 live : and if it is deadi, as Nature muft have no fur- 
 ther occafion for his prefence here, he willingly goes 
 v/here he is appointed. I accept, faid a fboical phi- 
 lofopher, v/ith equal joy and fatisfad:ion, whatever 
 fortune can befal me. Riches or poverty, pleafure 
 or pain, health or ficknefs, all is alike : nor would 
 I defire that the gods fhould in any refpeft change 
 my deftination. If I was to afk of them any thing, 
 beyond what their bounty has already beftowed, it 
 fhould be that they v/ould inform me beforehand 
 what it was their pleafure fhould be done with me, 
 that I might of my own accord place myfelf in this 
 fituation, and demonftrate the chearfulnefs with 
 which I embraced their allotment. If I am going 
 to fail, fays Epidletus, [ chufc the bell fhip, and the 
 beft pilot, and I wait for the fairelt weather that my 
 circumftances and duty will allow. Prudence and 
 propriety, the principles which the gods have given 
 me for the diredion of my conduct, require this of 
 me ; but they require no more : and if, notv/ith- 
 ftanding, a ftorm arifes, which neither the ftrength 
 of the velTel, nor the (kill of the pilot are likely to 
 withftand, I give myfelf no trouble about the con- 
 fequence. All that I had to do, is done aLeady. 
 The directors of my conduct never command me 
 
 to 
 
,94- Cy P R o p R r E r Y. Part I. 
 
 to be miferable, to be anxious, defponding, or 
 afraid. Whether we are to be drowned, or to come 
 to a harbour, is the bufinefs of Jupiter, not mine. 
 I leave it entirely to his determination, nor ever 
 break my reft with confidering which way he is 
 likely to decide it, but receive whatever comes with 
 equal indifference and fecurity. 
 
 Such was the philofophy of the fto'.cs ; a philpr- 
 fophy which affords the nobiefl lelTons of magnani- 
 mity, is the bed fchool of heroes and patriots, and 
 to the greater part of whofe precepts there can be 
 no objection, except that honourable one, that they 
 teach us to aim at a perfection altogether beyond 
 the reach of human nature. I fhall not at prefent 
 ilop to examine it. I fhall only obferve, in confir- 
 mation of what has formerly been faid, that the 
 moil dreadful calamities are not always thofe which 
 it is moft difficult to fupport. It is often more mor- 
 tifying to appear in publick, under fmall difaflers, 
 than under great misfortunes. The firfl excite no 
 fympathy ; but the fecond, though they may excite 
 none that approaches to the anguifh of the fufferer, 
 call forth, however, a very lively companion. The 
 fentiments of the fpedlators are, in this laft cafe, 
 therefore, lefs wide of thofe of the fufferer, and 
 their imperfedl fellow-feeling lends him fome affift- 
 ance in Supporting his mifery. Before a gay affem- 
 bly, a gentleman would be more mortified to ap- 
 pear covered with fihh and rags than with blood 
 and wounds. This lafl fituation would interefl 
 their pity ; the other would provoke their laughter. 
 The judge who orders a criminal to be fet in the 
 pillory, difhonours him. more than if he had con- 
 demned him to the fcaffold. The great prince, 
 
 who. 
 
Se6t. 3. CyPROpRiETY. 95 
 
 who, fome years ago, caned a general officer at the 
 head of his army, difgraced him irrecoverably. 
 The puniihment v/zould have been much lefs had he 
 fliot him through the body. By the laws of ho- 
 nour, to fir ike with a cane difhonours, to ftrike with 
 a fword does not, for aft obvious reafon. Thofe 
 flighter puniiliments when inflidted on a gentleman, 
 to whom diHionour is tlie greateft of all evils, come 
 to be regarded among a humane and generous peo- 
 ple, as the moll dreadful of any. With regard to 
 perfons of that rank, therefore, they are univerfally 
 laid afide, and the law, wliile it takes their life up- 
 on many occafions, refpe6ls their honour upon al- 
 moft ail. To fcourge a perfon of quality, or to 
 fet him in the pillory, upon account of any crime 
 whatever, is a brutality of which no European go- 
 vernment^ except that of Ruilia, is capable, 
 
 A brave man is not rendered contemptible by be- 
 ing brought to the fcaffbld ; he is, by being fet in 
 the pillory. His behaviour in the one fituation may 
 gain him univerfal efleem and admiration. No be- 
 haviour in the other can render him agreeable. The 
 fympathy of the fpectators fupports him in the one 
 cafe, and faves him from that fhame, that confciouf- 
 nefs that his mifery is felt by himfelf only, which is 
 of all fentiments the moft unfupportable. There is 
 no fympathy in the other ; or, if there is any, it is 
 not with his pain, which is a trifle, but with his con- 
 fcioufnefs of the want of fympathy with which this 
 pain is attended. It is with his fhame, not with 
 his forrow. Thofe who pity him, bluili and hang 
 down their heads for him. He droops in the fame 
 manner, and feels himfelf irrecoverably degraded 
 by the puniihment, though not by the crime. The 
 
 maUj, 
 
gS Of Fro r RiETY, Part L 
 
 man, on the contrary, who dies with refolution, as 
 he is naturally regarded with the ere£l afpedt of ef- 
 teem and approbation, fo he wears himfelf the fame 
 undaunted countenance ; and, if the crime does 
 not deprive him of the refped of others, the punifh- 
 ment never will. H© has no fufpicion that his fitu- 
 ation is the objedl of contempt or derifion to any 
 body, and he can, with propriety, alTume the air, 
 not only of perfedt ferenity, but of triumph and 
 exaltation. 
 
 " Great dangers, fays the Cardinal de Retz, have 
 *' their charms, becaufe there is fome glory to be 
 '*• got, even when we mifcarry. But moderate dan- 
 *^ gers have nothing but what is horrible, becaufe 
 *^ the lofs of reputation always attends the want of 
 *' fuccefs.'* His maxim has the fame foundation 
 with what we have beenjuil now obferving w^ith re- 
 gard to punifhments. 
 
 Human virtue is fuperior to pain, to poverty, to 
 danger, and to death ; nor does it even require its 
 utmoft efforts to defpife them. But to have its mi- 
 fery expofed to infult and derifion, to be led in 
 triumph, to be fet up for the hand of fcorn to point 
 at, is a fituation in which its conflancy is much more 
 apt to fail. Compared with the contempt of man- 
 kind, all other evils are eafily fupported. 
 
 PART 
 
PART 11. 
 
 Of Merit and Demerit; of, of the Ob- 
 jeds of Reward and Punishment. 
 
 Consisting of three Sections. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Of the fenfe of merit and demerit. 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 X HERE is another fet of qualities afcribed to 
 the adlioiis and condud of mankind, diftind from 
 their propriety or impropriety, their decency or un- 
 gracefulnefs, and which are the objeds of a diflind 
 fpecies of approbation and disapprobation . Thefe 
 are merit and demerit, the qualities of deferving 
 reward, and of deferving punifhment. 
 
 It has already been obferved, that the fentiment 
 or afFedion of the heart, from which any adion 
 proceeds, and upon which its whole virtue or vice 
 depends, may be confidered under two different af- 
 pects, or in two different relations : firft, in rela- 
 tion to the caufe or objed which excites it ; and, 
 fecondly, in relation to the end which it propofes, 
 
 H or 
 
98 0/ Merit <^//(i Demerit. Part II. 
 
 or to the effe(fl which it tends to produce : that up- 
 on the fuitablenefs or unfuitablenefs, upon the pro- 
 portion or difproportion, which the affedlion feems 
 to bear to the caufe or object which excites it, de- 
 pends the propriety or impropriety, the decency or 
 ungraceful nefs of the confequent action ^ and that 
 upon the beneficial or hurtful effeds which the affec- 
 tion propofes or tends to produce, depends the me- 
 rit or demerit, the good or ill defert of the adion 
 to which it gives occafion. Wherein confifts our 
 fenfe of the propriety or impropriety of anions, has 
 been explained in the former part of this difcourfe. 
 We come now to confider, wherein confifls that of 
 their good or ill defert. 
 
 C H A P. I. 
 
 ^at whatever appears to be the proper ohjetl of gratitude^ 
 appears to deferve 7'eward-^ and that^ in the fame man- 
 ner^ whatever appears to he the proper objeB of re- 
 fentmenty appears to deferve punijhment. 
 
 T 
 
 O us, therefore, that adlion muft appear to de- 
 ferve reward, which appears to be the proper and 
 approved objedt of that fentiment, which mofl im- 
 mediately and diredlly prompts us to reward, or to 
 do good to another. And in the fame manner, 
 that adion muft appear to deferve punifhment, 
 which appears to be the proper and approved objedt 
 of that fentiment which moft immediately and di- 
 redtly prompts us to publifh, or inflid evil upon 
 another. 
 
 The 
 
Sedl. I. Of Merit and Demerit. 99 
 
 The fentiment which mofl immediately and di- 
 redly prompts us to reward, is gratitude; that which 
 moil immediately and diredly prompts us to punifh, 
 
 is refentment. 
 
 To us, therefore, that adlion muft appear to de- 
 ferve reward, which appears to be the proper and ap- 
 proved objedl of gratitude ; as, on the other hand, 
 that adion muft appear to deferve punifhment, 
 which appears to be the proper and approved objedt 
 of refentment. 
 
 To reward, is to recompenfe, to remunerate, to 
 return good for good received. To punifh, too, is 
 to recompenfe, to remunerate, though in a different 
 manner ; it is to return evil for evil that has been 
 done. 
 
 There are fome other pafTions, befides gratitude 
 and refentment, which intereil us in the happinefs or 
 mifery of others ^ but there are none which fo di- 
 rectly excite us to be the inftruments of either. The 
 love and elleem which grow upon acquaintance and 
 habitual approbation, necelfarily lead us to be pleafed 
 with the good fortune of the man who is the objedt 
 of fuch agreeable emotions, and confequently, to be 
 willing to lend a hand to promote it. Our love, 
 however, is fully fatisfied, though his good fortune 
 (hould be brought about without our alTiftance. All 
 that this paffion defires is to fee him happy, without 
 regarding who was the author of his profpertty. But 
 gratitude is not to be fatisfied in this manner. If the 
 perfon to whom we owe many obligations, is made 
 happy without our afliftance, though it pleafes Our 
 love, it does not content our gratitude. Till we 
 
 H 2 have 
 
loo Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL 
 
 have recompenfed him, till we oiirfelves have been 
 inftrumental in promoting his happinefs, we feel oiir- 
 felves flill loaded with that debt which his pail fer- 
 vices have laid upon us. 
 
 The hatred and diflike, in the fame manner, 
 ■which grow upon habitual difapprobation, would of- 
 ten lead us to take a malicious pleafure m the misfor- 
 tune of the man whofe condudl and charader excite 
 fo painful a paflion. But though diflike and hatred 
 harden us againfl all fympathy, and fometimes dif- 
 pofe us even to rejoice at the diftrefs of another, yet, 
 if there is no refentment in the cafe, if neither we 
 nor our friends have received any great perfonal pro- 
 vocation, thefe palTions would not naturally lead us to 
 wifh to be inftrumental in bringing it about. Tho* 
 we could fear no punifhment in confequence of » our 
 having had fome hand it, we would rather that it 
 fhould happen by other means. To one under the 
 dominion of violent hatred it would be agreeable, 
 perhaps, to hear, that the perfon whom he abhorred 
 and detefted was killed by fome accident. But if he 
 had the leaft fpark of juilice, which, though this paf- 
 fion is not very favourable to virtue, he might Hill 
 have, it would hurt him exceflively to have been him- 
 felf, even without defign, the occafion of this misfor- 
 tune. Much more would the very thought of volun- 
 tarily contributing to it fhock him beyond all meafure. 
 He would rejed with horror even the imagination of 
 fo execrable a defign ; and if he could imagine him- 
 felf capable of fuch an enormity, he would begin to 
 regard himfelf in the fame odious light in which he 
 had confidered the perfon who was the objedt of 
 his diflike. But it is quite otherwife with refentment: 
 
 if 
 
Sedt. I. 0/Merit ^wJ Demerit. ioi 
 
 if the perlbn who had done us fome great injury, 
 who had murdered our father or our brother, for ex- 
 ample, (hould foon afterwards die of a fever, or even 
 be brought to the fcafFold upon account of fome other 
 crime, though it might footh our hatred, it would not 
 fully gratify our refentment. Refentment would 
 prompt us to defire, not only that he fhould be pu- 
 nifhed, but that he fhould be punilhed by our means, 
 and upon account of that particular injury which he 
 had done to us. Refentment cannot be fully grati- 
 fied, unlefs the offender is not only made to grieve in 
 his turn, but to grieve for that particular wrong 
 which we have fuffered from him. He muft be 
 made to repent and be forry for this very adion, that 
 others, through fear of the like punifhment, may be 
 terrified from being guilty of the like offence. The 
 natural gratification of this palTion tends, of i^s own 
 accord, to produce all the political ends of punifh- 
 ment ', the correction of the criminal, and the exam^ 
 pie to the public. 
 
 Gratitude and refentment, therefore, are the fenti- 
 ments which moft immediately and diredly prompt 
 to reward and to punifh. To us, therefore, he muft 
 appear to deferve reward, who appears to be the 
 proper and approved objedt of gratitude -, and he to 
 deferve punifhment, who appears to be that of re- 
 fentment. 
 
 H 3 CHAP. 
 
 i-^* 
 
lOZ Of Merit and Dewlerit. Part II, 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of the proper ohjeBs of gratitude and refentment. 
 
 A O be the proper and approved object either of 
 gratitude or refentment, can mean nothing but to 
 be the object of that gratitude, and of that refent- 
 rnent, which naturally feems proper, and is ap- 
 proved of. 
 
 Eut thefe, as well as ail the other paflions of hu' 
 man nature, feem proper and are approved of, when 
 the heart of every impartial fpedtator entirely fym- 
 pathizes with them, when every indifferent by- 
 flander entirely enters into, and goes along v/ith 
 them. 
 
 He, therefore, appears to deferve reward, who, 
 to fome perfon or perfons, is the natural objedt of 
 a gratitude which every human heart is difpofed to 
 beat time to, and thereby applaud : and he, on the 
 other hand, appears to deferve punifhment, who 
 in the fame manner is to fome perfon or perfons the 
 natural objedt of a refentment which the breafh of 
 every reafonable man is ready to adopt and fym- 
 pathize with. To us, furely, that adion mull ap- 
 pear to deferve reward, which every body who 
 knows of it would wifli to reward, and therefore 
 
 delights 
 
Sed. 1 . 0/ Me r i t and D em e r t t . 1 03 
 
 delights to -fee rewarded : and that aftion ^ufl as 
 furely appear to deferve punifhment, which every 
 body who hears of it is angry with, and upon that 
 account rejoices to fee punifhed. 
 
 I. As we fympathize with thej©y of our compa- 
 nions when in profperity, To we join v\ ith them in the 
 complacency and fatisfadtion with which they natu- 
 rally regard whatever is the caufe of their good for- 
 tune. We enter into the love and affection which 
 they conceive for it, and begin to love it too. We 
 fhould be forry for their fakes if it wasdeftroyed, or 
 even if it was placed at too great a diftance from 
 them, and out of the reach of their care and protedti- 
 on, though they fhould lofe nothing by its abfence 
 except the pleafure of feeing it. If it is man who 
 has thus been the fortunate inftrument of the happi- 
 nefs of his brethren, this is ftill more peculiarly the 
 cafe. When we fee one man allifted, protedled, re- 
 lieved by another, our fympathy with thejoy of the 
 perfon who receives the beneiit ferves only to animate 
 our fellow-feeling with his gratitude towards him 
 who beflows it. When we look upon the perfon 
 who is the caufe of his pleafure with the eyes with 
 which we imagine he muft look upon him, his bene- 
 factor feems to fland before us in the moil engasinp' 
 
 DO O 
 
 and amiable light. We readily therefore fympathize 
 with the grateful aflfedlion which he conceives for 
 a perfon to whom he has been fo much obliged ; and 
 confequently applaud the returns which he is difpof- 
 ed to make for the good offices conferred upon him. 
 As we entirely enter into the affection from which 
 thefe returns proceed, they necelTarily feem every 
 way proper and fuitable to their objedt. 
 
 H 4 2. In 
 
104 0/ Merit ^;//i Demerit. Part 11, 
 
 2. In the fame manner, as we fympathize with 
 the forrow of our fellow -creature whenever we fee 
 his diftrefs, fo we likewife enter into his abhorrence 
 and averfion for whatever has given occafion to it. 
 Our heart, as it adopts and beats time to his grief, fo 
 is it likewife animated with that fpirit by which he 
 endeavours to drive away or deftroy the caufe of it. 
 The indolent and paiTive fellow-feeling, by which we 
 accompany him in his fufferings, readily gives way 
 to that more vigorous and active fentiment by which 
 we go along with him in the effort he makes, either 
 to repel them, or to gratify his averfion to what has 
 given occafion to them. This is dill more peculiarly 
 the cafe, v/hen it is man who has caufed them. 
 When we fee one man opprelTed or injured by an- 
 other, the fympathy which we feel with the diftrefs 
 of the fufferer feems to ferve only to animate our 
 fellow-feeling with hisrefentment againfl the offend- 
 er. We are rejoiced to fee him attack his adverfary 
 in his turn, and are eager and ready to allift him 
 whenever he exerts himfelf for defence, or even for 
 vengeance within a certain degree. If the injured 
 (hould perifh in the quarrel, we not only fympathize 
 with the real refentment of his friends and relations, 
 but with the imaginary refentment which in fancy 
 we lend to the dead, who is no longer capable of 
 feeling that or any other human fentiment. But as 
 we put ourfelves in his fituation, as we enter, as it 
 were, into his body, and in our imaginations, in fome 
 meafure, animate anew the deformed and mangled 
 carcafs of the flain, when we bring home in this man- 
 ner his cafe to our own bofoms, we feel upon this, as 
 upon many other occafions, an emotion which the 
 
 perfon 
 
Se<fl. I. Of Merit ^z^Demerit. 105 
 
 perfon principally concerned is incapable of feeling, 
 and which yet we feel by an illufive f) mpathy with 
 him. The fympathetic tears which we fhed for 
 that immenfe and irretrievable lofs, which in our 
 fancy he appears to have fullained, feem lobe but a 
 fmallpart of the duty which we owe him. The in- 
 jury which he has fufFered demands, we think, a 
 principal part of our attention. We feel that refenl- 
 ment which we imagine he ought to feel, and which 
 he would feel, if in his cold and lifelefs body there 
 remained any confcioufnefs of what paiTes upon 
 earth. His blood, we think, calls aloud for ven- 
 geance. The very aihes. of the dead feem to be 
 diflurbed at the thought that his injuries are to pafs 
 unrevenged. The horrors which are fuppoied to 
 haunt the bed of the murderer, the ghofls which, 
 fuperftition imagines, rife from their graves to de- 
 mand vengeance upon thofe who brought them to 
 an untimely end, all take their origin from this na- 
 tural fympathy with the imaginary refentment of 
 the flain. And with regard, at lead, to this moft 
 dreadful of all crimes. Nature, antecedent to all re- 
 flexions upon the utility of punilliment, has in this 
 manner flamped upon the humian heart, in the 
 ftrongeft and moft indelible charaders, an imme- 
 diate and inilindtive approbation of the J^^jied and 
 pecelTary law of retaliation. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 r;:*'^?*^ 
 
io6 Cy Merit ^72^ Demerit. Part IL 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 That where there is no approbation of the conduct of the 
 per/on who confers the benefit^ there is little fympa- 
 thy with the gratitude of him who receives it : and 
 that^ on the contrary^ where there is no difapproba- 
 tion of the motives of the perfon who does the mif chief 
 there is no fort of fympathy with the refentment of him 
 who Suffers it. 
 
 I 
 
 T is to be obferved, however, that, how benefi- 
 cial foever on the one hand, or how hurtful 
 foever on the other, the adtions or intentions 
 of the perfon who ads may have been to the per- 
 fon who is, if I may fay fo, aded upon, yet if in 
 the one cafe there appears to have been no propriety 
 in the motives of the agent, if we cannot enter into 
 the afFeftions which influenced his condud, we 
 have little fympathy with the gratitude of the per- 
 fon who receives the benefit : or if, in the other 
 cafe, there appears to have been no impropriety 
 in the motives of the agent, if, on the contrary, 
 the affedions which influenced his condud are fuch 
 as we mufl: neceflarily enter into, we can have no 
 fort of fympathy with the refentment of the per- 
 fon who fuffers. Little gratitude feems due in the 
 one cafe, and all fort of refentment feems unjuft in 
 the other. The one adion feems to merit little 
 reward, the other to defer ve no puniflmient. 
 
 I. Firfl, 
 
Secft. I. Of Merit ^;^i Demerit. 107 
 
 I . Firft, I fay, that wherever we cannot fympa- 
 thize with the affections of the agent, wherever there 
 feems to be no propriety in the motives which influ- 
 enced his condud, we are lefs difpoied to enter into 
 the gratitude of the perfon who received the benefit 
 of his actions. A very fmall return feems due to 
 that foohlh and profufe generofity which confers the 
 greatefl benefits from the moft trivial motives, and 
 gives an eflate to a m.an merely becaufe his name and 
 furname happen to be the fame with thofe of the 
 giver. Such fervices do not feem to demand any 
 proportionable recompenfe. Our contempt for the 
 folly of the agent hinders us from thoroughly enter- 
 ing into the gratitude of the perfon to whom the good 
 office has been done. His benefactor feems un- 
 worthy of it. As when we place ourfelves in the 
 fituation of the perfon obliged, we feel that we could 
 conceive no great reverence for fuch a benefadlor, 
 we eafily abfolve him from a great deal of that fub- 
 milTive veneration and efleem which wx fhould think 
 due to a more refpedtable charadier-, and provided 
 he always treats his weak friend with kindnefs and 
 humanity, we are willing to excufe him from many 
 attentions and regards which we fhould demand to a 
 worthier patron. Thofe Princes, who have heaped, 
 with the greateft profufion, wealth, power, and 
 honours, upon their favourites, have feldom excited 
 that degree of attachment to their perfons which has 
 often been experienced by thofe who were more fru- 
 gal of their favours. The well-natured, but injudici- 
 ous prodigality of James the Firft of Great Britain 
 feems to have attached no body to his perfon ; and 
 that Prince, notwithflanding his focial and harmlefs 
 difpofition, appears to have lived and died with- 
 out 
 
loS 0/ Merit and Demerit. Part II. 
 
 out a friend. The whole gentry and nobility of 
 England expofed their lives and fortunes in the 
 caufe of his more frugal and diflinguifhing fon, 
 notwithftanding the coldnefs and diftant feverity of 
 his ordinary deportment. 
 
 2. Secondly, I fay, That wherever the conduct 
 of the agent appears to have been entirely directed 
 by motives and affeclions which we thoroughly 
 enter into and approve of, we can have no fort of 
 fympathy with the refentment of the fufferer, how 
 great foever the mifchief which may have been done 
 to him. When two people quarrel, if we take 
 part with, and entirely adopt the refentment of one 
 of them, it is impoflible that we fhould enter 
 into that of the other. Our fym.pathy with the 
 perfon whofe motives we go along with, and whom 
 therefore we look upon as in the right, cannot but 
 harden us againft all fellow-feeling with the other, 
 whom we neceifarily regard as in the wrong. 
 Whatever this laft, therefore, may have fuffered, 
 while it is no more than what we ourfelves fhould 
 have wifhed him to fuffer, while it is no more than 
 what our own fympathetic indignation would 
 have prompted us to inflidt upon him, it cannot 
 either difpleafe or provoke us. When an inhuman 
 murderer is brought to the fcafFold, though we 
 have fome compaflion for his mifery, we can have 
 no fort of fellow-feeling v/ith his refentment, if 
 he fhould be fo abfurd as to exprefs any againft 
 either his profecutor or his judge. The natural 
 tendency of their juft indignation againfl fo vile a 
 criminal is indeed the moft fatal and ruinous to 
 him. But it is impolTible that we fhould be dif- 
 
 pleafed 
 
Sed. I. 0/ Merit and Demerit . 109 
 
 pleafed with the tendency of a fentiment, which, 
 when we bring the cafe home to ourfelves, we feel 
 that we cannot avoid adopting. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Recapitulation of the foregoing Chapters. 
 
 w 
 
 E do not, therefore, thoroughly and heartily 
 fympathize with the gratitude of one man towards 
 another, merely becaufe this other has been the 
 caufe of his good fortune, unlefs he has been the 
 caufe of it from motives which we entirely go along 
 with. Our heart muft adopt the principles of the 
 agent, and go along with all the affections which 
 influenced his condud, before it can entirely fym- 
 pathize with, and beat time to, the gratitude of 
 the perfon who has been benefited by his adlions. 
 If in the condudl of the benefactor there appears 
 to have been no propriety, how beneficial foever its 
 efFedts, it does not feem to demand, or neceiTarilv 
 to require, any proportionable recompenfe. 
 
 But when to the beneficent tendency of the 
 adtion is joined the propriety of the affedion from 
 which it proceeds, when we entirely fympathize 
 and go along with the motives of the agent, the 
 love which we conceive for him upon his own 
 account, enhances and enlivens our fellow-feeling 
 
 with 
 
no Cy Merit ^;/i^ Demerit. Part IL 
 
 with the gratitude of thofe who owe their profperity 
 to his good conduct. His adlions feem then to 
 demand, and, if I may fay fo, to call aloud for a 
 proportionable recompenfc. We then entirely en- 
 ter into that gratitude which prompts to bellow it. 
 The benefador feems then to be the proper obje6: 
 of reward, when we thus entirely fympathize with, 
 and approve of, that fentiment which prompts to 
 reward him. When we approve of, and go along 
 with, the affection from which the a(£lion proceeds, 
 we mufl neceilarily approve of the adlion, and re- 
 gard the perfon towards whom it is dire<6ted as its 
 proper and fuitable objedt. 
 
 2. In the fame manner, we cannot at all fympa- 
 thize with the refentment of one man againfl ano- 
 ther, merely becaufe this other has been the caufe 
 of his misfortune, unlefs he has been the caufe of it 
 from motives which we cannot enter into. Before 
 we can adopt the refentment of the fufferer, we 
 mufb difapprove of the motives of the agent, and 
 feel that our heart renounces all fympathy with the 
 affections which influenced his conduct. If there 
 appears to have been no impropriety in thefe, how 
 fatal foever the tendency of the action which pro- 
 ceeds from them to thofe againit whom it is di- 
 rected, it does not feem to deferve any punifh- 
 ment, or to be the proper objedt of any refent- 
 ment. 
 
 But when to the hurtfulnefs of the adtion is join- 
 ed the impropriety of the affedtion from whence it 
 proceeds, when our heart rejedts with abhorrence 
 all fellow-feeling v/ith tlie motives of the agents 
 
 Wt 
 
Sed. I. 0/ Merit ^w^ Demerit; in 
 
 we then heartily and entirely fympathize with the 
 refentment of the fufferer. Such adtions feem then 
 to deferve, and, if I may fay fo, to call aloud for, 
 a proportionable punifhment ; and we entirely enter 
 into, and thereby approve of, that refentment which 
 prompts to inflid it. The offender necelfarily 
 feems then to be the proper objed of punifhment, 
 when we thus entirely fympathize with, and thereby 
 approve of, that fentiment which prompts to punifli. 
 In this cafe too, when we approve, and go along 
 with, the afFedtion from which the adion proceeds, 
 we mufl necelfarily approve of the action, and 
 regard the perfon againfl whom it is directed, as its 
 proper and fuitableobjedt. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
112 Of Mep>.it and Demerit. Part IL 
 
 CHAP. v. 
 
 Tbe analyfts of the fenfe of merit and dement, 
 
 JljL S our fenfe, therefore, of the propriety of 
 conduct srifes from what I iTiall call a diredt fympa-' 
 thy with the afFedions and motives of the perfon 
 who adls, fo our fenfe of its merit arifes from what 
 I fhall call an indiredl fympathy with the gratitude 
 of the perfon who is, if I may fay fo, adtedupon. 
 
 As we cannot indeed enter thoroughly into the 
 gratitude of the perfon who receives the benefit, 
 unlefs we beforehand approve of the motives of the 
 benefactor, fo, upon this account, the fenfe of merit 
 feems to be a compounded fentiment, and to be 
 made up of two diftinct emotions ; a diredl fympa- 
 thy with the fentiments of the agent, and an indi- 
 rect fympathy with the gratitude of thofe who re- 
 ceive the benefit of his adtions. 
 
 We may, upon many different occafions, plainly 
 diftinguifh thofe two different emotions combining 
 and uniting together in our fenfe of the good defert 
 of a particular charader or action. When we read in 
 hiftory concerning adions of proper and beneficent 
 great nefs of mind, hov/ eagerly do we enter into 
 fuch defigns ? How much are we animated by that 
 
 high- 
 
Se6t. I. 0/Merit and Demerit. 113- 
 
 high-fpirlted generofity which dire^ls them ? How 
 keen are we for their fuccefs ? How grieved at their 
 difappointmeiit ? In imagination we become the very 
 perfon whofe adions are reprefented to us : we tran- 
 fport ourfelves in fancy to the fcenes of thofe diftant 
 and forgotten adventures, and imagine ourfelves 
 acting the part of a Scipio or a Camillus, a Timole- 
 on or an Ariilides. So far our fentiments are found- 
 ed upon the dired: fympathy with the perfon who 
 a6ls. Nor is the indirect fympathy with thofe who 
 receive the benefit of fuch adions lefs fenfibly felt. 
 Whenever we place ourfelves in the fituation of thefe 
 laft, with v/ hat warm and afFedtionate fellow-feeling do 
 we enter into their gratitude towards thofe who ferved 
 them fo effentially ? We embrace, as it were, their 
 benefatlor along with them. Our heart readily fym- 
 pathizes with the higheft tranfports of their gratefuf 
 afFedion. No honours, no rewards, we think, can 
 be too great for them to bellow upon him. When 
 they make this proper return for his feiVices, we 
 heartily applaud and go along with them ; but are: 
 fhocked beyond all meafure, if by their conduct they 
 appear to have little fenfe of the obligations conferred 
 upon them. Our whole fenfe, iii fliort, of the 
 merit and good defert of fuch adtions, of the proprie- 
 ty and fimefs of rdcompenfmg them, and making 
 the perfon who performed them rejoice in his turn, 
 arifes from the fym pathetic emotions of gratitude 
 and love, v/ith which, when we bring home to ouif 
 own breaft the fituation of thofe principally concern- 
 ed, we feel ourfelves naturally tranfported towards 
 the man who could adt with fuch pro]ljer and noble 
 beneficence. 
 
 I 2. In 
 
114 0/ Merit ^;«^ Demerit. Part IL 
 
 2. In the fame manner as our {cnft of the impro- 
 priety of condud arifes from a want of fympathy, or 
 from a direct antipathy to the affedions and motives 
 of the agent, fo our fenfe of its dem^erit arifes from 
 what I (hall here too call an indired fympathy with 
 the refentment of the fufFerer. 
 
 As we cannot indeed enter into the refentment of 
 the fuiferer, unlefs our heart beforehand difapproves 
 the motives of the agent, and renounces all fellow- 
 feeling with them ; foupon this account the fenfe of 
 demerit, as well as that of merit, feems to be a com- 
 pounded fentiment, and to be made up of two dif- 
 tind emotions -, a dired antipathy to the fentiments 
 of the agent, and an indired fympathy with the re- 
 fentment of the fufterer. 
 
 We may here too, upon many different occafions, 
 plainly diftinguilh thofe two different emotions com- 
 bining and uniting together in our fenfe of the ill 
 defert of a particular charader or adion. -When 
 we read in hiflory concerning the perfidy and cruelty 
 ofa Borgia or a Nero, our heart rifes up againft the 
 deteftable fentiments which influenced their condud, 
 and renounces with horror and abomination all fel- 
 low-feeling with fuch execrable motives. So far 
 our fentiments are founded upon the dired antipathy 
 to the affections of the agent : and the indired fym- 
 pathy with the refentment of the fufferers is flill 
 more fenfibly felt. When we bring home to our- 
 felves the fituation of the perfons whom thofe 
 fcourges of mankind infalted, murdered, or betray- 
 ed, what indignation do we not feel againft fuch in- 
 folent and inhuman oppreffors of the earth ? Our 
 
 fympathy 
 
Se6t, I. 0/ Merit and Demerit. 115 
 
 fympathy with the unavoidable diilrefs of thehinocent 
 fuflerers is not more real nor more lively, than our 
 fellow-feeling with their jufl and natural refentment. 
 The former fentiment only heightens the latter, and 
 the idea of their diftrefs ferves only to inflame and 
 blow up our animoficy againft thofe who occafioned 
 it. When vre thmk of the anguifh of the fufferers, 
 we take part with them more earneilly againfl: their 
 opprelTors ; we enter with more eagernefs into all 
 their fchemes of vengeance, and feel ourfelves every 
 moment wreaking, in imagination, upon fuch viola- 
 tors of the laws of fociety, that punifhment which 
 Our fympathetic indignation tells us is due to their 
 crimes. Our fenfe of the horror and dreadful atro- 
 city of fuch conduct, the delight which we take in 
 hearing that it was properly punifhed, the indigna- 
 tion which we feel when it efcapes this due retaliati- 
 on, our whole fenfe and feeling, in fhort, of its ill 
 defert, of the propriety and fitnefs of inflidting evil 
 upon the perfon who is guilty of it, and of making 
 him grieve in his turn, arifes from the fympathetic 
 indignation which naturally boils up in the breaft of 
 the fpedtator, whenever he thoroughly brings home 
 to himfelf the cafe of the fufferer *. 
 
 * To afcrlbe in this manner our natural fenfe of the ill defert 
 of human actions to a fympathy with the refentment of the fuffer- 
 er, may feem, to the greater part of people, to be a degradation 
 of that fentiment, Refentment is common' y regarded as fo odious 
 a paflion, that they will be apt to think it impoflible that fo lau- 
 dable a principle, as the fenfe of the ill defert of vice, ihould in 
 any refpe6t be founded upon it. They will be more willing, per- 
 haps, to admit that our fenfe of the merit of good a6lions is found- 
 ed upon a fympathy with the gratitude of the perfons who re- 
 ceive the benefit of them ; becaufe gratitude, as well as all the 
 other benevolent paflions, is regarded as an amiable principle, 
 which can take nothing from the worth of whatever is founded 
 
 I 2 vnon 
 
ii6 0/Merit ^//y/Demerit. Part II. 
 
 upon it. Gratitude and rerentment, however, are in every refpe^t, 
 it is evident, counterparts to one another -, and if our fenfe of 
 merit arifes from a fjmpathy with the one, our fenfe ot demerit can 
 fcarce mifs to proceed from a fellow feeling with the other. 
 
 Let it be confidered too that refentment, though, in the degrees 
 in vv'hich we too often fee it, the moil odious, perhaps, of all the 
 paflions, is net difapproved of vv^hen properly humbled and entirely 
 brought down to the level of the lympathetlc indignation of the 
 fpeftator. When we, who are the byftanders, feel that our own 
 animofity entirely correfponus v/ith that of the fuiferer, when the 
 refentment of this lad does not in any refped go beyond our own, 
 when no v/ord, no gefture, efcapes him that denotes an emotion 
 more violent than what we can keep time to, and when he never 
 aims at inflicting any punilhment beyond what we fhould rejoice to 
 fee. inflicted, or what we ourfelves would upon this account even 
 delire to be the inftruments of infliding, it is impoflible that we 
 Ihould not entirely approve of his fentiments. Our own emotion 
 in this cafe muft, in our eyes, undoubtedly juftify his. And as 
 experience teaches us how much the greater part of mankind are 
 incapable of this moderation, and how great an effort muft be made 
 in order to bring down the rude and undifciplined impulfe of re- 
 fentment to this fuitable temper, we cannot avoid conceiving a 
 confiderable degree of eHeem and admiration for one who appears 
 capable of exerting fo nmch felf- command over one of the moll 
 ungovernable paflions of his nature. When indeed the animofuy 
 of the fufFerer exceeds, as it almoft alv/ays does, what we can go 
 along with, as we cannot enter into it, we neceflarily difapprove of 
 it. We even difapprove of it more than we fhould of an equal 
 excefs of almoft any other pafTion derived from the imagination. 
 And this too violent refentment, inftead of carrying us along with 
 it, becomes itfelf the obje6t of our refentment and indignation. We 
 enter into the oppofite refentment of the perfon who is the object of 
 this unjuft emotion, and who is in danger of fuffering from it. 
 P.evenge, therefore, the excefs of refentment, appears to be the 
 moft deteftable of all the paflions, and is the objed of the horror 
 and indignation of every body. And as in the way in which this 
 pafllon commonly difcovers itfelf among mankind, it is excelfive a 
 hundred times for once that it is moderate, we are very apt to con- 
 fider it as altogether oJious and deteftable, becaufe in its moft or- 
 dinary appearances it is fo. Nature, however, even in the prefent 
 depraved ftate of mankind, does not feem to have dealt fo unkindly 
 
 with 
 
Sedl. I. 0/ Merit and Demerit. 117 
 
 with US, as to have endowed us with any principle which is 
 wholly in eyery refpeft evil, or which, in no degree and in no direc- 
 tion, can be the proper object of praife and approbation. Upon 
 Tome occailons we are fenfible that this paflion, v/hich is generally 
 too ftrong, nmy likewife be too weak. We fometimes complain 
 that a particular perfon Ihews too little Ipirit, and has too little 
 fenfe of the injuries that have been done to him^ and we are as 
 ready to del pile him for the defect, as to hate him for the excefs of 
 this pafTion. 
 
 The infpired writers would not rarely have talked fo frequently 
 or fo flrongly of the wrath and anger of God, if they had regarded 
 every degree of thofe pailions as vicious and evil, even in fo weak 
 and imperfect a creature as man. 
 
 Let it be confidered too, that the prefent inquiry is not concern- 
 ing a matter of right, if 1 may fay fo, but concerning a matter of 
 fa6t. We are not at prefent examining upon what principles a per- 
 fect being would approve of the punilhment of bad adions ; but 
 upon what principles fo weak and imperfe<^ a creature as man 
 actually and in fact approves of it. The principles which I have 
 juft now mentioned, it is evident, have a very great effect upon his 
 fentiments ; and it feems wifely ordered that it ihould be fo. The 
 very exigence of fociety requires that unmerited and unprovoked 
 malice ihould be retrained by proper puniihments ; and confc- 
 quendy, that to inflitt thole punifliments Ihould be regarded as a 
 proper and laudable adion. Though man, therefore, be naturally- 
 endowed witk a defire of the welfare and prefervation of fociety, 
 yet the Author of nature has not entrufted it to his reafon to find 
 out that a certain application of punifliments is the proper means 
 of attaining this end; but has endowed him with an immediate 
 and inftinttive approbadon of that very application which is mofl 
 proper to attain it. The Gsconomy of nature is in this rcfpeft ex- 
 a<5tly of a piece with what it is upon many other occafions. With 
 regard to all thofe ends which, upon account of their peculiar im- 
 portance, may be regarded, if fuch an exprelTion is allowable, as 
 the favourite ends of nature, fhe has conftantly in this manner not 
 only endowed mankind with an appetite for the end which fhe pro- 
 poles, but likewife with an appetite for the means by which alone 
 this end can be brought about, for their own fakes, and independent 
 of their tendency to produce it. Thus felf prefervation, and the 
 propagation of the fpecies, are the great ends which Nature fcems 
 to have propofed in the formation of all animals. Mankind are 
 
 I j endowed 
 
Ii8 Of Mep.it and DiLME?ar. Part II. ' 
 
 endowed vvlth a defire of thofe ends, and an averfion to the contra^ 
 TV ; with a love of life, and a dread of diffolution ; with a delire 
 of the continuance and perpetuity of the fpecies, and with an aver- 
 fion to the thoughts of its intire extintlion. Eut though we are in 
 this manner endowed with a very llrong defire of thofe ends, it has 
 not been intrufted to the Hov/ and uncertain determinations, of our 
 reafon, to find out the proper means of bringing them about. Na- 
 ture has directed us to the greater part of thefe by original and 
 immediate infl:in(St3. Hunger, thirft, the paffion which unites 
 the two fexes, the love of pleafure, and the dread of pain, prompt 
 us to apply thofe means for their own fakes, and without any con- 
 fideration of their tendency to thofe benencetit ends which the 
 great Director of nature intended to produce by them. 
 
 Before I conclude this note, I muft take notice of a difference 
 between the approbation of propriety and that of merit or benefi- 
 cence. Before we approve of the fentiments of any perlon as pro- 
 per and fuitable to their objects, we mull not only be affeiited in the 
 fame manner as he is, but we muH: perceive this harmony and cor- 
 refpondence of fentiments between him and ourfelves. Thus, 
 though upon hearing of a misfortune that had befallen my friend, 
 I fhould conceive precifely that degree of concern v/hich he gives 
 way to J yet till I am informed of the manner in which he behaves, 
 till I perceive the harmony between his emotions and mine, I cannot 
 be faid to approve of the fentiments which influence his behaviour. 
 The approbation of propriety therefore requires, not only that we 
 Ihould intlrely fympathize with the peifon who a6ts, but that we 
 fhould perceive this perfeft concord between his fentiments and our 
 own. On the contrary, when I hear of a benefit that has been be- 
 llowed upon another peifon, let him who has received it be affe6led 
 in what manner he pleafes, if, by bringing his cafe home to myfelf, 
 I feel gratitude arifein my ov/n breafi:, 1 necefiarlly approve of the 
 condua of his benefaftor, and regard it as meritorious, and the pro- 
 per objed of rev/ard. Whether the perfon who has received the 
 benefit conceives gratitude or not, cannot, it is evident, in any degree 
 alter our fentiments with regard to the merit of him who has beftow 
 ed it. No a6tual correfpondence of fentiments, therefore, Is here re- 
 quired. It is fjfficient that if he was grateful, they would correl- 
 pond ; and our fenfe of merit is often founded upon one of thofe 
 illufive fympathies, by which, when we bring home to ourfelves the 
 cafe of another, we are often affeded in a manner in which the per- 
 fon principally concerned is incapable of being affeded. There is a 
 fimliar ditierence between our difapprobation of demerit, and that of 
 impropriety. SEC- 
 
Sed. 2. QTMerit ^;/^ Demerit. 119 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Of juflice and beneficence, 
 
 CHAP. I, 
 
 Comparifon of thofe two virtues. 
 
 A 
 
 .CTIONS of a beneficent tendency, which pro- 
 ceed from proper motives, feem alone to require 
 reward ; bccaufe fuch alone are the approved ob- 
 jedts of gratitude, or excite the fympathetic grati- 
 tude of the fpedator, 
 
 Adions of a hurtful tendency, which proceed from 
 improper motives, feem alone to deferve punifh- 
 ment ; becaufe fuch alone are the approved ubjedls of 
 refentment, or excite the fympathetic refentment of 
 the fpedator. 
 
 Beneficence is always free, it cannot be extorted 
 by force, the mere want of it expofes to no punifh- 
 ment ; becaufe the mere want of beneficence tends 
 to do no real pofitive evil. It may difappoint of the 
 good which might reafonably have been expedted, 
 and upon that account it mayjuflly excite diflike 
 and difapprobation : it cannot, however, provoke 
 
 I 4 any 
 
I20 Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL 
 
 any refentment which mankind will go along v/ith. 
 The man who does not recompenfe his benefactor, 
 when he has it in his power, and when his benefadlor 
 needs his afiiftance, is, no doubt, guilty of the black- 
 eft ingratitude. The heart of every impartial fpec- 
 tator rejeds all fellow-feeling with the felfifhnefs of 
 his motives, and he is the proper objecl of the highefl 
 difapprcbation. But flill he does no pofitive hurt 
 to any body. He only does not do that good which 
 in propriety he ought to have done. He is the ob- 
 ject of hatred, a paflion which is naturally excited by 
 impropriety of fentiment and behaviour ; not ofrefent- 
 ment,a paflion which is never properly called forth but 
 by actions which tend to do real and pofitive hurt 
 to fome particular perfons. His want of gratitude, 
 therefore, cannot be punillied. To oblige him by 
 force to perform what in gratitude he ought to per- 
 form, and what every impartial fpedator would ap- 
 prove of him for performing, would if poflible, be 
 Hill more improper than his negledting to perform it. 
 His benefactor would difhonour himfelf if he attempt- 
 ed by violence to conftrain him to gratitude, and it 
 would be impertinent for any third perfon, who was 
 not the fuperior of either, to intermeddle. But of all 
 the duties of beneficence, 4.hofe which gratitude re- 
 commends to us approach nearell to what is called 
 a perfedt and complete obligation. What friend- 
 fliip, what generofity, what charity, would prompt 
 ^s to do with univerfal approbation, is flill more free, 
 and c^n flill lefs be extorted by force than the 
 duties of gratitude. We talk of the debt of grati- 
 tude, not of charity, or generofity, nor even of friend- 
 Hiip, when friendfhin is mere efleem, and has not 
 been enhanced and complicated with gratitude for 
 
 good offices. 
 
 Refent- 
 
Sedl. 2. Of Merit rt?/.'/ Demerit. izi 
 
 RefentmePit feems to have been given us bv na- 
 ture for defence, and for defence only. It is the 
 fafeguard of juflice and the fecurity of innocence. 
 It prompts us to beat off the mifchief which is at- 
 tempted to be done to us, and to retaliate that which 
 is ah'eady done ; that the offender may be made to 
 repent of his injuftice, and that others, through fear 
 of the like punifhment, may be terrified from being 
 guilty of the like offence. It mufl be referved 
 therefore for thefe purpofes, nor can the fpedator 
 ever go along with it when it is exerted for any 
 other. But the mere want of the beneficent virtues, 
 though it may difappoint us of the good v/hich 
 might reafonably be expected, neither does, nor at- 
 tempts to do, any mifchief from which we can have 
 occafion to defend ourfelves. 
 
 There is however another virtue, of which the ob- 
 fervance is not left to the freedom of our own wills, 
 which may be extorted by force, and of which the 
 violation expofes to refentment, and confequently to 
 punifhment. This virtue is juflice : the violation of 
 juflice is injury : it does real and pofitive hurt to 
 fome particular perfons, from motives which are na- 
 turally difapproved of. It is, therefore, the proper 
 objedt of refentment, and of punifhment, which is 
 the natural coniequence of refentment. As man- 
 kind go along with, and approve of, the violence 
 employed to avenge the hurt which is done by in- 
 juflice, fo they much more go along with, and ap- 
 prove of, that which is employed to prevent and 
 beat off the injury, and to reflrain the offender 
 from hurting his neighbours. The perfon himfelf 
 who meditates an injuftice is fenfible of this, and 
 feels that force may, with the utmofl propriety, be 
 
 made 
 
J22 0/ Merit ^;/^ Demerit. PartIL 
 
 made ufe of, both by the perfon whom he is about 
 to injure, and by others, either to obltrud the ex- 
 ecution of his crime, or to punifh him -^^ hen he has 
 executed it. And upon this is founded that re- 
 markable diftincl:lon between juftice and all the 
 other focial virtues, v/hich has of late been parti- 
 cularly infifted upon by an author of very great 
 and original genius, that we feel ourfeives to ba^ 
 under a flrider obligation to ad according to juflice, 
 than agreeably to friendihip, charity, or genero- 
 fity ; that the practice of tliefe lafh mentioned vir- 
 tues feems to be left in fome meafure to our own 
 choice but that, fomehow or other, we feel our- 
 feives to be in a peculiar manner tied, bound, and 
 obliged to the obfervation of juflice. We feel, 
 that is to fay, that force may, with the utinofh pro- 
 priety and with the approbation of all mankind, 
 be made ufe of to conftrain us to obferve the rules 
 of the one, but not to follow the precepts of the 
 other. 
 
 We muft always, however, carefully diflinguifh 
 what is only blamable, or the proper objedl of dif- 
 approbation, from what force may be employed ei- 
 ther to punifh or to prevent. That feems blamable 
 which falls fhort of that ordinary degree of proper 
 beneficence which experience teaches us to exped 
 of every body ; and on the contrary, that feems 
 praife-worthy which goes beyond it. The ordinary 
 degree itfelf, feems neither blamable nor praife- 
 worthy. A father, a fon, a brother, who behaves 
 to the correfpondent relation, neither better nor 
 worfe than the greater part of men commonly do, 
 feems properly to deferve neither praife nor blame. 
 He who furpnfes us by extraordinary and unexpedt- 
 
 ed, 
 
Sed, 2. 0/ Merit ^;7^ Demerit. 123" 
 
 ed, though ft ill proper and fuitable kindnefs, or on 
 the contrary, by extraordinary and unexpeded, as 
 well as unfuitable unkindnefs, ieems praife-worthy in 
 the one caie, and blamable in the other. 
 
 Even the moil ordinary degree of kindnefs or be- 
 neticence, however, cannot, among equals, be ex- 
 torted by force. Among equals each individual is 
 naturally, and antecedent to the inftitution of ci- 
 vil government, regarded as having a right both to 
 defend himfelf from injuries, and to exa6t a certain 
 degree of punilhment for thofe which have been 
 done to him. Every generous fpe(5lator not only ap- 
 proves of his conduct when he does this, but enters 
 fo far into his fentiments as often to be willing: to 
 aflill him. When one man attacks, or robs, or at- 
 tempts to murder another, all the neighbotirs take the 
 alarm, and think that they do right when they run, 
 cither to revenge the perfon who has been injured, or 
 to defend him who is in danger of being fo. But when 
 a father fails in the ordinary degree of parental af- 
 fection towards a fon ; when a fon feems to want that 
 filial reverence which might be expetled to his father ; 
 when brothers are without the ufual degree of bro- 
 therly affedtion ; when a m.an fhuts his breaft againil 
 .companion, and refufes to relieve the mifery of his 
 fellow-creatures, when he can with the greatefl eafe ; 
 in all thefe cafes, though every body blames the 
 condudt, nobody imagines that thofe who might 
 have reafon, perhaps, to expert more kindnefs, 
 have any right to extort it by force. The fufferer 
 can only complain, and the fpedator can intermed- 
 dle no other way than by advice and perfuafion. 
 Upon all fuch occafions, for equals to ufe force 
 
 againil 
 
124 0/ Merit /7«<^ Demerit. Part IL 
 
 againfl one another, would be thought the higheft 
 degree of infolence and prefumption. 
 
 A fuperior may, indeed, fometiraes, v/ith univer- 
 fal approbation, oblige thofe under his jurifdicftioa 
 to behave, in this refpect, with a certain degree of 
 propriety to one another. The laws of all civilized 
 nations oblige parents to maintain their children, 
 and children to maintain their parents, and impofe 
 upon men many other duties of beneficence. The, 
 civil magiitrate is entrufted with the pov/er not only 
 of preferving the public peace by reilraining injuf- 
 tice, but of promoting the profperity of the com- 
 monwealth, by eftablifliing good dii'cipline, and by 
 difcouraging every fort of vice and impropriety ; 
 he may prefcribe rules, therefore, which not only 
 prohibit mutual injuries among fellow citizens, but 
 command mutual good offices to a certain degree. 
 When the fovereign commands what is merely in- 
 different, and what, antecedent to his orders, miglit 
 have been omitted without any blame, it becomes 
 not only blamable but punifhable to difobey him. 
 When he commands, therefore, what, antecedent 
 to any fuch order, could not have been omitted with- 
 out the greateft blame, it furely becomes much more 
 punifhable to be wanting in obedience. Of all the 
 duties of a law-giver, however, this, perhaps, is 
 that which it requires the greateft delicacy and re- 
 ferve to execute with propriety and judgment. To 
 neglect it altogether expofes the common-wealth to 
 many gfofs diforders and fhocking enormities, and 
 to pufh it too far is deitrudtive of all liberty, fe- 
 curity, andjuftice. 
 
 Though 
 
ScCt. 2. Of Merit ^^2^ Demerit. 125 
 
 Though the mere want of beneficence feems to 
 merit no punifliment from equals, the greater ex- 
 ertions of that virtue appear to deferve the higheft 
 rev/ard. By being produdive of the greateft good, 
 they are the natural and approved objects of the 
 livelieft gi'atitude. Though the breach of juflice, 
 on the contrary, expofes to punifhment, the obfer- 
 vance of the rules of that virtue feems fcarce to de- 
 ferve any reward. There is, no doubt, a propriety 
 in the pradice of juilice, and it merits, upon that 
 account, all the approbation which is due to pro- 
 priety. ^ But as it does no real pofitive good, it is 
 entitled to very little gratitude. Mere juftice is, 
 upon moil occafions, but a negative virtue, and 
 only hinders us from hurting our neighbour. The 
 man who barely abflains from violating either the 
 perfon, or the eftate, or the reputation of his neigh- 
 bours, has furely very little pofitive merit. He 
 fulfils, hov/ever, all the rules of what is peculiarly 
 called jullice, and does everything which his equals 
 can v/lth propriety force him to do, or which they 
 can punifh him for not doing. We may often fulfil 
 all the rules of juftice by fitting ftill and doing no- 
 thing. 
 
 As every man doth, fo (hall it be done to him, 
 and retaliation feems to be the great law which is 
 didated to us by Nature. Beneficence and gene- 
 rofity we think due to the generous and beneficent. 
 Thofe whofe hearts never open to the feelings of 
 humanity, fhould, we think, be fhut out in the 
 fame manner, from the affedlions of all their fellow- 
 creatures, and be allowed to live in the midft of fo- 
 ciety, as in a great defert where there is no-body to 
 care for them, or to inquire after them. The vio- 
 lator 
 
126 Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL 
 
 latorof the laws of juftice ought to be made to feel 
 himfelf that evil which he has done to another ; and 
 fmce no regard to the fufferings of his brethren are 
 capable of retraining him, he ought to be over- awed 
 by the fear of his own. The man who is barely in- 
 nocent, who only obferves the law of juflice with 
 regard to others, and. merely abftains from hurting 
 his neighbours, can merit only that his neighbours 
 in their turn fhould refped his innocence, and that 
 the fame laws fhould berehgioufly obferved withre- 
 o:ard to him. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of the fenfe of juftice^ of remorfe^ and of the cojifn 
 mifnefs of merit. 
 
 X HERE can be no proper motive for hurting 
 our neighbour, there can be no incitement to do evil 
 to another, which nlankind will go along with, ex- 
 cept jufl indignation for evil which that other has 
 done to us. To difturb his happinefs merely be- 
 caufe it Hands in the way of our own, to take from 
 him what is of real ufe to him merely becaufe it may 
 be of equal or more ufe to us, or to indulge, in this 
 manner, at the expence of other people, the natural 
 preference which every man has for his own happi- 
 nefs above that of other people, is what no impar- 
 tial fpedtator can go along with. Every man is, no 
 doubt, by nature, firfh and principally recommend- 
 ed to his own care j and as he is litter to take care 
 
 of 
 
Sedl. 2. Of Merit and Demerit . 127 
 
 of himielf than of any other perfon, it is fit and right 
 that it fhould be fo. E^ery man, therefore, is much 
 more deeply interefled in whatever immediately 
 concerns himfelf, than in what concerns any other 
 man: and to hear, perhaps, of the death of another 
 perfon, with whom we have no particular connexion, 
 will give us lefs concern, will fpoil our ftomach, or 
 break our refl much lefs than a very infignificant 
 difaiter which has befallen ourfelves. But though 
 the ruin of our neighbour may affedt us much lefs 
 than a very fmall misfortune of our own, we mull 
 not ruin him to prevent that fmall misfortune, nor 
 even to prevent our own ruin. We muft, here, as 
 in all other cafes, view ourfelves not fo much ac- 
 cording to that light in which we may naturally ap- 
 pear to ourfelves, as according to that in which we 
 naturally appear to others. Though every man 
 may, according to the proverb, be the whole world 
 to himfelf, to the reft of mankind he is a moft infig- 
 nificant part of it. Though his own happinefs may 
 be of more importance to him than that of all the 
 v/orld befides, to every other perfon it is of no more 
 confequence than that of any other man. Though 
 it may be true, therefore, that every individual, in 
 his own breaft, naturally prefers himfelf to all man- 
 kind, yet he dares not look mankind in the face, 
 and avow that he ad\s according to this principle. 
 He feels that in this preference they can never go 
 along with him, and that hov/ natural foever it may 
 be to him, it muft alv/ays appear exceHive and ex- 
 travagant to them. Wlien he views himfelf in the 
 light in which he is confcious that others will view 
 him, he fees that to them he is but one of tlie mul- 
 titude in no refpedt better than any other in it. If 
 he would adl fo as that the impartial fpedator may 
 
 enter 
 
128 Of Merit ^//^ Demerit. Part IL 
 
 enter into the principles of his conduct, which is 
 what of all things he has the greateft defire to do, 
 he niiift, upon this, as upon all other occafions, 
 humble the arrogance of his felf-love, and bring it 
 down to fomething which other men can go along 
 with. They will indulge it fo far as to allow him 
 to be more anxious about, and to purfue with more 
 earneft alTiduitv , his own happinefs than that of any 
 other perfon. Thus far, whenever they place them- 
 felves in his fituation, they will readily go along with 
 him. In the race for wealth and honours, and pre- 
 ferments, he may run as hard as he can, and ftrain- 
 every nerve and every mufcle, in order to outftrip 
 all his competitors. But if he (hould juftle, or throw 
 down any of them, the indulgence of the fpedlators 
 is entirely at an end. It is a violation of fair play, 
 which they cannot admit of. This man is to them, 
 in every refpedl, as good as he : they do not enter 
 into that felf-love by which he prefers himfelf fb 
 much to this other, and cannot go along with the 
 motive from which he hurt him. They readily, 
 therefore, fympathize with the natural refentment 
 of the injured, and the offender becomes the objedt 
 of their hatred and indignation. He is fenfible that 
 he becomes fo, and feek that thofe fentinients are 
 ready to burfl out from all fides againfl him; 
 
 As the greater and more irreparable the evil- that 
 is done, the refentment of the fufferer rtins naturally 
 the higher, fo does likewife the fympathetic indigo- 
 nation of the fpedtalor, as well as the fenfe of guilt 
 in the agent. Death is the greatefl: evil which oiie 
 man can inflidt upon another, and excites the high- 
 eft degree of refentment in thofe who are immf^di- 
 ately conneded with the flain. Murdidr, therefore, 
 
 is 
 
Sed. 2 0/ Merit ^/2^ Demerit. 129 
 
 is the moil altrocious of all crimes which affedl in-^ 
 dividuals only, in the fight both of mankind, and of 
 theperfon who has committed it. To be deprived 
 of that which we are poiTeffed of, is a greater evil 
 than to be difappointed of what we have only the 
 expedation. Breach of property, therefore, theft 
 and robbery, which take from us what we are pof- 
 feffed of, are greater crimes than breach of contrad: 
 which only difappoints us of what we expeded. 
 The moll facred laws of juftice, therefore thofe 
 v/hofe violation feems to call the loudefl for ven- 
 geance and punifhment, are the laws which guard 
 the life and perfon of our neighbour ; the next are 
 thofe which guard his property and pofleiTioris ; and 
 laft of all come thofe which guard what are called 
 his perfonal rights, or what is duetto him from the 
 promifes of others. 
 
 The violator of the more facred laws of juilice 
 can never refledt on the fentiments which mankind 
 mull entertain with regard to him, without feeling 
 all the agonies of fhame, and horror, and confter- 
 nation. When his paflion is gratified, and he be- 
 gins coolly to refled upon his condudt, he can enter 
 into none of the motives w^hich influenced it. They 
 appear now as detellable to him as they did always 
 to other people. By fympathizing with the hatred 
 and abhorrence which other men mull entertain for 
 him, he becomes in fome meafure the obje<5t of his 
 own hatred and abhorrence. The fituation of the 
 perfon, who fuflfered by his injuflice, now calls upon 
 his pity. • He is grieved at the thought of it ; re- 
 grets the unhappy efFeds of his own condud, and 
 feels at the fame time that they have rendered him 
 the proper objed of the refentment and indignatiopx 
 
 K of 
 
i^o Of Merit and DexMERit. Part II, 
 
 of mankind, and of what is the natural confequence 
 of refentment, vengeance and punilliment. The 
 thought of this perpetually haunts him, and fills 
 him with terror and amazement. He dares no lon- 
 ger look fociety in the face, but imagines himfelf 
 as it were rejected, and thrown out from the affec- 
 tions of all mankind. He cannot hope for the con- 
 folation of fympathy in this his greateil, and moft 
 dreadful diftrefs. The remembrance of his crimes 
 has fhut out all fellow-feelings with him from 
 the hearts of his fellow-creatures. The fenti- 
 ments which they entertain with regard to him, are 
 the very thing which he is m.oil afraid of. Every 
 thing feems hoftile, and lie would be glad to fly to 
 fome inhofpitable defert, where he might nevermore 
 behold the face of a human creature, nor read in 
 the countenance of mankind the condemnation of 
 his crimes. But folitude is flill more dreadful than 
 fociety. His own thoughts can prefent him with 
 nothing but what is black, unfortunate, and difall- 
 rous, the melancholy forebodings of incomprehen- 
 fible mifery and ruin. The horror of folitude drives 
 him back into fociety, and he comes again into the 
 prefence of mankind, aflonifhed to appear before 
 them, loaded with fhame and diftradted with fear, 
 in order to fupplicate fome little protection from the 
 countenance of thofe very judges, w^ho he kno^v^ s 
 have already all unanimoufly condemned him. Such 
 is the nature of that fentiment, which is properly 
 called remorfe ; of all the fentiments which can en- 
 ter the human breaft the mofi: dreadful. It is made 
 up of fhame from the fenfe of the impropriety of 
 pafl conduct ; of grief for the effeds.of it ; of pity 
 for thofe who fuffer by it ; and of the dread and ter- 
 ror of punifhment from the confcioufnefs of the juft- 
 ly provoked refentment of all rational creatures. 
 
 The 
 
Sed. 2. 0/Merit ^;;^Demerit. 131 
 
 The oppofite behaviour naturally infpires the op- 
 pofite fentiment. The man who, not from frivo- 
 lous fancy, but from proper motives, has perform- 
 ed a generous adlion, when he looks forward to 
 thofe whom he has ferved, feels himfelf to be the 
 natural objed of their love and gratitude, and, by 
 fympathy with them, of the efteem and approba- 
 tion of all mankind. And when he looks back- 
 w^ard to the motive from which he atted, and fur- 
 veys it in the light in which the indifferent fpedator 
 will furvey it, he ftill continues to enter into it, and 
 applauds him.felf by fympathy with the approbation 
 of this fuppofed impartial judge. In both thefe 
 points of view his own condudl appears to him 
 every way agreeable. His mind, at the thought of 
 it, is filled with cheerfulnefs, ferenity, and compo- 
 fure. He is in friendfhip and harmony with all 
 mankind, and looks upon his fellow-creatures with 
 confidence and benevolent fatisfadtion, fecure that 
 he has rendered himfelf worthy of their moil favour- 
 able regards. In the combination of all thefe fenti- 
 ments confifts the confcioufnefs of merit, or of de- 
 fer ved reward. 
 
 K 2 CHAP, 
 
132 0/ Merit ^?;rf. Demerit. Part II. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the utility of this conftitiition of nature. 
 
 J[T is thus that man, who cain fubfiil only in lo- 
 ciety, \\as fitted by nature to that fituationfor whuch 
 he was made. All the members of human fociety 
 Hand in need of each others afliftance, and are like- 
 wife expofed to mutual injuries. Where thenecef- 
 fary afliftance is reciprocally afforded from love, 
 from gratitude, from friendfhip and efteem, the 
 fociety flourifhes and is happy. All the different 
 members of it are bound together by the agreeable 
 bands of love and affedtion, and are, as it were, 
 drawn to one common centre of mutual good of- 
 fices. 
 
 But though the neceffary affiftance fhould not be 
 afforded from fuch generous and difmterefted mo- 
 tives, though among the different members of the 
 fociety there fhould be no mutual love and affe(5tion, 
 the fociety, though lefs happy and agreeable, will 
 not necellarily be diffolved. Society may fubfift 
 among different men, as among different merchants, 
 from a fenfe of its utility, without any mutual love 
 or affection ; and though no man in it fhould owe 
 any obligation, or be bound in gratitude to any 
 other, it may ftill be upheld by a mercenary ex- 
 change of good offices according to an agreed va- 
 luation. 
 
 Society, 
 
Se£l. 2. 0/ Merit ^^^^ Demerit, 135 
 
 Society, however, cannot fubfift among thofe 
 who are at all times ready to hurt and injure one 
 another. The moment that injury begins, the mo- 
 ment that mutual i-eientment and animofity take 
 place, all the bands of it are broke afunder, and the 
 different members of which it confiiled are, as it 
 were, dillipated and fcattered abroad by the violence 
 and oppofition of their difcordant afFedlions. If 
 there is any fociety am.ong robbers and murderers, 
 they muft at lead, according to the trite obfervation, 
 abflain from robbing and murdering one another. 
 Beneficence, therefore, is lefs ellential to the exifl- 
 ence of fociety than jufllce. Society may fubfift, 
 though not in the mofh comfortable ftate, without 
 beneficence ; but the prevalence of injuflice muft 
 utterly deftroy it. 
 
 Though Nature, therefore, exhorts mankind to 
 adls of beneficence, by the pleafmg confcioufnefs of 
 deferved reward, flie has not thought it neceffary to 
 guard and enforce the practice of it by the terrors 
 of merited punifhment in cafe it fhould be ne«-ledt- 
 ed. It is the ornament which embeilifhes, not the 
 foundation which fupports the building, and which 
 it was, therefore, fufficient to recommend, but by 
 no means neceffary to impofe. Juftice, on the con- 
 trary, is the main pillar that upholds the whole edi- 
 fice. If it is removed, the great, thejmmenfe fa- 
 bric of human fociety, that fabric which ta raife and 
 fupport feems in this world, if I may fay fo, to have 
 been the peculiar and darling care of Nature, muft 
 in a moment crumble into atoms. In order to en- 
 force the obferv^ation of juftice, therefore, Nature 
 has implanted in the human breaft that confciouf- 
 nefs of ill-defert, thofe terrors of merited punifh- 
 
 K 3 ment 
 
134 0/ Merit ^w^Deme^rit. Part If . 
 
 ment which attend upon its violation, as the great 
 fafe-guards of the aflbciation of mankind, to pro- 
 ted the weak, to curb the violent, and to chaftife 
 the guilty. Men, though naturally fympathetic, feel 
 fo little for another, with whom they have no par- 
 ticular connexion, in comparifon for what they feel 
 for themfelves -, the mifery of one, who is merely 
 their fellow-creature, is of fo little im.portance ,to 
 them in comparifon even of a fmall conveniency of 
 their own ; they have it fo much in their power to 
 hurt him, and may have fo many temptations to 
 do fo, that if this principle did not {land up within 
 them in his defence, and overawe them into a re- 
 fpedl for his innocence, they would, like wild 
 beafls, be at all times ready to fly upon him ; and 
 a man would enter an aifembly of men as he enters 
 a den of hons. 
 
 In every part of the univerfe we obferve means 
 adjufted with the niceft artifice to the ends which 
 they are intended to produce -, and in the mecha- 
 nifm of a plant, or animal body, admire how every 
 thing is contrived for advancing the two great pur- 
 pofes of nature, the fupport of the individual, and 
 the propagation of the fpecies. But in thefe, and 
 in all fuch objeds, we flill dillinguifh the efficient 
 from the final caufe of their feveral motions and or- 
 ganizations. The digeftion of the food, the circu- 
 lation of the blood, and the fecretion of the feve- 
 ral juices which are drawn from it, are operations all 
 of them necelTary for the great purpofes of animal 
 life. Yet we never endeavour to account for them 
 from thofe purpofes as from their efficient caufes, 
 nor imagine that the blood circulates, or that the 
 food digeits of its own accord, and with a view or 
 
 intention 
 
Sed. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 135 
 
 intention to the purpofes of circulation or digeftion. 
 The wheels of the watch are all admirably adjufled 
 to tlie end for which it was made, the pointing of 
 the hour. All their various motions confpire in the 
 niceit manner to produce this effed. If they were 
 endowed with a defire and intention to produce it, 
 they could not do it better. Yet we never afcribe 
 any fuch defire or intention to them, but to the 
 watch-maker, and we know that they are put in mo- 
 tion by a fpring, which intends the effect it pro- 
 duces as little as they do. But though, in account- 
 ing for the operations of bodies, we never fail to 
 dillinguifh in this manner the efficient from the final 
 caufe, in accounting for thofe of the mind ,^ we are 
 very apt to confound thofe two different things with 
 one another. When by natural principles we are 
 led to advance thofe ends, which a refined and en- 
 lightened reafon Ihould recommend to us, we are 
 very apt to impute to that reafon, as to their efficient 
 caufe, the fentiments and adtions by which we ad- 
 vance thofe ends, and to imagine that ta-be the wif- 
 dom of man, which in reality is the wqfdom of God. 
 Upon a fuperficial view this caufe feems fufficient to 
 produce the effeds which are afcribed to it ; and the 
 fyftem of human nature feems to be more fimple 
 and agreeable when all its different operations are in 
 this manner deduced from a fingle principle. 
 
