An Enquiry Concerning the

Principles of Morals

By

David Hume

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 An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals

Author's Advertisement ..................................................................................................3

I. Of The General Principles Of Morals ......................................................................4

II. Of Benevolence.......................................................................................................8

III. Of Justice ..........................................................................................................12

IV. Of Political Society ............................................................................................25

V. Why Utility Pleases ...............................................................................................29

VI. Of Qualities Useful To Ourselves .....................................................................41

VII. Of Qualities Immediately Agreeable To Ourselves ..........................................51

VIII. Of Qualities Immediately Agreeable To Others................................................58

IX. Conclusion ........................................................................................................62

Appendix I. Concerning Moral Sentiment .....................................................................71

Appendix II. Of Self-Love .............................................................................................77

Appendix III. Some Farther Considerations With Regard To Justice .............................82

Appendix IV. Of Some Verbal Disputes .......................................................................88

 Author's Advertisement

Most of the principles, and reasonings, contained in this volume,

[Footnote: Volume II. of the posthumous edition of Hume's works published in 1777 and
containing, besides the present ENQUIRY, A DISSERTATION ON THE PASSIONS,
and AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. A reprint of this
latter treatise has already appeared in The Religion of Science Library (NO. 45)]

were published in a work in three volumes, called A TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE:

A work which the Author had projected before he left College, and which he wrote and
published not long after. But not finding it successful, he was sensible of his error in
going to the press too early, and he cast the whole anew in the following pieces, where
some negligences in his former reasoning and more in the expression, are, he hopes,
corrected. Yet several writers who have honoured the Author's Philosophy with answers,
have taken care to direct all their batteries against that juvenile work, which the author
never acknowledged, and have affected to triumph in any advantages, which, they
imagined, they had obtained over it: A practice very contrary to all rules of candour and
fair-dealing, and a strong instance of those polemical artifices which a bigotted zeal
thinks itself authorized to employ. Henceforth, the Author desires, that the following
Pieces may alone be regarded as containing his philosophical sentiments and principles.
 I. Of The General Principles Of Morals

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

Those who have denied the reality of moral distinctions, may be ranked among the
disingenuous disputants; nor is it conceivable, that any human creature could ever
seriously believe, that all characters and actions were alike entitled to the affection and
regard of everyone. The difference, which nature has placed between one man and
another, is so wide, and this difference is still so much farther widened, by education,
example, and habit, that, where the opposite extremes come at once under our
apprehension, there is no scepticism so scrupulous, and scarce any assurance so
determined, as absolutely to deny all distinction between them. Let a man's insensibility
be ever so great, he must often be touched with the images of Right and Wrong; and let
his prejudices be ever so obstinate, he must observe, that others are susceptible of like
impressions. The only way, therefore, of converting an antagonist of this kind, is to leave
him to himself. For, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, it is probable
he will, at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come over to the side of common sense
and reason.

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

The ancient philosophers, though they often affirm, that virtue is nothing but conformity
to reason, yet, in general, seem to consider morals as deriving their existence from taste
and sentiment. On the other hand, our modern enquirers, though they also talk much of
the beauty of virtue, and deformity of vice, yet have commonly endeavoured to account
for these distinctions by metaphysical reasonings, and by deductions from the most
abstract principles of the understanding. Such confusion reigned in these subjects, that an
opposition of the greatest consequence could prevail between one system and another,
and even in the parts of almost each individual system; and yet nobody, till very lately,
was ever sensible of it. The elegant Lord Shaftesbury, who first gave occasion to remark
this distinction, and who, in general, adhered to the principles of the ancients, is not,
himself, entirely free from the same confusion.

It must be acknowledged, that both sides of the question are susceptible of specious
arguments. Moral distinctions, it may be said, are discernible by pure reason: else,
whence the many disputes that reign in common life, as well as in philosophy, with
regard to this subject: the long chain of proofs often produced on both sides; the
examples cited, the authorities appealed to, the analogies employed, the fallacies
detected, the inferences drawn, and the several conclusions adjusted to their proper
principles. Truth is disputable; not taste: what exists in the nature of things is the standard
of our judgement; what each man feels within himself is the standard of sentiment.
Propositions in geometry may be proved, systems in physics may be controverted; but the
harmony of verse, the tenderness of passion, the brilliancy of wit, must give immediate
pleasure. No man reasons concerning another's beauty; but frequently concerning the
justice or injustice of his actions. In every criminal trial the first object of the prisoner is
to disprove the facts alleged, and deny the actions imputed to him: the second to prove,
that, even if these actions were real, they might be justified, as innocent and lawful. It is
confessedly by deductions of the understanding, that the first point is ascertained: how
can we suppose that a different faculty of the mind is employed in fixing the other? On
the other hand, those who would resolve all moral determinations into sentiment, may
endeavour to show, that it is impossible for reason ever to draw conclusions of this
nature. To virtue, say they, it belongs to be amiable, and vice odious. This forms their
very nature or essence. But can reason or argumentation distribute these different epithets
to any subjects, and pronounce beforehand, that this must produce love, and that hatred?
Or what other reason can we ever assign for these affections, but the original fabric and
formation of the human mind, which is naturally adapted to receive them?

The end of all moral speculations is to teach us our duty; and, by proper representations
of the deformity of vice and beauty of virtue, beget correspondent habits, and engage us
to avoid the one, and embrace the other. But is this ever to be expected from inferences
and conclusions of the understanding, which of themselves have no hold of the affections
or set in motion the active powers of men? They discover truths: but where the truths
which they discover are indifferent, and beget no desire or aversion, they can have no
influence on conduct and behaviour. What is honourable, what is fair, what is becoming,
what is noble, what is generous, takes possession of the heart, and animates us to embrace
and maintain it. What is intelligible, what is evident, what is probable, what is true,
procures only the cool assent of the understanding; and gratifying a speculative curiosity,
puts an end to our researches.

Extinguish all the warm feelings and prepossessions in favour of virtue, and all disgust or
aversion to vice: render men totally indifferent towards these distinctions; and morality is
no longer a practical study, nor has any tendency to regulate our lives and actions.

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

But though this question, concerning the general principles of morals, be curious and
important, it is needless for us, at present, to employ farther care in our researches
concerning it. For if we can be so happy, in the course of this enquiry, as to discover the
true origin of morals, it will then easily appear how far either sentiment or reason enters
into all determinations of this nature [Footnote: See Appendix I]. In order to attain this
purpose, we shall endeavour to follow a very simple method: we shall analyse that
complication of mental qualities, which form what, in common life, we call Personal
Merit: we shall consider every attribute of the mind, which renders a man an object either
of esteem and affection, or of hatred and contempt; every habit or sentiment or faculty,
which, if ascribed to any person, implies either praise or blame, and may enter into any
panegyric or satire of his character and manners. The quick sensibility, which, on this
head, is so universal among mankind, gives a philosopher sufficient assurance, that he
can never be considerably mistaken in framing the catalogue, or incur any danger of
misplacing the objects of his contemplation: he needs only enter into his own breast for a
moment, and consider whether or not he should desire to have this or that quality ascribed
to him, and whether such or such an imputation would proceed from a friend or an
enemy. The very nature of language guides us almost infallibly in forming a judgement
of this nature; and as every tongue possesses one set of words which are taken in a good
sense, and another in the opposite, the least acquaintance with the idiom suffices, without
any reasoning, to direct us in collecting and arranging the estimable or blameable
qualities of men. The only object of reasoning is to discover the circumstances on both
sides, which are common to these qualities; to observe that particular in which the
estimable qualities agree on the one hand, and the blameable on the other; and thence to
reach the foundation of ethics, and find those universal principles, from which all censure
or approbation is ultimately derived. As this is a question of fact, not of abstract science,
we can only expect success, by following the experimental method, and deducing general
maxims from a comparison of particular instances. The other scientific method, where a
general abstract principle is first established, and is afterwards branched out into a variety
of inferences and conclusions, may be more perfect in itself, but suits less the
imperfection of human nature, and is a common source of illusion and mistake in this as
well as in other subjects. Men are now cured of their passion for hypotheses and systems
in natural philosophy, and will hearken to no arguments but those which are derived from
experience. It is full time they should attempt a like reformation in all moral
disquisitions; and reject every system of ethics, however subtle or ingenious, which is not
founded on fact and observation.

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

PART I.

It may be esteemed, perhaps, a superfluous task to prove, that the benevolent or softer
affections are estimable; and wherever they appear, engage the approbation and good-will
of mankind. The epithets SOCIABLE, GOOD-NATURED, HUMANE, MERCIFUL,
GRATEFUL, FRIENDLY, GENEROUS, BENEFICENT, or their equivalents, are
known in all languages, and universally express the highest merit, which HUMAN
NATURE is capable of attaining. Where these amiable qualities are attended with birth
and power and eminent abilities, and display themselves in the good government or
useful instruction of mankind, they seem even to raise the possessors of them above the
rank of HUMAN NATURE, and make them approach in some measure to the divine.
Exalted capacity, undaunted courage, prosperous success; these may only expose a hero
or politician to the envy and ill-will of the public: but as soon as the praises are added of
humane and beneficent; when instances are displayed of lenity, tenderness or friendship;
envy itself is silent, or joins the general voice of approbation and applause.

When Pericles, the great Athenian statesman and general, was on his death-bed, his
surrounding friends, deeming him now insensible, began to indulge their sorrow for their
expiring patron, by enumerating his great qualities and successes, his conquests and
victories, the unusual length of his administration, and his nine trophies erected over the
enemies of the republic. YOU FORGET, cries the dying hero, who had heard all, YOU
FORGET THE MOST EMINENT OF MY PRAISES, WHILE YOU DWELL SO
MUCH ON THOSE VULGAR ADVANTAGES, IN WHICH FORTUNE HAD A
PRINCIPAL SHARE. YOU HAVE NOT OBSERVED THAT NO CITIZEN HAS
EVER YET WORNE MOURNING ON MY ACCOUNT. [Plut. in Pericle]

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

The principal advantage, which Juvenal discovers in the extensive capacity of the human
species, is that it renders our benevolence also more extensive, and gives us larger
opportunities of spreading our kindly influence than what are indulged to the inferior
creation [Sat. XV. 139 and seq.]. It must, indeed, be confessed, that by doing good only,
can a man truly enjoy the advantages of being eminent. His exalted station, of itself but
the more exposes him to danger and tempest. His sole prerogative is to afford shelter to
inferiors, who repose themselves under his cover and protection.

But I forget, that it is not my present business to recommend generosity and benevolence,
or to paint, in their true colours, all the genuine charms of the social virtues. These,
indeed, sufficiently engage every heart, on the first apprehension of them; and it is
difficult to abstain from some sally of panegyric, as often as they occur in discourse or
reasoning. But our object here being more the speculative, than the practical part of
morals, it will suffice to remark, (what will readily, I believe, be allowed) that no
qualities are more intitled to the general good-will and approbation of mankind than
beneficence and humanity, friendship and gratitude, natural affection and public spirit, or
whatever proceeds from a tender sympathy with others, and a generous concern for our
kind and species. These wherever they appear seem to transfuse themselves, in a manner,
into each beholder, and to call forth, in their own behalf, the same favourable and
affectionate sentiments, which they exert on all around.

PART II.

We may observe that, in displaying the praises of any humane, beneficent man, there is
one circumstance which never fails to be amply insisted on, namely, the happiness and
satisfaction, derived to society from his intercourse and good offices. To his parents, we
are apt to say, he endears himself by his pious attachment and duteous care still more
than by the connexions of nature. His children never feel his authority, but when
employed for their advantage. With him, the ties of love are consolidated by beneficence
and friendship. The ties of friendship approach, in a fond observance of each obliging
office, to those of love and inclination. His domestics and dependants have in him a sure
resource; and no longer dread the power of fortune, but so far as she exercises it over
him. From him the hungry receive food, the naked clothing, the ignorant and slothful skill
and industry. Like the sun, an inferior minister of providence he cheers, invigorates, and
sustains the surrounding world.

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

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

When we recommend even an animal or a plant as USEFUL and BENEFICIAL, we give

it an applause and recommendation suited to its nature. As, on the other hand, reflection
on the baneful influence of any of these inferior beings always inspires us with the
sentiment of aversion. The eye is pleased with the prospect of corn-fields and loaded
vine-yards; horses grazing, and flocks pasturing: but flies the view of briars and
brambles, affording shelter to wolves and serpents.

A machine, a piece of furniture, a vestment, a house well contrived for use and
conveniency, is so far beautiful, and is contemplated with pleasure and approbation. An
experienced eye is here sensible to many excellencies, which escape persons ignorant and
uninstructed.
Can anything stronger be said in praise of a profession, such as merchandize or
manufacture, than to observe the advantages which it procures to society; and is not a
monk and inquisitor enraged when we treat his order as useless or pernicious to mankind?

The historian exults in displaying the benefit arising from his labours. The writer of
romance alleviates or denies the bad consequences ascribed to his manner of
composition.

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

Your Gods, says Cicero [De Nat. Deor. lib. i.], in opposition to the Epicureans, cannot
justly claim any worship or adoration, with whatever imaginary perfections you may
suppose them endowed. They are totally useless and inactive. Even the Egyptians, whom
you so much ridicule, never consecrated any animal but on account of its utility.

The sceptics assert [Sext. Emp. adrersus Math. lib. viii.], though absurdly, that the origin
of all religious worship was derived from the utility of inanimate objects, as the sun and
moon, to the support and well-being of mankind. This is also the common reason
assigned by historians, for the deification of eminent heroes and legislators [Diod. Sic.
passim.].

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

In all determinations of morality, this circumstance of public utility is ever principally in

view; and wherever disputes arise, either in philosophy or common life, concerning the
bounds of duty, the question cannot, by any means, be decided with greater certainty,
than by ascertaining, on any side, the true interests of mankind. If any false opinion,
embraced from appearances, has been found to prevail; as soon as farther experience and
sounder reasoning have given us juster notions of human affairs, we retract our first
sentiment, and adjust anew the boundaries of moral good and evil.

Giving alms to common beggars is naturally praised; because it seems to carry relief to
the distressed and indigent: but when we observe the encouragement thence arising to
idleness and debauchery, we regard that species of charity rather as a weakness than a
virtue.

Tyrannicide, or the assassination of usurpers and oppressive princes, was highly extolled
in ancient times; because it both freed mankind from many of these monsters, and
seemed to keep the others in awe, whom the sword or poinard could not reach. But
history and experience having since convinced us, that this practice increases the jealousy
and cruelty of princes, a Timoleon and a Brutus, though treated with indulgence on
account of the prejudices of their times, are now considered as very improper models for
imitation.
Liberality in princes is regarded as a mark of beneficence, but when it occurs, that the
homely bread of the honest and industrious is often thereby converted into delicious cates
for the idle and the prodigal, we soon retract our heedless praises. The regrets of a prince,
for having lost a day, were noble and generous: but had he intended to have spent it in
acts of generosity to his greedy courtiers, it was better lost than misemployed after that
manner.

Luxury, or a refinement on the pleasures and conveniences of life, had not long been
supposed the source of every corruption in government, and the immediate cause of
faction, sedition, civil wars, and the total loss of liberty. It was, therefore, universally
regarded as a vice, and was an object of declamation to all satirists, and severe moralists.
Those, who prove, or attempt to prove, that such refinements rather tend to the increase
of industry, civility, and arts regulate anew our MORAL as well as POLITICAL
sentiments, and represent, as laudable or innocent, what had formerly been regarded as
pernicious and blameable.

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

How considerable a PART of their merit we ought to ascribe to their utility, will better
appear from future disquisitions; [Footnote: Sect. III. and IV.] as well as the reason, why
this circumstance has such a command over our esteem and approbation. [Footnote: Sect.
V.]
 III. Of Justice

PART I.

THAT Justice is useful to society, and consequently that PART of its merit, at least, must
arise from that consideration, it would be a superfluous undertaking to prove. That public
utility is the SOLE origin of justice, and that reflections on the beneficial consequences
of this virtue are the SOLE foundation of its merit; this proposition, being more curious
and important, will better deserve our examination and enquiry.

Let us suppose that nature has bestowed on the human race such profuse ABUNDANCE
of all EXTERNAL conveniencies, that, without any uncertainty in the event, without any
care or industry on our part, every individual finds himself fully provided with whatever
his most voracious appetites can want, or luxurious imagination wish or desire. His
natural beauty, we shall suppose, surpasses all acquired ornaments: the perpetual
clemency of the seasons renders useless all clothes or covering: the raw herbage affords
him the most delicious fare; the clear fountain, the richest beverage. No laborious
occupation required: no tillage: no navigation. Music, poetry, and contemplation form his
sole business: conversation, mirth, and friendship his sole amusement. It seems evident
that, in such a happy state, every other social virtue would flourish, and receive tenfold
increase; but the cautious, jealous virtue of justice would never once have been dreamed
of. For what purpose make a partition of goods, where every one has already more than
enough? Why give rise to property, where there cannot possibly be any injury? Why call
this object MINE, when upon the seizing of it by another, I need but stretch out my hand
to possess myself to what is equally valuable? Justice, in that case, being totally useless,
would be an idle ceremonial, and could never possibly have place in the catalogue of
virtues.

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

It may happen, in some countries, at some periods, that there be established a property in
water, none in land [Footnote: Genesis, cbaps. xiii. and xxi.]; if the latter be in greater
abundance than can be used by the inhabitants, and the former be found, with difficulty,
and in very small quantities.
Again; suppose, that, though the necessities of human race continue the same as at
present, yet the mind is so enlarged, and so replete with friendship and generosity, that
every man has the utmost tenderness for every man, and feels no more concern for his
own interest than for that of his fellows; it seems evident, that the use of justice would, in
this case, be suspended by such an extensive benevolence, nor would the divisions and
barriers of property and obligation have ever been thought of. Why should I bind another,
by a deed or promise, to do me any good office, when I know that he is already
prompted, by the strongest inclination, to seek my happiness, and would, of himself,
perform the desired service; except the hurt, he thereby receives, be greater than the
benefit accruing to me? in which case, he knows, that, from my innate humanity and
friendship, I should be the first to oppose myself to his imprudent generosity. Why raise
landmarks between my neighbour's field and mine, when my heart has made no division
between our interests; but shares all his joys and sorrows with the same force and
vivacity as if originally my own? Every man, upon this supposition, being a second self
to another, would trust all his interests to the discretion of every man; without jealousy,
without partition, without distinction. And the whole human race would form only one
family; where all would lie in common, and be used freely, without regard to property;
but cautiously too, with as entire regard to the necessities of each individual, as if our
own interests were most intimately concerned.

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

To make this truth more evident, let us reverse the foregoing suppositions; and carrying
everything to the opposite extreme, consider what would be the effect of these new
situations. Suppose a society to fall into such want of all common necessaries, that the
utmost frugality and industry cannot preserve the greater number from perishing, and the
whole from extreme misery; it will readily, I believe, be admitted, that the strict laws of
justice are suspended, in such a pressing emergence, and give place to the stronger
motives of necessity and self-preservation. Is it any crime, after a shipwreck, to seize
whatever means or instrument of safety one can lay hold of, without regard to former
limitations of property? Or if a city besieged were perishing with hunger; can we
imagine, that men will see any means of preservation before them, and lose their lives,
from a scrupulous regard to what, in other situations, would be the rules of equity and
justice? The use and tendency of that virtue is to procure happiness and security, by
preserving order in society: but where the society is ready to perish from extreme
necessity, no greater evil can be dreaded from violence and injustice; and every man may
now provide for himself by all the means, which prudence can dictate, or humanity
permit. The public, even in less urgent necessities, opens granaries, without the consent
of proprietors; as justly supposing, that the authority of magistracy may, consistent with
equity, extend so far: but were any number of men to assemble, without the tie of laws or
civil jurisdiction; would an equal partition of bread in a famine, though effected by power
and even violence, be regarded as criminal or injurious?

Suppose likewise, that it should be a virtuous man's fate to fall into the society of
ruffians, remote from the protection of laws and government; what conduct must he
embrace in that melancholy situation? He sees such a desperate rapaciousness prevail;
such a disregard to equity, such contempt of order, such stupid blindness to future
consequences, as must immediately have the most tragical conclusion, and must
terminate in destruction to the greater number, and in a total dissolution of society to the
rest. He, meanwhile, can have no other expedient than to arm himself, to whomever the
sword he seizes, or the buckler, may belong: To make provision of all means of defence
and security: And his particular regard to justice being no longer of use to his own safety
or that of others, he must consult the dictates of self-preservation alone, without concern
for those who no longer merit his care and attention.

