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1005
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN LIBRARIES
2
LECTURES
ON
47311
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
BY THE REV. JOHN WITHERSPOON, D. D. L. L. D.
Late President of the College at Princeton, N. J.
CAREFULLY REVISED,
AND
CAROTA
****
FREED FROM THE ERRORS OF FORMER EDITIONS.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
AND
BY THE SAME AUTHOR,
AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
OF THE SENIOR CLASS,
LETTERS ON EDUCATION AND MARRIAGE.
PHILADELPHIA :
PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM W. WOODWARD,
No. 52, SOUTH SECOND STREET.
1822.
·BJ
1005
w४०%
1822
EASTERN DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA, TO WIT:
**************
BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the eighteenth
Seal. day of December, in the forty-sixth year of the In-
dependence of the United States of America, A. D.
1821, William W. Woodward, of the said District, hath depo-.
sited in this office the title of a Book, the right whereof he
claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit:
"Lectures on Moral Philosophy. By the Rev. John Wither-
spoon, D. D. L. L. D. Late President of the College at Prince-
ton, N. J. Carefully revised, and freed from the errors of
former Editions. To which is added, by the same Author,
An Address to the Students of the Senior Class, and Letters
on Education and Marriage."
In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States,
entitled, "An act for the encouragement of Learning, by se-
curing the Copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and
proprietors of such Copies during the times therein mentioned."
And also to the Act, entitled "An act supplementary to an act,
entitled "An act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing
the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and pro-
prietors of such Copies during the times therein mentioned,"
and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, en-
graving, and etching historical and other prints.
D. CALDWELL.
Clerk of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
こ
​IN JUSTICE to the memory of Dr. Wither-
spoon, it ought to be stated that he did not intend
these lectures for the press; and that he once com-
pelled a printer, who without his knowledge, had un-
dertaken to publish them, to desist from the design,
by threatening a prosecution as the consequence of
persisting in it. The Doctor's lectures on morals,
notwithstanding they assume the form of regular
discourses, were in fact, viewed by himself as little
more than a syllabus or compend, on which he might
enlarge before a class at the times of recitation;
and not intending that they should go further, or
be otherwise considered, he took freely, and with-
out acknowledgment from writers of character
such ideas, and perhaps expressions, as he found
suited to his purpose. But though these causes
would not permit the Doctor himself to give to
the public these sketches of moral philosophy, it
is believed that they ought not to operate so power-
fully on those into whose hands his papers have
fallen since his death. Many of his pupils whose
eminence in literature and distinction in society
give weight to their opinions, have thought that
these lectures, with all their imperfections, con-
tain one of the best and most perspicuous exhibi-
tions of the radical principles of the science on
which they treat that has ever been made; and
they have very importunately demanded their
publication in an edition of his works: Nor is it
conceived that a compliance with this demand,
after the explanation here given, can do any in-
jury to the Doctor's reputation. And to the writer
of this note it does not seem a sufficient réason
that a very valuable work should be consigned
to oblivion, because it is in some measure incom-
plete, or because it is partly a selection from au-
thors to whom a distinct reference cannot now be
made.
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
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MORAL Philosophy is that branch of
Science which treats of the principles and
laws of Duty or Morals. It is called Philo-
sophy, because it is an inquiry into the na-
ture and grounds of moral obligation by
reason, as distinct from revelation.
Hence arises a question, is it lawful, and
is it safe or useful, to separate moral philo-
sophy from religion? It will be said, it is
either the same or different from revealed
truth; if the same, unnecessary—if different,
false and dangerous.
An author of New-England says, moral
philosophy is just reducing infidelity to a
system. But however specious the objec-
tions, they will be found at bottom not solid.
-If the Scripture is true, the discoveries of
reason cannot be contrary to it; and, there-
fore, it has nothing to fear from that quarter.
And as we are certain it can do no evil, so
there is a probability that it may do much
good. There may be an illustration and con-
firmation of the inspired writings, from rea-
son and observation, which will greatly add
to their beauty and force.
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'
The noble and eminent improvements in
natural philosophy, which have been made
since the end of the last century, have been
far from hurting the interest of religion; on
the contrary, they have greatly promoted it.
Why should it not be the same with moral
philosophy, which is indeed nothing else but
the knowledge of human nature? It is true,
that infidels do commonly proceed upon pre-
tended principles of reason. But as it is im-
possible to hinder them from reasoning on
this subject, the best way is to meet them
upon their own ground, and to show from
reason itself, the fallacy of their principles.
I do not know any thing that serves more for
the support of religion than to see, from the
different and opposite systems of philoso-
phers, that there is nothing certain in their
schemes, but what is coincident with the
word of God.
Some there are, and perhaps more in the
present than any former age, who deny the
law of nature, and say, that all such senti-
ments as have been usually ascribed to the
law of nature are from revelation and tradi-
tion. We must distinguish here between the
light of nature and the law of nature: by the
first is to be understood what we can or do
discover by our own powers, without reve-
lation or tradition: by the second, that which,
when discovered, can be made appear to be
agreeable to reason and nature.
There have been some very shrewd and
... 1
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
7
3
3
able writers of late, viz. Dr. Willson, of
New Castle, and Mr. Riccalton, of Scotland,
who have written against the light of nature,
shewing that the first principles of knowledge
are taken from information. That nothing
can be supposed more rude and ignorant,
than man without instruction. That when
men have been brought up so, they have
scarcely been superior to brutes. It is very.
difficult to be precise upon this subject,
and to distinguish the discoveries of reason
from the exercise of it. Yet I think, admit-
ting all, or the greatest part, of what such
contend for, we may, notwithstanding, con-
sider how far any thing is consonant to rea-
son, or may be proven by reason; though
perhaps reason, if left to itself, would never
have discovered it.
Dr. Clark was one of the greatest cham-
pions for the law of nature; but it is only
since his time that the shrewd opposers of it
have appeared. The Hutchinsonians (so
called from Hutchinson of England) insist
that not only all moral, but also all natural
knowledge comes from revelation, the true
system of the world, true chronology, all
human arts, &c. In this, as is usual with
most other classes of men, they carry their
favourite notion to extravagance. I am of
opinion, that the whole Scripture is perfectly
agreeable to sound philosophy; yet certainly
it was never intended to teach us every thing.
The political law of the Jews contains many
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Arkham AMONG with this a
noble principles of equity, and excellent ex-
amples to future lawgivers; yet it was so
local and peculiar, that certainly it was never
intended to be immutable and universal. It
would be more just and useful to say that all
simple and original discoveries have been the
production of Providence, and not the inven-
tion of man.
-
On the whole, it seems reasonable to make
moral philosophy, in the sense above ex-
plained, a subject of study. And indeed let
men think what they will of it, they ought to
acquaint themselves with it. They must
know what it is, if they mean even to show
that it is false.
THE DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT.
Moral philosophy is divided into two great
branches, Ethics and Politics, to this some
add Jurisprudence, though this may be con-
sidered as a part of politics.
Ethics relate to personal duties, Politics to
the constitution, government, and rights of
societies, and Jurisprudence to the admini-
stration of justice in constituted states.
It seems a point agreed upon, that the
principles of duty and obligation must be
That is to
drawn from the nature of man.
say, if we can discover how his Maker form-
ed him, or for what he intended him, that
certainly is what he ought to be.
The knowledge of human nature, how-
ever, is either perplexed and difficult of it-
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
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self, or hath been made: so, by the manner in
which writers in ages have treated it.
Perhaps this circumstance itself, is a strong
presumption of the truth of the Scripture
doctrine of the depravity and corruption of
our nature. Supposing this depravity, it
must be one great cause of difficulty and
confusion in giving an account of human
nature as the work of God. This I take to
be indeed the case with the greatest part of
our moral and theological knowledge.
Those who deny this depravity, will be
apt to plead for every thing, or for many
things as dictates of nature, which are in re-
ality propensities of nature in its present
state, but at the same time the fruit and evi-
dence of its departure from its original purity.
It is by the remaining power of natural con-
science that we must endeavour to detect and
oppose these errors.
I. We may consider man very generally
in his species as distinct from, and superior
to the other creatures; and what it is in
which the difference truly consists. II. As
an individual, what are the parts which con-
stitute his nature.
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I. Philosophers have generally attempted
to assign the precise distinction between men
and the other animals; but when endeavour-
ing to bring it to one peculiar incommuni-
cable characteristic, they have generally con-
tradicted one another, and sometimes dis-
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}
puted with violence, and rendered the thing
more uncertain.
The difficulty of fixing upon a precise
criterion, only serves to show that in man we
have an example of what we see also every
where else, viz. a beautiful and insensible
gradation from one thing to another, so that
the highest of the inferior is, as it were, con-
nected and blended with the lowest of the
superior class. Birds and beasts are con-
nected by some species, so that you will find
it hard to say whether they belong to the one
or the other--So indeed it is in the whole
vegetable as well as animal kingdom.
(1.) Some say men are distinguished from
brutes by reason; and certainly this, either
in kind or degree, is the most honourable of
our distinctions. (2.) Others say that many
brutes give strong signs of reason, as dogs,
horses and elephants. But that man is distin-
guished by memory and foresight: but I ap-
prehend that these are upon the same footing
with reason; if there are some glimmerings
of reason in the brute creation, there are also
manifest proofs of memory, and some of fore-
sight. (3.) Some have thought it proper to
distinguish man from the inferior creatures
by the use of speech, no other creatures hav-
ing an articulate language. Here again we
are obliged to acknowledge that our distinc-
tion is chiefly the excellence and fulness of
articulate discourse; for brutes have certainly
the art of making one another understand.
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
11
many things by sound. (4.) Some have
said that man is not completely distinguished
by any of these, but by a sense of religion.
And I think it must be admitted that of
piety or a sense of a Supreme Being, there
is not any trace to be seen in the inferior
creatures. The stories handed about by
weak-minded persons, or retailed by credu-
lous authors, of respect in them to churches,
or sacred persons, are to be disdained as
wholly fabulous and visionary. (5.) There
have been some who have said that man is
distinguished from the brutes by a sense of
ridicule. The whole creation (says a certain
author) is grave except man, no one laughs
but himself. There is something whimsical
in fixing upon this as the criterion, and it
does not seem to set us in a very respectable
light. Perhaps it is not improper to smile
upon the occasion, and to say, that if this
sentiment is embraced, we shall be obliged
to confess kindred with the apes, who are
certainly themselves possessed of a risible
faculty, as well as qualified to excite laughter
in us.
On the whole there seems no necessity of
fixing upon some one criterion to the exclu-
sion of others. There is a great and apparent
distinction between man and the inferior
animals, not only in the beauty of his form,
which the poet takes notice of, Os homini
sublime dedit, &c. but also in reason, me-
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LECTURES ON
mory, reflection, and the knowledge of God
and a future state.
A general distinction, which deserves par-
ticularly to be taken notice of in moral dis-
quisitions, is, that man is evidently made to
be guided, and protected from dangers, and
supplied with what is useful more by reason,
and brutes more by instinct.
It is not very easy, and perhaps not neces-
sary to explain instinct. It is something pre-
vious to reason and choice. When we say
the birds build their nests by instinct, and
that man builds his habitation by reflection,
experience or instruction, we understand the
thing well enough, but if we attempt to give
a logical definition of either the one or the
other, it will immediately be assaulted by a
thousand arguments.
Though man is evidently governed by
something else than instinct, he also has
several instinctive propensities, some of them
independent of, and some of them intermixed
with his moral dispositions. Of the first kind
are hunger, thirst, and some others; of the
last is the storge, or parental tenderness to-
wards offspring.
On instinct we shall only say farther, that
it leads more immediately to the appointment
of the Creator, and whether in man, or in,
other creatures, operates more early and more
uniformly than reason.
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LECTURE II.
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II. CONSIDERING man as an indivi-
dual, we discover the most obvious and re-
markable circumstances of his nature; that
he is a compound of body and spirit. I take
this for granted here, because we are only ex-
plaining the nature of man. When we come
to his sentiments and principles of action, it
will be more proper to take notice of the spi-
rituality and immortality of the soul, and how
they are proved.
The body and spirit have a great recipro-
cal influence one upon another. The body on
the temper and disposition of the soul, and
the soul on the state and habit of the body.
The body is properly the minister of the
soul, the means of conveying perceptions to
it, but nothing without it.
It is needless to enlarge upon the struc-
ture of the body; this is sufficiently known
to all, except we descend to anatomical ex-
actness, and then, like all the other parts of
nature, it shows the infinite wisdom of the
Creator.
With regard to morals, the influence of
the body in a certain view may be very great
in enslaving men to appetite, and yet there
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LECTURES ON
does not seem any such connexion with mo-
rals as to require a particular description.
I think there is little reason to doubt that
there are great and essential differences be-
tween man and man, as to the spirit and its
proper powers; but it seems plain that such
are the laws of union between the body and
spirit, that many faculties are weakened, and
some rendered altogether incapable of exer-
cise, merely by an alteration of the state of
the body. Memory is frequently lost, and
judgment weakened, by old age and disease.
Sometimes, by a contusion of the brain in a
fall, the judgment is wholly disordered.
The instinctive appetites of hunger and
thirst, seem to reside directly in the body;
and the soul to have little more than a passive
perception. Some passions, particularly fear
and rage, seem also to have their seat in the
body, immediately producing a certain modi-
fication of the blood and spirits.-This in-
deed is perhaps the case in some degree with
all passions whenever they are indulged; they
give a modification to the blood and spirits,
which make them easily rekindled ; but there
are none which do so instantaneously arise
from the body, and prevent deliberation, will
and choice, as these now named.
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To consider the evil passions to which we
are liable, we may say those that depend
most upon the body, are fear, anger, volup-
tuousness; and those that depend least upon
it, are ambition, envy, covetousness.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
15
The faculties of the mind are commonly
divided into these three kinds, the under-
standing, the will, and the affections; though
perhaps it is proper to observe, that these are
not three qualities wholly distinct, as if they
were three different beings; but different
ways of exerting the same simple principle.
It is the soul or mind that understands, wills,
or is affected with pleasure and pain.
The understanding seems to have truth
for its object, the discovering things as they
really are in themselves, and in their relations
one to another.
It has been disputed whether good be in
any degree the object of the understanding.
On the one hand it seems as if truth, and that
only, belonged to the understanding; because
we can easily suppose persons of equal intel-
lectual powers and opposite moral characters.
Nay, we can suppose malignity joined to a
high degree of understanding, and virtue or
true goodness, to a much lower. On the
other hand, the choice made by the will
seems to have the judgment or deliberation
of the understanding as its very foundation.
How can this be, it will be said, if the under-
standing has nothing to do with good or evil?
A considerable opposition of sentiments
among philosophers has arisen from this
question. Dr. Clark, and some others,
make understanding or reason the immediate
principle of virtue. Shaftsbury, Hutchinson,
and others, make affection the principle of it.
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•
.
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Perhaps neither the one nor the other is
wholly right. Probably both are necessary.
The connexion between truth and good-
ness, between the understanding and the
heart, is a subject of great moment, but also -
of great difficulty. I think we may say with
certainty, that infinite perfection, intellectual
and moral, are united and inseparable in the
Supreme Being. There is not however in
inferior natures an exact proportion between
the one and the other; yet I apprehend that
truth naturally and necessarily promotes
goodness, and falsehood the contrary; but as
the influence is reciprocal, malignity of dis-
position, even with the greatest natural pow-
ers, blinds the understanding, and prevents
the perception of truth itself.
Of the will it is usual to enumerate four
acts; desire, aversion, joy, and sorrow. The
two last, Hutchinson says are superfluous,
in which he seems to be right. All the acts
of the will may be reduced to the two great
heads of desire and aversion; or in other
words, choosing and refusing.
The affections are called also passions,
because often excited by external objects.
In as far as they differ from a calm delibe-
rate decision of the judgment, or determina-
tion of the will, they may be called strong
propensities, implanted in our nature, which
of themselves contribute not a little to bias
the judgment, or incline the will.
The affections cannot be better understood,
-
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY:
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than by observing the difference between a
calm deliberate general inclination, whether
of the selfish or benevolent kind; and par-
ticular violent inclinations. Every man de-
liberately wishes his own happiness; but
this differs considerably from a passionate
attachment to particular gratifications; as a
love of riches, honours, pleasures. A good
man will have a deliberate fixed desire of
the welfare of mankind; but this differs
from the love of children, relations, friends,
country.
The passions are very numerous, and may
be greatly diversified, because every thing,
however modified, that is the object of desire
or aversion, may grow by accident or indul-
gence, to such a size, as to be called, and
deserve to be called, a passion. Accord-
ingly we express ourselves thus in the En-
glish language-A passion for horses, dogs,
play, &c.
However, all the passions may be ranged
under the two great heads of love and hatred.
To the first belong esteem, admiration, good-
will, and every species of approbation, de-
light, and desire; to the other, all kinds of
aversion, and ways of expressing it, envy,
malice, rage, revenge, to whatever objects
they may be directed.
•
Hope and fear, joy and sorrow, though
frequently ranked among the passions,, seem
rather to be states or modifications of the
mind, attending the exercise of every passion,
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LECTURES ON
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according as its object is probable or impro-
bable, possest or lost.
Jealousy seems to be a passion of a middle
nature, which it is not easy to say whether
it should be ranked under the head of love
or hatred. It is often said of jealousy be-
tween the sexes, that it springs from love;
yet, it seems plainly impossible, that it can
have place without forming an ill opinion
of its object, at least in some degree. The
same thing may be said of jealousy and sus-
picion in friendship.
The passions may be ranged in two classes
in a different way, viz, as they are selfish or
benevolent, public or private. There will be
great occasion to consider this distinction
afterwards, in explaining the nature of vir-
tue, and the motives that lead to it. What
is observed now, is only to illustrate our
nature as it really is.
There is a great and real distinction be-
tween passions, selfish and benevolent. The
first point directly, and immediately, at our
own interest in the gratification; the others
point immediately at the happiness of others.
Of the first kind, is the love of fame, power,
property, pleasure. And of the second, is
family and domestic affection, friendship and
patriotism. It is to no purpose to say, that,
ultimately, it is to please ourselves, or be-
cause we feel a satisfaction in seeking the
good of others; for it is certain, that the
direct object in view in many cases, is to
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
19
promote the happiness of others; and for
this many have been willing to sacrifice every
thing, even life itself.
After this brief survey of human nature,
in one light, or in one point of view, which
may be called its capacity; it will be neces-
sary to return back, and take a survey of the
way, in which we become acquainted with
the objects about which we are to be con-
versant, or upon which the above faculties
are to be exercised.
On this it is proper to observe in general,
that there are but two ways in which we
come to the knowledge of things, viz. I.
Sensation, II. Reflection.
I. The first of these must be divided again
into two parts, external and internal.
External arises from the immediate im-
pression of objects from without. The ex-
ternal senses in number are five; seeing,
hearing, feeling, tasting, and smelling.
In these are observable the impression
itself, or the sensation we feel, and the sup-
position inseparable from it, that it is pro-
duced by an external object. That our sen-
ses are to be trusted in the information they
give us, seems to me a first principle, because
they are the foundation of all our after rea-
sonings. The few exceptions of accidental
irregularity in the senses can found no just
objection to this, as there are so many plain
and obvious ways of discovering and cor-
recting it.
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​The reality of the material system, I think,
may be easily established, except upon such
principles as are subversive of all certainty,
and lead to universal scepticism; and per-
sons who would maintain such principles do
not deserve to be reasoned with, because
they do not pretend to communicate know-
ledge, but to take all knowledge from us.
The Immaterialists say, that we are con-
scious of nothing but the impression or feel-
ing of our own mind; but they do not ob-
serve that the impression itself implies and
supposes something external that communi-
cates it, and which cannot be separated from
that supposition. Sometimes such reasoners
tell us, that we cannot shew the substance
separate from its sensible qualities. No
more can any man shew me a sensible quality
separate from a particular subject. If any
man will shew me whiteness, without shew-
ing me any thing that is white, or roundness,
without any thing that is round, I will shew
him the substance without either colour or
shape.
Immaterialism takes away the distinction
between truth and falsehood. I have an idea
of a house or tree in a certain place, and I
call this true, that is, I am of opinion, there
is really a house or tree in that place. Again,
I form an idea of a house or tree, as what
may be in that place; I ask what is the dif-
ference, if after all, you tell me, there is
neither tree, house nor place any where ex-
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
21
{
isting. An advocate for that system says,
that truth consists in the liveliness of the idea,
than which nothing can be more manifestly
false. I can form as distinct an idea of any
thing that is not, as any thing that is, when
it is absent from my sight. I have a much
more lively idea of Jupiter and Juno, and
many of their actions, from Homer and Vir-
gil; though I do not believe that any of them
ever existed, than I have of many things that
I know happened within these few months.
The truth is, the immaterial system is a
wild and ridiculous attempt to unsettle the
principles of common sense by metaphysical
reasoning, which can hardly produce any
thing but contempt in the generality of per-
sons who hear it; and which, I verily believe,
never produced conviction even on the per-
sons who pretend to espouse it.
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[ 22 ]
LECTURE III.
·00000→
A
II. INTERNAL sensation is what Mr.
Hutchinson calls the finer powers of percep-
tion. It takes its rise from external objects,
but, by abstraction, considers something
farther than merely the sensible qualities-
1. Thus with respect to many objects,
there is a sense of beauty in the appearance,
structure or composition, which is altogether
distinct from mere colour, shape and exten-
sion. How then is this beauty perceived?
It enters by the eye, but it is perceived and
relished by what may be well enough called
an internal sense, quality or capacity of the
mind.
2. There is a sense of pleasure in imita-
tion, whence the arts of painting, sculpture,
poetry, are often called the imitative arts.
It is easy to see that the imitation itself gives
the pleasure, for we receive much pleasure
from a lively description of what would be
painful to behold.
3. A sense of harmony.
4. A sense of order or proportion.
Perhaps, after all, the whole of these
senses may be considered as belonging to
one class, and to be the particulars which
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
23
either singly, or by the union of several of
them, or of the whole, produce what is called
the pleasures of the imagination. If so, we
may extend these senses to every thing that
enters into the principles of beauty and grace-
fulness-Order, proportion, simplicity, intri-
cacy, uniformity, variety—especially if these
principles have any thing in common that
is equally applicable to all the fine arts,
painting, statuary, architecture, music, poe-
try, oratory.
The various theories upon the principles
of beauty, or what it is that properly consti-
tutes it, are of much importance on the sub-
ject of taste and criticism, but of
very little
in point of morals. Whether it be a simple
perception that cannot be analysed, or a Je
ne scai quoi, as the French call it, that cannot
be discovered; it is the same thing to our
present purpose, since it cannot be denied,
that there is a perception of beauty, and that
this is very different from the mere colour
or dimensions of the object. This beauty
extends to the form and shape of visible, or
to the grace and motion of living objects;
indeed, to all works of art, and productions
of genius.
These are called the reflex senses some-
times; and it is of moment to observe both
that they really belong to our nature, and
that they are very different from the grosser
perceptions of external sense.
It must also be observed, that several
24
LECTURES ON
20
distinguished writers have added as an inter-
nal sense, that of morality, a sense and per-
ception of moral excellence, and our obliga-
tion to conform ourselves to it in our con-
duct.
Though there is no occasion to join Mr.
Hutchinson or any other, in their opposition
to such as make reason the principle of vir-
tuous conduct; yet I think it must be ad-
mitted, that a sense of moral good and evil
is as really a principle of our nature, as either
the gross external or reflex senses, and as
truly distinct from both, as they are from
each other. This moral sense is precisely
the same thing with what, in Scripture and
common language, we call conscience. It is
the law which our Maker has written upon
our hearts; and both intimates and enforces
duty, previous to all reasoning.
The opposers of innate ideas, and of the
law of nature, are unwilling to admit the
reality of a moral sense, yet their objections
are wholly frivolous. The necessity of edu-
cation and information to the production and
exercise of the reflex senses, or powers
of
the imagination, is every whit as great as to
the application of the moral sense. If there-
fore any one should say, as is often done by
Mr. Locke, if there are any innate princi-
ples what are they? enumerate them to me;
if they are essential to man, they must be in
every man; let me take any artless clown
and examine him, and see if he can tell me
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
25
what they are.--I would say, if the princi-
ples of taste are natural, they must be uni-
versal. Let me try the clown then, and see
whether he will agree with us, either in dis-
covering the beauty of a poem or picture,
or being able to assign the reasons of his
approbation.
There are two senses which are not easily
reducible to any of the two kinds of internal
senses, and yet certainly belong to our na-
ture. They are allied to one another-A
sense of ridicule, and a sense of honour and
shame. A sense of the ridiculous is some-
thing peculiar; for though it be admitted
that every thing that is ridiculous is at the
same time unreasonable and absurd; yet it
is as certain the terms are not convertible,
for any thing that is absurd is not ridiculous.
There are an hundred falsehoods in mathe-
matics and other sciences, that do not tempt
any body to laugh.
Shaftsbury has, through his whole wri-
tings, endeavoured to establish this principle,
that ridicule is the test of truth; but the
falsehood of that opinion appears from the
above remark, for there is something really-
distinct from reasoning in ridicule. It seems
to be putting imagination in the place of
reason. See Brown's Essays on the Charac-
teristics.
A sense of honour and shame seems, in a
certain view, to subject us to the opinions of
others, as they depend upon the sentiments
26
LECTURES ON
t
of our fellow-creatures. Yet, perhaps we
may consider this sentiment as intended to
be an assistant or guard to virtue, by mak-
ing us apprehend reproach from others for
what is in itself worthy of blame. This
sense is very strong and powerful in its
effects, whether it be guided by true or false
principles.
After this survey of human nature, let us
consider how we derive either the nature or
obligation of duty from it.
I. One way is to consider what indications
we have from our nature, of the way that
leads to the truest happiness. This must be
done by a careful attention to the several
classes of perceptions and affections, to see
which of them are most excellent, delightful,
or desirable.
-
They will then soon appear to be of three
great classes, as mentioned above, easily
distinguishable from one another, and gra-
dually rising above one another.
1. The gratification of the external senses.
This affords some pleasure. We are led to
desire what is pleasing, and to avoid what is
disgustful to them.
2. The finer powers of perception give a
delight which is evidently more excellent,
and which we must necessarily pronounce
more noble. Poetry, painting, music, &c.
the exertion of genius, and exercise of the
mental powers in general, give a pleasure,
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
1.
27
though not so tumultuous, much more re-
fined, and which does not so soon satiate.
3. Superior to both these, is a sense of
moral excellence, and a pleasure arising from
doing what is dictated by the moral sense.
It must doubtless be admitted that this
representation is agreeable to truth, and that
to those who would calmly and fairly weigh
the delight of moral action, it must appear
superior to any other gratification, being
most noble pure and durable. Therefore we
might conclude, that it is to be preferred be-
fore all other sources of pleasure—that they
are to give way to it when opposite, and to
be no otherwise embraced than in subservi-
ency to it.
II. But though we cannot say there is any
thing false in this theory, there are certainly
very essential defects.--As for example, it
wholly confounds or leaves entirely undis-
tinguished, acting virtuously from seeking
happiness: so that promoting our own happi-
ness will in that case be the essence or defi-
nition of virtue, and a view to our own in-
terest will be the sole and complete obliga-
tion to virtue. Now there is good ground to
believe not only that reason teaches us, but
that the moral sense dictates to us, some-
thing more on both heads, viz. that there
are disinterested affections that point directly
at the good of others, and that these are so
far from meriting to be excluded from the
notion of virtue altogether, that they rather
28
LECTURES CN
seem to claim a preference to the selfish
affections. I know the friends of the scheme.
of self-interest have a way of colouring or
solving this. They say, men only approve
and delight in benevolent affections, as pleas-
ing and delightful to themselves. But this
is not satisfying, for it seems to weaken the
force of public affection very much, to refer
it all to self-interest, and when nature seems
to be carrying you out of yourself, by strong
instinctive propensities or implanted affec-
tions, to turn the current and direction of
these into the stream of self-interest; in
which experience tells us we are most apt
to run to a vicious excess.
Besides it is affirmed, and I think with
good reason, that the moral sense carries a
good deal more in it than merely an appro-
bation of a certain class of actions as beau-
tiful, praise worthy or delightful, and there-
fore finding our interest in them as the most
noble gratification. The moral sense implies
also a sense of obligation, that such and such
things are right and others wrong; that
we are bound in duty to do the one, and that
our conduct is hateful, blameable, and de-
serving of punishment, if we do the contrary;
and there is also in the moral sense or con-
science, an apprehension or belief that reward
and punishment will follow, according as we
shall act in the one way, or in the other.
It is so far from being true, that there is no
more in virtuous action than a superior de-
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
29
gree of beauty, or a more noble pleasure,
that indeed the beauty and sweetness of vir-
tuous action arises from this very circum-
stance that it is a compliance with duty or
supposed obligation. Take away this, and
the beauty vanishes, as well as the pleasure.
Why is it more pleasant to do a just or
charitable action, than to satisfy my palate
with delightful meat, or to walk in a beauti-
ful garden, or read an exquisite poem? Only
because I feel myself under an obligation to
do it, as a thing useful and important in
itself. It is not duty because pleasing, but
pleasing because duty.-The same thing
may be said of beauty and approbation. I
do not approve of the conduct of a plain,
honest, industrious, pious man, because it is
more beautiful than that of an idle profligate ;
but I say it is more beautiful and amiable,
because he keeps within the bounds of duty.
I see a higher species of beauty in moral
action; but it arises from a sense of obliga-
tion. It may be said, that my interest and
duty are the same, because they are insepara-
ble, and the one arises from the other; but
there is a real distinction and priority of
order. A thing is not my duty, because it
is my interest, but it is a wise appointment
of nature, that I shall forfeit my interest, if I
neglect my duty.
Several other remarks might be made to
confirm this. When any person has by ex-
perience found that in seeking pleasure he
D
►
}
A
30
LECTURES ON, &c.
embraced a less pleasing enjoyment, in place
of one more delightful, he may be sensible
of mistake or misfortune, but he has nothing
at all of the feeling of blame or self-condem-
nation; but when he hath done an immoral
action, he has an inward remorse, and feels
that he has broken a law, and that he ought
to have done otherwise.
+
}
I
[ 31 ]
K
LECTURE IV.
·00000-
THIS therefore lays under the necessity
of searching a little further for the principle
of moral action. In order to do this with the
greater accuracy, and give you a view of the
chief controversies on this subject, observe,
that there are really three questions upon it,
which must be inquired into, and distin-
guished. I am sensible, they are so inti-
mately connected, that they are sometimes
necessarily intermixed; but at others, not
distinguishing, leads into error. The ques-
tions relate to
I. The nature of virtue.
II. The foundation of virtue.
III. The obligation of virtue.
When we enquire into the nature of vir-
tue, we do enough, when we point out what
it is, or show how we may come to the
knowledge of every particular duty, and be
able to distinguish it from the opposite vice.
When we speak of the foundation of virtue,
we ask or answer the question, Why is it so?
Why is this course of action preferable to
the contrary? What is its excellence? When
we speak of the obligation of virtue, we ask
by what law we are bound; or from what
}
32
LECTURES ON
-
principles we ought to be obedient to the
precepts which it contains or prescribes ?
After speaking something to each of these
--to the controversies that have been raised
upon them--and the propriety or importance
of entering far into these controversies, or a
particular decision of them, I shall proceed
to a detail of the moral laws, or the several
branches of duty, according to the division
first laid down.
I. As to the nature of virtue, or what it
is; or, in other words, what is the rule by
which I must try every disputed practice-
that I might keep clear of the next question,
you may observe, that upon all the systems
they must have recourse to one or more of
the following, viz. Conscience, reason, ex-
perience.
All who found virtue upon affection, par-
ticularly Hutchinson, Shaftsbury and their
followers, make the moral sense the rule of
duty, and very often attempt to exclude the
use of reason on this subject. These authors
seem also to make benevolence and public
affection the standard of virtue, in distinction
from all private and selfish passions.
Doctor Clark, and most English writers
of the last age, make reason the standard of
virtue, particularly as opposed to inward
sentiment or affection. They have this to say
particularly in support of their opinion, that
reason does in fact often controul and alter
sentiment; whereas sentiment cannot alter
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
33
the clear decisions of reason. Suppose my
heart dictates to me any thing to be my duty,
as for example, to have compassion on a
person detected in the commission of crimes;
yet if, upon cool reflection, I perceive that
suffering him to go unpunished will be hurt-
ful to the community, I counteract the senti-
ment from the deductions of reason.
05
Again: Some take in the aid of experience,
and chiefly act upon it. All particularly who
are upon the selfish scheme, find it necessary
to make experience the guide, to show them
what things are really conducive to happi-
ness, and what not.
We shall proceed to consider the opinions
upon the nature of virtue, the chief of which
are as follow:
1. Some say that virtue consists in acting
agreeably to the nature and reason of things.
And that we are to abstract from it all affec-
tion, public and private, in determining any
question relating to it. Clark.
2. Some say that benevolence or public
affection is virtue, and that a regard to the
good of the whole is the standard of virtue.
What is most remarkable in this scheme is,
that it makes the sense of obligation in par-
ticular instances give way to a supposed
greater good. Hutchinson..
3. One author (Wollaston Rel. of Nat.
Delineated) makes truth the foundation of
virtue, and he reduces the good or evil of
any action to the truth or falsehood of a
Bry
D 2
34
LECTURES ON
proposition. This opinion differs not in
substance, but in words only, from Dr.
Clark's.
4. Others place virtue in self-love, and
make a well regulated self-love the standard
and foundation of it. This scheme is best
defended by Dr. Campbell, of St. Andrews.
5. Some of late have made sympathy the
standard of virtue, particularly Smith, in his
Theory of Moral Sentiments. He says we
have a certain feeling, by which we sympa-
thize, and as he calls it, go along with what
appears to be right. This is but a new phrase-
ology for the moral sense.
6. David Hume has a scheme of morals
that is peculiar to himself. He makes every
thing that is agreeable and useful virtuous,
and vice versa; by which he entirely annihi-
lates the difference between natural and
moral qualities, making health, strength,
cleanliness, as really virtues, as integrity and
truth.
7. We have an opinion published in this
country, that virtue consists in the love of
being as such.
Several of these authors do easily and
naturally incorporate piety with their system,
particularly Clark, Hutchinson, Campbell
and Edwards.
And there are some who begin by esta-
blishing natural religion, and then found virtue
upon piety. This amounts to the same thing
în substance; for reasoners upon the nature
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
35
of virtue only mean to show what the Author
of nature has pointed out as duty. And after
natural religion is established on general
proofs, it will remain to point out what are
its laws, which, not taking in revelation,
must bring us back to consider our own
nature, and the rational deductions from it.
II. The opinions on the foundation of
virtue may be summed up in the four fol-
lowing:
1. The will of God. 2. The reason and
nature of things. 3. The public interest. 4.
Private interest.
1. The will of God. By this is not meant
what was mentioned above, that the intima-
tions of the divine will point out what is our
duty; but that the reason of the difference
between virtue and vice is to be sought no
where else than in the good pleasure of God.
That there is no intrinsic excellence in any
thing but as he commands or forbids it.
They pretend that if it were otherwise, there
would be something above the Supreme
Being; something in the nature of things
that would lay him under the law of necessity
or fate. But notwithstanding the difficulty
of our forming clear conceptions on this sub-
ject, it seems very harsh and unreasonable
to say that the difference between virtue and
vice is no other than the divine will. This
would be taking away the moral character
even of God himself. It would not have any
meaning then to say, he is infinitely holy and
36
LECTURES ON
infinitely perfect. But probably those who
have asserted this, did not mean any more
than that the divine will is so perfect and
excellent, that all virtue is reduced to con-
formity to it-and that we ought not to
judge of good and evil by any other rule.
This is as true as that the Divine conduct is
the standard of wisdom.
*
2. Some found it in the reason and nature
of things. This may be said to be true, but
not sufficiently precise and explicit. Those
who embrace this principle succeed best in
their reasoning, when endeavouring to show
that there is an essential difference between
virtue and vice. But when they attempt to
show wherein this difference doth or can
consist, other than public or private happi-
ness, they speak with very little meaning.
3. Public happiness. This opinion is, that
the foundation of virtue, or that which makes
the distinction between it and vice, is its
tendency to promote the general good; so
that utility at bottom is the principle of vir-
tue, even with the great patrons of disinte-
rested affection.
4. Private happiness. Those who choose
to place the foundation of virtue here, would
have us to consider no other excellence in it
than what immediately conduces to our own
gratification.
Upon these opinions I would observe, that
there is something true in every one of them,
1
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
37
<
*
but that they may be easily pushed to an
error by excess.
The nature and will of God is so perfect
as to be the true standard of all excellence,
natural and moral: and if we are sure of
what he is or commands, it would be pre-
sumption and folly to reason against it, or
put our views of fitness in the room of his
pleasure; but to say that God, by his will,
might have made the same temper and con-
duct virtuous and excellent, which we now
call vicious, seems to unhinge all our no-
tions of the Supreme excellence even of God
himself.
Again, there seems to be in the nature of
things an intrinsic excellence in moral worth,
and an indelible impression of it upon the
conscience, distinct from producing or re-
ceiving happiness, and yet we cannot easily
illustrate its excellence, but by comparing
one kind of happiness with another.
Again, promoting the public or general
good seems to be so nearly connected with
virtue, that we must necessarily suppose that
universal virtue could be of universal utility.
Yet there are two excesses to which this has
sometimes led.--One the fatalist and neces-
sitarian schemes, to which there are so many
objections; and the other the making the
general good the ultimate practical rule to
every particular person; so that he may vio-
late particular obligations with a view to a
more general benefit.
38
LECTURES ON
Once more, it is certain that virtue is as
really connected with private as with public
happiness, and yet to make the interest of the
agent the only foundation of it, seems so to
narrow the mind, and to be so destructive to
the public and generous affections, as to pro-
duce the most hurtful effects.
If I were to lay down a few propositions
on the foundation of virtue, as a philosopher,
they should be the following:
1. From reason, contemplation, sentiment
and tradition, the Being and infinite perfec-
tion and excellence of God may be deduced;
and therefore what he is, and commands, is
virtue and duty. Whatever he has implanted
in uncorrupted nature as a principle, is to be
received as his will. Propensities resisted
and contradicted by the inward principle of
conscience are to be considered as inherent
or contracted vice.
2. True virtue certainly promotes the
general good, and this may be made use of
as an argument in doubtful cases, to deter-
mine whether a particular principle is right
or wrong, but to make the good of the whole
our immediate principle of action, is putting
ourselves in God's place, and actually super-
seding the necessity and use of the particular
principles of duty which he hath impressed
upon the conscience. As to the whole, I
believe the universe is faultless and perfect,
but I am unwilling to say it is the best possi-
ble system, because I am not able to under-
41
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
39
}
**
:
stand such an argument; and because it
seems to me absurd that infinite perfection
should exhaust or limit itself by a created
production.
3. There is in the nature of things a dif-
ference between virtue and vice; and how-
ever much virtue and happiness are con-
nected by the divine law, and in the event
of things, we are made so as to feel towards
them, and conceive of them, as distinct. We
have the simple perceptions of duty and
interest.
4. Private and public interest may be pro-
moted by the same means, but they are dis-
tinct views; they should be made to assist,
and not destroy each other.
