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ARTES SCIENTIA
VERITAS
<
.
--
.
AN
E S S AY
ON
V I R T U E.
Lately publiſhed,
Ordo Inſtitutionum Phyficarum in privatis lectio-
nibus Tho. Rutherforth, S.T.B. Coll. Div. Joan. Cant.
et Reg. Societat. Londin. Socii.
AN
E S S A Y
ON THE
NATURE and OBLIGATIONS
OF
V 1 R T U E.
BY
homes
T. RUTHERFORTH, B.D.
Fellow of St. JOHN's College in Cambridge,
and of the ROYAL SOCIETY.
CAMBRIDGE,
Printed by 7. BENTHAM, Printer to the UNIVERSITY,
for WILLIAM THURLBOURN, Bookſeller in Cambridge;
and ſold by W. Innys, C. Bathurſt, and J. Beecroft, in London.
M.DCC.XLIV.
1111
11211
KOULU
co
5T
WS fe.
TO
ANTHONY THOMAS ABDY, Efq.
.
OF LINCOLN'S INN,
DEAR SIR,
TH
HERE is very little in the follow-
ing ſheets, which you have not
heard me explain, upon different occa-
ſions, whilft you were under my care in
the Univerſity. But your partiality to
the
DEDICATION.
the author will, I am ſure, engage you to
read them over; though you ſhould meet
with nothing new in them to entertain
you: and I promiſe myſelf from your
conſtant attendance upon ſuch inſtruc-
tions, as were thought proper for you,
when
you were here, that you will have
ſome pleaſure in recollecting them, now
you have left us.
You are indeed entered upon another
courſe of ſtudy; and I am glad to hear
that you are as diligent in purſuing it, as
I know you were in preparing for it: yet
I hope you continue to think yourſelf
much intereſted in the ſubject of the book,
which I now put into your hands. My
deſign in writing it was, to forward the
more general reception of a religion, for
which I know you to have a hearty re-
gard; and to ſhew the reaſonableneſs of
a practice, which I found you engaged
in very early. And I am perſuaded that
your clofe application to the ſtudy of the
law
1
DEDICATI O N.
law will not ſo wholly employ your
thoughts, as to leave you no leiſure for
confirming yourſelf in the principles of
Chriſtianity; and that none of thoſe
pleaſures, which at your time of life are
often fatal, will any ways weaken your
love of virtue or call you off from the
practice of it
I depend upon your excuſe for wri-
ting in the ſame manner as if I was ſtill
your tutor. Your temper and the exact-
nefs of your behaviour prevented you
from ever ſeeing that character in a dif-
agreeable light: and, as my regard for
your welfare began from the duty of my
former office, ſomething of the fame duty
will always mix itſelf with my affection,
and will make me think that I have a
privilege of adviſing you with leſs re-
ſerve, than is commonly made uſe of in
other forts of friendſhip. The moſt pro-
per advice for me to give, as well as the
moſt important for you to follow, is,
what
1
DEDICATION.
what the book itſelf was intended to en-
force, that you ſhould continue fincere
in the religion of Chriſt, as the only ſure
way to make you virtuous, and to make
you happy.
I am
Your faithful
and very affectionate
friend and ſervant
CAMBRIDGE,
St. John's, Jan. 2.
M.DCC.XL.II.
T. RUTHERFORTH.
BJ
Philosophy
Alactiselle
RAM
1-21-48
61209
CONTENTS
CHAP. I.
INTRODUCTION. pag. I.
II.
An enquiry into the notion of virtue. 5.
.
III.
The diftin&tion between virtue and vice has a foundation in
nature, and is not merely notional. The Fable of the Bees
examined. 35.
IV.
The terms moral good, moral agent, and moral obligation ex-
plained. 61.
V.
No inſtinctive approbation of virtue is ſufficient to oblige us to
the practice of it. 73.
VI.
No eternal and neceſſary differences, no fitneſs or unfitneſs of
things can be the cauſe of moral obligation. 110.
VII. X
No obligation to virtue unleſs it makes us happy. Every man's
own happineſs is the end which nature teaches him to pur-
fue. 153
VIII.
*
CONTENTS.
VIII.
Every man's own happineſs is the ultimate end which reaſon
teaches bim to purſue. 168.'
A
IX.
We want a guide to teach us what our happineſs is. No happi-
neſs in the mere a&t of virtue, nor any annexed to it by ne-
ceſary conſequence, can be the cauſe of moral obligation, ex-
cluſively of God and his providence. 210. X
X.
The conſtant and uniform practice of virtue towards all man-
kind becomes our duty, when revelation has informed us that
God will make us finally happy for it in a life after this.
239.
XI.
The revelations, that were made to mankind' before the law of
Mofes, enforced their obedience to the will of God by the
promiſes of happineſs in a life after this. 273.
1
XII.
Obedience to the will of God was enforced under the Moſaic
diſpenſation by the hopes of a future life, as well as by the
promiſes of temporal happineſs. 319.
XIII.
Chriſtianity completes the patriarchal religion; and promiſes
happineſs in a life to come, upon eafer conditions than the
law of Moſes had promiſed it.
ERR AT A.
Pag. 39. lin. 23. for it read virtue. p. 92. 1. 23. for fort read forts.
p. 140. 1.5. for to read and. p. 142. 1. 11. for inclufive read inconclu-
five. p. 158. 1. 12. for fet read lit. p. 295. 1. ult. for immorality
read immortality.
A
AN
E S S A Y
ON THE
NA TURE and OBLIGATION
OF
V I RTV E.
.
C H A P. I.
INTRODUCTION.
T
Always thought, that Virtue, which we expect
all mankind ſhould practiſe, muſt be ſome-
thing, which all mankind either are or eaſily
may be acquainted with: for though it is not to
be imagined, that the vulgar and illiterate ſhould
be able to explain what they mean, though none
but men of skill and ſcience can give definitions
of words and put their thoughts into ſuch lan-
guage as to make them intelligible to others; yet
certainly common ſenſe joined to the moſt ordi-
nary helps of inſtruction muſt afford a more ob-
vious notion of virtue than any that is to be met
with
A
2
An Elay on Virtue.
with in the writings of the moraliſts: or elſe I
know not how we can take it ill or reaſonably
complain, that ſo few are virtuous; when from
the accounts, which learned men have given us of
it, fo few can know what virtue is.
The cauſe of moral obligation or the true rea-
fon for being virtuous ſhould be as level to every
man's capacity as the notion of virtue; unleſs we
would excuſe vice in men of low or unimproved
parts, and would think them at liberty to behave
as they pleaſe: for how unreaſonable is it to look
upon any ſort of behaviour as a man's duty,when
the reaſons, why it is fo, are ſuch as he can neither
make out by himſelf, nor comprehend, when others
explain them to him?
Upon theſe accounts it appeared to me, that
after the labour of ſo many learned men,who have
wrote about morality, there was ſtill ſomething to
be done by thoſe, that come after them, and that
it would be no unprofitable nor unpleaſing ſearch
to trace out the notion of virtue from the common
opinions and ſenſe of mankind, and to aſcertain
the reaſons for practiſing it by ſhewing that we
cannot otherwiſe obtain that end, which both na-
ture and reafon teach us to purſue.
I was the more pleaſed with this enquiry, be-
cauſe I found it would lead us to underſtand the
wiſdom and goodneſs of God in making poſitive
revelations of his will to mankind, and would teach
Us
An Eſay on Virtue.
3
us to think more humbly of ourſelves and more
highly of his diſpenſations than ſome of us are
wont to think : as it will ſhew us, that we ſtand
in need of his aſſiſtance both to inſtruct us how
to be happy and to oblige us to be virtuous, and
that in every revelation, which he has made of his
will
, a particular regard has been had to the fup-
ply of theſe wants.
In theſe enquiries I ſhall endeavour to avoid as
much as poſſible all abſtracted reaſonings : and,
if ever I am betrayed into them, I hope the rea-
der will ſee, that it is by the neceſſity of examin-
ing what others have wrote and not by my own
inclination: I had rather inſtruct him, if it was
in my power, than amuſe and perplex him: and
matters of fact, which he meets with every day
in common life, will be more intelligible than re-
fined diſputation; and an appeal to the general
fenſe and judgment of mankind will be more
convincing than the ſubtilty of metaphyſics.
I am very ſenſible, that the plan of this work
cannot be well executed by one, whoſe
way
of
life has introduced him to ſo little acquaintance
with the world and knowledge of mankind as
mine has done: and ſince I diſagree from ſo ma-
ny writers of the higheſt reputation, I have more
reaſon to be afraid of having my faults expoſed
and my opinions confuted, than to hope, that any
body of a more extenſive experience and of bet-
A 2
ter
4 An Eſay on Virtue.
ter abilities than myſelf will undertake to write
upon the ſame plan and make good what is want-
ing in the following performance. But be this as
it will: I ſhall endeavour to beſpeak the reader's
candour by treating thoſe I differ from in the
ſame manner that I would wiſh to be treated
my-
ſelf; and then what I have to advance I ſhall truſt
with him; and by his judgment let it ſtand or
fall : I ſhall propoſe my opinions as clearly as I
can, and ſhall fay at once all that I deſign to
ſay in the ſupport and defence of them, for I
have neither leiſure nor inclination to engage in
a controverſy
CHA P.
An Elay on Virtue.
5
CHAP. II.
An enquiry into the notion of virtue.
F mankind had agreed upon an exact catalogue
of virtuous actions, there might have been a
ready way of finding out the meaning of the word
virtue and of determining what ſtandard our be-
haviour is refer'd to, when ſome parts of it are
called virtuous, others vicious, and a third fort
indifferent. By looking over the liſt of virtues we
ſhould certainly have diſcovered ſome leading
property, peculiar to the actions, that had a place
there, by which they were diſtinguiſhable from
all others; thoſe, that had the oppoſite property,
we might have been ſure were vicious; and ſuch
as we found had neither of them we might have
reckoned indifferent.
But a ſtrange diſagreement and variety of opi-
nion, in diſtributing our actions under theſe three
general heads has made this method of enquiry
wholly impracticable: for how can we hope to
find a true and ſteady characteriſtic of virtuous
behaviour by knowing what actions have been
called fo? when the very fame that in one age
or country have been counted virtues or at leaſt
not vices, have been deteſted in another as vicious
and abominable: nay, when in the fame age and
country
6 An Elay on Virtue.
1
country this very point is ſo wholly unſettled, that
after one ſet of moraliſts has with great pains and
much reaſoning placed ſome parts of our conduct
in the catalogue of virtues, another ſet is imme-
diately ready to ſtrike them out again.
Though, if we attend to theſe diſputes, which
have been one means of obſtructing the moſt
natural way of finding out what virtue conſiſts
in; if we conſider where they have ariſen, how
they have been carried on, and in what inſtances
all parties are agreed; as ſure a way may be opened,
as the other would have been, though a leſs direct
and leſs obvious one: and I believe it
may
be
proved from hence, that Virtue is that quality in
our actions, by which they are fitted to do good to
others or to prevent their harm: for this we ſhall
find is the teſt, to which all parties refer them-
ſelves in the queſtion concerning ſome parts of
our behaviour, whether they are to be called vir-
tues or not; it accounts for this queſtion having
ariſen concerning ſome parts of our behaviour
only, whilſt others have been conſtantly allowed
by all mankind to be virtues; and all parties are
agreed to call the ſame ſort of behaviour fome-
times a virtue and ſometimes a vice as it comes
up to this ſtandard or falls ſhort of it.
This is the method in which I would chuſe to
carry on the following enquiry : but the affect-
ed obſcurity, with which this ſubject has been
treated,
!
.
7
An Elay on Virtue.
treated, has taught the world, that nothing can
be right here, if it is not abſtruſe and unintelligi-
ble: men's heads have been filled with dark no-
tions and their underſtandings have been amuſed
with hard words, till they only, who write about
morality ſo abſtractedly as to prevent the reſt of
mankind from knowing any thing of the matter,
are allowed to underſtand it. And as the preju-
dices, which have been raiſed in this manner a-
gainſt whatever is plain and natural, cannot be
removed without ſtopping nor be avoided with-
out going a little out of the way, this muſt be my
excuſe to the reader, wherever he finds, that the
method here propoſed is not cloſely purſued.
What are called the duties, that a man owes
to himſelf, have had the moſt controverted claim
to the title of virtues : for, whilſt juſtice and be-
nevolence are on all hands allowed to come fully
up to this character, ſcruples have been ſometimes
raiſed about chaſtity and fobriety. Indeed all the
branches of chaſtity have not fared alike in this
reſpect; for ſome of them, beſides the duty, which
a man owes to himſelf
, neceſſarily include that,
which he owes to others, and are ſo evidently
nothing elſe but parts of juſtice, that it would be
abſurd to allow this latter to be a virtue and yet
deny at the ſame time that they are ſo. But then
there are other inſtances of chaſtity where the
connection with the duties, that we owe to our
fellow-
8 An Eſay on Virtue.
fellow-creatures is leſs apparent: and theſe are
ſometimes repreſented as not capable of being
brought under the notion of virtues, and are ſaid to
be recommended and enforced either by prudential
motives only, or by the poſitive command and
authority of God. The men, who are of this
opinion, are ſuch as affect to be libertines upon
principle, and have ſet themſelves free from the
reſtraints of religion: or they are ſuch as would
willingly indulge their inclinations, and are per-
ſuaded that they ſhall more eaſily be excuſed for
violating a duty, which is of poſitive injunction
only, than they ſhould be, if they were to neglect
what is a virtue and naturally good in itſelf: or
laſtly they are ſuch as endeavour to do honour
to Chriſtianity by making it what they think a
religion of greater purity than the religion of na-
ture. The reſt of mankind, if their manners have
been civilized and their underſtandings improved,
engage on the other ſide of the queſtion, and are
ready to maintain, that whatever is called chaſtity
is to be eſteemed a virtue. The arguments, which
one party chiefly infifts upon, and which the
other ſeems to take the moſt notice of, make it
plainly appear what notion of virtue both of
them have.
The patrons of chaſtity generally ſupport their
cauſe by ſhewing, that the ſenſualiſt is either
hurtful to his fellow-creatures or at beſt leſs uſeful
to
An Eſay on Virtue.
9
to them than he might have been. They tell us,
that he throws away his time in the purſuit of
pleaſure; that, when he ſhould be doing good,
he has ſuch engagements upon his hands, as leave
him but little leiſure to attend to the happineſs
of others; that, if his favourite gratifications are
not enough to take up his whole thoughts and
ſtifle all his regards for every thing elſe, yet they
will be ſure to prevent him from doing the ſervice
to mankind, which, if he had kept his attention
and his affections diſengaged, he might have done:
and, when the indulging himſelf in thoſe gratifica-
tions is at laſt become habitual, and they are made
almoſt neceſſary to him, they diſſipate all the fa-
culties of his mind, and do not barely put it out of
his power to do any good at all, but make him be-
fides noxious and hurtful: though he ſhould have
ſomething of tenderneſs and affection for his fel-
low-creatures left, yet it would appear in thoſe in-
ſtances only where their happineſs did not in-
terfere with his deſires; for if ever it ſhould, he
is ſo eager to obtain his ends, that no ſentiments
of humanity nor even of common juſtice could ſtop
him in his courſe: fathers, husbands, and whole
families muſt be made wretched, if his enjoyments
require it: and even his own children, beſides the
miſery of a weak and diſtempered conſtitution,
which his debaucheries will entail upon them,
would ſee their fortunes ſquandered away and their
edu-
B
IO
An Eſay on Virtue.
educations neglected, and would have their princi-
ples corrupted by his example, tillthey were brought
at laſt into the ſame condition with himſelf.
It may fairly be preſumed that neither they,
who would entirely get rid of what they call the
unnatural reſtraints of religion, nor they, who
only endeavour to weaken them, can be hardy
enough to deny any branch of chaſtity to be a
virtue till they have attempted to ſhew, that the
neglect of it is not attended with theſe inconveni-
Grot. de jur. ences: and amongſt thoſe, who through a miſtaken
bell.com pac. zeal for Chriſtianity, have thrown ſome of our
duties out of the catalogue of virtues, and have
fuppoſed them not to be of natural obligation,
one very learned writer, that may well be
thought to ſpeak the ſentiments of the reſt, has
deſcribed the natural honeſty or virtue of an action
fo as to make it at leaſt in part conſiſt in its a-
greableneſs to a ſocial nature, that is, in its fitneſs
to advance and ſecure the common happineſs of
mankind. And thus all parties ſeem agreed to reſt
the cauſe upon this iſſue
and ſhew us, that their no-
tion of virtue is that, which was juſt now propoſed.
Here it may not be improper to ſtop a little,
and enquire, not whether chaſtity be a virtue or no,
S.XLII.
a
/
a
Jus naturale eſt dictatum rectae rationis indicans actui alicui,
ex ejus convenientia aut diſconvenientia cum natura rationali ac
ſociali ineſſe moralein turpitudinem aut neceſſitatem moralem ac
conſequenter ab auctore naturae Deo talem actum vetari aut praecipi.
Grot,
/
An Eſſay on Virtue.
II
+
but whether, they, who agree that it is, can have
any other notion of virtue beſides this. Moſt of
them perhaps, if they were examined upon
this
head, would ſay they had another very
different
from it: and it may ſeem a ſtrange undertaking
to convince a man, that his opinion in any caſe
is not what he takes it to be: ſuch an undertak-
ing, it muſt be confeſſed, cannot poſſibly ſucceed,
unleſs where we are able to make it appear, that
the man's way of thinking and ſpeaking in other
inſtances is quite inconſiſtent with what he ſup-
poſes to be his opinion in the caſe propoſed; and
where by an appeal to thoſe other inſtances he
can be made to attend in this to his own opinion,
which nothing but the want of attention could
have made him miſtake at firſt.
Let us therefore examine, what it is we diſlike
in the man of pleaſure; and then we ſhall eaſily
judge what it is we approve or give the name of Hutcheſons
virtue to in the oppoſite character. Is he diſliked inq.pag. 104.
merely becauſe he hurts himſelf by ſpoiling his
conſtitution and by waſting his fortune? --but a
man may be vicious enough in this reſpect to be
very contemptible, though he neither impairs his
health ſo much as the ſedentary ſtudent is ſuppoſed Ramazzini
de literat.
morb. differt.
Grot. de jur. bell. et pac. 1. 1. c. 1. f.x. For the reaſon of adding
the word Sociali to this definition, fee Barbeyrac's note on the place. As
far as any being is of a ſocial nature it regards not only its own in-
tereſts but thofe of its ſpecies. ſee Grot. Prolegom.6.7.8.9.
B 2
to
I 2
An Eſay on Virtue.
thire. p.5.
Chauncey's to do, nor injures his fortune ſo much as a pro-
Hertford jector, who wants proper encouragement to carry
on ſuch ſchemes as are of real benefit to the
pu-
blic: and yet if the two characters of the diſeaſed
ſtudent and the decayed projector were both to
meet in the ſame perſon, he would be far from
contempt or diſlike; moſt people would be
pre-
judiced in favour of him; they would pity the
weakneſs of human nature and reproach the pu-
blic for its ingratitude.
Is the diſregard, which the ſenſualiſt meets with,
owing to any diſagreement between his behaviour
and the relations or fitneſſes of things ?--if the read-
er will excuſe a little obſcurity in what cannot be
made very intelligible, I will endeavour to examine
this queſtion particularly. Is it the natural fitneſs,
which any thing has to be applied to a certain
purpoſe or to be uſed in a certain manner, that
makes ſuch actions be eſteemed virtuous as apply
it to this purpoſe or uſe it in this manner, and ſuch
vicious as make a contrary uſe or application of
it? or does the virtue of an action conſiſt in the
fitneſs or agreement between the action and the
character of him, who does it, and its vice in the
diſagreement or unſuitableneſs of them to each
other? the former of theſe I will beg leave to call
fitneſs or unfitneſs of application; the latter fitneſs
or unfitneſs of a&tion. Some, who have wrote up-
on this ſubject, ſeem to take both of theſe into the
account;
An Elay on Virtue. 13
account; tho' it is impoſſible that either of them
ſhould give us any diftin&t notion of virtue, ifany
at all.
-
Fitneſs of application only is what the ingeni-
ous author of the Religion of nature delineated Wollaſton.
calls acting agreeably to truth or treating things
as being what they are; and this he makes the mea-
fure of virtue and vice. But one of the objections Ibid.prop.xi.
propoſed by himſelf againſt his own opinion de- obj. s.
monſtrates the great uncertainty of this meaſure;
and the anſwer, that he gives to it, will point out
another notion of virtue, which cannot but be
clearer and more diſtinct, becauſe it is the true.
one. For if virtue conſiſts in the fitneſs of appli-
cation and vice in the contrary; why is not it a
virtue to drink out of a glaſs, a vice to break it?
why is not it a virtue to pull at the longer arın
of á lever in order to raiſe a weight, a vice to pull
at the ſhorter ? is it becauſe this fort of fitneſs does
not make an action virtuous nor this ſort of unfit-
neſs make it vicious in all caſes, but in ſome only?
here then, unleſs we call in ſomething elſe to our
aſſiſtance, we ſhall be left in great doubt and con-
fuſion, unable to diſtinguiſh virtuous or vicious .
actions from thoſe, which are indifferent; ſince we
ſhould want a mark whereby we might ſeparate
theſe privileged relations, the neglect of which
will immediately make our behaviour be diſliked
and cenſured, from thoſe others, which may ſafely
be
14 An Elay on Virtue
(6
(C
be violated, without ſo much as giving offence
to any one. But, ſays this author, “two things
ought here to be regarded. 1. That, tho'to act
againſt truth in any caſe is wrong, yet the de-
“ grees of guilt varying with the importance of
things, in ſome caſes the importance one way
« or t’other may be ſo little as to render the crime
evaneſcent or almoſt nothing. And, 2. that in-
“ animate beings cannot be conſidered as capable
" of wrong treatment, if the reſpect they bear to
“ living beings is ſeparated from them. The drink-
« ing-glaſs before mentioned could not be con-
“ fidered as ſuch, or be what it now is, if there
" was no drinking animal to own and uſe it. No-
thing can be of importance to that thing itſelf,
<< which is void of all life and perception. So that
“ when we compute what ſuch things are, we
“ muſt take them as being what they are in refe-
“ rence to things, that have life.”
But the reſpect, which any thing has to living
beings differs nothing from the reſpect it has to in-
animate ones; except as far as the former are ca-
pable of happineſs or miſery, the latter incapable
of either: and therefore what makes
any
unfitneſs
of application be vicious is, that it produces mi-
ſery; what makes any fitneſs of application be
virtuous is that it produces happineſs: and as the
crime, ſo the virtue will be evaneſcent or almoſt
nothing, when the importance of the fitneſs or
un-
An Eſay on Virtue.
15
unfitneſs as to happineſs or miſery is ſo. Thus his
own objection would have led him right at laſt,
and would, if purſued, have taught him to fix the
notion of an action's virtue, where it it ought to
be fixed, in its naturally producing good or pre-
venting harm. I would here remind the reader,
that in this account of a virtuous action, I mean,
that it is called ſo, not becauſe it makes him hap-
py who does it, or prevents his miſery; but be-
cauſe others in proper circumſtances will feel one
of theſe effects, from it. For I have endeavoured pag, Ir.
to ſhew in the beginning of this chapter and ſhall
have frequent opportunities of ſhewing in other
parts of this work, that the effect, which any ac-
tion has or may have upon the happineſs or mi-
ſery of the agent himſelf, is not what gives the
name of a virtue or a vice to it.
If what has been hitherto advanced proves any
thing, the notion of virtue muſt in every branch
of duty be ſomething elſe beſides fitneſs of appli-
cation : but in the duties, which a man owes to
himſelf, it may be ſhewn diſtinctly. For here fit-
neſs of application is nothing elſe but fitneſs of
action; becauſe a man muft neceffarily act agreea-
bly to his character, when he uſes himſelf in a pro-
per manner; and nothing in theſe inſtances can
make an unfitneſs of application but a diſagree-
ment between the action and the nature, charac-
ter or circumſtances of him, who does it. Unleſs
there-
16 An Eſay on Virtue.
therefore the notion of virtue may be had from
fitneſs of action, the ſelf-duties cannot be ever
called virtues by thoſe, wlio pretend to have no
notion of it but that it is a conformity to the rela-
tions of things. But do we diſapprove the beha-
viour of the ſenſualiſt, becauſe it is contrary to the
character of a man? who then ſhall determine
what the true character of a man is, or whence
ſhall the ſtandard be taken? if from the ſenſual-
iſt himſelf; then he plainly acts up to it: if from
the generality of mankind; perhaps it would be
found that fact and experience do not put an
averſion to the pleaſures of ſenſe into the notion
of a man; and I do not remember to have ſeen
it in any of the laboured and abſtract definitions
of our ſpecies.
The other notions of virtue, which have been
advanced by different moraliſts, ſhall be examined
preſently: let us now return to the queſtion we
ſet out with; — What is it, that is diſliked in the
man of pleaſure ? — is not it, that his courſe
of life is ſuch as calls off his attention from the
welfare of his fellow-creatures, makes him negli-
gent of doing good, and diſpoſes him to do harm?
for we begin to diſlike him, when he firſt diſco-
vers his inclinations; every act of unchaſtity makes
us ſuſpect that he is more ready to pleaſe himſelf
than to do good to others: but a ſingle violation
of chaſtity is not thought a ſufficient reaſon for
call-
An Eſſay on Virtue.
17
calling him vicious; he is not contemptible, till
he is habitually debauched, that is, till he has in
fome meaſure devoted himſelf to ſuch follies as
make him an uſeleſs member of ſociety. And if
at any time his ill-governed paſſions engage him
not only to be careleſs about the welfare of man-
kind, but to diſturb their peace and break in up-
on their happineſs; then we ſomething more than
deſpiſe, we hate him. Since therefore the diſlike,
which attends him, keeps pace with his neglect to
do good and his inclination to do harm; it ſeems
to be a juſt concluſion, that this is the true reaſon
for diſapproving his conduct.
Some of the fame obſervations, that have been
made above, are applicable in the caſe of fobriety.
For how muſt it be made out that this is a virtue?
do the good effects, which the temperate man will
commonly experience, and the pernicious conſe-
quences of the oppoſite vice upon the intemperate
give it this name?--The worſt conſequences, which
the drunkard feels in the preſent world, are, that
he ſhortens his life, and makes it miſerable whilft
it laſts. And if this made his behaviour be called
vicious; then the mechanic, that has impaired his Ramazzini
health and broke his conſtitution in a uſeful trade; dif.mn
and the young hero, that ſheds his blood in the
juſt defence of his country, muſt be vicious too.
The difference between theſe characters is what
I have made the difference between virtue and
C
vice
de morb.ar:
..
18 An Elay on Virtue.
vice. The mechanic facrifices his health and the
foldier his life to the good of mankind. Whilſt
the drunkard for a great part of his time deprives
himſelf abſolutely of the uſe of his reaſon, throws
off all reſtraints and all ſenſe of duty, and makes
himſelf dangerous and hurtful. Or if his fellow-
creatures ſhould eſcape his mad fallies; yet at beſt
neither they, whom the common ties of huma-
nity have recommended to his care, nor thoſe,
whom the cloſer ties of blood have united to
him, can hope for any good from him. All, that
have embarked in any concerns with him, will
commonly feel the effects of his debaucheries in
their fortune: his family will be ſure to feel them
both in their fortune and in their conſtitution. If
he is of a nice and delicate frame, this courſe of life
will ſoon weaken him; and at laſt wear him out:
it will make him indolent and unactive, peeviſh
and uneaſy with all about him: it will cloud his
underſtanding, ſtupify his judgment, and leave
him neither the inclination nor the abilities to do
good. But if his conſtitution is a little ſtronger,
and is able to hold out againſt the frequent at-
tacks, which his folly makes upon it; then the ſame
exceſſes will give him an inclination to do harm:
for, before they have brought him into the deſpi-
cable condition juſt deſcribed, they will not barely
make him moroſe; but put ſuch a fierceneſs and
violence into his temper, that ſome will avoid
him,
An Elay on Virtue. 19
him, becauſe they diſlike him, and others, be-
cauſe they are afraid of him. And if the wearing
out a life,which might have been ſerviceableto man-
kind, in doing no good and in expoſing themſelves
to the hazard of doing much harm is what we dif-
approve in the debauched and intemperate; it
will be eaſy to infer, that the contrary to all this
recommends fobriety, and is the true cauſe why
we call and eſteem it a virtue.
I know that fobriety is agreable to the will of
God, and that the neglect of it will be puniſhed
in another life: but if this be the notion of virtue,
then the antient moraliſts could have no notion
of it, and had no meaning for a word, which they
uſe very frequently,and to all appearance as ſteadily
and with as much propriety as we do: for it is
not uſual with them to place the nature of virtue
in a conformity to the will of the Gods; and
much leſs do they place it in being careful to
avoid ſuch puniſhments as ſhall be inflicted in a
life after this. Nay ſo far are they from making
the effence of virtue conſiſt in
any
conſideration
of another life, that few of them and theſe very
ſeldom mention it even as a ſanction of virtue:
and when they do, it is in ſuch a manner and
upon ſuch occaſions, that there may be reaſon for
believing them to ſpeak at theſe times in the cha-
racter of orators rather than of philoſophers.
This
C 2
20 An Eſay on Virtue
This ſingle conſideration, that fobriety is com-
manded and enforced by God, is ſufficient to
make a duty of it: but, though it muſt be allowed,
that
every virtue is a duty, yet it does not follow,
that every duty is a virtue: for then what foun-
dation would there be for the diſtinction, which
moſt men allow of, between moral and poſitive
duties? Some indeed do maintain, that there is not
any foundation for ſuch a diſtinction: but the man-
ner, in which they endeavour to ſupport their opi-
nion, either ſhews them to have the ſame notion of
virtue, that I would eſtabliſh; or elſe will leave us
in poſſeſſion of this diſtinction as far as I ſhould
have occaſion to make any uſe of it. If they at-
tempt to prove, that one fort of duties will by
poſitive inſtitution tend as much to promote and
ſecure the happineſs of mankind as the other does
naturally; and therefore that upon the whole there
is no difference between them: this may be true,
but ſuppoſes the moral goodneſs or virtue of ac-
tions to conſiſt in their tendency to do good or to
prevent harm. But if they only think of proving,
that there is the ſame reaſon for complying with
both, becauſe the obligation to practiſe either one
or the other fort is ultimately derived from the
will of God: this I would grant too; but it will
only ſhew that both of them are equally duties, and
not that the moral nature of one is the fame with
the poſitive nature of the other, or that the name
5
virtue
An Eſay on Virtue.
21
virtue may be applyed with equal propriety to
either; which it certainly might be, if conformity
to the will of God was the ſtandard of virtue, or
if whatever is a duty muſt for that reaſon be a
virtue too.
It is not foreign to the preſent deſign nor in-
proper in this place to obſerve, that though the
diviſion of duties into thoſe, which we owe to
God; thoſe, which we owe to our neighbour; and
thoſe, which we owe to ourſelves; be very right
and proper; yet ſuch a diviſion of virtues was
ſcarce ever heard of. Or if any one thinks other-
wiſe, and is not aware, that it would be an un-
uſual way of ſpeaking to talk of the virtues, that
we owe or that relate to God: he may find reaſon
for changing his opinion, when he recollects,
that we commonly diſtinguiſh between piety and
virtue; and that the duties we owe to God are
generally proved to be virtues by the Apoſtle's
inference, that he, who loveth God, will love bis 1 Joh. c.lv.
brother alſo.
It would be nothing to the purpoſe to urge that
a certain innate moral ſenſe, which approves vir-
tue and diſapproves vice, ſhews us the beauty of
temperance and informs us, that it is of the former
fort. For if it were ever ſo true, that we brought
ſuch a natural taſte for virtue into the world with
us, yet this would not in the leaſt affect the caſe
in hand; as it can teach us at beſt only what does
ap-
V. 20, 2010-
22
An Eſay on Virtue.
1
approve and not what is approved. When I ask
what virtue is, what quality in our actions this
name belongs to ? I ſhould receive but little in-
ſtruction by being told; that virtue is perceived by
a faculty in the mind, which differs from the un-
derſtanding and which may very well be called
an internal ſenſe. Unleſs indeed they, who give
this anſwer, mean that the notion of virtue is no-
thing elſe but the agreement between an action
and this ſenſe; that, as the idea of found is no-
thing but the perception, which is conveyed to the
mind by the ears, ſo the idea of virtue is nothing
but the approbation, which the mind perceives to be
given by this internal ſenſe to ſome ſort of actions.
But if this was the caſe, if the idea of virtue was the
object of a ſenſe peculiarly adapted to it, and was
nothing but that perception in the mind, which
this ſenſe conveys thither; then fure this idea
muſt have been as well ſettled as thoſe of light or
found are, and there could have been no more
diſpute or diſagreement about it than about any
other ſimple idea whatſoever.
And now, I hope, it may be concluded with
fome
appearance of reaſon, that the duties we owe
to ourſelves are called virtues from their natural
tendency to prevent harm to mankind and to pro-
mote their happineſs. It ſeems too very likely, that
the difficulty of making out their claim to this
character has ariſen from hence; that the notion
of
An Elay on Virtue.
23
feet. 2.
Tillotſon
of virtue is not contained in the more uſual de-
fcriptions of theſe duties. Thus when chaſtity is Whole duty
defined to be a perfeet abſtaining from all unclean-fe&t. 18.
neſs; and temperance to be a moderate uſe of meat Taylor'sholy
and drink; or when temperance is uſed in a larger liv, &c. c. 2.
fenſe as comprehending both what we properly
call ſo, and chaſtity too, and is ſaid to confift in
the government of the
ſenſual appetite as to all kind fol. v. I.
of bodily pleaſure; theſe definitions are ſuch as Scott's Chr.
thew us very well what the duties are; and they life. p. 1.C.3.
are ſuch as both thoſe, who affirm that every
branch of chaſtity is a virtue, and thoſe, who deny
it, ſeem to agree in: and therefore, if they had
contained the notion or eſſence of virtue, there
could not have ariſen any ſuch diſpute. But the
truth is, that what makes an action virtuous can-
not be diſcovered to belong to theſe forts of beha-
viour without attending to their conſequences.
And they, whoſe experience and knowledge of
mankind have taught them what the effects of
chaſtity and temperance are, take one ſide of the
queſtion: whilſt they take the other, who either
have not obſerved theſe effects, or, becauſe the
ill conſequences of the contrary behaviour are not
neceſſary, have falfely ſuppoſed them to be neither
natural nor probable.
But if the duties, which a man owes to him-
felf, have not enjoyed an undiſputed title to a
place in the catalogue of virtues, becauſe the
10
24
An Eſſay on Virtue.
notion of virtue is not contained in the definition
of them; then we may reaſonably expect to find
it in the definitions of juſtice and benevolence,
which have always had an unqueſtionable right
to the name of virtue: for if it had been other-
wiſe, theſe duties muſt neceſſarily have had the
fame precarious title to this character. But one
part of the notion of virtue before propoſed is the
definition of juſtice, as the other is of benevolence;
for juſt a£tions are thoſe, which naturally prevent
or guard againſt harm; and benevolent ones are
thoſe, which naturally do good. This ſeems to
confirm the point in queſtion ſo fully and direct-
ly, that I might almoſt venture to leave it with
the reader and let the truth of all, that has been
hitherto advanced, reſt upon it. Only here I would
have him obſerve, that it is not the actual harm,
which an action prevents, nor the actual good,
which it does, from whence it is eſteemed virtu-
ous. We attend more to the nature of the action
than to the advantages, which in fact ariſe from
it; more to the effects, which it is fitted to pro-
duce, than to thoſe, which it actually produces.
A magiſtrate does juſtice to the public, when he
condemns a murderer to death, though by the cri-
minal's breaking his priſon the ſentence ſhould ne-
ver be executed. It may be a benevolent action to
ſend relief to a diſtreſſed family, tho' the money
ſhould be embezzled by the perſon we truſt it
to.
An Eſay on Virtue. 25
to. And thus the temperance of a man, who is
either impriſoned for life or thrown upon a deſo-
late iſland even without any poſſible hopes of re-
turning again to live amongſt mankind, may,
notwithſtanding no good comes of it to any one
but himſelf, be a virtue: becauſe the nature of
the behaviour is the very fame that it would have
been, if he had lived in fociety; it is fit to do
good and to prevent harm: theſe are the genuine
effects of it, and from theſe it has its name; how-
ever by the circumſtances of the temperate man
or by any other accident it may be hindered from
producing them.
But to return. The proſperity of the unjuſt and
the misfortunes of the good, which are ſo frequent-
ly complained of, demonſtrate, that unleſs man-
kind delight in contradictions, they do not place
either the goodneſs or virtue of an action in its
bringing good or happineſs in this life to the man,
who does it; for then virtue in miſery would be
an abſurd and impoſſible ſuppoſition. And that no
other notion of virtue except that, which I am de-
fending, could give this character to juſtice and be-
nevolence, may be ſhewn by the ſame arguments,
that were made uſe of above in the caſe of tempe-
rance and chaſtity. The happineſs of a life to come
or the will of God may have made them duties: but
the allowed diſtinction between moral and poſitive
duties will ſufficiently prove, that neither of theſe
D
CON-
26 An Elay on Virtue.
/
confiderations can make any ſort of behaviour be
called a virtue. It muſt be ſomething elſe and
not a moral ſenſe, which makes juſtice and bene-
volence virtues; if a moral ſenſe is nothing but
that faculty of the mind which perceives virtue
and approves it. And tho' it is allowed on all
hands that theſe duties are virtues; yet, unleſs the
idea of virtue had been better fixed and more de-
terminate than it is, one can ſcarce believe it con-
fiſts in nothing but the approbation, which the
mind perceives to be given by this internal ſenſe
to ſome fort of actions.
From what has been ſaid we may ſee the rea-
fon why a ſingle act of injuſtice is frequently
enough to make a man be reputed vicious, tho'
he feldom gets this character for any thing leſs
than a habit of intemperance. Thoſe actions, which
do harm are vicious; and to do harm is contain-
ed in the very notion of every act of injuſtice:
but the miſchief of intemperance may ſometimes
be avoided; it comes on by now degrees, and is
not always perceived, however does not become
notorious, till the intemperance is habitual. The
want of benevolence in any one inſtance would,
I ſuppoſe, have been as odious as the want of ju-
ftice is, and that for the very ſame reaſon, if it
could have been as eaſily known, what good a
man has omitted, as it may, what evil he has done:
for
An Elay on Virtue. 27
for where we are exactly acquainted with his cir-
cumſtances and with the opportunities of doing
good, that have been offered to him; we diſap-
prove him for a ſingle neglect and expreſs our
diſlike of his behaviour in very ſtrong terms with-
out waiting till he is habitually unbenevolent: .
a Sometimes indeed another notion of virtue,
different from any that has been yet mentioned;
ſeems to have been thought of; when being virtu-
ous is repreſented to be nothing elſe but tranſcrib-
ing, as much as may be, the Divine character into
our own lives: and ſo virtue is ſuppoſed to conſiſt
in the imitation of God. But what part of the Di-
vine character are we to imitate in order to be yir-
tuous? does virtue conſiſt in the imitation of God's
wiſdom, or of thoſe, which are commonly called
his moral perfections? If indeed it is an endeavour
to be like him in his wiſdom; then chaſtity and
fobriety may be virtues upon this ſcheme; becauſe
they keep the underſtanding cool, and preſerve
that temper of mind, without which it would be
impoſſible to acquire, any degree of wiſdom at
all. But how can be get wiſdom, who holds the plote
and glories in the goad? how can they improve
* Αλλ' τ' απολέσθαι τα κακά δυνατον (υπεναντίον γάρ τι τα αγαθά αιε
είναι ανάγκη) έτ' εν Θεοίς αυτα ιδρύθαι· την δε θνητην φύσιν και τόνδε τον
τόπον σεριπολεί εξ ανάγκης. διο και σειράθαι χρή ενθένδε εκείσε φεύγειν οτι-
τάχιστα. Φυγή δε, ομοίωσις θεώ κατά το δυνατόν· ομοίωσις δε, δίκαιού και,
orlov justa Oporúcews Jevétab. Plat. Theætet. p. 129. A..
D 2
their
28 An Eſay on Virtue.
their underſtanding, who are given up to labour,
who are enſlaved either to the buſineſs of a trade
or to the neceſſities of a mean condition? and
yet in men of this character we expect to find
virtue. So that either mankind are very unreaſon-
able and require virtue of thoſe, who can have
no opportunities of practiſing it; or elſe we have
ſome notion of virtue different from an imitation
of the wiſdom of God. Is it therefore an imita-
tion of his moral perfections, to which we give this
name?-But all the perfections of this ſort, which
we aſcribe to the Deity, are juſtice, goodneſs,
and veracity: it would be abſurd, if not impious
to talk of his chaſtity, fobriety, or humility: it is
the buſineſs of the duties of temperance and mo-
deration to regulate, not to extirpate the paſſions;
but as God has no paflions, nothing of this fort
can with any propriety be applied to him; and
when he is called a God of purity, it feems in-
tended to expreſs not ſo much what he is in him-
felf as what he expects his creatures ſhould be.
This therefore is not the notion of virtue, which
the ſober part of mankind have, who think, that
the duties of temperance are virtues; nor which
the modeſt have, who give humility a place in
that catalogue. Unleſs theſe duties can be looked
upon as imitations of God, becauſe they neceſſa-
rily contain ſomething of juſtice or of goodnefs
and this would be to ſay what cannot much affect
the
.
An Elay on Virtue
29
the queſtion before us: for it ſeems to be inuch
the ſame whether we place the notion of virtue
in imitating God in his inclination to do good to
his creatures and averſion to hurting them with-
out cauſe, or in cultivating the ſame affections
without taking into the account any pattern, that
we follow; becauſe that behaviour, which is vir-
tuous, when we copy fome example, would have
the ſame nature and deſerve the ſame title, though
we copied none.
Sometimes it is faid that we imitate God, when
we act agreeably to our circumſtances and to the
relations of things; becauſe this is what he always
does with the moſt unalterable exactneſs. But one
of theſe particulars cannot with propriety be call-
ed an imitation: by acting agreeably to our cir-
cumſtances and condition we no more imitate
him, than a ſober man can be ſaid to imitate a
rake, whilſt each of them acts in character. How-
ever let it be granted, that this may be called an
imitation, and then it will follow, that in this ac-
count of virtue there was no occaſion to take no-
tice of any ſuch thing; becauſe the idea of it is Wollafton
not here placed in the imitation ſo much as in fect.1.prop.g.
conforming to our circumſtances and to the rela-
tions of things, that is, in fitnefs of action and fit-
neſs of application. And if virtue conſiſts in fitneſs
of action, or is nothing elſe but the acting in cha-
racter, we ſhall be as much at a loſs to determine
whe-
30 An Eſay on Virtue.
whether juſtice and benevolence are virtues, as we
were before about chaſtity and ſobriety, till the
character of a man is ſettled and either fact or ab-
ſtract reaſoning have made them parts of it. E-
nough has been ſaid already to ſhew, that fitneſs
of application or uſing things as being what they
are, could give us no diſtinct notion of virtue in any
inſtance whatever without having recourſe at laſt
to that, which I have been endeavouring to fup-
port.
The laſt inſtances of behaviour, where the u-
ſual
ways of ſpeaking and judging ſeem to ſhew
what notion men have of virtue, are thoſe, which
are called virtuous, when they are likely to do
good, and vicious, when they are likely to do
harm. The inſtances, that are to be appealed to
in this place, muſt not be called avarice and am-
bition ; becauſe avarice is a name, that always
fignifies ſomething wrong, and ſo does ambition
too, for when we would uſe it in any other ſenſe,
we are forced to foften it a little and call it a lau-
dable ambition. But to deſire and accumulate
wealth, to thirſt after and at laſt acquire power is
not always vicious : for then every man, who
grows rich, and who has more money than he
can make uſe of, muſt loſe his reputation; and a
virtuous man in power would be not only an un-
uſual thing, but a contradiction.
The
An Eſay on Virtue
31
The characters of the griping uſurer and of
the cruel tyrant are indeed deteſtable: but the
induſtry of the merchant and the zeal of the true
patriot deſerve our eſteem. Yet here the
very
fame
objects are purſued both by thoſe, who are not
vicious, and by thoſe, who are: ſo that in the
nature of the thing deſired there is no difference
between the odious and the amiable character.
Nor is there any appearance of reaſon for ſaying,
that the deſire of wealth or of power is more con-
fiftent with the nature of man in the inſtance
where it is allowed and even approved of than in
that where it is diſliked and condemned. What
then are the relations, what the fitneſs and order
of things, that are diſturbed and broke in upon
by the covetous and the ambitious, but not by
thoſe, who ſeem to have the ſame inclinations,
and who engage in the ſame purſuits ? how does
it happen, that the ſame deſires ſhould be wrong
in them and not in theſe? is it becauſe ſuch de-
fires are wrong, when they are carried to excefs;
but allowable, when they are reſtrained within due
and reaſonable bounds ? Let us therefore en-
quire, how theſe bounds are determined, and
wherein the viciouſneſs of the exceſs conſiſts: and
perhaps it may be found, that it is not the deſir-
ing too much money or too much power, that is
blamed; but the deſiring either of them more
than is conſiſtent with ſomething elſe. And if we
can
32 An Elay on Virtue.
can diſcover at the ſame time what this ſomething
is, which gives even oppoſite characters to the
ſame deſires; which makes them vicious, when
they interfere with it, and exalts them into vir-
tues when they advance it; we may with ſome
degree of certainty conclude, that this is the
ſtandard of virtue.
The character of the merchant is not vicious,
nay it is virtuous, though he heartily deſires and
uſes the moſt likely means to bring in a large
profit at the year's end, if he carries on a fair
trade without oppreſſing or hurting any one; if
he keeps exact accounts and is punctual in giving
every man his due, that has any demand upon
him; if he does juſtice to himſelf and his family
by living in a manner, that is agreeable to his cir-
cumſtances and ſtation, and by giving his chil-
dren ſuch an education as will make the fortune,
which he leaves them, moſt beneficial to them-
ſelves and to the public. He is more eſpecially
eſteemed, and is called a good man, let his clear
gains be ever ſo great, if he omits no opportunity
of aſſiſting the diſtreſſed and relieving the necef-
ſitous; if he never overlooks the miſery of his
fellow-creatures nor ſtops his ears againſt the cries
of the unfortunate. But though the uſurer ſhould
not raiſe a tenth part of the fortune, that the mer-
chant does; and though his views ſhould termi-
nate here, that is, though his deſires ſhould be
re
An Elay on Virtue. 33
reſtrained to a ſum ſo much ſmaller; yet he is
viciouſly covetous, if he purſues his end by ſtarving
himſelf and his family, by neglecting the education
of his children, by keeping all the money he gets,
and by uſing all the mean arts of fraud and ex-
erciſing, when he dare, all the violence of op-
preſſion. Whatever makes the difference between
theſe two characters muſt be that, which makes the
difference between what we call virtue and what
we call vice: and this is nothing elſe, but that
one of them does no good and much harm; whilft
the other is more than conſiſtent with the hap-
pineſs of mankind, it tends very much to the ad-
vancement of it.
The inſolent and cruel tyrant does not thirſt
more after power than the honeſt and ſincere
patriot does. Only the latter endeavours to get
authority and influence by doing good; and when
he has obtained what he wanted, he employs it in
promoting and ſecuring the happineſs of the pu-
blic. Whilſt the former, wholly unconcerned for
any good but his own, firſt raiſes himſelf by a
ſeries of fraud and injury, that is, by a continued
violation of the happineſs of thoſe, who ſtand in
his
way;
and then uſes his power in a manner
quite agreable to the arts, which procured it, to
make thoſe miſerable, whom he ought to have
protected, and to waſte and deſtroy his fellow-
creatures. Thus the good or harm ariſing from
the
E
34 An Eſay on Virtue
the deſire of power makes one of theſe characters
virtuous and the other vicious; for this is all, which
diſtinguiſhes the father of his country from the
oppreffor of his people.
Since therefore, in the diſputes whether fome
particular actions have any claim to be placed in
the catalogue of virtues, the firſt and moſt uſual
enquiry is, whether they do good or prevent harm;
and either of theſe properties is ſufficient to make
out their title: ſince thoſe inſtances of behaviour,
which include doing good or preventing harm in
very notion of them, have always been allowed
to be virtuous, and the contrary have been univer-
fally eſteemed vicious: and laſtly ſince the very
fame ſort of behaviour is called virtue when it does
good, and vice when it does harm; whatever di-
ftinctions between virtue and vice may have been
invented by refining and metaphyſical moraliſts,
this is the only one, which common uſe has eſta-
bliſhed; and therefore is the only one, which
common ſenſe has made.
the
CHAP
An Eſay on Virtue.
35
CHAP. III.
The diſtinction between virtue and vice has a found-
ation in nature and is not merely notional.
The Fable of the bees examined.
A
S I undertook in the foregoing chapter to
determine wherein the nature of virtue
confifts; I may poſſibly not have ſatisfied all my
readers by proving that ſuch behaviour as is fitted
to advance the good of mankind or to prevent
us from doing them harm has been univerſally
called and eſteemed virtue. Some of them may
object, that I ought to have gone farther, and have
enquired, not what behaviour has the name but
what has the nature and eſſence, not what has been
called, but what really and truly is virtue.