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

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

Thus, the rules of equity or justice depend entirely on the particular state and condition in
which men are placed, and owe their origin and existence to that utility, which results to
the public from their strict and regular observance. Reverse, in any considerable
circumstance, the condition of men: Produce extreme abundance or extreme necessity:
Implant in the human breast perfect moderation and humanity, or perfect rapaciousness
and malice: By rendering justice totally USELESS, you thereby totally destroy its
essence, and suspend its obligation upon mankind. The common situation of society is a
medium amidst all these extremes. We are naturally partial to ourselves, and to our
friends; but are capable of learning the advantage resulting from a more equitable
conduct. Few enjoyments are given us from the open and liberal hand of nature; but by
art, labour, and industry, we can extract them in great abundance. Hence the ideas of
property become necessary in all civil society: Hence justice derives its usefulness to the
public: And hence alone arises its merit and moral obligation.

These conclusions are so natural and obvious, that they have not escaped even the poets,
in their descriptions of the felicity attending the golden age or the reign of Saturn. The
seasons, in that first period of nature, were so temperate, if we credit these agreeable
fictions, that there was no necessity for men to provide themselves with clothes and
houses, as a security against the violence of heat and cold: The rivers flowed with wine
and milk: The oaks yielded honey; and nature spontaneously produced her greatest
delicacies. Nor were these the chief advantages of that happy age. Tempests were not
alone removed from nature; but those more furious tempests were unknown to human
breasts, which now cause such uproar, and engender such confusion. Avarice, ambition,
cruelty, selfishness, were never heard of: Cordial affection, compassion, sympathy, were
the only movements with which the mind was yet acquainted. Even the punctilious
distinction of MINE and THINE was banished from among the happy race of mortals,
and carried with it the very notion of property and obligation, justice and injustice.

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

[Footnote: This fiction of a state of nature, as a state of war, was not first started by Mr.
Hobbes, as is commonly imagined. Plato endeavours to refute an hypothesis very like it
in the second, third, and fourth books de republica. Cicero, on the contrary, supposes it
certain and universally acknowledged in the following passage. 'Quis enim vestrum,
judices, ignorat, ita naturam rerum tulisse, ut quodam tempore homines, nondum neque
naturali neque civili jure descripto, fusi per agros ac dispersi vagarentur tantumque
haberent quantum manu ac viribus, per caedem ac vulnera, aut eripere aut retinere
potuissent? Qui igitur primi virtute & consilio praestanti extiterunt, ii perspecto genere
humanae docilitatis atque ingenii, dissipatos unum in locum congregarunt, eosque ex
feritate illa ad justitiam ac mansuetudinem transduxerunt. Tum res ad communem
utilitatem, quas publicas appellamus, tum conventicula hominum, quae postea civitates
nominatae sunt, tum domicilia conjuncta, quas urbes dicamus, invento & divino &
humano jure moenibus sepserunt. Atque inter hanc vitam, perpolitam humanitate, & llam
immanem, nihil tam interest quam JUS atque VIS. Horum utro uti nolimus, altero est
utendum. Vim volumus extingui. Jus valeat necesse est, idi est, judicia, quibus omne jus
continetur. Judicia displicent, ant nulla sunt. Vis dominetur necesse est. Haec vident
omnes.' Pro Sext. sec. 42.]
Whether such a condition of human nature could ever exist, or if it did, could continue so
long as to merit the appellation of a STATE, may justly be doubted. Men are necessarily
born in a family-society, at least; and are trained up by their parents to some rule of
conduct and behaviour. But this must be admitted, that, if such a state of mutual war and
violence was ever real, the suspension of all laws of justice, from their absolute inutility,
is a necessary and infallible consequence.

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

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

This is plainly the situation of men, with regard to animals; and how far these may be
said to possess reason, I leave it to others to determine. The great superiority of civilized
Europeans above barbarous Indians, tempted us to imagine ourselves on the same footing
with regard to them, and made us throw off all restraints of justice, and even of humanity,
in our treatment of them. In many nations, the female sex are reduced to like slavery, and
are rendered incapable of all property, in opposition to their lordly masters. But though
the males, when united, have in all countries bodily force sufficient to maintain this
severe tyranny, yet such are the insinuation, address, and charms of their fair
companions, that women are commonly able to break the confederacy, and share with the
other sex in all the rights and privileges of society.

Were the human species so framed by nature as that each individual possessed within
himself every faculty, requisite both for his own preservation and for the propagation of
his kind: Were all society and intercourse cut off between man and man, by the primary
intention of the supreme Creator: It seems evident, that so solitary a being would be as
much incapable of justice, as of social discourse and conversation. Where mutual regards
and forbearance serve to no manner of purpose, they would never direct the conduct of
any reasonable man. The headlong course of the passions would be checked by no
reflection on future consequences. And as each man is here supposed to love himself
alone, and to depend only on himself and his own activity for safety and happiness, he
would, on every occasion, to the utmost of his power, challenge the preference above
every other being, to none of which he is bound by any ties, either of nature or of interest.
But suppose the conjunction of the sexes to be established in nature, a family
immediately arises; and particular rules being found requisite for its subsistence, these are
immediately embraced; though without comprehending the rest of mankind within their
prescriptions. Suppose that several families unite together into one society, which is
totally disjoined from all others, the rules, which preserve peace and order, enlarge
themselves to the utmost extent of that society; but becoming then entirely useless, lose
their force when carried one step farther. But again suppose, that several distinct societies
maintain a kind of intercourse for mutual convenience and advantage, the boundaries of
justice still grow larger, in proportion to the largeness of men's views, and the force of
their mutual connexions. History, experience, reason sufficiently instruct us in this
natural progress of human sentiments, and in the gradual enlargement of our regards to
justice, in proportion as we become acquainted with the extensive utility of that virtue.

PART II.

If we examine the PARTICULAR laws, by which justice is directed, and property

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

We shall suppose that a creature, possessed of reason, but unacquainted with human
nature, deliberates with himself what rules of justice or property would best promote
public interest, and establish peace and security among mankind: His most obvious
thought would be, to assign the largest possessions to the most extensive virtue, and give
every one the power of doing good, proportioned to his inclination. In a perfect
theocracy, where a being, infinitely intelligent, governs by particular volitions, this rule
would certainly have place, and might serve to the wisest purposes: But were mankind to
execute such a law; so great is the uncertainty of merit, both from its natural obscurity,
and from the self-conceit of each individual, that no determinate rule of conduct would
ever result from it; and the total dissolution of society must be the immediate
consequence. Fanatics may suppose, THAT DOMINION IS FOUNDED ON GRACE,
and THAT SAINTS ALONE INHERIT THE EARTH; but the civil magistrate very justly
puts these sublime theorists on the same footing with common robbers, and teaches them
by the severest discipline, that a rule, which, in speculation, may seem the most
advantageous to society, may yet be found, in practice, totally pernicious and destructive.

That there were RELIGIOUS fanatics of this kind in England, during the civil wars, we
learn from history; though it is probable, that the obvious TENDENCY of these
principles excited such horror in mankind, as soon obliged the dangerous enthusiasts to
renounce, or at least conceal their tenets. Perhaps the LEVELLERS, who claimed an
equal distribution of property, were a kind of POLITICAL fanatics, which arose from the
religious species, and more openly avowed their pretensions; as carrying a more plausible
appearance, of being practicable in themselves, as well as useful to human society. It
must, indeed, be confessed, that nature is so liberal to mankind, that, were all her presents
equally divided among the species, and improved by art and industry, every individual
would enjoy all the necessaries, and even most of the comforts of life; nor would ever be
liable to any ills but such as might accidentally arise from the sickly frame and
constitution of his body. It must also be confessed, that, wherever we depart from this
equality, we rob the poor of more satisfaction than we add to the rich, and that the slight
gratification of a frivolous vanity, in one individual, frequently costs more than bread to
many families, and even provinces. It may appear withal, that the rule of equality, as it
would be highly USEFUL, is not altogether IMPRACTICABLE; but has taken place, at
least in an imperfect degree, in some republics; particularly that of Sparta; where it was
attended, it is said, with the most beneficial consequences. Not to mention that the
Agrarian laws, so frequently claimed in Rome, and carried into execution in many Greek
cities, proceeded, all of them, from a general idea of the utility of this principle.

But historians, and even common sense, may inform us, that, however specious these
ideas of PERFECT equality may seem, they are really, at bottom, IMPRACTICABLE;
and were they not so, would be extremely PERNICIOUS to human society. Render
possessions ever so equal, men's different degrees of art, care, and industry will
immediately break that equality. Or if you check these virtues, you reduce society to the
most extreme indigence; and instead of preventing want and beggary in a few, render it
unavoidable to the whole community. The most rigorous inquisition too is requisite to
watch every inequality on its first appearance; and the most severe jurisdiction, to punish
and redress it. But besides, that so much authority must soon degenerate into tyranny, and
be exerted with great partialities; who can possibly be possessed of it, in such a situation
as is here supposed? Perfect equality of possessions, destroying all subordination,
weakens extremely the authority of magistracy, and must reduce all power nearly to a
level, as well as property.

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

Who sees not, for instance, that whatever is produced or improved by a man's art or
industry ought, for ever, to be secured to him, in order to give encouragement to such
USEFUL habits and accomplishments? That the property ought also to descend to
children and relations, for the same USEFUL purpose? That it may be alienated by
consent, in order to beget that commerce and intercourse, which is so BENEFICIAL to
human society? And that all contracts and promises ought carefully to be fulfilled, in
order to secure mutual trust and confidence, by which the general INTEREST of mankind
is so much promoted?
Examine the writers on the laws of nature; and you will always find, that, whatever
principles they set out with, they are sure to terminate here at last, and to assign, as the
ultimate reason for every rule which they establish, the convenience and necessities of
mankind. A concession thus extorted, in opposition to systems, has more authority than if
it had been made in prosecution of them.

What other reason, indeed, could writers ever give, why this must be MINE and that
YOURS; since uninstructed nature surely never made any such distinction? The objects
which receive those appellations are, of themselves, foreign to us; they are totally
disjoined and separated from us; and nothing but the general interests of society can form
the connexion.

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

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

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

In general we may observe that all questions of property are subordinate to the authority
of civil laws, which extend, restrain, modify, and alter the rules of natural justice,
according to the particular CONVENIENCE of each community. The laws have, or ought
to have, a constant reference to the constitution of government, the manners, the climate,
the religion, the commerce, the situation of each society. A late author of genius, as well
as learning, has prosecuted this subject at large, and has established, from these
principles, a system of political knowledge, which abounds in ingenious and brilliant
thoughts, and is not wanting in solidity.
[Footnote: The author of L'ESPRIT DES LOIX, This illustrious writer, however, sets out
with a different theory, and supposes all right to be founded on certain RAPPORTS or
relations; which is a system, that, in my opinion, never will be reconciled with true
philosophy. Father Malebranche, as far as I can learn, was the first that started this
abstract theory of morals, which was afterwards adopted by Cudworth, Clarke, and
others; and as it excludes all sentiment, and pretends to found everything on reason, it has
not wanted followers in this philosophic age. See Section I, Appendix I. With regard to
justice, the virtue here treated of, the inference against this theory seems short and
conclusive. Property is allowed to be dependent on civil laws; civil laws are allowed to
have no other object, but the interest of society: This therefore must be allowed to be the
sole foundation of property and justice. Not to mention, that our obligation itself to obey
the magistrate and his laws is founded on nothing but the interests of society.

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

WHAT IS A MAN'S PROPERTY? Anything which it is lawful for him, and for him
alone, to use. BUT WHAT RULE HAVE WE, BY WHICH WE CAN DISTINGUISH
THESE OBJECTS? Here we must have recourse to statutes, customs, precedents,
analogies, and a hundred other circumstances; some of which are constant and inflexible,
some variable and arbitrary. But the ultimate point, in which they all professedly
terminate, is the interest and happiness of human society. Where this enters not into
consideration, nothing can appear more whimsical, unnatural, and even superstitious,
than all or most of the laws of justice and of property.

Those who ridicule vulgar superstitions, and expose the folly of particular regards to
meats, days, places, postures, apparel, have an easy task; while they consider all the
qualities and relations of the objects, and discover no adequate cause for that affection or
antipathy, veneration or horror, which have so mighty an influence over a considerable
part of mankind. A Syrian would have starved rather than taste pigeon; an Egyptian
would not have approached bacon: But if these species of food be examined by the senses
of sight, smell, or taste, or scrutinized by the sciences of chemistry, medicine, or physics,
no difference is ever found between them and any other species, nor can that precise
circumstance be pitched on, which may afford a just foundation for the religious passion.
A fowl on Thursday is lawful food; on Friday abominable: Eggs in this house and in this
diocese, are permitted during Lent; a hundred paces farther, to eat them is a damnable sin.
This earth or building, yesterday was profane; to-day, by the muttering of certain words,
it has become holy and sacred. Such reflections as these, in the mouth of a philosopher,
one may safely say, are too obvious to have any influence; because they must always, to
every man, occur at first sight; and where they prevail not, of themselves, they are surely
obstructed by education, prejudice, and passion, not by ignorance or mistake.

It may appear to a careless view, or rather a too abstracted reflection, that there enters a
like superstition into all the sentiments of justice; and that, if a man expose its object, or
what we call property, to the same scrutiny of sense and science, he will not, by the most
accurate enquiry, find any foundation for the difference made by moral sentiment. I may
lawfully nourish myself from this tree; but the fruit of another of the same species, ten
paces off, it is criminal for me to touch. Had I worn this apparel an hour ago, I had
merited the severest punishment; but a man, by pronouncing a few magical syllables, has
now rendered it fit for my use and service. Were this house placed in the neighbouring
territory, it had been immoral for me to dwell in it; but being built on this side the river, it
is subject to a different municipal law, and by its becoming mine I incur no blame or
censure. The same species of reasoning it may be thought, which so successfully exposes
superstition, is also applicable to justice; nor is it possible, in the one case more than in
the other, to point out, in the object, that precise quality or circumstance, which is the
foundation of the sentiment.

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

[Footnote: It is evident, that the will or consent alone never transfers property, nor causes
the obligation of a promise (for the same reasoning extends to both), but the will must be
expressed by words or signs, in order to impose a tie upon any man. The expression being
once brought in as subservient to he will, soon becomes the principal part of the promise;
nor will a man be less bound by his word, though he secretly give a different direction to
his intention, and withhold the assent of his mind. But though the expression makes, on
most occasions, the whole of the promise, yet it does not always so; and one who should
make use of any expression, of which he knows not the meaning, and which he uses
without any sense of the consequences, would not certainly be bound by it. Nay, though
he know its meaning, yet if he use it in jest only, and with such signs as evidently show,
that he has no serious intention of binding himself, he would not lie under any obligation
of performance; but it is necessary, that the words be a perfect expression of the will,
without any contrary signs. Nay, even this we must not carry so far as to imagine, that
one, whom, by our quickness of understanding, we conjecture, from certain signs, to have
an intention of deceiving us, is not bound by his expression or verbal promise, if we
accept of it; but must limit this conclusion to those cases where the signs are of a
different nature from those of deceit. All these contradictions are easily accounted for, if
justice arise entirely from its usefulness to society; but will never be explained on any
other hypothesis.

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

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

These reflections are far from weakening the obligations of justice, or diminishing
anything from the most sacred attention to property. On the contrary, such sentiments
must acquire new force from the present reasoning. For what stronger foundation can be
desired or conceived for any duty, than to observe, that human society, or even human
nature, could not subsist without the establishment of it; and will still arrive at greater
degrees of happiness and perfection, the more inviolable the regard is, which is paid to
that duty?
The dilemma seems obvious: As justice evidently tends to promote public utility and to
support civil society, the sentiment of justice is either derived from our reflecting on that
tendency, or like hunger, thirst, and other appetites, resentment, love of life, attachment
to offspring, and other passions, arises from a simple original instinct in the human
breast, which nature has implanted for like salutary purposes. If the latter be the case, it
follows, that property, which is the object of justice, is also distinguished by a simple
original instinct, and is not ascertained by any argument or reflection. But who is there
that ever heard of such an instinct? Or is this a subject in which new discoveries can be
made? We may as well expect to discover, in the body, new senses, which had before
escaped the observation of all mankind.

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

These words too, inheritance and contract, stand for ideas infinitely complicated; and to
define them exactly, a hundred volumes of laws, and a thousand volumes of
commentators, have not been found sufficient. Does nature, whose instincts in men are all
simple, embrace such complicated and artificial objects, and create a rational creature,
without trusting anything to the operation of his reason?

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

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

How great soever the variety of municipal laws, it must be confessed, that their chief
outlines pretty regularly concur; because the purposes, to which they tend, are
everywhere exactly similar. In like manner, all houses have a roof and walls, windows
and chimneys; though diversified in their shape, figure, and materials. The purposes of
the latter, directed to the conveniencies of human life, discover not more plainly their
origin from reason and reflection, than do those of the former, which point all to a like
end.
I need not mention the variations, which all the rules of property receive from the finer
turns and connexions of the imagination, and from the subtilties and abstractions of law-
topics and reasonings. There is no possibility of reconciling this observation to the notion
of original instincts.

What alone will beget a doubt concerning the theory, on which I insist, is the influence of
education and acquired habits, by which we are so accustomed to blame injustice, that we
are not, in every instance, conscious of any immediate reflection on the pernicious
consequences of it. The views the most familiar to us are apt, for that very reason, to
escape us; and what we have very frequently performed from certain motives, we are apt
likewise to continue mechanically, without recalling, on every occasion, the reflections,
which first determined us. The convenience, or rather necessity, which leads to justice is
so universal, and everywhere points so much to the same rules, that the habit takes place
in all societies; and it is not without some scrutiny, that we are able to ascertain its true
origin. The matter, however, is not so obscure, but that even in common life we have
every moment recourse to the principle of public utility, and ask, WHAT MUST
BECOME OF THE WORLD, IF SUCH PRACTICES PREVAIL? HOW COULD
SOCIETY SUBSIST UNDER SUCH DISORDERS? Were the distinction or separation
of possessions entirely useless, can any one conceive, that it ever should have obtained in
society?

Thus we seem, upon the whole, to have attained a knowledge of the force of that
principle here insisted on, and can determine what degree of esteem or moral approbation
may result from reflections on public interest and utility. The necessity of justice to the
support of society is the sole foundation of that virtue; and since no moral excellence is
more highly esteemed, we may conclude that this circumstance of usefulness has, in
general, the strongest energy, and most entire command over our sentiments. It must,
therefore, be the source of a considerable part of the merit ascribed to humanity,
benevolence, friendship, public spirit, and other social virtues of that stamp; as it is the
sole source of the moral approbation paid to fidelity, justice, veracity, integrity, and those
other estimable and useful qualities and principles. It is entirely agreeable to the rules of
philosophy, and even of common reason; where any principle has been found to have a
great force and energy in one instance, to ascribe to it a like energy in all similar
instances. This indeed is Newton's chief rule of philosophizing [Footnote: Principia. Lib.
iii.].
 IV. Of Political Society

Had every man sufficient SAGACITY to perceive, at all times, the strong interest which
binds him to the observance of justice and equity, and STRENGTH OF MIND sufficient
to persevere in a steady adherence to a general and a distant interest, in opposition to the
allurements of present pleasure and advantage; there had never, in that case, been any
such thing as government or political society, but each man, following his natural liberty,
had lived in entire peace and harmony with all others. What need of positive law where
natural justice is, of itself, a sufficient restraint? Why create magistrates, where there
never arises any disorder or iniquity? Why abridge our native freedom, when, in every
instance, the utmost exertion of it is found innocent and beneficial? It is evident, that, if
government were totally useless, it never could have place, and that the sole foundation
of the duty of allegiance is the ADVANTAGE, which it procures to society, by
preserving peace and order among mankind.

When a number of political societies are erected, and maintain a great intercourse
together, a new set of rules are immediately discovered to be USEFUL in that particular
situation; and accordingly take place under the title of Laws of Nations. Of this kind are,
the sacredness of the person of ambassadors, abstaining from poisoned arms, quarter in
war, with others of that kind, which are plainly calculated for the ADVANTAGE of
states and kingdoms in their intercourse with each other.