 As fociety cannot fubfifl unlefs the laws of juflice 
 are totally obferved, as no focial inter courfe can take 
 place among men who do not generally abftain 
 from injuring one another; the confideration of this 
 neceffity, it has been thought, was the ground upon 
 which we approved of the enforcement of the laws 
 of juflice by the punifhment of thofe who violated 
 
 K 4 them. 
 
136 0/ Merit ^w^ Demerit. Part II. 
 
 them. Man, it has been faid, has a natural love 
 for foclety, and defires that the union of mankind 
 fhould be preferved for its own fake, and though he 
 himfelf was to derive no benefit from it. The or- 
 derly and flourifhing flate of fociety is agreeable to 
 him, and he takes delight in contemplating it. Its 
 diforder and confufion, on the contrary, is the ob- 
 ject of his averfion, and he is chagrined at whatever 
 tends to produce it. He is fenfible too that his own 
 intereft is conneded with the profperity of fociety, 
 and that the happincfs, perhaps the prefervation of 
 his exiftence, depends upon its prefervation. Upon 
 every account, therefore, he has an abhorrence at 
 whatever can tend to deftroy fociety, and is willing 
 to make uie of every means, which can hinder fo 
 hated and fo dreadful an event. Injuflice necelTa- 
 rily tends to deftroy it. Every appearance of in- 
 juflice, therefore, alarms him, and he runs, if I may 
 fay fo, to ftop the progrefs of v/hat, if allowed to go 
 on, w^ould quickly put an end to every thing that is 
 dear to hite. If he cannot reftrain it by gentle and 
 fair means, he muft bear it dov/n by force and vio- 
 lence, and at any rate m.uft put a flop to its fur- 
 ther progrefs. Hence it is, they fay, that he often 
 approves of the enforcement of the lawof juftice 
 even by the capital punifhment of thofe who vio- 
 late them. The diilurber of the public peace is 
 hereby removed out of the v/orld, and others are 
 terrified by his fate from imitating his example. 
 
 Such is the account commonly given of our ap- 
 probation of the punifhment of injuftice. And fo 
 far this account is undoubtedly true, that we fre- 
 quently have occafion to confirm our natural fenfe 
 of the propriety and fitaefs of puaiiliment, by reflec- 
 ting 
 
Sedi. 2.. Of Merit ^//^/Demekit, 137 
 
 ting how necefTary it is for preferving the order of 
 fociety. When the guilty is about to fufFer that 
 juil retaliation, which the natural indignation of 
 mankind tells them is due to his crimes ; when the 
 infolence of his injuftice is broken and humbled by 
 the terror of his approaching punifhment -, when he 
 ceafes to be an objed of fear, with the generous and 
 humane he begins to be an obje<fl of pity. The 
 thought of what he is about to fufFer extinguifhes 
 their refentment for the fufFerings of others to which 
 he has given occafion. They are difpofed to par- 
 don and forgive him, and to fave him from that pu- 
 nilbment, which in all their cool hours they had con- 
 fidered as the retribution due to fuch crimes. Here, 
 therefore, they have occafion to call to their alTifl- 
 ance the confideration of the general intereft of fo- 
 ciety. They counterbalance the impalfe of this 
 weak and partial humanity by the dictates of a hu- 
 manity that is more generous and comprehenfive. 
 They reflect that mercy to the guilty is cruelty to 
 the innocent, and oppofe to the emotions of com- 
 panion which they feel for a particular perfon, a 
 more enlarged compaflion which they feel for man- 
 kind. 
 
 Sometimes too we have occafion to defend the 
 propriety of obferving the general rules of juflice by 
 the confideration of their necelTity to the fupport of 
 fociety. We frequently hear the young and the li- 
 centious ridiculing the moft facred rules of morality, 
 and profefling, fometimes from the corruption, but 
 more frequently from the vanity of their hearts, the 
 mofl abominable maxims of condudl. Our indig- 
 nation roufes, and we are eager to refute and ex- 
 pofe fuch deteflable principles. But though it is 
 
 their 
 
138 Of Merit and Dlmerit. Part If . 
 
 their intrinfic hatefulnefs and deteftablenefs, which 
 originally inflames us againft them, we are unwil- 
 Hng to aflign this as the fole real on why we con-^ 
 demn them, or to pretend that it is merely becaufe 
 we ourfeives hate anddetefl them. The reafon, we 
 think, would not appear to be conclufive. Yet 
 why lliould it not ; if we hate and deteft them be- 
 caufe they are the natural and proper objects of ha- 
 tred and deteftation ? But v/hen we are aficed why 
 we fhould not a6l in fuch or fuch a manner, the 
 very queflion feems to fuppofe that, to thofe who 
 afk it, this manner of ading does not appear to be 
 for its own fake the natural and proper objedt of 
 thofe fentiments. We muft fhow them, therefore, 
 that it ought to be fo for the fake of fomething elfe. 
 Upon this account we generally call about for other 
 arguments, and the confideration which fnfl occurs 
 to us is the diforder and confufion of fociety which 
 would refult from the univerfal prevalence of fuch 
 pradtices. We feldom fail, therefore, to infifl upon 
 this topic. 
 
 But though it commonly requires no great dif- 
 cernment to fee the deftrudive tendency of all li- 
 centious pradices to the welfare of fociety, it is fel- 
 dom this confideration which firfl animates us a- 
 gainfl them. All men, even the mod flupid and 
 unthinking, abhor fraud, perfidy, and injuftice, and 
 delight to fee them punifhed. But few men have re- 
 fleded upon the neceility of juftice to the exiflence of 
 fociety, how obvious foever that neceflity may ap- 
 pear to be. 
 
 That it is not a regard to the prefervation of fo- 
 ciety, which originally interefts us in the punifhment 
 
 of 
 
Sed. 2. Of Merit and Demerit: 159 
 
 of crimes committed againfl individuals, may be de- 
 monflrated by many obvious confiderations. The 
 concern which we take in ^'-e fortune and happinefs 
 of individuals does not, in common cafes, arife from 
 that which we take in the fortune and happinefs of 
 fociety. We are no more concerned for the de- 
 itrudtion or lofs of a fingle m.an, becaufe this man is 
 - a member or part of fociety, and becaufe we fhould 
 be concerned for the deflrudion of fociety, than we 
 are concerned for the lofs of a fmgle guinea, becaufe 
 this guinea is a part of a thoufand guineas, and be- 
 caufe we fhould be concerned for the lofs of the 
 whole fum. In neither cafe does our regard for the 
 individuals arife from our regard for the multitude : 
 but in both cafes our regard for the multitude is 
 compounded and made up of the particular regards 
 which we feel for the different individuals of which 
 it is ccmpofed. As when a fmall fum is unjuftly 
 taken from us we do not fo much profecute the in- 
 jury from a regard to the prefervation of our whole 
 fortune, as from a regard to that particular fum 
 which we have loft ; fo when a fingle man is injured 
 or deftroyed, we demand the punifhment of the 
 wrong that has been done to him, not fo much from 
 a concern for the general intereft of fociety, as from 
 a concern for that very individual who has been in- 
 jured. It is to be obferved, however, that this 
 concern does not necelfarily include in it any degree 
 of thofe exquifite fentiments which are commonly 
 called love, edeem, and aifedion, and by which we 
 diltinguifh our particular friends and acquaintance. 
 The concern which is requifite for this is no more 
 than the general fellow-feeling which we have with 
 every man merely becaufe he is our fellow-creature. 
 We enter into the refentment even of an odious per- 
 
 fon, 
 
140 0/ Merit and Demerit, PartIL 
 
 ion, when he is injured by thofe to vvh.om he has 
 given no provocation. Our difapprobation of his 
 ordinary charadter and conduct, does not in this 
 cafe altogether prevent our fellow-feeling with his 
 natural indignation •, though with thofe who are not 
 either extremely candid, or who have not been ac- 
 cuftomed to correal and regulate their natural fenti- 
 ments by general rules, it is very apt to damp it. 
 
 Upon fome occafions, indeed, we both punifh 
 and approve of punifhment, merely from a view to 
 the general intereit of fociety, v.hich, v/e imagine, 
 cannot otherwife be fecured. Of this kind are all 
 the punifhments infilcled for breaches of what is 
 called either civil police, or military dlfcipline. Such 
 crimes do not immediately or directly hurt any par- 
 ticular perfon ; but their remote confequences, it is 
 fuppofed, do produce, or might produce, either a 
 confiderable inconveniency, or a great diforder in 
 the fociety. A centinel, for example, v/ho falls afleep 
 upon his watch, faffers death by the law of v/ar, be- 
 caufe fuch careleiTnefs miglit endanger the whole ar- 
 my. This feverity may, upon many occafions, ap- 
 pear neceifary, and, for that reafon, juft and proper. 
 When the prefervation of an individual is incon- 
 fiftent with the fafety of a multitude, nothing can be 
 more juft than that the many fhould be preferred to 
 the one. Yet this punifhment, how neceilary fo- 
 ever, always appears to be exceflively fevere. The 
 natural atrocity of the crime feems to be fo little, 
 and the punidiment fo great, that it is with great 
 difficulty that our hearts can reconcile itfelf to it. 
 Though fuch careleiTnefs appears very blamable, 
 yet the thought of this crime does not naturally ex- 
 cite any fuch refentment, as would prompt us to 
 
 take 
 
Sed. 2. 0/ Merit and Demerit. 141 
 
 take fuch dreadful revenge. A man of humanitj 
 mufl: recoUedl himfelf, mufc make an effort, and ex- 
 ert his whole iirmnefs and refclution, before he can 
 bring himfelf either to inflxl it, or to go along with 
 it when it is inflidled by others. It is not, however, 
 in this manner, that he looks upon the juft puniili- 
 ment of an ungrateful mAirderer or parricide. His 
 heart, in this cafe, applauds with ardour, and even 
 with tranfport, the juil retaliation which feems due 
 to fuch deteftable crimes, and which, if, by any ac- 
 cident, they fhouid happen to efcape, he would be 
 highly enraged and difappointed. The very differ- 
 ents fentiment ^vith which the fpectator views thofe 
 different punirhments, is a proof that his approba- 
 tion of the one is far from being founded upon 
 the fame principles with that of the other. He looks 
 upon the centinel as an unfortunate victim, who, in- 
 deed, mud, and ought to be, devoted to the fafety 
 of numbers, but whom Hill, in his heart, he would 
 be glad to fave ; and he is only forty, that the inter- 
 eft of the many fhouid oppofe it. Buf if the mur- 
 derer fhouid efcape from punilhment, it would ex- 
 cite his highefl indignation, and he would call upon 
 God to avenge, in another world, that crime which 
 the injuftice of mankind had negledted to chaftife 
 upon earth. 
 
 For it well defei'ves to be taken notice of, that we 
 are fo far from imagining that injuftice ought to be 
 punifhed in this life, merely on account of the or- 
 der of fociety, which cannot otherwife be maintain- 
 ed, tliat Nature teaches us to hope, and religion, we 
 iuppofe, authorizes us to exped, that it will be pu- 
 nifhed, even in a life to come. Our fenfe of its ill 
 defert purfues it, if I may fay fo, even beyond the 
 
 grave, 
 
142 0/ Merit rt;/^ Demerit. Part II. 
 
 grave, though the example of its ]:)iinirhment there 
 cannot ferve to deter the rell of mankind, who fee 
 it not, who know it not, from being guilty of the 
 like practices here. The juilice of God, however, 
 we think, ftill requires, that he fliould hereafter 
 avenge the injuries of the widow and the fatherlefs, 
 who are here ib often infulted with impunity. 
 
 That the Deity loves virtue and hates vice, as a 
 voluptuous man loves riches and hates poverty, not 
 for their own fakes, but for the effeds which they 
 tend to produce ^ that he loves the one, only becaufe 
 it promotes the happinefs of fociety, which his be- 
 nevolence prompts him to defire •, and that he hates 
 the other, only becaufe it occafionsthe miferyof man- 
 kind, which the fame divine quality renders the ob- 
 jedt of his averfion ; is not the dodrine of untaught 
 nature, but of an artificial refinement of reafon and 
 philofophy. Our untaught, natural fentiments, all 
 prompt us to believe, that as perfed virtue is fup- 
 pofed neceiTarily to appear to the Deity, as it does 
 to us, for its own fake, and without any further 
 view, the natural and proper objedt of love and re- 
 ward, fo mufl vice, of hatred and punifhment. 
 That the gods neither refent nor hurt, was the ge- 
 neral maxim of all the different feds of the ancient 
 philofophy : and if, by refenting, be underftood, 
 that violent and diforderly perturbation, which often 
 diftracts and confounds the human breaft -, or if, by 
 hurting, be underftood, the doing mifchief wanton- 
 ly, and without regard to propriety or juftice, fuch 
 weaknefs is undoubtedly unworthy of the divine 
 perfection. But if it be meant, that vice does not 
 appear to the Deity to be, for its own fake, the ob- 
 jedt of abhorrence and averfion, and what, for its 
 
 own 
 
Seel. 2. 0/ Merit ^w^Demerit. 143 
 
 own fake, it is fit and right (liould be puniilied, the 
 truth of this maxim feems repugnant to fome very 
 natural feelings. If we confult our natural fenti- 
 ments, we are even apt to fear, left, before the ho- 
 linefsof God, vice fhould appear to be more worthy 
 of punifhment than the weaknefs and imperfedion 
 of human virtue can ever feem to be of rewai-d. 
 Man, when about to appear before a Being of infi- 
 nite perfedion, can feel but little confidence in his 
 own merit, or in the imperfed propriety of his own 
 condu6t. In the prefence of his fellow-creatures, he 
 may even juftly elevate himfelf, and may often have 
 reafon to think highly of his own charatler and con- 
 dud, compared to the ftill greater imperfedion of 
 theirs. But the cafe is quite different when about to 
 appear before his infinite Creator. To fuch a Be- 
 ing, he fears, that his littlenefs and weaknefs can 
 fcarce ever appear the proper objed, either of ef- 
 teem or of reward. But he can eafily conceive, 
 how the numberlefs violations of duty, of which he 
 has been guilty, fhould render him the proper objed 
 of averiion and punifhment ; and he thinks he can 
 fee no reafon why the divine indignation fhould not 
 be let loofe without any reftraint, upon fo vile an in- 
 fed, as he imagines that he himfelf muft appear to 
 be. If he would flill hope for happinefs, he fufpeds 
 that he cannot demand it from the juflice, but that 
 he muft entreat it from the mercy of God. Repent- 
 ance, forrow, humility, contrition at the thought of 
 his pall condud, feem, upon this account, the fen- 
 timents which become him, and to be the only 
 means which he has left for appeafing that wrath 
 which, he knows, he has juftly provoked. He 
 even diftrufts the efficacy of all thefe, and naturally 
 fears, left the wifdom of God fhould not, like the 
 
 w^eaknefs 
 
144- 0/ Merit andDLUERir. Part II. 
 
 weaknefs of man, be prevailed upon to fpare the 
 crime by the moil importunate lamentations of the 
 criminal. Some other interceflion, fome other fa- 
 crifice, fome other atonement, he imagines muft be 
 made for him, beyond what he himfelf is capable of 
 making, before the purity of the divinejufhice can be 
 reconciled to his manifold offences. The dodlrines 
 of revelation coincide, in every refpe<fl, with thofe 
 original anticipations of nature ; and as they teach us 
 how little we can depend upon the imperfedion of 
 our own virtue, fo they fhow us, at the fame time, 
 that the mod powerful interceflion has been made, 
 and that the moft dreadful atonement has been paid 
 for our manifold tranfgreflions and iniquities. 
 
 SEC- 
 
Sed. 3- 0/ Merit WDemerit* 145 
 
 SECTION ilL 
 
 Of the influence of fortune upon the fentiments of 
 mankind, with regard to the merit or demerit of 
 ad ions. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 w, 
 
 HATEVER praife or blame can be due to 
 any adlion, muft belong either, firll, to the intention 
 or affedion of the heart, from which it proceeds; 
 or, fecondly, to the external adion or movement of 
 the body, which this afFedion gives occafionto; or, 
 lafl, to all the good or bad confequences, which ac- 
 tually, and in fad, proceed from it. Thefe three 
 different things conllitute the whole nature and cir- 
 cumflances of the adion, and muit be the foundation 
 of 'whatever quality can belong to it. 
 
 That the two laft of thefe three circumftances can- 
 not be the foundation of any praife or blame, is abun- 
 dantly evident ; nor has the contrary ever been af- 
 ferted by any body. The external adion or move- 
 ment of the body is often the fame in the .mod in- 
 nocent and in the moil blamable adions. " He who 
 (hoots a bird, and he who (hoots a man, both of them 
 
 I^ perforin 
 
146 Of Merit ^^^ Demerit. Pai't IL 
 
 perform the fame external movement : each of them 
 drav/s the tricker of a gun. The confequences 
 which adlually, and in fadl, happen to proceed from 
 any adion, are, if poilibie, fbili more indifferent 
 either to praife or blame, thatl even the e:j{ternal 
 movement of the body. As they depend, not up- 
 on the agent, but upon fortune, they cannot be the 
 proper foundation for any fentiment, of which his 
 characfler and condu6t are the ohjedts. 
 
 The only confequences for which he can be ati- 
 fwerable, or by which he can deferve either approba- 
 tion or difapprobation of any kind, are thofe which 
 were fome way or other intended, or thofe which, 
 at leaft, fhow fome agreeable or difagreeable quality 
 in the intention of the heart, from which he aded. 
 To the intention or affedion of the heart, therefore, 
 to the propriety or impropriety, to the beneficence 
 or hurtfulnefs of the defign, all praife or blame, all 
 approbation or difapprobation, of any kind, which 
 can juftly be beflowed upon any adion, mufh ulti- 
 mately belong. 
 
 When this maxim is thus propoted in abftrad and 
 general terms, there is no body who does not agree 
 to it. Its felf-evident juflice is acknowledged by 
 all the v/orld, and there is not a diflenting voice 
 among all mankind. Every 'body allows, that how 
 * different foever the accidental, the unintended and 
 unforefeen confequences of different adions, yet, if 
 the intentions or affedions from which they arofe 
 were, on the one Hand, equally proper and equally 
 beneficent, or, on the other, equally improper and 
 equally malevolent, the merit or demerit of the ac- 
 tions is ilill the fame, aiid the agent is equally the 
 fuitable objed either of gratitude or of refentment. 
 
 But 
 
Sed. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. f4y 
 
 But how well foever v/e may feem to be perfuad- 
 ed of the truth of this equitable maxim, when we 
 confider it after this manner, in abflradl, yet when 
 we come to particular cafes, the adtual confequences 
 which happen to proceed from any adtion, have a 
 very great effedt upon our fentiments concerning its 
 merit or demerit, and almofb always either enhance 
 or diminifh our fenfe of both. Scarce, in any one 
 inllance, perhaps, will our fentiments be found, af- 
 ter examination, to be entirely regulated by this^ 
 rule, which we all acknowledge ought entirely to 
 regulate them. 
 
 This irregularity of fentiment, which every body 
 feels, which fcarce any body is fufficiently aware of, 
 and whicH no body is willing to acknowledge, I pro- 
 ceed now to explain ; and I fhall confider, firft, the 
 caufe which gives occafion to it, or the mechanifm' 
 by which nature produces it ; fecondly, the extent 
 of its influence; and, laft of all, the end which it 
 anfwers, or the purpofe which the Author of nature 
 feerns to have intended by it. 
 
 La chap: 
 
148 Of Merit and Deuekit. Part II. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the caufes of this mfliience of fortune. 
 
 
 A HE caufes of pain and pleafure, whatever they 
 are, or however they operate, feem to be the objeds, 
 which, in all animals, immediately excite thofe two 
 pafTions of gratitude and refentment. They are ex- 
 cited by inanimated, as well as by animated objects. 
 We are angry, for a moment, even at the ftone that 
 hurts us. A child beats it, a dog barks at it, a cho- 
 leric man is apt to curfe it. The leafl refle(f>ion, in- 
 deed, corrects this fentiment, and we foon become 
 fenfible, that what has no feeling is a very improper 
 objedt of revenge. When the mifchief, however, 
 is very great, the objed: which caufed it becomes 
 difagreeable to us ever after, and we take pleafure 
 to burn or deflroy it. We fhould treat, in this man- 
 ner, the inftrument which had accidentally been the 
 caufe of the death of a friend, and we fhould often 
 think ourfelves guilty of a fort of inhumanity, if 
 we negledled to vent this abfurd fort of vengeance 
 upon it. 
 
 We conceive, in the fame manner, a fort of gra- 
 titude for thofe inanimated objeds, which have been 
 the caufes of great, or frequent pleafure to us. The 
 failor, who, as foon as he got afhore, fhould mend 
 his fire with the plank upon which he had jufl ef- 
 
 caped 
 
Sed. 3. 0/ Merit ^w^/ Demerit. 149 
 
 caped from a fhipwreck, would feem to be guilty 
 of an unnatural adion. We (liould exped that he 
 would rather preferve it with care and affedion, as 
 a monument that was, in lome meafure, dear to 
 him. A man grows fond of a fnufF-box, of a pen- 
 knife, of a ftaff which he has long made ufe of, and 
 conceives fomething like a real love and affedion 
 for them. If he breaks or lofes them, he is vexed 
 out of all proportion to the value of the damage. 
 The houfe which we have long lived in, the tree, 
 whofe verdure and (hade we ha\« long enjoyed, 
 are both looked upon with a fort of refped that 
 feems due to fuch benefadors. The decay of the 
 one, or the ruin of the other, affeds us with a kind 
 of melancholy, though we fhould fuflain no lofs by 
 it. The Dryads and the Lares of the ancients, a 
 fort of genii of trees and houfes, were probably iirft 
 fuggeiled by this fort of affedion, which the authors 
 of thofe fuperftitions felt for fuch objeds, and which 
 feemed unreafonable, if there was nothing animated 
 about them. 
 
 But', before any thing can be the proper objed of 
 gratitude or refentment, it muft not only be the 
 caufe of pleafure or pain, it muft likewife be capa- 
 ble of feeling them. Without this other quality, 
 thofe paliions cannot vent themfelves with any fort 
 of fatisfadion upon it. As they are excited by the 
 caufes of pleafure and pain, fo their gratification 
 confifts in retaliating thofe fenfations upon what 
 gave occafion to them ; which it is to no purpofe to 
 attempt upon what has no fenfibility. Animals, 
 therefore, are lefs improper objeds of gratitude and 
 refentment than inanimated objeds. The dog that 
 bites, the ox that gores, are both of them puniflied. 
 
 L3 If 
 
^\SQ 0/^ Merit mtd Demerit. Part 11, 
 
 If they have ^ been the caufes of the death of any per- 
 son, neither the piibhc, nor the relations of the flain, 
 ,can be fatisfied, unlefs they are put to death in their 
 ,turn : nor is this merely for the fecurity of the liv- 
 ing, but in fome meafure, to revenge the injury of 
 ,the dead, Thofe animals, on the contrary, that 
 have been remarkably ferviceable to their rnafters, 
 jbecomie the objeds of a very lively gratitude. We 
 are fhocked at the brutality of that officer, mention- 
 ^ed in the Turkifh Spy, \vho flabbed the horfe that 
 ^had carried him a-crofs an arm of the fea, left that 
 animal fliould afterwards diftinguifa fome ether per- 
 fon by a fimilar adventure. 
 
 But, though animals are not only the caufes of 
 pleafure and pain, but are alfo capable of feeling 
 , thofe, fenfations, they are flill far from being com- 
 plete and perfedl objeds, either of gratitude or re- 
 fentment • and thqfe paffions flill feel, that there is 
 fomething wanting to their entire gratification. What 
 gratitude chiefly defires, is not only to make the 
 benefador feel pleafure in his turn, but to make him 
 confcious that he meqts with this reward on account 
 (C^f his p'4(l condud, to make him plea fed with that 
 cqndud, and to fatisfy him that the perfqn upon 
 )\^hom he beflowed his good offices was ^not unwor-i 
 thy qfthem. What moil qf all charms us in our 
 ;benefadtor, is the concord between his fentiments 
 and our own, with regard to what intereils us fo near- 
 ly as Uie worth of our own character, and the efteem 
 that is due to us. We are delighted to find a per- 
 fon who values us as well as we value ourfelves, and 
 diftinguiihes us from the reft of mankind, with an 
 attention not unlike that with which we diftinguifn 
 ourfelves. To maintain in him thefe agreeable and flat- 
 tering 
 
Sedl. 3. . (y Merit <^;/^ Demerit. 151 
 
 tering fentiments, is one of the chief ends propofed 
 by the returns wc are difpofed to make to him. A 
 generous mind often difdains the jntereiled thought 
 of extorting new favours from its bene;fadtor, by 
 what may be called the importunities of its grati- 
 tude. But to preierye and to increafe his elleem, 
 is an intereft which the greateft mind does not think 
 unworthy of its attention. And this is the founda- 
 tion of what I formerly obferved, that when we 
 cannot enter into the motives of our benefador, 
 when his condu(5l and charader appear unworthy of 
 our approbation, let his fervices have been ever fo 
 great, our gratitude is always fenfibly diminifhed. 
 We are lefs flattered by the diilin<5tion ; and to pre- 
 ferve the efteem of fo weak, or fo worthlefs a pa- 
 ti'on, feems to be an object which does not deferve 
 to be purfued for its own fake. 
 
 The objedt, on the contrary, wliich refentment 
 is chiefly intent upon, is not fo much to make our 
 enemy feel pain in his turn, as to make him con- 
 fcious that he feels it upon account of his paft con- 
 dud, to make him repent of that condud, and to 
 make him fenfible, that the perfon whom he injur- 
 ed did not deferve to be treated in that manner. 
 What chiefly enrages us againfl: the man who in- 
 jures or infults us, is the little account which he 
 feems to make of us, the unreafonable preference 
 which he gives to himfelf above us, and that abfurd 
 felf-love, by which he feems to imagine, that other 
 people may be facrificed at any time, to his conve- 
 niency or his humour. The glaring impropriety of 
 this condud, the grofs infolence and injuftice which 
 it feems to involve in it, often fliock and exafperate 
 us more than all the mifchief which we have fuffered. 
 
 L 4 To 
 
152 0/ Merit ^«^ Demerit. Part 11.^ 
 
 To bring him back to a more juft fenfe of what is 
 due to other people, to make him fenfible of what 
 he owes us, and of the wrong that he has done to 
 us, is frequently the principal end propofed in our 
 revenge, which is always imperfedt when it cannot 
 accomplifh this. When our enemy appears to have 
 done us no injury, when we are fenfible that he ad- 
 ed quite properly, that, in his fituation, we fhould 
 have done the fame thing, and that we deferved 
 from him all the mifchief wemet with; in that cafe, 
 if we have the leaft fpark either of candour or juft ice, 
 we can entertain no fort of refentment. 
 
 Before any thing, therefore, can be the complete 
 and proper objed, either of gratitude or refent- 
 ment, it muft poffefs three different qualifications. 
 Firft, it muft be the caufe of pleafure in the one cafe, 
 and of pain in the other. Secondly, it muft be ca- 
 pable of feeling thofe fenfations. And, thirdly, it 
 muft not only have produced thofe fenfations, but 
 it muft have produced them from defign, and from 
 a defign that is approved of in the one cafe, and 
 difapproved of in the other. It is by the lirft quali- 
 fication, that any objedt is capable of exciting thofe 
 pallions : it is by the fecond, that it is in any refpedt 
 capable of gratifying them : the third qualification is 
 both negeftary for their complete fatisfadtion, and as 
 it gives a pleafure or pain that is both exquifite and 
 peculiar, it is likewife an additional exciting caufe of 
 thofe pallions, 
 
 As what gives pleafure or pain, therefore, either 
 in one way or another, is the fole exciting caufe of 
 gratitude and refentment; though the intencions of 
 jany perfon ftiould be ever fo proper and benefi- 
 cent. 
 
Sed. 3. 0/ Merit t?;?^ Demerit. 153 
 
 cent, on the one hand, or ever fo improper and ma- 
 levolent on the other -, yet, if he has failed in pro- 
 ducing either the good or evil which he intended, as 
 one of the exciting caufes is wanting in both cafes, 
 lefs gratitude feems due to him in the one, and lefs 
 refentment in the other. And, on the contrary, 
 though in the intentions of any perfon, there was 
 either no laudable degree of benevolence on the one 
 .hand, or no blamable degree of malice on the other ; 
 yet, if his adliuns fhould produce either great good 
 or great evil, as one of the exciting caufes takes 
 place upon both thefe occafions, fome gratitude is 
 apt to arife towards him in the one, and fome re- 
 fentment in the other. A fhadow of merit feems to 
 fall upon him in the firft, a fhadow of demerit in the 
 fecond. And, as the confequences of actions are al- 
 together under the empire of Fortune, hence arifes 
 her influence upon the fentiments of mankind, with 
 regard to merit and demerit. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
154 0/Merit rt;/^DEMERiT. Part II. 
 
 C H A P. II. 
 
 Of the extent of this influence of fortune. 
 
 T, 
 
 H E effect of this influence of fortune is, firft^ 
 to diminilli our fenfe of the merit or demerit of thofe 
 actions which arofe from the mofl laudable or blam- 
 able intentions, when they fail of producing their 
 propofed effects : and, fecondiy, to encreafe our 
 fenfe of the merit or demerit of adions, beyond 
 what is due to the motives or affedtions froi^i 
 which they proceed, when they accidentally give 
 occafion either to extraordinary pleafure or pain. 
 
 I. Firft, I fay, though the intentions of any perfon 
 Ihould be ever fo proper and beneficent, on the 
 one hand, or ever fo improper and malevolent, on 
 the other, yet, if they fail in producing their effeds, 
 his merit feems imperfect in the one cafe, and his 
 demerit incomplete in the other. Nor is this irregu- 
 larity of fentiment felt only by thofe who are imme-^ 
 diately affefted by the confequences of any action. 
 It is felt, in fome meafure, even by the impartial 
 fpedtator. The man who folicits an office for ano- 
 ther, without obtaining it, is regarded as his friend, 
 and feems to defer ve his love and affedtion. But the 
 man who not only folicits, but procures it, is more 
 peculiarly confidered as his patron and benefactor, 
 and is entitled to his refpedt and gratitude. The 
 perfon obliged, we are apt to think, may with fome 
 
 juftice, 
 
Sed. 3. 0/Merit and Demerit. 155 
 
 juftlce, imagine himfelf on a level with the firft : 
 but we cannot enter into his fentiments, if he does 
 not feel himfeif inferior to the fecond. It is com- 
 mon indeed to fay, that we are equally obliged to 
 the man who has endeavoured to ferve us, as to 
 him v/ho adually did fo. It is the fpeech which we 
 conftantly make upon every unfuccefsful attempt of 
 this kind ; but v/h^ch, like all otlier fine fpeeches, 
 mufl be underflood with a grain of allowance. The 
 fentiments which a man of generofity entertains for 
 the friend who fails, may often indeed be nearly the 
 fame with thofe v/hich he conceives for him who _ 
 fucceeds : and the more generous he is, the more 
 nearly will thofe fentiments approach to an exadt 
 level. With the truly generous, to be beloved, to 
 be efbeemed by thofe whom they themfelves tliink 
 worthy of efteem, gives more pleafure, and thereby 
 excites more gratitude, than all the advantages 
 which they can ever expert from thofe fentiments. 
 When they lofe thofe advantages therefore, they 
 feem to lofe but a trifle, which is fcarce worth re- 
 garding. They flill however lofe fomething. Their • 
 pleafure therefore, and confequently their gratitude, 
 is not perfedlly complete : and accordingly if, be- 
 tween the friend who fails and the friend v/ho fuc- 
 ceeds, all other circumftances are equal, there will, 
 even in the nobleft and the befl mind, be fome little 
 difference of affection in favour of him who fuc- 
 ceeds. Nay, fo unjull are mankind in this rcfpecfl, 
 that though the intended benefit fhould be procured, 
 yet if it is not procured by the means of a particular 
 benefa(ftor, they are apt to think that lefs gratitude 
 is due to the man, who with the befl intentions in 
 the world could do no more than help it a little for- 
 ward. As their gratitude is in this cafe divided 
 
 among 
 
1 56 Of Me r I T and Demerit. Part H. 
 
 among the different perfons who contributed to 
 their pleafure, a fmallrr fhare of itfeems due to any 
 one. Such a perfon, we hear men commonly fay, 
 intended no doubt to ferve us ; and we really be- 
 lieve exerted himfelf to the utmoft of his abilities 
 for that purpofe. We are not, hov/ever, obliged to 
 him for this benefit ; fmce had it not been for the 
 concurrence of others, all that he could have done 
 would never have brought it about. This confide- 
 ration, they imagine, fhould, even in the eyes of the 
 impartial fpedlator, diminifh the debt which they 
 owe to hirn. The perfon himfelf v/ho has unfuccefs- 
 fully endeavoured to confer a benefit, has by no 
 means the fame dependency upon the gratitude of 
 the man whom he meant to oblige, nor the fame 
 fenfe of his own merit towards him, which he would 
 have had in the cafe of fuccefs. 
 
 Even the merit of talents and abilities which fome 
 accident has hindered from producing Meir efFeds, 
 feems in fome mcafure imperfe(!l, even to thofe who 
 are fully convinced of their capacity to produce 
 them. The general who has been hindered by the 
 envy of miniflers from gaining fome great advan- 
 tao-e over the enemies of his country, regrets the 
 lof^ of the opportunity for ever after. Nor is it 
 only upon account of the public that he regrets it. 
 He laments that he was hindered from performing 
 an action which would have added a new luftre to 
 his character in his own eyes, as well as in thofe of 
 every other perfon. It fatisfies neither himfelf nor 
 otiiers to refled that the plan or defign was all that 
 depended on him, that no greater capacity was re- 
 quired to execute it than what was neceffary to con- 
 cert it • that he v/as allowed to be every way capa- 
 ble 
 
Se<fl. 3- 0/ Merit ^;?^ Demerit. 157 
 
 bie of executing it, and that had he been permitted 
 to go on, fucceis was infallible. He iiill did not 
 execute it ; and though he might defer ve all tliC ap- 
 probation which is due to a magnanimous and great 
 defign, he flill wanted the adlual merit of having 
 performed a great a6lion. To take the management 
 of any affair of public concern from the man who has 
 almofh brought it to a conclufion, is regarded as the 
 moil invidious injuflice. As he had done fomuch, 
 he (liould, we think, have been allowed to acquire 
 the complete m.erit of putting an end to it. It was 
 objeded to Pomoey, that he came in upon the victo- 
 ries of Lucullus, and gathered thofe laurels which 
 were due to the fortune and valour of another. The 
 glory of Lucullus, it Teems, was lefs complete even 
 in the opinion of his own friends, when he was not 
 permitted to finilh that conquell which his condudt 
 and courage had put in the power of almofh any man 
 to finifh. It mortifies an architedl when his plans are 
 either not executed at all, or when they are fo far al- 
 tered as to fpoil the effedl of the building. The plan, 
 however, is all that depends upon the architedl. The 
 whole of his genius is, to good judges, as complete- 
 ly difcovered in that as in the acluai execution. But 
 a plan does not, even to the mofl intelligent, give 
 tlie fame pleafure as a noble and magnificent build- 
 ing. They may difcover as much both of tafle and 
 genius in the one as in the other. But their effedts 
 are ftill vaftly different, and the amufem.ent derived 
 from the firft, never approaches to the wonder and 
 admiration which are fometimes excited by the fe- 
 cond. We may believe of many men, that their 
 talents are fuperior to thofe of Caefar and Alexander ; 
 and that in the fame lituations they would perform 
 flill greater adions. la the mean time, however, 
 
 we 
 
15^ 0/ Merit ^W Demerit. Part II. 
 
 we do not behold them with that aflonifnment and 
 admiration with whidh thofe two heroes have been 
 regarded in all ages and nations. The calm judg- 
 ments of the mind may approve of them more, but 
 they v/ant the fplendor of great adions to dazzle and 
 tranfport it. The fuperiority of virtues and ^talents 
 have not, even upon thofe who acknowledge that 
 fuperiority, the fame effecfl ^^ith the fuperiority of 
 atchievements. 
 
 As the merit of an unfuccefsful attempt to do good 
 feems thus, m the eyes of ungrateful mankind, 
 to be diminifhed by the mifcarriage, fo does like- 
 wife the demerit of an unfuccefsful attempt to do evil. 
 The defign to commit a crime, how clearly foever 
 it may be proved, is fcarceever punifhed with the 
 fame fe verity as the adual commiflion of it. The 
 cafe of treafon is perhaps the only exception. That 
 crime immediately afFedting the being of the govern- 
 ment itfelf, the government is naturally more jealous 
 of it than of any other. In the punifhment of trea- 
 fon, the fovereign refents the injuries which are im- 
 mediately done to himfelf : in the punifhment of 
 other crimes, he refents thofe which are done to other 
 men. It is his own refentment which he indulges in 
 the one cafe : it is that of his fubjeds which by 
 fympalhy he enters into it in the other. In the 
 firft cafe, therefore, as he judges in his own caufe, 
 he is very apt to be more violent and fanguinary in 
 his punifhments than the impartial fpedator can ap- 
 prove of. His refentrhent too rifes here upon fmaller 
 occafions, and does not always, as in other cafes, 
 wait for the perpetration of the crime, or even for 
 the attempt to commit it. A treafonable concert, 
 though nothing has been done, or even attempted in 
 confequence of it, nay, a treafonable converfation, 
 
 is 
 
Sedt. 3. 0/ Merit rt7/<^ Demerit. 159 
 
 is in many countries punifhed in the fame manner as 
 the adlual commiHion of treafon. With regard to 
 all other crimes, the mere defign, upon v/hich no 
 attempt has followed, is feldom puniihed at all, and 
 is never punimed feverely. A criminal defign, and 
 a criminal action, it may be faid indeed, do not ne- 
 ceifarily fuppofe thjs fame degree of depravit)', and 
 ought not therefore to be fubjeded to the fame pu- 
 nirhment. We are capable, it may be faid, of re- 
 folving, and even of taking meafures to execute, 
 many things which, when it comes to the point, v/e 
 feel ourfelves altogether incapable of executino-. 
 But this reafon can have no place v/hen the de- 
 fign has been carried the length of the lad attempt. 
 The man, hovt^ever, who fires a piftol at his enemy, 
 but miffes him, is puniihed with death by the laws 
 of fcarce any country. By the old law of Scotland^ 
 though he fhould wound him, yet, unlefs death en- 
 fues within a certain time, the alfairm is not liable to 
 the laft punifhment, The refentment of mankind, 
 ' however, runs fo high againil this crime, their terror 
 for the man who fhows himfelf capable of commit- 
 ting it, is fo great, that the mere attempt to commit 
 it ought in all countries to be capital. The attempt 
 tocoiTimit fmaller crimes is alm.oft always punifhed 
 very lightly, and fometimes is not punifhed at all. 
 The thief, whofe hand has been caught in his neigh- 
 bour's pocket^before he had taken any thing out of 
 it, is punifhed with ignominy only. If he had got 
 time to take away an handkerchief, he would have 
 been put to death. The houfe- breaker, wlio has 
 been found fetting a ladder to his neighbour's win- 
 dow, but had not got into it, is not expofed to the 
 capital punifhment. The attempt to ravifh is not 
 punifhed as a rape. The attempt to feduce a mar- 
 ried 
 
1 6a O/' Merit (7;/^ Demerit. Part IL 
 
 ried woman is not pimifhed at all, though fedudtion 
 is punifhed feverely. Our refentment againft the 
 perTon who only attempted to do a mifchief, is fei- 
 dom fo ftrong as to bear us out in infliding the fame 
 punilTiment upon him, which we fhould have thought 
 due if he had adtually done it. In the one cafe, th^ 
 joy of our deliverance alleviates our fenfe of the atro- 
 city of his condudt ; in the other, the grief of our 
 misfortune increafes it. His real demerit, however, 
 is undoubtedly the fame in both cafes, fmce his inten- 
 tions were equally criminal : and there is in this ref- 
 pedt, therefore, an irregularity in the fentiments of 
 all men, and a confequent relaxation of difcipline in 
 the laws of, I believe, all nations, of the mofi: civiliz- 
 ed, as well as of the moft barbarous. Thu humani- 
 ty of a civilized people difpofes them either to difpenfe 
 v/ith, or to mitigate punifhments wherever their natu- 
 ral indignation is not goaded on by the confequences 
 of the crime. Barbarians, on the other hand, when 
 no adlual confequence has happened from any action, 
 are not apt to be very delicate or inquifitive about . 
 the motives. 
 
 The perfon himfelf who either from pafTion, or 
 from the influence of bad company, has refolved^ 
 and perhaps taken meafures to perpetrate fome 
 crime, but who has fortunately been prevented by 
 an accident which put it out of his power, is fure, if 
 he has any remains of confcience, to regard this 
 event all his life after as a great and fignal delive- 
 rance. He can never think of it without returnino- 
 thanks to Heaven for having been thus gracioufly 
 pleafed to fave him from the guilt in which he was 
 juii ready to plunge himfelf, and to hinder him from 
 rendering all the reil of his life a fcene of horror, re- 
 morfe, and repentance. But though his hands are 
 
 innocent. 
 
Sed. 3 0/ Merit W Demerit. i6i 
 
 innocent, he is confcious that his heart is equally 
 guilty as \x he had aftually executed what he was fo 
 fully refolved upon. It gives great eafe to his con- 
 fcience, however, to confider that the crime was not 
 executed, though he knows tliat the failure arofe 
 from no virtue in him. He ftill confiders himfelf 
 as lefs deferving of punifhment and refentment ; and 
 this good fortune either diminiflies, or takes away 
 altogether, all fenfe of guilt. To remember how 
 much he was refolved upon it, has no other efFedt than 
 to make him regard his efcape as the greater and 
 more miraculous : for he ftill fancies that he has ef- 
 caped, and he looks back upon the danger to which 
 his peace of mind was expofed, with that terror, 
 with which one who is in fafety may fometimes re- 
 member the hazard he was in of falling over a pre- 
 cipice, and fhudder with horror at the thought. 
 
 2. The fecond effecft of this influence of fortune, 
 is to increafe our fenfe of the merit or demerit of 
 adions beyond what is due to the motives or affecli- 
 on from which they proceed, when they happen to 
 give occafion to extraordinary pleafure or pain. The 
 agreeable or difagreeable efFedts of the adtion often 
 throw a fhadow of merit or demerit upon the agent, 
 though in his intention there was nothing that de- 
 ferved either praife or blame, or atleaft that deferved 
 them in the degree in which we are apt to beftow 
 them. Thus, even the meflenger of bad news is 
 difagreeable to us, and, on the corxtrar}^ we feel a 
 fort of gratitude for the man who brings us good 
 tidings. For a moment we look upon them both 
 as the authors, the one of cur good, the other of our 
 bad fortune, and regard them in fome meafure as 
 if they had really brought about the events which 
 
 M they 
 
i6z Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL 
 
 they only give an account of. The firft author of 
 our joy is naturally the objedt of a tranfit -ry grati- 
 tude : v/e embrace him with warmth and affe(5tion, 
 and fhould be glad, during the iniknt of our profpe- 
 rity, to reward him as for fome fignal fervice. By 
 the cuftom of all courts, the officer who brings the 
 news of a victory, is entitled to confiderable prefer- 
 ments, and the general always chules one of his 
 principal favourites to go upon fo agieeable an er- 
 rand. The firft author of our forrow is, on the con- 
 trary, juft as naturally the objed of a tranfitory re- 
 fentment. We can fcarce avoid looking upon him 
 with chagrin and uneafmefs ; and the rude and bru- 
 tal are apt to vent upon him that l|3leen which his in- 
 telligence gives occafion to. Tigranes, King of 
 Armenia, ftruck ofFthe head of the man who brought 
 him the firfl account of the approach of a formida- 
 ble enemy. To punifh in this manner the author of 
 bad tidings, feems barbarous and inhuman : yet, to 
 reward the meiTenger of good news, is not difagree- 
 able to us •, we think it fuitable to the bounty of 
 kings. But why do we make this difference, fmce, 
 if there is no fault in the one, neither is there any 
 merit in the other ? It is becaufe any fort of reafon 
 feems fufficient to authorize the exertion of the focial 
 and benevolent affedions -, but it requires the moft 
 folid and fubftantial to make us enter into that of the 
 unfocial and malevolent. 
 
 But though in general we are averfe to enter into 
 the unfocial and malevolent affections, though we 
 lay it down for a rule that we ought never to approve 
 of their gratification, unlefs fo far as the malicious 
 and unjufl intention of the perfon, againft whom 
 they are direded renders him their proper objed ; 
 
 yet, 
 
ged. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 163 
 
 yet, upon fome occafions, we relax of this feverity. 
 When the negligence of one man has occafioned 
 fome unintended damage to another, we generally 
 enter fo far into the refentment of the fufFerer, as to 
 approve of his inflicting a punifhment upon the of- 
 fender much beyond what the offence will have ap- 
 peared to deferve, had no fuch unlucky confe- 
 quence followed from it. 
 
 There is a degree of negligence, which would ap- 
 pear to deferve fome chaftifement though it fhould 
 occafion no damage to any body. Thus, if a perfon 
 fhould throw a large flone over a wall into a public 
 •ftrect without giving warning to thofe who might be 
 palling by, and without regarding where it was like- 
 ly to fall, he would undoubtedly deferve fome chaf- 
 tifement. A very accurate police would punifh fo 
 abfurd an action, even though it had done no mif- 
 chief. The perfon who has been guilty of it, fhows 
 an infolent contempt of the happinefs and fafety of 
 others. There is real injuftice in his condudt. He 
 wantonly expofes his neighbour to what no man in 
 his fenfes would chufe to expofe himfelf, and evident- 
 ly wants that fenfe of what is due to his fellow-crea- 
 tures v/hich is the bafis of juftice and of fociety^ 
 Grofs negligence therefore is, in the law, faid to be 
 almofl equal to malicious defign *. When any un- 
 lucky confequences happen from fuch carelelfnefs, 
 the perfon who has been guilty of it is often punifh- 
 ed as if he had really intended thofe confequences ; 
 and his conduct, which was only thoughtlefs and 
 infolent, and what deferved fome chaftifement, is 
 confidered as atrocious, and as liable to the fevereft: 
 
 M 2 ^ punifh- 
 
 * Lata culpa prope dolum e(l. 
 
i64 6/ Merit ^//^ Demerit. Part II. 
 
 punifhment. THus if, by the imprudent aaion 
 above-mentioned, he (hould accidentally kill a man, 
 he is, by the laws of many countries, particularly by 
 the old law of Scotland, liable to the laft punifhment. 
 And though this is no doubt exceflively fevere, it is 
 not altogether inconfiftent with our natural fenti- 
 ments. Our juft indignation againft the folly and 
 inhumanity of his condud is exafperated by our 
 fympathy with the unfortunate fiifferer. Nothing 
 however would appear more fhocking to our natural 
 fenfe of equity, than to bring a man to the fcaffold 
 merely for having thrown a done carelefsly into the 
 ftreet without hurting any body. The folly and in- 
 humanity of his condud, however, would in this 
 cafe be the fame ; but ftill our fentiments would be 
 very different. The confideration of this difference 
 may fatisfy us hov/ much the indignation, even of 
 the fpedator, is apt to be animated by the adual con- 
 fequences of the adtion. In cafes of this kind there 
 will, if I am not miftaken, be found a great degree 
 of feverity in the laws of almofl all nations ; as I have 
 already obferved that in thofe of an oppofite kind 
 there was a very general relaxation of difcipline. 
 
 There is another degree of negligence which does 
 not involve in it any fort of injuftice. The perfon 
 who is guilty of it treats his neighbour as he treats 
 himfelf, means no harm to any body, and is far 
 from entertaining any infolent contempt for the fafe- 
 ty and happinefs of others. He is not, however, fo 
 careful and circumfpedl in his condudt as he ought to 
 be, and deferves upon this account fome degree of 
 blame and cenfure, but no fort of punifhment. Yet 
 if by a negligence * of this kind he fhould occafion 
 
 fome 
 
 * Culpa levis. 
 
Sed. 3. Of Me^it arid Deui^ kit. 165 
 
 fome damage to another perfon, he is by the laws of, 
 I believe, all countries, obliged to compenfate it. 
 And though this is no doubt a real punilhment, and 
 what no mortal would have thought of infliding 
 upon him, had it not been for the unlucky accident 
 which his condud gave occafion to ; yet this decifion 
 of the law is approved of by the natiu-al fentiments 
 of all mankind. Nothing, we think, can be more 
 jull than that one man fliould not fuffer by the care- 
 lelTnefs of another ; and that the damage occafioned 
 by blamable negligence ihouid be made up by the 
 perfon who was guilty of it. 
 
 There is another fpecies of negligence *, which 
 conHfts merely in a want of the moli anxious timi- 
 dity and circumfpedlion, v/ith regard to all the pofli- 
 ble confequences of our adions. The want of this 
 painful attention, v/hen no bad confequences follpw 
 from it, is fo far from being regarded as blamable, 
 that the contrary quality is rather confidered as fuch. 
 That timid circumfpedtioa which is afraid of every 
 thing, is never regarded as a virtue, but as a quality 
 which more thau any other incapacitates for adtion 
 and bufmefs. Yet when, fropi a want of this ex- 
 ceflive care, a perfon happens to occafion fome da- 
 mage to another, he is often by the law obliged to 
 compenfate it. Thus, by the Aquilian law, the man, 
 who not being able to manage a horfe that had acci- 
 dentally taken fright, fhould happen to ride down 
 his neighbour's flave, is obliged to compenfate the 
 damage. When an accident of this kind happens, 
 we are apt to think that he ought not to have rode 
 fuch a horfe, and to regard his attempting it as an un- 
 
 M 3 pardonable 
 
 * Culpa levifliiTw. 
 
i66 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II. 
 
 pardonable levity ; though without this accident \\t 
 fhould not only have made no fuch reflection, but 
 ihould have regarded his refufing it as the efFecl of 
 timid weaknefs, and of an anxiety about merely 
 poiTible events, which it is to no purpofe to be aware 
 of. The perfon himfelf, who by an accident even of 
 this kind has involuntarily hurt another, feems to 
 have fome fenfe of his own ill defert, with regard 
 to him. He naturally runs up to the fufferer to ex- 
 prefs his concern for what has happened, and to 
 make every acknowledgment in his power. If he 
 has any fenfibility, he neceiTarily defires to compen- 
 fate the damage, and to do every thing he can to 
 appeafe that animal refentment, which he is fenfi- 
 ble will be apt to arife in the breall: of the fufferer. 
 To make no apology, to offer no atonement, is re- 
 garded as the highelt brutality. Yet why fhould he 
 make an apology more than any other perfon ? 
 Why fhould he, fmce he was equally innocent with 
 any other by-ftander, be thus fmgled out from 
 among all mankind, to make up for the bad fortune 
 of another ? This tafk would furely never be impof- 
 ed upon him, did not even the impartial fpedator 
 feel fome indulgence for what may be regarded as 
 the unjuft refentment of that other. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 p-.T.'fU'.'li 
 
Sed. 3- 0/ Merit W Demerit. 167 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the final caufe of this irregularity of fenti- 
 
 ments. 
 
 a 
 
 OUCH Is the eifed of the good or bad confe- 
 quence of adlions upon the fentiments both of 
 the perfon who performs them, and of others ; and 
 thus, Fortune, which governs the world, has fome 
 influence where we Ihould be leaft wilHng to allow 
 her any, and directs in fome meafure the fentiments 
 of mankind, with regard to the character and con- 
 dud both of themfelves and others. That the world 
 judges by the event, and not by the defign, has been 
 in all ages the complaint, and is the great difcou- 
 ragement of virtue. Every body agrees to the gene- 
 ral maxim, that as the event does not depend on the 
 agent, it ought to have no influence upon your fenti- 
 ments, with regard to the merit or propriety of his 
 conduct. But when we come to particulars, we 
 find that our fentiments are fcarce in any one in- 
 flance exadly conformable to what this equitable 
 maxim would dired. The happy or unprofperous 
 event of any adion, is not only apt to give us a good 
 or bad opinion of the prudence with which it was 
 conduded, but almoft always too animates our gra- 
 titude or refentment, our fenfe of the merit or de- 
 merit of the defign. 
 
 ^^ 4 Nature, 
 
i68 0/ Merit and Demerit. PartH. 
 
 Nature, however, when fhe implanted the feeds 
 of this irregularity in the human breaft, feems, as 
 upon all other occafions, to have intended the happi- 
 nefs and perfedion of the fpecies. If the hurtfulnefs 
 of the defig 1, if the malevolence of the afFeftion, 
 were alone the caufes which excited our refentment, 
 we fhould feel all the furies of that palTion againfl any 
 perfon in whofe breaft we fafpecled or believed fuch 
 defigns or affections were harboured, though they 
 had never broke out into any actions. Sentiments, 
 thoughts, intentions, would becomxe the objects of 
 punilhment •, and if the indignation of mankind ran 
 as high againfl them as againfl actions ; if the bafe- 
 nefs of the thought which had given birth to no adti- 
 on, feemed in the eyes of the world as much to call 
 aloud for vengeance as the bafenefs of the adlion, 
 every court ofjudicature would become a real inqui- 
 fition. There v/ould be no fafety for the moft in- 
 nocent and circumfpedl conduct. Bad wilhes, bad 
 views,bad defigns, might ftill be fufpe6ted-, and while 
 thefe excited the fame indignation v/ith bad cundudt, 
 while bad intentions were as much refented as bad 
 a6tions, they would equally expofe the perfon to pu- 
 nilhment and refentment. Actions therefore which 
 either produce actual evil, or attempt to produce it, 
 and thereby put us in the immediate fear of it, are by 
 the Author of nature rendered the only proper and 
 approved objects of human punilhment and refent- 
 ment. Sentiments, defigns, atfedions, though it is 
 from thefe that according to cool reafon human 
 a<!:tions derive their whole merit or demerit, are 
 placed by the great Judge of hearts beyond the li- 
 mits of every human jurifdidtion, and are referved 
 fur the cognizance of his own unerring tribunal. 
 
 That 
 
Sed. 3- Of Merit and Demerit. 169 
 
 That neceflary rule ofjaftlce, therefore, that men 
 in this life are liable to punifhment for their adions 
 only, not for their defigns and intentions, is founded 
 upon this falutary and ufeful irregularity in human 
 fentiments concerning merit or demerit, which at 
 firft fight appears fo abfurd and unaccountable. 
 But every part of nature, when attentively furveyed^ 
 equally demonftrates the providential care of its 
 Author, and we may admire the wifdom and good^ 
 nefs of God even in the weaknefs and folly of 
 men. 
 
 Nor is that irregularity of fentiments altogether 
 without its utility, by which the merit of an unfuc- 
 cefsful attempt to ferve, and m.uch more tliat of mere 
 good inclinations and kind wifhes, appears to be im- 
 perfedl. Man was made for action, and to promote 
 by the exertion of his faculties fuch changes in 
 the external circumftances both of himfelf and 
 others, as may feem moft favourable to the happi- 
 nefs of all. He muft not be fatisfied with indolent 
 benevolence, nor fancy himfelf the friend of man- 
 kind, becaufe in his heart he wifhes well to the prof- 
 perity of the world. That he may call forth the 
 whole vigour of his foul, and ftrain every nerve in 
 order to produce thofe ends which it is the purpofe of 
 his being to advance. Nature has taught him, that 
 neither himfelf nor mankind can be fully fatistied 
 with his condudl, nor beflow upon it the full meafure 
 of applaufe, unlefs he has actually produced thern. 
 He is made to know, that the praife of good inten- 
 tions, without the merit of good offices, will be but of 
 little avail to excite either the loudeft acclamations 
 of the world, or even the highefl degree of felf-ap- 
 plaufe. The man who has performed no fmgle 
 adion of importance, but whofe whole converfation 
 
 and 
 
lyo 0/ Merit ^w^ Demerit. Part IL 
 
 and deportment exprefs the jufteft, the noblefl, and 
 moil generous fentiments, can be entitled to demand 
 no very high revvard,even though his inutility fhould 
 be owing to nothing but die want of an opportunity 
 to ferve. We can llill refufe it him without blame. 
 We can ilill alk him, what have you done ? What 
 actual fervice can you produce, to entitle you to fo 
 great a recompenfe ? We elleem you, and love you ; 
 but we owe you nothing. To reward indeed that 
 latent virtue which has been ufelefs only for v/ant of 
 an opportunity to ferve, to beftow upon it thofe 
 honours and preferments, which, though in fome 
 meaiureit may be faid to deferve them, it could not 
 with propriety have infifled upon, is the effed of the 
 moll divine benevolence. To puniili, on the con- 
 trary, for the affedlions of the heart only, where no 
 crime has been committed, is the mofl infolent and 
 barbarous tyranny. The benevolent affections feem 
 to deferve mofl praife, when they do not wait till it 
 becomes almoft a crime for them not to exert them- 
 felves. The malevolent, on the contrary, can fcarce 
 be too tardy, too flow, or deliberate. 
 
 It is even of ufe that the evil which is done without 
 defign fhould be regarded as a misfortune to the do«r 
 as well as to the fufferer. Man is thereby taught to 
 reverence the happinefs of his brethren, to tremble 
 left he fhould, even unknowingly, do any thing that 
 can hurt them, and to dread that animal refentment 
 which he feels is ready to burft out againfl him, if 
 he fhould without defign be the unhappy inflrument 
 of their calamity. 
 
 Notwithftanding, however, all thefe feeming irre- 
 gularities of ientiment, if man Ihould unfortunately 
 
 either 
 
Sed. 3. Of Merit ^w^ Demerit. 171 
 
 either give occafion to thofe evils which he did not 
 intend, or fail in producing that good which he in- 
 tended, nature has not left his innocence altogether 
 without confolation, nor his virtue altogether with- 
 out reward. He then calls to his ailiflance that juft 
 and equitable maxim, that thofe events which did 
 not depend upon our conduct ought not to diminifh 
 the efleem that is due to us. He fummons up his 
 whole magnanimity and firmnefs of foul, and flrives 
 to regard himfelf, not in the light in which he at 
 prefent appears, but in that in v/hich he ought 
 to appear, in which he would have appeared 
 had his generous defigns been crowned with fuc- 
 cefs, and in which he would fliil appear, notwith- 
 ft.^nding their mifcarriage, if the fentiments of man- 
 kind were either altogether candid and equitable, or 
 even perfedlly confident with themfelves. The 
 more candid and humane part of mankind entirely go 
 along with the efforts which he thus makes to fup- 
 port himfelf in his own opinion. They exert their 
 w^hole generofity and greatn^fs of mind, to corredl 
 in themfelves this irregularity of human nature, and 
 endeavour to regard his unfortunate magnanimity in 
 the fame light in which, had it been fuccefsful, they 
 would, without any fuch generous exertion, have na- 
 turally been difpofed to confider it. 
 
 PART 
 
PART III. 
 
 Of the foundation of our judgments con- 
 cerning our own fentiments and conduct, 
 and of the fenfe of duty. 
 
 CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the confcioufnefs of merited praife or blame, 
 
 AN the two foregoing parts of this difcourfe, I have 
 chiefly confidered the origin and foundation of our 
 judgments concerning the fentiments and condudt 
 of others. I come now to confider the origin of 
 thofe concerning our own. 
 
 The defire of the approbation and efteem of thofe 
 we live with, which is of fuch importance to our 
 happinefs, cannot be fully and entirely contented but 
 by rendering ourfelves thejuft and proper objedsof 
 thofe fentiments, and by adjufling our own charac- 
 ter and condudt according to thofe meafures and 
 rules by which efteem and approbation are naturally 
 beftowed. It is not fufficient, that from ignorance 
 
 or 
 
174 ^f /^'^ S E N s E Part III. 
 
 or miftake, elleem and approbation fhould fome way 
 or other be beftowed upon us. If we are confcious 
 that we do not deferve to be lb favourably thought 
 of, and that if the truth was kno .vn, we fhould be 
 regarded with very oppofite fentiments, our fatisfac- 
 tion is far from being complete. The man who ap- 
 plauds us either for adions which we did not per- 
 form, or for motives which had no fort of influence 
 upon our conduct, applauds not us, but another per- 
 fon. We can derive no fort of fatisfadion from his 
 praifes. To us they fhould be more mortifying than 
 any cenfure, and fhould perpetually call to our minds, 
 the moft humbling of all refledions, the refledion 
 upon what we ought to be, but what we are not. A 
 woman v/ho paints to conceal her uglinefs, could de- 
 Vive, one fhould imagine, but little vanity from the 
 compliments that are paid to her beauty. Thefe, 
 we fhould exped, ought rather to put her in mind of 
 the fentiments which her real complexion v/ould ex- 
 cite, and mortify her more by the contrail. To be 
 pleafed with fach groundlefs applaufe is a proof of 
 the moft fuperficial levity and weaknefs. It is v/hat 
 is properly called vanity, and is the foundation of the 
 moft ridiculous and contem.ptible vices, the vices of 
 affedation and comnion lying ; follies which, if ex- 
 perience did not teach us how common they are, one 
 ihould imagine the leaft fpark of common ^Q,rSQ 
 would fave us from. The foolifh liar, who endea- 
 vours to excite the admiiration of the company by 
 the relation of adventures which never had any ex- 
 iftence, the important coxcomb who gives himfelf 
 airs of rank and diftinction which he well knows he 
 has no juft pretenfions to, are both of them, no 
 doubt, pleafed v/ith the applaufe which they fancy 
 
 they 
 
Chap, I, c/ D u T Y. 175 
 
 they meet with. But their vanity arifes from fo 
 grofs an illufion of the imagination, that it is difficult 
 to conceive how any rational creature fhould be im- 
 pofed upon by it. When they place themfelves in 
 the fituation of thofe whom they fancy they have 
 deceived, they are flruck with the higheil admiration 
 for their own perfons. They look upon themfelves, 
 not in that light in which, they know, they ought to 
 appear to their companions, but in that in which 
 they believe their companions actually look upon 
 them. Their fuperficial weaknefs and trivial folly 
 hinder them from ever turning their eyes inwards, 
 or from feeing themfelves in that defpicable point of 
 view in which their own confciences fhould tell them 
 that they would appear to every body, if the real 
 truth iliould ever come to be known. 
 
 As ignorant and groundlefs praife can give no fo- 
 lid joy, no fatisfadtion that will bear any ferious ex- 
 amination, fo, on the contrary, it often gives real 
 comfort to refled:, that though no praife fhould ac- 
 tually be beftowed upon us, our condudt, however, has 
 been fuch as to deferve it, and has been in every ref- 
 pedl fui table to thofe meafures and rules by which 
 praife and approbation are naturally and commonly 
 beflowed.Wearepleafed not only with praife, but with 
 having done what is praife- worthy . We are pleafed to 
 think that we have rendered ourfelves the natural 
 objedls of approbation, though no approbation, 
 fhould ever adually be beflowcd upon us : and we 
 are mortified to refledt that we have jufhly incurred 
 the blame of thofe we live with, though that fenti- 
 ment fhould never adtually be exerted againfl: us. 
 
 The 
 
176 Of dr S E N s E ^ Part IIL 
 
 The man who is confcious to himfeif that he has ex- 
 actly obferved thofe meafures of conduft which ex- 
 perience informs him are geinerally agreeable, re- 
 flects with fatiofadtion on the propriety of his own 
 behaviour ; when he views it in the light in which 
 the impartial fpeclator would view it, he thoroughly 
 enters into all the motives which influenced it ; he 
 looks back upon every part of it with pleafure 
 and approbation, and though mankind fhould never 
 be acquainted with what he has done, he regards 
 himfeif not fo much according to the light in which 
 they adually regard him, as according to that, in 
 which they v/ould regard him if they were better in- 
 formed. He anticipates the applaufe and admira- 
 tion which in this cafe Would be beflowed upon 
 him, and he applauds and admires himfeif by fym- 
 pathy w ith fentiments w hich do not indeed adually 
 take place, but which the ignorance of the public 
 alone hinders from taking place, which he knows are 
 the natural and ordinary effects of fuch conduct, 
 which his imagination flrongly connedts with it, 
 and which he has acquired a habit of conceiving as 
 fomething that naturally and in propriety ought to 
 flow from it. Men have often voluntarily thrown 
 away life to acquire after death a renown v/hich they 
 could no longer enjoy. Their imagination, in the 
 mean time, anticipated that fame v/hich was there- 
 after to be beftowed upon them. Thofe applaufes 
 which they were never to hear rung in their ears ; 
 the thoughts of that admiration, whofe effeds they 
 were never to feel, played about their hearts, banilh- 
 ed from their breaits the flrongeft of all natural fears, 
 and tranfported them to perform actions which feem 
 almofl beyond the reach of human nature. But in 
 
 point 
 
Chap. 1. of D V T Y. 177 
 
 point of reality there is furely no great difference 
 between that approbation which is not to be beflow- 
 ed till we can no longer enjoy it, and that which in- 
 deed is never to be bellowed, but which would be 
 bellowed if the world was ever made to underftand 
 properly the real circumllances of our behaviour. 
 If the one often produces fuch violent effed:&^ we 
 cannot wonder that the other fhould always be high- 
 ly regarded. 
 
 On the contrary, the man who has broke through 
 all thofe meafures of conduct, which can alone ren- 
 der him agreeable to mankind, tho* he fhould have 
 the moft perfedl alTurance that what he had done 
 was for ever to be concealed from every human eye, 
 it is all to no purpofe. When he looks back upon it, 
 and views it in the light in which the impartial fpec- 
 tator would view it, he finds that he can enter into 
 none of the motives v/hich influenced it. He is abafhed 
 and confounded at the thoughts of it, and necelTa- 
 rily feels a very high degree of that fhame which he 
 would be expofed to, if his adtions fhould ever come 
 to be generally known. His imagination, in this 
 cafe too, anticipates the contempt and derifion from 
 which nothing faves him but the ignorance of thofe 
 he lives with. He Hill feels that he is the natural 
 objedl of thefe fentiments, and itili trembles at the 
 thought of what he would fufFer if they were ever ac- 
 tually exerted againfl him. But if what he had been 
 guilty of was not merely one of thofe improprieties 
 which are the objects of fimple difapprobation, but 
 one of thofe enormous crimes which excite detefla- 
 tion and refentment, he could never think of it, as 
 long as he had any fenfibility left, without feeling all 
 
 N the 
 
178 Of the Sense * Part IIL 
 
 the agony of horror and remorfc ; and though he 
 could be allured that no man was ever to know it, 
 and could even bring himfelf to believe that there 
 was no God to revenge it, he would flill feel enough 
 of both thefe fentiments to embitter the whole of his 
 life : He would iVill regard himfelf as the natural objedt 
 of the hatred and indignation of all his fellow-crea- 
 tures ; and if his heart was not grown callous by the 
 habit of crimes, he could not think without terror and 
 aftonifhment even of the manner in which mankind 
 would look upon him, of what would be the expref- 
 fion of their countenance and of their eyes, if the 
 dreadful truth fhould ever come to be known. 
 Thefe natural pangs of an affrighted confcience are 
 the daemons, the avenging furies which in this life 
 haunt the guilty, which allow them neither quiet nor 
 repofe, which often drive them to defpair and dif- 
 tradtion, from which no afTurance of fecrecy can pro- 
 tedt them, from which no principles of irreligion can 
 entirely deliver th^m, and from which nothing can 
 free them but the vileft and mofl abject of all flates, 
 a complete infenfibiUty of honour and infamy, to 
 vice and virtue. Men of the moft deteftable charac- 
 ters, who, in the execution of the moft dreadful 
 crimes, had taken their meafures fo coolly as to avoid 
 even the fufpicion of guilt, have fometimes been 
 driven, by the horror of their fituation, to difcover of 
 their own accord, what no human fagacity could ever 
 have inveftigated. By acknowledging their guilt, 
 by fubmitting themfelves to the refentment of their 
 offended citizens, and by thus fatiating that ven- 
 geance of which they were fenfible that they were be- 
 come the proper objeds, they hoped by their death 
 
 to 
 
Chap. I. of T> V r Y. 179 
 
 to reconcile themfelves, at leaft in their own imagi- 
 nation, to the natural fentiments of mankind, to be 
 able to confider themfelves as lefs worthy of hatred 
 and refentment, to atone in fome meafure for their 
 crimes, and, if poiTible, to die in peace and with the 
 forgivenefs of all their fellow-creatures. Compared 
 to what they felt before the difcovery, even the 
 thought of this, it feems, was happinefs. 
 