The result of the whole is, that we ought
to take the rule of duty from conscience, en-
lightened by reason, experience, and every
way by which we can be supposed to learn
the will of our Maker, and his intention in
creating us such as we are. And we ought
to believe that it is as deeply founded as the
nature of God himself, being a transcript of
his moral excellence, and that it is produc-
tive of the greatest good.
$
[ 40 ]
LECTURE V.
-00000——————
III. IT remains only that we speak of the
obligation of virtue, or what is the law that
binds us to the performance, and from what
motives or principles we ought to follow its
dictates.
The sentiments upon this subject differ,
as men have different views of the nature
and foundation of virtue, yet they may be
reduced within narrower bounds.
The obligation of virtue may be easily
reduced to two general kinds, duty and in-
terest. The first, if real, implies that we are
under some law, or subject to some superior,
to whom we are accountable. The other only
implies that nature points it out to us as our
own greatest happiness, and that there is no
other reason why we ought to obey.
Now I think it is very plain, that there is
more in the obligation of virtue, than merely
our greatest happiness. The moral sentiment.
itself implies that it is duty, independent of
happiness. This produces remorse and dis-
approbation, as having done what is blamea-
ble and of ill desert. We have two ideas very
distinct, when we see a man mistaking his
own interest, and not obtaining so much hap
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
41
piness as he might, and when we see him
breaking through every moral obligation.
In the first case we consider him as only ac-
countable to himself, in the second, we con-
sider him as accountable to some superior,
and to the public. This sense of duty is the
primary notion of law and of rights, taken in
their most extensive signification, as includ-
ing every thing we think we are entitled to
expect from others, and the neglect or vio-
lation of which we consider as wrong, un-
just, vicious, and therefore blameable. It is
also affirmed with great apparent reason by
many, particularly Butler in his Analogy and
his sermons, that we have a natural feeling
of ill desert, and merited punishment in vice.
The patrons of the selfish ideas, alone, are
those who confine the obligation of virtue to
happiness.
But of those who are, or would be thought
of the opposite sentiment, there are some
who differ very considerably from others.
Some who profess great opposition to the
selfish scheme, declare also great aversion to
founding the obligation of virtue in any de-
gree on the will of a superior, or looking for
any sanction of punishment, to corroborate
the moral laws. This they especially treat
with contempt, when it is supposed to be
from the Deity. Shaftsbury speaks with
great bitterness against taking into view a
future state of what he calls more extended
self-interest. He says men should love virtue
E
$42
LECTURES ON
for its own sake, without regard to reward
or punishment. In this he has been followed
by many reasoners, as far as their regard to
religion would permit them.
If, however, we attend to the dictates of
conscience, we shall find evidently, a sense
of duty, of self-approbation and remorse,
which plainly show us to be under a law,
and that law to have a sanction: what else
is the meaning of the fear and terror, and ap-
prehension of guilty persons? Quorum
mentes si recludantur, &c. says Cicero.
Nor is this all, but we have all certainly a
natural sense of dependence. The belief of a
Divine Being is certainly either innate and
necessary, or has been handed down from
the first man, and can now be well supported
by the clearest reason. And our relation to
him not only lays the foundation of many
moral sentiments and duties, but completes
the idea of morality and law, by subjecting
us to him, and teaching us to conceive of
him, not only as our Maker, preserver and
benefactor, but as our righteous governor
and Supreme Judge. As the being and per-
fections of God are irrefragably established,
the obligation of duty must ultimately rest
here.
It ought not to be forgotten, that the be-
lief or apprehension of a future state of re-
wards and punishments has been as universal
as the belief of a Deity, and seems insepara-
ble from it, and therefore must be consi-
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
43
✓
dered as the sanction of the moral law.
Shaftsbury inveighs severely against this, as
making man virtuous from a mercenary view;
but there are two ways in which we may con-
sider this matter, and in either light his ob-
jections have little force. (1.) We may con-
sider the primary obligations of virtue as
founded upon a sense of its own excellence,
joined with a sense of duty and dependence
on the Supreme Being, and rewards and
punishments as a secondary motive, which is
found in fact, to be absolutely necessary to
restrain or reclaim men from vice and im-
piety. Or (2.) We may consider that by the
light of nature, as well as by revelation, the
future reward of virtue is considered as a
state of perfect virtue, and the happiness
is represented as rising from this circum-
stance. Here there is nothing at all of a
mercenary principle, but only an expectation
that true goodness, which is here in a state
of imperfection, and liable to much opposi-
tion; shall then be improved to the highest
degree, and put beyond any possibility of
change.
We may add to these obligations the
manifest tendency of a virtuous conduct to
promote even our present happiness: this, in
ordinary cases, it does, and when joined with
the steady hope of futurity, does in all cases
produce a happiness superior to what can be
enjoyed in the practice of vice. Yet, per-
{
•
፡
(
44
LECTURES ON
-
haps, the stoics of old, who denied pain to
be any evil, and made the wise man superior
to all the viscissitudes of fortune; carried
things to a romantic and extravagant height.
And so do some persons in modern times,
who, setting aside the consideration of a fu-
ture state, teach that virtue is its own reward.
There are many situations in which, if you
deprive a good man of the hope of future
happiness, his state seems very undesirable.
On the contrary, sometimes the worst of
men enjoy prosperity and success to a great
degree, nor do they seem to have any such
remorse, as to be an adequate punishment of
their crimes. If any should insist, that a
good man has always some comfort from
within, and a bad man a self-disapprobation
and inward disquiet, suited to their charac-
ters; I would say, that this arises from the
expectation of a future state; and a hope on
the one side, and fear on the other, of their
condition there.
Those who declaim so highly of virtue
being its own reward in this life, take away
one of the most considerable arguments,
which, from the dawn of philosophy, has al-
ways been made use of as a proof of a future
state, viz. the unequal distribution of good
and evil in this life. Besides they do not
seem to view the state of bad men properly.
When they talk of remorse of conscience as
a sufficient punishment, they forget that this
=
45
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
-
is seldom to a high degree, but in the case
of some gross crimes. Cruelty and murder,
frequent acts of gross injustice, are some-
times followed with deep horror of con-
science; and a course of intemperance or
lust is often attended with such dismal effects
upon the body, fame and fortune, that those
who survive it a few years, are a melancholy
spectacle, and a burden to themselves and
others. But it would be very loose morality,
to suppose none to be bad men, but those
who were under the habitual condemnation
of conscience. On the contrary, the far
greater part are blinded in their understand-
ings, as well as corrupt in their practice.-
They deceive themselves, and are at peace.
Ignorance and inattention keep the multitude
at peace. And false principles often produce
self-justification and ill-founded peace, even
in atrocious crimes. Even common robbers
are sometimes found to justify themselves,
and say I must live--I have a right to my
share of provision, as well as that proud fél-
low that rolls in his chariot.
<<>
The result of the whole is, that the obliga-
tion to virtue ought to take in all the follow-
ing particulars: a sense of its own intrinsic
excellence--of its happy consequences in the
present life--a sense of duty and subjection
to the Supreme Being-and a hope of future
happiness, and fear of future misery from his
decision.
E 2
+
1
46
t
t
LECTURES ON, &c.
Having considered the reasonings on the
nature, foundation and obligation of virtue;
I now proceed to a more particular detail of
the moral laws, and shall take them under
>the three heads formerly mentioned, Ethics,
Politics, and Jurisprudence.
6
!
1
[ 47 ]
LECTURE VI.
-00000-
OF ETHICS.'
I. AS to the first, we must begin with
what is usually called the states of man, or
the several lights or relations in which he
may be considered, as laying a foundation
for duty. These states may be divided into
two kinds--Natural and Adventitious.
II. The natural states may be enumerated
thus: (1.) His state with regard to God, or
natural relation to him. (2.) To his fellow-
creatures. (3.) Solitude or society. (4.)
Peace or war. Perhaps we may add to these
(5.) His outward provision, plenty or want.
These are called natural states, because
they are necessary and universal.
All men,
and all times, are related to God. They
were made by him, and live by his provi-
dence. We must also necessarily know our
fellow-creatures, and their state to be similar
to ours in this respect and many others.
man must at all times be independent or con-
nected with society-at peace with others,
or at war--well provided, or in want.
A
The other states are called adventitious,
because they are the effect of choice and the
fruit of industry, as marriage-family-mas-
48
LECTURES ON
ter and servant-particular voluntary socie-
ties--callings or professions-characters or
abilities, natural and acquired--offices in a
constituted society-property, and many par-
ticular modifications of each of these.
In prosecuting the subject farther, and
giving an analysis of the moral duties founded
upon these states, I shall first take notice of
our relation to God, with the proofs of his
being and perfections; and then consider the
moral laws under three heads: our duty to
God, to our neighbour, and to ourselves.
I. OF OUR DUTY TO GOD.
To this place I have reserved what was to
be said upon the proof of the being of God,
the great foundation of all natural religion;
without which, the moral sense would be
weak and insufficient.
The proofs of the being of God, are gene-
rally divided into two kinds. A priori, and
a posteriori. The first is, properly speaking,
metaphysical reasoning downward from the
first principles of science or truth, and in-
ferring by just consequence the being and
perfections of God. Clark's Demonstration,
&c. (if there be any thing that should be
called a priori, and if this is a conclusive
method of reasoning) is as complete as any
thing ever published; perhaps he has carried
the principle as far as it will go.
**
This way of arguing begins by establish-
ing our own existence from consciousness.
wl.
********
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
49
That we are not necessarily existent, there-
fore must have a cause; that something must
have existed from all eternity, or nothing
ever could have existed; that this being must
exist by an internal necessity of nature; that
what exists necessarily must exist alike
every where; must be perfect; act every
where; be independent, omnipotent, omni-
scient, infinitely good, just, true-Because,
as all these are evidently perfections or ex-
cellencies, that which exists by a necessity
of nature must be possessed of every perfec-
tion. And the contrary of these virtues im-
plying weakness, or insufficiency, cannot be
found in the infinite Being.
The other medium of proof, commonly
called a posteriori, begins with contemplating
the universe in all its parts; observing that
it contains many irresistible proofs, that it
could not be eternal, could not be without a
cause; that this cause must be intelligent;
and from the astonishing greatness, the won-
derful adjustment and complication of things,
concludes that we can set no bounds to the
perfection of the Maker; because we can
never exhaust the power, intelligence and
benignity that we see in his works. In this
way of arguing, we deduce the moral perfec-
tions of the Deity, from the faint resem-
blances of them that we see in ourselves.
As we necessarily conceive justice, good-
ness, truth, &c. to be perfections or excel-
lencies; we are warranted by the plainest
50
LECTURES ON
reason, to ascribe them to the Divine Being
in an infinite degree.
There is perhaps at bottom no difference
between these ways of reasoning, because
they must in some degree rest upon a com-
mon principle, viz. that every thing that
exists must have a cause. This is equally
necessary to both the chains of reasoning,
and must itself be taken for an original sen-
timent of nature, or an impression necessa-
rily made upon us, from all that we see or
are conversant with.
About this and some other ideas, great stir
has been made by some infidel writers, par-
ticularly by David Hume; who seems to
have industriously endeavoured to shake the
certainty of our belief, upon cause and effect,
upon personal identity and the idea of power.
It is easy to raise metaphysical subtleties,
and confound the understanding on such
subjects. In opposition to this, some late
writers have advanced, with great apparent
reason, that there are certain first principles
or dictates of common sense, which are either
simple perceptions, or seen with intuitive
evidence. These are the foundation of all
reasoning, and without them, to reason is a
word without a meaning. They can no
more be proved than you can prove an
axiom in mathematical science. These au-
thors of Scotland have lately produced and
supported this opinion, to resolve at once all
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
51
the refinements and metaphysical objections
of some infidel writers.
There is a different sort of argument often
made use of, or brought in aid of the others,
for the being of God, viz. the consent of all
nations, and the universal prevalence of that
belief. I know not whether we must say,
that this argument rests also upon the prin-
ciple that nothing can exist without a cause,
or upon the plan just now mentioned. If it
is an universal dictate of our nature, we
must take it as true immediately, without
further examination.
An author I formerly mentioned has set
this argument in a peculiar light, (Dr. Will-
son of New Castle.) He says, that we re-
ceive all our knowledge, as philosophers ad-
mit, by sensation and reflection. Now, from
all that we see, and all the reflection and ab-
straction upon it we are capable of, he affirms
it is impossible we could ever form the idea
of a spirit or a future state. These ideas
have, however, been early and universal, and
therefore must have been communicated at
first, and handed down by information and
instruction from age to age. So that unless
upon the supposition of the existence of God,
and his imparting the knowledge of himself
to men; it is impossible that any idea of him
could ever have entered into the human mind.
There is something ingenious, and a good
deal of probability in this way of reasoning.
As to the nature of God, the first thing to
Gr
52
LECTURES ON
be observed, is the unity of God. This is
sufficiently established upon the reasonings
both a priori and posteriori. If these rea
sonings are just for the being of God, they
are strictly conclusive for the unity of God.
There is a necessity for the existence of one
Supreme Being, the first cause, but no ne-
cessity for more; nay, one Supreme inde-
pendent Being does not admit any more.
And when we view the harmony, order and
unity of design in the created system, we
must be led to the belief of the unity of
God.
Perhaps it may be thought an objection to
this, (especially if we lay any stress on the
universal sentiments of mankind,) that all
nations have been so prone to the belief and
worship of a plurality of gods. But this
argument is rather specious than solid; as
however prone men were to worship local
inferior deities, they seem to have considered
them only as intermediate divinities and in-
tercessors between them and the Supreme
God.
The perfections of God may be divided
into two kinds, Natural and Moral.
I. The natural perfections of God are spi-
rituality, immensity, wisdom and power.
We call these natural perfections, because
they can be easily distinguished, and in idea
at least separated, from goodness of disposi
tion. It is highly probable indeed, that Su-
preme excellence, natural and moral, must
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
53
always reside in the same subject, and are
truly inseparable; yet we distinguish them
not only because the ideas are distinct, but
because they are by no means in proportion to
one another in inferior natures.
Great pow-
ers of mind and perfection of body are often
joined to malignity of disposition. It is not
so, however, in God; for as his natural per-
fections are founded on reason, so his moral
excellence is evidently founded in the moral
sense or conscience which he hath implanted
in us.
Spirituality is what we may call the very
nature of God. It must be admitted that we
cannot at present, form any complete or ade-
quate idea of a spirit. And some, as you
liave heard formerly, insist that without
revelation we could never have acquired the
idea of it that we have. Yet there are many
who have reasoned in a very strong and
seemingly conclusive manner, to show that
mind or intelligence must be a substance al-
together distinct from matter. That all the
known properties of matter are incapable of
producing thought, as being wholly of a dif
ferent kind--that matter as such, and univer-
sally, is inert and divisible; thought or intel-
ligence, active and uncompounded. See the
best reasoning on this subject in Baxter's
Immateriality of the soul.
Immensity in the Divine Being, is that by
which he is every where, and equally present.
Metaphysicians, however, differ greatly upon
F
54
LECTURES ON
this subject. The Cartesians will not admit
that place is at all applicable to spirits. They
say it is an idea wholly arising from exten.
sion, which is one of the peculiar and essen-
tial qualities of matter. The Newtonians,
however, who inake so much use of the idea
of infinite space, consider place as essential
to all substance, spirit as well as matter.
The difficulties are great on both sides. It is
hard to conceive of spirit at all, separating
from it the qualities of matter; and after we
have attempted to do so, it seems to be
bringing them back, to talk of place. And
yet it seems not only hard, but impossible,
to conceive of any real being without sup-
posing it in some place, and particularly
upon the immensity of the Deity; it seems
to be putting created spirits too much on a
level with the infinite Spirit, to deny his im-
mensity. It is I think certain, they are either
confined to a place, or so limited in their
operations, as is no way so well expressed
as by saying we are here and no where else.
And in this sense both parties must admit
the Divine immensity--that his agency is
equal, universal and irresistible.
-
Wisdom is another natural attribute of
God, implying infinite knowledge--that all
things in all their relations, all things exist-
ing, and all things possible, are the objects
of the divine knowledge. Wisdom is
usually considered as respecting some end
to be attained, and it implies the clear dis-
100
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
55
師
​covery of the best and most effectual means
of attaining it.
Power is the being able to do all things
without limit or restraint. The omnipo-
tence of God is always considered as an es-
sential perfection, and seems to arise imme.
diately from creation and providence. It is
common to say that God can do all things,
except, such as imply a contradiction--such.
as to make a thing to be and not to be at the
same time; but this is unnecessary and foolish
in the way of an exception, for such things
are not the objects of power at all. They
are mere absurdities in our conception, and
indeed we may say, of our own creation.
All things are possible with God-nothing
can withstand his power.
[56]
LECTURE VII.
-00000-
II. THE moral perfections of God are
holiness, justice, truth, goodness and mercy.
Holiness is sometimes taken in a general
and comprehensive sense, as being the ag-
gregate, implying the presence of all moral
excellence; yet it is sometimes used, and
that both in the Scripture revelation and by
heathen writers, as a peculiar attribute. In
this limited sense it is extremely difficult to
define or explain. Holiness is that character
of God to which veneration, or the most pro-
found reverence in us, is the correspondent
affection. It is sometimes also expressed by
purity, and when we go to form an idea of
it, perhaps we can scarce say any thing bet-
ter, than that it is his being removed at an in-
finite distance from the grossness of material
indulgence.
Justice is an invariable determination to
render to all their due. Justice seems to be
founded on the strong and unalterable per-
ception we have of right and wrong, good
and evil, and particularly that the one de-
serves reward, and the other punishment.
The internal sanction, or the external and
providential sanction of natural laws, point
13
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
57
out to us the Justice of God. The chief
thing that merits attention upon this subject
is the controversy about what is called the
vindictive justice of God. That is to say, is
there in God, or have we a natural sense of
the propriety of, a disposition to inflict pu-
nishment, independently of the consequences,
viz. the reformation of the offender, or the
example of others. This loose moralists
often declaim against. Yet it seems plain,
that the sense in our minds of good and ill
desert, makes guilt the proper object of
punishment simply in itself. This may have
a relation to general order and the good of
the whole; which, however, is out of our
reach.
The truth of God is one of his perfections,
greatly insisted upon in Scripture, and an
essential part of natural religion. It is in-
separable from infinite perfection; for any
departure from truth must be considered as
arising from weakness or necessity. What
end could be served to a self-sufficient and
all-sufficient Being, by falsehood or de-
ception ?
Goodness in God is a disposition to com-
municate happiness to others. This is easily
understood. The creation is a proof of it-
Natural and moral evil no just objection to
it, because of the preponderancy of happi-
ness.
Mercy, as distinguished from goodness or
benignity, is his being of a placable nature
F 2
58
LECTURES ON
-Ready to forgive the guilty, or to remit
deserved punishment. It has been disputed
how far mercy or placability is discoverable
by reason. It is not mercy or forgiveness,
unless it would have been just at the same
time to have punished. There are but two
ways by which men from reason, may infer
the attribute of mercy to belong to the Deity.
1. Because we ourselves are sensible of this
disposition, and see in it a peculiar beauty.
2. From the forbearance of Providence, that
sinners are not immediately overtaken with
punishment, but have space given them to re-
pent. Yet as all the conclusions drawn from
these principles must be vague and general,
the expectations of the guilty, founded upon
them, must be very uncertain. We must
conclude therefore, that however stable a
foundation there is for the other attributes of
God in nature and reason, the way in which,
and the terms on which, he will shew mercy,
can be learned from Revelation only.
M
Having considered the being and perfec-
tions of God, we proceed to our duty to him.
This may be considered in two views, as
general and special.
1. By the first I understand our duty to
obey him and submit to him in all things.
This, you see, includes every branch of mo-
ral duty to our neighbour and ourselves, as
well as to God; and so the particular parts of
it will be considered afterwards. But in this
place, considering every good action as an
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
59
act of obedience to God, we will a little at-
tend to the divine sovereignty, and the foun-
dation of it.
In speaking of the foundation of virtue, I
took in a sense of dependence on, and sub-
jection to God.-But as men are not to be
deterred from bold inquiries, a further ques-
tion is raised by some, viz. what is properly
the foundation of the divine dominion? 1.
Some found it directly upon Omnipotence.
It is impossible to resist his power. This
seems to lay us under a necessity, rather than
to convince us of duty. We ought, however,
to think and speak of this subject with reve-
rence; and certainly Omnipotence seems to
oblige us to actual, if it should not bring us
to willing obedience. It is somewhat remarka-
ble, that in the book of Job, composed on pur-
pose to resolve some difficulties in providence,
where God is brought in as speaking himself
out of the whirlwind, he makes use of no
other argument than his tremendous majesty
and irresistible power. Yet to rest the matter
wholly upon this, seems much the same as
founding virtue on mere will;—therefore 2..
some found the divine dominion on his
infinite excellence, they say it is the law of
reason that the wisest should rule, and there.
fore that infinite perfection is entitled to uni-
versal sway. Even this, taken separate and
alone, does not seem wholly to satisfy the
mind. If one person is wiser than another,
it seems reasonable that the other should
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LECTURES ON
"
learn of him and imitate him; but it scarcely
seems a sufficient reason that the first should
have absolute authority. But perhaps the
weakness of the argument, taken in this view,
may arise from the inconsiderable difference
between man and man, when compared to
the superiority of universal and unchangeable
perfection. 3. Some found it upon creation.
They say, that God has an absolute property
in all his creatures; he may therefore do what
he will with his own. This no doubt, goes
a good way, and carries considerable force
with it to the mind; the rather that, as you
will afterwards see, it is something similar
to this in us that lays the foundation of our
most perfect rights, viz. That the product
of our own industry is properly at our own
disposal.
As upon the foundation of virtue I thought
it necessary to unite the principles of differ-
ent writers, so upon this subject, I think that
all the three particulars mentioned ought to
be admitted, as the grounds of the divine
dominion. Omnipotence, infinite excellence,
and the original production and continual
preservation of all creatures.
II. Our duty to God may be considered
more especially, as it points out the duties
we owe immediately to himself. These may
be divided into internal and external.
The internal are all included under the
three following, love, fear, and trust.
The love of God, which is the first and
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
61
great duty both of natural and revealed reli-
gion, may be explained in a larger and more
popular, or in a more precise and stricter
way. In the first, love may be resolved into
the four following acts, esteem, gratitude,
benevolence, desire. These four will be found
inseparable from true love; and it is pretty
much in the same order, that the acts suc-
eeed one another.
$
KAY
Love is founded on esteem, on the real or
supposed good qualities of the object. You
can no more love that which you despise,
than that which you hate. Gratitude is also
inseparable from it ;-to have a lively sense
of favours received, and to esteem them for
the sake of the person from whom they came.
Benevolence, also, or rejoicing in the happi-
ness and wishing well to the object. And
lastly, a desire of a place in his esteem.
Whatever we love, we desire to possess, as
far as it is suited to our faculties.
The stricter and more precise method of
considering the love of God, is to divide it
into two branches, benevolence and desire.
And indeed our affections to God seem to
be capable of the same division as our affec-
tion to our fellow-creatures, benevolent and
selfish. I think it undeniable, that there is a
disinterested love of God, which terminates
directly upon himself, without any immediate
view to our own happiness-as well as a dis-
covery of our great interest in his favour.
The second great duty to God is fear.
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LECTURES ON
But here we must carefully distinguish this
affection from one which bears the name,
and is different from it-at least in a moral
view it is altogether opposite.-Dutiful fear
is what may be otherwise called veneration,
and hath for its object the infinity of the Divine
perfection in general, but particularly his
majesty and greatness. The other is merely
a fear of evil or punishment from Him: these
are called sometimes a filial and a servile
fear. The first increases, as men improve in
moral excellence, and the other is destroyed.
Perfect love casteth out fear. Perhaps, how-
ever opposite, as they have the same name,
they may be said to be the same natural af
fection, only as it takes place in innocent or
holy, and in guilty creatures. The same ma-
jesty of God, which produces veneration in
the upright, produces horror and apprehen-
sion of punishment in the guilty.
The third great duty is trust. This is a
continual dependence on God for every
thing we need, together with an approbation
of, and absolute resignation to his provi-
dence.
2. The external duties to God I shall
briefly pass over, being only, all proper and
natural expressions of the internal sentiments.
It may be proper, however, to take notice
in general of the worship due to God; that
whether we consider the nature of things, or
the universal practice of mankind, in all ages,
worship, and that not only private, but public
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
63
and social worship, is a duty of natural reli-
gion.
Some of the enemies of revealed religion
have spoken with great virulence against
this, as unreasonable, and even dishonourable
to the Divine Being. The substance of what
they say, is this, that as it would be no part
of the character of an eminent and good
man, to desire and take pleasure in others
praising him, and recounting his good quali-
ties, so it is absurd to suppose, that the
Supreme Being is pleased with incense,
sacrifices and praises. But it ought to be ob-
served, that he does not require these acts
and exercises as any gratification to Himself,
but as in themselves just and necessary, and
suited to the relation we stand in to Him,
and useful for forming our temper and uni-
versal practice.
We ought also to remember, that we must
not immediately and without discrimination,
reason from what would be praise and blame-
worthy among men, to what would be just
or unjust in God, because the circumstances
are very different. Besides, though for any
man to desire the applause of his fellow-crea-
tures, or be pleased with adulation, would
be a mean and contemptible character, be-
cause indeed there is such unspeakable im-
perfection in the best of men, yet when any
duty or sentiment is fully and manifestly
due from man to man, there is nothing im-
proper or dishonourable in requiring or ex-
↓
64
LECTURES ON
pecting it. Thus a parent requires respect
and submission from his children, a master
from his servants; and though the injury is
merely personal, he thinks himself entitled
to punish every expression of contempt or
disregard. Again, every man who has be
stowed signal favours upon another, expects
to see evidence of a grateful and sensible
mind, and severely condemns every senti-
ment or action that indicates a contrary dis-
position.
On the whole, then, we see that if the
worship of God be what is due from us to
Him, in consequence of the relation we stand
in to Him, it is proper and necessary that
he should require it. To honour God is to
honour Supreme excellence; for him not to
expect and demand it, would be to deny
himself.
One other difficulty I shall touch upon a
little. It respects the duty of prayer; and
the objections lie equally against it on the
footing of natural religion and revealed.
The objections are two, 1. Why does God,
who perfectly knows all our wants, require
and expect prayer, before he will supply
them? To this I would answer, that he sup-
plies great multitudes of our wants without
our asking it; and as to his requiring the duty
of prayer, I say the same thing as of worship
in general; it is reasonable and necessary to
express, and to increase upon our minds, a
sense of dependence, and thereby lay us un-
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
65
der an obligation of properly improving what
we receive.
2. The other objection is with regard to
the force or efficacy of prayer. Why, it is
said, should we pray, when the whole sys-
tem of Divine Providence is fixed and un-
alterable? Can we possibly suppose that God
will change his purposes, from a regard to
our cries or tears? To this some answer no
otherwise than as before, that without having
any effect upon the event, it has only an
effect upon our minds, in bringing us to a
right temper. Dr. Leechman of Glasgow,
in his discourse on prayer, makes no other
answer to this difficulty. But I think, to rest
it here, and admit that it has no influence in
the way of causality upon the event, would
in a great measure break the force and fer-
vency of prayer. I would therefore say
further, that prayer has a real efficacy on the
event, and just as much as any other second
cause. The objection arises from going be-
yond our depth, and reasoning from the
unchangeable purpose of God to human ac-
tions, which is always unjust and fallacious.
--However unable we may be to explain it,
notwithstanding the fixed plan of Providence,
there is a real influence of second causes, both
natural and moral, and I apprehend the con-
nexion between cause and effect is similar in
both cases. If it is fixed from eternity that
there shall be a plentiful crop upon a certain
field, I know that nothing whatsoever can
G
66
LECTURES ON, &c.
prevent it; if otherwise, the efforts of the
whole creation cannot produce it; yet I know
as certainly, that, hypothetically, if it is not
ploughed and sown, there will be no grain
upon it; and that if it be properly manured
and dressed, it will probably be fruitful.
Thus, in moral matters, prayer has as real
an influence in procuring the blessing, as
ploughing and sowing has in procuring the
crop; and it is as consistent with the es-
tablished order of nature and the certainty of
events in the one case, as in the other: for
this reason the stoical fate of old was called
the ignava ratio of the stoics, as they some-
times made use of the above fallacious
reasoning.
[ 67 ]
LECTURE VIII.
-00000-duma
II. WE come now to our duty to man.
This may be reduced to a short sum, by as-
cending to its principle. Love to others, sin-
cere and active, is the sum of our duty.
Benevolence, I formerly observed, ought
not to be considered as the whole of virtue,
but it certainly is the principle and sum of
that branch of duty which regards others.
We may distinguish between particular
kind affections and a calm and deliberate good-
will to all. The particular kind affections,
as to family, friends, country, seem to be
implanted by nature, to strengthen the gene-
ral principle; for it is only or chiefly by doing
good to those we are particularly related to,
that we can promote the general happiness.
Particular kind affections should be re-
strained and directed by a calm good-will to
all. Wherever our attachments to private
persons prevent a greater good, they become
irregular and excessive.
Some think that a calm and settled good
will to others is an improvement of the par-
ticular affections, and arises from the more
narrow to the more extensive; from family,
friends, country, to all our fellow-creatures.
But it seems more reasonable to say, that the
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LECTURES ON
general affection is a dictate of our con-
science of a superior kind. If it were only
an increase and extension of the private af-
fection, it would grow more weak, as the
distance from ourselves increased, whereas
in fact the more enlarged affections are in-
tended to be more powerful than the con-
fined.
When we are speaking of kind affections,
it will not be improper to observe that some
unbelievers have objected against the gospel,
that it does not recommend private friend-
ship and the love of our country. But if fairly
considered, as the Scripture, both by ex-
ample and precept, recommends all particu-
lar affections, so it is to its honour that it sets
the love of mankind above them every one;
and by so much insisting on the forgiveness
of injuries and the love of enemies, it has
carried benevolence to its greatest perfection.
The parable of the Samaritan, in answer to
the question, who is my neighbour? is one
of the greatest beauties in moral painting
any where to be seen.
The love of our country, to be sure, is a
noble and enlarged affection; and those who
have sacrificed private ease and family rela-
tions to it, have become illustrious; yet the
love of mankind is still greatly superior.
Sometimes attachment to country appears in
a littleness of mind, thinking all other nations
inferior, and foolishly believing that know-
ledge, virtue and valour are all confined to
MORAL PHILOSOPHY:
69
*:
themselves. As the Romans long ago made
the Punica fides to mean deceit, so there are
not wanting among us those who think that
all the French are interested, treacherous and
cowardly.
On the great law of love to others, I shall
only say further, that it ought to have for its
object their greatest and best interest, and
therefore implies wishing and doing them
good in soul and body.
It is necessary now to descend to the ap-
plication of this principle to particular duties,
and to examine what are the rights or claims
that one man has upon another.
Rights and obligations are correlative terms.
Whatever others have a just right or title to
claim from me, that is, my duty, or what I
am obliged to do to them.
Right in general may be reduced, as to
its source, to the supreme law of moral duty;
for whatever men are in duty obliged to do,
that they have a claim to, and other men are
considered as under an obligation to permit
them. Again, as our own happiness is a law-
ful object or end, we are supposed to have
each a right to prosecute this; but as our
prosecutions may interfere, we limit each
other's rights; and a man is said to have a
right or power to promote his own happi-
ness only by those means which are not in
themselves criminal or injurious to others.
Rights may be divided or classed in seve-
G 2
70
LECTURES ON
ral different ways; an attention to all of which
is of use on this subject.
Rights may be 1. Natural or Acquired.
Natural rights are such as are essential to
man, and universal--acquired are those that
are the fruits of industry, the effects of acci-
dent or conquest. A man has a natural right to
act for his own preservation, and to defend
himself from injury; but not a natural right
to domineer, to riches (comparatively speak-
ing) or to any particular office in a consti-
tuted state.
2. Rights are considered as perfect and
imperfect. Those are called perfect rights
which can be clearly ascertained in their cir-
cumstances, and which we may make use of
force to obtain, when they are denied us.
Imperfect rights are such as we may demand,
and others ought to give us; yet we have no
title to compel them. Self-preservation is a
perfect right, but to have a grateful return
for favour is not a perfect right. All the
duties of justice are founded on the perfect
rights; those of mercy generally on the im
perfect rights.
The violation of an imperfect right is
often as great an act of immorality as that of
a perfect right. It is often as immoral, or
more so, to refuse to supply the necessitous,
or to do it sparingly, as to commit a small
injury against a man's person or fortune. Yet
the last is the breach of a perfect right, and
the other of an imperfect.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
71
Human laws reach only, in ordinary cases,
to the perfect rights. Sometimes imperfect
rights, by being carried far, become perfect,
as humanity and gentleness in a parent to a
child may be so grossly violated, as to war-
rant the interposition of human authority.
3. Rights are alienable and unalienable.
The first we may, according to justice and
prudence, surrender or give up by our own
act; the others we may not. A man may give
away his own goods, lands, money. There
are several things which he cannot give away,
as a right over his own knowledge, thoughts,
&c. Others, which he ought not, as a right
to judge for himself in all matters of religion,
his right to self-preservation, provision, &c.
Some say that liberty is unalienable, and that
those who have even given it away may law-
fully resume it.
The distinction between rights as alienable
and unalienable is very different from that of
natural and acquired. Many of the rights
which are strictly natural and universal, may
be alienated in a state of society for the good
of the whole, as well as of private persons;
as for example, the right of self-defence; this
is in a great measure given up in a state of
civil government into the hands of the public
-and the right of doing justice to ourselves
or to others in matters of property is wholly
given up.
4. Rights may be considered as they dif
fer with regard to their object. (1.) Rights we
72
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1
have over our own persons and actions. This
class is called liberty. (2.) Rights over things
or goods which belong to us. This is called
property. (3.) Rights over the persons and ac-
tions of other men. This is called authority.
(4) Rights in the things which are the pro-
perty of others, which are of several sorts.
When we come to the second great divi-
sion of moral philosophy, politics, the above
distinctions will be more fully explained-
at present it is sufficient to point at them, in
order to show what are the great out-lines of
duty from man to man.
Our duty to others, therefore, may be all
comprehended in these two particulars, jus-
tice and mercy.
Justice consists in giving or permitting
others to enjoy whatever they have a perfect
right to--and making such an use of our own
rights as not to encroach upon the rights of
ethers. There is one writer, David Hume,
who has derided the duty of justice, resolving
it wholly into power and conveniency, and
has affirmed that property is common, than
which nothing can be more contrary to rea-
son; for if there is any thing clear as a dic-
tate of reason, it is, that there are many rights
which men severally possess, which others
ought not to violate. The foundation of pro-
perty in goods, I will afterwards show you,
is plainly laid in the social state.
Another virtue which this author ridicules
is chastity. This however, will be found to
:
*
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
73
be included in justice, and to be found in the
sentiments of all nations, and to have the
clearest foundation both in nature and public
utility.
Mercy is the other great branch of our duty
to man, and is the exercise of the benevolent
principle in general, and of the several par-
ticular kind affections. Its acts, generally
speaking, belong to the class of imperfect
rights, which are strongly binding upon the
conscience, and absolutely necessary to the
subsistence of human society; yet such as
cannot be enforced with rigour and precision
by human laws.
Mercy may be generally explained by à
readiness to do all the good offices to others
that they stand in need of, and are in our
power; unless they are opposed to some
perfect right, or to an imperfect one of greater
moment.
→
[74]
LECTURE IX.
-00000-
III. THE third class of moral duties is
what contains our duty to ourselves.
!
This branch of duty is as real and as
much founded in the moral principle, as any
of the former-Conscience as clearly testi-
fies the evil of neglecting it-and vicious.
conduct in this respect does generally lead us
directly not only to misery, but to shame.
We may, I think, divide our duties to
ourselves into two heads, which will be both
distinct and comprehensive. 1. Self-govern-
ment. 2. Self-interest.
The first of these is to keep our thoughts,
desires and affections, in due moderation. If
it be asked what is due moderation? I an-
swer, it may be discovered three ways.
(1.) When the indulgence interferes with
our duty to God, (2.) To ourselves, and (3.)
to our neighbour.
When our thoughts or desires are such as
to be contrary to the love, fear, or trust we
owe to God, then they are to be restrained
and brought into subjection--Thus are gene-
rated the virtues of humility, contentment,
patience, and such as are allied to them.
When our thoughts and inward temper
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
75
are such as to be any way injurious to others,
they must be governed' and restrained; hence
arises the obligation to guard against all the
immoral passions, which will produce meek-
ness and composure of spirit.
And when we have got but a little expe-
rience, we shall speedily find that an exces-
sive indulgence of any passion, love, hatred,
anger, fear, discomposes us exceedingly,
and is an evil instead of a blessing. We
shall therefore perceive the necessity of con-
tinence, self-denial, fortitude, restraint, and
moderation in every thing, how good soever.
#
2. The other general branch of duty to
ourselves may be called self-interest. This,
taking in natural religion, includes our rela-
tion to the Divine Being, and attending par-
ticularly to that of procuring his favour.
Therefore it is a prime part of our duty to
ourselves, to guard against any thing that
may be hurtful to our moral character or re-
ligious hopes.
We ought also to be active and diligent
in acquiring every thing necessary for life
and comfort. Most of our duties to our-
selves resemble the duties of justice and
mercy to others. If there are certain offices
due to them, and if they have rights and
claims in consequence of their state and re-
lations, the same is the case with ourselves.
We are therefore to take all proper methods
to preserve and acquire the goods both of
mind and body. To acquire knowledge, to
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preserve health, reputation, possessions. The
whole must be kept within some limits;
chiefly we must guard against interfering
with the rights of others.
It will be proper, before concluding this
part of the subject, to take notice of the
opinions of the ancients, particularly their
enumeration of what are called the cardinal
virtues.
Their cardinal virtues were justice, tempe-
rance, prudence and fortitude. Justice in-
cluded the whole of our duty to our neigh-
bour. Humanity or benevolence, you see, is
kept out of view, though a virtue of the first
class; but all its exercises are with them
ranked under the head of justice. Tempe-
rance was by them considered as much more
extensive, than being moderate in the use of
meats and drink, to which the English word
is chiefly confined. The Egkrateia of the
Greeks signified, not only abstinence in meat
and drink, but continence or purity, and a
moderation of all our desires, of whatever
kind, of fame and riches, as well as pleasures.
Prudence, even in the way they generally
explain it, seems scarcely to be a moral, or
so much as a natural quality. Prudence,
they say, is taking the wisest course to obtain
some good end. The placing this among the
cardinal virtues will show how matters stood
among them. Great parts or talents were
in high esteem. They did not very fully
distinguish between a good man and a great
1
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
77
man.
Prudence seems rather an embellish-
ment of an illustrious character, than a moral
virtue. Another reason why prudence seems
to have held such a place among the ancients
was, that their chief foundation for virtue
was interest, or what will produce happiness.
The inquiry upon this subject was, what is
the summum bonum. Now to this, prudence
is very necessary. Agreeably to all this,
they commonly called the virtuous man, the
wise man; and he was always an hero.
Fortitude is easily understood, and may
be considered in two lights, as active and
passive; which gives the two great virtues
of patience and valour.