The rules of justice, such as prevail among individuals, are not entirely suspended among
political societies. All princes pretend a regard to the rights of other princes; and some,
no doubt, without hypocrisy. Alliances and treaties are every day made between
independent states, which would only be so much waste of parchment, if they were not
found by experience to have SOME influence and authority. But here is the difference
between kingdoms and individuals. Human nature cannot by any means subsist, without
the association of individuals; and that association never could have place, were no
regard paid to the laws of equity and justice. Disorder, confusion, the war of all against
all, are the necessary consequences of such a licentious conduct. But nations can subsist
without intercourse. They may even subsist, in some degree, under a general war. The
observance of justice, though useful among them, is not guarded by so strong a necessity
as among individuals; and the moral obligation holds proportion with the USEFULNESS.
All politicians will allow, and most philosophers, that reasons of state may, in particular
emergencies, dispense with the rules of justice, and invalidate any treaty or alliance,
where the strict observance of it would be prejudicial, in a considerable degree, to either
of the contracting parties. But nothing less than the most extreme necessity, it is
confessed, can justify individuals in a breach of promise, or an invasion of the properties
of others.

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

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

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

[Footnote: The only solution, which Plato gives to all the objections that might be raised
against the community of women, established in his imaginary commonwealth, is, [Greek
quotation here]. Scite enim istud et dicitur et dicetur, Id quod utile sit honestum esse,
quod autem inutile sit turpe esse. [De Rep lib v p 457 ex edit Ser]. And this maxim will
admit of no doubt, where public utility is concerned, which is Plato's meaning. And
indeed to what other purpose do all the ideas of chastity and modesty serve? "Nisi utile
est quod facimus, frustra est gloria," says Phaedrus." [Greek quotation here]," says
Plutarch, de vitioso pudore. "Nihil eorum quae damnosa sunt, pulchrum est." The same
was the opinion of the Stoics [Greek quotation here; from Sept. Emp lib III cap 20].

An infidelity of this nature is much more PERNICIOUS in WOMEN than in MEN.

Hence the laws of chastity are much stricter over the one sex than over the other.

These rules have all a reference to generation; and yet women past child-bearing are no
more supposed to be exempted from them than those in the flower of their youth and
beauty. GENERAL RULES are often extended beyond the principle whence they first
arise; and this in all matters of taste and sentiment. It is a vulgar story at Paris, that,
during the rage of the Mississippi, a hump- backed fellow went every day into the Rue de
Quincempoix, where the stock-jobbers met in great crowds, and was well paid for
allowing them to make use of his hump as a desk, in order to sign their contracts upon it.
Would the fortune, which he raised by this expedient, make him a handsome fellow;
though it be confessed, that personal beauty arises very much from ideas of utility? The
imagination is influenced by associations of ideas; which, though they arise at first from
the judgement, are not easily altered by every particular exception that occurs to us. To
which we may add, in the present case of chastity, that the example of the old would be
pernicious to the young; and that women, continually foreseeing that a certain time would
bring them the liberty of indulgence, would naturally advance that period, and think more
lightly of this whole duty, so requisite to society.

Those who live in the same family have such frequent opportunities of licence of this
kind, that nothing could prevent purity of manners, were marriage allowed, among the
nearest relations, or any intercourse of love between them ratified by law and custom.
Incest, therefore, being PERNICIOUS in a superior degree, has also a superior turpitude
and moral deformity annexed to it.

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

To repeat, to a man's prejudice, anything that escaped him in private conversation, or to

make any such use of his private letters, is highly blamed. The free and social intercourse
of minds must be extremely checked, where no such rules of fidelity are established.

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

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

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

Constancy in friendships, attachments, and familiarities, is commendable, and is requisite

to support trust and good correspondence in society. But in places of general, though
casual concourse, where the pursuit of health and pleasure brings people promiscuously
together, public conveniency has dispensed with this maxim; and custom there promotes
an unreserved conversation for the time, by indulging the privilege of dropping
afterwards every indifferent acquaintance, without breach of civility or good manners.

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

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

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

In societies for play, there are laws required for the conduct of the game; and these laws
are different in each game. The foundation, I own, of such societies is frivolous; and the
laws are, in a great measure, though not altogether, capricious and arbitrary. So far is
there a material difference between them and the rules of justice, fidelity, and loyalty.
The general societies of men are absolutely requisite for the subsistence of the species;
and the public conveniency, which regulates morals, is inviolably established in the
nature of man, and of the world, in which he lives. The comparison, therefore, in these
respects, is very imperfect. We may only learn from it the necessity of rules, wherever
men have any intercourse with each other.

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

[Footnote: That the lighter machine yield to the heavier, and, in machines of the same
kind, that the empty yield to the loaded; this rule is founded on convenience. That those
who are going to the capital take place of those who are coming from it; this seems to be
founded on some idea of dignity of the great city, and of the preference of the future to
the past. From like reasons, among foot-walkers, the right-hand entitles a man to the wall,
and prevents jostling, which peaceable people find very disagreeable and inconvenient.]

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

PART I.

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

What wonder then, that a man, whose habits and conduct are hurtful to society, and
dangerous or pernicious to every one who has an intercourse with him, should, on that
account, be an object of disapprobation, and communicate to every spectator the strongest
sentiment of disgust and hatred.

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

A very small variation of the object, even where the same qualities are preserved, will
destroy a sentiment. Thus, the same beauty, transferred to a different sex, excites no
amorous passion, where nature is not extremely perverted.]
But perhaps the difficulty of accounting for these effects of usefulness, or its contrary,
has kept philosophers from admitting them into their systems of ethics, and has induced
them rather to employ any other principle, in explaining the origin of moral good and
evil. But it is no just reason for rejecting any principle, confirmed by experience, that we
cannot give a satisfactory account of its origin, nor are able to resolve it into other more
general principles. And if we would employ a little thought on the present subject, we
need be at no loss to account for the influence of utility, and to deduce it from principles,
the most known and avowed in human nature.

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

The social virtues must, therefore, be allowed to have a natural beauty and amiableness,
which, at first, antecedent to all precept or education, recommends them to the esteem of
uninstructed mankind, and engages their affections. And as the public utility of these
virtues is the chief circumstance, whence they derive their merit, it follows, that the end,
which they have a tendency to promote, must be some way agreeable to us, and take hold
of some natural affection. It must please, either from considerations of self-interest, or
from more generous motives and regards.

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

This deduction of morals from self-love, or a regard to private interest, is an obvious

thought, and has not arisen wholly from the wanton sallies and sportive assaults of the
sceptics. To mention no others, Polybius, one of the gravest and most judicious, as well
as most moral writers of antiquity, has assigned this selfish origin to all our sentiments of
virtue. [Footnote: Undutifulness to parents is disapproved of by mankind, [Greek
quotation inserted here]. Ingratitude for a like reason (though he seems there to mix a
more generous regard) [Greek quotation inserted here] Lib. vi cap. 4. (Ed. Gronorius.)
Perhaps the historian only meant, that our sympathy and humanity was more enlivened,
by our considering the similarity of our case with that of the person suffering; which is a
just sentiment.] But though the solid practical sense of that author, and his aversion to all
vain subtilties, render his authority on the present subject very considerable; yet is not
this an affair to be decided by authority, and the voice of nature and experience seems
plainly to oppose the selfish theory.

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

A generous, a brave, a noble deed, performed by an adversary, commands our

approbation; while in its consequences it may be acknowledged prejudicial to our
particular interest.

Where private advantage concurs with general affection for virtue, we readily perceive
and avow the mixture of these distinct sentiments, which have a very different feeling
and influence on the mind. We praise, perhaps, with more alacrity, where the generous
humane action contributes to our particular interest: But the topics of praise, which we
insist on, are very wide of this circumstance. And we may attempt to bring over others to
our sentiments, without endeavouring to convince them, that they reap any advantage
from the actions which we recommend to their approbation and applause.

Frame the model of a praiseworthy character, consisting of all the most amiable moral
virtues: Give instances, in which these display themselves after an eminent and
extraordinary manner: You readily engage the esteem and approbation of all your
audience, who never so much as enquire in what age and country the person lived, who
possessed these noble qualities: A circumstance, however, of all others, the most material
to self-love, or a concern for our own individual happiness. Once on a time, a statesman,
in the shock and contest of parties, prevailed so far as to procure, by his eloquence, the
banishment of an able adversary; whom he secretly followed, offering him money for his
support during his exile, and soothing him with topics of consolation in his misfortunes.
ALAS! cries the banished statesman, WITH WHAT REGRET MUST I LEAVE MY
FRIENDS IN THIS CITY, WHERE EVEN ENEMIES ARE SO GENEROUS! Virtue,
though in an enemy, here pleased him: And we also give it the just tribute of praise and
approbation; nor do we retract these sentiments, when we hear, that the action passed at
Athens, about two thousand years ago, and that the persons' names were Eschines and
Demosthenes.
WHAT IS THAT TO ME? There are few occasions, when this question is not pertinent:
And had it that universal, infallible influence supposed, it would turn into ridicule every
composition, and almost every conversation, which contain any praise or censure of men
and manners.

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

A man, brought to the brink of a precipice, cannot look down without trembling; and the
sentiment of IMAGINARY danger actuates him, in opposition to the opinion and belief
of REAL safety. But the imagination is here assisted by the presence of a striking object;
and yet prevails not, except it be also aided by novelty, and the unusual appearance of the
object. Custom soon reconciles us to heights and precipices, and wears off these false and
delusive terrors. The reverse is observable in the estimates which we form of characters
and manners; and the more we habituate ourselves to an accurate scrutiny of morals, the
more delicate feeling do we acquire of the most minute distinctions between vice and
virtue. Such frequent occasion, indeed, have we, in common life, to pronounce all kinds
of moral determinations, that no object of this kind can be new or unusual to us; nor
could any FALSE views or prepossessions maintain their ground against an experience,
so common and familiar. Experience being chiefly what forms the associations of ideas,
it is impossible that any association could establish and support itself, in direct opposition
to that principle.

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

PART II.

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

But notwithstanding this frequent confusion of interests, it is easy to attain what natural
philosophers, after Lord Bacon, have affected to call the experimentum crucis, or that
experiment which points out the right way in any doubt or ambiguity. We have found
instances, in which private interest was separate from public; in which it was even
contrary: And yet we observed the moral sentiment to continue, notwithstanding this
disjunction of interests. And wherever these distinct interests sensibly concurred, we
always found a sensible increase of the sentiment, and a more warm affection to virtue,
and detestation of vice, or what we properly call, GRATITUDE and REVENGE.
Compelled by these instances, we must renounce the theory, which accounts for every
moral sentiment by the principle of self-love. We must adopt a more public affection, and
allow, that the interests of society are not, even on their own account, entirely indifferent
to us. Usefulness is only a tendency to a certain end; and it is a contradiction in terms,
that anything pleases as means to an end, where the end itself no wise affects us. If
usefulness, therefore, be a source of moral sentiment, and if this usefulness be not always
considered with a reference to self; it follows, that everything, which contributes to the
happiness of society, recommends itself directly to our approbation and good-will. Here
is a principle, which accounts, in great part, for the origin of morality: And what need we
seek for abstruse and remote systems, when there occurs one so obvious and natural?

[FOOTNOTE: It is needless to push our researches so far as to ask, why we have

humanity or a fellow-feeling with others. It is sufficient, that this is experienced to be a
principle in human nature. We must stop somewhere in our examination of causes; and
there are, in every science, some general principles, beyond which we cannot hope to find
any principle more general. No man is absolutely indifferent to the happiness and misery
of others. The first has a natural tendency to give pleasure; the second, pain. This every
one may find in himself. It is not probable, that these principles can be resolved into
principles more simple and universal, whatever attempts may have been made to that
purpose. But if it were possible, it belongs not to the present subject; and we may here
safely consider these principles as original; happy, if we can render all the consequences
sufficiently plain and perspicuous!]

Have we any difficulty to comprehend the force of humanity and benevolence? Or to

conceive, that the very aspect of happiness, joy, prosperity, gives pleasure; that of pain,
suffering, sorrow, communicates uneasiness? The human countenance, says Horace ['Uti
ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent Humani vultus,'-- Hor.], borrows smiles or tears
from the human countenance. Reduce a person to solitude, and he loses all enjoyment,
except either of the sensual or speculative kind; and that because the movements of his
heart are not forwarded by correspondent movements in his fellow-creatures. The signs
of sorrow and mourning, though arbitrary, affect us with melancholy; but the natural
symptoms, tears and cries and groans, never fail to infuse compassion and uneasiness.
And if the effects of misery touch us in so lively a manner; can we be supposed
altogether insensible or indifferent towards its causes; when a malicious or treacherous
character and behaviour are presented to us?

We enter, I shall suppose, into a convenient, warm, well- contrived apartment: We

necessarily receive a pleasure from its very survey; because it presents us with the
pleasing ideas of ease, satisfaction, and enjoyment. The hospitable, good-humoured,
humane landlord appears. This circumstance surely must embellish the whole; nor can we
easily forbear reflecting, with pleasure, on the satisfaction which results to every one
from his intercourse and good-offices.

His whole family, by the freedom, ease, confidence, and calm enjoyment, diffused over
their countenances, sufficiently express their happiness. I have a pleasing sympathy in the
prospect of so much joy, and can never consider the source of it, without the most
agreeable emotions.

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

But it is no wonder, he adds, that a private wrong should proceed from a man, who had
enslaved provinces, depopulated cities, and made the field and scaffold stream with
human blood. I am struck with horror at the prospect of so much misery, and am actuated
by the strongest antipathy against its author.

In general, it is certain, that, wherever we go, whatever we reflect on or converse about,

everything still presents us with the view of human happiness or misery, and excites in
our breast a sympathetic movement of pleasure or uneasiness. In our serious occupations,
in our careless amusements, this principle still exerts its active energy.

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

He observes the actors to be animated by the appearance of a full audience, and raised to
a degree of enthusiasm, which they cannot command in any solitary or calm moment.

Every movement of the theatre, by a skilful poet, is communicated, as it were by magic,

to the spectators; who weep, tremble, resent, rejoice, and are inflamed with all the variety
of passions, which actuate the several personages of the drama.

Where any event crosses our wishes, and interrupts the happiness of the favourite
characters, we feel a sensible anxiety and concern. But where their sufferings proceed
from the treachery, cruelty, or tyranny of an enemy, our breasts are affected with the
liveliest resentment against the author of these calamities. It is here esteemed contrary to
the rules of art to represent anything cool and indifferent. A distant friend, or a confident,
who has no immediate interest in the catastrophe, ought, if possible, to be avoided by the
poet; as communicating a like indifference to the audience, and checking the progress of
the passions.

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

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

Any recent event or piece of news, by which the fate of states, provinces, or many
individuals is affected, is extremely interesting even to those whose welfare is not
immediately engaged. Such intelligence is propagated with celerity, heard with avidity,
and enquired into with attention and concern. The interest of society appears, on this
occasion, to be in some degree the interest of each individual. The imagination is sure to
be affected; though the passions excited may not always be so strong and steady as to
have great influence on the conduct and behaviour.

The perusal of a history seems a calm entertainment; but would be no entertainment at

all, did not our hearts beat with correspondent movements to those which are described
by the historian.

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

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

If we bring these subjects nearer: If we remove all suspicion of fiction and deceit: What
powerful concern is excited, and how much superior, in many instances, to the narrow
attachments of self-love and private interest! Popular sedition, party zeal, a devoted
obedience to factious leaders; these are some of the most visible, though less laudable
effects of this social sympathy in human nature.

The frivolousness of the subject too, we may observe, is not able to detach us entirely
from what carries an image of human sentiment and affection.

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

Easy and unconstrained postures and motions are always beautiful: An air of health and
vigour is agreeable: Clothes which warm, without burthening the body; which cover,
without imprisoning the limbs, are well-fashioned. In every judgement of beauty, the
feelings of the person affected enter into consideration, and communicate to the spectator
similar touches of pain or pleasure. [Footnote: 'Decentior equus cujus astricta suntilia; sed
idem velocior. Pulcher aspectu sit athleta, cujus lacertos execitatio expressit; idem
certamini paratior nunquam enim SPECIES ab UTILITATE dividitur. Sed hoc quidem
discernere modici judicii est.'- Quintilian, Inst. lib. viii. cap. 3.]

What wonder, then, if we can pronounce no judgement concerning the character and
conduct of men, without considering the tendencies of their actions, and the happiness or
misery which thence arises to society? What association of ideas would ever operate,
were that principle here totally unactive.

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

If any man from a cold insensibility, or narrow selfishness of temper, is unaffected with
the images of human happiness or misery, he must be equally indifferent to the images of
vice and virtue: As, on the other hand, it is always found, that a warm concern for the
interests of our species is attended with a delicate feeling of all moral distinctions; a
strong resentment of injury done to men; a lively approbation of their welfare. In this
particular, though great superiority is observable of one man above another; yet none are
so entirely indifferent to the interest of their fellow-creatures, as to perceive no
distinctions of moral good and evil, in consequence of the different tendencies of actions
and principles. How, indeed, can we suppose it possible in any one, who wears a human
heart, that if there be subjected to his censure, one character or system of conduct, which
is beneficial, and another which is pernicious to his species or community, he will not so
much as give a cool preference to the former, or ascribe to it the smallest merit or regard?
Let us suppose such a person ever so selfish; let private interest have ingrossed ever so
much his attention; yet in instances, where that is not concerned, he must unavoidably
feel SOME propensity to the good of mankind, and make it an object of choice, if
everything else be equal. Would any man, who is walking along, tread as willingly on
another's gouty toes, whom he has no quarrel with, as on the hard flint and pavement?
There is here surely a difference in the case. We surely take into consideration the
happiness and misery of others, in weighing the several motives of action, and incline to
the former, where no private regards draw us to seek our own promotion or advantage by
the injury of our fellow-creatures. And if the principles of humanity are capable, in many
instances, of influencing our actions, they must, at all times, have some authority over our
sentiments, and give us a general approbation of what is useful to society, and blame of
what is dangerous or pernicious. The degrees of these sentiments may be the subject of
controversy; but the reality of their existence, one should think, must be admitted in every
theory or system.

A creature, absolutely malicious and spiteful, were there any such in nature, must be
worse than indifferent to the images of vice and virtue. All his sentiments must be
inverted, and directly opposite to those, which prevail in the human species. Whatever
contributes to the good of mankind, as it crosses the constant bent of his wishes and
desires, must produce uneasiness and disapprobation; and on the contrary, whatever is the
source of disorder and misery in society, must, for the same reason, be regarded with
pleasure and complacency. Timon, who probably from his affected spleen more than an
inveterate malice, was denominated the manhater, embraced Alcibiades with great
fondness. GO ON, MY BOY! cried he, ACQUIRE THE CONFIDENCE OF THE
PEOPLE: YOU WILL ONE DAY, I FORESEE, BE THE CAUSE OF GREAT
CALAMITIES TO THEM [Footnote: Plutarch fit vita Ale.]. Could we admit the two
principles of the Manicheans, it is an infallible consequence, that their sentiments of
human actions, as well as of everything else, must be totally opposite, and that every
instance of justice and humanity, from its necessary tendency, must please the one deity
and displease the other. All mankind so far resemble the good principle, that, where
interest or revenge or envy perverts not our disposition, we are always inclined, from our
natural philanthropy, to give the preference to the happiness of society, and consequently
to virtue above its opposite. Absolute, unprovoked, disinterested malice has never
perhaps place in any human breast; or if it had, must there pervert all the sentiments of
morals, as well as the feelings of humanity. If the cruelty of Nero be allowed entirely
voluntary, and not rather the effect of constant fear and resentment; it is evident that
Tigellinus, preferably to Seneca or Burrhus, must have possessed his steady and uniform
approbation.

A statesman or patriot, who serves our own country in our own time, has always a more
passionate regard paid to him, than one whose beneficial influence operated on distant
ages or remote nations; where the good, resulting from his generous humanity, being less
connected with us, seems more obscure, and affects us with a less lively sympathy. We
may own the merit to be equally great, though our sentiments are not raised to an equal
height, in both cases. The judgement here corrects the inequalities of our internal
emotions and perceptions; in like manner, as it preserves us from error, in the several
variations of images, presented to our external senses. The same object, at a double
distance, really throws on the eye a picture of but half the bulk; yet we imagine that it
appears of the same size in both situations; because we know that on our approach to it,
its image would expand on the eye, and that the difference consists not in the object itself,
but in our position with regard to it. And, indeed, without such a correction of
appearances, both in internal and external sentiment, men could never think or talk
steadily on any subject; while their fluctuating situations produce a continual variation on
objects, and throw them into such different and contrary lights and positions.