If they, who make this objection, confound the
notions of virtue and duty; if by expecting to pag.20.2.1
have it proved that the behaviour, which has the
name given to it, is really virtue, they mean,
that this behaviour ſhould be ſhewn to be the
fame, which nature and reaſon dictate to us, and
which God requiſes of us; I will endeavour to
ſatisfy them in another part of this work: the
propereſt place for doing it will be, when I come to
explain the cauſe of moral obligation and to prove
that virtue is our duty. But if we keep theſe two
E 2
no-
36 An Elay on Virtue.
i
notions diſtinct; then I confeſs, that I know but
little difference between what is really and truly
virtue and that ſort of behaviour, which by com-
mon conſent is called fo, or to which the name
virtue belongs. If indeed I were to be asked
whether each particular action is a virtue or a vice
only becauſe men have thought fit to call it by
this or by that name; I ſhould anſwer, no: for
murder will be a vice, though you give it ever ſo
mild a title; and chaſtity would not become in-
different, though all mankind ſhould agree not
to call it a virtue. But this does not affect the
enquiry in the laſt chapter; the deſign of which was,
not to draw up a catalogue of virtues and vices,
but to ſettle the notion of virtue in general and
find out the mark, by which our actions are di-
ſtinguiſhed into thoſe two ſorts; not to ſhew which
particular actions are virtuous, and which are
vicious, but what that quality in them is, by which
they are made fo. For the general words virtue and
vice are names given to two oppoſite ſorts of be-
haviour or to certain qualities by which our actions
are made of this or that fort: and, when we know
what quality theſe names ſtand for, we know as
much of the true nature of virtue and vice as we
poſſibly can want to know. God did not give
names to things, nor did the conſtitution of nature
direct us in impoſing them: they are arbitrary
marks and ſtand for the ideas of him, that uſes
them:
An Eſay on Virtue. 37
them: and he makes ſuch an uſe of them as is
proper and natural, who takes care to give them
no other ſenſe, but what conſent and authority
have warranted; he uſes them ſo as not to diſpleaſe
God, who takes care never to miſlead mankind by
them to their detriment. Nature or, to ſpeak more
properly, the Author of nature, He; who made
things as they are, has made one fort of behaviour
totally different from another: ſome actions are
in themſelves fitted to produce good or happineſs
and others evil or miſery to mankind; this I hope
to prove immediately to the reader's ſatisfaction:
and if the former fort have been conſtantly called
virtue and the latter vice, this is all we need
enquire as to the reality of virtue; for though
nature made the difference, it was inan, who gave
the name. When we deſcend to particulars indeed
and would prove this or that action to be a virtue,
it is not ſufficient to alledge that all mankind
have agreed to call it ſo. If murder does harm,
calling it a virtue will not make it one; becauſe
giving it the name does not give it the quality,
which this name ſtands for; it does not alter the
nature of the action and make it do good. And
if chaſtity makes us uſeful and beneficial to man-
kind, though all the world ſhould deny it to be
a virtue, they could only rob it of its title; they
could not ſo change the quality of it as to make
it either do harm or be quite indifferent.
Upon
1
38
An Eſſay on Virtue.
Upon the whole therefore; when we enquire
whether this or that action is a virtue or a vice,
it is not a ſatisfactory anſwer to ſay it is a virtue,
becauſe men call it one: whatever ſtandard they
make uſe of in dividing our actions into forts, it
is poſſible for them to mifapply it in particular in-
ſtances; whatever quality makes an action virtuous,
they may imagine that ſome actions have this qua-
lity, which in fact have it not. But when we en-
quire what virtue in general is, or what quality
makes an action virtuous, this is no more than en-
quiring what ſort of behaviour or what quality in
our behaviour the name virtue belongs to: and
the moſt proper way to determine this is by find-
ing out how the word has been uſed: for though
that action is not always virtuous, which may
have been honoured with this title; yet that
qua-
lity in our behaviour is really and truly virtue, which
mankind by general conſent have called fo.
The only farther doubt that can ariſe here is,
whether there is any ſuch quality; whether fome
of our actions have a natural tendency to do good
and others a natural tendency to do harm. And
to ſhew by abſtract reaſoning, that this diviſion
of our actions into morally good and evil is not
merely notional, that this diſtinction between
virtue and vice is not arbitrary but has a founda-
tion in nature, would I believe be very unenter-
taining and perhaps to ſome of my readers not
very
An Elay on Virtue.
39
very convincing. I ſhall therefore attempt the
proof of it by examining the principles, that are
maintained by the author of the Fable of the bees.
This writer's definitions of vice and virtue agree
almoſt exactly with the account, that I have given
of them above: “ Mankind, he ſays, have by V.I. pag.34.
“ common conſent called every thing, which,
« without regard to the public, man ſhall com-
“ mit to gratify any of his appetites, vice; if in
" that action there ſhould be obſerved the leaſt
o proſpect, that it might either be injurious to any
« of the ſociety, or ever render him leſs ſervice-
« able to others : and they have given the name
se virtue to every performance, by which man,
« contrary to the impulſe of nature, ſhould en-
« deavour the benefit of others, or the conqueſt
w of his own paſſions out of a rational ambition
« of being good."
When I read theſe definitions, I cannot help
being afraid of having it ſuſpected, that I favour
all this author's ſentiments : for, except what he
fays of its being contrary to the impulſe of nature,
my idea or notion of it is the ſame with his. And
yet when I look back to his title page
ble of the bees or private vices, public benefits-or
when I conſider the concluſions, which he en-
deavours to make good in his book; I find more
reaſon to think, that we diſagree even in the no-
tion of virtue, notwithſtanding his definition, than
The fa-
to
40 An Elay on Virtue.
V.I. pag. 37
to be afraid of appearing to favour any of his opi-
nions. For if private vices are really public bene-
fits, then an action is not called vicious merely
becauſe it does harm; ſince many, which are cal-
led fo, do good: nor is the name of-virtue ap-
propriated to thoſe actions, that produce happi-
neſs; ſince many, which have this effect, are
branded with the name of vices.
But whatever is his meaning when he repre-
ſents virtue and vice as the contrivance of poli-
ticians; whether it is, that they firſt obſerved
ſome actions to be naturally beneficial, and o-
thers naturally hurtful to mankind; or that they
firſt gave the name of virtue to ſuch behaviour as
does good, and the name of vice to ſuch as does
harm: whether he thought, that virtue and vice
are merely notional, that no actions have natu-
rally any beneficial tendency, but are made ad-
vantagious to mankind, that is, virtuous, by the
art and good management of wiſe men and law-
givers; or that the practice of virtue in a conſtant
endeavour to do good is recommended to us only
by the addreſs of politicians: let his meaning be
any of theſe; and I may agree with him in his
notion of virtue without coming into the opinion,
which he attempts to eſtabliſh, that all the moral
virtues are no better than the political offspring,
which flattery begot upon pride. For the notion
may be the ſame, whether it was firſt diſcovered,
by
Ibid.
An Eſay on Virtue
. 41
by the prieſt or the layman; whether the vulgar
or the politician firſt gave the name to it: the
word may ſignify the ſame thing, when it is uſed
either by them, who think ſome actions are na-
turally virtuous, or by others, who look upon the
good, which any action produces, to be wholly
owing to art and management: it may have the
ſame meaning in the mouth of the Stoic, who
recommends virtue from its own intrinſic excel-
lence; of the Chriſtian, who embraces it from
faith in God's promiſes; or of the rake, who ima-
gines that he has found out the trick, and that
the prieſt and the politician have contrived to
flatter him into this practice for their own ſake,
and to pay him in fair words for the pleaſure,
which he parts with whilſt he promotes their ad-
vantage by being virtuous.
If our author's definition of virtue is one, that
he will ſtand by; then what he propoſes in his
title
page
and endeavours to make out in his book
will be as difficult to reconcile with his own
notion as it is with mine: and I might fairly
take the advantage of every thing, which his ad-
mirers would ſay in his defence; for whatever can
clear him of the charge of inconſiſtency will ſup-
port the account, that I have given of virtue, à-
gainſt the firength of all his concluſions, though
they ſhould be true even to demonſtration. If he
only deſigned here to tell us what is the common
di-
F
42 An Elay on Virtue.
diſtinction between virtue and vice; and had,
when he undertakes to ſhew that private vices
are public benefits, fome notion of vice different
from this and peculiar to himfelf; unleſs he had
explained the ſenſe, in which he uſes that word,
it will be impoſſible to fa.y, whether he has prov-
ed his point, and how far I may be concerned
in it, if he has.
Perhaps he thought, that the diſtinction be-
tween: virtue and vice is merely fantaſtical, that
one fort of behaviour may do as much good in
the world as its oppoſite; and therefore, that men
may, if they will, agree to call ſome actions vi-
cious, becauſe they are generally ſuppoſed to do
harm, and others virtuous, becauſe they are gene-
rally ſuppoſed to do good, but a penetrating eye
will eaſily ſee that there is little reaſon in nature
for ſuch a diſtinction, and that every action, which
we call vicious; is of advantage to the public as
well as thoſe, and perhaps more than thoſe, which
we call virtuous. Thus in his two favourite in-
ſtances of luxury and drunkenneſs; if the word
vice ſignifies that fort of behaviour, which does
harm, and luxury or drunkenneſs does good; then
theſe are no vices, whatever odious names we may
be pleaſed to call them by. And if the ſame could
be Îhewn in all the actions of our life, which are
looked upon as vicious; it would follow, that,
whatever diſtinction politicians may make be-
tween
An Elay on Virtue.
43
tween the notions of virtue and vice, yet when we
come to facts and experience, we ſhall find, that
nature has made no difference, but that one ac-
tion is as good as another, and that as much be-
nefit accrues to the public from the prodigality of
the rake, as there does either from the induſtry
of the man of buſineſs or from the generoſity of
the Chriſtian..
Thus we may allow for a ſmall inaccuracy of
expreſſion, which ſeems to have been owing to
the neceſſary conciſeneſs of a title
page;
and
may,
when he ſays that private vices are public benefits,
fuppoſe him to mean that many actions, which
are called vicious, do as much good as many
others, which have been honoured with a name
of better repute : and, ſince virtue and vice are
no otherwiſe diſtinguiſhed than by doing good or
harm; as all actions are indifferent in themſelves,
or are all equally productive of good under pro-
per management; theſe names are affixed to the
ſeveral parts of our conduct in an arbitrary man-
ner, and without any ſort of foundation in na-
ture.
In this ſenſe his opinion is conſiſtent enough:
but it will be neceſſary to ſhew that it is not true.
The wiſer and more thinking part of mankind,
who very juſtly believe that there is a real di-
ſtinction in nature an effential difference between
virtue and vice, will be prejudiced againſt any
--
F 2
ас-
44 An Elay on Virtue.
*
account of the idea of virtue, which might take
away this diſtinction and leave a poſſibility for this
difference to be only fantaſtical, arbitrary, or no-
tional. And beſides; though the book has many
admirers, the author may have fewer; and perhaps
thoſe, that he has, are not much concerned, whe-
ther he is conſiſtent with himſelf or not: they
may be willing to give up his definitions of vir-
tue and vice, and may adhere to nothing but the
concluſion, which he has undertaken to ſupport:
and they, who are, perſuaded that private vices
are public benefits, and yet believe that in calling
ſome parts of our conduct virtuous and other parts
vicious regard was had to a real difference in na-
ture, will never look for this difference where I
have placed it; becauſe the good, which may
ariſe from any part of our behaviour cannot poſſi-
bly diſtinguiſh virtue from vice in their opinion,
who look upon the conſequences of the latter to
be at leaſt as beneficial to the public as thoſe of
the former.
Let us therefore examine, in ſome of his own
inſtances, what the advantages are, which the pu-
blic receives from the vices of private men. And
here it muſt be owned, that the word luxury is
certainly made by common uſe to ſtand for ſome-
thing, which is wrong: but then it is as certain,
V.1.p.108. that what he calls luxury is not the behaviour
commonly meant by that title, nor is it ever
eſteem-
An Elay on Virtue. 45
ibid,
1
1
eſteemed vicious unleſs by monks and aſcetics.
Every thing is not luxury, that is not immediately
neceſſary to make man fubfiſt as he is a living
creature; but every thing either in dreſs or the man-
ner of living, that takes up more of a man's time
and thoughts than is conſiſtent with the good, which
his ſtation of life has enabled him to do; every
thing, that weakens his intelle&tual faculties, im-
pairs his health, or Spoils his temper. Though a
day-labourer might ſubſiſt well enough as a liv-
ing creature upon the very coarſe diet, which he
provides for himſelf the reſt of the week; yet a
man, who ſhould call his ſunday's dinner luxury,
would be laughed at, if he put on a grave face at
the ſame time, and ſpoke as though he was ſerious
and meant what he ſaid. A gentleman of fortune,
who dreſſes well, who has a ſplendid equipage,
and keeps a good table, does good to the people
employed by him and no harm to the public: it
is better to find work for the poor than to main-
tain them in idleneſs; and it is better to affit the
tradeſmen by laying out his money with them
than to give them the ſame fum for nothing. In
the mean time what is left at his table and ſome
little ſuperfluities in his fortune will be enough to
aſſiſt and ſupport the old and infirm, who live
in his neighbourhood and are not able to work.
proper to help others too, when they
happen to fall in his way; but it is not expected,
that
It
may be
46 An Eſſay on Virtue.
ibid.
that he ſhould make any his daily care beſides
thoſe, who are juſt under his eye: and much leſs
is it expected, that he ſhould maintain even theſe
in the ſame way, that he lives in himſelf: whole-
ſome food and plain cloaths are more agreeable
to their taſte and will make them happier. To
uſe a fortune in this manner is magnificence and
hoſpitality; no body of ſenſe reproaches a man
for it, and true Chriſtianity is far from diſcourag-
ing him.
But this writer is afraid, that, “ if we abate
“ one inch in the ſeverity of his definition of
luxury, we ſhan't know where to ſtop. When
people tell us they only deſire to keep themſelves
« fweet and clean, there is, he ſays, no underſtand-
« ing what they would be at; if they made uſe
« of theſe words in their genuine, proper, and
“ literal ſenſe, they might ſoon be ſatisfied with-
o out much coſt or trouble, if they did not want
56 water: but theſe two little adjectives are ſo com-
“ prehenſive, eſpecially in the dialect of ſome
is ladies, that no body can gueſs, how far they
may be ſtretcht. The comforts of life are like-
6 wife ſo various and extenſive; that no body can
“ tell what people mean by them, except he knows
« what ſort of life they lead. The ſame obſcurity
" he has obſerved in the words decency and con-
« veniency; and never could underſtand them,
« unleſs he was acquainted with the quality of
“ the
An Eſſay on Virtue.
47
« the perſons, that make uſe of them. People may
go to church together and be all of one mind
« as much as they pleaſe; but he is apt to believe,
« that when they pray for their daily bread, the
biſhop includes ſeveral things in that petition,
« which the ſexton does not think on.” He adds,
that “ by all this he only deſigns to ſhew, that,
« if once we depart from calling every thing luxury,
« that is not abſolutely neceſſary to keep a man
« alive, then there is no luxury at all; for if the
“ wants of men are innumerable, then what ought
" to ſupply them has no bounds; what is called
«« fuperfluous to ſome degree of people, will be
thought requiſite to thoſe of higher quality;
" and neither the world nor the skill of man can
produce any thing ſo curious or extravagant,
“ but ſome moſt gracious ſovereign or other, if it
o either eaſes or diverts him, will reckon it among
" the neceffaries of life; not meaning every bodys
« life, but that of his facred perſon.
If his account of luxury had agreed with the
common ſenſe of mankind, he would not have
wanted theſe reaſons to defend it: and if what he
calls by this name is any thing, which differs from
what the reſt of the world call fo; though he has
an undoubted right to uſe any word in what ſenſe
he pleaſes, when he tells his reader beforehand
how he deſigns to uſe it; yet he muſt not take it
ill, if his reaſons for going out of the way ſhould not
have
48
An Elay on Virtue.
have weight enough to make every body elſe uſe
it in the ſame ſenſe that he does. We may grant
without ſcruple, that in every definition of luxury
except his own, and perhaps in his too, it will
be impoſſible to determine what is luxury in any
man till we know his quality and his circum-
ſtances: but this will never prove that all other
definitions are wrong and that his therefore muſt
be the true one. Does not the very ſame thing
happen in almoſt every vice and in almoſt every
virtue ? the definitions of them are general; and,
when we come to apply them in particular in-
ſtances, before we can affirm that a man has.
practiſed ſuch a virtue or been guilty of ſuch a
vice, it is neceſſary to be acquainted with his con-
dition, his temper, and ſeveral of the relations,
which he bears to mankind. If intemperance con-
ſiſts in drinking to exceſs; then, where one man
would be called intemperate, another, who has
drank juſt as much, might keep clear of the charge.
V.I. p. 12. A proud man is one, that overvalues and imagines
better things of himſelf than any impartial judge,
throughly acquainted with all bis qualities and
circumſtances
, could poſſibly allow him: no body
therefore can tell what people mean, when they
fay, that a man is proud, except it be known what
way of life he is in, whom they call ſo; what his
V. I. p. 135. age, his rank, and his fortunes are. If « the beard-
« leſs enſign's pride ſhews itſelf by counterfeiting
(са.
An Elay on Virtue.
49
« a gravity above his years, and by ſtriving with
« a ridiculous aſſurance to imitate the ſtern coun-
“ tenance of his colonel;" then the ſame gravity
and the fame ſtern countenance in the colonel
himſelf, where it is natural and not put on, would
be no pride at all. It is charity to give ſuch aſ-
Siſtance to mankind as their wants and neceſſities
require, and as our own abilities will allow of:
but if we were asked, whether it is charity to ſend
five pounds to a poor family, that have had their
houſe and goods burnt; we ſhould find it dif-
ficult to give an anſwer, till we had enquired what
circumſtances the man is in, who deſigns to ſend
them this relief: if he is a man of fortune and
can ſpare ſo much, we ſhould call it charity: if
he has a large family of his own and but a ſmall
income, we might very juſtly think it vanity in
him to part with ſuch a fum: or if he was much
in debt, it would rather be injuſtice to his creditors
than charity to the ſufferers, to ſend any thing at
all. And ſince the neceſſity of knowing a perſon's
rank and fortune his age and even ſomething of
his conſtitution, before we can determine what
would be intemperance or pride, or charity in
him, does not put us upon finding out new de-
finitions of theſe words and upon giving them a
meaning different from what they have in com-
mon uſe; why ſhould we be more diffatisfied with
ſome little variety in the application of the word
G
luxury
S
50 An Eſſay on Virtue.
luxury to particular inſtances ? As we have ex-
amples enough in the names of virtues and vices
of all ſorts to defend ourſelves by; the moſt exact
writer had better uſe the word in ſuch a ſenſe as
to be underſtood by every body than go out of
the way in order to make it determinate.
But the definition, that was intended to be ſo
very exact an one, does not quite keep clear of
the difficulty, which the author of it took ſo much
pains to avoid. Though there will be but little
variety in what we call luxury, if we mean by it
every thing, which is not abſolutely neceffary to
keep a man alive; yet ſtill ſome variety there will
be, as long as the ſame fort of food and in the
fame quantity will not ſuit with every conſtitution;
as long as a man whilft he is in good health has
1 Tim.c.5. no abfolute occaſion for any thing but water, but
ſhould uſe a little wine, when his ſtomach grows weak
and his infirmities frequent. And ſince we know,
that St. Paul adviſed Timothy to this change in
his way of living; we may be ſure either that
Chriſtianity does not call every thing luxury,
a which this writer has called fo, or elſe that it does
not place luxury of all ſorts in the catalogue of
vices. For ſuppoſe we agree to his definition and
call it luxury to eat any thing but apples or acorns
and to drink any thing but water: it will then be
ſelf-evident that the luxury of private men is the
fupport of trade and muſt be for the advantage of
Brewing and baking. Fab. of the bees V.I. pag. 184.
the
4.23
An Elay on Virtue .
51
the public: but till he has ſhewn that every thing,
which exceeds this ſimple diet, is a vice; he has
by no means a right to conclude from hence, that
private vices are public benefits. He thought in-
deed, that if any abatement was made in the rigour
of his definition, there would be no ſuch thing
as luxury: becauſe, as what is ſuperfluous to one
degree of men will appear requiſite to thoſe of
higher quality, there will at laſt be nothing ſo
curious or extravagant, but ſome body or other
will reckon it amongſt the conveniencies and
comforts of life. But ſure it is poſſible to exceed
even where a great latitude is allowed of; and let
men reckon as they pleaſe, yet common ſenſe will
tell us, when they have exceeded: if their dreſs
is ſo affectedly different from others of the ſame
condition as to ſhew, that it takes up too much
of their time and thoughts; if they have more
ſervants than they can poſſibly find employment
for, and ſo a number of people are made idle,
who might otherwiſe have been uſeful to the pub-
if the far-fetched elegance of their entertain-
ments ſhould betray a mind curious in trifles, and
the expence of them ſhew an overfondneſs for
what does not deſerve any part of a wiſe man's
care; then magnificence degenerates into luxury,
and hoſpitality into laviſhneſs.
A general, it is true, may command, or a ſenator
manage a debate, a judge may decide acauſe, or
lic;
G 2
a
.
52 An Eſay on Virtue.
a merchant make up his accounts as well after rif-
ing from all the fopperies of a modern entertain-
ment, as if they had only ſatisfied their hunger
with plainer and leſs expenſive food. And whilſt
this is the worſt, whilſt nothing happens, which
may diſqualify a man from executing his duty in
general or that of his ſtation in particular; we do
not ſo much condemn the vice as laugh at the
folly of theſe expences and deſpiſe the little-minded
wretch, who can pleaſe himſelf with trifles. But
the misfortune is, that we ſeldom have an op-
portunity of laughing long: for it is very unlikely,
that he ſhould continue an able ſtateſman, a vigi-
lant general, a prudent magiſtrate, or an induſtri-
ous tradeſman, who has his thoughts taken up
with - what ſhall I eat? or what ſhall I drink?
or wherewithall Mall I be. clotheda and if he
goes one ſtep farther; if he drinks to exceſs and
makes others do fo too; if he ſleeps away great
part of his time or gives it up to pleaſure; if by
high living he impairs his underſtanding and
weakens his conſtitution; if his expences are above
his income and oblige him to contract debts, which
he can never be able to pay; this is ſuch luxury
as is vicious: and to prove, that this is beneficial
to the public, it ought to be ſhewn, that drunk-
enneſs, ſenſuality, floth and injuſtice are ſo.
The great advantage, which the public is re-
D: 86.81.82, prefented to receive from a man of this character,
is,
Fab. of the
&c. 108. &c.
An Elay on Virtue.
53
is, that he circulates the money and ſupports the
trade of a nation. But upon enquiry very few will
be found to be the better for him in compariſon
to the number, that are ſure to ſuffer by him. If
he is employed in any public office; a great part of
the nation may be the worſe for his debaucheries :
his expences will lay him open to corruption, and
are ſuch conſtant and powerful temptations to
diſhoneſty as very few have been found able to re-
fift:and if he does reſiſt them; yet his engagements
will either make him neglect his duty entirely, or
at beſt prevent him from diſcharging it ſo well as
he otherwiſe might have done. In a private con-
dition his tenants muſt be oppreſſed to ſupport his
way of living: and, as his income when ſtrained to
the height will commonly be too little to ſupply his
extravagancies, his creditors muſt break, and their
families be ruined. His own childern too will ſuffer
upon his account; their conſtitutions will be weak
and their minds be very early debauched beyond
the poſſibility of ever being corrected by the beſt
education: though indeed ſuch a parent very fel-
dom takes much care about a virtuous and uſeful
education for his children: and if the reader was to
recollect what he has obſerved himſelfin the families
of gentlemen of this turn; he might find, that;
though a man of good conſtitution and proper im-
provements may amidſt all his debaucheries be
tender of doing harm and continue able to do ſome
ferr
54 An Elay on Virtue.
Liv. lib. 23.
Fab. of the
ſervice to mankind; yet his children have not often
the ſame natural abilities, and if they have, they
ſcarce ever meet with the fame improvements
.
To ſay, without conſidering all this, that luxury
does good, becauſe the tradeſmen, who are paid,
make their advantage of it; ſhews as much ſhort-
ſightedneſs, as if a Roman, who lived at that time
ſhould have maintained that Hannibal's behaviour
at Capua was of general ſervice to mankind, only
becauſe the ſafety of the Roman ſtate depended
upon it, not remembering, that what was uſeful
to himſelf and to his countrymen was the ruin of
the Carthaginians.
It is poſſible, that this author, who thinks a
bees V.I.pag. vicious luxury fo beneficial, might not conſider
either the few, who are gainers, or the few, who
are loſers by it: his view of things ſeems to have
been more comprehenſive and to have taken in
a whole nation at once, which, he fancies, muſt
receive conſiderable advantages as a public body
from having its money circulated by the debauch-
eries of the ſubject. This piece of ſervice in his
opinion the drunkard more eſpecially, and even
pick-pockets and houſe-breakers
, the worſt of the
people, do their country. But he might have ob-
ſerved that in the circulation of money it is not
the vice of them, who ſquander away their for-
tunes, which is ſo beneficial to the public; it is the
induſtry and management of thoſe, who gather
82.&c.
it
An Elay on Virtue.
55
it up. All the riches of a nation can be of no more
uſe to it whilft they are paſſing through the hands
of the ſlothful, the effeminate, and the debauched,
than if ſo many porters had been employed to
keep them conſtantly circulating from one banker's
ſhop to another. A man, who uſes his money ill,
neceſſarily paſſes it into other hands; but whether
the public ſhall receive any advantage by the
change, depends upon the character of him that
it is transferred to: if this owner is as vicious as the
former, a ſecond transfer will be made; and a
third or fourth in the ſame manner; and yet no
ſort of benefit will ariſe from the circulation :
for it does not in the leaſt advance the public
good, till it comes round to a different ſet of men,
to the induſtrious, the fober, and the honeſt: and
had it been in ſuch hands at firſt, the public would
have had no occaſion for vice to draw it out.
We may ſee whoſe hands the money muſt come
into, before it does good, in his own account of
the advantages, which a highwayman brings to
the public: “ He ſuppoſes him to have met with Fab. of thş,
“a conſiderable booty and to give ten pounds ofbees. V.I.
« it to the next common woman he fancies, to
lay out in dreſſing herſelf: by which means it
“ is made to paſs through the hands of an hundred
“ different tradeſmen before a week is at an end.”
And if the tradeſmen, that ſhe lays her money
out with, were as “ deſirous to gratify their ſenſes, ibid.
to
56
An Elay on Virtue.
.66.to have victuals, ſtrong drink, and lewd women"
as he repreſents thoſe of the highwayman's cha-
racter to be; would they be long able to carry on
their buſineſs? or would they do much good to
the public, whilſt they are able ? the money muſt
be employed by men of better character in order
for it to be of any benefit: and this writer was
ſenſible that it muſt be ſo, if we may judge from the
laſt piece of ſervice, which he ſuppoſes this fellow
V. I. p. 85. to do for his country. “His money being near ſpent,
« he ventures again on the road; but for a robbery
« committed the ſecond day he is taken with one
“ of his accomplices, and the next ſeſſions both
« are condemned and ſuffer the law. The money
o due on their conviction fell to three country
« fellows, on whom it was admirably well be
“ ftowed. One was an honeſt farmer, a ſober pains-
taking man, but reduced by misfortunes: the
6c ſummer before by a mortality among the cattle
« he had loft fix cows out of ten; and now his
« landlord, to whom he owed thirty pounds, had
« ſeized on all his ſtock. The other was a day-
labourer, who ſtruggled hard with the world,
« had a fick wife at home and ſeveral ſmall chil-
“ dren to provide for. The third was a gentleman's
gardener, who maintained his father in priſon,
“ where, being bound for a neighbour, he had
“ lain for twelve pounds almoſt a year and a half:
« this act of filial duty was the more meritorious,
« be-
An Eſſay on Virtue
57
« becauſe he had for ſome time been engaged to
« a young woman, whoſe parents lived in good
s circumſtances; but would not give their con-
« ſent before our gardener had fifty guineas of
s his own to ſhew. They received above fourſcore
“ pounds each, which extricated every one of them
« out of the difficulties they laboured under, and
« made them in their opinion the happieſt peo-
« ple in the world.” He would not, I imagine,
have us confine our thoughts to the benefit, which
the farmer, the day-labourer and the gardener
are ſuppoſed to receive in this inſtance; for then
all he could hope to prove by it muſt be, that
private vices are private benefits: and perhaps he
would not have thought to prove even this from
it, if he had recollected, that it was not the high-
wayman's vice, but their own act, which made
them happy; it was not his robbing but their
taking him, which gave them a title to the reward.
It was their virtue too and not the crime of the
other, which the public received the advantage
from by the reward being ſo admirably well be-
ſtowed. One would think, that the author himſelf
was aware of this by the pains he takes to heighten
theſe three men's character and intereſt the reader
in their favour: for if it had been otherwiſe, if he
had no deſign of placing that good to the account
of vice, which is owing to virtue; why ſhould he
have made any mixture of virtue at all in ſtating
the
H
58
An Elay on Virtue.
the caſe? he was to prove that vice is beneficial to
the public; and to try whether it is fo or not, the
faireſt and moſt certain way would have been to
ſtate his caſe in ſuch a manner, as to have nothing
but vice in it. And I fancy every one would have
ſeen that no other advantage would ariſe to the
public from this whole tranſaction, but that of
hanging the highwayman; if he had ſuppoſed
the reward for taking him to have fallen to one
of his accomplices.
Nor does it appear from the inſtance before us
that actions owe their beneficial tendency only to
the addreſs and management of politicians, that
what we call virtue does no more good than what
we call vice, but that any ſort of behaviour will
be equally ſubſervient to the public happineſs
when prudently conducted. For what though the
reward due upon the highwayman's conviction is
well diſpoſed of? what though it falls to the ſhare
of honeſt people, who will uſe it to good pur-
poſes? this never entered into the legiſlator's.
thought, when he offered the reward : he deſigned
it not as the inſtrument of virtue in the hands of
thoſe, upon whom it ſhould be beſtowed; but as
a motive to engage ſomebody or other to take the
highwayman; whether ſome honeſt and pains-
taking man, who had been made poor by his
misfortunes, or ſuch idle people, as might think
this the eaſieſt way of getting money to ſupport
them-
1
An Eſay on Virtue.
59
themſelves in their vices, it mattered not to him: all
that he wanted was to have it in his power to free
the public from one, whom he looked upon as a
very hurtful member of ſociety: and the reward,
which he offered, might as well have been ſubfer-
vient to the madneſs of the rake as to the induſtry
of the farmer: as he took no care to limit it to a
day-labourer, who had a fick wife and family to
maintain, and who would uſe his good fortune to
this purpoſe; it might poſſibly have fallen into the
hands of one in the ſame ſtation of life, who by
having ſo much money beforehand would have
been made idle and uſeleſs ever after: it might,
for any thing the politician did, have as eaſily
been the reward of villainy in one, who made it
his common trade to diſpoſe of ſtolen goods, as
of piety in the gardener, who maintained his father
in priſon.
We may therefore conclude, that there is in
nature a difference between vice and virtue; an
effential and not an arbitrary diſtinction between
one fort of behaviour and another, which all this
author's art and popular diſputation has not been
able to confound : and farther, that it is not the
buſineſs of the judicious politician, if he would
make a ſociety happy, to look upon all actions as
indifferent in themſelves and to think that by his
addreſs and skill he can make all ſorts of beha-
viour alike ſubſervient to the public good. He
ſhould
H 2
60 An Eſay on Virtue.
1
ſhould rather follow nature, and uſe ſuch means
of happineſs as are fitted to produce the end he
aims at: he ſhould encourage virtue, and ſhould
endeavour to ſuppreſs vice, where it is in his power,
or to prevent the bad effects of it, where it is not.
By which however we do not mean that he
ſhould baniſh trade and reduce mankind to wear
no other clothing, but what is abſolutely neceſſary
to keep them warm, or to eat and drink nothing
elſe, but what will ſubſiſt them as they are living
creatures; becauſe it has been ſhewn that calling
every thing beyond this by the name of luxury
does not make a vicę of it,
CHAP
An Elay on Virtue.
61
CHAP. IV.
The terms moral good, moral agent, and moral.
obligation explained.
T
HE word moral in almoſt all its uſes has a
reference either obvious or remote to the
Latin word mores, which ſignifies behaviour. What
do we mean by moral truth, but ſuch as relates.
to the conduet of our lives? What by moral ſciences.
but the branch of philoſophy, which lays down.
rules for that conduct? In moſt inſtances of be-
haviour, we act upon probable evidence; we eat
and drink without having demonſtration, that we.
ſhall receive proper nouriſhment; we uſe exerciſe
without being ſtrictly certain, that it will keep us
in health; we engage in buſineſs, where it is likely.
we ſhall ſucceed ; and children are educated as if
they were to outlive their parents, becauſe in the
ordinary courſe of nature the chances are on this,
ſide: when probable evidence is applyed to this
purpoſe, it is with propriety called moral evi-
dence; and this being the principal as well as:
the moſt familiar uſe of it, ſuch ſort of evidence.
has from hence got the name of moral in all other.
inſtances.
Good does without all doubt very frequently
fignify what is of uſe or advantage, that is, what:
prox
3
1
62 An Ef'ay on Virtue.
produces good or affords happineſs. Thus a field,
which the owner receives confiderable profit from,
and a houſe fo contrived as to afford him many
conveniencies of living are called good: a horſe
is a good one, if he does his mafter the ſervice,
that might be expected from him; and a dog, if
he anſwers the purpoſes either of pleaſure or ſecuri-
ty. Good indeed of this fort is called natural good:
but when we ſpeak of moral good, there is no
reaſon for thinking, that we uſe the word in a
different ſenſe. That, which naturally, or by ne-
ceſſity, without deſign or ſenſe of duty produces
happineſs, is called naturally good: and he, who does
the ſame by his behaviour, that is, with choice, by
deſign, and under a ſenſe of duty is called morally
good. By this means the notion of moral goodneſs
in an action is made, as it ought to be, the fame
with the notion of virtue; its tendency, to produce
good, or, what differs very little from it, to pre-
vent harm. But moral good is diſtinguiſhed from
natural good in another fenſe: for ſometimes we
ſpeak of them as if they were parts of a man's
character as if they belonged to him or were in
his poſſeſſion. In this uſe of the words by the moral
good of a man we mean that part of his behaviour,
by which he makes others happy: and by his natural
good that happineſs which is enjoyed by himſelf.
The former of theſe diſtinctions is in danger of
being taken away by ſome of the writers upon
..
diſ-
An Eſſay on Virtue. 63
diſintereſted virtue, and the latter by others of
them. For what is the difference between the
natural good, which our fortunes do us, and that
moral good, which is in the behaviour of thoſe,
who relieve our wants; if it is as natural for man
to do good, as it is for a ſtone to fall downwards,
ſo that without doing violence to his conſtitution
he could not behave otherwiſe? And what does
a good man differ from an happy man, what
becomes of the other diſtinction between moral
and natural good; if there is no real enjoyment,
nothing, which deſerves to be called happineſs, but
what conſiſts in doing kind offices to our fellow-
creatures?
Other accounts have been given of moral good;
but how true they are, will beſt appear from ex-
amining how well they agree with the common
uſe of this expreſſion. When an author has defined Hutcheſon's
moral goodneſs to be “ ſome quality apprehended inquiry.&c.
« in actions, which procures approbation, attended
« with deſire of the agent's happineſs,” he has an
undoubted right to uſe the words in this ſenſe,
and to deduce what conſequences he can from
ſuch an uſe of them. One moſt certain conſequence
is, that, though we have no private advantage to
promote by it, no views of intereſt or proſpect of
happineſs
, without the fanctions of law or the au-
thority of a ſuperiour, we cannot but approve moral
good for this is only ſaying, that neither hope
pag. 104
nor
+
64
An Elay on Virtue,
nor fear engages us to approve what procures our
approbation. But then it will be unfair to extend
this conſequence to moral good in its uſual ſenſe,
if common uſe has given it a ſenſe different from
this. As ſuppoſe the moſt uſual meaning of moral
good to be the production of good of happineſs by
moral agents; we may approve what we do ap-
prove or what procures our approbation without
approving this; we may be moſt diſintereſtedly
fond of what we have an affection for, without
being at all fond of juſtice or benevolence. And
this is the great danger of uſing words, even after
we have defined them, in a ſenſe different from
their common one; that, when we have found out
conſequences, which are true, whilſt the words
are uſed in our own ſenſe, we are very apt to think
them true too, after we have, without being aware
of it, changed the meaning of the words and taken
in all, that they ever expreſs in their more uſual
acceptation,
That the definition now before us does not
anſwer to what is ordinarily meant by moral good
is very evident. Firſt, becauſe one part of the de-
ſcription, that it raiſes a deſire of the agent's happi-
neſs, cannot with any conſiſtency be a part even
of their notion of moral good, who define it in
this manner. For if moral good was a quality,
which made us deſire the happineſs of every one,
who ſhews it in his conduct; then, as this quality
ap-
An Elay on Virtue
65
1
appears in our own conduct, our love towards
ourſelves muſt encreaſe; the more we practiſe
moral good, the more we muſt deſire our own
happineſs; we muſt grow ſelfiſh in proportion as
we are virtuous; and be the more intereſted, the
more benevolent we are. Either therefore it muſt
be allowed, that our ſenſe of moral good and our
affection for it do not reach to our own beha-
viour; and then the practice of virtue can receive
no advantage from a moral ſenſe, which has a
reliſh for it only in other men, but diſregards it
in ourſelves: or elſe the practice of virtue muſt
be fatal to itſelf by ſtrengthening that ſelf-love,
which is repreſented by theſe very moraliſts as the
only thing, that can ſtop the operation of the pu-
blic affections, and keep the ballance always in-
clined towards the ſide of private intereſt. Either
of theſe conſequences will be deſtructive of their
opinion, who look upon this moral ſenſe and theſe
public affections as the foundation of virtue: and
therefore this part of the definition of moral good
muſt to them appear not only unneceſſary but im-
proper: and ſince it is their own definition; when
they have given it up, I fancy, no one elſe will think
himſelf concerned to undertake the defence of it.
Secondly, the procuring approbation cannot be
the common mark, by which the good of an
action is diſtinguiſhed from its other qualities; be-
cauſe there are many, which meet with appro-
I
bation
!
66 An Eſay on Virtue.
.
bation and yet do not come up to this character.
Such behaviour as pleaſes people of ſenſe and
breeding, ſuch as is approved in common life,
where vice and virtue are not concerned, is what
the ingenious author of the inquiry into the original
of our ideas of beauty and virtue will never call
moral good : this name cannot belong to it in
their language, who are acquainted with a well
known diſtinction between good morals and good
manners. The architect does not indeed build,
nor does the deſigner plant; but the ſhare, which
both of them have in the work, may be called
action: and, when the work is liked, this action
has ſuch a quality, as procures approbation: the
work of a good painter pleaſes; and good execution
in muſic is approved: and yet none of theſe actions,
though they have this quality, have any thing in
them, which is called moral good. Nor is any ſuch
title ever given to them, even when to this qua-
lity the other is added: they are not moral good,
when we love the artiſt ſo much for the ingeni-
ouſneſs of his work, as to wiſh him well or deſire
his happineſs.
Locke's eſſay Moral good and evil are ſometimes defined to
be « the conformity or diſagreement of our vo-
luntary actions to ſome law, whereby good and
«s evil is drawn on us from the will and power
“ of the law-maker.” But this account differs as
much from the common notion, as the former
does.
&c, b. c. 28.
1.5.
6C
An Eſay on Virtue.
67
does. Can they mean any thing like this by
moral goodneſs
, who ſpeak of it as an attribute
of God? is there any law preſcribed to him, upon
the obſervance of which he is to be made happy
by the law-maker? Can they, who diſtinguiſh
moral duties from poſitive ones, think, that the
moral goodneſs of an action conſiſts in making
him happy, who does it, in reward for the obe-
dience, that he pays to the authority of a fupe-
riour ? - this is the effect of one ſort of duties as
much as of the other, and therefore this notion of
moral good would have left no room for ſuch a
diſtinction. It may perhaps be thought, that this
diſtinction is ill-grounded : and ſuppoſe it to be pag. 20.
fo; ſuppoſe that upon enquiry one fort ſhould be
found not to differ from the other : yet they,
who made the diſtinction, muſt be allowed to
have thought moral good ſomething different from
the agreement of an action to a law, in conſequence
of which the agent receives happineſs as his re-
ward: and they, who diſpute againſt the diſtinc-
tion, think fo too; or elſe they need have given
themſelves no farther trouble but that of producing
their definition of moral good, and the whole con-
troverſy would have been decided at once. The
moral good of voluntary actions does indeed con-
fift in their producing good or happineſs, but then
it is the good or happineſs of others, not of him, who
does them. Is not the goodneſs of God his dif-
I 2
poſition
68 An Eſay on Virtue.
poſition to make his creatures happy, which ſhews
itſelf in his conduct towards them and in his
government of them? Is not the moral goodneſs
of thoſe duties, which are from that quality cal-
led moral ones, their tendency to advance the
happineſs of mankind ? and are not poſitive du-
ties diſtinguiſhed from them by having either no
ſuch tendency at all but by poſitive inſtitution or
however none, which reaſon can diſcover ?
Moral goodneſs belongs to thoſe beings only,
which are called moral agents, that is, to ſuch as are
capable of good and bad behaviour, and this they
cannot be, unleſs they have a ſenſe of duty joined
to a power of acting with intention and deſign.
The piſtol is as much concerned in the miſchief that
is done, as the aſſaſſin is, who diſcharges it: and
the dutiful ſon, who ſupplies the neceſſities of his
father's declining age, does no more than an eſtate
would have done without his affiſtance. But there
is no moral evil in the piſtol; nor would there be
any moral good in the eſtate: and neither of them
are called moral agents, becauſe both of them want
liberty or a power of acting, and ſo are upon the
matter no, agents at all. The leach may eaſe a
man of as much pain, as the kind traveller
pre-
ſerves him from, who finds him fallen from his
horſe and lets him blood : but want of deſign
makes that be no moral good in one, which is ſo
in the other; and the ſuppoſed incapacity of hav-
ing
An Eſay on Virtue. 69
ing ſuch deſign excludes the leach, from all claim
to the title of a moral agent. But the viper, which
bites, does it with as full deſign of hurting as the
ruffian, who maims: and though the faithful fer-
vant may defend his maſter more effectually than
his as faithful dog could have done, yet one does
his endeavour as well and with as much intention
too as the other does. What is it therefore, which
puts the difference between the brute and the man
in theſe inſtances? What makes the behaviour of
the latter morally good when his actions have a
tendency to produce good or to prevent harm, and
morally evil when they are of the contrary fort;
and yet does not give the ſame title to what is
done by the former, where the circumſtances of
both ſeem to be very much alike? Or why is one
a moral agent, the other not fo?-Liberty of action
and deſign they both have, and the only diffe-
rence between them is, that one acts under a ſenſe
of duty, the other does not; one has or may have
conſtant motives for doing good and as conſtant
diſſuaſives from doing harm, the other neither
has nor from its imperfect uſe of reaſon ever can
have. Thus upon the whole we find a moral agent :
to be one, that has liberty of acting, and is capa-
ble of acting with deſign and under a ſenſe of duty.
And as the moral goodneſs or virtue of an action,
when it is conſidered abſtractedly from him, who,
does it, conſiſts in its tendency to do good or to
pre:
70 An Eſſay on Virtue.
prevent evil; ſo the moral goodneſs or virtue of
a man conſiſts in his doing ſuch actions without
force or conſtraint, with intention, and under a
pag. 62.71. conviction that it is his duty, or upon ſuch prin-
ciples as will bear him out in all circumſtances.
Unleſs ſome of theſe particulars are included in the
notion of a moral agent, the good, which ariſes from
inanimate beings would make them be called mo-
rally good; and unleſs all of them are taken in, that,
which is produced by brutes, would entitle them
to the ſame appellation. And indeed, where any
of them is wanting even in man, whatever his
behaviour may be, we do not allow, that there
is any moral goodneſs in it. To do good when we
cannot avoid it, or through caprice and by chance,
without any ſettled deſign, or upon ſuch precari-
ous motives as would fail in a thouſand inftances,
and leave us at liberty to do as we pleaſed, nay
perhaps engage us in the oppoſite practice; no
behaviour of this fort has any thing in it, that can
be looked upon as moral good, or that is ever
known by this name.
Moralwhen applied to obligation is ſometimes uſed
in its moſt extenſive ſenſe, and means fuch an one
as affects our behaviour without deſtroying the notion
of behaviour, that is, ſuch an one as is conſiſtent
with choice, liberty or freedom of action, and lays
us under no neceſſary and unavoidable reſtraints:
for nothing is called behaviour, which is not volun-
tary;
An Eſay on Virtue. 71
--
tary; this name does not belong to the beating of
the pulſe, the circulation of the blood of the mo-
tion of a convulfed limb. In this ſenſe moral obli-
gation is oppoſed to neceſity, and we are ſaid to be
morally obliged to any thing, when we find more
reaſons for doing it than for letting it alone, and
therefore do it, though we have at the ſame time
a power to leave it undone. Theſe reaſons fome-
times arife out of the accidental circumſtances,
that we happen to be placed in: and ſometimes
we conſider one fort of behaviour as better and
more reaſonable than its oppoſite in all poſſible
circumſtances. The obligation to this beſt and moſt
reaſonable behaviour, that is, to virtue, has now
almoſt engroſſed the name of moral obligation :
and when
we enquire what is the cauſe of moral
obligation, we mean, what is it, which makes vir-
tue the beſt and moſt proper behaviour in all con-
ditions; what is the ſteady and univerſal reaſon
for practiſing it. Other reaſons of a different kind
there may be innumerable; but ſuch as fall ſhort
of this character, ſuch as are either too weak or
too limited to have any influence in many caſes,
that may happen, can ſcarce with propriety be
called by the name of obligation. Motives, which
are precarious and narrow; which may perhaps at
one time engage us to ſecure and advance the
happineſs of our ſpecies, but will leave us quite
indifferent to their welfare at another; which may
make
72 An Elay on Virtue.
make us well diſpoſed towards one part of man-
kind, but will ſuffer us to be regardleſs of the reſt
or even to look upon and treat them as our ene-
mies, muft, if they can be ſaid to oblige us at all,
oblige us to ſomething elſe and not to virtue: for
there will be many inſtances of virtue, to which
ſuch motives do not extend; many, in which,
though we allow them all the influence, that na-
turally belongs to them, they will leave us at li-
berty to be virtuous or vicious, juſt as chance or
caprice ſhall direct.
СНАР.
An Elay on Virtue.
73
CHAP. V.
No inſtinktive approbation of virtue is ſufficient to
oblige us to the practice of it.
,
pag. 158.
" HE common and ordinary feelings of man-
kind, the ſenſes and
are uppermoſt in the human conſtitution and are
moſt attended to, plainly direct to private good
and inſtruct each individual to provide for him-
ſelf in the beſt manner he can. But ſome of the Hutcheſon's
later moraliſts think they have diſcovered another inquiry &c.
ſenſe in man, as natural to him as theſe are, though
leſs obſerved ; an appetite for doing good; a ſenſe,
which has virtue for its object and gives a diſin-
tereſted approbation to all her dictates; an af-
fection, which though it may perhaps be over-
looked by the careleſs, or lie uncultivated in the
minds of the diffolute, will yet ſometimes break
out and force even the moſt unattentive to take
notice of the charms of virtue and the moſt aban-
doned to admire them.
It would be fooliſh to think of diſputing a man
out of what he feels: for though we ſhould not
find this warm affection for virtue in our own
breaſts, others may find it in theirs: and if they
do, it will be as impoſſible for us to convince them
that there is no ſuch thing, as it would be for a
blind
)
K
74 An Eſay on Virtue.
blind man to prove to thoſe, who have the uſe of
their eyes, that there is no ſuch ſenſe as that of
ſeeing. It is granted therefore, that they, who ſay
they love virtue, really do love it; we will not
diſpute what appears to them to be the evidence
of an awakened ſenſe. Though, if they were to
conſider what it is they love, and in what caſes
this affection exerts itſelf, they would find that
it was raiſed in them by the deſire of happineſs,
and that it is much leſs diſintereſted than they
might otherwiſe think it to be; that the virtue
which they are ſo fond of is ſomething, which
promiſes to make them happy; and that their
fondneſs for it ſcarce ever extends farther than
their hopes of being made ſo.
We may learn what it is they love from the ac-
Hutcheſon's count that they give us of moral good; for this
ing. pag 104. is the quality in actions, which procures their ap-
probation. Perhaps the meaning of the words
approbation or love, which are uſed by theſe
moraliſts to ſignify the ſame thing, cannot be ex-
plained by what men of art and ſcience, would
allow to be a definition: they are ſimple percep-
tions, and to know what they are, we muſt be
ſent to our own hearts for information; we muſt
what we feel there, when we approve
or love. But love is often attended with other
paſſions or perceptions, ſuch as the fear of loſing
what we are fond of or the deſire of poffeffing it:
and,
reflect upon
2
An Elay on Virtue.
75
Locke's
f
and, that we may not confound one of theſe per-
ceptions with the other, it may be proper and is
poſſible enough to point out which of thoſe, that
are often in the mind at the ſame time, the name
of love belongs to. “ Any one reflecting upon the
« thought he has of the delight, which any pre-eſſay. B.2.
« fent or abſent thing is apt to produce in him,
" has the idea we call love. For when a man de-
“ clares in autumn, when he is eating them, or in
“ ſpring, when there are none, that he loves grapes;
<< it is no more, but that the taſte of grapes de-
lights him.” And as virtue or moral goodneſs is
that behaviour, which naturally ſecures or pro-
motes happineſs, it is no wonder, if we love or ap-
prove it. But in whom do we love virtue? do we
love to practiſe it ourſelves, or to have others
practiſe it? are we fond of making it a part of
our own character; or does this fondneſs appear
chiefly, when we meet with it in the characters
of other men ? by attending to theſe circumſtances
of our approbation we cannot fail of knowing
whence it ariſes. For if we love virtue, but have
no reliſh for practiſing it ourſelves where it in-
terferes with our happineſs; if we like a virtuous
character, but have no deſire or only a feint one
for making our own ſuch, unleſs when by being
virtuous we expect to be happy too; all that we
approve in virtue or moral goodneſs is the natural
good,
K 2
70
in Eſay on Virtue.
reflects upon
good, which it either actually produces or at leaſt
is fit to produce.