One of the most remarkable qualities in
morals among the ancients, was the debate
upon the Stoical position, that pain is no evil,
nor pleasure any good. This arises from
comparing external things with the temper
of the mind, when it appears without doubt
that the latter is of much more consequence
to happiness than the former. They used to
reason thus,--Outward possessions, when
bestowed upon a bad man, make him no
better, but worse, and finally more miserable.
How then can these be goods in themselves,
which become good or evil, according to the
state of him that uses them. They were
therefore called the things indifferent. There
was something strained and extravagant in
some of their writings, and perhaps ostenta-
tious, yet a great deal of true and just reason
H
78
LECTURES ON
ing. The most beautiful piece of antiquity,
in the moral way, is the Tablature of Cebes.
%
Let us now recapitulate what we have
gone through, and then add some observa-
tions or corollaries on the morality of actions.
We have considered,
I. The nature of man.
II. The nature, foundation, and obligation
of virtue.
III. Have given a sort of general analysis
of the moral laws, as pointing out our duty
to God, to our neighbour, and ourselves.
We must now consider all morality in
general as conformity to a law. We have
seen above whence this law is collected, and
derives its authority. Men may differ, not
only as to the foundation, but as to the import
or meaning of the law in some particulars,
but it is always supposed that the law exists.
The morality of actions may be consi
dered in two different lights, but these very
nearly related to each other. I. As they are
ranked and disposed of by the law itself.
II. In the conformity or opposition of the
actions to the law.
1. Under the first view, an action is either
commanded, forbidden, or permitted.
i
Commanded duties oblige absolutely, and
as casuists used to say, semper non vero ad
semper; that is to say, they are obligatory
upon all persons, at the seasons that are pro-
per for them, but not upon every person at
every time; because then there could be but
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
79
one moral duty; all men are obliged to
worship God, but this only at certain times,
other duties have also their place and season.
Prohibitions oblige semper et ad semper,
all persons at all times.--We must not lie-
this obliges every man at every moment,
because no time or circumstances can make
it lawful.
KRETAN
On permission we may observe several
things.
1. There is (as some say,) a two-fold per-
mission, the one full and absolute, which not
only gives us a right to certain things with
impunity, but implies a positive approbation
of the legislator; and the other implies only
that the action is left at large, being neither
commanded nor forbidden.
2. Permission in natural laws always im-
plies the approbation of the legislator, and
whatever is done in consequence of it, is inno-
cently done, for God and conscience do
not permit, or pass uncondemned, any bad
action.
¡
3. It is otherwise in human laws. If they
leave any action open, it may be done with
impunity, and yet by no means with approba-
tion. I may have a right by human laws to
say things in a covered or couched manner,
which yet may carry in them the highest
degree of malignity.
4. The truth is, when we consider the
morality of action in a strict or proper man-
ner, the whole class of permitted actions van-
LECTURES ON
ishes. They become by their intention and
application either good or bad. ***
Considering actions in their conformity to
the laws, a distinction arises similar to the
former, into good or just, bad and indifferent.
A good action must be wholly conformable
to the law in its substance, and in all its cir.
cumstances. It is not enough that it be ma-
terially good, the time must be proper, and
the intention laudable.

A bad action is that, which, either in sub-
stance or in any circumstance, is contrary to
the law.
In consequence of this, strictly and pro-
perly speaking, all truly good or just actions
are equally so, arising from a perfect con
formity to the law, as all straight lines are
equally straight. But all bad actions are not
equally bad, as lines may be bent in a dif
ferent degree from the straight direction.
Indifferent actions, if there are any truly
such, are those that are permitted, and neither
commanded nor forbidden by the law. But
when we consider the spirit and principles of
true morality, we shall find no actions wholly
indifferent; because we are under an obliga.
tion to promote the happiness of ourselves
and others, to which every action may be
applied immediately or remotely; and sub-
jection to the Divine will may make a part of
our design, in doing or forbearing any thing
whatever.
In estimating the morality of actions seve
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
81
ral circumstances must be considered, 1. the
good done, 2. the principle from which it
flows,--self-interest of the contracted kind,
benevolence, or hope of reward. 3. The
hindrances or opposition that must be sur
mounted, as interest, inclination, difficulty.
An objection seems to arise from this, not
easily solved. If an action is the more vir-
tuous, the more opposition, internal and ex-
ternal, that is overcome, then the longer a
man has had the habit of virtue, and the
more completely it is formed, the less merit
in his actions. It seems also to take away
all moral excellence from the Deity, who
cannot be supposed to have the least opposi-
tion to encounter, either from within or with-
out. This objection cannot be easily re-
moved, but by saying, that the opposition is
in no other respect an evidence of the good
moral temper, but as it shows the strength of
that inclination that overcomes it, and there-
fore, when a moral habit is so strong as to
overcome and annihilate all opposition, it is
so much the more excellent.
An action, good in itself, may be made
criminal by an evil intention.
But no action, in itself evil, can be made
lawful or laudable by a good intention.
A man is obliged to follow the dictates of
conscience: yet a mistaken conscience does
not wholly absolve from guilt, because he
ought to have been at more pains to obtain
information.
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82
LECTURES ON
#
An action is not virtuous in proportion to
its opposite being vicious. It is no high de.
gree of virtue to love our offspring or provide
for a family; but to neglect either is exceed.
ingly vicious.
One phenomenon in human nature, nearly
connected with the moral feelings, has been
particularly considered by some writers, viz.
that there is such a disposition in the gene-
rality of men to crowd to see objects of dis-
tress, as an extraordinary public execution.
What is the desire that prompts to it? Is the
sight of misery a pleasant feeling? Some re-
solve it merely into curiosity, which they
consider as a natural and original impression.
But there seems to be something in it diffe
rent from novelty. Others say it arises from
benevolence, and is an exercise of compassion,
and that we have a strong natural impulse to
the affection of pity, and really feel a pleasure
in indulging it. But though every well dis-
posed mind is highly susceptible of pity, at
least of all the benevolence and help that pity
suggests when the object presents itself, we
can scarcely say that the feeling is pleasant,
or that we have a desire after such objects,
in order to the gratification.

They who reason on the selfish scheme, as
usual, resolve all into private interest; they
say we delight to see objects of distress, be-
cause it gives us a secret satisfaction in re-
flecting upon our own different situation. I
believe there is such a satisfaction in narrow

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and contracted minds; but to those tolerably
disposed, it has an opposite effect; it makes
them rather consider the calamities which
they themselves are subject to, than those
from which they are free.
Perhaps it would be best to take more
than one principle to account for this effect.
Curiosity must make a part, and probably
humanity and compassion also contribute to
it. It seems to be thought some little alle-
viation to the sufferer's misery when others
pity him-Yet prudent persons, knowing
how unavailing this pity is, often choose to
be absent.
Sympathy is a particular affection in aid of
benevolence-Yet like all other private af-
fections, when it is not moderated, it pre-
vents its own effect--One deeply affected
with the view of an object of distress, is
often thereby incapacitated to assist him.
Another question is sometimes subjoined
to the above, why men have pleasure in see
ing Tragedy, which is a striking representa-
tion of a melancholy catastrophe. As far as
the subject differs from Comedy, it may be
accounted for on the same principles with
the desire to see objects of distress-But
one powerful principle leads both to Comedy
and Tragedy-a pleasure in the imitative
arts, an exact portrait of any object what-
ever gives the highest pleasure, even though
the object itself were originally terrible or
disgusting.

LECTURES ON, &c.
We see plainly, that an indulgence of the
pleasure given by a fine performance is what
crowds the theatre. Unhappily, to give
greater pleasure to a corrupt mind, they
often invent such scenes, and conduct the
matter so, as to make the stage the greatest
enemy to virtue and good morals.
[85]
LECTURE X.
-00000——
OF POLITICS.
POLITICS contain the principles of social
union, and the rules of duty in a state of so-
ciety.--This is but another and more com-
plete view of the same things, drawn out
more fully, and applied to particular cases.
Political law is the authority of any society,
stampt upon moral duty.
The first thing to be considered, in order
to see upon what principles society is formed,
is the state immediately previous to the so-
cial state. This is called the state of na-
ture-Violent and unnecessary controversies
have been made on that subject. Some
have denied that any such thing ever ex-
isted, that since there were men, they have
always been in a social state. And to be
sure, this is so far true, that in
or fact could it ever last long. Yet it is im-
possible to consider society as a voluntary
union of particular persons, without suppos-
ing those persons in a state somewhat dif
ferent, before this union took place--There
are rights therefore belonging to a state of
nature, different from those of a social state.
example
And distinct societies, or states indepen-
D
86
LECTURES ON
dent, are at this moment in a state of nature,
or natural liberty, with regard to each other.
Another famous question has been, Is the
state of nature, a state of war or peace?
Hobbes, an author of considerable note, but
of very illiberal sentiments in politics, is a i
strenuous advocate for a state of nature being
a state of war. Hutchinson and Shaftsbury
plead strongly, that a state of nature is a state
of society.
However opposite and hostile
their opinions seem to be with regard to
each other, it seems no hard matter to recon-
cile them. That the principles of our nature
bead to society--that our happiness and the
improvement of our powers are only to be
had in society, is of the most undoubted cer-
tainty and that in our nature, as it is the
work of God, there is a real good-will and
benevolence to others: but on the other hand,
that our nature as it is now, when free and
independent, is prone to injury, and conse-
quently to war, is equally manifest, and that
in a state of natural liberty, there is no other
way but force, for preserving security and
repelling injury. The inconveniences of the
natural state are very many.
One class of the above-mentioned writers
say, that nature prompts to society, and the
other, that necessity and interest oblige to it
-both are equally true.
Supposing then the state of natural liberty
antecedent to society to be a reality, let us
consider the perfect and imperfect rights be-
→
S
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
87
longing to that state, that we may see more
distinctly how, and why, they differ in a so-
<<
cial state.
The perfect rights in a state of natural
liberty, are, 1. a right to life. 2. A right to
employ his faculties and industry for his own
use. 3. A right to things that are common
and necessary, as air, water, earth. 4. A
right to personal liberty. 5. A power over
his own life, not to throw it way unnecessa-
rily, but for a good reason. 6. A right of
private judgment in matters of opinion.
7. A right to associate, if he so incline, with
any person or persons, whom he can per-
suade, not force,--Under this is contained
the right to marriage. 8. A right to charac-
ter, that is to say, innocence, not fame--It is
easy to perceive that all these rights belong
to a state of natural liberty, and that it would
be unjust and unequal for any individual to
hinder or abridge another, in any one of
them, without consent, or unless it be in just
retaliation for injury received.
The imperfect natural rights are very
numerous. But they are nearly the same in
a state of nature as in a state of society, as
gratitude, compassion, mutual good offices--
if they will be no injury to the person per-
forming them--Indeed, they must be the
same in a natural and in a social state, be-
cause the very definition of an imperfect
right is such, as you cannot use force to ob-
tain. Now, what you ought not to use force
$
?
38
LECTURES ON
to obtain in a state of natural liberty, human
laws, in a well constituted state, will not
give you.
Society I would define to be an association
or compact of any number of persons, to de-
liver up or abridge some part of their natural
rights, in order to have the strength of the
united body, to protect the remaining, and to
bestow others.
Hobbes and some other writers of the
former age treat with great contempt, this
which is generally called the social compact.
--He insists that monarchy is the law of na-
ture. Few are of his sentiments now, at
least in Britain, yet it is proper to trace them
to the foundation.
O
It is to be admitted, that society began
first insensibly by families, and almost neces-
sarily. Hence parental authority was the
first law; and perhaps it extended for two or
three generations in the early ages. Though
the patrons of monarchy use this as an argu-
ment, it is does not favour their scheme.--
This which they call the patriarchal govern.
ment, could not extend far; or supposing it
could, there would be but one rightful king
in all the earth, the lineal descendant of
Adam's eldest son; not to mention that the
very order of succession in hereditary right
has never been uniform, and is but of late
settled in the European nations.
·
The truth is, though man for wise reasons,
afterwards to be noticed, continues longer in
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
89
a family dependence, than other animals, yet
in time he becomes sui juris; and when their
numbers are increased, when they either
continue together, or remove and form dis-
tinct societies, it is plain that there must be
supposed an expressed or implied contract.
Some say there is no trace or record of
any such contract in the beginning of any
society. But this is no argument at all, for
things inseparable from, and essential to any
state, commonly take place so insensibly,
that their beginning is not observed.
When persons believe themselves, upon
the whole, rather oppressed than protected in
any society, they think that they are at
liberty, either to rebel against it, or fly from
it; which plainly implies that their being
subject to it arose from a tacit consent.
Besides, in migrations and planting of co-
lonies, in all ages, we see evident traces of
an original contract and consent taken to the
principles of union.
From this view of society as a voluntary
compact, results this principle, that men are
originally and by nature equal, and conse-
quently free.
Liberty either cannot, or ought not to be
given up in the social state--The end of
the union should be the protection of liberty,
as far as it is a blessing. The definition of
liberty in a constituted government, will be
afterwards explained.
Some observe, that few nations or socie-
1
90
LECTURES ON
>
ties in the world have had their constitutions
formed on the principles of liberty: perhaps
not one twentieth of the states that have been
established since the beginning of the world
have been settled upon principles altogether.
favourable to liberty. This is no just argu.
ment against natural liberty and the rights
of mankind; for it is certain, that the public
good has always been the real aim of the peo
ple in general, in forming and entering into
any society. It has also constantly been at
least the professed aim of legislators. There.
fore the principles seems to have been ad
mitted, only they have failed or been disap.
pointed in practice, by mistake or deceit.
Though perhaps not one twentieth part of
mankind have any tolerable skill in the fine
arts, it does not follow that there are no such
arts, or that the principles of them are not
founded in nature.
Reason teaches natural liberty, and com
mon utility recommends it. Some nations
have seen this more clearly than others, or
have more happily found the means of es
tablishing it.
Here perhaps we should consider a little
the question, whether it is lawful to make
men or to keep them slaves, without their con
sent? This will fall afterwards to be con-
sidered more fully in the mean time, ob-
serve that in every state there inust be some
superior and others inferior, and it is hard
to fix the degree of subjection that may fall
:
į
P
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
91
to the lot of particular persons. Men may
become slaves, or their persons and labour
be put wholly in the power of others, by con-
sent. They may also sometimes, in a con-
stituted state, be made slaves by force, as a
punishment for the commission of crimes.
But it is certainly unlawful to make inroads
upon others, unprovoked, and take away their
liberty by no better right than superior
power.
It has sometimes been doubted, whether
it is lawful to take away the liberty of others
for life, even on account of crimes committed.
There can be no strong reason given against
this, except that which is supposed to ope-
rate in Great Britain against making male-
factors slaves, that it would be unfavourable
to rational liberty to see any rank of men in
chains. But setting this aside, it seems plain,
that if men may forfeit their lives to the so-
ciety, they may also forfeit their liberty,
which is a less precious blessing. It seems
also more agreeable both to equity and pub.
lic utility to punish some sort of crimes with
hard labour, than death. Imprisonment for
life has been admitted and practised by all
nations-Some have pleaded for making
slaves of the barbarous nations--that they
are actually brought into a more eligible state,
and have more of the comforts of life, than
they would have had in their own country.
This argument may alleviate, but does not
justify the practice. It cannot be called a
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more eligible state, if less agreeable to them
selves.
Upon the whole, there are many unlawful
ways of making slaves, but also some that
are lawful-And the practice seems to be
countenanced in the law of Moses, where
rules are laid down for their treatment, and
an estimation of injuries done to them, dif.
ferent from that of free men. I do not think
there lies any necessity on those who found
men in a state of slavery, to make them free
to their own ruin. But it is very doubtful
whether any original cause of servitude can
be defended, by legal punishment for the
commission of crimes. Humanity in the
manner of treating them is manifestly a dic
tate of reason and nature, and I think also
of private, and public utility, as much as of
either.
The next step in opening the principles
of the social state, is to consider the founda-
tion, establishment and extent of property.
Some begin this by considering the pro
perty of man in general, in the inferior crea
tures. Has he any right to use the lower
irrational animals for labour, or food, or both?
It is needless to refine too much upon this
subject. To use them for labour seems evi-
dently lawful, as they are inferior, with
strength fitted for it, and strength which they
could not employ for the improvement and
cultivation of the earth without the direction
of man. They seem to be to man, some how
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
93
S
as the body to the mind. They help to pro-
duce food for themselves, and so increase
their number and receive much more sensual
pleasure, sharing, in all respects, with their
masters, the fruit of their toil.
N
To use them for food is thus argued to be
lawful. If suffered all to live, they would
become too numerous, and could not be sus-
tained, so that death to many of them in a
much worse way must be the certain conse-
quence. Further, nature seems to dictate the
use of them for food in the plainest manner;
for they are food for one another in a regular
gradation, the insect to the birds and fishes,
many of them to the beasts, and the smaller
to the greater or the tamer to the more ra-
pacious of every order.
If we take tradition or Revelation for our
guide, the matter is plain, that God made
man lord of the works of his hands, and put
under him all the other creatures. Only it
appears that the grant of animal food was
made no earlier than to Noah, after the
flood.
C
Let us next consider the establishment of
private property. Private property is every
particular person's having a confessed and
exclusive right to a certain portion of the
goods which serve for the support and con-
veniency of life.
In a very imperfect state of society com-
munity of goods may subsist in a great de-
gree, and indeed its subsisting is one of the
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1
surest signs of an imperfect: state of society.
Some attempts have been made in civilized
states to introduce it, but without any con-
siderable effect, except in Sparta, the con-
stitution of which was very singular. In
small voluntary societies, especially of the
religious kind, it may be established, and will
continue so long as the morals of the society
are pure. But in civil society fully formed,
especially if the state is at all extensive, or
intended to be so, private property is essen-
tially necessary, and founded upon the rea-
son of things and public utility. The reasons
of it are, 1. without private property no laws
would be sufficient to compel universal in-
dustry. There never was such a purity of
manners and zeal for the public, in the in-
dividuals of a great body, but that many
would be idle and slothful, and maintain
themselves upon the labour of others.
2. There is no reason to expect, in the
present state of human nature, that there
would be a just and equal distribution to
every one according to his necessity, nor
any room for distinction according to merit.
CO
3. There would be no place for the exer-
cise of some of the noblest affections of the
human mind, as charity, compassion, benefi
cence, &c.
4. Little or noincitement to the active vir-
tues, labour, ingenuity, bravery, patience, &c.
Some have laid down schemes for mak-
ing property common, as Sir Thomas Moore
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
95
in his Utopia; but in general they are chi-
merical and impracticable. There is no in-
stance in fact where any state that made a
figure in the social life had their goods
wholly in common. Sparta had the most of
it, but it was a very small state, and limited
in its views; besides there was something
so singular in the whole constitution of the
Spartan government, that its subsisting so
long, remains a phenomenon for politicians
and reasoners yet to account for.
Supposing private property to be essen-
tial, or at least useful in the social state, the
next question is, how does this property take
its rise, or by what ways is it acquired?
The original ways of acquiring property
may be reduced to these two, 1. Prior occu-
pation, 2. Our own industry.
As to the first of these, it may be ana-
lysed thus. Of the things that lay in common
for the use of man, I have a right to take
what is convenient for me, and after I have
taken it, no body can have a better right, nor
consequently any title to take it from me.
But many questions, difficult to be re-
solved, arise from the application of this
principle. How far does this right extend?
Must I take only what is sufficient for the
present moment, or may I provide for future
necessities and enjoyment. In vacant lands
must I take only what I and my present
followers can sufficiently occupy, or may I
touch a continent and call it mine, though I
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}
shall not be able to fill it in many ages. I
answer, common utility must be the rule in all
these cases; and any thing more particular
must be reserved till we come to the law of
nations.
Some say that the water in large bays
and rivers ought to be common to all, be-
cause it is inexhaustible, and one's using it
cannot waste or spoil it for the use of others.
But the security of societies will point out
the measure of property that must be in all
those things.
The extent or object of property contains.
three particulars, 1. A right tot he fullest use.
Whatever is a person's property, he has a
right to do with it as he pleases, with this
single exception, if it may be called so, that
he may not use it to the injury of others. Full
property has no other exception, unless you
call this an exception, that if any man would
wantonly destroy the fruits of the earth, or
his own habitation; in that case, though
they were his own, people would hinder him,
as supposing him to be mad, and deprive
him not only of that liberty, but of all other.
2. Property implies, a right of exclusion.
We may hinder others from any way inter-
meddling with what is our property. This
seems essential to the idea. Giving a full
right to one, implies that others have none.
3. It implies a power to alienate. That is
to say, a right of alteration, commutation, do-
24
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
97
nation, during life, and disposal at death. Thus
property is said to be perpetual.
There are certain things called by Civi-
lians Res nullius, such as temples, public edifi-
ces, gates, and walls of cities, &c. Temples
used to be said to be given to God, and in
the laws of civilized states, attention is paid
to this circumstance. But as to the property
or use, the case of them, and of all the other
things mentioned, is very clear. They are
under the inspection of the magistrate, or
such persons as represent the community,
and are by them kept for commion use.
}
1
#
24
[98]
LECTURE XI.
IN the social life
sider, I. Domestic.
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C
1
in general we may con-
II. Civil Society.
The first of these we must consider as im-
plying and made up of several relations, the
chief of which are 1. the relation of marriage,
2. that of parents and children, 3. that of
master and servant.
In marriage we ought to observe, that
though all creatures may be said to be pro-
pagated in a way in a great degree similar,
yet there is something peculiarly distin-
guished, dignified, and solemn, in marriage
among men. This distinction is necessary,
and founded in reason and nature.
Human creatures at their birth are in a
state weaker and more helpless than any other
animals. They also arrive much more slowly
at maturity, and need by far most assistance
and cultivation. Therefore a particular union
of the parents is absolutely necessary, and
that upon such powerful principles as will
secure their common care. Marriage is a re-
lation expressly founded upon this necessity,
and must be so conducted as to ascertain the
property of the offspring, and to promise the
most assiduous, prudent and extensive care.
}
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
99
This is the foundation of marriage drawn
from the public good. But we ought also to
observe, that man is manifestly superior in
dignity to the other animals, and it was in-
tended that all his enjoyments, and even his
indulgence of instinctive propensities, should
be of a more exalted and rational kind than
•heirs. Therefore the propensity of the sexes
to one another is not only reined in by mo-
desty, but is so ordered as to require that
reason and friendship, and some of the no-
blest affections, should have place. And it is
certain that they have, if not a more violent,
at least a more lasting and uniform influence,
in the married state, than sensual desire.
It is further observed by moral writers,
that though beauty and personal attraction
may be considered as the first motives, yet
these are always supposed to be indications
of something excellent in the temper within.
So that even love of beauty, in man, is an
attachment to moral excellence. Let a person
attend with seriousness, and he will find that
the utmost perfection of form in an idiot, or
one thoroughly known to be of a very bad
temper, is really no object of desire, Though
in those who are little known, it is apt to
prejudice the ignorant and unwary to judge
favourably of the person.
The particulars which reason and nature
point out, relating to the marriage contract,
are as follow:
1. That it be between one man and one
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woman. Polygamy is condemned by nature;
for it is found that the males born are to the
females, as 13 to 12, or as some say, as 20
to 19, the overplus being to supply the greater
waste of the male part of the species by war
and dangerous occupations, hard labour, and
travelling by land and sea.
2. The fundamental and essential part of
the contract is fidelity and chastity. This
must immediately appear to be essential to
the purpose of the union. Some writers say
that this is especially binding upon the wo
man, in order to ascertain the offspring; but
every body must see the absurdity of any
distinction, because the contract would neither
be equal, nor likely to be steadily observed,
if it were not mutual. Besides, as a late au-
thor has well observed, if chastity be a female
virtue, how can men be unchaste without in-
fringing upon it.
3. The contract should be for life-other-
wise it would be short, uncertain, and mu
tual love and industry greatly weakened.
4. If superiority and authority be given to
the man, it should be used with so much gen-
tleness and love as to make it a state of as
great equality as possible. Hutchinson and
some other writers say, there should be no
superiority, and that their property, being
common, should not be alienated by the one
without the other. Others think that perfect
equality of power in two persons is not con-
Macu
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
101
sistent with order, and the common interest,
and therefore give authority to the man; and
the laws of most nations give the man the
disposal of property, with the reservation of
particular rights to the woman.
Some heathen writers gave the man power
of life and death over the woman, a thing
evidently barbarous and unjust.
5. Marriages are sometimes dissolved by
divorces, which our law permits only on
three accounts-adultery, wilful and obstinate
desertion and incapacity. The first two of
these founded on the New Testament, and
the last on reason; being not so properly a
dissolution of a marriage, as a declaration
that it was void from the beginning, and never
took place.
Some writers of moral philosophy add, as
causes of divorce, contrariety of temper, in-
curable diseases, and such as would infect the
offspring. But none of them seem of suffi-
cient moment. The first would be an eyi-
dent temptation to causeless and wanton sepa-
rations and all the three may be guarded
against by previous caution.
Hutchinson observes that in all nations,
marrying in near degrees of consanguinity or
affinity, has been avoided and abhorred; and
he adds, that the natural and general abhor-
rence of it has been greater than reason seems
to dictate. Hence it has been conjectured to
have been early tradition or revelation-and
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i
men have exercised their invention in find.
ing out the true reason or ground of the pro-
hibition.
One reason assigned is, because if mar-
riage were lawful to near relations, their fre-
quent intercourse would be a strong tempta-
tion to uncleanness.
CON
Another; that if permitted, it would fre-
quently confound or invert the duties of rela-
tions, by setting some above others whom
they formerly used to obey.
A third reason, and perhaps the best is,
that abstaining from blood relations in this
voluntary contract, extends the social ties,
and produces a greater number of family
relations.
Whatever be the moral reasons, it seems
to have a strong sanction in nature; for it is
observed that marriage between near rela-
tions, especially if repeated, greatly weakens
the human race.
As to the extent of this prohibition, it has
been various in different nations, but the
most prevailing has been to forbid all within
three degrees. The degrees are reckoned
by the steps of descent between the parties
and the common parent. Parent and child is
the first-child and child the second-child
and grand-child the third--and two grand
children or first cousins the fourth-when it
becomes lawful.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
103
RELATION OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN.
The first thing to be observed is, that this
relation is distinguished by the strongest in-
stinct of parental affection. This seems ne-
cessary, as the education of children is a duty
requiring so much time, care and expence,
which nothing but the most rooted affection
would submit to.
The rights of the parent may be summed
up in these two: 1. Authority, which re-
quires subjection in the children. 2. A right
to a grateful return in due time from the
children. The first is a perfect right, as far
as it extends, but must be limited.
Some nations have given parents the power
of life and death over their children; and
Hobbes insists, that children are the goods
and absolute property of their parents, and
that they may alienate them and sell them
either for a time or for life. But both these
seem ill founded, because they are contrary
to the end of this right, viz. instruction and
protection. Parental right seems in most
cases to be limited by the advantage of the
children.
Children are no doubt to judge for them-
selves in matters of religion when they come
to years; though the parents are under the
strongest obligation to instruct them carefully
to the best of their judgment. Those who in-
sist, that to leave them their judgment freethey
ought not to be taught any principles, ought to
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*
consider that their scheme is impracticable and
absurd. If the parents do not instruct them,
they will imbibe prejudices and contract habits,
perhaps of the worst kind, from others.
Children in most nations are considered as
having a right, exclusive of their parents, to
property given them by others.
Many nations have given the parents a
right to dispose of their children in mar-
riage; but this seems to be carrying parental
authority too far, if it be made absolute, be-
cause it puts in the power of the parent to
dispose of what is most essential to their
happiness, through the whole of their future
life. Yet it seems very contrary to reason
and nature, that children in early life should
dispose of themselves in marriage without
consulting their parents.
Since we have denied the power of life
and death to parents, it will be asked, what
is the sanction of their authority? I answer,
moderate correction in early life, and, as the
very highest punishment expulsion from their
family, or a forfeiture of the privileges which
they despise.
As to the right to a grateful return, it
is an imperfect right, but of the strongest
kind-sometimes the civil authority inter-
poses, and obliges children to maintain their
aged parents.
To the disgrace of human nature it is often
observed, that parental affection is much
stronger than filial duty. We must indeed
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
105
acknowledge the wisdom of Providence, in
making the instinctive impulse stronger in
parents towards their children, than in chil-
dren towards their parents; because the first
is more necessary than the other to the public
good; yet when we consider both as im-
proved into a virtuous disposition, by reason
and a sense of duty, there seems to be every
whit as much baseness in filial ingratitude,
as in want of natural affection.
RELATION OF MASTER AND SERVANT.
This relation is first generated by the dif
ference which God hath permitted to take
place between man and man. Some are su-
perior to others in mental powers and intel-
lectual improvement-some by the great in-
crease of their property through their own,
or their predecessors' industry, and some
make it their choice, finding they cannot live
otherwise better, to let out their labour to
others for hire.
Let us shortly consider, 1. How far this
subjection extends. 2. The duties on each
side.
-
As to the first, it seems to be only that the
master has a right to the labours and ingenuity
of the servant, for a limited time, or at most
for life. He can have no right either to take
away life, or to make it insupportable by ex-
cessive labour. The servant therefore retains
all his other natural rights.
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LECTURES ON, &c.
*
The practice of ancient nations, of making
their prisoners of war slaves, was altogether
unjust and barbarous; for though we could
suppose that those who were the causes of an
unjust war deserved to be made slaves; yet
this could not be the case of all who fought
on their side; besides, the doing so in one
instance, would authorise the doing it in any
other; and those who fought in defence of
their country, when unjustly invaded, might
be taken as well as others. The practice
was also impolitic, as slaves never are so good
or faithful servants, as those who become so
for a limited time, by consent.
[107]
LECTURE XII.
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5
OF CIVIL SOCIETY.
CIVIL SOCIETY, as distinguished from
domestic, is the union of a number of families
in one state, for their mutual benefit.
We have before affirmed, that society al-
ways supposes an expressed or implied con-
tract or agreement. Let us now see what
this agreement necessarily implies.
1. The consent of every individual to live
in, and be a member of that society. 2. A
consent to some particular plan of govern-
ment. 3. A mutual agreement between the
subjects and rulers; of subjection on the one
hand, of protection on the other-These are
all implied in the union of every society, and
they complete the whole.
Any objections that may be raised against
this, are easily solved, e. g.--Though every
individual has not given an actual consent,
yet his determination to live with any society
implies it. Again, if it be asked how chil
dren come to be members of a society; it is
answered, they receive the benefits and par-
take of the rights of the society during the
whole time of their education, and as they
come to the use of reason, they both claim
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LECTURES ON
I
the privilege and acquiesce in the duty of
citizens--And if they find any thing insup.
portable in their condition, they may alter it
at their pleasure.
Have then all subjects a right, when they
see fit, to remove from the society in which
they are? I answer, that in all ordinary cases
they ought to have, at least in time of peace.
Perhaps it may be affirmed with justice, that
they who have enjoyed the privileges of any
society in time of peace, if war or danger to
the public should arise, they may be hin-
dered from emigrating at that time; and
compelled to contribute their share in what
is necessary to the common defence.
Whatever is the form of government in
any society, the members may be divided
into two classes, the rulers and the ruled, the
magistrates and subjects.
The rights of rulers may be divided into
essential and accidental: the essential, such
as in general must be vested in rulers of every
society; the accidental, such as may be given
to the rulers in some societies, but not in
others.
The essential rights of rulers are what re-
quire most to be enumerated; and these
again by some good writers are divided into
greater and lesser essentials.
Of the first kind are, 1. Legislation. 2.
Taxation, for the public expence. 3. Juris-
diction, or the administration of justice. 4.
Representation, or appearing and acting in
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
109
the name of the whole, in all transactions, with
adjacent independent states, chiefly for the
purposes of making war or peace.
The less essential rights of rulers are many;
and they are called less essential, because they
may be more varied than the others; such
as coining of money-possessing or managing
public edifices-conferring honours on offi-
cers, &c.
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{
The rights of subjects in a social state
cannot be enumerated, but they may be all
summed up in protection, that is to say,
those who have surrendered part of their
natural rights expect the strength of the pub-
lic arm to defend and improve what remains.
It has been often said, that government is
carried on by rewards and punishments; but
it ought to be observed, that the only reward
that a state can be supposed to bestow upon
good subjects in general, is protection and
defence. Some few, who have distinguished
themselves in the public service, may be dis-
tinguished by particular rewards; but to re-
ward the whole is impossible, because the re-
ward must be levied from those very persons
to whom it is to be given.
After what has been said on the founda-
tion of society, viz. consent, perhaps it may
be necessary to mention two exceptions.
1. It is said by some with apparent reason,
that a few persons, if accidentally armed with
power, may constrain a large ignorant rabble
to submit to laws which will be for their
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}
good. This I would admit in some cases,
when there is an evident madness and dis-
order in the multitude, and when there is a
moral certainty that they will afterwards be
pleased with the violence done them. But in
general it is but a bad maxim, that we may
force people for their good. All lovers of
power will be disposed to think that even a
violent use of it is for the public good.
2. Though people have actually consented.
to any form of government, if they have been
essentially deceived in the nature and opera-
tion of the laws, if they are found to be per.
nicious and destructive of the ends of the
union, they may certainly break up the so-
ciety, recal their obligation, and resettle the
whole upon a better footing.
OF THE DIFFERENT FORMS OF GOVERNMENT.
As soon as men began to consider and
compare forms of government, they divided
them into three general and simple kinds, 1.
monarchy, 2. aristocracy, 3. democracy.
These are called simple, because they are
clearly distinguishable from each other in
their nature and effects. The ancients ge-
nerally divided the forms of government in
this manner, because most of their govern-
ments were of one or other of these kinds,
with very little mixture.
Monarchy is when the supreme power is
vested in a single person. Mr. Hutchinson
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
111
says, monarchy may be either absolute or
limited; but this is an inaccuracy, for limited
monarchy is one of the mixed kinds of go-
vernments.
But monarchy may be either temporary or
for life. The Roman dictators were abso-
lute for a time; and so long as they con-
tinued, the government was purely monar-
chical, all other powers being dormant.
Monarchy may also be either hereditary
or elective.
Aristocracy is that form of government, in
which the supreme power is lodged with a
small number of nobles. This is capable of
the same variations as monarchy, and it may
be either temporary or perpetual, hereditary
or elective, with this difference, that a tem-
porary or elective aristocracy always puts
some power in the hands of the people. The
most complete aristocracy is when the ru-
ling party have the power of cooptation
within themselves, and can fill up as they
please, the vacancies made by deaths or
resignations.
t
Democracy is when the supreme power
is left in the multitude. But as in large
governments the people in a collective body
cannot well meet together, nor could they
transact business with any convenience if they
did, they may meet by representatives, chosen
either by the whole, or by particular dis-
tricts.
From those simple forms are generated
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many complex forms; two of them may be
compounded together, either in equal or in
different proportions, or all these may be
united, as in the British government.
After pointing out the simple forms of
government, it will be proper to make some
general observations upon government, and
apply them to the various forms, to show
whether any of them is preferable to the other,
and the advantages and defects of each in
particular.
1. There are four things that seem to be
requisite in a system of government, and
every form is good in proportion as it pos-
sesses or attains them. 1. Wisdom to plan
proper measures for the public good. 2.
Fidelity to have nothing but the public in-
terest in view. 3. Secrecy, expedition and
dispatch, in carrying measures into execu-
tion; and, 4. Unity and concord, so that one
branch of the government may not impede,
or be a hindrance to another.
Monarchy has plainly the advantage in
unity, secrecy, and expedition. Many can-
not so easily nor so speedily agree upon pro-
per measures, nor can they expect to keep
their designs secret; therefore, say some, if
a man could be found wise enough, and just
enough for the charge, monarchy would be
the best form of government. Accordingly
we find in the command of a ship, fleet or
army, one person is commonly intrusted with
supreme power; but this does not apply to
1
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
113
J
states, for many reasons. No man can be
found, who has either skill sufficient, or, if
he had, could give attention to the whole de-
partments of a great empire. Besides, in
hereditary monarchies there is no security at
all for either wisdom or goodness; and an
elective monarchy, though it may seem to
promise ability, has been always found in
experience, worse than the other; because
there is no reason to expect that an elected
monarch will have the public good at heart;
he will probably mind only private or family
interest.
Aristocracy has the advantage of all the
others for wisdom in deliberations; that is to
say, a number of persons of the first rank
must be supposed by their consultations to
be able to discover the public interest. But
it has very little or no prospect of fidelity or
union. The most ambitious projects, and
the most violent and implacable factions,
often prevail in such states.
Democracy has the advantage of both the
others for fidelity; the multitude collectively
always are true in intention to the interest of
the public, because it is their own. They
are the public. But at the same time it has
very little advantage for wisdom, or union,
and none at all for secrecy and expedition.
Besides, the multitude are exceeding apt to
be deceived by demagogues and ambitious
persons. They are very apt to trust a man
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who serves them well with such power, as
that he is able to make them serve him.
If the true notion of liberty is the preva
lence of law and order, and the security of
individuals, none of the simple forms are fa-
vourable to it.
Monarchy, every one knows, is but ano-
ther name for tyranny, where the arbitrary
will of one capricious man disposes of the
lives and properties of all ranks.
Aristocracy always makes vassals of the
inferior ranks, who have no hand in govern-
ment, and the great commonly rule with
greater severity than absolute monarchs. A
monarch is at such a distance from most of
his subjects, that he does them little injury;
but the lord of a petty seignory is a rigorous
task-master to his unhappy dependants. The
jealousy with which the members of an aris-
tocratical state defend their own privileges,
is no security at all for humanity and easy
treatment to their inferiors. Example-the
Spartans; their treatment of the Helots-and
the barons in all the feudal governments, in
their treatment of their vassals.
Pure democracy cannot subsist long, nor
be carried far into the departments of state-
it is very subject to caprice and the madness
of popular rage. They are also very apt to
choose a favourite, and vest him with such
power as overthrows their own liberty,—ex-
amples, Athens and Rome.
Hence it appears that every good form of
SAN
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
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government, must be complex, so that the
one principle may check the other. It is of
consequence to have as much virtue among
the particular members of a community as
possible; but it is folly to expect that a state
should be upheld by integrity in all who
have a share in managing it. They must be
so balanced, that when every one draws to
his own interest or inclination, there may be
an equipoise upon the whole.
II. The second observation upon the forms
of government is, that where there is a ba-
lance of different bodies, as in all mixed forms,
there must be always some nexus imperii,
something to make one of them necessary to
the other. If this is not the case, they will
not only draw different ways, but will often
separate altogether from each other. In
order to produce this nexus, some of the
great essential rights of rulers must be di-
vided and distributed among the different
branches of the legislature. Example--in the
British government, the king has the power
of making war and peace,--but the parlia-
ment have the levying and distribution of
money, which is a sufficient restraint.
III. The third observation is, that the
ruling part of any state must always have
considerable property, chiefly of lands. The
reason is, property has such an invariable
influence, that whoever possesses property
must have power. Property in a state is
also some security for fidelity, because
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interest then is concerned in the public
welfare.
For this reason, did men in every state
live entirely by agriculture, an agrarian law
would be necessary to liberty; because if a
vast proportion of property came into a few
hands, they would soon take all power to
themselves. But trade and commerce super-
sede the necessity of this, because the great
and sudden fortunes accumulated by trade,
cause a rotation of property.