[Footnote: For a little reason, the tendencies of actions and characters, not their real
accidental consequences, are alone regarded in our more determinations or general
judgements; though in our real feeling or sentiment, we cannot help paying greater regard
to one whose station, joined to virtue, renders him really useful to society, then to one,
who exerts the social virtues only in good intentions and benevolent affections.
Separating the character from the furtone, by an easy and necessary effort of thought, we
pronounce these persons alike, and give them the appearance: But is not able entirely to
prevail our sentiment.

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

The more we converse with mankind, and the greater social intercourse we maintain, the
more shall we be familiarized to these general preferences and distinctions, without
which our conversation and discourse could scarcely be rendered intelligible to each
other. Every man's interest is peculiar to himself, and the aversions and desires, which
result from it, cannot be supposed to affect others in a like degree. General language,
therefore, being formed for general use, must be moulded on some more general views,
and must affix the epithets of praise or blame, in conformity to sentiments, which arise
from the general interests of the community. And if these sentiments, in most men, be not
so strong as those, which have a reference to private good; yet still they must make some
distinction, even in persons the most depraved and selfish; and must attach the notion of
good to a beneficent conduct, and of evil to the contrary. Sympathy, we shall allow, is
much fainter than our concern for ourselves, and sympathy with persons remote from us
much fainter than that with persons near and contiguous; but for this very reason it is
necessary for us, in our calm judgements and discourse concerning the characters of men,
to neglect all these differences, and render our sentiments more public and social.
Besides, that we ourselves often change our situation in this particular, we every day
meet with persons who are in a situation different from us, and who could never converse
with us were we to remain constantly in that position and point of view, which is peculiar
to ourselves. The intercourse of sentiments, therefore, in society and conversation, makes
us form some general unalterable standard, by which we may approve or disapprove of
characters and manners. And though the heart takes not part entirely with those general
notions, nor regulates all its love and hatred by the universal abstract differences of vice
and virtue, without regard to self, or the persons with whom we are more intimately
connected; yet have these moral differences a considerable influence, and being
sufficient, at least for discourse, serve all our purposes in company, in the pulpit, on the
theatre, and in the schools.

[Footnote: It is wisely ordained by nature, that private connexions should commonly

prevail over univeral views and considerations; otherwise our affections and actions
would be dissopated and lost, for want of a proper limited object. Thus a small benefit
done to ourselves, or our near friends, excites more lively sentiments of love and
approbation than a great benefit done to a distant commonwealth: But still we know here,
as in all the senses, to correct these inequalities by reflection, and retain a general
standard of vice and virtue, founded chiefly on a general usefulness.]

Thus, in whatever light we take this subject, the merit, ascribed to the social virtues,
appears still uniform, and arises chiefly from that regard, which the natural sentiment of
benevolence engages us to pay to the interests of mankind and society. If we consider the
principles of the human make, such as they appear to daily experience and observation,
we must, A PRIORI, conclude it impossible for such a creature as man to be totally
indifferent to the well or ill-being of his fellow-creatures, and not readily, of himself, to
pronounce, where nothing gives him any particular bias, that what promotes their
happiness is good, what tends to their misery is evil, without any farther regard or
consideration. Here then are the faint rudiments, at least, or outlines, of a GENERAL
distinction between actions; and in proportion as the humanity of the person is supposed
to increase, his connexion with those who are injured or benefited, and his lively
conception of their misery or happiness; his consequent censure or approbation acquires
proportionable vigour. There is no necessity, that a generous action, barely mentioned in
an old history or remote gazette, should communicate any strong feelings of applause and
admiration. Virtue, placed at such a distance, is like a fixed star, which, though to the eye
of reason it may appear as luminous as the sun in his meridian, is so infinitely removed as
to affect the senses, neither with light nor heat. Bring this virtue nearer, by our
acquaintance or connexion with the persons, or even by an eloquent recital of the case;
our hearts are immediately caught, our sympathy enlivened, and our cool approbation
converted into the warmest sentiments of friendship and regard. These seem necessary
and infallible consequences of the general principles of human nature, as discovered in
common life and practice.

Again; reverse these views and reasonings: Consider the matter a posteriori; and
weighing the consequences, enquire if the merit of social virtue be not, in a great
measure, derived from the feelings of humanity, with which it affects the spectators. It
appears to be matter of fact, that the circumstance of UTILITY, in all subjects, is a source
of praise and approbation: That it is constantly appealed to in all moral decisions
concerning the merit and demerit of actions: That it is the SOLE source of that high
regard paid to justice, fidelity, honour, allegiance, and chastity: That it is inseparable
from all the other social virtues, humanity, generosity, charity, affability, lenity, mercy,
and moderation: And, in a word, that it is a foundation of the chief part of morals, which
has a reference to mankind and our fellow-creatures.

It appears also, that, in our general approbation of characters and manners, the useful
tendency of the social virtues moves us not by any regards to self-interest, but has an
influence much more universal and extensive. It appears that a tendency to public good,
and to the promoting of peace, harmony, and order in society, does always, by affecting
the benevolent principles of our frame, engage us on the side of the social virtues. And it
appears, as an additional confirmation, that these principles of humanity and sympathy
enter so deeply into all our sentiments, and have so powerful an influence, as may enable
them to excite the strongest censure and applause. The present theory is the simple result
of all these inferences, each of which seems founded on uniform experience and
observation.

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

It is however hoped, that the progress of this argument will bring a farther confirmation
of the present theory, by showing the rise of other sentiments of esteem and regard from
the same or like principles.
 VI. Of Qualities Useful To Ourselves

PART I.

IT seems evident, that where a quality or habit is subjected to our examination, if it

appear in any respect prejudicial to the person possessed of it, or such as incapacitates
him for business and action, it is instantly blamed, and ranked among his faults and
imperfections. Indolence, negligence, want of order and method, obstinacy, fickleness,
rashness, credulity; these qualities were never esteemed by any one indifferent to a
character; much less, extolled as accomplishments or virtues. The prejudice, resulting
from them, immediately strikes our eye, and gives us the sentiment of pain and
disapprobation.

No quality, it is allowed, is absolutely either blameable or praiseworthy. It is all

according to its degree. A due medium, says the Peripatetics, is the characteristic of
virtue. But this medium is chiefly determined by utility. A proper celerity, for instance,
and dispatch in business, is commendable. When defective, no progress is ever made in
the execution of any purpose: When excessive, it engages us in precipitate and ill-
concerted measures and enterprises: By such reasonings, we fix the proper and
commendable mediocrity in all moral and prudential disquisitions; and never lose view of
the advantages, which result from any character or habit. Now as these advantages are
enjoyed by the person possessed of the character, it can never be SELF-LOVE which
renders the prospect of them agreeable to us, the spectators, and prompts our esteem and
approbation. No force of imagination can convert us into another person, and make us
fancy, that we, being that person, reap benefit from those valuable qualities, which
belong to him. Or if it did, no celerity of imagination could immediately transport us
back, into ourselves, and make us love and esteem the person, as different from us. Views
and sentiments, so opposite to known truth and to each other, could never have place, at
the same time, in the same person. All suspicion, therefore, of selfish regards, is here
totally excluded. It is a quite different principle, which actuates our bosom, and interests
us in the felicity of the person whom we contemplate. Where his natural talents and
acquired abilities give us the prospect of elevation, advancement, a figure in life,
prosperous success, a steady command over fortune, and the execution of great or
advantageous undertakings; we are struck with such agreeable images, and feel a
complacency and regard immediately arise towards him. The ideas of happiness, joy,
triumph, prosperity, are connected with every circumstance of his character, and diffuse
over our minds a pleasing sentiment of sympathy and humanity.

[Footnote: One may venture to affirm, that there is no human nature, to whom the
appearance of happiness (where envy or revenge has no place) does not give pleasure,
that of misery, uneasiness. This seems inseparable from our make and constitution. But
they are only more generous minds, that are thence prompted to seek zealously the good
of others, and to have a real passion for their welfare. With men of narrow and
ungenerous spirits, this sympathy goes not beyond a slight feeling of the imagination,
which serves only to excite sentiments of complacency or ensure, and makes them apply
to the object either honorable or dishonorable appellations. A griping miser, for instance,
praises extremely INDUSTRY and FRUGALITY even in others, and sets them, in his
estimation, above all the other virtues. He knows the good that results from them, and
feels that species of happiness with a more lively sympathy, than any other you could
represent to him; though perhaps he would not part with a shilling to make the fortune of
the industrious man, whom he praises so highly.]

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

But if, instead of this fancied monster, we suppose a MAN to form a judgement or
determination in the case, there is to him a plain foundation of preference, where
everything else is equal; and however cool his choice may be, if his heart be selfish, or if
the persons interested be remote from him; there must still be a choice or distinction
between what is useful, and what is pernicious. Now this distinction is the same in all its
parts, with the MORAL DISTINCTION, whose foundation has been so often, and so
much in vain, enquired after. The same endowments of the mind, in every circumstance,
are agreeable to the sentiment of morals and to that of humanity; the same temper is
susceptible of high degrees of the one sentiment and of the other; and the same alteration
in the objects, by their nearer approach or by connexions, enlivens the one and the other.
By all the rules of philosophy, therefore, we must conclude, that these sentiments are
originally the same; since, in each particular, even the most minute, they are governed by
the same laws, and are moved by the same objects.

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

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

The quality, the most necessary for the execution of any useful enterprise, is discretion;
by which we carry on a safe intercourse with others, give due attention to our own and to
their character, weigh each circumstance of the business which we undertake, and employ
the surest and safest means for the attainment of any end or purpose. To a Cromwell,
perhaps, or a De Retz, discretion may appear an alderman-like virtue, as Dr. Swift calls
it; and being incompatible with those vast designs, to which their courage and ambition
prompted them, it might really, in them, be a fault or imperfection. But in the conduct of
ordinary life, no virtue is more requisite, not only to obtain success, but to avoid the most
fatal miscarriages and disappointments. The greatest parts without it, as observed by an
elegant writer, may be fatal to their owner; as Polyphemus, deprived of his eye, was only
the more exposed, on account of his enormous strength and stature.

The best character, indeed, were it not rather too perfect for human nature, is that which
is not swayed by temper of any kind; but alternately employs enterprise and caution, as
each is useful to the particular purpose intended. Such is the excellence which St.
Evremond ascribes to Mareschal Turenne, who displayed every campaign, as he grew
older, more temerity in his military enterprises; and being now, from long experience,
perfectly acquainted with every incident in war, he advanced with greater firmness and
security, in a road so well known to him. Fabius, says Machiavel, was cautious; Scipio
enterprising: And both succeeded, because the situation of the Roman affairs, during the
command of each, was peculiarly adapted to his genius; but both would have failed, had
these situations been reversed. He is happy, whose circumstances suit his temper; but he
is more excellent, who can suit his temper to any circumstances.

What need is there to display the praises of industry, and to extol its advantages, in the
acquisition of power and riches, or in raising what we call a FORTUNE in the world?
The tortoise, according to the fable, by his perseverance, gained the race of the hare,
though possessed of much superior swiftness. A man's time, when well husbanded, is like
a cultivated field, of which a few acres produce more of what is useful to life, than
extensive provinces, even of the richest soil, when over-run with weeds and brambles.

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

The one extreme of frugality is avarice, which, as it both deprives a man of all use of his
riches, and checks hospitality and every social enjoyment, is justly censured on a double
account. PRODIGALITY, the other extreme, is commonly more hurtful to a man
himself; and each of these extremes is blamed above the other, according to the temper of
the person who censures, and according to his greater or less sensibility to pleasure, either
social or sensual.
Qualities often derive their merit from complicated sources. Honesty, fidelity, truth, are
praised for their immediate tendency to promote the interests of society; but after those
virtues are once established upon this foundation, they are also considered as
advantageous to the person himself, and as the source of that trust and confidence, which
can alone give a man any consideration in life. One becomes contemptible, no less than
odious, when he forgets the duty, which, in this particular, he owes to himself as well as
to society.

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

All men, it is allowed, are equally desirous of happiness; but few are successful in the
pursuit: One considerable cause is the want of strength of mind, which might enable them
to resist the temptation of present ease or pleasure, and carry them forward in the search
of more distant profit and enjoyment. Our affections, on a general prospect of their
objects, form certain rules of conduct, and certain measures of preference of one above
another: and these decisions, though really the result of our calm passions and
propensities, (for what else can pronounce any object eligible or the contrary?) are yet
said, by a natural abuse of terms, to be the determinations of pure REASON and
reflection. But when some of these objects approach nearer to us, or acquire the
advantages of favourable lights and positions, which catch the heart or imagination; our
general resolutions are frequently confounded, a small enjoyment preferred, and lasting
shame and sorrow entailed upon us. And however poets may employ their wit and
eloquence, in celebrating present pleasure, and rejecting all distant views to fame, health,
or fortune; it is obvious, that this practice is the source of all dissoluteness and disorder,
repentance and misery. A man of a strong and determined temper adheres tenaciously to
his general resolutions, and is neither seduced by the allurements of pleasure, nor terrified
by the menaces of pain; but keeps still in view those distant pursuits, by which he, at
once, ensures his happiness and his honour.

Self-satisfaction, at least in some degree, is an advantage, which equally attends the fool
and the wise man: But it is the only one; nor is there any other circumstance in the
conduct of life, where they are upon an equal footing. Business, books, conversation; for
all of these, a fool is totally incapacitated, and except condemned by his station to the
coarsest drudgery, remains a useless burthen upon the earth. Accordingly, it is found, that
men are extremely jealous of their character in this particular; and many instances are
seen of profligacy and treachery, the most avowed and unreserved; none of bearing
patiently the imputation of ignorance and stupidity. Dicaearchus, the Macedonian
general, who, as Polybius tells us [Footnote: Lib. xvi. Cap. 35.], openly erected one altar
to impiety, another to injustice, in order to bid defiance to mankind; even he, I am well
assured, would have started at the epithet of FOOL, and have meditated revenge for so
injurious an appellation. Except the affection of parents, the strongest and most
indissoluble bond in nature, no connexion has strength sufficient to support the disgust
arising from this character. Love itself, which can subsist under treachery, ingratitude,
malice, and infidelity, is immediately extinguished by it, when perceived and
acknowledged; nor are deformity and old age more fatal to the dominion of that passion.
So dreadful are the ideas of an utter incapacity for any purpose or undertaking, and of
continued error and misconduct in life!

When it is asked, whether a quick or a slow apprehension be most valuable? Whether

one, that, at first view, penetrates far into a subject, but can perform nothing upon study;
or a contrary character, which must work out everything by dint of application? Whether
a clear head or a copious invention? Whether a profound genius or a sure judgement? In
short, what character, or peculiar turn of understanding, is more excellent than another? It
is evident, that we can answer none of these questions, without considering which of
those qualities capacitates a man best for the world, and carries him farthest in any
undertaking.

If refined sense and exalted sense be not so USEFUL as common sense, their rarity, their
novelty, and the nobleness of their objects make some compensation, and render them the
admiration of mankind: As gold, though less serviceable than iron, acquires from its
scarcity a value which is much superior.

The defects of judgement can be supplied by no art or invention; but those of memory
frequently may, both in business and in study, by method and industry, and by diligence
in committing everything to writing; and we scarcely ever hear a short memory given as a
reason for a man's failure in any undertaking. But in ancient times, when no man could
make a figure without the talent of speaking, and when the audience were too delicate to
bear such crude, undigested harangues as our extemporary orators offer to public
assemblies; the faculty of memory was then of the utmost consequence, and was
accordingly much more valued than at present. Scarce any great genius is mentioned in
antiquity, who is not celebrated for this talent; and Cicero enumerates it among the other
sublime qualities of Caesar himself. [Footnote: Fruit in Illo Ingenium, ratio, memoria,
literae, cura, cogitatio, diligentia &c. Phillip. 2.].

Particular customs and manners alter the usefulness of qualities: they also alter their
merit. Particular situations and accidents have, in some degree, the same influence. He
will always be more esteemed, who possesses those talents and accomplishments, which
suit his station and profession, than he whom fortune has misplaced in the part which she
has assigned him. The private or selfish virtues are, in this respect, more arbitrary than
the public and social. In other respects they are, perhaps, less liable to doubt and
controversy.
In this kingdom, such continued ostentation, of late years, has prevailed among men in
ACTIVE life with regard to PUBLIC SPIRIT, and among those in SPECULATIVE with
regard to BENEVOLENCE; and so many false pretensions to each have been, no doubt,
detected, that men of the world are apt, without any bad intention, to discover a sullen
incredulity on the head of those moral endowments, and even sometimes absolutely to
deny their existence and reality. In like manner I find, that, of old, the perpetual cant of
the STOICS and CYNICS concerning VIRTUE, their magnificent professions and
slender performances, bred a disgust in mankind; and Lucian, who, though licentious
with regard to pleasure, is yet in other respects a very moral writer, cannot sometimes
talk of virtue, so much boasted without betraying symptoms of spleen and irony. But
surely this peevish delicacy, whence-ever it arises can never be carried so far as to make
us deny the existence of every species of merit, and all distinction of manners and
behaviour. Besides DISCRETION, CAUTION, ENTERPRISE, INDUSTRY,
ASSIDUITY, FRUGALITY, ECONOMY, GOOD-SENSE, PRUDENCE,
DISCERNMENT; besides these endowments, I say, whose very names force an avowal
of their merit, there are many others, to which the most determined scepticism cannot for
a moment refuse the tribute of praise and approbation. TEMPERANCE, SOBRIETY,
PATIENCE, CONSTANCY, PERSEVERANCE, FORETHOUGHT,
CONSIDERATENESS, SECRECY, ORDER, INSINUATION, ADDRESS, PRESENCE
OF MIND, QUICKNESS OF CONCEPTION, FACILITY OF EXPRESSION, these, and
a thousand more of the same kind, no man will ever deny to be excellencies and
perfections. As their merit consists in their tendency to serve the person, possessed of
them, without any magnificent claim to public and social desert, we are the less jealous of
their pretensions, and readily admit them into the catalogue of laudable qualities. We are
not sensible that, by this concession, we have paved the way for all the other moral
excellencies, and cannot consistently hesitate any longer, with regard to disinterested
benevolence, patriotism, and humanity.

It seems, indeed, certain, that first appearances are here, as usual, extremely deceitful,
and that it is more difficult, in a speculative way, to resolve into self-love the merit which
we ascribe to the selfish virtues above mentioned, than that even of the social virtues,
justice and beneficence. For this latter purpose, we need but say, that whatever conduct
promotes the good of the community is loved, praised, and esteemed by the community,
on account of that utility and interest, of which every one partakes; and though this
affection and regard be, in reality, gratitude, not self-love, yet a distinction, even of this
obvious nature, may not readily be made by superficial reasoners; and there is room, at
least, to support the cavil and dispute for a moment. But as qualities, which tend only to
the utility of their possessor, without any reference to us, or to the community, are yet
esteemed and valued; by what theory or system can we account for this sentiment from
self-love, or deduce it from that favourite origin? There seems here a necessity for
confessing that the happiness and misery of others are not spectacles entirely indifferent
to us; but that the view of the former, whether in its causes or effects, like sunshine or the
prospect of well-cultivated plains (to carry our pretensions no higher), communicates a
secret joy and satisfaction; the appearance of the latter, like a lowering cloud or barren
landscape, throws a melancholy damp over the imagination. And this concession being
once made, the difficulty is over; and a natural unforced interpretation of the phenomena
of human life will afterwards, we may hope, prevail among all speculative enquirers.

PART II.

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

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

Broad shoulders, a lank belly, firm joints, taper legs; all these are beautiful in our species,
because signs of force and vigour. Ideas of utility and its contrary, though they do not
entirely determine what is handsome or deformed, are evidently the source of a
considerable part of approbation or dislike.