If a man, who does not practiſe virtue, ſays
that he loves it abſtractedly conſidered; or that
he approves doing good, though he does not con-
ſider it as a part of any one's character, but only
the
very nature and notion of it;
there may be ſome difficulty in demonſtrating
that he is fond of it for the good, which it may
do to himſelf, and that all his love ariſes from the
ſhare, which he ſuppoſes he ſhould have in the
happy effects of it, when others practiſe it. But
however backward he may be to confeſs the true
cauſe of his affection, or however ignorant he may
be of it himſelf, (which ſometimes for want of
attention is undoubtedly the caſe) yet by obſerving
how he is diſpoſed to virtue, when it does make
a part of a real character, we may gueſs why he
loves it when he confiders it abſtractedly. Is not
he the moſt fond of virtue, when he finds it in his
friend or in his partner, where he is the perſon,
upon whom it is exerciſed the ofteneft, and where
he
reaps the greateſt advantages from it? If he is
not aware of this, let him conſider in whoſe cha-
racter he ſhould be moſt diſpleaſed with the want
Hutcheſon's of it. Would not treachery from his friend or a
inquiry &c. cheat from his partner, be more ſhocking than
the ſame treatment from any body elſe ? and if
theſe are the inſtances, where he diſlikes vice the
pag. 112
moſt;
An Elay on Virtue 77
moſt; is not it natural to think, that in theſe too
he is the fondeſt of virtue? He may indeed for want
of attention have perſuaded himſelf, that he ap-
proves the character of a ſincere friend and of an
honeſt partner as much where others are con-
cerned, as where he is himſelf: and though he is
not the happy friend, who receives advantage
from the ſincerity, nor the fortunate partner, who
thrives by the diligence and keeps up his credit
by the honeſty of another; yet ſtill he may
think
that this fincerity, this diligence and honeſty claim
his affection, and never fail of meeting with eſteem
and love from him wherever they are found; and
that the contrary qualities would equally diſguſt
him, though others and not he were the ſufferers
by them. When he hears of generoſity, faith; Hutcheſon's
humanity, or gratitude in men, who lived in di- inq.pag.113:
ſtant ages; he will tell
he will tell you, that he feels joy, ad-
mires the lovely action and praiſes its author: but
cannot help feeling contempt and abhorrence upon
the mention of cruelty, treachery, or ingratitude;
though diſtance of time and place may have re-
moved him far enough from feeling the ill effects
of them. How then can he love virtue only be-
cauſe he finds his account in it when others practiſe
it; for does not he approve it in inſtances, where
his own intereſt is quite unconcerned ? how can
he be ſuſpected of diſliking vice for the harm it
does; for has not he an abhorrence of it, where he.
is.
78 An Eſay on Virtue.
is far enough out of its reach and cannot poſſibly
be hurt by it? - He may love virtue in theſe
circumſtances juſt as he loves roſes in winter, or
grapes whilſt another is eating them: it is the
pleaſure that he has in ſmelling the flower or in
taſting the fruit; when they come in his way,
which makes him love them: and to ſay that he
loves them, there is no neceſſity for his actually
feeling this pleaſure; it is ſufficient, that he can
reflect upon it, and knows that they will give him
it. And thus, when virtue is practiſed towards
himſelf, it makes him happy; when it is practiſed
towards others in circumſtances where the influ-
ence of it cannot poſſibly be extended to him,
he does not indeed actually perceive this delight,
yet ſtill he knows what it is, and can reflect upon
it whilſt another enjoys it. A nauſeous draught is
our averſion, even when it is out of ſight, and when
we are in no danger of being obliged to take it:
and what is this averfion, but a ſenſe that the taſte
of it is diſagreable to us? May not we therefore dif-
like vice in the fame manner, even when it is ab-
ſent, and, yet our averſion be owing to the miſery
it produces? for what though we do not feel the
effects of the vicious man's behaviour? we know
what the effects of it are ; they are harm and mi-
fery to thoſe, who do feel them; and a ſenſe that
theſe are diſagreable to us is all we mean by our
averſion to his character. Our loving virtue, when
it
An Elay on Virtue.
79
it does not make us happy, and our hating vice,
when the miſery, which it produces, does not fall
upon ourſelves, will no more demonſtrate, that
theſe effects are not the cauſe of our approbation
and averſion; than our loving roſes, when we do
not ſmell them or hating phyfic, when we are not
taking it, will prove that our fondneſs for the
flower and our diſlike of the draught is owing to
fome other cauſe and not to the pleaſure we may
have from the former or the pain we may feel
from the latter.
Some of the caſes, which are uſually brought
to ſhew that our approbation of virtue muſt be
diſintereſted, becauſe we like it where we ſuffer
by it, and that our hatred of vice muſt be ſo too,
becauſe we diſlike it even where it is for our ad-
vantage, will, if they are attended to, clear
up
this
matter, and prove perhaps the very reverſe of what
they are alledged for. If a condemned criminal
was to be asked, whether he approves the ſentence
of his judge; I will grant, that he would ſay he
approves it; and perhaps he really might ap-
prove it. But then he abſtracts it from his own
caſe, and does not conſider himſelf as concerned
in it: all that he means by it is, that ſuch a ſen-
tence does good; and he approves it juſt as far as
he can keep this good in view: to him it produces
harm, and therefore in his own cafe he diſlikes
it: for it is difficult to imagine, that any one is
fond
80
An Eſay on Virtue
fond of what he wiſhes were otherwiſe, that the
criminal in particular is fond of a ſentence, which
he would give any thing in the world to alter :
and who is there, that would not in theſe circum-
ſtances, if it had been in his power, have bribed
the judge to acquit him? though he knew himſelf
that he deſerved to be condemned, and that the
judge would diſcharge his duty much better by
giving him his deſerts than by taking a bribe.
And yet ſhould he be acquitted by a fentence,
which he uſed all his endeavours to obtain, we
muſt confeſs that, notwithſtanding this wrong be-
haviour was ſo advantagious to himſelf, he will
diſlike the corrupt magiſtrate, who gave the ſen-
tence. But this is ſo far from proving him to have
any diſintereſtedly right affections, that it is juſt
what he might be expected to do, if he approved
virtue and diſapproved vice upon motives of in-
tereſt only: for if it had been otherwiſe, if his af-
fections had been determined in a diſintereſted
manner without any regard to happineſs or miſery;
he muſt diſlike a corrupt ſentence as much in his
own caſe as he would in that of another man; he
muſt feel the ſame averſion to offering a bribe,
though to ſave himſelf or his friend, that he would
have felt, if it had been to ſave one, who was
quite a ſtranger to him; he muſt abhor the ſentence
as much as he does the judge, and could not love
the
An Eſay on Virtue.
81
the vice well enough to purchaſe it, whilft for that
very vice he hates the man, who is guilty of it.
There is another very common inſtance exactly
of the ſame fort. “A traitor, who would ſell his Hutcheſon's
“ country to us, may often be as advantagious inquiry etc.
“ to us, as he who defends us: and yet we can
« love the treaſon and hate the traitor, we can at
“ the ſame time praiſe a gallant enemy, who is
very pernicious to us. Is there nothing in all this
“ but an opinion of advantage?” — It is plain
there can be nothing elſe: for if it was not fo;
how could we diſtinguiſh between the treaſon
and the traitor ? how could we hate the character
and yet love the action, which made that character,
what it is? The traitor's behaviour conſidered in
general is ſuch as does harm; and in this view
we diſapprove it: if we bring it a little cloſer to
ourſelves, and think upon the uſes, which we might
have of ſuch a character; here again we find the
man's temper is fuch, that he is not to be depended
upon, he has betrayed his country and would
probably betray us too, if we were in his power,
and it ſhould be for his intereſt: he is therefore
one, that no voluntary ſervices can be expected
from, and that is prepared to do us miſchief, un-
leſs we are upon our guard. There can be no
other reaſon for our averfion beſides this: becauſe
that very behaviour, which gave us a diſtaſte to
the man, is liked, as far as it does us ſervice; for
L
82 An Eſay on Virtue.
we confeſſedly love the treaſon. In a general view
of the traitor's character, without conſidering our-
ſelves as concerned, we hate it, as it is hurtful:
in our own caſe too we hate it, as we can never
depend upon much good and may, unleſs we are
cautious, receive much damage from it: whilſt
that part of his character, which has been fer-
viceable to us at preſent, gives us all this while no
fort of diſguſt. I ſuppoſe, after this I need not be
particular in ſhewing why we ſhould approve the
hero, that defends us, rather than the traitor, that
fells us his country; and yet that our approbation
of a virtuous character may be owing to the hap-
pineſs, which ſuch a character diſpenſes, and our
diſlike of a vicious one may ariſe from the harm,
which it does; though the behaviour of the hero
and of the traitor is in this ſingle inſtance of equal
advantage to us.
It is eaſy to ſee upon theſe principles what we
praiſe in a gallant enemy; and why, if we muſt
have an enemy at all we had rather he ſhould be
of this ſort than a treacherous one. We are more
ſure to ſuffer by an enemy, that will diſpatch us
without giving us any warning, than by one, who
generouſly tells us his deſign beforehand and bids
us be upon our guard. A general of an army with
that good quality, which in a man of his cha-
racter is called generoſity, muſt be praiſed, and
probably will be loved too even by thoſe, that he
fights againſt. But how do they love him? or what
do
An Eſay on Virtue
83
of them but would take away his life or at leaſt
do they praiſe in him ? can they be thought to
love him as their enemy, when there is not a man
his liberty, whilſt they ſee him in this light? no:
their fondneſs is owing to the good, which he
may do them: they know for inſtance, that, if
they were to fall into his hands, he would uſe them
well; that he would treat them with humanity
as his priſoners; and would, if they were wounded,
take as good care of them as their own commander
would. They love him therefore, not as an enemy
but as a man, in whom they have ſuch an intereſt
as ſome time or other they may have occaſion to
make ufe of; they are fond, not of what is perni-
cious to them, but of what may be uſeful; and
praiſe him, not becaufe he would wound them, but
becauſe he would take care of them afterwards.
· The notions of moral and natural good can- Hutcheſon's
inquiry &c.
not poſſibly be kept more diſtinct, than they are
in this account of our approbation of virtue and
diſlike of vice, when practiſed by other men :
if by moral good we mean that part of a man's See pag.
behaviour, by which he makes others happy;
and by his natural good, that happineſs, which
he himſelf enjoys. A ſenſe of intereſt, which we
cannot but have by reflecting upon the delight,
that benevolent actions produce in us when they
are exerciſed towards ourſelves, may be the ſource
of our approbation of a good man's character, who
lived
pag. Ira
62,
L 2
84 An Eſſay on Virtue.
lived in a diſtant age: and yet it will by no
means follow, that we ſhould upon the ſame prin-
ciples approve in like manner and love any one,
who at the ſame diſtance of time found a treaſure
or indulged himſelf in any exquiſite gratification.
Though we like a man for his moral good, though
we approve that part of his character, which
is
apt to produce happineſs, and though this appro-
bation be nothing elſe but a reflection upon the
pleaſure we feel, when we are the objects of ſuch
behaviour; yet there is not the fame reaſon, why
we ſhould like him for his natural good. We may
indeed ſuppoſe ourſelves to have lived in the ſame
age with him, that found a treaſure or that gra-
tified his ſenſes; and what if we had ? his natu-
sal good would ſtill have been his own: no ſenſe
of intereft could recommend it to our eſteem;
becauſe living in the ſame age with him would
give us no ſhare in it. We may farther imagine
it poſſible for theſe advantages and pleaſures to
have been our own; and what would ſuch a ſup-
poſition fix our love upon ? not upon the man,
who enjoyed them, for it is not his enjoying them
that is fitted to give us pleaſure, but upon the
advantages and pleaſures themſelves: and I do
not doubt, but upon ſuch a reflection we fhould
find, that we like the treaſure, though we do not
approve the character of him, who found it; and
that we have ſome little fondneſs for the gratifi-
cations,
1
An Elay on Virtue.
85
cations, though we have none for him, who en-
joyed them. Thus our love of his natural good and
our approbation of him for his moral good de-
pend upon the fame principle, upon the happineſs,
which either of them are fitted to produce: and
to love his character in view to this happineſs, it is
no more neceſſary for us to enjoy it or to height-
en our imaginations till we bring it home to our-
ſelves; than it is, for us either to gratify our ſenſes
in the ſame manner that we are informed he did,
or to warm our fancy into ſome waking dreams
of a preſent enjoyment like his, in order to love
thoſe gratifications, which he indulged himſelf in.
But are not the perceptions of moral good per-
fectly different from thoſe of natural good, when
we ufe theſe words in the other ſenſe of them
and mean by natural good the advantage or hap- See pag: 62.
pineſs, which is produced by brutes or by inani-
mate beings naturally or neceſſarily, without de-
ſign or ſenſe of duty ? “ Are not the ſenſations and Hutcheſon's
« affections toward a fruitful field or commodious pag. 110.
inquiry &c.
« habitation very different from what we have
" toward a generous friend or any noble charac-
“ ter?” And yet if our ſenſe of good was not di-
ſtinct from that of advantage or intereſt, one would
think that theſe affections ſhould be exactly the
fanie: becauſe the field and the houſe either are
or may be as advantagious to us as the friend can
be; and are much more ſo than a man of the
most
1
86 An Eſay on Virtue.
moſt amiable character could poſſibly be, who
lived many ages ago. To clear up this caſe, which
is no very difficult one, nothing more is neceſſary
than to diſtinguiſh between the advantage receiv-
ed and the cauſe of that advantage. The ſenſe of
happineſs and the affection towards it will be ex-
actly the ſame, whatever cauſe it ariſes from:
whether a man is ſupplied with the conveniencies
and comforts of life by the generoſity of his friend
or by the income of his own fortune : what he
feels merely from the enjoyment of thoſe conve-
niencies and comforts will be happineſs, and the
ſame happineſs too in both inſtances. It may
be ſaid that he does not love his eſtate as he
does his friend, though the advantages, which he
receives from one are as great and as dear to him
as thoſe received from the other : but certainly
he has the ſame affection for both forts of advan-
tage, though he does not approve in the ſame
manner the cauſes, which produce them: and in-
deed if he approves the cauſes of them at all, it is
becauſe they contribute to his happineſs; and juſt
as far as they appear to have been the authors of
his happineſs
, juſt fo far his approbation of them
reaches. In a virtuous action we ſeldom go higher
than the man, who does it; he is commonly e-
ſteemed the firſt cauſe of our happineſs and him
we love. But we look beyond our eſtate or the
rent of it: for though the land or the money are
the
An Eſay on Virtue.
87
the immediate inſtruments of our happineſs, yet
we may always trace it back to ſome higher
ſource: and here again what appears to have been
the firſt cauſe of our enjoyment is the object of
our affection. The covetous, who neglect to en-
quire after and to conſider the original of the
wealth, which they are poſſeſſed of, and who look
upon their money as the cauſe of all their enjoy-
ments, ſet their affections upon their riches and
are as fond of them as any one can be of a gene-
rous benefactor or of a ſincere friend. If we go
one ſtep beyond the eſtate or the money, and fix
our attention upon ſome prudent management or
ſome piece of induſtry in ourſelves; when we
think, that the natural good we enjoy has been
owing to our own addreſs, and go no higher than
this in our ſearches after its original; in theſe
circumſtances we grow fond of ourſelves and of
our own behaviour. Such an affection as this,
which ariſes from eſteeming ourſelves the authors.
of our own happineſs, is called pride : and no
doubt the proud man has at leaſt as much com-
placency in reflecting upon his own conduct as
in obſerving that of others, who are the moſt emis
nently benevolent; and has as cordial an eſteem
for himſelf, as he has for the nobleſt character in
the world. If we received our fortune from our
anceſtors, we love their memory. If the diligence
and induſtry of honeſt and faithful ſervants im-
prove.
88 An Eſay on Virtue.
prove our eſtates and ſecure to us the advantages
ariſing from them, we approve their ſervice and
value their perſons. If neither reaſon nor revela-
tion had taught us, when we look upon the ſun,
to praiſe him that made it; could we have ſeen
it walking in brightneſs, have felt its genial influ-
ence, have obſerved how all nature rejoices at its
appearance and languiſhes whilft it is abſent; and
our heart in the mean time not have been ſecretly
enticed, or our mouth not have kiſſed our hand?
What part of our regards would the cattle, that
feed and cloath us, challenge, or what the fields,
that produce grain for us and ſupply them with
paſture; whilſt we believed this fountain of light
and heat to be the ſource of all our good? Our
warmeſt affections would be directed up to this
ſuppoſed parent and author of happineſs in the
grateful ſentiments of a religious love; a love,
which differs but little from that, which we bear
towards a generous benefactor, who is ſo much
our ſuperiour as to put it out of our power ever to
make him any return for the favours we have re-
ceived from him. There is indeed no friend up-
on earth, who will have it always in his power to
ſerve us; none, who can be ſo far exempted from
the calamities of human nature as to be above our
kind wiſhes for his fafety and proſperity, though
he may be ſo far above us, that we cannot con-
tribute to either. But remove that imperfection
in
An Eſay on Virtue. 89
in our friend, that inability to ſerve us, which is
the occaſion of a partial reliance upon his affi-
ſtance; take away that weakneſs in him, which de-
mands our good wiſhes and mixes them with our
affection; and then we ſhall ſee what made the
difference between the love of our benefactor and
the love of our God: for by this means what was
affection for him and friendſhip in his life time
may, after death has removed his imperfections
out of ſight, have ſomething of devotion in it and
become idolatry. Upon every inſtance of natural
good, true religion carries up our thoughts to the
true author of it; to that God, from whom every
good gift and every perfeet gift cómeth: and whilſt
we thus refer back all our happineſs, to the foun-
tain from whence it flows, we ſhall neither be in
danger of worſhipping and ſerving the creature
more than the creator, nor be ſo fond of thoſe
enjoyments, which we receive from him, as to
forget the giver of them. Whilſt we retain this
ſenſe of his care for us, and of our dependance
upon him; whilſt we are perſuaded, that what-
ever can adminiſter to our fupport and comfort are
favours, which he beſtows; we ſhall enjoy the
happineſs, but ſhall love the author of it; we ſhall
be nouriſhed by the food or be warmed by the
raiment, which he has provided for us; but our
affections will not ſtop at the food or the raiment,
we ſhall carry them on to the all-bounteous hand,
which
M
90 An Elay on Virtue.
which gives us all things richly to enjoy. Upon the
whole therefore, when we are fooliſh enough to
believe, that we owe the happineſs, which the
brutes or which inanimate things afford us, to
theſe themſelves, then we value and love them :
but if we refer our happineſs up to ſome
higher ſource, the reaſon is by this time obvious
why our
ſenſations and affections towards a fruit-
ful field or commodious habitation ſhould be diffe-
rent
from what we feel towards a generous friend
or any noble charaéter, though we have no ſenſe of
good diſtinęt from advantage or intereſt.
There is ſtill a farther teſt, by which we may try
both what our approbation of virtue is owing to,
and what uſe it can be of to us in the conduct of our
lives; and that is by conſidering this approbation
as a principle of action, and by obſerving what in-
fluence it has upon our behaviour, and how far it
engages us to be virtuous ourſelves. In this view
we ſhall ſee that our love of virtue, whatever it
ariſes from, is of little or no uſe in recommend-
ing the practice of it, that this affection, whether
it is natural or acquired, felfiſh or diſintereſted,
is too uncertain to be depended upon, and is too
precarious and limited a motive to have the name
of obligation given to it. This is the point, which
I am moſt concerned to prove; the reſt I leave
with the reader to think of as he pleaſes.
If any thing but the happineſs, which a virtu-
ous character produces, was the reaſon for ap-
prova
An Eſay on Virtue.
91
proving it; we ſhould be as fond of it in our-
ſelves, as we are, when we ſee it or hear of it in
others: if our moral ſenſe ſhewed us any thing
in kindneſs and generoſity, that ſhould recom-
mend them to our eſteem, beſides the delight,
which ſuch behaviour is apt to produce in us
when we feel the immediate influence of it ; we
muſt love to be kind and generous ourſelves as
much as we love to have others fo. For to ap-
prove virtue, and yet not be virtuous; to be paf-
ſionately fond of a generous action, and yet ne-
ver do one ; to be in raptures, when we receive
ſome ſignal favour from a man, who diſtreſſes
himſelf to do us ſervice, and yet neglect to give
aſſiſtance to others, when it would put us to
the leaſt inconvenience, or even oppreſs them,
if our own welfare and happineſs make it ne-
ceffary; theſe are marks of an approbation not
very diſintereſted : and, whatever we may pre-
tend, the natural concluſion from ſuch a con-
duct is, that we approve virtue in others, becauſe
it does us good; ſince we are careleſs about it in
ourſelves, and ſeldom approve it well enough to
practiſe it where it would hurt us; I might have
faid never, unleſs ſome motives of happineſs are
thrown into the oppoſite ſcale ſufficient to over-
ballance the immediate inconveniencies, which
we apprehend from being virtuous.
The
M 2
92 An Eſay on Virtue.
See p. 77-78.
The objection from our approving the cha-
racter of perſons fo far removed from us both in
time and place as to make it impoſſible for their
virtue to do us any good has been obviated al-
ready: where it was obſerved, that our approba-
tion being only a ſenſe of the delight,which ſome
objects are apt to produce in us, we may reflect
upon that delight, when the objects are abſent, as
well as feel it, when they are prefent. Or if any one
thinks that to approve virtue, though on account
of the happineſs, which it produces whilſt others
practiſe it, ſhould be called a diſintereſted appro-
bation, becauſe we approve it, whether we ourſelves
enjoy that happineſs or not; he has my leave to
call it ſo: but then it will be neceſſary for him,
though our love of grapes or roſes ariſes entirely
from the pleaſure, which they give us, to call this
a diſintereſted affection, becauſe we love them as
we do virtue without actually enjoying the plea-
fure, which they are fitted to produce. The re-
femblance indeed does not hold in one part, for
we have a peculiar ſenſe, through which theſe
ſort of pleaſures are conveyed; we taſte the fruit,
and we ſmell the flower : but the happineſs,which
virtue affords, may be taken in by any ſenſe and
by all in their turns, as the inſtances differ, in
which it is practiſed; nor is there any occaſion
for a moral ſenſe to give us the reliſh of it. When
the benevolent man feeds the hungry, they taſte
t
his
An Eſay on Virtue.
93
his virtue: when he clothes the naked, it warms
them, and they feel it: when he provides and
adminiſters phyſic to the diſtempered and lan-
guiſhing, the whole animal ſyſtem is reſtored to
its ſtrength and vigour, and each enlivened ſenſe
reliſhes and enjoys his care and tenderneſs. Others,
who are witneſſes to his humanity and kindneſs,
or who hear of it afterwards, love his virtue,
though they do not enjoy it: a warm imaginati-
on may intereſt them in whatanother feels
, and may
make them feel ſomething of it themſelves : but
they know without this, that ſuch behaviour de-
lights where its influence is felt; and by reflect-
ing upon the thought they have of that delight,
which ſuch behaviour is apt or fitted to produce in
them, they have the idea we call love. This love
of virtue is attended indeed with a deſire of enjoy-
ment: but how do we deſire to enjoy it? not by
practiſing it ourſelves, not by making it a part of
our own character, for here we have little reliſh
for it : our enjoyment of it is from others practif-
ing it; we could wiſh to have the virtuous man
our friend, and, where it is in our power, we en-
deavour to make him ſo: we ſhould be glad, if
thoſe, whom we have any dealings with, were
like him; and we perſuade them, as much as we
can, to imitate his example, and encourage them,
when they attempt it. But whilft we are thus
fond of virtue in others, thus deſirous that all a-
bout
94 An Eſay on Virtue.
.
about us ſhould practiſe it; and yet in our own
conduct are quite indifferent about it; whilſt we
enjoy virtue in the character of others, but are
fonder of vice in our own, till we find it as much
our intereſt to be virtuous ourſelves, as it is to
have others virtuous; let men pretend what they
will, it is impoſſible to believe, that they love vir-
tue for any thing but the happineſs, which it pro-
duces, or that their approbation of it is any thing
but a ſenſe of this happineſs.
But the neglect of being juſt or benevolent is
not allowed to be a fufficient reaſon for conclud-
ing, that we do not approve the practiſe of vir-
tue in ourſelves: the vicious are here called in as
witneſſes in favour of that ſcheme of morality,
which we are diſputing againſt
. Theſe, it is urg-
ed, will confeſs, that what they do is with the
greateſt reluctance; that they ſee the charms of
virtue and cannot help admiring them, even
whilft they give them up and throw themſelves
into the arms of her rival. The weight of this
evidence is thought to be very great and almoſt
deciſive; becauſe, where men condemn them-
ſelves and their own practices, there can be no
room to ſuſpect them of partiality. But though
one cannot ſuſpect them of being partial, yet
there is great room to doubt their ſincerity: their
behaviour contradicts their evidence; and in ſuch
a caſe we commonly judge of a man's ſentiments
from
An Eſay on Virtue. 95
from his actions rather than from his words. It
is more natural to think, that he may profefs an af-
fection for virtue, though he has really no fort of
regard for it, than to believe it poſſible for him
to be vicious, whilft he approves and eſteems vir-
tue in himſelf, whilft he is under a full ſenſe of
the deformity of his preſent conduct and has a
hearty averſion to it. He may be willing to keep
upon good terms with mankind; and knowing
how pernicious his conduct is to thoſe about him,
and how certain he is to forfeit their affection if
they think him regardleſs of their happineſs, he
may hope to keep them from thinking ſo by tell-
ing them, that he approves virtue, even whilft he
is vicious, that he is fond of what is for their
advantage, even whilſt he neglects it, and cannot
do them a miſchief without being ſorry for it.
Such profeſſions as theſe have commonly the de-
ſired effect: we are inclined to think, that a man,
who loves virtue, means well in general, and will,
though he has acted in oppoſition to it now, be-
have better another time: we impute the harm he
has done to ſome unfortunate circumſtances, in
which he happened to be placed, and hope, either
that he will never be again in the ſame circum-
ſtances, or that, if he is, he will be better prepar-
ed, and will adhere for the future to thạt virtue,
which he loves, though in ſome inſtances he may
have betrayed it. As long as the reluctance,which a
man
96
An Eſay on Virtue.
1
/
1
man pretends to feel when he is vicious, is an
allowed excuſe for his being ſo; it is no wonder, if
all men of this character ſhould be ready to make
uſe of a plea, which will ſet them right at once
in the opinion of the world, and which, as they
think, for want of knowing their hearts can ne-
ver be over-ruled.
do not mean, when I call this reluctance a
pretended one, that it is always ſuch: many do
without all diſpute actually feel it; though ma-
ny more, who talk much of it, feel no ſuch thing.
But, when it is real, muſt it ariſe from inſtinct?
may not it, where it is not owing to religious mo-
tives, ariſe from the fear of loſing the eſteem of
mankind ? We are ſure, that other people would
chuſe to have us virtuous; and from the appre-
henſions that we might hurt them by an oppo-
ſite behaviour, they will diſlike us, if we fall into
it. The deſire of having them well affected to us,
and the inconveniencies, which we may undergo
from their diſeſteem and averſion, will be a fuffi-
cient cauſe for ſome reluctance, when we are do-
ing what is vicious. If this was not the true
cauſe of what the vicious ſometimes feel, why
ſhould not they feel the ſame always? why ſhould
the freſh affalſin ſtart at the thoughts of killing
a ſingle man, when, with an army to ſupport
him, he would glory in murdering thouſands ?
there can be no poſſible reaſon given why he
ſhould
An Elay on Virtue 97
ſhould have more real affection for the practice
of virtue in a private character, than he has in a
public one, if nothing but natural inſtinct had
given him that affection, and nothing but the
charms of virtue had determined him to love it.
Upon another principle this difference of conduct
may eaſily be accounted for. The affaſſin is a de-
fenceleſs individual, who is making all mankind
afraid of him and is doing an act, which he is
ſure of being puniſhed for, if he is found out.
Whilſt the conqueror has many, who are partners
of his crime, many, who are intereſted enough
in it themſelves to protect him againſt all the dan-
gers, which he might otherwiſe apprehend from
thoſe, that diſlike his behaviour and that ſuffer by
it. Why ſhould a robber make a conſcience of let-
ing his companions have their ſhare in the booty,
which he has taken, and feel uneaſineſs and con-
cern, when he ſecretes for his own uſe what,
according to the rules of their ſociety, they have
a claim upon ? Will any man tell me that this is
owing to an affection for the practice of virtue ?
how could he, with ſuch an affection about him,
plunder the next honeſt man he meets without
the leaſt reluctance or ſcruple? I will grant, that
the weakneſs of the inſtinct prompting him to
virtue, and the inſufficiency of it to reſtrain him
from committing this fact is not a direct proof
that there is no ſuch thing; but ſure if they were
the
(
N
.
98 An Eſay on Virtue.
the remains of ſuch an inſtinct, which made him
ſo unwilling to defraud his companions; though
theſe laft efforts of an almoſt expiring affection
would not keep him from being unjuſt to others,
yet they muſt occaſion at leaſt as much inward
diſturbance and reluctance, when he robs the in-
nocent or fires an houſe and perhaps ruins a fa-
mily. The fear of ſuffering for what he does will
account for his remorſe much better; his intereſts
are united with thoſe of his own clan, and he is
apprehenſive, that, if he is diſcovered not to be
true to the common caufe, he may be either be-
trayed to the magiſtrate, or be turned out from the
company and left to ſhift for himſelf: but as for
the reſt of the world; fince he knows that he has
forfeited their good opinion, fince he is ſure that
they cannot think worſe of him than they do alrea-
dy, and that they are prepared to do him all the
harm they can; he grows careleſs about his behavi-
our to them, and is not ſenſible of any reluctance,
whilſt he injures them; becauſe no injury he can
do them, after he and they are upon ſo ill terms,
Account of will occaſion any new fears in his mind. Why
James Hall
fhould the treacherous villain, who has committ-
ed murder, feel indeed the moſt inexpreſſible an-
guiſh, till the fact is diſcovered, but afterwards
grow eaſier, have but little concern upon him, and
fuffer death without much remorſe? The crime is
not more odious to him before he is known to be
the
1741. pag.
14.18,
An Eſay on Virtue.
99
the author of it, than it is afterwards : the in-
ſtinctive approbation would have the ſame effect
upon his mind, when all the world know what he
has done, as when no creature, but himſelf, is
confcious to it. His fears however would have a
different effect: for, whilft he is undiſcovered, he
ſtands fair in the opinion of mankind; but can-
not help being under conſtant apprehenſions of
loſing their eſteem, and, what is worſe, of being
puniſhed for his crime: after the matter is public,
then he knows the worſt of it, and having no-
thing farther to fear has no more remorſe of con-
fcience. Since therefore the vicious feel reluctance
only where they are afraid of forfeiting the good
opinion of mankind by their behaviour, or of be-
ing expoſed to puniſhment for it: ſince the re-
luctance wears off as thoſe fears abate; or changes
into a deſpair, which hardens the mind and
makes it quite inſenſible, whenever the inconve-
niencies, that were apprehended, appcar inevita-
ble; it is not improbable, that all the unwilling-
neſs to part with their virtue, which in ſome in-
ſtances, even the moſt profligate experience, is
rather an effect of what they fear from their vi-
ces and of what they might hope for, if they
were virtuous, than any impartial teſtimony of
their own opinion about virtue or of their natu-
ral affection for the practice of it.
.
N 2
Gra-
Ιοο
An Eſay on Virtue.
1
Gratitude is a favourite inſtance of a diſinter-
eſted affection: for though, when we look for-
wards upon a character, which may be of ſervice to
us hereafter, it might be poſſible for our regards
to have ſomething of intereſt and ſelf in them;
yet our grateful reſentments appear not ſo liable
to this charge; becauſe theſe are ſuppoſed to look
back only upon favours already received, and
not to take in any other advantages than what we
are in poſſeſſion of.
To judge the better of our reaſons for approv-
ing gratitude, let us confider, how we approve it
in others, and how in ourſelves. That we love
gratitude in other men, when they are grateful
to us, will never ſhew our affection to be diſinter-
eſted. Whilſt they return our favours we have a
manifeſt advantage, and it is poſſible we may be
fond of this, and may approve them and their
character, becauſe they do us good. Or if it is not
in their power to make us any return; yet there
will always be ſome uſe in having a ſet of men, ,
who, we are almoſt fure, will never do us an in-
jury, but will be ready to ſerve us in
where we may have occaſion for them, though
perhaps we do not at preſent foreſee any
fuch.
I think we cannot eaſily be poſitive, that our love
of them and of their behaviour does not ariſe
from this intereſted view: nay, it is more than
barely probable, that it does ariſe from hence; if
any caſe
we
!
An Elay on Virtue. }
IOL
we conſider, that, ſhould we be brought into dif-
ficulties and they have it in their power to relieve
us, our firſt application would be to them; and
if they were to deſert us in our diſtreſs, we ſhould
be more diſpleaſed at it, than at meeting with
the ſame uſage from any body elſe: our diſlike of
them afterwards would be as great as our love was
before, and much greater than of any other per-
ſons, who may have refuſed us relief as well as they,
but who were not under the ſame obligations to
us. And as the occaſion of this diſlike ſhews
what uſe we expected to make of their gratitude
upon a proper opportunity; as a diſappointment
in what we expected from them does not only
efface our love but turns it to hatred; a man, that
does not deſire to be thought more generous than
he appears to be from his behaviour, would own,
that he is not quite diſintereſted in his regards for
the character of one, who is grateful towards him-
felf. In caſes where he has no concern the fame See pag. 74.
is meant by approving gratitude as by approving 75. &c.
any other virtue, and what this is, I have endea-
voured to ſhew in another place.
Gratitude in ourſelves is the moſt unfortunate
inſtance, that could have been made choice of for
the proof of a diſintereſted affection for virtue.
Other virtues have nothing of ſelf in their compo-
ſition when we conſider them only as virtues :
the nature of them confifts in doing good to
others
.
I 02
An Elay on Virtue.
others without regarding how they behave to us ;
and the happineſs
, which any one receives from
the virtues practiſed by himſelf, is not taken notice
of till we come to conſider them as duties, that
is, till a reaſon is asked, why we ſhould be vir-
tuous. But without conſidering gratitude as a
duty, without asking a reaſon why we are to
practiſe it, ſelfiſh regards are contained in the
very notion of it: preſent and future as well as
paſt advantages are the object of gratitude; it is
an affection towards a character conſidered as be-
neficial to us. I do not mean that no man ever
continues his regards towards thoſe, who after
many acts of friendſhip grow negligent of his
intereſts or even oppoſe them: we may after the
example of God, engaged by his authority, and
Luke vi. 35. ſupported by his promiſes, be kind to the unthank-
Matth. v.44. ful, and to the evil; we may love our enemies
, and
bleſs them, that curſe us; we may do good to them
that hate us, and pray for them, which deſpitefully
uſeus and perſecute us: if we call ourſelves Chriſti-
áns, this is our duty, and ſuch a duty as we
ſhall be ſure to diſcharge, if we are with ſince-
rity what we outwardly profeſs ourſelves to be.
But however theſe affections are raiſed and kept
alive in us, we call them humanity, benevolence,
or charity; they are never known by the name
of gratitude: and what I would endeavour to
ſhew is, that this name belongs to no other bene-
volent
An Elay on Virtue.
Io3
volent affections but thoſe, which regard ſuch a
character as was mentioned above, a character,
that we conſider as beneficial to us.
The readieſt way to ſettle the meaning of the
word gratitude will be to recollect what ſort of
men we are grateful to, and what change in their
behaviour would either quite efface our gratitude
and introduce inſtead of it the oppoſite ſentiments
of diſtaſte and averſion, or elſe change it into
thoſe other affections of the benevolent ſort, which
are known by the names of forgiveneſs, pity, hu-
manity, and love of enemies. One, who gives us
all the aſſiſtance, that we have occaſion for, who
does us all the favours, that we could expect from
the heartieſt friend, and is as bountiful to us as
the moſt generous of our benefactors, will never
be the object of our gratitude, if it appears that in
all this he had a view to ſome temporal intereſt, and
had no other reaſon for endeavouring to advance
our good, but becauſe it happened to be the moſt
effectual means of advancing his own: ſuch a
character as this is uſeful to us only by chance;
the man has not our good at heart; there is no
ſteady purpoſe of ſerving us; and the want of this
prevents our gratitude. If he had been more
diſintereſted in beſtowing his favours, he might
have had a title to it; and would not have failed
of raiſing ſome grateful ſentiments in us, if he
had appeared to have no deſign but of making
>
US:
104 An Elay on Virtue.
us happy. Should he afterwards change his con-
duct, grow careleſs about our welfare and defert
our intereſts; yet, as long as we could perſuade
ourſelves, that theſe neglects were not ſo much
owing to a want of inclination as of a proper op.
portunity to ſerve us, the affection for him would
femain, and would ſtill continue to be called by
the name gratitude. But ſuppoſe we ſaw plainly,
that, when it has frequently been in his power to
do us favours, he has not done them; that, when
he has known us to have the moſt preſſing occa-
ſions for ſuch aſſiſtance as he might eaſily have
given us, he has notwithſtanding ſuffered us to
be diſtreſſed for want of it; or imagine him after
having promoted our intereſts to oppoſe and in-
terrupt them, and to endeavour all in his power
to throw us down from that happineſs, to which
he has raiſed us: in theſe circumſtances as in all
1 Cor. xiii. 4. others our religion would teach us to ſuffer long
and to be kind; but this affection is known by the
name of charity, we do not call it gratitude. Men,
who have never had their temper ſoftened by the
Chriſtian diſcipline, might indeed think of re-
turning his favours even after this uſage; but they
would make their returns with hearts full of a
reſentment very different from either gratitude or
charity: they would repay his kindneſſes rather
to prevent the being upbraided with them than
from any ſincere and affectionate deſign of doing
him
An Elay on Virtue 105
.
him ſervice. Thus whilſt we keep in mind the ill
treatment, which we have received from thoſe,
who had once deſerved well of us, our affections
will be too much influenced by the ſenſe of it to
be of the benevolent fort at all: and if we forgive
the miſchief done to us, though it muſt be con-
feſſed that our affection is then a truly benevolent
one, yet certainly it is not gratitude but charity.
By forgiveneſs we blot out at once the memory
of all paſt ill uſage: but fuppoſe a ſeries of ſuch
uſage had firſt worn away all impreſſions, which
former kindneſſes had made; then ſurely they, who
were once our friends and after that our enemies,
begin again with a blank character, as it were;
and the name of gratitude no more belongs to
our tendereſt regards towards them than it does
to the affections of pity and humanity, which
we ſhew towards others of our own ſpecies, that
have never done us either good or harm. It is
poſſible that the traces of the favours received
by us may be too deep to be eaſily effaced: and
if our charity is lively and vigorous, it will ſe-
cure them even from being much impaired; it
will come in to our aid immediately; and, by
throwing off at once all ſenſe of neglect and in-
jury, will prevent the effects, which ſuch a ſenſe
is too apt to produce when ſuffered to continue
long in the heart. In this caſe, our benevolent affec-
tions may preſerve the name of gratitude; but then
it
1
O
106 An Efay on Virtue.
it ſhould be obſerved, that the ſenſe of a character
which is beneficial to us is kept up in our minds,
and the hurt, that has been done us, is overlook-
ed and forgotten.
A man's benefactors may have exhauſted their
fortunes in his ſervice : they may by loſſes be dif-
abled from continuing their favours to him, or by
diſgraces be deprived of that power, which they
once made uſe of to raiſe and ſupport him. But,
let the abilities of his reduced benefactors be ever
ſo ſmall, they may ſtill have an inclination to do
him ſervice: and it is plainly this part of their
character, which is the object of his gratitude. For
let their affections towards him cool, as their abi-
lities to ſerve him decreaſe ; let them uſe their little
power in an impotent oppoſition to his intereſts,
or neglect to uſe it in his ſervice,where he expects
what aſſiſtance they can give him; let them wiſh
him ill, or not wiſh him well, when they have no
other way of expreſſing their good inclinations
but by their good wiſhes; in theſe circumſtances
the ſtrong aſſurances, which their former favours
had given him of their affection for him, would
not ſuffer him to conclude at once that they had
dropped all regard for his welfare; or that charity,
which hopeth all things, might engage him to put
a favourable interpretation even upon repeated
inſtances of this fort. But what is that reaſonable
allowance ? or what is this chriſtian ope? they
are
An Eſſay on Virtue. 107
are neither of them called gratitude; they are
only the means of keeping our gratitude alive by
repreſenting the characters of men in an advanta-
gious light, and by teaching us to think them
more our friends, than they appear to be from
their behaviour. After we are not only ſure that
we have loſt their friendſhip, but that they would
do us all the harm in their power; after the only
branch of charity we can exerciſe towards them
is that of enduring all things, then the only be-
nevolent affection, which can remain, may ſurely
be called love of our enemies; and this I fancy
will be allowed to convey a very different notion
from that, which the word gratitude is intended
to fignify.
Had we been at any time in a very diſtant
part of the world, where ſome of the inhabitants
had been particularly kind to us and had treat-
ed us with extraordinary civility and generoſi-
ty; we ſhould without doubt feel fome tender
affections, when we were taking leave of a ſet of
men that we had been ſo much obliged to : and
the ſentiments of gratitude would remain even after
we were gone from them, and were ſettled at ſo
great a diſtance as to put it out of their power ever
to do us any farther ſervices. « But ſtill we might Pope's let-
depend upon their conſtant friendſhip, kind me- Atterbury
.
mory, and good offices, though we were never to
" fee or hear the effects of them;
and every time
" that
J
XXII.
O 2
108 An Eſay on Virtue.
" that we think of them, we might believe they
“ were thinking of us.” But if we were convinced,
that after they had loſt ſight of us, they remem-
bered us no more; or only remembered us with
diſlike and ill will; our tendereſt affections for
the abſent would be the ſame that we feel in the
like circumſtances towards thoſe, who live nearer
us, ſuch as are known by the names humanity,
kindneſs and forbearance, and are never, or very
improperly called gratitude.
I ſhall mention but one inſtance more, and
that is of gratitude to God for the benefits and
mercies we receive from him: this muſt be an in-
tereſted affection, ſince it regards the favours that
are expected as much or more than what are paſt.
For had he placed his creatures here and made
them happy for a while, with a deſign of mak-
ing them miſerable fome time hence, and ſo much
the more miſerable for being happy now; if they
were ſenſible of this or even ſuſpected it, they
would have little reaſon to thank him for what
they enjoy at preſent; and their gratitude would
probably be as weak as their reafons for being
grateful. Or if he was only to withdraw his
ſtanding providence, and to leave them to pro-
vide as well as they could for their own happi-
neſs, without thoſe ſettled laws of nature, which
are now, when rightly uſed, the means of happi-
neſs; their thankfulneſs would ceaſe with his pro-
tection,
An Eſay on Virtue. 109
tection, and after they had loſt all hopes of fu-
ture good from him, they would ſoon loſe all
ſenſe of gratitude. Nothing can keep this affec-
tion alive but a continued diſpoſition to do us
good: it ſcarce regards either what we have enjoy-
ed or what we are now enjoying any otherwiſe
than as it is an earneſt of what we may hope for
at another time.
The reader muſt not expect me to prove, that
no man ever acted upon diſintereſted motives, or
that no virtue was ever practiſed without ſome
ſelfiſh views. The Noble moraliſt has produced Shafteſbury,
one inſtance of diſintereſtedneſs and without doubt V.II.p.105.
more of the ſame fort may be met with. “We
may obſerve, ſays he, that in the paſſion of love
“ between the fexes, where, together with the af-
“ fection of a vulgar fort, there is a mixture of
« the kind and friendly; the ſenſe or feeling of
“ this latter is in reality ſuperior to the former;
« fince often through this affection, and for the
“ fake of the perſon beloved, the greateſt hard-
« ſhips in the world have been ſubmitted to and
“ even death itſelf voluntarily embraced, without
any expected compenſation : for where ſhould
“ the ground of ſuch an expectation lie? not here
« in this world ſurely, for death puts an end to
« all: nor yet hereafter in any other; for who
“ ever thought of providing a heaven or future
“ recompence for the ſuffering virtue of lovers ?”?
There
IIO An Eſay on Virtue.
There are too many advocates for this ſweet en-
thuſiaſm, and they have too much authority with
us to ſuffer it to be ſpoken againſt. But it is to be
hoped, that they, who would call theſe ſufferings
a virtue and think it our duty to ſubmit to them,
will be ſo kind as to allow there may be a hea-
ven provided to reward them. And I fancy the
grave moraliſt, who would laugh at the mention
of a future recompence for ſuch virtue, will rea-
dily own, that he does not look upon it as any
part of his duty: I would have him recollect at
the ſame time how few inſtances there are of per-
ſons, that have really been enthuſiaſts of this ſort,
amongſt the many, who would be thought ſuch:
they have certainly been too few to ſhew that this
affection is a part of the human conſtitution. The
truth is, no one can ſay how far an over-weaning
opinion will carry us: we may raiſe affections in
ourſelves and cheriſh them, till they grow too
ſtrong for us, and get the aſcendant over us: but
the follies, the extravagances and even vices, into
which they hurry us afterwards, will only prove,
that they are our maſters, not that they are natu-
ral. The mixture of the kind and friendly, which
in the paſſion of love between the ſexes is ſome-
times ſo much ſuperiour to the affection of a vul-
gar fort as to make the greateſt hardſhips be ſub-
mitted to, and even death itſelf be voluntarily em-
braced for the ſake of the perſon beloved, will
no
An Eſay on Virtue.
III
no more demonſtrate, that there are naturally in
man any diſintereſtedly kind and friendly affec-
tions than the death of a a Bruno, a Vanini or
6.6
a Though I thought it well known that theſe three perſons died
martyrs either for atheiſm or for opinions little better, yet ſince I
wrote this, I find that an ingenious Gentleman, who calls himſelf
Hibernicus, fays in a letter dated February 19. 1725-6 that ſome of
theſe facts have been diſproved long ago. His manner of faying this
without referring his reader to any author, who has diſproved them,
made me imagine ſome plain confutation of theſe facts was as well
known as I thought the truth of them had been: and I was a little
alhamed not to know what author had ſhewn any of them to be falſe.
I ſcarce imagine any one has been able to diſprove what Sir Paul
Rycaut tells us he remembers happened in his time [Preſent State of
the Ottom. Emp. b.2.c. 12.] “ that Mahomet Effendi one of the
“ ſect called Muferin was executed for impudently proclaiming his
blafphemies againſt the being of a God: and adds, that this man
might notwithſtanding his accuſation, have ſaved his life, would
- he but have confeſſed the error of his preſent opinion and pro-
« miſed for the future an afſent to a better : but he perſiſted ſtiil in
« his blaſphemies, ſaying, that though there were no reward, yet
s the love of truth obliged him to die a Martyr." And I find that
ſince the publication of theſe letters the learned compilers of the Ge-
neral Hiſtorical Dictionary knew as little of the confutation of theſe
facts as I do: for in their article of Vanini, and in their ſupplement
to that of Brunus [Jordanus], they relate the facts and confirm
them by the old authorities without any appearance of doubt whe-
ther they were true. Particularly (Note 1.) in the diſpute between
Mr. de la Croze and Mr. Heuman whether Bruno was burnt for a
Lutheran or an atheiſt, they determine, that if Bruno had been only
a Lutheran he might have lived very quietly at Rome; and that his
books ſhew he went a great deal farther, his principles being calcu-
lated for nothing leſs than to overthrow all religion. Or if I had
wanted all theſe three inſtances, it is I ſuppoſe well enough known, that
many have died for errors; and that giving up our life in confirma-
tion of our opinions will never prove thoſe opinions to be either innate
or true, but will only ſhew our firm attachment to them. The reader
may remember that what is urged to prove the truth of Chriſt's
reſurrection, is not barely that the Apoſtles laid down their lives in
teſti..
II2 An Eſay on Virtue.
Effendi will prove him to have a natural and diſ-
intereſted love for atheiſm; or than the behaviour
of a b Felton or a Clement will ſhew that nature
has implanted in him a diſintereſted deſire of do-
ing miſchief.
Some indeed might reply, that it was an affec-
tion for truth, which the atheiſts died for; ſince
no man can diſtinguiſh between what is true, and
what after the ſtricteſt examination appears ſo to
him. But did the affaſſins facrifice their lives to
truth too? If ſo, then one inſtance ſhews us that
piety and truth, and the other that virtue and truth
are not the ſame thing; for in both of them there
are the marks of a very warm affection for what ap-
pears to be truth without the leaſt inclination to-
wards either virtue or piety. Unleſs it ſhould be
faid, that every thing is piety and virtue in a man,
which he has perſuaded himſelf to look
upon
in
that light: and thus we may excuſe all the per-
teſtimony of it: all that our moſt judicious divines prove from their
martyrdom is that they believed the truth of Chriſt's reſurrection :
and this was not matter of opinion, in which conſidered as' men with-
out any extraordinary aſſiſtance (for ſo our adverſaries would confi-
der them) they might be miſtaken ; it was a matter of fact, to which
they were eye witneſſes, and therefore to make their evidence un-
deniable, nothing is wanted but an aſſurance of their fincerity, and
this we have from their voluntary ſufferings. Tryal of the witneſſes
ز
&c. p.104.
• Felton being aſked by whoſe inſtigation he had murdered the
Duke of Buckingham “ anſwered with a wonderful aſſurance, that
" they ſhould not trouble themſelves in that enquiry ; that no man
“ living had credit or power enough with him to have engaged or
diſpoſed him to ſuch an action ; that he had never intruſted his
“purpoſe and reſolution to any man: that it proceeded only from
2
« him-
An El ay on Virtue.
113
B. IV.
ThuanHift,
Lib.LII.
Charles IX.
an. 1572.
fons concerned in the Iriſh rebellion, the maffa-Clarendon.
cre of Saint Bartholomew, the Sicilian veſpers, or
the holy Inquiſition: what they did would
upon
theſe principles be their duty, if they thought it ?: Danicl
fo, and would be virtue in them, if they approv-France
ed it. Whatever reply others might make, I
am perſuaded that the moraliſts, with whom I am Philippe III.
now concerned, will not defend their own opi- Baker's Hift.
nion upon ſuch principles, as will put the affecti- of Inquir.
ons ſo entirely under the conduct of the under-
ſtanding, that the moſt malevolent ones would be
right and virtuous, when a miſguided judgment
directs us to cultivate them: they have more re-
gard to the facred names of right and virtue than
to ſuffer them to be given to the moſt infamous
treachery, and the moſt favage barbarity.