 N2 CHAP. 
 
x8o OftbeSEiJSE Part III. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 In what tnanner our own judgments refer to vjhat ought 
 to he the judgments of others : and of the origin of ge- 
 neral rules. 
 
 A 
 
 Great part, perhaps the greateil part, of human 
 happinefs and mifery arifes from the view of our 
 paft condud:, and from the degree of approbation or 
 difapprobation v/hich we feel from tlie confideration 
 of it. But in whatever manner it may affedl us, our 
 fentiments of this kind have always fome fecret re- 
 ference either to what are, or to what upon a certain 
 condition would be, or to what we imagine ought to 
 be the fentiments of others. We examine it as we 
 imagine an impartial fpedlator would examine it. If 
 upon placing ourfelves in his fituation we thoroughly 
 enter into all the pailions and motives which influ- 
 enced it, we approve of it by fympathy with the ap- 
 probation of this fuppofed equitable judge. If other- 
 wife, we enter into his difapprobation and condemn 
 it. 
 
 Was it polTible that a human creature could grov/ 
 up to manhood in fome folitary place without any 
 communication with his own fpecies, he could no 
 more think of his own charader, of the propriety or 
 demerit of his own fentiments and condud, of the 
 beauty or deformity of his own mind, than of the 
 beauty or deformity of his own face. All thefe are 
 objeds which he cannot eafily fee, which naturally 
 he does not look at ; and with regard to which he 
 
 is 
 
Chap. 2. of D V r y; iSi 
 
 is provided with no mirror which can prefent them 
 Xo his view. Bring him into fociety, and he is im- 
 inediately provided with the mirror which he want- 
 ed before. It is placed in the countenance and be- 
 haviour of thofe he lives with, which always mark 
 when they enter into, and when they difap- 
 prove of his fentiments ^ and it is here that he firft 
 views the propriety and impropriety of his own 
 pafllons, the beauty and deformity of his own 
 mind. To a man who from his birth was a flran- 
 ger to fociety, the objedts of his paflions, the ex- 
 ternal bodies which either pleated or hurt him, would 
 occupy his whole attention. The paiTions them- 
 felves, the defires or averfions, the joys or forrows, 
 which thofe objeds excited, though of all things 
 the mofl immediately prefent to him, could fcarce 
 ever be the objeds of his thoughts. The idea of 
 them could never intereft him fo much as to call 
 upon his attentive confideration. The confideration 
 of his joy could in him excite no new joy, nor that 
 of his forrow any new forrow, though the confider- 
 ation of the caufes of thofe paiTions might often ex- 
 cite both. Bring him into fociety, and all his own 
 paflions will immediately become the caufes of new 
 palTions. He will obferve that mankind approve of 
 fome of them, and are difgufted by others. He will 
 be elevated in the one cafe, and cad down in the 
 other; his defires and averfjons, his joys and for- 
 rows will now often become the caufes of new de- 
 fires and new averfions, new joys and nev/ forrows: 
 they will now therefore intereft him deeply, and of- 
 ten call upon his mofl attentive confideration. 
 
 Our iirfl ideas of perfonal beauty and deformity, 
 are drawn from the fhape and appearance of others, 
 not from our oWn, We foon become fenfible, how- 
 
 N ^ ever. 
 
i82 Of the S E li s K Part IIL 
 
 ever, that others exercife the fame criticifm upon us. 
 We are pleafed when they approve of our figure, 
 and are difobliged when they feem to be difgufted. 
 We become anxious to know how far our appear- 
 ance defer ves either their blame or approbation. We 
 examine our own perfons limb by limb, and by 
 placing ourfelves before a looking-glafs, or by fome 
 fuch expedient, endeavour, as much as poflible, to 
 view ourfelves at the diflance and with the eyes of 
 other people. If after this examination we are fatis- 
 fied with our own appearance, v/e can more eafily 
 fupport the moft difadvantageous judgments of 
 others : if, on the contrary, we are fenfible that we 
 are the natural objedts of diilafte, every appearance 
 of their difapprobation mortifies us beyond all mea- 
 fure. A man who is tolerably handfome, will allow 
 you to laugh at any little irregularity in his perfon ; 
 'but all fuch jokes are commonly infupportable to one 
 who is really deformed. It is evident, however, 
 that we are anxious about our own beauty and defor- 
 mity only on account of its effed upon others. If 
 we had no connexion with fociety, we fhould be al- 
 together indifferent about either. 
 
 In the fame manner our hrft moral criticifms are 
 exercifed upon the characters and conduct of other 
 people ; and we are all very forward to obferve how 
 each of thefe affeds us. But we foon learn, that 
 others are equally frank with regard to our own. 
 We become anxious to know how far we deferve 
 their cenfure or applaufe, and whether to them we 
 inuft necelfarily appear thofe agreeable or difagree- 
 able creatures which they reprefent us. We begin 
 iTpon this account to examine our own paflions and 
 condudt, and to confider how thefe muil appear to 
 them, by confidering how they would appear to 
 
 US 
 
Chap. 2. ^ D u T Y. 183 
 
 us if in their fituation. We fuppofe oiirfelves the 
 fpe6tators of our own behaviour, and endeavour to 
 imagine what effect it would, in this light, produce 
 upon us. This is the only looking-glafs by which 
 we can, in fome meafure, with the eyes of others, 
 fcrutinize the propriety of our own conduCl. If in 
 this view it plcaies us, we are tolerably fatisfied. We 
 can be more indifferent about the applaufe, and, in 
 fome meafure, defpife the cenfure of others ; fecure 
 chat, however mifunderftood or mifreprefented, we 
 are the natural and proper objects of approbation. 
 On the contrary, if we are difpleafed with it, we are 
 often upon that very account more anxious to gain 
 their approbation, and, provided we have not alrea- 
 dy, as they fay, fhaken hands with infamy, we are 
 altogether diftrafted at the thoughts of their cen- 
 fure, which then ftrikes us with double fe verity. 
 
 When I endeavour to examine my own condudl, 
 when I endeavour to pafs fentence upon it, and ei- 
 ther to approve or condemn it, it is evident that, in 
 all fuch cafes, I divide myfelf, as it were, into two 
 perfons, and that I, the examiner and judge, repre- 
 fent a different charader from that other I, the per- 
 fon whofe condudl is examined into and judged of. 
 The firfl is the fpedlator, whofe fentiments with re- 
 gard to my own conduct 1 endeavour to enter into, 
 by placing myfelf in his fituation, and by confider- 
 ing how it would appear to me when feen from that 
 particular point of view. The fecond is the agent, 
 the perfon whom I properly call myfelf, and of 
 whofe condud, under the charadler of a fpedator, 
 I was endeavouring to form fome opinion. The 
 firfl is the judge ; the fecond the pannel. But that 
 the judge fhould, in every refped, be the fame 
 
 N 4 with 
 
i84 Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 with the pannel, is as impollible, as that the caufe 
 fhould, in every refped:, be the fame with the efFedt, 
 
 To be amiable and to be meritorious, that is, to 
 deferve love and to deferve reward, are the great 
 charadters of virtue, and to be odious and punifha- 
 ble, of vice. But all thefe charaders have an imme- 
 diate reference to the fentiments of others. Virtue 
 is not faid to be amiable or to be meritorious, be- 
 caufe it is the obje(fl of its own love, or of its own 
 gratitude ; but becaafe it excites thofe fentiments in 
 other men. The confcioufnefs that it is the objedl 
 of fuch favourable regards is the fource of that in- 
 ward tranquillity and felf-fatisfadion with which it 
 is naturally attended, as the fufpicion of the contra- 
 ry gives occafion to the torments of vice. What fo 
 great happinefs as to be beloved, and to know that 
 we deferve to be beloved } What fo great mifery 
 as to be hated, and to know that we deferve to be 
 hated .? 
 
 Man is confidered as a moral, becaufe he is re- 
 garded as an accpuntable being. But an account- 
 able being, as the word exprelTes, is a being that 
 mull give an account of its a(5tions to fome other, 
 and that confequently muft regulate them accord- 
 ing to the good liking of this other. Man is ac- 
 countable to God and his fellow-creatures. But 
 though he is, no doubt, principally accountable to 
 God ; in the order of time, he muft neceffarily con- 
 ceive himfelf as accountable to his fellow-creatures, 
 before he can form any idea of the Deity, or of the 
 rules by which that divine being will judge of his 
 condudt. A child furely conceives itfelf as account- 
 able to its parents, and iz elevated or c^ft down by 
 
 the 
 
Chap. 2. of.D V r Y. 185 
 
 the thought of their merited approbation or difap- 
 probation, long before it forms any idea of its ac- 
 countablenefs to the Deity, or of the rules by which 
 that divine being will judge of its condudl. 
 
 The great judge of the w^orld, has, for the wlfeft 
 reafons, thought proper to interpofe, between the 
 weak eye of human reafon, and the throne of his 
 eternal juflice, a degree of obfcurity and darknefs, 
 which though it does not entirely cover that great 
 tribunal from the view of mankind, yet renders the 
 impreflion of it faint and feeble in comparifon of 
 what might be expected from the grandeur and im- 
 portance of fo mighty an objecft. If thofe infinite 
 rewards and punifhments which the Almighty has 
 prepared for thofe who obey or tranfgrefs his will, 
 V, ere perceived as dillindlly as we forefee the frivo- 
 lous and temporary retaliations which we may ex- 
 pert from one another, the weaknefs of human na- 
 ture, ailonifhed at the immenfity of objeds fo little 
 fitted to its comprehenfion, could no longer attend 
 to the little affairs of this world ; and it is abfolutely 
 impollible that the bufmefs of fociety could have 
 been carried on, if, in this refped, there had been a 
 fuller revelation of the intentions of Providence 
 than that which has already been made. That 
 men, however, might never be without a rule to 
 diredt their condudt by, nor without a judge whofe 
 authority fhould enforce its obfervation, the Author 
 of nature has made man the immediate judge of 
 mankind, and has, in this refpe(5l, as in many 
 others, created him after his own image, and ap- 
 pointed him his vicegerent upon earth, to fuperin- 
 tend the behaviour of his brethren. They are 
 taught by nature to acknowledge that power and 
 
 jurifdidion 
 
1 86 0/ //^^ Se N s E Part IIL 
 
 jurifdidion which has thus been conferred upon him, 
 and to tremble and exult according as they imagine 
 thst they have either merited his cenfure, or deferved 
 his applaufe. 
 
 But whatever may be the authority of this inferior 
 tribunal which is continually before their eyes, if at 
 any time it fhould decide contrary to thofe princi- 
 ples and rules, which Nature has eftablifhed for re- 
 gulating its judgments, men feel that they may ap- 
 peal from this unjuil decifion, and call upon a fupe- 
 rior tribunal, the tribunal eilablirhed in their own 
 breafls, to redrefs the injuftice of this weak or par- 
 tial judgment. 
 
 There are certain principles efrabliflied by Nature 
 for governing our judgment concerning the conduct 
 of thofe we live with. As long as we decide accord- 
 ing to thofe principles, and neither applaud nor con-' 
 demn any thing which Nature has not rendered the 
 proper objedl of applaufe or condemnation, nor any 
 further than fhe has rendered it fuch, as our fentence 
 is, in this cafe, if I may fay fo, quite agreeable to 
 law, it is liable neither to repeal nor to corredlion of , 
 any kind. The perfon concerning whom we form 
 thefe judgments, mufl himfelf neceifarily approve of 
 them. When he puts himfelf into our fituation, he 
 cannot avoid viewing his own conduct in the very 
 fame light in v/hich we appear to view it. He is 
 fenfible, that to us, and to every impartial fpedtator, 
 he muft neceifarily appear the natural and proper ob- 
 ject of thofe fentiments which we exprefs with regard 
 to him. Thofe fentiments, therefore, mult neceila- 
 rily produce their full effedl upon him, and he cannot 
 fail to conceive all the triumph of felf-approbatipn ' 
 
 from^ 
 
■ Chap. 2. of D V T Y. 187 
 
 from, what appears to him, fuch merited applaufe, 
 as well as all the horrors of fliarFie from, what, he 
 is fenfible, is fuch deferved condemnation. 
 
 But it is otherwife, if we have either applauded or 
 condemned him, contrary to thofe principles and 
 rules which Nature has eftablifhed for the direction 
 of our judgments concerning every thing of this 
 kind. If we have either applauded or condemned 
 him for what, when he put himfelf into our fituation, 
 does not appear to him to be the objedl either of ap- 
 plaufe or condemnation ; as in this cafe he cannot 
 enter into our fentiments, provided he has any con- 
 llancy or firmnefs, he is but little affedled by them, 
 and can neither be much elevated by the favourable, 
 nor greatly mortified by the unfavourable decifion. 
 The applaufe of the whole world will avail but little, 
 if our own confcience condemn us ; and the difap- 
 probation of all mankind is not capable of oppreifmg 
 us, v/hen we are abiblved by the tribunal within our 
 own breafl, and when our own mind tells us that 
 mankind are in the wrong. 
 
 But though this tribunal within the bread be thus 
 the fupreme arbiter of all our adions, though it can 
 reverfe the decifions of all mankind with regard to 
 our character and condudt, and mortify us amidft 
 the applaufe, or fupport us under the cenfure of the 
 world; yet, if we inquire into the origin of its in- 
 flitution, its jurifdidion we fhall find is in a great 
 meafure derived from the authority of that very tribu- 
 nal, whofe decifions it fo often andfojuflly reverfes. 
 
 When we firfl come into the world, from the na 
 tural defire to pleafe, we accuftom ourfelves to con- 
 
 fider 
 
1 88 Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 fider what behaviour is likely to be agreeable to every 
 perfon we convene wi th, to our parents, to our maf- 
 ters, to our companions. We addrefs ourfelves to 
 individuals, and for fome time fondly purfue the im- 
 poflible and abfurd projedt of gaining the good-will 
 and approbation of every body. We are foon 
 taught by experience, however, that this univerfal 
 approbation is altogether unattainable. As foon as 
 we come to have more important interefts to manage, 
 v/e find, that by pleafmg one man, we almoft cer- 
 tainly difobl'ge another, and that by humouring an. 
 individual, we may often irritate a whole people. 
 The faired and moft equitable condudl mud 
 frequently obflrudt the interefts, or thwart the 
 inclinations of particular perfons, who will feldom 
 have candour enough to enter into the propriety of our 
 motives, or to fee that this condud, how difagreeable 
 foever to them, is perfectly fuitable to our fituation. 
 In order to defend ourfelves fi'om fuch partial judg- 
 ments, we foon learn to fet up in our own minds a, 
 judge between ourfelves and thofe we live with. Wc 
 conceive ourfelves as ading in the prefence of a per- 
 fon quite candid and equitable, of one wlio has no 
 particular relation either to ourfelves, or to thofe 
 whofe interefts are affeded by our conduct, w^ho is 
 neither father, nor brother, nor friend either to them 
 or to us, but is merely a man in general, an impar- 
 tial fpeclator who confiders our conduct with the 
 fame indifterence with which we regard that of other 
 people. If, when we place ourfelves in the fituation 
 of fuch a perfon, our own anions appear to us under 
 an agreeable afpedt, if we feel that fuch a fpedator 
 cannot avoid entering into all the motives which 
 
 influenced 
 
Chap. 2. of D V r y. 189 
 
 influenced us, whatever may be the judgments of the 
 world, we mufl ilill be pleafed with our ownbeha-* 
 viour, and regard ourfelves, in fpite of the cenfure 
 of our companions, as the jufl and proper objedts of 
 approbation. 
 
 On the contrary, if the man v/ithin condemns us, 
 the loudeil acclamations of mankind appear but as 
 the noife of ignorance and folly, and whenever we 
 alTume the charav5ter of this impartial judge, we can- 
 not avoid viewing our own actions with this diftafte 
 and dilTatisfadlion. The weak, the vain, and the fri- 
 volous, indeed, may be mortified by themofl ground- 
 lefs cenfure, or elated by the moft abfurd applaufe. 
 Such perfons are not accuilomed to confult the judge 
 within concerning the opinion which they ought to 
 form of their own conduct. This inmate of the 
 breafl, this abftradt man, the reprefentative of man- 
 kind, and fubil:itute of the Deity, whom Nature has 
 conftituted the fupreme judge of all their actions, is 
 feldom appealed to by them. They are contented 
 with the decifion of the inferior tribunal. The ap- 
 probation of theircompanions, of the particular per- 
 ibns whom they have lived and converfed with, has 
 generally been the ultimate objedt of all their wifhes. 
 If they obtain this, their joy is complete ; and if they 
 fail, they are entirely difappointed. They never 
 think of appealing to the fuperior court. They have 
 feldom inquired after its decifions, and are altoge- 
 gether unacquainted with the rules and forms of its 
 procedure. When the world injures them, there- 
 fore, they are incapable of doing themfelves juflice, 
 -and are, in confequence, neceflarily the flaves of the 
 
 world. 
 
igo Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 world. But it is otherwife with the man who has, 
 upon all occafions, been accuftomed to have recourfe 
 to the judge within, and to confider, not what the 
 world approves or difapproves of, but what appears 
 to this impartial fpedator, the natural and proper 
 objeLl of approbation or difapprobation. The judg- 
 ment of this fupreme arbiter of his condudt, is the 
 applaufe, which he has been accuftomed principally 
 to court, is the cenfure which he has been accuftom- 
 ed principally to fear. Compared with this final de- 
 cifion, the fentiments of all mankind, though not 
 altogether indifferent, appear to be but of fmall mo- 
 ment ; and he is incapable of being either much 
 elevated by their favourable, or greatly deprefled by 
 their moll difadvantageous judgment. 
 
 It is only by confulting this judge within, that we 
 can fee whatever relates to ourfelves in its proper 
 fliape and dimenfions, or that we can make any pro- 
 per comparifon between our own interefls and thofe 
 of other men. 
 
 As to the eye of the body, objects appear great or 
 fmall, not fo much according to their real dimenfions, 
 as according to the nearnefs or diftance of their fitu- 
 ation ; fo do they like wife to what may be called the 
 natural eye of the mind : and we remedy the defedts 
 of boththefe organs pretty much in the fame manner. 
 In my prefent fituation an immenfe landfcape of 
 lawns, and woods, and diftant mountains, feems to 
 do no more than cover the little window which I 
 write by, and to be out of all proportion lefs than the 
 chamber in which I am fitting. lean form a juft 
 comparifon between thofe great objedts and the 
 little objeds around me, in no other way, than by 
 
 tran- 
 
Chap. 2. of D V *v Y , 1^1 
 
 tranfportingmyrelf, at ieafl in fancy, to a diiierent 
 ftation, from whence I can furvey both at nearly 
 equal diftances, and thereby fornl fome judgment 
 of their real proportions. Habit and experience have 
 taught me to do this (o eafily and [o readily, that I 
 am fcarce fenfible that I do it • and a man muft be, 
 in fome meafure, acquainted with the philofophy of 
 vifion, before he can be thoroughly convinced, how 
 little thofe diflant objeds w^ould appear to the eye, 
 if the imagination, from a knowledge of their real 
 magnitudes, did not fwell and dilate them. 
 
 In the fame manner, to the felfifh and original 
 paflions of human nature, the lofs or gain of a very 
 fmail intereft of our own, appears to be of vallly 
 more importance, excites a much more paflionate 
 joy or forrow, a much more ardent defire or averfion, 
 than the greateft concern of another with whom we 
 have no particular connexion. His interefbs, as lon&- 
 as they are furveyed from this ftation, can never be 
 put into the balance with our own, can never re- 
 ftrain us from doing whatever may tend to promote 
 our own, how ruinous foever to him. Before v/e 
 can make any proper comparifon of thofe oppofite 
 interefts, v/e mufl change our pofition. We mufl 
 viev/ them, neither from our ov/n place, nor yet 
 from his, neither with our own eyes nor yet with his, 
 but from the place, and with the eyes of a third per- 
 fon, who has no particular connexion with either, and 
 who judges with impartiality between us. Here too, 
 habit and experience have taught us to do this fo 
 eafily and fo readily, that we are fcarce fenfible that 
 we do it ; and it requires, in this cafe too, fome 
 degree of reflection, and even of philofophy to con- 
 vince us, how iittl? intereft we fhould take in the 
 
 greatell 
 
igz Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 greatefl concerns of our neighbour, how little we 
 ihould be alFedled by whatever relates to him, if the 
 fenfe of propriety andjuftice did not corredt the 
 otherwife natural inequality of our fentiments. 
 
 Let us fuppofe that the great empire of China, 
 %vith all its myriads of inhabitants, was fuddenly 
 fwallowed up by an earthquake, and let us confider 
 how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no fort 
 of connexion with that part of the world, would be 
 affecfted upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful 
 calamity. He would, I imagine, nrft of all, exprefs 
 very flrongly his forrovv for the misfortune of that 
 unhappy people, he would make many melancholy 
 reflexions upon the precarioufnefs of human life, and 
 the vanity of all the labours of man, which could 
 thus be annihilated in a moment. He v/ould too, 
 perhaps, if he was a man of fpeculation, enter into 
 many reafonings concerning the effedls which this 
 difafler might produce upon the commerce of Europe, 
 and the trade and bufinefs of the world in general. 
 And when all this fine philofophy w^as over, when all 
 thefe humane fentiments had been once fairly ex- 
 prefled, he would purfue his bufmefs or his pleafure, 
 take his repofe or his divcrfion, with the fame eafe 
 and tranquility, as if no fuch accident had happened. 
 The moft frivolous difalter which could befal himfelf 
 would occafion a more real dlflurbance. If he was 
 to lofe his little finger to-morrow, he v/ould not fleep 
 to-night ; but provided he never faw them, he will 
 fnore with the moft profound fecurity over the ruin 
 of a hundred millions of his brethren, and the de- 
 llruclion of that imm.enfe multitude feems plainly 
 an object lefs interefting to him, than this paultiy 
 misfortune of his ovv^n.. To prevent therefore, this 
 
 paultry 
 
Chap. 2. . of D V T Y, 193 
 
 paultry misfortune to himfelf would aman of huma- 
 nity be v/iliing to faciifice the hves of a hundred 
 millions of his brethren, provided he had never {tea 
 them ? Human nature ftartles with horror at the 
 thought, and the v^orld, in its greateft depravity and 
 corruption, never produced fuch a villain as could 
 be capable of entertaining it. But what makes this 
 difference ? When our pailive feelings are almioft al- 
 ways fo fordid and fo felfifh, how comes it that our 
 ndtive principles fhould often be fo generous and fo 
 noble ? When v/e are always fo much more deeply 
 affeded by whatever concerns ourfeives, than by 
 whatever concerns other men -, what is it which 
 prompts the generous, upon all occafions, and the 
 mean upon many, to facrifice their own intereils to 
 the greater interefbs of others ? It is not the foft power 
 of humanity, it is not that feeble fpark of benevo- 
 lence which Nature has lighted up in the human 
 heart, that is thus capable of counterading the 
 flrongeft impulfes of felf-iove. It is a ilrono-er 
 power, a more forcible motive, which exerts itfelf 
 upon fuch occafions. It is reaion, principle, confci- 
 ence, the inhabitant of the breafl, the man within 
 the great judge and arbiter of our conduct. It is he 
 who, whenever we are about to adl fo as to affed the 
 happinefs of others, calls to us with a voice capable 
 of aftonifhing the moft prefumptuous of our paflions, 
 that we are but one of the multitude, in no refpedt 
 better than any other in it ; and that when we prefer 
 ourfeives {o HiamefuUy and fo blindly to others, we 
 become the proper objedls of refentm.ent, abhor- 
 rence, and execration. It is from him only that we 
 learn the real littlenefs of ourfeives, and of whatever 
 relates to ourfeives, and the natural mifreprefentati- 
 ons of felf-love can be correded only by the eye of 
 
 O this 
 
194 Q/^ ^^-^^ Sense Fart Hi. 
 
 this impartial fpeclator. It is he who fhows us 
 the propriety of generofity and the deformity of in- 
 juftice ; the propriety of refigning the greatefl m- 
 tereils of our own, for the yet greater interefts 
 of others, and the deformity of doing the 
 fmallell injury to another, in order to obtain the 
 greatefl benefit to ourfelves. It is not the love of 
 our neighbour, it is not the love of mankind, which 
 upon many occafions prompts us to the pradtice of 
 thofe divine virtues. It is a flronger love, a m.ore 
 powerful aifedion which generally takes place upon 
 fuch occafions, the love of what is honourable and 
 noble, of the grandeur, and dignit) , and faperioiity 
 of our own charadters. 
 
 When the happinefs or mifery of others depends 
 in any refpecl upon our conduct, we dare not, as 
 felf-love would fuggeft to us, prefer any little interefl 
 of our own, to the yet greater interefl of our neigh- 
 bour. We feel that we fhould become the proper ob- 
 jeds of the refentment and indignation of our bre- 
 thren, and the fenfe of the impropriety of this affec- 
 tion isfupported and enlivened by the yet flronger 
 fenfe of the demerit of the adlion, which it v/ould in 
 this cafe give occafion to. But when the happinefs 
 or mifery of others in no refped depends upon our 
 condud, when our own interefls are altogether fepa- 
 rated and detached from theirs, fo that there is nei- 
 ther connexion nor competition between them, as 
 the fenfe of demerit does not in this cafe interpofe, 
 the mere fenfe of impropriety is feldom able to re- 
 flrain us from abandoning ourfelves to our natural 
 anxiety about our own affairs, and to our natural in- 
 difference about thofe of other men. The moll vul- 
 gar education teaches us to ad, upon all important 
 occafions, with iome fort of impartiality between 
 
 ourfelves 
 
Chap, 2. 0/ D U T Y. ig^ 
 
 ourfelves and others, and even the ordinary com- 
 merce of the v/orld is capable of adjuring our active 
 principles to fome degree of propriety. But it is 
 the moft artificial and refined education only, which 
 pretends to correct the inequalities of our paflive 
 feelings, and we mull for this purpofe have recourfe 
 to the feverefl:, as v^ell as to the profoundefl philofo- 
 phy. 
 
 Two different fets of philofophershave attempted 
 to teach us this hardefh of all the leffons of morality. 
 One fet have laboured to increafe our fenfibility to 
 the interefls of others ; another to diminifh that to 
 our own. The firfl: would have us feel for others as 
 we naturally feel for ourfelves. The fecond would 
 have us feel for ourfelves, as we naturally feel for 
 others. 
 
 The firft are thofe melancholy moralifts, who are 
 perpetually reproaching us with our happinefs, while 
 fo many of our brethren are in mifery, * who regard 
 as impious the natural joy of profperity, v/hich does 
 not think of the many wretches that are at every in- 
 llant labouring under all forts of calamities, in the 
 languor of poverty, in the agony of difeafe, in the 
 horrors of death, under the infults and oppreflion of 
 their enemies. Commiferation for thofe miferies 
 which we never faw, which we never heard of, but 
 which we may be affured are at all times infelling 
 fuch numbers of our fellow-creatures, ought, they 
 think, to damp the pleafures of the fortunate, and to 
 render a certain melancholy dejedlion habitual to all 
 men. But firft of all, this extreme fympathy with 
 
 O 2 misfortunes, 
 
 * See Thomfon's Seafons, Winter : 
 " Ah ! little think the gay licentious proud," &c. 
 See alfo Pa leal. 
 
196 Of the Sense Fart Ilf. 
 
 misfortunes, which we know nothing about, feems 
 altogether abfiird and iinreafonable. Take the whole 
 earth at an average, for one man who fuffers pain or 
 mifery, you will find twenty in profperity and joy, 
 or at leall in tolerable circum fiances. No reafon, 
 furely, can be ailigned why we fhould rather weep 
 with the one than rejoice with the twenty. This 
 artificial commiferation, befides, is not only abfurd, 
 but feems altogether unattainable ; and thofe who 
 afFedt this character have comm.only nothing but a 
 certain hypocritical fadnefs, v/hich, without reaching 
 the heart, ferves only to render the countenance and 
 converfation impertinently difmal and difagreeablc. 
 And lafl of all, this difpofition of mind, though it 
 could be attained, would be perfedly ufelefs, and 
 could ferve no other purpofe than to render miferabk 
 the perfon who was poffeffed of it. Whatever in- 
 tereft we take in the fortune of thofe with whom 
 we have no acquaintance or connexion, and who 
 are placed altogether out of the fphere of our adivity, 
 can produce only anxiety to ourfelves, without any 
 manner of advantage to them. To what purpofe 
 fhould we trouble ourfelves about the world in the 
 moon ^ All men, even thofe at the greateft diftance, 
 are no doubt entitled to our good wifhes, and our 
 good wifhes w^e naturally give them. But if, not- 
 withflanding, they fhould be unfortunate, to give 
 ourfelves any anxiety upon that account, feems to 
 be no part of our duty. That we fhould be but 
 httle interefled, therefore, in the fortune of thofe 
 whom we can neither ferve nor hurt, and who are in 
 every refped fo very remote from us, feems wifely 
 ordered by nature ; and if it were poiTible to 
 alter in this refped the original conftitution of our 
 frame, we could yet gain nothing by the change. 
 
 Among 
 
Chap, z, 0/" D u T Y. . 197 
 
 Amono- the moralifts who endeavour to correct 
 the natural inequality of our paflive feelings by di- 
 minifhing our lenfibility to wliat peculiarly concerns 
 ourfelves, we may count all the ancient fedts of phi- 
 lofophers, but particularly the ancient floics. Man, 
 according to the ftoics, ought to regard himfelf, not 
 as fomething feparated and detached, but as a citi- 
 zen of the world, a member of the vaft common- 
 wealth of nature. To the intereft of this great com- 
 munity, he ought at all times to be willing that his 
 own little intereii fiiould be facrificed. Whatever 
 concerns himfelf, ought to affedt him no more than 
 whatever concerns any other equally important part 
 of this immenfe fyftem. We fhould view ourfelves, 
 not in the light in which our own felfifh pailions are 
 apt to place us, but in the light in which any other 
 citizen of the world would view us. What befalls 
 ourfelves we fhould regard as v/hat befalls our neigh- 
 bour, or, what comes to the fame thing, as our 
 neighbour regards what befalls us. " When our 
 '' neighbour," fays Epidletus, " lofes his wife or his 
 *' fon, there is nobody who is not fenfible that this is a 
 " human calamity, a natural event altogether, accord- 
 *' ing to the ordinary courfe of things : but when 
 " the fame thing happens to ourfelves, then we cry 
 " out, as if we had fuffered the moft di^adful misfor- 
 '' tune. We ought, however, to remember how 
 " w^e were affedted when this accident happened to 
 *' another, and fuch as we were in his cafe, fuch 
 " ought we to be in our ovvn." How diffi- 
 cult foever it may be to attain this fupreme degree 
 of magnanimity and firmnefs, it is by no means ei- 
 ther abfurd or ufelefs to attempt it. Though few 
 men have the floical idea of what this perfedt pro- 
 priety requires, yet all men endeavour in fome mea- 
 
 O 3 fure 
 
198 Of the Sense Part III, 
 
 fure to command themfelves, and to bring down 
 their {eltifh pailions to fomething which their neigh- 
 bour can 9:0 alono; with. But this can never be done 
 fo etTeftually as by viewing whatever befalls them- 
 felves in the light in which their neighbours are apt 
 to view it. The floical philoiophy, in this refpect, 
 does little more than unfold our natural ideas of 
 perfection. Tliere is nothing abfurd or Improper, 
 therefore, in aiming at this perfect felf-command. 
 Neitlier would the attainment of it be uielefs, but, 
 on the contrary, the mofi: advantageous of all things, 
 as eihiblifning ourhnppinels upon the mofl: folid and 
 fecure foundation, a iirm confidence in that wifdom 
 and juftice which governs the world, and an entire 
 refignation of ourfelves, and of whatever relates to 
 ourfclves to the all-wiie difpofal of this ruling prin- 
 ciple in nature. 
 
 It fcarce ever happens, however, that we are ca- 
 pable of adjufling our pallive feelings to this perfect 
 propriety. We indulge ourfelves, and even the 
 world indulges us, in fome degree of irregularity in 
 this refpec5t. Though we lliould be too much af- 
 fected by what concerns ourfelves, and too little by 
 what concerns other men, ) et, if we always acl w^ith 
 impartiality between ourfelves and others, if we ne- 
 ver adlually facrifice any great intereft of others, to 
 any little intereft of our own, we are eafily pardon- 
 ed: and it were well, if, upon all occailons, thofe 
 who defire to do their duty were capable of main- 
 taining even this degree of impartiality between 
 themfelves and others. But this is very far from 
 being the cafe. Even in good men, the judge with- 
 in is often in danger of being corrupted by the vio- 
 lence and injuftice of their feliifh paflions, and is 
 
 often 
 
Chap, 2. of D V T Y. 199 
 
 often induced to make a report very different from 
 what the real circumilances of the cafe are capable 
 of authorizing. 
 
 There are two different occafions, upon v/hich we 
 examine our own conduc!^, and endeavour to view 
 it in the light in which the impartial fpedator would 
 view it. Firfl, when we are about to adl ; and, fe- 
 condly, after we have ad:ed. Our views are very 
 partial in both cafes, but they are moft fo, when it 
 is of mofl importance that they fhould be otherwife. 
 
 When we are ^bout to ac^, the eagernefs of paf- 
 fion will feldom allow us to confider what we are 
 doing with the candour of an indifferent perfon. 
 The violent emotions which at that time agitate us, 
 difcolour our views of things, even when we are en- 
 deavouring to place ourfelves in the f^tuation of ano- 
 ther, and to regard the objeds that interefl: us, in 
 the light in which they will naturally appear to him. 
 The fury of our own pailions conllantly calls us 
 back to our own place, where every thing appears 
 magnified and mifreprefented by felf-love. Of the 
 manner in which thofe objeds would appear to an- 
 other, of the view which he would take of them, we 
 can obtain, if I may fay fo, but inflantaneous 
 glimpfes, which vanilh in a moment, and which 
 even while they lail are not altogether juft. We 
 cannot even for that moment divefl ourfelves entire- 
 ly of the heat and keennefs with which our peculiar 
 fituation infpires us, nor confider what we are about 
 to do with the complete impartiality of an equitable 
 judge. The paflions, upon this account, as father 
 Malebranche fays, all jullify themfelves, and feem 
 
 O 4 reafonable, 
 
200 Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 reafonable, and proportioned to their objects, as 
 long as we continue to feel them. 
 
 When the action is over, indeed, and the pailions 
 which prompted it have fubiided, we can enter more 
 coolly into feritiments of the indifferent fpedator. 
 What before interelled us, is now become almoft as 
 indifferent to us as it always was to him, and we can 
 now examine our own condud with his candour and 
 impartiality. But our Judgments now are of httle 
 importance, compared to what they were before; 
 and when they are moil feverely impartial, can com- 
 monly produce nothing but vain regret, and un- 
 availing repentance, without fecuring us^ from the 
 like errors for the future. It is feldom, however, 
 that they are quite candid even in this cafe. The 
 opinion v/hich we entertain of our own charadter, 
 depends entirely on our judgment concerning our 
 paft condud. It is fo difagreeable to think ill of 
 ourfeives, that we often purpofely turn away our 
 view from thofe circumftances which might render 
 that judgment unfavourable. He is a bold furgeon, 
 they fay, whofe hand does not tremible when he 
 performs an operation upon his own perfon ; and he 
 is often equally bold who does not hefitate to pull 
 off the myflerioiis veil of felf-delufion, which covers 
 from his view the deformities of his own conduvfl:. 
 Rather than lee our own behaviour under fo difagree- 
 able an afpedl, we too often, fooliilily and weakly, 
 endeavour to exafperate anew thofe unjufh pailions 
 which had formerly mulled us ; we endeavour by ar- 
 tifice to av/aken our old hatreds, and irritate afrefli 
 our almoll forgotten refentments : we even exert 
 ourfeives for this mifcrable purpofe, and thus per- 
 fevere in injuflice, merely becaufe we once v/ere tin- 
 
 jufl, 
 
Chap. 2. o/* D u T Y. 20I 
 
 juft, and becaufe we are afhamed and afraid to fee 
 that we were fo. 
 
 So partial are the views of mankind with regard 
 to the propriety of their own conduc^l;, both at the 
 time of adion and after it ; and fo difficult is it for 
 them to view it in the hght in which any indifferent 
 fpedlator would confider it. But if it was by a pe- 
 culiar faculty, fuch as the moral fenfe is fuppofed to 
 be, that they judged of their own condud, if they 
 were endued with a particular power of perception, 
 which diftinguilhed the beauty or deformity of paf- 
 fions and affedions ; as their own paflions would be 
 more immediately expofed to the view of this fa- 
 culty, it would judge with more accuracy concern- 
 ing them, than concerning thofe of other men, of 
 which it had only a more diflant profpecfl. 
 
 This felf-deceit, this fatal weaknefs of mankind, 
 is the fource of half the dilorders of human life. If 
 we faw ourfelves in the light in which others fee us, 
 or in which they would fee us if they knew all, a re- 
 formation would generally be unavoidable. We 
 cotild not otherwife endure the fight. 
 
 Nature, however, has not left this weaknefs, which 
 is of fo much importance, altogether without a re- 
 medy ; nor has fhe abandoned us entirely to the de- 
 lufions of felf-love. Our continual obfervations up- 
 on the condud of others, infenfibly lead us to form 
 to ourfelves certain general rules concerning what is 
 fit and proper either to be done or to be avoided. 
 Some of their adions fhock all our natural fenti- 
 ments. We hear every body about us exprefs the 
 like deteflation againil them. This flill further con- 
 firms, and even exafperates our natural (enfc of 
 
 their 
 
202 ^ Of /Z;/f S E N s E Part Ilf. 
 
 iheir deformity. It fatisfies us that we view them 
 in the proper Hght, when we fee other people view 
 them in the fame light. We refolve never to be 
 guilty of the like, nor ever, upon any account, to 
 render ourfelves in this manner the objedts of uni- 
 verfal difapprobation We thus naturally lay down 
 to ourfelves a general rule, that all fuch actions are 
 to be avoided, as tending to render us odious, con- 
 temptible, or punifhable, the ohjeds of all thofe 
 fentiments for which we have the grcatefl dread and 
 averfion. Other adions, on the contrary, call forth 
 our approbation, and we hear every body around us 
 cxprefs the fame favourable opinion concerning 
 them. Every body is eager to honour and reward 
 them. They excite all thofe fentiments for which 
 we have by nature the fhrongefl defire ; the love, the 
 gratitude, the admiration of mankind. We become 
 ambitious of performing the like ; and thus naturally 
 lay down to ourfelves a rule of another kind, that 
 every opportunity of acting in this manner is care^ 
 fully to be fought after. 
 
 It is thus that the general rules of morality are 
 formed. They are ultimately founded upon expe- 
 rience of what, in particular inftances, our moral fa- 
 culties, our natural fenfe of merit and propriety, 
 approve, or difapprove of. We do not originally 
 approve or condemn particular adlions ^ becaufe, up- 
 on examination, they appear to be agreeable or in- 
 confiilent with a certain general rule. The general 
 rule, on the contrary, is formed by finding from ex- 
 perience, that all anions of a certain kind, or cir- 
 cumflanced in a certain manner, are approved or 
 difapproved of. To the man who firft faw an in- 
 human murder, committed from avarice, envy, or 
 
 unjuft 
 
Chap. 2. of D V T Y. 203 
 
 imjufl refentrnent, and upon one too that loved and 
 trulled the murderer, who beheld the laft agonies of 
 the dying perfon, who heard him, with his expiring 
 breath, complain more of the perfidy and ingrati- 
 tude of his falfe friend, than of the violence which 
 had been done to him, there could be no occafion, 
 in order to conceive how horrible fuch anadtionwas, 
 that he Hiould refledt, that one of the mofl facred 
 rules of conduct was what prohibited the taking 
 away the life of an innocent perfon, that this was a 
 plain violation of that rule, and confequently a very 
 blamable a6l:ion. His deteilation of this crime, it 
 is evident, would arife inllantaneouily and antece- 
 dent to his having formed to himfelf any fuch ge- 
 neral rule. The general rule, on the contrary, 
 which he might afterwards form, would be founded 
 upon the deteflation which he felt neceifarily arife in 
 his own breaft, at the thought of this, and every 
 other particular adion of the fame kind. 
 
 When we read in hiftory or romance, the account 
 of actions either of generofity or of bafenefs, the ad- 
 miration which we conceive for the one, and the 
 contempt which we feel for the other, neither 
 of them arife from refleding that there are certain 
 general rules which declare all actions of the one 
 kind admirable, and all adions of the other con- 
 temptible. Thofe general rules, on the contrary, 
 are all formed from the experience we have had of 
 the effeds which adtions of all different kinds natu- 
 rally produce upon us. 
 
 An amiable adion, a refpedable adion, an hor- 
 rid adion, are all of them adions which naturally 
 /excite the love, the refped, or the horror of the 
 
 fpedator. 
 
204 Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 fpectator, for the perfon who performs them. The 
 general rules which determine what adions are, 
 and what are not, the objedts of each of thofe fenti- 
 ments, can be formed no other way than by obferv- 
 ing v/hat adions adually and in fact excite them. 
 
 When thefe general rules, indeed, have been 
 formed, v/hen they are univerfally acknowledged 
 and eflablifhed, by the concurring fentiments of 
 mankind, we frequently appeal to them as to the 
 ftandards of judgment, in debating concerning the 
 degree of praife or blame that is due to certain ac- 
 tions of a complicated and dubious nature. They 
 are upon thefe occafions commonly cited as the ulti- 
 mate foundations of what is juil and unjufl: in hu- 
 man condudt ; and this circumftance feems to have 
 mifled feveral very eminent authors, to draw up 
 their fyfle?ns in fuch a manner, as if they had fup- 
 pofed that the original judgments of mankind with 
 regard to right and wrong, were formed like the 
 decifions of a court of judicatory, by confidering 
 firfl the general rule, and then, fecondly, whether 
 the particular adion under confideration fell properly 
 within its comprehenfion. 
 
 Thofe general rules of condud, when they have 
 been fixed in our mind by habitual reflexion, are of 
 great ufe in corredling mifreprefentations of felf-love 
 concerning what is fit and proper to be done in our 
 particular fituation. The man of furious refentment, 
 if he was to lifben to the dilates of that paffion, 
 would perhaps regard the death of his enemy, as but 
 a fmall compenfation for the wrong, he imagines, 
 he has received ^ which, however, may be no more 
 than a very flight provocation. But his obfervations 
 
 upon 
 
Cliap. %. . <?/ D u T Y. 205 
 
 upon die condad of others, have taught him how 
 horrible all {licli languinary revenges appear. Un- 
 lefs his education has been very fingular, he has laid ^ 
 it down to himfelf as an inviolable rule, to abftain 
 from them upon all occafions. This rule preferves 
 its authority with him, and renders him incapable of 
 being guilty of fuch a violence. Yet the fury of his 
 own temper may be fuch, that had this been the 
 firil time in which he confidered fuch an adion, he 
 would undoubtedly have determined it to be quite 
 juft and proper, and what every impartial fpedtator 
 would approve of. But that reverence for the rule 
 which paft experience has im pre fled upon him, checks 
 the impetuofity of his paflion, and helps him to cor- 
 rect the too partial views which felf-love mio-ht 
 other wife fuggefh, of what was proper to be done 
 in his fituation. If he fhould allow himfelf to be 
 {^:i far tranfported by paflion as to violate this rule 
 yet even in this cafe, he cannot throv/ oflf altoo-ether 
 the awe and refped with which he has been accuf- 
 tomed to regard it. At the very time of adtino-, at 
 the moment in v/hich paflion mounts the higheft, he 
 liefitates and trembles at the thought of what he is 
 about to do : he is fecretly confcious to himfelf that 
 he is breaking through thofe meafures of condud, 
 v/hich, in all his cool hours, he had refolved never 
 to infringe, which he had never i^tw infringed by 
 others without the highelt difapprobation, and of 
 which the infringement, his own mind forebodes, 
 muft foon render him the object of the fam^e dif- 
 agreeable fentiments. Before he can take the lafl 
 fatal refolution, he is tormented with all tlie agonies 
 of doubt and uncertainty; he is terrified at the 
 thought of violating fo facred a rule, and at the fame 
 time is urged and goaded on by the fury of his de- 
 
 fires 
 
2o6 Of /Zv S E N S E Pait III. 
 
 fires to violate it. He changes his purpofe every 
 moment ; fometimes he refolves to adhere to his 
 principle, and not indulge a paflion which may cor- 
 rupt the remaining part of his life with the horrors of 
 fhame and repentance ; and a momentary calm 
 takes polTellion of his breafl, from the profpedt of 
 tliat fecurity and tranquillity which he will enjoy 
 when he thus determines not to expofe himfelf to 
 the hazard of a contrary conducl. But immediately 
 the paiTion roufes anev/, and with freili fury drives 
 him on to commit what he had the inflant before re- 
 folved to abflain from. Wearied and diftradted 
 with thofe continual irrefolutions, he at length, 
 from a fort of defpair, makes the lail fatal and ir- 
 recoverable ilep ; but with that terror and amaze- 
 ment with which one flying from an enemxy, throv/s 
 himfelf over a precipice, wliere he is fure of meet- 
 ing with more certain deftrudion than from any 
 thing that purfues him from behind. Such are his 
 fentiments even at the time of adting ; though he is 
 then, no doubt, lefs fenfible of the impropriety of 
 his own condud than afterwards, when his pallion 
 being gratified and palled, he begins to view what 
 he has done in the light in which others are apt to 
 view it ; and adually feels, what he had only fore- 
 feen very imperfectly before, the flings of remorfe 
 and repentance begin to agitate and torment him. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
Chap. 3, of D \j T Y. 20' 
 
 CHAP. HI. 
 
 Of the influence and authority of the gejieral rules of mo- 
 rality^ and that they are jiiftly regarded as the laws of 
 the Deity. 
 
 A HE regard to thofe general rules of conduc\, 
 is what is properly called a fenfe of duty, a prin- 
 ciple of the greatefh confequence in human life, and 
 the only principle by which the bulk of mankind are 
 capable of directing their adions. Many men be- 
 have very decently, and through the whole of their 
 lives avoid any confiderable degree of blame, who 
 yet, perhaps, never felt the fentiment upon the 
 propriety of which we found our approbation of 
 their condud, but aded merely from a regard to 
 what they faw were the eftablifhed rules of beha- 
 viour. The man who has received great benefits 
 from another perfon, may, by the naturtd coldnefs of 
 his temper, feel but a very fmali degree of the fenti- 
 ment of gratitude. If he has been virtuoufly educated, 
 however,- he will often have been made to obferve 
 how odious thofe adions appear which denote a 
 want of this fentiment, and how amiable the con- 
 trary. Tho' his heart therefore is not warmed with 
 any grateful affedion, he will drive to act as if it 
 was, and will endeavour to pay all thofe regards 
 and attentions to his patron which the livelieft gra- 
 titude 
 
2o8 (y /i;^ S E N s E Part III. 
 
 titude could fuggelt. He will vifit him regularh/ ; 
 he will behave to him refpedlfully ; he will never 
 talk of him but with exprellions of the highefl ef- 
 teem, and of the many obligations which he owes 
 to him. And what is m.ore, he will carefully em- 
 brace every opportunity of making a proper return 
 for pafl fervices. He may do all this too without 
 any hypocriiy or blamable diflimulation, without 
 any felfifh intention of obtaining new favours, and 
 without any defign of impofmg either upon his be- 
 nefadtor or the public. The motive of his anions 
 may be no other than a reverence for the eftablilhed 
 rule of duty, a ferious and earned defire of acting, 
 in every refped:, according to the law of gratitude. 
 A wife, in the fame manner, may fjmetimes not 
 feel that tender regard for her hufband which is fuit- 
 able to the relation that fubfifts betv/een them. If 
 Ihe has been virtuoufly educated, however, the will 
 endeavour to adt as if flie felt it, to be careful, of- 
 ficious, faithful, aid fmcere, and to be deficient in 
 none of thofe attentions which the fentiment of con- 
 jugal affedion could have prompted her to perform. 
 Such a friend, and fuch a wife, are neither of them, 
 undoubtedly, the very befi: of their kinds ^ and 
 though both of them may have the moft ferious and 
 earneft defire to fulfil every part of their duty, yet 
 they will fail in many nice and delicate regards, 
 they will mifs many opportunities of obliging, v. hich 
 they could never have overlooked if they had pof- 
 feffed tlie fentiment that is proper to their fituation. 
 Though not the very firft of their kinds, however, 
 they are perhaps the fecond ; and if the regard to 
 the general rules of condud has been very ilrongly 
 impfeffed upon them, neither of them v/ill fail in 
 any elTential part of their duty. None but thofe of 
 
 the 
 
Chap. ?. of D V T Y. 209 
 
 the happieil mould arc capable of fulling, with ex- 
 ad juft tie fs, their feniiments and behaviour to the 
 fmalieft difference of fituation, and of ading upon 
 all occafions with the mofi: delicate and accurate 
 propriety. The coarfe clay of which the bulk of 
 mankind are formed, cannot be wrought up to fuch 
 perfection. There is fcarce any man, however, 
 who by difcipline, education, and example, may not 
 be impreiTed with a regard to general rules, as to adt 
 upon almofl every occafion with toleiable decency, 
 and through the whole of his life avoid any confi- 
 derabie degree of blame. 
 
 Without this facred regard to general rules, there 
 is no man whofe conduct can be much depended 
 upon. It is this which conftitutes the mofl eliential 
 difference between a man of principle and honour 
 and a worthlefs fellov^A. Xhe one adheres, oh all 
 occafions, fteadily and refolutely to his maxims, 
 and preferves through the v/liole of his life one even 
 tenour of condudt. The other, ads varioufly and 
 accidentally, as humujr, inclination, or interelt 
 chance to be uppermoft. Nay, fuch are the ine- 
 qualities of humour to which all men are fubjedt, 
 that without this principle, the man who, in his cool 
 hours, had the mofl delicate fenfibility to the' pro- 
 priety of condudt, might often be led to ad ab- 
 furdly upon the moft frivolous occ^ions, and when 
 it v/as fcarce poilible to aihgn any ferious motive for 
 his behaviour in this manner. Your friend makes 
 you a vifit when you happen to be in a humour 
 which makes it difagreeable to receive him : in your 
 prefent mood this civility is very apt to appear an 
 impertinent intrufion ; and if youv/ereto give way 
 to the views of things which at th.is time occur, 
 
 P though 
 
2IO Of the Sens t Part Hi. 
 
 though civil in your temper, 3-0U would behave to 
 him with coldnels and contempt. What renders 
 you incapable of fuch a rudeneis, is nothing but a 
 regard to the general rules of civility and hofpitality, 
 which prohibit it. That habitual reverence which 
 your former experience has taught you for thefe, 
 enables you to ad, upon all fuch occafions, with 
 nearly equal propriety, and hinders thofe inequa- 
 lities of temper, to which all men are fubjed, from 
 influencing your conduct in any very fenfible degree. 
 But if without regard to thefe general rules, even 
 the duties of politenefs, which are fo eafily obferv- 
 ed, and vvhich can fcarce have any ferious motive 
 to violate, would yet be fo frequently violated, 
 what would become of the duties of juflice, of 
 truth, of chaftity, of fidelity, which it is often fo 
 difficult to obferve, and which there miay be fo ma- 
 ny flrong motives to violate ? But upon the toler- 
 able obiervance of thefe duties, depends the very 
 exiflence of human fociety, which would crumble 
 into nothing if mankind v/ere not generally impref- 
 fed with a reverence for thofe important rules of 
 condudt. 
 
 This reverence is flill further enhanced by an opi- 
 nion which is firft imprelfed by nature, and after- 
 wards confirmed by teafoning and philofophy, that 
 . thofe important rules of morality, are the commands 
 and laws of the Deity, who will finally reward the 
 obedient, and punifla the traufgreifors of their duty. 
 
 This opinion or apprehenfion, I fay, feems firll to 
 be impreiled by nature. Men are naturally led to 
 afciibe to thofe myfterious beings, whatever they 
 are, which happen, in any country, to be the ob- 
 
 jeds 
 
Chap. 3. </ D tj T Y. 211 
 
 jeds of religious fear, all their own fentrments and 
 paffions. They have no other, they can conceive 
 no other to afcribe to them. Thofe unknown in- 
 telligences which they imagine but fee not, mull 
 necefiarily be formed with fome fort of refemblance 
 to thofe intelligences of which they have experience. 
 During the ignorance and darknefs of pagan fuper- 
 ftition, mankind feem to have formed the ideas of 
 their divinities with (o little delicacy, that they af- 
 cribed to them, indifcriminately, all the paflions of 
 human nature, thofe not excepted which do the 
 leaft honour to our fpecies, fuch as luft, hunger, 
 avarice, envy, revenge. They could not fail there- 
 fore, to afcribe to thofe beings, for the excellence 
 of whofe nature they llill conceived the higheil ad- 
 miration, thofe fentiments and qualities which are 
 the great ornaments of humanity, and which feem 
 to raife it to a refemblance of divine perfection, the 
 love of virtue and beneficence, and the abhorrence 
 of viceand injullice. The man who was injured, 
 called upon Jupiter to be m itnefs of the wrong that 
 was done to him, and could not doubt, but that di- 
 vine being would behold it with the fame indigna- 
 tion which would animate the meanefl of man- 
 kind, who looked on when injuflice was committed. 
 The man who did the injury, felt himfelf to be 
 the proper objedt of deteflation and refentment of 
 mankind ; and his natural fears led him to impute 
 the fame fentiments to thofe awful beings, whofe 
 prefence he could not avoid, and whofe power he 
 could not refift. Thefe natural hopes and fears, 
 and fufpicions, were propagated by fympatliy, and 
 confirmed by education ; and the gods were univer- 
 fally reprefented and believed to be the rewarders 
 of humanity and mercy, and the avengers of per- 
 
 P 2 " fidy 
 
212 Of the S E li s E Part III. 
 
 fidy and injuftice. And thus religion, even in its 
 rudeft form, gave a fandion to the rules of mora- 
 lity, long before the age of artificial reafoning and 
 philofophy. That the terrors of religion flionld 
 thus enforce the natural fenie of duty^ was of too 
 much importance to the happinefs of mankind, for 
 nature to leave it dependent upon the llownefs and 
 uncertainty of philofophical refearches. 
 
 Thefe refearches, however, when they came to 
 take place, confirmed thofe original anticipations of 
 nature Upon v/hatever we fuppofe that our moral 
 faculties are founded, whether upon a certain modi- 
 fication of reafon, upon an original inflind, called a 
 moral fenfe, or upon fome other principle of our 
 nature, it cannot be doubted, that they were given 
 us for the diredion of our condud in this life. They 
 carry along with tliem the moll evident badges of 
 this authority, which denote that they were fet up 
 within us to be the fupreme arbiters of all our actions, 
 to fuperintend all our fenfes, paflions, and appetites, 
 and to judge how far each of them was either to be 
 indulged or reftrained. Our moral faculties are by no 
 means, as fome have pretended, upon a level in this 
 refped with the other facuhiesand appetites of our 
 nature, endowed with no more right to reftrain thefe 
 lafl, than thefe lafl are to rcdrain them. No other 
 faculty or principle of adtion judges of any other. 
 Love does not judge of refentment, nor refentment 
 of love. Thofe two pafTions may be oppofite to one 
 another, but cannot, with any propriety, be faid to 
 approveordifapprove of one another. But it is the 
 peculiar office of thofe faculties now under our con- 
 fideration to judge, to beflow cenfure or applaufe 
 upon all the other principles of our nature. They 
 
 may 
 
Chap. 3. ^/ D u T Y. 215 
 
 may be confidered as a fort of fenfes of which thofe 
 principles are the objedls. Every fenfe is fupreme 
 over its own objeds. There is no appeal from the 
 eye with regard to the beauty of colours, nor from 
 the ear with regard to the harmony of founds, nor 
 from the tafte with regard to the agreeabienefs of 
 flavours. Each of diofe fenfes Judges in the lafl 
 refort of its own objeds. Whatever gratifies the 
 tafte is fweet, whatever pleafes the eye is beautiful, 
 whatever fooths the ear is harmonious. The very 
 eflence of each of thofe qualities confifls in being 
 fitted to pleafethe {cnft to which it is addrelfed. It 
 belongs to our moral faculties, in the fame manner 
 to determine when the ear ought to be foothed, when 
 the eye ought to be indulged, when the tafte ought 
 to be gratified, when and how far every other prin- 
 ciple of our nature ought to be indulged or reflrain- 
 ed. What is agreeable to our moral faculties, is fit, 
 and right, and proper to be done ; the contrary 
 wrong, unfit, and improper. The fentiments v/hich 
 they approve of, are graceful and unbecoming. The 
 very words, right, wrong, fit, improper, graceful, 
 unbecoming, mean oiily what pleafes or difpleafes 
 thofe faculties, 
 
 Since thefe, therefore, were plainl)^ intended to be 
 the governing principles of human nature, the rules 
 which they prescribe, are to be regarded as the com- 
 mands and laws of the Deity, promulgated by thofe 
 vicegerents which he has thus fet up within us. All 
 general rules are commonly denominated laws : thus 
 the general rules which bodies obferve in the com- 
 munication of motion, are called the laws of motion. 
 But thofe general rules which our moral faculties 
 obferve in approving or condemning whatever fenti- 
 
 P 3 ment 
 
214 Of the S E -N s E Part ill. 
 
 ment or a(5lion is fubjedled to their examination, may 
 much more jiiflly be denominated fuch. They have 
 a much greater refemblance to what are properly call- 
 ed laws, thofe general rules which the ibvereign lays 
 down to diredt the conduct of his fubjedls. Like 
 them they are rules to diredt the free actions of men : 
 they are prefcribed moil furely by a lawful fuperior, 
 and are attended to in the fandicn of rewards and 
 puniihments. Thofe vicegerents of God within us, 
 never fail to punifn the violation of them, by the tor- 
 ments of inward fhame, and felf-condemnation ; 
 and on the contrary, always reward obedience with 
 tranquillity of nnind, with contentment, and felf-fa- 
 tisfadtion. 
 
 There are mnumerable other confiderations which 
 (erve to confirm the fame conclufion. The happi- 
 nefs of mankind, as well as of all other rational 
 creatures, feem.s to have been the original pur- 
 pofe intended by the Author of nature, when he 
 brought them into exigence. No other end feems 
 worthy of that fupreme wifdom and divine benig- 
 nity which we necelllirily afcribe to him -, and this 
 opinion, v/hich we are led to by the abftradt confider- 
 ation of his infinite perfetflions, is ilill more con- 
 fir nied by the examination of the works of nature, 
 which feem all intended to promote happinefs, and 
 to guard againft miiery. But by adling according 
 to the dictates of our moral faculties, we necelTarily 
 purfue the moft effedual means for promoting the 
 happinefs of mankind, and may therefore be faid, 
 in fome fenfe, to co-operate with the Deity, and to 
 advance as far as in our power the plan of Provi- 
 dence. By ading otherways, on the contrary, we 
 feem to obftrud, in fome m^eafure, the fcheme 
 which the Author of nat;tre has eflablifhed for the 
 
 happinefs 
 
Chap. 3. 0/ D u T Y. 215 
 
 happinefs and perfedtion of the world, and to de- 
 clare ourfelves, if I may fay fo, in fon:ie meafure the 
 enemies of God. Hence we are naturally encou- 
 raged to hcpe for his extraordinary favour and re- 
 ward in the one cafe, and to dread his vengfeaPjCe 
 and punifhment in the other. 
 
 There are befides many other reafons, and many 
 other natural principles, which all tend to confirm 
 and inculcate the fame falutary dodrine. If we con- 
 fider the general rules by which external profperity 
 and adverfity are commonly diflributed in tliis life, 
 we fhall find, that notwithftanding the diforder in 
 v/hich all things appear to be in this world, yet even 
 here every virtue naturally meets with its proper re- 
 ward, with the recompenfe which is mofl fit to en- 
 courage and promote it j and this too fo furely, that 
 it requires a very extraordinary concurrence of cir- 
 cumftances entirely to difappoint it. What is the 
 reward mofl proper for encouraging induftry, pru^ 
 dence, and circumfpedlion ^ Succefs in every fort 
 of bufinefs. And is it polUble that in the whole of 
 life thefe virtues fhould fail of attaining it ? Wealth 
 and external honours are their proper recompenfe, 
 and the recompenfe which they can feldom fail of 
 acquiring. What reward is moft proper for pro- 
 moting the pradHce of truth, juftice, and humanity ? 
 The confidence, the efleem, and love of thofe we 
 live with. Humanity does not defire to be great, 
 but to be beloved. It is not in being rich that truth 
 and juflice would rejoice, but in being trufted and 
 believed, recompenfes which thofe virtues muft al- 
 moft always acquire. By fome very extraordinary 
 and unlucky circumflance, a good man may come 
 to be' fufpeded of a crime of which he was altoge- 
 
 P 4 ther 
 
21 6 Of tbe S E 1^ s E Part III 
 
 iher incapable, and upon that account be moft un- 
 iiillly expofed for the remaining part of his life to 
 the horror and averfion of mankind. By an acci- 
 dent of this kind he may be faid to lofe h's all, not- 
 witbflanding his integrity and juflice •, in the fam^e 
 manner as a cautious man, notwithilanding his ut- 
 moil circ'umfpeclion, m.ay be ruined by an earth- 
 quake or an inundation. Accidents of the fiift 
 kind, however, are perhaps itill miore rare, and iViU 
 more contrary to the common courfe of things than 
 thofe of the fecond ; and flill it remiains true, that the 
 pradlice of truth, jullice, and humanity, is a certain 
 and aimofl infallible method of acquiring what thofe 
 virtues chiefly aim at, the confidence and love of 
 thofe we hve with. A perfon m.ay be very eafily 
 mifreprefented with regard to a particular adion ^ 
 but it is fcarce pollible that he fhould be fo with re- 
 gard to the general tenor of his condud. An inno- 
 cent man may be believed to have done wrong : 
 this, however, will rarely happen. On the contra- 
 ry, the eftabhfhed opinion of the irmocence of his 
 manners, will often lead us to abfolve him where he 
 has really been in the fault, notwithftanding very 
 ilrcng preftimptions. A knave, in the fame man- 
 ner may efcape cenfure, or even meet applaufe, for 
 a particular knavery, in which his condudt is not 
 undeiflood. But no man was ever habitually fuch, 
 witliout being almoft univerfally known to be fo, 
 and without being even frequently fufpeded of 
 guilt, when he was in reality perfedly innocent. 
 And fo far as vice and virtue can be either punillied 
 or rewarded by the fentiments and opinions of man- 
 kind, they both, according to the common courie 
 of things, meet even here with fomething more 
 than exad and impartial juflice. 
 
 But 
 
Chap. 3. r/ D u T Y. 217 
 
 But thoiigh the general rules by which profperity 
 and adverfity are commonly diftributed, when con- 
 fidered in this cool and philoiophical light, appear to 
 be . perfedly fuited to tlie fituation of mankind in 
 this life, yet tliey are by no means fuited to fome of 
 ournatural fentim.ents. Our natural love and ad- 
 miration for fome virtues is fuch, that we iTiould 
 wifii to bellow on them all forts of honours and re- 
 v/ards, even thofe which we mufl acknowledge to 
 be the proper recompenfes of other quahties with 
 v/hich thofe virtues are not always accompanied. 
 Our detellation, on the contrary, for fome vices is 
 fiich, that we fhould defire to heap upon them every 
 fort of difgrace and difailer, thofe not excepted 
 wliichare the natural confequences of very different 
 qualities. Magnanimity, generofity, and juflice 
 command fo high a degree of admiration, that we 
 defu'c to fee them crowned with wealth, and power, 
 and honours of every kind, the natural confequences 
 of prudence, induilry, and application ; qualities 
 with which thofe virtues are not infeparably conned- 
 ed. Fraud, falfehood, brutality, and violence, on 
 the other hand, excite in every human breafl fuch 
 fcorn and abhorrence, that our indignation roufes to 
 fee them poffefs thofe advantages which they may in 
 fome fenfe be faid to have mxerited, by the diligence 
 and induftry w^ith which they are fometimes attended. 
 The induflrious knave cultivates the foil -, the indo- 
 lent good man leaves it uncultivated. Who ought 
 to reap the harveft .? Who ftarve, and who live in 
 plenty? The natural courfe of things decides it in 
 favour of the knave : the natural fentiments of man- 
 kind in favour of the man of virtue. Man judges, 
 that the good qualities of the one are greatly over-re- 
 compenfed by thofe advantages which they tend to 
 
 procure 
 
21 8 Of //^^ S E N s E PartllL 
 
 procure hiin, and that the omiflions of the other are 
 by far too feverely punillied by the diftrefs which 
 they naturally bring upon him ^ and human laws, 
 the confequences of human fentiments, forfeit the 
 life and the eitate of the induftrious and cautious 
 traitor, and reward, by extraordinary recompcnfes, 
 the fidelity and public fpirit of the improvident and 
 carelefs good citizen. Thus man is by Nature di- 
 reded to corredt, in fome meafure, that diftribution 
 of things which fhe herfelf would other wife have 
 made. The rules which for this purpofe fhe prompts 
 him 10 follow, are different from thofe which fhe 
 herfelt obferves. She befhoivs upon every virtue, and 
 upon every vice, that precife reward or punifhment 
 which is beil fitted to encourage the one, or to re- 
 ilrain the other. She is direded by this fole confide- 
 ration, and pays little regard to the different degrees 
 of merit and demerit, which they may feem to poiTefs 
 in the fentiments and palTions of man. Man, on 
 the contrary, pays regard to this only, and would 
 endeavour to render the flate of every virtue precifely 
 proportioned to that degree of love and efteem, and 
 of every vice to that degree of contempt and abhor- 
 rence, which he himfelf conceives for it. The rules 
 which fhe follows are fit for her, thofe which he fol- 
 lows for him : but both are calculated to promote the 
 fame great end, the order of the world, and the per- 
 fection and happinefs of human nature. 
 