In ancient times, bodily strength and dexterity, being of greater USE and importance in
war, was also much more esteemed and valued, than at present. Not to insist on Homer
and the poets, we may observe, that historians scruple not to mention FORCE OF BODY
among the other accomplishments even of Epaminondas, whom they acknowledge to be
the greatest hero, statesman, and general of all the Greeks. [Footnote: CUM
ALACRIBUS, SALTU; CUMM VELOCIBUS, CURSU; CUM VALIDIS RECTE
CERTABATA. Sallust apud Veget.] A like praise is given to Pompey, one of the greatest
of the Romans. [Footnote: Diodorus Siculus, lib. xv. It may be improper to give the
character of Epaminondas, as drawn by the historian, in order to show the idea of perfect
merit, which prevailed in those ages. In other illustrious men, say he, you will observe,
that each possessed some one shining quality, which was the foundation of his fame: In
Epaminondas all the VIRTUES are found united; force of body. eloquence of expression,
vigour of mind, contempt of riches, gentleness of disposition, and what is chiefly to be
regarded, courage and conduct of war.] This instance is similar to what we observed
above with regard to memory.

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

There is no rule in painting or statuary more indispensible than that of balancing the
figures, and placing them with the greatest exactness on their proper centre of gravity. A
figure, which is not justly balanced, is ugly; because it conveys the disagreeable ideas of
fall, harm, and pain.

[Footenote: All men are equally liable to pain and disease and sickness; and may again
recover health and ease. These circumstances, as they make no distinction between one
man and another, are no source of pride or humility, regard or contempt. But comparing
our own species to superior ones, it is a very mortifying consideration, that we should all
be so liable to diseases and infirmities; and divines accordingly employ this topic, in
order to depress self-conceit and vanity. They would have more success, if the common
bent of our thoughts were not perpetually turned to compare ourselves with others.

The infirmities of old age are mortifying; because a comparison with the young may take
place. The king's evil is industriously concealed, because it affects others, and is often
transmitted to posterity. The case is nearly the same with such diseases as convey any
nauseous or frightful images; the epilepsy, for instance, ulcers, sores, scabs, &c.]

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

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

We are affected with the same sentiments, when we lie so much out of the sphere of their
activity, that they cannot even be supposed to possess the power of serving us. A prisoner
of war, in all civilized nations, is treated with a regard suited to his condition; and riches,
it is evident, go far towards fixing the condition of any person. If birth and quality enter
for a share, this still affords us an argument to our present purpose. For what is it we call
a man of birth, but one who is descended from a long succession of rich and powerful
ancestors, and who acquires our esteem by his connexion with persons whom we esteem?
His ancestors, therefore, though dead, are respected, in some measure, on account of their
riches; and consequently, without any kind of expectation.
But not to go so far as prisoners of war or the dead, to find instances of this disinterested
regard for riches; we may only observe, with a little attention, those phenomena which
occur in common life and conversation. A man, who is himself, we shall suppose, of a
competent fortune, and of no profession, being introduced to a company of strangers,
naturally treats them with different degrees of respect, as he is informed of their different
fortunes and conditions; though it is impossible that he can so suddenly propose, and
perhaps he would not accept of, any pecuniary advantage from them. A traveller is
always admitted into company, and meets with civility, in proportion as his train and
equipage speak him a man of great or moderate fortune. In short, the different ranks of
men are, in a great measure, regulated by riches; and that with regard to superiors as well
as inferiors, strangers as well as acquaintance.

What remains, therefore, but to conclude, that, as riches are desired for ourselves only as
the means of gratifying our appetites, either at present or in some imaginary future
period, they beget esteem in others merely from their having that influence. This indeed
is their very nature or offence: they have a direct reference to the commodities,
conveniences, and pleasures of life. The bill of a banker, who is broke, or gold in a desert
island, would otherwise be full as valuable. When we approach a man who is, as we say,
at his ease, we are presented with the pleasing ideas of plenty, satisfaction, cleanliness,
warmth; a cheerful house, elegant furniture, ready service, and whatever is desirable in
meat, drink, or apparel. On the contrary, when a poor man appears, the disagreeable
images of want, penury, hard labour, dirty furniture, coarse or ragged clothes, nauseous
meat and distasteful liquor, immediately strike our fancy. What else do we mean by
saying that one is rich, the other poor? And as regard or contempt is the natural
consequence of those different situations in life, it is easily seen what additional light and
evidence this throws on our preceding theory, with regard to all moral distinctions.

[Footnote: There is something extraordinary, and seemingly unaccountable in the

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

A man who has cured himself of all ridiculous pre-possessions, and is fully, sincerely,
and steadily convinced, from experience as well as philosophy, that the difference of
fortune makes less difference in happiness than is vulgarly imagined; such a one does not
measure out degrees of esteem according to the rent- rolls of his acquaintance. He may,
indeed, externally pay a superior deference to the great lord above the vassal; because
riches are the most convenient, being the most fixed and determinate, source of
distinction. But his internal sentiments are more regulated by the personal characters of
men, than by the accidental and capricious favours of fortune.

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

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

From this influence of cheerfulness, both to communicate itself and to engage

approbation, we may perceive that there is another set of mental qualities, which, without
any utility or any tendency to farther good, either of the community or of the possessor,
diffuse a satisfaction on the beholders, and procure friendship and regard. Their
immediate sensation, to the person possessed of them, is agreeable. Others enter into the
same humour, and catch the sentiment, by a contagion or natural sympathy; and as we
cannot forbear loving whatever pleases, a kindly emotion arises towards the person who
communicates so much satisfaction. He is a more animating spectacle; his presence
diffuses over us more serene complacency and enjoyment; our imagination, entering into
his feelings and disposition, is affected in a more agreeable manner than if a melancholy,
dejected, sullen, anxious temper were presented to us. Hence the affection and probation
which attend the former: the aversion and disgust with which we regard the latter.

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

Few men would envy the character which Caesar gives of Cassius:

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

Not only such men, as Caesar adds, are commonly DANGEROUS, but also, having little
enjoyment within themselves, they can never become agreeable to others, or contribute to
social entertainment. In all polite nations and ages, a relish for pleasure, if accompanied
with temperance and decency, is esteemed a considerable merit, even in the greatest men;
and becomes still more requisite in those of inferior rank and character. It is an agreeable
representation, which a French writer gives of the situation of his own mind in this
particular, VIRTUE I LOVE, says he, WITHOUT AUSTERITY: PLEASURE
WITHOUT EFFEMINACY: AND LIFE, WITHOUT FEARING ITS END. [Footnote:
'J'aime la vertu, sans rudesse; J'aime le plaisir, sans molesse; J'aime la vie, et n'en crains
point la fin.'-ST. EVREMONT.]

Who is not struck with any signal instance of greatness of mind or dignity of character;
with elevation of sentiment, disdain of slavery, and with that noble pride and spirit, which
arises from conscious virtue? The sublime, says Longinus, is often nothing but the echo
or image of magnanimity; and where this quality appears in any one, even though a
syllable be not uttered, it excites our applause and admiration; as may be observed of the
famous silence of Ajax in the Odyssey, which expresses more noble disdain and resolute
indignation than any language can convey [Footnote: Cap. 9.].

WERE I Alexander, said Parmenio, I WOULD ACCEPT OF THESE OFFERS MADE

BY DARIUS. SO WOULD I TOO, replied Alexander, WERE I PARMENIO. This
saying is admirable, says Longinus, from a like principle. [Footnote: Idem.]

GO! cries the same hero to his soldiers, when they refused to follow him to the Indies,
GO TELL YOUR COUNTRYMEN, THAT YOU LEFT Alexander COMPLETING
THE CONQUESTOF THE WORLD. 'Alexander,' said the Prince of Conde, who always
admired this passage, 'abandoned by his soldiers, among barbarians, not yet fully
subdued, felt in himself such a dignity and right of empire, that he could not believe it
possible that any one would refuse to obey him. Whether in Europe or in Asia, among
Greeks or Persians, all was indifferent to him: wherever he found men, he fancied he
should find subjects.'

The confident of Medea in the tragedy recommends caution and submission; and
enumerating all the distresses of that unfortunate heroine, asks her, what she has to
support her against her numerous and implacable enemies. MYSELF, replies she;
MYSELF I SAY, AND IT IS ENOUGH. Boileau justly recommends this passage as an
instance of true sublime [Footnote: Reflexion 10 sur Longin.].

When Phocion, the modest, the gentle Phocion, was led to execution, he turned to one of
his fellow-sufferers, who was lamenting his own hard fate, IS IT NOT GLORY
ENOUGH FOR YOU, says he, THAT YOU DIE WITH PHOCION? [Footnote: Plutarch
in Phoc.]

Place in opposition the picture which Tacitus draws of Vitellius, fallen from empire,
prolonging his ignominy from a wretched love of life, delivered over to the merciless
rabble; tossed, buffeted, and kicked about; constrained, by their holding a poinard under
his chin, to raise his head, and expose himself to every contumely. What abject infamy!
What low humilation! Yet even here, says the historian, he discovered some symptoms of
a mind not wholly degenerate. To a tribune, who insulted him, he replied, I AM STILL
YOUR EMPEROR.

[Footnote: Tacit. hist. lib. iii. The author entering upon the narration, says, LANIATA
VESTE, FOEDUM SPECACULUM DUCEBATUR, MULTIS INCREPANTIBUS,
NULLO INLACRIMANTE: deformatitas exitus misericordiam abstulerat. To enter
thoroughly into this method of thinking, we must make allowance for the ancient
maxims, that no one ought to prolong his life after it became dishonourable; but, as he
had always a right to dispose of it, it then became a duty to part with it.]

We never excuse the absolute want of spirit and dignity of character, or a proper sense of
what is due to one's self, in society and the common intercourse of life. This vice
constitutes what we properly call MEANNESS; when a man can submit to the basest
slavery, in order to gain his ends; fawn upon those who abuse him; and degrade himself
by intimacies and familiarities with undeserving inferiors. A certain degree of generous
pride or self-value is so requisite, that the absence of it in the mind displeases, after the
same manner as the want of a nose, eye, or any of the most material feature of the face or
member of the body.

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

The utility of courage, both to the public and to the person possessed of it, is an obvious
foundation of merit. But to any one who duly considers of the matter, it will appear that
this quality has a peculiar lustre, which it derives wholly from itself, and from that noble
elevation inseparable from it. Its figure, drawn by painters and by poets, displays, in each
feature, a sublimity and daring confidence; which catches the eye, engages the affections,
and diffuses, by sympathy, a like sublimity of sentiment over every spectator.

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

The material temper of the Romans, inflamed by continual wars, had raised their esteem
of courage so high, that, in their language, it was called VIRTUE, by way of excellence
and of distinction from all other moral qualities. THE Suevi, in the opinion of Tacitus,
tus, [Footnote: De moribus Germ.] DRESSED THEIR HAIR WITH A LAUDIBLE
INTENT:intent: NOT FOR THE PURPOSE OF LOVING OR BEING LOVES; THEY
DORNED THEMSELVES ONLY FOR THEIR ENEMIES, AND IN ORDER TO
APPEAR MORE TERRIBLE. A sentiment of the historian, which would sound a little
oddly in other nations and other ages.

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

It is indeed observable, that, among all uncultivated nations, who have not as yet had full
experience of the advantages attending beneficence, justice, and the social virtues,
courage is the predominant excellence; what is most celebrated by poets, recommended
by parents and instructors, and admired by the public in general. The ethics of Homer are,
in this particular, very different from those of Fenelon, his elegant imitator; and such as
were well suited to an age, when one hero, as remarked by Thucydides [Lib.i.], could ask
another, without offence, whether he were a robber or not. Such also very lately was the
system of ethics which prevailed in many barbarous parts of Ireland; if we may credit
Spencer, in his judicious account of the state of that kingdom.

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

Of the same class of virtues with courage is that undisturbed philosophical tranquillity,
superior to pain, sorrow, anxiety, and each assault of adverse fortune. Conscious of his
own virtue, say the philosophers, the sage elevates himself above every accident of life;
and securely placed in the temple of wisdom, looks down on inferior mortals engaged in
pursuit of honours, riches, reputation, and every frivolous enjoyment. These pretentious,
no doubt, when stretched to the utmost, are by far too magnificent for human nature.
They carry, however, a grandeur with them, which seizes the spectator, and strikes him
with admiration. And the nearer we can approach in practice to this sublime tranquillity
and indifference (for we must distinguish it from a stupid insensibility), the more secure
enjoyment shall we attain within ourselves, and the more greatness of mind shall we
discover to the world. The philosophical tranquillity may, indeed, be considered only as a
branch of magnanimity.

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

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

The merit of benevolence, arising from its utility, and its tendency to promote the good of
mankind has been already explained, and is, no doubt, the source of a CONSIDERABLE
part of that esteem, which is so universally paid to it. But it will also be allowed, that the
very softness and tenderness of the sentiment, its engaging endearments, its fond
expressions, its delicate attentions, and all that flow of mutual confidence and regard,
which enters into a warm attachment of love and friendship: it will be allowed, I say, that
these feelings, being delightful in themselves, are necessarily communicated to the
spectators, and melt them into the same fondness and delicacy. The tear naturally starts in
our eye on the apprehension of a warm sentiment of this nature: our breast heaves, our
heart is agitated, and every humane tender principle of our frame is set in motion, and
gives us the purest and most satisfactory enjoyment.

When poets form descriptions of Elysian fields, where the blessed inhabitants stand in no
need of each other's assistance, they yet represent them as maintaining a constant
intercourse of love and friendship, and sooth our fancy with the pleasing image of these
soft and gentle passions. The idea of tender tranquillity in a pastoral Arcadia is agreeable
from a like principle, as has been observed above. [Footnote: Sect. v. Part 2.]

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

As a certain proof that the whole merit of benevolence is not derived from its usefulness,
we may observe, that in a kind way of blame, we say, a person is TOO GOOD; when he
exceeds his part in society, and carries his attention for others beyond the proper bounds.
In like manner, we say, a man is too HIGH- SPIRITED, TOO INTREPID, TOO
INDIFFERENT ABOUT FORTUNE: reproaches, which really, at bottom, imply more
esteem than many panegyrics. Being accustomed to rate the merit and demerit of
characters chiefly by their useful or pernicious tendencies, we cannot forbear applying
the epithet of blame, when we discover a sentiment, which rises to a degree, that is
hurtful; but it may happen, at the same time, that its noble elevation, or its engaging
tenderness so seizes the heart, as rather to increase our friendship and concern for the
person.

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

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

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

The Athenians pretended to the first invention of agriculture and of laws: and always
valued themselves extremely on the benefit thereby procured to the whole race of
mankind. They also boasted, and with reason, of their war like enterprises; particularly
against those innumerable fleets and armies of Persians, which invaded Greece during the
reigns of Darius and Xerxes. But though there be no comparison in point of utility,
between these peaceful and military honours; yet we find, that the orators, who have writ
such elaborate panegyrics on that famous city, have chiefly triumphed in displaying the
warlike achievements. Lysias, Thucydides, Plato, and Isocrates discover, all of them, the
same partiality; which, though condemned by calm reason and reflection, appears so
natural in the mind of man.

It is observable, that the great charm of poetry consists in lively pictures of the sublime
passions, magnanimity, courage, disdain of fortune; or those of the tender affections, love
and friendship; which warm the heart, and diffuse over it similar sentiments and
emotions. And though all kinds of passion, even the most disagreeable, such as grief and
anger, are observed, when excited by poetry, to convey a satisfaction, from a mechanism
of nature, not easy to be explained: Yet those more elevated or softer affections have a
peculiar influence, and please from more than one cause or principle. Not to mention that
they alone interest us in the fortune of the persons represented, or communicate any
esteem and affection for their character.
And can it possibly be doubted, that this talent itself of poets, to move the passions, this
pathetic and sublime of sentiment, is a very considerable merit; and being enhanced by its
extreme rarity, may exalt the person possessed of it, above every character of the age in
which he lives? The prudence, address, steadiness, and benign government of Augustus,
adorned with all the splendour of his noble birth and imperial crown, render him but an
unequal competitor for fame with Virgil, who lays nothing into the opposite scale but the
divine beauties of his poetical genius.

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

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

[Footnote: It is the nature and, indeed, the definition of virtue, that it is A QUALITY OF
THE MIND AGREEABLE TO OR APPROVED OF BY EVERY ONE WHO
CONSIDERS OR CONTEMPLATES IT. But some qualities produce pleasure, because
they are useful to society, or useful or agreeable to the person himself; others produce it
more immediately, which is the case with the class of virtues here considered.]

AS the mutual shocks, in SOCIETY, and the oppositions of interest and self-love have
constrained mankind to establish the laws of JUSTICE, in order to preserve the
advantages of mutual assistance and protection: in like manner, the eternal contrarieties,
in COMPANY, of men's pride and self-conceit, have introduced the rules of Good
Manners or Politeness, in order to facilitate the intercourse of minds, and an undisturbed
commerce and conversation. Among well-bred people, a mutual deference is affected;
contempt of others disguised; authority concealed; attention given to each in his turn; and
an easy stream of conversation maintained, without vehemence, without interruption,
without eagerness for victory, and without any airs of superiority. These attentions and
regards are immediately AGREEABLE to others, abstracted from any consideration of
utility or beneficial tendencies: they conciliate affection, promote esteem, and extremely
enhance the merit of the person who regulates his behaviour by them.

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

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

In countries where men pass most of their time in conversation, and visits, and
assemblies, these COMPANIONABLE qualities, so to speak, are of high estimation, and
form a chief part of personal merit. In countries where men live a more domestic life, and
either are employed in business, or amuse themselves in a narrower circle of
acquaintance, the more solid qualities are chiefly regarded. Thus, I have often observed,
that, among the French, the first questions with regard to a stranger are, IS HE POLITE?
HAS HE WIT? In our own country, the chief praise bestowed is always that of a GOOD-
NATURED, SENSIBLE FELLOW.
In conversation, the lively spirit of dialogue is AGREEABLE, even to those who desire
not to have any share in the discourse: hence the teller of long stories, or the pompous
declaimer, is very little approved of. But most men desire likewise their turn in the
conversation, and regard, with a very evil eye, that LOQUACITY which deprives them of
a right they are naturally so jealous of.

There is a sort of harmless LIARS, frequently to be met with in company, who deal much
in the marvellous. Their usual intention is to please and entertain; but as men are most
delighted with what they conceive to be truth, these people mistake extremely the means
of pleasing, and incur universal blame. Some indulgence, however, to lying or fiction is
given in HUMOROUS stories; because it is there really agreeable and entertaining, and
truth is not of any importance.

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

Modesty may be understood in different senses, even abstracted from chastity, which has
been already treated of. It sometimes means that tenderness and nicety of honour, that
apprehension of blame, that dread of intrusion or injury towards others, that Pudor, which
is the proper guardian of every kind of virtue, and a sure preservative against vice and
corruption. But its most usual meaning is when it is opposed to IMPUDENCE and
ARROGRANCE, and expresses a diffidence of our own judgement, and a due attention
and regard for others. In young men chiefly, this quality is a sure sign of good sense; and
is also the certain means of augmenting that endowment, by preserving their ears open to
instruction, and making them still grasp after new attainments. But it has a further charm
to every spectator; by flattering every man's vanity, and presenting the appearance of a
docile pupil, who receives, with proper attention and respect, every word they utter.

Men have, in general, a much greater propensity to overvalue than undervalue

themselves; notwithstanding the opinion of Aristotle [Footnote: Ethic. ad Nicomachum.].
This makes us more jealous of the excess on the former side, and causes us to regard,
with a peculiar indulgence, all tendency to modesty and self-diffidence; as esteeming the
danger less of falling into any vicious extreme of that nature. It is thus in countries where
men's bodies are apt to exceed in corpulency, personal beauty is placed in a much greater
degree of slenderness, than in countries where that is the most usual defect. Being so
often struck with instances of one species of deformity, men think they can never keep at
too great a distance from it, and wish always to have a leaning to the opposite side. In like
manner, were the door opened to self- praise, and were Montaigne's maxim observed,
that one should say as frankly, I HAVE SENSE, I HAVE LEARNING, I HAVE
COURAGE, BEAUTY, OR WIT, as it is sure we often think so; were this the case, I say,
every one is sensible that such a flood of impertinence would break in upon us, as would
render society wholly intolerable. For this reason custom has established it as a rule, in
common societies, that men should not indulge themselves in self-praise, or even speak
much of themselves; and it is only among intimate friends or people of very manly
behaviour, that one is allowed to do himself justice. Nobody finds fault with Maurice,
Prince of Orange, for his reply to one who asked him, whom he esteemed the first general
of the age, THE MARQUIS OF SPINOLA, said he, IS THE SECOND. Though it is
observable, that the self-praise implied is here better implied, than if it had been directly
expressed, without any cover or disguise.