But ſuppoſe we had an inſtinctive approbation
of virtue, ſuppoſe the reluctance, that we feel when
we act otherwiſe than virtuouſly, to be owing to
“ himſelf and the impulſe of his own conſcience." Clarendon's Hif-
tory of the Rebellion. B. IV. Father Daniel ſpeaking of the murder of
Henry III. of France ſays, Ce deteſtable parricide fut commis par
Jacques Clément jeune religieux Dominiquain, natif du village de
Sorbonne dans le Sénonois, homme d' un eſprit foible, fort ignorant,
qui s' étoit laiſsé tranſporter à cette fureur, par les continuelles et
horrible invectives des prédicateurs de Paris contre le Roy, et par
1
abominable doctrine, qui eut alors grands cours, et qui ſe débitoir
dans les Chaires, que l'on pouvoit en conſcience ôter la vie à un
tyran,
tel
que
les docteurs de la ligue depeignoient en toutes occa-
fions Henri de Valois. P. Daniel Hift. de France. Henri III. An.
1589. A more full account of this matter as it was related by thoſe,
who applauded what Clement had done, may be feen in Thuan.
Hiſt. Lib. XCVI. C. 8.
Р
this
t
I14 An Eſlay on Virtue.
this principle; I ſee not how this can be made the
cauſe of moral obligation : unleſs they, who think
fo, will grant, that the obligation to virtue is quite
precarious, and that our true principle of action
is a very unſteady one. For this inſtinct is ſo
much too weak to reſtrain us, that we can with
a ſenſe of the beauties of virtue upon our mind,
and under the full influence of our approbation
of it, not only neglect to comply with its dictates,
but even act directly againſt them. And what is
ſtill worſe ; if this unwillingneſs to give up virtue
or ifthe ſuppoſed natural approbation from whence
this unwillingneſs is ſaid to ariſe, was all that ob-
liged us to practiſe it, we ſhould upon the ſame
principles be as much obliged to be vicious ; for
no vicious man ever gives up a vice without
reluctance: and ſuch a reluctance muſt in one
caſe as well as in the other be a mark of his na-
turally approving what he parts with founwillingly.
It is obvious to reply here, that a man, who has
found ſome little pleaſure in vice, and has by
long practice and habit made it agreeable and al-
moſt neceſſary, cannot be ſuppoſed to give up
theſe ſatisfactions quite unconcernedly: ſome re-
gret he muſt feel at parting, though he had no
natural affection for vice nor any ſuch approbati-
on of it as could make it his duty. I readily a-
gree, that this is a true account of the matter :
but then I muſt infiſt upon its being as reaſona-
ble
An Eſay on Virtue. 115
ble to expect that virtue, though we have no in-
ſtinctive love or diſintereſted fondneſs for it, ſhould
ſometimes be deſerted with as much reluctance
by one, who has been well educated, who is not
conſcious of having deſerved ill from any man,
whoſe juſtice has ſecured him from the averſion
and hatred of mankind, and whoſe goodneſs has
nade all thoſe his friends, that are acquainted
with his character. His education will have
taught him, that virtue will make him happy;
and the eſteem and favour, which he meets with,
will confirm his opinion. Theſe pleaſures will ef-
fectually prevent virtue from being indifferent to
him: and as they make him leave it with relu-
ctance at firſt; ſo if ever he ſhould quite with-
draw himſelf from it; they will ſometimes recurr
to his mind: and when they do, he will wiſh that
he ſtood as fair in the opinion of the world as he
once did; and will go on with leſs ſatisfaction in a
vicious courſe than he would have done, if he had
never taſted the joys of being beloved, nor had
ever been aware how much more it is for our
advantage to be upon good terms with mankind
than to be at enmity with them, and how im-
poſſible it is to ſecure any ſhare of their affection
without being virtuous.
One thing we may gather moſt certainly from
theſe inſtances, which is, that if education does not
give us our fondneſs for virtue, yet education can
wear
P 2
.
116 An Eſay on Virtue.
-
wear it out; and long habit can introduce the con-
trary affection and make us fond of vice. And
when this is done, are we obliged any longer to
practiſe virtue If we are ; then it muſt be
ſomething elſe beſides the affection for virtue,which
obliges us to purſue it; ſince the obligation con-
tinues after the affection is loſt: if we are not;
then virtue will be but poorly ſupported by an
obligation, that we may releaſe ourſelves from
whenever we pleaſe ; it is but effacing that fond-
neſs, which reſtrained us, and then we owe it no
more obedience, but are immediately at liberty
to act as we will without the apprehenſion of any
farther inconvenience. And why ſhould we keep
this affection, when we can get rid of it? what
obliges us to cheriſh and improve it? there are
others, which appear in the mind as early as this
does, and which have a more undiſputed claim
to be thought natural. No one ever ſo much as
ſuſpected, that the deſire of fenfual pleaſure might
poſſibly be an adventitious one and be only the
effect of cuſtom and education ; but thouſands
have been fully convinced, that the love of virtue
has no other original. Or ſuppoſe nature to have
given us both theſe deſires; why ought we to re-
ſtrain one of them? nay more; why may we with-
out being thought criminal extinguiſh it by long
neglect; whilft it is our duty to improve the
other and carry it up to its greateſt height?
Why
--
117
An Elay on Virtue.
Why are we obliged, when they interfere, to give
the preference to the benevolent affection rather
than to the ſenſual one? it is not becauſe the for-
mer is the ſtronger of the two, for that is not al-
ways the caſe; it is not becauſe the ſenſualift feels
ſome reluctance, if he indulges the latter to the
prejudice of virtue, for he would feel as much
reluctance in mortifying his appetite towards plea-
ſure in order to follow the virtuous inſtinct. And
indeed if we look no farther than the affections
themſelves, there is no ſort of reaſon why we
ſhould not wear out both of them, if we had a
mind to it ; or why, if we are to keep one, we
might not as well extirpate benevolence by pur-
ſuing pleaſure, as weaken our ſenſual appetites
by neglecting to indulge them in order to com-
ply the better with the dictates of benevolence.
But if we do look beyond the affections, for
reaſons which oblige us to give the preference to
our approbation of virtue and to preſerve it, as
far as we can, in its utmoſt vigour; thoſe reaſons,
whatever they are, and not this approbation, are
the true cauſe of our obligation to virtue.
CHAP
118
An El ay on Virtue.
1
Clarke's
Boyle's
lectures P. 2.
prop. 1.
T
C H A P. VI.
No eternal and neceſſary differences, no fitneſs or
unfitneſs of things can be the cauſe of moral ob-
ligation.
HE eternaland neceſſary differences of things
and the conſequent fitneſs or unfitneſs of
the application of different things or different re-
lations one to another have been propoſed as the
moſt uniform and conſtant obligation to virtue.
“ For theſe are repreſented as cauſing it to be our
duty to act only what is agreable to juſtice,
“ equity, goodneſs, and truth; even ſeparate from
« the conſideration of its being the poſitive will
« and command of God, that we ſhould do fo;
« and alſo antecedent to any reſpect or regard,
e expectation or apprehenſion of any particular
“ private and perſonal advantage or diſadvantage,
“ reward or puniſhment either prefent or future;
s annexed either by natural conſequence or by
« poſitive appointment to the practiſing or neg-
“ lecting theſe rules.”
In conſequence of the ſuppoſed truth of this
opinion; obligation is defined to be “a ſtate of the
tracts p.68.
« mind, into which it is brought by the perception
« of a plain reaſon for acting or forbearing to act,
« ariſing from the nature, circumſtances, or re-
« lations of perſons or things.” A very precarious
ob-
is
Balguy's
An Elay on Virtue. 119
VIII.
i
obligation this, and ſuch as in the judgment of See pag. 7r.
mankind would not deſerve that name. Even thoſe,
who undertake to defend it, grant that happineſs Sec Chap.
is the chief end, which every man muſt and will
purſue, and that virtue could not either naturally
or reaſonably be maintained without calling in
the hopes of a future ſtate, wherever a behaviour
conformable to theſe relations and differences
would interfere with that end. This is plainly not
ſo much ſupporting this ſort of obligation as in-
troducing another quite diſtinct from it: to act
agreably to theſe relations, becauſe God will make
us happy for doing ſo, is a reaſon for acting or
forbearing to act, which does not ariſe from theſe
relations themſelves, but from a quite different
conſideration, from the proſpect of advancing our
own happineſs
.
Perhaps the whole diſpute might very ſafely be
reſted upon this ſingle point: but as thoſe, who
have made conceſſions, are ſometimes apt to re-
tract them or to explain them away; when they
find what concluſions may be drawn from them;
I ſhall not content myſelf with ſhewing hereafter
that by the confeſſion of theſe writers the reaſons
for practiſing virtue, which flow from the dif-
ferences and relations of things, are too precarious
to deſerve the title of obligation; but ſhall en-
deavour farther to prove that they afford us no
reaſon at all for being virtuous.
There
-
1 20
An Eſay on Virtue
There is without diſpute a natural difference
between one thing and another; good and evil,
or happineſs and miſery are certainly not the ſame
thing: if any one thinks they are, he need only
conſult his ſenſes, and from them he may very
ſoon have better information. And ſince inoral
good or virtue conſiſts in doing good to others or
in taking care not to make them miſerable, and
moral evil or vice in the contrary; one of theſe
muſt differ as much from the other as happineſs
does from miſery. But from this difference there
cannot ariſe any obligation to the practice of vir-
tue: for to ſay, that moral good or virtue is our
duty, becauſe it differs naturally and effentially
from vice, is to make it our duty for ſuch a
reaſon as would equally have proved the very re-
verſe: vice or moral evil muſt be as much our duty
upon
the ſame principles, ſince it differs naturally
and eſſentially from moral good. All that can
be gathered from this difference is, that between
virtue and vice there is room for choice: but is
the enquiry, — whence the obligation to practiſe
virtue and avoid vice
at all ſatisfied by pro-
ving what muſt certainly be ſuppoſed before ſuch
an enquiry could be intelligible? for what could
a man, who did not apprehend, that there is room
for choice between one fort of behaviour and
another, mean by asking why he is obliged to
one fort more than to another? the very queſtion
im-
An Elay on Virtue.
I 21
1
implys, that he is aware of an opportunity of chuf-
ing; and can no way be anſwered, but by ſhewing
a reaſon why he ſhould chuſe virtue rather than
vice.
I ſhould not have troubled the reader with a
formal proof that the natural difference between
virtue and vice, as it gives no preference of one to
the other, cannot oblige us to either; unleſs I had
obſerved, that in a favourite writer upon this ſub-
ject good to be done and reaſonable to be done are Clarke pag.
uſed as expreſſions of the ſame fignification: and 180.
if, becauſe we muſt grant that virtue from the
very nature of it is good to be done, it was there-
fore reaſonable to be done, and ſo our duty; its
nature or what diſtinguiſhes it from vice might
appear to be what obliges us to practiſe it. But
having ſeen juſt now that this can be no cauſe of
obligation, we may be ſure there is ſome fallacy in
the argument: and indeed it is not very difficult
to ſhew where that fallacy lies. Good to be done
ſignifies either good for him, who does it, or good
for others: and this ambiguous meaning of the
words ſeems to have been made too much uſe of.
For as every body will allow, that what makes him
happy who does it, or what is good to be done in
the former ſenſe, is fit to be done and reaſonable,
advantage is taken of this conceſſion; and, be-
cauſe it will be readily granted farther, that virtue
is good to be done, it is concluded, that virtue muſt
there-
Q
I 22
An Elay on Virtue.
XIII.
therefore be fit and reaſonable. Whereas in grant-
ing, that virtue is good to be done, we do not
mean that it is in its own nature good for him
who does it, but good for others : for if we go no
farther than the nature of it, then this is the only
ſenſe, in which virtue appears ſelf-evidently to be
See Chap. good. None but the Stoics and Peripatetics amongſt
the ancients and Lord Shaftesbury and his followers
amongſt the moderns ever thought otherwiſe;
none but theſe maintain, that making others happy,
is the happineſs of him, that makes them fo. The
favourite author referred to above was himſelf of a
different opinion; he ſaw and confeſſed that a man
may be miſerable whilft he is doing good to his fel-
low-creatures; or at leaſt, that there is nothing in
the nature of virtue itſelf, which ſhould prevent it:
whenever this is the caſe, he owns, that it would be
unreaſonable for men by adhering to virtue to part
See Chap. with their lives, if thereby they eternally deprive
themſelves of all poſſibility of receiving any advan-
tage from that adherence. And thus, when he was
engaged more immediately in the defence of his
darling ſcheme of morality, he ſpeaks of virtue as
always fit and reaſonable becauſe good to be done:
but when he comes to diſpute from what common
experience and his own good ſenſe had taught
him, he finds, that virtue upon ſome ſuppoſitions is
not truly reaſonable. Where he muſt allow, either
that virtue is not in its own nature good to be
done,
Clarke
pag.
258.
VIII.
An Eſay on Virtue.
I 23
approve and
done, or elſe that what is good to be done, may
be ſo in a ſenſe, which will make it very improper
to uſe this expreſſion as ſignifying univerſally the
ſame thing with fit and reaſonable to be done.
However, though this natural difference of
things ſhould be found not to produce an im-
mediate obligation to the practice of virtue; yet
does not it produce ſuch a fitneſs or unfitneſs in
the application of different things one to another
as will make ſome forts of behaviour evidently
wrong and ſuch as reaſon will diſallow, others
right and ſuch as reaſon cannot but
recommend? Is not there, for inſtance, fuch a dif-
agreement between miſery and a being, which has
Balguỳ p.74.
perception, “ that to give pain to a ſenſible crea-
á ture, is an action felf-evidently wrong, as being
« directly repugnant to the nature of the object
« and the circumſtances of the agent;" that is,
diſagreeable and contrary to the nature of him,
who feels the pain, and to the circumſtances of
him, who gives it?
That ſuch an action is repugnant to the nature of
the object, or that there is an unfitneſs of application
in giving pain toa ſenſible creature, is an expreſſion,
which wants to be explained. Agreeable or repug-
nant to nature, where a ſenſible being is concerned,
are words of a doubtful ſignification; and, unleſs
we are careful in fixing their meaning, it is poſſible
they may miſlead us. I cannot grant, that an action
which
ز
Q2
I 24 An Eſay on Virtue.
which gives pain to a ſenſible being is repugnant to
nature, if by this is meant, that ſuch an action uſes
it otherwiſe than its nature has fitted it to be uſed:
for nature, which gave it perception, made it as fit
to receive pain as to receive pleaſure. Does not the
villain, who gives poiſon, apply the drug to a pur-
poſe, for which nature has fitted it? and does not
he uſe the man, to whom he gives it, in ſuch a
manner as ſuits with or is agreeable to his nature?
I confeſs, he does not; if we uſe the word agreeable
to ſignify what is pleaſing to his nature or what
he likes: but ſince the event will ſhew, that the
poiſon is as ſure to kill him as wholeſome food
would have been to nouriſh him, it is plain that
nature has fitted him for one fort of treatment as
well as for the other: he is capable indeed of hap-
pineſs, but then he is capable of miſery too; and
he, who makes him miſerable, uſes him as much
like what he is, and therefore acts up as much to
the truth of things or the nature of things as he
does, who makes him happy. Indeed if that only
is called agreeable to the nature of a ſenſible being,
which it deſires or likes to feel; then every action,
which gives it pain is repugnant to its nature.
But this repugnancy, it ſhould be remembered,
depends upon the deſires of thoſe beings, that
have perception, rather than upon the nature of
things: for their averſions to miſery are as natural
as their deſire of happineſs; and he, who gives
them
.
An Elay on Virtue.
I 25
them pain becauſe they have an averſion to it,
has a reaſon in nature for what he does, no leſs
than he, who gives them pleaſure becauſe they
have a mind to it.
But who are thoſe ſenſible beings, that are to
be humoured in their inclinations? to whom is it
unfit and therefore felf-evidently wrong to give
pain, becauſe they diſlike to feel it? Have not we
feeling as well as they ? are not the agents ſenſible
beings as well as the objects ? and muſt not it there-
fore be ſelf-evidently wrong for the agents to give
themſelves pain ? nay, is not it ſelf-evidently right
upon theſe principles to give themſelves pleaſure?
by which however I mean no more than to make
themſelves happy. What then is to be done, when
we can make ourſelves happy by being vicious;
or ſhould be put to inconveniencies and be forced
to ſubmit to pain by perſevering in our virtue ?
Are we obliged in theſe circumſtances to neglect
virtue and to purſue vice? if not, why ſhould we
give a preference to the fitneſs between happineſs
and our fellow-creatures, rather than to the ſame
fitneſs between happineſs and ourſelves? why may
we make an unfit application of miſery to a fen-
ſible being in our own cafe, in order to avoid
making it where others are concerned? Are we to
judge of the importance of theſe fitneſſes or un-
fitneſſes by the quantity of happineſs and miſery,
which a ſenſible being will feel from our behaviour,
and
I
126 An Elay on Virtue.
.
and fo to look upon it as a duty to make that ap-
plication, which will produce the greater happineſs
and avoid that, which will produce the greater mi-
ſery? But certainly the judgment, nay the approved
judgment of mankind does not form itſelf upon
theſe principles: for if it did; then a virtuous action,
that produces happineſs to others without putting
him, who does it, to the leaſt inconvenience, makes
a fit application of the higheſt importance; ſince
in this method of judging thoſe fitneſies muſt be
the moſt important, where no unfitneſſes are
thrown into the oppoſite ſcale. But if ſuch an
action is of more importance, why is not it of
higher value, and if ſo, why not more eſteemed
than one, which would diſtreſs him that does it?
and yet, whatever the cauſe of this fondneſs may
be, we all of us are fonder of virtue, when it meets
with difficulties, when it expoſes thoſe, who practiſe
it to hazard, and brings inconveniencies upon
them, than when it has no diſadvantages to ſtruggle
with but bleffes mankind without hurting its
votaries. Suppoſe a man ſhould give more pain
to himſelf by his virtue than happineſs to others :
would he be under no obligations to perſevere ?
Clarke pag. Upon theſe principles it is impoſſible he ſhould;
and, to do theſe moraliſts juſtice, they perceive
and confeſs as much. Or ſuppoſe he ſhould on the
other hand do himſelf more good than he does
others harm by his vice; is he at liberty to be
258.
vi-
An Eſay on Virtue.
I 27
:
vicious in theſe circumſtances ? if he is not, then
balancing the quantity of miſery produced by
an unfit application againſt the quantity of hap-
pineſs that reſults from making a fit one is not
the method, by which we determine what our
duty is: but if he is at liberty, then how poor a
principle of obligation muſt this be, which will
recommend virtue to us only where it is not a-
gainſt our intereſt, and will diſcourage vice only
where we can get but little by it. They, who fet
out upon theſe principles, if they have a mind to
be conſiſtent, ſhould never talk of the excellence
and worth of diſintereſted virtue: for ſure virtue
muſt be moſt excellent when it is moſt reaſonable;
and if it ceaſes to be agreeable to reaſon, when
it interferes with our happineſs; then muſt its
worth be the greateſt of all when it advances our
intereſts the moſt.
It cannot here be replyed, that I have been mak-
ing impoſſible ſuppoſitions, and that virtue muſt
neceffarily make thoſe happy,who adhere to it: for
if it muſt; then either virtue is felf-ſufficient to the
happineſs of man, which the Stoics indeed might
fay, but theſe moraliſts expreſsly deny; or elſe Clarke pag.
the good providence of God will take care, that 257.
we ſhall upon the whole be no loſers by our vir-
tue; and ſo at laſt the will of the Supreme Being
is called in, not to ſtrengthen an obligation, which See pag. 119-
we ſhould have been under without it, but to
pro-
}
I 28 An Elay on Virtue.
produce an obligation, where there was none be-
fore, and to make the practice of virtue reaſona-
ble, where it would not have been ſo otherwiſe.
I ſee not therefore the great uſe of this fanciful
account of our duty ſuppoſing it could be defend-
ed: for if in the more exalted inſtances we muſt
have recourſe to the will of God, and can allow it
in them to be a proper foundation to act upon;
why may not we fùbmit to it and entertain the
ſame opinion of it in the lower inſtances? Why is
this the only rational ſource of obligation in caſes
of the greateſt importance; but a wrong and un-
reaſonable one in caſes where we meet with few
or no temptations to be otherwiſe than virtuous ?
And thus at laſt thoſe, who contend that fit-
neſs of application is a motive, which obliges to
virtue, are ſatisfied with having proved, as they
think, that it is ſo in ſome inſtances. But perhaps
what has been urged againſt their opinion, will
ſhew that it is not a rational motive in any caſe;
nor indeed any motive at all. Or if this has not
been made appear already; let them conſider far-
ther, why it ſhould be leſs a breach of duty to
give pain to brutes than to our own ſpecies: they
have feeling as well as we, and what cauſes pain
is as diſagreeable to their nature as it is to ours:
and if this unfitneſs of application is not ſelf-evi-
dently wrong, then neither is that ſo, which gives
pain to our fellow-creatures. For what is the
carr-
1
An Elay on Virtue. I 29
Wollaſton
ſect. 2. obs. 8.
carrınan better upon theſe principles than he, who
chains one of his own ſpecies to an oar? What
can defend the butcher, that would not equally
excuſe the affaſſin? How does a Nimrod, whoſe
prey is man, apply pain with more unfitneſs or
where it is more diſagreeable, than he does, who
"takes pleaſure in a fox-chace? Is it our only excuſe,
that we take care in killing animals for our fup-
port or diverſion to give them as little pain as
poſſible? then why may not a man uſe the ſame
excuſe, and ſhew upon the ſame principle that he
has not behaved amiſs, when he has poiſoned his
father? for he may do this without giving near ſo
much pain as animals muſt fuffer in the ordinary
ways of killing them. Or would they chuſe to ſay,
that the uſe we have from brutes will clear us of
any thing wrong or criminal, when we give them
pain only with a view of uſing them to ſome of the
purpoſes or to the ſupport of our lives.? And is
not this to make what is wrong or contrary to duty
in unfit application depend, not upon the unfitneſs
itſelf, but upon a principle quite different from it,
upon the intereſt we have in making or not mak-
ing ſuch applications ? and would not a reaſon
of exactly the ſame fort vindicate us in giving
pain to our fellow-creatures, however little they
may have deſerved it, and however averſe they
may be to feeling it?
To
R
130
An Eſay on Virtue.
To ſupport this cauſe of moral obligation the
defenders of it have attempted to prove, that in
every unfitneſs of application there is an unfitneſs
of action; or that to give pain is as contrary to
the nature of the agent as it is to the nature of
the object, and vice as diſagreeable to the vicious
man as the pain, which it produces, is to thoſe,
who feel it. But theſe writers, we muſt obſerve,
do not mean, that it is diſagreeable to our per-
ceptions, to any inſtinct, affection, or moral ſenſe,
Balguy's as they themſelves expreſsly declare: it is reaſon,
tracis p. 75. to which they think vice repugnant: and the argu-
ment to prove it has been thus ſtated by the moſt
candid, the cleareſt, and moſt judicious writer,
that ever undertook the defence of this ſcheme
of morality. “ We are certainly informed by our
• ſenſes, that pain is a natural evil; here is there-
« fore a plain and perpetual reaſon againſt the
« infliction of it, when no ſtronger intervenes
« to make it requifite.
In like manner we cer-
tainly know that pleaſure is a natural good;
« here is therefore a plain and perpetual reaſon
“ for the production of it, whenever we have it
“ in our power, and are not hindered by a
ſtronger.” The ſame argument is urged more
diſtinctly in another place. « To give pain to a
« ſenſible creature muſt be wrong in a rational or
« moral agent having no cauſe or reaſon to give
« pain, if it be morally unfit. And that it is morally
ibid,
pag. 122,
(un-
An Eſay on Virtue.
131
« unfit, feems to me as plain and evident as any
propoſition can be. It is as contrary to the nature
s and truth of things as to give a thirſty man poiſon
“ inſtead of drink. It is contrary to the nature of
“ the object, becauſe he naturally deſires indolence
« and pleaſure, and ſhuns pain. It is contrary to
“ the nature and circumſtances of the agent, be-
«« cauſe he being rational muſt act unnaturally,
“ whenever he acts unreaſonably. And he muſt
« act unreaſonably, when he acts both without and
« contrary to reaſon. Now he is ſuppoſed to have
“ no reaſon for giving pain, and yet muſt ſee a
s good reaſon for not giving it. For where there
“ is no reaſon for pain, there is always a good reaſon
« againſt it, ariſing from the nature of the thing
“ itſelf. If it be repugnant to the nature of a ra-
« tional agent to act without reaſon, as it certainly
« is, how much more repugnant muſt it be to
“ counteract it, and produce an effect ſo much
« worſe than nothing ? -
ſuppoſing then the
agent to know what pain is, and likewiſe that
“ the object is a ſenſible creature, and himſelf a
“ rational one; he muſt needs perceive an imme-
“ diate and glaring diſagreement between ſuch
«« an action coming from him and ſuch an object.
“ If this propoſition be not ftri&ly ſelf-evident,
“ yet it is eaſily reſolved into ſuch as are ſo; no-
« thing being capable of a plainer or more familiar
“ demonſtration. Whatever is contrary to the
6C
R2
(6 na-
132 An Elay on Virtue.
Such an
« nature or truth of things is wrong.
" action is contrary, &c.
The latter of theſe
« propoſitions has been juſt now proved. The for-
66 mer is ſelf-evident. Whoever allows all contra-
« dictions to truth to be falſe muſt allow all
« counteractions to truth to be wrong. Theſe two
“ propoſitions being exactly parallel, muft either
« be both felf-evident, or neither.” I have tran-
ſcribed this argument at large, that I might do
juſtice to the ſubject; for I never expect to ſee it
To intelligibly propoſed or fo well ſupported by
any one elſe.
The unfitneſs of action, when a rational agene
gives pain to a ſenſible creature, is here made to
conſiſt in this — that to do it is always irrational
as being either without or contrary to reaſon.
But to act without reaſon is not in all caſes con-
trary to our duty; all actions are not criminal,
where we make a choice without reaſon, where
of two things quite indifferent we take one. Who
would imagine, that he had incurred any guilt
by preferring white wine to red, though nothing
but whim had determined him in giving this
preference? Who would think it wrong behaviour
or a violation of his duty, to get up and walk,
when, if it had not been for ſome capricious
humour, he might have fat ſtill? And if in theſe
inſtances there is no crime in acting without reaſon,
it will be very difficult to tell why the bare want
of
An Elay on Virtue.
133
of a reaſon for acting ſhould make our behaviour
criminal in any other inſtances. It is indeed
alledged that to give pain to a ſenſible creaturè
is not merely acting without reaſon but contrary
to it; becauſe pain is a natural evil, and is repug-
nant to the nature of a being, which has perception,
and which naturally deſires indolence and pleaſure,
and ſhuns pain : this therefore is a conſtant reaſon
againſt every aɛtion, that gives pain; it makes
every ſuch action irrational and
ſo unfit for a ra-
tional agent, unleſs a ſtronger reaſon intervenes.
And what is that ſtronger reaſon, which may
intervene ? does it depend upon the intereſt of the
agent? if it does; what advantage is it to the cauſe
of virtue to have made out ſuch an obligation to
practiſe it, as will and ought to have no weight,
where it is againſt a man's intereſt? to what
purpoſe is it recommended upon ſuch principles
as make the difficulties we meet with in being
virtuous, not only ſo many temptations to neglect
our duty, but ſo many reaſons for eſteeming that
behaviour not to be our duty, which would have
been ſo, if thoſe difficulties had not fallen in our
way? Or if that ſtronger reaſon does not depend
upon the intereſt of the agent; then tell me, why See pag. 125.
the agent by neglecting to give pleaſure to himſelf
or by chuſing to give pain to himſelf does not act
as irrationally as by giving pain to others ? He has
perception as well as they; he deſires pleaſure and
ſhuns
134
An Elay on Virtue.
may be
ſhuns pain as naturally and as eagerly as they can
do: why therefore is not it criminal to do harm
to himſelf, though at the ſame time he
doing good to his fellow-creatures? why is not it
a duty to give pain to them, if by that means he
can avoid ſuffering it himſelf? Whatever elſe has
See pag. 128. been urged againſt fitneſs of application, may be
uſed with equal evidence againſt all fitneſſes of
action, that are imagined to ariſe from it. There
is an unfit application made in giving pain to
brutes; why then is not this a conſtant reaſon a-
gainſt every action, which gives pain to them? why
does not it make every ſuch action irrational and
ſo unfit for a rational agent? Is it becauſe the uſe
we have of them and the advantages we receive
from their pain is a ſtronger reaſon, which inter-
venes? then why is not this reaſon from intereſt,
which keeps us clear of any crime in killing or
in hurting them, ſufficient to make the ſame be-
haviour towards our own ſpecies neither irrational
nor wrong?
But this is not the only weak place in the ar-
gument. 'Tis irrational to give pain becauſe it
is contrary to a conſtant reaſon, which ariſes from
the averfion that a ſenſible being has to feeling it.
- Now here we muſt obferve, that no action of
a man is called irrational for being contrary to
reaſons, that do not affect him and that he is not
any ways concerned in. A fon may have a very
good
An Elay on Virtue. 135
good reaſon for deſiring that his father ſhould not
marry a ſecond wife; and yet the father's marrying
will not be ever the more irrational upon this ac-
count. Anda ſenſible being may from its averſion to
pain have the ſtrongeſt reaſon againſt feeling it; and
yet the giving it not be contrary to the nature of
a rational agent; unleſs this latter had as good a
reaſon for not giving it as the former has for not
feeling it. And what reaſon has he? —Why there
is a moſt glaring diſagreement between ſuch an
action coming from him and ſuch an object.
That there is a diſagreement between the action
and the object is confeſſed; but our enquiry is,
whether there is a diſagreement between the action
and the agent: for this will be neceſſary in order
to make it wrong or irrational in him to do it.
If the diſagreement was wholly owing to his
being rational, as may poſſibly be intimated by
placing it between ſuch an action coming from him
and ſuch an object, this would make the argument
more plauſible: but ſure the agent's being rational,
which gives the pain, is not what makes a ſenſible
creature have an averſion to feel it: there is the
ſame contrariety between pain and his nature,
whatever it ariſes from ; its coming from a rational
agent does not occaſion a greater diſlike to it or
make it more diſagreeable than it would have been
if it had come from a cauſe without either fenſe
or reaſon. We may be leſs afraid of poiſon than
of
136 An Eſſay on Virtue
.
of the bite of a mad dog; and perhaps had rather
be ſhot through the head than die under the tor-
ture of the ſtone. By the a£tion coming from him,
no more indeed might be meant than ſimply the
action, which he does; and then the whole amount
of this propoſition will be, that there is a diſagree-
ment between the feeling pain and a ſenſible
creature; a truth, which cannot be denied, but
which is but little to the purpoſe when a dif-
agreement was to be ſhewn between the giving
pain and the nature of a rational agent. If any
thing more was meant by this expreſſion a dif-
agreement between ſuch an action coming from
a rational agent and
ſuch an object;
learned author deſigned, that his readers ſhould
underſtand by it, that there is not only a diſagree-
ment between the action of a rational agent, which
gives pain, and the ſenſible object, which feels it;
but that there is beſides a diſagreement between
the action and the coming of it from ſuch an
agent, or that the production of ſuch an action
is contrary to the nature of a rational agent;
feſs that I do not perceive the ſelf-evidence of this
propoſition; and the demonſtration, which fol-
lows, does not make it much clearer to me. ----
Whatever is contrary to the nature or truth of
things is wrong
If by this be meant that a
rational agent behaves wrong, as it ought not, or
contrary to its duty, whenever it behaves contrary
if the very
I con-
to
An Elay on Virtue.
137
to its own nature; nothing is more true: if it
means, that every action is wrong, in which things
are uſed otherwiſe than they are by nature fitted
to be uſed; this may be true too; but then it is not
contrary to the nature of things and therefore not
wrong nor a breach of duty to give pain to beings,
that have ſenſe and perception; becauſe their nature
has fitted them for ſuch uſage, they are fitted to
receive pain as well as pleaſure: but if it only means,
that every action is wrong which treats any thing
otherwiſe than its nature has made it defire to be
treated, we may call this wrong if we pleaſe; but
then we muſt have a care of being miſlead by a
ſmall ambiguity in the word: for though it it
wrong, it is not neceſſarily a violation of duty;
though it is wrong in reſpect of the object, it may
be otherwiſe in reſpect of the agent; though it is
naturally wrong, to him who feels it, it may not be
morally wrong or criminal in him who does it. The
demonſtration goes on.
Such an action as gives
pain to a ſenſible object is contrary to the nature
of things, as has been juft proved. But what
had been juſt proved? —- that ſuch an action is
contrary to the nature of the ſenſible being, which
feels it, not that it is contrary to the nature of the
rational agent, which produces it: for this latter
point was to be made good by the demonſtration;
and no one could think of ſupporting a ſtep in a
demonſtration by an appeal to the truth of the
pro-
S
0
138
An Eſay on Virtue.
propoſition to be demonſtrated : either it had not
been proved already, or elſe when he had under-
taken to make it more evident by a clear and plain
demonſtration, he only refers his reader back to
the proofs he had given of it before: but this I
cannot ſuſpect in ſo ingenuous a writer; therefore
when he ſays, that he had juſt proved ſuch an
action as gives pain to a ſenſible object to be con-
trary to the nature of things, he means that it is
contrary to the nature of the object; and this in
truth was all that he had proved. And ſince that
only is wrong in ſuch a ſenſe as to be a breach of
duty, which is contrary to the nature of the agent;
though feeling pain is contrary to the nature of
the object, it does not follow that every action is
a breach of duty in a rational agent, by which he
gives pain to others : to have ſupported ſuch a con-
cluſion, it ought to have been ſhewn that it is as
contrary to the nature of the agent to give it, as it
confeſſedly is to that of the patient to receive it.
Sometimes this ſet of moraliſts ſeems to have
been aware, that fitneſſes and unfitneſſes, which
ariſe immediately from the nature of things, can
only be natural ones, a fitneſs or unfitneſs of appli-
cation; and that none but moral ones, a fitneſs or
unfitneſs of action, can produce obligation. To
Clarke pag. avoid this difficulty they obſerve; that from the na-
ture of things and qualities of perſons ariſe different
relations of perſons to each other;and that from thoſe
174
diff
An Eſay no Virtue.
139
different relations of different perſons one to ano.
ther, there neceſſarily ariſes a fitneſs or unfitneſs of
certain manners of behaviour of ſome perſons
towards others. Thus the notion of bounty for
inſtance is wholly different from that of injury and
from that of neglect: and the ſame may be ſaid of
the notions of gratitude and ingratitude, no man,
who has common ſenſe, can miſtake one for the
other: and from this natural difference there is Balguy. pag.
ſaid to ariſe a fitneſs between the notions of bounty 109.&c.
and gratitude, an unfitneſs between thoſe of bounty
and ingratitude: bounty and gratitude tally to
each other with great exactneſs, bounty and in-
gratitude or even indifference are quite incongru-
ous or unſuitable to each other.
But it is not the agreement between the notions,
of bounty and gratitude, which obliges us to be
grateful: for if nothing elſe was taken into the ac-
count to make out an obligation; wherever we
obſerve bounty, whether we had been the objects of
it or no, we ſhould be obliged to gratitude; but this
we are not, till we have received favours ourſelves.
What therefore is there particular in theſe circum-
ſtances, which obliges us? certainly not the fitneſs
or congruity between the notions of gratitude and
bounty; for then we ſhould have been as much
obliged to be grateful towards the benefactor of
another perſon as towards our own, ſince the fit-
neſs of theſe two notions to each other would be
the
S 2
140 An Eſay on Virtue.
the ſame in both caſes. If any fitneſs obliges me
to be grateful, when I have received a favour; as
it cannot be a general one between the very notions
of bounty and gratitude; it muſt be an agreement
between my behaviour to the circumſtances I am
in, a fitneſs of my behaviour to the relation I ſtand
in to my benefactor. From hence it would
follow, that every behaviour, which is expreſſive
of the relations we bear, muſt be our duty: for
if the agreement of our behaviour to the relations
we ſtand in to other people was not only the mark
and characteriſtic of what we are obliged to, but
was beſides the very cauſe of obligation; if this
agreement was the true reaſon why our behaviour
is fit and right; then it muſt in every inſtance be
fit and right to act agreeably to our relations and
wrong to counteract them; it muſt be a duty to ex-
preſs them in our conduct and a crime to do other-
wiſe. But the relation between a tyrant and his vaf-
falsis as clear as that between a king and his ſubjects;
and either of them are ſuch as may be expreſſed by
behaviour. Is it therefore the duty of a tyrant to
behave like a tyrant? if it is, then relations may
indeed oblige, but they oblige to vice as much as
to virtue ; if it is not, then there may be a fitneſs
between behaviour and character, or behaviour
may be agreeable to relations and yet at the ſame
time be wrong: and therefore fit in this ſenſe does
not mean the ſame as right, and it would be a
falfe
An Eſay on Virtue.
141
falſe concluſion, that an action is right, becauſe
it has this fitneſs or is expreſſive of the character
and relation of him, who does it. But this is not
the only ſenſe of the word fit, when applied to
behaviour: it ſometimes may ſignify the ſame as
decent or proper, and then it ſcarce differs at all
from the notion of reaſonable or right. This am-
biguous uſe of the ſame word not ſufficiently at-
tended to has occaſioned ſome confuſion and
perplexity. Gratitude, ſays the moraliſt, is the
fitteſt behaviour for one, who has been obliged.
The reader owns it. He goes on.
What-
ever is fit is alſo reaſonable and right. This
too is acknowledged: and yet the concluſion
Therefore gratitude a duty- is not ſo readily
agreed to. For the word fit is here uſed in two
different and unconnected fignifications. When
the queſtion is, --why is gratitude a duty ?-and
the argument to prove that it is, begins thus ;
Gratitude is the fitteſt behaviour for one, who has
been obliged; ---fitteſi muſt here mean moſt expref-
five of the relation, which the perſon, who has
received a favour, ſtands in to his benefactor: for
if it meant moſt reaſonable, moſt right or moſt
greeable to duty, this would be taking for granted
in the firſt ſtep of the argument the very thing
to be proved : and the conclufion, that gratitude is
a duty becauſe it is fit would amount to this only,
that gratitude is a duty becauſe it is a duty. When
the:
142 An Elay on Virtue,
See pag. 140.
the moraliſt proceeds to affirm, that whatever
is fit is reaſonable and right; if he means the
fame by fit that he did before, his affertion is not
true;
ſince our behaviour
behaviour may
be expreſſive of a
relation without being right or reaſonable : if he
means any thing elſe, if he uſes the word fit in a
very common acceptation of it for decent or pro-
per, then indeed the truth of what he afferts is
ſelf-evident, but is nothing to the purpoſe: the
logicians would tell him, that his ſyllogiſm has
four terms in it and ſo is incluſive. For how does
it follow that gratitude is a duty, becauſe it is fit
and right only in one ſenſe, when what is a duty
is fit and right only in another? if either grati-
tude was ſelf-evidently decent and proper, right
and reaſonable; or if whatever behaviour is con-
formable to any relation that we bear to mankind
was apparently a duty; then and not till then the
concluſion would be rightly made: but the former
of theſe is the very point in queſtion; the latter
has been ſhewn not to be true.
To reply here that ſuch relations as are ex-
preſſed by vices, ought not to be engaged in, is
giving up the cauſe: for if a man may engage in
the relation of perſon obliged and benefactor,
but may not engage in ſome others, that might
be named; the notion of crime and duty muſt
be previous to theſe relations and ſo cannot be
owing to them. And indeed upon enquiry it
would
An Elay on Virtue. 143
would appear, that in the judgment of mankind,
we behave as we ought, when we comply with
thoſe relations, by the obſervance of which we
do good or avoid doing harm; and that we vio-
late our duty in neglecting theſe, or in forming
our behaviour upon ſuch as are of an oppoſite na-
ture. And thus after all, which theſe relations
teach us, the great queſtion is ſtill unanſwered.
Why are we obliged to be virtuous ? why is it our
duty to do good and to avoid doing harm?
If a man asks what his duty is, who knows be-
forehand, that virtue in general is; he ſhould be
directed to conſider what character he bears, and
what ſtation of life he is in: that is, he ſhould in-
form himſelf, what opportunities of doing good
he has, and what particular good his circumſtan-
ces point out to him to be done. Here all his dif-
ferent relations are to be examined: as a father
he does good by taking care of his children; as
a governour, by protecting thoſe, who are under
his authority; if he has received favours, grati-
tude to his benefactor is the propereſt return of
good; if he has favours to beſtow, he will do
more good by beſtowing them upon
the indigent
than upon thoſe, who have no occaſion for his
aſſiſtance. To inſtruct him in theſe particulars is
the buſineſs of the caſuiſt, whoſe province ſuppo-
fes us to know already that virtue is our duty; for
he only ſhews us what we are obliged to by point-
ing
144 An Elay on Virtue.
ing out to us what virtue is in our circumſtances;
what are the opportunities we have of practiſing
it; or what the inſtances, in which we may prac-
tiſe it moſt ſucceſsfully. But if we go a ſtep far-
ther, and ask, why is all this our duty ? he muſt
fend us to the moraliſts for information: it is their
buſineſs to ſettle the obligations of virtue ; it was
his to particulariſe thoſe obligations by drawing
the general notion of virtue out into rules for real
life: they are to tell us, why we ought to do all
that good, which our different relations, and the
different qualifications of the perſons we are con-
cerned with give us an opportunity of doing; he
from conſidering theſe differences was to ſhew us,
what that good is. And if they only examine our
relations inſtead of aſcertaining the reaſons for
complying with them; they miſtake their pro-
vince : if when we ask, why virtue is our duty;
they anſwer by telling us what virtue is to men
in our circumſtances, and how we may practiſe it;
they miſtake the queſtion.
It may not be amiſs to take notice here that,
See pag.12. when I ſay the relations that we bear to thoſe about
us will teach us what virtue is to men in our cir-
cumſtances, I do not mean, that any ſort of rela-
tions are the mark or characteriſtic of virtue; but
only that from a view of our ſeveral relations we
may learn how to practice virtue; that is, from
knowing what opportunities we have of doing
good,
13. &c.
An Elay on Virtue. 145
good, we may ſee how it is to be done in the beſt
and moſt effectual manner.
One inſtance, which is frequently urged on the
other ſide with a very plauſible appearance, may
perhaps upon examination lead us to the true rea-
ſon why we are obliged to act up to any ſort of
character or relations whatſoever. « That God is Clarke
infinitely ſuperiour to men; is as clear, as that pag.175.
“ infinity is larger than a point, or eternity longer
« than a moment. Here is a difference in
things indeed, but it is one from whence no ob-
ligation ariſes to honour and obey God: for if fo;
man, who is made a little lower than the angelsa
ſhould honour and obey them too. It is true, he
would not upon theſe principles owe them ſo uni-
verſal and unlimited an obedience as is due to the
Supreme Being, becauſe they are not ſo far above
lim: but if infinite ſuperiority was all, that gave
God a claim to unlimited worſhip, then every
de-
gree of it would give a claim to ſome ſubordinate
degrees of adoration. The Romaniſts it may be,
would not give up any opinion becauſe it was at-
tended with this conſequence: though the more in-Bellarmin
.
telligent even of them would rather deduce our ob-fup. pfal. xe:
ligation to this ſervice from the office of angels, from
their being miniſtering ſpirits, which protect us and
advance our good, than from any ſuperiority of their
nature above ours. But to ſay the truth; theſe
moralifts themſelves do not think that this is God's
title
T
146 An Elay on Virtue.
title to our worſhip and obedience: they deduce
our obligation to honour him from a difference,
not between one thing and another, but between
one fort of behaviour and another; from a fitneſs
of one fort of behaviour to expreſs the relation that
we bear to God, and an unfitneſs of the oppoſite :
Clarke ib. for their argument proceeds in this manner. -
" It is as certainly fit that men ſhould honour and
“ worſhip, obey and imitate God, rather than on
“ the contrary in all their actions endeavour to
« diſhonour and diſobey him; as ’tis certainly
“ true, that they have an entire dependence on
« him, and he on the contrary can in no reſpect
« receive any advantage from them; and not only
«ſo, but alſo that his will is as certainly and un-
« alterably juſt and equitable in giving his com-
“ mands as his power is irreſiſtible in requiring
« ſubmiſſion to it.”. -The fitneſs therefore of
worſhiping God is owing to our dependence upon
him and to the juſtice and equity of his com-
mands. But what does the fitneſs of this behavi-
our conſiſt in? if only in its being expreffive of
the relation between the creature and the creator,
ſuch a fitneſs has been ſhewn in other inſtances
to produce no obligation; and in this inſtance it
will appear fo to as great advantage as in of
Epiphan.ad- the reft. For would not this relation fubfift as well
pag. 625. between the evil principle of the Manichees and
his creatures as between the good and gracious
God
any
verf. hæref.
An Eſay on Virtue.
147
God of the Chriſtians and his? and would not this
behaviour be expreſſive of this relation in either caſe
and therefore have the ſame fitneſs in one that it
has in the other? And yet very few can think it a
duty to worſhip a malevolent creator: they in par-
ticular certainly thought otherwiſe, who to make
out the duty of worſhip added the conſideration of
God's commands being juſt and equitable to that
of our dependence upon him. Had the latter alone
been ſufficient to produce an obligation,why ſhould
the former be taken in ? if every fitneſs of beha-
viour to expreſs a relation makes a duty, and if
worſhip is expreſſive of our dependence upon
God for our exiſtence, or of the relation between
a creature and its creator; why is not it a duty to
worſhip our creator, whether he is juſt and good
or unjuſt and cruel? Will nothing but benevolence
in him give our worſhip ſuch a fitneſs as to make
it a duty ? then fit behaviour in one ſenſe differs
from fit behaviour in another ſenſe; that behavi-
our, which has in it conformity to relations, is
not always decent, proper, and right. But does
not this very inſtance ſhew us what makes an
action fit in ſuch a manner as to be proper and
right? 'Tis fit to honour and obey a benevo-
lent creator only. And what is a benevolent
creator ? is not it ſuch an one as provides for the
good and happineſs of his creatures ? therefore as
far as we are perſuaded, that it will be the bet-
T 2
ter
<
148
An Eſay on Virtue.
174
ter for us to obey ſuch a maſter, ſo far it is fit or
proper, ſo far it is right and our duty to obey him:
ſince, upon any other ſuppoſition, benevolence in
the creator could never make ſuch a difference in
his character as to oblige us to worſhip him, if he
is benevolent, but to leave ys at liberty or rather
to oblige us to the contrary, if he is not fo.
I ſhall trouble the reader with examining only
one more of their arguments: but it is one, which
has as many ambiguities in it as any they make
Clarke påg. uſe of. They ſay, “ that the ſame reaſon of things,
« with regard to which the will of God always
« and neceſſarily does determine itſelf, to chuſe to
“ act only what is agreeable to juſtice, equity,
goodneſs, and truth, in order to the welfare of
“ the whole univerſe; ought likewiſe conſtantly
« to determine the wills of all ſubordinate ratio-
« nal beings, to govern all their actions by the
« fame rules, for the good of the public in their
« reſpective ſtations.” Here ſeems to have been a
deſigned oppoſition between does and ought : and
if there was; no more may be meant, but that
man from the eſtabliſhed laws of nature or com-
mon adminiſtrations of providence, by obſerving
how they are adapted to advance the good and
fecure the happineſs of all intelligent and ſenſible
beings, may learn what he ought to do, even
without ſeeing why God acts in this manner.
But what obliges us to make that the rule of our
actions,
An Eſay on Virtue.
149
actions, which God has been pleaſed to make the
rule of his ? why is it our duty to follow the ſame
law, that he from the beginning bath ſet himſelf to Hooker B. I.
work by, if the reaſon of that law ſhould either be C. 2.
unknown to us, or be ſuch as we are no way con-
cerned in? Will the authority of his example,
though we do not know either that he expects
us to imitate it or deſigns to make us happy for
ſo doing, be a motive ſufficient of itſelf to in Au-
ence our behaviour and engage us to make it con-
formable to this pattern? This is putting obligati-
on upon a very different footing from what was
intended; it is deducing it from the authority of
God's example, not from the reaſons and relations
of things. And indeed unleſs theſe reaſons and re-
lations are otherwiſe explained than we common-
ly find them, it will be difficult to ſhew that our
behaviour is even agreeable to them, when we
practiſe the virtue of benevolence, in imitation of
the goodneſs of God: for if the notion of a creator
is different from that of a creature, and the relations
between a creature and its creator different from
thoſe between beings of the ſame kind, the ſame
conduct cannot well
ſuit with both characters or be
expreſſive of relations ſo very unlike. If doing good
or communicating happineſs to his creatures ſuits
both with the notion of a creator and with the
relation ſubſiſting between him and them; one
would think that the fame behaviour could not
150 An Eſay on Virtue.
.
expreſs the character of a creature and the relation
which he bears to thoſe of his own ſpecies. Our
fellow-creatures may define as ſtrongly that we
ſhould make them happy as that their creator
ſhould make them fo: but it is not a fitneſs of
our behaviour to their wiſhes, which makes it
proper and right for us ; if it was any fitneſs at
all that could make it our duty, it muſt be a fit-
neſs of it to our own circumſtances and to the
relation that we ſtand in to them. When we are ſure
upon other principles, that we ought to do good,
then the example of God is of ſingular uſe in the
conduct of our lives: we may fee in that, what
good is to be done, how we may do it, and to
Matth.v.48. whom: this is what Chriſt meant by the precept
of being perfe&t as our father which is in heaven,
is perfect: he did not intend to teach his diſciples,
why they are to be kind, but to ſhew them what
it is to be kind; to give them the rules of duty
not to explain the cauſe of it; to inſtruct them
in the proper extent of charity, not in the reaſons
of its obligation.