IV. In a well formed state the subjects
should not be too numerous, nor too few. If
very numerous, the principles of government.
cannot exert their force over the whole. The
Roman empire fell by its own weight. If the
subjects are too few, they are not sufficient
to suppress internal insurrections, or repel
attacks from without.
V. It is frequently observed, that in every
government there is a supreme irresistible
power lodged somewhere in king, senate, or
people. To this power is the final appeal in
all questions. Beyond this we cannot go.
How far does this authority extend? We
answer, as far as authority in a social state
can extend; it is not accountable to any other
tribunal, and it is supposed in the social com-
pact that we have agreed to submit to its de-
cision. There is however an exception, if the
supreme power, wherever lodged, come to
be exercised in a manifestly tyrannical man-
ner, the subjects may certainly, if in their
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
117
power, resist and overthrow it. But this is
only when it becomes manifestly more ad.
vantageous to unsettle the government alto-
gether, than to submit to tyranny. This re-
sistance to the supreme power, however, is
subverting the society altogether, and is not
to be attempted till the government is so
corrupt, as that anarchy and the uncertainty
of a new settlement is preferable to the con-
tinuance as it is.
This doctrine of resistance even to the su-
preme power is essentially connected with
what has been said on the social contract,
and the consent necessary to political union.
If it be asked, who must judge when the
government may be resisted? I answer, the
subjects in general, every one for himself.
This may seem to be making them both
judge and party, but there is no remedy. It
would be denying the privilege altogether,
to make the oppressive ruler the judge.
It is easy to see that the meaning of this
is not that any little mistake of the rulers of
any society will justify resistance. We must
obey and submit to them always, till the
corruption becomes intolerable; for to say
that we must resist legal authority every
time we judged it to be wrong, would be in-
consistent with a state of society, and to the
very first idea of subjection.
The once famous controversy on passive
obedience and non-resistance seems now in
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118
LECTURES ON
our country to be pretty much over; what
the advocates for submission used to say was,
that to teach the lawfulness of resisting a
government in any instance, and to make the
rebel the judge, is subversive of all order, and
must subject a state to perpetual sedition;
to which I answer, to refuse this inherent
right in every man, is to establish injustice
and tyranny, and leave every good subject
without help, as a tame prey to the ambi-
tion and rapacity of others. No doubt men
may abuse the privilege, yet this does not
make it void. Besides, it is not till a whole
people rise, that resistance has any effect, and
it is not easy to suppose that a whole peo-
ple would rise against their governors, unless
when they have really received very great
provocation. Whereas, on the other hand,
nothing is more natural than for rulers to
grasp at power, and their situation enables
them to do it successfully, by slow and in-
sensible encroachments. In experience there
are many
instances of rulers becoming
tyrants, but, comparatively, very few of
causeless and premature rebellions. There
are occasional and partial insurrections in
every government. These are easily raised
by interested persons, but the great majority
continues to support order.
VI. Dominion, it is plain from all that has
been said, can be acquired justly only one
way, viz. by consent. There are two other
ways commonly mentioned, both of which
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
119
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are defective, inheritance and conquest. He-
reditary power, which originally rose from
consent, and is supposed to be founded upon
the continuance of consent, (as that of the
hereditary power in a limited monarchy) is
as lawful as any, but when they pretend
such a right from nature is independent of
the people, it is absurd.
That which is called the right of conquest
ought to be exploded altogether. We shall
see by and by, what is the right of a conqueror
in a just war. It was his right before, and
he obtains possession of it by conquest. But
to found any claim merely on conquest is
not a right, but robbery.
Upon the whole, I will conclude with a
few remarks upon the spirit and tendency
of different forms of government.
1. Monarchical government has a tendency
to politeness and elegance of manners, and
generally to luxury. The submission and
obsequiousness practised at the court of a
monarch diffuses itself through the whole
state.
2. Aristocracy narrows the mind exceed-
ingly, and indeed cannot long subsist in a
large state. A small aristocracy, however,
may subsist as a form of government, as long
as any other method, or longer.
3. Democracy tends to plainness and free-
dom of speech, and sometimes to a savage
and indecent ferocity. Democracy is the
nurse of eloquence, because when the multi-
120
LECTURES ON, &c.
-
S
tude have the power, persuasion is the only
way to govern them.
Let us now ask this short question, what
is the value and advantage of civil liberty?
Is it necessary to virtue? This cannot
be supposed. A virtuous mind and virtu-
ous conduct is possible, and perhaps equally
possible in every form of government.
Is it necessary to personal private happi-
ness? It may seem so. We see the subjects
of arbitrary governments however not only
happy, but very often they have a greater
attachment to their form of government than
those of free states have to their's. And if
contentment be necessary to happiness, there
is commonly more impatience and discontent
in a free state than in any other.
The ty-
ranny even of an absolute monarch does not
effect with personal injury any of his sub-
jects but a few, and chiefly those who make
it their choice to be near him. Perhaps in
free governments the law and the mob do
more mischief to private property, than is
done in any absolute monarchy.
What then is the advantage of civil
liberty? I suppose it chiefly consists in its
tendency to put in motion all the human pow-
ers. Therefore, it promotes industry, and
in this respect happiness,--produces every
latent quality, and improves the human mind.
-Liberty is the nurse of riches, literature
and heroism.
[121]
LECTURE XIII.
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\
OF THE LAW OF NATURE AND
NATIONS.
THE next thing in order, is to treat of
what is called the law of nature and nations.
It has been before observed, that separate
and independent states are, with regard to
one another, in a state of natural liberty, or
as man to man before the commencement of
civil society. On this several questions arise.
1. Is there any such law? 2. What is the
law? 3. What is its sanction, or how is it to
be enforced?
That there is such a law is plain, from the
reasons that show the obligation which one
man lies under to another. If there are na-
tural rights of men, there are natural rights
of nations. Bodies politic, in this view, do not
differ, in the least from individuals. There-
fore, as before, reason, conscience and com-
mon utility, show that there is a law of na-
ture and nations.
The question what it is? must be consi-
dered in the same manner. I am not able to
recollect any perfect or imperfect right that
can belong to one man, as distinguished from
122
LECTURES ON
another, but what belongs to nations; save
that there is usually less occasion for the
imperfect rights. If we read over the perfect
rights, in a state of natural liberty, (page 87)
we shall see they all apply to nations.
It will also appear that the imperfect rights
apply; but the occasions of exerting them
are much more rare. For example, it is
more rare to see a nation in a state of ge-
neral indigence, so as to require a supply.
Yet this sometimes happens. It did so in the
case of Portugal, at the time of the great
earthquake at Lisbon. And the other na-
tions of Europe lent them assistance. It is
also from this principle that ships of differ-
ent nations meeting at sea, will do acts of
humanity to one another. Sometimes also
there are national favours that deserve na-
tional gratitude. But this is seldom merited,
and, I believe, still seldomer paid.
As to the sanction of the law of nature
and nations, it is no other than a general
sense of duty, and such a sense of common
utility, as makes men fear that if they noto-
riously break these laws, reproach and in-
famy among all nations will be the effect,
and probably resentment and indignation by
common consent.
The violation of the natural rights of man-
kind being a transgression of the law of na-
ture, and between nations as in a state of
natural liberty, there being no method of
redress but force, the law of nature and na-
*
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
123
•
tions has, as its chief or only object the man-
ner of making war and peace.
In war it is proper to consider distinctly,
1. The causes for which a just war may be
carried on. 2. The time of commencing. 3.
The duration. 4. The means by which it may
be carried on.
As to the first, the causes of commencing
war are according to the principles above
laid down, the violation of any perfect right-
as taking away the property of the other
state, or the lives of its subjects, or restrain-
ing them in their industry, or hindering them
in the use of things common, &c. There is
only one perfect right, the violation of which
does not seem to be the cause of war; I
mean that by which we have a right to
character. National calumny is scarcely a
cause of war, because it cannot be frequent
or of great effect. The violation of imperfect
rights cannot usually be a cause of war be-
tween nations; yet a case may be supposed,
in which even these would be a just cause of
war. Suppose a ship of any nation should
go into a port of another, in the greatest dis-
tress, and not only the people in general, but
the governing part of the society, should
deny them all assistance-This would be an
act of such notorious inhumanity, and of such
evil example, that it may justify national re-
sentment; and yet even here, I think there
should first be a demand of justice upon the
You
124
LECTURES ON
offending persons, before vengeance should
be taken upon the state.
These are the just and legitimate causes
of making war. Some add to them, that when
a nation is seen to put itself in such a situa-
tion as to defence, or as to the means of an-
noying others, that it seems to threaten hos-
tilities, then we are not obliged to wait till
it hath committed actual injury, but may
put it in a state of incapacity: but there is
no other truth in this, but what is founded
upon the other; for the preservation of our
property implies, that if others take such
measures as are not to be accounted for but
upon the supposition of an intention of wrong-
ing me, it is often easier and safer to prevent
and disarm the robber, than to suffer him to
commit the violence, and then to strip him.
and rob him of his prey.
One thing more is to be added, that every
nation has a right to join which it pleases of
two contending parties. This is easily re-
solved into the general principles; for the
injured party may be supposed to go to
war in defence of some perfect right; and
the cause being just, the imperfect right of
humanity, as well as general and common
utility, calls for assistance to the oppressed.
So that if we have a right to associate with
any nation, we may be entitled to protect
their property and rights.
2. As to the time of commencing war, it
seems to be no way contrary to natural law
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
125
to say it is at any time the injured party
pleases, after having received an injury;
but accident or utility, or a desire in each
party to manifest the equity of their cause,
has introduced universally the custom of
declaring war. This began very early, and
though not of absolute right, having been
generally introduced, must be continued,
though there is often more of form than of
substance in it; for nations do often begin
both attack and defence before declaration,
as well as make all the necessary prepara-
tions for striking the most effectual blow.
The meaning of a declaration of war seems
to be, to call upon the injuring party to pre-
vent it by reparation--Likewise to manifest
to all other states the justice of the cause.
3. The duration of a war should be, accord
ing to natural equity, till the injury be com-
pletely redressed, and reasonable security
given against future attacks therefore the
practice, too common, of continuing a war
for the acquisition of empire, is to be con-
demned. Because one state has done some
injury to another, it seems quite unreasona-
ble that they should not only repair the in-
jury, but subvert and ruin the offending state
altogether--this would be unreasonable be-
tween man and man, if one had wronged
another, not only to repair the wrong, but to
take all the rest that he had, and reduce his
family to beggary. It is even more unrea-
sonable in states, because the offenders in
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126
LECTURES ON
states are not to be supposed to be the whole
people, but only the rulers, or perhaps only
some individuals.
Perhaps it may be asked, what is reasona-
ble security against future injury? I answer,
between equal independent nations, solemn
treaties ought to be considered as security,
but if faith has been often broken, perhaps
something more may be required. The
mutual complaints of nations against each
other for breach of faith makes conquerors
often demand such a degree of security, as
puts the conquered altogether in their power.
4. As to the legitimate means of carrying
on the war, in general, it may be said in one
word, by force or open violence. It is ad-
mitted on all hands, that this force may be
used against the person and goods, not only
of the rulers, but of every member of the hos
tile state. This may seem hard, that innocent
subjects of the state should suffer for the folly
and indiscretion of the rulers, or of other
members of the same state; but it is una-
voidable. The whole individuals that com-
pose a state are considered but as one body;
it would be impossible for an enemy to dis-
tinguish the guilty from the innocent; and
when men submit to a government, they
risk their own possessions on the same bot-
tom with the whole, in return for the benefits
of society.
Open violence may be said to have no
bounds; and therefore every method that can
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
127
A
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The use of poisoned weapons has been
also generally condemned-the poisoning of
springs or provisions.
To the honour of modern times, and very
probably, I think, to the honour of christi-
anity, there is now much more humanity
the way of carrying on war than formerly.
To aim particularly at the life of a leader
or person of chief note seems to have nothing
in it unjust or improper, because the more
important the life, it does more toward the
finishing of the war; but what many seem
į to admit, the bribing of his own people to as-
sassinate him privately, I cannot think ho-
nourable or fair.
A question is often moved in morals, how
far it is lawful to deceive an enemy? espe-
cially if we hold the general and universal
obligation of truth. To this it may be an-
swered, in the first place, that we may cer-
tainly with great justice conceal our own de-
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be invented, and the most deadly weapons of
annoyance may seem to be permitted-But
from what has been said above, and upon
the principles of general equity, all acts of
cruelty and inhumanity are to be blamed,-
and all severity, that has not an immediate
effect in weakening the national strength of
the enemy, is certainly inhumanity--Such
as killing prisoners whom you can keep safely
-killing women and children-burning and
destroying every thing that could be of use
in life.
128
LECTURES ON
signs from an enemy--as indeed we may
generally from friends, by silence, and guard-
ing against every circumstance that may be.
tray them. Neither do I think there is any
thing at all blame-worthy in a general of an
army using ambiguous signs, as feigned
marches of a part or the whole, putting up
lights or such things, because after a decla-
ration of war he does not pretend to give in-
formation to his enemy of his motions, nay
it is expected on both sides that they will do
the best they can to over-reach one another
in point of prudence. Yet I can scarce think
it right to employ people to go to the enemy,
and professing to be sincere, tell direct false-
hoods, and deceive them by that false intelli-
gence.
It is the custom of all to send spies to dis-
cover the enemy's designs, and also to bribe
some of the enemies themselves to discover
the designs of their leaders-The last of
which is, I think, at least of a doubtful na-
ture, or rather unjust--Though sending
spies is by all approved, yet (what may seem
a little unaccountable) such spies are always
punished with instant death by the opposite
side when detected. The reason probably is,
that pretending friendship they have a right
to consider them as traitors-Or as they are
in an act of hostility, they kill them,] as they
would do an enemy in battle when in their
power.
These circumstances apply to all war in

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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
129
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general: but there is a distinction of wars by
civilians into two kinds, solemn and civil.
The first includes all wars between states
formerly independent, the other internal insur-
rections of a part of one government against
another.
There has generally been a great differ-
ence in the behaviour of the opposite parties
in these different wars. In solemn wars there
is a presumption of integrity in the plurality
on both sides, each believes his own cause to
be just. On this account they are to be
treated with the more humanity. In civil
wars the insurgents are considered as making
unjust resistance to the ruling part of the so-
ciety, and therefore guilty of the greatest
crimes against society. Therefore they are
often treated with great rigour, and when
taken in battle, reserved to solemn trial and
public execution. There is some reason for
this in many cases, when it is indeed an un-
reasonable or unprovoked insurrection of dis-
orderly citizens; but there are many cases in
which the pretences on both sides are so
plausible, that the war should be in all respects
considered as solemn.
It should be observed, notwithstanding the
hostile disposition, there are occasions, both
in a treaty for peace and during the continu-
ance of the war, when enemies are under the
strongest obligations to sincerity in their be-
haviour to each other.-When proposals are
made for accommodating the differences, for a
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130
LECTURES ON
suspension of arms, for an exchange of pri-
soners, or any thing similar.
It is worth while to inquire, whether the
greatest honour and candour in war, with a
strict adherence to all the laws above laid
down, would give any party a great advan-
tage, who should take the liberty of trans-
gressing them-as for example, who should
use poisoned weapons-should send people
to tell false stories-should bribe subjects
to assassinate a hostile prince--I answer,
that they would have no advantage at all, but
probably the contrary. There is something
powerful in magnanimity, which subdues the
hearts of enemies; nay, sometimes terrifies
them, and particularly inspires a general's
army with invincible courage. Besides
these, sinister arts are not so terrible as may
be imagined-telling false news is as easily
discovered as any trick whatsoever.
Prudence and integrity have no need of
any assistance from fraud--acts even of gene-
rosity, from enemy to enemy, are often as
useful as any acts of hostility. There was
something very handsome in the Roman
general, who refused to avail himself of the
treachery of a school-master, as well as
whimsical, in the way in which he punished
the traitor.
OF MAKING PEACE.
As already hinted, all proposals tending
to this purpose ought to be made with the
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
131
-
utmost sincerity. Of all deceits in war, the
most infamous is that of making a treaty, or
seeking a conference, only to take advantage
of the security of one party to destroy him--
by assassination, or by breaking a truce, to
fight with advantage.
The terms of peace ought to be agreeable
to the end of making war. Damages should
be repaired, and security given against future
injury.
We have often said that nation to nation
is as man to man, in a state of natural liber-
ty; therefore treaties of peace between na-
tions, should in general, proceed upon the
same principles as private contracts between
man and man. There is however, an excep-
tion, that contracts between individuals are
(at least by law) always void, when they are
the effect of constraint upon one side. Now
this must not hold in treaties between nations,
because it would always furnish a pretext for
breaking them. On the side of the conquer-
ed, a treaty is always in a great degree, the
effect of necessity,
It is generally, however, laid down in
most authors as a principle, that the terms
imposed and submitted to, may be sometimes
so rigorous and oppressive, as to justify the
injured party in revolting when they are able.
This seems to me to be very lax in point of
morals. It would be better I think, to say,
that the people who made the treaty should
not recede from it. Their posterity, how-


132
LECTURES ON
ever, at some distance, cannot be supposed
bound to unjust servitude by the deeds of
their fathers.
Let us conclude this subject by a few re-
marks on the situation of neutral states.
1. Every state has a right, when others
are contending, to remain neuter, and assist
neither party.
2. They have a right to all their former
privileges with both the contending parties-
may carry on their traffic with both, and may
show all the usual marks of friendship to both
-only it has been generally agreed upon,
that they are not to trade with any of them
in certain articles supposed to be of conse-
quence in carrying on war, particularly pro-
visions and arms.
3. Neutral powers should keep their har-
bours alike open to both for common refresh-
ment, and as an asylum to fly to. And it is
held necessary, that the contending powers
must not carry on their quarrel, nor exercise
any hostilities, within the territories of a neu-
tral state.
4. Neutral states may purchase moveable
goods from any of the contending parties,
which have been taken from the other. But
not so with respect to lands or forts, because
if the other party are able, they will re-take
their possessions.
5. Deeds of a violent possessor are held to
be valid, that is to say, if a conqueror prevails
for a time, and levies tribute from any coun-
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
133
try, and afterwards the rightful possessor
prevails, it would be unjust to demand the
tribute again, because the true owner was
not able to give protection to the subjects,
and what was paid was lost through his
weakness. The same thing may be said of a
dependent state; if it owes any money and
service to a supreme state, and an enemy
exact it by force, the proper creditor cannot
justly demand it again.
On the whole, those things that have been
generally received as the law of nature and
nations, are founded on the principles of
equity, and, when well observed, do greatly
promote general utility.
TNT
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[154]
LECTURE XIV.
-00000-
JURISPRUDENCE.
JURISPRUDENCE is the method of en-
acting and administering civil laws in any
constitution.
We cannot propose to go through a system
of civil laws, and therefore what I have in
view is to make some preliminary remarks,
and then to point out the object of civil laws,
and the manner of their operation.
1. The first preliminary remark is, that a
constitution is excellent, when the spirit of
the civil laws is such as to have a tendency to
prevent offences and make men good, as much
as to punish them when they do evil.
This is necessary in some measure; for
when the general disposition of a people is
against the laws, they cannot long subsist,
even by a strict and rigorous execution on
the part of the rulers. There is, however,
more of this in some constitutions than in
others. Solon and Xenophon, as well as
Lycurgus, seem to have formed their plan
very much with this view, to direct the man-
ners of the people in the first place, which
will always make the observation of particular
laws easy.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
135
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424
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But how shall the magistrate manage this
matter, or what can be done by law to make
the people of any state virtuous? If, as we
have seen above, virtue and piety are insepa-
rably connected, then to promote true religion
is the best, and most effectual way, of making
a virtuous and regular people. Love to God,
and love to man, is the substance of religion;
when these prevail, civil laws will have little
to do.
But this leads to a very important disquisi-
tion, how far the magistrate ought to inter-
fere in matters of religion. Religious senti-
ments are very various-and we have given
it as one of the perfect rights in natural liber-
ty, and which ought not to be alienated even
in society, that every one should judge for
himself in matters of religion.
What the magistrate may do on this sub-
ject seems to be confined to the three follow-
ing particulars.
F
1. The magistrate (or ruling part of any
society) ought to encourage piety by his own
example, and by endeavouring to make it an
object of public esteem. Whenever the ge-
neral opinion is in favour of any thing, it will
have many followers. Magistrates may pro-
mote and encourage men of piety and virtue,
and they may discountenance those whom it
would be improper to punish.
2. The magistrate ought to defend the
rights of conscience, and tolerate all in their
religious sentiments that are not injurious to
136
LECTURES ON
i
their neighbours. In the ancient heathen
states there was less occasion for this, be-
cause in the system of polytheism, the dif-
ferent gods and rites were not supposed to
be opposite, but co-ordinate and consistent.;
but when there is believed to be but one
God, the sentiments about his nature and
worship will often be considered as essentially
repugnant one to another.
The pretence of infidels, that persecution
only belongs to the Christian religion, is ab-
surd; for the Christian was the first religion
that was persecuted, and it was the necessary
consequence of saying, that the gods of the
heathens were no gods.
At present, as things are situated, one of
the most important duties of the magistracy
is to protect the rights of conscience.
It is commonly said, however, that in case
any sect holds tenets subversive of society
and inconsistent with the rights of others,
that they ought not to be tolerated. On this
footing Popery is not tolerated in Great Bri-
tain; because they profess entire subjection.
to a foreign power, the See of Rome; and
therefore must be in opposition to the proper
interest of their own state; and because vio-
lence or persecution for religion is a part of
their religion, which makes their prosperity
threaten ruin to others--as well as the prin-
ciple imputed to them, which they deny, that
faith is not to be kept with heretics. But how-
ever just this may be in a way of reasoning
$
I
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
137
we ought in general, to guard against perse-
cution on a religious account, as much as
possible; because such as hold absurd tenets
are seldom dangerous. Perhaps they are
never dangerous, but when they are op-
pressed. Papists are tolerated in Holland
without danger to liberty. And though not
properly tolerated, they are now connived at
in Britain.
In ancient times, in great states, the Cen-
sorial power was found necessary to their
continuance, which inspected the manners of
men. It seems probable, that supporting the
religious sects in modern times answers this
end, for the particular discipline of each sect.
is intended for the correction of manners.
3. The magistrate may enact laws for the
punishment of acts of profanity and impiety.
The different sentiments of men in religion,
ought not by any means to encourage or give
a sanction to such acts as any of them count
profane.
Many are of opinion, that besides all this,
the magistrate ought to make public provision
for the worship of God, in such manner as is
agreeable to the great body of the society;
though at the same time, all who dissent from
it are fully tolerated. And indeed, there
seems to be a good deal of reason for it, that
so instruction may be provided for the bulk.
of common people, who would, many of them,
neither support nor employ teachers, unless
they were obliged. The magistrate's right,
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in this case, seems to be something like that
of the parent, they have a right to instruct,
but not to constrain.
II. The second preliminary remark is,
that laws should be so framed as to promote
such principles in general, as are favourable
to good government, and particularly that
principle, if there be one, that gave rise to
the constitution, and is congenial to it.
Such a principle as I have in view, is
generally the point of honour in a country,
and this law-givers and administrators of law
should endeavour to preserve in its full vi-
gour, for whenever it is undermined, the
constitution goes to ruin.
Of these principles, sobriety, industry, and
public spirit are the chief. Some states are
formed to subsist by sobriety and parsimony,
as the Lacedemonians.
Industry is the prevailing principle in
others, as in Holland. Public spirit in
others, as in Greece, ancient Rome, and
Britain. Only public spirit may be diver-
sified; sometimes it is a passion for acquir-
ing glory and dominion, as in Rome, and
sometimes for preserving liberty, as in Greece
and Britain.
When I say, that in the management of a
state the utmost attention should be given to
the principle of the constitution, to preserve
it in its vigour, I mean that though all other
crimes are bad, and in part tend to the ruin
of a state, yet this is much more the case with
11*
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
139
crimes against that principle than any other.
Any act of immorality was bad at Sparta, but
to make poverty and parsimony reproachful,
and to introduce fine houses and furniture,
and delicate entertainments, would have been
instant ruin.
Any act of immorality would be hurtful in
Holland, but to make fraudulent bankruptcy
less infamous than it is, would immediately
destroy them.
Sobriety, industry, and public spirit, are
nearly allied, and have a reciprocal influence
upon one another. Yet there may be a
great degree of some of them, in the absence
of the others. In Sparta, there was much
sobriety and public spirit, but little industry.
In Athens, much industry and public spirit,
with very little parsimony.
In opposition to the whole of this, Man-
deville wrote a book, called The Fable of the
Bees, which seems to be levelled against so-
briety, industry, and public spirit, all at
once; his position is, that private vices are
public benefits, and that the waste and luxury
of one man, supplies the wants of another;
but it is easy to overthrow his reasoning, for
though sober and industrious persons spend
each less than a profuse person, yet sobriety
and industry tend much more to population,
and by that means they are mutually service-
able to each other. Luxury and vice only
waste and destroy, they add nothing to the
common stock of property or of happiness..
140
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Experience fully justifies this, for though
from the luxury of one man another may
reap some gain, the luxury of a nation always
tends to the ruin of that nation.
III. A third preliminary remark is, that
laws may be of two kinds, either written, or
in the breasts of magistrates.
In every
constitution of note, there is something of
each of these kinds. It is uncertain whether
it is better to have many or few special laws.
On the one hand, it seems to be the very
spirit of a free constitution, to have every
thing as strictly defined as possible, and to
leave little in the power of the judge. But
on the other hand, a multiplicity of laws is
so apt to lead to litigation, and to end in
ambiguity, that perhaps judges of equity,
chosen by the district in which they live and
are to act, and chosen but for a time, would
be a more just and equitable method of end-.
ing differences. But the difficulty of settling
a constitution so as always to secure the
election of impartial judges, has made modern
states, where there is liberty, prefer a multi-
plicity of written laws.
IV. The last preliminary remark is, that
no human constitution can be so formed,
but that there must be exceptions to every
law. So that there may be in every nation,
oppression under form of law, according to
the old maxim, summum jus summa injuria.
This further shews the necessity of forming
the manners of a people.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
141
After having laid down these prelimina-
ries, we may observe that the object of civil
laws may be divided into the three following
particulars.
1. To ratify the moral laws by the sanc-
tion of the society. The transgression of
such laws are called crimes, as profanity,
adultery, murder, calumny, &c. And they
are prosecuted and punished by order of the
public, according to the spirit of every con-
stitution.
2. To lay down a plan for all contracts in
the commerce or intercourse between man
and man. To show when a contract is valid,
and how to be proved. The transgressions.
of such laws are called frauds. They chiefly
regard the acquisition, transmission, or aliena-
tion of property.
3. To limit and direct persons in the ex-
ercise of their own rights, and oblige them
to show respect to the interfering rights of
others. This contains the whole of what is
called the police of a country.--And the
transgression of such laws are called tres-
passes. A number of things in this view
may become illegal, which before were not
immoral.
OF THE SANCTION OF THE MORAL LAWS.
In all polished nations, there are punish-
ments annexed to the transgression of the
moral laws, whether against God, our neigh-
}
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LECTURES ON
bour, or ourselves; in the doing of which,
the three following things are chiefly ne-
cessary.
1. To determine what crimes, and what
degree of the same crime, are to be inquired
into by the civil magistrate. It is of neces-
sity that in a free state crimes should be pre-
cisely defined, that men may not be igno-
rantly or rashly drawn into them. There
are degrees of every crime--profanity, im-
purity, violence, slander, that are blameable
in point of morals, nay, even such as may
fall under the discipline of a religious society
--that if they were made cognizable by the
civil magistrate, would multiply laws and
trials beyond measure.
2. To appoint the methods of ascertaining
the commission of crimes. This is usually
by testimony, in which we are to consider
the number and character of the witnesses.
Generally through Christendom, and indeed
most other parts of the world, two witnesses
have been esteemed necessary to fix crimes.
upon an accused person; not but that the
positive evidence of one person of judgment
and untainted character is not, in many cases,
sufficient to gain belief, and often stronger
than two of unknown or doubtful credit, but
it was necessary to lay down some rule, and
two are required to guard against the danger
of hired evidence, and to give an opportu-
nity of trying how they agree together.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
143
To have required more would have made
a proof difficult or impossible in many cases.
It seems to be a maxim in law, and
founded on reason, that in the case of what
are called occult crimes, such as murder,
adultery, forgery, and some others, where
the nature of the thing shows that there must
be a penury of evidence, they sometimes
content themselves with fewer witnesses, if
there are corroborating circumstances to
strengthen their testimony.
嘗
​It seems to be a matter not easily decided,
whether it be agreeable to reason and jus-
tice, in the case of very atrocious crimes,
that on account of the atrocity, less evidence
should be sufficient for conviction, or that
more should be required. On the one hand,
the more atrocious the crime, the greater the
hurt to society, and the more need of public
vengeance. On the other hand, the more
atrocious the crime, and the heavier the pun-
ishment, it seems agreeable to justice that
the conviction should be upon the more un-
questioned evidence. Lawyers are seen to
take their common places, sometimes the one
way, sometimes the other. It is often thought
that in practice, less evidence is sufficient to
convict a man of murder, forgery, rape, and
other crimes of a deep dye. But I am per-
suaded that the appearance is owing to the
greater and more general eagerness to dis-
cover the perpetrators of such crimes. Others
are suffered to escape more easily, not that
144
LECTURES ON
more evidence is necessary, but that it is
more difficult to get at the evidence.
Evidence may be distinguished into two
kinds, direct and circumstantial. Direct evi-
dence is when the witnesses swear to their
sight or knowledge of the accused commit-
ting the crime. Circumstantial, when they
only swear to certain facts, which cannot be
supposed to have existed unless the crime
had been committed. As a man found dead--
another found near the place--with a weapon
bloody,-or clothes bloody, &c. Some have
affirmed that circumstantial evidence is
stronger than direct, but it must be taken
with very great caution and judgment.
3. The law is to proportion and appoint
the punishment due to every crime when
proven.
Punishment in all regular states is taken
wholly out of the hands of the injured per-
sons, and committed to the magistrate, though
in many or most cases the injured party is
suffered to join the magistrate in the prose-
cution, and to have a certain claim, by way
of reparation, as far as that is practicable.
Therefore the punishment in general must
consist of two parts, (1.) reparation to the
sufferer, (2.) the vindicta publica, which has
sometimes two ends in view, to be an ex-
ample to others, and to reclaim and reform
the offender, as in corporal punishment less
than death. Sometimes but one, the good of
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
145
others in the example, as in capital punish-
ments and banishment.
The kind of punishment, and the degree,
is left wholly to different law-givers, and the
spirit of different constitutions. Public utility
is the rule. Punishment is not always pro-
portioned to the atrociousness of the crime
in point of morals, but to the frequency of
it, and the danger of its prevailing.
Some nations require, and some will bear
greater severity in punishments than others.
The same or similar conduct often pro-
duces opposite effects. Severe laws and se-
vere punishments, sometimes banish crimes
but very often the contrary. When laws are
very sanguinary, it often makes the subjects.
hate the law more than they fear it, and the
transition is very easy, from hating the law
to hating those who are entrusted with the
execution of it. Such a state of things
threatens insurrections and convulsions, if
not the dissolution of a government.
Another usual effect of excessive severity
in laws is, that they are not put`in execu-
tion. The public is not willing to lend its
aid to the discovery and conviction of of-
fenders; so that in time the law itself be-
comes a mere brutum fulmen, and loses its
authority.
>
I may make one particular remark, that
though many things are copied from the law
of Moses into the laws of the modern na-
tions, yet, so far as I know, none of them
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LECTURES ON, &c.
have introduced the lex talionis in the case
of injuries, an eye for an eye, and a tooth
for a tooth, &c. and yet perhaps there are
many instances in which it would be very
proper. The equity of the punishment would
be quite manifest, and probably it would be
as effectual a restraint from the commission
of injury, as any that could be chosen.
The concluding remark shall be, that it
is but seldom that very severe and sanguinary
laws are of service to the good order of a
state; but after laws have been fixed with
as much equity and moderation as possible,
the execution of them should be strict and
rigorous. Let the laws be just, and the ma-
gistrate inflexible.
[147]
LECTURE XV.
·00000·
II. THE second object of civil laws be-
ing to regulate the making of contracts, and
the whole intercourse between man and man,
relating to the acquisition, possession and
alienation of property, we must consider
carefully the nature of
CONTRACTS.
A contract is a stipulation between two
parties, before at liberty, to make some altera-
tion of property, or to bind one or both par-
ties to the performance of some service.
Contracts are absolutely necessary in so-
cial life. Every transaction almost may be
considered as a contract, either more or less
explicit.
The principal thing which constitutes a
contract is, consent. But in some kinds of
contracts, viz. the gratuitous, the consent of
the receiver is presumed. In the transmission
of estates by donation on testament this is pre-
sumed-and those who are incapable of giv-
ing their consent, through infancy, may not-
withstanding acquire property and rights.
When a man comes into a settled country
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LECTURES ON
and purchases property, he is supposed,
besides every other part of the bargain, to
purchase it under such conditions, and sub-
ject himself to such laws, as are in force in
that country.
Contracts are said to be of three degrees
in point of fulness and precision-1. A simple
affirmation of a design as to futurity--as
when I say to any one that I shall go to such
a place to-morrow: this is not properly
binding, and it is supposed that many things
may occur to make me alter my resolution
yet a frequent alteration of professed purpo-
ses gives the character of levity; therefore
a prudent man will be cautious of declaring
his purposes till he is well determined. 2.
A gratuitous promise of doing some favour
to me. This is not made binding in law,
nor does it usually convey a perfect right,
because it supposes that the person who was
the object of good-will may, by altering his
behaviour, forfeit his title to it, or that the
person promising may find it much more
inconvenient, costly, or hurtful to himself,
than he supposed; or, lastly, that what was
intended as a service, if performed, appears
plainly to be an injury. In the last case
every one must see, that it cannot be bind-
ing; but in the two former, I apprehend
that in all ordinary cases a distant promise
is binding in conscience, though it may not
be necessary to make it binding in law. I
say all ordinary cases, because it is easy to
-
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
149
figure a case in which I may make a pro-
mise to another, and such circumstances may
afterwards occur as I am quite confident, if
the person knew, he would not hold me to
my promise.
3. The third degree is a complete contract,
with consent on both sides, and obligation
upon one or both.
The essentials of a contract, which render
it valid, and any of which being wanting, it
is void, are as follow:
That it be, (1.) Free. (2.) Mutual. (3.)
Possible. (4.) Lawful. (5.) With a capable
person. (6.) Formal.
First. It must be free. Contracts made by
unjust force are void always in law, and
sometimes in conscience. It must however
be unjust force, because in treaties of peacè
between nations, as we have seen before, force
does not void the contract; and even in pri-
vate life sometimes men are forced to enter
into contracts by the order of a magistrate,
sometimes by the threatening of legal prose-
cution, which does not make them void.
เ
(2.) They must be mutual, that is, the
consent of the one as well as that of the other
must be had. Contracts in this view become
void, either by fraud on one side, or by essen-
tial error. If any man contrives a contract
so as to bind the other party, and keep him-
self free, this fraud certainly nullifies the
agreement—or if there is an essential error
in the person or the thing, as if a person
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LECTURES ON
should oblige himself to one man, supposing
$ him to be another.
(3.) Contracts should be of things evi-
dently possible, and probably in our power.
Contracts, by which men oblige themselves to
do things impossible, are no doubt void from
the beginning; but if the impossibility was
known to the contracting party, it must have
been either absurd or fraudulent. When
things engaged for become impossible by
the operation of Providence, without a man's
own fault, the contract is void, and he is
guiltless-as if a man should covenant to de-
liver at a certain place and time a number of
cattle, and when he is almost at the place of
destination they should be killed by thunder,
or any other accident, out of his power.
•
(4.) Contracts must be of things lawful.
All engagements to do things unlawful are
from the beginning void; but by unlaw-
ful must be understood the violation of per-
fect rights. If a man oblige himself for a
reward to commit murder, or any kind of
fraud, the engagement is void; but it was
criminal in the transacting, and the reward
ought to be returned, or given to public
uses. There are many contracts, however,
which are very blameable in making, that
must, notwithstanding, be kept, and must
not be made void in law-as rash and foolish
bargains, where there was no fraud on the
other side. If such were to be voided, great
confusion would be introduced. The cases
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
151
I
of this kind are numerous, and may be greatly
diversified.
(5.) Contracts must be made with a capa、
ble person, that is to say, of age, understand-
ing, at liberty, &c. It is part of the civil law,
or rather municipal law, of every country,
to fix the time of life when persons are sup-
posed capable of transacting their own affairs.
Some time must be fixed, otherwise it would
occasion numberless disputes, difficult to be
decided. A man at the age of fourteen, and
a woman at twelve, may choose guardians,
who can alienate their property, and at the
age of twenty-one they have their estates
wholly in their own hand.
(6.) Contracts must be formal.
The laws of every country limit a great
many circumstances of the nature, obligation,
extent, and duration of contracts.
Having pointed out something of the
essential characters of all lawful contracts; I
observe, they may be divided two different
ways, 1. Contracts are either absolute or con-
ditional. The absolute are such as are sus-.
pended upon no condition, but such as are
essential to every contract, which have been.
mentioned above. Such as when a person
makes a settlement upon another, without
reserve, then, whether he behave well or ill,
whether it be convenient or inconvenient, it
must be fulfilled. Conditional contracts are
those that are suspended or any uncertain
future contingency, or some performance by
152
LECTURES ON
the opposite party. Of this last sort are al-
most all transactions in the way of com-
merce,--which leads to the 2nd. way of di-
viding contracts, into beneficent and onerous.
The first is when one freely brings himself
under an obligation to bestow any favour or
do any service, as donations or legacies, and
undertaking the office of guardian of another
person's estate.
The onerous contract is when an equal
value is supposed to be given on both sides,
as is the case for the most part in the aliena-
tion of property-and the transactions be-
tween man and man, and between society
and society.
To this place belongs the question about
the lawfulness of lending money upon interest.
If we consider money as an instrument of
commerce, and giving an opportunity of
making profit, there seems plainly to be
nothing unjust, that the lender should share in
the advantage arising from his own property.
The chief thing necessary is, that the state
or governing part of the society should settle
the rate of interest, and not suffer it to de-
pend upon the necessity of the poor or the
covetousness of the rich. If it is not settled by
law, usury will be the certain consequence.
The law of Moses does not seem to have
admitted the taking of interest at all from an
Israelite. It is thought, however, that the
main reason of this must have been drawn
from something in their constitution, as a state;
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
153
*
that rendered it improper; for if it had been
in itself immoral, they would not have been
permitted to take it of strangers.
OF THE MARKS OR SIGNS OF CONTRACTS.
All known and intelligent marks of consent
are the signs and means of completing con-
tracts. The chief of these however, are
words and writing, as being found the most
easy and useful. Words are of all others the
most natural and proper for giving immediate
consent, and writing to perpetuate the me-
mory of the transaction. There are how-
ever, many other signs that may be made
use of, and wherever there is a real purpose
of signifying our intention, by which others
are brought to depend upon it, the engage-
ment is real, and we are bound in conscience,
though the law in every country must of
necessity be more limited. The whole rests
ultimately on the obligation to sincerity in
the social life.
This obligation arises from the testimony
of conscience, and from the manifest utility
and even necessity of sincerity to social in-
*
tercourse.