 But though m.an is thus employed to alter that 
 diflribution of things which natural events would 
 make, if left to themfelves; though, like the gods 
 of the poets, he is perpetually interpofing, by extra- 
 ordinary means, in favour of virtue, and in oppofiti- 
 on to vice, and like tliem, endeavours to turn away 
 
 the 
 
Chap. 3. c/ D u T Y. zig 
 
 the arrow that is aimed at the head of the righteous, 
 but accelerates the fword of deilrudion that is lifted 
 up againft the wicked ; yet he is by no means able 
 to render the fortune of either quite fuitable to his 
 own fentiments and wifhes. The natural courfe of 
 things cannot be entirely controuled by the impo- 
 tent endeavours of man : the current is too rapid and 
 too flrong for him to flop it •, and though tht rules 
 which direct it appear to have been eftablidied for 
 the wifell and bed purpofes, they fometimes pro- 
 duce effeds which fhock all his natural fentiments. 
 Tliat a, great combination of men, fhould prevail 
 over a fmall one ; that thofe who engage in an en- 
 terpriie with fore-thought and all neceffary prepara- 
 tion, fhould prevail over fijch as oppofe them with- 
 out any ; and that every end fhould be acquired by 
 thofe means only which Nature has ellablifhed for 
 acquiring it, feems to be a rale not only necelTary 
 and unavoidable in itfelf, but even ufeful and proper 
 for roufmg the induftry and attention of mankind. 
 Yet, when, in confequence of this rule, violence and 
 artifice prevail over fmcerity andjuftice, what indig- 
 nation does it not excite in the breaft of every humane 
 fpedator ? What forrow and compaiiion for the 
 iufferings of the innocent, and what furious refent- 
 ment againft the fuccefs of the opprelTor ? We are 
 equally grieved and enraged, at the wrong that is 
 done, but often find it altogether out of our power 
 to redrefs it. When we thus defpair of finding any 
 force upon earth which can check the triumph of 
 injuftice, we naturally appeal to Heaven, and hope, 
 that the great Author of our nature will himfelf exe- 
 cute hereafter, what all the principles which he has 
 given us for the diredion of our conduct, prompt us 
 Xo attempt even here ; that he will complete the 
 
 plan 
 
Z20 0/ /Z'^ S E N s E Part III. 
 
 plan which he himfelf has thus taught us to begin ; 
 and will, in a life to come, render to every one ac- 
 cording to the works which he has performed in this 
 world. And thus we are led to the belief of a future 
 ilate, not only by the weaknefTes, by the hopes and 
 fears of human nature, but by the nobleft and belt 
 principles which belong to it, by the love of virtue, 
 and by the abhorrence of vice and injuflice. 
 
 (C 
 
 Dees it fuit the greatnefs of God," fays the elo- 
 quent and phiiofophical bifhop of Clermont, with 
 that palTionate and exaggerating force of imaginati- 
 on, v/hich feems fometimes to exceed the bounds of 
 decorum •, '^ does it fuit the greatnefs of God, to 
 leave the world which he has created in fo uni- 
 verfal a diforder ? To fee the wicked prevail al- 
 mofl: always over the juft ; the innocent dethroned 
 by the ufurper ; the father become the victim of 
 the ambition of an unnatural fon ; the hufband 
 expiring under the llroke of a barbarous and failh- 
 lefs wife ? From the height of his greatnefs ought 
 God to behold thofe melancholy events as a fan-r 
 taflical amufement, without taking any fhare in 
 them ? Becaufe he is great, fhould he be weak, 
 or unjull, or barbarous ? Becaufe men are little, 
 ought they to be allowed either to be diilolute 
 without punifliment, or virtuous without reward ? 
 O God ! if this is the character of your Supreme 
 Being •, if it is you whom we adore under fuch 
 dreadful ideas ; I can no longer acknowledge you 
 for my father, for my protedtor, for the comforter 
 of my forrow, the fupport of my weaknefs, the 
 rewarderofmy fidelity. You would then be no 
 more than an indolent and fantaflical tyrant, who 
 facrifices mankind to his infolent vanity, and who 
 
 sx 
 
 '' ha 
 
 u.ii 
 
Chap. 3. of D u T Y. 221 
 
 *' has brought them out of nothing, only to make 
 *' them ferve for the fport of his leifure, and of his 
 " caprice." 
 
 When the general rules which determine the me- 
 rit and dement ofadions, come thus to be regarded, 
 as the laws of an All-powerful Being, Vv^ho watches 
 over our condud, and who, in a life to come, will 
 reward the obfervance, and punifh the breach of 
 them ; they neceiTarily acquire anew facrednefs from 
 this confideration. That our regard to the will of 
 tlie Deity, ought to be the lupreme rule of our con- 
 duel, can be doubted of by no body who believes 
 his exiltence. The very thought of difobedience 
 appears to involve in it the mod fhocking improprie- 
 ty. How vain, how abfurd would it be for man, 
 either to oppofe or to negled the commands that 
 were laid upon him by Infinite Wifdom, and Infi- 
 nite Power ! How unnatural, how impioufly un- 
 grateful not to reverence the precepts that were pre- 
 fcribed to him by the infinite goodnefs of his Creator, 
 even though no punifliment was to follow their vio- 
 lation. The fenfe of propriety too is here well fup- 
 ported by the ilrongell motives of felf-intereft. 
 The idea that, however we may efcape the obferva- 
 tion of man, or be placed above the reach of human 
 punifhment, yet we are always ading under the eye, 
 and expofed to the punifhment of God, the great 
 avenger of injiiflice, is a motive capable of reftrain- 
 ing the moft headftrong paffions, with thcfe at lead 
 who, by conftant reflection, have rendered it fami- 
 liar to them. 
 
 It is in this manner that religion enforces the na- 
 tural fenfe of duty : and hence it is, that mankind 
 
 are 
 
222 Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 are generally difpofed to place gi^eat confidence in 
 the probity of thofe who feem deeply imprelTed with 
 religious fentiments. Such perfons, they imagine, 
 a6t under an additional tye, befides thofe which re- 
 gulate the condudt of other men. The regard to the 
 propriety of adlion as well as to reputation, the re- 
 gard to the applaufe of his own breail, as well as theit 
 of others, are motives which they fuppofe have the 
 fame influence over the religious man, as over the 
 man of the world. But the former lies under ano- 
 ther reftraint, and never ads deliberately but as in 
 the prefence of that Great Superior who is finally to 
 recompenfe him according to his deeds. A greater 
 truft isrepofed, upon this account, in the regularity 
 and exadtnefs of his conduct. And wherever the 
 natural principles of religion are not corrupted by the 
 fadious and party zeal of fome worthlefs cabal ; 
 wherever the firft duty which it requires, is to fulfil 
 all the obligations of morality ; wherever men are not 
 taught to regard frivolous obfervances, as more im- 
 mediate duties of religion, than adts of juftice and 
 beneficence ; and to imagine, that by facrifices, and 
 ceremonies, and vain fupplications, they can bargain 
 with the Deity, for fraud, and perfidy, and violence, 
 the world undoubtedly judges right in this refpedt, 
 andjuftly places a double confidence in thereditude 
 of the religious man's behaviour. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
Chap. 4. ^/ D u T Y. 22: 
 
 G H A P. IV. 
 
 In ivhat cafes the fenfe of duty ought to be the fole princi- 
 ple of our coyidiiB ; and in what cafes it ought to concur 
 with other motives. 
 
 .E L I G I O N affords fuch ftrong motives to 
 the pradice of virtue, and guards us by fuch 
 powerful reftraints from the temptations of vice, 
 that many have been led to fuppofe, that religious 
 principles were the fole laudable motives of adion. 
 We ought neither, they faid, to reward from grati- 
 tude, nor punilh from refentment ; 'we ought nei- 
 ther to protedt the helpleffnefs of our children, nor 
 afford fupport to the infirmities of our parents, from 
 natural affedion. All affedions for particular objeds, 
 ought to be extinguifhed in our breaft, and one 
 great affedion take the place of all others, the love 
 of the Deity, the defire of rendering ourfelves agree- 
 able to him, and of direding our condud in every 
 refped according to his will. We ought not to be 
 grateful from gratitude, we ought not to be charita- 
 ble from humanity, we otight not to be public-fpirited 
 from the love of our country, nor generous and jufl 
 from the love of mankind. The fole principle and 
 motive of our condud in the performance of all thofe 
 different duties, ought to be a fenfe that God has 
 
 com- 
 
224 Of the Sense Part IIL 
 
 commanded us to perform them. I Ihall not at pre- 
 fent take time to examine this opinion particularly ; 
 I fhall only obferve, that, we fliould not haveexpeded 
 to have found it entertained by any feci, who pro- 
 feffed them.felves of a religion in which, as it is the 
 firft precept to love the Lord our God with all our 
 heart, with all our foul, and with all our flrength, fo 
 it is the fecond to love our neighbour as we love 
 ourfelves ; and we love ourfelves furely for our own 
 fakes, and not merely becaufe w^e are commanded 
 to do fo. That the feafe of duty fnoul^ be the fole 
 principle of our condud:, is no where the precept of 
 Chriuianity ; but that it fliould be the ruling and 
 governing one, as philofophy, and as, indeed, com- 
 mon fenfe direcls. It may be a queftion however, 
 in what cafes our adtlons ought to arife chiefly or en- 
 tirely from a fenfe of duty, or from a regard to gene- 
 ral rules ; and in what cafes fome other fentiment or 
 aftedtion ought to concur, and have a principal in- 
 fluence. 
 
 The decifion of this queflion, which cannot, 
 perliaps, be given v/ith any very great accuracy, will 
 depend upon two different circumfliances ; firft, 
 upon the natural agreeablenefs or deformity of the 
 fentiment or atfeclion v/hich would prompt ns to any 
 adlton independent of all regard to general rules ; 
 and fecondly, upon the precifion and exadtnefs, or 
 the loofenefs and inaccuracy of the general rules 
 themfelves. 
 
 I. Firfl:, I fay, it will depend upon the natural 
 agreeablenefs or deformity of the affedion itfelf, how 
 far our adions ought to arife from it, or entirely pro- 
 ceed from a regard to the p;eneral rule. 
 
 All 
 
Chap. 4, ^/ D tJ T y. 225 
 
 All thofe graceful and admired actions, to which 
 the benevolent affcdions would prompt us, ought 
 to proceed as much from the pafTions themfelves, as 
 from any regard to the general rules of condudto 
 A benefadlor thinks himfelf but ill requited, if the 
 perfon upon whom he has bellowed his good offices, 
 repays them merely from a cold fenfe of duty, and 
 without any affedion to his perfon. A hufband is 
 dilTatisfied with the mod obedient wife, when he 
 imagines her condudt is animated by no other prin- 
 ciple befides her regard to what the relation flie 
 Hands in requires. Though a fon fhould fail in none 
 of the offices of filial duty, yet if he wants that af- 
 fedlionate reverence which it fo well becomes him to 
 feel, the parent may juftly complain of his indiffi^r- 
 ence. Nor could a fon be quite fatisfied with a pa- 
 rent who, though he performed all the duties of his 
 fituation, had nothing of that fatherly fondnefs 
 •which might have been expedted from him. With 
 regard to all fuch benevolent and focial affedtions, ic 
 is agreeable to fee the fenfe of duty employed rather 
 to rellrain than to enliven them, rather to hinder us 
 from doing too much, than to prompt us to do what 
 we ought. It gives us pieafure to fee a father obliged 
 to check his own fondnefs, a friend obliged to fee 
 bounds to his natural generoHty, a perfon who has 
 received a benefit, obliged to reftrain the too fan- 
 guine gratitude of his own temper. 
 
 The contrary maxim takes place with regard to the 
 malevolent and unfocial paffions. We ought to re- 
 v^ard from the gratitude and generofity of our own 
 hearts, without any reludance, and without being 
 obliged to refled: how great the propriety of reward- 
 ing ; but vye Oiight always to punifli with reludance, 
 
 Q^ and 
 
226 Of the S E ^ s E Part IIL 
 
 and more from a fenfe of the propriety of puniihing 
 than from any favage difpofition to revenge. No- 
 thing is more graceful than the behaviour of the 
 man who appears to refent the greateft injuries, more 
 from a fenfe that they deferve, and are the proper 
 objecls of refentment, than from feeling himfelf the 
 furies of that difagreeable paffion i who, like a judge, 
 confiders only the general rule, which determines 
 what vengeance is due for each particular offence j 
 who, in executing that rule, feels lefs for what him- 
 felf has fuffered, than what the offender is about to 
 fuffer J who, though in wrath remembers mercy, and 
 is difpofed to interpret the rule in the mod gentle and 
 favourable manner, and to allow all the alleviations 
 which the moft candid humanity could, confiftcntly 
 with good fenfe, admit of. 
 
 As the felfifh pafTions, according to what has for- 
 merly been obferved, hold in other refpedls a fort of 
 middle place, between the focial and unfocial afFedli-* 
 ons, fo do they likewife in this. The purfuit of the 
 objects of private in tereft, in all common, little, and 
 ordinary cafes, ought to flow rather from a regard 
 to the general rules which prefcribe fuch conduct, 
 than from any pafTion for the objedls themfelves ; 
 but upon more important and extraordinary occafi- 
 ons, we fliould be awkward, infipid, and ungrace- 
 ful, if the objedls themfelves did not appear to ani- 
 mate us with a confiderable degree of pafTion. To 
 be anxious, or to be laying a plot either to gain or 
 to fave a fmgle fliilling, would degrade the moft vuK 
 gar tradefman in the opinion of all his neighbours. 
 Let his circumftances be ever fo mean, no attention 
 to any fuch fmall matters, for the fake of the things 
 themfelvesj muft appear in his condud. His fitu- 
 
 acion 
 
Ghap. 4. - cf D u r y, 227 
 
 ation may require the mofl fcvere ceconomy, and the 
 mod exatfl afliduity : but each particular exertion of 
 that oeconomy and afliduity mud proceed not fo 
 much from a regard for tha.t particular faving or 
 gain, as for the general rule which to him prefcribes, 
 with the utmoft rigour, fuch a tenour of condudt. 
 His parfimony to-day muft not arife from a defire of 
 the particular three-pence which he will fave by it, 
 nor his attendance in his fliop from a paflion for the 
 particular ten-pence which he will acquire by it : 
 both the one and the other ought to proceed foleiy 
 from a regard to the general rule, which prefcribes, 
 with the moft unrelenting feverity, this plan of con- 
 dud to all perfons in his way of life. In this con- 
 fifts the difference between the character of a mifer, 
 and that of a perfon of exa6t oeconomy and aflidui- 
 ty. The one is anxious about fmall matters for 
 their own fake -, the other attends to them only in 
 confequence of the fcheme of life which he has 
 laid down to himfelf. 
 
 It is quite otherwife with regard to the more ex- 
 traordinary and important objeds of felf-interell, 
 A perfon appears mean-fpirited, who does not pur- 
 fue thefe with fome degree of earneflhefs for their 
 own fake. We fliould defpife a prince who was not 
 anxious about conquering or defending a province. 
 We fliould have little refpe^l for a private gentlemani 
 who did not exert himfelf to gain an eltate, or even 
 a cohflderable oflice, when he could acquire them 
 without either meannefs or injuftice. A member of 
 parliament who fliews no keennefs about his own 
 ele6tion, is abandoned by his friends, as altogether 
 unworthy of their attachment; Even a tradefman is 
 
 Q^Z thought 
 
228 Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 thought a poor-fpirited fellow among his neigh- 
 bours, who does not beftir himfelf to get what they 
 call an extraordinary job, or fome uncommon ad- 
 vantage. This ipirit and keennefs conftitutes the 
 difference between the man of enterprife and the 
 man of dull regularity. Thofe great objedls of 
 felf-intereft, of which the lofs or acquifition quite 
 changes the rank of the perfon, are the objeds of 
 the pallion properly called ambition ; a pafTion, 
 which when it keeps within the bounds of prudence 
 and juftice, is always admired in the world, and has 
 even fometimes a certain irregular greatnefs, which 
 dazzles the imagination, when it pafTes the limits of 
 both thefe virtues, and is not only unjuft but extra- 
 vagant. Hence the general admiration for Heroes 
 and Conquerors, and even for Statefmen, whofe pro- 
 jeds have been very daring and extenfive, though 
 altogether devoid of juftice-, fuch as thofe of the 
 Cardinals of Richlieu and of Retz. The objedls of 
 avarice and ambition differ only in their greatnefs. 
 A mifer is as furious about a halfpenny, as a man 
 of ambition about the conqueft of a kingdom. 
 
 ll. Secondly, I fay, it will depend partly upon 
 the precifion and exadlnefs, or the loofenefs and in- 
 accuracy of the general rules themfeives, how far 
 our condudl ought to proceed entirely from a re- 
 gard to them. 
 
 The general rules of almofb all the virtues, the 
 general rules which determine what are the offices of 
 prudence, of charicy, of generofity, of gratitude, 
 of frienddiip, are in many rerpe(5ls loofe and inaccu- 
 rate, admit of many exceptions, and require {o many 
 modifications, that it is fcarce poUibie to regulate our 
 
 condud 
 
Chap. 4. ^/ D u T Y. 229 
 
 condud entirely by a regard to them. The common 
 proverbial maxims of prudence, being founded in 
 univerfal experience, are perhaps the bed general 
 rules which can be given about it. To affed, howe- 
 ver, a very ftrid and literal adherence to them would 
 evidently be the mod abfurd and ridiculous pedan- 
 try. Of all the virtues I have juft now mentioned, 
 gratitude is that, perhaps, of which the rules are the 
 mod precife, and admit of the feweft exceptions. 
 That as foon as we can we (hould make a return of 
 equal, and if pofTible of fuperior value to the fer- 
 vices we have received, would feem to be a pretty 
 plain rule, and one which admitted of fcarce any ex- 
 ceptions. Upon the mofh fuperficial examination, 
 however, this rule will appear to be in the higheft 
 degree loofe and inaccurate, and to admit of ten 
 thoufand exceptions. If your benefadlor attended 
 you in your ficknefs, ought you to attend him in 
 his ? or can you fulfil the obligation of gratitude, 
 by making a return of a different kind ? If you 
 ought to attend him, how long ought you to attend 
 him ? The fame time which he attended you, or 
 longer, and how much longer ? If your friend lent 
 you money in your diftrefs, ought you to lend him 
 money in his ? How much ought you to lend him ? 
 When ought you to lend him ? Now, or to-morrow, 
 or next month ? And for how long a time ? It is 
 evident, that no general rule can be laid down, by 
 v^hich a precife anfwer can, in all cafes, be given to 
 any of thefe queftions. The difference between his 
 chara6ler and yours, between his circumftances and 
 yours, may be fuch, that you may be perfedly 
 grateful, and juftly refufe to lend him a halfpenny : 
 and, on the contrar)^, you may be willing to lend, 
 or even to give him ten times the fum which he lent 
 
 Q„ 3 yo^^ 
 
1^0 Of /i?^ S E N s t Part III. 
 
 you, and yet juftly be accufed of the blackeft ingra- 
 titude, and of not having fulfilled the hundredth 
 part of the obligation you lie under. As the duties 
 of gratitude, however, are perhaps the moft facred 
 of all thofe which the beneficent virtues prefcribe to 
 us, fo the general rules which determine them are, 
 as I faid before, the moft accurate. Thofe which 
 afcertain the adions required by friendfhip, humani- 
 ty, hofpitality, generofity, are ftill more vague and 
 indeterminate. 
 
 There is, however, one virtue of which the gene- 
 ral rules determine with the greateft exadnefs every 
 external adion which it requires. This virtue is 
 juftice. The rules of juftice are accurate in the 
 highell degree, and admit of no exceptions or modi- 
 fications, but fuch as may be afcertained as accurate- 
 ly as the rules themfelves, and which generally, in- 
 deed, fiow from the very fame principles with them. 
 If 1 owe fi man ten pounds, juftice requires that I 
 fliould precifely pay him ten pounds, either at the 
 time agreed upon, or when he demands it. What I 
 ought to perform, how much I ought to perform, 
 when and where I ought to perform it, the whole 
 nature and circumftances of the adlion prefcribcd, 
 are all of them precifely fixt and determined. Though 
 it may be awkvvard and pedantic, therefore, to af- 
 fect too ftri(5l an adherence to the common rules of 
 prudence or generofity, there is no pedantry in ftick- 
 ing fall; by the rules of juftice. On the contrary, 
 the moft facred regard is due to them ; and the ani- 
 ons which this virtue requires are never fo properly 
 performed, as when the chief motive for perform- 
 ing them is a reverential and religious regard to thofe 
 general rules which require them. In the pra.ftice of 
 
 the 
 
Chap. 4. of D V T Y. 231 
 
 the other virtues, our condudl ihouid rather be 
 diredled by a certain idea of propriety, by a certain 
 tafte for a particular tenour of condud, than by any 
 regard to a precife maxim or rule ; and we lliould 
 confider the end and foundation of the rule, more 
 than the rule itfelf. But it is otherwife with regard 
 tojuftice: the man who in that refines the lead, 
 and adheres with the mod obftinate ftedfaftnefs, to 
 the general rules themfelves, is the mod commenda- 
 ble, and the mod to be depended upon. Though 
 the end of the rules of judice be, to hinder us 
 from hurting our neighbour, it may frequently be a 
 crime to violate them, though we could pretend^ 
 with fome preiext of reafon, that this particular vio- 
 lation could do no hurt. A man often becomes a 
 villain the moment he begins even in his own hearty 
 to chicane in this -manner. The moment he thinks 
 of departing from the mod daunch and pofitive ad- 
 herence to what thofe inviolable precepts prefcribe 
 to him, he is no longer to be truded, and no man 
 can fay what degree of guilt lie may not arrive at. 
 The thief imagines he does no evil, when he deals 
 from the rich, what he fuppofes they may eafily 
 want, and what podibly they may never even 
 know has been dolen from them. The adulterer 
 imagines he does no evil, when he corrupts the 
 wife of his friend, provided he covers his intrigue 
 from the fufpicion of the hufband, and does not 
 didurb the peace of the family. When once we 
 begin to give way to fuch refinements, there is 
 no enormity fo grofs of which we may not be capa- 
 ble. 
 
 The rules of judice may be compared to the rules 
 Qi grammar \ the rules of the other virtues to the 
 
 0^4 rules 
 
 / 
 
232 Of tbs Sense Fart IIL 
 
 rules which criticks lay down for the attainment of 
 what is fublime and elegant in compofition. The 
 one, are precife, accurate, and indifpenfable. The 
 other, are loore, vague, and indeterminate, and 
 prefent us rather with a general idea of the perfedi- 
 on we ought to aim at, than afford us any certain 
 and infallible dire6lions for acquiring it. A man 
 may learn to write grammatically by rule, with the 
 mod abfolute infallibility; and fo, perhaps, he may 
 |be taught to a6l juflly. But there are no rules whofe 
 obferyance will infallibly lead us to the attainment 
 of elegance or fublimity in writing, though there are 
 fome which may help us, in fome meafure, to cor- 
 re61: and afcertain the vague ideas which we might 
 otherwife have entertained of thofe perfeftions : and 
 there are no rules by the knowledge of which we can 
 infallibly be taught to ad upon all occafions with 
 prudence, with juft magnanimity, or proper bene- 
 ficence. Though there are fome which may enable 
 ps to corredi; and afcertain in feveral refpefts, the 
 imperfe(^l ids^as which we might otherwife have en- 
 tertained of thofe virtues. 
 
 It may fometimes happen, that with the mofi: fe- 
 rious and earnell defire of ad:ing fo as to deferve ap- 
 probation, v/e may miftake the proper rules of con- 
 dud, and thus be milled by that very principle 
 which ought to direct us. It is in vain to expe6l, 
 that in this cafe mankind fhould entirely approve of 
 our behaviour. They cannot enter into that abfurd 
 idea of duty which influenced us, nor go along with 
 any of the actions which follow from it. There is 
 fllil, however, fomething refpedlable in the charac- 
 fer and behaviour of one who is thus betrayed into 
 
 vice. 
 
Chap. 4' ^/ Duty. 233 
 
 vice, by a wrong fenfe of duty, or by what is called 
 an erroneous confcience. How fatally foever he 
 may be milled by it, he is ftiil, with the generous 
 and humane, more the object of commiferation than 
 of hatred or refentment. They lament the weak- 
 nefs of human nature, which expofes us to fuch un- 
 happy delufions, even while we are mofl: fincerely 
 labouring after perfe6lion, and endeavouring to a6l 
 according to the befl principle which can pofTibly 
 dircft us. Falie notions of religion are almofl the 
 only caufes which can occafion any very grofs per- 
 , verfion of our natural fentiments in this way ; and 
 that principle which gives the greatefl authority 
 to the rules of duty, is alone capable of diitorting 
 our ideas of them in any confiderable degree. In 
 all other cafes common knCc is fufficient to direct 
 lis, if not to the mofl exquifite propriety of condud, 
 yet to fom.ething which is not very far from it; and 
 provided we are in earneft defirous to do well, our 
 behaviour will always, upon the whole, be praife- 
 worthy. That to obey the will of the Deity, is the 
 firil rule of duty, all men are agreed. But con- 
 cerning the particular commandments which that 
 will may impofe upon us, they differ widely from 
 one another. In this, therefore, the greatefl: mu- 
 tual forbearance and toleration is due : and though 
 the defence of fociety requires that crimes iLould be 
 punifhed, from whatever motives they proceed, yet 
 a good man will always punifli them with reludance, 
 when they evidently proceed from faife notions of 
 religious duty. He will never feel againft thofe 
 who commit them that indignation which he feels 
 againft other criminals, but will rather regret, and 
 fometimes even admire their unfortunate firmnefs 
 and m.agnanimity, at the very time that he punilhes 
 
 their 
 
234 Of the Sense Part III. 
 
 their crime. In the tragedy of Mahomet, one of the 
 fineft of Mr. Voltaire's, it is well reprefented, what 
 ought to be our fentiments for crimes which pro- 
 ceed from fuch motives. In that tragedy, two 
 young people of different fexes, of the mod inno- 
 cent and virtuous difpofitions, and without any 
 other weaknefs except what endears them the more 
 to us, a mutual fondnefs for one another, are infti- 
 gated by the ftrongeft motives of a falfe religion, to 
 commit a horrid murder, that fhocks all the princi- 
 ples of human nature : a venerable old man, who 
 had expreffed the mod tender affeftion for them 
 both, for whom, notwithftanding he was the avowed 
 enemy of their religion, they had both conceived the 
 higheft reverence and efteem, and who was in reality 
 their father, though they did not know him to be 
 fuch, is pointed out to them as a facrifice which God 
 had exprefsly required at their hands, and they are 
 commanded to kill him. While they are about 
 executing this crime, they are tortured with all the 
 agonies which can arife from the flruggle between 
 the idea of the indifpenfablenefs of religious duty on 
 the one fide, and compafiion, gratitude, reverence 
 for the age, and love for the humanity and virtue of 
 the perfon whom they are going to deftroy, on the 
 other. The reprefentation of this exhibits one of the 
 moft interefting, and perhaps the mod inftrudive 
 fpedacle that was ever introduced upon any theatre. 
 The fenfe of duty, however, at laft prevails over 
 all the amiable weaknefles of human naiure. They 
 execute the crime impofed upon them j but immedi- 
 ately difcover their error, and the fraud which had 
 deceived them, and are diftraded with horror, re- 
 morfe, and refcntment. Such as are our fentiments 
 for the unhappy Seid and Palmira, fuch ought we 
 
 to 
 
Chap. 4. c/ D u T Y. 235 
 
 to feel for every perfon who is in this manner mifled 
 by religion, when we are fure that it is really religion 
 which mifleads him, and not the pretence of it, 
 which is made a cover to fome of the word of human 
 pafilons. 
 
 As a perfon may aft wrong by following a wrong 
 fenfeof duty, fo nature may fometimes prevail, and 
 lead him to adl right in oppofition to it. We cannot 
 in this cafe be difpleafed to fee that motive prevail, 
 which we think.oughc to prevail, though the perfon 
 himfelf is fo weak as to think otherwife. As his 
 condu(5l, however, is the effed: of weaknefs, not 
 principle, we are far from bellowing upon it any 
 thing that approaches to complete approbation. A 
 bigotted Roman Catholick, who, during the mafTa- 
 ere of St. Bartholomew, had been fo overcome by 
 companion, as to lave fom.e unhappy proteftants, 
 whom he thought it his duty to deftroy, would not 
 feem to be entitled to that high applaufe which we 
 fliould have bellowed upon him, had he exerted the 
 fame generofity with complete felf-approbation. 
 We might be pleafed with the humanity of his tem- 
 per, but we fhould dill regard him with a fort of 
 pity which is altogether inconfident with the admi- 
 ration that is due to perfedl virtue. It is the fame 
 cafe with all the other palTions. We do not dillike 
 to fee them exert themfeives properly, even when a 
 falfe notion of duty would dire6l the perfoa to ref- 
 train them. A very devout Quaker, who upon be- 
 ing flruck upon one cheek, inilead of turning up 
 the other, fhould fo far forget his literal interpreta- 
 tion of our Saviour's precept, as to bellow fome 
 good difcipline upon the brute that infulted him, 
 
 would 
 
23^ (y M^ S E N s E, &c. Part III. 
 
 would not be difagreeable to us. We fhould laugh 
 and be diverted with his fpirit, and rather like him 
 the better for it. But we (hould by no means regard 
 him with that refped and efteem which would feem 
 due to one who, upon a like occafion, had aded 
 properly from a juft fenfe of what was proper to be 
 done. No a6lion can properly be called virtuous, 
 which is not accompanied with the fentiment of felf- 
 approbation. 
 
 
 
 PART 
 
PART IV. 
 
 Of the Effect of Utility upon the 
 fentiment of approbation. 
 
 CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the beauty which the appearance of Utility he- 
 flows upon all the productions of art ^ and of the 
 extenjive influence of this fpecies of beauty, 
 
 X H A T utility is one of the principal fources 
 of beauty has been obferved by every body, who 
 has confidered with any attention what confti- 
 tutes the nature of beauty. The conveniency of a 
 houfe gives pleafure to the fpeflator as well as its 
 regularity, and he is as much hurt when he obferves 
 the contrary defedl, as when he fees the correfpon- 
 dent windows of different forms, or the door not 
 placed exadlly in the middle of the building. That 
 the fitnefs of any fyflem or machine to produce the 
 end for which it was intended, bellows a certain 
 propriety and beauty upon the whole, and renders 
 the very thought and contemiplation of it agreeable, 
 is fo very obvious that nobody has overlooked it. 
 
 The 
 
z^S ^he Effect Part IV, 
 
 The caufe too, why utility pleafes, has of late 
 been afiigned by an ingenious and agreeable philofo- 
 pher, who joins the greateft depth of thought to 
 the greateft elegance of expreflion, and poflelles the 
 fingular and happy talent of treating the abftrufcil 
 fubje(5ls not only with the moft perfe6l perfpicuity, 
 but with the moft lively eloquence. The utility of 
 any objed, according to him, pleafes the mafter by 
 perpetually fuggefting to him the pleafure or conve- 
 niency which it is fitted to promote. Every time he 
 looks at it, he is put in mind of this pleafure ; and 
 the objedt in this manner becomes a fource of per- 
 petual fatisfadlion and enjoyment. The fpedator 
 enters by fympathy into the fentiments of the mafter, 
 and neceflarily views the objedt under the fame agree- 
 able afpecft. When we vifit the palaces of the great, 
 we cannot help conceiving the fatisfadlion we ftiould 
 enjoy if we ourfelves were the mafters, and were pof- 
 feffed of fo much artful and ingenioufly contrived 
 accommodation. A fimilar account is given why 
 the appearance of inconveniency Ihould render any 
 objed difagreeable both to the owner and to the 
 fpedator. 
 
 But that this fitnefs, this happy contrivance of 
 any production of art, fhould often be more valued, 
 than the very end for which it was intended ; and 
 that the exadt adjuftment of the means for attaining 
 any conveniency or pleafure, fhould frequently be 
 more regarded, than that very conveniency or plea- 
 fure, in the attainment of which their whole merit 
 would feem to confift, has not, fo far as 1 know, 
 been yet taken notice of by any body. That this 
 however is very frequently the cafe, may be obferved 
 
 in 
 
Chap. I. c/ U T I L I T y. 239 
 
 in a thoufand inftances, both in the moft frivolous 
 and in the moft important concerns of human life. 
 
 When a perfon comes into his chamber, and finds 
 the chairs all ftanding in the middle of the room, he 
 is angry with his fervant, and rather than fee them 
 continue in that diforder, perhaps takes the trouble 
 himfelf to fct them all in their places with their backs 
 to the wall. The whole propriety of this new fitu- 
 ation arifes from its fuperior conveniency in leaving 
 the floor free and difengaged. To attain this con- 
 veniency he voluntarily puts himfelf to more trouble 
 than all he could have fuffered from the want of ii: ; 
 fmce nothing was more eafy, than to have fet him- 
 felf down upon one of them, which is probably 
 what he does when his labour is over. What he 
 wanted therefore, it feems, was not fo much this 
 conveniency, as that arrangement of things which 
 promotes it. Yet it is this conveniency which ulti- 
 mately recommends that arrangement, and beftows 
 upon it the whole of its propriety and beauty, 
 
 A watch, in the fame manner, that falls behind 
 above two minutes in a day, is dcfpifed by one curi- 
 ous in watches. He fells it perhaps for a couple of 
 guineas, and purchafes another at fifty, which will 
 not lofe above a minute in a fortnight. The fole 
 ufe of watches however, is to tell us what o'clock 
 it is, and to hinder us from breaking any engage- 
 ment, or fuffering any other inconveniency by our 
 ignorance in that particular point. But the perfon 
 fo nice with regard to this machine, will not alv/ays 
 - be found cither more fcrupuloufiy pun6lual than 
 other men, or more anxioufly concerned upon any 
 other account, to know precifely what time of day 
 
 it 
 
240 Tfje Effect Part IV. 
 
 it is. What interefts him is not io much the attain- 
 ment of this piece of knowledge, as the perfedion 
 of the machine which ferves to attain it. 
 
 How many people ruin themfelves by laying out 
 money on trinkets of frivolous utility ? What 
 pleafes thefe lovers of toys is not fo much the utility, 
 as the aptnefs of the machines which are fitted to 
 promote it. All their pockets are (luffed with little 
 conveniencies. They contrive new pockets, un- 
 known in the clothes of other people, in order to 
 carry a greater number. They walk about loaded 
 with a multitude of baubles, in weight and fome- 
 times in value not inferior to an ordinary Jew's-box, 
 fome of which may fometimes be of fome little 
 ufe, but all of which might at all times be very well 
 fpared, and of which the whole utility is certainly not 
 worth the fatigue of bearing the burden. 
 
 Nor is it only with regard to fuch frivolous ob- 
 
 je6ls that our condudt is influenced by this principle; 
 
 it is often the fecret motive of the moft ferious 
 
 and important purfuits of both private and public 
 
 life. 
 
 The poor man's fon, whom Heaven in its anger 
 has vifited with ambition, when he begins to look 
 around him admires the condition of the rich. He 
 finds the cottage of his father too fmall for hi^ ac- 
 commodation, and fancies he fhould be lodged more 
 at his eafe in a palace. He is difpleafed with being 
 obliged to walk a-foot, or to endure the fatigue of 
 riding on horfeback. He fees his fuperiors carried 
 about in machines, and imagines that in one of 
 thefe he could travel with lefs inconveniency. He 
 
 feels 
 
Chap. I. 6/ U T i L I T V. 241 
 
 feels himielf naturally indolent, and willing to ferve 
 himfelf with his own hands as little as poflible ; and 
 judges, that a numerous retinue of fervants would 
 fave him from a great deal of trouble. He thinks 
 if he had attained all tliefe, he would fit flill con- 
 tentedly, ar.d be quiet, enjoying himielf in the 
 thought of the happineis and tranquillity of his fitu- 
 ation. He is enchanted with the diltant idea of this 
 felicity. It appears in his fancy like the life of fome 
 fuperior rank of beings, and in order to arrive at it, 
 he devotes himfelf for ever to the purfuit of wealtli 
 and greatnefs. To obtain the conveniencies whicK, 
 thefe afford, he fubmits in the firft year, nay in the 
 firft month of his application, to more fatigue of 
 body and more uneafinefs of mind than he could 
 have fuffered through the .whole of his life from the 
 want of them. He ftudies to diflinguilh himfelf in 
 fome laborious profefilon. With the mofl unre- 
 lenting indultry he labours night and day to acquire 
 r.alents fuperior to all his competitors. He endea- 
 vours next to bring thofe talents into public view, 
 and with equal affiduity folicits every opportunity of 
 employment. For this purpofe he makes h.i3 court 
 to all mankind •, he ferves thofe whom he hates, and 
 is obfequious to thofe whom he defpifes. Through 
 the whole of his life he purfues the idea of a certain 
 artificial and elegant repofe which he may never ar- 
 rive at, for which he facrifices a real tranquillity 
 that is at all times in his power, and which, if in 
 the extremity of old age he fhould at lad attain to 
 it, he will find to be in no refped preferable to that 
 humble fecurity and contentment which he had aban- 
 doned for it. It is then, in the laft dregs of life, 
 his body waded with toil and difeafes, his mind 
 galled and ruffled by the memory of a fhou- 
 ld fand 
 
242 "The Effect Part IV, 
 
 fand injuries and difappointments which he imagines 
 he has met with from the injuftice of his enemies, 
 or from the perfidy and ingratitude of his friends, 
 that he begins at laft to find that wealth and great- 
 nefs are mere trinkets of frivolous utility, no more 
 adapted for procuring eafe of body or tranquillity 
 of mind than the tweezer-cafcs of the lover of toys ; 
 and hke them too, more troublefome to the perfon 
 who carries them about with him than all the ad- 
 vantages they can afford him are commodious. 
 There is no other real difference between them, ex- 
 cept that the conveniencies of the one are fomevv^hat 
 more obfervable than thofe of the other. The pa- 
 laces, the gardens, the ec]uipage, the retinue of the 
 great are objeds of which the obvious conveniency 
 ilrikes every body. They do not require that their 
 maders fliould point out to us wherein confifts their 
 utility. Of our own accord we readily enter into it, 
 and by fympathy enjoy and thereby applaud the fa- 
 tisfadion which they are fitted to afford him. But 
 the curiofity of a tooth-pick, of an ear-picker, of a 
 machine for cutting the nails, or of any other trinket 
 of the fame kind, is not fo obvious. Their conveni- 
 ence may perhaps be equally great, but it is not fo 
 flriking, and we do not fo readily enter into the fa- 
 tisfa6lion of the man who poffeffes thrm. They are 
 therefore lefs realbnable fubjedts of vanity than the 
 magnificence of wealth and greatnefs ; and in this 
 confifts the fole advantage of thefe lad. They more 
 effedtually gratify that love of diftindion fo natural 
 to man. To one who was to live alone in a defolate 
 ifland it might be a matter of doubt, perhaps, whe- 
 ther a palace, or a colledion of fuch fmall conveni- 
 encies as are commonly contained in a tweezer-cafe, 
 would contribute moft to his happinefs and enjoy- 
 ment; 
 
Chap. I. of V T 1 L I T Y. 243 
 
 ment. If he is to live in fociety, indeed, there can 
 be no comparifon, becaufe in this, as in all other 
 cafes, we conftantly pay more regard to the fenti- 
 mencs of the fpedator, than to thole of the perfon 
 principally concerned, and confider rather how his 
 fituation v/ill appear to other people, than how it 
 will appear to himfelf. If we examine, however, 
 why the fpedator diftinguifhes with fuch admiration 
 the condition of the rich and the great, we fhall find 
 that it is not fo much upon account of the fuperior 
 cafe or pleafure which they are fuppoiedto enjoy, as 
 of the numberlefs artificial and elegant contrivances 
 for promoting this eafe or pleafure. He does not 
 even imagine that they are really happier than other 
 people : but he imagines that they poffefs more 
 means of happinefs. And ic is the ingenious and 
 artful adjuftment of thofe means to the end for 
 which they were intended, that is the principal 
 fource of his admiration. But in the languor of ' 
 difeafe, and the wearinefs of old age, the pleafures 
 ^^f the vain and empty diftindions of grcatnefs dif- 
 appear. To one, in this fituation, they are no 
 longer capable of recommending thofe toillbme pur- 
 fuits in which they had formerly engaged him. In 
 his heart he curfes ambition, and vainly regrets the 
 eafe and the indolence of youth, pleafures which are 
 fled for ever, and which he has foolifhly facrificed for 
 what, when he has got it, can afl?brd him no real 
 fatisfadion. In this miferable afpe6l does greatnefs 
 appear to every man when reduced either by fpleen 
 or difeafe to obferve with attention his own fituation, 
 and to confider what it is that is really wanting to 
 his happinefs. Power and riches appear then to be 
 what they are, enormous and operofe machines 
 contrived to produce a few trifling conveniencics to 
 
 R 2 the 
 
244 ^'^^ Effect Part IV. 
 
 the body, confiding of fprings the mofl nice and de- 
 licate, which muft be kept in order with the mod 
 anxious attention, and which in fpite of all our care 
 are ready every moment to burfl: into pieces, and to 
 cruQi in their ruins their unfortunate pofiefTor. They 
 are immenfe fabrics, which it requires the labour of a 
 life to raife, which threaten every moment to over- 
 whelm the perfon that dwells in them, and which 
 while they (land, though they may fave him from fome 
 Imaller inconveniencies, can protedl him from none 
 of the feverer inclemencies of the feafon. They keep 
 ofi'the fummer fhower, not the winter ftorm, but 
 leave him always as much, and fometimes more ex- 
 pofed than before, to anxiety, to fear, and to for- 
 row ; to difeafes, to danger, and to death. 
 
 But though this fplenetic philofophy, which in 
 time of ficknefs or low fpirits is familiar to every 
 man, thus entirely depreciates thofe great objedls of 
 human defire, when in better health and in better 
 humour, we never fail to regard them under a 
 more agreeable afpedt. Our imagination, which 
 in pain and forrow feems to be , confined and 
 cooped up within our own perfons, in times of 
 eafe and profperity expands itfelf to every thing 
 around us. We are then charmed with the beauty 
 of that accommodation which reigns in the palaces 
 and oeconomy of the great ; and admire how every 
 thing is adapted to promote their eafe, to prevent 
 their wants, to gratify their wifhes, and to amufe 
 and entertain their mod frivolous defires. If we 
 confider the real fatisfadlion which all thefe things 
 are capable of affording, by itfelf and feparated 
 from the beauty of that arrangement which is fitted 
 to promote it, it will always appear in the highell 
 
 degree 
 
Chap. I. ^/Utility ^45 
 
 degree contemptible and trifling. But we rarely 
 view it in this abftrad: and philofophical light. We 
 naturally confound it in our imagination with the 
 order, the regular and harmonious movement of the 
 fyflem, the machine or ceconomy by means of which 
 it is produced. The pleafures of wealth and great- 
 nefs, when confidered in this complex view, llrike 
 the imagination as fomething grand and beautiful and 
 noble, of which the attainment is well worth all the 
 toil and and anxiet)^ which we are fo apt to beftow 
 upon it. 
 
 And it is well that nature impofes upon us in this 
 manner. It is this deception which roufes and keeps 
 in continual motion the induilry of mankind. It is 
 this which firtl prompted them to cultivate the 
 ground, to build houfes, to found cities and com- 
 mon-wealths, and to invent and improve all the 
 fciences and arts, which ennoble and embellifh hu- 
 man life ; which have entirely changed the whole 
 face of the globe, have turned the rude forefls of 
 nature into agreeable and fertile plains, and made the 
 tracklefs and barren ocean a new fund of fubfiftence, 
 and the great high road of communication to the 
 different nations of the earth. The earth by thefe 
 labours of mankind has been obliged to redouble her 
 natural fertility, and to maintain a greater multitude 
 of inhabitants. It is to no purpofe, that the proud 
 and unfeeling landlord views his extenfive fields, 
 and without a thought for the wants of his brethren, 
 in imagination confumes himfelf the whole harveft 
 that grows upon them. The homely and vulgar 
 proverb, that the eye is larger than the belly, never 
 was more fully verified than with regard to him. 
 The capacity of his ftomach bears no proportion to 
 
 R 3 the 
 
246 Ithe Effect Part IV. 
 
 the immenfity of his defires, and will receive no 
 more than that of the meaneft peafant. The reft he 
 is obliged to diftribute among thofe, who prepare, 
 in the niceft manner, that little which he himfelf 
 makes iife of, among thofe who fit up the palace in 
 which this little is to be confumed, among thofe 
 who provide and keep in order all the different bau- 
 bles and trinkets, which are employed in the oecono- 
 my of greatnefs; all of whom thus derive from his 
 luxury and caprice, that fliare of the neceffaries of 
 life, which they would in vain have expedted from 
 his humanity or his juftice. The produce of the foil 
 maintains at all times nearly that number of inhabi- 
 tants, which it is capable of maintaining. The rich 
 only fele(5t from the heap what is moft precious and 
 agreeable. They confume little more than the poor, 
 and in fpite of their natural felfifhnefs and rapacity, 
 though they mean only their own conveniency, 
 though the fole end which they propofe from the 
 labours of all the thoufands whom they employ, be 
 the gratification of their own vain and infatiable de- 
 fires, they divide with the poor the produce of all 
 their improvements. They are led by an invifible 
 hand to make nearly the fame diftribution of the ne- 
 cefiaries of life, which would have been made, 
 had the earth been divided into equal portions among 
 all its inhabitants, and thus without intending it, 
 without knowing it, advance the intereft of the 
 fociety, and afford means to the multiplication of 
 the fpecies. When Providence divided the earth 
 among a few lordly matters, it neither forgot nor 
 abandoned thofe who feemed to have been left 
 out in the partition. Thefe laft too enjoy their 
 fhare of all that it produces. In what conftitutes 
 
 the 
 
Chap. I. ^/ U't I L r T Y. 247 
 
 the real happinefs of human Jife, they are in no re- 
 fpedl inferior to thofe who would feem fo much above 
 them. In eafe of body and peace of mind, all the 
 different ranks of life are nearly upon a level, and 
 the beggar, who funs himfelf by the fide of the high- 
 way, pofifelTcs that fecurity which kings are fighting 
 for. 
 
 The fame principle, the fame love of fyftem, the 
 fame regard to the beauty of order, of art and con- 
 trivance, frequently ferves to recommend thofe infti- 
 tutions, which tend to promote the public welfare. 
 When a patriot exerts himfelf for the improvement 
 of any part of the pubhc police, his condudl does 
 not always arife from pure fympathy with the hap- 
 pinefs of thofe who are to reap the benefit of it. Ic 
 is not commonly from a fellovz-feeling with carriers 
 and waggoners that a public-fpirited man encourages 
 the mending of high roads. When the legiflature 
 eftablifhes premiums and other encouragements to 
 advance the linen or woollen manufadlures, its con- 
 du6t feldom proceeds from pure fympathy with the 
 wearer of cheap or fine cloth, and much lefs from 
 that with the manufacturer, or merchant. The per- 
 fection of police, the extenfion of trade and manu- 
 factures, are noble and magnificent objecfls. The 
 contemplation of them pleafes us, and we are inter- 
 efled in whatever can tend to advance them. They 
 make part of the great fyflem of government, and 
 the wheels of the political machine feem to move 
 with more harmony and eafe by means of them. 
 We take pleafure in beholding the perfedion of fo 
 beautiful and grand a fyflem, and we are uncafy till 
 we remove any obftruCtion that can in the leaft dif- 
 Lurb or encumber the regularity of its motions. All 
 
 R 4 conflitutions 
 
248 ne Effect Part IV. 
 
 confticutions of government, however, are valued 
 only in proportion, as they tend to promote the hap- 
 pinefs of thofe who live under them. This is their 
 fole ufe and end. From a certain Ipirit of iyftem, 
 however, from a certain love of art and contf ivance, 
 we fometimes feem to value the means more than the 
 end, and to be eager to promote the happinefs of 
 our fellow. creatures, rather from a view to pertedb 
 and improve a certain beautiful and orderly fyftem, 
 than from any immediate fenfe or feeling of what 
 they either fuffer or enjoy. There have been men of 
 the greateft pubhc fpirit, who have (hewn themfelves 
 in other refpedts not very fenfible to the feelings of 
 humanity. And on the contrary, there have been 
 men of the greateft humanity, who feem to have 
 been entirely devoid of public fpirit. Every man 
 may find in the circle of his acquaintance inllances 
 both of the one kind and the other. Who had ever 
 lefs humanity, or more public fpirit, than the cele- 
 brated legiflator of Mufcovy ? The focial and well 
 natured James the Firfl of Great- Britain feems, on 
 the contrary, to have had fcarce any pafTion, either 
 for the glory, or the intereft of his country. Would 
 you awaken the induftry of the man, who feems al- 
 mofl: dead to ambition, it will often be to no purpofe 
 todefcribe to him the happinefs of the rich and the 
 great ; to tell him that they are generally fheltered 
 from the fun and the rain, that they are feldom hun- 
 gry, that they are feldom cold, and that they are rare- 
 ly expofed to wearinefs, or to want of any kind. 
 The mod eloquent exhortation of this kind wiJl have 
 little effed: upon him. If you would hope to fuc- 
 ceed, you muft defcribe to him the conveniency and 
 arrangement of the different apartments in their 
 palaces j you mud explain to him the propriety of 
 
 ' their 
 
Chap. I. ^/Utility. 249 
 
 their equipages, and point out to him the number, 
 the order, and the different offices of all their atten- 
 dants. If any thing is capable of making impreffion 
 upon him, this will. Yet all thefe things tend only 
 to keep off the fun and the rain, to fave them from 
 hunger and cold, from want and wearinefs. In the 
 fame manner, if you would implant public virtue in 
 the bread of him, who feems heedlefs of the interefb 
 of his country, it will often be to no purpofe to tell 
 him, what fuperior advantages the fubjedls of a well- 
 governed (late enjoy ; that they are better lodged, 
 that they are better clothed, that they are better fed, 
 Thefe confiderations will commonly make no <^reac 
 impreflion. You will be more likely to perfuade, 
 if you defcribe the great fyftem of public police 
 which procures thefe advantages, if you explain the 
 connexions and dependencies of its feveral parts, 
 their mutual fubordination to one another, and their 
 general fubferviency to the happinefs of the fociety ; 
 if you fhow how this fyfteni might be introduced into 
 his own country, what it is that hinders it from tak- 
 ing place there at prefent, how thofe obftrudlions 
 might be removed, and all the feveral wheels of the 
 machine of government be made to move with more 
 harmony and fmoothnefs, without grating upon one 
 another, or mutually retarding one another's moti- 
 ons. It is fcarce poffible that a man fhould liften to 
 a difcourfe of this kind, and not feel himfelf ani- 
 mated to fome degree of public fpirit. He will, at 
 lead for the moment, feel fome defire to remove thofe 
 obftruclions, and to put into motion fo beautiful and 
 fo orderly a machine. Nothing tends fo much to 
 promote public fpirit as the (ludy of politics, of the 
 feveral fyRems of civil government, their advantages 
 and difadvantages, of the conftitution of our own 
 
 country, 
 
250 "The E F F JE c T Part IV. 
 
 country, its fituation, and interefi: with regard to 
 foreign nations, its commerce, its defence, the difad- 
 vantages it labours under, the dangers to which it 
 may be expofed, how to remove the one, and how 
 to guard againft the other. Upon this account po- 
 litical difquifitions, if juft and reafonable, and prac- 
 ticable, are of all the works of fpeculation the mod 
 ufeful. Even the weakeftand the word of them are not 
 altogether without their utility. They ferve at lead 
 to animate the public pafTions of men, and roufe them 
 to feek out the means of promoting the happinefs of 
 the fociety. 
 
 C H A P. IT. 
 
 Of the beauty which the appearance of utility hejiows 
 upon the charaHers and a5ltons of men \ and how far 
 the perception of this beauty may be regarded as one 
 of the original principles of approbation. 
 
 JL H E charadlers of men, as well as the contri- 
 vances of art, or the inftitutions of civil govern- 
 ment, may be fitted either to promote or to difturb 
 the happinefs both of the individual and of the fo- 
 ciety. The prudent, the equitable, the adive, re- 
 folute, and fober charadler promifcs profperity and 
 fatisfadion, both to the perfon himfelf and to every 
 one connected with him. The ralli, the infolent, 
 the flothful, effeminate, and voluptuous, on the 
 contrary, forebodes ruin to the individual, and mif- 
 fortune to all who have any thing to do with him. 
 The firft turn of mind has at lead all the beauty 
 
 which 
 
Chap. II. ^ U T I L I T Y. 251 
 
 which can belong to the moil perfe(5l machine thac 
 was ever invented for promoting the molt agreeable 
 purpofc: and the fecond ail the deformity of the 
 mod awkward and clumfy contrivance. What in- 
 ftitution of government could tend lb much to pro- 
 mote the happinefs of mankind as the general pre- 
 valence of wifdom and virtue ? All government is 
 but an imperfecfl remedy for the deficiency of thefe. 
 Whatever beauty, therefore, can belong to civil go- 
 vernment upon account of its utility, mud in a far 
 fuperior degree belong to thefe. On the contrary, 
 what civil policy can be fo ruinous and d-ifftruiflive as 
 the vices of men ? The fatal effc6ls of bad govern- 
 ment arife from nothing, but that it does not fuffici- 
 ently guard againfl: themifchiefs which human wick- 
 ednefs gives occafion to. 
 
 This beauty and deformity which charadlers ap- 
 pear to derive from their ufefulnefs or inconveniency, 
 are apt to (Irike, in a peculiar manner, thofe who 
 confider, in an abftradl and philofophical light, the 
 actions and condudl of mankind. When a philofo- 
 pher goes to examine why humanity is approved of, 
 or cruelty condemned, he does not alv;ays form to 
 himfelf, in a very clear and dill:in6l manner, the con- 
 ception of any one particular aftion either of cruelty 
 or of humanity, but is commonly contented with the 
 vague and indeterminate idba which the general 
 names of thofe qualities fuggclt to him. But it is in 
 particular inftances only that the propriety or impro- 
 priety, the merit or demerit of adlions is very obvious 
 and difcernible. It is only when particular exam- 
 ples are given that we perceive diftincSlly either the 
 concord or difagreement between our own affedions 
 and thofe of the agent, or feel a focial gratitude arke 
 
 towards 
 
252 "^^^ Effect Part IV. 
 
 towards him in the one cafe, or a fympathetic re- 
 lent ment in the other. When we confider virtue and 
 vice in an abflradt and general manner, the qualities 
 by which they excite thele leveral fentiments feem in 
 a great meafure to difappear, and the fentiments 
 themfelves become Icfs obvious and difcernible. On 
 the contrary, the happy efFcds of the one and the 
 fatal confequences of the other feem then to rife up 
 to the view, and as it were to ftand out and diftin- 
 guifh themfelves from all the other qualities of 
 cither. 
 
 The fame ingenious and agreeable author who 
 firft explained why utility pleafes, has been fo ftruck 
 v;ith this view of things, as to refolve our whole ap- 
 probation of virtue into a perception of this fpecies 
 of beauty which refults from the appearance of uti- 
 lity. No qualities of the mind, he obferves, are ap- 
 proved of as virtuous, but fuch as are ufeful or 
 agreeable either to the perfon himfelf or to others ; 
 and no qualities are difapproved of as vicious but 
 fuch as have a contrary tendency. And Nature, in- 
 deed, feems to have fo happily adjufted our fenti- 
 ments of approbation and difapprobation, to the cpn- 
 veniency both of the individual and of the fociety, 
 that after the ftridleft examination it will be found, I 
 believe, that this is univerfally the cafe. But ftill I 
 affirm, that it is not the view of this utility or hurt- 
 fulnefs which is either the firfl or principal fource of 
 our approbation and difapprobation. Thefe fenti- 
 ments are no doubt enhanced and enlivened by the 
 perception of the beauty or deformity which refults 
 from this utility or hurtfulnefs. But ftill, I fay, 
 they are originally and efTentially different from this 
 
 perception. 
 
 For 
 
Chap. II. ^Utility. 25g 
 
 For firil of all, it feenis impollible that the appro- 
 bation of virtue fhould be a fentiment of the fame 
 kind with that by which we approve of a convenient 
 and well contrived building ; or that v/e fhould have 
 no other reafon for praifing a man than that for 
 which we commend a cheft of drawers. 
 
 And fecondly, it will be found, upon examinati- 
 on, that the ufefulnefs of any difpofuion of mind is 
 feldom the fir(l ground of our approbation ^ and that 
 the fentiment of approbation always involves in it a 
 fenfe of propriety quite dillindt from the perception 
 of utility. We may obferve this with regard to all 
 the qualities which are aproved of as virtuous, both 
 thofe which, according to this fyllem, are originally 
 valued as ufeful to ourfelves, as well as thofe which 
 are efteemed on account of their ufefulnefs to others. > 
 
 The qualities mod ufeful to ourfelves are, firfl of 
 all, fuperior reafon and underdanding, by which 
 we are capable of difcerning the remote confequen- 
 ces of all our adlions, and of forefeeing the advan- 
 tage or detriment which is likely to refult from 
 them; and fecondly, felf-command, by which we 
 are enabled to abftain from prefent pleafure or to en- 
 dure prefent pain, in order to obtain a greater plea- 
 fure or to avoid a greater pain in fome future time. 
 In the union of thofe two qualities confifts the vir- 
 tue of prudence, of all the virtues that which is moil 
 ufeful to the individual. 
 
 With regard to the firft of thofe qualities, it has 
 been obferved on a former occafion, that fuperior 
 reafon and underflanding are originally approved of 
 
 as 
 
254 ^'^f! E y F E c T Part IV, 
 
 as juft and right and accurate, and not merely as 
 ufeful or advantageous. It is in the abftrufer fciences, 
 particularly in the higher parts of mathematics, that 
 the greatert and moil admired exertions of human 
 reafon have been difplayed. But the utility of thofe 
 fciences, either to the individual or to the public, is 
 not very obvious, and to prove it requires a difcuf- 
 fion which is not always very eafily comprehended. 
 It was not, therefore, their utility which firft recom- 
 mended them to the public admiration. This qua- 
 lity was but little infilled upon, till it became necef- 
 fary to make fome reply to the reproaches of thofe, 
 who, having themfelves no tafte for luch fublime 
 difcoveries, endeavoured to depreciate them as ufe- 
 lefs. 
 
 That felf'Command, in the fame manner, by which , 
 ' we reftrain our prefent appetites, in order to gratify 
 them more fully upon another occafion, is approved 
 of, as much under the arpe6t of propriety, as under 
 that of utility. When we a6l in this manner, the 
 fentiments which influence our condu6t feem exadtly 
 to coincide with thofe of the fpec^ator. The fpedta- 
 tor does not feel the felicitations of our prefent appe- 
 tites. To him the pleafure which we are to enjoy a 
 week hence, or a year hence, is juft as interefting 
 as that which we are to enjoy this moment. When 
 for the fake of the prefent, therefore, we facrifice 
 the future, our conduct appears to him abfurd and 
 extravagant in the higheft degree, and he cannot en- 
 ter into the principles which influence it. On the 
 contrary, when we abftain from prefent pleafure, in 
 order to fecure greater pleafure to come, when we 
 adl as if the remote objedb interefl:s us as much as 
 that which immediately prefies upon the fenfes, as 
 
 our 
 
Chap. II. ^Utility. 255 
 
 our afFe6lions exadly correfpond with his ov/n, he 
 cannot fail to approve of onr behaviour : and as he 
 knows from experience, how few are capable of this 
 felf-command, he looks upon our condudl with a 
 confiderable degree of wonder and admiration. 
 Hence arifes that eminent efleem with which all 
 men naturally regard a fteady perfeverance in the 
 pradice of frugality, induftry, and application, 
 though direded to no other purpofe than the acqui- 
 fition of fortune. The refolute firmnefs of the per- 
 fon who ads in this manner, and in order to obtain 
 a great though remote advantage, not only gives up 
 all prefent pleafures, but endures the greateft labour 
 both of mind and body, neceiTarily commands our 
 approbation. That view of his interell and happi- 
 nefs which appears to regulate his condudt, exadly 
 tallies with the idea which we naturally form of it. 
 There is the mod perfed correfpondence between his 
 fentiments and our own, and at the fame time, from 
 our experience of the common weaknefs of human 
 nature, it is a correfpondence which we could not 
 reafonably have expeded. We not only approve, 
 therefore, but in fome meafure admire his condud, 
 and think it worthy of a confiderable degree of ap-^ 
 plaufs. It is the confcioufnefs of this merited appro- 
 bation and efteem which is alone capable of fupport- 
 ing the agent in this tenour of condud. The plea* 
 fure which we are to enjoy ten years hence interefts 
 us fo little in comparifon with that which we may 
 enjoy to-day, the pafPion which the firfl excites, is 
 naturally fo weak in comparifon with that violent 
 emotion which the fecond is apt to give occafion to, 
 that one could never be any balance to the other, un- 
 lefs it was fupported by the fenfe of propriety, by 
 the confcioufnefs that we merited the erteem and 
 
 approbation 
 
256 fhe Effect Part IV. 
 
 approbation of every body, by ading in the one 
 way, and that we became the proper objects of their 
 contempt and derifion by behaving in the other. 
 
 Humanity, jullice, generofity, and public fpirit, 
 are the qualities moil ufefui to others. Wherein 
 confifts the propriety of humanity and juftice has 
 been explained upon a former occafion, where it 
 was (hewn how much our efleem and approbation of 
 thofe qualities depended upon the concord between 
 the afFedions of the agent and thofe of the fpeda- 
 tors. 
 
 The propriety of generofity and public fpirit is 
 founded upon the fame principle vvith that of juftice. 
 Generofity is different from humanity. Thofe two 
 qualities, which at firft fight feem fo nearly allied, 
 do not always belong to the fame perfon. Humani- 
 ty is the virtue of a woman, generofity of a man. 
 The fair fcx, who have commonly much more ten- 
 dernefs than ours, have feldom fo much generofity. 
 That women rarely make confiderable donations is 
 an obfervation of the civil law*. Humanity confifts 
 merely in the exquifite fellow-feeling which the fpec- 
 tator entertains with the fentiments of the perfons 
 principally concerned, fo as to grieve for their fuf- 
 ferings, to refent their injuries, and to rejoice at 
 their good fortune. The moft humane adtions re- 
 quire no felf-denial, no felf-command, no great ex- 
 ertion of the fenfe of propriety. They confift only 
 in doing what this exquifite fympathy would of its 
 own accord prompt us to do. But it is otherwife 
 
 with 
 
 * Raro muliercs donare folent. 
 
Chap. 11. (?/ U T I L I T V. 257 
 
 with generofity. We never are generous except 
 when in fome refpe6l we prefer fome other perfon to 
 ourfelves, and facrifice fome great and important in- 
 tereft of ou*r own to an equal intereft of a friend or of 
 a fuperior. The man who gives up his pretenfions 
 to an office that was the great objedt of his ambition, 
 becaufe he imagines that the fervices of another are 
 better entitled to it •, the man who expofes his life to 
 defend that of his friend, which he judges to be of 
 more importance, neither of them, adl from* humani- 
 ty, or becaufe they feel more exquifitely what con- 
 cerns that other perfon than what concerns themfclves. 
 They both confider thofe oppofite interefts not in the 
 light in which they naturally appear to themfelves, 
 but in that in which they appear to others. To every 
 byftander, the fuccefs or prefervation of this other 
 perfon may juftly be more interefting than their own ; 
 but it cannot be fo to themfelves. When to the in- 
 tereft of this other perfon, therefore, they facrifice 
 their own, they accommodate themfelves to the fen- • 
 timents of the fpedtator, and by an effort of magna- 
 nimity adl according to thofe views of things which 
 they feel, muft naturally occur to any third perfon. 
 The foldier who throws away his life in order to de- 
 fend that of his officer, would perhaps be but little 
 afFeded by the death of that officer, if it fliould 
 happen without any fault of his own ; and a very 
 fmall difafter which had befallen himfelf misht ex- 
 cite a much more lively forrow. But when he en- 
 deavours to adt fo as to deferve applaufe, and to 
 make the impartial fped:ator enter into the princi- 
 ples of his condudl, he feels, that to every body but 
 himfelf, his own life is a trifle compared with that of 
 his officer, and that vjien he facrifices the one to the 
 other, he ads quite properly and agreeably to what 
 
 S would 
 
25S llje Effect Part IV. 
 
 would be the natural apprehenfions of every impar- 
 tial byilander. 
 
 It is the fame cafe with the greater exertions of 
 public fpirit. When a young officer expofes his life 
 to acquire fome inconfiderable addition to the domi- 
 nions of his fovereign, it is not, becaufe the acqui- 
 fition of the new territory is, to himfelf, an obje(5l 
 more defireable than the prefervation of his own 
 ]ife. To him his own life is of infinitely more va- 
 lue than the conqueft of a whole kingdom for the 
 ftate which he ferves. But when he compares thofe 
 two objeds with one another, he does not view them 
 in the light in which they naturally appear to him- 
 felf, but in that in which they appear to the nation 
 he fights for. To them the fuccefs of the war 
 is of the higheft importance •, the life of a pri- 
 vate perfon of fcarce any confequence. "When he 
 puts himfelf in their fituation, he immediately feels 
 that he cannot be too prodigal of his blood, if by 
 ihedding it, he can promote fo valuable a purpofc. 
 In thus thwarting, from a fenfe of duty and proprie- 
 ty, the ftrongeil of all natural propenfities, confifts 
 the heroifm of his condudt. There is many an ho- 
 neft Englifliman, who, in his private ftation, would 
 be more ferioufly dilturbed by the lofs of a guinea, 
 than by the national lofs of Minorca, who yet, had 
 it been in his power to defend that fortrefs, would 
 have facrificed his life a thoufand times rather than, 
 through his fault, have let it fall into the hands of 
 the enemy. When the firft Brutus led forth his 
 own fons to a capital punifhment, becaufe they had 
 confpired againft the rifing liberty of Rome, he fa- 
 crificed what, if he had confulted his own breafl 
 only, would appear to be the Wronger to the weaker 
 
 afi^edion. 
 
Chap. ir. ^/Utility. 259 
 
 affedion. Brutus ought naturally to have felt much 
 more for the death of his own fons, than for all tHfit, 
 probably Rome could have fuffered from the want of 
 fo great an example. But he viewed them, not with 
 the eyes of a father, but with thofe of a Roman citizen. 
 He entered fo thoroughly into the fentiments of thk 
 lafl: character, that he paid no regard to that tye, 
 by which he himfelf was conneded with them -, and 
 to a Roman citizen, the fons even of Brutus feemed 
 contemptible, when put into the balance with the 
 fmalleft intereft of Rome. In thefe and in all other 
 cafes of this kind, our admiration is not fo much 
 founded upon the utility, as upon the imexpe<^l:ed, 
 and on that account the great, the noble, and exalt- 
 ed propriety of fuch a<5lions. This utility, when we 
 come to view it, beftows upon them, undoubtedly, 
 a new beauty, and upon that account Hill further 
 recommends them, to our approbation. This beauty, 
 however, is chiefly perceived by men of reficdlion 
 and fpeculation, and is by no means the quality 
 which firft recommends fuch aiSlions to the natural 
 fentiments of the bulk of mankind. 
 
 It is to be obferved, that fo far as the fentimcnt 
 of approbation arifes from the perception of this 
 beauty of utility, it has no reference of any kind to 
 the fentiments of others. If it was poffible, there- 
 fore, that a perfon fhould grow up to manhood with- 
 out any communication with fociety, his own adions 
 might, notwithftanding, be agreeable or difagreeable 
 to him on account of their tendency to his happinefs 
 or difad vantage. He might perceive a beauty of 
 this kind in prudence, temperance, and good con- 
 duct, and a deformity in the oppofite behaviour : 
 He might view his own temper and charadlcr with 
 
 S 2 that 
 
'z6o 'The. Effect, ^c. Part IV„ 
 
 that fort of fatisfadlion with which we confider a well 
 contrived machine, in the one cafe; or with that 
 fort of diftafte and diffatisfadtion with which we regard 
 a very awkward and clumfy contrivance, in the 
 other. As thefe perceptions, however, are merely a 
 matter of talle, and have all the feeblcnefs and deli- 
 cacy of that fpecies of perceptions, upon the juftnefs 
 of which what is properly called tafte is founded, 
 they probably would not be much attended to by one 
 in his folitary and miferable condition. Even though 
 they (liould occur to him, they would by no means have 
 the fame effedt upon him, antecedent to his connexi- 
 on with fociety, which they would have in confe- 
 quence of that connexion. He would not be caft- 
 down with inward fhame at the thought of this de- 
 formity ♦, nor would he be elevated with fecret tri- 
 umph of mind from the confcioufnefs of the contrary 
 beauty. He would not exult from the notion of de- 
 ferving reward in the one cafe, nor tremble from the 
 fufpicion of meriting punifliment in the other. All 
 fuch fentiments fuppofe the idea of fome other being, 
 who is the natural judge of the perfon that feels 
 them ; and it is only by fympathy with the decifions 
 of this arbiter of his condudl, that he can conceive, 
 either the triumph of felf-applaufe, or the fhame of 
 felf-condemnationo 
 
 PART 
 
PART V. 
 