But here it may be asked, whether we can ever
be at a loſs about the reaſons, which influence
the divine conduct: that which is moſt agreeable
to goodneſs, juſtice and truth is fitteſt and beſt to
be done; and the will of God, being under the
guidance of infinite wiſdom cannot but chuſe
what is fitteſt and beſt. And though our wiſdom
falls
.
Clarke's
pag. 111.184.
An Elay on Virtue.
151
fails ſhort of his; yet, as far as it extends, we can-
not but chuſe in the ſame manner, if we obey its
dictates; and the more conſtant and uniform we
are in making choice of what is fitteſt and beſt,
the more reaſonably we act, the more like we are
to God, and the more we advance our own per-
fection. That God ſhould govern the world by
the rules of juſtice, goodneſs and truth is without
all diſpute moſt agreeable to the nature of his
creatures; it is what they have moſt reaſon to de-
fire, and therefore may in reſpect of them be called
beſt and fitteſt: but as far as infinite wiſdom is
concerned in the guidance of his will, he muſt
be unerringly directed to do what is beſt and fit-
teft for him to do, or what is moſt agreeable to his
own nature. So that after all, this queſtion remains
to be determined. Is it moſt agreeable to the
nature of God to do that, which it is moſt agreeable
to the nature of his creatures to depre he ſhould do?
If he is a a benevolent being, it is; if he is a
malevolent one, it is not: and thus what is called
a demonſtration of the goodneſs of God, has,
from an ainbiguity in the words beſt and fitteſt,
the appearance of one but leaves us juſt where
we ſet out, and teaches us no more than this,
that his wiſdom will direct him to act according
to the rules of goodneſs, if he is good, but to act
otherwiſe, if he is not. And if we do not know
what infinite wiſdom can diſcover in doing good,
which
;
152 An Eſay on Virtue.
which ſhould make it beſt and fitteſt for the doer of
it; however ſure we may be that it is beſt and fitteſt
for the infinitely wiſe God by ſeeing that he al-
ways does good, however ſure we may be by what
we feel in ourſelves that it is beſt and fitteſt for
thoſe, to whom it is done; yet when out of duty
we imitate God, we are virtuous upon no other
principles but thoſe of an implicit conformity to
his example. This, if he does not require it, would
be no better than enthuſiaſm in us: if he does re-
quire it, but does not deſign to make us happy
for obeying his authority, it would be tyranny in
him: but if he does both expect it and intend to
reward us for it, then is it the very principle of duty
that I would endeavour to eſtabliſh.
СНАР.
m
An Elay on Virtue.
153
CHAP. VII.
No obligation to virtue unleſs it makes us happy.
Every man's own happineſs is the end, which
nature teaches him to purſue.
T
HE true cauſe of moral obligation muſt be
ſomething, which gives us an undoubted
afſurance, that by being virtuous we cannot fail
of being happy. For whether we follow nature as
it appears in the behaviour of mankind in general,
or attend to the dictates of reaſon as they are
repreſented in the ritings of philoſophers; our See p. 70.71.
own happineſs is what we muſt prefer to every
thing elſe, and therefore is the only end, which
we are likely to purſue with ſteadineſs and con-
ftancy. Virtue if it ſhould interfere with this end
would ſoon be deſerted; or, if it had no relation at
all to our own good, would be indifferent to our-
ſelves, whatever it might be to other people. It
might by chance be fought after and embraced;
but a purſuit
, which is engaged in upon Night or
no motives, will never be uniformly carried on and
will ſoon be wholly dropped again. In one ſenſe
indeed virtue cannot be indifferent; it will al-
ways remain diſtinct from vice whatever becomes
of its votaries; and that behaviour, which does
good
V
154 An Eſay on Virtue.
good to mankind, will not only be different from
that, which does harm, but will always be the
beſt for thoſe, who feel its influence, though the vir-
tuous in the mean time are miſerable. But if our
own happineſs is the moſt natural and the moſt
rational end of our actions, then virtue, before we
can be obliged to practiſe it, muſt be the beſt for
its votaries too and muſt make them happy.
There is in all of us a great unwillingneſs to
confeſs that the principal end, which we have in
view, is to make ourſelves happy. Till a man un-
derſtands, that the real good of each particular
perſon is by fome means or other ſo cloſely con-
nected with that of all mankind as to make it
impoſſible for him to promote his own welfare with-
out having a proper tenderneſs for theirs, he will
think it his buſineſs to profeſs himſelf quite diſin-
tereſted: for to have any regard to his own hap-
pineſs is in his opinion to ſet up a different intereſt
from the reſt of the world; and he is afraid that,
if the people about him were to ſuſpect him of
this, they would uſe him accordingly.
Many have indeed a more comprehenſive view
of things, and know, that they cannot be happy
themſelves, unleſs they endeavour to make others
fo too. But the ſhort-fighted and inattentive are
the majority: and as theſe are perſuaded, that
whoever has any view to his own happineſs muſt be
negligent of theirs; they never fail to diſcountenance
in
An Eſay on Virtue.
155
in others what they diſown in themſelves, and to
repreſent all private regards as deſtructive of true
worth, below the dignity of human nature, and
what a man ought to bluſh at.
Thus all mankind, whether their ſcheme of
happineſs is really ſuch as cannot be purſued with-
out hurting others, or ſuch as can never be brought
to perfection without doing all the good in their
power, the truly ſelfiſh and the rationally bene-
volent are taught alike either by fear or ſhame to
conceal the motives, which influence their beha-
viour, and to deny that they have any deſign of
promoting their own happineſs at all. The wretch,
who, to pleaſe a fooliſh and fordid appetite of his
own and to ſatisfy an unnatural and ridiculous de
fire of money, will not allow himſelf the common
neceſſaries of life, would chuſe to have it thought
that he is labouring all the while for the good of
his family. The ſoldier pretends, that he hazards
his life for the defence of his country; though
every body knows, that he has nothing ſo much
at heart as the raiſing his own fortune. The ſtateſ-
man talks of ſerving the public; whilſt he is doing
what in any other ſtation of life he muſt plainly
ſee would be only ſerving himſelf. The man of
pleaſure indeed cannot ſay, that he has no regard
to himſelf in the diſtinguiſhing part of his charac-
ter: but then he endeavours to make amends for
this by being always one of the forwardeſt to aſſure
you,
V 2
156 An Eſay on Virtue.
Matth.vi.
20.
2,
you, that he is a man of honour, and that rather
than hurt any one breathing he would forfeit all
that is dear to him. The votaries of virtue too are
unwilling to confeſs that they ever concern them-
ſelves about the rewards, which attend it: the
beautiful, the fit, and the right is what they are
enamoured with; and any thing elſe is quite in-
different to them. Nay even the Chriſtian would
ſeem to worſhip God upon better principles than
God himſelf has been pleaſed to ſuggeft; and
though, if he would obey the command and im-
Heb. x11.1. itate the example of his Maſter, he ought to ſet
his affections on the joys of heaven; yet he will
not own, that he acts upon any other motive be-
fides the diſintereſted love of his Creator.
But no artifice or pretence can hide the true
principle of human actions. There is indeed the
appearance of great variety in the purſuits of man-
kind: one is fond of power, another of riches :
ſome have no taſte for any thing but the pleaſures
of ſenſe; whilſt others ſeem to have a ſort of reliſh
for doing good : the vain man never extends his
views beyond popular applauſe; the enthuſiaſt talks
of nothing but he knows not what enjoyment of
God; whilſt the wiſer and calmer Chriſtian de-
fires to be with his Maſter in thoſe manſions, which
he has prepared for him. But in all this and a much
greater variety the general aim is happineſs : dif-
ferent means are uſed, but the end is the ſame;
dif-
An Elay on Virtue.
157
different objects are made choice of, but they are
all choſen for the ſame reaſon; becauſe they ſuit
with our temper, that is, with our inclinations.
And ſince our temper, as long as it laſts, is our
conſtitution, to humour it is making our condition
as agreeable as we can to what we take to be our
nature; and this, if any thing, is endeavouring to
be happy:
We talk of croſſing our appetites, and of dif-
appointing our inclinations; and ſometimes we
do crofs them; the good and the virtuous do it
frequently. But what do we mean by croſſing
them? it is not chuſing what can give us no ſatis-
faction and parting with all, that could give us
any: it is only facrificing a deſire, that is immediate
and preſſing, to one, that we are aſſured will be
felt ſome time hence; it is giving up a preſent
gratification, becauſe it would hurt us in the end;
or parting with fomething, which we ſhould like
very well now, becauſe it is inconſiſtent with
ſomething elſe, which we ſhould like better at an-
other time. When the Chriſtian relinquiſhes any
enjoyment, that he is fond of, for the ſake of
heaven; he does it, becauſe he is fonder of this.
And whatever we may think of the diſintereſted
Stoic, yet unleſs he has a taſte for the beauty of
virtue, unleſs his inclinations have taken ſuch a
turn as to make it a part of his conſtitution to ad-
mire her charms above any thing beſides and even
to
158 An Elay on Virtue.
to think it impoſſible to be happy but in the en-
joyment of them, they will not be able to engage
him to mortify one luft or to reſtrain one favourite
paſſion.
We ſeem to ſtand out the moſt againſt our in-
clinations and to act the moſt in opoſition to them
in learning the art of contentedneſs. And yet what
we do even in this inſtance is not dropping the
purſuit of happineſs
, but carrying it on in the
moſt effectual manner. For to be contented is not
to give up all endeavours after what appears agree-
able to our nature; it is not to ſet ſtill and acquieſce
in our preſent condition without ſo much as feel-
ing a wiſh to improve it though we had it in our
power. For whatever notion ſome few may have
of contentedneſs, we ſeem in general to be agreed,
that at leaſt it is not inconſiſtent with the practice
of virtue: and for my own part, I cannot be per-
Philip.iv.11. ſuaded, that St. Paul would approve either in him-
Heb. XIII.5. ſelf or in others any diſpoſition of mind but ſuch
as the beſt morality may recommend and the beſt
friends to mankind may encourage. But this indo-
lent temper, careleſs about what may happen and
inſenſible to all enjoyments, which do not force
themſelves upon us, will weaken all the ſprings of
action, and will leave us no motives or but very feint
ones for engaging in ſome of the nobleſt purpoſes
of living. What ſhould call a man of abilities for
ſerving the public from his eaſe and retirement;
Fab. of bees
V. 1.pag. 17
.
67.272.
if
An Eſay on Virtue. 159
if he was quite regardleſs of any good, which he
might obtain for himſelf, and was quite a ſtranger
to every deſire of making his own condition better?
what ſhould keep him ſteady in uſing his abilities
to the advantage of mankind, when authority and
power are put into his hands; if he is unconcerned
about any diſgrace, which he may ſuffer for the
contrary behaviour, and is ſo little moved by any
misfortunes, that may befall him, as ſcarce to give
himſelf the trouble of thinking whether they
might not be avoided? Would the deſire of having
frequent opportunities of doing good, though un-
enlivened by any hopes of making himſelf hap-
pier, have vigour enough either to put him at firſt
upon improving his condition or to ſupport him
afterwards againſt the difficulties he muſt meet
with in attempting it? would the warmer deſire
of a future reward come in to his aſſiſtance, where
the other failed, and his eager wilhes for happineſs
in a life to come engage him to promote the welfare
of mankind whilft he continues here? But we
cannot be ſo much intereſted in favour even of
other men, as to be active in ſerving them and
diligent to make our influence as extenſive and
our opportunities of doing good as frequent as
poſſible, without feeling ſome uneaſineſs, when
we are diſappointed, and anxiety enough at all
times about the ſucceſs of our endeavours to break
in
upon
that calm and indolent repoſe, which has
been
160
An Elay on Virtue.
been miſtaken for contentedneſs. So that to de-
fire the improvement of our condition though
for the ſake of others is as inconſiſtent with the
common notion of this virtue, as if we had deſired
it wholly upon our own account. And ſure it is
not poſſible for St. Paul to mean that he was not
deſirous of any abſent enjoyment nor concerned
Philip.iv.11. about obtaining any, when he ſays, that he had
learned in whatſoever ſtate he was, therewith to be
content: for with this temper about him he could
Philip. I, 23. not have deſired to depart and to be with Chrift:
it muſt have ſuppreſſed every inclination to make
his condition better, and have ſtifled every wiſh
to change it though for the joys of heaven.
Let us therefore conſider how we would recon-
cile any earneſt endeavours to enlarge our oppor-
tunities of doing good or any longings after the
happineſs of another life with the habit of con-
tentedneſs; and perhaps this enquiry may lead us
to the true notion of that temper. It is inconſi-
ſtent with the contented man's character to ſet his
heart
upon raiſing his fortune and to employ all
his thoughts in contriving how to effect it: 'and
Matth. v.6. why is it leſs ſo to hunger and thirſt after right-
eouſneſs and to have all his affections engaged by
virtue? Theſe two deſires may be equal in degree;
and then what is it, which makes the difference
between them? There is indeed this obvious dif-
ference; that one of them cannot but be virtuous,
the
An Eſay on Virtue. 161
0
the other is at beſt only not vicious. But this does
not ſatisfy the enquiry, which is not Why one
defire is more vicious than the other: but
why
ſhould be more conſiſtent with contentedneſs than
the other. The only difference, beſides that juſt
mentioned, is, that one of theſe deſires may be
diſappointed and the other cannot. For when a
man has exerted his beſt and ſincereſt endeavours;
though the event ſhould not exactly anſwer his
expectations, nor he be able to do that ſervice to
mankind, which he intended; yet, as theſe en-
deavours alone are virtuous, he will be ſure to ob-
tain what he deſired: he wanted to be virtuous,
and he is ſo; ſometimes perhaps not in ſuch a
manner as he could have wiſhed, but always in
ſuch a manner as to make him eafy. Why is the
contented temper leſs in danger by having the
moſt warm regard for things above and by laying Coloſs.III.2.
up our treaſure in heaven, than it would have Matth. vl.
been, if we had ſet our affections on things on the 19.20.
earth, and had laid up our treaſure here? The
fame Divine Inſtructor, who adviſed us what to
purſue, has given us the reaſon:
earth the ruſt and moth may corrupt or thieves may ibid.
break through and ſteal; but our heavenly treaſure
is not expoſed to any of theſe accidents ; ſo that we
cannot indulge our wiſhes after this tooʻmuch, ſince
we may be ſure of all poſſible ſucceſs, as the purſuit
not uncertain nor the enjoyment precarious.
From
becauſe upon
X
162 An Eſay on Virtue.
From theſe two inſtances we may ſee that con-
tentedneſs does not conſiſt in diveſting ourſelves
of all inclinations for what we do not enjoy at
preſent; but in not indulging any beyond the pro-
bability of ſucceſs: it does not forbid us making
uſe of all our endeavours to preſerve any happineſs
,
that we are poffefſed of; but keeps us from being
too fond of any, that we are in danger of loſing :
contentedneſs does not tye us down to our preſent
condition; but
prepares us, if it is a good one,
for all the changes, that may happen in it; and
teaches us, if it is a bad one, to bear it well as
long as it laſts. What therefore is it, but the re-
Atraining ſuch appetites as would hurt us, if they
were indulged? what is it but the beſt ſecurity
againſt diſappointments and uneaſineſs? what,
but the purſuit of happineſs by the moſt cautious
ſteps ? For, ſince happineſs is what we feel, when
our condition is agreeable to our nature, the ſureſt
way to be happy is to improve our condition and
ſuit it to our humour, where we can; but to ac-
quire ſuch a temper, where we cannot, as is always
ready to ſubmit and bend itſelf to thoſe circum-
ſtances, which we find it is not in our power to
alter. And as nothing but a contentedneſs can
a
What we now call contentedneſs is one part of what the antient mo-
raliſts called fortitude. Omnino fortis animus, et magnus, duabus
rebus maxime cernitur: quarum una in rerum externarum defpici-
entia ponitur, cum perſuaſum ſit, nihil hominem, niſi quod honeftum,
decorumque fit, aut admirari, aut optare, aut expetere oportere:
nulli-
An Eſſay on Virtue. 163
prevent much uſeleſs and unprofitable anxiety,
which we muſt have felt without it; ifour averſion
to evil may be called an inclination as well as our
deſire of good, to be contented does not conſiſt
in croſſing our inclinations, but in following thoſe,
which muſt be taken care of firſt, if we would
be happy.
Beſides what we may gather from the conſtant
behaviour of mankind in general; there is ſome-
thing very like an univerſal conſent that the
principal point, which every one has in view, is
his own happineſs
. We ſee this plain enough in
other men; and, becauſe we are afraid, that too
nullique neque homini neque perturbationi animi, nec fortunae
ſuccumbere. Nam et ea, quae eximia pleriſque et praeclara videntur,
parya ducere: eaque ratione ſtabili firmaque contemnere fortis animi, ,
magnique ducendum eft: et ea, quae videntur acerba, quae multa
et varia in hominum vita fortunaque verſantur, ita ferre, ut nihil a
{tatu naturae diſcedas, nihil a dignitate fapientis, robuſti animi eſt,
magnaeque conſtantiae. ---Vacandum autem eft omni animi pertur-
batione, tum cupiditate, et metu, tum etiam aegritudine, et voluptate
animi, et iracundia, ut tranquillitas et ſecuritas adſit, quae adfert cum
conſtantiam, tum etiam dignitatem. The ſame author deſcribes too
what is frequently miſtaken for the only art of contentedneſs. Multi
autem et ſunt, et fuerunt; qui eam, quam dico, tranquillitatem ex-
petentes a negotiis publicis ſe removerint, ad otiumque perfugerint.
Cic, de offic. I. 1.20. This is one way of being contented; and may
be the eaſieſt: but neither St. Paul nor Cicero eſteemed it the beſt.
The Apoſtle inſtructs his followers not to be flothful in buſineſs.
Rom. XII. II. And the philoſopher ſays: facilior, tutior, et minus
aliis gravis, aut moleſta vitaeft otioforum, fructuofiorautem hominum
generi, et ad claritatem, amplitudinemque aptior eorum, qui ſe ad
rempub. et ad res magnas gerendas accommodaverunt. De offic.
1. 1.21.
X 2
cloſe
164 lo
An Eſay on Virtue.
cloſe an attachment to their own intereſts may
make them regardleſs of ours, we are apt to com-
plain, that all the world have nothing at heart
but their own advantage. But then the reſt of the
world fee as plainly that we have the ſame de-
ſigns and complain of it too in their turn. And
thus each party diſcovers in the other what neither
of them would care to own of themſelves: and
the united teſtimony of both together ſeems to be
nothing leſs than the common voice of mankind.
When I ſay that all men purſue happineſs, I
only mean, that all men endeavour to be happy,
or purſue what they think is happineſs: for every
day's experience muſt ſhew us, that the generality
of the world are at much pains and trouble to
obtain what will give them but little ſatisfaction,
when they have got poſſeſſion of it. Sometimes
they raiſe inclinations in themſelves, which nature
never gave them; and ſo place their happineſs in
what muſt neceſſarily diſappoint them: for deſires,
that are unnatural and taken up by chance, can-
not poſſibly laſt: a conſtitution, that we make for
ourſelves, will be of ſhort continuance. Age, ca-
price, other engagements, a new turn of life and
converſation, any of theſe will introduce a differ-
ent reliſh and then the ſhort-lived good expires.
And when we deſign to proceed with more caution
and to conſult nature in the choice of good; when
we attend to no deſires, but ſuch as are really
parts
1
An Elay on Virtue.
1
165
parts of the human conſtitution; yet how ſeldom
with all our caution do we take into our ſcheme
of happineſs all the deſires that are parts of it?
The common miſtake is, that no ſort of proviſion
is made for ſatisfying any wants but thoſe we feel
at preſent: and thus, as others, which are no leſs
natural than theſe, begin to appear and to be
preſſing, we find ourſelves at a loſs, and, till we
have corrected our firſt deſign, are obliged to bear
all the anxiety of feeling wants, that we were not
prepared for and therefore cannot ſupply. And as
all the corrections which we make when reduced
to theſe circumſtances will be made in a hurry;
there is great hazard of our going on with a ſcheme
as imperfect as that we ſet out upon; of our over-
looking many things, which ought to be taken
into the account; and of our making no more
proviſion than we did before for many unavoida-
ble changes in our condition, ſuch as a man muſt
always be ſure to take ſome care about, or elſe
his life will be a conſtant ſcene of diſappointments.
and uneaſineſs.
But when either deſires, that were of our own
raiſing, die away, and new ones, that are taken up
with as little reaſon, ſucceed in their place; or
when ſuch as we had neglected grow importunate,
and force us to enlarge our plan or to change it;
when they, who once thought, that they admired
nothing but the charms of virtue grow fond by
de-
1166 An Eſay on Virtue.
ر
degrees of popular applauſe, and court, what they
once ſo much deſpiſed, the favour and eſteem of
the world; when the conqueror amidſt all his
triumphs ſuſpends for a while his thirſt of glory
and gives himſelf up to eaſe and pleaſure; when the
phlegmatic uſurer drops his low purſuit, and en-
gages with the rapturous enthuſiaſt in one, that
appears to be much more exalted; in ſuch inſtances
as theſe, the alterations, that are made in the plan,
ſhew indeed that it was imperfect before, that
either it had provided nothing firm and laſting
to build upon, or had taken in too contracted a
proſpect : but they diſcover at the ſame time
what is the principal end, which mankind have
moſt at heart: for no corrections are ever thought
of, till the firſt deſign, commonly by experience
though ſometimes by reaſon, is found inſufficient
to produce the ſelf-good that was expected from
it; and none are ever made, whether they are
prudent and deliberate or capricious and acci-
dental, but what have a view to render it more
uſeful to the purpoſes of private happineſs
.
Upon the whole therefore we may obſerve, that
in the queſtion relating to the ultimate end of
aεtion, there are two diſtin£t enquiries. The firſt
is, whether private happineſs and ſelf-good be
that end. The other where this ſelf-good is to
be found; or in what the true and real happineſs
of man conſiſts. In ſettling the latter of theſe we
have
An Eſay on Virtue. 167
have nothing, which looks like univerſal conſent,
and can make but little uſe of the conduct of
mankind. For here they agree in nothing but in
being in the wrong: their frequent diſappointments
and their changeful behaviour demonſtrate that
they are fo, and that their ſchemes of happineſs
are ill-concerted and unnatural. But when amidſt
all theſe changes the purſuit of happineſs is never
dropped; when, after they have courted it in a
thouſand ſhapes and have found that it flies from
them in all, they ſtill perſevere and, whatever they
may have met with in former tryals, never de-
ſpair of better ſucceſs in the next; they muſt in
this inſtance be under the conduct and direction
of nature: becauſe a continued ſeries of diſappoint-
ments could not but have diſcouraged them, if
they had followed any other guide.
CHAP.
168
An Eſay on Virtue
CHA P. VIII.
Every man's own happineſs is the ultimate end,
which reaſon teaches him to purſue.
T"
HE genuine dictates of real and unpreju-
diced nature can differ nothing from thoſe
of right reaſon; one will neceſſarily approve what
the other ſuggeſts. For what can reaſon point out
as the ultimate end of action to be choſen and
purſued in preference to all things elſe, but that,
which is of all things the moſt deſireable. and
what can be more deſireable than to be placed in
ſuch a condition as is agreeable to our nature?
Reaſon therefore as well as nature teaches us to
make this our principal aim; and this is no more
than a deſcription of what in one word is called
happineſs
.
But as we appealed before to the behaviour
and confeſſion of mankind in general for the
dictates of nature, ſo here we may to the autho-
rity of the philoſophers, the wiſer and more pene-
trating part of mankind, for the voice of reaſon.
And they, we ſhall find, after the moſt exact re-
ſearches into human nature agree in making hap-
pineſs or felf-good the ultimate end of action.
There
An Elay on Virtue. 169
2
1
raiſed
There was indeed one inexhauſtible fund of
controverſy, which divided them into many differ-
ent ſects: I mean the enquiry where the ſovereign
good may be found or wherein the principal hap-
pineſs of man confifts
. Endleſs diſputes were
upon
this head; and each party of philo-
ſophers endeavoured to make their own reliſh uni-
verfal and to bring the reſt of the world over to
their fide. But however they might be divided about
this point; thoſe, who maintained virtue to be the
greateſt good, and thoſe, who thought they had
done but little unleſs they had proved it to be the
only good; thoſe, who eſteemed nothing ſo deſire-
able as the pleaſures of ſenſe, and thoſe, who ac-
quieſced in freedom from pain; all this variety of
fects, and all, that were formed by uniting two or
more of theſe opinions together, ſeem after the
niceſt refinements and amidſt all their diſputes to
agree upon it as a thing ſelf-evident and indiſput-
able, that the ſovereign good is the principal point
in viéw, or the laſt end of action.
a Conſtitit autem fere inter omnes, id, in quo prudentia verfaretur,
et quod affequi vellet, aptum et accommodatum naturae effe opor-
tere, et tale ut ipfum per fe invitaret, et alliceret adpetitum animi,
quem équen's Graeci vocant. Quid autem ſit, quod ita moveat, itaque a
natura in primo ortu adpetatur, non conſtat ; deque eo eſt inter
philofophos, cum ſummum bonum exquiritur, omnis diſſenſio. totius
enim quaeſtionis ejus, quae habetur de finibus bonorum et malorum,
[cum quaeritur, in his quid ſit extremum et ultimum] fons reperien-
dus eſt in quo ſint prima invitamenta naturae : quo invento, omnis
ab eo quaſi capite, de fummo bono et malo diſputatio ducitur. Cic.
de fin. 1.5.6.
The
Y
170 An Eſay on Virtue.
The only doubt, which can poſſibly ariſe here, is
whether all of them by good meant happineſs or
felf-good. And there does not appear to be any
room for queſtioning this, except in the fchool
of the Stoics. For as this ſect placed the only good
in virtue, and very few have a taſte exalted enough
to perceive what they either did perceive or thought
they did, -that virtue and happineſs are the ſame
thing; we are apt to ſuppoſe, that by the good,
which they pretended to find in virtue, they meant
ſomething different from happineſs; ſomething,
that makes it, not good for him who practiſes it,
but good in itſelf; fome moſt excellent and ad-
mirable property, which has no relation at all to
the virtuous man's own condition, nor affects him
any otherwiſe than by challenging his love and
eſteem.
But the Stoic in Cicero does not ſeem to have
been aware of any ſuch notion of good, when he
affirms, bathat unleſs it can be proved, that virtue
« is the only good, it will be impoſſible to prove,
« that the practice of it is ſufficient to make life
happy: and if this was the caſe, there could in
« his opinion be no reaſon for applying ourſelves
“ to the ſtudy of philofophy: ſince if a wiſe man
• Nam ſi hoc non obtineatur, id ſolum bonum effe, quod honeftum
ſit; nullo modo probari poſſit, beatam vitam virtute effici: quod fi
ita fit, cur opera philofophiae ſit danda, neſcio: fi enim fapiens aliquis
miſer effe poflit, nae ego iſtam gloriofam memorabilemque virtutem
non magno aeſtimandam putem. Cic. de fin, l. 3.3.
" that
66
An Elay on Virtue. 171
€ (that is, in their language a virtuous man) can
« be miſerable, virtue with all its high titles and re-
“putation would not be worth our notice.” But
a good, which has no relation at all to happineſs,
may or may not belong to virtue without affect-
ing the favourite concluſion, of the Stoics, that
virtue is ſufficient of itſelf to make life happy.
- For is it poſſible, that the ſeat of happineſs
ſhould be fixed by ſuch a good as this? can the
virtuous be the more miſerable for wanting it, or
the leſs miſerable for being poſſeſſed of it? or can
it be thought, that the Stoics would call virtue
the only good on account of ſome intrinſic ex-
cellence in it, which is quite foreign to the virtuous
man's own perſon; and yet allow at the ſame time,
that it has nothing to recommend it to our eſteem,
if its votaries can be miſerable? This would be to
ſuppoſe, that the only good is made defireable by
fomething elſe, which is not good at all; and that
the ultimate end, the laſt point in view, is referred
to ſome other point that lies beyond it. But what-
ever inconſiſtencies one feet of philoſophers might
charge the reſt with, none of them ever charge
the Stoics with this.
Perhaps it may not appear neceffary to ſuppoſe,
that Cato, who perſonates the Stoic in this place,
ſhould be very exact in repreſenting the opinion
of his own ſchool in the paſſage referred to above.
For what he ſays, before he has profeſſedly under-
taken
Y 2
172 An Eſ ay on Virtue.
a
taken to explain this opinion, may poſſibly be
thought to have more of the magnificence of an
orator in it, than of the accuracy of a philoſopher.
· Cicero had indeed charged him with ſomething
like this juſt before. But if the Stoics when they
fay, that virtue is the only good, mean any thing
by good but ſelf-good or happineſs; we muſt have
a very low opinion of Cato as an orator, if we can
ſuſpect that he is attempting to recommend virtue
in this character, when he affirms, that it would
not be worth our notice, if a virtuous man could be
miſerable. The philoſopher, who is imagined to
bid us purſue it as our only good whether it makes
us happy or no, would ſpeak of it in higher terms
and with a warmer affection than the orator, who
repreſents it as of no value, if we could be miſerable
whilſt engaged in the practice of it.
But the Stoical definitions of good will ſhew
us, that Cato does truly repreſent the ſentiments
of his own ſect, and that the followers of Zeno,
when they call virtue the only good, mean that
it is the only ſelf-good or only happineſs. For ſome
of them define a good to be that, which is naturally
defireable:others; that, which is agreeable to nature:
and if we were to be asked what we mean by the
word happineſs, we ſhould explain ourſelves in the
· Dicuntur, Cato, ifta magnifice.
Bonum eſt, quod ad fe impetum animi ſecundum naturam movet.
Bonum eft, quod fecundum naturam eſt. Senec. epift. 118.
fame
An Eſay on Virtue. 173
fame manner. €“ That, according to Cicero, is to
« be called good, which is naturally deſireable, or
« does good, or affords ſatisfaction, or is agreeable
" to the inclination.” He was indeed here giving
a definition of good for the Epicurean, againſt
whom he was to diſpute. But this makes it the
more likely, that he ſhould give ſuch a general
one as all parties were agreed in. And though he
does not himſelf diſpute in the perſon of a Stoic,
ſo that neither of the parties were of this ſect': yet
as Diogenes the Stoic in his definition of good,
f when he places it in natural perfection and makes
happineſs to be the feeling, which reſults from it,
differs ſo little from Cicero's account of the matter;
we have reaſon to believe that he deſigned this
definition for a comprehenſive one, which the
ſchool of Zeno, as well as thoſe of the other philo-
ſophers, would acquieſce in. And Plutarch affirms,
g có that all mankind were agreed to eſteem that
€ Bonum ipfum etiam quid effet, fortaffe, fi opus fuiffet, definiſſes,
aut quod effet natura adpetendum, aut quod prodeſſet, aut quod
juvaret, aut quod liberet. Cic. de fin. l. 2.2. I have tranſlated the
words quod prodeſſet --- what does good, by which I mean not what
does good to others, but what does good to a man's felf. And
that this was Cicero's meaning appears from comparing this expref-
fion with the reſt of the ſentence.
*Ego adſentior Diogeni, qui bonum definierit, id, quod effet natura
abſolutum; id autem ſequens, illud etiam quod prodeſſet (wéampece
enim fic adpellemus) motum aut ftatum effe dixit e natura abſoluta.
Cic. de fin. 1.3.10.
8 Εσεί δε καθόλα τ' αγαθόν άπανlες άνθρωποι χαρτον νουσιν, ευκλαιον,
ευτυχές, αξίαν έχον την μεγίςην, άυταρκες, απροσδεές, άρα το τέτων σαρα-
τιθείς αγαθών και άρα γε χαρτονοοιεί το φρονίμως τον δακτύλου προτείναι και τι
δ' ευκλαιόν έσι φρονίμη τρέβλωσις; ενυχεί δε καθακρημνίζων εαυτόν ενλόγως και
agar
174 An Elay on Virtue.
>
>>
« to be good, which gives joy to the mind, is de-
“ fireable, produces happineſs, is of all things
“ moſt valuable, is ſelf-ſufficient, and perfect.
It is moſt likely that amongſt all mankind he
ſhould include the Stoics in particular; becauſe heis
diſputing againſt them and endeavouring to ſhew,
not that they had a different notion of good from
the reſt of the world, but that thoſe things and thoſe
circumſtances of life, which in conſequence of
their opinion they muſt maintain to be good, were
in fact not ſo. If he had been comparing their
opinion with what other people thought; then
indeed a definition of good, in which every body
elſe but they were agreed, would have been moſt
proper for his purpoſe: and he might have con-
cluded, that their idea of good was wrong, becauſe
the common ſenſe of mankind was againſt them.
But this was not the caſe: he was not diſputing
about the definition; he was comparing their opi-
nion with the common apprehenſions of man-
kind about the reality of things, in order to prove
that ſome circumſtances of life, which had a mixture
of what they ſaid good conſiſted in, did not agree
to the general definition of it. And unleſs he tried
αξίαν δε έχει την μεγίστης και πολλάκις αιρεϊ λόγος αντί τε μη αγαθά προέσ-
θαι και τέλειον δε και άυλαρκές έσιν, και μη παρόντος, αν μη τυγχάνωσι των α-
dia Qógwv, 8x' ÚTOLévoi, de Bároulco Sñv; Plutarch. adverf, Stoic.
1070. B. A learned young gentleman, who reviſed this ſheet for
me, conjectures that we ſhould read I wapóle inſtead of fun wa-
póle. The reader by attending to the ſenſe of the whole paſſage
will ſee the juſtneſs and neceffity of this correction.
them
An Efay on Virtue.
175
them by a ſtandard, which they allowed of; all
his reaſonings muſt neceſſarily have been incon-
cluſive: if the definition of good propoſed by him
had not been ſuch an one as they admitted; it
would have been an obvious reply for them to
make; that the circumſtances of life, which he
pro-
duced, were not indeed good in his ſenſe of the
word, but ſtill they might be good in their ſenſe
of it.
h The Peripatetics define good in the ſame man-
ner that the Stoics do, it is, according to them,
whatever is agreeable to nature. And as they are
well known to have maintained that health,
ſtrength, and beauty; riches, power, and reputation
are good as well as virtue; though they give this in-
finitely the preference, yet it is plain that they make
the good, which is in virtue, differ in degree only,
not in fort, from that which is to be found in the ad-
vantages of body or of fortune. The Stoics allowed
► Hunc finem illi tenuerunt; quodque ego pluribus verbis, illi
brevius, ſecundum naturam vivere. Cic. de fin. 1.4,10. there ſeems.
to be little difference between this and congruenter naturae convenien-
terque vivere, which is the more uſual expreſſion for the Stoical
ultimate end. De fin. 1.3.7. The difference was ſo ſmall that Seneca
neglects it [Epift. 118.) and defines good to be, quod fecundum
naturam eſt, which are the very words that a Peripatetic or an
Academic would make uſe of in defining it. Finis bonorum exſiſtit
fecundum naturam vivere. Cic. de fin. l. 5.3,9. Thus in Greek ta
ομολογεμένως τη φύσει ζην and το ζην κατα φύσιν are ufed promifcu-
ouſly to expreſs the Stoical ultimate end. Plut. advers. Stoic: 1060.E.
Clem. Alexandrin. Strom. L. II. pag. 496. Diogen. Laërt. in
Zenone. 1.7. ſeg. 87.88.89. And Critolaus the Peripatetic defined
the ultimate end to be τελειότητα κατα φύσιν ευροενloς βία κ. τ. λ. Clem,
Alexandrin. ut fup.p.497. See. Cic.de fin. 1.5.6. as quoted p. 169.
that
176 An Elay on Virtue.
k« Good
that theſe advantages are natural, and to dif-
pute whether they are good or not with the
Peripatetics, who ſaid no more of them than this,
was manifeſtly diſputing about words, and was
ſo much the more extraordinary as both ſects gave
the ſame definition of it. This ſeems to have been,
what i Plutarch repreſents it, one of the many in-
ſtances in which the Stoics run counter to common
apprehenſion: for whilſt they make an agree-
ment with nature the laſt end of action, they main-
tain notwithſtanding that ſome things, which are
agreeable to nature, are quite indifferent. Seneca
was aware of this and has taken ſome pains to ac-
count for it in the following manner.
« is what is agreeable to nature:obſerve what I ſay,
what is good is alſo agreeable to nature, but
« it is not therefore immediately true, that what
« is agreeable to nature is good: there are many
things, which ſuit with our nature; but ſome of
« them are ſo inſignificant, that the name of good
« cannot with any propriety be given to them:
Καίτοι τι μάλλον ή κατά την κοινήν έννοιαν, ει καθάπερ τα αιρετα προς
το ωφελίμως, έτω τα κατα φύσιν προς το ζην κατα φύσιν και οι δε έχ έτω λέ-
γεσιν, αλλα το ζην κατά φύσιν τέλG- είναι τιθέμενοι τα κατα φύσιν αδιά-
Goga eivai vouízouw. Plutarch. adverſ. Stoic. 1060. E.
k Bonum eſt, quod fecundum naturam eft: attende quid dicam,
quod bonum eſt, et fecundum naturam eſt: non protinus quod ſe-
cundum naturam eft et bonum eſt. Multa quidem naturae conſen-
tiunt; ſed tam pufilla funt, ut non conveniat illis boni nomen, levia
enim ſunt et contemnenda; nullum nec minimum contemnendum
bonum. Nam quamdiu exiguum eſt, bonum non eft, cum bonum
eſſe coepit, non exiguum eft. Unde aliquid cognoſcitur bonum?
i
2
An Elay on Virtue.
177
6
J
they are trifling and contemptible; and no-
" thing that is good can be fo: as long as it con-
« tinues ſmall it is not good, and when it becomes
good it is ſmall no longer. What therefore is
« the true mark, that any thing is good? - its
« being perfectly agreeable to nature for both
" that, which is good, and that, which is not ſo,
« are agreeable to nature; but then the magni-
« tude or degree makes a difference between
« them. For ſome things by changing their degree,
« change their properties too; thus he, who, whilſt
« he was an infant; had no reaſon, grown up to
“ manhood has the full uſe of it: and in the ſame
“ manner what is agreeable to nature by improv-
ing in degree and growing more perfectly agree-
« able to it paſſes into another character, which it
« had not before, and becomes good.” Whether
Seneca has cleared up the inconſiſtency, which his
party is charged with, is not material: it is ſufficient
to the preſent purpoſe, that, whatever change of
quality might in his opinion be introduced into
fi perfecte ſecundum naturam eft: fateris, inquis, quod bonum eſt, ſe-
cundum naturam eſſe; haec ejus proprietas eft: fateris et alia ſecun-
dum naturam quidem effe, fed non bona effe: quomodo ergo illud
bonum eft, cum haec non ſint? quomodo ad aliam proprietatem
pervenit, cum utrique praecipuum illud commune ſit, -- ſecundum
naturam effe?-ipſa fcilicet magnitudine. Nec hoc novum eſt, quae-
dam creſcendo mutari: infans fuit, factus eſt pubes; alia ejus proprietas
fit: ille irrationalis, eſt hic rationalis. Quaedam incremento non tantum
in majus exeunt, ſed in aliud. ****** eadem ratione aliquid
{ecundum naturam fuit: hoc in aliam proprietatem magnitudo ſua
tranſtulit, et bonum fecit. Senec. epiſt. 118.
what
2
178 An Elay on Virtue.
1
what is agreeable to nature as it improves in degree,
he does not think it a change, that makes it leſs
agreeable to nature, but one, that makes it more ſo:
and as the being agreeable to nature is eſſential to his
notion of good, he could not poſſibly mean any
other than ſelf-good or happineſs. If he had meant
any other, and had at the ſame time ſpoken the
ſentiments of the whole ſect; the diſpute between
them and the Peripatetics would have been at an
end: not becauſe this account of good could deter-
mine which fide was in the right; but becauſe it
would ſhew that they ſaid nothing contrary to one
another. For as the good, which is to be met with in
the advantages of body and the gifts of fortune, can
be nothing but a ſelf-good, or nothing bút the hap-
pineſs, which they afford; therefore the good, that
isin virtue, muſt in the mouth of a Peripatetic, mean
a felf-good too; becauſe in the opinion of his ſectone
of theſe differs from the other not in ſort but only
in degree. When therefore he maintains, that ſome
things are good beſides virtue, his meaning is that
ſelf-good or happineſs is to be found ſomewhere elſe:
and when the Stoic affirms that virtue is the only
good, unleſs he had meant that it is the only ſelf-
good or only happineſs, one would not have ſaid any
thing contrary to the other, and no diſpute could
have ſubſiſted between them upon this point.
The ſchool of Polemo might have taught, that
ſelf-good is to be found in health, ſtrength and
beauty;
An Elay on Virtue.
179
beauty; in riches, power and honour as well as in
virtue, without making the leaſt oppoſition to the
ſchool of Zeno, if this ſect by teaching, that virtue
is the only good, had meant that ſomething, which
is not a ſelf-good is to be found no where but in
virtue. The Peripatetics indeed do frequently tell
the Stoics, that the diſpute between them was only
about words: but then their reaſon for thinking
ſo was not becauſe they had different notions of
good, when one ſect maintained, that nothing
but virtue is good, and the other that the advan-
tages of body and of fortune are good as well as
virtue; but becauſe they had both the ſame notion
of good, and yet, whilft Zeno allowed as much
weight or influence to theſe advantages as Polemo
did, he was not willing to call them by the ſame
;
name. I
But if the Stoics by good meant ſelf-good, then
by the point, which they ſo much laboured to
eſtabliſh, that virtue is the only good, they muſt
Omnium autem eorum commodorum, quibus non illi plus tri-
buunt, qui illa bona effe dicunt, quam Zeno, qui negat, longe
praeſtantiſſimum &c. Cic. de fin. l. 4. 21..
Ad fummam, ea quae Zeno aeftimanda et ſumenda et apta naturae
effe dixit, eadem illi bona adpellant. ibid. --Si de re diſceptari opor-
tet; nulla mihi tecum, Cato, poteft effe diſſenſio: nihil eft enim, de
quo aliter tu ſentias, atque ego, modo commutatis verbis ipfas res
conferamus. De fin. 1.4.22.
Ego, quam ille praeponendam et magis eligendam, beatiorem hanc
adpello: nec ullo minimo momento plus ei vitae tribuo, quam Stoici.
Quid intereſt, niſi quod ego res notas notis verbis adpello; illi nomina
nova quaerunt, quibus eadem dicant. De fin. l. 5.29.
mean
-
Z 2
180 An Eſay on Virtue
mean that it is the only happineſs, or that virtue
and happineſs are the ſame thing. And this we find
they do maintain and very explicitly too. m« Who
~ is there, ſays Cicero in the perſon of a Stoic, that
« could be elate upon his life being miſerable, or
« that could be otherwiſe upon its being happy?
« The anſwer to this queſtion ſhews us that no
« one has any reaſon to glory but in a happy life:
« and the conſequence is, that a happy life muſt
“ deſerve our good opinion: but ſince only a vir-
« tuous life can deſerve it, that, which is virtuous,
« muſt be happy:'X Plutarch ſeems to have been
fully ſatisfied, that this was the favourite and di-
ſtinguiſhing principle of the Stoical ſect: for he
makes uſe of it in diſputing againſt their doctrines
to ſhew, that Chryſippus is guilty of contradict-
ing himſelf. n « If, ſays this writer, he had thought
Quis aut de miſera vita poffit gloriari aut non de beata? de fola
igitur beata: ex quo efficitur, gloriatione, ut ita dicam, dignam eſſe
beatam vitam ; quod non poffit quidem niſi honeſtae vitae jure con-
tingere : ita fit, ut honeſta vita, beata vita ſit. Cic. de fin. I.
That beata vita is rightly tranſlated, a happy life in this place, may
be proved from what is oppoſed to it, vita miſera.
η Ει μεν εν την φρόνησιν ηγείτο ποιητικών είναι της ευδαιμονίας αγαθών
ώσπερ ο Επίκερίφ, αυτής έδει μόνον της ατοπίας και παραδοξολογίας επι-
λαμβάνεται το δόγματG. έπει δε η φρόνησις έχ έτερόν εςι της ευδαιμονίας
καθ' αυτό, αλλ' ευδαιμονία, πως και μάχείαι το λέγειν, επίσης μεν αιρετην
ειναι την άμεριαίαν ευδαιμονίαν και την αΐδιον, μηδενός δε αξίαν την άμεριαίαν.
Plutarch. de repugnant. Stoic. 1046. D. The word which î have
tranſlated eligible, is destru in all the editions that I have met with. I
have ventured in the quotation to read it dipetny, becauſe both the ſenſe
of the paſſage, and the words of Chryſippus, as they are quoted juſt
before by Plutarch [δε της αϊδία ευδαιμονίας αιρειωτέρας γενομένης παρα
Tavam epoxíav.] require that we ſhould read it fo... Though Plutarch
3.
8.
has.
An Elay on Virtue. 181
« with Epicurus, that wiſdom (or virtue] is a good,
« which produces happineſs, he would be charge-
« able with talking againſt common ſenſe only
« and the general opinion of mankind. But, as
« he makes wiſdom the ſame thing with happi-
« nefs, does not he contradict himſelf, when he
ſays, that a momentary happineſs is as eligible
« as an eternal one, and yet contends at the
«« fame time, that a momentary happineſs is not
« worth regarding ?” But where was the abſurdity
of this, if Chryfippus had propoſed virtue as an
ultimate end or final good diſtinct from happineſs?
for then the ſhorteſt happineſs, though not worth
regarding, would be as eligible as the longeſt:
becauſe neither of them would upon this ſuppoſition
contribute at all to our final good; and nothing
but what does contribute to this will by a wiſe
man be thought of importance enough to deſerve
has diſtinguiſhed between Opóungis and copía, [De virt. moral: 443:F:]
yet I have tranſlated Ogóvnoss in this place wiſdom : becauſe it certainly
means the Stoical.ultimate end, and he, who has obtained this, in
Latin is called ſapiens. But whatever word we tranſlate it by, its being
the Stoical ultimate end will prove that it ſignifies the ſame as virtue:
and this is ſufficient for our preſent purpoſe. Cicero feens in one
place to have tranſlated it by ingenii praeſtantia. In prima igitur con-
ftitutione Zeno tuus a natura receffit: cumque fummum bonum
poſuiſſet in ingenii praeftantia, quam virtutem vocamus &c. De fin.
4.19. And in another place he has paraphraſed it by intelligentiain
earum rerum, quae natura evenirent, eligentem ea, quae eſſent fecun-
dum naturam, rejicientemque contraria: which he makesthe ſame as
e virtute, id eſt, honeſtate vivere. De fin. 1.2.11. This ſhews us how
we are to underſtand what he ſays. de offic. l.1.43. Opównous [prudentia]
eſt rerum expetendarum fugiendarumque ſcientia.
his:
182
An Eſay on Virtue.
1
his notice. The contradiction conſiſts in repreſent-
ing that to be contemptible, which is in his opi-
nion the very fame with what he would have us
purſue as our ultimate end; and in teaching his fol-
lowers to deſpiſe a happpineſs of ſhort continuance,
though he affirms it to be equal in value to ſuch
as will laſt for ever, and yet maintaining that
virtue is happineſs, or that there is no difference
between them: for this was the ſame as telling
thèm that virtue is not to be deſired and yet that
it is the only thing, which is deſireable. I would
have the reader take particular notice before
we leave this paſſage in Plutarch, that the opi-
nion of the Stoical ſchool, as far as he underſtood
it, was, not that virtue leads to happineſs or natu-
rally produces it, but that there is no difference be-
tween them, that virtue is the ſame thing as
happineſs: upon this as an allowed principle he
diſputes againſt Chryſippus; and this is what I
have been endeavouring to prove they meant by
their well known principle that virtue is the
only good.
Many other authorities may be produced to
the ſame purpoſe. Cicero expreſsly ſays, that
« °Zeno placed a happy life in virtue alone.” And
when he had undertaken to ſupport one of the
Stoical paradoxes, and therefore ought to ſpeak
• Zeno in una virtute poſitain beatam vitam putat. Cic. quaeft.
Academ. l.2. 43.
the
:
-
An Eſay on Virtue. 183
!
the fentiments of that whole ſchool, he concludes,
that « P to live happily is nothing elſe but to live
« virtuouſly.” « «Why ſhould not you think, Lu-
« cilius, ſays Seneca, that the ſureſt way to make
“ life happy is to be perſuaded that virtue is the
only good ? He, that includes every thing, which
« is good, in virtue, is happy in himſelf.” r« What
" is good, as Chryfippus reaſons, is eligible; and
« what is eligible is pleaſing; and what is pleaf-
« ing is praiſe-worthy; and what is praiſe-wor-
so
thy is virtuous: and again,what is good, gives us
joy, and what does this, challenges reſpect from
« us; and what we owe reſpect to is virtue.” Cato's
reaſoning in Cicero is juſt of the ſame fort: -35 It
“ is very abſurd to think any thing good, which is
« not deſireable, or any thing deſireable, which is
« not pleaſing; or if any thing is pleaſing, then it is
P Profecto nihil eft aliud bene et beate vivere, nifi honefte et
recte vivere. Paradox. 1. 4.
4 Quidni tu, mi Lucili, maximum putes inftrumentum beatae
vitae hanc perſuaſionem, unum bonum eſſe, quod honeftum eſt ?
qui omne bonum honeſto circumſcripſit intra fe felix est. Senec.
epift. 74.
* Και μην εν τω περί καλύ, προς απόδειξιν το μόνον το καλον άγαθου
είναι, τοιέτους λόγους κέχρηίαι· το αγαθόν αιρετόν: το δ' αιρετόν αρες όν:
το δ' άρεστον επαινετόν· το δ' επαινετον καλόν και πάλιν το αγαθόν χαρτόν:
To se zaptov ospevov • tid dè orepevou xaróv. Plutarch. de repugnant. Stoic:
Illud autem perabfurdum, bonum effe aliquid, quod non ex-
petendum ſit; aut expetendum, quod non placens ; aut fi id, non
etiam diligendum: ergo et approbandum : ita etiam laudabile: id
autem honeftum : ita fit, ut, quod bonum fit, id etiam honeſtum
fit. Cic. de fin. l. 3. 8.