Signs are divided into natural, instituted,
and customary. Natural signs are those
which have either a real likeness to the thing
signified, or such a knowmand universal re-
lation to it, that all men must naturally be
led from the one to the other-as a picture
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LECTURES ON
15
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}
is a natural sign, because a representation of
the thing painted. An inflamed sullen coun-
tenance and fiery eyes, are natural signs of
anger, because they are the universal effects.
of that passion.
Instituted signs are those that have no
other connexion with the thing signified,
than what has been made by agreement; as
if two persons shall agree between them-
selves, that if the one wants to signify to
the other at a distance, that he wishes him to
come to his assistance, he will kindle a fire
upon a certain hill, or hang out a flag upon
a certain pinnacle of his house, or some part
of his ship. Words and writing are properly
instituted signs, for they have no relation to
the thing signified but what original agree-
ment and long custom has given them.
Customary signs are no other than insti-
tuted signs which have long prevailed, and
whose institution has either been accidental
or has been forgotten. It is also usual to
apply the word customary to such signs as
depend upon the mode and fashion of parti-
cular countries. There are some signs and
postures, which though they may seem per-
fectly arbitrary, have obtained very general-
ły, perhaps universally, as bending down the
body, or prostration, as a sign of respect and
reverence; kneeling, and lifting up the hands,
as a sign of submission and supplication.
Perhaps both these are natural, as they put
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
155
the person into the situation least capable of
4
resistance.
س
Sometimes there is a mixture of natural
and instituted signs, as if a man sends a pair
of wings, or the figure of them, to a friend,
to intimate his danger, and the necessity of
flying.
In the use of signs, the great rule of sin-
cerity is, that wherever we are bound, and
wherever we profess to communicate our in-
tention, we ought to use the signs in the
least ambiguous manner possible. When we
have no intention, and are under no obligation
to communicate any thing to others, it is of
small moment what appearances are; it is
their business not to make any unnecessary
or uncertain inferences. A light in a house,
in the middle of the night, will perhaps sug-
gest most probably, to a traveller acci-
dentally passing, that there is somebody
sick in that house; yet perhaps it is extraor-
dinary study or business that keeps some per-
son awake.
Nay, when there is no obligation to give,
nor any reason for the party to expect true
information, it is held generally no crime at
all, to use such signs as we have reason to
suppose will be mistaken; as when one who
does not desire to be disturbed keeps his
chamber close shut, that people may conclude
he is not there. When a general of an army
puts a fire in the camp, to conceal his march
or retreat. And probably none would think
156
LECTURES ON
it faulty, when there was an apprehension of
thieves, to keep a light burning in a chamber,
to lead them to suppose the whole family is
not at rest.
There are some who place in the same
rank, evasive phrases, when there is an ap-
parent intention to speak our mind, but no
right in the other to obtain it. Such expres-
sions may be strictly true, and yet there is
all probability that the hearer will misunder-
stand them. As if one should ask if a person
was in any house, and should receive for an-
swer, he went away yesterday morning, when
perhaps he returned the same evening. I look
upon these evasions, however, as very doubt-
ful, and indeed rather not to be chosen, be-
cause they seem to contain a profession of
telling our real mind.
Some mention ironical speech as an excep-
tion to the obligation to sincerity. But it is
properly no objection at all, because there is
no deception. Truth lies not in the words
themselves, but in the use of them as signs.
Therefore, if a man speak his words in such
a tone and manner as the hearer immediately
conceives, they are to be taken in an opposite
sense, and does really take them in the sense
the speaker means them, there is no falsehood
at all.
Mr. Hutchinson, and some others, allow
a voluntary intended departure from truth,
on occasion of some great necessity for a
good end. This I apprehend is wrong, for
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
157
}
we cannot but consider deception as in itself
base and unworthy, and therefore a good end
cannot justify it. Besides, to suppose it were
in men's power on a sufficient occasion to
violate truth, would greatly destroy its force
in general, and its use in the social life.
There are two sorts of falsehood, which,
because no doubt they are less aggravated
than malicious interested lies, many admit
of, but I think without sufficient reason.
1. Jocular lies, when there is a real de-
ception intended, but not in any thing ma-
terial, nor intended to continue long. How-
ever harmless these may seem, I reckon
they are to be blamed, because it is using
too much freedom with so sacred a thing
as truth. And very often such persons,
as a righteous punishment in Providence,
are left to proceed further, and either to
carry their folly to such excess, as to be-
come contemptible, or to go beyond folly
into malice.
2. Officious lies, telling falsehoods to
children or sick persons, for their good.
These very seldom answer the end that
is proposed. They lessen the reverence for
truth; and, particularly with regard to chil-
dren, are exceedingly pernicious; for as
they must soon be discovered, they lose
their force, and teach them to deceive.
Truth and authority are methods infinitely
preferable, in dealing with children, as well
as with persons of riper years.
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[158]
LECTURE XVI.
-00000
OF OATHS AND VOWS.
AMONG the signs and appendages of
contracts, are oaths and vows.
An oath is an appeal to God, the searcher
of hearts, for the truth of what we say, and
always expresses or supposes an imprecation
of his judgment upon us, if we prevaricate.
Its
An oath therefore implies a belief in God,
and his Providence, and indeed is an act of
worship, and so accounted in Scripture, as
in that expression, Thou shalt fear the Lord
thy God, and shalt swear by his name.
use in human affairs is very great, when
managed with judgment. It may be ap-
plied, and indeed has been commonly used
1. in the contracts of independent states, who
have no common earthly superior. In an-
cient times it was usual always to close na-
tional treaties by mutual oaths. This form
is not so common in modern times, yet the
substance remains; for an appeal is always
supposed to be made to God, against the
breach of public faith.
2. It has been adopted by all nations, in
their administration of justice, in order to
discover truth. The most common and uni-
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
139
L
*
versal application of it has been to add greater
solemnity to the testimony of witnesses. It
is, also sometimes made use of with the par-
ties themselves, for conviction or purgation.
The laws of every country point out the
cases in which oaths are required or admitted
in public judgment. It is, however, lawful
and in common practice, for private persons,
voluntarily, on solemn occasions, to confirm
what they say, by oath. Persons entering on
public offices are also often obliged to make
oath, that they will faithfully execute their
trust.
Oaths are commonly divided into two
kinds, assertory and promissory—Those
called purgatory fall under the first of these
divisions. There is perhaps little necessity
for division of oaths, for they do not properly
stand by themselves; they are confirmations
and appendages of contracts, and intended as
an additional security for sincerity, in the
commerce between man and man.
Therefore oaths are subject to all the same
regulations as contracts; or rather oaths are
only lawful, when they are in aid or confir-
mation of a lawful contract. What therefore
voids the one will void the other, and nothing
else. A contract otherwise unlawful, can-
not be made binding by an oath: but there
must be a very great caution used not to
make any unlawful contract, much less to
confirm it by an oath.
It is easy to see the extreme absurdity of
160
LECTURES ON
1
our being obliged to fulfil a criminal engage-
ment by oath, for it would imply, that out
of reverence to God we ought to break his
commands; but nothing can be more abomi-
nable, than the principle of those who think
they may safely take an unlawful oath, be-
cause it is not binding: this is aggravating
gross injustice by deliberate profanity.
I have said that oaths are appendages to
all lawful contracts; but in assertory oaths,
which are only confirmations of our general
obligation to sincerity, it is necessary not
only that what we say be true, but that the
occasion be of sufficient moment to require
or justify a solemn appeal to God. Swearing
on common occasions is unnecessary, rash,
profane and destructive of the solemnity of
an oath and its real use.
From the general rule laid down, that
oaths are lawful when applied to lawful con-
tracts, it will follow that they become un-
lawful only, when the fulfilling of them would
be violating a perfect right; but perhaps an
additional observation is necessary here.
Contracts must be fulfilled, when they vio-
late an imperfect right; whereas some oaths
may be found criminal and void, though they
are only contrary to imperfect rights as for
example, some persons bind themselves
rashly by oath, that they will never speak to
or forgive their children, who have offended
them. This is so evidently criminal, that
nobody will plead for its being obligatory,
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
161
and yet it is but the violation of an imperfect
right. The same persons, however, might
in many ways alienate their property to the
prejudice of their children, by contracts
which the law would oblige them to fulfil.
In vows there is no party but God and the
person himself who makes the vow for this
reason, Mr. Hutchinson relaxes their obliga-
tion very much.-Supposing any person had
solemnly vowed to give a certain part of his
substance to public, or pious uses, he says, if
he finds it a great inconvenience to himself
or family, he is not bound; this I apprehend
is too lax. Men ought to be cautious in
making such engagements; but I apprehend
that when made, if not directly criminal, they
ought to be kept.
OF THE USE OF SYMBOLS IN CONTRACTS.
Besides promises and oaths, there is some-
times in contracts a use of other visible signs
called symbols; the most common among us
are signing and sealing a written deed. There
is also, in some places, the delivery of earth
and stone in making over land-and sundry
others. In ancient times, it was usual to have
solemn symbols in all treaties--mutual gifts-
sacrifices-feasts-setting up pillars-The
intention of all such things, whenever and
wherever they have been practised, is the
same. It is to ascertain and keep up the me-
mory of the transaction. They were more
་
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CA
17
162
LECTURES ON
#
frequent and solemn in ancient times than
now, because before the invention of writing
they were more necessary.
OF THE VALUE OF PROPERTY.
Before we finish the subject of contracts,
it may be proper to say a little of the nature
and value of property, which is the subject
of them. Nothing has any real value unless
it be of some use in human life, or perhaps
we may say, unless it is supposed to be of
use, and so becomes the object of human de-
sire--because at particular times, and in par-
ticular places, things of very little real im-
portance acquire a value, which is commonly
temporary and changeable. Shells and bau-
bles are of great value in some places; per-
haps there are some more baubles highly
valued in every place.
But though it is their use in life that gives
things their value in general, it does not fol-
low that those things that are of most use
and necessity, are therefore of greatest value
as property, or in commerce. Air and water,
perhaps we may add fire, are of the greatest
use and necessity; but they are also in
greatest plenty, and therefore are of little
value as a possession or property. Value is in
proportion to the plenty of any commodity,
and the demand for it. The one taken in
the inverse, and the other in the direct pro-
portion.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
163
}
Hence it follows that money is of real value.
It is not wealth properly, but the sign of it,
and in a fixed state of society the certain
means of procuring it. In early times, traffic
was carried on by exchange of goods-but
being large, not easily divided or transported,
they became very troublesome. Therefore
it soon became necessary to fix upon some
sign of wealth, to be a standard by which to
rate different commodities.
purpose
Any thing that is fit to answer the
of a common sign of wealth must have the
following properties: It must be 1. valuable,
that is, have an intrinsic commercial value;
and rare, otherwise it could have no com-
parative value at all. 2. Durable, otherwise
it could not pass from hand to hand. 3.
Divisible, so that it might be in larger or
smaller quantities as are required. 4. Por-
table, it must not be of great size, otherwise
it would be extremely inconvenient.
*
Gold and silver were soon found to have
all these properties, and therefore are fixed
upon as the sign of wealth. But besides
being the sign of the value of other com-
modities, they themselves are also matters of
commerce, and therefore increase or decrease
in their value by their plenty or scarceness.
It may seem to belong to the ruling part
of any society to fix the value of gold and
silver, as signs of the value of commodities-
and no doubt they do fix it nominally in their
dominions. But in this they are obliged to
164
LECTURES ON
be strictly attentive to the value of these
metals as a commodity, from their plenty or
scarceness, otherwise their regulations will
be of little force--other nations will pay no
regard to the nominal value of any particular
country, and even in internal commerce, the
subject would fix a value upon the signs
according to their plenty.
It is as prejudicial to commerce, to make
the nominal value of the coin of any country
too small as too great.
We shall close this part of the subject by
speaking a little of the
RIGHTS OF NECESSITY, AND COMMON RIGHTS.
These are certain powers assumed both by
private persons and communities, which are
supposed to be authorised by the necessity
of the case and supported by the great law
of reason,
There will remain a great number of cases
in which the rights of necessity are to be
used, even in the best regulated civil society,
and after the most mature deliberation and
foresight of probable events, and provision
for them by specific laws.
Were a man perishing with hunger, and
denied food by a person who could easily
afford it him, here the rights of necessity
would justify him in taking it by violence.
Were a city on fire, and the blowing up of an
house would save the far greater part, though
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
165
?
the owner was unwilling, men would think
themselves justified in doing it, whether he
would or not. Much more would men, in
cases of urgent necessity, make free with the
property of others, without asking their con-
sent, but presuming upon it.
In our own government, where, by the
love of liberty general among the people,
and the nature of the constitutions, as many
particulars have been determined by special
laws as in any government in the world--
yet instances of the rights of necessity occur
every day. If I see one man rob another
upon the highway, or am informed of it, if
I have courage and ability I pursue the rob-
ber, and apprehend him without any war-
rant, and carry him before a magistrate, to
get a warrant for what I have already done.
Nothing is more common in Britain than to
force people to sell their inheritance, or a
part of it, to make a road or street strait or
commodious. In this instance it is not so
much necessity as great utility.
The question of the greatest moment here
is, whether the establishing these rights of
necessity does not derogate from the perfec-
tion and immutability of the moral laws. If
it be true, that we may break in upon the
laws of justice for the sake of utility, is not
this admitting the exploded maxim, that we
may do evil that good may come? I answer,
that these rights of necessity have in general
property as their object, or at most the life
Ku
P 2
166
LECTURES ON
of particular persons--and it seems to be
inseparable from the establishment of pro-
perty in the social state, that our property is
to be held only in such manner, and to such a
degree, as to be both consistent with, and sub-
servient to, the good of others. And there-
fore these extraordinary cases are agreeable
to the tacit or implied conditions of the social
contract.
In rights of necessity we are to consider
not only the present good or evil, but for all
time to come, and particularly the safety or
danger of the example. Where the repeti-
tion of the thing in similar circumstances
would have a fatal effect, it ought not to be
done. If a city were under all the miseries
of famine, and a ship or two should arrive
with grain, the owner of which would not
sell it but at a most exorbitant price, per-
haps equity might admit that they should be
compelled; but if any such thing were done,
it would prevent others from going near that
place again.
It would be of no consequence to deter-
mine these rights of necessity by law. If the
law described circumstantially what might
be done, it would be no longer a right of
necessity, but a legal right. To forbid them
by law would be either ineffectual, or it
would abolish them altogether, and deprive
the society of the benefit of them when the
cases should occur. Things done by the
rights of necessity are by supposition illegal,
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
167
1
and if the necessity does not excuse, the per-
son who pretends them may be punished.
If I am aiding in pulling down a man's
house on pretence of stopping a fire, if he
afterwards makes it appear that there was
not the least occasion for it, or that I, being
his enemy, took the opportunity of this pre-
tence to injure him, he will obtain reparation.
As property, or at most life, is concerned
in the rights of necessity-still the moral
laws continue in force. Whatever expresses
an evil disposition of mind does not fall under
the rule, because it can never be necessary
to the doing of any good. The pretence of
its being necessary in some cases is generally
chimerical, and even were it real, the ne-
cessity could not justify the crime-as sup-
pose a robber very profane should threaten
a man with death, unless he would blaspheme
God, or curse his parents, &c.
-
There are certain things called common
rights, which the public is supposed to have
over every member: the chief of them are
1. diligence. As a man must eat, the com-
munity have a right to compel him to be
useful--and have a right to make laws
against suicide. 2. They have a right to
the discovery of useful inventions, provided
an adequate price be paid to the discoverer.
3. They have a right to insist upon such
things as belong to the dignity of human na-
ture. Thus all nations pay respect to dead
bodies, though there is no other reason for it
168
LECTURES ON
but that we cannot help associating with the
body, even dead, the ideas which arise from
it, and belonged to the whole person when
alive.
III. The third and last object of civil laws.
is, limiting citizens in the exercise of their
rights, so that they may not be injurious to
one another; but that the public good may
be promoted.
I
This includes the giving directions in what
way arts and commerce may be carried on,
and in some states extends as far as the pos-
sessions of private persons.
It includes the whole of what is called the
police of a community-the manner of tra-
velling, building, marketing, time and manner
of holding all sorts of assemblies-In arts and
commerce, particularly, the police shows its
power.
It will only be necessary here to make a
few remarks on the nature and spirit of those
laws.
1. Those things in themselves are arbi-
trary, and mutable, for there is no morality
in them but what arises from common utility.
We may sometimes do things in a way better
than that appointed by law, and yet it is not
allowed.
2. Men in general have but a very light
sense of the malignity of transgressing these
laws, such as running of goods, breaking over
a fence, &c.
3. In the best constitutions some sanctions
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
169
are appointed for the breach of these laws.
Wherever a state is founded upon the prin-
ciples of liberty, such laws are made with
severity, and executed with strictness.
Finally, a man of real probity and virtue
adopts these laws as a part of his duty to God
and the society, and is subject not only for
wrath, but also for conscience' sake.
[170]
RECAPITULATION.
·00000·
HAVING gone through the three general
divisions of this subject, Ethics, Politics,
and Jurisprudence, I shall conclude with a
few remarks upon the whole, and mention to
you the chief writers, who have distinguished
themselves in this branch of science.
1. You may plainly perceive both how
extensive and how important moral philo-
sophy is. As to extent, each of the divisions
we have gone through, might have been
treated at far greater length. Nor would it
be unprofitable to enter into a fuller disqui-
sition of many points; but this must be left
to every scholar's inclination and opportuni-
ties in future life. Its importance is manifest
from this circumstance, that it not only
points out personal duty, but is related to
the whole business of active life. The lan-
guages, and even mathematical and natural
knowledge, are but hard words to this su
perior science.
2. The evidence which attends moral dis-
quisitions is of a different kind from that
which attends mathematics and natural phi-
losophy; but it remains as a point to be
discussed, whether it is more uncertain or
not. At first sight it appears that authors differ
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
171
much more, and more essentially, on the prin-
ciples of moral than natural philosophy. Yet
perhaps a time may come when men, treat-
ing moral philosophy as Newton and his suc-
cessors have done natural, may arrive at
greater precision. It is always safer in our
reasonings to trace facts upwards, than to
reason downwards, upon metaphysical prin-
ciples. An attempt has been lately made by
Beatty, in his Essay on Truth, to establish
certain impressions of common sense as ax-
ioms and first principles of all our reasonings
on moral subjects.
→
K
3. The differences about the nature of
virtue are not in fact so great as they appear:
they amount to nearly the same thing in the
issue, when the particulars of a virtuous life
come to be enumerated.
4. The different foundations of virtue are
many of them not opposite or repugnant to
each other, but parts of one great plan-as
benevolence and self-love, &c. They all con-
spire to found real virtue: the authority of
God—the dictates of conscience--public hap-
piness and private interest, all coincide.
5. There is nothing certain or valuable in
moral philosophy, but what is perfectly co-
incident with the scripture, where the glory
of God is the first principle of action, arising
from the subjection of the creature--where
the good of others is the great object of duty,
and our own interest the necessary conse-
quence.
❤
*
172
LECTURES ON
In the first dawn of philosophy, men began
to write and dispute about virtue. The great
inquiry among the ancients was, what was
the summum bonum? by which it seems they
took it for granted, that virtue and happiness
were the same thing. The chief combatants
here, were the Stoics and Epicureans. The
first insisted, that virtue was the summum
bonum, that pleasure was no good, and pain
no evil the other said, that the summum
bonum consisted in pleasure, or rather that
pleasure was virtue: the Academics and
Platonists went a middle way between these.
I am not sensible that there is any thing
among the ancients, that wholly corresponds
with the modern dispute upon the foundation
of virtue.
F
Since the disputes arose in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries, some of the most
considerable authors, chiefly British, are
Leibnitz, his Theodicee, and his Letters.
Clark's Demonstration, and his Letters.
Hutchinson's Inquiriest the ideas of
beauty and virtue, and his System. Wol
laston's Religion of Nature Delineated. Col-
lins on Human Liberty. Nettleton on Virtue
and Happiness. David Hume's Essays. Lord
Kaims's Essays. Smith's Theory of Moral
Sentiments. Reid's Inquiry.* Balfour's De-
* Note by the Editor.- The Essays of Reid and
Stewart, and Vattel's Law of Nations, published since
those Lectures were written, merit a place in this
catalogue.
¿
MORAL PHILOSOPHY,
173
lineation of Morality. Butler's Analogy and
Sermons. Balguy's Tracts. Theory of
Agreeable Sensations, from the French.
Beatty on Truth. Essay on Virtue and
Harmony.
To these may be added the whole Deisti-
cal writers, and the answers written to each
of them in particular, a brief account of
which may be seen in Leland's View of the
Deistical Writers.
Some of the chief writers upon govern-
ment and politics are Grotius, Puffendorf,
Barberac, Cumberland, Selden, Burlamaqui,
Hobbes, Machiavel, Harrington, Locke, Syd-
ney, and some late books; Montesquieu's
Spirit of Laws; Ferguson's History of Civil
Society; Lord Kaims's Political Essays;
Grandeur and Decay of the Roman Empire;
Montague's Rise and Fall of Ancient Re-
publics; Goguet's Rise and Progress of
Laws, Arts, and Sciences.
Q
AN ADDRESS
TO THE
175
STUDENT'S OF THE SENIOR CLASS,
On the Lord's Day
PRECEDING COMMENCEMENT,
Sept. 23, 1775.
GENTLEMEN,
As
you have now finished the usual coursé
of study in this place, and are to enter upon
public life in a variety of ways, as each shall
be determined by inclination or other cir
cumstances; I willingly embrace the oppor-:
tunity of addressing an exhortation to you,
at this important and interesting period of
your lives. I do not mean to say much, if
any thing, that you have never heard before,
but to lay hold of your present situation,
with some hope, that what may be said now,
will remain upon your memory, and have an
influence upon your future conduct. That
I may speak with the greater clearness and pre-
cision, I will divide what I have to say, into
three branches. 1. Your duty to God, and
7

176 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
The final
¿
the interest of your souls. 2. The prosecu-
tion of your studies, or the improvement of
your talents, as members of society. 3. Pru-
dence in your commerce with the world in
general, your outward provision, and other
circumstances in life.

I. As to the first of these, it is to all men
of the greatest moment.
Some of you, I
know, and more, I hope, are intended for
the service of Christ in the ministry. To
this we have the universal suffrage, that true
religion is absolutely necessary, with which
I heartily agree. But I wish those who are
destined for other employments, may not
sometimes make a comparison here, unjust
in itself, and dangerous, perhaps even ruin-
ous, to their own souls. Because true reli-
gion is necessary to a minister, and they are
conscious to themselves, or at least suspect,
that they are without religion; instead of lay-
ing to heart the things that belong to their
peace, they only determine that they will fol-
low some other calling. But, alas! though
the difference to the public is very great, the
difference to the persons themselves, seems
to me but very small. A clergyman with-
out religion, to be sure is a dreadful charac-
ter, and, when visible, a detestable one; but
truly, one would think at the close of life, it
will be but little comfort to a man, that he
must go to the place of torment, not as a
minister, but as a lawyer, physician, soldier,
or merchant. Therefore suffer me to say to.
}
喜
​A
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
177
J
C
you, and to all who now hear me, that the
care of your souls is the one thing needful.
All mankind, of every rank, denomination
and profession, are sinners by nature. The
ministers of the New Testament have re-
ceived a commission to preach the gospel to
every creature: "He that believeth shall be
saved, and he that believeth not shall be
damned."
While I say this, I beg of you to consider
that the advantages which you have enjoyed,
will be an aggravation of your guilt, if they
are unimproved. There is an equity as well
as wisdom often to be observed in the pro-
vidence of God. Unless reasons of sove-
reignty, that is, reasons unknown to us, pre-
vent it, judgment will be inflicted, when
a person or people is ripe for the stroke.
Therefore, as some plants and seeds, both
from their own nature, and from the soil and
situation in which they are placed, ripen
sooner than others, so some persons, by the
early pains taken upon them, and the privi-
leges they have enjoyed, fill up the measure
of their iniquities sooner than others, and are
more speedily overtaken with deserved ven-
geance. There are many common sayings
that are the effects of error and prejudice; for
example, that which you will be told by
many, that the children of good men are as
bad as any. If this is intended to insinuate
that a regular and pious education affords no
ground to hope for good behaviour in after
९ 2
178 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
life, it is at once contrary to reason and ex-
perience. But if we should say that when
young persons piously educated, burst re-
straining bonds asunder, and are seduced
into vicious courses, they commonly run
faster and farther than others, it is a certain
fact, which may be easily accounted for, and
affords an important instruction to all.
After intreating you to lay religion to heart,
I must beseech you to guard against being
too easily satisfied in a matter of infinite
moment. Do not think it enough to be pru-
dent, cautious, or decent in your conduct,
or to attain a character formed upon worldly
principles, and governed by worldly mo-
tives. I am not against (as you all know)
introducing every argument against sin, and
shewing you that loose practices are ruin-
ous to name, body, and estate. Neither is it
wrong that you should fortify every pious
resolution by the addition of these motives.
But, alas! the evil lies deeper.
"Except
a man be born again, he cannot enter into
the kingdom of God." True religion must
arise from a clear and deep conviction of
your lost state by nature and practice, and
an unfeigned reliance on the pardoning
mercy and sanctifying grace of God.
Suffer me, upon this subject, earnestly to
recommend to all that fear God, to apply
themselves from their earliest youth, to the
exercises of piety, a life of prayer and com.
munion with God. This is the source from
1
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
179
|
2
3
which a real Christian must derive the secret
comfort of his heart, and which alone will
give beauty, consistency, and uniformity, to
an exemplary life. The reason why I have
mentioned it on this occasion is, that youth,
when the spirits are lively, and the affections
vigorous and strong, is the season when this
habit must be formed. There are advan-
tages and disadvantages attending every stage
of life. An aged Christian will 'naturally
grow in prudence, vigilance, usefulness, at-
tention to the course of providence, and sub-
jection to the Divine will; but will seldom
attain to greater fervour of affection, and life
in divine worship, than he had been accus-
tomed to from his early years. On the con-
trary, he will generally see it necessary in-
stead of trusting to occasional impulses, to
guard and strengthen the habit by order and
form.
**
·
❤
Be companions of them that fear God.
Esteem them always most highly, and shun,
as a contagious pestilence, the society not
only of loose persons, but of those especially
whom you perceive to be infected with the
principles of infidelity, pr enemies to the
power of religion.-Many of these are much
more dangerous to pious persons than open
profligates. As for these last, decency is
against them; the world itself condemns
them; reason despises them, and prudence
shuns them. He must have a very mean
taste indeed, who is capable of finding plea-
180 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
sure in disorder and riot. If I had no higher
pleasure on earth than in eating and drinking,
I would not choose to eat and drink with the
drunken. Order, neatness, elegance, and
even moderat itself, are necessary to exalt
and refine the pleasures of a sensual life.
Therefore I will not allow myself to suppose,
that I shall afterwards hear of any of you roar-
ing and swearing in taverns, or wasting your
bodies and estates by lewdness and de-
bauchery, or that you take pleasure in those
who do so. But be especially careful to
avoid those who are enemies to vital piety,
who do not pretend to speak directly against
religion, but give every vile name they can
think of, to all who seem to be in earnest on
that subject, and vilify the exercises of reli-
gion, under the names of whining, cant, gri-
mace, and hypocrisy. These are often un-
happily successful in making some uncau-
tious persons ashamed of their Redeemer's
name, his truths, his laws, his people, and
his cross.
I need hardly observe, that this is not to
be understood as recommending pharisaical
pride and superciliousness; far less, a rash
and presumptuous judging of the state of
others. It is not only lawful, but our duty,
to have a free communication with our fel-
low-citizens, for the purposes of social life:
it is not only lawful, but our duty to be
courteous, and to give every proper evi-
dence of respect and attention to others, ac-
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
181
cording to their rank and place in society.
What I mean to caution you against is, an
unnecessary, voluntary intercourse, such as
has inclination for its motive, and pleasure
for its object. With respect to this, we need
not hesitate to say, with the inspired pro-
phet, "He that walketh with wise men shall
be wise; but a companion of fools shall be
destroyed."
II. I come now to speak a little upon the
prosecution of your studies, and the improve-
ment of your talents. Your education in a
seminary of learning, is only intended to
give you the elements and first principles of
science, which should whet your appetite for
more, and which will enable you to proceed
with an assured hope of success. It hath
been generally a favourite point with me,
to recommend the union of piety and litera-
ture, and to guard young persons against the
opposite extremes. We see sometimes the
pride of unsanctified knowledge, do great
injury to religion; and on the other hand,
we find some persons of real piety, despising
human learning, and disgracing the most
glorious truths, by a meanness and indecency
hardly sufferable in their manner of handling
them. On this account, industry and appli
cation to study, is of the utmost importance
to those who are intended for the office of the
ministry.
But I have it further in view, to recom
mend to you all, without exception, a life of
182 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
diligence and application. Avoid sloth, as a
dangerous enemy. Fear it, hate it, and de-
spise it. It is a common saying, that men do
not know their own weakness; but it is as
true, and a truth more important, that they
do not know their own strength. I desire
that you will receive the following informa-
tion from me, which I dare say, every per-
son of judgment and experience will con-
firm; that multitudes of moderate capacity
have been useful in their generation, re-
spected by the public, and successful in life,
while those of superior talents from nature,
by mere slothfulness and idle habits, or self-
indulgence, have lived useless, and died con-
temptible. There is also a disposition in
young people, which you know I have often
set myself to oppose; to think that loose, ir-
regular sallies, and sometimes even vicious
liberties, are a sign of spirit and capacity.
The very contrary is the truth. It requires
no genius at all to do mischief. Persons of
the greatest ability have generally been lovers
of order. Neither is there any instance to
be found, of a man's arriving at great repu-
tation or usefulness, be his capacity what it
might, without industry and application.
Suffer me here, in a particular manner, to
recommend to you a firmness of mind, and
steady perseverance, as of the utmost mo-
ment to your progress and success. What-
ever a man's talents from nature may be, if
he apply himself to what is not altogether
OF THE SENIOR CLASS,
183
unsuitable to them, and holds on with steadi-
ness and uniformity, he will be useful and
happy; but if he be loose and volatile, im-
patient of the slowness of things in their
usual course, and shifting from project to
project, he will probably be neither the one
nor the other.
ky
I am somewhat at a loss what to say, as
to character and reputation; yet it is so im-
portant a point, that it must not be omitted.
True religion should furnish you with a
higher and nobler principle to govern your
conduct, than the desire of applause from
men. Yet, in subordination to what ought
to be the great purpose of life, the approba-
tion of the Supreme Judge, there is a just
and laudable ambition to do what is praise-
worthy among men. This ought not to be
extinguished in the minds of youth; being
a powerful spur and incitement to virtuous
or illustrious actions. A truly good man will
seek no praise but by honest means, and will
be superior even to disgrace itself, if brought
upon him by adherence to his duty. Yet
he will also be tender and careful, not to give
just cause to any to impeach his conduct.
If I might be permitted to direct your views
upon this subject, I would say, consider that
your character is already beginning to form.
Every step you take further in life, will both
ascertain and spread it. You ought also to be
informed, that notwithstanding all the hack-
neyed complaints of the partiality and cen-
*
184 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
-
soriousness of the world, a man's real cha-
racter, in point of ability, is never mistaken,
and but seldom in point of morals. That there
are many malicious and censorious persons,
I agree; but lies are not half so durable as
truth. There is an impartiality in a diffusive
public, which will shew itself where means
of information are afforded to it. Therefore
reverence the judgment of mankind without
idolizing it. Be as cautious as possible to
do nothing that deserves censure; and as
little concerned as possible what reproaches
may fall upon you undeserved. It is not a
contradiction, but perfectly consistent to
say, a man should be tender and even jea-
lous of his character, and yet not greedy of
praise. There is an amiableness and dignity
in the first, but a meanness and littleness in
the last.
Another advice, near a-kin to the last, is,
do as much as you can to deserve praise,
and yet avoid as much as possible the hear-
ing of it. This is but another view of the
same subject; and that it may be the more
useful, and my intention in it the more
manifest, will extend it both to praise and
dispraise. When you come into public life,
and become the objects of general attention,
not only guard against fishing for applause,
and being inquisitive after what people think
or say of you, but avoid knowing it as much
as you decently can. My reason for this is,
that whether you will or not, you will hear
"
:
+
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
185
as much of the slanders of your enemies as
you will bear with patience, and as much of
the flattery of your friends, or interested per-
sons, as you will bear with humility. There.
fore, prepare yourself for both, but seek for
neither. Several eminent authors, as you
doubtless know, have given it as an advice
to young clergymen, and other public speak-
ers, to get a friend who is a good judge, and
intreat him to make remarks upon their com-
position, carriage, delivery, &c. with fidelity.
I have nothing to say against the goodness
of the advice in itself, but at the same time
I have no great conviction of the necessity
or even the utility of it. It is very seldom
that advice is asked in this manner, but with
a view to obtain a compliment; and still
seldomer that it is given with sufficient free-
dom and impartiality. If any man has hu-
mility and self-denial enough to wish to
know his own faults, there will be little
difficulty in discovering them. Or if we
could suppose, there were difficulty to him-
self, his enemies or rivals, or talkative peo-
ple, though they be neither the one nor the
other, will supply the defect. Perhaps you
will think, 'that in the strictures of malice
and envy, there is generally an acrimony
that has no great tendency to reform; like
a rusty knife, which makes a very painful
wound, though not very deep. I agree to
this fully, and yet affirm, that there is so
much the more virtue, so much the more
R
CONT
}

7
186 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
wisdom, and perhaps I may add, so much the
more pleasure in making this use of them.
I conclude this part of my subject, with
advising you to maintain a friendship with
one another, and to carry the intimacies of
early life, through the whole of it. To this
I add, that you ought to desire and culti-
vate the correspondence of men of piety and
learning. Man made for society, derives his
chief advantages of every kind, from the
united efforts of many conspiring to the same
end. As to piety, nothing is more essential
to it, than social communication. It properly
consists in the supreme love of God, and
fervent charity to all men. The christian
also hath need of the assistance of others in
his passage through this world, where he
has so much opposition to encounter. Those
who deserve this character, are said to be
pilgrims and strangers in the earth. There-
fore they ought to keep together, lest they
lose their way. They comfort each other in
distress, they assist each other in doubts and
difficulty, they embolden each other by their
example, and they assist each other by their
prayers.
This is no less the case in respect to lite-
rature It has been observed, that great and
eminent men have generally, in every nation,
appeared in clusters. The reason of this pro-
bably is, that their society and mutual inter-
course greatly adds to their improvement,
and gives force and vigour to the talents
{
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
187
¡
}
which they may severally possess. Nothing
is so powerful an incitement to diligence, or
so kindles the best sort of ambition, as the
friendship, advice, and assistance of men of
learning and worth. The approbation of one
such, is of more value to a noble mind, than
peals of applause from an undiscerning multi-
tude. Besides, the assistance which men of
letters give to each other, is really necessary
in the execution of particular works of great
compass and utility. If it is by the labours
of preceding ages, that it is now possible in
one life to attain to such a degree of know-
ledge as we have sometimes seen, so it is by
the concurrence of many friends lending
their assistance, that one man has been
sometimes able to present to the public, a
system of science, which, without that aid,
he alone would have in vain attempted to
bring to perfection. There is no circum-
stance which throws this new country so far
back in point of science, as the want of pub-
lic libraries, where thorough researches might
be made, and the small number of learned
men to assist in making researches practi-
cable, easy or complete.
III. The last head on which I promised
to give you my advice, was prudence in
your communication with the world in ge-
neral, your outward provision and other cir-
cumstances that conduce to the happiness.
and comfort of life. On this subject, I be-
gin with what I have often recommended to
1
188 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
you, frugality in the management of your
affairs, order and exactness in your dress,
furniture, books, and keeping of accounts.
Nothing could be further from my mind
than to recommend the temper or conduct
of avaricious men, whose sordid souls have
no higher ambition, and indeed, hardly any
other desire than that of getting pelf. This
is not only unbecoming a gentleman and
a scholar, but, in my opinion, wholly incon-
sistent with the character. I never knew an
instance of a person in whom this disposi-
tion took place in early life, that could apply
to study, or that became eminent in any thing
that was good. The opposite vice is the com-
mon fault of youth, and it is against this I
would caution you. The frugality I would
recommend, is that of an independent mind,
that fears and scorns subjection to others,
and remembers the just saying of Solomon,
that the borrower is servant to the lender.
That frugality which arises from order and
œconomy, is not only consistent with, but
it is the parent of liberality of sentiment and
generosity of conduct. It is indeed the
source of beneficence, for no man can bestow
out of an empty purse. On the other hand,
covetousness and profusion, are by no means
repugnant to each other; and indeed they
are more frequently joined than many ap-
prehend. The stricture of Sallust in the
character of Cataline, alieni appetens sui pro-
fusus, has been often cited and may gene-
}
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
189
rally be applied to loose and profligate livers.
I hope therefore you will learn betimes to
distinguish between the virtue and the vice,
and to adhere to the one as much as you.
despise the other.
I will make an observation here, which
may be applied not only to the distinction of
character in this instance, but in almost every
other that has been, or shall be mentioned.
It will be much your interest, if you learn
betimes to make not a hasty but a delibe-
rate and candid judgment, when you infer
character from appearances. The habits
of life which men contract, give a bias to
their opinions and even a tincture to their
conversation and phraseology. Persons in-
clined to levity and dissipation, will often
ascribe to covetousness, what arises from
very different causes. I have known, even
in youth, a person declining to engage in a
party of pleasure, accused by his compa
nions as mean and sneaking, and afraid of
his purse, when in reality, it was not that he
loved money more, but pleasure less. It may
sometimes happen, that a-person of princi-
ple, will see it proper to decline meetings
of festivity, though not directly sinful, as an
unnecessary waste of time, or from some
other circumstance to him dangerous and
ensnaring. I have also seen persons more
advanced in years, who from a habit, per-
haps a necessary habit of strict temperance,
and retired manner of life, were very sparing
Autor
R 2
190 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
of personal expence, and even not much dis-
posed to social intercourse, and therefore
called close or covetous; and yet when ap
plied to, for pious or charitable purposes,
would be much more liberal than others of
an opposite turn of mind. Observations per-
fectly similar might be made upon the oppo-
site character of liberality. It is not every
kind of openness of heart that indicates pro-
fusion. We are told by Solomon, Prov. xi.
25. "That the liberal soul shall be made
fat," and by the prophet Isaiah, Isa. xxxii. 8.
"That the liberal desireth liberal things, and
by liberal things he shall be established."
From these contrasted remarks, I infer, that
as it is seldom necessary to judge peremp-
torily of others, so forbearance and the most
charitable allowance, is both our duty and
interest.
In the next place, I recommend to you,
humility of heart, and meekness of carriage.
I consider in this place, the grace of humility
as a virtue especially serviceable to your
earthly comfort. I consider and mean to
treat it as a maxim of worldly prudence.
The Scripture seems to point it out as pecu-
liarly necessary for this purpose, and to an-
nex the promise of earthly happiness to the
practice of it: Matt. v. 5. "Blessed are the
meek," says our Saviour, "for they shall
inherit the earth." I would understand him
as saying, every good man shall inherit the
kingdom of heaven; but those who excel in
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
191
1
meekness, shall of all others have comfort on
earth. In many different views, we may see
the propriety of this connection. Nothing
is more offensive to others, than a proud,
assuming manner. It not only magnifies
every fault, but vitiates even good conduct.