He must be a very superficial thinker, who imagines that all instances of mutual
deference are to be understood in earnest, and that a man would be more esteemable for
being ignorant of his own merits and accomplishments. A small bias towards modesty,
even in the internal sentiment, is favourably regarded, especially in young people; and a
strong bias is required in the outward behaviour; but this excludes not a noble pride and
spirit, which may openly display itself in its full extent, when one lies under calumny or
oppression of any kind. The generous contumacy of Socrates, as Cicero calls it, has been
highly celebrated in all ages; and when joined to the usual modesty of his behaviour,
forms a shining character. Iphicrates, the Athenian, being accused of betraying the
interests of his country, asked his accuser, WOULD YOU, says he, HAVE, ON A LIKE
OCCASION, BEEN GUILTY OF THAT CRIME? BY NO MEANS, replied the other.
AND CAN YOU THEN IMAGINE, cried the hero, that Iphicrates WOULD BE
GUILTY? [Footnote: Quinctil. lib. v. cap. 12.]--In short, a generous spirit and self-value,
well founded, decently disguised, and courageously supported under distress and
calumny, is a great excellency, and seems to derive its merit from the noble elevation of
its sentiment, or its immediate agreeableness to its possessor. In ordinary characters, we
approve of a bias towards modesty, which is a quality immediately agreeable to others:
the vicious excess of the former virtue, namely, insolence or haughtiness, is immediately
disagreeable to others; the excess of the latter is so to the possessor. Thus are the
boundaries of these duties adjusted.

A desire of fame, reputation, or a character with others, is so far from being blameable,
that it seems inseparable from virtue, genius, capacity, and a generous or noble
disposition. An attention even to trivial matters, in order to please, is also expected and
demanded by society; and no one is surprised, if he find a man in company to observe a
greater elegance of dress and more pleasant flow of conversation, than when he passes
his time at home, and with his own family. Wherein, then, consists Vanity, which is so
justly regarded as a fault or imperfection. It seems to consist chiefly in such an
intemperate display of our advantages, honours, and accomplishments; in such an
importunate and open demand of praise and admiration, as is offensive to others, and
encroaches too far on their secret vanity and ambition. It is besides a sure symptom of the
want of true dignity and elevation of mind, which is so great an ornament in any
character. For why that impatient desire of applause; as if you were not justly entitled to
it, and might not reasonably expect that it would for ever at tend you? Why so anxious to
inform us of the great company which you have kept; the obliging things which were said
to you; the honours, the distinctions which you met with; as if these were not things of
course, and what we could readily, of ourselves, have imagined, without being told of
them?
Decency, or a proper regard to age, sex, character, and station in the world, may be
ranked among the qualities which are immediately agreeable to others, and which, by that
means, acquire praise and approbation. An effeminate behaviour in a man, a rough
manner in a woman; these are ugly because unsuitable to each character, and different
from the qualities which we expect in the sexes. It is as if a tragedy abounded in comic
beauties, or a comedy in tragic. The disproportions hurt the eye, and convey a
disagreeable sentiment to the spectators, the source of blame and disapprobation. This is
that INDECORUM, which is explained so much at large by Cicero in his Offices.

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

But besides all the AGREEABLE qualities, the origin of whose beauty we can, in some
degree, explain and account for, there still remains something mysterious and
inexplicable, which conveys an immediate satisfaction to the spectator, but how, or why,
or for what reason, he cannot pretend to determine. There is a manner, a grace, an ease, a
genteelness, an I-know-not-what, which some men possess above others, which is very
different from external beauty and comeliness, and which, however, catches our affection
almost as suddenly and powerfully. And though this MANNER be chiefly talked of in the
passion between the sexes, where the concealed magic is easily explained, yet surely
much of it prevails in all our estimation of characters, and forms no inconsiderable part of
personal merit. This class of accomplishments, therefore, must be trusted entirely to the
blind, but sure testimony of taste and sentiment; and must be considered as a part of
ethics, left by nature to baffle all the pride of philosophy, and make her sensible of her
narrow boundaries and slender acquisitions.

We approve of another, because of his wit, politeness, modesty, decency, or any

agreeable quality which he possesses; although he be not of our acquaintance, nor has
ever given us any entertainment, by means of these accomplishments. The idea, which we
form of their effect on his acquaintance, has an agreeable influence on our imagination,
and gives us the sentiment of approbation. This principle enters into all the judgements
which we form concerning manners and characters.
 IX. Conclusion

PART I.

IT may justly appear surprising that any man in so late an age, should find it requisite to
prove, by elaborate reasoning, that Personal Merit consists altogether in the possession of
mental qualities, USEFUL or AGREEABLE to the PERSON HIMSELF or to OTHERS.
It might be expected that this principle would have occurred even to the first rude,
unpractised enquirers concerning morals, and been received from its own evidence,
without any argument or disputation. Whatever is valuable in any kind, so naturally
classes itself under the division of USEFUL or AGREEABLE, the UTILE or the
DULCE, that it is not easy to imagine why we should ever seek further, or consider the
question as a matter of nice research or inquiry. And as every thing useful or agreeable
must possess these qualities with regard either to the PERSON HIMSELF or to
OTHERS, the complete delineation or description of merit seems to be performed as
naturally as a shadow is cast by the sun, or an image is reflected upon water. If the
ground, on which the shadow is cast, be not broken and uneven; nor the surface from
which the image is reflected, disturbed and confused; a just figure is immediately
presented, without any art or attention. And it seems a reasonable presumption, that
systems and hypotheses have perverted our natural understanding, when a theory, so
simple and obvious, could so long have escaped the most elaborate examination.

But however the case may have fared with philosophy, in common life these principles
are still implicitly maintained; nor is any other topic of praise or blame ever recurred to,
when we employ any panegyric or satire, any applause or censure of human action and
behaviour. If we observe men, in every intercourse of business or pleasure, in every
discourse and conversation, we shall find them nowhere, except the schools, at any loss
upon this subject. What so natural, for instance, as the following dialogue? You are very
happy, we shall suppose one to say, addressing himself to another, that you have given
your daughter to Cleanthes. He is a man of honour and humanity. Every one, who has
any intercourse with him, is sure of FAIR and KIND treatment. [Footnote: Qualities
useful to others.] I congratulate you too, says another, on the promising expectations of
this son-in-law; whose assiduous application to the study of the laws, whose quick
penetration and early knowledge both of men and business, prognosticate the greatest
honours and advancement. [Footnote: Qualities useful to the person himself.] You
surprise me, replies a third, when you talk of Cleanthes as a man of business and
application. I met him lately in a circle of the gayest company, and he was the very life
and soul of our conversation: so much wit with good manners; so much gallantry without
affectation; so much ingenious knowledge so genteelly delivered, I have never before
observed in any one. [Footnote: Qualities immediately agreeable to others,] You would
admire him still more, says a fourth, if you knew him more familiarly. That cheerfulness,
which you might remark in him, is not a sudden flash struck out by company: it runs
through the whole tenor of his life, and preserves a perpetual serenity on his countenance,
and tranquillity in his soul. He has met with severe trials, misfortunes as well as dangers;
and by his greatness of mind, was still superior to all of them [Footnote: Qualities
immediately agreeable to the person himself]. The image, gentlemen, which you have
here delineated of Cleanthes, cried I, is that of accomplished merit. Each of you has given
a stroke of the pencil to his figure; and you have unawares exceeded all the pictures
drawn by Gratian or Castiglione. A philosopher might select this character as a model of
perfect virtue.

And as every quality which is useful or agreeable to ourselves or others is, in common
life, allowed to be a part of personal merit; so no other will ever be received, where men
judge of things by their natural, unprejudiced reason, without the delusive glosses of
superstition and false religion. Celibacy, fasting, penance, mortification, self-denial,
humility, silence, solitude, and the whole train of monkish virtues; for what reason are
they everywhere rejected by men of sense, but because they serve to no manner of
purpose; neither advance a man's fortune in the world, nor render him a more valuable
member of society; neither qualify him for the entertainment of company, nor increase
his power of self-enjoyment? We observe, on the contrary, that they cross all these
desirable ends; stupify the understanding and harden the heart, obscure the fancy and sour
the temper. We justly, therefore, transfer them to the opposite column, and place them in
the catalogue of vices; nor has any superstition force sufficient among men of the world,
to pervert entirely these natural sentiments. A gloomy, hair-brained enthusiast, after his
death, may have a place in the calendar; but will scarcely ever be admitted, when alive,
into intimacy and society, except by those who are as delirious and dismal as himself.

It seems a happiness in the present theory, that it enters not into that vulgar dispute
concerning the DEGREES of benevolence or self-love, which prevail in human nature; a
dispute which is never likely to have any issue, both because men, who have taken part,
are not easily convinced, and because the phenomena, which can be produced on either
side, are so dispersed, so uncertain, and subject to so many interpretations, that it is
scarcely possible accurately to compare them, or draw from them any determinate
inference or conclusion. It is sufficient for our present purpose, if it be allowed, what
surely, without the greatest absurdity cannot be disputed, that there is some benevolence,
however small, infused into our bosom; some spark of friendship for human kind; some
particle of the dove kneaded into our frame, along with the elements of the wolf and
serpent. Let these generous sentiments be supposed ever so weak; let them be insufficient
to move even a hand or finger of our body, they must still direct the determinations of our
mind, and where everything else is equal, produce a cool preference of what is useful and
serviceable to mankind, above what is pernicious and dangerous. A MORAL
DISTINCTION, therefore, immediately arises; a general sentiment of blame and
approbation; a tendency, however faint, to the objects of the one, and a proportionable
aversion to those of the other. Nor will those reasoners, who so earnestly maintain the
predominant selfishness of human kind, be any wise scandalized at hearing of the weak
sentiments of virtue implanted in our nature. On the contrary, they are found as ready to
maintain the one tenet as the other; and their spirit of satire (for such it appears, rather
than of corruption) naturally gives rise to both opinions; which have, indeed, a great and
almost an indissoluble connexion together.
Avarice, ambition, vanity, and all passions vulgarly, though improperly, comprised under
the denomination of SELF-LOVE, are here excluded from our theory concerning the
origin of morals, not because they are too weak, but because they have not a proper
direction for that purpose. The notion of morals implies some sentiment common to all
mankind, which recommends the same object to general approbation, and makes every
man, or most men, agree in the same opinion or decision concerning it. It also implies
some sentiment, so universal and comprehensive as to extend to all mankind, and render
the actions and conduct, even of the persons the most remote, an object of applause or
censure, according as they agree or disagree with that rule of right which is established.
These two requisite circumstances belong alone to the sentiment of humanity here
insisted on. The other passions produce in every breast, many strong sentiments of desire
and aversion, affection and hatred; but these neither are felt so much in common, nor are
so comprehensive, as to be the foundation of any general system and established theory
of blame or approbation.

When a man denominates another his ENEMY, his RIVAL, his ANTAGONIST, his
ADVERSARY, he is understood to speak the language of self-love, and to express
sentiments, peculiar to himself, and arising from his particular circumstances and
situation. But when he bestows on any man the epithets of VICIOUS or ODIOUS or
DEPRAVED, he then speaks another language, and expresses sentiments, in which he
expects all his audience are to concur with him. He must here, therefore, depart from his
private and particular situation, and must choose a point of view, common to him with
others; he must move some universal principle of the human frame, and touch a string to
which all mankind have an accord and symphony. If he mean, therefore, to express that
this man possesses qualities, whose tendency is pernicious to society, he has chosen this
common point of view, and has touched the principle of humanity, in which every man,
in some degree, concurs. While the human heart is compounded of the same elements as
at present, it will never be wholly indifferent to public good, nor entirely unaffected with
the tendency of characters and manners. And though this affection of humanity may not
generally be esteemed so strong as vanity or ambition, yet, being common to all men, it
can alone be the foundation of morals, or of any- general system of blame or praise. One
man's ambition is not another's ambition, nor will the same event or object satisfy both;
but the humanity of one man is the humanity of every one, and the same object touches
this passion in all human creatures.

But the sentiments, which arise from humanity, are not only the same in all human
creatures, and produce the same approbation or censure; but they also comprehend all
human creatures; nor is there any one whose conduct or character is not, by their means,
an object to every one of censure or approbation. On the contrary, those other passions,
commonly denominated selfish, both produce different sentiments in each individual,
according to his particular situation; and also contemplate the greater part of mankind
with the utmost indifference and unconcern. Whoever has a high regard and esteem for
me flatters my vanity; whoever expresses contempt mortifies and displeases me; but as
my name is known but to a small part of mankind, there are few who come within the
sphere of this passion, or excite, on its account, either my affection or disgust. But if you
represent a tyrannical, insolent, or barbarous behaviour, in any country or in any age of
the world, I soon carry my eye to the pernicious tendency of such a conduct, and feel the
sentiment of repugnance and displeasure towards it. No character can be so remote as to
be, in this light, wholly indifferent to me. What is beneficial to society or to the person
himself must still be preferred. And every quality or action, of every human being, must,
by this means, be ranked under some class or denomination, expressive of general
censure or applause.

What more, therefore, can we ask to distinguish the sentiments, dependent on humanity,
from those connected with any other passion, or to satisfy us, why the former are the
origin of morals, not the latter? Whatever conduct gains my approbation, by touching my
humanity, procures also the applause of all mankind, by affecting the same principle in
them; but what serves my avarice or ambition pleases these passions in me alone, and
affects not the avarice and ambition of the rest of mankind. There is no circumstance of
conduct in any man, provided it have a beneficial tendency, that is not agreeable to my
humanity, however remote the person; but every man, so far removed as neither to cross
nor serve my avarice and ambition, is regarded as wholly indifferent by those passions.
The distinction, therefore, between these species of sentiment being so great and evident,
language must soon be moulded upon it, and must invent a peculiar set of terms, in order
to express those universal sentiments of censure or approbation, which arise from
humanity, or from views of general usefulness and its contrary. Virtue and Vice become
then known; morals are recognized; certain general ideas are framed of human conduct
and behaviour; such measures are expected from men in such situations. This action is
determined to be conformable to our abstract rule; that other, contrary. And by such
universal principles are the particular sentiments of self-love frequently controlled and
limited.

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

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

Another spring of our constitution, that brings a great addition of force to moral
sentiments, is the love of fame; which rules, with such uncontrolled authority, in all
generous minds, and is often the grand object of all their designs and undertakings. By
our continual and earnest pursuit of a character, a name, a reputation in the world, we
bring our own deportment and conduct frequently in review, and consider how they
appear in the eyes of those who approach and regard us. This constant habit of surveying
ourselves, as it were, in reflection, keeps alive all the sentiments of right and wrong, and
begets, in noble natures, a certain reverence for themselves as well as others, which is the
surest guardian of every virtue. The animal conveniencies and pleasures sink gradually in
their value; while every inward beauty and moral grace is studiously acquired, and the
mind is accomplished in every perfection, which can adorn or embellish a rational
creature.

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

But, that we may accommodate matters, and remove if possible every difficulty, let us
allow all these reasonings to be false. Let us allow that, when we resolve the pleasure,
which arises from views of utility, into the sentiments of humanity and sympathy, we
have embraced a wrong hypothesis. Let us confess it necessary to find some other
explication of that applause, which is paid to objects, whether inanimate, animate, or
rational, if they have a tendency to promote the welfare and advantage of mankind.
However difficult it be to conceive that an object is approved of on account of its
tendency to a certain end, while the end itself is totally indifferent: let us swallow this
absurdity, and consider what are the consequences. The preceding delineation or
definition of Personal Merit must still retain its evidence and authority: it must still be
allowed that every quality of the mind, which is USEFUL or AGREEABLE to the
PERSON HIMSELF or to OTHERS, communicates a pleasure to the spectator, engages
his esteem, and is admitted under the honourable denomination of virtue or merit. Are not
justice, fidelity, honour, veracity, allegiance, chastity, esteemed solely on account of their
tendency to promote the good of society? Is not that tendency inseparable from humanity,
benevolence, lenity, generosity, gratitude, moderation, tenderness, friendship, and all the
other social virtues? Can it possibly be doubted that industry, discretion, frugality,
secrecy, order, perseverance, forethought, judgement, and this whole class of virtues and
accomplishments, of which many pages would not contain the catalogue; can it be
doubted, I say, that the tendency of these qualities to promote the interest and happiness
of their possessor, is the sole foundation of their merit? Who can dispute that a mind,
which supports a perpetual serenity and cheerfulness, a noble dignity and undaunted
spirit, a tender affection and good-will to all around; as it has more enjoyment within
itself, is also a more animating and rejoicing spectacle, than if dejected with melancholy,
tormented with anxiety, irritated with rage, or sunk into the most abject baseness and
degeneracy? And as to the qualities, immediately AGREEABLE to OTHERS, they speak
sufficiently for themselves; and he must be unhappy, indeed, either in his own temper, or
in his situation and company, who has never perceived the charms of a facetious wit or
flowing affability, of a delicate modesty or decent genteelness of address and manner.

I am sensible, that nothing can be more unphilosophical than to be positive or dogmatical

on any subject; and that, even if excessive scepticism could be maintained, it would not
be more destructive to all just reasoning and inquiry. I am convinced that, where men are
the most sure and arrogant, they are commonly the most mistaken, and have there given
reins to passion, without that proper deliberation and suspense, which can alone secure
them from the grossest absurdities. Yet, I must confess, that this enumeration puts the
matter in so strong a light, that I cannot, at PRESENT, be more assured of any truth,
which I learn from reasoning and argument, than that personal merit consists entirely in
the usefulness or agreeableness of qualities to the person himself possessed of them, or to
others, who have any intercourse with him. But when I reflect that, though the bulk and
figure of the earth have been measured and delineated, though the motions of the tides
have been accounted for, the order and economy of the heavenly bodies subjected to their
proper laws, and Infinite itself reduced to calculation; yet men still dispute concerning the
foundation of their moral duties. When I reflect on this, I say, I fall back into diffidence
and scepticism, and suspect that an hypothesis, so obvious, had it been a true one, would,
long ere now, have been received by the unanimous suffrage and consent of mankind.

PART II.

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

But what philosophical truths can be more advantageous to society, than those here
delivered, which represent virtue in all her genuine and most engaging charms, and
makes us approach her with ease, familiarity, and affection? The dismal dress falls off,
with which many divines, and some philosophers, have covered her; and nothing appears
but gentleness, humanity, beneficence, affability; nay, even at proper intervals, play,
frolic, and gaiety. She talks not of useless austerities and rigours, suffering and self-
denial. She declares that her sole purpose is to make her votaries and all mankind, during
every instant of their existence, if possible, cheerful and happy; nor does she ever
willingly part with any pleasure but in hopes of ample compensation in some other period
of their lives. The sole trouble which she demands, is that of just calculation, and a steady
preference of the greater happiness. And if any austere pretenders approach her, enemies
to joy and pleasure, she either rejects them as hypocrites and deceivers; or, if she admit
them in her train, they are ranked, however, among the least favoured of her votaries.

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

That the virtues which are immediately USEFUL or AGREEABLE to the person
possessed of them, are desirable in a view to self-interest, it would surely be superfluous
to prove. Moralists, indeed, may spare themselves all the pains which they often take in
recommending these duties. To what purpose collect arguments to evince that temperance
is advantageous, and the excesses of pleasure hurtful, when it appears that these excesses
are only denominated such, because they are hurtful; and that, if the unlimited use of
strong liquors, for instance, no more impaired health or the faculties of mind and body
than the use of air or water, it would not be a whit more vicious or blameable?

It seems equally superfluous to prove, that the COMPANIONABLE virtues of good

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

But why, in the greater society or confederacy of mankind, should not the case be the
same as in particular clubs and companies? Why is it more doubtful, that the enlarged
virtues of humanity, generosity, beneficence, are desirable with a view of happiness and
self-interest, than the limited endowments of ingenuity and politeness? Are we
apprehensive lest those social affections interfere, in a greater and more immediate
degree than any other pursuits, with private utility, and cannot be gratified, without some
important sacrifice of honour and advantage? If so, we are but ill-instructed in the nature
of the human passions, and are more influenced by verbal distinctions than by real
differences.