« ab-
1039. C
S
.., it
184 An Elay on Virtue
!
6 abſurd to think, that it does not deſerve our
« love, and if it deſerves our love, then our appro-
« bation too: therefore it muſt be praiſe-worthy:
« and what is praiſe-worthy is virtuous.” I am not
concerned to fhew, that theſe arguments are ſuffi-
cient to prove virtue and happineſs to be the ſame
thing. But from the whole turn of them it appears,
that this was what the Stoics deſigned to prove, when
they were endeavouring to eſtabliſh the leading
principle of their ſect--that virtue is the only good.
For ſince the good, which they would demon-
ſtrate to be contained in the very notion of virtue, is
a good, which pleaſes and gives joy to us ; it may
as well be called happineſs: and to ſay that virtue
is the only good in this ſenſe, is the ſame as to
ſay that it is the only happineſs. Cicero muſt un-
derſtand them in this ſenſe: for when he had
proved in the Stoical manner, " that virtue is the
only good; he infers, that the happineſs of life con-
fifts in virtue. And when he allows it to be eaſy
for the Stoics to conclude that a virtuous man's life
muſt be happy; he gives ſuch a reaſon for allowing
it as plainly ſhews what he took to be the meaning
of their favourite maxim: becauſe ſuch a man
has the ſovereign good in his power, and therefore
+ Solum igitur bonum quod honeſtum : ex quo efficitur, honef-
tate una vitam contineri beatam. Tuſc. difput. 5.15.
"Sequatur neceſſe eſt, ut cujus in poteſtate fummum bonum, in
ejufdem vita beata ſit: ita fit ſemper vita beata fapientis. Tuſc.
diſput. 5.28.
muft
u
An Eſay on Virtue. 185
muſt have happineſs in his power too. “ * If, ſays
“ he, when philoſophers have any point to defend,
« it was cuſtomary to make uſe of what has been
« proved or granted upon another occaſion with-
« out diſputing it over again, a Stoic need ſay but
“ little in anſwer to the enquiry -- whether virtue
“ is ſufficient to make life happy : it would be
“ enough for him to reply, that he had already
« ſhewn virtue to be the only good, and the con-
“ ſequence of this is, that a happy life conſiſts in
“ being virtuous: and juſt in the ſame manner, if
“ he had proved that a happy life conſiſts in
« virtue, he might have inferred that virtue is the,
« only good.”
That this was generally thought to be the
meaning of the Stoical principle will be put
far-
ther beyond doubt from conſidering the incon-
ſiſtencies, which the y Peripatetics are charged
Philoſophi, quamcunque rem habent in manibus, in eam quae
conveniunt, congerunt omnia, etſi alio loco diſputata ſunt. Quod ni
ita eſſet ; cur Stoicus, fi effet quaeſitum, fatiſne ad beate vivendum
virtus poſſet, multa diceret ? cui ſatis eſſet reſpondere, ſe ante do-
cuiffe nihil bonum effe, niſi quod honeſtum effet : hoc probato,
conſequens effe, beatam vitain virtute eſſe contentam : et quomodo
hoc fit conſequens illi, fic illud huic ; ut, fi beata vita virtute con-
tenta fit, niſi honeftum quod ſit, nihil aliud ſit bonum. Tuſc. diſput.
X
1. 5.7
y Zeno in una virtute poſitam beatam vitam putat. Quid Anti-
ochus ? etiam, inquit, beatam, ſed non beatiſſimam. Deus ille, qui
nihil cenfuit deeffe virtuti ; homuncio hic, qui multa putat praeter
virtutem homini partim cara effe, partim etiam neceffaria. Sed ille
vereor ne virtute plus tribuat quam natura patiatur, praeſertim
Theophraſto multa diſerte copioſeque dicente. Et hic metuo, ne
vix fibi conftet ; qui cum dicat effe quaedam et corporis ct fortu-
Аа
1210
1 86 An Eſay on Virtue.
with and the Stoics are allowed to have avoided.
The Peripatetics contended, that the misfortunes
of life, the pain and torture of the body are evils;
and the Academic very reaſonably asks them,
nae mala, tamen eum, qui in his omnibus fit, beatum fore cenfet,
fi fapiens ſit. Cic. quaeft. Acad. 1.2.43.-—Illud mihia te nimium feſti-
nanter dictum videtur, fapientes omnes eſſe femper beatos : neſcio
quomodo praetervolaverit oratio. Quod niſi ita efficitur, quae The-
ophraſtus de fortuna, de dolore, de cruciatu corporis dixit, cum
quibus conjungi beatam vitam nullo modo putavit, vereor ne vera
ſint. Nam illud vehementer repugnat eundem beatum eſſe et mul-
tis malis oppreſſum. Haec quomodo conveniant non fane intelligo.
Utrum igitur tibi non placet, inquit, virtutis tantam viin effe, ut ad
beate vivendum ſe ipfa contenta fit? an, fi id probas, ita fieri poffe
negas, ut ii, qui virtutis compotes ſint, etiam malis quibufdam ad-
fecti, beati ſint? ego vero volo in virtute vim eſſe quam maximam:
ſed quanta fit, alias : nunc tantum, poſfitne eſſe tanta, fi quicquam
extra virtutem habeatur in bonis. Atqui, inquit, fi Stoicis concedis
ut virtus fola, fi adfit, vitam efficiat beatam concedis et Peripate-
ticis : quae enim mala illi non audent adpellare, aſpera autem et
incommoda et rejicienda et aliena naturae eſſe concedunt, et nos
mala eſſe dicimus, ſed exigua et porro minima. Quare ſi poteſt eſſe
beatus is, qui eſt in aſperis rejiciendiſque rebus, poteft is quoque
eſſe, qui in parvis malis. reſpondebo me non quaerere, in-
quam, hoc tempore quid virtus pofſit efficere, fed quid conſtanter
dicatur, quid ipſum a fe diffentiat. Quo igitur, inquit, modo? Quia
cum a Zenone, inquam, hoc magnifice, tanquam ex oraculo, edi-
tur, virtus ad beate vivendum fe ipfa contenta eſt; quare inquit ?
reſpondet, quia niſi quod honeftum eſt, nullum eft aliud bonum:
Non quaero jam, verumne fit illud : dico ea, quae dicat, praeclare
inter fe cohaerere. Dicis eadem omnia et bona et mala, quae
quidem dicunt, qui nunquam philoſophum piétum, ut dicitur, vi-
derunt; valetudinem, vires, itaturam, formam, integritatem un-
guiculorum omnium : deformitatem, morbum, debilitatem, mala.
Jam illa externa, parce tu quidem : fed haec cum corporis bona
fint, eorum conficientia certe in bonis numerabis, amicos, liberos,
propinquos, divitias, honores, opes. Contra haec attende me nihil
dicere : fi ifta mala funt, in quae poteſt incidere fapiens; fapientem
effe non eſt ad beate vivendum fatis. Cic. de fin.l.
the
5. 26.
An Eſſay on Virtue.
187
how it is poſſible upon theſe principles to ſhew
that virtue is ſufficient to make life happy ? ſince
the virtuous man is not exempted from theſe evils :
and no one can be happy, whilſt he has evils to
ſtruggle with. In the mean time the objector
grants, that, if the Stoics ſet out upon a true prin-
ciple; if nothing is good but virtue and theſe ex-
ternal calamities are not evils, then their confe-
quence will have no inconſiſtency in it: let the
virtuous man's circumſtances be what you will, he
muſt be happy. This principle of theirs might in-
deed be diſputed; but it does not concern me
whether it be true or falſe: for if the conſequence
of virtue's being the only good is that the virtu-
ous man, even whilſt under the preſſure of exter-
nal calamities, muſt be happy, then this ſect by
maintaining it to be the only good muſt mean
that it is the only happineſs
. For if there was in
their opinion any other happineſs beſides virtue,
ſomething would be wanting to make his life com-
pletely happy, who is poffeffed of virtue: and thus
the conſequence that a virtuous life amidſt all the
diſeaſes of the body and all the hardſhips of fortune
muſt be a happy one would be as inconſiſtent,
when a Stoic infers it from having firſt proved
virtue to be the only good and the want of it to
be the only evil, as when a Peripatetic eſpouſes
it, who affirms, that many things are good be-
ſides, and that the want of every thing, which is
good
A a 2
188
An Elay on Virtue.
Z
good, muſt be called an evil, as well as the want
of virtue.
It muſt be owned that many of the ancient
philoſophers do ſometimes repreſent virtue in ſuch
a manner, as ſeems not to agree very well with
this account of the Stoical opinion about it. z They
deſcribe it as being what we cannot but eſteem,
though it ſhould not be productive of our intereſt:
they tell us, that it is to be approved for its own
fake, and that it is to be choſen becauſe it is fit
and right: which appear at firſt ſight to be very
different reaſons for being virtuous from what
Cato muſt have in his mind, if Cicero has made
him ſpeak his real ſentiments, when he repre-
ſents virtue as not worth our notice, if it could
be miſerable.
I am inclined to believe, that this was more
frequently the language of the old Academy and
of the Peripatetic ſchool than of the Stoic. And it
may be difficult to underſtand what a Stoic could
mean by ſetting up virtue as the object of our
choice though unrecommended by utility or
z Virtus eft adfectio animi conftans convenienfque ; laudabiles
efficiens eos, in quibus eft, et ipſa per ſe, ſua ſponte, ſeparata etiam
utilitate laudabilis. Cic. Tuſc. diſp. 4.15. Honeftum igitur id intel-
ligimus, quod tale eſt, ut detracta omni utilitate, fine ullis praemiis,
fructibuſque, per ſe ipſum poſſit jure laudari: quod quale fit, non
tam definitione, qua fum uſus, intelligi poteft (quanquam aliquan-
tulum poteſt] quam communi omnium judicio et optumi cujuſque
ftudiis atque factis : qui permulta ob eam unam caufam faciunt,
quia decet, quia rectum, quia honeftum eſt, etfi nullum confecutu-
ruin emolumentum vident. De fin. I 2.14
in-
An Eſay on Virtue.
189
1
intereſt; ſince his ſect maintained that virtue and
utility are the ſame thing, and ſo carried this
matter farther than Socrates did, who ſpeaks how-
ever ſomething like the ſentiments which were
afterwards taken up by Zeno, a when he ſays
that virtue and utility are naturally connected,
and reproaches thoſe, who firſt thought of fepa-
rating them. And yet, as if it was of more im-
portance to talk in high terms about virtue than
to be intelligible, the Stoic fometimes makes uſe
of the ſame expreſſions: and • Cicero ſpeaks for
Chryſippus, when he affirms that it is impoſſi-
ble there ſhould be any virtue, unleſs it is diſin-
terefted. But how is this conſiſtent with ſaying,
that virtue is not worth our notice if it can be mi-
ſerable ? or how ſhall we make his opinions intel-
ligible, who at one time maintains, that virtue
and intereſt are the very fame thing, and at ano-
ther repreſents them as quite different, by de-
fcribing the nature of virtue to be ſuch as will ne-
ceſſarily approve itſelf to us, even though it
ſhould fail of producing our intereſt?
Itaque accepimus Socratem execrari ſolitum eos, qui primum
haec natura cohaerentia opinione diſtraxiſſent. Cui quidem ita ſunt
Stoici aſſenſi, ut quidquid honeftum eſſet, id utile effe cenferent ;
nec utile quidquam, quod non honeftum Cic. de offic. 1. 3. 3.
• Unum igitur par, quod depugnet, reliquum eſt, voluptas cum
honeſtate, de quo Chryſippo fuit, quantum ego ſentio, non magna
contentio : alterum fi fequare multa ruunt et maxume communitas
cum hominum genere, caritas, amicitia, juſtitia, reliquae virtutes,
quarum eſſe nulla poteſt, niſi, erit gratuita. Cic. quaeft. Acad.
1.2.46.
To
a
190 An Eſay on Virtue.
N
To clear up this difficulty, it muſt be obſerv-
ed, that the word utility has two different ſenſes
given it by the antients. Sometimes it means hap-
pineſs in general: and in this ſenſe we find it uſed
by Cicero, where he ſays, “
« C that if nothing is ſo
“ contrary to nature as viciouſneſs, and nothing
« fo agreeable to it as utility, then it is impoſſi-
" ble for viciouſneſs and utility to meet in the
~ ſame ſubject. And farther; if nature originally
deſigned us for virtue, and this alone, as Zeno
thought, be deſireable, or at leaſt be of infinite-
s ly more weight than all things beſides, which
" was Ariſtotle's opinion; it neceſſarily follows
“ that virtue is either the only or the greateſt
“ good; but utility is connected with the notion
w of good, and therefore with the notion of vir-
This is the ſenſe in which the words
intereſt or utility are uſed, when the Stoics affirm,
«d that virtue is our only intereſt and that virtue
“and utility are different expreſſions indeed but
>
<< tue too.
C
Quod fi nihil eſt tam contra naturam, quam turpitudo ni-
hilque tam ſecundum naturam, quam utilitas : certe in eadem re
utilitas et turpitudo eſſe non poteſt. Itemque ſi ad honestatem nati
fumus, eaque aut fola expetenda est, (ut Zenoni viſum est ;] aut
certe omni pondere gravior habenda, quam reliqua omnia, quod
Aristoteli placet ; neceffe est, quod honestum fit, id effe aut folum,
aut fummum bonum ; quod autem bonum, id certe utile ; ita quid-
quid honestum, id certe utile. Cic. de offic. l. 3. 8.
Honestate igitur dirigenda utilitas est, et quidem fic, ut haec
duo, verbo inter ſe diſcrepare, re tamen unum fonare videantur.
Cic. de offic. 1. 3. 21.
6 both
An Eſſay on Virtue.
191
/
« both mean the ſame thing:" which is no more
than affirming virtue to be the only good, that is,
(if we mean felf-good) the only happineſs
.
But the word e utility was uſed in a more re-
ſtrained ſenſe for the advantages of body and of for-
tune in particular. And thougha Stoic in the former
ſenſe of the word conſiders utility as the ſame thing
with virtue, he may in this latter ſenſe fconſiſtently
enough diſtinguiſh one from the other: and thus
either he or the Peripatetic might repreſent virtue
as recommending itſelf to our choice though ſtrip-
ped of all utility and not productive of our intereſt;
e Tum autem anquirunt, aut conſultant ad vitae commoditatem,
jucunditatemque, ad facultates rerum atque copias, ad opes, ad poten-
tiam, quibus et fe poffint juvare et fuos, conducat id nec ne, de quo .
deliberant. Quae deliberatio omnis in rationem utilitatis cadit. Cic.
de offic. 1. 1. 3. Sed utilitatum comparatio ſaepe eſt neceſſaria.--Nam
et corporis commoda cum externis, et externa cum corporis, et ipfa
inter fe corporis, et externa cum externis comparari folent: cum
externis, corporis hoc modo comparantur; valere ut malis, quam
dives efſe: cum corporis externa hoc modo; dives effe potius, quam
maxumis corporis viribus: ipfa inter ſe corporis fic; ut bona valetudo
voluptati anteponatur, vires celeritati: externorum autem, ut gloria
divitiis, vectigalia urbana ruſticis. 1. 2.25.
Panaetius with this allowance of uſing the word intereſt in dif-
ferent ſenſes upon different occaſions was leſs blameable than Cicero
ſeems to think him. Quod ſi is effet Panaetius, qui virtutem propterea
colendam diceret, quod ea eſficiens utilitatis eſſet; ut ii, qui res ex-
petendas velvoluptate vel indolentia metiuntur: liceret ei dicere utili-
tatem aliquando cum honeftate pugnare. Sed cum ſit is, qui id folum
bonum judicet, quod honeſtum fit: quae autem huic repugnent:
fpecie quadam utilitatis, eorum neque acceſſione meliorem vitam fieri,
nec deceſſione pejorem: non videtur ejuſmodi debuiſſe deliberationem
introducere, in qua, quod utile videretur, cum eo, quod honeſtumy
eſt, comparetur. Cic. de offic. 1. 3: 3.
and
f
192 An Elay on Virtue.
and yet might affirm without contradicting them-
ſelves, that virtue would not be worth our notice, if
it could be miſerable. For as one of them is of opi-
nion, that the advantages of body make no part
of happineſs, and the hother, that they make a
moſt inconſiderable and moſt contemptible part
of it; by being ſtripped of utility or intereſt in
this ſenſe, neither of them mean being ſtripped
of happineſs
.
If they, who have no taſte for the pleaſures;
that virtue affords, and who do not perceive it io be
the moſt exquiſite enjoyment, that human nature
is capable of, but think virtue one thing and hap-
pineſs another, if theſe ſhould maintain, that vir-
tue is valued and loved for its own fake or becauſe
& Neillud quidem eft confentaneum, ut, ficum tria genera bonorum
fint, quae fententia eft Peripateticorum, eo beatior quiſque ſit, quo
ſit corporis aut externis bonis plenior, (ut hoc idem approbandum
ſit nobis (Stoicis) ut qui plura habeat, quae in corpore magni aeſti-
mantur, fit beatior) illi enim corporis commodis coinpleri vitam bea-
tam putant, noftri nihil minus. Cic. de fin. 1.
3.13
At enim qua in vita eft aliquid mali, ea effe beata non poteft.
Ne feges quidem igitur fpicis uberibus et crebris, fi avenam uſpiam
videris, nec mercatura quaeſtuoſa, ſi in maxumis lucris aliquid damni
contraxerit. An hoc uſquequaque aliter in vita? et non ex maxuma
parte de tota judicabis? an dubium eſt, quin virtus ita maxumam
partem obtineat in rebus humanis, ut reliquas obruat? Audebo igitur
quae ſecundum naturam ſunt bona adpellare, nec fraudare ſuo veteri
nomine, potius quam aliquid novum exquirere; virtutis autem am-
plitudinem quaſi in altera librae lance ponere: terram, mihi crede,
ea lanx et maria deprimet. Semper enim ex eo, quod maxumas
partes continet, latiffimeque funditur, tota res adpellatur. Cic. de fin,
1.5.30.
it
An Eſay on Virtue. 193
it is virtue; it would be inconſiſtent in them to
affirm afterwards, that virtue is not worth our
notice if it could poſſibly be miſerable: this would
be no better than maintaining that virtue is deſire-
able upon its own account, and yet that there can
be no reaſon for deſiring it unleſs it has ſomething
elſe to recommend it. But when they ſaid this,
who included happineſs in the notion of virtue;
when either the Peripatetics ſaid it, who eſteemed
virtue incomparably the greateſt good, or the
Stoics, who contended that it is the only good,
there is no great difficulty in clearing up their
meaning. For purſuing virtue is to them purſuing
happineſs; and eſteeming virtue for its own ſake,
or becauſe it is virtue, is but endeavouring to ob-
tain the greateſt or the only good, becauſe it is
the greateſt or the only good: and if the nature
of virtue could poſſibly be changed, and ceaſe to
be, what in their opinion it now is, the only true
enjoyment of man, it muſt then upon their prin-
ciples be no longer defireable; for they reckon that
it is made deſireable only by being the ſovereign
good or chief happineſs: and therefore it is very
conſiſtent in them to ſay, that if it could loſe this
quality and poſſibly be miſerable, it would be no
longer worth our notice.
& If by fitneſs or rectitude, which theſe philoſo-
phers ſometimes talk of, they mean ſomething,
& Decori vis ea eſt, ut ab honeſto non queat feparari. Nam et quod
decet, honeftum eft; et quod honeſtum eſt, decet: qualis autem dif-
Bb
ferentia
194 An Elay on Virtue.
-
which is different from virtue; then to follow
virtue becauſe it is fit and right would be to make
fitneſs or rectitude and not virtue the ultimate
end. But this is not agreeable to the principles
either of the Peripatetics or of the Stoics: and in-
deed by their own account of the matter, fit or
right are made to differ ſo little from virtue, that
we may venture to ſay they were only different
names for the ſame thing. If this be the caſe, then
by eſteeming virtue becauſe it is fit and right they
meant no more than eſteeming it for its own fake;
which is only ſeeming to give a reaſon, where no
reaſon ought to have been asked. For to ask a Stoic
in particular why he approves virtue, is but ask-
ing him why he purſues his ultimate end; and
ſuch a queſtion as this deſerves no anſwer. Or if
a Stoic ſhould chance to be good natured enough
to think of giving an anſwer, it could only be
one of this very uninſtructing ſort; becauſe it is his
ultimate end, becauſe it is right or becauſe it is
virtue.
When I ſay that a Stoic ought not to be asked
a reaſon why he approves virtue, it is not becauſe
I think his opinion ſo true that it cannot be dif-
puted; but becauſe, if he has eſtabliſhed his firſt
principle --- that virtue is the only good or the
ferentia ſit honeſti et decori, facilius intelligi, quam explanari poteſt,
Cic. de offic. l. 1.27. I have here and every where elſe ſuppoſed the
word honeftum in Latin to mean the ſame as virtue or virtuous in
Engliſh; for Cicero ſays, Honeftum aut ipſa virtus eft, aut res gefta
virtute. De fin. 1.5.23.
ulti-
..
An Eſay on Virtue. 195
1
ultimate end, to ask him afterwards why he
approves it, is impertinent and can be of no uſe
in ſhewing that his opinion is falſe : to do this we
ſhould defire him to make out his firſt principle
that virtue is the only good : for if this is either
granted or can be once clearly proved, whatever he
ſays afterwards of virtue will be indiſputably true.
Having thus ſhewn particularly that the Stoics,
when they call virtue the only good, mean that
it is the only ſelf-good; and having had frequent
occaſion, whilft I was enquiring after their opi-
nion, to take notice that the Peripatetics mean the
ſame, when they call it the greateſt good; I may
be allowed without examining the opinions of
the other ſects to conclude, that all the antients,
when they agree fo unanimouſly that the ſovereign
good of man is his proper purſuit, underſtood by
it that his own happineſs is his ultimate end.
The later philoſophers too have all agreed in
this point; though ſome of them appear at firſt
ſight to have been of a contrary opinion. The
Noble patron of diſintereſted benevolence, who
ſtarts at every mention of rewards, as if he thought
our virtue would be in danger by them, and almoſt
cautions us againſt being Chriſtians for fear of be-
traying it, will ſcarce be imagined to propoſe no
other end of action but our own happineſs, and to
make a regard to ourſelves the principal point in
view, even when we admire the beauties of virtue
and
Bb 2
3
196 An Eſay on Virtue.
pag. 120.
and pay obedience toit's dictates. But let us firſt hear
Shafteſbury's what he ſays and then judge of his opinion. “Other
« authors there have been of a yet inferior kind:
« a ſort of diſtributers and petty retailers of this
« wit, who have run changes and diviſions with-
« out end upon this article of ſelf-love. You have
« the very fame thought ſpun out a hundred ways,
« and drawn into motto's and deviſes, to ſet forth
" this riddle, that act as diſintereſtedly or gene-
“ rouſly as you pleaſe, ſelf is ſtill at the bottom,
« and nothing elſe. Now if theſe gentlemen, who
<< delight ſo much in the play of words, but are
« cautious how they grapple cloſely with defini-
« tions, would tell us only what ſelf-intereſt was,
" and determine happineſs and good, there would
« be an end of this enigmatical wit. For in this we
« ſhould all agree, that happineſs was to be pur-
« ſued and in fact was always ſought after : but
« whether found in following nature, and giving
way to common affection; or in ſuppreſſing it
" and turning every paſſion towards private ad-
“ vantage, a narrow ſelf-end, or the preſervation
" of mere life, this would be the matter in debate
" between us, the queſtion would not be who
« loved himſelf, or who not; but who loved and
« ſerved himſelf the righteſt and after the trueſt
V.I.P. 307. « manner.” “ It muſt needs, ſays he in another
place, be a hard caſe with us, after having paſſed
« ſo learned a childhood and been inſtructed in
our
+
An Elay on Virtue. 197
60
« our own and other higher natures, effences, in-
“ corporeal ſubſtances, perſonalitys and the like ;
" to condeſcend at riper years to ruminate and
« con over this leſſon a ſecond time. 'Tis hard,
" after having by ſo many pertinent interrogatorys
<< and deciſive ſentences declared who and what
“ we are, to come leiſurely, in another view, to
“ enquire concerning our real ſelf and end, the
judgment we are to make of intereſt and the
s opinion we ſhould have of advantage or good,
~ which is what muſt neceſſarily determine us in
“our conduct, and prove the leading principle
“ of our lives.” Theſe two paſſages are direct
proofs of the point in hand: for our author here
expreſsly grants that happineſs, advantage, ſelf-
intereſt or ſelf-good are in fact ſought after and
cannot but be purſued by all.
Though perhaps they, who have heard him
talk of virtue and the love of it, will ſcarce be
perſuaded that theſe were his real ſentiments.
Could he think that virtue has not charms enough
of it's own to recommend it though unattended
with any hopes of advantage, who conceives that V.II.p.6g.
any expectation of reward is always dangerous to 58.
true worth and frequently deſtructive of it, becauſe
in his opinion it reduces virtue to a mere bargain of
intereſt? Is ſelfiſhneſs at the bottom when we
comply, as he ſays we ought, with the affections
of a public fort; when we are carried out of
out
198 An Eſay on Virtue.
ز
ourſelves and appear diſregardful of our own con-
veniency and ſafety ?--And yet if he had thought
otherwiſe; if he had been of opinion, that the
affections, which he talks of, towards the intereſts
of mankind were to be complyed with and in-
dulged, whatever became of thoſe other affections
towards ſelf-good; he need not have given him-
ſelf the trouble in making out the obligation of
V.II.p.175. 'virtue to eſtabliſh this concluſion that « Virtue,
“ which of all excellencys and beautys is the chief
« and moſt amiable; that, which is the
prop
and
« ornament of human affairs; which upholds
« communitys, maintains union, friendſhip and
« correſpondence amongſt men ; that, by which
“ countrys as well as private familys flouriſh
« and are happy ; and for want of which, every
“ thing comely, conſpicuous, great and worthy
“ muſt periſh, and go to ruin ; that ſingle quality
“ thus beneficial to all ſociety, and to mankind in
“ general, is found equally a happineſs and good
« to each creature in particular, and is that, by
“ which alone man can be happy and without
« which he muſt be miſerable.”
For let it be preſumed with ever ſo much ap-
V. II. p. 78. pearance of reaſon that the purſuing a common
intereſt or public good through the affections of
one kind muſt be a hindrance to the attainment
of private good through the affections of another;
yet he could not have ſuppoſed this to weaken
the
79.80.
An Eſſay on Virtue.
199
the obligations of virtue and to make it leſs our
duty to comply with it; unleſs our duty did in his
opinion ſo much depend upon our intereſt, that
we are not obliged to any thing only as far as it
is productive of private good to ourſelves.
But it was not inconſiſtent in this Noble author
to be ſo bitter againſt every thing, which looks like
ſelfiſhneſs in the practice of virtue, and yet not
only to grant that intereſt, advantage or good is
what neceſſarily determines our conduct, but even
to trace out the obligation of virtue from this fin-
gle principle -- that moral rectitude is the ad-
vantage, and vice the injury and diſadvantage of
every creature. For to underſtand what he
means we 'muſt attend to his diſtinction between
a true and a falſe ſelf. “ If there be found, ſays V.II.p. 23:
« he, in any creature a more than ordinary ſelf-
« concernment, or regard to private good, which
«« is inconſiſtent with the intereſt of the ſpecies
« or public, this muſt in every reſpect be eſteem-
« ed an ill and vitious affection: and this is what
“ we commonly call felfiſhneſs, and diſapprove
« ſo much in whatever creature we happen to
« diſcover it.” But to conſider ourſelves as parts
of a ſpecies or kind, to ſympathize with this ſpecies, V.II.
and give way to thoſe common affections, which 17.
unite us to it, this he looked upon to be following
nature, to be cultivating our real ſelf, or purſuing
our true intereft : for the having theſe generous af- v. p. 121.
p.
6
V.II.p. 99.
I 20..
200 An Eſſay on Virtue.
to
fections ſtrong and powerful towards the good of
the public, is according to him the ſame as hav'ng
the chief means and power of ſelf-enjoyment. So
that the true ſtate of the queſtion was, not whe-
ther we ſhould endeavour to be happy, but how
we ſhould endeavour it with the moſt ſucceſs:
not whether we ſhould follow our own intereſt,
but where our true intereſt may be found : not
whether every man ſhould take care of himſelf,
but whether he can poſſibly do this, when he
conſiders that ſelf as detached from the reſt of
the ſpecies, and as having advantages and enjoy-
ments unconnected with the good of the public.
Our true intereſt is placed by him in giving way
and cultivating the public affections, which unite
us to mankind; and upon theſe natural advanta-
ges he undertakes to eſtabliſh the obligations of
virtue. What he diſlikes in annexing poſitive re-
wards and foreign advantages to the practice of
it is that they are not very likely to improve our
love of it: becauſe ſuch happineſs as is quite
different from what the native beauty of virtue
affords, might, he fears, make us regard this beauty
the leſs; or might by degrees take off our affections
from it and give them ſuch a wrong turn, that,
unleſs we were very much upon our guard, we
ſhould grow indifferent to virtue itſelf, and be
fond only of the rewards which attend it. He
grants that to deſire a happineſs beſides what we
feel
An Efay on Virtue.
201
feel in the practice of virtue, and to purſue an
intereſt beſides what neceſſarily flows from do-
ing good, may be harmleſs in itſelf, and, if ma-
naged with caution, may be of uſe in ſupporting
virtue. All that he ſeems to be apprehenſive of is
that without great care ſuch conſequences might
follow from theſe purſuits as would make them
fatal in the end to that very virtue, which they
were intended to ſupport: they might teach us to
think our intereſts detached from the reſt of the
world, and might introduce the only ſort of ſelf-
iſhneſs that he condemns, an affection, which has
a wrong ſelf for its object, and which leads us to
ſeek for happineſs in turning every paſſion to fome
private advantage that is wholly unconnected with
the intereſts of our ſpecies.
Thus he never paints virtue as offering with her
right hand length of days, and with her
left hand
riches and honour leaſt our affections ſhould be
engaged by the rewards propoſed, to the preju-
dice of her who makes the offer; leaſt we ſhould
be unwarily betrayed into a fondneſs for them, and
grow inſenſible to the charms of that virtue, which
they were deſigned to recommend. But then
he conſtantly labours to convince his readers
that her ways are ways of pleaſantneſs, and that
all her paths are peace : not indeed that they
lead and will bring us at laſt to any pleaſure and
Сс
to
202
An Elay on Virtue. :
to any peace diſtinct from what attends us in our
paffage; but that they are pleaſant and peaceful
in themſelves. He never repreſents the practice of
virtue as prejudicial to our real intereſts and true
happineſs, theſe he grants are what muſt con-
ſtantly determine us; and the only queſtion that we
differ about is, - where they are to be found.
The voluptuous man tryes to find them in the looſe
pleaſures of ſenſuality or in the mad fallies of in-
temperance: the indolent man does not purſue
them, but expects that they will follow him to his
unactive retirement: the Chriſtian aflures himſelf
that he ſhall meet with them in that fulneſs of joy,
with which God has promiſed to reward his obedi-
ence: and Lord Shaftesbury maintains that the
practice of virtue, or the exerciſe of the benevolent
affections in doing good to mankind is in itſelf,
without looking any farther, our real happineſs
and trueſt intereſt : this he bids us follow and
does not talk of any other beauty in virtue,which
is worth our notice; this is the good, that he
would have us look for in it; and theſe are the
only charms, that, in his opinion, recommend it
to our eſteem and love. Thus at laſt the good,
which he ſaw in virtue, and would have us fee
too, is a ſelf-good : and the great difference be- ,
tween him and thoſe, who profeſs themſelves to
be the diſciples of Chriſt with leſs reſerve than he
did, is no more than this, he followed virtue be-
cauſe
An Eſay on Virtue. 203
pag. 130.
cauſe it is happineſs, they follow it becauſe it leads
to happineſs.
Qther moraliſts there are, who define « natu-
« ral good to be that which is good for us, and Balguy's
tracts p. 376.
« moral good that which is good in itſelf,” and
who maintain that “virtue is the ultimate end of a
« moral agent in the ſtricteſt ſenſe, for in this his
6 view is terminated and he purſues it ſo entirely
upon its own account and for its own fake,
« that though in the purſuit of pleaſure ſelf is
« not only regarded and included but is perpe-
tually uppermoſt
, yet in the purſuit of virtue,
ſelf is quite overlooked: a perfect moral agent,
“ unmindful of himſelf, keeps his thoughts fixed
“ on the worth and dignity of his object ; that
“ is, he acts virtuouſly, not becauſe it is profita-
« ble or pleaſing, but becauſe it is in itſelf right
« and fit fo to do.” « For there are, we are told, Clarke's
“ certain eternal and neceſſary differences of Boyle'sled.
things, which make it fit and reaſonable for
“ creatures to behave agreeably to the rules of
“juſtice, equity, goodneſs and truth, which cauſe
« it to be their duty, or lay an obligation upon
“ them ſo to act, even ſeparate from the conſide-
“ ration of theſe rules being the poſitive will or
6 command of God, and alſo antecedent to any
" reſpect or regard, expectation or apprehenſion
“ of any particular private and perſonal advan-
« tage or diſadvantage, reward or puniſhment,
CC 2
either
174
«
204 An Elay on Virtue.
)
« either preſent or future; annexed either by na-
“ tural conſequence or by poſitive appointment
« to the practiſing or neglecting of theſe rules.”
It is certain that theſe writers propoſe virtue as
an end of action independent of all regards to
ſelf-good, and deſcribe it as a rule, which we are
obliged to obey, though it was unenforced by
any conſiderations of our own happineſs
. Many
perhaps will think them in the right, though I
have endeavoured in another place to ſhew they
are not ſo. But granting for the preſent, that vir-
tue is to be purſued for its own fake, and that we
ought to do good to our fellow-creatures, though
our own happineſs neither conſiſted in thus obey-
ing the natural affections, which we have for our
kind, nor was annexed to this behaviour by the
appointment of our Creator : yet virtue or moral
good cannot with any propriety be called the
ultimate end of action; unleſs they had proved,
what they never attempt to prove, that it ought to
be fo pračtiſed as not to be referred to any thing
elſe, but ſo as that every thing elſe ſhould be referred
to it: this is the deſcription which i Cicero has
given of an ultimate end, but I do not find that
the moraliſts I am ſpeaking of make virtue alone
agree to either part of it. In their opinion so it is
Boyle's lect,
Quaerimus igitur quid ſit extrenium et ultimum bonorum:quod
omnium philofophorum ſententia tale debet effe, ut ad id omnia re-
ferri oporteat; ipſum autem nuſquam. De. fin. l. 1.9.
" neither
Clarke's
j
P. 258.
An Eſſay on Virtue.
205
« neither poſſible nor truly reaſonable, that men
" by adhering to virtue ſhould part with their
“ lives, if thereby they eternally deprived them-
« ſelves of all poſſibility of receiving any advan-
«c tage from that adherence. Virtue, ſay they,
« 'tis true, in its proper ſeat and with all its full
" effects and conſequences unhindered, 'muſt be
« confeffed to be the chief good ; as being truly
“ the enjoyment as well as the imitation of God:
“ but as the practice of it is circumſtantiated in
“ this preſent world, and in the preſent ſtate of
«c things ; 'tis plain it is not itſelf the chief good,
“ but only the means to it, as running in a race
" is not itſelf the prize, but the way to obtain it.”
Thus they allow that virtue ceaſes to be the chief
good, when it is ſo circumſtanced as to produce
miſery, and that nothing makes it the ultimate
end, except that happineſs
, which is the genuine
and natural effect of it. Happineſs therefore is at
laſt the point to which in their opinion we muſt
refer even virtue itſelf; the chief good is no other
than a ſelf-good, and whatever other fort of good
there may be in virtue, it is eligible only becauſe
it is good for us.
The philoſophers of this ſect do not indeed
always confeſs that it is nothing but happineſs,
which makes virtue worth purſuing: but they
ſeldom ſcruple to own, that if its natural conſe-
quences are hindered, if it is unattended with
hap-
206 An Elay on Virtue
happineſs
, we ſhould find it better worth our
Balguyp.89. while to purſue ſomething elſe. “Though reaſon
ſay they, (by which they mean virtue) be ſelf-
eligible, yet ſince we are ſenſible as well as ra-
« tional creatures, reaſon alone can never be ſelf-
« ſufficient: exclude the belief of a providence
« and a future ſtate, and in many caſes it muſt
« be owned, virtue would not be able to ſupport
« itſelf: adverſity and great miſery would make
" men deaf to the dictates of their own mind and
“ bring them down, as it were, from reaſon to
« ſenſe.” What therefore is it that will always
determine us to the choice of virtue? What makes
it reaſonable in all poſſible circumſtances con-
ſtantly to direct our views to this point and uni-
formly to perſevere in a hearty fondneſs for it and
Balguy p. 88. ſincere obedience to it's laws? Is it becauſe though
89.
caſes may be imagined, where virtue would be
miſerable, yet either the providence of God will
take care that thoſe caſes ſhall never happen in
fact, or elſe this all-wiſe and perfect Governor of
the univerſe will make us amends hereafter for
all that we may ſuffer at preſent by our adhe-
rence to virtue? - Tell me therefore; can virtue be
the laſt end of human actions ? is the acquiring a
virtuous character all that man deſires, or is it what
he moſt deſires ? is not he granted to be ſo cir-
cumſtanced, that, unleſs the belief of a providence
and a future ſtate gave him aſſurance that the
!
1
I
prac-
An Eſay on Virtue.
207
practice of virtue would make him finally happy,
ſomething would interpoſe more dear to him and
more deſireable than virtue ? for if not more dear
to him, if not more deſireable, could he give up
virtue for the ſake of it, or once think of ſacrificing
his ultimate end to one of an inferiour ſort?
Virtue, they may ſay, will in better times exert its
ſupremacy, and when it is attended with it's ge-
nuine effects,when none of it's natural conſequences
are hindered, we ſhall ſteadily purſue it for it's
own ſake; and ſhall acknowledge it to be what
it is now, whether we perceive it or no, the laſt end
to which a moral agent, that would behave agree-
ably to a rational nature, muſt direct all it's actions.
Let this be the caſe; and with what propriety
can virtue be called the ultimate end? If human
nature will ſhrink back when virtue fails of pro-
ducing happineſs, and will rather give it up
all it's charms about it than ſuffer us to make our-
ſelves miſerable ; if we never ſteadily adhere to it,
but when it cannot interfere with our happineſs
in fact, whatever it may do in ſpeculation, then
certainly in the purſuit of virtue
ſelf is not quite
overlook’d. For however amiable it may be; yet,
ſince we cannot be fond of it whilft it makes us
miſerable; we muſt have our eye upon ſomething
beyond it: as it is not ſelf-ſufficient unleſs where
it is attended with happineſs, our principal aim or
ultimate end is happineſs and not virtue.
« The
up with
208 An Eſay on Virtue.
Balguy p.91.
« The Stoics, it is ſaid, had noble ideas of vis-
" tue, and clear apprehenſions of it's excellence,
" but unaccountably forgot or overlooked the
~ conſtitution of human nature: and hence they
“ fell into great extravagance and a kind of en-
“ thuſiaſm: wrapt up in admiration of moral
“ good, they ſeemed not to acknowledge or re-
“ gard any other: had they conſidered that they
“ were ſenſible beings as well as moral, they could
" not eaſily have imagined that virtue alone was
« felf-ſufficient: their ſcheme therefore muſt be
« unnatural and indefenſible excluſively of a
« future ſtate, the only ſupport of virtue in ad-
« verſity and extreme caſes.” Here indeed I muſt
beg leave to diſagree from this ingenious writer
in one particular, for if moral good is that only,
which is good in itſelf, and natural good is di-
ſtinguiſhed from it by being good for us; then
the Stoics were ſo far from being wrapt up in
admiration of it, that they ſeem to have had no
ſuch notion of good: they were ſo far from ac-
knowledging or regarding no other, that the
pe-
culiarity of their opinion conſiſted in affirming
that virtue is the only natural good, or the only
thing that is good for us; and when they called
it abſolutely good or good in itſelf, they only
meant, that without any foreign aid, without
having recourſe to any thing elſe, virtue is alone
ſufficient to make us happy or rather that virtue
itſelf is our only happineſs. But in the point that
I am
An Eſay on Virtue. 209
I am endeavouring to eſtabliſh we agree exactly.
For they, who maintain that the Stoical opinion,
as it is commonly repreſented, cannot be defended
excluſively of a future ſtate, they, who think it
unnatural to purſue virtue when we muſt be
miſerable for ſo doing, unleſs ſome amends is to
be made us hereafter, have plainly ſomething be-
yond virtue in their view and ultimately refer even
virtue itſelf to happineſs.
Thus we find that they, who are fond of con-
tradicting each other, who diſpute every inch of
ground and never give up a ſingle point, till they
can maintain it no longer, who profeſs to examine
every thing with the utmoſt nicety and after the
ftricteſt enquiries agree in nothing elſe, are all of
them unanimous in allowing that every man's own
happineſs is the proper end of all bis ačtions. Nay,
when they ſeem to ſet out upon principles the moſt
oppoſite to this, they are forced to come round to
this at laſt, and diſpute themſelves into the truth
of what they were endeavouring to prove falſe.
It is impoſſible that ſo remarkable a concurrence
ſhould be owing to any thing but the voice of rea-
ſon: none but it's cleareſt dictates could appear ſo
uniformly in all the contending ſects: or rather
nothing but a ſelf-evident truth could be ſo power-
ful as to extort in this manner obedience and ſub-
miſſion even from the moſt unwilling.
Dd
CHAP
210
An Eſay on Virtue.
$
CHA P. IX.
We want a guide to teach us what our happineſs is.
No happineſs in the mere aet of virtue, nor any
annexed to it by neceſſary conſequence can be
the cauſe of moral obligation excluſively of God
and his providence
.
See C.YIII.
I
T is agreed, that the good of each particular
man is his ultimate end: but where he will
find this good is the queſtion. Nature and reaſon
bid him purſue it ; but will either nature or reaſon
ſufficiently direct him in the purſuit? If theſe
guides fail him, where he has moſt occafion for
their aſſiſtance; if they do but little more than
ſuggeſt to him that he ſhould follow happineſs
and then leave him to be diſappointed without
giving him proper information what his happineſs
conſiſts in or where he ſhould look for it; are
there any other guides, that can be applyed to, and
Cic. de fin. that are better able to inſtruct him? Epicurus bids
him court the pleaſures of ſenſe; and Hieronymus
cautions him to avoid pain. The Stoic ſays follow
nature or, which is the ſame thing in his opinion,
practiſe virtue. The Peripatetic too ſays follow
nature, but means by it, adhere ſteadily to virtue,
for this is the beſt condition of the mind; and take
care at the ſame time to ſecure all the advantages
of
1.2. 10.
1
An Eſay on Virtue.
2II
of body and of fortune, for, as man conſiſts of body
as well as mind, to make him happy both muſt be
conſulted, and to follow nature is to humour both.
Here therefore we have no one ſect of philo-
ſophers, whoſe opinion may be ſafely ſubſcribed
to. In the former enquiry though we ſet out with
a ſmall appearance on our ſide; yet, before we
came to a concluſion, all the different ſects crouded
in upon us and owned at laſt that happineſs is the
ultimate end. But if we ask what happineſs is, or
where we are to look for it; we meet with no ſort
of ſatisfaction; but have as many different ſchemes
propoſed as there are different taſtes in the world:
and let us follow what party we will, all the reſt
are ſure to ſtand out againſt us; for every one is
obſtinate in the ſupport of what he likes beft him-
felf. The obvious concluſion from this great un-
certainty, in which we are left by the moſt indefa-
tigable ſearchers into human nature, is, that we
have no ſure way of finding out what is the true
happineſs of mankind; but that the wiſeft have
occafion to apply to ſome ſuperiour guide for better
directions where to place and how to ſecure their
final good than either experience or reaſon will
afford them.
A man's own experience will go but a little
way in directing him where to place his greateſt
good. If he begins the world without any guide;
the odds are ſo much againſt him, there are ſo
many
Dd 2
2I 2 An Eſay on Virtue.
1
many thouſand plauſible purſuits which will end in
diſappointment and miſery; that we may venture to
ſay it is impoſſible for him to chuſe right at firſt.
He would ſcarce continue long in a purſuit, which
made him unhappy: the uneaſineſs, that he muſt
feel, would make him fenfible that he had choſen
wrong, and would put him upon trying ſomething
elſe: but then it could not direct him in his new
choice: though it ſhews him what is wrong, yet
it would not Thew him what is right. And there
are innumerable paths, beſides that he firſt ſet out
in, which all end in diſappointments: there are
innumerable objects, which are as likely as what
he fixed upon in the former tryal, to take with his
capricious fancy, and to engage him in another
tedious purſuit of ſomething, which will only give
him anxiety and diſquiet when he has obtained
it. Life itſelf could not be long preſerved in this
variety of hardſhip and miſery, and in the con-
ſtant employment of making experiments, which
would be fruitleſs at beſt and
ſometimes fatal. And
the longeſt life could not give us an opportunity for
all the experience, which is neceſſary to be had be-
fore we can fix and determine what is our true and
real good, our proper and greateſt happineſs.
This cannot be done, till we have gone through
all the poſſible changes of our conſtitution; till
we have tryed every ſcene of things and have dif-
covered
An Elay on Virtue. 213
covered, in this unſearchable variety, what is moſt
agreeable to our true and real nature.
Before the ten-thouſandth partof this task is over,
ſomething may be met with which a man could
acquieſce in. Pleaſure may diſſipate, intemperance
may ſtupify, or buſineſs divert him; till he forgets
that any thing is wanting to complete his hap-
pineſs. But if he thinks immediately that he has
found what he was looking for; let him wait only
till by following his pleaſure he has made him-
ſelf unfit to be truſted in public life and con-
temptible in private; till he has brought on an
untimely old age and a long train of infirmities
unfelt by the virtuous: and then perhaps he will
be convinced that what he is in poſſeſſion of is
not the greateſt good of human nature: or if he
ſtill thinks otherwiſe, the whole world will con-
demn him and will conclude that he has loſt all
ſenſe of feeling as well as all reaſon and judgment.
The intemperate man need ſeldom wait for this
to be put in mind that his purſuit is wrong: his
remembrancer conſtantly attends him; and the
morning's ſickneſs and head-ach will tell him
that the laſt night's debauch did not ſuit with
his conſtitution ſo well as to deſerve the high
character of being his final happineſs
. The man of
buſineſs may have ſet his mind wholly upon his
employment, and may appear as well ſatisfyed
with it as if it was his ultimate good: but all this
com
1
214 An Eſay on Virtue.
complacency is owing to the diſtraction of his
mind by the cares of the world, which keep him
from attending to any thing elſe: he acquieſces
in his preſent condition, not becauſe it is the beſt,
but becauſe he is unacquainted with any that is
better : and though in his conſtant hurry he may
not be aware of this; yet poſſibly he may
learn
it at laſt under the ſevere diſcipline of loſſes and
poverty and in the leiſure of an hoſpital.
Suppoſe we call in here the aſſiſtance of other
men, and endeavour to learn from their experience
what no one can poſſibly learn from his own.
Will this be of that great ſervice to us, which we
might have exnected ? can another man tell me
what is my happineſs, till he has given me the
fame taſte that he has ? « The mind has a different
c.21. 1. 55. « reliſh as well as the palate; and you will as fruit-
leſsly endeavour to delight all men with riches or
glory (which yet ſome men place their happineſs
in) as you would to ſatisfy all men's hunger with
“ cheeſe or lobſters, which, though very agreeable
“ and delicious fare to ſome, are to others extremely
« nauſeous and offenſive: and many people would
“ with reaſon prefer the griping of an hungry belly
" to thoſe diſhes, which are a feaſt to others.
“ When one party of philoſophers maintains that
« the greateſt happineſs conſiſts in riches, when
“ another endeavours to convince me that it is to
« be found in bodily delights, and a third that
I ſhall
Lock. B.II.
An Eſay on Virtue. 215
« I ſhall meet with it no where but in virtue or
« in contemplation; it is juſt as reaſonable as if
« they had divided themſelves into fects upon
the
• taſte of apples, plums, and nuts, and each party
« had endeavoured to diſpute me into their own
« reliſh: for as pleaſant taſtes depend not on
“ the things themſelves, but on their agreeableneſs
" to this or that palate, wherein there is great
“ variety; ſo the greateſt happineſs conſiſts in the
« having thoſe things which produce the greateſt
« pleaſure; and in the abſence of thoſe, which
« cauſe any diſturbance, any pain: and whilſt
“ theſe to different men are different things,” the
experience of one man will be of no great ſervice
to another.
The beſt uſe, that we can make of another's
experience is to learn what we are to avoid and
not what we are to purſue. For when we find that
the event of ſomething, which is very agreeable
to our preſent taſte, has been fatal to many others .
before it is natural to fear that it will be fo to
us, and to change our inclinations, if we can, in
order to avoid an evil, which we ſee will pro-..
bably attend the indulgence of them. But to what
purpoſe do we alter our inclinations, unleſs we
knew where to fix them? and in this particular
our own experience cannot direct us; becauſe we
have no experience but of what we are leaving:
and that of other men cannot; becauſe what
they
us;
216 An Eſay on Virtue.
they think happineſs may be taſteleſs and inſipid
to us.
In one inſtance we are ſure that both their ex-
perience and our own muſt neceſſarily fail us.