It is not only odious to virtuous persons,
but it is equally, if not more so, to those
who are without principle. Some vices re-
commend a man to the vicious, in the same
line, as one drunkard is pleased with the
sight of another; but nothing is so hateful to
a proud man, as another of the same charac-
ter, nor is offence sooner given or taken than
between those, who, in this respect, perfectly
resemble one another. This vice is not only
odious to persons of understanding and re-
flection, but to the most ignorant, being as
easily perceived as it is universally hated.
The moral virtue of meekness and conde-
scension, is the best ground work even of
worldly politeness, and prepares a man to
receive that polish, which makes his beha-
viour generally agreeable, and fits him for
intercourse with persons in the higher ranks
of life. The same virtue, by the composure
and self-command that accompanies it, ena-
bles a man to manage his affairs to advantage,
in whatever calling he may be engaged, or
in whatever station he may be placed. A
good shopkeeper is commonly remarkable
for this quality. People love to go where
they meet with good words and gentle treat-
192 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
xmo
ment; whereas the peevish and petulent may
be said to have a repelling quality about.
them, that will not suffer any. body to ap-
proach them.
To complete the whole, meekness of spi-
rit is as useful to man's self, as meekness of
carriage is acceptable to others. The meek
suffer much less from the unavoidable evils
of life, than those of a contrary disposition.
Many cross accidents of the less important
kind, are in a manner annihilated when they
are borne with calmness. The injury they
do us, is not owing half so much to their
weight or severity, as to the irritability of
their own minds. It is evident that the
same disposition must greatly alleviate cala-
mities of a heavier kind; and from analogy
you may perceive, that as it mitigates the
sorrows, it multiplies and adds to the sweet-
ness of the comforts of life. A moderate
portion, gives greater satisfaction to the
humble and thankful, than the most ample
possessions to the proud and impatient.
Nearly allied to the above virtue, is the
government of your passions, and therefore
of this I shall say but little. Every one must
be sensible how important it is, both for the
success of your worldly callings, and your
usefulness in public life, to have your pas-
sions in due subjection. Men of furious
and ungoverned tempers, prone to excess in
attachment and resentment, either as to per-
sons or things, are seldom successful in their
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
193
*
pursuits, or respected and useful in their sta-
tions. Persons of ungoverned passions, are
almost always fickle and changeable in their
measures, which is of all things the most fa-
tal to important undertakings. These gene-
rally require time and patience to bring them
to perfection. As to public and political life
in particular, the necessity of self-govern-
ment is so great, and so universally acknow-
ledged, that it is usual to impute it in emi-
nent men, not to principle, but to address
and policy. It is commonly said, that poli-
ticians have no passions. Without inquiring
into this, I shall only say, that whatever truth
may be in it, is still in favour of my argu-
ment. The hypocrisy does honour to the
virtue. If the appearance be so necessary
or so useful, what must be the value of the
reality?
I will here take an opportunity of con-
futing, or at least correcting a common say-
ing or proverbial sentiment; many of which
indeed, that obtain belief in a blinded world,
are nothing but false colouring and decep-
tion. It is usual to say, in defence of sud-
den and violent passion, that it is better to
speak freely and openly, than to harbour and
cover secret heart malice. Perhaps I might
admit that this would be true, if the inward
rage were to be as violent, and continue as
long, and return as often as indulged passion.
Every person must agree, that wherever
there is a deep and lasting hatred, that never
When
194 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
forgets nor forgives, but waits for the oppor-
tunity of vengeance, it deserves to be consi-
dered as a temper truly infernal. But in
most instances of offence between man and
man, to restrain the tongue is the way to
govern the heart. If you do not make men-
tion of an injury, you will truly and speedily
forgive it, and perhaps literally forget it.
Rage is in this respect like a fire, if a vent is
given to it, it will increase and spread, while
there is fuel to consume; but if you can con-
fine and stifle it, you will completely extin-
guish it.
To the government of the passions, suc-
ceeds the government of the tongue. This
indeed will in a great measure, be the effect
of the former, and therefore is recommended
by all the same arguments; yet it deserves
very particular attention, separately, as a
maxim of prudence. There are great indis-
cretions in speech, that do not arise from
passion, but from inattention and want of
judgment as to the propriety of time and
place, and indeed many other sources.
would therefore earnestly recommend to you,
to habituate yourselves to restraint in this re-
spect, especially in the early part of life.
"Be swift to hear," says St. James, "and
slow to speak." Forwardness in speech is
always thought an assuming thing in youth,
and in promiscuous companies, is often con-
sidered as an insult, as well as an indiscre-
tion. It is very common for the world in
I
}
{
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
195
!
:
¿
+
general, and still more so for men of judg-
ment and penetration, to form an opinion of
a character on the whole, from some one cir-
cumstance, and I think there are few things
more unfavourable in this way than a talka-
tive disposition. If the first time I am in
cómpany, especially with a young man, he
talks incessantly and takes the whole conver-
sation to himself, I shall hardly be brought
to have a good opinion of him, whether what
he says be good or evil, sense or nonsense.
There are some persons, who, one might
say, give away so much wisdom in their
speech, that they leave none behind to govern
their actions.
But the chief danger of an ungoverned
tongue, is, that it kindles the fire of conten-
tion among others, and makes enemies to a
man's self. Solomon says, "Where no tale-
bearer is, the strife ceaseth." A little ex-
perience will shew you, how unsafe it is to
use much freedom in speech with absent
persons. In that case you put yourself
wholly in the power of those that hear you,
and are in danger, not only. from their
treachery or malice, but from their mistakes,
ignorance, and imprudence. Perhaps it
would be too rigid to say, that you ought
never to speak to a man's prejudice in his
absence, what you would be unwilling to say
in his presence.
Some exceptions to this
rule, might easily be conceived. But both
prudence and candour require that you
196 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
should be very reserved in this respect, and
either adhere strictly to the rule, or be sure
that good reasons will justify a departure
from it.
This will be a very proper place to give
you some directions, as the most proper con-
duct, when you suffer from the tongues of
others. Many and grievous are the com-
plaints of what men suffer from the enve-
nomed shafts of envy and malice. And there
certainly is a strong disposition in some to
invent, and in many to believe slanderous
falsehoods. The prevalence of party, in re-
ligion or politics, never fails to produce a
plentiful crop of this poisonous weed. One
of the most important rules upon this sub-
ject is, that when an accusation is in any de-
gree well-founded, or suspicious appearances
have given any occasion for it, the first duty
is to reform what is really wrong, and keep
at a distance from the disputed limit.
This will bring good out of evil, and turn
an injury into a benefit. But in cases, as it
may often happen, when the slander is per-
fectly groundless, I hold it to be in general
the best way wholly to despise it. Time and
the power of truth, will of themselves do jus-
tice in almost every case of this kind; but if
you shew an impatience under it, a disposi-
tion to resent it, or a solicitude to refute it,
the far greatest part of mankind will believe
it not the less, but the more. If slander
were a plant or an animal, I would say it
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
197
was of a very strange nature, for that it
would very easily die, but could not easily
be killed. It discovers a greatness of mind,
and a conscious dignity, to despise slanders,
which of itself commands respect; whereas
to be either offended or distressed by them,
shews a weakness not amiable, whether the
accusation be true or false.
This rule I do not say is wholly without
exception. There may be cases where vin-
dications may be necessary and effectual, but
they are not many. And I think I have seen
in the course of life, reason to make the fol-
lowing distinction. If the accusation or
slander be special, and relate to a particular
fact, fixed by time, place, and other circum-
stances, and if it be either wholly false, or
essentially mistaken in its nature and ten-
dency, the matter may be explained, and
justice may be done. But if it be a general
character, that happens to be imputed to a
man, he ought to attempt no refutation of it,
but by conduct: the more he complains of
it, the more he speaks of it, the more he de-
nies it, it will be the more believed. For
example, if it be affirmed that a man spoke
profanely in a certain company, at a certain
place and time, when he was not present at
all, it may be easily and completely refuted;
but if he is accused of being proud, conten-
tious, covetous, or deceitful, although these
accusations are pretended to be supported
by a train of facts, it is better to let them
S
198 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
wholly alone, and suffer his conduct to speak
for itself. There are instances in history,
of accusations brought with much plausibili-
ty, and urged with great vehemence, which
yet have been either from the beginning dis-
believed, or by time confuted; which occa-
sioned the Latin proverb, Magna est veritas
et prævalebit.
All the above-mentioned particulars may
be said to be the happy effects of wisdom
and benevolence united; or rather, perhaps,
in the light in which they have been stated to
you, they are chiefly the proper fruits of that
wisdom which is "profitable to direct." But
I must add another advice, which is the im-
mediate effect of benevolence and good-will;
that is, be ready to assist others, and do good
as you have opportunity. As every thing is
liable to be abused, sometimes the maxims
of prudence take a wrong direction, and
close the heart against impressions of sym-
pathy and tenderness towards others in dis-
tress. Sometimes indeed, the coolness and
composure of spirit, and that self-command,
which is the effect of reflection and expe-
rience, is mistaken for a callous and unfeeling
heart, though it is a very different thing. To
give way to the agitation of passion, even
under the finest feelings, is the way to pre-
vent, instead of promoting usefulness. A
parent, overwhelmed with surprise and anx-
iety, at a calamitous accident that has be-
fallen a child, shall be incapable either of re-
I
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
199
t
flection or activity, and shall sometimes even
need the assistance which he ought to give.
But independently of this, there are certainly
some persons who contract a babit of indif-
ference as to the wants or desires of others,
and are not willing to put themselves to any
inconvenience, unless their own particular
concerns may be promoted at the same time.
In opposition to this, I mean to recom-
mend to you a disposition to oblige, not
merely by civil expressions, and an affable.
deportinent, but by taking a real interest in
the affairs of others. Be not unwilling to lend
your advice, your assistance, your interest,
to those that need them. Those who cannot
spare pecuniary assistance, may do many acts
of valuable friendship. Let every neighbour.
perceive that you are not ready to quarrel.
needlessly, nor insist pertinaciously on trifles;
and if you live to obtain credit and influence,
let them be employed to assist the deserving,
of every class. If you undertake to do the
business of others, attend to it with the same
fidelity, and if possible, with greater punctu
ality than you would to your own. Some
are ready to excuse or justify a contrary con-
duct, by complaining of the ingratitude or
the injustice of mankind. But in my opi
nion, these complaints are contrary to truth.
and experience. There may be many par-.
ticular persons both ungrateful and unjust;
but in the world in general, there will be
found a clearness of discernment, and an
200 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
exactness of retribution. Our Saviour tells
us, with respect to one fault, that of rash
judging, what is equally true, as to injuries
of every kind, "with what measure ye mete,
it shall be measured to you again; good
measure, pressed down, and shaken together,
and running over, shall men give into your
bosom." Luke vi. 38.
This, in my opinion, may and ought to be
understood both ways. As the churlish Nabal
generally meets with his match, so persons
of a humane and friendly disposition shall
reap the fruits of it to them or theirs. The
truth is, the disposition itself is not in its per-
fection, but when there is no regard to an
immediate return. If you give, looking for a
speedy recompence, it is not giving, but
selling. You may, however, safely trust to the
promise of God: "Cast thy bread upon
the waters, for thou shalt find it after many
days." Eccl. xi. 1.
I have known many instances of kind-
nesses that were both remembered and re-
quited, after they had been long forgotten
by him who bestowed them. Nay, some-
times they may be repaid in another gene-
ration. It is no inconsiderable legacy for a
man to leave to his children, that he had
always been a friend to others, and never
refused his assistance to those who stood in
need of it.
3
It will not be an improper place here to
introduce a few words upon a subject, which
1
Į
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
201
has been often handled by writers of the
first class I mean private friendship. Some
writers against religion, have actually made
it an objection against Christianity, that it
does not recommend private friendship, or
the love of our country. If this were true,
it would be no fault, because the universal
benevolence recommended by the gospel,
includes all private affections, when they are
consistent with it, and is far superior to
them when they are contrary to it. But in
fact, the instances of private friendship men-
tioned and alluded to in Scripture, are a suf-
ficient recommendation of it; and even our
blessed Saviour himself is said to have dis-
tinguished the youngest of his disciples with
particular affection. I will therefore observe,
with most authors, that there is no true
friendship, but what is founded upon vir-
tuous principles, and directed to virtuous
purposes. To love a person who is not
worthy of love, is not a virtue, but an error.
Neither is there any dependance to be placed,
in trying cases, upon persons unprincipled
at bottom. There never was a true friend,
who was not an honest man. But besides
this important truth, it is further to be ob-
served, that there is a species of friendship
which is neither founded on virtue nor vice,
but mere weakness of mind. Some per-
sons, having no resources in themselves, are
obliged to have recourse to some other, upon
whom they may lean, and without whom
$ 2
202 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
they seem as if they could neither think, act,
nor even exist. This sort of friendship is to
be seen particularly in princes and persons of
high rank, and is generally called favouritism;
but the same thing may be observed in all
ranks, though in the lower, it is not so con-
spicuous. We may say of it, that it is like
some of those plants that are false and spu-
rious in their kind, which have some of the
appearances, but want the most valuable and
essential qualities of those that are genuine.
Such friendships are commonly contracted
by caprice or accident, and uncertain in their
duration, being liable to be dissolved by the
same means. Valuable friendship is the re-
sult of judgment as well as affection; it is
one of the greatest comforts of life as well as
one of the greatest ornaments to human na-
ture, and its genuineness may be discerned
by the following mark: that though it is
particular, it is not exclusive. When there
is a great, but virtuous attachment to a per-
son who deserves it, it will make a man not
less, but more friendly to all others, as op-
portunity or circumstances shall call him to
serve them.
You will perhaps be surprised that as I
have so often expressed a desire of your be-
ing accomplished in every respect, that I
have heretofore said nothing, or but little on
that politeness and grace in behaviour, which
is so much talked of, and which, in some
late writings, has been so highly extolled.
H
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
203
What has been already explained to you, I
hope will lay the foundation for the most solid,
valuable and durable politeness. Think of
others as reason and religion require you, and
treat them as it is your duty to do, and you will
not be far from a well-polished behaviour.
As to any thing further, that is external in
mode and propriety of carriage, it can never
be learned but by intercourse with the best
company. As to the writings above referred
to, the chief of which are Rochefoucault's
Maxims, and Chesterfield's letters. I think of
them as of many other free writings, that
when viewed properly, they may be as use-
ful, as by being viewed otherwise, they are
generally pernicious. They contain a di-
gested system of hypocrisy, and betray such
pride and self-sufficiency, and such hatred
or contempt of mankind, as may well be an
antidote against the poison which they mean
to convey. Nay, one would think the pub-
lication of such sentiments is ridiculous, be-
cause it is telling you that they desire to be
polite, and at the same time that this polite-
ness consists in taking you by the weak side,
and displaying their own address by over-
reaching yours.
I must also observe, that such writers
give in general, a very unjust as well as dis-
honourable view of nature and mankind. I
remember, indeed, Dean Swift says,
"As Rochefoucault his maxims drew
"From nature, I believe them true."
204 AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS
What must I say to this? Shall I say that
he did not draw his maxims from nature?
I will not, because I think he did. Am I
obliged then to admit them to be true? By
no means. It is nature, but it is just such
a view of nature, as a man without principle
must take. It is in himself, that all the error
and exaggeration is to be found.
Those who discover an universal jealousy,
and indiscriminate contempt for mankind in
general, give very little reason to think well
of themselves. Probably men are neither so
good as they pretend, nor so bad as they are
often thought to be. At any rate, candour in
sentiment as well as conduct, as it is an im-
portant duty of religion, so it is a wise max-
im for the conduct of life; and I believe
these two things are very seldom if ever
found either separate from, or opposed to
each other.
The last advice that I shall offer you, is to
preserve a sacred and inviolable regard to
sincerity and truth. Those who have receiv-
ed their education here, or at least who have
completed it, must know how much pains
have been taken to establish the universal
and unalterable obligation of truth. This is
not however mentioned now to introduce
the general subject, or to shew the guilt,
folly and danger of deliberate interested false-
hood, but to warn you against the smaller
breaches of truth now so very common, such
as want of punctuality in appointments,
}
OF THE SENIOR CLASS.
205
breach of promise in small matters, officious
falsehoods, that is, deceiving children, sick
persons or others for their good; jocular de-
ceptions, which are not intended to continue
long, or be materially hurtful to others. Not
one of these is without sin before God, and
they are much more hurtful than is commonly
supposed. So very sacred a thing indeed is
truth, that the very shadow of departure from
it is to be avoided. Suppose a man only to
express his present purpose as to futurity,
for example, to say he will go to such a place
to-morrow, though there is no proper obli-
gation given, nor any right to require per-
formance, yet if he does so often, he will ac-
quire the character of levity and unsteadiness,
which will operate much to his disadvantage.
Let me therefore recommend to you a strict,
universal and scrupulous regard to truth-
It will give dignity to your character-it will
put order into your affairs; it will excite the
most unbounded confidence, so that whether
your view be your own interest, or the ser-
vice of others, it promises you the most as-
sured success. I am also persuaded, that
there is no virtue that has a more powerful
influence upon every other, and certainly,
there is none by which you can draw nearer
to God himself, whose distinguishing charac
ter is, that he will not, and he cannot lie.
•
}
yr
LETTERS
ON
•
EDUCATION.
·00000·
20:
LETTER I.
AFTER so long a delay, I now set myself
to fulfil my promise of writing to you a few
thoughts on the education of children.-
Though I cannot wholly purge myself of the
crimes of laziness and procrastination, yet I
do assure you, what contributed not a little
to its being hitherto not done, was, that I
considered it not as an ordinary letter, but
what deserved to be carefully meditated on,
and thoroughly digested. The concern you
show on this subject, is highly commenda-
ble:or there is no part of your duty, as a
Christian, or a citizen, which will be of
greater service to the public, or a source of
greater comfort to yourself.
The consequence of my thinking so long
upon it, before committing my thoughts to
paper, will probably be the taking the thing
in a greater compass than either of us at first
intended, and writing a series of letters, in-
stead of one. With this view I begin with a
preliminary to the successful education of
children, viz. that husband and wife ought
6
208
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
da
to be entirely one upon this subject, not only
agreed as to the end, but as to the means to
be used, and the plan to be followed, in or-
der to attain it. It ought to encourage you
to proceed in your design, that I am per-
suaded you will not only meet with no oppo-
sition to a rational and serious education of
your children, but great assistance from
Mrs. S
*
*
*
**
The erased lines contained a compliment,
written with great sincerity: but recollecting
that there are no rules yet settled for distin-
guishing true compliment from flattery, I
have blotted them out: on which, perhaps,
you will say to yourself, "he is fulfilling the
character which his enemies give him, who
say, it is the nature of the man to deal much
more in satire, than in panegyric." How-
ever, I content myself with repeating, that
certainly husband and wife ought to conspire
and co-operate in every thing relating to the
education of their children; and if their
opinions happen, in any particular, to be dif
ferent, they ought to examine and settle the
matter privately by themselves, that not the
least opposition may appear either to chil-
dren or servants. When this is the case,
every thing is enforced by a double au-
thority, and recommended by a double ex-
ample: but when it is otherwise, the pains
taken are commonly more than lost, not be-
ing able to do any good, and certainly pro-
ducing very much evil.
*
(a)
<a
· 209
Be pleased to remember, that this is by
no means intended against those unhappy
couples, who, being essentially different in
principles and character, live in a state of
continual war. It is of little advantage to
speak either to, or of such persons. But
even differences incomparably smaller, are of
very bad consequence: when one, for ex-
ample, thinks a child may be carried out,
and the other thinks it is wrong; when one
thinks a way of speaking is dangerous, and
the other is positive there is nothing in it.
The things themselves may indeed he of
little moment; but the want of concurrence
in the parents, or the want of mutual esteem
and deference, easily observed even by
very young children, is of the greatest im-
portance.
As you and I have chiefly in view the re-
ligious education of children, I take it to be
an excellent preliminary, that parental affec-
tion should be purified by the principles, and
controuled or directed by the precepts of re-
ligion. A parent should rejoice in his chil-
dren, as they are the gift of a gracious God;
should put his trust in the care of an indul-
gent Providence for the preservation of his
offspring, as well as himself; should be su-
premely desirous that they may be, in due
time, the heirs of eternal life; and, as he
knows the absolute dependance of every
creature upon the will of God, should be ready
to resign them at what time his Creator shall
T
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
210
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
see proper to demand them. This happy
qualification of parental tenderness, will have
a powerful influence in preventing mistakes
in the conduct of education. It will be the
most powerful of all incitements to duty,
and at the same time a restraint upon that
natural fondness and indulgence, which, by
a sort of fascination of fatality, makes parents
often do or permit what their judgment
condemns, and then excuse themselves by
saying, that no doubt it is wrong, but truly
they cannot help it.
Another preliminary to the proper educa-
tion of children, is a firm persuasion of the
benefit of it, and the probable, at least, if not
certain success of it, when faithfully and pru-
dently conducted. This puts an edge upon
the spirit, and enables the christian not only
to make some attempts, but to persevere
with patience and diligence. I know not a
common saying either more false or perni-
cious, than" that the children of good men
are as bad as others." This saying carries
in it a supposition, that whereas the force of
education is confessed with respect to every
other human character and accomplishment,
it is of no consequence at all as to religion.
This, I think, is contrary to daily experience.
Where do we expect to find young persons
piously disposed but in pious families? the
exceptions, or rather appearances to the con-
trary, are easily accounted for, in more ways
than one. Many persons appear to be reli-
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
211
1
gious, while they are not so in reality; but
are chiefly governed by the applause of men.
Hence their visible conduct may be spe-
cious, or their public performances applaud-
ed, and yet their families be neglected.
It must also be acknowledged that some
truly well disposed persons are extremely
defective or imprudent in this part of their
duty, and therefore it is no wonder that it
should not succeed. This was plainly the
case with Eli, whose sons we are told, made
themselves vile, and he restrained them not.
However, I must observe, if we allow such
to be truly good men, we must at the same
time confess that this was a great drawback
upon their character; and that they differed
very much from the father of the faithful,
who had this honourable testimony given
him by God, I know him, that he will com-
mand his children and his household after
him, that they serve me. To this we may
add, that the child of a good man, who is
seen to follow dissolute courses, draws the
attention of mankind more upon him, and is
much more talked of, than any other person
of the same character. Upon the whole, it is
certainly of moment, that one who desires
to educate his children in the fear of God,
should do it in a humble persuasion, that if
he was not defective in his own duty, he will
not be denied the blessing of success. I
could tell you some remarkable instances of
parents who seemed to labour in vain for a
212
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
long time, and yet were so happy as to see
a change at last; and of some children in
whom even after the death of the parents,
the seed which was early sown, and seemed
to have been entirely smothered, has at last
produced fruit. And indeed no less seems
to follow from the promise, annexed to the
command, train up a child in the way he
should go, and when he is old he will not
depart from it.
Having laid down these preliminaries, I
shall say a few things upon the preservation
of the health of children. Perhaps you will
think this belongs only to the physician:
but though a physician ought to be em-
ployed to apply remedies in dangerous cases,
any man, with a little reflection, may be al-
lowed to form some judgment as to the
ordinary means of their preservation; nay,
I cannot help being of opinion, than any
other man is fitter than a physician for this
purpose. His thoughts are so constantly
taken up with the rules of his art, that it is
an hundred to one he will prescribe more
methods and medicines than can be used
with safety.
The fundamental rules for preserving the
health of children, are cleanliness, liberty,
and free air. By cleanliness, I do not mean
keeping the outside of their clothes in a pro-
per condition to be seen before company,
nor hindering them from fouling their hands
and feet, when they are capable of going
1
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
215
3
?
abroad, but keeping them dry in the night
time, when young, and frequently washing
their bodies with cold water, and other things
of the same nature and tendency. The se-
cond rule is liberty. All persons young and
old, love liberty; and as far as it does them
no harm, it will certainly do them good.
Many a free born subject is kept a slave for
the first ten years of his life; and is so much
handled and carried about by women in his
infancy, that the limbs and other parts of his
body, are frequently mishapen, and the
whole very much weakened; besides, the
spirits, when under confinement, are gene-
rally in a dull and languishing state. The
best exercise in the world for children, is to
let them romp and jump about, as soon as
they are able, according to their own fancy.
This in the country is best done in the fields;
in a city a well aired room is better than
being sent into the streets under the care of
a servant, very few of whom are able so far
to curb their own inclinations, as to let the
children follow theirs, even where they may do
it with safety. As to free air there is nothing
more essentially necessary to the strength
and growth of animals and plants. If a few
plants of any kind are sown in a close con-
fined place, they commonly grow up tall,
small, and very weak. I have seen a bed of
beans in a garden, under the shade of a
hedge or tree, very long and slender, which
brought to my mind a young family of
T 2
214
1
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
quality, trained up in a delicate manner,
who if they grow at all, grow to length, but
never to thickness. So universal is this, that
I believe the body of a sturdy or well built
make, is reckoned among them a coarse and
vulgar thing.
There is one thing with regard to servants,
that I would particularly recommend to your
attention. All children are liable to acci-
dents; these may happen unavoidably; but
do generally arise from the carelessness of
servants, and to this they are almost always
attributed by parents. This disposes all
servants, good or bad, to conceal them from
the parents, when they can possibly do it.
By this means, children often receive hurts
in falls or otherwise, which if known in time,
might be easily remedied, but not being
known either prove fatal, or make them lame
or deformed. A near relation of mine has
a high shoulder and a distorted waist from
this very cause. To prevent such accidents,
it is necessary to take all pains possible to
acquire the confidence of servants, to con-
vince them of the necessity of concealing
nothing. There are two dispositions in pa-
rents, which hinder the servants from mak-
ing discoveries; the first is, when they are
very passionate, and apt to storm and rage
against their servants, for every real or sup-
posed neglect. Such persons can never ex-
pect a confession, which must be followed
by such terrible vengeance. The other is,
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
215
f
when they are tender-hearted, or timorous
to excess, which makes them show them-
selves deeply affected or greatly terrified
upon any little accident that befals their
children. In this case, the very best servants
are unwilling to tell them, through fear of
making them miserable. In such cases,
therefore, I would advise parents, whatever
may be their real opinions, to discover them
as little as possible to their servants. Let
them still inculcate this maxim, that there
should be no secrets concerning children,
kept from those most nearly interested in
them. And that there may be no temptation
to such conduct, let them always appear as
cool and composed as possible, when any
discovery is made, and be ready to forgive
a real fault, in return for a candid acknow-
ledgment.
[216]
43
LETTER II.
·00000-
IF I mistake not my last letter was con-
eluded by some remarks on the means of
trying servants to be careful of the safety of
children, and ready to discover early and
honestly, any accidents that might happen to
befal them. I must make some farther re-
marks upon servants. It is a subject of great
importance, and inseparably connected with
what I have undertaken. You will find it
extremely difficult to educate children pro-
perly, if the servants of the family do not
conspire in it; and impossible, if they are
inclined to hinder it. In such a case, the
orders issued, or the method laid down, will
be neglected, where that is possible and safe ;
where neglect is unsafe, they will be unsuc
cessfully or improperly executed, and many
times, in the hearing of the children, they will
be either laughed at, or complained of and
disapproved. The certain consequence of
this is, that children will insensibly come to
look upon the directions and cautions of
their parents, as unnecessary or unreasona-
ble restraints. It is a known and very com-
mon way for servants to insinuate them-
selves into the affections of children, by
granting them such indulgences as would
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
217
be refused them by their parents, as well as
concealing the faults which ought to be pun-
ished by parents, and they are often very
successful in training them up to a most
dangerous fidelity in keeping the secret.
Such is the evil to be feared, which ought
to have been more largely described: let us
now come to the remedy. The foundation,
to be sure, is to be very nice and careful in
the choice of servants. This is commonly
thought to be an extremely difficult matter,
and we read frequently in public papers the
heaviest complaints of bad servants. I am,
however, one of those who think the fault is
at least as often in the masters. Good ser-
vants may certainly be had, and do generally
incline of themselves to be in good families,
and when they find that they are so, do often
continue very long in the same, without
desiring to remove. You ought, therefore,
to be exceedingly scrupulous, and not with-
out an evident necessity, to hire any servant
but who seems to be sober and pious. In-
deed, I flatter myself, that a pious family is
such, as none but one who is either a saint
or a hypocrite will be supposed to continue
in. If any symptoms of the last character
appears, you need not be told what you
ought to do.
The next thing, after the choice of ser-
vants, is to make conscience of doing your
duty to them, by example, instruction, ad-
monition and prayer. Your fidelity to them
218
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
will naturally produce in them fidelity to you
and yours, and that upon the very best prin-
ciples. It will excite in them a deep sense
of gratitude, and at the same time fill them
with sentiments of the highest and most un-
feigned esteem. I could tell you of instances.
(you will however probably recollect some
yourself) of servants who from their living
comfortably, and receiving benefits in pious
families, have preserved such a regard and
attachment to their masters, as have been
little short of idolatry. I shall just mention
one-a worthy woman in this place, for-
merly servant to one of my predecessors,
and married many years since to a thriving
tradesman, continues to have such an un-
diminished regard to her master's memory,
that she cannot speak of him without de-
light; keeps by her to this hour the news-
paper which gives an account of his death
and character, and, I believe, would not ex-
change it for a bill or bond, to a very con-
siderable sum.
But the third and finishing direction with
regard to servants, is to convince them, in
a cool and dispassionate manner, of the rea-
sonableness of your method of proceeding,
that as it is dictated by conscience, it is con-
ducted with prudence. Thence it is easy
to represent to them that it is their duty,
instead of hindering its success by opposi-
tion or negligence, to co-operate with it to
the utmost of their power. It is not below
•
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
219
any man to reason in some cases with his
servants. There is a way of speaking to
them on such subjects, by which you will
lose nothing of your dignity, but even cor-
roborate your authority. While you mani-
fest your firm resolution, never to depart
from your right and title to command: you
may, notwithstanding, at proper seasons,
and by way of condescension, give such
general reasons for your conduct, as to show
that you are not acting by mere caprice or
humor. Nay, even while you sometimes in-
sist, that your command of itself shall be a
law, and that you will not suffer it to be
disputed, nor be obliged to give a reason
for it, you may easily show them that this
also is reasonable. They may be told that
you have the greatest interest in the welfare
of your children, the best opportunity of
being apprised as to the means of prosecu-
ting it, and that there may be many reasons
for your orders which it is unnecessary or
improper for them to know.
Do not think that all this is excessive re-
finement, chimerical or impossible. Servants
are reasonable creatures, and are best go-
verned by a mixture of authority and rea-
son. They are generally delighted to find
themselves treated as reasonable, and will
sometimes discover a pride in showing that
they understand, as well as find a pleasure
in entering into your views. When they
find, as they will every day by experience,
››
*
220
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
the success and benefit of a proper method
of education, it will give them a high opi-
nion of, and confidence in, your judgment;
they will frequently consult you in their own
affairs, as well as implicitly follow your di-
rections in the management of yours. After
all, the very highest instance of true great-
ness of mind, and the best support of your
authority, when you see necessary to inter-
pose it, is not to be opinionative or obsti,
náte, but willing to acknowledge or remit
a real mistake, if it is discreetly pointed out,
even by those in the lowest stations. The
application of these reflections will occur in
several of the following branches of this
subject.
The next thing I shall mention as neces-
sary, in order to the education of children,
is, to establish as soon as possible, an entire
and absolute authority over them. This is
a part of the subject which requires to be
treated with great judgment and delicacy.
I wish I may be able to do so. Opinions,
like modes and fashions, change continually
upon every point; neither is it easy to keep
the just middle, without verging to one or
the other of the extremes. On this, in par-
ticular, we have gone in this nation in gene-
ral, from one extreme to the very utmost
limits of the other. In the former age, both
public and private, learned and religious
education was carried on by mere dint of
authority. This, to be sure, was a savage
C
I
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
221
and barbarous method, and was in many in-
stances terrible and disgusting to the youth.
Now, on the other hand, not only severity,
but authority, is often decried; persuasion,
and every soft and gentle method, is recom-
mended in such terms, as plainly lead to a
relaxation. I hope you will be convinced,
that the middle way is best, when you find
it is recommended by the Spirit of God in
his word, Prov. xiii. 24. xix. 18. xxii. 15.
You will also find a caution against excess
in this matter, Col. ii. 21.
A
I have said above, that you should "esta-
blish as soon as possible, an entire and abso-
lute authority." I would have it early, that
it may be absolute; and absolute, that it may
not be severe. If parents are too long in be-
ginning to exert their authority, they will
find the task very difficult. Children, habi-
tuated to indulgence for a few of their first
years, are exceedingly impatient of restraint,
and if they happen to be of stiff or obstinate
tempers, can hardly be brought to an entire,
at least to a quiet and placid submission;
whereas, if they are taken in time, there is
hardly any temper but what may be made to
yield, and by early habit the subjection be-
comes quite easy to themselves.
The authority ought also to be absolute,
that it may not be severe. The more com-
plete and uniform a parent's authority is, the
offences will be more rare, punishment will
be less needed, and the more gentle kind of
U
222
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
correction will be abundantly sufficient. We
see every where about us examples of this.
A parent that has once obtained, and knows
how to preserve authority, will do more by
a look of displeasure, than another by the
most passionate words and even blows. It
holds universally in families and schools, and
even the greater bodies of men, the army and
navy; that those who keep the strictest dis-
cipline, gives the fewest strokes. I have fre-
quently remarked that parents, even of the
softest tempers, and who are famed for the
greatest indulgence to their children; do,
notwithstanding, correct them more fre-
quently, and even more severely, though to
very little purpose, than those who keep up
their authority. The reason is plain. Chil-
dred, by foolish indulgence, become often
so froward and petulent in their tempers,
that they provoke their easy parents past all
endurance; so that they are obliged, if not
to strike, at least to scold them, in a manner
as little to their own credit, as their children's
profit.
→
12
There is not a more disgusting sight than
the impotent rage of a parent who has no au-
thority. Among the lower ranks of people,
who are under no restraint from decency,
you may sometimes see a father or mother
running out into the street after a child who
is fled from them, with looks of fury and
words of execration; and they are often
stupid enough to imagine that neighbours or
ZETTERS ON EDUCATION.
223
passengers will approve them in this conduct,
though in fact it fills every beholder with
horror. There is a degree of the same fault
to be seen in persons of better rank, though
expressing itself somewhat differently. Ill
words and altercations will often fall out be-
tween parents and children before company;
a sure sign that there is a defect of govern-
ment at home, or in private. The parent
stung with shame at the misbehaviour or in-
discretion of the child, desires to persuade
the observers that it is not his fault, and
thereby effectually convinces every person
of reflection that it is,
I would therefore recommend to every
parent, to begin the establishment of autho-
rity much more early than is commonly sup-
posed to be possible: that is to say, from
about the age of eight or nine months. You
will perhaps smile at this; but I do assure
you from experience, that by setting about
it with prudence, deliberation, and attention,
it may be in a manner completed by the age
of twelve or fourteen months. Do not ima-
gine, I mean to bid you use the rod at that
age; on the contrary, I mean to prevent the
use of it in a great measure, and to point out
a way by which children of sweet and easy
tempers, may be brought to such a habit of
compliance, as never to need correction at
all; and whatever their temper may be, so
much less of this is sufficient, than upon any
other supposition. This is one of my fa-
224 LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
vourite schemes; let me try to explain and
recommend it.
Habits in general may be very early formed
in children. An association of ideas is, as
it were, the parent of habit. If then, you
can accustom your children to perceive that
your will must always prevail over theirs ;
when they are opposed, the thing is done,
and they will submit to it without difficulty
or regret. To bring this about, as soon as
they begin to show their inclination by desire
or aversion, let single instances be chosen
now and then (not too frequently) to contra-
dict them. For example, if a child shows a
desire to have any thing in his hand that
he sees, or has any thing in his hand with
which he is delighted, let the parent take it
from him; and when he does so, let no con-
sideration whatever make him restore it at
that time. Then at a considerable interval,
perhaps a whole day is little enough, espe-
cially at first, let the same thing be repeated.
In the mean time, it must be carefully ob-
served, that no attempt should be made to
contradict the child in the intervals. Not the
least appearance of opposition, if possible,
should be found between the will of the
pa-
rent and that of the child, except in those
chosen cases, when the parent must always.
prevail.
I think it necessary that those attempts
should always be made, and repeated at pro-
per intervals by the same person. It is also
{
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
225
better it should be by the father, than the
mother or any female attendant, because they
will be necessarily obliged in many cases to
do things displeasing to the child, as in
dressing, washing, &c. which spoil the
operation: neither is it necessary that they
should interpose, for when once a full au-
thority is established in one person, it can
easily be communicated to others, as far as
is proper. Remember, however, that mother
or nurse should never presume to condole
with the child, or show any signs of dis-
pleasure at his being crossed; but on the con-
trary, give every mark of approbation, and
of their own submission, to the same person.
This experiment frequently repeated, will in
a little time so perfectly habituate the child
to yield to the parent whenever he interposes,
that he will make no opposition. I can as-
sure you from experience, having literally
practised this method myself, that I never
had a child of twelve months old, but who
would suffer me to take any thing from him.
or her, without the least mark of anger or
dissatisfaction; while they would not suffer
any other to do so, without the bitterest
complaints. You will easily perceive how
this is to be extended gradually and uni-
versally, from one thing to another, from
contradicting to commanding them. But
this, and several other remarks upon esta-
blishing and preserving authority, must be
referred to another letter.
U 2
[226]
1
LETTER III.
1
·00000·
DEAR SIR,
THE theory laid down in my last letter,
for establishing an early and absolute au-
thority over children, is of much greater mo-
ment than, perhaps, you will immediately
apprehend. There is a great diversity in the
temper and disposition of children; and no
less in the penetration, prudence and resolu-
tion of parents. From all these circumstan-
ces, difficulties arise, which increase very
fast as the work is delayed. Some children
have naturally very stiff and obstinate tem-
pers, and some have a certain pride, or if
you please, greatness of mind, which makes
them think it a mean thing to yield. This
disposition is often greatly strengthened in
those of high birth, by the ideas of their own
dignity and importance instilled into them
from their mother's milk. I have known a
boy not six years of age, who made it a point
of honour not to cry when he was beat even
by his parents. Other children have so strong
passions, or so great sensibility, that if they
receive correction, they will cry immode-
rately, and either be, or seem to be, affected
to such a degree, as to endanger their health
or life. Neither is it uncommon for the pa-
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
227
rents in such a case to give up the point, and
if they do not ask pardon, at least they give
very genuine marks of repentance and sor-
row for what they have done.
I have said this is not uncommon, but I
may rather ask you whether you know any
parents at all, who have so much prudence
and firmness as not to be discouraged in the
one case, or to relent on the other? At the
same time it must always be remembered,
that the correction is wholly lost which does
not produce absolute submission. Perhaps
I may say it is more than lost, because it
will irritate instead of reforming them, and
will instruct or perfect them in the art of
overcoming their parents, which they will
not fail to manifest on a future opportunity.