 Of the Influence of Custom and 
 Fashion upon the fentiments of moral 
 approbation and difapprobation. 
 
 CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the influence of cujlom and fajhion upon our noti- 
 ons of beauty and deformity, 
 
 JL H E R E are other principles befides tliofe al- 
 ready enumerated, which have a confiderable influ- 
 ence upon the moral fentiments of mankind, and are 
 the chief caufes of the many irregular and difcordanc 
 opinions which prevail in different ages and nations 
 concerning what is blameable or praife- worthy. 
 Thcfe principles are cuftom and fadion, principles 
 which extend their dominion over our judgments 
 concerning beauty of every kind. 
 
 When two objedls have frequently been fcen toge- 
 ther, the imagination acquires a habit of paiTing 
 cafily from the one to the other. If the firft appear, 
 we lay our account that the fecond is to follow. Of 
 
 S 3 their 
 
262 Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 their ovvn accord they putjjs in mind of one another, 
 and the attention glides eafily along them. Though, 
 independent of cuftom, there fliould be no real 
 beauty in their union, yet when cuftom has thus 
 conneded them together, we feel an impropriety in 
 their reparation. The one we think is awkward 
 when it appears without its ufual companion. We 
 mifs fomething which we expedted to find, and the 
 habitual arrangement of our ideas is difturbed by 
 the dil^ippointment. A fult of clothes, for example, 
 ieems to want fomething if they are without the moft 
 infignificant ornament which ufually accompanies 
 them, and we find a meannefs or awkwardnefs in the 
 abfence even of a haunch button. When there is 
 any natural propriety in the union, cuftcm increafes 
 our fenfe of it, and makes a different arrangement 
 appear fbill moredifagreeable than it would otherwife 
 feem to be. Thofe who have been accuftomed to 
 fee things in a good tafte, are more difguiled by 
 whatever is clumfy or awkward. Where the con- 
 junction is improper, cullom either diminifhes, or 
 takes avv^ay altogether, our kv\k of the impropriety. 
 Thole who have been accuftomed to flovenly diforder 
 iofe all fenfe of neatnefs or elegance. The modes of 
 iurniture or drefs which feem ridiculous to ftrangers, 
 give no offence to the people who are ufed to them. 
 
 Fafhion is different from cuftom, or rather is a 
 particular fpecies of it. That is not the fafliion which 
 every body wears, but which thofe wear who are of 
 a high rank, or chara6ler. The graceful, the eafy, 
 and commanding manners of the great, joined to the 
 uiual richnefs and magnificence of their drefs, give 
 a grace to the very form which they happen to beftow 
 
 uporj 
 
Chap. I. ^Custom. 263 
 
 upon ir. As long as they coniinue to ufe this form, 
 it is connected in our imaginations with the idea of 
 fomething that is genteel and magnificent, and though 
 in itfelf it fhould be indifferent, it feems, on account 
 of this relation, to have fomething about it that is 
 genteel and magnificent too. As foon as they drop 
 it, it iofes all the grace, which it had appeared to pof- 
 fefs before, and being now ufed only by the inferior 
 ranks of people, feems to have fomething of their 
 meannefs and awkwardnefs. 
 
 Drefs and furniture are allowed by all the world 
 to be entirely under the dominion of cufiom and 
 fafhion. The influence of thofe principles, however, 
 is by no means confined to fo narrow a fphere, but 
 extends itfelf to whatever is in any refpe(5t the objedt 
 of tafle, to mufic, to poetry, to architedure. The 
 modes of drefs and furniture are continually chang- 
 ing, and that fafhion appearing ridiculous to-day 
 which was admired five years ago, we are experi- 
 mentally convinced that it owed, iis vogue chiefly or 
 entirely to cuftom and fafliion. Clothes and furni- 
 ture are not made of very durable materials, A well 
 fancied coat is done in a twelve-month, and cannot 
 continue longer to propagate, as the fafliiun, that 
 form according to which it was made. The modes 
 of furniture change lefs rapidly than thofe of drefs ; 
 becaufe furniture is commonly more durable. In 
 five or fix years, however, it generally undergoes an 
 entire revolution, and every man in his own time fees 
 the fafliion in this refped change many difi^erent ways. 
 The productions of the other arts are much more lafl:- 
 ing, and, when happily imagined, may continue to 
 propagate the fafliion of their make for a much longer 
 time. A well contrived building may endure many 
 
 S 4 centuries : 
 
164 Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 centuries : a beautiful air may be delivered down by 
 a fort of tradition, through many fuccefiive genera- 
 tions : a v^ell written poem may laft as long as the 
 world ; and all of them continue for ages together, 
 to give the vogue to that particular ftyle, to that par- 
 ticular tafte or manner, according to which each of 
 them was compofed. Few men 'have an opportunity 
 of feeing in their own times the fafliion in any of 
 i\\t{t arts change very confiderably. Few men have 
 fo much experience and acquaintance with the differ- 
 ent modes which have obtained in remote ages and 
 nations, as to be thoroughly reconciled to them, or to 
 judge with impartiality between them, and what takes 
 place in their own age and country. Few men there- 
 fore are willing to allow that cuftom or fafhion have 
 much influence upon their judgments concerning 
 what is beautiful, or otherwife, in the produdlions 
 of any of thole arts ; but imagine, that all the rules, 
 which they think ought to be obferved in each of 
 them, are founded upon reafon and nature, not upon 
 habit or prejudice. A very little attention, however, 
 may convince them of the contrary, and fatisfy them, 
 that the influence of cuftom and fafhion over drefr. 
 and furniture, is not more abfolute than over'archi- 
 tedure, poetry, and mufic. 
 
 Can any reafon, for example, be alTigned why the 
 Doric capital fliould be appropriated to a pillar, 
 whole height is equal to eight diameters ; the Ionic 
 volute to one of nine ; and the Corinthian foliage to 
 one of ten ? The propriety of each of thofe appro- 
 priations can be founded upon nothing but habit and 
 cuftom. The eye having been ufed to fee a particu- 
 lar proportion conne6led with a particular ornamentj 
 would be offended if they were not joined together. 
 
 Each 
 
Chap L (?/ C u s T • hi. 265 
 
 Each of the five orders has its peculiar ornaments, 
 which cannot be changed for any other, without 
 giving offence to all thofe who know any thing of 
 the rules of architedture. According to Ibme archi- 
 te6ts, . indeed, fuch is the exquifue judgment Vvrith 
 virhich the ancients have aOigned to each order its pro- 
 per ornaments, that no others can be found which 
 are equally fuitable. It feems, however, a little diffi- 
 cult to be conceived that thefe forms, though, no 
 doubt, extremely agreeable, Iliould be the only forms 
 which can fuit thofe proportions, or that there fhould 
 not be five hundred others which, antecedent to 
 eftablillied cuftom, would have fitted them equally 
 well. When cudom, however, has eftablifhed par- 
 ticular rules of building, provided they are not ab- 
 folutely unreafonable, it is abfurd to think of alter- 
 ing them for others which are only equally good, or 
 even for others which, in point of elegance and 
 beauty, have naturally fome little advantage over 
 them. A man would be ridiculous who fliould ap- 
 pear in public with a fuit of clothes quite different 
 from thofe which are commonly worn, though the 
 new drefs fhould in itfelf be ever fo graceful or con- 
 venient. And there feems to be an abfurdity of the 
 fame kind in ornamenting a houfe after a quite dif- 
 ferent manner from that which cuftom and fafhion 
 have prefcribed ; though the new ornaments fhould 
 in themfelves be fomewhat fuperior to the common 
 ones. 
 
 According to the ancient rhetoricians, a certain 
 meafure or verfe was by nature appropriated to each 
 particular fpecies of writing, as being naturally ex- 
 prefTive of that charader, fentiment, or pailion, 
 ' which 
 
266 Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 which ought to predominate in it. One verfe, they 
 faid, was fit for grave and another for gay works, 
 which could nor, they thought, be interchanged 
 without the greateft impropriety. The experience 
 of modern times, however, feems to contradict this 
 principle, though in itfelf it would appear to be 
 extremely probable. What is the burlefque verfe in 
 Englilh is the heroic verfe in French. The traoe- 
 dies of Racine and the Henriad of Voltaire, are in 
 the fame verfe with, 
 
 'Thus faid to my lady the knight full of care. 
 
 The burlefque verfe in French, on the contrary, is 
 pretty much the fame with the heroic verfe of ten 
 fyllables in Englidi. Cuftom has made the one na- 
 tion aflbciate the ideas of gravity, fublimity, and 
 ferioufnefs, to that meafure which the other has 
 connedled with whatever is gay, flippant, and ludi- 
 crous. Nothing would appear more abfurd in Eng- 
 lifh than a tragedy written in the Alexandrine verfes 
 of the French ; or in French, than a work of the 
 fame kind in verfes of ten fyllables. 
 
 An eminent artift will bring about a confiderable 
 change in the eftablifhed modes of each of thofe arts, 
 and introduce a new faQiion of writing, mufic, or 
 architedure. A^s the drefs of an agreeable man of 
 high rank recommends itfelf, and how peculiar and 
 fantaftical foever, comes foon to be admired and 
 imitated ; fo the excellencies of an eminent mafter 
 recommend his peculiarities, and his manner becomes 
 the fafhionable (tyle in the art which he pradlifes. 
 The tafte of the Italians in mufic and architeflure, 
 has, within thefe fifty years> undergone a confiderable 
 
 change. 
 
Chap. I. of C us T o M. 267 
 
 change, from imitating the peculiarities oF Ibmc 
 eminent mafters in each of thoie arts. Seneca is ac- 
 cufed by Quintilian of having corrupted the tafte of 
 the Romans, and of having introduced a frivolous 
 prettinefs in \Xit room of majellic rcafon and mafcu- 
 line eloquence. Saliuft and Tacitus have by others 
 been charged with the fame accusation, tho' in a dif- 
 ferent manner. They gave reputation, it is pre- 
 tended, to a ftyle, which though in t!ie higheil de- 
 gree concife, elegant, exprefiive, and even poetical, 
 wanted, however, eafe, fimplicity, and nature, and 
 was evidently the production of the moft laboured 
 and ftudied affeCLation. How many great qualities 
 mud that writer pOiTefs who can thus render his very 
 faults agreeable? After the praife of refining the 
 taftc of a nation, the higheft eulogy, perhaps, which 
 can be bellowed upon any author is to fay, that he 
 corrupted it. In our own language, Mr. Pope and 
 Dr. Swift have each of them introduced a manner 
 different from what was pradlifed before, into all 
 works that are written m rhyme, the one in long 
 verfes, the other in lliort. The quaintnefs of Butler 
 has given place to the plamneis of Swift. The 
 rambling freedom of Dryden, and the correal: but 
 often tedious and profaic languor of Addifon, are no 
 longer the obje(5ls of imitation, but all long verfes 
 are now written after the manner of the nervous pre- 
 cifion of Mr. Pope. 
 
 Neither is It only over the productions of [he arts, 
 that cuftom and fafliion exert their dominion. They 
 influence our judgments, in the fame manner, with 
 regard to the beauty of natural objefls. What vari- 
 ous and oppofite forms are deemed beautiful in dif- 
 ferent fpecies of things .^ The proportions which are 
 
 admired 
 
^68 Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 admired in one animal, are altogether different from 
 thofe which are ePceemed in another. Every clafs of 
 things has its own peculiar conformation, which is 
 approved of, and has a beauty of its own, diftind: 
 from that of every other fpecies. It is upon this 
 account that a learned Jefuit, father Buffier, has 
 determined that the beauty of every objedt confifts in 
 that form and colour, which is mod ufual among 
 things of that particular fort to which it belongs. 
 Thus, in the human form, the beauty of each 
 feature lies in a certain middle equally remov- 
 ed from a variety of other forms that are ugly. 
 A beautiful nofe, for example, is one that is neither 
 very long, nor very Ihort, neither very (Iraight, nor 
 very crooked, but a fort of middle among all thefe 
 extremes, and lefs different from any one of them, 
 than all of them are from one another. It is the 
 form which Nature feems to have aimed at in them 
 all, which, however, fhe deviates from in a great 
 variety of ways, and very feldom hits exadly •, but 
 to which all thofe deviations ftill bear a very ftrong 
 refcmblance. When a number of drawings are 
 made after one pattern, though they may all mifs it 
 in fome refpedls, yet they will all refemble it more 
 than they refemble one another •, the general charac- 
 ter of the pattern will run through then: all ; the mod 
 fingular and odd will be thofe which are mod wide 
 of it ; and though very few will copy it exadly, yet 
 the moil accurate delineations will bear a greater re- 
 femblance to the moft carelefs, than the carelefs 
 ones will bear to one another. In the fame manner, 
 in each fpecies of creatures, what is moft beautiful 
 bears the ftrongeft chara6ters of the general fabric of 
 the fpecies, and has the ftrongeft refemblance to the 
 greater part of the individuals v/ith which it is 
 
 clafled. 
 
Chap. I. c/ C u s T o M. 269 
 
 clafTed. Monfters. on the contrary, or what is per- 
 fectly deformed, are always mod fingular and odd, 
 and have the lead refemblance to the generality of 
 that fpecies to which they belong. And thus the 
 beauty of each fpecies, though in one fenfe the rareft 
 of all things, becaufe few individuals hit this middle 
 form exadlly, yet in another, is the mod common, 
 becaufe all the deviations from it refemble it more 
 than they refemble one another. The mod cudom- 
 ary form, therefore, is in each fpecies of things, 
 according to him, the mod beautiful. And hence it 
 is that a certain pradlice and experience in contem- 
 plating each fpecies of objedls is requifite, before 
 we can judge of its beauty, or know wherein the 
 middle and mod ufual form confids. The niced 
 judgment concerning the beauty of the human fpe- 
 cies, will not help us to judge of that of flowers, or 
 horfes, or any other fpecies of things. It is for the fame 
 reafon that in different climates and where different 
 cudoms and ways of living take place, as the gene- 
 rality of any fpecies receives a different conformation 
 from thofe circumdances, lb different ideas of its 
 beauty prevail. The beauty of a Mooridi is not ex- 
 a6lly the fame with that of an Englifh horfe. What 
 diff^erent ideas are formed in diff^erent nations con- 
 cerning the beauty of the humian fhape and counte- 
 ance.'* A fair complexion is a (hocking deformity 
 upon the coad of Guinea. Thick lips and a flat 
 nofe are a beauty. In fome nations long ears that hang 
 down upon the flioulders are the objedls of univer- 
 fal admiration. In China if a lady's foot is fo large 
 as to be fit to walk upon, flie is regarded as a mon- 
 fter of uglinefs. Some of the favage nations in 
 North- America tie four boards round the heads of 
 their children, and thus fqueeze them, while the 
 
 bones 
 
Zjo Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 bones are tender and griftly, into a form that is ai- 
 med perfedly fquare. Europeans are aftoniilied at 
 the ablurd barbarity of this pradlice, to which fome 
 miffionaries have imputed the lingular ftupidity o/ 
 thofe nations among whom it prevails. But when 
 they condemn thofe favages, they do not reflect 
 that the ladies in Europe had, till within thefe very 
 few years, been endeavouring, for near a century 
 part:, to fqueeze the beautiful roundnels of their na- 
 tural fbape into a fquare form of the fame kind. 
 And that notv/iihflanding the many diftortions and 
 difeafes which this pradice was known to occafion, 
 Guftom had rendered it agreeable among fome of i\\t 
 mofi: civilized nations, which, perhaps, the world 
 ever beheld. 
 
 Such is the fyflem of this learned and ingenious 
 father, concerning the nature of beauty ; of which 
 the whole charm, according to him, would thus 
 feem to arife from its falling in with the habits which 
 'cuftom had imprefled upon the imagination, with 
 regard to things of each particular kind. I cannot, 
 however, be induced to believe tliat our fenfe even 
 of external beauty is founded altogether on cuftom. 
 The utility of any form, its fitnefs for the ufeful 
 purpofes for which it was intended, evidently re- 
 commends it, and renders it agreeable to us inde- 
 pendent of cuftom. Certain colours are more agree- 
 able than others, and give more delight to the eye 
 the firft time it ever beholds them. A fmooth fur- 
 face is more agreeable than a rough one. Variety is 
 more pleafmg than a tedious undiverfified uniformity. 
 Conneded variety, in which each new appearance 
 feems to be introduced by what went before it, and in 
 which all the adjoining parrs feem to have fome na- 
 tural 
 
Chap. II. of C V s T o M> 271 
 
 tural relation to one another, is more agreeable than 
 a disjointed and diforderly airembiage of unconned:- 
 ed objedls. But though I cannon admit that cuftom 
 is the Ible principle of beauty, yet I can fo far allow 
 the truth of this ingenious fyftem as to grant, that 
 there is fcarce any one external form fo beautiful as 
 to pleafe, if quite contrary to cuflom and unlike 
 whatever we have been ufed to in that particular fpe- 
 cies of things : or fo deformed as not to be agreeable, 
 if cuftom uniformly fupports it, and habituates us 
 to fee it in every fingle individual of the kind. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of the influence of cujlom cind fafJoion upon moral 
 
 fentiments, 
 
 OiNCE our fentiments concerning beauty of 
 every kind are fo much influenced by cuftom and 
 faftiion, it cannot be expedled, that thofe, concern- 
 ing the beauty of condudt, ftiould be entirely ex- 
 empted from the dominion of thofe principles. Their 
 influence here, however, fecms to be much lefs than 
 it is every where elfe. There is, perhaps, no form 
 of external objeds, how abfurd and fantaftical fo- 
 cver, to which cuftom will not reconcile us, or 
 which fafhion will not render even agreeable. But 
 the characters and condud of a Nero, or a Claudius, 
 are what no cuftom will ever reconcile us to, what 
 no faftiion will ever render agreeable ; but the one 
 will always be the objed of dread and hatred ; the 
 other of fcorn and derifion. The principles of the 
 imagination, upon which our fenfe of beauty de- 
 pends. 
 
272 Of the I N F L u E N.c E Part V. 
 
 pends, are of a very nice and delicate nature, and 
 may eafily be altered by habit and education : but 
 the lentiments of moral approbation and difappro- 
 bation, are founded on the ilrongeft and moil vigo- 
 rous paflions of human nature •, and though they 
 may be fomewhac warpt, cannot be entirely per- 
 verted. 
 
 But though the influence of cuftom and fafhion, 
 upon moral fentiments, is not altogether fo great, 
 it is however perfectly fimilar to what it is every 
 where elfe. When cuftom and fafhion coincide 
 with the natural principles of right and wrong, they 
 heighten the delicacy of our fentiments, and increafe 
 our abhorrence for every thing which approaches to 
 evil. Thofe who have been educated in what is 
 really good company, not in what is commonly 
 called fuch, who have been accuftomed to fee no- 
 thing in the perfons whom they efteemed and lived 
 with, but juftice, modefty, humanity, and good 
 order -, are more fhocked with whatever feems to be 
 inconfiftent with the rules which thofe virtues pre- 
 fcribe. Thofe, on the contrary, who have had the 
 misfortune to be brought up amidft violence, licen- 
 tioufnefs, falfehood, and injuftice •, lofe, though not 
 all fenfe of the impropriety of fuch condudt, yet all 
 fenfe of its dreadful enormity, or of the vengeance 
 and punifhment due to it. They have been famili- 
 arized with it from their infancy, cuftom has ren- 
 dered it habitual to them, and they are very apt to 
 regard it as, what is called the way of the world, 
 fomething which either may, or muft be prac- 
 tifed, to hinder us from being the dupes of our 
 own integrity. 
 
 Fafhion 
 
Chap. U. of Custom. 273 
 
 Fadiion too will fometimes give reputation to 3 
 certain degree of diforder, and on the contrary dif- 
 countenance qualities which deferve efteem. In the 
 reign of Charles II. a degree of licentioufnefs was 
 deemed the charadteriftic of a liberal education. It 
 was connected, according to the notions of thofe 
 times, with generofity, fmcerity, magnanimity, loy- 
 alty, and proved that the perfon who adled in this 
 manner, was a gentleman, and not a puritan ; fe- 
 verity of manners, and regularity of condud, on 
 the other hand, were altogether unfafliionable, and 
 were connefled, in the imagination of that age, with 
 cant, cunning, hypocrify, and low manners. To 
 fuperficial minds^ the vices of the great feem at all 
 times agreeable. They connedl them^ not only with 
 the fplendour of fortune, but with many fuperiour 
 virtues, which they afcribe to their fuperiors; with 
 the fpirit of freedom and independency, with frankr 
 nefs, generofity, humanity, and politenefs. The 
 virtues of the inferior ranks of people, on the con- 
 trary, their parfimonious frugality, their painful in- 
 duftry, and rigid adherence to rules, feem to them 
 mean and difagreeable. They conned: them, both 
 with the meannefs of the ftation to which thofe quali-.. 
 ties commonly belong, and with many great vices, 
 which, they fuppofe, ufually accompany them •, fuch 
 as an abjedl, cowardly, ill-natured, lying, pilfering 
 difpofition. 
 
 The obje6ls with which men in the different pro- 
 fcflions and (tares of life are converfanr, being very 
 different, and habituating them to very different paf- 
 fions, naturally form in them very different charac- 
 ters and manners. We exped in each rank and pro- 
 
 T ftflion. 
 
274 Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 fefTion, a degree of thofe manners, which, experience 
 has taught us, belong to it. But as in each fpecies 
 of things, we are particularly pleafed with the middle 
 conformation, which in every part and feature agrees 
 moft exadly with the general (landard which nature 
 feems to have eftablifhed for things of that kind \ fo 
 in each rank, or, it I may fay fo, in each fpecies of 
 men, we are particularly pleafed, if they have nei- 
 ther too much, nor too little of the character which 
 ufually accompanies their particular condition and 
 fituation. A man, we fay, fliould look like his 
 trade and profefTion ; yet the pedantry of every pro- 
 fefTion is difagreeable. The different periods of life 
 have, for the fame reafon, different manners affigned 
 to them. V/e expedl in old age, that gravity and 
 fedatenefs v/hich its infirmities, its long experiencCj 
 and its worn-out feqfibility feem to render both natu- 
 ral and refpedlable ; and we lay our account to find 
 in youth that fenfibiJity, that gaiety and fprightly vi- 
 vacity which experience teaches us to expedl from 
 the lively imprefTions that all interefting objedls are 
 apt to make upon the tender and unpradliled fenfes 
 of that early period of life. Each of thofe two ages, 
 however, may eafily have too much of thefe peculi- 
 arities which belong to it. The flirting levity of 
 youth, and the immoveable infenfibility of old age, 
 are equally difagreeable. The young, according to 
 the common faying, are mofh agreeable when in 
 their behaviour there is fomething of the manners of 
 the old, and the old, when they retain fomething of 
 the gaiety of the young. Either of them, however, 
 may eafily have too much of the manners of the 
 other. The extreme coldnefs, and dull formality, 
 which are pardoned in old age, make youth ridicu- 
 lous. The levity, the careleffnef^, and the vanity, 
 
 which 
 
Chap. IJ. ^/Custom. 275 
 
 which are indulged in youth, render old age con-» 
 temptible. 
 
 The peculiar charafler and manners which we are 
 Jed by cuilom to appropriate to each rank and pro- 
 felllon, have fometimes perhaps a propriety indepen- 
 dent of cudom ; and are what we fhould approve of 
 for their own fakes, if we took into confideration all 
 the different circumftances which naturally affe6l 
 thofe in each different ftate of life. The propriety 
 of a perfon's behaviour, depends not upon its fuitable- 
 nefs to any one circumftance of his fituation, but 
 to all the circumftances, which, when we bring his 
 cafe home to ourfelves we feel, iliould naturally call 
 upon his attention. If he appears to be fo much oc- 
 cupied by any one of them, as entirely to negled: the 
 reft, we difapprove of his conduct, as fomething 
 which we cannot entirely go along with, becaufe not 
 •properly adjufted to all the circumftances of his fitu- 
 ation : yet, perhaps, the emotion he expreffes for 
 the objed: which principally interefts him, does not 
 exceed what we fhould entirely fympathize.with, and 
 approve of, in one whofe attention was not required 
 by any other thing. A parent in private life might, 
 upon the lofs of an only fon, exprefs without blame, 
 a degree of grief and tendernefs, which would be un- 
 pardonable in a general at the head of an army, when 
 glory, and the public fafety demanded fo great a part 
 ofr his attention. As different objedls ought, upon 
 common occafions, to occupy the attention of men 
 of different profeffions, fo different paffions ought, 
 naturally to become habitual to them ; and when we 
 bring home to ourfelves their fituation in this parti- 
 cular refpedl, we muft be fenfible, that every occur- 
 rence (hould naturally affedt them more or iefs, ac- 
 
 T 2. cording 
 
276 Of the Influence Part V,. 
 
 cording as the emotion which it excites, coincides or 
 difagrees with the fixt habit and tennper of their 
 minds. We cannot expe6l the fame fenlibility to the 
 gay plcafures and amufements of life in a clergyman 
 which we lay our account with in an officer. The 
 man whofe peculiar occupation it is to keep the 
 world in mind of that awful futurity which awaits 
 them, who is to announce what may be the fatal con- 
 fcquences of every deviation from the rules of duty, 
 and who is himfelf to fet the example of the moft 
 exa6l conformity, feems to be the meflenger of ti- 
 dirlgs, which cannot, in propriety, be delivered either 
 with levity or indifference. His mind is fuppofed to 
 be continually occupied with v;hat is too grand and 
 folemn, to leave any room for the impreflions of 
 thofe frivolous obje61:s, which fill up the attention 
 of the difTipated and the gay. We readily feel there- 
 fore, that, independent of cuftom, there is a propri- 
 ety in the manners which cuftom has allotted to this 
 profelTion ; and that nothing can be more fuitable to 
 .the charader of a clergyman, than that grave, that 
 auftere and abftracled feverity, which we are habitu- 
 ated to expedt in his behaviour. Thefe refiedions 
 are fo very obvious, that there is fcarce any man fo 
 inconfiderate, as not, at fome time, to have made 
 them, and to have accounted to himfelf in this man- 
 ner for his approbation of the ufual charader of 
 this order. 
 
 The foundation of the cuftomary charadler of 
 fome other profefTions is not {6 obvious, and our ap- 
 probation of it is founded entirely in habit, without 
 being either confirmed, or enlivened by any refieclions 
 of this kind. We are led by cuftom, for example, 
 to annex the charaderof gaiety, levity, and fprightly 
 
 freedom. 
 
Chap. IL of C u 3 T o m. 277 
 
 freedom, as well as of fome degreeof diffipation, to 
 the military profeffion : yer, if we were to confider 
 what mood or tone of temper would be mod fuita- 
 ble to this fituation, we ihouid be apt. to determine, 
 perhaps, that the mod ferioiis and thoughtful turn of 
 mind, would bed become thole whofe lives are con- 
 tinually expofed to uncommon danger; and who 
 fhould therefore be, maore conftantly occupied with 
 the thoughts of death and its confequences than other 
 men. It is this very circumftance, however, which 
 is not improbably the occafion why the contrary turn 
 of mind prevails fo much among men of this pro- 
 felHon. It requires fo great an effort to conquer the 
 ^fear of death, when we furvey it with fleadinefs and 
 attention, that thofe who are conftantly expofed to ic, 
 find it eafier to turn away their thoughts from it al- 
 together, to wrap themfelves up in carelels fecurity 
 and indifference, and to plunge themfelves, for this 
 purpofe, into every fort of amufcmenc and diilipa- 
 tion. A camp is not the element of a thoughtful 
 or a melancholy man : perfons of that caft, indeed, 
 are often abundantly determined, and are capable, 
 by a great effort, of going on with inflexible refolu- 
 tion to the moft unavoidable death. But to be ex- 
 pofed to continual, though lefs imminent danger, to 
 be obliged to exert, for a long time, a degree of this 
 effort, exhaufts and depreffes the mind, and renders 
 it incapable of ali happinefs and enjoyment. The 
 gay and carelefs, who have occafion to make no ef- 
 fort at all, who fairly refolve never to look before 
 them, but to lofe in continual pleafures and amufe- 
 ments, all anxiety about their fituation, more eafily 
 fupport fuch circumftances. Whenever, by any 
 peculiar circumftances, an ofiicer has no reafon to 
 lay his account with being expofed to any uncom- 
 
 T 9 mon 
 
^7^ Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 mon danger, he is very apt to lofe the gaiety and dif- 
 iipated thoughtlefsnels of his charader. The cap- 
 tain of a city guard is commonly as fober, careful, 
 and penurious an animal as the reft of his fellow- citi- 
 zens. A long peace is, for the fame reafon, very apt 
 to diminifh the difference between the civil and the 
 military charader. The ordinary fituation, howe- 
 ver, of men of this profeflion, renders gaiety, and a 
 degree of difilpation, fo much their ufual character ; 
 and cuftom has, in our imagination, fo ftrongly con- 
 neded this chara6ter with this ftate of life, that v/e 
 are very apt to defpife any man, whofe peculiar hu- 
 mour or fituation, renders him incapable of acquiring 
 it. We laugh at the grave and careful faCes of a city 
 guard, which, fo little refemble thofe of their profef- 
 fion. They themfelves feem often to be afiiamed of 
 the regularity of their own manners, and, not to be 
 out of the fafliion of their trade, are fond of affeding 
 that levity, which is by no means natural to them. 
 Whatever is the deportment which we have been ac- 
 cnftomed to fee in a refpedable order of men, it 
 comes to be fo affociated in our imagination with that 
 order, that whenever we fee the one, we lay our ac- 
 count that we are to meet with the other, and when 
 difappointed, mifs fomething which we expeded to 
 find. We are embarrafTed, and put to a ftand, and 
 know not how to addrefs ourfelves to a charader, 
 which plainly affcds to be of a different fpecies 
 from thofe with which we fhould have been difpofcd 
 to clafs it. 
 
 The different fituations of different ages and 
 countries, are apt, in the fame manner, to give dif- 
 ferent characters to the generality of thofe who live 
 in them, and their fentiments concerning the parti- 
 cular 
 
Chap. II. ^ C u s T o M. 279 
 
 cular degree of each quality, that is either blameable, 
 or praife-worthy, vary according to that degree, 
 which is iifual in their own country, and in their 
 own times. That degree of politenefs, which would 
 be highly efteemed, perhaps, would be thought ef- 
 feminate adulation, in Ruflia, would be regarded as 
 rudenefs and barbarifm at the court of France. 
 That degree of order and frugality, which, in a 
 Polilh nobleman, would be confidered as exceffive 
 parfimony, would be regarded as extravagance in a 
 citizen of Amfterdam. Every age and country look 
 upon that degree of each quality, v^hich is commonly 
 to be met with in thofe who are efteemed among 
 themfelves, as the golden mean of that particular 
 talent or virtue. And as this varies, according as 
 their different circumftances render different qualities 
 more or lefs habitual to them, their fentirpents con- 
 cerning the exadl propriety of charader and behavi- 
 our vary accordingly. 
 
 Among civilized nations, the virtues which are 
 founded upon humanity, are more cultivated than 
 thofe which are founded upon felf-denial and the 
 command of the paffions. Among rude and bar- 
 barous nations, it is quite otherwise, the virtues of 
 felf-dcnial are more cultivated than thofe of huma- 
 nity. The general fecurity and happinefs which 
 prevail in ages of civility and politenefs afford little 
 exercife to the contempt of danger, to patience in 
 enduring labour, hunger, and pain. Poverty may 
 eafily be avoided, and the contempt of it therefore^ 
 almoft ceafes to be a virtue. The abftinence from 
 pleafure, becomes lefs neceffary, and the mind 
 is more at liberty to unbend itfelf, and to indulge 
 
 T 4 its 
 
28p Of the Influence Part V, 
 
 its natural inclinations in all thofe particular re- 
 aped s. 
 
 Among ravages and barbarians it is quite other- 
 wife. Every lavage undergoes a fort of Spartan 
 difcipline, and by the neceffity of his fituation is in- 
 ured to every fort of hardfhip. He is in continual 
 danger : He is often expofed to the greatefi: extremi- 
 ties of hunger, and frequently dies of pure want. 
 His circumdances not only habituate him to every 
 fort of diftrcfs, but teach hirn to give way to none of 
 the pafTions which that difbrefs is apt to excite. He 
 can expe(5l from his countrymen no fympathy or in- 
 dulgence for fuch vveaknefs. Before we can feel 
 much for others, we muft in fome meafure be at 
 eafe ourfelves. If our own mifery pinches us very 
 feverely, we have no leifure to attend to that of our 
 neighbour : And all lavages are too much occupied 
 with their own wants and neceffities, to give much 
 attention to thofe of another perfon. A favage, 
 therefore, whatever be the nature of his diftrefs, ex- 
 perts no fympathy from thofe about him, and dif- 
 Gains, upon that account, to expofe himfelf, by aU 
 lowing the leaft weaknefs to efcape him. His paf- 
 fions, how furious and violent foev^er, are never per- 
 mitted to difturb the ferenity of his countenance or 
 the compofure of his conduct and behaviour. The 
 favages in North America, we are told, alTume upon 
 all occafions the greatefc indifference, and would 
 think themfelves degraded if they fliould ever ap- 
 pear in any refped- to be overcome, either by love, 
 or grief, or refentment. Their magnanimity and 
 felf-command, in this refped, are almoft beyond the 
 conception of Europeans. In a country in which 
 all men are upon a level, with regard to rank and 
 
 for tune. 
 
Chap. II. of C V s T o M. 281 
 
 fortune, it might be expefted that the mutual incli- 
 nations of the two parties fliould be the only thing 
 confidered in marriao;es, and fhould be indulged 
 without any fort of controul. This, however, is the 
 country in which all marriages, without exception, 
 are made up by the parents, and in which a young 
 man would think himlelf difgraced for ever, if he 
 fliewed the lead preference of one woman above an- 
 other, or did not exprel's the mod complete indiffer- 
 ence, both about the time when, and the perfon to 
 whom he was to.be married. The weaknefs of love, 
 which is fo much indulged in ages of humanity and 
 politenefs, is regarded among favages as the miOft un- 
 pardonable effeminacy. Even after the marriage the 
 two parties feem to be afhamed of a connexion v/hich 
 is founded upon fo fordid a necefiicy. They do not 
 live together. They fee one another by Health only. 
 They both continue to dwell in the houfes of their re- 
 fpedive fathers, and the open cohabitation of the 
 two fexes, which is permitted v/ithout blame in all 
 other countries, is here confidered as the moft inde- 
 cent and unmanly fenfuality. Nor is it only over 
 this agreeable paiTion that they exert this abfolute 
 felf-command. They often bear in the fight of all 
 their countrymen with injuries, reproach, and the 
 grofiefi: infults with the appearance of the greatett in- 
 fenfibility, and without expreffing the fmaileft: re- 
 fentment. When a favage is made prifoner of war, 
 and receives, as is ufual, the fentence of death from 
 Iiis conquerors, he hears it without exprefTing any 
 emotion, and afterv/ards fubmits to the moft dread- 
 tul torments, without ever bemoaning himfelf, or 
 difcovering any other pafTion but contempt of his 
 enemies. While he is hung by the fhoulders over a 
 llow fire, he derides his tormentors, and tells them 
 
 witl^ 
 
2Hz Of the Influence Part V, 
 
 with how much more ingenuity, he himfelf had tor- 
 mented fuch of their countrymen as had fallen into 
 his hands. After he has been fcorched and burnt, 
 and lacerated in all the moft tender and fenfible parts 
 of his body for feveral hours together, he is often al- 
 lowed, in order to prolong his mifery, a fhort refpite, 
 and is taken down from the (lake : he employs this 
 interval in talking upon all indifferent fubjedls, in- 
 quires after the news of the country, and feems in- 
 different about nothing but his own fituation. The 
 Ipedators exprefs the fame infenfibility •, the fight of 
 fo horrible an obje<fl feems to make no impreffion 
 upon them -, they fcarce look at the prifoner, except 
 when they lend a hand to torment him. At other 
 times they fmoke tobacco, and amufe themfelves 
 with any common objed, as if no fuch matter was 
 going on. Every favage is faid to prepare himfelf 
 from his earlieft youth for this dreadful end. He 
 compofes, for this purpofe, what they call the fong of 
 death, a fong which he is to fing when he has fallen 
 into the hands of his enemies, and is expiring under 
 the tortures which they infii6t upon him. It confilts 
 of infults upon his tormentors, and expreffes the 
 higheft contempt of death and pain. He fings this 
 fong upon all extraordinary occafions, when he goes 
 out to war, when he meets his enen^ies in the field, 
 or v/henever he has a mind to fhow that he has farni- 
 liarifed his imagination to the mod dreadful misfor- 
 tunes, and that no human event can daunt his refo- 
 lution, or alter liis purpofe. The fame contempt of 
 death and torture prevails among all other favage na- 
 tions. There is not a negro from the coaft of Africa 
 who does nor, in this refped, poffefs a degree of 
 magnanimity which the foul of his fordid mafler is 
 
 too 
 
Chap. II. <?/ C u s T o M. 283 
 
 too often fcarce capable of conceiving. Fortune 
 never exerted more cruelly her empire over mankind, 
 than when flie fubjedled thofe nations of heroes to 
 the refufe of the jails of Europe, to wretches who 
 poflefs the virtues neither of the countries which 
 they come from,' nor of thofe which they go to, and 
 whofe levity, brutality, and bafenefs, fo juftly expofe 
 them to the contempt of the vanquilhed. 
 
 This heroic and unconquerable firmnefs, which 
 the cuftom and education of his country demand of 
 every favage, is not required of thofe who are brought 
 up to live in civilized focieties. If thefe laft complain 
 when they are in pain, if they grieve when they are 
 in diftrefs, if they allow themfelves either to be 
 overcome by love, or to be difcompofed by anger, 
 they are eafily pardoned. Such weaknefles are not 
 apprehended to afFed theeiTential parts of their cha- 
 rader. As long as they do not allow themfelves to 
 be tranfported to do any thing contrary to juftice or 
 humanity, they lofe but little reputation, though the 
 ferenity of their countenance or the compofure of 
 their difcourfe and behaviour fhould be fomewhac 
 ruffled and difturbed. A humane and polifhed peo- 
 ple, who have more fenfibility to the paflions of 
 others, can more readily enter into an animated and 
 pafTionate behaviour, and can more eafily pardon 
 fome little excefs. The perfon principally concerned 
 is fenfible of this ; and being afTured of the equity 
 of his judges, indulges himfelf in fbronger exprcflions 
 of pafllon, and is lefs afraid of expofing himfelf to 
 their contempt by the violence of his emotions. We 
 can venture to exprefs more emotion in the prefence 
 of a friend than in that of a ftranger, becaufe we ex- 
 ped more indulgence from the one than from tiie 
 
 other. 
 
284 0/ /y^^ 1 N F L u E N c E Part V. 
 
 other. And in the fame manner the rules of decorum 
 among civilized nations, admit of a more animated 
 behaviour, than is approved of among barbarians. 
 The fird converfe together with the opennefs of 
 friends ; the fecond with the referve of ftrangers. 
 The emotion and vivacity with which the French 
 and the Italians, the tv/o mod poliflied nations upon 
 the continent, exprefs themfelves on occafions that 
 are at ail interefling, furprife at firft thofe ftrangers 
 who happen to be travelling aiPiOng them, and who, 
 'laving been educated among a people of duller fenfi- 
 bility, cannot enter into this paffionate behaviour, 
 of which they have never feen any example in their 
 own country. A young French nobleman will weep 
 in the prefence of the whole court upon being refufed 
 a regiment. An Italian, fays the abbot Du Bos, ex- 
 prefies more emotion on being condemned in a fine 
 of twenty fbillings, than an Englifhman on receiving 
 the fentence of death. Cicero, in the times of the 
 highcft Roman politcnefs, could, v/ithout degrading 
 himfelf, weep with all the bitternefs of forrow in the 
 fight of the whole fenate and the whole people; as 
 it is evident he m.uft have done in the end of almoft 
 every oration. The orators of the earlier and ruder 
 ages of Rome could not probably, confilient with 
 the manners of the times, have expreffbd themfelves 
 with fo nvjch emotion. It v;ould have been re- 
 garded, I fuppofe, as a violation of nature and pro- 
 priety in the Scipios. in the Leliufes, and in the el- 
 der Cato, to have expofed fo much tendcrnefs to the 
 view of the public. Thofe ancient warriors could 
 exprefs themlelves, wiih order, gravity, and good 
 judgment •, but are faid to have been ftrangers to 
 that fublime and pallionate eloquence which was firft 
 introduced into Rome, not many years before the 
 
 birth 
 
Chap. II. ^/ C u s T o M. 2S5 
 
 birth of Cicero, by the two Gracchi, by CrafTas, and 
 by Suipitius. This animated eloquence, which has 
 been long pradlifed, with or without fuccefs, both in 
 France and Italy, is but jufl beginning to be intro- 
 duced into England. So wide is the difference be- 
 tween the degrees of felf- command which are re- 
 quired in civilized and in barbarous nations, and by 
 fuch different ftandards do they judge of the pro- 
 priety of behaviour. 
 
 This difference gives occafion to many others that 
 are not lefs effential. A polifhed people being ac- 
 cuftomed to give way, in fome meafure, to the move- 
 ments of nature, become frank, open, and fincere, 
 Barbarians, on the contrary, being obliged to fmo- 
 ther and conceal the appearance of every paffion, 
 neceffarily acquire the habits of falfehood and dif- 
 fimulation. It is obferved by all thofe who have 
 been converfant with favage nations, whether in 
 Afia, Africa, or America, that they are all equallv 
 impenetrable, and that, when they have a mind to 
 conceal the truth, no examination is capable of 
 drawing it from them. They cannot be trepanned 
 by the mod artful queftions. The torture itfelf is 
 incapable of making them confefs any thing which 
 they have no mind to tell. The paffions of a fa- 
 vage too, though they never exprefs themifelves by 
 any outward emotion, but lie concealed in the bread 
 of the fufferer, are, notwithftanding, all mounted to 
 the higheft pitch of fury. Though he feldom (bows 
 any fymptoms of anger, yet his vengeance, when he 
 comiCs to give way to it, is always fanguinary and 
 dreadful. The leaf!: affront drives him to defpair. 
 His countenance and difcourfe indeed are ftill fober 
 and compofed, and exprefs nothing but the mod per- 
 
 fcdt 
 
285 0/ //^^ 1 N F L u E N c E Part V, 
 
 fe6l tranquillity of mind : But his a6lions are often 
 the moft furious and violent. Among the North- 
 Americans it is not uncommon for perfons of the 
 tenderefl age and more fearful fex to drown them- 
 felves upon receiving only a flight reprimand from 
 their mothers, and this too without exprefling any 
 pafTions or faying any thing, except, you Jhallno lon- 
 ger have a daughter. In civilized nations the paf- 
 fions of men are not commonly fo furious or fo def- 
 perate. They are often clamorous and noify, but 
 are fcldom very hurtful \ and feem frequently to aim 
 at no other fatisfailion, but that of convincing the 
 fpedator, that they are in the right to be fo much 
 moved, and of procuring his fympathy and appro- 
 bation. 
 
 All thefe efFe6ls of cuftom and fafhion, however, 
 upon the moral fentiments of mankind, are inconfi- 
 derable in comparifon of thofe which they giveocca- 
 fion to in fome other cafes \ and it is not concerning 
 the general ftyle of charader and behaviour, that 
 thofe principles produce the greateft perverfion of 
 judgment, but concerning the propriety or impro- 
 priety of particular ufages. 
 
 The different manners which cuftom teaches us to 
 approve of in the different profeilions and ftates of 
 life, do not concern things of the greateft importance. 
 We expedl truth and juftice from an old man as well 
 as from a young, from a clergyman as well as from 
 an officer •, and it is in matters of fmall moment only 
 that we look for the diflinguifliing marks of their re- 
 fpe6live characters. With regard to thefe too, there 
 is often fome unobferved circumftance which, if it 
 was attended to, would fhow us, that, independent 
 
 of 
 
Chap. n. ^/Custom. 287 
 
 of cuflom, there was a propriety in the charadler 
 which cuftom had taught us to allot to each profei- 
 fion. We cannot complain, therefore, in this cafe, 
 that the perverfion of natural fentiment is very great. 
 Though the manners of different nations require dif- 
 ferent degrees of the fame quality, in the character 
 which they think worthy of efteem, yet the word 
 that can be faid to happen even here, is that the du- 
 ties of one virtue are fometimes extended fo as to en- 
 croach a little upon the precindls of fome other. 
 The ruftic hofpitality that is in fafhion among the 
 Poles encroaches, perhaps, a little upon ceconomy 
 and good order ; and the frugality that is efteemed 
 in Holland, upon generofity and good-fellowfliip. 
 The hardinefs demanded of favages diminifhes their 
 humanity ; and, perhaps, the delicate fenfibility re- 
 quired in civilized nations fometimes deftroys the 
 mafculine firmnefs of the character. In ireneral, the 
 llyle of manners which takes place in any nation, 
 may commonly upon the whole be faid to be that 
 which is mod fuitable to its fituation. Hardinefs is 
 the charafler moft fuitable to the circumltances of a 
 favage ; fenfibility to thofe of one who lives in a very 
 civilized fociqty. Even here, therefore, we cannot 
 complain that the moral fentiments of men are very 
 grofsly perverted. 
 
 It is not therefore in the general (lyle of condu6l 
 or behaviour that cuftom authorizes the wideft depar- 
 ture from what is the natural propriety of adion. 
 With regard to particular ufages its influence is often 
 much more deftruftive of good morals, and it is ca- 
 pable of eflabliihing, as lawful and blamelefs, par- 
 tieuhr adions, which fhock the plaineft principles 
 of right and wrong. 
 
 Can 
 
288 Of the Influence Part V. 
 
 Can there be greater barbarity, for example, than 
 to hurt an infant ? Its helpleflhefs, its innocence, 
 its amiablenefs, call forth the compafTion even of 
 an enemy, and not to fpare that tender age is re- 
 garded as the moit furious effort of an enraged and 
 cruel conqueror. V/hat then fliould we imagine 
 mufi; be the heart of a parent who could injure that 
 v/eaknefs which even a furious enemy is afraid to vio- 
 late ? Yen the expoficion, that is, the murder of new- 
 born infants, was a practice allowed of in almoft all 
 the ftates of Greece, even among the polite and civi- 
 lized Athenians-, and whenever the circumltances 
 of the parent rendered it inconvenient to bring up the 
 child, to abandon it to hunger, or to wild beads, 
 was regarded without blame or cenfure. This prac- 
 tice had probably begun in times of the motl favage 
 barbarity. The imaginations of men had been iirll 
 made familiar with it in that earlieft period of focie- 
 ty, and the uniform continuance of the cullom had 
 jiindered them afterwards from perceiving its enor- 
 mity. We find, at this day, that this prac^liice pre- 
 vails among; all favage nations : and in that rudell 
 and loweil: Ifate of lociety it is undoubtedly more 
 pardonable than in any other. The extreme indi- 
 gence of a favage is often fuch that he himftlF is fre- 
 quently expofed to the greateft extremity of hunger, 
 he often dies of pure want, and it is frequently im- 
 pofiible for him to fupport both himfelf and his 
 child. We cannot wonder, therefore, that in this 
 cafe he fhould abandon it. One who in flying from 
 an enemy, whom it was impoflible to refill, fliould' 
 throw down his infant, becaufe it retarded his flight, 
 would furely be excufeable ; fince, by attempting to 
 fave it, he could only hope for the confolation of 
 
 dying 
 
Chap. IT. of C V s T o M. 289 
 
 dying with it. That in this ftate of fociety, there- 
 fore, a parent fhould be allowed to judge whether he 
 can bring up his child, ought not to furprife us fo 
 greatly. In the latter ages of Greece, however, the 
 fame thing was permitted from views of remote in- 
 tereft or conveniency, which could by no means ex- 
 cufe ir. Uninterrupted cuftom had by this time fo 
 thoroughly authorized the pradice, that not only the 
 loofe maxims of the world tolerated this barbarous 
 prerogative, but even the do6lrine of philofophers, 
 which ought to have been more juft and accurate, 
 was led away by the eftabiilhed cuftom, and upon 
 this, as upon many other occafions, inftead of 
 cenfuring, fupportcd the horrible abufe, by far- 
 fetched confiderations of public utility. Ariftotle 
 talks of it as of what the magiftrate ought upon 
 many occafions to encourage. The humane Plato 
 is of the fame opinion, and, with all that love 
 of mankind which feems to animate all his writ- 
 ings, no where marks this pradice with difappro- 
 bation. When cuftom can give fanflion to fo dread- 
 ful a violation of humanity, we may well imagine 
 that there is fcarce any particular pradlice fo grofs 
 which it cannot authorize. Such a thing, we hear 
 men every day faying, is commonly done, and they 
 fecm to think this a fufficient apology for what, 
 in itfelf, is the moft unjuft and unreafonable con- 
 dud:. 
 
 There is an obvious reafon why cuftom fhould 
 never pervert our fentiments with regard to the 
 general ftyle and charader of condud and behavi- 
 our, in the fame degree as with regard to the pro- 
 priety or unlawfulnefs of particular ufages. There 
 
 U never 
 
290 Of the Influence, &c. Part V. 
 
 never can be any fuch cuftom. No fociety could 
 fubfift a moment, in which the ufual drain of mens 
 condudb and behaviour was of a piece with the hor- 
 rible pradice I juft now mentioned. 
 
 
 
 PART 
 
PART VI. 
 
 Of Syftems of Moral Philosophy. 
 
 CONSISTING OF FOUR SECTIONS. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Of the queftions which ought to be examined in a 
 theory of moral fentiments. 
 
 JL F we examine the mofl celebrated and remarka- 
 ble of the different theories which have been given 
 concerning the nature and origin of our moral fenti- 
 ments, we fhall find that almoft all of them coincide 
 with fome part or other of that which I have been 
 endeavouring to give an account of; and that if 
 every thing which has already been faid be fully con- 
 fidered, we fhall be at no lofs to explain what was 
 the view or afpedl of nature which led each particu- 
 lar author to form his particular fyftem. From fome 
 one or other of thofe principles which I have been 
 endeavouring to unfold, every fyflem of morality 
 that ever had any reputation in the world has, per- 
 haps, ultimately been derived. As they are all of 
 them, in this refpeft, founded upon natural princi- 
 ples, they are all of them in fome mcafure in the 
 right. But as many of them are derived from a par- 
 
 U % tial 
 
292 0/ S y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 tial and imperfed view of nature, there are many of 
 them too in fome refpeds in the wrong. 
 
 In treating of the principles of morals there are 
 two queilions to be confidered. Firll, wherein does 
 virtue confift ? Or what is the tone of temper, and 
 tenour of condu6l, which conftitutes the excellent 
 and praife-worthy charadler, the charadler which is 
 the natural objedl of efteem, honour, and approba- 
 tion ? and fecondly, by what power or faculty in the 
 mind is it, that this charader, whatever it be, is re- 
 commended to us ? Or in other words, how and by 
 what means does it come to pafs, that the mind 
 prefers one tenour of condufl to another, denomi- 
 nates the one right and the other wrong ♦, confiders 
 the one as the object of approbation, honour, and 
 reward, and the other of blame, cenfure, and pu- 
 nifhment ? 
 
 We examine the firft queftion when we confider 
 whether virtue confifts in benevolence, as Dr. Hutche- 
 fon imagines ; or in adling fuitably to the different 
 relations we ftand in, as Dr. Clarke fuppofes -, or in 
 the wife and prudent purfuit of our own real and fo- 
 iid happinefs, as has been the opinion of others. 
 
 We examine the fecond queftion, when we con- 
 fider, whether the virtuous charadter, whatever it 
 confifts in, be recommended to us by felf-love, 
 which makes us perceive that this character, both in 
 ourfelves and others, tends moft to promote our own 
 private intereft ^ or by reafon, which points out to us 
 the difference between one charadler and another, in 
 the fame manner as it does that between truth and 
 falfehood j or by a peculiar power of perception, 
 
 called 
 
Se(5t. J. <?/* Moral Philosophy. 293 
 
 called a moral fenfe, which this virtuous charadler 
 gratifies and pleafes, as the contrary difgufts and 
 difpleafes it ; or laft of all, by fome other principle 
 in human nature, fuch as a modification of fympa- 
 thy, or the like. 
 
 I fhall begin with confidering the fyftems which 
 have been formed concerning the firft of thefe quef- 
 tions, and fhall proceed afterwards to examine thofe 
 concerning the fecond. 
 
 
 U a SEC- 
 
294 0/ Systems Part VI, 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Of the different accounts which have been given 
 of the nature of virtue. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 JL H E different accounts which have been given 
 of the nature of virtue, or of the temper of mind 
 which conftitutes the excellent and praife-worthy 
 character, may be reduced to three different claffes. 
 According to fome, the virtuous temper of mind 
 does not confift in an}' one fpecies of affedlions, but 
 in the proper government and direftion of all our af- 
 fedlions, which may be either virtuous or vicious ac- 
 cording to the objedts which they purfue, and the 
 degree of vehemence with which they purfue them. 
 According to thefe authors, therefore, virtue con° 
 fifts in propriety. 
 
 According to others, virtue confifts In the judici- 
 ous purfuit of our own private jntereft and happi- 
 nefs, or in the proper government and direction of 
 thofe felfifh affedtions which aim folely at this end. 
 In the opinion of thefe authors, therefore, virtue 
 confifts in prudence. 
 
 Another fet of authors make virtue confifl in 
 thofe affedtions only which aim at the happinefs of 
 others, not in thofe which aim at our own. Ac» 
 cording to them, therefore, difinterefted benevolence 
 
 is 
 
Se6t. II. ^jT Moral Philosophy. 295 
 
 is the only motive which can ftamp upon any adion 
 the charader of virtue. 
 
 The charadler of virtue, it is evident, muft either 
 be afcribed indifferently to all our affedlions, when 
 under proper government and diredtion •, or it mufl 
 be confined to fome one clafs or divifion of them. 
 The great divifion of our affedions is into the felfilh 
 and the benevolent. If the character of virtue, 
 therefore, cannot be afcribed indifferently to all our 
 affed:ions, when under proper government and di- 
 redlion, it muft be confined either to thofe which aim 
 dire6lly at our own private happinefs, or to thofe which 
 aim diredly at that of others. If virtue, therefore, 
 does not confift in propriety, it muft confift either in 
 prudence or in benevolence. Befides thefe three, it 
 is fcarce poffible to imagine that any other account 
 can be given of the nature of virtue. I fhall endea- 
 vour to fhew hereafter how all the other accounts, 
 which are feemingly different from any of thefe, 
 coincide at bottom with fome one or other of them« 
 
 C H A P. I. 
 
 Of thofe fyftems which make virtue confift in pro- 
 priety. 
 
 A 
 
 C CORDING to Plato, to Ariftotle, and to 
 Zeno, virtue confifts in the propriety of conduft, or 
 in the fuitablenefs of the affedlion from which we ad: 
 to the objed which excites it. 
 
 I. In the fyftem of Plato * the foul is confidered 
 as fomething like a little ftate or republic, compofed 
 of three different faculties or orders, 
 
 U 4 ^ The 
 
 * $ee Plato de Rep^ lib. iv. 
 
29^ Of S Y s T E M s Part VI. 
 
 The firfl is the judging faculty, the faculty which 
 determines not only what are the proper means for at- 
 taining any end, but alfo what ends are fit to be pur- 
 fued, and what degree of relative value we ought to 
 put upon each. This faculty Plato called, as it is 
 very properly called reafon, and confidered it as 
 v/hat had a right to be (jhe governing principle of 
 the whole. Under this appellation, it is evident, he 
 comprehended not only that faculty by which we 
 judge of truth and falfehood, but that by v/hich we 
 judge of the propriety or impropriety of defires and 
 affecftions. 
 
 The different pafTions and appetites, the natural 
 fubjedb of this ruling principle, but v/hich are fo apt 
 to rebel againft their matter, he reduced to two dif- 
 ferent clafies or orders. The firft confifled of thole 
 paiTions, which are founded in pride and refentment, 
 or in what the fchoolmen called the irafcible part of 
 fhe fouU ambition, animofity, the love of honour, 
 and the dread of fhame, the defire of vidlory, fu- 
 perioricy, and revenge •, all thofe pafilons, in Ihort, 
 which are fuppofed either to rife from, or to denote 
 what, by a metaphor in our language, we commonly 
 call fpirit or natural fire. The fecond confided of 
 thofe paffions which are founded in the love of plea- 
 fure, or in what the fchoolmen called the concupif- 
 cible part of the foul. It comprehended all the appe- 
 tites of the body, the love of eafe and fecurity, and 
 of all fenfual gratifications. 
 
 It rarely happens that we break in upon that plan 
 of condudl, which the governing principle prefcribes, 
 and which in all our cool hours we had laid down to 
 ourfelves as what was mod proper for us to purfue, 
 
 but 
 
Se(5l. II. c/ Moral Philosophy. 297 
 
 but when prompted by one or other of thofe two 
 different fets of paffions -, either by ungovernable 
 ambition and refentment, or by the importunate fo- 
 licitations of prefent eafe and pleafure. But though 
 thefe two orders of pafTions are fo apt to miflead us, 
 they are ftill confidered as neceffary parts of human 
 nature: the firft having been given to defend us 
 againft injuries, to affert our rank and dignity in the 
 world, to make us aim at what is noble and ho- 
 nourable, and to make us diitinguiili thole who adt 
 in the fame manner ^ the fecond to provide for the 
 fupport and neceffities of the body. 
 
 In the ftrength, acutenefs, and perfeftion of the 
 governing principle was placed the eilential virtue of 
 prudence, which, accordmg to Plato, confifted in a 
 jull and clear difcernnnent, founded upon general 
 and fcientific ideas, of the ends which were proper to 
 be piirfued, and of the means which were proper for 
 attaining them. 
 
 When the firft fet of paffions, thofe of the irafcible 
 part of the foul, had tiiat degree of fbrength and 
 firmnefs, which enabled them, under the diredion 
 of reafon, to defpife all dangers in the purfuit of 
 what was honourable and noble ; it conftituted the 
 virtue of fortitude and magnanimity. This order of 
 paffions, according to this lyftem, was of a more ge- 
 nerous and noble nature than the other. They were 
 confidered upon many occafions as the auxiliaries of 
 reafon, to check and reftrain the inferior and brutal 
 appetites. We are often angry at ourfelves, it was 
 obferved, we often become the objeds of our own re- 
 fentment and indignation, when the love of pleafure 
 prompts to do what we difapprove of*, and the irafci- 
 ble 
 
298 of Systems Part VI. 
 
 ble part of our nature is in this manner called in to 
 aiTift the rational againil the concupifcible. 
 
 When all thcfe three different parts of our nature 
 were in perfect concord with one another, when neither 
 the irafcible nor concupifcible paiTions ever aimed at 
 any gratification which reafon did not approve of, 
 and when reafon never commanded any thing, but 
 what thefe of their own accord were willing to per- 
 form -, this happy compofure, this perfedl and com- 
 plete harmony of foul, conftituted that virtue which 
 in their language is expreffed by a word which we 
 commonly tranflate temperance, but which might 
 more properly be tranflated good temper, or fobriety 
 and moderation of mind. 
 
 Juftice, the laft and greateft of the four cardinal 
 virtues, took place, according to this fyftem, when 
 each of thofe three faculties of the mind confined it- 
 felf to its proper ofHce, without attempting to en- 
 croach upon that of any other ; when reafon directed 
 and paflion obeyed, and when each paffion perform- 
 ed its proper duty, and exerted itfelf towards its 
 proper objedt eaiily and without reludtance, and with 
 that degree of force and energy, which was fuitable 
 to the value of what it purfueji. In this confifted 
 that complete virtue, that perfedt propriety of con- 
 dud, v/hich Plato, after fome of the ancient Pythago- 
 reans, denominated Juftice. 
 
 The word, it is to be obferved, which exprefles juf- 
 tice in the Greek langjuagre, has fcveral different mean- 
 ings j and as the correfpondent word in ail other lan- 
 guages, fo far as 1 know, has the fame, there muft be 
 fome natural aiiinity among thofe various fignificationSo 
 
 In 
 
Sedl. II. of Moral Philosophy. 299 
 
 In onefenfe we are laid to do juftice to our neigh- 
 bour when we abftain from doing him any pofitive 
 harm, and do not directly hurt him, either in his 
 perfon, or in his eilate, or in his reputation. This 
 is that juftice which I have treated of above, the ob- 
 fervance of which may be extorted by force, and the 
 violation of which expofes to punifliment. In ano- 
 ther fenfewe are faid not to do juftice to our neigh- 
 bour unlefs we conceive for him all that love, refpedl 
 and eileem, which his charadlcr, his fituation, and 
 his connexion with ourfclves, render fuitable and 
 proper for us to feel, and unlefs we ad according- 
 ly. It is in this fenfe that we are faid to do injullice 
 to a man of merit who is connected with us, tho' 
 we abftain from hurting him in every refpe<S:, if we 
 do not exert ourfelves to ferve him and to place hini 
 in that fituation in which the impartial fpedlator 
 would be pleafed to fee him. The firft fenfe of the 
 word coincides with what Ariftotle and the School- 
 men call commutative juftice, and with what Gro- 
 tius calls the juftitia expktrix, which confifts in ab- 
 ftaining from what is another's, and in doing volun- 
 tarily whatever we can with propriety be forced to 
 do. The fecond fenfe of the word coincides with 
 what fome have called diftributive juftice*, and with 
 the juftina attrihutrix of Grotius, which conftfts in 
 proper beneficence, in the becoming ufe of what is 
 our own, and in the applying it to thofe purpoies 
 either of charity or generofity, to which it is mofl: 
 fuitable, in our fituation, that it Ihould be applied. 
 In thisfenfejuftice comprehends all the fecial virtues. 
 
 There 
 
 * The diftributlve juftice of Ariftotle is fomewhat different. 
 It confifts in the proper diftribution of rewards from the public 
 Hock of a community. See Ariftotle Ethic. Nic, I. 5. c. 2. 
 
30O 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 There is yet another fenfe in which the word jufticc 
 is fometimes taken, ftill more extenfive than either 
 of the former, though very much a-kin to the laft % 
 and which runs too, fo far as I know, through all 
 languages. It is in this laft fenfe that we are faid to 
 beunjuft, when we do not feem to value any parti- 
 cular objedl with that degree of efteem, or to purfue 
 it with that degree of ardour which to the impartial 
 fpedlator it may appear to deferve or to be naturally 
 fitted for exciting. Thus we are faid to do injuftice 
 to a poem or a pidure, when we do not admire them 
 enough, and we are faid to do them more thanjuftice 
 when we admire them too much. In the fame man- 
 ner we are faid to do injuftice to ourfelves when we 
 appear not to give fufficient attention to any particu- 
 lar object of felf-intereft. In this laft fenfe, what is 
 called juftice means the fame thing with exadl and 
 perfect propriety of conduct and behaviour, and com- 
 prehends in it, not only the offices of both commu- 
 tative and diftributive juftice, but of every other vir- 
 tue, of prudence, of fortitude, of temperance. It is in 
 this laft fenfe that Plato evidendy underftands what 
 he calls juftice, and which, therefore, according to 
 him, comprehends in it the perfed:ion of every fort 
 of virtue. 
 
 Such is the account given by Plato of the nature 
 of virtue, or of that temper of mind which is the 
 proper objed of praife and approbation. It confifts, 
 according to him, in that ftate of mind in which eve- 
 ry faculty confines itfelf within its proper fphere 
 without encroaching upon that of any other, and' 
 performs its proper office with that precife degree of 
 ftrength and vigour which belongs to it. His ac- 
 count, it is evident, coincides in every refpedl with 
 
 what 
 
Seft. IT. of Moral Philosophy. 301 
 
 what we have faid above concerning the propriety of 
 condud. 
 
 II. Virtue, according to Ariftotle *, confifts in 
 the habit of mediocrity according to right reafon. 
 Every particular virtue, according to him, lies in a 
 kind of middle between twooppofite vices, of which 
 the one offends from being too much, the other from 
 being too little affedled by a particular fpecies of ob- 
 jeds. Thus the virtue of fortitude or courage lies 
 in the middle between the oppofite vices of cowardice 
 and of prefumptuous rafhnefs, of which the one 
 offends from being too much, and the other from be- 
 ing too little affedted by the objedts of fear. Thus 
 too the virtue of frugality lies in a middle between 
 avarice and profuHon, of which the one confifts in an 
 excefs, the other in a defedl of the proper attention 
 to the objects of felf interefb. Magnanimity, in the 
 fame manner, lies in a middle between the excefs of 
 arrogance and tlie defe6t of pufillanimity, of which 
 the one confifts in too extravagant, the other in too 
 weak a fentiment of our own worth and dignity. It 
 is unneceffary to obferve that this account of virtue 
 correfponds too pretty exadly with what has been 
 faid above concerning the propriety and impropriety 
 of condud:. 
 
 According to Ariftotle f, indeed, virtue did not 
 fo much confift in thofe moderate and right affecli- 
 ons, as in the habit of this moderation. In order to 
 underftand this, it is to be obferved, that virtue may 
 be confidered either as the quality of an adtion, or 
 
 as 
 
 * See Ariftoile Eihic. Nic. 1. 2. c. 5. et feq. et 1. 3. c. 5, at 
 fcq. 
 
 t See Ariflotle Ethic. Nic. lib, ii. ch. i 2. 3. and 4. 
 
302 0/ S Y s T EMS Part VI. 
 
 as the quality of a perfon. Confidered as the qua- 
 lity of an ad:ioii, it confifts, even according to Arif- 
 totle, in the reafonable moderation of the affedlion 
 from which the adtion proceeds, whether this difpo- 
 lition be habitual to the perlon or not. Confidered 
 as the quality of a perfon, it confifts in the habit of 
 this reafonable moderation, in its having become the 
 cuitomary and ufual difpofition of the mind. Thus 
 the ad:ion which proceeds from an occafional fit of 
 generofity is undoubtedly a generous adlion, but the 
 man who performs it, is not neceflarily a generous 
 perfon, becaufe it may be the fingle adlion of the 
 kind which he ever performed. The motive and 
 difpofition of heart, from which this adion was per- 
 formed, may have been quite jull and proper : but 
 as this happy mood feems to have been the effedl 
 rather of accidental humour than of any thing fteady 
 or permanent in the charader, it can refledl no great 
 honour on the performer. When we denominate a 
 charadter generous or charitable, or virtuous in any 
 refpedl, we mean to fignify that the difpofition ex- 
 prefiled by each of thofe appellations is the ufual 
 and cuftomary difpofinon of the perfon. But fingle 
 actions of any kind, how proper and fuitable foever, 
 are of little confequence to fhow that this is the cafe. 
 If a fingle adtion was fufficient to ftamp the charadler 
 of any virtue upon the perfon who performed it, the 
 moft worthlefs of mankind might lay claim to all the 
 virtues ; fince there is no man who has not, upon 
 fome occafions, adled with prudence, juftice, tem- 
 perance, and fortitude. But though fingle adlions, 
 how laudable foever, refled very little praife upon 
 the perfon who performs them, a fingle vicious adion 
 performed by one whofe condudt is ufually very re- 
 gular, greatly dimini(hes and fometimes deftroys al- 
 together 
 
Sed. 11. tf/ Moral Philosophy. 303 
 
 together our opinion of his virtue. A fingle a6lion 
 of this kind fufficiently Ihows that his habits are not 
 perfed, and that he is lefs to be depended upon, 
 than, from the ufual train of his behaviour, vi^e 
 might have been apt to imagine. 
 
 Ariflotle too *, when he made virtue to confifl: in 
 pradlical habits, had it probably in his view to op- 
 pofe the dodlrine of Plato, who feems to have been 
 of opinion that juft fentiments and reafon able judg- 
 ments concerning what was fit to be done or to be 
 avoided, were alone fufficient to conftitute the moft 
 perfedt virtue. Virtue, according to Plato, might 
 be confidered as a fpecies of fcience, and no man, he 
 thought, could fee clearly and demonftratively what 
 was right and what was wrong, and not adl accord- 
 ingly. PafTion might make us adt contrary to doubt- 
 ful and uncertain opinions, not to plain and evident 
 judgments. Ariftotle, on the contrary, was of opi- 
 nion, that no conviction of the underftanding was 
 capable of getting the better of inveterate habits, 
 and that good morals arofe not from knowledge but 
 from adtion. 
 