When we come to die, it is impoſſible to know
from any thing, which we have tryed here, how
our circumſtances or how our reliſh may alter;
what ſcene of things we are to paſs through
in a world to come, or what changes our conſti-
tution will undergo. The moſt agreeable objects,
ſuch as long uſe may have made quite the dar-
lings of our thoughts whilſt we are here, will not
attend us in death; and perhaps be remembered
by us hereafter only on account of ſome uneaſineſs,
which we are to feel for the loſs of them. Or if they
ſhould follow us into another world; we may, and
moſt likely ſhall have a new reliſh: though the
object continues the ſame, our temper may vary;
and thus what was pleaſing and delightful to us
before, may grow indifferent or poſſibly be horrid
and ſhocking. Muſt we therefore begin again,
and try ſuch another round of unſatisfactory en-
joyments as we have gone through here? and
that perhaps only to part with them all again at
laft, to be ſtripped of all the little knowledge of
ourſelves and of the things about us, which we
had acquired, and be ſent abroad once more
with a new taſte into a world, that we are ſtrangers
in. For neither experience, nor reaſon can poſſibly
have
An Eſay on Virtue. 217
have aſſured us that death is the laſt change, which
our conſtitution is to ſuffer. For any thing we
know, till God, who knows better than we, has
informed us; there may be innumerable alterations
to be undergone as great as that of death: we may
continue for endleſs ages ſhifting our abode and
paſſing into a ſort of life as different from what
we were in before, as the firſt ſcene of being,
which we are to enter upon at the ſeparation of
foul and body, is likely to be from this, which we
are in at preſent: where all our former experience
will be of as little uſe to determine what we ſhall
purſue in our new habitation, as the experience of
this life is to inform us what our happineſs will
confift in after we are dead.
Since then the joynt experience of all mankind
will go a very little way in aſcertaining our ulti-
mate good; it cannot be expected that reaſon
ſhould be a much better guide. This is an en-
quiry concerning a matter of fact; and unleſs we
have experience to go upon, our reaſonings about
it will, as in all caſes of the ſame fort, be conjec-
ture only and ſuppoſition; and our niceſt refine-
ments, all the pomp of words and ſhew of argu-
ment will be found upon tryal to have been no
better than learned trifling.
« The happineſs of all beings whatever, ſays Chriſtianity
“ the author of Chriſtianity as old as the creation, as old as the
s conſiſts in the perfection of their nature; and the
Ee
1
creat. p. 22.
to na-
218 An Eſay on Virtue.
« nature of a rational being is moſt perfect when it
so is perfectly rational; that is, when it governs all
“ its actions by the rules of right reaſon; for then
<< it arrives to the moſt perfect and conſequently
« the happieſt ſtate a rational nature can aſpire
" to: and every deviation from the rules of right
« reaſon being an imperfection muſt carry with
« it a proportionable unhappineſs.”
However concluſive this argument may appear
to be, yet certainly it will never perſuade any man
to believe that his happineſs conſiſts in obeying
reaſon, when he has been conſtantly diſappointed
in his beſt concerted deſigns; when he has tryed
every way to make his being eaſy and happy, but
has failed in all; and when he has carefully followed
the dictates of reaſon, as far as he knew any thing
of them, but always without ſucceſs. It would be
very poor comfort to him, and would not add
much to the weight of the argument, to tell him
that he may indeed have acted prudently, as far as
he knows; and may poſſibly have obeyed what he
takes to be reaſon : but that nothing leſs than
compliance with the higheſt reaſon, can make
him happy. This is no better than ſaying that he
would have been happy, if he had complyed with
the dictates of a reaſon, which he knows nothing
of; or, what amounts to the ſame, that his hap-
pineſs is out of his power and conſiſts in ſome-
thing, which he muſt never hope to arrive at: for
this
An Elay on Virtue. 219
this muſt certainly be the caſe, if it conſiſts in
obeying a reaſon, which is ſo much higher than
his own, as to be quite beyond the reach of his
utmoſt capacity.
Suppoſe there were ſome, who had been able
to acquaint themſelves with the dictates of this
higheſt reaſon, and to find out what is meant by
acting agreeably to them: yet even their happineſs
would ſtill depend, not ſo much upon the confor-
mity of their behaviour to theſe dictates, as upon
many other circumſtances of life, which are fre-
quently out of their own power, let them act as
rationally as they will. The loſs of reputation, or the
ruin of their fortunes; an hereditary diſtemper,
the diſloyalty of a wife, or the ill ſucceſs of chil-
dren are accidents, which, if they have any feel-
ing, will allay their happineſs, and, if they have
no comforts of religion to ſupport them, will make
them miſerable.
What concluſions may be drawn from metaphy-
fical ſpeculations I will not pretend to determine:
but the obvious concluſion from ſuch facts as theſe
is that the fovereign good of human nature does not
conſiſt in being perfectly rational. And one would
think it impoſſible for abſtract arguments to over-
rule our own perceptions and the common ſenſe
of mankind. They may, when dreſſed up in the
artificial forms of diſputation, perplex and filence
us: but what is oppoſed by the clear and intelli-
gible
I
Ee 2
l
2, 20
An Elay on Virtue.
gible evidence of daily experience can never be
convincing enough to influence our conduct.
It is a hopeleſs undertaking to perſuade a man that
his true happineſs conſiſts in ſomething, which
cannot prevent him from being miſerable at the
very time when he knows himſelf to be in full
poſſeſſion of it. In the calms of life we may ſome-
times ſuffer ourſelves to be amuſed with ſubtilties:
but the ſtorms of adverſity will ſoon diſſipate all
the ſpecious pretences to argument and demonſtra-
tion, and will ſhew them to have been no better
than air and fallacy. The mechanic, who works
by the exact rules of mathematical reaſoning, fol-
lows truth, and therefore acts rationally: but if this
was his ſovereign happineſs, could he, whilſt he is
poffeffed of it, be made miſerable by the torture of
the ſtone or by the calamities of his family? If act-
ing rationally was the only true and proper good
of man, and acting irrationally was his only ill;
then the mariner, when he navigates his ſhip with
perfect art, would be happy; though he finds that
in ſpite of all his skill and labour he muſt be wreck-
ed, and muſt periſh within ſight of the harbour:
but would they, who ſee him from the ſhore,
think him happy? would they, in full aſſurance
that he is then enjoying his greateſt good, leave
him to the mercy of the waves, without ſo much
as wiſhing it was in their power to ſend him re-
lief? They will rather, whilſt this example is
be-
An Eſay on Virtue. 221
--
before their eyes, confeſs that obedience to truth is
not happineſs
, and that in the midſt of all our ratio-
nal conduct, if this conduct is all we have to enjoy,
our condition may be unfortunate and calamitous:
they will plainly ſee that a man may be exact in
following the moſt perfect rule of action, which
his nature has taught him, and yet not be poſſeſſed
of the beſt condition, of which his nature is
capable.
We will grant therefore that the happineſs of all
beings whatever conſiſts in the perfečtion of their
nature : and we will grant farther that a rational
being arrives at the perfe&tion of it's nature when
it is perfe&tly rational. But perfection of nature
is here uſed in very different ſenſes: when this
is ſaid to conſtitute the happineſs of all beings
whatever, it means their moſt natural condition:
when a rational being is faid to arrive at the per-
fection of it's nature by governing all it's actions
according to the rules of right reaſon, perfection
of nature means the moſt natural rule of action.
And as they, whoſe experience has taught them
that a man may obey reaſon and yet be miſerable;
are aware of a diſtinction between perfect con-
dition of being and perfect ſcheme of behaviour;
they will perceive that acting rationally may be
called the perfection of our nature and yet not be
the ſame thing as happineſs.
Reaſon
222
An Eſay on Virtue.
creat. p. 22.
}
Reaſon however, has another province beſides
Chriſtian, as that of diſcovering truth. By this faculty of
old as the the mind we diſcern, as well as we can, what
actions make for and what make againſt our hap-
pineſs. In this uſe of the word, we govern all our
actions by the rules of right reaſon if we take the
proper ſteps towards making ourſelves happy.
And though to be perfectly rational cannot with
propriety be called the greateſt good, when this
perfection of reaſon is not itſelf the good, which
we ſeek after, but is only the means of obtaining
it; yet we will not diſpute about the propriety of
an expreſſion: I will grant that he, who is per-
fectly rational in this ſenſe, actually enjoys hap-
pineſs; though it would be more proper to ſay
that he is in the ſure way to obtain it. But when
I ask what my true and final happineſs is; if I
am anſwered that it is the condition, which I ſhall
certainly arrive at by acting rationally; I could
make no uſe of this information, till I had en-
quired farther what is meant by acting rationally.
And if my inſtructor was to reply that rational
behaviour conſiſts in being careful to do nothing,
which can make me miſerable, and to omit no-
thing, which can make me happy; I ſhould go
away neither the happier nor the wiſer. This is
no better than taking pains to bring me round to
the point from whence I ſet out. He neither ſhews
me what happineſs is, nor puts me into the path,
which
An Eſay on Virtue.
223
which leads to it: he only tells me, with much
appearance of inſtruction, what I did not want
to be informed of; that I ſhall meet with happi-
nefs, if I look where it is to be found, and ſhall
put myſelf in poſſeſſion of it by uſing ſuch means
as never fail to obtain it.
The practice of virtue may be called rational
behaviour in their language, who ſee virtue in the
ſame light that the Stoics did, who without attend-See C. VILES
ing to the beneficial conſequences of it in this
life or to the rewards which God will beſtow
upon the virtuous in another, conſider it as the
final good of man or the moſt complete enjoy-
ment, of which human nature is capable. And
here the moralift muſt leave his abſtracted dif-
putation, and muſt return once more to matter of
fact and experience: where he will meet with the
fame difficulties, which by taking us from ſenſe to
refined ſpeculations he thought to have avoided.
Deductions of reaſon may be of ſervice in tracing
out the happineſs, which will be the conſequence
of virtue; inſtruction may ſhew me that man will
love me for it or God reward me: but he who con-
tends that virtue is happineſs, muſt make me
actually feel the truth of what he fays, before he
can make me own it.
They who imagine their arguments are ſuffici-
ent to convince a man, that he will find any exqui-
ſite pleaſure or any ſolid enjoyment in the exerciſe
of
1
224 An Elay on Virtue.
of virtue, before he has experienced it, would do
well to try the ſtrength of them firſt in ſome
lower inſtance. Let them try to convince him in
the ſame manner that he will be delighted with
the taſte of olives or with the ſmell of affa foetida.
And if they fail here, as they certainly will; how
can they expect that ſuch reaſoning as has no
weight with him in trifles ſhould be able to turn
the ſcale in caſes of the laſt importance ? At the
moſt they will only prevail upon him to be vir-
tuous for a while, in order to ſee what fatisfaction
there is in it: and their beſt argument for this
purpoſe would be that they have found complete
happineſs in it themſelves and therefore believe
that he will find the ſame.
But, when they appeal to fact, do they ſay any
ſuch thing? do not they confeſs that “in this life
« we cannot be perfectly happy as ſubject to dif-
o eaſes and diſaſters?” how then can it be our
ſovereign good to obey the dictates of right rea-
fon? Whatever they mean by the word reaſon,
which has unfortunately been rendered a little
uncertain in it's uſe; whether it is deſigned to
ſtand for the faculty of the mind, which we ex-
erciſe in contemplation, or for the imaginary
object which they purſue, who in compliance
with fitneſs and rectitude are diſintereſtedly virtu-
ous; whether to act rationally is to regulate our
conduct by true propoſitions of any ſort, or to
uſe
Chriſtian, as
old as the
creat. p. 25.
An Eſay on Virtue.
225
123.
uſe ſenſible beings agreeably to their nature and See pag. 13;
to the relations fubfifting between us and them,
which is ſometimes called the reaſon of things
and has been miſtakenly ſet up for the ſtandard
of virtue: in either of theſe ſenſes mere conformity
to reaſon cannot be in itſelf the chief happineſs
of man. The rational and the virtuous are con-
feffedly not exempted from diſtempers of the
body or from the outrages of fortune; they are in
fome inſtances more fatally expoſed to them
than the trifling and the vicious: and as far as
they fall within the power of theſe calamities,
let their behaviour be ever ſo exact, they will find
themſelves unhappy.
In what manner will their inſtructors, after this
experience and their own confeſſion, attempt to
ſatisfy them, not that obedience to reaſon will pro-
cure happineſs by the favour of God, but that
the very act of obedience is in itſelf the higheſt
gratification, the principal enjoyment, and final
good ? They may urge that we are imperfect our-Chriſtian,
ce felves, and have none to converſe with but imper-creat. s. 25.
« fect creatures; and yet if we act according to the
66 dictates of right reaſon, we ſhall receive, even
65 here, true inward comfort and ſatisfaction, and
hereafter, when we are freed from theſe imper-
« fections, complete happineſs.”-- But may not
this ray of inward peace and ſatisfaction, which
breaks in upon the mind of the virtuous man
Ff
through
t
0
226 An Eſay on Virtue.
through the gloom of his misfortunes, be derived
rather from his future expectations than from his
preſent enjoyments ? virtue may be his comfort
without being his bliſs; and he may receive delight
from ſuch actions as are well done, not becauſe
they give him happineſs in the performance, but
becauſe he knows himſelf to be doing what will
ſecure his happineſs at laſt.
Or ſuppoſe there ſhould be any other ſource of
this complacency; ſuppoſe it to be the immediate
and neceſſary effect of behaving well: yet the in-
fluence of it will not oblige even the few, who
feel it, to be virtuous whilſt they continue here.
When a man's guides have aſſured him, what all,
moraliſts are agreed in, and what he is very ready
to cloſe in with, that ſelf-good is the ultimate end
of action, and that no one can be obliged to do
as old as the “ any thing, which does not ſome way or other
« contribute to his happineſs:" if they go on to
remind him that he feels ſatisfaction and com-
placency in the exerciſe of virtue, and to perſuade
him that upon theſe principles he is obliged to
be virtuous; might not he fairly object that he has
indeed experienced the ſatisfaction, which they
ſpeak of, but finds himſelf ſurrounded with many
infirmities, which virtue cannot remove; ſubject
to many calamities, which it cannot guard him
from, but often brings upon him; and oppreſſed
with many wants, which it ſometimes expoſes
Chriſtian.
creat. p. 23.
him
An Elay on Virtue. 227
uga
him to, but ſcarce ever relieves? He would not
be fatisfyed with being told that he muſt ſacrifice
all his other enjoyments to this ſingle one, and
muſt court this happineſs though attended with
ever ſo many hardſhips. For might not he rea-
ſonably ask why he muſt do this? might not
he tell them that for any thing, which appears
to him, he may as well be vicious ? ſince the worſt
they can ſay of vice is that it brings more pain
than pleaſure with it; and his experience has
taught him that this is the caſe of virtue. If they
encourage him to hope that there will come a
time, when he ſhall be ſet beyond the reach of
diſaſters, and when the happineſs of acting ratio-
nally ſhall be no longer allayed by any uneaſineſs
or pain; he would be apt to deſire them to excuſe
his being virtuous, till that time comes. If they
allow that he is to purſue nothing but happineſs,
he will think it a little unreaſonable to expect
that he ſhould practiſe virtue, though it makes
him miſerable; only becauſe it pleaſes his palate
now, and will, when his condition is improved,
afford him a more uninterrupted and a higher
ſatisfaction. This would be much the ſame as if
a phyſician, who knew that giving his patient
wine in a fever would encreaſe the diſorder,ſhould,
notwithſtanding this, direct him to drink it, and
affure him that the practice muſt be ſafe and
good; becauſe the diſtemper has not ſpoiled his
reliſh
FE
228 An Elay on Virtue.
reliſh for it, and becauſe when he has recovered
his health it will agree with him very well. The
phyſician's advice would be proper, if wine, though
it encreaſed the diſorder at firſt, would carry it off
in the end. And the moraliſts advice would be pro-
per too; if virtue, though at preſent in very diſad-
vantagious circumſtances, had a natural tendency
to better it's own ſituation; if it could by frequent
exerciſe acquire ſufficient ſtrength to throw off
in another life all the calamities, which oppreſs it
in this, and could improve itſelf into perfect hap-
pineſs. But the only change, which our conſtitution
appears to undergo in the ordinary courſe of
things, is brought about by death and not by
virtue: and this is ſuch a ſhock of our whole
frame as may poſſibly take from us fome of our
preſent enjoyments, and may ſpoil our reliſh for
the reſt: it does not ſeem very likely, without the
immediate interpoſition and favour of God, that
the ſeparation of foul and body will either give us
any new enjoyments inſtead of thoſe, which it
deprives us of, or make any improvements in thoſe,
which it leaves behind.
Thus all our enquiries will end in uncertainty;
when we ſearch into our future condition with-
out taking God for our guide: when we venture
to define the nature and ſubſtance of a happineſs,
which we have never experienced; and pretend to
have diſcovered a method of obtaining our final
good
An Elay on Virtue. 229
good without any inſtructions from our Creator,
who alone can tell what changes are to be made
hereafter in our nature and circumſtances; and
without the aſſiſtance of our Almighty Preſerver,
who gave us the comforts of this life, and who alone
is able to provide for us the happineſs of the next.
What aſſurances we have that God will take
care to put the virtuous in poſſeſſion of their final
good, is a queſtion of great importance, and ſhall
be examined in it's proper place. At preſent I
only want to ſhew that virtue is not able with-
out the favour of God to ſupport itſelf by making
it's votaries happy. We have ſeen that the mere
act of being either rational or virtuous is not
our true and fole happineſs, whilſt we continue
that the free and uninterrupted exerciſe of
virtue is not likely to be the only future reward and
final good of man; and that there is no reaſon to
expect it ſhould by it's own natural working im-
prove itſelf into perfect bliſs. But if virtue, though
it is not happineſs, would always procure happi-
neſs in this life for thoſe who adhere to it; if
vice, though it is not miſery, was ſure by the preſent
conſtitution of things to be attended with miſery
in it's conſequences; fome men might think it of no
importance to virtue to determine whether the
world was originally the effect of chance or the
work of God; whether fate and neceſſity fixed the
laws of nature or God appointed them; and
whether
here;
230 An Eſay on Virtue.
whether all our views are terminated by the grave
or may reaſonably be extended to a better and a
fairer proſpect beyond it. Or even when they had
determined wrong upon any of theſe queſtions,
they might ſtill pretend to act upon ſteady and
certain principles, and might repreſent the pur-
ſuit of pleaſure and of temporal good as ſufficient
to furniſh them with conftant reaſons for an uni-
form practice of virtue towards all mankind.
Certainly there are very conſiderable advan-
tages in being virtuous and many inconveniencies
are to be feared from being vicious. Temperance
and chaſtity and moderation of the paſſions con-
duce to the preſervation of our health, and to the
lengthening of our days. The contrary vices bring
pain and diſeaſes upon us; they conſume our body,
waſte our fortune, and render us both uneaſy to
ourſelves and contemptible to others. Truth and
an open ſincerity are often found to be ſure ways
of thriving, when all the little arts of crafty ma-
nagement have failed. Juſtice and humanity keep
our intereſts united to thoſe of our ſpecies, and
recommend us very ſtrongly to the kindneſs and
favour of mankind, whenever we ſtand in need
of it. The condition of the poor and helpleſs will
be inſupportable, if by treachery and cruelty they
have made themſelves many enemies
. And even
the rich and powerful are miſerable enough, when
their behaviour has forced them to live without
friend-
An Eſay on Virtue.
231
friendſhip, and without conjugal affection; difre-
garded by their children, deſpiſed by their ſervants,
and hated by their neighbours
.
Thus far the Chriſtian moraliſt, in his attempts
to reform the vicious, may with great ſtrength and
propriety reaſon upon the plan of Epicurus. But
after he has removed their prejudices, and has made
them virtuous by ſhewing them the preſent advan-
tages of ſuch a conduct; if he would extend their
virtue to all mankind and would keep them ſteady
in the practice of it, he muſt teach them better
principles than theſe. Motives of temporal intereſt,
like the principles, which keep a den of robbers
together, can engage men to be juſt only towards
the people of their own clan; towards them,
whoſe aſſiſtance they may have occaſion for, or
whoſe power they are afraid of.
There muſt be ſomething beſides the common
inconveniencies of injuſtice to reſtrain a number of
men, who are ſufficiently provided with whatever is
neceſſary to makethem as happy as they deſire to be,
and who are able to defend themſelves againſt all
that are likely to attack them. The pyrate Angria
does not ſuffer more for his villainy than the
Spartans ſuffered amidſt all their virtue. The rigid Plutarchi,
policy of their lawgiver, by obliging them to fare Lacotti ed in
hardly and to be conſtantly under arms, introduced vit.Lycurg.
a much worſe way of life amongſt them than the
companions and partners of one, who is a common
ene.
232 An Eſay on Virtue.
1
enemy to the reſt of the world, need ſubmit to.
Theſe robbers may be prepared to defend them-
ſelves againſt the bad conſequences of all the
rapine and violence, which they and their leader
are guilty of; and yet may live in greater plenty than
the ſubjects of Lycurgus did, and may be leſs har-
raſſed than they were. Angria has ſome reaſon to
afraid of thoſe, who would bring him to juſtice:
but then the Spartans had as much reaſon to be
afraid of thoſe, who would plunder them. His
ſituation contributes more to his fafety than their
virtue did to theirs: and his little ſtrength, in the
part of the world where he is ſettled, is as good
a ſecurity for him againſt the enemies, which his
injuries have made; as the exactneſs of their dif-
cipline could be for them againſt the deſigns of
their ambitious neighbours.
The intereſts of a great part of our ſpecies may
beſowholly diſunited from ours that they will never
have it in their power either to hurt us by their
hatred or to better us by their love: and there may
at the ſame time be no one, who will diſcharge their
debt of gratitude or will revenge their quarrel for
them. The Spaniſh nation may be the worſe for
it's ſettlements in America: the vaſt quantities of
wealth imported in ſpecie may have made the
people too idle to cultivate the land and to carry
on a regular trade. But theſe inconveniencies, even
ſuppoſing them to be made amends for no other
way,
--
An Eſay on Virtue 2 33
1
way, are owing to their having ſettlements there
at all; they have ſuffered little or nothing for their
injuſtice in ſeizing the lands of the Americans
and for their cruel treatment of the old inhabi-
tants. The army, which the public maintains for
the defence of their colonies, is not greater than
moſt nations upon the continent of Europe are
obliged to keep up at home for the ſecurity of
poffefſions fairly gotten: for when we are liable
to ſuffer by the injuſtice of our neighbours, we
muſt be at as great an expence in defending our-
ſelves, as if we had deſerved to ſuffer for our own.
The great mortality amongſt the ſoldiery in the
Weſt-Indies is owing to the climate and not to the
crimes of the people concerned: and the neceſſary
ſupplies of men do not draw off ſo many of the
inhabitants from old Spain as to leave the nation
unable to defend itſelf. Some blood indeed was
ſpilt in making thoſe ſettlements; but whoſe blood
was it? many of them who ſhared deepeſt in the
injuſtice fat peaceably at home and enjoyed what
was purchaſed by the lives of thoſe poor wretches,
who being preſſed into the ſervice by force or
driven into it by the neceſſities of a low condition,
were involved in a guilt, which did not belong
to them. But ſuperiour ſtrength on one ſide and
ſubmiſſion on the other foon took off all reſtraints
ariſing from the hopes of temporal advantage or
from the fear of temporal ill, and would have put
GS
an
it had been greater than it was. What reaſons from
234 An Elay on Virtue.
an end to the influence of any ſuch motives, though
pan.
Barth. de las preſent intereſt could prevent the wanton barbarity
Cafest CHis of the conquerours ? or what are the calamitous
conſequences, which have actually attended it?
The Europeans do not make themſelves parties in
the quarrel of the Indians; we continue to trade
and to make alliances with the Spaniards, juſt as
we uſed to do before; and their words will paſs
as far and their intereſts are as well ſupported as
thoſe of any other nation whatſoever.
Even thoſe, who are united in the fame ſociety,
find each other's virtue ſometimes betrayed and
always but weakly ſupported upon motives of
honours or pleaſure or profit. A man's own friends
and his own party may poſſibly look cool upon
him for a while, after he has been guilty of any
thing notoriouſly wrong: but then they excuſe
him too ſoon themſelves, and engage warmly in
his defence againſt all others, who behave to him
or ſpeak of him as one that has ſet up an intereſt
oppoſite to the good of mankind, and that de-
ſerves to be treated as a common enemy. Hence
it is that we ſee ſo few with an extenſive influence,
with power or cunning enough to keep out of the
reach of the law, and with wealth enough to ſet
them free from the apprehenſions of ordinary
calamities, who can be reſtrained by any motives
except religious ones : and the uſual behaviour of
ſuch
An Elay on Virtue. 235
ſuch, as by the aſſiſtance of certain minute philo-
ſophers have releaſed themſelves from theſe ties,
may be ſufficient to ſhew us how neceſſary the
firm belief of God and His providence is to the
very being of virtue.
But, with leſs power and leſs wealth, with a
weaker party and fewer friends, the danger of ſuf-
fering any harm in this world for crimes com-
mitted in private is too little to prevent them.
It may be impoſſible to have demonſtration
that what is unjuſtly done will be for ever con-
cealed: but how do men act when they have no
other views but of temporal advantage ? do they
wait for certainty or take up with likelihood?
Does not the farmer hire upon the probability of
making three rents ? and does not the merchant
riſque his fortune without having demonſtration
that his ſhips will return ſafe? Nay when the ad-
vantage, if we ſucceed, is very great, and what
we loſe, if we are diſappointed, is of comparatively
ſmall value to us; this often makes amends for
the want of probability, and we engage without
ſcruple in undertakings where the chances are
vaſtly againſt us. An inferiour officer in the army,
who has learned to ſet a much higher value upon
honour and a good income than even upon life it-
ſelf without them, would voluntarily offer his ſer-
vice in the moſt deſperate attempt, when he was
aſſured of being rewarded with a regiment for
Gg2
his
236 An Elay on Virtue.
his pains, if he came off with ſucceſs. The readi-
neſs, with which our public lotteries are filled, is
a proof that great numbers of people are willing
to venture a part of their fortune upon the prodigi-
ouſly uncertain chance of being made eaſy for
life by a prize-ticket. And I ſee no reaſon to be-
lieve that men will act differently where virtue
and vice are concerned from what they do in
common life; if in both caſes they are purſuing
the ſame end, and are governed in both by the
ſame motives.
If we are fond of health and of life, we muſt
be temperate and chaſte; if we would have few
enemies, we muſt be juſt and honeſt; if we would
have many friends, we muſt be humane and
courteous. But were theſe deſires made our rul-
ing principle, they would frequently lead us to
See p. 11. 12. ſomething elſe beſides virtue. We may hurt our
conſtitution by making ourſelves uſeful to man-
kind, and may ſhorten our days by actions truly
good and noble. Can they be conſtantly virtuous,
who have no other view in being ſo but the ad-
vancement of their preſent intereſts? Are there no
circumſtances, in which it is impoſſible for theſe
hopes to bear them out? What muſt they do
when their virtues are the cauſe of their miſery;
when their brighteſt and faireſt actions become
fančtifyed and boly traytors to them? If the whole
of their obligation depends upon temporal hap-
pineſs
17.
An Eſay on Virtue.
237
pineſs
, the rack or the wheel will diſſolve it: and
the threatenings of a tyrant or the madneſs of
the people will not only extort their virtue from
them; but will, upon theſe principles, make a
voluntary deſertion of it right and reaſonable.
Thus has the infinitely wiſe God fo contrived
the order of things and the conſtitution of man,
that communicating happineſs to others is a likely
way to procure it for ourſelves. But to keep the
government of the moral world in his own hands,
He ſeems to have left ſome caſes purpoſely unpro-
vided for. He has given us in this life ſo much
good as may ferve to make us thankful, but not
enough to make us independent: He has cauſed
that virtue, which generally produces happineſs
to thoſe who practiſe it, ſhould often fail and
ſhould ſometimes make them miſerable.
And now, if I have proved that there are no
affections for virtue naturally implanted in man
or none but what may eaſily be worn out; that
there is no intrinſic fitneſs or rectitude in virtue,
which can make it, in it's own nature and upon
it's own account, the conſtant object of our choice;
that neither nature nor reaſon will teach men
ſteadily to purſue any thing but ſelf-good; and
that the final happineſs of man does not conſiſt
merely in acting virtuouſly, nor can be neceſſarily
obtained, either here or hereafter, by the ſole effi-
cacy of virtue excluſively of God and His provi-
dences
238 An Eſay on Virtue.
1
!
1
dence; in ſhort if I have proved that there is no-
thing either in the nature of man or in the nature
of the thing itſelf, which ſhould oblige us to be
virtuous, the reader will allow me to conclude
that we muſt in ſettling this point have recourſe
to the will and appointments of our Creator, and
that the true principles of moral obligation are
unknown both to the atheiſt and to the fataliſt,
to them who are fooliſh enough to ſay there is no
God, and to them who think of being made hap-
py without His immediate aſſiſtance.
CHAP
An Eſſay on Virtue.
239
C H A P. X.
The conſtant and uniform practice of virtue to-
wards all mankind becomes our duty, when re-
velation has informed us that God will make
us finally happy for it in a life after this.
W"
Hoever affirms, that it is the duty of men
to keep their promiſes and compacts, let
him be of what ſect he will, means that men ought
to do this, or that they are obliged to it. The great
diſpute between the ſeveral parties in morality
has been concerning the cauſe of duty : as to the
notion of it or the meaning of the word duty they
ſeem to be all very well agreed. “ If a Chriſtian, Locke's effay
B.1.0.3.8.5.
« who has the view of happineſs and miſery in
“ another life, be asked why a man muſt keep
« his word, he will give this as a reaſon; becauſe
« God, who has the power of eternal life and
“ death, requires it of us. But if an Hobbiſt be
“ asked why, he will anſwer, becauſe the public
“ requires it, and the Leviathan will punish you
« if you do not. And if one of the old heathen
“ philoſophers had been asked, he would have
« anſwered, becauſe it was diſhoneſt, below the
dignity of a man and oppoſite to virtue, the
higheſt perfection of human nature, to do other-
es wiſe.” In every other inſtance of virtue as well
66
asi
240 An Elay on Virtue.
as in this, each moraliſt endeavours to make out
the obligation to practiſe it from the principles of
his own ſect: but after they have done this in
ſuch a manner as to ſatisfy themſelves; they all
conclude alike, that it is our duty; and therefore
all of them uſe the word duty in the ſame ſenſe,
and mean by it that behaviour to which we are
obliged.
Virtue is our duty or we are obliged to be vir-
tuous, as far as we are aſſured that God requires
it of us and deſigns to make us happy for it. Let
us therefore conſider by what means we can diſ-
cover his will in this particular; whether by our
own reaſoning upon what we ſee now, or only by
his expreſs declaration of what ſhall be hereafter.
The law, that God hath ſet to himſelf to work
by, appears the plaineſt in the laws obſerved by
Hooker B.1. what are called natural agents, “by thoſe parts
« of the creation, which keep the law of their
« kind unwittingly, as the heavens and elements.
« For as things natural cannot deviate from his
« appointment or do
nent or do any otherwiſe than they do;
« that law, the performance whereof we behold
« in them, is, as it were, an authentical or origi-
se nal draught written in the boſom of God him-
“ ſelf: and every natural agent may be looked
upon as no other than an inſtrument created
s. by him at the beginning and ever ſince the be-
“ ginning
fect. 3.
An Elay on Virtue. 241
pag. 68.
“ ginning uſed by Him to work His own will and
“ pleaſure withal."
Among natural agents I would include brutes. See pag.
For though brutes have, as far as appears, a power
of chuſing and of acting with deſign; yet, whe-
ther it is, becauſe an uniform inſtinct guides their
will, or becauſe their reaſon is ſo narrow as to ſet
before them very few objects to chuſe out of, their
manner of working is almoſt as conſtant and re-
gular as that of the heavens and elements: there
is ſo little variety in their choice, that it is ſcarce
poſſible for the moſt common obſerver to be miſ-
taken either in the ends, which they will purſue,
or in the means, which they will make uſe of.
To trace out the will of God from the works
of creation, to ſhew from the contrivance of the
natural world that He who made it had the hap-
pineſs of His creatures in view, would carry me off
too far from the preſent purpoſe; and the great
induſtry and fagacity of thoſe, who have written
upon this ſubject already, will excuſe me from fay-
ing much about it. The diſcontentedneſs of man-
kind has indeed made it neceſſary to ſay ſome-
thing: but then the leſs will be ſufficient, becauſe
they ſhew by their fondneſs for life that they
think the happineſs of this world worth living for.
Thus more than half the buſineſs is done to our
hands: men are already convinced that God is
the author of much good; and all they want
Hh
to
242 An Eſay on Virtue.
1
to be ſatisfied about is that the evils, which fome-
times ariſe out of what are ordinarily the cauſes
of good, were never in the deſign and intention
of Him, who made all things at firſt, and who
appointed the laws, by which all things are go-
verned.
In the natural world there are ſome things,
which do us harm, amongſt the many, which do
us good. Particular men are frequently the worſe
for that law of gravitation, to which we owe the
harmony of the ſyſtem. The materials of tempeſts
are carried up into the air with thoſe vapours,
which deſcend in dews and ſhowers. The winds
may ſhipwreck our fortunes as well as bring home
our treaſure : nor do they always purify the air;
it is poſſible for them to bring peſtilence and
death. Poiſon is to be met with as well as food
or phyſic. And whilſt ſome animals ſupply us
with clothing, or labour for us, or miniſter to our
Shaw's tra- pleaſures; there are others, which may, by de-
vels p. 256. vouring the fruits of the earth, deprive us of our
ſuſtenance, which may injure our health or ſhorten
our lives. But though laws, which are plainly cal-
culated for the general good, are ſometimes the
occaſion of partial evil; yet this is no objection
to the goodneſs of their author. By our own care
and management, that is, by the uſe of thoſe
means which God has put into our hands, much
of this evil may be avoided : and all of it is fo
flight,
. .
An Eſay on Virtue. 243
1
Night, when compared with the happineſs produ-
ced by the ſame laws, as to make it infinitely
better to bear with the inconveniencies than to
want the advantages of them. But ſince no laws,
where imperfect creatures are concerned in the
effects and adminiſtration of chem, can ever ex-
actly anſwer the purpoſes of the law-maker; we
muſt judge of his deſign by the general tendency
of his appointments: and whoever has leiſure to
take a diſtinct view of the laws eſtabliſhed for the
government of the natural world, will find abun-
dant reaſon to conclude that they were intended
by their Author to advance the happineſs of his
creatures, and that, when they fail of producing
this end, it is the inſtrument which fails, and not
the will of Him who makes uſe of it.
Men are intellectual and voluntary agents, and
have a knowledge and reaſon more extenſive than
the brutes have: they are neither tied down by
neceſſity to one certain form and manner of work-
ing, nor confined within ſo narrow a compaſs as
to be naturally conſtant and uniform in their be-
haviour. Theſe faculties of reaſon and liberty have
put many parts of the world under the direction
of man; they have enabled him to improve the
groſs materials, which nature furniſhes him with,
and to make them ſerve for his uſe and happineſs,
much farther than they could have done without
his art and cultivation. He cannot indeed change
Hh 2
the
verfant about ſeveral parts of nature, others will
244 An Elay on Virtue.
the laws of nature; he has it not in his power ei-
ther to eſtabliſh new ones, or to repeal thoſe;
which are made already: but it is he that muſt
execute them, or apply them to the ſeveral pur-
poſes for which their Author intended them.
Whatever food we have better than nuts and
acorns; whatever raiment better than leaves and
skins; whatever habitation better than woods and
caves; in a word, whatever makes a civilized life
preferable to a ſavage one, we owe it all to the
exerciſe of thoſe ſuperiour faculties, which diſtin-
guilh mankind from all the other parts of the
creation. Though nature gave ſtrength to the ox
and ſwiftneſs to the horſe; yet far the greateſt
part of the fervice, which we have from them, is
due to the skill and labour of thofe, who break
them. The ſheep and the ſilk-worm produce the
materials for clothing; but they, who manufacture
theſe materials, make them uſeful. The plough-
man, the reaper, the threſher and the baker all
contribute to the bread we eat. Timber for ſhip-
ping and ſtones for building are provided ready
to our hands; but we muſt dig and work the
ftones, we muſt fell and frame the timber before
we can uſe them. And ſuch is the exquiſite con-
trivance of the Creator; that, whilſt particularmen,
for the purpoſes of common life and their own
ſubſiſtence, are exerciſed in arts and trades con-
2
find
An Eſay on Virtue. 245
-
find advantage from their contrivance and la-
bour; for the good which they produce is not
confined to themſelves, it is diffufive enough to
extend itſelf to all.
Men conſidered in this regard are parts of the
natural world: but God by giving them reaſon,
and freedom of will, has made them the fuperi-
our and in ſome ſenſe the governing parts of it.
And ſince to theſe faculties we owe the invention
and improvement of ſuch trades and manufac-
tures as are uſeful to human ſociety, and of ſuch
arts and ſciences as are ornamental to it; ſince
the Creator of the world, by giving us wiſdom to
contrive and power to execute, has made all His
other gifts worth our acceptance and fit for Him
to beſtow; it is plain that He has worked for the
fame end here as every where elſe, for the general
good and happineſs of his creatures. The heavens
and elements, the inſtinct of brutes, and the fu-
periour reaſon and freedom of will beſtowed up-
on men, though each in different fort and man-
ner, yet all by the ſame uniform appointment of
their Maker are ſubſervient to this gracious pur-
poſe.
When men are conſidered as capable of acting See pag. 61:
with deſign and of perceiving reaſons for prefer-69.
ring one fort of conduct to it's oppoſite; they
make
up
what is called the moral world, that is,
a fociety of moral agents, or of beings, which have
be.
;
246 An Eſay on Virtue.
behaviour. And if God has furniſhed us with
conſtant reaſons for being uniformly virtuous to-
wards our whole ſpecies; then virtue is that law,
which He deſigned for the government of the
moral world, and men are obliged to practiſe it.
In the laws, which are obſerved by every part
of the natural world, whether things inanimate,
or brutes, or men, we fee in plain and legible
characters the deſign of Him, who eſtabliſhed thoſe
laws at firſt by His wiſdom, and who upholds them
by His providence. Inanimate matter and the brute
creation are by the appointment and direction of
their Maker fruitful of good. And man whilſt
without
any farther regard he is labouring for
his own advantage, naturally produces a happineſs,
which takes in great part of the ſpecies. The trade
or buſineſs, which each one follows for his own
ſubſiſtence, not only maintains himſelf and his
family, but ſupplies others with the conveniencies
and comforts of living; every improvement in art
and knowledge, though made originally for his
own fake alone, will in the end be of uſe and
benefit to thouſands. Man as a part of the moral
world can deſignedly extend this good or reſtrain
it. God has ſupplied him with the materials of
food and raiment, and has given him ſuch faculties
as will enable him to make uſe of theſe materials
to their reſpective purpoſes. But ſtill the practice
of virtue is the only channel through which the
author
A
An Eſay on Virtue.
247
Author of theſe bleſſings conveys them, in the
ordinary courſe of providence, to many of His
creatures. It is left to the benevolent hand to give
bread to the hungry and to cover the naked with a
garment. The wanton dulneſs of ſenſuality, as
well as the preſent rage of intemperance, the
peeviſh ſickneſs, which it leaves behind, or the
fixed ſtupidity, which it introduces at laſt, will
diſqualify a man for the offices of his ſtation;
they will make him an uſeleſs or perhaps a hurt-
ful part of the natural world, and by this means
will interrupt the end, which God works for. The
incendiary and the aſſaſſin, who caſt fire brands,
arrows, and death, produce evil out of materials
which, in their ordinary ways of working, ſerve
for the moſt beneficial purpoſes, and which ſeem
therefore to have been intended by their Creator
for good. In almoſt every inſtance we may per-
ceive in the ſame manner that the laws appoint-
ed for the government of the natural world are
under the direction and adminiſtration of the
moral one: upon our care it frequently depends
that theſe laws anſwer their ſeveral purpoſes ;
through our neglect what was ordained for good
may fail of accompliſhing it, and by our per-
verſeneſs the beſt inſtitutions may be made to
produce evil. Thus in one ſenſe the virtuous act:
agreeably to the will of God; for they comply with
that rule, by which He wills to act Himſelf
.
But
1
248 An Elay on Virtue.
But are we obliged to purſue the ſame end
that He purſues ? is the law, which He expects we
ſhould obey, the fame that He has ſet to Himſelf
to work by ? Though we may be ſure from the
conſtitution of things that the practice of virtue
is doing what God wills to do Himſelf; can we
from thence conclude, either that we are obliged
to be virtuous, or that this practice is doing what
He wills we ſhould do? Such a conduct may be
the law of His nature without being the law of
our's: He may have made ſuch appointments in
the natural world as advance the general good,
without requiring that each perſon in the moral
world ſhould make it his buſineſs to deal out this
good to particulars.
Man is ſometimes vain and partial enough to
imagine that the care and favours of his Creator
are confined to him alone: but the beautiful in-
ſtructions of the moral Poet will teach him to
enlarge his views and to think more juſtly of God
and more humbly of himſelf.
Pope's Effay “ Has God, thou fool, work'd ſolely for thy good,
Thy joy, thy paſtime, thy attire, thy food?
" Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
« For him as kindly ſpread the flow'ry lawn.
« Is it for thee the lark aſcends and fings?
Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.
“ Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ?
« Loves of his own, and raptures ſwell the note.
« The
on Man. Ep.
III. lin. 27.
-42.
An Eſay on Virtue.
249
-
G
-
« The bounding ſteed you pompouſly beſtride
“Shares with his lord the pleaſure and the pride.
“Is thine alone the ſeed that ſtrews the plain?
« The birds of heav'n ſhall vindicate their grain.
« Thine the full harveſt of the golden year?
« Part pays, and juſtly, the deſerving ſteer.
« The hog, that plows not, nor obeys thy call,
« Lives on the labour of this lord of all.'
Nay whilſt man himſelf, conſidered as a part
of the natural world, is labouring without any
view beſides his own profit or pleaſure, he pro-
duces ſuch a good as makes, not only his own kind,
but the creatures below him happy.
“ Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods, ibid. lin. 61,
“ To beaſts his paſtures, and to fiſh his floods:
« For ſome his int’reſt prompts him to provide,
“ For more his pleaſure, yet for more his pride.
« All feed on one vain patron and enjoy
« Th’extenſive bleſſing of his luxury.
“ That very life his learned hunger craves
“ He faves from famine, from the ſavage faves;
« Nay feaſts the animal he dooms his feaſt,
« And till he ends the being makes it bleſt.”
Will
any one ſay, after this view of things, that
we are therefore obliged to be virtuous, becauſe
God is good? does reaſon aſſure us that what He
does in the natural world is the meaſure of that be-
I i
haviour,
-70.
250 An Eſay on Virtue.
haviour, which he requires from us in the moral
one?
I would not ask why our virtue does
not upon theſe principles extend to brutes as well
as to inen; becauſe by common uſe the name
virtue has been appropriated to that ſort of ten-
der and kind behaviour, which reſpects our own
kind in particular: but one may reaſonably ask
why our duty does not extend to all ſenſible be-
ings alike; why we ought not to have the ſame
regard in every inſtance for the happineſs of the
creatures below us, as we have for the welfare and
intereſts of thoſe, which are placed in the ſame
rank with ourſelves.
In ſhewing whence the obligations of virtue
ariſe, or why it is our duty to make our conduct
ſuch as will guard and promote the happineſs of
Prelim. dif- mankind; you may urge, that, as God could have
Origof evilº no deſign in creating them but their happineſs,
he muſt will or require ſuch behaviour as tends
to advance their happineſs
, and this behaviour is
virtue. When you are asked, what muſt be done,
if this purſuit ſhould ever happen to be incon-
ſiſtent with our own happineſs, which is the end
of action preſcribed to us both by nature and rea-
ſon; you may anſwer, that it cannot poſſibly be
the worſe for us to obey the will of fo gracious a
being as God is; and therefore we may always
conclude that virtue, though it ſhould interfere
with our preſent intereſts, cannot interfere with
our
pag. 38.
2
An Eſay on Virtue.
251
our final good; for he, who expects we ſhould be
virtuous, will certainly reward us for it, if not in
this life, yet in that which is to come.
But why ſhould you ſtop here? why will you
limit our duty within the bounds of our own ſpe-
cies, when your own principles will extend it
much farther? If you go on with this reaſoning,
you will find yourſelf forced to confeſs, that our
duties reach as far as the relations and fitneſs of See pag. 128.
things would have carried them; and that our
obligations towards all ſenſible beings whatſoever
are exactly the ſame with thoſe towards man-
kind. For if you prove from God's having work-
ed for the good of man, that he could have no
deſign in creating us but our happineſs; you may
prove, by the ſame argument, that he could have
no deſign but the happineſs of brutes in creating
them: and then whether you will agree to call
the behaviour, which tends to prevent their mi-
ſery and to promote their happineſs, by the name
of virtue or not, yet by the ſame ſort of inference
you muſt conclude that God requires this beha-
viour of us and will reward us for it. Why is not
it therefore as criminal to warm ourſelves with
the fleece of our jeep as with the fleece of the fa-
therleſs? If duty forbids to ſteal from the farmer
that grain, which he has laboured for, to ſupport
himſelf and his children; why does not the ſame
duty forbid to rob the induſtrious bees of the ſtore
pro-
1 i 2
252 An Elay on Virtue
provided by them for their winter's ſubſiſtence ?
Why is the law of nature ſo much more tender
of a man's life than it is of the life of
ſenſible creature, that to kill a man purely for our
pleaſure or advantage is one of the blackeſt crimes,
but to kill an ox in order to eat it, is no crime
any other
at all?
We are told indeed that the wiſe and the civi-
lized think it wrong and cruel to ſport with the
miſeries of brutes. But what do they, who ſay
this
, mean by ſporting with their miſeries? The wiſe
and the civilized, nay, the good-natured and ten-
der-hearted do not think it wrong or cruel to give
them tedious and exquiſite pain for their own di-
verſion. The pleaſures of the chace are not allay-
ed by any melancholy reflections upon the di-
ſtreſſes of the ſtag, which are, whatever we may
pretend, much more than momentary ſufferings,
to the wretched animal that feels them. Even the
ſavage paſtimes of the common people are not
looked upon as criminal: and the principal rea-
ſon for diſliking them ſeems to be of the fame fort
De inftitut. with that, which, as Quinctilian imagines, deter-
mined the Athenian judges, when they condemn-
ed the boy for putting out the eyes of his quails:
they thought it betrayed fuch a barbarous diſpo-
ſition in him as many people would ſuffer by, if
they did not take care to prevent it.
orator. 1, v.
c. 9.
1
Since
An Eſay on Virtue.
25.3
Since therefore it would be our duty to do
good and to avoid doing harm as much where
brutes are concerned as where our own ſpecies is,
if the end, which God works for, was the ſtandard
of what he requires us to obſerve and will make
us happy for, if we obſerve it; and ſince no one
fcruples to kill a brute for the ſupport of his own
life or to pleaſe his appetite, and very few think
it criminal to divert themſelves by giving pain to
the animals below them; we muſt conclude that
this account of the obligations of virtue is not
agreeable to the ſenſe of mankind.
The writers upon the law of nature are of Puffendorf
opinion that there is no mutual obligation be-
tween brutes and men: becauſe nature, they fay, B.I.c.3.5.5.
does not command us to maintain friendſhip and
fociety with brutes; nor has it enabled any of the
animals below the rank of man to be parties in
an obligation, to perceive reaſons for conſtantly See pag. 69a
preferring one ſort of behaviour to another, or to
act under a ſenſe of duty. From hence it is in-
ferred, that as there can be no law, which is com-
mon to brutes and men, no rule of action, which
both parties are equally obliged to obſerve, and
as both are able to hurt each other and are upon
very probable grounds ſuppoſed to be willing;
therefore we are in a ſtate of war with all other
animals: and becauſe our's is the ſtronger ſide, we
may;
on the law of
nature. &c.
254 An Eſay on Virtue.
may do with them whatſoever we think will be
conducive to our own intereſt or convenience.
If maintaining friendſhip and ſociety with in-
feriour creatures means contracting ſuch intimacies
with them as men make with each other, receiv-
ing them as ſubjects of our ſtates, and admitting
them to ſhare in the advantages of civil commu-
nity; then certainly no law of nature can oblige
us to it, becauſe nature has not made them capable
of ſuch treatment. But if it means abſtaining from
what may hurt them, and doing them ſuch good
offices as their rank has fitted them to receive; to
ſay that in this ſenſe nature does not command us
to maintain friendſhip and ſociety with other
animals, is to take for granted what is the very
point in diſpute. And it ſeems to be pretty evident,
that the truth of this affertion can never be de-
fended, if we have no way of determining what
God requires of us, but by conſidering the end,
which he himſelf works for. The kindneſs and
beneficence of the Creator extends itſelf to all:
and though other animals have a lower ſtation
aſſigned to them than man has; yet every kind of
ſenſible beings, in what condition foever they
are placed, feel as much of the care and goodneſs
of God as is ſufficient to make that condition
happy. If therefore the end, which he works for,
is the meaſure, by which he expects we ſhould
regulate our conduct; we muſt find out differ-
ent
An Elay on Virtue.
255
ent ſorts of food, of clothing, and of diverſions
from what are in uſe at preſent.
A great ſtreſs is here laid upon the incapacity,
which brutes are under, of being obliged to ob-
ſerve any other law but what inſtinct guides them
to or preſent appetite recommends; nature has
not enabled them to perceive that it is their duty
to do us good and to avoid doing us harm. This
defect in their frame and conſtitution is thought
ſufficient to cancel all obligations on our part;
whilſt their power and ſuppoſed inclination to
hurt us produce a ſtate of war between us and
them, and give us a right to uſe them in what
manner we pleaſe. But what animals are they,
which have ſuch a power and ſhew, when unpro-
voked, ſuch a diſpoſition to hurt us, as makes it
neceſſary to take away their lives in our own de-
fence? The fiſh cannot live in the ſame element
with us: animals of a domeſtic fort appear ready
to contract a familiarity with mankind: the ox, the
ſheep, and the deer are harmleſs, when we leave
them to their own enjoyments; they would rather
retire to ſome diſtance from us, than come near
enough to do us any miſcheif. Certainly we may
lawfully defend ourſelves againſt thoſe, which
attack us; but this is no more a reaſon why we
ſhould declare war againſt brutes of all ſorts, or
why we ſhould kill and eat thoſe, which never
diſturb us; than the lawfulneſs of killing a man
in
i
!
t
!