It is surprising to think how early children will
discover the weak side of their parents, and
what ingenuity they will show in obtaining
their favour or avoiding their displeasure. I
think I have observed a child in treaty or
expostulation with a parent, discover more
consummate policy at seven years of age,
than the parent himself, even when attempt-
ing to cajole him with artful evasions and
specious promises. On all these accounts,
it must be a vast advantage that a habit of
submission should be brought on so early,
that even memory itself shall not be able to
reach back to its beginning. Unless this is
done, there are many cases, in which, after
the best management, the authority will be
228
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
¿
imperfect; and some in which any thing that
deserves that name will be impossible. There
are some families, not contemptible either
in station or character, in which the parents
are literally and properly obedient to their
children, are forced to do things against their
will, and chidden if they discover the least
backwardness to comply. If you know none
such, I am sure I do.
Let us now proceed to the best means of
preserving authority, and the way in which
it ought to be daily exercised. I will trace
this to its very source. Whatever authority
you exercise over either children or servants,
or as a magistrate over other citizens, it
ought to be dictated by conscience, and di-
rected by a sense of duty. Passion or resent-
ment ought to have as little place as possi-
ble; or rather, to speak properly, though
few can boast of having arrived at full per-
fection, it ought to have no place at all. Re-
proof or correction given in a rage, is always
considered by him to whom it is adminis-
tered, as the effect of weakness in you, and
therefore the demerit of the offence will be
either wholly denied or soon forgotten. I
have heard some parents often say, that they
cannot correct their children unless they are
angry; to whom I have usually answered,
then you ought not to correct them at all.
Every one would be sensible, that for a
magistrate to discover an intemperate rage
in pronouncing sentence against a criminal,
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
229
would be highly indecent. Ought not parents
to punish their children in the same dispas-
sionate manner? Ought they not to be at
least equally concerned to discharge their
duty in the best manner, one case as in the
other? -
He who would preserve his authority over
his children, should be particularly watchful
of his own conduct. You may as well pre-
tend to force people to love what is not amia-
ble, as to reverence what is not respectable.
A decency of conduct, therefore, and dignity
of deportment, is highly serviceable for the
purpose we have now in view. Lest this,
however, should be mistaken, I must put in
a caution, that I do not mean to recommend
keeping children at too great a distance by a
uniform sternness and severity of carriage.
This, I think, is not necessary, even when
they are young; and it may, to children of
some tempers, be very hurtful when they are
old. By and by, you shall receive from me
a quite contrary direction. But by dignity
of carriage, I mean parents showing them-
selves always cool and reasonable in their
own conduct; prudent and cautious in their
conversation with regard to the rest of man-
kind; not fretful or impatient, or passionately
fond of their own peculiarities; and though
gentle and affectionate to their children, yet
avoiding levity in their presence. This, pro-
bably, is the meaning of the precept of the
ancients, maxima debetur pueris reverentia.
230
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
As we dan de la
;
?
2
i
In
I would have them cheerful, yet serene.
short, I would have their familiarity to be
evidently an act of condescension. Believe
it, my dear sir, that which begets esteem,
will not fail to produce subjection.
That this may not be carried too far, I
would recommend every expression of affec-
tion and kindness to children when it is safe,
that is to say, when their behaviour is such
as to deserve it. There is no opposition at
all between parental tenderness and parental
authority. They are the best supports to
each other. It is not only lawful, but will be
of service that parents should discover the
greatest fondness for children in infancy, and
make them perceive distinctly with how
much pleasure they gratify all their innocent
inclinations. This, however, must always
be done when they are quiet, gentle, and
submissive in their carriage. Some have
found fault with giving them, for doing well,
little rewards of sweetmeats and playthings,
as tending to make them mercenary, and
leading them to look upon the indulgence of
appetite as the chief good. This I appre-
hend, is rather refining too much: the great
point is, that they be rewarded for doing
good, and not for doing evil. When they
are cross and froward, I would never buy
peace, but force it. Nothing can be more
weak and foolish, or more destructive of au-
thority, than when children are noisy and in
an ill humour, to give them or promise them
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
231
→
?
Z
{
something to appease them. When the
Roman emperors began to give pensions and
subsidies to the Northern nations to keep
them quiet, a man might have foreseen with-
out the spirit of prophecy, who would be
master in a little time. The case is exactly
the same with children. They will soon
avail themselves of this easiness in their pa-
rents, command favours instead of begging
them, and be insolent when they should be
grateful.
The same conduct ought to be uniformly
preserved as children advance in years and
understanding. Let parents try to convince
them how much they have their real interest
at heart. Sometimes children will make a
request, and receive a hasty or froward de-
nial: yet upon reflection the thing appears
not to be unreasonable, and finally it is
granted; and whether it be right or wrong,
sometimes by the force of importunity, it is
extorted. If parents expect either gratitude
or submission for favours so ungraciously
bestowed, they will find themselves egre-
giously mistaken. It is their duty to prose-
cute, and it ought to be their comfort to see,
the happiness of their children; and therefore
they ought to lay it down as a rule, never to
give a sudden or hasty refusal; but when
any thing is proposed to them, consider de-
liberately and fully whether it is proper--
and after that, either grant it cheerfully, or
deny it firmly.
232
LETTERS ON EDUCATION,
It is a noble support of authority, when is
is really and visibly directed to the most im-
portant end. My meaning in this, I hope,
is not obscure. The end I consider as most
important is, the glory of God in the eternal
happiness and salvation of children. Who-
ever believes in a future state, whoever has a
just sense of the importance of eternity to
himself, cannot fail to have a like concern
for his offspring. This should be his end
both in instruction and government; and
when it visibly appears that he is under the
constraint of conscience, and that either re-
proof or correction are the fruit of sanctified
love, it will give them irresistible force. I
will tell you here, with all the simplicity ne-
cessary in such a situation, what I have often
said in my course of pastoral visitation in fa-
milies, where there is in many cases, through
want of judgment, as well as want of princi-
ple, a great neglect of authority.
"Use your
authority for God, and he will support it.
Let it always be seen that you are more dis-
pleased at sin than at folly. What a shame
is it, that if a child shall, through the inat-
tention and levity of youth, break a dish or a
pane of the window, by which you may lose
the value of a few pence; you should storm
and rage at him with the utmost fury, or
perhaps beat him with unmerciful severity;
but if he tells a lie, or takes the name of God
in vain, or quarrels with his neighbours, he
shall easily obtain pardon: or perhaps, if he
I
i
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
233
is reproved by others, you will justify him,
and take his part."
You cannot easily believe the weight that
it gives to family authority, when it appears
visibly to proceed from a sense of duty, and
to be itself an act of obedience to God. This
will produce coolness and composure in the
manner; it will direct and enable a parent to
mix every expression of heart-felt tenderness,
with the most severe and needful reproofs.
It will make it quite consistent to affirm, that
the rod itself is an evidence of love, and that
it is true of every pious parent on earth,
what is said of our Father in heaven--
"Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth, and
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If
ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you
as with sons: for what son is he whom the
Father chasteneth not? But if ye are without
chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then
are ye bastards and not sons.” With this
maxim in your eye, I would recommend,
that solemnity take the place of, and be sub-
stituted for severity. When a child, for ex-
ample, discovers a very depraved disposition,
instead of multiplying stripes in proportion
to the reiterated provocations, eyery circum-
stance should be introduced, whether in re-
proof or punishment, that can either discover
the seriousness of your mind, or make an
impression of awe and reverence upon his.
The time may be fixed before hand-at
some distance--the Lord's day--his own
X
234
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
birth-day--with many other circumstances
that may be so special that it is impossible
to enumerate them. I shall just repeat what
you have heard often from me in conversa-
tion, that several pious persons made it an
invariable custom, as soon as their children.
could read, never to correct them, but after
they had read over all the passages of Scrip-
ture which command it, and generally ac-
companied it with prayer to God for his
blessing. I know well with what ridicule
this would be treated by many, if publicly
mentioned; but that does not shake my
judgment in the least, being fully convinced
it is a most excellent method, and that it is
impossible to blot from the minds of children,
while they live upon earth, the impressions
that are made by these means, or to abate
the veneration they will retain for the parents
who acted such a part.
Suffer me here to observe to you, that such
a plan as the above requires judgment, reflec-
tion, and great attention in your whole con-
duct. Take heed that there be nothing ad-
mitted in the intervals that counteract it.
Nothing is more destructive of authority,
than frequent disputes and chiding upon
small matters. This is often more irksome
to children than parents are aware of. It
weakens their influence insensibly, and in
time makes their opinion and judgment of
little weight, if not wholly contemptible. As
before I recommended dignity in your ge
g
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
235
neral conduct, so in a particular manner, let
the utmost care be taken not to render au-
thority cheap, by too often interposing it.
There is really too great a risk to be run in
every such instance. If parents will be de-
ciding directly, and censuring every moment,
it is to be supposed they will be sometimes
wrong; and when this evidently appears,
it will take away from the credit of their
opinion, and weaken their influence, even
where it ought to prevail.
Upon the whole, to encourage you to
choose a wise plan, and to adhere to it with
firmness, I can venture to assure you, that
there is no doubt of your success. To sub-
due a youth after he has been long accus-
tomed to indulgence, I take to be in all
cases difficult, and in many impossible; but
while the body is tender, to bring the mind.
to submission, to train up a child in the nur-
ture and admonition of the Lord, I know is
not impossible: and he who hath given the
command, can scarcely fail to follow it with
his blessing.
1
14
[236]
LETTER IV.
·00000-
!
DEAR SIR,
HAVING now finished what I proposed
to say on the means of establishing and pre-
serving authority, I shall proceed to another
very important branch of the subject, and
beg your very particular attention to it, viz.
Example. Do not, however, suppose that I
mean to enter on that most beaten of all to-
pics, the influence of example in general, or
to write a dissertation on the common say-
ing, that "example teaches better than pre-
cept." An able writer, doubtless, might set
even this in some new lights, and make it
a strong argument with every good man to
pay the strictest attention to his visible con-
duct. What we see every day has a constant
and powerful influence on our temper and
carriage. Hence arise national characters,
and national manners, and every characteris-
tic distinction of age and place. But of this
I have already said enough.
Neither is it my purpose to put you in
mind of the importance of example to en-
force instruction, or of the shamefulness of a
man's pretending to teach others what he
despises himself. This ought in the strongest
manner to be laid before pastors and other
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
237
public persons, who often defeat habitually
by their lives, what they attempt to do oc-
casionally in the execution of their office.
If there remains the least suspicion of your
being of that character, these letters would
have been quite in another strain. I believe
there are some persons of very irregular lives,
who have so much natural light in their con-
sciences, that they would be grieved or per-
haps offended, if their children should tread
exactly in their own steps: but even these,
and much less others, who are more har-
dened, can never be expected to undertake
or carry on the system of education, we are
now endeavouring to illustrate. Suffer me,
however, before I proceed, to make one re-
mark: when I have heard of parents who
have been watched by their own children,
when drunk, and taken care of, lest they
should meet with injury or hurtful accidents
-or whose intemperate rage and horrid
blasphemies, have, without scruple, been
exposed both to children and servants--or
who, as has sometimes been the case, were
scarcely at the pains to conceal their crimi
nal amours, even from their own offspring--
I have often reflected on the degree of im-
piety of principle, or searedness of conscience,
or both united, necessary to support them
in such circumstances. Let us leave all such
with a mixture of pity and disdain.
By mentioning example, therefore, as an
important and necessary branch of the edu
x 2
238
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
1
cation of children, I have chiefly in view a
great number of particulars, which, sepa-
rately taken, are, or at least are supposed to
be, of little moment; yet by their union or
frequent repetition, produce important and
lasting effects. I have also in view to include
all that class of actions, in which there is, or
may be a coincidence between the duties of
piety and politeness, and by means of which,
the one is incorporated with the other. These
are to be introduced under the head of ex-
ample, because they will appear there to
best advantage, and because many of them
can hardly be taught or understood in any
other way.
}
This, I apprehend, you will readily ap-
prove of, because, though you justly con-
sider religion as the most essentially neces-
sary qualification, you mean at the same
time that your children should be fitted for
an appearance becoming their station in the
world. It is also the more necessary, as many
are apt to disjoin wholly the ideas of piety
and politeness, and to suppose them not only
distinct, but incompatible. This is a dan-
gerous snare to many parents, who think
there is no medium between the grossest
rusticity, and giving way to all the vanity and
extravagance of a dissipated life. Persons
truly pious have often by their conduct given
countenance to this mistake. By a certain
narrowness of sentiment and behaviour they
have become themselves, and rendered their
[
I
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
239
children, unfit for a general intercourse with
mankind, or the public duties of an active
life.
You know, Sir, as much as any man, how
contrary my opinion and conduct have been
upon this subject. I cannot help thinking
that true religion is not only consistent with,
but necessary to the perfection of true po-
liteness. There is a noble sentiment to this
purpose illustrated at considerable length in
the Port-royal Essays, viz. "That worldly
politeness is no more than an imitation or
imperfect copy of christian charity, being
the pretence or outward appearance, of that
deference to the judgment, and attention to
the interest of others, which a true christian
has as the rule of his life, and the disposition
of his heart."* I have at present in my mind
the idea of certain persons, whom you will
easily guess at, of the first quality; one or
two of the male, and twice that number at
least of the female sex, in whom piety and
high station are united. What a sweetness
and complacency of countenance, what a
condescension and gentleness of manners,
arising from the humility of the gospel being
* The authors of these essays, commonly called by
writers who make mention of them, the gentlemen of
Port-Royal, were a society of Jansenists in France, who
used to meet at that place; all of whom were eminent
for literature, and many of them of high rank, as will be
evident by mentioning the names of Pascal, Arnaud, and
the prince of Conti. The last was the author of the
essay from which the above remark is taken.
}
240
i
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
joined to the refined elegance inseparable
from their circumstances in life!
•
Be pleased to follow me to the other ex-
treme of human society. Let us go to the
remotest cottage of the wildest country, and
visit the family that inhabits it. If they are
pious, there is a certain humanity and good
will attending their simplicity, which makes
it highly agreeable. There is also a decency
in their sentiments, which, flowing from the
dictates of conscience, is as pleasing in all
respects as the restraint imposed by the rules
of good-breeding, with which the persons
here in view have little opportunity of being
acquainted. On the contrary, unbred country
people, when without principle, have gene-
rally a savageness and brutality in their car-
riage, as contrary to good manners as to
piety itself. No one has a better opportunity
of making observations of this kind, than I
have from my office and situation, and I can
assure you, that religion is the great polisher
of the common people. It even enlarges
their understanding as to other things. Hav-
ing been accustomed to exercise their judg-
ment and reflection on religious subjects,
they are capable of talking more sensibly on
agriculture, politics, or any common topic of
indifferent conversation.
B
Let me not forget to speak of the middle
ranks of life. Here, also, I scruple not to
affirm, that whatever sphere a man has been
bred in, or attained to, religion is not an in-
BJ
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
241
jury but an addition to the politeness of his
carriage. They seem indeed to confess their
relation to one another, by their reciprocal
influence. In promiscuous conversation, as
true religion contributes to make men decent
or courteous, so true politeness guards them
effectually from any outrage against piety or
purity. If I were unhappily thrown into
mixed or dangerous company, I should not
apprehend any thing improper for me to hear
from the most wicked man, but from the
greatest clown. I have known gentlemen
who were infidels in principle, and whose
lives, I had reason to believe, were privately
very bad; yet in conversation they were
guarded, decent and improving; whereas
if there come into company a rough unpo-
lished country gentleman, no man can pro-
mise that he will not break out into some
profane exclamation or obscene allusion,
which it would be wrong to attribute to im-
piety, so much as to rudeness and want of
reflection.
I have been already too long in the intro-
duction, and in giving the reasons for what I
propose shall make a part of this branch of
the subject, and yet I must make another
preliminary remark: there is the greater ne-
cessity for uniting piety and politeness in the
system of family example, that as piety is by
that means inculcated with the greatest ad-
vantage, so politeness can scarcely be attained
in any
other way.
It is very rare that persons
242
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
:
F
reach a higher degree of politeness, than what
they have been formed to in the families of
their parents and other near relations. True
politeness does not consist in dress, or a few
motions of the body, but in a habit of senti-
ment and conversation: the first may be
learned from a master, and in a little time;
the last only by a long and constant inter-
course with those who possess, and are there-
fore able to impart it. As the difficulty is
certainly greatest with the female sex, be-
cause they have fewer opportunities of being
abroad in the world, I shall take an example
from among them.
Suppose a man of low birth living in the
country, by industry and parsimony has be-
come wealthy, and has a daughter to whom
he desires to give a genteel education. He
sends her to your city to a boarding school,
for the other which is nearer me, you are
pleased not to think sufficient for that pur-
pose. She will speedily learn to buy expen-
sive and fashionable clothes, and most pro-
bably be in the very height and extrava-
gance of the fashion, one of the surest signs
of a vulgar taste. She may also, if her capa-
city is tolerable, get rid of her rustic air and
carriage; and if it be better than ordinary,
learn to discourse upon whatever topic is
then in vogue; and comes in immediately
after the weather, which is the beginning of
all conversation. But as her residence is
only for a time, she returns home; where she
G
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
243
can see or hear nothing but as before. Must
she not relapse speedily in the same vulga-
rity of sentiment, and perhaps the same pro-
vincial dialect, to which she had been accus-
tomed from her youth? Neither is it impos-
sible that she may just retain as much of the
city ceremonial, as by the incongruous mix-
ture, will render her ridiculous. There is
but one single way of escape, which we have
seen some young women of merit and capa-
city take; which is to contract an intimacy
with persons of liberal sentiments and higher
breeding, and be as little among their rela-
tions as possible. I have given this descrip-
tion to convince you, that it is in their father's
house, and by the conversation and manners
to which they are there accustomed, that
children must be formed to politeness, as
well as to virtue. I carry this matter so far,
that I think it a disadvantage to be bred too
high, as well as too low. I do not desire,
and have always declined any opportunity
given me of having my children reside long
in families of high rank. I was afraid they
would contract an air and manner unsuitable
to what was to be their condition for the re-
mainder of their lives. I would wish to give
my children as just, as noble, and as elegant
sentiments as possible, to fit them for rational
conversation, but a dress and carriage suited
to their station, and not inconsistent with the
meekness of the gospel.
Though the length of this digression, or
-
!
244
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
*
explanatory introduction, has made it im-
possible to say much in this letter on form-
ing children's character and manners by ex-
ample, before I conclude, I will give one di-
rection which is pretty comprehensive. Give
the utmost attention to the manner of receiv-
ing and entertaining strangers in your family,
as well as to your sentiments and expressions
with regard to them when they are gone. I
am fully persuaded, that the plainest and
shortest road to real politeness of carriage,
and the most amiable sort of hospitality is,
to think of others just as a christian ought,
and to express these thoughts with modesty
and candour. This will keep you at an equal
distance from a surley and morose carriage
on the one hand, and a fawning cringing ob-
sequiousness, or unnecessary compliment
and ceremony on the other. As these are
circumstances to which children in early life
are very attentive, and which occur con-
stantly in their presence, it is of much mo-
ment what sentiments they imbibe from the
behaviour of their parents. I do not mean
only their learning from them an ease and
dignity of carriage, or the contrary; but also,
some moral or immoral habits of the last
consequence. If they perceive you happy
and lifted up with the visit or countenance
of persons of high rank, solicitous to enter-
tain them properly, submissive and flattering
in your manner of speaking to them, vain
and apt to boast of your connection with
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
245
them and if, on the contrary, they perceive
you hardly civil to persons of inferior sta-
tions, or narrow circumstances, impatient of
their company, and immediately seizing the
opportunity of their departure to despise or
expose them; will not this naturally lead the
young mind to consider riches and high sta-
tion, as the great sources of earthly happi-
ness? Will it not give a strong bias to their
whole desires and studies, as well as visibly
effect their behaviour to others in social life?
Do not think that this is too nice and refined:
the first impressions upon young persons,
though inconsiderable in themselves, have
often a great as well as a lasting effect.
I remember to have read many years ago,
in the archbishop of Cambray's education of
a daughter, an advice to parents to let their
children perceive that they esteem others, nót
according to their station or outward splen-
dour, but their virtue and real worth. It
must be acknowledged that there are some
marks of respect due to men, according to
their place in civil life, which a good man
would not fail to give them, even for con-
science sake. But it is an easy matter, in
perfect consistency with this, by more fre-
quent voluntary intercourse, as well as by
our usual manner of speaking, to pay that
homage which is due to piety, to express our
contempt or indignation at vice, or mean-
ness of every kind. I think it no inconsider-
able addition to this remark, that we should
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be as cautious of estimating happiness as vir-
tue by outward station; and keep at the same
distance from envying as from flattering the
great.
But what I must particularly recommend
to you, is to avoid that common, but detes-
table custom of receiving persons with cour-
tesy, and all the marks of real friendship in
your house; and the moment they are gone,
falling upon their character and conduct with
unmerciful severity. I am sensible there are
some cases, though they are not numerous,
in which it may be lawful to say of others
behind their back, what it would be at least
imprudent or unsafe to say in their own pre-
sence. Neither would I exclude parents
from the advantage of pointing out to their
children the mistakes and vices of others, as
a warning or lesson of instruction to them-
selves. Yet as detraction in general is to
be avoided at all times; so of all others the
most improper season to speak to any man's
prejudice, is, after you have just received and
treated him in an hospitable manner, as a
friend. There is something mean in it, and
something so nearly allied to hypocrisy and
disingenuity, that I would not choose to act
such a part even to those whom I would take
another opportunity of pointing out to my
children, as persons whose conversation they
should avoid, and whose conduct they should
abhor.
In every station, and among all ranks, this
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LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
247
rule is often transgressed; but there is one
point in which it is more frequently and
more universally transgressed than in any
other, and that is by turning the absent into
ridicule, for any thing odd or aukward in
their behaviour. I am sorry to say that this
is an indecorum that prevails in several fami-
lies of high rank. A man of inferior station,
for some particular reason is admitted to their
company. He is perhaps not well acquainted
with the rules of politeness, and the presence
of his superiors, to which he is unaccustom-
ed, increases his embarrassment. Imme-
diately on his departure, a petulent boy or
giddy girl will set about mimicking his mo-
tions and repeating his phrases, to the great
entertainment of the company, who apparent-
ly derive much self-satisfaction from a cir-
cumstance in which there is no merit at all.
If any person renders himself justly ridicu-
lous, by affecting a character which he is un-
able to sustain, let him be treated with the
contempt he deserves. But there is some-
thing very ungenerous in people treating
their inferiors with disdain, merely because
the same Providence that made their ances-
tors great, left the others in a lower sphere.
It has often given me great indignation to
see a gentleman or his wife, of real worth,
good understanding, but simple manners,
despised and ridiculed for a defect which
they could not remedy, and that often by
persons the most insignificant and frivolous,
248
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who never uttered a sentence in their lives
that deserved to be remembered or repeated.
But if this conduct is ungenerous in the great,
how diverting is it to see the same disposi-
tion carried down through all the inferior
ranks, and showing itself in a silly triumph
of every class over those who are supposed to
be below them? I have known many persons,
whose station was not superior to mine, take
great pleasure in expressing their contempt of
vulgar ideas and low life; and even a trades-
man's wife in a city, glorying over the unpo-
lished manners of her country acquaintance.
Upon the whole, as there is no disposition
to which young persons are more prone than
derision, or, as the author I cited above, Mr.
Fenelon, expresses it, un esprit mocquer et
malin-and few that parents are more apt to
cherish-under the idea of its being a sign of
sprightliness and vivacity-there is none
which a pious and prudent parent should take
greater care to restrain by admonition, and
destroy by a contrary example.
[249]
LETTER V.
-00000-
DEAR SIR,
LET us now proceed to consider more
fully, what it is to form children to piety by
example. This is a subject of great extent,
and, perhaps, of difficulty. The difficulty,
however, does not consist either in the ab-
struseness of the arguments, or uncertainty
of the facts upon which they are founded,
but in the minuteness or trifling nature of
the circumstances, taken separately, which
makes them often either wholly unnoticed or
greatly undervalued. It is a subject, which,
if I mistake not, is much more easily con-
ceived than explained. If you have it con-
stantly in your mind, that your whole visible
deportment will powerfully, though insensi-
bly, influence the opinions and future con-
duct of your children, it will give a form or
colour, if I may speak so, to every thing you
say or do. There are numberless and name-
less instances in which this reflection will
make you speak, or refrain from speaking,
act, or abstain from, some circumstances of
action, in what you are engaged in ; nor will
this be accompanied with any reluctance in
the one case, or constraint in the other.
But I must not content myself with this.
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LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
My profession gives me many opportunities
of observing, that the impression made by
general truths, however justly stated or
fully proved, is seldom strong or lasting.
Let me, therefore descend to practice, and
illustrate what I have said by examples.
Here again a difficulty occurs. If I give a
particular instance it will perhaps operate no
farther than recommending a like conduct in
circumstances the same, or perhaps perfectly
similar. For example. I might say, in
speaking to the disadvantage of absent per-
sons, I beseech you never fail to add the
reason why you take such liberty, and in-
deed never take that liberty at all, but when
it can be justified upon the principles of pru-
dence, candour, and charity. A thing may
be right in itself, but children should be
made to see why it is right. This is one
instance of exemplary caution, but if I were
to add a dozen more to it, they would only
be detached precepts; whereas I am anxious
to take in the whole extent of edifying ex-
ample. In order to this, let me range or di-
vide what I have to say, under distinct heads.
A parent who wishes that his example should
be a speaking lesson to his children, should
order it so as to convince them, that he con-
siders religion as necessary, respectable,
amiable, profitable, and delightful. I am
sensible, that some of these characters may
seem so nearly allied, as scarcely to admit of
a distinction. Many parts of a virtuous con-
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
251
{
}
duct fall under more than one of these deno-
minations. Some actions perhaps deserve all
the epithets here mentioned, without excep-
tion and without prejudice one of another.
But the distinctions seems to me very useful,
for there is certainly a class of actions which
may be said to belong peculiarly, or at least
eminently, to each of these different heads.
By taking them separately, therefore, it will
serve to point out more fully the extent of
your duty, and to suggest it when it would
not otherwise occur, as well as to set the
obligation to it in the stronger light.
1. You should, in your general deport-
ment, make your children perceive that you
look upon religion as absolutely necessary. I
place this first, because it appears to me first
both in point of order and force. I am far
from being against taking all pains to show
that religion is rational and honourable in it-
self, and vice the contrary; but I despise
the foolish refinement of those, who, through
fear of making children mercenary, are for
being very sparing of the mention of heaven
or hell. Such conduct is apt to make them
conceive, that a neglect of their duty is only
falling short of a degree of honour and ad-
vantage, which, for the gratification of their
passions, they are very willing to relinquish.
Many parents are much more ready to tell
their children such or such a thing is mean,
and not like a gentleman, than to warn them
that they will thereby incur the displeasure
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LETTERS ON EDUCAŤION.
of their Maker. But when the practices are
really and deeply criminal, as in swearing
and lying, it is quite improper to rest the
matter there. I admit that they are both
mean, and that justice ought to be done to
them in this respect; but I contend that it
should only be a secondary consideration.
Let not human reasonings be put in the
balance with divine wisdom. The care of
our souls is represented in Scripture as the
one thing needful. He makes a miserable
bargain, who gains the whole world and
loses his own soul. It is not the native
beauty of virtue, or the outward credit of it,
or the inward satisfaction arising from it, or
even all these combined together, that will
be sufficient to change our natures and go-
vern our conduct; but a deep conviction,
that unless we are reconciled to God, we
shall without doubt perish everlastingly.
You will say, this is very true and very fit
for a pulpit--but what is that class of ac-
tions that should impress it habitually on the
minds of children? perhaps you will even
say, what one action will any good man be
guilty of much more habitual conduct-
that can tend to weaken their belief of it!
This is the very point which I mean to ex-
plain. It is certainly possible that a man may
at stated times give out that he looks upon
religion to be absolutely necessary, and yet
his conduct in many particulars may have no
tendency to impress this on the minds of his
LETTERS ON ÉDUCATION.
253
children. If he suffers particular religious
duties to be easily displaced, to be shor-
tened, postponed or omitted, upon the most
trifling accounts, depend upon it, this will
make religion in general seem less neces-
sary, to those who observe it. If an unplea-
sant day will keep a man from public worship,
when perhaps a hurricane will not keep him
from an election meeting-if he chooses to
take physic, or give it to his children on the
Lord's day, when it could be done with
equal ease on the day before or after-if he
will more readily allow his servants to pay a
visit to their friends on that day than any
other, though he has reason to believe they
will spend it in junketing and idleness-
it will not be easy to avoid suspecting that
worldly advantage is what determines his
choice.
Take an example or two more on this
head. Supposing a man usually to worship
God in his family; if he sometimes omits
it--if he allow every little business to inter-
fere with it-if company will make him dis-
pense with it, or shift it from its proper sea.
son-believe me, the idea of religion being
every man's first and great concern, it is in
a good measure weakened, if not wholly lost,
It is a very nice thing in religion to know
the real connection between, and the proper
mixture of spirit and form. The form with-
out the spirit is good for nothing; but on
the other hand, the spirit without the form;
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LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
in
never yet existed. I am of opinion, that
punctual and even scrupulous regularity in
all those duties that occur periodically, is the
way to make them easy and pleasant to those
who attend them. They also become, like
all other habits, in some degree necessary;
so that those who have been long accustom-
ed to them, feel an uneasiness in families
where they are generally or frequently ne-
glected. I cannot help also mentioning to you,
the great danger of paying and receiving
visits on the Lord's day, unless when it is
absolutely necessary. It is a matter not
merely difficult, but wholly impracticable,
in such cases, to guard effectually against
improper subjects of conversation. Nor is
this all, for let the conversation be what it
will, I contend that the duties of the family
and the closet are fully sufficient to employ
the whole time; which must therefore be
wasted or misapplied by the intercourse of
strangers.
I only further observe, that I know no
circumstance from which your opinion of
the necessity of religion will appear with the
greater clearness, or carry it in greater force,
than your behaviour towards and treatment
of your children in time of dangerous sick-
Certainly there is no time in their
whole lives when the necessity appears more
urgent, or the opportunity more favoura-
ble, for impressing their minds with a sense
of the things that belong to their peace.
ness.
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
255
What shall we say then of those parents,
who, through fear of alarming their minds,
and augmenting their disorder, will not suf-
fer any mention to be made to them of the
approach of death, or the importance of
eternity? I will relate to you an example of
this. A young gentleman of estate in my
parish, was taken ill of a dangerous fever in
a friend's house at a distance. I went to
see him in his illness, and his mother, a
widow lady, intreated me not to say any
thing alarming to him, and not to pray with
him, but to go to prayer in another room,
wherein she wisely observed, it would have
the same effect. The young man himself
soon found that I did not act as he had ex-
pected, and was so impatient that it became
necessary to give him the true reason. On
this he insisted, in the most positive manner,
that all restrictions should be taken off, which
was done. What was the consequence? He
was exceedingly pleased and composed ; and
if this circumstance did not hasten, it neither
hindered nor retarded his recovery.
Be pleased to remark, that the young
gentleman here spoken of, neither was at
that time, nor is yet, so far as I am able to
judge, truly religious; and therefore I have
formed a fixed opinion, that in this, as in
many other instances, the wisdom of man
disappoints itself. Pious advice and consola-
tion, if but tolerably administered in sick-
ness, are not only useful to the soul, but
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256
ii.
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
serve particularly to calm an agitated mind,
to bring the animal spirits to an easy flow,
and the whole frame into such a state as will
best favour the operation of medicine, or the
efforts of the constitution, to throw off or
conquer the disease.
Suffer me to wander a little from my sub-
ject, by observing to you, that as I do not
think the great are to be much envied for
any thing, so they are truly and heartily to be
pitied for the deception that is usually put
upon them by flattery and false tenderness,
Many of them are brought up with so much
delicacy, that they are never suffered to see
any miserable or afflicting object, nor, so far
as can be hindered, to hear any affecting
story of distress. If they themselves are
sick, how many absurd and palpable lies are
told them by their friends? and as for phy-
sicians, I may safely say, few of them are
much conscience bound in this matter. Now,
let the success of these measures be what it
will, the only fruit to be reaped from them
is to make a poor dying sinner mistake his
or her condition, and vainly dream of earthly
happiness, while hastening to the pit of per-
dition. But, as I said before, men are often
taken in their own craftiness. It oftentimes
happens that such persons, by an ignorant
servant, or officious neighbour, or some un-
lucky accident, make a sudden discovery of
their true situation, and the shock frequently
proves fatal.-Oh! how much more desira-
→
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LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
257
ble is it--how much more like the reason of
men, as well as the faith of christians-to
consider and prepare for what must inevita-
bly come to pass? I cannot easily conceive
any thing more truly noble, than for a person
in health and vigour, in honour and opulence,
by voluntary reflection to sympathize with
others in distress; and by a well founded.
confidence in divine mercy, to obtain the
victory over the fear of death.
2. You ought to live so as to make reli-
gion appear respectable. Religion is a vene-
rable thing in itself, and it spreads an air of
dignity over a person's whole deportment. I
have seen a common tradesman, merely be-
cause he was a man of true piety and unde-
niable worth, treated by his children, appren-
tices and servants, with a much greater de-
gree of deference and submission, than is
commonly given to men of superior station,
without that character. Many of the same
meannesses are avoided, by a gentleman from
a principle of honour, and by a good man
from a principle of conscience. The first
keeps out of the company of common peo-
ple, because they are below him--the last is
cautious of mixing with them, because of
that levity and profanity that is to be ex-
pected from them. If, then, religion is really
venerable when sincere, a respectable con-
duct ought to be maintained, as a proof of
your own integrity, as well as to recommend
it to your children. To this add, if you
Ꮓ
*
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LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
}
please, that as reverence is the peculiar duty
of children to their parents, any thing that
tends to lessen it is more deeply felt by them
than by others who observe it. When I have
seen a parent, in the presence of his child,
meanly wrangling with his servant, telling
extravagant stories, or otherwise exposing
his vanity, credulity or folly; I have felt just
the same proportion of sympathy and ten-
derness for the one, that I did of contempt
or indignation at the other.
What has been said, will, in part, explain
the errors which a parent ought to shun, and
what circumstances he ought to attend to, *
that religion may appear respectable. All
meannesses, whether of sentiment, conversa-
tion, dress, manners, or employment, are
carefully to be avoided. You will apply this
properly to yourself. I may, however, just
mention, that there is a considerable differ-
ence in all these particulars, according to
men's different stations. The same actions
are mean in one station, that are not so in
another. The thing itself, however, still
remains; as there is an order and cleanliness
at the table of tradesmen, that is different
from the elegance of a gentleman's, or the
sumptuousness of a prince's or nobleman's.
But to make the matter still plainer by par-
ticular examples. I look upon talkativeness
and vanity to be among the greatest enemies
to dignity. It is needless to say how much
vanity is contrary to true religion; and as to
ZETTERS ON EDUCATION.
259
the other, which may seem rather an infirmity
than a sin, we are expressly cautioned against
it, and commanded to be swift to hear, and
slow to speak. Sudden anger, too, and loud
clamourous scolding, are at once contrary to
piety and dignity. Parents should, therefore,
acquire as much as possible, a composure of
spirit, and meekness of language; nor are
there many circumstances that will more re-
commend religion to children, when they
see that this self-command is the effect of
principle, and a sense of duty.
There is a weakness I have observed in
many parents, to show a partial fondness for
some of their children, to the neglect, and in
many cases approaching to a jealousy or ha-
tred of others. Sometimes we see a mother
discover an excessive partiality to a hand-
some daughter, in comparison of those that
are more homely in their figure. This is a
barbarity, which would be truly incredible,
did not experience prove that it really exists.
One would think they should rather be ex-
cited by natural affection, to give all possible
encouragement to those who labour under a
disadvantage, and bestow every attainable
accomplishment to balance the defects of out-
ward form. At other times we see a partiality
which cannot be accounted for at all, where
the most ugly, peevish, froward child of the
whole family, is the favourite of both parents.
Reason ought to counteract these errors; but
piety ought to extirpate them entirely. I do
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not stay to mention the bad effects that flow
from them, my purpose being only to show
the excellence of that character which is ex-
empted from them.
The real dignity of religion will also ap-
pear in the conduct of a good man towards
his servants. It will point out the true and
proper distinction between condescension
and meanness. Humility is the very spirit
of the gospel. Therefore, hear your servants.
with patience, examine their conduct with
candour, treat them with all the humanity
and gentleness that is consistent with unre-
mitted authority: when they are sick, visit
them in person, provide remedies for them,
sympathize with them, and show them that
voy do so;
take care of their interests; assist
them with your counsel and influence to ob-
tain what is their right. But, on the other
hand, never make yourself their proper com-
panion: do not seem to taste their society;
do not hear their jokes, or ask their news, or
tell them yours. Believe me, this will never
make you either beloved or esteemed by your
servants themselves; and it will greatly dero-
gate from the dignity of true religion in the
eyes of your children. Suffer me also to
caution you against that most unjust and il-
liberal practice, of exercising your wit in
humorous strokes upon your servants, before
company, or while they wait at table. I do
not know any thing so evidently mean, that
is at the same time so common. It is I think,
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अप्रै
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
261
just such a cowardly thing as to beat a man
who is bound because the servant, however
happy a repartee might occur to him, is not
at liberty to answer, but at the risk of hav-
ing his bones broken. In this, as in many
other particular reasons, refinement, and
liberal manners, teach exactly the same
thing with religion, and I am happy in be-
ing able to add, that religion is generally the
most powerful, as well as the most uniform
principle of decent conduct.
I shall have done with this particular,
when I have observed, that those who are
engaged in public, or what I may call po-
litical life, have an excellent opportunity of
making religion appear truly respectable.
What I mean is, by showing themselves
firm and incorruptible in supporting those
measures that appear best calculated for
promoting the interest of religion, and the
good of mankind. In all these cases, I ad-
mire that man who has principles, whose
principles are known, and whom every body
despairs of being able to seduce, or bring
over to the opposite interest. I do not com-
mend furious and intemperate zeal. Stea-
diness is a much better, and quite a differ-
ent thing. I would contend with any man.
who should speak most calmly, but I would
also contend with him who should act most
firmly. As for your placebos, your pru-
dent, courtly, compliant gentlemen, whose
wote in assembly will tell you where they

z 2
262
LETTERS ON EDUCATION.
dined the day before, I hold them very cheap
indeed, as you very well know. I do not
enter further into this argument, but con-
clude at this time, by observing, that public
measures are always embraced under pre-
tence of principle; and therefore an uniform
uncorrupted public character is one of the
best evidences of real principle. The free
thinking gentry tell us, upon this subject,
that "every man has his price." It lies out
of my way to attempt refuting them at pre-
sent, but it is to be hoped there are many
whose price is far above their reach. If
some of my near relations, who took so
much pains to attach me to the interest of
evangelical truth, had been governed by
court influence in their political conduct, it
had not been in my power to have esteemed
their characters, or perhaps to have adhered
to their instructions. But as things now
stand, I have done both from the beginning,
and I hope God will enable me by his grace,
to continue to do so to the end of life.
!
2 63
LETTERS
ON
MARRIAGE.
·00000·
LETTER I.