 III. According to Zeno f, the founder of the 
 ftoical doctrine, every animal was by nature recom- 
 mended to its own care, and was endowed with the 
 principle of felf-love, that it might endeavour to 
 preferve, not only its exiftence, but all the different 
 parts of its nature, in the bell and moft perfedl ftate 
 of which they were capable. 
 
 The 
 
 * See Ariftotle Mag. Mor. lib. i. ch. i. 
 t See Cicero de finibus, lib. iii. alfo Diogenes Laertius In 
 Zenone, lib, vii. fegment 84. 
 
3C4 . Of S y STEMS Part VL 
 
 The felf-iove of njan embraced, if I may fay fo, 
 his body and ail its different members, his mind and 
 all its different faculties and pov/ers, and defired the 
 Drefervation and maintenance of them all in their 
 belt and moft perfect condition. Whatever tended 
 to fupport this flate of exifcence was, therefore, by 
 nature pointed out to him as fit to be chofen ; and 
 whatever tended to deitroy it, as fit to be rejefed. 
 Thus health, ftrength, agility, and eafe of body, as 
 v;ell as the external convcniencies which could pro- 
 mote thefe, wealth, power, honours, the refpedt and 
 efteem of thofe we live with, were naturally pointed 
 GUI to us as things eligible, and of v/hich the polTef- 
 fion was preferable to the contrary. On the other 
 hand, ficknefs, infirmity, unwieldinefs, pain of body, 
 as well as all the external inconveniencies which 
 tended to occafion or bring on any of them, poverty, 
 the want of authority, the contempt or hatred of 
 thofe we live with ; were, in the fame manner, pointed 
 out to us as things to be Ihunned and avoided. In 
 each of thofe two different clafTes of objeds there 
 were fome which appeared to be more the objedts 
 either of choice or rejedion than others in the fame 
 clafs. Thus, in the nrft clafs, health appeared evi- 
 dently preferable to ftrength, and ftrength to agility j 
 reputation to power, and power to riches. And thus 
 too, in the fecond clafs, ficknefs was more to be 
 avoided than unwieldinefs of body, ignominy than 
 poverty, and poverty than the want of authority. 
 Virtue and the propriety of condu6l confifted in 
 choofing and rejedling all different objeds and cir- 
 cumftances according as they were by nature rendered 
 more or lefs the objeds of choice or rejedion ; in 
 feleding always from among the feveral objeds of 
 choice prefented to us, that which was moft to be 
 
 chofen. 
 
Sed:. II. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 305 
 
 chofen, when we could not obtain them all : and in 
 feleding too out of the feveral objeds of reje6lion 
 offered to us, that which was lead to be avoided, 
 when it was not in our power to avoid them all. By 
 choofing and rejecfting with this juft and accurate dif- 
 cernment, by thus bellowing upon every objedl the 
 precife degree of attention it defervcd, according to 
 the place which it held in this natural fcale of things, 
 we maintained, according to the Stoics, that per fecfl 
 reclitude of condu6l which conftituced theelTenceof 
 virtue. This was what they called to live confifr- 
 ently, to live according to nature, and to obey thofe 
 laws and diredions which nature, or the Author of 
 nature, had prefcribed for our conduct. 
 
 So far the Stoical idea of propriety and virtue is 
 not very different from that of Arillotle and the an- 
 tient peripatetics. What chiefly diflinguifhed thofe 
 two fyftem'S from one another was the different de- 
 grees of felf-command which they required. The 
 peripatetics allowed of lome degree of perturbation 
 ;as fuitable to the weaknefs of human nature, and as 
 ufeful to fo imperfedl a creature as man. If his own 
 misfortunes excited no paffionate grief, if his own in- 
 juries called forth no lively refentment, reafon, or a 
 regard to the general rules which determined what 
 was right and fit to be done, would commonly, they 
 tliought, be too weak to prompt him to avoid the 
 one or to beat off the other. The Stoics, on the 
 contrary, demanded the moil perfed: apathy, and re- 
 garded every emotion which could in the fmallefl de- 
 gree diflurb the tranquillity of the mind, as the cf- 
 fedl of levity and folly. The Peripatetics feem to 
 have thought that no paffion exceeded the bounds of 
 propriety as long as the fpedator, by the utmofl ef- 
 
 X fort 
 
3^6 Of SYSTEMS Part VI, 
 
 fort of humanity, could fympathize with it. The 
 Stoics, on the contrary, appear to have regarded 
 every paflion as improper, which made any demand 
 upon the fympathy of the fpedator, or required him 
 to alter in any relpe^t the natural and ordinary ftate 
 of his mind, in order to keep time with the vehe- 
 mence of its emotions. A man of virtue, they 
 feem to have thought, ought not to depend upon 
 the generofity of thofe he lives with for pardon or 
 approbation. 
 
 According to the Stoics, every event ihould, to 
 a wife man, appear indifferent, and what for its own 
 fake could be the objedt neither of defire, nor aver- 
 fion, neither of joy, nor forrow. if he preferred 
 fome events to others, if fome fituations were the ob- 
 jedls of his choice, and others of his reje(5lion, * it 
 was not, becaufe he regarded the one as, in them- 
 felves, in any refpedt better than the other, or thought 
 that his own happinefs would be more complete in, 
 what is called, the fortunate, than in what is com- 
 monly regarded as the diftrefsful fituation ; but be- 
 caufe the propriety of adlion, the rule which the 
 gods had given him for the direction of his condudt, 
 required him to choofe and rejedl in this manner. 
 Among the primary objedts of natural inclination, or 
 among thofe things which nature had originally re- 
 commended to us as eligible, was the profperity, of 
 our family, of our relations, of our friends, of our 
 country, of mankind, and of the univerfe in general. 
 Nature too had taught us that as the profperity of 
 
 two 
 
 * Some of thefe expreflions found a little aukward in the 
 Englifh language: they are literal tranflations of the technical 
 terms of the Stoics, 
 
Sedt. II. ^ Moral Philosophy. 307 
 
 two was preferable to that of one, that of many or of 
 all muft be infinitely more fo. That we ourfelves 
 were but one, and that confequendy wherever our 
 profperity was inconfiftent with that, either of the 
 whole, or of any confiderable part of the whole, it 
 ought, even in our own choice, to yield to what was 
 fo valtly preferable. As all the events in this world 
 were condudled by the providence of a wife, pow- 
 erful and good God, we might be alTured that what- 
 ever happened, tended to the profperity and perfec- 
 tion of the whole. If we ourfelves, therefore, were 
 in poverty, in ficknefs, or in any other calamity, we 
 ought, firft of all, to ufe our utmoft endeavours, fo 
 far as juftice and our duty to others would allow, to 
 refcue ourfelves from this difagreeable circumftance. 
 But if after all we could do, we found this impofu- 
 ble, we ought to reft fatisfied that the order and per- 
 fedlion of the univerfe required that we ihould in the 
 mean time continue in this fituation. And as the 
 profperity of the whole fhould, even to us, appear 
 preferable to fo infignificant a part as ourfelves. Our 
 fituation, whatever it was, ought from that moment 
 to become the objedt of our choice, and even of our 
 defire, if we would maintain that complete propriety 
 and redlitude of fentiment and conduct in which the 
 perfedion of our nature confifts. If, indeed, any 
 opportunity of extricating ourfelves (hould offer, ic 
 became our duty to embrace it. The order of the 
 univerfe, it was evident, no longer required our con- 
 tinuance in this fituation, and the great diredor of 
 the world plainly called upon us to leave it, by fo 
 clearly pointing out the road which we were to fol- 
 low. It was the fame cafe with the adverfity of our 
 relations, our friends, our country. If without vio- 
 
 X z lating 
 
o^o8 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 lating any more facred obligation, It was in our 
 power to prevent or to put an end to their calamity^ 
 it undoubtedly was our duty to do fo. The propri- 
 ety of ad ion, the rule which Jupiter had given us 
 for the direction of our condudl, evidently required 
 this of us. But if it was altogether out of our power 
 to do either, we ought then to confider this event as 
 the moft fortunate which could poiTibly have hap- 
 pened : Becaufe we might be afliired that it tended 
 mod to the profperity and order of the whole : which 
 was what we ourfelves, if we were wife and equita- 
 able, ought moil of all to defire, " In what lenfe, 
 ^' favs Epi6letus, are fome things faid to be accord- 
 " ins; to our nature, and others contrary to it ? it is 
 *' in that fenfe in which we confider ouiklves as fe- 
 '' parated and detached from all other things. For 
 " thus it may be faid to be according to the nature of 
 '' the foot to be always clean. But if you confider 
 *' it as a footy and not as fomething detached from the 
 *' reft of the body, it muft behove it fometimes to 
 " trample in the dirt, and fometimes to tread upon 
 " thorns, and fometimes too to be cut off for the fake 
 " of the whole body ; and if it refufes this, it is no 
 ^' longer a foot. Thus too ought we to conceive 
 " with regard to ourfelves. What are you t A man. 
 " If you confider yourfelf as fomething feparated 
 " and detached, it is agreeable to your nature to live 
 " to old age, to be rich, to be in health. But if you 
 *' confider yourfelf as a man, and as a part of a 
 " whole, upon account of that whole it will behoove 
 " you fometimes to be in ficknefs, fometimes to be ex- 
 " pofed to the inconveniency of a fea voyage, fome- 
 " times to be in want ; and at laft, perhaps, to die 
 ** before your time. Why then do you complain ? 
 
 " Don't 
 
S€<ib. IT. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 30^ 
 
 *' Don't you know that by doing fo, as the foot ceafes 
 " to be a foot, fo you ceafe to be a man ?" * 
 
 This fubmifilon to the order of the univcrfe, this 
 entire indifference with regard to whatever concerns 
 ourfelves, when put into the balance with the intereil 
 of the whole, could derive its propriety, it is evident, 
 from no other principle befides that, upon which I 
 have endeavoured to fhow, the propriety of jultice 
 was founded. As long as we view our own interefts 
 with our own eyes, it is fcar.ce poffible that we fhotild 
 willingly acquiefce in their being thus facrificed to 
 the interefts of the whole. It is only when we view 
 thofe oppofite interefts with tht eyes of others, than 
 what concerns ourfelves can appear to be fo con- 
 temptible in the comparifon, as to be refigned with- 
 out any reludance. To every body but the perfon 
 principally concerned, nothing can appear more 
 agreeable to reafon and propriety than that the part 
 Ihould give place to the whole. But what is agree- 
 able to the reafon of all other men, ought not to ap- 
 pear contrary to his. He himfelf therefore ought to 
 approve of this facrifice, and acknowledge its confor- 
 mity to reafon. But all the affcdions of a wife man, 
 according to the ftoics, are perfedly agreeable to rea- 
 fon and propriety, and of their own accord coincide 
 with whatever thefe ruling principles prefcribe. A 
 wife man, therefore, could never feel any reludlance 
 to comply with this difpolition of things. 
 
 IV. Befides thefe ancient, there are fome modern 
 fyftems, according to which virtue confifls in propri- 
 ety ; oi: in the fuitablenefs of the affedion from which 
 
 X 3 we 
 
 * Arrian. lib. II. c. 5. 
 
jio 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VI. 
 
 we adl, to the caufe or objedl which excites it. The 
 fyftem of Dr. Clarke, which places virtue in adting 
 according to the relations of things, in regulating 
 our condudb according to the fitnefs or incongruity 
 which there may be in the application of certain 
 adlions to certain things, or to certain relations : 
 That of Mr. Woolafton, which places it in adling ac- 
 cording to the truth of things, according to their 
 proper nature and efience, or in treating them as 
 what they really are, and not as what they are not : 
 tfifet of my lord Shaftefbury, which places it in main- 
 taining a proper balance of the affe6i:ions, and in al- 
 lowing no paffion to go beyond its proper fphere ; 
 are all of them more or lefs inaccurate defcriptions of 
 the fame fundamental idea. 
 
 The defcription of virtue which is either given, 
 or at lead meant and intended to be given in each 
 of thofe fyflems, for fome of the modern authors are 
 not"^ very fortunate in their manner of exprefTing 
 themfelves, is no doubt quite juft, fo far as it goes. 
 There is no virtue without propriety, and wherever 
 there is propriety, fome degree of approbation is 
 due. But flill this defcription is imperfed. For 
 though propriety is an eflential ingredient in every 
 virtuous adlion, it is not always the fole ingredient. 
 Beneficent adlions have in them another quality by 
 which they appear not only to deferve approbation 
 but recompenfe. None of thofe fyftems account 
 either eafily or fufficiently for that fuperior degree 
 of efteem which feems due to fuch adlions, or for 
 that diverfity of fentiment which they naturally ex- 
 cite. Neither is the defcription of vice more com- 
 plete. For in the fame manner, though impropriety 
 is a neceflary ingredient in every vicious adion, it is 
 
 not 
 
Sed. II. (?/ Moral Phi LOsopHY. 311 
 
 not always the fole ingredient, and there is often the 
 higheft degree of abfurdity and impropriety in very 
 harmlefs and infignificant actions. Deliberate a6li- 
 ons, of a pernicious tendency to thofe we live with, 
 have, befides their impropriety, a peculiar qualicy of 
 their own by which they appear to deferve, not only 
 difapprobation, but punifhment ; and to be the ob- 
 je^ls, not of diflike merely, but of refentment and 
 revenge : and none of thofe fyftcms eafily and fuffi- 
 cntly account for that fuperior degree of deteftation 
 which we feel for fuch adions. 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 Of thofe fyftems which make virtue conjifi in pru- 
 dence. 
 
 A H E moft ancient of thofe fyftems which make 
 virtue confift in prudence, and of which any confi- 
 derable remains have come down to us, is that of 
 Epicurus, who is faid, however, to have borrowed 
 all the leading principles of his philofophy, from 
 fome of thofe who had gone before him, particularly 
 from Ariftippus ; though it is very probable, not- 
 withllanding this allegation of his enemies, that at 
 lead his manner of applying thofe principles was al- 
 together his own. 
 
 According to Epicurus, * bodily pleafure and 
 pain were the fole ultimate objects of natural defire 
 and averfion. That they were always the natural 
 objedls of thofe paffions, he thought required no 
 
 X 4 proof. 
 
 * See Cicero dc finibus, lib. i. Diogenes Laert. I. x. 
 
312 0/ Systems Part VI. 
 
 proof. Pleafure might, indeed, appear fometimes 
 to be avoided ♦, not, hov/ever, becaufe it was plea- 
 fure, but becaufe, by the enjoyment of ir, we fhould 
 either forfeit fome greater pleafure, or expofc our- 
 felves to fome pain that was more to be avoided than 
 this pleafure was to be defired. Pain, in the fame 
 manner, might appear fometimes to be eligible •, not, 
 however, becaufe it was pain, but becaufe by en- 
 during it we mieht either avoid a ftill o-reater pain, 
 or acquire fome pleafure of much more importance. 
 That bodily pain and pleafure, therefore, were al- 
 ways the natural obje6ls of defire and averfion, was, 
 he thought, abundantly evident. Nor was it lefs fo, 
 he imagined, that they were the fole ultimate obje6ls 
 of thofe pafTions. Whatever elfe was either defired 
 or avoided was fo, according to him, upon account 
 of its tendency to produce one or other of thofe fen- 
 fations. The tendency to procure pleafure rendered 
 power and riches defirable, as the contrary tendency 
 to produce pain made poverty and infignificancy the 
 objedts of averfion. Honour and reputation were 
 valued, becaufe the efteem and love of thofe we live 
 with were of the greated confequence both to pro- 
 cure pleafure and to defend us from pain. Ignominy 
 and bad fame, on the contrary, were to be avoided, 
 becaufe the hatred, contempt, and refentment of 
 thofe we lived with deftroyed all fecurity, and ne- 
 ceffarily expofed us to the greateft bodily evils. 
 
 All the pleafures and pains of the mind were, ac- 
 cording to Epicurus, ultimately derived from thofe 
 of the body. The mind was happy when it thought 
 of the paft pleafures of the body, and hoped for 
 others to come : and it was miferable when it thought 
 ' • of 
 
Se6l. il. of Moral Philosophy. 313 
 
 o^ the pains which the body had formerly endured, 
 and dreaded the lame or greater thereafter. 
 
 But the pleafures and pains of the mind, though 
 ultimately derived from thofe of the body, were 
 vaftly greater than their originals. The body felt 
 only the fenfation of the prefent inilant, whereas the 
 mind felt alfo the pad and the future, the one by 
 remembrance, the other by anticipation, and confe- 
 quently both fuffered and enjoyed much more. 
 When we are under the greateft bodily pain, he ob- 
 ferved, we Ihall always find, if we attend to it, that 
 it is not the fuffering of the prefent inilant which 
 chiefly torments us, but either the agonizing re- 
 membrance of the paft, or the yet more horrible dread 
 of the future. The pain of each inftant, confidered 
 by itfeif, and cut off from all that goes before and all 
 thut comes after it, is a trifle not worth the regard- 
 ing. Yet this is all which the body can ever be faid 
 to fuifer. In the fame manner, when we enjoy the 
 greated pleafure, we iliall always And that the bodily 
 leniation, the ienlation of the prefent inftant makes 
 but a imall part ot our happinefs, that our enjoy- 
 ment chiefly ariles either irom the cheerful recollec- 
 tion of the pail, or the Hill more joyous anticipation 
 of the tucure, and that the mind alv/ays contributes 
 by much the largefl (hare of the entertainment. 
 
 Since our happinefs and mifery, therefore, de- 
 pended chiefly on the mind, if this part of our na- 
 ture was well difpofed, if our thoughts and opinions 
 were as they Ihould be, it was of little importance 
 in what manner our body was afll"(fled. Though 
 under great bodily pain, we might Hill enjoy a con- 
 fiderable fliare of happinefs, if our reafon and judg- 
 ment 
 
314 c/ Systems Part VI.' 
 
 ment maintained their luperiority. We might en- 
 tertain ourfelves with the remembrance of pa(l, and 
 with the hopes of future pleafure ; we might iofteii 
 the rigour of our pains, by recolle(5ling what it was 
 which, even in this fituation, we were under any ne- 
 cefiity of fuffering. That this was merely the bodily 
 fenfation, the pain of the prefent inllant, which by 
 itfelf could never be very great. That whatever 
 agony we fuffcred from the dread of its continuance 
 V7as theeffedl of an opinion of the mind, which might 
 be corredled by juiler fentiments ; by confidering 
 that, if our pains were violent, they would proba- 
 bly be of fhorc duration ; and that if they were of 
 long continuance, they would probably be moderate, 
 and admit of many intervals of cafe \ and that, at 
 any rate, death was always at hand and within call 
 to deliver us, which as, according to him, it put an 
 end to all fenfation, either of pain or pleafure, could 
 not be regarded as an evil. When we are, faid he, 
 death is not ; and when death is, we are not -, death 
 therefore can be nothing to us. 
 
 If the a6lual lenfation of pofitive pain was in it- 
 felf fo little to be feared, that of pleafure was ftill 
 lefs to be defired. Naturally the fenfation of plea- 
 fure was much lefs pungent than that of pain. If, 
 therefore, this laft could take fo very little from the 
 happinefs of a well difpofed mind, the other could 
 add fcarce any thing to it. When the body was 
 free from pain and the mind from fear and anxiety, 
 the fuperadded fenfation of bodily pleafure could be 
 of very little importance-, and though it might di- 
 verfify, could not be properly be faid to incrcafe the 
 happinefs of this fituation. 
 
 In 
 
Se6l. II. of Moral Philosophy. 315 
 
 In eafe of body, therefore, and in fecuricy or tran- 
 quillity of mind, confided, according to Epicurus, 
 the mod perfed: date of humaa^ nature, the mod 
 complete happinefs which man was capable of en- 
 joying. To obtain this great end of natural defire 
 was the fole obje6t of all the virtues, which, accord- 
 ing to him, were not defirable upon their own ac- 
 count, but upon account of their tendency to bring 
 about this fituation. 
 
 Prudence, for example, though according to this 
 philofophy, the fource and principle of all the vir- 
 tues, was not defirable upon its own account. That 
 careful and laborious and circumfpedt date of mind, 
 ever watchful and ever attentive to the mod didant 
 confequences of every adlion, could not be a thing 
 pleafant or agreeable for its own fake, but upon ac- 
 count of its tendency to procure the greated goods 
 and to keep off the greated evils. 
 
 To abdain from pleafure too, to curb and ref- 
 train our natural paflions for enjoyment, which was 
 the office of temperance, could never be defirable 
 for its own fake. The whole value of this virtue 
 arofe from its utility, from its enabling us to pod- 
 pone the prefent enjoyment for the fake of a greater 
 to come, or to avoid a greater pain that might enfue 
 from it. Temperance, in diort, was nothing but 
 prudence with regard to pleafure. 
 
 To fupport labour, to endure pain, to be expofed 
 to danger or to death, the fituations which fortitude 
 would often lead us into, were furely dill lefs the 
 objects of natural defire. They were chofen only to 
 avoid greater evils. We fubmitted to labour, in or- 
 der 
 
3i6 0/ S Y s T £ M s Part VI. 
 
 ddr to avoid the greater fliame and pain of poverty, 
 and we expofed ourlelves to danger and to death iti 
 defence of our lihtrty and property, the means and 
 inftruments of pleafure and happinefs ; or in defence 
 of our country, in the fafety of which our own was 
 neceflarily comprehended. Fortitude enabled us to / 
 do all this cheerfully, as the bell which, in our pre- 
 fent fituation, could pofTibly be done, and was in 
 reality no more than prudence, good judgment, and 
 prefence of mind in properly appreciating pain, la- 
 bour, and danger, always choofing the lefs in order 
 to avoid the greater. 
 
 It is the fame cafe with juftice. To abftain from 
 what is another's was not defirableon its own account, 
 and it could not furely be better for you, that I 
 fbould pofTefs what is my own, than that you fhould 
 polTeis it. You ought however, to abftain from 
 whatever belongs to me, becaufe by doing otherwife 
 you will provoke the refentmenc and indignation of 
 mankind. The fecurity and tranquillity of your 
 • mind will be entirely defiroyed. You will be filled 
 with fear and conflernation at the thought of that 
 punifhment which you will imagine that men are at 
 all times ready to inflidl upon you, and from which 
 no power, no art, no concealment, will ever, in your 
 own fancy, be fufficient to proted you. That other 
 fpecies of juftice which confifts in doing proper good 
 offices to different perfons, according to the various 
 relations of neighbours, kinfmcn, friends, benefac- 
 tors, fuperiors, or equals, which they may ftand in 
 to us, is recommended by the fan>e reafons. To a6l 
 properly in all thefe different relations procures us 
 the efteem and love of thofe we live with j as to do 
 otherwife excites their contempt and hatred. By the 
 
 one 
 
Seft. II. c/ Moral Philosophy. 317 
 
 one we naturally fecure, by the other we neccfl'arily 
 endanger our own eafe and tranquillity, the great and 
 ultimate objeds of all our defires. The whole virtue 
 of juftice, therefore, the moil important of all the 
 virtues, is no more than difcreet and prudent con- 
 duct with regard to our neighbours. 
 
 Such is the dodrine of Epicurus concerning the 
 nature of virtue. It may feem extraordinary that 
 this philofopher, who is defcribed as a peribn of the 
 mod amiable manners, fhould never have obferved, 
 that, whatever may be the tendency of thofe virtues, 
 or of the contrary vices, with regard to our bodily 
 eafe and fecurity, th- fcntiments which they natural- 
 ly excite in others are the objeds of a much more 
 palTionate defire or averfion than all their other con- 
 fequences ; That to be amiable, to be refpedable, 
 to be the proper objea of efteem, is by every weil- 
 difpofed mind more valued than all the eafe and fecu- 
 rity which love, refpedt, and efteem can procure us^ 
 That, on the contrary, to be odious, to be contempti- 
 ble, to be the proper objed: of indignation, is more 
 dre'adful than all that we can fuffer in our body from 
 hatred, contempt, or indignation; and that confc- 
 quently our defire of the one character, and our aver- 
 fion to' the other, cannot arife from any regard to the 
 effeds which cither of them is likely to produce upon 
 the body. 
 
 This fyftem is, no doubt, altogether inconfiftent 
 with that which I have been endeavouring to efta- 
 blilh. It is not difficult, however, to difcover from 
 what phafis, if I may fay fo, from what particular 
 view or afped: of nature, this account of things de- 
 rives its probability. By the wife contrivance of the 
 
 Author 
 
3i8 Of Sy ST E MS Part VL 
 
 Author of nature, virtue is upon all ordinary occafi- 
 ons, even with regard to this lifey real wifdom, and 
 the fureft and readied means of obtaining both fafety 
 and advantage. Our fuccefs or difappointment in 
 our undertakings mul\ very much depend upon the 
 good or bad opinion which is commonly entertained 
 of us, and upon the general difpofuion of thofe we 
 live with, either to aflilt or to oppofe us. But the 
 beft, the fureft, the eafielt, and the readied way of 
 obtaining the advantageous and of avoiding the un- 
 favourable judgments of others, is undoubtedly to 
 render ourfelves the proper objedls of the former and 
 not of the latter. *' Do you defire, faid Socrates, 
 '' the reputation of a good mufician ? The only fure 
 " ^ay of obtaining it, is to become a good mufician. 
 " Would you defire in the fame manner to be thought 
 " capable of ferving your country either as a general 
 " or as a ftatefman ? The bed way in this cafe too 
 " is really to acquire the art and experience of war 
 " and government, and to become really fit to be a 
 *' general or a datefman. And in the fame manner 
 " if you would be reckoned fober, temperate, jud, 
 " and equitable, the bed way of acquiring this re- 
 '^ putation is to become fober, temperate, jud, and 
 " equitable. If you can really render yourfelf amia- 
 *' ble, refpedlable, and the proper obje6t of edeem, 
 " there is no fear of your not foon acquiring the love, 
 " the refpedt, and edeem of thofe you live with.** 
 Since the pradlice of virtue, therefore, is in general 
 fo advantageous, and that of vice lb contrary to our 
 intered, the confideration of thofe oppofite tenden- 
 cies undoubtedly damps an additional beauty and 
 propriety upon the one, and a new deformity and 
 impropriety upon the other. Temperance, mag- 
 nanimitv, judice, and beneficence, come thus to 
 
 be 
 
3e6t. II. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 319 
 
 be approved of, not only under their proper charac- 
 ters, but under the additional character of the higheft 
 wifdom and moil real prudence. And in the fame 
 manner the contrary vices of intemperance, pufilla- 
 niniity, injullice, and either malevolence or fordid 
 felfifhnefs, come to be difapproved of, not only un- 
 der their proper charaders, but under the additional 
 character of the moft fhorr-fighted folly and weak- 
 nefs. Epicurus appears in every virtue to have at- 
 tended to this fpecies of propriety only. It is that 
 which is moft apt to occur to thofe who are endea- 
 vouring to perfuade others to regularity of conduct. 
 When men by their pradice, and perhaps too by 
 their maxims, manifeftly fhow that the natural beauty 
 of virtue is not like to have much effedl upon them, 
 how is it poflible to move them but by reprefenting 
 the folly of their condud, and how much they them- 
 felvcs are in the end likely to fuffer by it ? 
 
 By running up all the different virtues too to this 
 one fpecies of propriety, Epicurus indulged a propen- 
 fity, which is natural to all men, but which philofo- 
 phers in particular are apt to cultivate with a pecu- 
 liar fondnefs, as the great means of difplaying their 
 ingenuity, the propenfity to account for all appear- 
 ances from as few principles as poflible. And he, 
 no doubt, indulged this propenfity ftill further, when 
 he referred all the primary objedls of natural defire 
 and averfion to the pleafures and pains of the body. 
 The great patron of the atomical philofophy, who 
 took lb much pleafure in deducing all the powers and 
 qualities of bodies from the moft obvious and fami- 
 liar, the figure, motion, and arrangement of the 
 fmall parts of matter, felt no doubt a fimilar fatis- 
 fadtion, when he accounted, in the fame manner, for 
 
 all 
 
320 Of S Y s T L M s. Part VI. 
 
 all the fentiments and paflions of the mind from thofe 
 u'hich are mofl obyioiis and familiar. 
 
 The fyftem of Epicurus agreed with thofe of Pla- 
 to, Ariftotle, and Zeno, in making virtue confifl: in 
 adins in the mod fuitable manner to obtain the * 
 primary objeds of natural defire. It differed from 
 all of them in two other refpecls ; firll, in the account 
 which it gave of thofe primary objeds of natural de- 
 fire; and fecondly, in the account which it gave of 
 the excellence of virtue, or of the reafon why that 
 quality ought to be efteemed. 
 
 The primary objeds of natural defire confiPied, 
 according to Epicurus, in bodily pleafure and pain, 
 and in nothing elfe : whereas, according to the other 
 three philofophers, there were many other objeds, 
 fuch as knowledge, fuch as the happinefs of our re- 
 lations, of our friends, of our country, which were 
 ultimately defirable for their own fakes. 
 
 Virtue too, according to Epicurus, did not deferve 
 to be purfued for its own fake, nor was itfelf one 
 of the ultimate objeds of natural appetite, but was 
 eligible only upon account of its tendency to prevent 
 pain and to procure eafe and pleafure. In the opinion 
 of the other three, on the contrary, it was defirable, 
 not merely as the means of procuring the other pri- 
 mary objeds of natural defire, but as fomething 
 which was in itfelf more valuable than them. all. 
 Man, they thought, being born for adion, his hap- 
 pinefs mull confifl:, not merely in the agreeablenefs 
 of his palTive fenfations, but alfo in the propriety of 
 his adive exertions. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 * Prima naturae. 
 
Sed. ir» (?/ Moral Philosophy^ 2^.i 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of thofi fyftems *which make virtue conjtft in bene- 
 volence, 
 
 JL H E fyftem which makes virtue confift in bene- 
 volence, though I think not fo ancient as all of thofe 
 which I have already given an account of, is, how- 
 ever, of very great antiquity. It feems to have been 
 the dodtrine of the greater part of thofe philofophers 
 who, about and after the age of Auguftus, called 
 themfelves Ecledtics, who pretended to follow chiefly 
 the opinions of Plato and Pythagoras, and who upotl 
 that account are commonly known by the name of 
 the later Platonifts. 
 
 In the divine nature, according tO thefe authors, 
 benevolence or love was the fole principle of adlion^ 
 and diredted the exertion of all the other attributes. 
 The wifdom of the Deity was employed in finding 
 out the means for bringing about thofe ends which 
 his goodnefs fuggefted, as his infinite power was ex- 
 erted to execute them. Benevolence, however^ was 
 ilill the fupreme and governing attribute, to which 
 the others were fubfervient, and from which the whole 
 excellency, or the whole morality, if I may be al- 
 lowed fuch an exprefilon, of the divine operations^ 
 was ultimately derived. The whole perfe'dlion and 
 virtue of the human mind confided in fome relem- 
 blance or participation of the divine perfe6lions, and, 
 confequently, in being filled with the fame principle 
 
 Y of 
 
322 0/ Systems Part VL 
 
 of benevolence and love which influenced all the ani- 
 ons of the deity. The adtions of men which flowed 
 from this motive were alone truly praife- worthy, or 
 could claim any merit in the fight of the deity. It 
 was by adlions of charity and love only that we 
 could imitate, as became us, the condud of God, 
 that we could exprefs our humble and devout admi- 
 ration of his infinite perfedions, that by foftering in 
 our own minds the fame divine principle, we could 
 bring our own affedlions to a greater refemblance 
 with his holy attributes, and thereby become more 
 proper objedls of his love and efteem ; till at laft we 
 arrived at that immediate converfe and communica- 
 tion with the deity to which it was the great objed of 
 this philofophy to raife us. 
 
 This fyflem, as it was much efteemed by many 
 ancient fathers of the chriftian church, fo aftw the 
 reformation it was adopted by feveral divines of the 
 mofl eminent piety and learning, and of the moft 
 amiable manners ; particularly, by Dr. Ralph Cud- 
 worth, by Dr. Henry More, and by Mr. John Smith 
 of Cambridge. But of all the patrons of this fyflem, 
 ancient or modern, the late Dr. Hutchefon, was un- 
 doubtedly beyond all comparifon, the mofl: acute, 
 the moft diftindt, the moft philofophical, and what 
 is of thj^ greateft confequence of all, the fobereft and 
 moft judicious. 
 
 That virtue confifts in benevolence is a notion 
 fupported by many appearances in human nature. 
 It has been obferved already that proper benevo- 
 lence is the moft graceful and agreeable of all the 
 affcdtions, that it is recommended to us by a double 
 fympathy, that as its tendency is neceflarily benefi- 
 cent^ 
 
Sed. II. (?/ Moral Phi LosopHY. 32-^ 
 
 cent, it is the proper objedl of gratitude and reward^ 
 and that upon all thefe accounts it appears to our 
 natural fentiments to poffefs a merit fuperiof to any 
 other. It has been obferved too that even the weak- 
 nefles of benevolence are not very difagreeable to us, 
 whereas thofe of every other pafTion are always ex- 
 tremely difgufting. Who docs not abhor exceffive 
 malice, exceilive felfiihnefs, or exceflive refentment ? 
 But the moft exceflive indulgence even of partial 
 friendlhip is not fo offenfive. It is the benevolent 
 paflions only which can exert themfelves without 
 any regard or attention to propriety, and yet retain 
 fomething about them which is engaging. There is 
 lomething pleafing even in mere inftindive good- 
 will which goes on to do good offices without once 
 refleding whether by this condud it is the proper 
 objed either of blame or approbation. It is not fa 
 with the other paflions. The moment they are de- 
 ferted, the moment they arc unaccompanied by the 
 fenfe of propriety, they ceafe to be agreeable* 
 
 As benevolence beft:ows upon thofe actions v/hich 
 proceed from it, a beauty fuperior to all others, fo 
 the want of it, and much more the contrary inclina- 
 tion, communicates a peculiar deformity to whatever 
 evidences fuch a difpofuion. Pernicious a(ftions are 
 often punifliable for no other reafon than becaufe they 
 fliow a want of fufficient attention to the happinefs 
 of our neighbour, 
 
 Befides all this, Dr. Hutchefon * obferved, that 
 whenever in any adion, fuppofed to proceed from 
 benevolent affedions, feme other motive had been 
 
 Y 2 difcovercdj 
 
 • See Inquiry concerning virtue, fett. i . ind 2, 
 
324 Of S Y 5 T E MS Part VI. 
 
 dlfcovered, our fenfe of the merit of this adlion was 
 juft fo far diminillied as this motive was believed to 
 have influenced it. If an adion, fuppofed to proceed 
 from gratitude, fhould be difcovered to have arifen from 
 an expedlation of fome new favour, or if what was 
 apprehended to proceed from public fpirit, fhould be 
 found out to have taken its origin from the hope of 
 a pecuniary reward, fuch a difcovery would entirely 
 deftroy all notion of merit or praife-worthinefs in 
 either of thefe anions. Since, therefore, the mixture 
 of any felfifli motive, like that of a bafe alloy, di- 
 minilhed or took away altogether the merit which 
 would otherwife have belonged to any adlion, it was 
 evident, he imagined, that virtue muft confift in pure 
 and difmterefted benevolence alone. 
 
 When thofe adbions, on the contrary, which are 
 commonly fuppofed to proceed from a felfifh motive, 
 are difcovered to have arifen from a benevolent one, 
 it greatly enhances our fenfe of their merit. If we 
 believed of any perfon that he endeavoured to ad- 
 vance his fortune from no other view but that of do- 
 ing friendly offices, and of making proper returns to 
 his bencfadtors, we ihould only love and efteem him 
 the more. And this obfervation feemed flill more to 
 confirm the conclufion, that it was benevolence only 
 which could (lamp upon any adlion the charader of 
 virtue. 
 
 Laft of all, what, he imagined, was an evident 
 proof of the juftnefs of this account of virtue, in all 
 the difputes of cafuifts concerning the reditude of 
 condud, the public good, he obferved, was the 
 ftandard to which they conftantly referred ; thereby 
 univerfally acknowledging that whatever tended to 
 
 promote 
 
Sedl. II. c/ Moral Philosophy. 325 
 
 promote the happinefs of mankind was right and 
 laudable and virtuous, and the contrary, wrong, 
 blameable, and vicious. In the late debates about 
 pafTive obedience and the right of refiftance, the fole 
 point in controverfy among men of fenfe was, whe- 
 ther univerfal fubmiffion would probably be attended 
 with greater evils than temporary infurredtions when 
 privileges were invaded. Whether what, upon the 
 whole, tended moft to the happinefs of mankind, 
 was not alfo morally good, was never once, he faidj 
 made a queftion. 
 
 Since benevolence, ther efore, was the only mo- 
 tive which could bellow upon any adion the charac- 
 ter of virtue, the greater the benevolence which was 
 evidenced by any action, the greater the praife which 
 muft belong to it. 
 
 Thofe adions which aimed at the happinefs of a 
 great community, as they demonftrated a more en- 
 larged benevolence than thofe which aimed only at 
 that of a fmaller fyflem, fo were they, likewife, pro- 
 portionally the more virtuous. The moil virtuous 
 of all affedtions, therefore, was that which embraced 
 as its objed the happinefs of all intelligent beings. 
 The lead virtuous, on the contrary, of thofe to which 
 the charadler of virtue could in any refpedt belong, 
 was that which aimed no further than at the happi- 
 nefs of an individual, fuch as a fon, a brother, a 
 friend. 
 
 In directing all our adlions to promote the greatefl 
 pofTible good, in fubmitting all inferior afredtions to 
 the defire of the general happinefs of mankind, in 
 regarding ones felf but as one of the many, whofe 
 
 y 3 profperify 
 
^zS Of Systems Part VI. 
 
 profperlty was to be purfued no further than it was 
 confiftent with, or conducive to that of the whole, 
 confided the perfedion of virtue. 
 
 Self-love was a principle which could never be 
 virtuous in any degree or in any diredlion. It was 
 vicious whenever it obftru6led the general good. 
 When it had no other effedl than to make the in- 
 dividual take care of his own happinefs, it was merely 
 innocent, and tho' it deferved no praife, neither 
 pught it to incur any blame. Thofe benevolent 
 adtions which were performed, notwithftanding fome 
 ftrong motive from felf-intereft, were the more vir- 
 tuous upon that account. They demonftrated the 
 llrength and vigour of the benevolent principle. 
 
 Dr. Hutchefon * was fo far from allowing felf- 
 love to be in any cafe a motive of virtuous adtions, 
 that even a regard to the pleafure of felf-approbation, 
 to the comfortable applaufe of our own confciences, 
 according to him, diminifhed the merit of a benevo- 
 lent adion. This was a felfifli motive, he thought, 
 which, fo far as it contributed to any adion, demon- 
 ftrated the weaknefs of that pure and difinterefted 
 benevolence vyhich could alone (lamp upon the con- 
 dud of man the charader of virtue. In the com- 
 mon judgments of mankind, however, this regard 
 to the approbation of our own minds is fo far from 
 being confidered as what can in any refped diminifh 
 the virtue of any adion, that it is rather looked upon 
 as the fole motive which dcferves the appellation of 
 
 virtuous. 
 
 Such 
 
 * Inquiry concerning virtue, fe£l. 2. art. 4. alfo illuftrations 
 on the moral fenfe, fe6l. 5. laft paragraph. 
 
Se<5t. II. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 327 
 
 Such is the account given of the nature of virtue 
 in this amiable fyftem, a fyftem which has a peculiar 
 tendency to nourifh and fupport in the human heart 
 the nobleft and the mod agreeable of all affedions, 
 and not only to check the injuflice of fclf-iove, but 
 in fome meafure to dilcourage that principle altoge- 
 ther, by reprefenting it as what could never reflect 
 any honour upon thofe who were influenced by it. 
 
 As fome of the other fyftems which I have already 
 given an account of, do not fufficiently explain from 
 whence arifes the peculiar excellency of the fupremc 
 virtue of beneficence, fo this fyftem feems to have 
 the contrary defe<5l, of not fufficiently explaining 
 from whence arifes our approbation of the inferior 
 virtues of prudence, vigilance, circumfpeftion, tem- 
 perance, conftancy, firmnefs. The view and aim of 
 our afFedlions, the beneficent and hurtful efFeds which 
 they tend to produce, are the only qualities at all at- 
 tended to in this fyftem. Their propriety and im- 
 propriety, their fuitablenefs and unfuitablenefs, to 
 the caulc which excites them, are difregarded alto- 
 gether. 
 
 Regard to our own private happinefs and intereft 
 too, appear upon many occafions very laudable prin- 
 ciples of adion. The habits ofoeconomy, induftry, 
 difcretion, attention, and application of thought, 
 are generally fuppofed to be cultivated from felf- 
 interefted motives, and at the fame time are appre- 
 hended to be very praife-worthy qualities, which de- 
 ferve the efteem and approbation of every body. 
 The mixture of a felfifh motive, it is true, feems 
 often to fully the beauty of thofe actions which ought 
 
 y 4 to 
 
0/ Systems Part VI. 
 
 to arife from a benevolent afFedion. The caufe of 
 this, however, is not that felf-love can never be 
 the motive of a virtuous adion, but that the bene- 
 volent principle appears in this particular cafe to 
 want its due degree of ftrength, and to be altoge- 
 ther unfuitable to its obje6t. The charader, there-j 
 fore, feems evidently imperfedt, and upon the whole 
 to deferve blame rather than praife. The mixture 
 of a benevolent motive in an adlion to which felf- 
 love alone ought to be fufficient to prompt us, is 
 not fo apt indeed to diminifh our fenfe of its propri- 
 ety, or of the virtue of the perfon who performs it. 
 We are not ready to fufpedt any perfon of being de- 
 fedtive in felfiHinefs. This is by no means the weak 
 fide of human nature, or the failing of which wc 
 are apt to be fufpicious. If we could really believe, 
 however, of any man, that, was it not from a regard 
 to his family and friends, he would not take that 
 proper care of his health, his life, or his fortune, to 
 which felf-prefervation alone ought to be fufficient to 
 prompt him, it would undoubtedly be a failing, tho* 
 one of thofe amiable failings, which render a perfon 
 rather the objedt of pity than of contempt or hatred. 
 It would ftill, however, fomewhat diminifh the dig- 
 nity and refpe6lablenefs of his charadler. Carelefs- 
 nefs and want of ceconomy are univerfally difap- 
 proved of, not, however as proceeding from a want 
 of benevolence, but from a want of the proper at- 
 tention to the objeds of felf-intereft. 
 
 Though the ftandard by which cafuifts fre- 
 quently determine what is right or wrong in human 
 condud, be its tendency to the welfare or diforder 
 of fociety, it does not follow that a regard to the 
 
 welfare 
 
Se6t. II. of Moral Philosophy. 329 
 
 welfare of fociety fhould be the fole virtuous motive 
 of adion, but only that, in any competition, it 
 ought to cad the balance againft all other motives. 
 
 Benevolence may, perhaps, be the fole principle 
 of adion in the Deity, and there are feveral, not im- 
 probable, arguments which tend to perfuade us that 
 it is fo. It is not eafy to conceive what other motive 
 an independent and all perfect being, who (lands in 
 need of nothing external, and whofe happinefs is 
 complete in himfelf, can a6t from. But whatever 
 may be the cafe with the Deity, fo imperfed a crea- 
 ture as man, the fupport of whofe exiftence requires 
 fo many things external to him, mud often aft from 
 many other motives. The condition of human na- 
 ture were peculiarly hard, if thofe affeftions, which, 
 by the very nature of our being, ought frequently to 
 influence our conduft, could upon no occafion appear 
 virtuous, or deferve efleem and commendation from 
 any body. 
 
 Thofe three fyflems, that which places virtue in 
 propriety, that which places it in prudence, and 
 that which makes it confift in benevolence, are the 
 principal accounts which have been given of the na- 
 ture of virtue. To one or other of them, all the 
 other defcriptions of virtue, how different foever they 
 may appear, are eafily reducible. 
 
 That fyftem which places virtue in obedience to 
 the will of the Deity, may be counted either among 
 thofe which make it confifl: in prudence, or among 
 thofe which make it confifl; in propriety. When it is 
 afked, why we ought to obey the will of the Deity, 
 this queftion, which would be impious and abfurd 
 in the highefl: degree, if aflced from any doubt that 
 
 we 
 
^30 0/*Systems Part VI. 
 
 we ought to obey him, can admit but of two differ- 
 ent anfwers. It muft either be faid that we ought to 
 obey the will of the Deity becaufe he is a being of 
 infinite power, who will reward us eternally if we do 
 fo, and punilh us eternally if wc do otherwife : Or 
 it muH be faid, that independent of any regard to our 
 own happinefs, or to rewards and punilhments of 
 any kind, there is a congruity and fitnefs that a crea- 
 ture fliould obey its creator, that a limited and imper- 
 fedl being fliould fubmit to one of infinite and in- 
 comprehenfible perfedtions. Befides one or other of 
 ihefe two it is impofTible to conceive that any other 
 anfwer can be given to this queftion. If the firfl: an- 
 fwer be the proper one, virtue confifts in prudence, 
 or in the proper purfuit of our own final intereft and 
 happinefs *, fince it is upon this account that we are 
 obliged to obey the will of the Deity. If the fecond 
 anfwer be the proper one, virtue muft confift in pro- 
 priety, fince the ground of our obligation to obedi- 
 ence is the fuitablenefs or congruity of the fentiments 
 of humility and fubmiffion to the fuperiority of the 
 objedl: which excites them. 
 
 That fyftem which places virtue in utility coincides 
 too with that which makes it confift in propriety. 
 According to this fyftem all thofe qualities of the 
 mind" which are agreeable or advantageous, either to 
 the perfon himfelf or to others, are approved of as 
 virtuous, and the contrary difapproved of as vicious. 
 But the agreeablenefs or utility of any afllsdion de- 
 pends upon the degree which it is allowed to fubfift 
 in. Every affedion is ufeful when it is confined to 
 a certain degree of moderation •, and every affedlion 
 IS difadvantageous when it exceeds the proper bounds. 
 According to this fyftem therefore, virtue confifts, 
 
 not 
 
Se£l. IL (?/ Moral Philosophy. 331 
 
 not in any one afFedion, but in the proper degree of 
 all the affcdions. The only difference between it 
 and that which I have been endeavouring toeftabhfh, 
 is, that it makes utility, and not fympathy, or the 
 correfpondent affedion of the fpedator, the natural 
 ^nd original meafure of this proper degree. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of licentious fyjlems. 
 
 A 
 
 L L thofe fyftems, which I have hitherto given 
 an account of, fuppofe that there is a real and eflen • 
 tial diftindlion between vice and virtue, whatever 
 thefe qualities may confift in. There is a real and 
 eflential difference between the propriety and impro- 
 priety of any affedion, between benevolence and any 
 other principle of adlion, between real prudence and 
 ihort- lighted folly or precipitate rafhnefs. In the 
 main too all of them contribute to encourage the 
 praife-worthy, and to difcourage the blameable dif- 
 pofition. 
 
 It may be true perhaps, of fome of them, that 
 they tend, in fome meafure, to break the balance 
 of the affedcions, and to give the mind a particular 
 bias to fome principles of adlion, beyond the pro- 
 portion that is due to them. The ancient fyftems 
 which place virtue in propriety, feem chiefly to re- 
 commend the great, the awful, and the refpedlable 
 virtues, the virtues of felf government and felf- 
 command -, fortitude, magnanimity, independency 
 upon fortune, the contempt of all outward accidents, 
 of pain, poverty, exile, and death. Ic is in thefe 
 
 great 
 
3^Z 0/ S Y s T E M s , Part VI. 
 
 great exertions that the noblefl: propriety of conduft 
 is difplayed. The foft, the amiable, the gentle vir- 
 tues, all the virtues of indulgent humanity are, in 
 comparifon, but little infifted upon, and feem, on 
 the contrary, by the Stoics in particular, to have 
 been often regarded as mere weaknefTes which it be- 
 hoved a wife man not to harbour in his bread. 
 
 The benevolent fyftem, on the other hand, while 
 it fofters and encourages all thofe milder virtues in 
 the higheft degree, feems entirely to negledl the more 
 awful and refpedlable qualities of the mind. It even 
 denies them the appellation of virtues. It calls them 
 moral abilities, and treats them as qualities which do 
 not deferve the fame fort of efteem and approbation, 
 that is due to what is properly denominated virtue. 
 All thofe principles of adlion which aim only at our 
 own inrereft, it treats, if that be poflible, ftill worfe. 
 So far from having any merit of their own, they di- 
 minilh, it pretends, the merit of benevolence, when 
 they co-operate with it : and prudence, it is aflerted, 
 when employed only in promoting private intcreft, 
 can never even be imagined a virtue. 
 
 That fyftem, again, which makes virtue confift 
 in prudence only, while it gives the higheft encou- 
 ragement to the habits of caution, vigilance, fobrieiy, 
 and judicious moderation, feems to degrade equally 
 both the amiable and refpedable virtues, and to 
 ftrip the former of all their beauty, and the latter of 
 all their grandeur. 
 
 But notwithftanding thefe defe(5ts, the general ten- 
 dency of each of thofe three fyftems is to encourage 
 the beft and moft laudable habits of the human mind : 
 
 and 
 
 ■mitt 
 
Se6l:. II. (?/ Moral Philosophy. j^j 
 
 and it were well for fociety, if, either mankind in 
 general, or even thofe few who pretend to live ac- 
 cording to any philofophical rule, were to regulate 
 their condudt by the precepts of any one of them. 
 We may learn from each of them fomething that h 
 both valuable and peculiar. If it was poflible, by 
 precept and exhortation, to infpire the mind with 
 fortitude and magnanimity, the ancient fyftems of 
 propriety would feem fufficient to do this. Or if it 
 was poflible, by the fame means, to foften it into 
 humanity, and to awaken the afFedlions of kindneis 
 and general love towards thofe we live with, fome 
 of the pidures with which the benevolent fyftem pre- 
 fents us, might feem capable of producing this ef- 
 fe^. We may learn from the fyftem of Epicurus, 
 though undoubtedly the worft of all the three, how 
 much the practice of both the amiable and refpcdta- 
 ble virtues is conducive to our own intereft, to our 
 own eafe and fafety and quiet even in this life. As 
 Epicurus placed happinefs in the attainment of eafe 
 and fecurity, he exerted himfelf in a particular man- 
 ner to (how that virtue was, not merely the beft and 
 the fureft, but the only means of acquiring thofe in- 
 valuable pofleflions. The good effeds of virtue, 
 iipon our inward tranquility and peace of mind, are 
 what other philofophers have chiefly celebrated. Epi- 
 curus, without negledting this topic, has chiefly in- 
 fifted upon the influence of that amiable quality on 
 our outward profperity and fafety. It was upon this 
 account that his writings were fo much ftudied in the 
 ancient world by men of all different philofophical 
 parties. It is from him that Cicero, the great enemy 
 of the Epicurean fyftem, borrows his moft agreeable 
 proofs that virtue alone is fufficient to fecure happi- 
 nefs. Sofieca, though a Stoic, the fe6t moft oppo- 
 
 fuc 
 
334 Of Systems Pai't VL 
 
 fite to that of Epicurus, yet quotes this philofopher 
 more frequently than any other. 
 
 There are, however, fome other fyftems which 
 feem to take away altogether the diftindtion between 
 vice and virtue, and of which the tendency is, upon 
 that account, wholly pernicious : I mean the fyftems 
 of the duke of Rochefoucault and Dr. Mandeville. 
 Thouo^h the notions of both thefe authors are in al- 
 moft every refpedl erroneous, there are, however, 
 fome appearances in human nature which, when 
 viewed in a certain manner, feem at firft fight to fa- 
 vour them. Thefe, firft flightly fketched out with 
 the elegance and delicate precifion of the duke of 
 Rochefoucault, and afterwards more fully repre- 
 fented with the lively and humorous, though coarfe 
 and ruftic eloquence of Dr. Mandeville, have thrown 
 upon their dodtrines an air of truth and probability 
 which is very apt to impofe upon the unfkilful. 
 
 Dr. Mandeville, the moft methodical of thofe 
 two authors, confiders whatever is done from a fenfe 
 of propriety, from a regard to what is commendable 
 and praife-worthy, as being done from a love of 
 praife and commendation, or as he calls it from va- 
 nity. Man, he obferves, is naturally much more 
 interefted in his own happinefs than in that of others, 
 and it is impofliblethat in his heart he can ever really 
 prefer their profperity to his own. Whenever he ap- 
 pears to do fo, we may be affured that he impofes 
 upon us, and that he is then ading from the fame 
 felfifti motives as at all other times. Among his 
 other felfifh pafTions, vanity is one of the ftrongeft, 
 and he is always eafily flattered and greatly delighted 
 with the applaufes of thofe about him. When he 
 
 appears 
 
Se€t. 11. of Moral Philosophy. 335 
 
 appears to facrifice his own intereft to that of his 
 companions, he knows that this conduct will be 
 highly agreeable to their felflove, and that they will 
 not fail to exprefs their fatisfadion by bellowing up- 
 on him the moft extravagant praifes. The pleafure 
 which he expedts from this, over- balances, in his 
 opinion, the intereft which he abandons in order to 
 procure it. His condu6l, therefore, upon this oc- 
 cafion, is in reality juft as felfifh, and arifes from juft 
 as mean a motive as upon any other. He is flatter- 
 ed, however, and he flatters himfelf with the belief 
 that it is entirely difinterefted •, fince, unlefs this was 
 fuppofed, it would not feem to merit any commenda- 
 tion either in his own eyes or in thole of others. All 
 public fpirit, therefore, all preference of public to 
 private intereft, is, according to him a mere cheat 
 and impofltion upon mankind ; and that human vir- 
 tue which is fo much boafted of, and which is the 
 occafion of fo much emulation among men, is the 
 mere offspring of flattery begot upon pride. 
 
 Whether the moft generous and public fpirited 
 adtions may not, in fome fenfe, be regarded as pro- 
 ceeding from felf-love, I fhall not at prefent exa- 
 mine. The decifion of this queftion is not, I appre- 
 hend, of any importance towards eftablifhing the 
 reality of virtue, fince felf-love may frequently be a 
 virtuous motive of adlion. I fliall only endeavour to 
 (how that the dcflre of doing what is honourable and 
 noble, of rendering ourfclves the proper objeds of 
 efteem and approbation, cannot with any propriety 
 be called vanity. Even the love of well-grounded 
 fame and reputation, the defire of acquiring efteem 
 by what is really eftimable, does not deferve that 
 name. The firft is the love of virtue, the nobleft 
 
 and 
 
33^ Of Systems Part Vt 
 
 and the beft paflion of human nature. The fecond 
 is the love of true glory, a paflion inferior no doubt 
 to the former, but which in dignity appears to come 
 immediately after it. He is guiky of vanity who de- 
 fires praife for qualities which are either not praife- 
 worthy in any degree, or not in that degree which 
 he cxpedls to be praifed for them j who fees his cha- 
 rafter upon the frivolous ornaments of drefs and 
 equipage, or the equally frivolous accomplifhments 
 of ordinary behaviour. He is guilty of vanity who 
 defires praife for what indeed very well deferves it, 
 but what he perfedlly knows does not belong to him. 
 The empty coxcomb who gives himfeif airs of im- 
 portance which he has no title to, the filly liar who 
 aflumes the merit of adventures which never happen- 
 ed, the foolifh plagiary who gives himfeif out for the 
 author of what he has no pretenfions to, are properly 
 accufed of this paflion. He too is faid to be guilty 
 of vanity who is not contented with the filent fenti- 
 ments of efteem and approbation, who feems to be 
 fonder of their noify expreflions and acclamations 
 than of the fentiments themfelves, who is never fatis- 
 iied but when his own praifes are ringing in his ears, 
 and whofolicits with the moft: anxious importunity all 
 external marks of refpedl, is fond of titles, of compli- 
 ments, of being vifited, of being attended, of being 
 taken notice of in public places with the appearance of 
 deference and attention. This frivolous paflion is al- 
 together different from either of the two former, and 
 is the paflion of the loweft:, and the leafl: of mankind, 
 as they are of the noblefl: and the greatefl:. 
 
 But though thefe three pafllons, the defire of ren- 
 dering ourfelves the proper objects of honour and 
 efteem j or of becqming what is honourable and 
 
 cflimable-. 
 
Sed:. II. of Moral Philosophy. 337 
 
 eftimable ; the defire of acquiring honour and efteem 
 by really deferving thofe fentiments ; and the frivo- 
 lous defire of praife at any rate, are widely different ; 
 though the two former are always approved of, 
 while the latter never fails to be defpifed ; there is, 
 however, a certain remote affinity among them, 
 which, exaggerated by the humorous and diverting 
 eloquence of this lively author, has enabled him to 
 impofe upon his readers. There is an affinity be- 
 tween vanity and the love of true glory, as both thefe 
 paffions aim at acquiring efteem and approbation. 
 But they are different in this, that the one is a juft, 
 reafonable, and equitable paffion, while the other is 
 unjufl, abfurd, and ridiculous. The man who de- 
 fires efteem for what is really eftimable, defires no- 
 thing but what he is juftly entitled to, and what can- 
 not be refufed him without fome fort of injury. He, 
 on the contrary, who defines it upon any other terms, 
 demands what he has no juft claim to. The firft is 
 eafily fatisfied, is not apt to be jealous or fufpicious 
 that we do not efteem him enough, and is feldom fo- 
 licitous about receiving many external marks of our 
 regard. The other, on the contrary, is never to be 
 fatisfied, is full of jealoufy and fufpicion that we do 
 not efteem him fo much as he defires, becaufe he has 
 fome fecret confcioufnefs that he defires more than he 
 deferves. The Icaft negledt of ceremony, he confi- 
 ders as a mortal affront, and as an expreffion of the 
 moft determined contempt. He is reftlefs and im- 
 patient, and perpetually afraid that we have loft ail 
 rcfpedt for him, and is upon this account always 
 anxious to obtain new expreflions of efteem, and 
 cannot be kept in temper but by continual atten- 
 dance and adulation, 
 
 Z There 
 
33^ 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VL- 
 
 There is an affinity too between the defire of be- 
 coming what is honourable and eftimable, and the 
 defire of honour and efleem, between the love of vir- 
 tue and the love of true glory. They refemble one 
 another not only in this refped, that both aim at 
 really being what is honourable and noble, but even 
 in that refpetSt in which the love of true glory refem- 
 bles what is properly called vanity, fome reference 
 to the fentiments of others. The man of the greateft 
 magnanimity, who defires virtue for its own fake, 
 and is moft indifferent about what adlually are the 
 opinions of mankind with regard to him, is (till, 
 however, delighted with the thoughts of what they 
 fliould be, with the conlcioufnefs that though he 
 may neither be honoured nor applauded, he is ftili 
 the proper objedl of honour and applaufe, and that 
 if mankind were cool and candid and confiftent with 
 themfelves, and properly informed of the motives 
 and circumftanccs of his condudb, they would not 
 fail to honour and applaud him. Though he def- 
 pifes the opinions which are adually entertained of 
 him, he has the higheft value for thofe which ought 
 to be entertained of him. That he miight think 
 himfelf worthy of thofe honourable fentiments, 
 and, whatever was the idea which other men 
 might conceive of his charader, that when he 
 fhould put himfelf in their fituation, and con- 
 fider, not what was, but what ought to be their 
 Opinion, he fhould always have the higheft idea 
 of it himfelf, was the great and exalted motive of his 
 condudt. As even in the love of virtue, therefore, 
 there is ftill fome reference, though not to what is, 
 yet to what in reafon and propriety ought to be, the 
 opinion of others, there is even in this refpedl fome 
 affinity between it, and the love of true glory. There 
 is, however, at the fame time, a very great differ- 
 ence 
 
Sei5t. II. of Moral Philosophy. 339 
 
 ence between them. The man who ads folely from 
 a regard to what is right and fit to be done, from a 
 regard to what is the proper objedt of efteem and 
 approbation, though thefe fentiments ihould never be 
 beftowed upon him, afts from the moft fublime and 
 godhke motive which human nature is even capable 
 of conceiving. The man, on the other hand, who 
 while he defires to merit approbation is at the fame 
 time anxious to obtain it, though he too is laudabk 
 in the main, yet his motives have a greater mixture 
 of human infirmity. He is in danger of being mor- 
 tified by the ignorance and injullice of mankind, and 
 his happinefs is expofed to the envy of his rivals, and 
 the folly of the public. The happinefs of the other, 
 on the contrary, is altogether fccure and independent: 
 of fortune, and of the caprice of thofe he lives with. 
 The contempt and hatred which may be thrown upon 
 him by the ignorance of mankind, he confiders as not 
 belonging to him, and is not at all mortified by it. 
 Mankind defpife and hate him from a falfe notion of 
 his charader and condudt. If they knew him bet- 
 ter, they would efteem and love him. It is not him 
 whom, properly fpeaking, they hate and defpife, but 
 another perfon whom they miftake him to be. Our 
 friend, whom we ihould meet at a mafquerade in 
 the garb of our enemy, would be more diverted than 
 mortified, if under that difguife wefhould vent our 
 indignation againft him. Such are the fentiments of 
 a man of real magnanimity, when expofed to unjufl 
 cenfure. It feldom happens, however, that human 
 nature arrives at this degree of firmnefs. Though 
 none but the weakeft and moft worthlefs of man- 
 kind are much delighted with falfe glory, yet, by 
 a ftrange inconfiftency, falfe ignominy is often ca^ 
 pable of mortifying thofe who appear the moft refo- 
 lute and determined. 
 
 Z 2 Df. 
 
54^ CySysTEMs '-' ^ Part VL 
 
 Dr. Mandeville is not fatisfied with reprefenting 
 the frivolous motive of vanity, as the fource of all 
 thofe adtions which are commonly accounted virtu- 
 ous. He endeavours to point out the imperfedlion 
 of human virtue in many other refpecfts. In every 
 cafe, he pretends, it falls (hort of that complete felf- 
 denial which it pretends to, and, inftead of a con- 
 queft, is commonly no more than a concealed indul- 
 gence of our paflions. "Wherever our referve with 
 regard to pleafure falls fhort of the mod afcetic ab- 
 flinence, he treats it as grofs luxury and fenfuality. 
 Every thing, according to him, is luxury which ex- 
 ceeds what is abfolutely necefiary for the fupport of 
 human nature, fo that there is a vice even in the ufe 
 of a clean fliirr, or of a convenient habitation. The 
 indulgence of the inclination to fex, in the moil law- 
 ful union, he confiders as the fame fenfuality with 
 the mod hurtful gratification of that pailion, and de- 
 rides that temperance and that chaftity which can be 
 pradifed at fo cheap a rate. The ingenious fophiftry 
 of his reafoning, is here, as upon many other occa- 
 fions, covered by the ambiguity of language. There 
 are fome of our pailions which have no other names 
 except thofe which mark the difagreeable and ofFen- 
 five degree. The fpedator is more apt to take no- 
 tice of them in this degree than in any other. When 
 they fhock his own fentiments, when they give him 
 fome fort of antipathy and uneafinefs, he is necefla- 
 rily obliged to attend to them, and is from thence 
 naturally led to give them a name. When they fall 
 in with the natural (late of his own mind, he is very 
 apt to overlook them altogether, and either gives 
 them no name at all, or, if he gives them any, it is 
 one which marks rather the fubjedlion and reftraint 
 of the paflion than the degree which it flill is allowed 
 
 to 
 
Sed. II. of Moral Philosophy. 341 
 
 to fubfift in, after it is fo fubjeded and reflrained. 
 Thus the common names of the * love of pleafure, 
 and of the love of fex, denote a vicious and ofienfive 
 degree of thofe pafiions. The words temperance 
 and chaftity, on the other hand, feem to mark rather 
 the reftraint and fubjcdbion which they are kept un- 
 der, than the degree which they are dill allowed 
 to fubfift in. When he can fhow, therefore, that 
 they ftill fubfift in fome degree, he imagines, he has 
 entirely demolilhed the reality of the virtues of tem- 
 perance and chaftity, and fhown them to be mere 
 impofitions upon the inattention and fimplicity of 
 mankind. Thofe virtues, however, do not require 
 an entire infenfibiiity to the objeds of the painons 
 which they mean to govern. They only aim at re- 
 ftraining the violence of thofe paftions fo far as not to 
 hurt the individual, and neither difturb nor offend 
 the fociety. 
 
 It is the great fallacy of Dr. Mandeville's book -f 
 to reprefent every pafiion as wholly vicious, which is 
 fo in any degree and in any diredlion. It is thus that 
 he treats every thing as vanity which has any reference, 
 either to what are, or to what ought to be the fenti- 
 ments of others : and it is by means of this fophi- 
 ftry, that he eftablifhes his favourite conclufion, that 
 private vices are public benelits. If the love of mag- 
 nificence, a tafte for the elegant arts and improve- 
 ments of human life, for whatever is agreeable in 
 drefs, furniture, or equipage, for architedure, ftatu- 
 ary, painting, and mufic, is to be regarded as luxury, 
 fenfuality and oftentation, even in thofe whofe fitu- 
 ation allows, without any inconveniency, the indul- 
 
 Z 3 gence 
 
 * Luxury and lull. f Fable of the Bees. 
 
54-- 0/ S y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 gence of thofe pafTions, it is certain that luxury, fen- 
 luality, and oftentation are public benefits : fince, 
 without the qualities upon which he thinks proper to 
 beftow fuch opprobrious names, the arts of refine- 
 ment could never find encouragement, and muft 
 ianguifh for want of employment. Some popular 
 afcetic do6trines which had been current before his 
 time, and which placed virtue in the entire extir- 
 pation and annihilation of all our paOlons, were the 
 real foundation of this licentious fyilem. It was eafy 
 for Dr. Mandeville to prove, firll, that this entire 
 conqueft never adtually took place among men ; and 
 fecondly, that, if it was to take place univerfally, it 
 would be pernicious to fociety, by putting an end to 
 all induflry and commerce, and in a manner to 
 the whole bufinefs of human life. By the firft of 
 thefe propofitions he feemed to prove that there was 
 no real virtue, and that what pretended to be fuch, 
 was a mere cheat and impofition upon mankind ; and 
 by the fecond, that private vices were public bene- 
 fits, fince without them no fociety could profper or 
 flourifh. 
 
 Such is the fyftem of Dr. Mandeville, which once 
 made fo much noife in the world, and which, though 
 perhaps, it never gave occafion to more vice than 
 what would have been without it, at lead taught 
 that vice, which arofe from other caufes, to appear 
 with more effrontery, and to avow the corruption of 
 its motives with a profligate audacioufnefs which had 
 never been heard of before. 
 
 But how deftrudtive foever this fyftem may appear, 
 it could never have impofed upon fo great a number 
 of perfons, nor have occafioned fo general an alarm 
 
 amonff 
 
Se6t. II. (?/ Moral Philosophy. 343 
 
 among thofe who are the friends of better principles, 
 had it not in fome refpeds bordered upon the truth. 
 A fyftem of natural philofophy may appear very 
 plaufible, and be for a long time very generally re- 
 ceived in the world, and yet have no foundation in 
 nature, nor any fort of refemblance to the truth. 
 The vortices of Des Cartes were regarded by a 
 very ingenious nation, for near a century toge- 
 ther, as a mod fatisfadory account of the revoluti- 
 ons of the heavenly bodies. Yet it has been demon- 
 ilrated, to the convidtion of all miankind, that thefe 
 pretended cauies of thofe wonderful effeds, not only 
 do not adually exift, but are utterly impofllble, and 
 if they did exift, could produce no fuch effefls as are 
 afcribed to them. But it is otherwife with fyftems of 
 moral philofophy, and an author who pretends to 
 account for the origin of our moral fentiments, can- 
 not deceive us fo grofsly, nor depart fo very far from 
 all refemblance to the truth. When a traveller gives 
 an account of fome diftant country, he may impofe 
 upon our credulity the moft groundlefs and abfurd 
 fidlions as the moft certain matters of fad. But 
 when a perfon pretends to inform us of what pafTes 
 in our neighbourhood, and of the affairs of the very 
 parifti which we live in, though here too, if we are fo 
 carelefs as not to examine things with our own eyes, 
 he may deceive us in many refpedls, yet the greateft 
 falfehoods which he impofes upon us muft bear fome 
 refemblance to the truth, and muft even have a con- 
 fiderable mixture of truth in them. An author who 
 treats of natural philofophy, and pretends to ailign 
 the caufes of the great phaenomena of the univerfe, 
 pretends to give an account of the affairs of a very 
 diftant country, concerning which he may tell us 
 what he pleafes, and as long as his narration keeps 
 within the bounds of feeming poffibility, he need not 
 
 Z 4 defpair 
 
344 0/ Systems Part VI. 
 
 defpair of gaining our belief. But when he propofes 
 to explain the origin of our defires and affections, of 
 our fentiments of approbation and difapprobation, he 
 pretends to give an account, not only of the affairs 
 of the very parilh that we live in, but of our own 
 domeftic concerns. Though here too, like indolent 
 mafters who put their truft in a fteward who deceives 
 them, we are very liable to be impofed upon, yet we 
 are incapable of pafTing any account which does not 
 preferve fome little regard to the truth. Some of the 
 lirticles, at lead, mud be juft, and even thofe which 
 are moft overcharged muft have had fome foundati- 
 on, otherwife the fraud would be detected even by 
 that carelefs infpeflion which we are difpofed to give. 
 The author who Ihould aflign, as the caufe of any- 
 natural fentiment, fome principle which neither had 
 any connexion with it, nor refembled any other prin- 
 ciple which had fome fuch connexion, would appear 
 abfurd and ridiculous to the moft injudicious and un- 
 experienced reader. 
 