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

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

retain the agreeable reflection of having done our part towards mankind and society. And
though all men show a jealousy of our success in the pursuits of avarice and ambition; yet
are we almost sure of their good-will and good wishes, so long as we persevere in the
paths of virtue, and employ ourselves in the execution of generous plans and purposes.
What other passion is there where we shall find so many advantages united; an agreeable
sentiment, a pleasing consciousness, a good reputation? But of these truths, we may
observe, men are, of themselves, pretty much convinced; nor are they deficient in their
duty to society, because they would not wish to be generous, friendly, and humane; but
because they do not feel themselves such.
Treating vice with the greatest candour, and making it all possible concessions, we must
acknowledge that there is not, in any instance, the smallest pretext for giving it the
preference above virtue, with a view of self-interest; except, perhaps, in the case of
justice, where a man, taking things in a certain light, may often seem to be a loser by his
integrity. And though it is allowed that, without a regard to property, no society could
subsist; yet according to the imperfect way in which human affairs are conducted, a
sensible knave, in particular incidents, may think that an act of iniquity or infidelity will
make a considerable addition to his fortune, without causing any considerable breach in
the social union and confederacy. That HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY, may be a
good general rule, but is liable to many exceptions; and he, it may perhaps be thought,
conducts himself with most wisdom, who observes the general rule, and takes advantage
of all the exceptions. I must confess that, if a man think that this reasoning much requires
an answer, it would be a little difficult to find any which will to him appear satisfactory
and convincing. If his heart rebel not against such pernicious maxims, if he feel no
reluctance to the thoughts of villainy or baseness, he has indeed lost a considerable
motive to virtue; and we may expect that this practice will be answerable to his
speculation. But in all ingenuous natures, the antipathy to treachery and roguery is too
strong to be counter-balanced by any views of profit or pecuniary advantage. Inward
peace of mind, consciousness of integrity, a satisfactory review of our own conduct; these
are circumstances, very requisite to happiness, and will be cherished and cultivated by
every honest man, who feels the importance of them.

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

But were they ever so secret and successful, the honest man, if he has any tincture of
philosophy, or even common observation and reflection, will discover that they
themselves are, in the end, the greatest dupes, and have sacrificed the invaluable
enjoyment of a character, with themselves at least, for the acquisition of worthless toys
and gewgaws. How little is requisite to supply the necessities of nature? And in a view to
pleasure, what comparison between the unbought satisfaction of conversation, society,
study, even health and the common beauties of nature, but above all the peaceful
reflection on one's own conduct; what comparison, I say, between these and the feverish,
empty amusements of luxury and expense? These natural pleasures, indeed, are really
without price; both because they are below all price in their attainment, and above it in
their enjoyment.
 Appendix I. Concerning Moral Sentiment

IF the foregoing hypothesis be received, it will now be easy for us to determine the
question first started, [FOOTNOTE: Sect. 1.] concerning the general principles of morals;
and though we postponed the decision of that question, lest it should then involve us in
intricate speculations, which are unfit for moral discourses, we may resume it at present,
and examine how far either REASON or SENTIMENT enters into all decisions of praise
or censure.

One principal foundation of moral praise being supposed to lie in the usefulness of any
quality or action, it is evident that REASON must enter for a considerable share in all
decisions of this kind; since nothing but that faculty can instruct us in the tendency of
qualities and actions, and point out their beneficial consequences to society and to their
possessor. In many cases this is an affair liable to great controversy: doubts may arise;
opposite interests may occur; and a preference must be given to one side, from very nice
views, and a small overbalance of utility. This is particularly remarkable in questions
with regard to justice; as is, indeed, natural to suppose, from that species of utility which
attends this virtue [Footnote: See App. II.]. Were every single instance of justice, like that
of benevolence, useful to society; this would be a more simple state of the case, and
seldom liable to great controversy. But as single instances of justice are often pernicious
in their first and immediate tendency, and as the advantage to society results only from
the observance of the general rule, and from the concurrence and combination of several
persons in the same equitable conduct; the case here becomes more intricate and
involved. The various circumstances of society; the various consequences of any practice;
the various interests which may be proposed; these, on many occasions, are doubtful, and
subject to great discussion and inquiry. The object of municipal laws is to fix all the
questions with regard to justice: the debates of civilians; the reflections of politicians; the
precedents of history and public records, are all directed to the same purpose. And a very
accurate REASON or JUDGEMENT is often requisite, to give the true determination,
amidst such intricate doubts arising from obscure or opposite utilities.

But though reason, when fully assisted and improved, be sufficient to instruct us in the
pernicious or useful tendency of qualities and actions; it is not alone sufficient to produce
any moral blame or approbation. Utility is only a tendency to a certain end; and were the
end totally indifferent to us, we should feel the same indifference towards the means. It is
requisite a SENTIMENT should here display itself, in order to give a preference to the
useful above the pernicious tendencies. This SENTIMENT can be no other than a feeling
for the happiness of mankind, and a resentment of their misery; since these are the
different ends which virtue and vice have a tendency to promote. Here therefore
REASON instructs us in the several tendencies of actions, and HUMANITY makes a
distinction in favour of those which are useful and beneficial.

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

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

Reason judges either of MATTER OF FACT or of RELATIONS. Enquire then, first,

where is that matter of fact which we here call crime; point it out; determine the time of
its existence; describe its essence or nature; explain the sense or faculty to which it
discovers itself. It resides in the mind of the person who is ungrateful. He must, therefore,
feel it, and be conscious of it. But nothing is there, except the passion of ill-will or
absolute indifference. You cannot say that these, of themselves, always, and in all
circumstances, are crimes. No, they are only crimes when directed towards persons who
have before expressed and displayed good-will towards us. Consequently, we may infer,
that the crime of ingratitude is not any particular individual FACT; but arises from a
complication of circumstances, which, being presented to the spectator, excites the
SENTIMENT of blame, by the particular structure and fabric of his mind.

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

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

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

All this is metaphysics, you cry. That is enough; there needs nothing more to give a
strong presumption of falsehood. Yes, reply I, here are metaphysics surely; but they are
all on your side, who advance an abstruse hypothesis, which can never be made
intelligible, nor quadrate with any particular instance or illustration. The hypothesis
which we embrace is plain. It maintains that morality is determined by sentiment. It
defines virtue to be WHATEVER MENTAL ACTION OR QUALITY GIVES TO A
SPECTATOR THE PLEASING SENTIMENT OF APPROBATION; and vice the
contrary. We then proceed to examine a plain matter of fact, to wit, what actions have
this influence. We consider all the circumstances in which these actions agree, and thence
endeavour to extract some general observations with regard to these sentiments. If you
call this metaphysics, and find anything abstruse here, you need only conclude that your
turn of mind is not suited to the moral sciences.

II. When a man, at any time, deliberates concerning his own conduct (as, whether he had
better, in a particular emergence, assist a brother or a benefactor), he must consider these
separate relations, with all the circumstances and situations of the persons, in order to
determine the superior duty and obligation; and in order to determine the proportion of
lines in any triangle, it is necessary to examine the nature of that figure, and the relation
which its several parts bear to each other. But notwithstanding this appearing similarity in
the two cases, there is, at bottom, an extreme difference between them. A speculative
reasoner concerning triangles or circles considers the several known and given relations
of the parts of these figures; and thence infers some unknown relation, which is
dependent on the former. But in moral deliberations we must be acquainted beforehand
with all the objects, and all their relations to each other; and from a comparison of the
whole, fix our choice or approbation. No new fact to be ascertained; no new relation to be
discovered. All the circumstances of the case are supposed to be laid before us, ere we
can fix any sentence of blame or approbation. If any material circumstance be yet
unknown or doubtful, we must first employ our inquiry or intellectual faculties to assure
us of it; and must suspend for a time all moral decision or sentiment. While we are
ignorant whether a man were aggressor or not, how can we determine whether the person
who killed him be criminal or innocent? But after every circumstance, every relation is
known, the understanding has no further room to operate, nor any object on which it
could employ itself. The approbation or blame which then ensues, cannot be the work of
the judgement, but of the heart; and is not a speculative proposition or affirmation, but an
active feeling or sentiment. In the disquisitions of the understanding, from known
circumstances and relations, we infer some new and unknown. In moral decisions, all the
circumstances and relations must be previously known; and the mind, from the
contemplation of the whole, feels some new impression of affection or disgust, esteem or
contempt, approbation or blame.

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

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

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

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

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

Again; attend to Cicero, while he paints the crimes of a Verres or a Catiline. You must
acknowledge that the moral turpitude results, in the same manner, from the contemplation
of the whole, when presented to a being whose organs have such a particular structure
and formation. The orator may paint rage, insolence, barbarity on the one side; meekness,
suffering, sorrow, innocence on the other. But if you feel no indignation or compassion
arise in you from this complication of circumstances, you would in vain ask him, in what
consists the crime or villainy, which he so vehemently exclaims against? At what time, or
on what subject it first began to exist? And what has a few months afterwards become of
it, when every disposition and thought of all the actors is totally altered or annihilated?
No satisfactory answer can be given to any of these questions, upon the abstract
hypothesis of morals; and we must at last acknowledge, that the crime or immorality is no
particular fact or relation, which can be the object of the understanding, but arises entirely
from the sentiment of disapprobation, which, by the structure of human nature, we
unavoidably feel on the apprehension of barbarity or treachery.

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

V. It appears evident that--the ultimate ends of human actions can never, in any case, be
accounted for by reason, but recommend themselves entirely to the sentiments and
affections of mankind, without any dependance on the intellectual faculties. Ask a man
WHY HE USES EXERCISE; he will answer, BECAUSE HE DESIRES TO KEEP HIS
HEALTH. If you then enquire, WHY HE DESIRES HEALTH, he will readily reply,
BECAUSE SICKNESS IS PAINFUL. If you push your enquiries farther, and desire a
reason WHY HE HATES PAIN, it is impossible he can ever give any. This is an ultimate
end, and is never referred to any other object.

Perhaps to your second question, WHY HE DESIRES HEALTH, he may also reply, that
IT IS NECESSARY FOR THE EXERCISE OF HIS CALLING. If you ask, WHY HE IS
ANXIOUS ON THAT HEAD, he will answer, BECAUSE HE DESIRES TO GET
MONEY. If you demand WHY? IT IS THE INSTRUMENT OF PLEASURE, says he.
And beyond this it is an absurdity to ask for a reason. It is impossible there can be a
progress

IN INFINITUM; and that one thing can always be a reason why another is desired.
Something must be desirable on its own account, and because of its immediate accord or
agreement with human sentiment and affection.
Now as virtue is an end, and is desirable on its own account, without fee and reward,
merely for the immediate satisfaction which it conveys; it is requisite that there should be
some sentiment which it touches, some internal taste or feeling, or whatever you may
please to call it, which distinguishes moral good and evil, and which embraces the one
and rejects the other.

Thus the distinct boundaries and offices of REASON and of TASTE are easily
ascertained. The former conveys the knowledge of truth and falsehood: the latter gives
the sentiment of beauty and deformity, vice and virtue. The one discovers objects as they
really stand in nature, without addition and diminution: the other has a productive faculty,
and gilding or staining all natural objects with the colours, borrowed from internal
sentiment, raises in a manner a new creation. Reason being cool and disengaged, is no
motive to action, and directs only the impulse received from appetite or inclination, by
showing us the means of attaining happiness or avoiding misery: Taste, as it gives
pleasure or pain, and thereby constitutes happiness or misery, becomes a motive to
action, and is the first spring or impulse to desire and volition. From circumstances and
relations, known or supposed, the former leads us to the discovery of the concealed and
unknown: after all circumstances and relations are laid before us, the latter makes us feel
from the whole a new sentiment of blame or approbation. The standard of the one, being
founded on the nature of things, is eternal and inflexible, even by the will of the Supreme
Being: the standard of the other arising from the eternal frame and constitution of
animals, is ultimately derived from that Supreme Will, which bestowed on each being its
peculiar nature, and arranged the several classes and orders of existence.
 Appendix II. Of Self-Love

THERE is a principle, supposed to prevail among many, which is utterly incompatible

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

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

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

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

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

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

The most obvious objection to the selfish hypothesis is, that, as it is contrary to common
feeling and our most unprejudiced notions, there is required the highest stretch of
philosophy to establish so extraordinary a paradox. To the most careless observer there
appear to be such dispositions as benevolence and generosity; such affections as love,
friendship, compassion, gratitude. These sentiments have their causes, effects, objects,
and operations, marked by common language and observation, and plainly distinguished
from those of the selfish passions. And as this is the obvious appearance of things, it must
be admitted, till some hypothesis be discovered, which by penetrating deeper into human
nature, may prove the former affections to be nothing but modifications of the latter. All
attempts of this kind have hitherto proved fruitless, and seem to have proceeded entirely
from that love of SIMPLICITY which has been the source of much false reasoning in
philosophy. I shall not here enter into any detail on the present subject. Many able
philosophers have shown the insufficiency of these systems. And I shall take for granted
what, I believe, the smallest reflection will make evident to every impartial enquirer.

But the nature of the subject furnishes the strongest presumption, that no better system
will ever, for the future, be invented, in order to account for the origin of the benevolent
from the selfish affections, and reduce all the various emotions of the human mind to a
perfect simplicity. The case is not the same in this species of philosophy as in physics.
Many an hypothesis in nature, contrary to first appearances, has been found, on more
accurate scrutiny, solid and satisfactory. Instances of this kind are so frequent that a
judicious, as well as witty philosopher, [Footnote: Mons. Fontenelle.] has ventured to
affirm, if there be more than one way in which any phenomenon may be produced, that
there is general presumption for its arising from the causes which are the least obvious
and familiar. But the presumption always lies on the other side, in all enquiries
concerning the origin of our passions, and of the internal operations of the human mind.
The simplest and most obvious cause which can there be assigned for any phenomenon,
is probably the true one. When a philosopher, in the explication of his system, is obliged
to have recourse to some very intricate and refined reflections, and to suppose them
essential to the production of any passion or emotion, we have reason to be extremely on
our guard against so fallacious an hypothesis. The affections are not susceptible of any
impression from the refinements of reason or imagination; and it is always found that a
vigorous exertion of the latter faculties, necessarily, from the narrow capacity of the
human mind, destroys all activity in the former. Our predominant motive or intention is,
indeed, frequently concealed from ourselves when it is mingled and confounded with
other motives which the mind, from vanity or self-conceit, is desirous of supposing more
prevalent: but there is no instance that a concealment of this nature has ever arisen from
the abstruseness and intricacy of the motive. A man that has lost a friend and patron may
flatter himself that all his grief arises from generous sentiments, without any mixture of
narrow or interested considerations: but a man that grieves for a valuable friend, who
needed his patronage and protection; how can we suppose, that his passionate tenderness
arises from some metaphysical regards to a self-interest, which has no foundation or
reality? We may as well imagine that minute wheels and springs, like those of a watch,
give motion to a loaded waggon, as account for the origin of passion from such abstruse
reflections.

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

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

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

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

But farther, if we consider rightly of the matter, we shall find that the hypothesis which
allows of a disinterested benevolence, distinct from self-love, has really more
SIMPLICITY in it, and is more conformable to the analogy of nature than that which
pretends to resolve all friendship and humanity into this latter principle. There are bodily
wants or appetites acknowledged by every one, which necessarily precede all sensual
enjoyment, and carry us directly to seek possession of the object. Thus, hunger and thirst
have eating and drinking for their end; and from the gratification of these primary
appetites arises a pleasure, which may become the object of another species of desire or
inclination that is secondary and interested. In the same manner there are mental passions
by which we are impelled immediately to seek particular objects, such as fame or power,
or vengeance without any regard to interest; and when these objects are attained a
pleasing enjoyment ensues, as the consequence of our indulged affections. Nature must,
by the internal frame and constitution of the mind, give an original propensity to fame,
ere we can reap any pleasure from that acquisition, or pursue it from motives of self-love,
and desire of happiness. If I have no vanity, I take no delight in praise: if I be void of
ambition, power gives me no enjoyment: if I be not angry, the punishment of an
adversary is totally indifferent to me. In all these cases there is a passion which points
immediately to the object, and constitutes it our good or happiness; as there are other
secondary passions which afterwards arise, and pursue it as a part of our happiness, when
once it is constituted such by our original affections. Were there no appetite of any kind
antecedent to self-love, that propensity could scarcely ever exert itself; because we
should, in that case, have felt few and slender pains or pleasures, and have little misery or
happiness to avoid or to pursue.
Now where is the difficulty in conceiving, that this may likewise be the case with
benevolence and friendship, and that, from the original frame of our temper, we may feel
a desire of another's happiness or good, which, by means of that affection, becomes our
own good, and is afterwards pursued, from the combined motives of benevolence and
self-enjoyments? Who sees not that vengeance, from the force alone of passion, may be
so eagerly pursued, as to make us knowingly neglect every consideration of ease, interest,
or safety; and, like some vindictive animals, infuse our very souls into the wounds we
give an enemy; [Footnote: Animasque in vulnere ponunt. VIRG, Dum alteri noceat, sui
negligens says Seneca of Anger. De Ira, I. i.] and what a malignant philosophy must it be,
that will not allow to humanity and friendship the same privileges which are undisputably
granted to the darker passions of enmity and resentment; such a philosophy is more like a
satyr than a true delineation or description of human nature; and may be a good
foundation for paradoxical wit and raillery, but is a very bad one for any serious
argument or reasoning.
Appendix III. Some Farther Considerations With Regard To
Justice

The intention of this Appendix is to give some more particular explication of the origin
and nature of Justice, and to mark some differences between it and the other virtues.

The social virtues of humanity and benevolence exert their influence immediately by a
direct tendency or instinct, which chiefly keeps in view the simple object, moving the
affections, and comprehends not any scheme or system, nor the consequences resulting
from the concurrence, imitation, or example of others. A parent flies to the relief of his
child; transported by that natural sympathy which actuates him, and which affords no
leisure to reflect on the sentiments or conduct of the rest of mankind in like
circumstances. A generous man cheerfully embraces an opportunity of serving his friend;
because he then feels himself under the dominion of the beneficent affections, nor is he
concerned whether any other person in the universe were ever before actuated by such
noble motives, or will ever afterwards prove their influence. In all these cases the social
passions have in view a single individual object, and pursue the safety or happiness alone
of the person loved and esteemed. With this they are satisfied: in this they acquiesce. And
as the good, resulting from their benign influence, is in itself complete and entire, it also
excites the moral sentiment of approbation, without any reflection on farther
consequences, and without any more enlarged views of the concurrence or imitation of
the other members of society. On the contrary, were the generous friend or disinterested
patriot to stand alone in the practice of beneficence, this would rather inhance his value in
our eyes, and join the praise of rarity and novelty to his other more exalted merits.

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

Cyrus, young and unexperienced, considered only the individual case before him, and
reflected on a limited fitness and convenience, when he assigned the long coat to the tall
boy, and the short coat to the other of smaller size. His governor instructed him better,
while he pointed out more enlarged views and consequences, and informed his pupil of
the general, inflexible rules, necessary to support general peace and order in society.
The happiness and prosperity of mankind, arising from the social virtue of benevolence
and its subdivisions, may be compared to a wall, built by many hands, which still rises by
each stone that is heaped upon it, and receives increase proportional to the diligence and
care of each workman. The same happiness, raised by the social virtue of justice and its
subdivisions, may be compared to the building of a vault, where each individual stone
would, of itself, fall to the ground; nor is the whole fabric supported but by the mutual
assistance and combination of its corresponding parts.

All the laws of nature, which regulate property, as well as all civil laws, are general, and
regard alone some essential circumstances of the case, without taking into consideration
the characters, situations, and connexions of the person concerned, or any particular
consequences which may result from the determination of these laws in any particular
case which offers. They deprive, without scruple, a beneficent man of all his possessions,
if acquired by mistake, without a good title; in order to bestow them on a selfish miser,
who has already heaped up immense stores of superfluous riches. Public utility requires
that property should be regulated by general inflexible rules; and though such rules are
adopted as best serve the same end of public utility, it is impossible for them to prevent
all particular hardships, or make beneficial consequences result from every individual
case. It is sufficient, if the whole plan or scheme be necessary to the support of civil
society, and if the balance of good, in the main, do thereby preponderate much above that
of evil. Even the general laws of the universe, though planned by infinite wisdom, cannot
exclude all evil or inconvenience in every particular operation.