I OFFER, with some hesitation, a few
reflections upon the married state. I express
myself thus, because the subject has been so
often and so fully treated, and by writers,
of the first class, that it may be thought
nothing now remains to be said that can
merit attention. My only apology is, that
what I offer is the fruit of real observation
and personal reflection. It is not a copy of
any man's writings, but my own thoughts;
and therefore if the sentiments should not be
in themselves wholly new, they may possibly
appear in a light not altogether common. I
shall give you them in the way of aphorisms
or observations; and subjoin to each a few
thoughts by way of proof or illustration.
1. Nothing can be more contrary to rea-
son or public utility, than the conversation
and writings of those who turn matrimony
into ridicule; yet it is in many cases, as
weakly defended, as it is unjustly attacked.
Those who treat marriage with ridicule,
act in direct and deliberate opposition to the
"
264
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LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
order of providence, and to the constitution
of the society of which they are members.
The true reason why they are borne with so
patiently, is, that the Author of our nature
has implanted in us instinctive propensities,
which are by much too strong for their fee-
ble attacks.--But if we are to estimate the
malignity of a man's conduct or sentiments,
not from their effect, but from their native
tendency, and his inward disposition, it is
not easy to imagine any thing more criminal,
than an attempt to bring marriage into dis-
esteem. It is plainly an effort not only to
destroy the happiness, but to prevent the ex-
istence of human nature. A man who con
tinues through life in a single state, ought,
in justice to endeavour to satisfy the public
that his case is singular, and that he has some
insuperable obstacle to plead in his excuse.
If, instead of this, he reasons in defence of
his own conduct, and takes upon him to con-
demn that of others, it is at once incredible
and absurd: that is to say, he can scarcely
be believed to be sincere. And whether he
be sincere or not, he deserves to be detested.
In support of the last part of my remark,
let it be observed, that those who write in
defence of marriage usually give such sub-
lime and exalted descriptions, as are not
realized in one case of a thousand; and
therefore cannot be a just motive to a con-
siderate man. Instead of insisting on the ab-
solute necessity of marriage for the service
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
265
Y
of the state, and the solid advantages that
arise from it, in ordinary cases; they give
us a certain refined idea of felicity, which
hardly exists any where but in the writer's
imagination. Even the Spectator, than whom
there is hardly in our language a more just
and rational writer, after saying many excel-
lent things in defence of marriage, scarcely
ever fails to draw the character of a lady in
such terms, that I may safely say not above
one that answers the description is to be
found in a parish, or perhaps a country.
Now, is it not much better to leave the mat-
ter to the force of nature, than to urge it by
such arguments as these? Is the manner of
thinking induced by such writings, likely to
hasten or postpone a man's entering into the
marriage state?
There is also a fault I think to be found
in almost every writer who speaks in favour
of the female sex, that they over-rate the
charms of the outward form. This is the
case in all romances-a class of writings to
which the world is very little indebted-The
same thing may be said of plays, where the
heroine for certain, and often all the ladies
that are introduced, are represented as in-
imitably beautiful. Even Mr. Addison him-
self in his admirable description of Martia,
which he puts in the mouth of Juba, though
it begins with,
266
t
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
'Tis not a set of features, or complexion, &c.
yet could not help inserting
True she is fair; ok, how divinely fair!
-
Now, I apprehend this is directly contrary
to what should be the design of every moral
writer. Men are naturally too apt to be car-
ried away with the admiration of a beautiful
face. Must it not, therefore, confirm them
in this error, when beauty is made an essen-
tial part of every amiable character? The
preference such writers pretend to give to
the mental qualities, goes but a little way to
remedy the evil. If they are never separated
in the description, wherever men find the
one, they will presume upon the other. But
is this according to truth, or agreeable to ex-
perience? What vast numbers of the most
valuable women are to be found, who are by
no means "divinely fair?" Are these all to
be neglected then? Or is it not certain, from
experience, that there is not a single quality,
on which matrimonial happiness depends so
little, as outward form? Every other quality
that is good, will go a certain length to atone
for what is bad; as, for example, if a woman
is active and industrious in her family, it
will make a husband bear with more pa-
tience a little anxiety of countenance, or
fretfulness of temper, though in themselves
disagreeable. But (always supposing the
honey-moon to be over) I do not think that
beauty atones in the least degree for any bad
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
267
quality whatsoever; it is, on the contrary,
an aggravation of them, being considered as
a breach of faith, or deception, by holding
out a false signal.
2. In the married state in general, there is
not so much happiness as young lovers dream
of; nor is their by far so much unhappiness,
as loose authors universally suppose.
The first part of this aphorism will proba-
bly be easily admitted. Before mentioning,
however, the little I mean to say upon it, I
beg leave to observe, that it would be quite
wrong to blame the tenderness and fervency
of affection, by which the sexes are drawn
to one another, and that generous devoted-
ness of hearts which is often to be seen on
one, and sometimes on both sides. This is
nature itself; and when under the restraint
of reason, and government of prudence, may
be greatly subservient to the future happi-·
ness of life. But there is certainly an ex-
travagance of sentiment and language on this
subject, that is at once ridiculous in itself,
and the proper cause, in due time, of
wretchedness and disappointment.
Let any man, who has outlived these sen-
sations himself, and has leisure to be amu-
sed, dip a little into the love songs that have
been composed and published from Ana-
creon to the present day, and what a fund
of entertainment will he find provided for
him! The heathen gods and goddesses are
the standing and lawful means of celebrating
268
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
|
the praises of a mistress before whom, no
doubt, Venus for beauty, and Minerva for
wisdom, must go for nothing. Every imäge
in nature has been called up to heighten our
idea of female charms--the paleness of the
lilly, the freshness of the rose, the blush of the
violet, and the vermillion of the peach. This
is even still nothing. One of the most ap-
proved topics of a love-sick writer is, that all
nature fades and mourns at the absence of
his fair, and puts on a new bloom at her
ap-
proach. All this, we know well, has place
only in his imagination; for nature proceeds
quietly in her course, without minding him
and his charmer in the least. But we are not
yet done. The glory of the heavenly orbs,
the lustre of the sun himself, and even the
joys of heaven, are frequently and familiarly
introduced, to express a lover's happiness or
hopes. Flames, darts, arrows, and lightning
from a female eye, have been expressions as
old at least as the art of writing, and are still
in full vogue. Some of these we can find
no other fault with than that they are a little
outre as the French express it; but I con-
fess I have sometimes been surprised at the
choice of lightning, because it is capable of
a double application, and may put us in mind
that some wives have lightning in their eyes
sufficient to terrify a husband, as well as the
maids have to consume a lover.
Does not all this plainly show, that young
persons are apt to indulge themselves with
+
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
269
romantic expectations of a delight, both ex-
tatic and permanent, such as never did and
never can exist? And does it not at the
same time expose matrimony to the scoffs
of libertines, who, knowing that these rap-
tures must soon come to an end, think it
sufficient to disparage the state itself, that
some inconsiderate persons have not met
with in it, what it was never intended to be
stow?
I proceed, therefore, to observe that there
is not by far so much unhappiness in the
married state in general, as loose authors
universally suppose. I choose to state the
argument in this manner, because it is much
more satisfying than drawing pictures of the
extremes on either hand. It signifies very
little, on the one hand, to describe the state
of a few persons distinguished for under
standing, successful in life, respected by the
public, and dear to one another; or on the
other, those hateful brawls which by and by
produce an advertisement in the news-pa-
pers, "Whereas Sarah the wife of the sub.
scriber, has eloped from his bed and board,'
&c. If we would treat of this matter with
propriety, we must consider how it stands
among the bulk of mankind. The proposi
tion, then, I mean to establish, is, that there
is much less unhappiness in the matrimonial
state than is often apprehended, and indeed
as much real comfort as there is any ground
to expect.
"S
A a
270
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
ཙ་
忌
​To support this truth, I observe, that
taking mankind throughout, we find much
more satisfaction and cheerfulness in the
married than in the single. In proportion to
their numbers, I think of those that are grown
up to maturer years, or past the meridian of
life, there is a much greater degree of pee-
vishness and discontent, whimsicalness and
peculiarity, in the last than in the first. The
prospect of continuing single to the end of
life, narrows the mind and closes the heart,
I knew an instance of a gentleman of good
estate, who lived single till he was past forty,
and he was esteemed by all his neighbours not
only frugal, but mean in some parts of his
conduct. This same person afterwards mar-
rying and having children, every body ob-
served that he became liberal and open-
hearted on the change, when one would
have thought he had a stronger motive than
before, to save and hoard up. On this a
neighbour of his made a remark, as a phi-
losopher, that every ultimate passion is
stronger than an intermediate one; that a
single person loves wealth immediately, and
on its own account; whereas a parent can
scarcely help preferring his children before
it, and valuing it only for their sakes.
This leads me to observe, that marriage
must be the source of happiness, as being
the immediate cause of many other relations,
the most interesting and delightful. I can-
not easily figure to myself any man who does
L
3
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
271
not look upon it as the first of earthly bless-
ings, to have children, to be the objects of at-
tachment and care when they are young, and
to inherit his name and substance, when he
himself must, in the course of nature, go off
the stage. Does not this very circumstance
give unspeakable dignity to each parent in
the other's eye, and serve to increase and
confirm that union, which youthful passion,
and less durable motives, first occasioned to
take place? I rather choose to mention this
argument, because neither exalted under-
standings, nor elegance of manners, are ne-
cessary to give it force. It is felt by the pea-
sant as well as by the prince, and, if we
believe some observers on human life, its
influence is not less, but greater in the lower
than in the higher ranks.
Before I proceed to any farther remarks,
I must say a few words, to prevent or remove
a deception, which very probably leads many
into error on this subject. It is no other than
a man's supposing what would not give him
happiness, cannot give it to another. Because,
perhaps, there are few married women, whose
persons, conversation, manners, and conduct,
are altogether to his taste, he takes upon him
to conclude, that the husbands, in these nu-
merous instances, must lead a miserable life.
Is it needful to say any thing to show the
fallacy of this? The tastes and dispositions
of inen are as various as their faces; and
therefore what is pleasing to one, may be,
*.:*
272
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
zestalācitabine) *Akade
not barely tolerable, but agreeable to an
other. I have known a husband delighted
with his wife's fluency and poignancy of
speech in scolding her servants, and another
who was not able to bear the least noise of
the kind with patience.
Having obviated this mistake, it will be
proper to observe, that through all the lower
and middle ranks of life, there is generally
a good measure of matrimonial or domestic
comfort, when their circumstances are easy,
or their estate growing. This is easily ac-
counted for, not only from their being free
from one of the most usual causes of pee-
vishness and discontent, but because the
affairs of a family are very seldom in a thriv-
ing state, unless both contribute their share
of diligence; so that they have not only a
common happiness to share, but a joint
merit in procuring it. Men may talk in rap-
tures of youth and beauty, wit and sprightli-
ness, and a hundred other shining qualities;
but after seven years cohabitation, not one
of them is to be compared to good family
management, which is seen at every meal,
and felt every hour in the husband's purse.
To this, however, I must apply the caution
given above.-Such a wife may not appear
quite killing to a stranger on a visit. There
are a few distinguished examples of women
of the first rate understandings, who have all
the elegance of court breeding in the parlour,
and all the frugality and activity of a farmer's
CON
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
273
wife in the kitchen; but I have not found
this to be the case in general. I learned from
a certain author many years ago, that "a
great care of household affairs generally
spoils the free, careless air of a fine lady;"
and I have seen no reason to disbelieve it
since.
Once more, so far as I have been able to
form a judgment, wherever there is a great
and confessed superiority of understanding
on one side, with some good nature on the
other, there is domestic peace. It is of little
consequence whether the superiority be on
the side of the man or woman, provided the
ground of it be manifest. The fiercest con-
tentions are generally where the just title to
command is not quite clear. I am sensible
I may bring a little ridicule upon myself
here. It will be alleged that I have clearly
established the right of female authority over
that species of husbands, known by the name
of hen-peckt. But I beg that the nature of
my position may be attentively considered.
I have said, "Wherever there is a great and
confessed superiority of understanding."
Should not a man comply with reason, when
offered by his wife, as well as any body else?
Or ought he to be against reason, because
his wife is for it? I therefore take the liberty
of rescuing from the number of hen-peckt,
those who ask the advice, and follow the di-
rection of their wives in most cases, because
they are really better than any they could
-
A a 2
274
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
م
give themselves-reserving those only under
the old denomination, who, through fear, are
subject, not to reason, but to passion and ill-
humour. I shall conclude this observation
with saying, for the honour of the female
sex, that I have known a greater number of
instances of just and amiable conduct, in
case of a great inequality of judgment, when
the advantage was on the side of the woman,
than when it was on the side of the man. I
have known many women of judgment and
prudence, who carried it with the highest
respect and decency, to weak and capricious
husbands but not many men of distin-
guished abilities, who did not betray, if not
contempt, at least great indifference, towards
weak or trifling wives.
:
•
Some other things I had intended to offer
upon this subject, but as the letter has been
drawn out to a greater length than I expected,
and they will come in with at least equal pro-
priety under other maxims, I conclude at
present.
I
[275]
1
LETTER II.
·00000·
275
3. IT is by far the safest and most pro-
mising way to marry with a person nearly
equal in rank, and perhaps in age; but if
there is to be a difference, the risk is much
greater when a inan marries below his rank,
than when a woman descends from her's.
The first part of this maxim has been in
substance advanced by many writers, and
therefore little will need to be said upon it. I
must, however, explain its meaning, which
is not always clearly comprehended. By
equality in rank, must be understood equality
not in fortune, but in education, taste, and
habits of life. I do not call it inequality
when a gentleman of estate marries a lady
who has been from the beginning brought
up in the same class of society with himself,
and is in every respect as elegant in her sen-
timents and manners, but by some incidents,
that perhaps have lately happened, is une-
qual to him in point of fortune. I know that
from the corrupt and selfish views which
prevail so generally in the world, a marriage
of this kind is often considered as unequal,
and an act of great condescension on the part
of the man; but the sentiment is illiberal and
unjust. In the same manner, when a lady
276
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
marries a gentleman of character and capa-
city, and is in every respect suitable to her,
but that his estate is not equal to what she
might expect, I do not call it unequal. It is
true, parents too frequently prefer circum-
stances to character, and the female friends
of a lady at her own disposal, may say in such
a case, that she has made a poor bargain.
But taking it still for granted that the for-
tune only is unequal, I affirm there is nothing
in this circumstance that forebodes future
dissention, but rather the contrary. An act
of generosity never produced a fretful dispo-
sition in the person who did it, nor is it rea-
sonable to suppose it will often have that
effect on the one who receives it.
The importance, therefore, of equality,
arises singly from this circumstance--that
there is a great probability, that the turn,
taste, employments, amusements, and gene-
ral carriage of the persons so intimately join-
ed, and so frequently together, will be mu-
tually agreeable.
The occasion or motive of first entering
into the marriage contract, is not of so much
consequence to the felicity of the parties, as
what they find after they are fairly engaged,
and cannot return back. When I visit a
new country, my judgment of it may be in-
fluenced a little, but neither much nor long,
by flattering hopes or hideous apprehensions,
entertained before actual trial. It has often
been said that dissentions between married
2
L
ƒ
1
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
277
people, generally take their rise from very
inconsiderable circumstances; to which I
will add, that this is most commonly the
case among persons of some station, sense,
and breeding. This may seem odd, but the
difficulty is easily solved. Persons of this
character have a delicacy on the subject of
so close an union, and expect a sweetness
and compliance in matters that would not be
minded by the vulgar; so that the smallness
of the circumstance appears in their eye an
aggravation of the offence. I have known a
gentleman of rank and his lady part for life,
by a difference arising from a thing said at
supper, that was not so much as observed
to be an impropriety by three fourths of the
company.
This, then, is what I apprehend occasions
the importance of equality in rank. Without
this equality, they do not understand one an-
other sufficiently for continual intercourse.
Many causes of difference will arise, not only
sudden and unexpected, but impossible to
be foreseen, and therefore not provided
against. I must also observe, that an expli-
cation or expostulation, in the cases here in
view, is more tedious and difficult than any
other--perhaps more dangerous and uncer-
tain in the issue. How shall the one attempt
to convince the other of an incongruity of
behaviour, in what all their former ideas have
taught them to believe as innocent or decent,
sometimes even laudable? The attempt is
*********
*ག་་་
4
278
LETTERS ON MARIAGE.
often considered as an insult on their former
station, and instead of producing concord,
lays the foundation of continual solicitude,
or increasing aversion. A man may be guilty
of speaking very unadvisedly through in-
temperate rage, or may perhaps come hoine
flustered with liquor, and his wife, if prudent,
may find a season for mentioning them, when
the admonition will be received with calm-
ness, and followed by reformation; but if
she discovers her displeasure at rusticity of
carriage, or meanness of sentiment, I think
there is little hope that it will have any effect
that is good. The habit cannot be mended;
yet he may have sagacity enough to see that
the wife of his bosom has despised him in
her heart.
HO
I am going to put a case. Suppose that
the late - --, who acquired so vast an
estate, had married a lady of the first rank,
education, and taste, and that she had learned
a few anecdotes of his public speeches--that
he spoke of this here report of that there
committee-or of a man's being drowned on
the coast of the Island of Pennsylvania.
Now, I desire to know how she could help
pouting, and being a little out of humour,
especially if he came home full of inward
satisfaction, and was honestly of opinion that
he spoke equally as well as any other in the
house? That things may be fairly balanced,
I will put another case. Suppose a gentleman
of rank, literature, and taste, has married a
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE,
279
tradesman's daughter for the sake of fortune,
or from desire, which he calls love, kindled
by an accidental glance of a fresh-coloured
young woman: suppose her never to have
had the opportunity of being in what the
world calls good company, and in conse-
quence to be wholly ignorant of the modes.
that prevail there; suppose, at the same time,
that her understanding has never been en-
larged by reading, or conversation. In such
a case, how soon must passion be sated, and
what innumerable causes of shame and mer-
tification must every day produce? I am not
certain whether the difficulty will be greater,
if she continues the manners of her former, or
attempts to put on those of her present sta-
tion. If any man thinks that he can easily
preserve the esteem and attention due to a
wife in such circumstances, he will probably
be mistaken, and no less so if he expects to
communicate refinement by a few lessons, or
prevent misbehaviour by fretfulness, or pee-
vish and satirical remarks.
But let me come now to the latter part of
the maxim, which I do not remember to
have ever met with in any author-that there
is a much greater risk when a man marries
below his rank, than when a woman marries
below her's. As to the matter of fact, it de-
pends entirely on the justness and accuracy
of my observations, of which every reader
must be left to judge for himself. I must,
however take notice, that when I speak of
280
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
1
a woman marrying below her station, I have
no view at all to include what there have
been some examples of a gentleman's
daughter running away with her father's
footman, or a lady of quality with a player,
this is, in every instance, an act of pure
lasciviousness, and is, without any excep
tion that ever I heard of, followed by im
mediate shame and future beggary.-It
has not, however, any more connection
with marriage, than the transactions of a
brothel, or the memoirs of a kept mistress.
The truth is, elopements in general, are
things of an eccentric nature: and when I
hear of one, I seldom make any further en-
quiry after the felicity of the parties. But
when marriages are contracted with any de-
gree of deliberation, if there be à difference
in point of rank, I think it is much better
the advantage should be on the woman's side
than on the man's; that is to say, marriages
of the first kind are usually more happy than
the other.
→
Supposing, therefore, the fact to be as now
stated, what remains for me is, to investigate
a little the causes of it, and point out those
circumstances in human tempers and charac
ters, or in the state of society, which give us
reason to expect that it will, in most cases,
turn out so. Whenever any effect is gene-
ral, in the moral as well as natural world,
there must be some permanent cause, or
causes, sufficient to account for it. Shall we
.
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
281
Q
assign as one reason for it, that there is, ta-
king them complexly, more of real virtue and
commanding principle in the female sex,
than in the male, which makes them, upon
the whole, act a better part in the married
relation? I will not undertake to prove this
opinion to be true, and far less will I attempt
to refute or show it to be false. Many au-
thors of great penetration have affirmed it;
and doubtless taken virtue to be the same
thing with sound faith and good morals,
much may be said in its favour. But there
does not appear to me so great a superiority
in this respect, as fully to account for the
effect in question. Besides, the advantages
which men have in point of knowledge, from
the usual course of education, may perhaps
balance the superiority of women, in point of
virtue; for none surely can deny, that matri-
monial discord may not arise from ignorance
and folly, as well as vice. Allowing, there-
fore, as much influence to this cause, as
every one from his experience and observa-
tion may think is due, I beg leave to sug-
gest some other things which certainly do
co-operate with it, and augment its force.
1. It is much easier, in most cases, for a man
to improve or rise after marriage to a more
elegant taste in life than a woman. I do not
attribute this in the least to superior natural
talents, but to the more frequent opportuni-
ties he has of seeing the world, and conver
sing with persons of different ranks. There is
Bb
¿
282
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
no instance in which the sphere of business
and conversation is not more extensive to the
husband than the wife; and therefore fa
man is married to one of taste superior to
his own, he may draw gradually nearer to
her, though she descend very little. I think
I can recollect more instances than one of a
man in business married at first to his equal,
and, on a second marriage, to one of higher
breeding, when not only the house and
family, but the man himself, was speedily in
a very different style. I can also recollect
instances in which married persons rose
together to an opulent estate from almost
nothing, and the man improved considera-
bly in politeness, or fitness for public life, but
the woman not at all. The old gossips and
the old conversation continued to the very
last. It is not even without example, that
a plain woman, raised by the success of her.
husband, becomes impatient of the society
forced upon her, takes refuge in the kitchen,
and spends most of her agreeable hours with
her servants, from whom, indeed, she dif-
fers nothing but in name. A certain person
in a trading city in Great-Britain, from be-
ing merely a mechanic, turned dealer, and
in a course of years acquired an immense
fortune. He had a strong desire that his
family should make a figure, and spared no
expence in purchasing velvets, silks, laces,
&c. but at last he found that it was lost la-
bour, and said very truly, that all the money
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
283
!
5
in Great Britain would not make his wife
and his daughters ladies.
2. When a woman marries below her
rank, I think it is, generally speaking, upon
better motives than when a man marries be-
low his; and therefore no wonder that it
should be attended with greater comfort. I
find it asserted in several papers of the Spec-
tator, and I think it must be admitted by
every impartial observer, that women are
not half so much governed, in their love at-
tachments, by beauty, or outward form, as
men. A man of a very mean figure, if he
has any talents, joined to a tolerable power
of speech, will often make him acceptable
to a very lovely woman. It is also generally
thought that a woman rates a man pretty
much according to the esteem he is held in
by his own sex: if this is the case, it is to
be presumed that when a man succeeds in his
addresses to a lady of higher breeding than
his own, he is not altogether void of merit,
and therefore will not in the issue disgrace
her choice. This will be confirmed by re-
flecting that many such marriages must be
with persons of the learned professions. It is
past a doubt that literature refines as well as
enlarges the mind, and generally renders a
man capable of appearing with tolerable
dignity, whatever have been the place or
circumstances of his birth. It is easy to see
that the reverse of all this must happen upon
the other supposition: when a man marries
37-v
284
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
below his rank, the very best motives to
which it can be attributed, is an admiration
of her beauty. Good sense, and other more
valuable qualities are not easily seen under
the disguise of low-breeding; and when they
are seen, have seldom justice done them.
Now as beauty is much more fading than
life, and fades sooner in a husband's eye
than any other, in a little time nothing will
remain but what tends to create uneasiness
and disgust.
3. The possession of the graces, or taste
and elegance of manners, is a much more
important part of a female than a male cha-
racter. Nature has given a much greater
degree of beauty and sweetness to the out-
ward form of women than of men, and has
by that means pointed out wherein their
several excellencies should consist. From
this, in conjunction with the former observa-
tion, it is manifest, that the man who finds
in his wife a remarkable defect in point of
politeness, or the art of pleasing, will be
much more disappointed than the woman
who finds a like defect in her husband.
Many do not form any expectation of re-
finement in their husbands, even before mar-
riage: not a few, if I am not much mista-
ken, are rather pleased than otherwise, to
think that any who enters the house, per-
ceives the difference between the elegance
of the wife, and the plainness, not to say
the aukwardness of the husband. I have
1
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
285
observed this, even down to the lowest rank.
A tradesman or country farmer's wife will
sometimes abuse and scold her husband
for want of order or cleanliness, and there is
no mark of inward malice or ill-humour in
that scolding, because she is sensible it is
her proper province to be accurate in that
matter. I think also, that the husband in
such cases is often gratified instead of being
offended, because it pleases him to think that
he has a wife that does just as she ought to
do. But take the thing the other way, and
there is no rank of life, from the prince to
the peasant, in which the husband can take
pleasure in a wife more aukward or more
slovenly than himself.
To sum up the whole, if some conformity
or similarity of manners is of the utmost
consequence to matrimonial comfort-if
taste and elegance are of more consequence
to the wife than the husband, according to
their station:-and, if it is more difficult
for her to acquire it after marriage, if she
does not possess it before--I humbly con-
ceive I have fully supported my proposition,
that there is a much greater risk in a man's
marrying below his station, than a woman's
descending from her's.
ab 2
Q5.4
1
f
[286]
LETTER III.
·00000— T
I HAVE not yet done with the maxims
on matrimonial happiness; therefore observe,
4. That it is not by far of so much con-
sequence, what are the talents, temper, turn
of mind, character, or circumstances of both,
or either of the parties, as that there be a cer-
tain suitableness or correspondence of those
of the one to those of the other.
Those essay writers, who have taken hu-
man nature and life as their great general
subject, have many remarks on the causes
of infelicity in the marriage union, as well as
many beautiful and striking pictures of what
would be just, generous, prudent, and duti-
ful conduct, or their contraries, in particular
circumstances. Great pains have been taken
also to point out what ought to be the mo-
tives of choice to both parties, if they expect
happiness. Without entering into a full de-
tail of what has been said upon this subject,
I think the two chief competitors for pre-
ference, have generally been--good nature
and good sense. The advocates for the first
· say, that as the happiness of married people
must arise from a continual interchange of
kind offices, and from a number of small
circumstances, that occur every hour, a gen-
+
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287
tle and easy disposition--a temper that is
happy in itself-must be the cause of hap-
piness to another. The advocates for good
sense, say, that the sweetness of good nature is
only for the honey-moon; that it will either
change its nature, and become sour by long-
standing, or become wholly insipid; so that
if it do not generate hatred, it will at least
incur indifference or contempt; whereas
good sense is a sterling quality, which can-
not fail to produce and preserve esteem--the
true foundation of rational love.
If I may, as I believe most people do, take
the prevailing sentiments within the compass
of my own reading and conversation, for the
general opinion, I think it is in favour of
good sense. And if we must determine be-
tween these two, and decide which of them
is of the most importance when separated
from the other, I have very little to say
against the public judgment. But in this,
as in many other cases, it is only imperfect
and general, and often ill understood and
falsely applied. There is hardly a more
noted saying, than that a man of sense will
never use a woman ill, which is true or false
according to the meaning that is put upon
the phrase, using a woman ill. If it be meant,
that he will not so probably beat his wife,
as a fool; that he will not scold or curse her,
or treat her with ill manners before company,
or indeed that he will not so probably keep
a continual wrangling, either in public or
:
!
288
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private, I admit that it is true. Good sense
is the best security against indecorums of
every kind. But if it be meant, that a man
will not make his wife in any case truly
miserable, I utterly deny it. On the con-
trary, there are many instances in which men
make use of their sense itself, their judg-
ment, penetration, and knowledge of human
life, to make their wives more exquisitely
unhappy. What shall we say of those, who
can sting them with reflections so artfully
guarded that it is impossible not to feel
them, and yet almost as impossible with
propriety to complain of them?
I must also observe, that a high degree of
delicacy in sentiment, although this is the
prevailing ingredient when men attempt to
paint refined felicity in the married state, is
one of the most dangerous qualities that can
be mentioned. It is like certain medicines
that are powerful in their operation, but at
the same time require the utmost caution
and prudence, as to the time and manner of
their being applied.-A man or woman of
extreme delicacy is a delightful companion
for a visit or a day. But there are many cha-
racters which I would greatly prefer in a
partner, or a child, or other near relation, in
whose permanent happiness I felt myself
deeply concerned. I hope no-body will think
me so clownish as to exclude sentiment al-
together. I have declared my opinion upon
this subject, and also my desire that the wo-
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
289
man should be the more refined of the two.
But I adhere to it, that carrying this matter
to an extreme is of the most dangerous con-
sequence. Your high sentimentalists form
expectations which it is impossible to gratify.
The gallantry of courtship, and the bien-
seance of general conversation in the beau
monde, seem to promise what the down-right
reality of matrimony cannot afford.
I will here relate a case that fell within my
observation. A person of noble birth had
been some years married to a merchant's
daughter of immense fortune, by which his
estate had been saved from ruin. Her edu
cation had been as good as money could
make it, from her infancy; so that she knew
every mode of high life as well as he. They
were upon a visit to a family of equal rank,
intimately connected with the author of this
letter. The manner of the man was distin-
guished and exemplary. His behaviour to
his lady was with the most perfect delicacy.
He spoke to her as often as to any other,
and treated her not only with the same com-
placency, but with the same decency and
reserve, that he did other ladies. To this he
added the most tender solicitude about her
not taking cold, about her place in the cham-
ber, and her covering when going abroad,
&c. &c. After their departure, the whole
family they had left excepting one, were two
or three days expatiating on the beauty of his
behaviour. One lady in particular said at
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last, "Oh! how happy a married woman I
have seen." The single dissenter, who was
an elderly woman, then said, "Well; you
may be right; but I am of a different opi-
nion, I do not like so perfect and finished a
ceremonial between persons who have been
married five or six years at least. I observed
that he did every thing that he ought to have
done, and likewise that she received his
civilities with much dignity and good man-
ners, but with great gravity. I would rather
have seen him less punctual and her more
cheerful. If, therefore, that lady is as happy
in her heart as you suppose, I am mistaken;
that is all. But if I were to make a bet
upon it, I would bet as much upon the
tradesman and his wife, according to the
common description, walking to church, the
one three or four yards before the other, and
never looking back." What did time dis-
cover? That nobleman and his lady parted
within two years, and never re-united.
Let me now establish my maxim, that it
is not the fine qualities of both or either
party that will insure happiness, but that
the one be suitable to the other. By their
being suitable, is not to be understood their
being both of the same turn; but that the
defects of the one be supplied or submitted
to by some correspondent quality of the
other. I think I have seen many instances,
in which gravity, severity, and even morose-
ness in a husband, where there has been vir-
BAS
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
291
L
ema
tue at bottom, has been so tempted with
meekness, gentleness and compliance in the
wife, as has produced real and lasting com-
fort to both. I have also seen some instances,
in which sourness, and want of female soft-
ness in a woman, has been so happily com-
pensated by easiness and good humour in
a husband, that no appearance of wrangling
or hatred was to be seen in a whole life. I
have seen multitudes, of instances, in which
vulgarity, and even liberal freedom, not far
from brutality in a husband, has been borne
with perfect patience and serenity by a wife,
who, by long custom, had become, as it
were, insensible of the impropriety, and yet
never inattentive to her own behaviour.
As a farther illustration, I will relate two or
three cases from real life, which have appeared
to me the most singular in my experience.
I spent some time, many years ago, in the
neighbourhood of, and frequent intercourse
with, a husband and his wife in the follow-
ing state. She was not handsome, and at
the same time was valetudinary, fretful and
peevish-constantly talking of her ailments,
dissatisfied with every thing about her, and,
what appeared most surprising, she vented
these complaints most when her husband was
present. He, on the other hand, was most af-
fectionate and sympathizing, constantly upon
the watch for any thing that could gratify her
desires, or alleviate her distresses. The ap-
pearance for a while surprized me, and I
292
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
thought he led the life of a slave. But at last
I discovered that there are two ways of com-
plaining, not suddenly distinguishable to
common observers--the one is an expres-
sion of confidence, and the other of discon-
tent. When a woman opens all her com-
plaints to her husband, in full confidence.
that he will sympathize with her, and seek-
ing the relief which such sympathy affords,
taking care to keep to the proportion which
experience hath taught her will not be disa-
greeable to him, it frequently increases, in-
stead of extinguishing affection.
Take another case as follows: Syrisca was
a young woman the reverse of a beauty. She
got her living in a trading city, by keeping
a small shop, not of the millinary kind, which
is nearly allied to elegance and high life, but
of common grocery goods, so that the poor
were her chief customers.
By the death of a brother in the East-In-
dies, she became suddenly and unexpectedly
to a fortune of many thousand pounds. The
moment this was known, a knight's lady in
the neighbourhood, destined Syrisca as a
prize for Horatio, her own brother, of the
military profession, on half pay, and rather
past the middle of life. For this purpose
she made her a visit, carried her to her
house, assisted, no doubt, in bringing home
and properly securing her fortune; and in as
short a time as could well be expected, com-
pleted her purpose. They lived together on
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
293
[
{
an estate in the country, often visited by the
great relations of the husband. Syrisca was
good natured and talkative, and therefore
often betrayed the meanness of her birth and
education, but was not sensible of it. Good
will supplied the place of good breeding with
her, and she did not know the difference.
Horatio had generosity and good sense,
treated her with the greatest tenderness, and
having a great fund of facetiousness and
good humour, acquired a happy talent of
giving a lively or sprightly turn to every
thing said by his wife, or diverting the at-
tention of the company to other subjects.
The reader will probably say, he took the
way that was pointed out by reason, and was
most conducive to his own comfort. I
I say
so too; but at the same time affirm, that
there are multitudes who could not, or
would not have followed his example.
I give one piece of history more, but with
some fear, that nice readers will be offended,
and call it a caricature. However, let it go.
Agrestis was a gentleman of an ancient fa-
mily, but the estate was almost gone; little
more of it remained but what he farmed
himself, and indeed his habitation did not
differ from that of a farmer, but by having an
old tower and battlements. He had either
received no education, or had been incapable
of profiting by it, for he was the most illite-
rate person I ever knew, who kept any com-
pany. His conversation did not rise even to
C c
--
:
294
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
politics, for he found such insuperable diffi-
culty in pronouncing the names of generals,
admirals, countries, and cities, constantly
occurring in the newspapers, that he was
obliged to give them up altogether. Of
ploughs, waggons, cows, and horses, he
knew as much as most men: what related
to these, with the prices of grain, and the
news of births and marriages in the parish
and neighbourhood, completed the circle of
his conversation.
MY
About the age of forty he married Lenia,
a young woman of a family equal to him in
rank, but somewhat superior in wealth. She
knew a little more of the strain of fashionable
conversation, and not a whit more of any
thing else. She was a slattern in her person,
and of consequence there was neither clean-
liness nor order in the family. They had
many children; she bore him twins twice--
a circumstance of which he was very proud,
and frequently boasted of it in a manner not
over delicate to those who had not been so
fortunate in that particular. They were both
good natured and hospitable; if a stranger
came he was made heartily welcome, though
sometimes a little incommoded by an uproar
among the children and the dogs, when
striving about the fire in a cold day; the
noise was, however, little less dissonant than
the clamours of Agrestis himself, when re-
buking the one, or chastening the other, out
of complaisance to his guests. The couple
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
295
!
K
lived many years in the most perfect amity
by their being perfectly suitable the one to
the other; and I am confident not a woman.
envied the wife, nor a man the husband,
while the union lasted.
It is very easy to see from these examples,
the vast importance of the temper and man-
ner of the one, being truly suitable to those of
the other. If I had not given histories enough
already, I could mention some in which each
party I think could have made some other
man or woman perfectly happy, and yet they
never could arrive at happiness, or indeed be
at peace with one another. Certainly, there-
fore, this should be an object particularly at-
tended to in courtships, or while marriage is
on the tapis, as politicians say.
དག་ལ་རིག་རང་
If I look out for a wife, I ought to consi-
der, not whether a lady has fine qualities for
which she ought to be esteemed or admired,
or whether she has such a deportment as I
will take particular delight in, and such a
taste as gives reason to think she will take
delight in me; I may pitch too high, as well
as too low, and the issue may be equally un-
fortunate. Perhaps I shall be told there lies
the great difficulty. How shall we make this
discovery? In time of youth and courtship,
there is so much studied attention to please,
from interested views, and so much restraint
from fashion and the observation of others,
that it is hard to judge how they will turn
out afterwards.
གཅིག་ལ་
296
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
This I confess to be a considerable difficulty,
and at the same time greatest upon the man's
side. The man being generally the eldest,
his character, temper and habits, may be
more certainly known.--Whereas there are
sometimes great disappointments on the
other side, and that happily both ways. I am
able just now to recollect one or two instances
of giddy and foolish, nay, of idle, lazy, drowsy
girls, who, after marriage, felt themselves in-
terested, and became as spirited and active
heads of families, as any whatever, and also
some of the most elegant and exemplary,
who, after marriage, fell into a languid stu-
pidity, and contracted habits of the most
odious and disgustful kind. These instances,
however, are rare, and those who will take
the pains to examine, may in general obtain
satisfaction. It is also proper to observe,
that if a man finds it difficult to judge of the
temper and character of a woman, he has a
great advantage on his side, that the right of
selection belongs to him. He may ask any
woman he pleases, after the most mature de-
liberation, and need ask no other; whereas
a woman must make the best choice she can,
of those only who do or probably will ask
her. But with these reflections in our view,
what shall we say of the inconceivable folly
of those, who, in time of courtship, are every
now and then taking things in high dudgeon,
and sometimes very great submissions are
necessary to make up the breaches? If such
od
LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
297
{
persons marry, and do not agree, shall we
pity them? I think not. After the most se-
rene courtship, there may possibly be a rough
enough passage through life; but after a
courtship of storms, to expect a marriage of
calm weather, is certainly more than com.
mon presumption; and therefore they ought
to take the consequences.
On the whole, I think that the calamities
of the married state are generally to be im
puted to the persons themselves, in the fol-
lowing proportion:-Three-fourths of the
man for want of care and judgment in the
choice, and one-fourth to the woman on the
same score. Suppose a man had bought a
farm, and after a year or two, should, in con-
versation with his neighbour, make heavy
complaints how much he had been disap-
pointed, I imagine his friend might say to
him, did you not see this land before you
bought it? O yes, I saw it often. Do you
not understand soils? I think I do tolerably.
Did you not examine it with care? Not so
much as I should have done; standing at a
certain place, it looked admirably well; the
fences too were new, and looked exceedingly
neat; the house had been just painted a stone
colour, with pannelling; the windows were
large and elegant; but I neglected entirely
to examine the sufficiency of the materials,
or the disposition of the apartments. There
were in the month of April two beautiful
springs, but since I have lived here they have
Addr
+
:
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LETTERS ON MARRIAGE.
been dry every year before the middle of
June. Did you not enquire of those who
had lived on the place, of the permanency
of the springs? No, indeed, I omitted it.
Had you the full measure you were promis-
ed? Yes, every acre.--Was the right com-
plete and valid? Yes, yes, perfectly good;
no man in America can take it from me.
Were you obliged to take it up in part of a
bad debt? No, nothing like it. I took such
a fancy for it all at once, that I pestered the
man from week to week to let me have it.
Why really then, says his friend, I think
you had better keep your complaints to
yourself. Cursing and fretfulness will never
turn stones into earth, or sand into loam;
but I can assure you, that frugality, indus-
try, and good culture, will make a bad farm
very tolerable, and an indifferent one truly
good.
*

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