 SEC T- 
 
Se6l. III. ^ Moral Philosophy, 
 
 345 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Of the difTerent fyftems which have been formed 
 concerning the principle of approbation. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 virtue, the next queftion of importance in Moral 
 Philofophy, is concerning the principle of approba- 
 tion, concerning the power or faculty of the mind 
 which renders certain charaders agreeable or difa- 
 greeable to us, makes us prefer one tenour of con- 
 duct to another, denominate the one right and the 
 other wrong, and confider the one as the obje6l of 
 approbation, honour, and reward •, the other as that 
 of blame, cenfure, and punifhment. 
 
 Three different accounts have been given of this 
 principle of approbation. According to fome, we 
 approve and difapprove both of our own adions and 
 of thofe of others, from felf-love only, or from fome 
 view of their tendency to our own happinefs or dif- 
 advantage -, according to others, reafon, the fame fa- 
 culty by which we diftinguifh between truth and 
 falfehood, enables us to diftinguifh between what is 
 fit and unfit both in adlions and affedions : accord- 
 ing to others this diftindlion is altogether the effed: 
 of immediate fentiment and feeling, and arifes from 
 the fatisfaftion or difgufl with which the view of 
 
 certain 
 
346 Of Systems Part VI. 
 
 certain adlions or afFedlions infpires us. Self-love, 
 reafon, and fentiment, therefore, are the three dif- 
 ferent fources which have been afiigned for the prin- 
 ciple of approbation. 
 
 Before 1 proceed to give an account of thofe dif- 
 ferent fyftems, I muft obferve, that the determina- 
 tion of this fccond queftion, though of the greateft 
 importance in fpeculation, is of none in pradlice. 
 The queftion concerning the nature of virtue necef- 
 farily has fome influence upon our notions of right 
 and wrong in many particular cafes. That concern- 
 ing the principle of approbation can pollibly have no 
 fuch effed. To examine from what contrivance or 
 mechanifm within, thofe different notions or (enti- 
 ments arife, is a mere matter of philofophical curio- 
 fity. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of thofe fyfiems which deduce the principle of approba- 
 iim from felfloDe, 
 
 JL H O S E who account for the principle of ap- 
 probation from felf-love, do not ail account for it in 
 the fame manner, and there is a good deal of confu- 
 fion and inaccuracy in all their different fyllems. 
 According to Mr. Hobbes, and many of his follow- 
 ers, * man is driven to take refuge in fociety, not 
 by any natural love which he bears to his own kind, 
 but becaufe without the affiftance of others he is in- 
 capable of fubfifting with eafe or fafety. Society, 
 
 upon 
 
 * PufFendoriF. Mandeville. 
 
Se6b. III. of Moral Philosophy. 347 
 
 upon this account, becomes necelTary to him, and 
 whatever tends to its fupport and welfare, he confi- 
 ders as having a remote tendency to his own intered, 
 and, on the contrary, whatever is likely to didurb 
 or deftroy it, he regards as in feme meafure hurtful 
 or pernicious to himfelf. Virtue is the great fupport, 
 and vice the great difturber of human fociety. The 
 former, therefore, is agreeable, and the latter ofFen- 
 five to every man ; as from the one he forefees the 
 profperity, and from the other the ruin and diforder 
 of what is fo neceflary for the comfort and fecurity 
 of his exiftence. 
 
 That the tendency of virtue to promote, and of 
 vice to didurb the order of fociety, when we confider 
 it coolly and philofophically, refleds a very great 
 beauty upon the one, and a very great deformity 
 upon the other, cannot, as I have obferved upon a 
 former occafion, be called in quedion. Human fo- 
 ciety, when we contemplate it in a certain abdra(5l 
 and philofophical light, appears like a great, an im- 
 menfe machine, whofe regular and harmonious move- 
 ments produce a thoufand agreeable ededs. As in 
 any other beautiful and noble machine that was the 
 produdlion of human art, whatever tended to ren- 
 der its movements more fmooth and eafy, would de- 
 rive a beauty from this effed, and, on the contrary, 
 whatever tended to obdrudl them would difpleafe 
 upon that account : fo virtue, which is, as it were, 
 the fine polidi to the wheels of fociety, necefiarily 
 pleafes ; while vice, like the vile rud, which makes 
 them jar and grate upon one another, is as necedfarily 
 off*enfive. This account, therefore, of the origin of 
 approbation and difapprobation, fo far as it derives 
 them from a regard to the order of fociety, runs into 
 
 that 
 
^^4S 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 that principle which gives beauty to utility, and 
 which I have explained upon a former occafion j and 
 it is from thence that this fyftem derives all that ap- 
 pearance of probability which it pofTefles. When 
 thofe authors defcribe the innumerable advantages of 
 a cultivated and focial, above a favage and folitary 
 life ; when they expatiate upon the necefiity of vir- 
 tue and good order for the maintenance of the one, 
 and demonftrate how infallibly the prevalence of 
 vice and difobedience to the laws tend to bring back 
 the other, the reader is charmed with the novelty 
 and grandeur of thofe views which they open to him : 
 he fees plainly a new beauty in virtue, and a new 
 deformity in vice, which he had never taken notice 
 of before, and is commonly fo delighted with the 
 difcovery, that he feldom takes time to refiedl:, that 
 this political view, having never occurred to him in 
 his life before, cannot poiTibly be the ground of that 
 approbation and difapprobation with which he has 
 always been accuftomed to confider thofe different 
 qualities. 
 
 When thofe authors, on the other hand, deduce 
 from felf-love the intereft which we take in the wel- 
 fare of fociety, and the efleem which upon that ac- 
 count we bedow upon virtue, they do not mean, that 
 when we in this age applaud the virtue of Cato, and 
 deteft the villainy of Catiline, our fentiments are in- 
 fluenced by the notion of any benefit we receive from 
 the one, or of any detriment we fuffer from the 
 other. It was not becauie the profperity or fubver- 
 fion of fociety, in thofe remote ages and nations, 
 was apprehended to have any influence upon our 
 happinefs or mifery in the prefent times •, that ac- 
 cording to thofe philofophers, we efteemed the vir- 
 tuous, 
 
Se6l. III. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 349 
 
 tuous, and blamed the diforderly charadler. They 
 never imagined that our fentiments were influenced 
 by any benefit or damage which we fuppofed a6tual- 
 ly to redound to us, from either; but by that which 
 might have redounded to us, had we lived in thofe dif- 
 tant ages and countries; or by that which might ftill 
 redound to us, if in our own times'we fhould meet 
 with charaders of the fame kind. The idea, in fiiorr, 
 which thofe authors were groping about, but which 
 they were never able to unfold diflindly, was that 
 indireft fympathy which we feel with the gratitude 
 or refentment of thofe who received the benefit or fuf- 
 fered the damage refulting from fuch oppofite charac- 
 ters : and it was this which they were indiftindlly 
 pointing at, when they faid, that it was not the 
 thought of what we had gained or fuffered which 
 prompted our applaufe or indignation, but the con- 
 ception or imagination of what we might gain or 
 fufFer if we were to a6l in fociety with fuch afTo- 
 ciates. 
 
 Sympathy, however, cannot, in any fenfe, be re- 
 garded as a felfifli principle. When I fympathize 
 with your forrow or your indignation, it may be 
 pretended, indeed, that my emotion is founded in 
 ielf-love, becaufe it arifes from bringing your cafe 
 home to myfeif, from putting myfelf in your fitua- 
 tion, and thence conceiving what I fhould feel in the 
 like circumftances. But though fympathy is very 
 properly faid to arife from an imaginary change of 
 fituations with the perfon principally concerned, yet 
 this imaginary change is not fuppofed to happen to 
 me in my own perfon and charader, but in that of 
 the perfon with whom I fympathize. When I con- 
 dole with you for the lofs of your only fon, in order 
 to enter into your grief, I do not confider what I, a 
 
 perfon 
 
35^ ' O/'Systems Part VI, 
 
 perfon of fuch a character and profeflion, fhould 
 fuffer, if I had a fon, and if that fon was unfortu- 
 nately to die : but I confider what T fhould fuffer if I 
 was really you^ and I not only change circumflances 
 with you, but I change perfons and characfters. My 
 grief, therefore, is entirely upon your account, and 
 not in the leaft upon my own. It is not, therefore, 
 in the leafl felfiih. How can that be regarded as a 
 felfifh pafTion, which does not arife even from the 
 imagination of any thing that has befallen, or that 
 relates to myfelf, in my own proper perfon and cha- 
 rafler, but which is entirely occupied about what 
 relates to you ? A man may fympathize with a wo- 
 man in child-bed •, though it is impoffible that he 
 fhould conceive himfelf as fuffering her pains in his 
 own proper perfon and chara6ler. That whole ac- 
 count of human nature, however, which deduces 
 all fentiments and affedions from felf-love, which 
 has made fo much noife in the world, but which, fo 
 far as I know, has never yet been fully and diflindly 
 explained, feems to me to have arifen from fome 
 confufed mifapprehenfion of the fyftem of fympathy. 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 Of thofe fyftems which make reafon the principle of 
 
 approbation. 
 
 A T is well known to have been the dodlrine of 
 
 4 
 
 Mr. Hobbes, that a ftate of nature, is a (late of war •, 
 and that antecedent to the inflitution of civil go- 
 vernment, there could be no fafe or peaceable foci- 
 cty among men. To preferve fociety, therefore, ac- 
 
 cording 
 
Se6t. III. ^ Moral Phi losophy. ^ 351 
 
 cording to him, was to fupport civil government, and 
 to deftroy civil government was the fame thing as to 
 put an end to fociecy. Bat the exiftence of civil go- 
 vernment depends upon the obedience that is paid 
 to the fupreme magiftrate. The moment he lofes 
 his authority, all government is at an end. As felf- 
 prefervation, therefore, teaches men to applaud 
 whatever tends to promote the welfare of fociety, 
 and to blame whatever is likely to hurt it j fo the 
 fame principle, if they would think and fpeak con- 
 fiftently, ought to teach them to applaud upon all 
 ocafions obedience to the civil magiftrate, and to 
 blame all difobedience and rebellion. The very 
 ideas of laudable and blameable, ought to be the 
 fame with thofe of obedience and difobedience. The 
 laws of the civil magiftrate, therefore, ought to be 
 regarded as the fole ultimate ftandards of what was 
 juft and unjuft, of what was right and wrong. 
 
 It was the avowed intention of Mr. Hobbes, by 
 propagating thefe notions, to fubjedl the confciences 
 of men immediately to the civil, and not to the ec- 
 clefiaftical powers, whofe turbulence and ambition, 
 he had been taught, by the example of his own 
 times, to regard as the principal fource of the dif- 
 orders of fociety. His doftrine, upon this account, 
 was peculiarly offenfive to Theologians, who accord- 
 ingly did not fail to vent their indignation againft 
 him with great afperity and bitternefs. It was like- 
 wife offenfive to all found moralifts, as it fuppofed 
 that there was no natural diftindlion between right 
 and wrong, that thefe were mutable and changeable, 
 and depended upon the mere arbitrary will of the 
 civil magiftrate. This account of things, therefore, 
 
 was 
 
252 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VI. 
 
 was attacked from all quarters, and by all forts of 
 ;, weapons, by fober reafon as well as by furious de» 
 clamation. 
 
 In order to confute fo odious a dodrine, it was 
 necefTary to prove, that antecedent to all law or 
 pofitive inflitution, the mind was naturally endowed 
 with a faculty, by which it diftinguifhed in certain 
 adions and affedions, the qualities of right, laudable, 
 and virtuous, and in others thofe of wrong, blame- 
 able, and vicious. 
 
 Law, it was juitly obferved by Dr. Cudworth, * 
 could not be the original fource of thofe didindions ; 
 fince upon the fuppofition of fuch a law, ic muft 
 either be right to obey it, and wrong to difobey it, 
 or indifferent whether we obeyed it, or difobeyed it. 
 That law which ic was indifferent whether we obeyed 
 or difobeyed, could nor, it was evident, be the fource 
 of thofe diftindlions •, neither could that v;hich it was 
 right to obey and wrong to difobey, fince even this 
 ftill fuppofcd the antecedent notions or ideas of right 
 and wrong, and that obedience to the law was con- 
 formable to the idea of right, and difobedience to 
 that of wrong. 
 
 Since the mind, therefore, had a notion of thofe 
 diflindlions antecedent to all law, it feemed necefTa- 
 rily to follow, that it derived this notion from rea- 
 fon, which pointed out the difference between right 
 and wrong, in the fame manner in which it did that 
 between truth and falfehocd : and this conclufion, 
 which though true in fome refpeds, is rather hafty 
 
 in 
 
 *' Immutable Morality, 1. i. 
 
Sedl. III. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 353 
 
 in others, was more eafily received at a time when 
 the abftradl fcience of human nature was but in its 
 infancy, and before the diftindt offices and powers of 
 the different f^iculties of the human mind had been 
 carefully examined and diftinguifhed from one ano- 
 ther. When this controverfy with Mr. Hobbes was 
 carried on with thegreatcfl warmth and kcennefs, no 
 other faculty had been thought of from which any 
 fuch ideas could poflibly be fuppofed to arife. It 
 became at this time, therefore, the popular dodbrine, 
 that the effence of virtue and vice did not confift in 
 the conformity or difagreement of human adlions 
 with the law of a fuperior, but in their conformity or 
 difagreement with reaibn, which was thus confidered 
 as the original fource and principle of approbation 
 and difapprobation. 
 
 That virtue confifts in conformity to reafon, is 
 true in feme refpedls, and this faculty may veryjuftly 
 be confidered, as in fome fenfe, the fource and prin- 
 ciple of approbation and difapprobation, and of all 
 folid judgments concerning right and wrong. It is 
 by reafon that we difcover thofe general rules of juf- 
 tice by which we ought to regulate our adtions : and 
 it is by the fame faculty that we form thofe more 
 vague and indeterminate ideas of what is prudent, of 
 what is decent, of what is generous or noble, which 
 we carry conftantly about with us, and according to 
 which we endeavour, as well as we can, to model 
 the tenour of our condudl. The general maxims of 
 morality are formed, like all other general maxims, 
 from experience and indudion. We obferve in a 
 great variety of particular cafes what pleafcs or dif- 
 pleafes our moral faculties, what thefe approve or 
 difapprove of, and, by indu(5tion from this experi- 
 
 A a ence. 
 
354 Of Systems Part VL 
 
 cnce, we eftablifh thofe general rules. But indudlion 
 is always regarded as one of the operations of reafon. 
 From reafon, therefore, we are very properly faid 
 to derive all thofe general maxims and ideas. It is 
 by thefe, however, that we regulate the greater part 
 of our moral judgments, which would be extremely 
 uncertain and precarious if they depended altogether 
 upon what is liable to fo many variations as immedi- 
 ate fentiment and feeling, which the different ftates 
 of health and humour are capable of altering fo 
 eflentially. As our moll folid judgments, therefore, 
 with regard to right and wrong, are regulated by 
 maxims and ideas derived from an indudlion of rea- 
 fon, virtue may very properly be faid to confifl in a 
 conformity to reafon, and fo far this faculty may be 
 confidered as the fource and principle of approbation 
 and difapprobation. 
 
 But though reafon is undoubtedly the fource of 
 the general rules of morality, and of all the moral 
 judgments which we form by means of them; it is 
 altogether abfurd and unintelligible to fuppofe that 
 the firft perceptions of right and wrong can be derived 
 from reafon, even in thofe particular cafes upon the 
 experience of which the general rules are formed. 
 Thefe firft perceptions, as well all other experiments 
 upon which any general rules are founded, cannot be 
 the objeft of reafon, but of immediate fenfe and 
 feeling. It is by finding in a vaft variety of inftances 
 that one tenour of conduct conftantly pleafe* in a 
 certain manner, and that another as conftantly dif- 
 pleafes the mind, that we form the general rules of 
 morality. But reafon cannot render any particular 
 objeft either agreeable or difagreeable to the mind 
 for its own fake. Reafon may fhow that this obje^ 
 
 is 
 
Se(5l. If L of Moral Philosophy. 355 
 
 is the means of obtaining forne other which is natu- 
 rally eitheV pleafing or difpleafing, and in this man- 
 ner may render it either agreeable or difagreeable for 
 the fake of fomething ^\{^, But nothing can be 
 agreeable or difagreeable for its own fake, which is 
 not rendered fuch by immediate fenfc and feeling. 
 If virtue, therefore, in every particular inftance, 
 neceflarily pleafes for its own fake, and if vice as 
 certainly difpleafes the mind, it cannot bereafon, but 
 immediate fenfe and feeling, which, in this manner, 
 reconciles us to the one, and alienates us from the 
 other. 
 
 Pleafure and pain are the great objed:s of defirc 
 and averfion : but thefe are didinguifhed not by 
 reafon, but by immediate fenfe and feeling. If vir- 
 tue, therefore, is defirable for its own fake, and if 
 vice is, in the fame manner, the objedl of averfion, 
 it cannot be reafon which originally didin^uifhcs 
 thofe different qualities, but immediate fenfe and 
 feeling. 
 
 As reafon, however, in a certain fenfe, may juftly 
 be confidered as tlie principle of approbation and dif- 
 approbation, thefc fentiments were, through inat- 
 tention, long regarded as originally flowing from the 
 operations of this faculty. Dr. Hutchefon had the 
 merit of being the firft who diftinguifhed with any 
 degree of precifion in what refpedt all moral diftindli- 
 ons may be faid to arife from reafon, and in what 
 refpedl they are founded upon immediate fenfe and 
 feeling. In his illuftrations upon the moral fenfe he 
 has explained this fo fully, and, in my opinion, fo 
 unanfwerably, that, if any controverfy is flill kept 
 up about this fubjedl, I can impute it to nothing, 
 
 A a 2 but 
 
^^e 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 but either to inattention to what that gentleman has 
 written, or to a luperftitious attachment to certain 
 forms of expreffion, a weaknefs not very uncommon 
 among the learned, efpecially in fubjefts fo deeply 
 interefting as the prefent, in which a man of virtue 
 is often loth to abandon, even the propriety of a 
 fingle phrafe which he has been accuftomed to. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of thofe fyftems which make fentiment the principle o^ 
 
 approbation, ^ 
 
 HOSE fyftems which make fentiment the 
 principle of approbation may be divided into two 
 different clafTes. 
 
 I. According to fome the principle of approbation 
 IS founded upon a fentiment of a peculiar nature,, 
 upon a particular power of perception exerted by the 
 mind at the view of certain adlions or affedlions y 
 fome of which affeding this faculty in an agreeable 
 and others in a difagreeable manner, the former are 
 flampt with the charadlers of right, laudable, and 
 virtuous •, the latter with thofe of wrong, blameable 
 and vicious. This fentiment being of a peculiar 
 nature diftindt from every other, and the effed of a 
 particular power of perception, they give ic a parti» 
 cular name, and call it a moral fenfe. 
 
 II. According to others, in order to account for 
 the principle of approbation, there is no occafion 
 for fuppofing any new power of perception which 
 
Sedl. III. /?/ Moral Philosophy. 357 
 
 had never been heard of before : Nature, they ima- 
 gine, adls here, as in all other cafes, with the ftridleft 
 ceconomy, and produces a multitude of eifedls from 
 one and the fame caufe ; and fympathy, a power which 
 has always been taken notice of, and with which the 
 mind is manifeftly endowed, is, they think, fuffici- 
 ent to account for all the effedls afcribed to this pecu- 
 liar faculty. 
 
 I. Dr. Hutchefon * had been at great pains to 
 prove that the principle of approbation was not 
 founded on felf-love. He had demonftrated too that 
 it could not arife from any operation of reafon. No- 
 thing remained, he thought, but to fuppofe it a fa- 
 culty of a peculiar kind, with which Nature had en- 
 dowed the human mind, in order to produce this one 
 particular and important effedt. • When felf-love and 
 reafon were both excluded, it did not occur to him 
 that there was any other known faculty of the mind 
 which could in any refped anfwer this purpofe. 
 
 This new power of perception he called a moral 
 fenfe, and fuppofed it to be fomewhat analogous to 
 the external fenfes. As the bodies around us, by 
 affedling thefe in a certain manner, appear to pofTefs 
 the different qualities of found, tafte, odour, colour*, 
 fo the various affedlions of the human mind, by 
 touching this particular faculty in a certain manner, 
 appear to poffefs the different qualities of amiable 
 and odious, of virtuous and vicious, of right and 
 wrong. 
 
 The various fenfes or powers of perception, f from 
 which the human mind derives all its fimple ideas, 
 
 A a 3 were, 
 
 * Inquiry concerning Virtue. f Treatife of the paffions. 
 
358 0/ S y s t'£ m s Part VL 
 
 were, according to this fydem, of two different kinds, 
 of which the one were called the dired or antecedent, 
 the other, the reflex or confequent fenfes. The di- 
 redl fenfes were thofe faculties from which the mind 
 derived the perception of fuch fpecies of things as 
 did not prefuppofe the antecedent perception of any 
 other. Thus founds and colours were objedls of the 
 dired fenfes. To hear a found or to fee a colour docs 
 not prefuppofe the antecedenj; perception of any other 
 quality or objedt. The reflex or confequent fenfes, 
 on the other hand, were thofe faculties from which 
 the mind derived the perception of fuch fpecies of 
 things as prefuppofed the antecedent perception of 
 fome other. Thus harmony and beauty were objedls 
 of the reflex fenfes. In order to perceive the har- 
 mony of a found, or the beauty of a colour, we mud 
 firfl: perceive the found or the colour. The moral 
 fenfe was confidered as a faculty of this kind. That 
 faculty, which Mr. Locke calls reflexion, and from 
 which he derived the fimple ideas of the difl-erent 
 pafllons and emotions of the human mind, was, ac- , 
 cording to Dr. Hutchefon, a dired internal fenfe. 
 That faculty again by which we perceived the beauty 
 or deformity, the virtue or vice of thofe different 
 paffions and emotions, was a reflex, internal fenfe. 
 
 Dr. Hutchefon endeavoured flill further to fupporc 
 thisdodrine, by (hewing that it was agreeable to the 
 analogy of nature, and that the mind was endowed 
 with a variety of other reflex fenfes exadlly fimilar to 
 the moral fenfe i fuch as a fenfe of beauty and de- 
 formity in external objeds ; a public fenfe, by which 
 we fympathize with the happinefs or mifery of our 
 
 fellov/s 
 
Se6b. III. <?/ Moral Phi LOSOPHY. 359 
 
 fellow-creatures ^ a fenfe of fhame and honour, and 
 a fenfe of ridicule. 
 
 But notwithflanding all the pains which this in- 
 genious philofopher has taken to prove that the prin- 
 ciple of approbation is founded in a peculiar power 
 of perception, fomewhat analogous to the external 
 fenfes, there are fome confequences, which he ac- 
 knowledges to follow from this dodlrine, that will, 
 perhaps, be regarded by many as a fufficient confu- 
 tation of it. The qualities, he allows, * which be- 
 long to the objects of any fenfe, cannot, without the 
 greateft abfurdity, be afcribed to the fenfe itfelf. Who 
 ever thought of calling the fenfe of feeing black or 
 white, the fenfe of hearing loud or low, or the fenfe 
 of tailing fweet or bitter ? And, according to him, 
 it is equally abfurd to call our moral faculties vir- 
 tuous or vicious, morally good or evil. Thefe quali- 
 ties belong to the objedls of thofe faculties, not to 
 the faculties themfelves. If any man, therefore, was 
 fo abfurdly conftituted as to approve of cruelty and 
 injuftice as the higheft virtues, and to difapprove of 
 equity and humanity as the mod pitiful vices, fuch 
 a conftitution of mind might indeed be regarded as 
 inconvenient both to the individual and to the foci- 
 cty, and hkewife as (trange, furprifing, and unnatu- 
 ral in itfelf*, but it could not, without the greateft 
 abfurdity, be denominated vicious or morally evil. 
 
 Yet furely if we faw any man fhouting with ad- 
 miration and applaufe at a barbarous and unmerited 
 execution, which fome infolent tyrant had ordered, 
 
 A a 4 we 
 
 ♦ Illuftrations upon the Moral Senfe. Sc6\. i. p. 237, ct feq. 
 Third Edition, 
 
 ^ 
 
3^o Of Systems Part VL 
 
 we fhould not think we were guilty of any great ab- 
 furdity in denominating this behaviour vicious and 
 morally evil in the highefl degree, though it exprefled 
 nothing but depraved moral faculties, or an abfurd 
 approbation of this horrid adion, as of what was 
 noble, magnanimous, and great. Our heart, I ima- 
 gine, at the fight of fuch a fpedator, would forget 
 for a while its fympathy wiih the fufferer, and feel 
 nothing but horror and deteflation, at the thought of 
 fo execrable a wretch. We Ihould abominate him 
 even more than the tyrant who might be goaded on 
 by the ftrong paiTions of jealoufy, fear, and refent- 
 ment, and upon that account be more excufable. 
 But the fentiments of the fpedlator would appear al- 
 together without caufe or motive, and therefore moft 
 perfedly and completely deteltable. There is no 
 perverfion of fentiment or afFedion \vhich our heart 
 would be more averfe to enter into, or which it would 
 rejedl with greater hatred and indignation than one 
 of this kind ; and fo far from regarding luch a con- 
 llitution of mind as being merely fomething (Irange 
 or inconvenient, and not in any refped vicious or 
 morally evil, we fhould rather confider it as the very 
 lad and mod dreadful flage of moral depravity. 
 
 Corred moral fentiments, on the contrary, natu- 
 rally appear in fome degree laudable and morally 
 good. The man, whofe cenfure and applaule arc 
 upon all occafions fuited with the greateft accuracy 
 to the value or unworthinefs of the objed, feems to 
 deferve a degree even of moral approbation. We 
 admire the delicate precifion of his moral fentiments : 
 they lead our own judgments, and, upon account of 
 their uncommon and furprifing juftnefs, they even 
 excite our wonder and applaufe. We cannot indeed 
 
 b€ 
 
Se6l. III. <?/ Moral Philosophy. ^6i 
 
 be always fure that the conducft of fuch a perfon 
 would be in any rcfped" correfpondent to the preci- 
 fion and accuracy of his judgments concerning the 
 condudl of others. Virtue requires habit and refo- 
 lution of mind, as well as delicacy of fentiment -, 
 and unfortunately the former qualities are fometimes 
 wanting, where the latter is in the greateft perfedion. 
 This difpofition of mind, however, though it may 
 fometimes be attended with imp^rfedions, is incom- 
 patible with any thing that is grofsly criminal, and 
 is the happieft foundation upon which the fuperflruc- 
 ture of perfed virtue can be built. There are many 
 men who mean very well, and ferioufly purpole to do 
 what they think their duty, who notwithftanding are 
 difagreeable on account of the coarfenefs of their 
 moral fentiments. 
 
 It may be faid, perhaps, that though the princi- 
 ple of approbation is not founded upon any power 
 of perception that is in any refpedt analogous to the 
 external fenfes, it may dill be founded upon a pecu- 
 liar fentiment which anfwers this one particular pur- 
 pofe and no other. Approbation and difapproba- 
 tion, it may be pretended, are certain feelings or 
 emotions which arife in the mind upon the view of 
 different charaders and adions ; and as refcntment 
 might be called a fenfe of injuries, or gratitude a 
 fcnfe of benefits, fo thefe may very properly receive 
 the name of a fenfe of right and wrong, or of a mo- 
 ral fenfe. 
 
 But this account of things, thor.gh it may not be 
 liable to the fame objections with the foregoing, 
 is expofed to others which are equally unanfwerable. 
 
 Firfi: 
 
362 Of Systems Part VL 
 
 Firil of ail, whatever variations any particular 
 emotion may undergo, it ftill preferves the general 
 features which diftinguifh it to be an emotion of 
 fuch a kind, and thefe general features arc always 
 more ftriking and remarkable than any variation 
 which it may undergo in particular cafes. Thus an- 
 ger is an emotion of a particular kind : and accord- 
 ingly its general features are always more diftin- 
 guifhable than all the variations it undergoes in par- 
 ticular cafes. Anger againft a man, is, no doubt, 
 fomewhat different from anger againft a woman, 
 and that again from anger againft a child. In each 
 of thofe three cafes, the general paffion of anger re- 
 ceives a different modification from the particular 
 charadler of its objeft, as may eafily be obferved by 
 the attentive. But ftill the general features of the 
 paflion predominate in all thefe cafes. To diftin- 
 guifh thefe, requires no nice obfervation : a very de- 
 licate attention, on the contrary, is neceffary to difco- 
 ver their variations : every body takes notice of the 
 former : fcarce any body obferves the latter. If ap- 
 probation and dlfapprobation, therefore, were, like 
 gratitude and refentment^ emotions of a particular 
 kind, diftindl from every other, we ftiould expe6b 
 that in all the variations which either of them might 
 undergo, it would ftill retam the general features 
 which mark it to be an emotion of fuch a particular 
 kind, clear, plain, and eafily diftinguiftiable. But 
 in fadl it happens quite otherwife. If we attend to 
 what we really feel when upon different occafions we 
 cither approve or difapprove, we Ihall find that our 
 emotion in one cafe is often totally different from 
 that in another, and that no common features can 
 poffibly be difcovered between them. Thus the ap- 
 probation 
 
Sed. III. of Moral Philosophy. 363 
 
 probation with which we view a tender, delicate, 
 and humane fentiment, is quite different from that 
 with which we are ftruck by one that appears great, 
 daring, and magnanimous. Our approbation of 
 both may, upon different occafions, be perfedl and 
 entire \ but we are foftened by the one, and we are 
 elevated by the other, and there is no fort of re- 
 femblance between the emotions which they excite 
 in us. But, according to that fyftem which I have 
 been endeavouring to eftablifh, this mud neceffarily 
 be the cafe. As the emotions of the pcrfon whom 
 we approve of, are, in thofe two cafes, quite oppo» 
 fite to one another, and as our approbation arifes 
 from fympathy with thofe oppofite emotions, what 
 we feel upon the one occafion, can have no fort of 
 refemblance to what we feel upon the other. But 
 this could not happen if approbation confided in a 
 peculiar emotion which had nothing in common with 
 the fentiments we approved of, but which arofe at 
 the view of thofe fentiments, like any other pafllon 
 at the view of its proper obje6t. The fame thing 
 holds true with regard to difapprobation. Our 
 horror for cruelty has no fort of refemblance to our 
 contempt for mean-fpiritednefs. It is quite a dif- 
 ferent fpecies of difcord which we feel at the view 
 of thofe two different vices, between our minds 
 and thofe of the perfon whofe fentiments and be- 
 haviour we confider. 
 
 Secondly, I have already obferved, that not only 
 the different palfions or affedlions of the human mind 
 which are approved or difapproved of appear mo- 
 rally good or evil, but that proper and improper ap- 
 probation appear, to our natural fentiments, to be 
 ftampt with the fame chara(5ters. I would afk, 
 
 therefore. 
 
364 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VI. 
 
 therefore, how it is, that, according to this fyftem, 
 we approve or difapprove of proper or improper 
 approbation. To this queftion, there is, I imagine, 
 but one reafonable anfwer, which can poflibly be 
 given. It mud be faid, that when the approbation 
 v/ith which our neighbour regards the condudt of a 
 third perfon coincides with our own, we approve of 
 his approbation, and confider it as, in fomemeafure, 
 morally good •, and that on the contrary, when it 
 does not coincide with our own fentiments, we dif- 
 approve of it, and confider it as, in fome meafure, 
 morally evil. It mud be allowed, therefore, that, 
 at leaft in this one cafe, the coincidence or oppofition 
 of fentiments, between the obferver and the perfon 
 obferved, conftitutes moral approbation or difappro- 
 bation. And if it does fo in this one cafe, I would 
 afk, why not in every other? to what purpofe ima- 
 gine a new power of perception in order to account 
 for thofe fentiments ? 
 
 Againfi: every account of the principle of appro- 
 bation, which makes it depend upon a peculiar fen- 
 timent, diftind from every other, I would objedl ; 
 that it is ftrange that this fentimenr, which Provi- 
 dence undoubtedly intended to be the governing 
 principle of human nature, fliould hitherto have 
 been fo little taken notice of, as not to have got a 
 name in any language. The word moral fenfe is of 
 very late formation, and cannot yet be confidered as 
 making part of the Englifh tongue. The word ap- 
 probation has but within thefc few years been ap- 
 propriated to denote peculiarly any thing of this 
 kind. In propriety of language we approve of 
 whatever is entirely to our fatisfadlion, of the form 
 of a building, of the contrivance of a machine, of 
 
 the 
 
Se(^. III. of Moral Philosophy. 365 
 
 the flavour of a diOi of meat. The word confcience 
 does not immediately denote any moral faculty by 
 which we approve or difapprove. Confcience fup- 
 pofes, indeed, ihe exiftence of fome fuch faculty, 
 and properly fignifies our confcioufnefs of having 
 adled agreeably or contrary to its diredions. When 
 love, hatred, joy, Ibrrow, gratitude, refentment, with 
 fo many other paflions which are all fuppofed to be 
 the fubjeds of this principle, have made themfelves 
 confiderable enough to get titles to know them by, 
 is it not furprifing that the fovereign of them all 
 fhould hitherto have been fo little heeded, that, a 
 few philofophers excepted, no body has yet thought 
 it worth while to bellow a name upon it ? 
 
 "When we approve of any charadler or adlion, 
 the fentiments which we feel, are, according to the 
 foregoing fyftem, derived from four fources, which 
 are in fome refpeds different from one another. 
 Firft, we fympathize with the motives of the ao-ent; 
 fecondly, we enter into the gratitude of thofe who 
 receive the benefit of his anions ; thirdly, we ob- 
 ferve that his condudt has been agreeable to the ge- 
 neral rules by which thofe two fympathies generallv 
 a6t; and, la(l of all, when we confider fuch ac- 
 tions as making part of a fyftem of behaviour which 
 tends to promote the happinefs either of the indivi- 
 dual or of the fociety, they appear to derive a beauty ^ 
 from this utility, not unlike that which we afcribe 
 to any well contrived machine. After deducing, 
 in any one particular cafe, all that muft be acknow- 
 ledged to proceed from fome one or other of thefe four 
 principles, I fhould be glad to know what remains, 
 and I lliall freely allow this overplus to be afcribed 
 to a moral fenfe, or to any other peculiar faculty, 
 
 provided 
 
366 0/ Systems Part VL 
 
 provided any body will afccrtain precifely what this 
 overplus is. It might be expedted, perhaps, that 
 if there was any fuch peculiar principle, iuch as 
 this moral fenfe is luppofed to be, we (hould feel it, 
 in fome particular cafes, feparated and detached from 
 every other, as we often feel joy, forrow, hope, 
 and fear, pure and unmixed with any other emotion. 
 This however, I imagine, cannot even be pretended. 
 I have never heard any inftance alleged in which 
 this principle could be faid to exert iifelf alone and 
 unmixed with fympathy or antipathy, with gratitude 
 or refentment, with the perception of the agreement 
 or difao^reement of any adlion to an eftabliOied rule, 
 or laft of all with that general tafle for beauty and 
 order which is excited by inanimated as well as by 
 animated objedts. 
 
 II. There is another fyftem which attempts to ac- 
 count for the origin of our moral fentiments from 
 fympathy diftindt from that which I have been en- 
 deavouring to eftablifli. It is that which places vir- 
 tue in utility, and accounts for the pleafure with 
 which the fpedtator furveys the utility of any quality 
 from fympathy with the happinefs of thofe who are 
 affedcd by it. This fympathy is different both from 
 that by which we enter into the motives of the agent, 
 and from that by which we go along with the grati- 
 tude of the perfons who are benefited by his actions. 
 It is the fame principle with that by which we ap- 
 prove of a well contrived machine. But no machine 
 can be the objedt of either of thofe two laft mentioned 
 fympathies. I have already, in the fourth part of 
 this difcourfe, given fome account of this fyftem. 
 
 SECT- 
 
Sed. IV. <?/ Moral Philosophy. 367 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Of the manner in which different authors have treated 
 of the pradtical rules of morality. 
 
 X T was obferved in the third part of this difcourfe, 
 that the rules of jultice are the only rules of morality 
 which are precife and accurate ; that thofe of all the 
 other virtues are loofe, vague, and indeterminate; 
 that the firfl: may be compared to the rules of gram- 
 mar ; the others to thofe which critics lay down for 
 the attainment of what is fublime and elegant in com- 
 pofition, and which prefcnt us rather with a general 
 idea of the perfection we ought to aim at, than af- 
 ford us any certain and infallible diredlions for ac- 
 quiring it. 
 
 As the different rules of morality admit fuch dif- 
 ferent degrees of accuracy, thofe authors who have 
 endeavoured to colled and digeft them into fyitems 
 have done it in two different manners ; and one fet 
 has followed thro' the whole that loofe method to 
 which they were naturally di reded by the confidera- 
 tion of one fpecies of virtues ; while another has as 
 univerfally endeavoured to introduce into their pre- 
 cepts that fort of accuracy of which only fome of 
 them are fufceptible. The firft have wrote like cri- 
 tics, the fecond like grammarians, 
 
 I. The 
 
368 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 I. The firft, among whom we may count all the 
 ancient moralifts, have contented themfelves with 
 defcribing in a general manner the different vices and 
 virtues, and with pointing out the deformity and 
 mifery of the one difpofuion as well as the pro- 
 priety and happinefs of the other, but have not af- 
 fe61:ed to lay down many precife rules that are to 
 hold good unexceptionably in all particular cafes. 
 They have only endeavoured to afcertain, as far as 
 language is capable of afcertaining, firll, wherein 
 confifts the fentiment of the heart, upon which 
 each particular virtue is founded, what fort of in- 
 ternal feeling or emotion it is which conflitutes the 
 effence of friendfhip, of humanity, of generofity, 
 of juflice, of magnanimity, and of ail the other 
 virtues, as well as of the vices which are oppofed 
 tn them : and, fecondly. What is the general way of 
 a6ling, the ordinary tone and tenour of condu6t to 
 which each of thofe fentiments would diredl us, or 
 how it is that a friendly, a generous, a brave, a juft, 
 and a humane man, would, upon ordinary occafionSj 
 chufe to adt. 
 
 To charaderize the fentiment of the heart, upon 
 which each particular virtue is founded, though it 
 requires both a delicate and accurate pencil, is a talk, 
 however, which may be executed with fome degree 
 of exadnefs. It is impoflible, indeed, to exprefs all 
 the variations which each fentiment either does or 
 ought to undergo, according to every poflible varia- 
 tion of circumftances. They are endlefs, and lan- 
 guage wants names to mark them by. The fenti- 
 ment of friendfhip, for example, which we feel for 
 an old man is different from that which we feel for 
 
 a young : 
 
Sed. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 369 
 a young : that which we entertain for an auftere 
 man different from that which we feel for one of 
 fofter and gentler manners : and that again from 
 what we feel for one of gay vivacity and fpirit. The 
 friendfhip which we conceive for 'a man is different: 
 from that with which a woman affeds us, everi 
 where there is no mixture of any grofTer palTion. 
 What author could enumerate and afcertain theic 
 and all the other infinite varieties which this fenti- 
 ment is capable of undergoing ? But ftill the general 
 fentiment of friendfhip and familiar attachment 
 which is common to them all, may be afcertained with 
 a fufiicient degree of accuracy. The pidure which is 
 drawn of it, though it will always be in many refpedts 
 incomplete, may, however, have fuch a refemblance 
 as to make us know the original when we meet with 
 it, and even diflinguifli it from other fentiments to 
 which it has a confiderable refemblance, fuch as good- 
 will, refpe(5l, efleem, admiration. 
 
 To defcribe, in a general manner, what is the or- 
 dinary v;ay of adling to which each virtue would 
 prompt us, is ftill more eafy. Ic is, indeed, fcarce 
 pofTible to defcribe the internal fentiment or emotion 
 upon which it is founded, without doing fomething 
 of this kind. It is impoflible by language to ex- 
 prefs, if I may fay fo, the invifible features of all 
 the different modifications of pafTioji as they fhow 
 themfelves within. There is no other way of mark- 
 ing and diflinguifhing them from one another, but 
 by defcribing the effects which they produce with- 
 out, the aletrations which they occafion in the 
 countenance, in the air and external behaviour, the 
 refolutions they fuggefl, the adlions they prompt to. 
 It is thus that Cicero, in the firft book of his Of- 
 
 B b fices> 
 
^7o ' 0/" Systems Part VI. 
 
 fices, endeavours to direfl us to the pradlice of the 
 four cardinal virtues, and that Ariftotle in the prac- 
 tical parts of his Ethics, points out to us the diffe- 
 rent habits by which he would have us regulate our 
 behaviour, fuch as liberality, magnificence, magna- 
 nimity, and even jocularity and good humour, qua- 
 lities, which that indulgent philofopher has thought 
 worthy of a place in the catalogue of the virtues, 
 though the lightnefs of that approbation which we 
 naturally beftow upon them, fhould not feem to en- 
 title them to fo venerable a name. 
 
 Such works prefent us with agreeable and lively 
 pictures of manners. By the vivacity of their de- 
 fcriptions they inflame our natural love of virtue, 
 and increafe our abhorrence of vice : by thejuft- 
 nefs as well as delicacy of their obiervations they 
 may often help both to corred and to afcertain our 
 natural fentiments with regard to the propriety of 
 condudl, and fuggefting many nice and delicate at- 
 tentions, form us to a more cxadt juftnefs of be- 
 haviour, than what, without fuch inllrudtion, we 
 fliould have been apt to think of. In treating of 
 the rules of morality, in this manner, confifts the 
 fcience which is properly called Ethics, a fcience, 
 which though like criticifm, it does not admit of the 
 moll accurate precifion, is, however,both highly ufeful 
 and agreeable. It is of all others the moft fufcepti- 
 ble of the embellifliments of eloquence, and by means 
 of them of bellowing, if that be pofiible, a new im- 
 portance upon the fmalleft rules of duty. Its pre- 
 cepts, when thus drefled and adorned, are capable 
 of producing upon the flexibility of youth, the 
 noblefl and moft lafting imprefiion^, and as they 
 fall in with the natural magnanimity of that gene- 
 rous 
 
Se6t. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 371 
 
 rous age, they are able to infpire, for a time atlealV,* 
 the moft heroic refolutions, and thus tend both to 
 eftablifti and confirm the beft and moft uleful habits 
 of' which the mind of man is fufceptible. What- 
 ever precept and exhortation can do to animate us to 
 the pradice of virtue, is done by this fcience de- 
 livered in this manner. 
 
 IL The fecond fet of moralifts, among whom we 
 may count all the cafuilts of the middle and latter 
 ages of the chriftian church, as well as all thofe who 
 in this and in the preceding century have treated of 
 what is called natural jurifprudence, do not content 
 themfelves with characterizing in this general man- 
 ner that tenour of conduct which they would re- 
 commend to us, but endeavour to lay down exadl 
 and precife rules for the diredion of every circum- 
 llance of our behaviour. As juftice is the only virtue 
 with regard to which fuch exa6t rules can properly 
 be given j it is this virtue, that has chiefly fallen 
 under the confideration of thofe two different fets of 
 writers. They treat of it, however, in a very dif- 
 ferent. manner. 
 
 Thofe who write upon the principles of jurifpru- 
 dence, confider only what the perfon to whom the 
 obligation is due, ought to think himfelf entitled to 
 exacl by force ; what every impartial fpedator would 
 approve of him for exading, or what a judge or 
 arbiter, to whom he had fubmitted his cafe, and 
 who had undertaken to do him juftice, ought to oblige 
 the other perfon to fuffer or to perform. The ca- 
 fuifts, on the other hand, do not fo much examine 
 what it is, that might properly be exadted by force, 
 as what it is, that the perfon who owes the obligation 
 
 B b 2 ought 
 
M 
 
 372 0/ Systems Part VL 
 
 ought to think himfelf bound to perform from the 
 moft facred and fcrupulous regard to the general 
 rules of juflice, and from the moft confcientious 
 dread, either of wronging his neighbour, or of vio- 
 lating the integrity of his own charadter. It is the 
 end of jurifprudence to prefcribe rules for the deci- 
 fions of judges and arbiters. It is the end of ca- 
 fuiftry to prefcribe rules for the condud of a good 
 man. By obferving all the rules of jurifprudence, 
 fuppofing them ever fo perfect, we fliould deferve 
 nothing but to be free from external punifhment. 
 By obferving thofe of cafuiftry, fuppofing them fuch 
 as they ought to be, we fhould be entitled to confi- 
 derable praife by the exad: and fcrupulous delicacy 
 of our behaviour. 
 
 It may frequently happen that a good man ought 
 to think himfelf bound, from a facred and confcien- 
 tious regard to the general rules of juftice to perform 
 many things which it would be the higheft injuftice 
 to extort from him, or for any judge or arbiter to 
 impofe on him by force. To give a trite example ; 
 a highwayman, by the fear of death, obliges a tra- 
 veller to promife him a certain fum of money. 
 Whether fuch a promife, extorted in this manner by 
 unjuft force, ought to be regarded as obligatory, is a 
 queftion that has been very much debated. 
 
 If we confider it merely as a queftion of jurifpru- 
 dence, the decifion can admit of no doubt. It 
 would be abfurd to fuppofe that the highwayman 
 can be entitled to ufe force to conftrain the other to 
 perform. To extort the promife was a crime which 
 deferved the higheft puniftiment, and to extort the 
 performance would only be adding a new crime to 
 
 the 
 
Sedl. IV. ^ Moral Philosophy. 375 
 
 the former. He can complain of no injury who has 
 been only deceived by the perfon by whom he might 
 juftly have been killed. To fuppofe that a judge 
 ought to enforce the obligation of fuch promifes, or 
 that the magiftrate ought to allow them to fuflain 
 an action at law, would be the mod ridiculous of all 
 abfurdities. If we confider this queftion, therefore, 
 as a queftion of jurifprudence, we can be at no lofs 
 about the decifion. 
 
 But if wc confider it as a queftion of cafuiftry, 
 it will not be fo eafily determined. Whether a good 
 man, from a confcientious regard to that moft facred 
 rule of juftice, which commands the obfervance of 
 all ferious promifes, would not think himfelf bounds 
 to perform, is at leaft much more doubtful. That 
 no regard is due to the difappointment of the wretch 
 who brings him into this fituation, that no injury is 
 done to the robber, and confequently that nothing 
 can be extorted by force, will admit of no fort of 
 difpute. But whether fome regard is not, in this 
 cafe, due to his own dignity and honour, to the in- 
 violable facred nefs of that part of his charafter 
 which makes him reverence the law of truth, and 
 abhor every thing that approaches to treachery and 
 falfehood, may, perhaps, more reafonably be made 
 a queftion. The cafuifts accordingly are greatly di- 
 vided about it. One party, with whom we may 
 count Cicero among 'the ancients, among the mo- 
 derns, Puffendorf, Barbeyrac his commentator, and 
 above all the late Dr. Hutchefon, one who in moft 
 cafes was by no means a loofe cafuift, determine, 
 without any hefitation, that no fort of regard is due 
 to any fuch promife, and that to think otherwife is 
 
 S b 3 rnere 
 
574- 0/ Systems Part VL 
 
 mere wcaknefs and fuperftition. Another party, 
 among whom we may reckon * fome of the ancient 
 fathers of the church, as well as fome very eminent 
 modern cafuifts, have been of another opinion, and 
 have judged all fuch promifes obligatory. 
 
 If we confider the matter according to the com- 
 mon fentiments of mankind, we Ihall find that fome 
 regard would be thought due even to a promife of 
 this kind ; but that it is impollible to determine how 
 much, by any general rule that will ^pply to all cafes 
 without exception. The man who was quite frank 
 and eafy rn making promifes of this kind, and who 
 violated them with as little ceremony, we fhould not 
 choofc for our friend and companion. A gentleman 
 who fhould promife a highwayman five pounds and 
 not perform, would incur fome blame. If the fum 
 promifed, however, was very great, it n^ight be 
 more doubtful, what was proper to be dqne. If it 
 was fuch, for example, that the payment of it would 
 entirely ruin the family of the promifer, if it was fo 
 great as to be fufficient for promoting the moll 
 ufeful purpofes, it would appear in fome meafure 
 criminal, at lead extremely improper, to throw 
 it, for the fake of a pundlilio, into fuch worth- 
 lefs hands. The man who lliould beggar him- 
 felf, or who (hould throw away an hundred 
 thoufand pounds, though he could afford that 
 vail fum, for the fake of obferving fuch a parole 
 with a thief, would appear to the common fenfe of 
 mankind, abfurd and extravagant in the highefl de- 
 gree. Such profufion would feem inconfiftent with 
 his duty, with what he owed both to himfelf and 
 
 others^ 
 
 * St. Anguftine, la Placctte. 
 
Sed. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 275 
 
 others, and what, therefore, regard to a promife ex- 
 torted in this manner, could by no means authorise. 
 To fix, however, by any preciie rule, wliat degree 
 of regard ought to be paid to it, or what might be 
 the greateft fum which could be due from it, is evi- 
 dently impoflible. This would vary according to 
 the charaders of the perfons, according to their cir- 
 cumftances, according to the folemnity of the promife, 
 and even according to the incidents of the rencoun^ 
 ter : and if the promifer had been treated with a great 
 deal of that fort of gallantry, which is fometimes to 
 be met with in perfons of the mod abandoned cha- 
 raders, more would feem due than upon other occa- 
 fions. It may be laid in general, that exa6t propriety 
 requires the obfervancc of ail fuch promifcs, where- 
 ever it is not inconfiftent with fome other duties that 
 are more facred •, fuch as regard to the public in- 
 tereft, to thofe whom gratitude, whom natural affec- 
 tion, or whom the laws of proper beneficence fliould 
 prompt us to provide for. But, as was formerly 
 taken notice of, we have no precife rules to determine 
 what external adions are due from a regard to fuch 
 motives, nor, confequently, when it is that thofe 
 virtues are inconfiftent with the obfervance of fuch 
 promifes. 
 
 It is to be obferved, however, that whenever fuch 
 promifes are violated, though for the moft: neceffary 
 reafons, it is always with Ibme degree of difhonour 
 to the perfon who made them. After they are made, 
 we may be convinced of the impropriety of obferv- 
 ing them. But ftill there is fome fault in having 
 made them. It is at leaft a departure from the 
 higheft and nobleft maxims of magnanimity and ho- 
 
 B b 4 nour. 
 
! 
 
 37^ 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VL 
 
 nour. A brave man ought to die, rather than make 
 a promile which he can neither keep Without folly, 
 nor violate v/ithout ignominy. For ftxne degree of 
 ignominy always attends a fituation of this kind. 
 Treachery and falfehood are vices fo dangerous, fo 
 dreadful, and, at the fame time, fuch as may fo eafily, 
 and, upon many occafions, fo fafely be indulged, that 
 we are more jealous of them than of almoft any 
 other. Our imagination therefore attaches the idea 
 of Ihame to all violations of faith, in every circum- 
 fiance and in every fituation. They refemble, in 
 this refpedi:, the violations of chaftity in the fair fex, 
 a virtue of which, for the like reafons, we are excef- 
 fively jealous ; and our fentiments are not more de- 
 licate with regard to the one, than with regard to the 
 other. Breach of chaftity difhonours irretrievably. 
 No circumftances, no folicitation can excufe it ; no 
 forrow, no repentance atone for it. We are fo nice 
 m this refpedt that even a rape difhonours, and the 
 innocence of the mind cannot, in our imagination, 
 wafii out the pollution of the body. It is the fame 
 cafe with the violation of faith, when it has been fo- 
 lemnly pledged, even to the moft worthlefs of man- 
 kind. Fidelity is fo necefiary a virtue, that we ap- 
 prehend it in general to be due even to thofe to whom^ 
 nothing elfe is due, and whom we think it lawful to 
 kill and deftroy. It is to no purpofe that the perfon 
 who has been guilty of the breach of it, urges that he 
 promifed in order to fave his life, and that he broke 
 his promife becaufe it was inconfiftent with fome 
 other refpedable duty to keep it. Thefe circum- 
 ftances may alleviate, but cannot entirely wipe out 
 hi* dilhonour. He appears to have been guilty ojf 
 an a6tion with which, in the imaginations of men, 
 fome degree of fliame is infeparably conneded. He 
 
 has 
 
Sedl. IV. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 377 
 
 has broke a promife which he had iolemnly averred 
 he would maintain •, and his charadcr, if not irre- 
 trievably ftained and polluted, has at lead a ridicule 
 affixed to it, which it will be very difficult entirely 
 to efface •, and no man, I imagine, who had gone 
 through an adventure of this kind, would be fond of 
 telling the (lory. 
 
 This inftance may ferve to fhow wherein confifts 
 the difference between cafuiftry and jurifprudence, 
 even when both of them confider the obligations of 
 the general rules of juilice. 
 
 But though this difference be real and effential, 
 though thofe two fciences propofe quite diff^erent 
 ends, the famenefs of the fubjedl has made fuch a 
 fimilarity between them, that the greater part of au- 
 thors whofe profeflcd defign was to treat of jurif- 
 prudence, have determined the different queftions 
 they examine, fometimes according to the principles 
 of that fcience, and fometimes according to thofe of 
 cafuiftry, without diflinguilhing, and, perhaps, with- 
 out being themfclves aware when they did the one, 
 and when the other. 
 
 The do6lrine of the cafuifts, however, is by no 
 means confined to the confideration of what a con- 
 fcientious regard to the general rules of juftice, would 
 demand of us. It embraces many other parts of 
 Chriftian and moral duty. What feems principally 
 to have given occafion to the cultivation of this 
 fpecies of fcience was the cuftom of auricular con- 
 fefTion, introduced by the Roman Catholic fuperfti- 
 tion, in times of barbarifm and ignorance. By that 
 
 inftitution, 
 
378 0/ S y s T £ M s Part VI. 
 
 inftitution, the mod fecrec adlions, and even the 
 thoughts of every perlon, which could be fufpe6led 
 of receding in the Imalleft degree from the rules of 
 Chriftian purity, were to be revealed to the confeflbr. 
 The confeflbr informed his penitents whether, and in 
 what rcfpedl they had violated their duty, and what 
 penance it behoved them to undergo, before he 
 could abfolve them in the name of the offended 
 Deity. 
 
 The confcioufnefs, or even the fufpicion of having 
 done wrong, is a load upon every mind, and is ac- 
 companied with anxiety and terrour in all thofe who 
 are not hardened by long habits of iniquity. Men, 
 in this, as in all other diflrefles, are naturally eager to 
 diiburthen themfelves of the oppreflion which they 
 feel upon their thoughts, by unbofoming the agony 
 of their mind to fome perfon whofe fecrecy and dif- 
 cretion they can confide in. The fhame, which they 
 lufFer from this acknowledgment, is fully compen- 
 fated by that alleviation of their unealinels which 
 the fympathy of their confident ieldom fails to occa- 
 fion. It relieves them to find that they are not alto- 
 gether unworthy of regard, and that however their 
 paft condu(ft may be cenfured, iheir prefent difpo- 
 iition is at leaft approved of, and is perhaps fufRcient 
 to compenfate the other, at leaft to maintain them in 
 fome degree of eftcem with their friend. A nume- 
 rous and artful clergy had, in thofe times of fuper- 
 itiiion, infmqated themfelves into the confidence of 
 almoft every private family. They pofleiTed all the 
 little learning which the times could afford, and their 
 manners, though in many refpeds rude and difor- 
 I',,; derly, were polifhed and regular C9mpared with thofe 
 
 of the age they lived in. They were regarded, there- 
 fore, 
 
Sed. IV. of Moral Phi losot^hy. 379 
 
 fore, not only as the great diredlors of all religious, 
 but of all moral duties. Their familiarity gave re- 
 putation to whoever was fo happy as to po(Tcfs ic, 
 and every mark of their difapprobation (tamped the 
 deepell ignominy upon all who had the misfortune 
 to fall under it. Being confidercd as the great judges 
 of right and wrong, they were naturally confulted 
 about all fcruples that occurred, and it was reputable 
 for any perfon to have it known that he made thofe 
 holy men the confidents of all fuch fecrets, and took 
 no important or delicate Hep in his conduit without 
 their advice and approbation. It was not difficult 
 for the clergy, therefore, to get it eftabliflied as a ge- 
 neral rule, that they fhould be entrufted with what 
 it had already become fadiionable to entruft them, 
 and with v>^hat they generally would have been en- 
 trufted though no fuch rule had been eftabliflied. 
 To qualify themfelves for confeflbrs became thus a 
 neceflary part of the ftudy of churchmen and divines, 
 and they were thence led to collect what are called 
 cafes of confcience, nice and delicate fituations, in 
 which it is hard to determine whereabouts the propri- 
 ety of condu(5t may lie. Such works, they ima- 
 gined, might be of ufe both to the diredors of con- 
 fcicnces and to thofe who were to be diredted ; and 
 iience the origin of books of cafuiftry. 
 
 The moral duties which fell under the confidera- 
 tion of the cafuifts were chiefly thofe which can, in 
 fome meafure at leaft, be circumfcribed within gene- 
 ral rules, and of which the violation is naturally at- 
 tended with fome degree of remorfe and fome dread 
 of fuffering puniftiment. The defign of that inftitu- 
 tion which gave occafton to their works, was to ap- 
 peafe thoje terrours of confcience which attend upon 
 
 the 
 
38o 0/ S Y s T E M s Part VI, 
 
 the infringement of fuch duties. But it is not every 
 virtue of which the defedt is accompanied with any 
 very fevere compundlions of this kind, and no man 
 applies to his confeffor.for abfolution, becaufe he did 
 not perform the mod generous, the moft friendly, 
 or the moft magnanimous adtion which, in hiscir- 
 cumftances, it was pollible to perform. In failures 
 of this kind, the rule that is violated is commonly 
 not very determinate, and is generally of fuch a na- 
 ture too, that though the obfervance of it might en- 
 title to honour and reward, the violation feems to ex- 
 pole to no pofitive blame, cenfure, or punifhment. 
 The exercife of fuch virtues the cafuifts leem to have 
 regarded as a fort of works of fupererogation, which 
 could not be very ftridly enabled, and which it was 
 therefore unnecefiary for them to treat of. 
 
 The breaches of moral duty, therefore, which 
 came before the tribunal of the confeflbr, and upon 
 that account fell under the cognizance of the cafuifts, 
 were chiefly of three different kinds. 
 
 Firft and principally, breaches of the rules of 
 juftice. The rules here are all exprefs and pofitive, 
 and the violation of them is naturally attended 
 with the confcioufnefs of deferving, and the dread 
 of fuffering punifhment both from God and man. 
 
 Secondly, breaches of the rules of chaftity. Thefc 
 in all grofier inftances are real breaches of the rules 
 of juftice, and no perfon can be guilty of them with- 
 out doing the moft unpardonable injury to fome 
 other. In fmaller inftances, when they amount only 
 , to a violation of thofe exadl decorums which ought 
 
 to 
 
Se<5t. IV. (?/ Moral Philosophy. 381 
 
 to be obferved in the converfation of the two fexes, 
 they cannot indeed jultly be confidered as violations 
 of the rules of jultice. They are generally, how- 
 ever, violations of a pretty plain rule, and, at 
 lead in one of the fexes, tend to bring ignominy up- 
 on the perfon who has been guilty of them, and con- 
 fequently to be attended in the fcrupulous with fome 
 degree of ihame and contrition of mind. 
 
 Thirdly, breaches of the rules of veracity. The 
 violation of truth, it is to be obferved, is not always 
 a breach of juftice, though it is fo upon many, occa- 
 fions, and conlequently cannot always expofe to any 
 external punifhment. The vice of common lying, 
 though a mod miferable meannefs, may frequently 
 do hurt to no perfon, and in this cafe no claim of 
 vengeance or fatisfadion can be due either to the 
 perfons impofed upon, or to others. But though 
 the violation of truth is not always a breach of juf- 
 tice, it is always a breach of a very plain rule, and 
 what naturally tends to cover with Ihame the perfon 
 who has been guilty of it. The great pleafure of 
 converfation, and indeed of fociety, arifes from a 
 certain correfpondence of fentiments and opinions, 
 frprn a certain harmony of minds, which like fo 
 mar^y mufical inftruments coincide and keep time 
 with one another. But this moft delightful harmony 
 cannot be obtained unlefs there is a free communica- 
 tion of fentiments and opinions. We all defire, 
 upon this account, to feel how each other is afFeded, 
 to penetrate into each other's bofoms, and to obferve 
 the fentiments and affedlions which really fubfift 
 there. The man who indulges us in this natural paf- 
 fion, who invites us into his heart, who, as it were, 
 fets open the gates of his bread to us, feems to exer- 
 
 cife 
 
382 0/ S V s T E M s Part VL 
 
 cife a fpecies of hofpitality more delightful than any 
 other. No man, who is in ordinary good temper, 
 can fail of pleafing, if he has the courage to utter 
 his real fentiments as he feels them, and becaufe he 
 feels them. It is this unreferved fincerity which ren- 
 ders even the prattle of a child agreeable. How 
 weak and imperfed foever the views of the open- 
 hearted, we take pleafure to enter into them, and en- 
 deavour, as much as we can, to bring down our own 
 underftanding to the level of their capacities, and to 
 regard every fubjed in the particular light in which 
 they appear to have confidered it. This paffion to 
 difcover the real fentiments of others is naturally fo 
 ftrong, that it often degenerates into a troublelome 
 and impertinent curiofity to pry into thofe fecrets of 
 our neighbours v/hich they have very juflifiable rea- 
 fons for concealing, and, upon many occafions, it 
 ' requires prudence and a flrong fenle of propriety ta 
 govern this, as well as all the other pafijons of hu- 
 man nature, and to reduce it to that pitch which any 
 impartial fpedlator can approve of. To difappoint 
 this curiofity, however, when it is kept within pro- 
 per bounds, and aims at nothing which there can be 
 any juft reafon for concealing, is equally difagreeable 
 in its turn. The man who eludes our moft innocent 
 queftions, who gives no fatisfadtion to our mofl in- 
 offenfive inquiries, who plainly wraps himfelf up in 
 impenetrable obfcurity, feems, as it were, to build a 
 wall about his bread. We run forward to get within 
 it, with all the eagernefs of harmlefs curiofity, and 
 feel ourfelves all at once pufhed back with the rudeft 
 and moft offenfive violence. If to conceal is fo dif- 
 agreeable, to attempt to deceive us is ftill more dif- 
 gufting, even though we could pofTibly fuffer no- 
 thins bv the fuccefs of the fraud. If we fee that our 
 
 companion 
 
Se<El. IV. ^/ Moral Philosophy. 383 
 
 companion wants to impofe upon us, if the fenti- 
 ments and opinions whicii he utters appear evidently 
 not to be his own, let them be ever fo fine, we can 
 derive no fort of entertainment from them j and if 
 fomething of human nature did not now and then 
 tranfpire through all the covers which falfehood and 
 affe£lation are capable of wrapping around it, a pup- 
 pet of wood would be altogether as pleafant a eom- 
 panion as a perfon who never fpoke as he was afFedled. 
 No man ever deceives, with regard to the moft infig- 
 nificant matters, who is not confcious of doing fome- 
 thing like an injury to thofe he converfes with ; and 
 who does not inwardly blufh and flirink back with 
 fhame and confufion even at the fecrec thought of a 
 detecStion. Breach of veracity, therefore, being al- 
 ways attended with fome degree of remorfe and felf- 
 condemnation, naturally fell under the cognizance 
 of the cafuifts. 
 
 The chief fubjeds of the works of the cafuifls, 
 therefore, were the confcientious regard that is due 
 to the rules of juftice ; how far we ought to refpedl 
 the life and property of our neighbour ; the duty of 
 reftitution j the laws of chaftity and modefly, and 
 wherein confided what, in their language, are called 
 the fins of concupifcence : the rules of veracity, and 
 the obligation of oaths, promifes, and contradls of 
 all kinds. 
 
 It may be faid in general of the works of the ca- 
 fuifts that they attempted, to no purpofe, to dired: 
 by precife rules what belongs to feeling and fentiment 
 only to judge of. How is it poflible to afcertain by 
 rules the exadt point at which, in every cafe, a deli- 
 cate fenfe of jultice begins to run into a frivolous and 
 
 weak 
 
384 Of Systems Part VL 
 
 weak fcrupulofity of confcience ? When It is that fe- 
 crecy and referve begin to grow into diflimulation ? 
 How far an agreeable irony may be carried, and at 
 what precife point it begins to degenerate into a de- 
 teftable lie ? What is the higheft pitch of freedom 
 and eafe of behaviour which can be regarded as 
 graceful and becoming, and when it is that it firft 
 begins to run into a negligent and thoughtlefs licen- 
 tioufnefs ? With regard to all fuch matters, what 
 would hold good in any one cafe would fcarce do fo 
 exadly in any other, and what conftitutes the propri- 
 ety and happinefs of behaviour varies in every cafe 
 with thefmalleil variety of fituation. Books of ca- 
 fuiftry, therefore, are generally as ufelefs as they are 
 commonly tirefome. They could be of little ufe to 
 one who fhould confult them upon occafion, even 
 fuppofing their decifions to be jud ; becaufe, notwith- 
 flanding the multitude of cafes colledled in them, 
 yet upon account of the dill greater variety of pofli- 
 ble circumftances, it is a chance, if among all thofe 
 cafes there be found one exadlly parallel to that under 
 confideration. One, who is really anxious to do his 
 duty, muft be very weak, if he can imagine that 
 he has much occafion for them ; and with regard to 
 one who is negligent of it, the ftyle of thofe writings 
 is not fuch as is likely to awaken him to more atten- 
 tion. None of them tend to animate us to what is 
 generous and noble. None of them tend to foften 
 US to what is gentle and humane. Many of them, 
 on the contrary, tend rather to teach us to chicane 
 with our own confciences, and by their vain fubtil- 
 ties ferve to authorize innumerable evafive refine- 
 ments with regard to the moil elTential articles of our 
 duty. That frivolous accuracy which they attempt- 
 ed to introduce into fubjedls which do not admit of 
 
 it. 
 
Se6l. IV. ^/ Moral Philosophy* 385 
 
 it, almoft neceflarily betrayed them into thofe dange- 
 rous errours, and at the fame time rendered their 
 works dry and difagrceable, abounding in abftrufe 
 and metaphyfical diftind:ions, but incapable of ex- 
 citincr in the heart any of thofe emotions which it is 
 the principal ufe of books of morality to excite. 
 
 The two ufeful parts of moral philofophy, there- 
 fore, are Ethics and Jurifprudence : cafuiftry ought 
 to be rejeded altogether, and the ancient moralifts 
 appear to have judged much better, who, in treating 
 of the fame fubjedts, did not affedt any fuch nice 
 exadtnefs, but contented themfelves with defcribing^ 
 in a general manner, what is the fentiment upon 
 which juftice, modefty, and veracity are founded, 
 and what is the ordinary way of adting to which thole 
 virtues would commonly prompt us. 
 