It has been asserted by some, that justice arises from Human Conventions, and proceeds
from the voluntary choice, consent, or combination of mankind. If by CONVENTION be
here meant a PROMISE (which is the most usual sense of the word) nothing can be more
absurd than this position. The observance of promises is itself one of the most
considerable parts of justice, and we are not surely bound to keep our word because we
have given our word to keep it. But if by convention be meant a sense of common
interest, which sense each man feels in his own breast, which he remarks in his fellows,
and which carries him, in concurrence with others, into a general plan or system of
actions, which tends to public utility; it must be owned, that, in this sense, justice arises
from human conventions. For if it be allowed (what is, indeed, evident) that the particular
consequences of a particular act of justice may be hurtful to the public as well as to
individuals; it follows that every man, in embracing that virtue, must have an eye to the
whole plan or system, and must expect the concurrence of his fellows in the same
conduct and behaviour. Did all his views terminate in the consequences of each act of his
own, his benevolence and humanity, as well as his self-love, might often prescribe to him
measures of conduct very different from those which are agreeable to the strict rules of
right and justice.
Thus, two men pull the oars of a boat by common convention for common interest,
without any promise or contract; thus gold and silver are made the measures of exchange;
thus speech and words and language are fixed by human convention and agreement.
Whatever is advantageous to two or more persons, if all perform their part; but what loses
all advantage if only one perform, can arise from no other principle There would
otherwise be no motive for any one of them to enter into that scheme of conduct.

[Footnote: This theory concerning the origin of property, and consequently of justice, is,
in the main, the same with that hinted at and adopted by Grotius, 'Hinc discimus, quae
fuerit causa, ob quam a primaeva communione rerum primo mobilium, deinde et
immobilinm discessum est: nimirum quod cum non contenti homines vesci sponte natis,
antra habitare, corpore aut nudo agere, aut corticibus arborum ferarumve pellibus vestito,
vitae genus exquisitius delegissent, industria opus fuit, quam singuli rebus singulls
adhiberent. Quo minus autem fructus in commune conferrentur, primum obstitit locorum,
in quae homines discesserunt, distantia, deinde justitiae et amoris defectus, per quem
fiebat, ut nee in labore, nee in consumtione fructuum, quae debebat, aequalitas servaretur.
Simul discimus, quomodo res in proprietatem iverint; non animi actu solo, neque enim
scire alii poterant, quid alil suum esse vellent, ut eo abstinerent, et idem velle plures
poterant; sed pacto quodam aut expresso, ut per divisionem, aut tacito, ut per
occupationem.' De jure belli et pacis. Lib. ii. cap. 2. sec. 2. art. 4 and 5.]

The word NATURAL is commonly taken in so many senses and is of so loose a

signification, that it seems vain to dispute whether justice be natural or not. If self-love, if
benevolence be natural to man; if reason and forethought be also natural; then may the
same epithet be applied to justice, order, fidelity, property, society. Men's inclination,
their necessities, lead them to combine; their understanding and experience tell them that
this combination is impossible where each governs himself by no rule, and pays no
regard to the possessions of others: and from these passions and reflections conjoined, as
soon as we observe like passions and reflections in others, the sentiment of justice,
throughout all ages, has infallibly and certainly had place to some degree or other in
every individual of the human species. In so sagacious an animal, what necessarily arises
from the exertion of his intellectual faculties may justly be esteemed natural.

[Footnote: Natural may be opposed, either to what is UNUSUAL, MIRACULOUS or

ARTIFICIAL. In the two former senses, justice and property are undoubtedly natural.
But as they suppose reason, forethought, design, and a social union and confederacy
among men, perhaps that epithet cannot strictly, in the last sense, be applied to them. Had
men lived without society, property had never been known, and neither justice nor
injustice had ever existed. But society among human creatures had been impossible
without reason and forethought. Inferior animals, that unite, are guided by instinct, which
supplies the place for reason. But all these disputes are merely verbal.]

Among all civilized nations it has been the constant endeavour to remove everything
arbitrary and partial from the decision of property, and to fix the sentence of judges by
such general views and considerations as may be equal to every member of society. For
besides, that nothing could be more dangerous than to accustom the bench, even in the
smallest instance, to regard private friendship or enmity; it is certain, that men, where
they imagine that there was no other reason for the preference of their adversary but
personal favour, are apt to entertain the strongest ill-will against the magistrates and
judges. When natural reason, therefore, points out no fixed view of public utility by
which a controversy of property can be decided, positive laws are often framed to supply
its place, and direct the procedure of all courts of judicature. Where these too fail, as
often happens, precedents are called for; and a former decision, though given itself
without any sufficient reason, justly becomes a sufficient reason for a new decision. If
direct laws and precedents be wanting, imperfect and indirect ones are brought in aid; and
the controverted case is ranged under them by analogical reasonings and comparisons,
and similitudes, and correspondencies, which are often more fanciful than real. In
general, it may safely be affirmed that jurisprudence is, in this respect, different from all
the sciences; and that in many of its nicer questions, there cannot properly be said to be
truth or falsehood on either side. If one pleader bring the case under any former law or
precedent, by a refined analogy or comparison; the opposite pleader is not at a loss to find
an opposite analogy or comparison: and the preference given by the judge is often
founded more on taste and imagination than on any solid argument. Public utility is the
general object of all courts of judicature; and this utility too requires a stable rule in all
controversies: but where several rules, nearly equal and indifferent, present themselves, it
is a very slight turn of thought which fixes the decision in favour of either party.

[Footnote: That there be a separation or distinction of possessions, and that this

separation be steady and constant; this is absolutely required by the interests of society,
and hence the origin of justice and property. What possessions are assigned to particular
persons; this is, generally speaking, pretty indifferent; and is often determined by very
frivolous views and considerations. We shall mention a few particulars.

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

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

Where a man bestows labour and industry upon any object, which before belonged to no
body; as in cutting down and shaping a tree, in cultivating a field, &c., the alterations,
which he produces, causes a relation between him and the object, and naturally engages
us to annex it to him by the new relation of property. This cause here concurs with the
public utility, which consists in the encouragement given to industry and labour.

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

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

Acquisition of property by accession can be explained no way but by having recourse to

the relations and connexions of the imaginations.

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

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

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

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

We may just observe, before we conclude this subject, that after the laws of justice are
fixed by views of general utility, the injury, the hardship, the harm, which result to any
individual from a violation of them, enter very much into consideration, and are a great
source of that universal blame which attends every wrong or iniquity. By the laws of
society, this coat, this horse is mine, and OUGHT to remain perpetually in my
possession: I reckon on the secure enjoyment of it: by depriving me of it, you disappoint
my expectations, and doubly displease me, and offend every bystander. It is a public
wrong, so far as the rules of equity are violated: it is a private harm, so far as an
individual is injured. And though the second consideration could have no place, were not
the former previously established: for otherwise the distinction of MINE and THINE
would be unknown in society: yet there is no question but the regard to general good is
much enforced by the respect to particular. What injures the community, without hurting
any individual, is often more lightly thought of. But where the greatest public wrong is
also conjoined with a considerable private one, no wonder the highest disapprobation
attends so iniquitous a behaviour.
 Appendix IV. Of Some Verbal Disputes

Nothing is more usual than for philosophers to encroach upon the province of
grammarians; and to engage in disputes of words, while they imagine that they are
handling controversies of the deepest importance and concern. It was in order to avoid
altercations, so frivolous and endless, that I endeavoured to state with the utmost caution
the object of our present enquiry; and proposed simply to collect, on the one hand, a list
of those mental qualities which are the object of love or esteem, and form a part of
personal merit; and on the other hand, a catalogue of those qualities which are the object
of censure or reproach, and which detract from the character of the person possessed of
them; subjoining some reflections concerning the origin of these sentiments of praise or
blame. On all occasions, where there might arise the least hesitation, I avoided the terms
VIRTUE and VICE; because some of those qualities, which I classed among the objects
of praise, receive, in the English language, the appellation of TALENTS, rather than of
virtues; as some of the blameable or censurable qualities are often called defects, rather
than vices. It may now, perhaps, be expected that before we conclude this moral enquiry,
we should exactly separate the one from the other; should mark the precise boundaries of
virtues and talents, vices and defects; and should explain the reason and origin of that
distinction. But in order to excuse myself from this undertaking, which would, at last,
prove only a grammatical enquiry, I shall subjoin the four following reflections, which
shall contain all that I intend to say on the present subject.

First, I do not find that in the English, or any other modern tongue, the boundaries are
exactly fixed between virtues and talents, vices and defects, or that a precise definition
can be given of the one as contradistinguished from the other. Were we to say, for
instance, that the esteemable qualities alone, which are voluntary, are entitled to the
appellations of virtues; we should soon recollect the qualities of courage, equanimity,
patience, self-command; with many others, which almost every language classes under
this appellation, though they depend little or not at all on our choice. Should we affirm
that the qualities alone, which prompt us to act our part in society, are entitled to that
honourable distinction; it must immediately occur that these are indeed the most valuable
qualities, and are commonly denominated the SOCIAL virtues; but that this very epithet
supposes that there are also virtues of another species. Should we lay hold of the
distinction between INTELLECTUAL and MORAL endowments, and affirm the last
alone to be the real and genuine virtues, because they alone lead to action; we should find
that many of those qualities, usually called intellectual virtues, such as prudence,
penetration, discernment, discretion, had also a considerable influence on conduct. The
distinction between the heart and the head may also be adopted: the qualities of the first
may be defined such as in their immediate exertion are accompanied with a feeling of
sentiment; and these alone may be called the genuine virtues: but industry, frugality,
temperance, secrecy, perseverance, and many other laudable powers or habits, generally
stiled virtues are exerted without any immediate sentiment in the person possessed of
them, and are only known to him by their effects. It is fortunate, amidst all this seeming
perplexity, that the question, being merely verbal, cannot possibly be of any importance.
A moral, philosophical discourse needs not enter into all these caprices of language,
which are so variable in different dialects, and in different ages of the same dialect. But
on the whole, it seems to me, that though it is always allowed, that there are virtues of
many different kinds, yet, when a man is called virtuous, or is denominated a man of
virtue, we chiefly regard his social qualities, which are, indeed, the most valuable. It is, at
the same time, certain, that any remarkable defect in courage, temperance, economy,
industry, understanding, dignity of mind, would bereave even a very good-natured,
honest man of this honourable appellation. Who did ever say, except by way of irony,
that such a one was a man of great virtue, but an egregious blockhead?

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

[Footnote: The term, pride, is commonly taken in a bad sense; but this sentiment seems
indifferent, and may be either good or bad, according as it is well or ill founded, and
according to the other circumstances which accompany it. The French express this
sentiment by the term, AMOUR PROPRE, but as they also express self-love as well as
vanity by the same term, there arises thence a great confusion in Rochefoucault, and
many of their moral writers.]

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

What is there too we are more anxious to conceal from others than such blunders,
infirmities, and meannesses, or more dread to have exposed by raillery and satire? And is
not the chief object of vanity, our bravery or learning, our wit or breeding, our eloquence
or address, our taste or abilities? These we display with care, if not with ostentation; and
we commonly show more ambition of excelling in them, than even in the social virtues
themselves, which are, in reality, of such superior excellence. Good-nature and honesty,
especially the latter, are so indispensably required, that, though the greatest censure
attends any violation of these duties, no eminent praise follows such common instances
of them, as seem essential to the support of human society. And hence the reason, in my
opinion, why, though men often extol so liberally the qualities of their heart, they are shy
in commending the endowments of their head: because the latter virtues, being supposed
more rare and extraordinary, are observed to be the more usual objects of pride and self-
conceit; and when boasted of, beget a strong suspicion of these sentiments.
It is hard to tell, whether you hurt a man's character most by calling him a knave or a
coward, and whether a beastly glutton or drunkard be not as odious and contemptible, as
a selfish, ungenerous miser. Give me my choice, and I would rather, for my own
happiness and self-enjoyment, have a friendly, humane heart, than possess all the other
virtues of Demosthenes and Philip united: but I would rather pass with the world for one
endowed with extensive genius and intrepid courage, and should thence expect stronger
instances of general applause and admiration. The figure which a man makes in life, the
reception which he meets with in company, the esteem paid him by his acquaintance; all
these advantages depend as much upon his good sense and judgement, as upon any other
part of his character. Had a man the best intentions in the world, and were the farthest
removed from all injustice and violence, he would never be able to make himself be
much regarded, without a moderate share, at least, of parts and understanding.

What is it then we can here dispute about? If sense and courage, temperance and industry,
wisdom and knowledge confessedly form a considerable part of PERSONAL MERIT: if
a man, possessed of these qualities, is both better satisfied with himself, and better
entitled to the good-will, esteem, and services of others, than one entirely destitute of
them; if, in short, the SENTIMENTS are similar which arise from these endowments and
from the social virtues; is there any reason for being so extremely scrupulous about a
WORD, or disputing whether they be entitled to the denomination of virtues? It may,
indeed, be pretended, that the sentiment of approbation, which those accomplishments
produce, besides its being INFERIOR, is also somewhat DIFFERENT from that which
attends the virtues of justice and humanity. But this seems not a sufficient reason for
ranking them entirely under different classes and appellations. The character of Caesar
and that of Cato, as drawn by Sallust, are both of them virtuous, in the strictest and most
limited sense of the word; but in a different way: nor are the sentiments entirely the same
which arise from them. The one produces love, the other esteem: the one is amiable, the
other awful: we should wish to meet the one character in a friend; the other we should be
ambitious of in ourselves. In like manner the approbation, which attends temperance or
industry or frugality, may be somewhat different from that which is paid to the social
virtues, without making them entirely of a different species. And, indeed, we may
observe, that these endowments, more than the other virtues, produce not, all of them, the
same kind of approbation. Good sense and genius beget esteem and regard: wit and
humour excite love and affection.

[Footnote: Love and esteem are nearly the same passion, and arise from similar causes.
The qualities, which produce both, are such as communicate pleasures. But where this
pleasure is severe and serious; or where its object is great, and makes a strong
impression, or where it produces any degree of humility and awe; in all these cases, the
passion, which arises from the pleasure, is more properly denominated esteem than love.
Benevolence attends both; but is connected with love in a more eminent degree. There
seems to be still a stronger mixture of pride in contempt than of humility in esteem; and
the reason would not be difficulty to one, who studied accurately the passions. All these
various mixtures and compositions and appearances of sentiment from a very curious
subject of speculation, but are wide for our present purpose. Throughout this enquiry, we
always consider in general, what qualities are a subject of praise or of censure, without
entering into all the minute differences of sentiment, which they excite. It is evident, that
whatever is contemned, is also disliked, as well as what is hated; and we here endeavour
to take objects, according to their most simple views and appearances. These sciences are
but too apt to appear abstract to common readers, even with all the precautions which we
can take to clear them from superfluous speculations, and bring them down to every
capacity.]

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

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

[Footnote: The Art of preserving Health. Book 4]

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

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

The precipitate flight and improvident negligence of Pompey, at the beginning of the civil
wars, appeared such notorious blunders to Cicero, as quite palled his friendship towards
that great man. In the same manner, says he, as want of cleanliness, decency, or
discretion in a mistress are found to alienate our affections. For so he expresses himself,
where he talks, not in the character of a philosopher, but in that of a statesman and man of
the world, to his friend Atticus. [Lib. ix. epist. 10]. But the same Cicero, in imitation of
all the ancient moralists, when he reasons as a philosopher, enlarges very much his ideas
of virtue, and comprehends every laudable quality or endowment of the mind, under that
honourable appellation. This leads to the THIRD reflection, which we proposed to make,
to wit, that the ancient moralists, the best models, made no material distinction among the
different species of mental endowments and defects, but treated all alike under the
appellation of virtues and vices, and made them indiscriminately the object of their moral
reasonings. The prudence explained in Cicero's Offices [Footnote: Lib. i. cap. 6.] is that
sagacity, which leads to the discovery of truth, and preserves us from error and mistake.
MAGNANIMITY, TEMPERANCE, DECENCY, are there also at large discoursed of.
And as that eloquent moralist followed the common received division of the four cardinal
virtues, our social duties form but one head, in the general distribution of his subject.
[Footnote: The following passage of Cicero is worth quoting, as being the most clear and
express to our purpose, that any thing can be imagined, and, in a dispute, which is chiefly
verbal, must, on account of the author, carry an authority, from which there can be no
appeal.

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

I suppose, if Cicero were now alive, it would be found difficult to fetter his moral
sentiments by narrow systems; or persuade him, that no qualities were to be admitted as
virtues, or acknowledged to be a part of PERSONAL MERIT, but what were
recommended by The Whole Duty of Man.]

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

To SUSTAIN and to ABSTAIN, that is, to be patient and continent, appeared to some of
the ancients a summary comprehension of all morals.

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

Men will praise thee, says David, [Footnote: Psalm 49th.] when thou dost well unto
thyself. I hate a wise man, says the Greek poet, who is not wise to himself [Footnote:
Here, Hume quotes Euripedes in Greek]. Plutarch is no more cramped by systems in his
philosophy than in his history. Where he compares the great men of Greece and Rome, he
fairly sets in opposition all their blemishes and accomplishments of whatever kind, and
omits nothing considerable, which can either depress or exalt their characters. His moral
discourses contain the same free and natural censure of men and manners.

The character of Hannibal, as drawn by Livy, [Footnote: Lib. xxi. cap. 4] is esteemed
partial, but allows him many eminent virtues. Never was there a genius, says the
historian, more equally fitted for those opposite offices of commanding and obeying; and
it were, therefore, difficult to determine whether he rendered himself DEARER to the
general or to the army. To none would Hasdrubal entrust more willingly the conduct of
any dangerous enterprize; under none did the soldiers discover more courage and
confidence. Great boldness in facing danger; great prudence in the midst of it. No labour
could fatigue his body or subdue his mind. Cold and heat were indifferent to him: meat
and drink he sought as supplies to the necessities of nature, not as gratifications of his
voluptuous appetites. Waking or rest he used indiscriminately, by night or by day.--These
great Virtues were balanced by great Vices; inhuman cruelty; perfidy more than punic; no
truth, no faith, no regard to oaths, promises, or religion.

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

Polybius, [Footnote: Lib. xii.] reprehending Timaeus for his partiality against Agathocles,
whom he himself allows to be the most cruel and impious of all tyrants, says: if he took
refuge in Syracuse, as asserted by that historian, flying the dirt and smoke and toil of his
former profession of a potter; and if proceeding from such slender beginnings, he became
master, in a little time, of all Sicily; brought the Carthaginian state into the utmost
danger; and at last died in old age, and in possession of sovereign dignity: must he not be
allowed something prodigious and extraordinary, and to have possessed great talents and
capacity for business and action? His historian, therefore, ought not to have alone related
what tended to his reproach and infamy; but also what might redound to his Praise and
Honour.

In general, we may observe, that the distinction of voluntary or involuntary was little
regarded by the ancients in their moral reasonings; where they frequently treated the
question as very doubtful, WHETHER VIRTUE COULD BE TAUGHT OR NOT [Vid.
Plato in Menone, Seneca de otio sap. cap. 31. So also Horace, Virtutem doctrina paret,
naturane donet, Epist. lib. I. ep. 18. Aeschines Socraticus, Dial. I.]? They justly
considered that cowardice, meanness, levity, anxiety, impatience, folly, and many other
qualities of the mind, might appear ridiculous and deformed, contemptible and odious,
though independent of the will. Nor could it be supposed, at all times, in every man's
power to attain every kind of mental more than of exterior beauty.

And here there occurs the FOURTH reflection which I purposed to make, in suggesting
the reason why modern philosophers have often followed a course in their moral
enquiries so different from that of the ancients. In later times, philosophy of all kinds,
especially ethics, have been more closely united with theology than ever they were
observed to be among the heathens; and as this latter science admits of no terms of
composition, but bends every branch of knowledge to its own purpose, without much
regard to the phenomena of nature, or to the unbiassed sentiments of the mind, hence
reasoning, and even language, have been warped from their natural course, and
distinctions have been endeavoured to be established where the difference of the objects
was, in a manner, imperceptible. Philosophers, or rather divines under that disguise,
treating all morals as on a like footing with civil laws, guarded by the sanctions of reward
and punishment, were necessarily led to render this circumstance, of VOLUNTARY or
INVOLUNTARY, the foundation of their whole theory. Every one may employ TERMS
in what sense he pleases: but this, in the mean time, must be allowed, that SENTIMENTS
are every day experienced of blame and praise, which have objects beyond the dominion
of the will or choice, and of which it behoves us, if not as moralists, as speculative
philosophers at least, to give some satisfactory theory and explication.

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