 Something, indeed, not unlike the dodcrine of 
 the cafuifts, feems to have been attempted by feve- 
 ral philofophers. There is fomeihing of this kind 
 in the third book of Cicero*s Offices, where he en- 
 deavours like a cafuift to gives rules for our condudl 
 in many nice cafes, in which it is difficult to deter- 
 mine whereabouts the point of propriety may lie. It 
 appears too, from many paflages in the fame book, 
 that feveral other philofophers had attempted fome- 
 thing of the fame kind before him. Neither he nor 
 they, however, appear to have aimed at giving a 
 complete fyftem of this fort, but only meant to ftiow 
 how fituations may occur, in which it is doubtful, 
 whether the higheft propriety of condudl confids in 
 obferving or in receding from what, in ordinary 
 cafes, are the rules of duty. 
 
 C c Everv 
 
3^6 Of Systems Part VL 
 
 Every fyftem of pofitive law may be regarded as 
 a more or lefs imperfed attempt towards a fyftem 
 of natural jurifprudence, or towards an enumeration 
 of the particular rules of juftice. As the violation of 
 juftice is what men will never fubmit to from one 
 another, the public magiftrate is under a neceflity of 
 employing the power of the commonwealth to enforce 
 the pradice of this virtue. Without this precaution, 
 civil fociety would become a fcene of bloodftied and 
 diforder, every man revenging himfelf at his own 
 hand whenever he fancied he was injured. To pre- 
 vent the confufion which would attend upon every 
 man's doing juftice to himfelf, the magiftrate, in all 
 governments that have acquired any confiderable au- 
 thority, undertakes to do juftice to all, and promi- 
 fes to hear and to redrefs every complaint of injury. 
 In all well-governed ftates too, not only judges are 
 appointed for determining the controverfies of indi- 
 viduals, but rules arc prefcribed for regulating the 
 dccifions of thofe judges j and thefe rules are, in 
 general, intended to coincide with thofe of natural 
 juftice. It does not, indeed, always happen that 
 they do fo in every inftance. Sometimes what is 
 called the conftitution of the ftate, that is, the in- 
 tereft of the government ; fometimes of the inter- 
 eft of particular orders of men who tyrannize the 
 government, warp the pofitive laws of the country 
 from what natural juftice would prefcribe. In fome 
 countries, the rudenefs and barbarifm of the people 
 hinder the natural fentiments of juftice from arriving 
 at that accuracy and precifion which, in more civi- 
 lized nations, they naturally attain to. Their laws 
 are, like their manners, grols and rude and undif- 
 tinguiftiing. In other countries the unfortunate 
 conftitution of their courts of judicature hinders any 
 regular fyftem of jurifprudence from ever eftablifti- 
 
 ing 
 
Sed. IV. of Man Ah FhilosopUy. ii^ 
 
 ing itfelf among them, though the improved manners 
 of the people may be fuch as would admit of the 
 moft accurate. In no country do the decifions of 
 pofitive law coincide exactly, in every cafe, with 
 the rules which the natural ienfe of juftice would 
 didate. Syllems of pofitive law, therefore, though 
 they deferve the greateft authority, as the records of 
 the fentiments of mankind in different ages and na- 
 tions, yet can never be regarded as accurate fyftems 
 of the rules of natural juftice. 
 
 It might have been expeded that the feafonings 
 of lawyers, upon the different imperfedtions and im- 
 provements of the laws of different countries, lliould 
 have given occafion to an inquiry into what were the 
 natural rules of juftice independent of all pofuive 
 inftitution. It might have been expected that thefe 
 reafonings fnould have led them to aim at eftablifh- 
 ing a fyftem of what might properly be called na- 
 tural jurifprudence, or a theory of the general prin- 
 ciples which ought to run through and be the foun- 
 dation of the laws of all nations. But tho' the rea- 
 fonings of lawyers did produce fomething of this 
 kind, and though no man has treated fyftematically 
 of the laws of any particular country, without in- 
 termixing in his work many obfervationsof this fort y 
 it was very late in the world before any fuch general 
 fyflem was thought of, or before the phiiofophy of 
 law was treated of by itfelf, and without regard to 
 the particular inftitutions of any one nation. In none 
 of the ancient moralids, do we find any attempt to- 
 wards a particular enumeration of the rules of juftice^ 
 Cicero in his Offices, and Ariftotle in his Ethics^ 
 treat of juftice in the fame general manner in which 
 they treat of all the other virtues. In the laws of 
 
 C c 2 Cicero 
 
j88 - Of Sy STEM Sy &c. Fart VI. 
 
 Cicero and Plato, where we might naturally have ex- 
 pedled fome attempts towards an enumeration of thofe 
 rules of natural equity, which ought to be enforced by 
 the pofitive laws of every country, there is however, 
 nothing of this kind. Their laws are laws of police, 
 not of juftice. Grotius feems to have been the firft, 
 who attempted to giv'e the world any thing like a 
 fyftem of thofe principles which ought to run through, 
 and be the foundation of the laws of all nations •, and 
 his treatife of the laws of war and peace, with all 
 its imperfections, is perhaps at this day the moft 
 complete work that has yet been given upon this 
 fubjed. I (hall in another difcourfe endeavour to 
 give an account of the general principles of law and 
 government, and of the different revolutions they 
 have undergone in the different ages and periods of 
 fociety, not only in what concerns juftice, but in 
 what concerns police, revenue, and arms, and what- 
 ever elfe is the objedl of law. I fhall not, therefore, 
 at prefent enter into any further detail concerning the 
 hiftory of jurifprudence. 
 
 THE END. 
 
[ 389 ] 
 
 C O N S I D E,R A T I O N S 
 
 Concerning the FIRST 
 
 FORMATION of LANGUAGES, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 Different Genius of original and compounded 
 LANGUAGES. 
 
 JL H E aflignation of particular names, to denote 
 particular objeds, that is, the inftitution of nouns 
 fubftantive, would, probably, be one of the firft 
 fleps towards the formation of language. Two 
 favages, who had never been taught to fpeak, but 
 had been bred up remote from the focieties of men, 
 would naturally begin to form that language by 
 which they would endeavour to make their mutual 
 wants intelligible to each other, by uttering certain 
 founds, whenever they meant to denote certain objedls^ 
 Thofe objeds only which were mofl familiar to them, 
 and which they had mofl frequent occafion to men- 
 tion, would have particular names alTigned to them. 
 The particular cave whole covering fheltered them 
 from the weather, the particular tree whofe fruit 
 relieved their hunger, the particular fountain whole 
 water allayed their thirfl, would firfl be denoted by 
 the words cave^ tree, fountain^ or by whatever other 
 
 C c 3 appellations 
 
■39Q FORMATION OF 
 
 appellations they might think proper, in that primi- 
 tive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, when the 
 more enlarged experience of thefe favages had led 
 thern to obferve, and their neceflary occafions 
 obliged them to make mention of, other caves, and 
 other trees, and other fountains, they would natu- 
 rally beftovv, upon each of thofe new objects, the 
 fame name, by which they had been accuftomed to 
 exprels the fimilar obje6t they were firft acquainted 
 with« The new objeds had none of them any namg 
 of its own, but each of them exadtly refembled ano- 
 ther objed:, which had fuch an appellation. It was 
 impoiTible that thofe favages could behold the new 
 objeds, without recolledling the old ones ; and the 
 name of the old ones, to which the new bore fo clofe 
 A resemblance. When they, had occafion, therefore, 
 to mention, or to point out to each other, any of the 
 new objeds, they would naturally utter the name of 
 thecorrefpondent old one, of which the idea could not 
 fail, at that inftant^ to prefent itfelf to their memory 
 in the ftrongefl and livelieft manner. And thus, 
 thofe words, which were originally the proper names 
 of individuals, would each of them infenfibly become 
 the common name of a multitude, A child that is 
 juft learning to fpeak, calls every perfon who comes 
 to the houfe its papa or its mama j and thus beftows 
 upon the whole fpecies thofe names which it had been 
 taught to apply to two individuals. I have known a 
 clown, who did not know the proper name of the ri- 
 ver which ran by his own door. It was //pe river ^ he 
 faid, and he never heard any other name for it. 
 His experience, it feems, had not Jed him to obferve 
 any other river. The general word river^ there- 
 fore, was, it is evident, in his acceptance of it, a 
 proper name, fignifying an individual objed. If this 
 
 perfon 
 
LANGUAGES. sgi 
 
 perfon had been carried to another river, would he 
 not readily have called it a river ? Could we fup- 
 pofe any perfon living on the banks of the Thames 
 fo ignorant, as not to know the general word rivet\ 
 but to be acquainted only with the particular word 
 Thames, if he was brought to any other river, would 
 he not readily call it a Thames? This, in reality, is 
 no more than what they, who are well acquainted 
 with the general word, are very apt to do. An 
 Englifhman, defcribingany great river which he may 
 have feen in fome foreign country, naturally fays, 
 that it is another Thames. The Spaniards, when 
 they firlt arrived upon the coafl: of Mexico, and ob- 
 served the wealth, populoufnefs, and habitations of 
 that fine country, fo much fuperior to the favage na- 
 tions which they had been vifiting for fome time be- 
 fore, cried out, that it was another Spain. Hence it 
 was called New Spain ; and this name has fluck to 
 that unfortunate country ever fince. We fay, in the 
 fame manner, of a hero, that he is an Alexander ; of 
 an orator, that he is a Cicero ; of a philofopher, that 
 he is a Newton. This way of fpeaking, which the 
 grammarians call an Antonomafia, and which is ftili 
 extremely common, though now not at all necefifary, 
 demonftrates how much mankind are naturally dif- 
 pofed to give to one objed the name of any other, 
 which nearly refembles it, and thus to denominate a 
 multitude, by what originally was intended to exprefs 
 an individual. 
 
 It is this application of the name of an individual 
 to a great? multitude of objeds, whofe refemblancc 
 naturally recalls the idea of that individual, and of 
 the name which exprefTes it, that feems originally to 
 have given occafion to the formation of thofc ciafles 
 
 C c 4 and 
 
392 F O R iM A T I O N OF 
 
 and afibrtnients, which, in the fchools, are called 
 genera and fpecies, and of which the ingenious and 
 eloquent M. RoufTeau of Geneva*, finds himfelf 
 fo much at a lofs to account for the origin. What 
 conftituies a fpecies is merely a number of objeds, 
 bearing a certain degree of reiemblance to one ano- 
 ther, and on that account denominated by a fingle 
 appellation, which may be applied to exprefs any 
 one of them. 
 
 When the greater part of objedls had thus been ar- 
 ranged under their proper claffes and aiTortments, 
 dlftingulfhed by fuch general names, it was impof- 
 lible that the greater part of that almoft infinite num- 
 ber of individuals, comprehended under each particu- 
 lar aflbrtment or fpecies, could have any peculiar or 
 proper names of their own, diftindl from the general 
 name of the fpecies. When there was occafion, 
 therefore, to mention any particular objed:, it often 
 became neceffary to dillinguifli it from the other ob- 
 jects comprehended under the fame general name, 
 either, firft, by its peculiar qualities j or, fecondly, 
 by the peculiar relation which it flood in to fome 
 other things. Hence the neceflary origin of two other 
 fets of words, pf which the one fhould exprefs qua- 
 lity ; the other relation. 
 
 Nouns adjedlive are the words which exprefs qua- 
 lity confidered as qualifying, or, as the fchoolmen 
 fay, in concrete with, fome particular fubjed. Thus 
 the word green exprefles a certain quality confidered 
 as qualifying, or a§ in concrete with, the particular 
 
 fubjed: 
 
 * Orlgine de I'Inegalite. Partie premiere, p. 376, 377, 
 ^didon d*Amfterdam, des Oeuvres diverfes de J. J. RouiTeau, 
 
LANGUAGES. 393 
 
 fubje(5i: to which it may be applied. Words of this 
 kind, it is evident, may ferve to diftinguifli particu- 
 lar objeds from others comprehended under the fame 
 general appellation. The words green tree, for 
 example, might ferve to diftinguifh a particular tree 
 from others that were withered or blafted. 
 
 Prepofitions are the words which exprefs relation 
 confidered, in the fame manner, in concrete with the 
 co-relative objed. Thus the prepofitions of, to, for^ 
 with, by, above, below, ^c. denote fome relation fub- 
 filling between the objeds expreffed by the words 
 between which the prepofitions are placed ; and they 
 denote that this relation is confidered in concrete with 
 the co-relative objed. Words of this kind ferve to 
 diftinguifli particular objeds from others of the fame 
 fpecies, when thofe particular objeds cannot be fo 
 properly marked out by any peculiar qualities of 
 their own. When we fay, the green tree of the meadow^ 
 for example, we diftinguifli a particular tree, not 
 only by the quality which belongs to it, but by the 
 relation which it ftands in to another objed. 
 
 As neither quality nor relation can exift in abftrad, 
 it is natural to fuppofe that the words which denote 
 them confidered in concrete, the way in which we 
 always fee them fubfift, would be of much earlier 
 invention, than thofe which exprefs them confidered 
 in abftrad, the way in which we never fee them fub- 
 fift. The words green and blue would, in all proba- 
 bility, be fooner invented than the words greennefs 
 and bluenefs ; the words above and below, than the 
 words fuperiority and inferiority. To invent words 
 of the latter kind requires a much greater effort of 
 
 abftradion 
 
394 FORMATION OF 
 
 abllradion than to invent thofe of the former. It is 
 probable, therefore, that fuch abftrad terms would 
 be of much later inftitution. Accordingly, their 
 etymologies generally (how that they are fo, they 
 being generally derived from others that are con- 
 crete. 
 
 But though the invention of nouns adjedive be 
 much more natural than that of the abftradt nouns 
 fabftantive derived from them, it would flill, howe- 
 ver, require a confiderable degree of abftradion and 
 generalization. Thofe, for example, who firft in- 
 vented the words, green^ blue^ red, and the other 
 names of colours, mufl: have obferved and compared 
 together a great number of objeds, mud have re- 
 marked their refemblances and diflimilitudes in re- 
 fpeft of the quality of colour, and muft have ar- 
 ranged them, in their own minds, into different 
 clafles and afibrtments, according to thofe refem- 
 blances and diflimilitudes. An adjeflive is by na- 
 ture a general, and in fome meafure, an abltracft word, 
 and neceflarily prefuppofes the idea of a certain fpe- 
 cies or aflbrtment of things, to all of which it is 
 equally applicable. The word green could not, as we 
 were fuppofing might be the cafe of the word cave^ 
 have been originally the name of an individual, and 
 afterwards have become, by what grammarians call 
 an Antonomafia the name of a fpecies. The word 
 green denoting, not the name of a fubftance, but the 
 peculiar quality of a fubllance, mufl from the very 
 iirfl: have been a general word, and confidered as 
 equally applicable to any other fubflance polTefTed 
 of the fame quality. The man who firfldiflinguifhed 
 a particular objedl by the epithet of green, mufl have 
 obferved other objeds that were not green, from 
 
 which 
 
LANGUAGES. ^g^ 
 
 which he meant to fcparate it by this appellation. 
 The inflitution of this name, therefore, fuppofes 
 comparifon. It likewiJe fuppofes feme degree of ab- 
 ltra<5{:ion. The peribn who firft invented this appel- 
 lation mull have diftinguifhed the quality from the 
 obje(!:t to which it belonged, and mud have conceived 
 the objecl as capable of fubfifting without the qua- 
 lity. The invention, therefore, even of the fimpleft 
 nouns adjedlive, mud have required more metaphy- 
 fics than we are apt to be aware of. The different 
 mental operations, of arrangement or claffing, of 
 comparilon, and of abftrafbion, mud all have 
 been employed, before even the names of the differ- 
 ent colours, the lead metaphyfical of all nouns ad- 
 jective, could be indituted. From all which I infer, 
 that when languages were beginning to be formed, 
 nouns adjective would by no means be the words of 
 the earlied invention. 
 
 There is another expedient for denoting the dif- 
 ferent qualities of different fubdances, which as it re- 
 quires no abdradion, nor any conceived feparation 
 of the quality from the fubjedl, feems more natural 
 than the invention of nouns adjedive, and which, 
 upon this account, could hardly fail, in the fird 
 formation of language, to be thought of before them. 
 This expedient is to make fome variation upon the 
 noun fubdantlve itfelf, according to the different qua- 
 lities which it is endowed with. Thus, in many lan- 
 guages, the qualities both of fex and of the want of 
 fex, are expreffed by different terminations in the 
 riouns fubdantlve, whicli denote objedls fo qualified. 
 In Latin, for example, lupus, hipa ; eqtius, equa\ ju- 
 vencus, juvenca ; Julius, Julia ; Lucretius, Lucretia, 
 he denote the qualities of male and female in the 
 
 animals 
 
7g6 FORMATION OF 
 
 animals and perfons to whom fuch appellations be- 
 long, without needing the addition of any adjedive 
 for this purpofe. On the other hand, the words fo- 
 rum, pratum, plaujlrum, denote by their peculiar ter- 
 mination the total abfence of fex in the different fub- 
 flances which they fland for. Both fex, and the want 
 of all fex, being naturally confidered as qualities 
 modifying and infeparable from the particular fub- 
 ftances to which they belong, it was natural to exprefs 
 them rather by a modification in the noun fubftan- 
 tive, than by any general and abftrad: word expreflive 
 of this particular fpecies of quality. The expreflion 
 bears, it is evident, in this way, a much more exaifl 
 analogy to the idea or objedl which it denotes, than 
 in the other. The quality appears, in nature, as a 
 modification of the fubftance, and as it is thus ex- 
 preffed, in language, by a modification of the noun 
 fubftantive, which denotes that fubftance, the qua- 
 lity and the fubjedt are, in this cafe, blended toge- 
 ther, if I may fay fo, in the expreflion, in the fame 
 manner, as they appear to be in the objed: and in the 
 idea. Hence the origin oF the mafculine, feminine, 
 and neutral genders, in all the ancient languages. By 
 means of thefe, the moft important of all diftindli- 
 ons, that of fubftances into animated and inanimated, 
 and that of animals into male and female, feem to 
 have been fufficiently marked without the affiftance 
 of adjedives, or of any general names denoting this 
 moft exten five fpecies of qualifications. 
 
 There are no more than thefe three genders in 
 any of the languages with which I am acquainted ; 
 that is to fay, the formation of nouns fubftantive, 
 can, by itfelf, and without the accompaniment of ad- 
 jedives, 
 
LANGUAGES. 397 
 
 jedlives, exprefs no other qualities but thofe three 
 above-mentioned, the quahties of male, of female, of 
 neither male nor female. I fhould not, however, 
 be furprifed, if, in other languages vs^ith v^hich 1 am 
 unacquainted, the different formations of nouns fub- 
 ftantive Ihould be capable of expreffing many other 
 different qualities. Ihe different diminutives of the 
 Italian, and of lome other languages, do, in reality, 
 fometimes, exprefs a great variety of different modi- 
 fications in the fubflances denoted by thofe nouns 
 which undergo fuch variations. 
 
 It was impofiible, however, that nouns fubftan- 
 tive could, without lofing altogether their original 
 form, undergo fo great a number of variations, as 
 would be fufficient to exprefs that almoft infinite va- 
 riety of qualities, by which it might, upon different 
 occafions, be neceffary to fpecify and diftinguifli 
 them. Though the different formation of nouns 
 fubflantive, therefore, might, for fome time, fore- 
 ftall the neceiTity of inventing nouns adjedive, it was 
 impolfible that this neceifity could be foreftalled alto- 
 gether. When nouns adjedlive came to be invented, 
 it was natural that they Ihould be formed with fome 
 fimilarity to the fubflantives, to which they were to 
 ferve as epithets or qualifications. Men would na- 
 turally give them the fame terminations with the fub-^ 
 flantives to which they were firft applied, and from 
 that love of fimilarity of found, from that delight in 
 the returns of the fame fyllables, which is in the 
 foundation of analogy in all languages, they would 
 be apt to vary the termination of the fame adjedtive, 
 according as they had occafion to apply it to a maf- 
 culine, to a feminine, or to a neutral fubflantive. 
 
 They 
 
298 FORMATION CF 
 
 They would fay, magniis liipus^ magna lupa, magnum 
 pratum, when they meant to exprefs a great be wolf^ 
 a great ^^ wolfy a great tneadow. 
 
 This variation, in the termination of the noun 
 adjedtive, according to the gender of the fubftantive, 
 which takes place in all the ancient languages, feems 
 to have been introduced chiefly for the fake of a cer- 
 tain fimilarity of found, of a certain fpecies of rhyme, 
 which is naturally fo very agreeable to the human 
 ear. Gender, it is to be obferved, cannot properly 
 belong to a noun adje£live, the fignification of which 
 is always precifely the fame, to whatever fpecies of 
 fubftantives it is applied. When we fay, a great 
 many a great woman, the word great has precifely the 
 fame meaning in both cafes, and the difference of the 
 fex in the fubjedts to which it may be applied, makes 
 no fort of difference in its fignification. Magnus^ 
 magna, magnum, in the fame manner, are words 
 which exprefs precifely the fame quality, and the 
 change of the termination is accompanied with no 
 fort of variation in the meaning. Sex and gender are 
 qualities which belong to fubftances, but cannot be- 
 long to the qualities of fubftances. In general, no 
 quality, when confidered in concrete, or as qualifying 
 fome particular fubjedl, can itfclf be conceived as the 
 fubjed of any other quality ; though when confi- 
 dered in abftradl it may. No adjedive therefore 
 can qualify any other adjedlive. A great good man^ 
 means a man who is both great and good. Both the 
 adjedlives qualify the fubftantive ; they do not qua- 
 lify one another. On the other hand, when we fay, 
 the great goodnefs of the man, the ^oxd goodnefs deno* 
 ting a quality confidered in abftrad, which may it- 
 felf be the fubjedt of other qualities, is upon that 
 
 account 
 
LANGUAGES. 399 
 
 account capable of being qualified by die word, 
 greaL 
 
 If the original invention of nouns adjedive would 
 be attended with fo much difficulty, that of prepofi- 
 lions would be accompanied with yet more. Every 
 prepofition, as I have already obferved, denotes fome 
 relation confidered in concrete with the co-relative 
 objedl. The prepofition above, for example, denotes 
 the relation of fuperiority, not in abftra(5l, as it is 
 cxpreffrd by the word fuperiority^ but in concrete 
 with fome co-relative objedl. In this phrafe, for ex- 
 ample, thi tree above the cave, the word above, ex- 
 prefles a certain relation between the tree and the 
 cave, and it exprefles this relation in concrete with 
 the co-relative objed, the cave, A prepofition al- 
 ways requires, in order to complete the fenfe, fome 
 other word to come after it *, as may be obferved in 
 this particular inftance. Now, I fay, the original 
 invention of fuch words would require a yet greater 
 effort of abftradlion and generalization, than that of 
 nouns adjedive. Firft of all, a relation is, in itfelf, 
 a more metaphyfical objed than a quality. Nobody 
 can be at a lofs to explain what is meant by a quali- 
 ty ; but few people will find themfelves able to ex- 
 prefs, very diftindtly, what is underftood by a rela- 
 tion. Qualities are almoft always the objedsofour 
 external fenfes -, relations never are. No wonder, 
 ti.erefore, that the one fet of objeds Ihould be fo 
 much more comprehenfible than the other. Second- 
 ly, though prepofitions always exprefs the relation 
 which they (land for, in concrete with the co-relative 
 objed, they could not have originally been formed 
 without a confiderable eflfort of abftradion. A pre- 
 pofition denotes a relation, and nothingbut a relation. 
 
 But 
 
400 FORMATIONOF 
 
 But before men could inftitute a word, which 
 fignified a relation, and nothing but a relation, 
 they mufl have been able, in fome meaiure, to con- 
 fider this relation abftradtedly from the related ob- 
 jed:s-, fince the idea of thofe objeds does not, in any 
 refpe6l, enter into the fignification of the prepofition. 
 The invention of fuch a word, therefore, mud have 
 required a confiderable degree of abftradlion. Third- 
 ly, a prepofidon is from its nature a general word, 
 which, from its very firft inftitution, muft have 
 been confidered as equally applicable to denote any 
 other fimilar relation. The man who firft invented 
 the word above, muft not only have diftinguiftied, in 
 fome meafure, the relation o^ fupmority from the ob- 
 jects which were fo related, but he muft alfo have 
 diftinguiftied this relation from other relations, fuch 
 as, from the relation of inferiority denoted by the 
 word below^ from the relation of juxtapofitioriy ex~ 
 prefled by the word befide^ and the like. He muft 
 have conceived this word, therefore, as expreftive of 
 a particular fort or fpecics of relation diftind: from 
 every other, which could not be done without a 
 confiderable effbrt of comparifon and generalization. 
 
 Whatever were the difficulties, therefore, which 
 embarrafied the firft invention of nouns adjedive, 
 the fame, and many more, muft have embarrafied 
 that of prepofitions. If mankind, therefore, in the 
 firft formation of languages, feem to have, for fome 
 time, evaded the neceflity of nouns adjedive, by 
 varying the termination of the names of fubftances, 
 according as thefe varied in fome of their moft impor- 
 tant qualities, they would much more find ihem- 
 felves under the neceflity of evading, by fome fimi- 
 lar contrivance, the vet more difficult invention of 
 
 prepofitions. 
 
LANGUAGES. 4Pi 
 
 prepositions. The different cafes in the ancient 
 janguages is a contrivance of precifely the fame kincj. 
 The genitive and dative cafes, in Greek and Latin, 
 evidently fupply the place of the prepofitions ; and 
 by a variation in the noun fubftantive, which ftands 
 for the CO- relative term, exprefs the relation which 
 fubfifts between what is denoted by that noun fub- 
 ftantive, and what is expreffed by fome other word 
 in the lentence. In thefe expreflions, for example, 
 fru^us arboris^ the fruit of the tree ; facer Herculiy 
 f acred to Horcules ; the variations made in the co- re- 
 lative words, arbor and Hercules^ exprefs the fame 
 relations which are expre/Ted in Englifli by the prepo- 
 fitions ^and to. 
 
 To exprefs a relation in this manner, did not re- 
 quire gny effort of abftradion. It was not here ex- 
 preffed by a peculiar word denoting relation and no-» 
 thing but relation, but by a variation upon the co- 
 relative term. It was expreffed here, as it appears in 
 nature, not as fomething feparated and detached, but 
 as thoroughly mixed and blended with the co- rela- 
 tive objed. 
 
 To exprefs relation in this manner, did not require 
 any effort of generalization. The words arboris and 
 Herculiy while they involve in their fignification the 
 fame relation expreffed by the Englifh prepofitions 
 c/and tOy are not, like thofe prepofitions, general 
 words, which can be applied to exprefs the fame re- 
 lation between whatever other objeds it mighit be 
 obferved to fubfifc. 
 
 To exprefs relation in this manner did not require 
 any effort of comparifon. The words arboris and 
 
 D d Her cult 
 
402 F O R M A T I O N O F 
 
 Her cult are not general words intended to denote a 
 particular fpecies of relations which the inventors of 
 rhofe exprefTions meant, in confequence of fome fort 
 cf comparifon, to feparate and diftinguifh from 
 every other fort of relation. The example, indeed, 
 of this contrivance would foon probably be fol- 
 lowed, and whoever had occafion to exprefs a fimi- 
 jar relation between any other objedls would be very 
 apt to do it by making a fimilar variation on the 
 name of the co-relative objed. This, 1 fay, would 
 probably, or rather certainly happen \ but it would 
 happen without any intention or forefight in thofe 
 who firft fee the example, and who never meant to 
 eftablifh any general rule. The general rule would 
 eftablifh itfelf infenfibly, and by flow degrees, in 
 confequence of that love of analogy and fimilarity 
 of found, which is the foundation of by far the 
 greater part of the rules of grammar. 
 
 To exprefs relation therefore, by a variation in 
 the name of the co-relative objeiSV, requiring neither 
 abfl:ra<ftion, nor generalization, nor comparifon of 
 any kind, would, at firft, be much more natural and 
 eafy, than to exprefs it by thofe general words called 
 prepofitions, of which the firft invention muft have 
 demanded fome degree of all thofe operations. 
 
 The number of cafes is different in different lan- 
 guages. There are five in the Greek, fix in the 
 Latin, and there are faid to be ten in the Armenian 
 language. It muft have naturally happened that 
 there Ihould be a greater or a fmaller number of 
 cafes, according as in the terminations of nouns fub- 
 ftantive the firft formers of any language happened 
 to have eftabliftied a greater or a fmaller number of 
 
 variations. 
 
LANGUAGES. 405 
 
 variations, in order to exprefs the different relations 
 they had occafion to take notice of, before the in- 
 vention of thofe more general and abftradl prepofi- 
 tions which could fupply their place. 
 
 It is, perhaps, worth while to obferve that thofe 
 prepofuions, which in modern languages hold the 
 place of the ancient cafes, are, of all others, the 
 mod general, and abftrad:, and metaphyfical ; and 
 of confcquence, would probably be the lad invented. 
 Afk any man of common acutenefs, What relation 
 is exprefled by the prepofition above ? He will readily 
 anfwer, that o^fuperiority. By the prepofition below ? 
 He will as quickly reply, that of inferiority. But afk 
 him, what relation is exprefled by the prepofition <?/, 
 and, if he has not beforehand employed his thoughts 
 a good deal upon thefe fubjedls, you may fafely 
 allow iiim a week to confider of his anfwer. The 
 prepofitions above and below do not denote any of 
 the relations expreflTed by the cafes in the ancient 
 languages. But the prepofition of denotes the fame 
 relation, which is in them exprefled by the genitive 
 cafe J and which, it is eafy to obferve, is of a very 
 metaphyflcal nature. The prepofltion of denotes 
 relation in general, confidered in concrete with the 
 co-/elative objedl. It marks that the noun fub- 
 Itantive which goes before ir, is fomehow or other 
 related to that which comes after it, but without in 
 any refpe6l afcertaining, as is done by the prepofltion 
 above, what is the peculiar nature of that relation. 
 We often apply ir, therefore, to exprefs the mod 
 oppoflte relations •, becaufe, the mod oppoflce rela- 
 tions agree fo far that each of them comprehends in 
 it the general idea or nature of a relation. We fay, 
 the father of the fon^ and the fon of the father ; the 
 
 D d 2 fir- 
 
404 FORMATION OF 
 
 fir-trees of the foreft^ and the foreft of the fir-trees. 
 The relation in which the father (lands to the fon, 
 is, it is evident, a quite oppofite relation to that in 
 which the fon (lands to the father \ that in which the 
 parts {land to the whole, is quite oppofite to that in 
 which the whole flands to the parts. The word ofy 
 however, ferves very well to denote all thofe rela- 
 lions, becaufe in itfelf it denotes no particular rela- 
 tion, but only relation in general », and fo far as any 
 particular relation is colleded from fuch expreiTions, 
 it is inferred by the mind, not from the prepofttion 
 itfelf, but from the nature and arrangement of the 
 fubllantives, between which the prepofition is placed. 
 
 What I have faid concerning the prepofition of^ 
 may in fome meafure be applied to the prepofitions, 
 tOy for^ withy hy, and to whatever other prepofitions 
 are made ufe of in modern languages, to fupply the 
 place of the ancient cafes. They all of them ex- 
 prefs very abftrad: and metaphyfical relations, which 
 any man, who takes the trouble to try it, will find 
 it extremely difficult to exprefs by nouns fubflantive, 
 in the fame manner as we may exprefs the relation 
 denoted by the prepofition ahove^ by the noun {ub- 
 iisLniivefuperiority, They all of them, however, tx- 
 prefs fome fpecific relation, and are, confequently, 
 none of them fo abftrad as the prepofition of, 
 which may be regarded as by far the moll meta- 
 phyfical of all prepofitions. The prepofitions there- 
 fore, which are capable of fupplying the place of 
 the ancient cafes, being more abftradl than the other 
 prepofitions, would naturally be of more difficulc 
 invention. The relations at the fame time which 
 thofe prepofitions exprefs, are, of all others, thofe 
 which we have moft frequent occafion to mention. 
 
 The 
 
LANGUAGES. 405 
 
 The prepofitions abovCy below, near, within, without^ 
 againfty &c. are much more rarely made ufe of, in 
 modern languages, than the prepofitions of, to, for, 
 with, from, by. A prepofition of the former knid 
 will not occur twice in a page ; we can fcarce com- 
 pofe a fingle fentence without the afTiftance of one 
 or two of the latter. If thefe latter prepofitions, 
 therefore, which fupply the place of the cafes, 
 would be of fuch difficult invention on account of 
 their abftradtednefs, fome expedient, to fupply their 
 place, mud have been of indifpcnfable neceffity, on 
 account of the frequent occafion which men have to 
 take notice of the relations which they denote. But 
 there is no expedient fo obvious, as that of varying 
 the termination of one of the principal words. 
 
 It is, perhaps, unneceflary to obferve, that there 
 are fome of the cafes in the ancient languages, which, 
 for particular reafons, cannot be reprefented by any 
 prepofitions. Thefe are the nominative, accufative, 
 and vocative cafes. In thofe modern languages, 
 which do not admit of any fuch variety in the ter- 
 minations of their nouns fubftantive, the corre- 
 fpondent relations are exprefled by the place of the 
 words, and by the order and conflrudion of the fen- 
 tence. 
 
 As men have frequently occafion to make men- 
 tion of multitudes as well as of fingle objedls, it 
 became necefTary that they (hould have fome method 
 of expreffing number. Number may be exprefTed 
 either by a particular word, exprefling number in 
 general, fuch as the words maTty, more, &c. or by 
 fome variation upon the words which exprefs the 
 things numbered. It is this lad expedient which 
 
 D d 3 mankind 
 
4o6 FORMATION OF 
 
 mankind would probably have recourfe to, in the 
 infancy of language. Number, confidered in gene- 
 ral, without relation to any particular fet of ol^edls 
 numbered, is one of the moft abflradt and me- 
 raphyfical ideas, which the mind of man is capable 
 of forming ; and, confequently, is not an idea, 
 which would readily occur to rude mortals, who 
 were juft beginning to form a language. They 
 would naturally, therefore, diftinguifh when they 
 talked of a fingle, and when they talked of a mul- 
 titude of objeds, not by any metaphyfical adjedlives, 
 fuch as the Englifh, ^, an^ many^ but by a variation 
 upon the termination of the word which fignified 
 the objedls numbered. Hence the origin of the 
 fingular and plural numbers, in all the ancient lan- 
 guages ; and the fame diflindtion has likewife been 
 retained in all the modern languages, at leaft, in the 
 greater part of words. 
 
 All primitive and uncompounded languages feem 
 to have a dual, as well as a plural number. This 
 is the cafe of the Greek, and I am told of the He- 
 brew, of the Gothic, and of many other languages. 
 In the rude beginnings of fociety, one^ two^ and more^ 
 might poflibly be all the numeral diftindions which 
 mankind would have any occafion to take notice of. 
 Thefe they would find it more natural to exprefs, 
 by a variacion upon every particular noun fubftan- 
 tive, than by fuch general and abftracft words as one^ 
 two^ three^ four^ &c. Thefe words, though cuftom 
 has rendered them familiar to us, exprefs, perhaps, 
 the moft fubtile and refined abftradlions, which the 
 mind of man is capable of forming. Let any one 
 confider within himfelfj for example, what he means 
 
 by 
 
LANGUAGES. 407 
 
 by the word three, which fignifies neither three fhil- 
 lings, nor three pence, nor three men, nor three 
 horfes, but three in general ; and he will eaflly fa- 
 tisfy himfelf that a word, which denotes fo very me- 
 taphyfical an abftradbion, could not be either a very 
 obvious or a very early invention. I have read of fome 
 favage nations, whofe language was capable of ex- 
 prefling no more than the three firll numeral diftinc- 
 tions. But whether it exprefTed thofe diflindions by 
 three general words, or by variations upon the nouns 
 fubllantive, denoting the things numbered, I do 
 not remember to have met with any thing which 
 could determine. 
 
 As all the fame relations which fubfift between 
 fingle, may likewife fubfift between numerous ob- 
 jcds, it is evident there would be occafion for the 
 fame number of cafes in the dual and in the plural^ 
 as in the fingular number. Hence the intricacy and 
 complexnefs of the declenfions in all the ancient 
 languages. In the Greek there are five cafes in 
 each of the three numbers, confequently fifteen 
 in all. 
 
 As nouns adjedlive, in the ancient languao-es, 
 varied their terminations according to the gender of 
 the fubftantive to which they were applied, fo did 
 they likewife, according to the cafe and the number. 
 Every noun adjedive in the Greek language, there- 
 fore, having three genders, and three numbers, and 
 five cafes in each number, may be confidered as 
 having five and forty different variations. The firft 
 formers of language feem to have varied the termi- 
 nation of the adjedlive, according to the cafe and 
 tliQ number of the fubllantive, for the fame reafon 
 
 D d 4 which 
 
4o8 F O R M A T I O N O F 
 
 which made them vary according to the gender ; the 
 love of analogy, and of a certain regularity of found. 
 In the fignification of adjedlives there is neither cafe 
 nor number, and the meaning of fuch words is 
 always precifely the fame, notwithftanding all the 
 variety of termination under which they appear. 
 Magnus vir, magni viri^ magnoriim virorum \ a great 
 many of a great man^ of great men \ in all thefe ex- 
 preffions the words magnuSy magni^ magnorum^ as well 
 as the word great^ have precifely one and the fame 
 fignification, though the fubftantives to which they 
 are applied have not. The difference of termina- 
 tion in the noun adjedive is accompanied with no 
 fort of difference in the meaning. An adjedlive 
 denotes the qualification of a noun fubflantive. But 
 the different relations in which that noun fubflantive 
 may occafionally tfand, can make no fort of diffe- 
 rence upon its qualification. 
 
 If the declenfions of the ancient languages are 
 fo very complex, their conjugations are infinitely 
 more fo. And the complexnefs of the one is founded 
 upon the fame principle with that of the other, the 
 difficulty of forming, in the beginnings of language, 
 abftrad and general terms. 
 
 Verbs mufl neceffarily have been coeval with the 
 very firfl attempts towards the formation of lan- 
 guage. No affirmation can be expreffed without the 
 affi (lance of fome verb. We never fpeak but in or- 
 der to exprefs our opinion that fomething either is or 
 is nor. But the word denoting this event, or this 
 matter of fad, which is the fubje6t of our affirma- 
 tion, mull always be a verb. 
 
 Imperfonal 
 
LANGUAGES. 409 
 
 Imperfonal verbs, which exprefs in one word a 
 complete event, which preferve in the exprelTion that 
 perfect fimplicity and unity, which there always is in 
 theobjedt and in the idea, and which fuppofe no ab- 
 flracflion, or metaphyfical divifion of the event into 
 its feveral conftituent members of fubjed and attri- 
 bute, would, in all probability, be the fpecies of 
 verbs firft invented. The verbs pluit^ it rains j nin- 
 gity it fnows \ tonaty it thunders ; lucety it is day 5 
 turhatur^ there is a confufiony &c. each of them ex- 
 prefs a complete affirmation, the whole of an event, 
 with that perfe(ft fimplicity and unity with which 
 the mind conceives it in nature. On the contrary, the 
 phrafes, Alexander amhulaty Alexander walks j Petrus 
 fedety Peter JitSy divide the event, as it were, into two 
 parts, the perfon or fubjedl, and the attribute, or 
 matter of fad, affirmed of that fubjedl. But in na- 
 ture, the idea or conception of Alexander walking, is 
 as perfedly and completely one fingle conception, as 
 that of Alexander not walking. The divifion of 
 this event, therefore, into two parts, is altogether ar- 
 tificial, and is the efFed: of the imperfedlion of lan- 
 guage, which, upon this, as upon many other occa- 
 fions, fupplies, by a number of words, the want of 
 one, which could exprefs at once the whole matter of 
 fadl that was meant to be affirmed. Every body 
 mull obferve how much more fimplicity there is in 
 the natural expreffion, pluit^ than in the more artifi- 
 cial cxpreffions, imker decidit^ the rain falls \ or, 
 tempeftas eft pluvia, the weather is rainy. In thefe 
 two laft expreffions, the fimple event, or matter of 
 fad, is artificially fplit and divided, in the one, into 
 two •, in the other, into three parts. In each of them 
 it is exprefifed by a fort of grammatical circumlocu- 
 tion, 
 
4SO FORMATION OF 
 
 tion, of which the fignificancy is founded upon a 
 certain metaphyfical analyfis of the component parts 
 of the idea exprefled by the word pJuit. The firft 
 verbs, therefore, perhaps even the firft words, made 
 ufe of in the beginnings of language, would in all 
 probability be fuch imperfonal verbs. It is obferved 
 accordingly, I am told, by the Hebrew Gramma- 
 rians, that the radical words of their language, from 
 which all the others are derived, are ail of them 
 verbs, and imperfonal verbs. 
 
 It is eafy to conceive how, in the progrefs of lan- 
 guage, thofe imperfonal verbs fhould become perfo- 
 nal. Let us fuppofe, for example, that the word 
 venity it comeSy was originally an imperfonal verb, 
 and that it denoted, not the coming of fomething in 
 general, as at prefent, but the coming of a particular 
 objedt, fuch as the Lion. The firft favage inventors 
 of language, we fhall fuppofe, when they obferved 
 the approach of this terrible animal, were accuftom- 
 ed to cry out to one another, venit^ that is, the lion 
 comes ; and that this word thus exprefled a complete 
 event, without the afliftance of any other. After- 
 wards, when, on the further progrefs of language, 
 they had begun to give names to particular fub- 
 ftances, whenever they obferved the approach of 
 any other terrible objedl, they would naturally join 
 the name of that objedt to the word venit^ and cry 
 out, venit urftis^ venit lupus. By degrees the word 
 venit would thus come to fignify the coming of any 
 terrible objed, and not merely the coming of the 
 iion. It would nov/ therefore, exprefs, not the com- 
 ing of a particular objedt, but the coming of an ob- 
 jed: of a particular kind. Having become more ge- 
 neral in its fignification, it could no longer reprefent 
 
 any 
 
LANGUAGES. 411 
 
 any particular di(lin(5t event by itfelf, and without 
 the afliftance of a noun fubftantive, which might 
 ferve to afcertain and determine its fignilication. It 
 would now, therefore, have become a perfonal, in- 
 ftead of an imperfonal verb. We may eafily con- 
 ceive how, in the further progrefs of fociety, it might 
 ftill grow more general in its fignification, and come 
 to fignify, as at prefent, the approach of any thing 
 whatever, whether good, bad, or indifferent. 
 
 It is probably in fome fuch manner as this, that 
 almoll all verbs have become perfonal, and that 
 mankind have learned by degrees to fplit and divide 
 almoft every event into a great number of metaphy- 
 fical parts, exprefled by the different parts of fpeech, 
 varioufly combined in the different members of every 
 phrafe and fentence. * The fame fort of progrefs 
 feems to have been made in the art of fpeaking as 
 in the art of writing. When mankind firft began to 
 attempt to exprcfs their ideas by writing, every cha- 
 racter reprefented a whole word. But the number 
 of words being almoft infinite, the memory found 
 itfelf quite loaded and opprefled by the multitude of 
 
 characters 
 
 * As the far greater part of Verbs exprefs, at prefent, not an 
 event, but the attribute of an event, and, confequently, require 
 a fubjeft, or nominative cafe, to complete their fignification, 
 fome grammarians, not having attended to this progrefs of nature, 
 and being defirous to make their common rules quite univerfal, 
 and without any exception, have infifted that all verbs required a 
 nominative, either exprefled or underftood ; and have, accord- 
 ingly put themfelves to the torture to find fome awkward nonii- 
 natives to thofe few verbs, wliich ftill exprefling a complete event, 
 plainly admit of none. P/«//, for example, according to (S^^^/V//, 
 ^ mz2in% flwvia pluit, in Englifli, the rain rains, See Sandlii Mi- 
 nerva, 1. 3. c. I, 
 
412 FORMATION OF 
 
 charadlers which it was obliged to retain. Neceflity 
 taught them, therefore, to divide words into their 
 elements, and to invent charaders which fhould re- 
 prelent, not the words themfelves, but the elements 
 of which they were compofed. In confequen^.e of 
 this invention, every particular word came to be re- 
 prefented, not by one charadter, but by a multitude 
 of characters •, and the exprefilon of it in writing be- 
 came much more intricate and complex than before. 
 But though particular words were thus reprefented 
 by a greater number of charaders, the whole lan- 
 guage was exprefied by a much fmaller, and about 
 four and twenty letters were found capable of fup- 
 plying the place of that immenfe multitude of cha- 
 radlers, which were requifite before. In the fame 
 manner, in the beginnings of language, men feem to 
 have attempted to cxprefs every particular event, 
 which they had occafion to take notice of, by a par- 
 ticular word, which exprefled at once the whole of 
 that event. But as the number of words muft, in 
 this cafe, have become really infinite, in confequence 
 of the really infinite variety of events, men found 
 themfelves partly compelled by neceffity, and partly 
 conduded by nature, to divide every event into 
 what may be called its metaphyfical elements, and to 
 inftitute words, which fhould denote not fo much 
 the events, as the elements of which they were com- 
 pofed. The expreflion of every particular event, 
 became in this manner more intricate and complex, 
 but the whole fyftem of the language became more 
 coherent, more conneded, more eafily retained and 
 comprehended. 
 
 "When verbs, from being originally imperfonal had 
 thus, by the divifion of the event into its metaphy- 
 fical 
 
LANGUAGES. 413 
 
 fical elements, become perfonal, it is natural to fup- 
 pofe that they would firft be made ufe of in the third 
 perfon lingular. No verb is ever uled Imperfonally 
 in our language, nor, fo far as I know, in any other 
 modern tongue. But in the ancient languages, 
 whenever any verb is ufed imperfonally, it is always 
 in the third perfon fingular. The termination of 
 thofe verbs, which are ftiii always imperlbnal, is 
 conftantly the fame with that of the third perfon fm- 
 gular of perfonal verbs. The confideration of thefe 
 circumftances, joined to the naturalnefs of the thing 
 itfelf, may ferve to convince us that verbs firfc be- 
 came perfonal in what is now called the third perfon 
 fingular. 
 
 But as the event, or matter of fadt, which is ex- 
 preffed by a verb, may be affirmed either of the per- 
 fon who fpeaks, or of the perfon who is fpoken to, 
 as well as of fome third perfon or objed, it became 
 neceflary to fall upon fome method of exprefilng 
 thefe two peculiar relations of the event. In the 
 Englifh language this is commonly done, by pre- 
 fixing, what are called the perfonal pronouns, to the 
 general word which expreffes the event affirmed. 
 I came^ you came^ he or it came\ in thefe phraies the 
 event of having come is, in the firft, affirmed of the 
 fpeakerj in the fecond, of the perfon fpoken to •, in 
 the third, of fome other perfon, or objed. The firft 
 formers of language, it may be imagined, might have 
 done the fame thing, and prefixing in the fame man- 
 ner the two firft perfonal pronouns, to the fame ter- 
 mination of the verb, which exprefi^ed the third per- 
 fon fingular, might have fuid, ego venit^ tu venit^ 
 as well as ilk or illud venit. And I make no doubt 
 
 but 
 
414 F O R M A T I O N F 
 
 but they would have done (o, if at the time when 
 they had firft occafion to cxprels thefe relations of the 
 verb, there had been any fuch words as either ego or 
 iu in their language. But in this early period of the 
 language, which we are now endeavouring to de- 
 fcribe, it is extremely improbable that any fuch 
 words would be known. Though cuftom has now 
 rendered them familiar to us, they, both of them, 
 exprefs ideas extremely metaphyfical and abftradt. 
 The word /, for exam.ple, is a word of a very parti- 
 cular fpecies. Whatever fpeaks may denote itielf by 
 this perlbnal pronoun. The word /, therefore, is a 
 general word, capable of being predicated, as the lo- 
 gicians fay, of an infinite variety of objeds. It dif- 
 fers, however, from all other general words in this 
 refpedt ; that the objeds of which it may be predi- 
 cated, do not form any particular fpecies of objeds 
 diftinguifhed from all others. The word /, does 
 nor, like the word man, denote a particular clafs of 
 objeds, feparated from all others by peculiar qua- 
 lities of their own. It is far from being the name of 
 a fpecies, but, on the contrary, whenever it is made 
 ufe of, it always denotes a precife individual, the par- 
 ticular perfon who then fpeaks. It may be faid to 
 be, at once, both what the logicians call, a fingular, 
 and what they call, a common term ; and to join in 
 its fignification the feemingly oppofite qualities of the 
 moft precife individuality, and the moft extenfive 
 generalization. This word, therefore, exprefling fo 
 very abftrad and metaphyfical an idea, would not 
 eafily or readily occur to the firfl formers of language. 
 "What are called the perfonal pronouns, it may be 
 obferved, are among the laft words of which chil- 
 dren learn to make ufe. A child, fpeaking of itfelf, 
 
 fays, 
 
LANGUAGES. 415 
 
 fays, Billy walks ^ Billy fits, inftead of / walk^ I fit. 
 As in the beginnings of language, therefore, man- 
 kind feem to have evaded the invention of at leaft the 
 more abftrad propofitions, and to have exprefled the 
 fame relations which thefe now ftand for, by vary- 
 ing the termination of the co-relative term, fo they 
 likewife would naturally attempt to evade the necef- 
 fity of inventing tliofe more abitradl pronouns by va- 
 rying the termination of the verb, according as the 
 event which it cxprciTed was intended to be affirmed 
 of the firft, fecond, or third perfon. This feems, 
 accordingly, to be the univerfal pradice of all the 
 ancient languages. In Latin, veni, venifti^ venit, fuf- 
 ficiently denote, without any other addition, the dif- 
 ferent events exprcffed by the Englifh phrafes, / 
 came^ you came^ he\ 01 4t came. The verb would, 
 for the fame reafon, vary its termination, according 
 as the event was intended to be affirmed of the firft, 
 iecond, or third perfons plural ♦, and what is exprefled 
 by the Englifh phrafes, we came^ ye came, they came^ 
 would be denoted by the Latin words, venimiis, ve- 
 niftis, venerunt. Thole primitive languages, too, 
 which, upon account of the difficulty of inventing 
 numeral names, had introduced a dual, as well as a 
 plural number, into the declenfion of their nouns 
 lubllantive, would probably, from analogy, do the 
 lame thing in the conjugations of their verbs. And 
 thus in all thofc original languages, we might ex~ 
 p«6l to find, at leaft fix, if not eight or nine varia- 
 tions, in the termination of every verb, according 
 as the event which it denoted was meant to be affirm- 
 ed ot the firft, fecond, or third perlbns fingular, 
 dual, or plural. Thefe variations again being re- 
 peated, along with others, through all its dif- 
 ferent tcnfes, niodei and voices, muft neccfTarilv 
 
 • 
 
 have 
 
4i6 FORMATION OF 
 
 have rendered their conjugations ftilj more intricate 
 and complex than their declenfions, 
 
 Language would probably have continued upon 
 this footing in all countries, nor would ever have 
 grown more fimple in its declenfions and conjugati- 
 ons, had it not become more complex in its compo- 
 fition, in confequence of the mixture of feveral lan- 
 guages with one another, occafioned by the mixture 
 of different nations. As long as any language was 
 fpoke by thofe only who learned it in their infancy, 
 tiie intricacy of its declenfions and conjugations 
 could occafion no great embarrafTment. Tte fe 
 greater part of thofe who had occafion to fpeak it, 
 had acquired it at (^o v^ry early a period of their 
 lives, fo infenfibly and by fuch flow degrees, that 
 they were fcarce ever fenfible of the difficulty. But 
 when two nations came to be mixed with one ano- 
 ther, either by conqueft or migration, the cafe 
 would be very different. Each nation, in order to 
 make itfelf intelligible to thofe with whom it was 
 under the neceffity of converfing, would be obligee 
 to learn the language of the other. The greater pare 
 of individuals too, learning the nev/ language, not 
 by art, or by remounting to its rudiments and firfc 
 principles, but by rote, and by what they commonly 
 heard in converfation, would be extremely perplexed 
 by the intricacy of its declenfions and conjugation!). 
 They would endeavour, therefore, to iupply their 
 ignorance of thefe, by whatever (hift the language 
 could aiford them. Their ignorance of the declenfi- 
 ons they would naturally fupply by the ufe of pre- 
 pofitions ; and a Lombard, who was attempting to 
 fpeak Latin, and wanted to exprefs that fuch a per- 
 fon was a citizen of Romej or a benefadlor to Rome, 
 
 li 
 
LANGUAGES. 41^ 
 
 IF he happened not to be acquainted with the geni- 
 live and dative cafes of the word Roma, would natu- 
 rally exprefs himfelf by prefixing the prepofitions ad 
 and de to the nominative ; and, inftead of Romce, 
 would fay, ad Roma, and de Roma, Al Roma and 
 di Roma, accordingly, is the manner in which the 
 prefent Italians, the defcendants of the ancient Lom- 
 bards and Romans, exprefs this and all other fimilar 
 relations. And in this manner prepofitions feem to 
 have been introduced, in the room of the ancient 
 declenfions. The fame alteration has, 1 am informed, 
 been produced upon the Greek language, fince the 
 taking of Conftantinople by the Turks. The words 
 are, Tn a great meafure, the fame as before-, but 
 the' grammar is entirely loft, prepofitions having 
 come in the place of the old declenfions. This 
 change is undoubtedly a fimplification of the langu- 
 age, in point of rudiments and principle. Tt intro- 
 duces, inftead of a great variety of declenfions, one 
 univerfal declenfion, which is the fame in every 
 word, of whatever gender, number, or termination. 
 
 A fimilar expedient enables men, in the fituation 
 above mentioned, to get rid of almoft the whole in- 
 tricacy of their conjugations. There is in every 
 lancruage a verb, known by the name of the fubftan- 
 tiveverbj in Latin, >»2; in Englifti, / ^^. This 
 verb denotes not the exiftence of any particular 
 event, but exiftence in general. It is, upon this 
 account, the moft abftracl: and metaphyfical of all 
 verbs •, and, confequently, could by no means be a 
 a word of early invention. When it came to be in- 
 vented, however, as it had all the tenfes and modes 
 of any other verb, by being joined with the pafFive 
 participle, it was capable of fupplying the place of 
 
 E e the 
 
4i8 FORM AT ION OF 
 
 the whole paflive voice, and of rendering this part of 
 their conjugations as fi mple and uniform^ as the ufe 
 of prepofitions had rendered their declenfions. A 
 Lombard, who wanted to fay, I am loved^ but could 
 not recolle(5t the word amor^ naturally endeavoured 
 to fupply his ignorance, by faying, ego fum amaHis, 
 lo fono amatOy is at this day the Italian expreflion, 
 which correfponds to the Englifh phrafe above men- 
 tioned. 
 
 There is another verb, which, in the fame man- 
 ner, runs through all languages, and which is diftin- 
 guifhed by the name of the poffeflive verb ; in Latin, 
 habeo •, in Englifh, / have. This verb, likewife, de- 
 notes an event of an extremely abftradt and metaphy- 
 fical nature, and, confequently, cannot be fuppofed 
 to have been a word of the earlieft invention. When 
 it came to be invented, however, by being applied 
 to the paflive participle, it was capable of fupplying 
 a great part of the adlive voice, as the fubftantive 
 verb had fupplied the whole of the paflive. A Lom- 
 bard, who wanted to fay, I bad loved^ but could not 
 recoiled!: the word amaveramy would endeavour to 
 fupply the place of it, by faying either ego hahebam 
 amafum, or ego habui amatum, lo avevd amato^ or 
 lo ebhi amato, are the correfpondent Italian exprefll- 
 ons at this day. And thus upon the intermixture of 
 different nations with one another, the conjugations, 
 by means of different auxiliary verbs, were made 
 to approach towards the fimplicity and uniformity of 
 the declenfions. 
 
 In general it may be laid down for a maxim, that 
 the more fimple any language is in its compofition, 
 
 the 
 
LANGUAGES. 41^ 
 
 the mor^ complex it muft be in its declenfions and 
 conjugations ; and, on the contrary, ^he more fimr 
 pk it is in its declenfions and conjugations, the more 
 complex it muft be if\ its compofition^ . ■ 
 
 ^ The Greek feems to be, in a gre^t meafure, a 
 ilmpJe, uncompounded language, formed from the 
 primitivejargon of thofe wandering fav^ges, the an- 
 cient Helienians and Pelafgians, from whom the 
 Greek nation. ^is.faid. to have been defended. All 
 the words in the Greek language are derived from 
 about. three hundred primitives, a pjain evidence 
 chat the Greeks formed their language ajmoft entirely 
 among themfelves, apd that when they, had occafion 
 .^or; a new word, they were npt accuftpmed, as we 
 are, to borrow it from fome foreign- langpage, but to 
 i-orm It, either by compofition or derivation from 
 fome other word or words, in their owfl. The de- 
 clenfions and conjugations, therefore, t)f the Greek 
 are much more complex than thofe of any other Eu^ 
 ropean language with which I am acquainted. 
 
 The Latin is a compofition of the Greek and of 
 the ancient Tufcan languages. Its deelenfions and 
 coniugations accordingly are much lefs Complex tha- 
 thole of the Greek : it lias dropt the dual number in 
 both. Its verbs have no optative mood diftinguiihed 
 by any peculiar termination. They have but one 
 future. They have no aoriftdiftindt from the pre 
 terit-perfed i they have no middle voice ^ and even 
 many of .heir tenfes in the pafFive voice are eked our 
 in the fame manner as in the modern languages, hv 
 tnt help of the fubftantive verb joined to the paffive 
 participle. In both the voices, the number of in- 
 
 ■^ ^ 2 finitives. 
 
420 FORMATION OF 
 
 linitives and participles is much fmaller in the Latin 
 than in the Greek. 
 
 The French and Italian languages are each of 
 them compounded, the one of the Latin, and the 
 langu-age of the ancient Franks, the other of the fame 
 Latin and thfe language of the ancient Lombards. 
 As they are both of them, therefore, more complex 
 in their compofition than the Latin, fo are they like- 
 wife more fimple in their dcclenfions and conjugati- 
 ons. With regard to their declenfions, they have 
 both of them loft their cafes altogether ; and with 
 regard, to their conjugations, they have both of them 
 loft the whole of the pafTive, and fome part of the 
 a6llve voices of their verbs. The want of the paflive 
 voice they fupply entirely by the fubftantive verb 
 joined to the' paflive participle y and they make out 
 part of the adlive, in the fame manner, by the help 
 of the poffefTive verb and the fame paflive partici- 
 ple. 
 
 The Englifh is compounded of the French and 
 the ancient Saxon languages. The French was in- 
 troduced into Britain by the Norman conqueft, and 
 continued, till the time of Edward III. to be the 
 fole language of the law as well as the principal 
 language of nhe court. The Englifh, which came 
 io be fpoken afterwards, and which continues to be 
 ipoken now, is a mixture of the ancient Saxon and 
 this Norman French. As the Englilh language, 
 therefore, is more complex in its compofition than 
 either the French or the Italian, fo is it likewife more 
 limple in its declenfions and conjugations. Thofe 
 two languages retain, at leaft, a part of the diftinc- 
 tion of genders, and their adjedives vary their ter- 
 
 - fnination 
 
LANGUAGES. 42i 
 
 mination according as they are applied to a mafcu- 
 Ce or "o a femirune fubftaative. Bat there .s no 
 S diftinaion in the Englifh language whofead- 
 jedives admit of no var.ecy of termmat.on. The 
 French and Italian languages l^^' '^^^^^^ ^^^^ 
 the remains of a conjugation, and all ^^ofe tenfes ot 
 the aaive voice, which cannot be expreffed by the 
 poVrffirverb /oined to the paffive P-i-ple, - we U 
 L many of thofe which can, are, m t^ofc lan^uag , 
 marked by varying the termination of the principal 
 Tb But alll all thofe other tenfe^ are m the 
 Englith eked out by other auxiliary verbs, fo that 
 fhe^ IS in this language fcarce even the rema.ns of a 
 conjugation. I hve, I loved, loving, are all the va- 
 rieties of termination which the greater part of Eng- 
 lilh verbs admit of. All the different modifications 
 of meaning, which cannot be expreffed by any of 
 irthree°;erminations. muft be made out by differ- 
 ent auxiliary verbs joined to fome one or other of 
 them Two auxiliary verbs fupply all the deficien- 
 cies of the French and Italian conjugations; it re- 
 quires more than half a dozen to fupply thofe of the 
 Englirti, which befides the fubftant.ye ^nd poffef- 
 five verbs, makesufeof A did; will, would ; Jhall, 
 fljould; can, could; ma^, might. 
 
 It is in this manner that language becomes more 
 fimplein its rudiments and principles, juil in pro- 
 portion as it grows more complex in its compofition. 
 and tiie fame thing has happened in it, which com. 
 monly happens with regard to mechanical engines. 
 All (Machines are generally, when firft invented, ex- 
 tremely complex in their principles, and there is oi- 
 tf p a particular principle of motion for every parti- 
 
4^2. FORMATION OF 
 
 cular movement which, it is intended, they (houid 
 perform. Succeeding improvers obferve, that one 
 principle may be fo applied as to produce feveral of 
 thofe movements, and thus the machine becomes 
 gradually more and m.ore fimple, and produces its 
 effeds with fewer wheels, and fewer principles of 
 motion. In language, in the fame manner, every 
 cafe of every noun, and every tenfe of every verb, 
 was originally expreffed by a particular diftinc^ word, 
 which fervcd for this purpofe and for no other. But 
 fucceeding obfervation difcovered that one fet of 
 words was capable of fupplying the place of ail that 
 infinite number, and that four or five prepofitions, 
 and half a dozen auxiliary verbs, were capable of 
 anfwering the end of all the declenfions, and of all 
 the conjugations in the ancient languages. 
 
 But this fimplification of languages, though it 
 arifes, perhaps, from fimilar caufes, has by no means 
 fimilar efi^eds with the correfpondent fimplification of 
 machines. The fimplification of machines renders 
 them more and more perfed, but this fimplification 
 of the rudiments of languages renders them more and 
 more imperfedl and lefs proper for many of the pur- 
 pofes of language : and this for the following reafons. 
 
 Firfl: of all, languages are by this fimplification 
 rendered more prolix, feveral words having become 
 neceflary to exprefs what could have been exprefifed 
 by a fingle word before. Thus the words, Dei and, 
 Deo^ in the Latin, fufficiently fhow, without any ad- 
 dition, what relation, the obje6l fignified is under- 
 flood to fi:and in to the objedls cxpreffed by the 
 other words in the fentence. But to exprefs the fame 
 
 relatioji^ 
 
LANGUAGES. 423 
 
 relation inEnglifh.and in all other modern languao-es, 
 we mult make ufe of, at leaft, two words, ^id fay' 
 of God, to God. So far as the declenfions are con- 
 cerned, therefore, the modern languages are much 
 more prolix than the ancient. The difference is ttill 
 greater with regard to the conjugations. What a 
 Roman exprefled by the fingle word, amavifem, an 
 , Englilhman is obliged to exprefs by four different 
 words, I Jhou/d have lovsd. It is unnecefliry to 
 take any pains to fliow how much this orolixnefs 
 muft enervate the eloquence of all modern lanr>uacres. 
 How much the beauty of any exprefllon d^epends 
 upon Its concfenefs, is well known to thofc who 
 have any experience in compofition. 
 
 Secondly, this fimplification of the principles of 
 languages renders them lefs agreeable to the ear 
 The variety of termination in the Greek and Latin, 
 occafioned by their declenfions and conjugations 
 give a fweetnefs to their language altogether un- 
 known to ours, and a variety unknown to any other 
 modern language. In point of fweetnefs, the Ita- 
 lian, perhaps may furpafs the Latin, and almoft 
 equal the Greek ; but in point of variety, it is greatly 
 inferior to both. & " / 
 
 (.If.^^l' '^'' fimplification, not only renders the 
 iounds of our language lefs agreeable to the ear, 
 
 as Le h. T" "' ^''°'" '''^P°^'"g f^^h found; 
 
 as we have, in the manner that m,ght be moft agree. 
 
 tion r. t r" "''"^ ^°'"'^^ ^° « P«"'<^"l«r firua- 
 with much more beauty. In the Greek and Latin 
 though the ad,ea,ve and fubftantive were feparated 
 
 from 
 
424 I^ORMATIONOF' 
 
 from one another, the correfpondence of their terrrir- 
 nations ftill Ihowed their mutual reference, and the 
 feparation did not neceffarily occafion any fort of 
 confufion. Thus in the firft line of Virgil : 
 
 ^ityre tu patulce recubans fub tegjnine fagi. 
 
 We eafily fee that tu refers to recubans^ and patul<e 
 to fagi ; though the related words are feparated 
 from one another by the intervention of feveral 
 others : becaufe the terminations, (bowing the cor- 
 refpondence of their cafes, determine their mutual 
 reference. But if we were ro tranflate this line liter- 
 ally into Engliib, and fay, Tityrus^ thou of fpreading 
 reclining under the Jhade beech^ CEdipus himfelf could 
 not make lenfe of it ; becaufe there is here no dif- 
 ference of termination, to determine which fub- 
 ftantive each adjective belongs to. It is the fame 
 cafe with regard to verbs. In Latin the verb may 
 often be placed, without an inconveniency or ambi- 
 guity, in any part of the fentence. But in Englifli 
 its place is almoil always precifely determined. It 
 muft follow the fubjedive and precede the objedbive 
 member of the phrafe in almoft all cafes. Thus in 
 Latin whether you fay, Joannem verberavit RobertuSy 
 or Robertus verberavit Joannem^ the meaning is pre- 
 cifely the fame, and the termination fixes John to be 
 the fufFerer in both cafes. But in Englifh John beat 
 Robert^ and Robert beat John^ have by no means the 
 fame fignification. The place therefore of the three 
 principal members of the phrafe is in the Englifh, 
 and for the fame reafon in the French and Italian 
 languages almoft always precifely determined ; 
 whereas in the ancient lano;ua;2;es a orreater latitude is 
 
 allowed. 
 
LANGUAGES.. 42^^ 
 
 allowed, and the place of thofe members is often, in 
 a great meafure, indifferent. We mufl: have recourfe 
 to Horace, in order to interpret fome parts of Mil- 
 ton's literal tranflation ; 
 
 Who n0W enjoys thee credulous' all gddy 
 JVho always vacant^ always amiable 
 Hopes thee'y of flatter ing gales 
 UnmindfuL 
 
 are verfes which it is impofTible to interpret by any 
 rules of our language. There are no rules in our 
 language, by which any man could difcover, that, 
 in the firft line, credulous referred to who^ and not ta 
 thee^y or, that ^//^c /J referred to any thing; or, that 
 in the fourth line, unmindful^ referred to who^ in the 
 fecond, and not to thee in the third ; or, on the con- 
 trary, that, in the fecond line always vacant^ always 
 amiable, referred to thee in the third, and not to who 
 in the fame line with it. In the Latin, indeed, all 
 this is abundantly plain. 
 
 §ui nunc te fruitur credulus awed, 
 ^i femper vacuam, femfer amabilem 
 Sperat te ; nefcius aurcefallacis» 
 
 Becaufe the terminations in the Latin determine ihc: 
 reference of each adjedive to its proper fubftantive, 
 which it is impofTible for any thing in the Englifh to 
 do. How much this power of tranfpofing the order 
 of their words mufl have facilitated the compofitior^ 
 of the ancients, both in verfe and profe, can hardly 
 be im.agined. That it mufl greatly have facilitated 
 their verfification it is needleis to obfervc ; and m 
 
 F f profe,^ 
 
426 FORMATION, ^e. 
 
 profe, whatever beauty depends upon the arrange- 
 ment and conftruction of the ieveral members of the 
 period, muft to them have been acquirable with 
 much more eafe, and to much greater perfedion^ 
 than it can be to thofe whofe expreffion is conftant° 
 ly confined by the prolixnefs, conftraint and mono» 
 tony of modern languages. 
 
 FINIS 
 
 
iO 
 
 BJ1005.S64 
 
 The theory of moral sentiments, or, An 
 
 Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library 
 
 1 1012 00161 6251