256 An Eſſay on Virtue.
in the ſame circumſtances is a reaſon that will
diſcharge us from all the obligations of virtue to-
wards the reſt of our ſpecies.
If nothing can ſupport a claim to our friend-
ſhip and ſociety, but a capacity of returning fa-
vours in obedience to the ſame law that is obſerved
beſtowing them ; if we are under no obligations
to do good and to avoid doing harm, except in
reſpect of beings that are obliged in their turn to
uſe us in the ſame manner; then infants, which
are not yet arrived at the uſe of reaſon, and ideots,
which by ſome natural defect are prevented from
ever arriving at it, have as little claim to our vir-
tue as brutes have to a tender and kind behavi-
our, that is of the fame fort as virtue, though it
has not been called by the ſame name. One would
think indeed that ſome of the moſt civilized na-
tions, the Greeks and Romans, had reaſoned in
this manner : for we find that they ordered their
children to be expoſed, without any ſort of ſcruple
or any notion of it's being criminal. The mother's
tenderneſs ſometimes prevented the execution of
ſuch a ſentence: but the father's wiſdom could
not ſhew him that the ſentence was wrong; un-
leſs he had known that men may owe a duty to
creatures under a natural incapacity of being
parties in an obligation.
What then puts ſuch a difference between brutes
and men, as obliges us to be virtuous towards our
own kind, but allows us to do any harm that we
pleaſe
;
An Eſay on Virtue.
257
pleaſe to the animals below us, when our pleaſure
or advantage make it neceſſary ? It is not that
God, in the creation of things and in the appoint-
ment of His laws, has worked for the good of man;
for we find that He has worked alike for the good
of all. It is not that we are naturally in a ſtate
of war with brutes ; for many of them, and thoſe
eſpecially which ſuffer moſt by us, are tame and
harmleſs. Or if we ſay that God does not require
us to do good, except to creatures capable of ob-
ligation, where we may expect, upon ſteady and
conſtant principles, a return of the like behaviour;
this will give us authority over brutes indeed, but
will entirely diſcharge us from the practice of
virtue towards infants and ideots, and will take
away the ſupport of this practice, wherever virtue
would make us miſerable at preſent or vice make
us happy; unleſs we have recourſe to the hopes of
a life after this.
But if the happineſs of another life muſt be ta-
ken into the account to clear up theſe difficulties;
then the whole matter is at laſt brought to this
iſſue. God has contrived for the benefit of
brutes and works for their good; but we do not
apprehend that He requires we ſhould do ſo too,
becauſe all the advantage, which we can have from
them, is by applying them to our ſeveral purpoſes,
by making flaves of them, or by killing them; and
we have no notices of any future puniſhment to
Kk
be
258 An Eſay on Virtue.
be inflicted for this treatment, or of any future re-
ward, that would be conferred upon us for our
kinder uſage of them. In the mean time we are
perſuaded that God requires us to work, as he has
done, for the benefit of man; becauſe we com-
monly find our account in this behaviour, whilſt
we are here, and expect that he will take care to
make us finally happy for it hereafter.
Thus the only method of ſhewing why brutes
may be treated in a different manner from men
will bring us to the very concluſion, that I want-
ed to eſtabliſh. We do not uſe to determine
what God requires of us by knowing what He
does Himſelf; but by knowing what He will make
uş happy for. In particular, when virtue is di-
ſtreſſed in this world and vice is fortunate, we
cannot be aſſured that he expects we ſhould be
virtuous, till we have ſome notices of a world to
come, in which the good are to be rewarded and
the bad to be puniſhed.
Nature directs us to purſue happineſs; this is
the firſt voice of God inſtructing us what we are
to do. Or if we wait for His farther inſtructions
in the advice of reaſon; we find that this ſupe-
riour and governing faculty encourages us in the
fame purſuit and offers it's beſt endeavours to aſ-
fiſt us in carrying it on. Theſe are our earlieſt
notices of God's will; they are principles inter-
woven in our eonſtitution, and ſeem to be a mea-
fure
A
mies
An Efay on Virtue.
259
į
.
ſure given us by God himſelf to direct us in de-
termining what His will is in other inſtances. All
the parts of the natural world, as far as we are
acquainted with them, appear to have been pur-
poſely contrived for bringing about the general
good: and yet, when, by going on in their ſtated
and regular courſes, they fail of accompliſhing
this purpoſe or even produce ſome partial evil,
we do not imagine that God expected them to
counteract their proper ends and manner of work-
ing. Heavy bodies contribute to the common ad-
vantage by their deſcent; plants by the laws of
vegetation; and brutes by their ſeveral powers
and inſtincts. And when men are conſidered as
parts either of the natural or of the moral world,
they cannot be expected to anſwer this purpoſe
in a conſtant and regular manner any otherwiſe
than by purſuing their proper end, that is, by en-
deavouring to make themſelves happy. The will
of God declared to us at firſt by our nature and
conſtitution, and ſuggeſted to us again by the
voice of reafon, cannot differ from that will by
which he governs the world : and as the former
directs us to purſue happineſs, the latter cannot
be ſuppoſed to direct us to purſue virtue, till we
know whether it will make us happy or miſera-
ble: for before we can tell what courſe he would
have us follow, it is neceſſary we ſhould be fatis-
fied that it leads to the end, which he has taught
Kk 2
US
260 An Eſay on Virtue.
end;
us conſtantly to endeavour after. So that inſtead
of ſaying God requires us to be virtuous;
therefore he will make us happy for it; we
ſhould reaſon the other way, and ſhould have
ſome grounds for believing that he deſigns to
make us happy for our virtue hereafter, before we
can determine that he requires us to practice it,
when it makes us miſerable at preſent.
Whether we can knowingly chuſe miſery or de-
ſignedly neglect our true happineſs, is a queſtion
of more curioſity than uſe. It is certain that the
order of the moral world is in danger of being
changed into confuſion, if man through any ca-
pricious humour ſhould deſert his proper
juſt as the harmony of the natural world would
be deſtroyed, if the heavens and elements were to
defert theirs. And any command of God to neg-
lect our true and natural purſuit, inſtead of en-
gaging us to carry on the purpoſes of a common
happineſs with more ſteadineſs and conſtancy,
would ſet us looſe from all reſtraint, and would
leave us at liberty to be either good and virtuous
or profligate and abandoned. All motives become
weak and uncertain as ſoon as our own happineſs
is out of the queſtion: our conſtitution is fuch,
and God has made it ſuch, that without this view
we are incapable of being obliged to any thing :
even His authority will have little weight where
our compliance with it does not forward the pur-
fuit
An Eſay on Virtue. 261
!
fuit of our ultimate end; for the cauſe of our ob-
ligation to practice virtue is not fo much His will
to have us practice it, as His will to make us happy
for it.
The love of God cannot be the original cauſe
of duty, becauſe it is itſelf a duty; we may al-
ways go a ſtep beyond it in our enquiries, and
may ask; why we are to love him? The anſwer
that would be given to this queſtion, when com-
pared with what we ſhould ſay to a man, who
asks why he muſt purſue happineſs
, will ſhew that
the love of God, though it is a principle of action,
cannot be looked upon as a firſt principle. Tell
the vicious that they hurt their conſtitution, that
they ſquander away their fortune and forfeit the
affections of mankind; or, if they prefer the fan-
cied pleaſures of exceſs and debauchery to thoſe
real advantages, tell them that their preſent way
of life will certainly make them miſerable in a
world to come, and that by a contrary behaviour
they might ſecure eternal happineſs: ſhould they
own themſelves to be convinced of all this, and
yet ask you afterwards, what happineſs is to them;
would not you perceive immediately that little
good was to be done? All you can ſay to a man,
who asks ſuch a queſtion as this, muſt be, that
the deſire of happineſs is natural, that it is a part
of his conſtitution, and therefore let him try ever
fo much to root out his fondneſs for it, he will
con
..
262 An Ejay on Virtue.
continue to court it in ſome ſhape or other: and
this in effect is giving him no anſwer at all; it is
no better than ſaying, in other words, that he muſt
deſire it, becauſe he muſt, or becauſe he cannot
help it.
Suppoſe we ſhould attempt to reclaim the vi-
cious by telling them, that if they loved God,
they would behave otherwiſe; were they to own
the truth of this, and then to enquire farther, why
they ought to love him? to reply that it is con-
ſtitutional, that it makes a part of their nature,
and that they cannot avoid loving him, is not
true. For ſince there are many, who feel no ſuch
affection; either nature has not implanted it in
all of us, and then it will be a principle of duty
to fome only, and will leave others at liberty to
behave as they pleaſe; or elſe it is ſuch a part of
our conſtitution as we can alter at pleaſure, we
can weaken it by diſuſe and wear it out by for-
See pag. 115.getfulneſs. And thus what has been obſerved al-
116.137. ready concerning the love of virtue may be ap-
plied to the love of God: if nature has implant-
ed this affection in us it may be effaced; and
what ſhould hinder us from getting rid of it as
ſoon as we can? if any reaſon can be given for
keeping it, we cannot call it a firſt principle; but
if none can be given, it is a very precarious one.
They, who had rather confeſs that the love of
God is not the original cauſe of duty than ſuffer
it
An Elay on Virtue. 263
i
it to be thought inconſtant in itſelf and uncertain
in it's influence, give us ſome reaſons why we
ſhould endeavour to raife this affection in our
hearts and cheriſh it as much as we can. We
ought to love God, becauſe He expects it from
us, and becauſe the excellencies of His nature
render Him the moſt proper object of our affection.
But ſure we are not obliged to love all thoſe, who
expect it from us, to ſuch a degree as to make
this affection the ruling principle of our lives. Is
not it poſſible for what they require to be unna-
tural or unreaſonable? and if it ſhould be ſo; are
we under any obligation to comply with their
demands, only becauſe they expect it from us? The
anſwer will certainly be, that God cannot require
any thing, which contradicts either nature or reaſon.
I own the juſtneſs of this anſwer, and plainly ſee
one of it's conſequences: for what might be an
objection to our loving other beings, of what fort
ſoever, to the utmoſt extent of their expectation
and upon no better ground than becauſe they ex-
pect it, will be no objection at all to our loving God
to this degree and upon this reaſon only. But there
is another conſequence, which I muſt deſire the
reader to take notice of: for if God cannot ex-
pect a love from us that is contrary either to na-
ture or to reaſon, then He cannot require us upon
this principle to throw up the purſuit of happineſs,
becauſe this would be contrary to both.
Though
264 An Eſay on Virtue.
Though it is undeniable that the excellency of
the Divine nature challenges our warmeſt affec-
tion; yet we may ask, which perfection in that
higheſt and moſt excellent nature is the imme-
diate object of our love? Do not we love God
for His goodneſs particularly, or becauſe He is
the author of our happineſs? His wiſdom, His
power, and His juſtice we admire and reverence.
An affection, which is raiſed in this manner,
can never engage us to practiſe virtue, when it
will make us finally miſerable, or when we have
no aſſurance that it will make us finally happy.
For the Parent of good can no more require
or be pleaſed with the miſery of one man than
with that of another: and whoever can think of
neglecting his own welfare for God's fake or be-
cauſe God is good, may as well think of neglect-
ing the welfare of others for the ſame reaſon.
The love of God, when it is carryed beyond the
cauſe which produced it, and beyond the only
rational cauſe which can ſupport it, becomes un-
certain in it's influence, and is as likely to root
out humanity as to extinguiſh the deſire of hap-
pineſs, to make us enemies to our ſpecies as ene-
mies to ourfelves. For ſuch a fantaſtical and un-
guided affection will take a different turn accord-
ing to the temper that it meets with. It teaches
the tender and generous to be prodigal of their
fortunes, to be fond of indiſcretions under the
)
name
An Eſay on Virtue. 265
name of charity, and to be chearful, whilſt, with-
out doing any real ſervice to mankind, they are
ruining themſelves and ſtarving their families.
An uneaſy and melancholy turn of mind foon
changes a groundleſs love into as groundleſs a fear;
and out of what might, under the conduct of
reaſon and God's word, have been made the com-
fort and joy of a man's life and the foundation of
ſure hope in his death, it produces the needleſs but
dreadful apprehenſions of God's diſpleaſure, and
the conſtant torments of ſuch a gloomy ſuperſti-
tion as makes him live in wretchedneſs and die
in deſpair. The ſame capricious affection, inſtead
of ſoftening the obdurate breaſt, occaſions in it
another fort of ſuperſtition, leſs troubleſome, it
may be, to ourſelves than the former would have
been, but more fatal to others; a ſuperſtition full
of cruelty and fierceneſs, which puts men upon
butchering their ſpecies for the love of God, and
perſuades them that, whilſt they are defacing His
image by the murder of His creatures, they are
doing Him the moſt acceptable ſervice.
Thus we find at laſt that the love of God can-
not be ſuppoſed to oblige us to do any thing in
oppoſition to our true and real intereſt, and that
it cannot be made a principle of virtue at all, un-
leſs it ariſes from His kindneſs towards us and His
diſpoſition to make us happy. But if we love God
only on account of His regard for our happineſs;
LI
this
266 An Elay on Virtue.
this affection will never lead us to the practice of
virtue, till we are aſſured that virtue will promotë;
or at leaſt will not interrupt our final good.
Here we ſhall begin to want fome better di-
rections than the reaſoning moraliſts can ſupply us
with. -Ask them why virtue is our duty, though
it fails of making us happy in this life, or even ex-
poſes us to hardſhips and miſery; and ſince they
can find no affection in the nature of man, which
endears this practice to us, nor any fitneſs in the
nature of virtue, which makes it always eligible;
fince it cannot be known either that the authority
of God enjoyns, or that the love of God recom-
mends any fort of behaviour, till it appears to be
connected with our final good; in order to ſhew
that virtue is in theſe circumſtances a natural of
a reaſonable pra&ice, they muſt give us fome af-
furance of a heaven and future recompence for it.
Ask them again what grounds they have to
expect that God will reward our virtue in a world
to come; and they ſet out as if they had proved
already, that whatever hardſhips and miſery it
may expofe us to, whilſt we are in this world, yet
the obligations to adhere to it are conſtant and
invariable. Why elfe do we hear of an unequal
diſtribution of things, of ſuffering virtue and of
proſperous vice? Is the juſtice of God at all con-
cerned to make men happy for what he did not
require of them? can they be entitled to any
future
1
An Elay on Virtue. 267
future recompence for having made themſelves
miſerable by their adherence to virtue, if it was
matter of their own free choice and what they
might have let alone; if nature did not perſuade
it, nor reaſon dictate it, nor God command it?
Teach me that my Creator will hereafter put me
in poſſeſſion of my final good, upon condition I
behave, whilſt I am here, ſo as to pleaſe Him;
and then from the nature of things I can ſatisfy
myſelf that virtue is my duty: I will conclude
that ſuch behaviour, as by the conſtitution of the
preſent world he has favoured with the greateſt
ſhare of temporal happineſs, is the ſame that he
deſigns to make me everlaſtingly happy for in a
world to come. Or teach me that God, who is
the kind and good Author of my being, requires
me to be virtuous in every circumſtance and con-
dition of life; and then I ſhall plainly ſee it to be
my duty; and ſhall readily ſubmit to whatever
evil it brings upon me at preſent, not doubting
but He, who expects it from me, will take care
to make me happy for it. But inſtead of receiv-
ing any diſtinct account of theſe important points,
we are only amuſed with words and led round
in the ſame circle: when we want to know what
ground we have for believing that our final good
depends upon ſuch behaviour as makes us miſer-
able in this life, we are told that God expects us
to be virtuous; and therefore, becauſe He is juſt
and
L12
268 An Eſ ay on Virtue.
and good, there muſt be another life, in which we
ſhall be happy for it. When we want to know
farther, how our guides will make out that He re-
quires us to practice virtue though attended with
miſery; they will find themſelves at a loſs for a
fatisfactory anſwer, unleſs they call in the hopes
of a future reward. Thus the obligations of virtue
are made out by preſuppoſing the truth of what
can never be proved, till thoſe obligations are
eſtabliſhed: and the hopes of obtaining a reward
for our virtue are made to depend upon what we
have little reaſon to believe, till ſuch a reward is
aſcertained.
God, we are told, ſent us into the world to be
happy: and yet there are ſome, who, without any
fault or imprudence of their own, never obtain
what their Creator defigned for them; who, by the
malice of other men or by misfortune and natural
calamities, are unavoidably miſerable. This point
Wollafton is much enlarged upon by the author of the re-
ligion of nature delineated, and is urged by him
in all it's ſtrength to prove that the ſoul of man
fubfifts after the diffolution of his body. He can-
not perſuade himſelf that a juft and good Being,
fuch as God is, will ſuffer thoſe poor creatures,
whoſe griefs and pangs have much outweighed
their enjoyments, to be loſers by their exiſtence;
as they muſt be, if there was no future ſtate, where
the proper amends may
may be made them.
ſect. IX.
prop. 8.
3
This
An Elay on Virtue. 269
This learned and thinking writer ſeems how-
ever to have been aware, that the expectations of
another life, when they are raiſed in this manner,
will rather adminiſter comfort under afflictions,
than be of uſe in ſupporting an uniformly virtu-
ous behaviour. The heathens might, he thinks,
by reaſoning upon their own obſervations be af
ſured of a life after this : but it is under a de-
clared ſenſe of wanting a guide and with great
appearance of diſtruſt, that he goes on to inform
his readers what general thoughts he imagines
thoſe felf-taught philoſophers might have about
a future recompence for their virtue.
There was great reaſon why he ſhould
pro-
ceed with all this modeft caution; becauſe an
amends to be made us for the miſery which we
have ſuffered, is a very different thing from a re-
ward to be given us for the good which we have
done. We may have hopes that our Creator will
make us amends for the unavoidable miſery, which
we feel ourſelves, if we only know that he ſent
us into the world to be happy: but before we can
conclude that this amends will depend upon the
happineſs, which we have communicated to others,
we muſt know that he ſent us into the world to
be virtuous : and when a man finds himfelf un-
der the neceſſity of bearing afflictions, which his
vices have not brought upon him, and which his
vira
!
270 An Eſſay on Virtue.
virtues cannot relieve; he can have no aſſurance
that God expects he ſhould be virtuous, till he is
aſſured of the very point in queſtion, till he ſees
plainly that the happineſs of a life to come will
be the reward of his virtue, or that his final con-
dition will be determined according to his beha-
viour, whilft he is here.
By enquiring into the nature of the human ſoul
I may find abundant reaſon for believing it to be
naturally immortal; there may appear nothing
in the frame and conſtitution of it, which can
prevent its continuance for endleſs ages. But what
am I to conclude from hence?The fame God,
who created, is able to deſtroy: and unleſs it ap-
Effay on
pears that he has buſineſs for me to do, that he
Man Ep. III.
has a puniſhment to inflict or a reward to beſtow
upon me in a life after this; I cannot be aſſured
that he will not interpoſe and put an end to my
being, as ſoon as I have anſwered all the pur-
poſes and have received all the happineſs, for
which he deſigned me. Or what if I knew that
the human ſoul, becauſe it cannot periſh natural-
ly, will not periſh at all? does it immediately fol-
low that my virtue will be rewarded and my vice
be puniſhed, only becauſe I am immortal? Had
God at any time revealed to the virtuous, or had
He given them principles from whence it might
be proved, that they ſhould live ten years longer ;
might
lin. 73.740
An Elay on Virtue.
271
might they conclude, that within the compaſs of
theſe ten years they are to receive a compenſation
for their former behaviour? Why then is their re-
ward more certain, if they are to continue for ever
in another ſtate, than if they were only to con-
tinue for a determinate time in this? why muſt
the happineſs of another world be diſpenfed in
ſuch a manner that the recompence, which by
continuing in this life they were in no likelihood
of obtaining, ſhould immediately be enſured to
them upon the firſt notices of a life to come?
When they know indeed that God deſigns they
ſhould paſs out of this world into another; they
may reſt ſatisfied that His goodneſs will attend
them thither, and that all His creatures, wherever
they are, will be taken proper care of. But the
queſtion is, whether their preſent behaviour will
engage Him to place them hereafter in a better
condition than they are in now? and if this que-
ftion is examined by the glimmering light of our
own reaſon, we have already ſeen how unable we
are to come to any concluſion about it.
Upon the whole therefore, ſince it is neceſſary
for us to be informed, that the attainment of our
final happineſs depends upon our preſent beha-
viour, before a conſtant and univerſal practice of
virtue will appear to be agreeable to nature and
reaſon; and ſince natural religion leaves us here
in
272 An Elay on Virtue.
in great and inexplicable doubts; we muſt look
for the true cauſe of moral obligation in the re-
vealed will of God; and to prove that a conſtant
and univerſal practice of virtue is our duty, it will
be neceſſary to ſhew that He has expreſsly pro-
miſed to reward in another life thoſe who dili-
gently ſeek Him in this.
CHAP
An Eſay on Virtue.
273
C H A P. XI.
The revelations, that were made to mankind before
the law of Moſes, enforced their obedience to the
will of God by the promiſes of happineſs in a
life after this.
W
E will conſider revelation as divided into
three periods: the firſt of them is that
before the law of Moſes was given; the ſecond
that whilſt the law ſubſiſted; and the third that
of Chriſtianity after the law was abrogated.
In explaining the inſtructions which God in
theſe ſeveral periods has given to mankind, in
relation either to his own will or to their hap-
pineſs, I ſhall take it for granted that the life,
which was loſt by eating the fruit of the a tree of
a It has been frequently asked why the tree, which our firſt pa-
rents were forbidden to eat of, ſhould be called the tree of knowledge.
It does not appear to have been called fo, becauſe the fruit would
make thoſe, who eat of it more knowing; ſince it is impoſſible
that the knowledge of good and evil, whatever it was, from whence
the tree had its name, Thould relate to any change, which by eat-
ing the fruit of it would be made either in the intellectual faculties,
or in the condition and circumſtances of our firſt parents. For any
ſuch change muſt have been either for the better or for the worſe:
and if this knowledge of good and evil could not poflibly be any
thing, which would better their condition, and ſo was worth ob-
taining; nor any thing, which would make their condition worſe,
and ſo was to be avoided; we may conclude that it did not mean
any effect, that the forbidden fruit would have upon their circum-
ſtances, their nature, or their underſtanding.
M m 1
When
274
An Eſay on Virtue.
1
Locke's rea- knowledge of good and evil, was eternal life. Or,
fonableneſs
of Chriftia- becauſe I am now writing to Chriſtians, who
nity p. I.
When God called it the tree of knowledge of good and evil, he
did not intend by that name to repreſent the fruit of it as any thing
defireable, and ſuch as would alter their condition for the better;
becauſe this would have been impoſing upon them; it would have
been tempting them to diſobey his commands by a falſe ſuggeſtion :
for the event ſufficiently ſhews that the eating this fruit, inſtead of
improving their nature, was attended with moſt deplorable conſe-
quences. One of theſe conſequences the Deity had given them no-
tice of; he aſſured them, at the ſame time that he forbad them to
eat the fruit, that by their diſobedience they would immediately
forfeit their right to immortality; in the day thou eateſt of it thou
Jhalt ſurely die: for thus ſome very judicious commentators under-
ſtand this threatening; and thus it was underſtood by Symmachus,
who tranſlates the original words an nin Ivárofon. But be-
ſides this bad conſequence of their diſobedience, we find that they
became ſenſible of wants and infirmities, that the ground was curſed
for their fakes, and that they were driven out from paradiſe, and
were condemned to labour and forrow. And can we believe, that
he who had plainly informed them of one misfortune, which would
certainly follow their eating the fruit, would conceal the reſt; and
call the fruit by ſuch a name as would give them reaſon to believe,
that, though their diſobedience would make their condition worſe
in one reſpect, by depriving them of their right to immortality; yet
it would make it better in another refpect, by improving their un-
derſtanding and giving them knowledge, which they had not be
fore?
But here it may be asked in return, whether God had not made
the tree good for food and pleaſant to the fight ? and if by theſe
advantages he could tempt them to eat, why might not he tempt
them by another? might not he, who made the tree deſireable from
the apparent uſe and pleaſantneſs of its fruit, be as well fuppoſed to
have made it deſireable upon account of its producing in thofe, who
ſhould eat it, the knowledge of good and evil? They, who urge
this, do not ſtate the queſtion truly : it is not, whether God
might not, if he had pleafed, have given the fruit of this tree many
advantagious qualities, and amongſt the reſt that of improving the
underſtanding: but --- whether he could repreſent it as having
ad.
-
An Eſay on Virtue. 275
look upon both the old and new teſtaments to
have been of divine original, I may uſe the au-
advantagious qualities, which it had not; whether he could call it
the tree of knowledge, if this name ſignified a quality in the fruit
of it, which would alter their condition for the better ; when he
knew that it had no ſuch qualities, and that by eating of it their
condition would be altered infinitely for the worſe. And though we
ſhould grant that the tree's being good for food and pleaſant to the
fight was a temptation to eat of it; yet this is no reaſon for be-
lieving that their good and gracious Creator, the God of truth,
might ſuggeſt to them hopes of obtaining advantages by eating of
it, when he knew that death and miſery would be the unavoidable
conſequence. Thus the event ſufficiently proves that the tree was
not called the tree of knowledge of good and evil from any quality,
which the fruit of it had, whereby they who eat it would have their
circumſtances or their underſtanding improved : and as it had no
ſuch quality, we cannot poſſibly believe that God would give it
ſuch a name as would make our firft parents believe that it had;
nor that he, who tempteth no man, would tempt them to diſobey his
command with the falſe expectation of being made wiſer and hap-
pier
But neither could it be called the tree of knowledge of good and
evil to mark out any quality in the fruit of it, by which their con-
dition, who eat of it, would be made worſe. Our firſt parents did
indeed upon eating it find an alteration in their circumſtances much
for the worſe; they then knew natural evil, that is, were ſenſible
of wants and infirmities, which they felt not before: but neither this
alteration nor the ſenſe of theſe infirmities can be the knowledge of
good and evil from whence the tree had its name. For if this know-
ledge had meant any thing, which was bad for them, the ſerpent
was very far from coming up to the character of a ſubtil tempter,
when, according to the common interpretation of the words, he ad-
viſed our firſt parents to eat of the fruit, becauſe it would make
them like gods knowing good and evil. Had this knowing good
and evil meant a change for the worſe; inftead of bringing it into
ſight and making it a reaſon why they ſhould eat, he would at
leaſt have diffembled it; or moſt likely would have denied this bad
conſequence of their eating as he did the other: for when Eve told
him, that, if they eat of that tree, they ſhould die; he does not
grant
M m 2
276 An Elay on Virtue.
thority of one to interpret the other by: and St.
Paul expreſsly declares that the penalty, which
grant this to be the caſe, much lefs does he affirm that, what they
were ſo much afraid of, was a reaſon why they ſhould eat: he de-
nies the fact, ſays that God had impoſed upon them, and aſſures
them that, notwithſtanding this menace, even God himſelf knew well
enough that they ſhould not die. Strange! that he, who thus guard-
ed againſt their apprehenſions of one ill conſequence, can be fup-
poſed to bring the other full into their view and even to urge ic
as a motive for diſobeying the command of God. And ſure it is
impoſſible for any one, who has read the bible in the common tran-
Nations, to think that the knowledge of good and evil means any
thing, which was bad for thoſe, who had it; ſince he will there
find the tempter repreſenting this knowledge as the ſtate of gods
and the Lord himſelf giving the ſame account of it; the man is be-
come as one of us to know good and evil.
Upon the whole therefore, as the knowledge of good and evil could
not be a change in the circumſtances or in the intellectual faculties
of thoſe, who ſhould eat the fruit of the tree called by that name,
either for the better or for the worſe; we may conclude that it was
no change at all: and that this knowledge of good and evil did not
relate to our firſt parents fo as to mean any thing, which they
would either get or loſe by eating that fruit.
·
is the teſt of good and evil, a tree of diſcernment of good and evil,
by which God would make tryal of them, by which it ſhould be
made appear whether they would be good or evil
, whether they
would own the ſovereignty of their Creator, whether they would
obey or diſobey his commands. The tree was like all others in the
garden; God had made them all good for food and pleaſant to the
eye as well as this; and therefore in what he had done there was no
temptation to prefer this to the reſt, nor any particular reaſon for
defiring to eat of it; when their eye and their taſte might be as
well pleaſed, and their food be as well fupplied from any other tree
as from this. But as God had commanded them not to touch it,
as he had made it the teſt of their obedience and aſſured them they
ſhould die, if théy diſobeyed; they had the beſt reaſon in the world
for not eating of it: and thus we find that, in this fenfe of the words,
God was not the author of their ſin and that they were not tempted
may be translated the tree which עֵץ הַדַּעַת טוֹב וָרָע The words.
1
by
An Eſay on Virtue.
277
was inflicted on our firſt parents for tranſgreſſing
the command of God, was the loſs of immorta-
by him, but that fin came into the world through envy of the devil and
that they were tempted by being drawn away of their own lufts and
enticed. This could not have been the caſe, if God had annexed the
acquiſition of knowledge to the eating of this tree, and ſo had made
it incomparably more deſireable than all the other trees of the gar-
den: and much lefs could it have been the caſe, if God had given
it a name, which ſhould make them think it more deſireable than
the reſt, when he knew it to be far otherwiſe, and that no advan-
tages could be obtained from it, but that the greateſt misfortune
would certainly attend their eating of it.
Three objections may be made to what I have been endeavour-
ing to make out. The firſt from the ſerpent's promiſing them that
they ſhould be as gods knowing good and evil
. The ſecond from
the woman's being engaged to eat, as from other motives, fo partly
from perceiving that it was a tree to be deſired to make one wiſe.
The third from God's ſaying of them after they had caten; the man
is become as one of us to know good and evil. In all theſe inſtances
the knowing good and evil is repreſented as what might be and
was acquired by our firſt parents upon eating the fruit : but then it
is repreſented too as an acquifition, which was worth the making,
ſuch an one as would be of advantage to them : and ſince we are
ſure this was not the caſe, ſince it is impoſſible to tell what know-
ledge they received, which they had not before, except the knowledge
of their infirmities, a ſort of knowledge that would be very far from
making them equal to God; I think we may conclude that the ob-
jections, whether we can anſwer them or not, muſt be grounded
upon ſome miſinterpretation of the text.
וְהֵייהֶם כֵּאלֹהִים יִדְעֵי טוֹב וָרָע The words of the ferpent are
which we tranſlate, ye ſhall be as gods knowing good and evil: but they
might have been tranſlated ye ſhall be as gods theſe diſcerners of good
and evil: for the word 'y may as well be refered to 17583
as to DO!! God had aſſured them that in the day they eat of the
fruit, which he had forbidden them, they ſhould ſurely die; the temp-
ter endeavours to ſeduce them by aſſuring them on the other hand,
that God very well knew they ſhould not die for eating it, but that
their eyes ſhould be opened, that they ſhould perceive who and what
they
278 An Elay on Virtue
1 Cor. xv. lity. For he tells us; that we ſhall be all made
alive in Chriſt as we all died in Adam; that the
V.22
a tree נֶחְמָד הָעֵץ לְהַשְׂכִּיל
they were, and that they ſhould be no longer in ſubjection to ſo
hard a maſter, but be equal to gods theſe diſcerners of good and
evil, who had without any right uſurped a dominion over them,
and pretended to an authority of making tryal whether they would
behave well or ill. This may ſerve as an anſwer to the firſt of theſe
objections.
The words of the hiſtorian, which gave occaſion to the ſecond
objection are, that the woman faw it was
to be deſired to make one wiſe. This looks as if ſhe expected ſome im-
provement in her knowledge by eating it: and ſo ſhe might; and
yet not expect it becauſe the tree was called nyy ry for the ſer-
pent had told her, that her eyes ſhould be opened and ſhe be made
acquainted with her condition : which was as good a reaſon for her
thinking the fruit would improve her knowledge (if ſhe could rely,
as we find ſhe did, upon the ſerpent's veracity) as any name of the
tree could poſſibly have been. And indeed the original will lead us
to conclude, that is muſt have been fomething elſe, and not the name,
which led her to theſe expectations, whatever they were : for if the
tree was called my ty becauſe it would improve their under-
ſtanding, if it was ſaid that they ſhould by eating be as gods
yn 210 yy upon account of any acceſſion of knowledge, which
they would receive from eating it's fruit; then it is not likely that the
hiſtorian, had he deſigned to expreſs the ſame thing in this place,
would change the word yt, which he had uſed all along. Had the
woman's thinking it a tree to be deſired to make one wiſe been owing
to the name of it, he would have ſaid yoins and not savas
Nay, perhaps the word saya may not fignify in this place to make
them wiſe, but to make them prosper, that is, to improve their condition:
for thus the word "piv is tranſlated in the text of Deuteron. c.xxix.
V. 10. and of Joſh. C. 1. V.7. and this the lexicographers tell us is not
an unuſual ſenſe of it, eſpecially in the hiphil conjugation. And we
find that the ſerpent, not God, had promiſed her ſuch an improve-
ment; for he had informed her that by eating of it they ſhould be
made equal to God, ſhould ſhake off his authority, and be delivered
from the Navery of having him to inſpect their actions.
The
An Eſay on Virtue
279
life reſtored to us by our redemption is the ſame,
which was loſt by the fall; and that the life,
and in this rendering of the pafiage there feems ממֶנוּ לָדַעַת טוֹב וָרָע
The third objection is raiſed from what God ſays after they had
eaten; the man is become as one of us to know good and evil ing?
ſeems
to be an intimation that the fruit had made them equal to God by
giving them knowledge of good and evil, which they had not before.
But the words might have been rendered; the man is become as one of
us, as to the teſt of good and evil, as to the mark of diſcerning whether he
would behave well or ill, whether he would obey or diſobey our com-
mands. For thus the ſame ſenſe is given to the word nyy that it had
been uſed in all along: and the particle 5 does not ſignify only to but
as to (quod attinet ad) thus 1. Sam, C. IX. V. 20. 0179877 ning
and as for the aſſes that were loft: Pfalm XVII. V. 4. Syn niya
concerning the works of men. But how were they become as gods
po 1989 not in nature and condition, not in immortality and
happineſs; for their immortality, which was the gift of God, was ſo
far from being aſcertained to them by what they had done, that
they were immediately deprived of it, and, inſtead of having made
their condition happier, they found themſelves weak and helpleſs,
and were foon after condemned to labour and ſorrow. But to be
Obra is to be fo equal to God, as not to own his authority; it is
to ſet themſelves upon a level with him : and this they did by throw-
ing off his government, and by refuſing ſubmiſſion to his commands.
Thus we find the particle ) uſed for equality in ſtate and dignity
Ruth c. II. v. 13. 7anaw nng yg sy oup though I be not
like unto one of thy handmaids : the Lxx tranſlate in this paffage by
the particle wse and ws in the language of St. Matthew is uſed exactly
in this fenfe, εκ έσι μαθητής υπέρ τον διδάσκαλον, έδε δέλος υπέρ τον κύριου
αυτή αρκετών το μαθητή ένα γένηαι ως και διδάσκαλος αυτά, και ο δελος ως
xúquos auric. X. v. 24. the diſciple is not above his maſter nor the fer-
vant above his lord; it is enougb
for the diſciple that he be as his maſter
and the ſervant as his lord. And thus we may conclude the ſenſe of
the words, which were the ground of this third objection, to be;
the man, as to this teſt of his obedience, has ſhaken off our authority, has
made himſelf our equal, that is, has acted as if he was fo, by refuſing to
fubmit to our commands.
which
280 An Eſay on Virtue.
!
Rom. vi.
V.23
Rom, v.
V. I2.
V. 23. 24.
which our redeemer has procured for us, the life,
which God has given us through Jeſus Chriſt is
eternal life. The fame Apoſtle ſays in another
place that by one man fin entered into the world
and death by fin: and if theſe words are not clear
enough, we may uſe thoſe of the Apocryphal
Wiſdom 11. Solomon as a comment upon them; God created
man to be immortal and made him to be an image
of his own eternity ; nevertheleſs through envy of
the devil came death into the world, and they, that
do hold on his fide do find it.
But man by the fall did not only forfeit his
title to immortality; he loſt poſſeſſion too of his
true happineſs, and was condemned to labour and
forrow, to pain and infirmity; he was to continue
in being only for a little time, and was not to be
happy, whilft he did continue. The fatal ſentence
paſſed upon him was; curſed is the ground for
thy fake, in forrow ſhalt thou eat of it all the days
of thy life: thorns alſo and thiſtles ſhall it bring
forth to thee; and thou ſhalt eat the herb of the
field : in the ſweat of thy face ſhalt thou eat bread,
till thou return unto the ground; for out of it waſt
thou taken, for duft thou art and unto duft ſhalt
thou return. There were doubtleſs many other
misfortunes, which attended the fall, and which
Adam entailed upon his poſterity; but theſe are
all that come within the compaſs of my deſign:
for this part of the curſe removed all true happi-
nefs
Gen. III.
V.17.
An Eſay on Virtue. 281
1
neſs, the ultimate end, which reaſon and nature
teach us to purſue, far out of ſight, and left us
uncertain what it is, and where we are to look for
it; and by this the practice of virtue became pre-
carious and was made to depend upon confined
and unſteady motives.
If virtue was, from the very nature of it, from
it's own beauty and excellence, the ultimate end
of man, the only purſuit worth engaging in, and
what reaſon teaches us to make every thing elſe
ſubſervient to; then virtue itſelf ſuffered no damage
by the fall, and man ſuffered but little. For though
we became mortal and unhappy, yet virtue ſtill
retained the ſame charms that it had before ; and
we loſt nothing, that was of any conſequence:
ſince, as long as it is in our power to be virtuous,
we are in poſſeſſion of whatever upon theſe prin-
ciples is at all deſireable. So inconſiſtent is this
ſcheme of morality with the Mofaic hiſtory of
man's origin and fall ; ſo vain, if it was true,
would be the penalty inflicted upon man for his
diſobedience! The haughty Stoic would have
ſmiled at the empty threats of his Creator, and
would in his own heart have triumphed at the
thoughts of loſing nothing, which he cared for.
What is it to him, that his life is to be full of pain
and ſorrow, bwho does not deſire any thing but
Atque fi in virtute fatis eft praeſidî ad bene vivendum, ſatis eſt
etiam ad beate, Satis eft enim certe in virtute, ut fortiter vivamus:
•
A
i
b
i
Nn
282 An Esſay on Virtue.
virtue? what is it to him, that he is to become
mortal, to whom there is no difference between
a day of virtue and an eternity of it? But it is
in vain to urge the Moſaic hiſtory of the fall and
it's conſequences againſt this independent prin-
ciple of virtue: the antient Stoies were unacquaint-
ed with that hiſtory, and the modern ones are
not very ready to ſubmit to it's authority.
Others however there are, who have ſtudied
human nature, and have obſerved upon it enough
to fee, that to be happy is the end, which reaſon
and nature teach us to purſue, and that virtue is not
fufficient of itſelf to obtain this end. They under-
ſtand too, that in the fcripture account, which,
as they themſelves are ready to maintain, had
God for it's author, man is repreſented as having
loft ſome conſiderable advantages, that his Creator
had originally put him in poffeffion of. But then
they are pleaſed with the magnificent language
of the Stoical ſchool and would be glad to recon-
cile the ſyſtem of morality, which is taught there,
with the Chriſtian doctrines. To do this, they
maintain that the fitneſs of the thing itſelf, the
ſi fortiter, etiam ut magno anino, et quidem ut nulla re unquam
terreamur; femperque fimus invicti: fequitur, ut nihil poeniteat, nihil
deſit, nihil obftet: ergo omnia profluenter, abfolute, proſpere. Cic.
Tuſc. diſ. 5. 18.
“ Λέγεσιν οι Στωικοί ότι αγαθών χρόνος έκ άυξει προσγινόμενος, αλλα
καν ακαρές τι ώρας γέναι φρόνιμος, αδενί προς ευδαιμονίαν απολειφθήσεται
τε τον αιώνα χρωμένε τη αρετή και μακαρίως εν αυτή, καλαβιδωτος. Ρlut.
adverf, Stoic. 1061. F.
recti-
ܙ ܐ
An Ejay on Virtue.
283
rectitude of virtue and it's intrinſic excellence are
the proper and natural cauſes, which oblige to the
practice of it: but man, they ſay, is now in a de-
praved and corrupted ſtate, and may be virtuous
without being happy: therefore ſince as a fenſible
creature natural good is his end, but virtue as he is
a rational one; it is, in his preſent circumſtances,
become neceſſary to call in the aid of promiſes of
happineſs to ſupport him in the practice of what
is right: for otherwiſe ſenſe, which in his former
condition was always ſatisfied and had nothing
to care for, might, now he is fallen from thence,
and has wants which he felt not before, be too
ſtrong for his reaſon; adverſity and great miſery,
if there was no future recompence, might make
him deaf to the dictates of his own mind. But,
as far as we can depend upon the ſcripture hiſtory
of man, happineſs was as much an end of action,
and an ultimate end too, in the ſtate of innocence
as it is now; only then he was in poſſeſſion and
now he is in purſuit of it. And is happineſs leſs
defireable, when we have it, than when we have
it not? is it lefs a motive to virtue, when without
virtue we cannot keep it, than it is, when without
virtue we cannot obtain it? There is indeed this
difference between the condition of man before
and ſince the fall; that he was then ſure of being
happy, as long as he continued obedient to God;
but now he finds, that he may be miſerable for
Nn2
the
284 An Eſay on Virtue.
the preſent, even whilſt he is engaged in doing
what God requires. But, notwithſtanding this diffe-
rence, happineſs was then as much a poſitive fan-
&tion as it is now: God then promiſed that, if he
was obedient, he ſhould continue happy and im-
mortal; and now He promiſes, upon the ſame
conditions, to make him fo hereafter. In the ſtate
of innocence theſe ſanctions took place imme-
diately; in the preſent circumſtances of mankind
the execution of them is ſuſpended.
: It is not therefore any thing peculiar to man
ſince the fall, which has made it neceffary to
promiſe, that the virtuous ſhall be happy. For we
find this promiſe was by God himſelf thought
neceſſary to be made before, and was as much
the ſupport of virtue, nay more fo, in paradiſe
than it is amidſt all the ill conſequences of being
driven out from thence : becauſe happineſs, that
we enjoy, will be more effectual in making us
fond of that virtue, which ſecures the enjoyment
of it, than any, that is at a diſtance and is to be
hoped for only in a life after this: and thoſe
threatnings of miſery, which are to be executed
immediately upon the vicious, will operate more
ſtrongly to diſcourage us from the practice of
what is forbidden, than thoſe can do, which are
far removed, and will not hurt us till after death.
It may here be objected, that man was to loſe
the happineſs, that he was poſſeſſed of before the
fall,
A
}
An Elay on Virtue. 28:5
fall, not by forſaking virtue, but by diſobeying
a poſitive command of God; and that, if he had
been obedient to this command, virtue would
have wanted no foreign ſanctions to ſupport it:
for, as long as man continued in his original in-
nocence, virtue was ſelf-eligible and ſelf-ſufficient,
and to be virtuous was to be happy. But had
virtue been the happineſs of man before the fall,
would not it have been ſo ſtill? or has the na-
ture of man been fo altered, that, what was agree-
able to it, whilſt he continued obedient to God's
command, has ceaſed to be fo fince his tranſgref-
fion? To ſay that man's happineſs ſtill conſiſts
in virtue, has been ſhewn to be contrary to the See pag: 217a
experience and general conſent of mankind: and
to ſay that it once conſiſted in it, though it does
not now, will be of little ſervice to the cauſe of
thoſe moraliſts, who would have diſintereſted
principles be thought the only proper ones to pra-
étiſe virtue upon: for this is the fame as endea-
vouring to perſuade us that we ought to purſue
virtue for it's own fake in our preſent condition,
now it is not happineſs; becauſe in the ſtate of
innocence, when it was happineſs, there was no
occaſion for any rewards to recommend it.
But what if man loſt his happineſs, not by part-
ing with his virtue, but by tranſgreſſing a poſitive
command? is this any reaſon for concluding that;
before the fall, to be happy and to be virtuous were
the
:
286 An Eſſay on Virtue.
.
the ſame thing? it ſeems rather to prove the di-
rect contrary; ſince, if his happineſs, before he dif-
obeyed that command, conſiſted in being virtu-
ous; as diſobeying that command would have
left him in poffeffion of his virtue, it is impoſſible
it ſhould have deprived him of his happineſs. Or
if nothing but his obedience kept the virtuous man
happy, if by eating the forbidden frụit he would
become, notwithſtanding his virtue, ſubject to mi-
ſery, and be in many caſes fo much expoſed to
forrows and afflictions, as not to ſee any reaſon
for perfevering in it; then virtue was no more
eligible in its own nature before the fall than it is
at preſent: it was no more fufficient to ſupport
itſelf without foreign fanétions, when it could not
free it's votaries from calamity without the aſſi-
ſtance of God, which he promiſed them upon the
eaſy condition of not taſting the forbidden fruit,
than it is now it cannot make them happy with-
oụt the ſame aſfittance, which ſince the fall he
has promiſed to give uş upon other conditions.
The inſtructions, which God has given to man-
kind and the promiſes, which he has made them,
have in every period of revelation been fuck as
the conſequences of the fall had made neceffary.
He has taught us where to laok for our happineſs
,
and has encouraged us to be virtuous upon fuch
motives as are ſteady and conſtant in every cir-
cumſtance and condition of life, and upon ſuch
as
An Elay on Virtue. 287
as will extend our virtue alike to every part of our
ſpecies. We were left, by the ſentence paffed up-
on us, to provide for ourſelves, as well as we could,
by our own care and diligence, whilſt we ſhould
continue here; and were, as far as appeared, to
hope for nothing farther after death. The conſti-
tution of things did indeed continue fuch as
would make the practice of virtue: a likely means
to ſecure the little portion of happineſs, that is to
be abtained in this world: but; that God would
make amends in another life to thoſe, who ſuf-
fered for it in this, or that they, who neglected
to obſerve it, would ſuffer any thing beſides the
preſent inconveniencies, to which vice expoſes us,
did not ſufficiently appear. And thus in many
inſtances the reaſons for being virtuous would have
failed:; if God had not reſtored the hopes of im-
mortality, and with them the expectations of be-
ing made happy ourſelves in a world to come,
for our endeavours to make others fo in this.
Some hopes of this fort were ſuggeſted imme-
diately after the fall, and our firſt parents had
the comfort of hearing the curſe, which attended
their diſobedience, in part removed even before
it was denounced. The ſerpent was the firſt con-
demned; and in his ſentence they had hopes gi-
ven them of recovering one day. what they had
loſt then. The Lord God ſaid unto the ſerpent, be- Gen. III.
cauſe thou haſt done this, thou art curſed above all v. 14.
cat-
288 An Elay on Virtue.
tent of
cattle and above every beaſt of the field, upon thy
belly ſhalt thou go and dujt Malt thou eat all the
days of thy life': and I will put enmity between
thee and the woman and between thy feed and
her ſeed, it ſhall bruiſe thy head and thou ſhalt
bruiſe his heel. I ſhall give the reader an account
of this whole tranſaction and explain the ſenſe of
this promiſe in the words of a very judicious and
Sherlock's truly learned writer. “Our firſt parents were now
uſe and in- « in a ſtate of fin ſtanding before God to receive
phecy. p. 68.66 ſentence for their diſobedience and had reaſon
« to expect a full execution of the penalty threat-
« ned, in the day thou eateſt thereof, thou ſhalt
“ ſurely die: bụt God came in mercy as well as
judgment, purpoſing not only to puniſh, but
« to reſtore man: the judgment is awful and ſe-
“ vere; the woman is doomed to forrow in con-
56 ception, the man to forrow and travel all the
« days of his life; the ground is curfed for his
« fake; and the end of the judgment is, duft thou
« art and to duft. fhalt thou return: had they
« been left thus, they might have continued in
ss their labour and forrow for their appointed time,
«« and at laſt have returned to duſt without any
well-grounded hope or confidence in God: they
« muſt have looked upon themſelves as rejected
by their Maker, delivered up to trouble and
« fórrow in this world, and as having no hope in
any other. Upon this foot; I conceive there
" could
An Elay on Virtue. 289
!
« could have been no religion in the world; for
« a ſenſe of religion without hope is a ſtate of
« phrenzy and diſtraction, void of all induce-
« ments to love and obedience, or any thing elſe,
« that is praiſe-worthy. If therefore God intend-
« ed to preſerve them as objects of mercy, it was
« abſolutely neceſſary to communicate ſo much
“ hope to them as might be a rational foundation
« for their future endeavours to reconcile them-
« ſelves to him by a better obedience. This ſeems
si to be the meaning of the firſt divine prophecy,
« I will put enmity between thee and the woman, Gen. c. III.
« and between thy ſeed and her ſeed; it ſhall bruiſev. 15.
thy head, and thou ſhalt bruiſe his heel; and
« this was abſolutely neceſſary to the ſtate of the
« world, and the condition of religion, which
“ could not poſſibly have been ſupported with-
« out the communication of ſuch hopes. The
« prophecy is excellently adapted to this purpoſe,
« and manifeſtly conveyed ſuch hopes to our firſt
“ parents. For let us conſider in what ſenſe we may
« ſuppoſe them to underſtand this prophecy. Now
«c they muſt neceſſarily underſtand the prophecy
“ either according to the literal meaning of the
« words; or according to ſuch meaning as the
a whole circumſtance of the tranſaction, of which
« they are a part, does require. If we ſuppoſe them
u to underſtand the words literally, and that God
u meant them fo to be underſtood, this paſſage
" muſt
1
Oo
290 An Elay on Virtue.
1
!
« muſt appear abſolutely ridiculous. Do but ima-
“ gine that you ſee God coming to judge the of-
« fenders; Adam and Eve before himn in the ut-
« moſt diſtreſs; that you hear God inflicting pains
as and forrows and miſery and death upon the
« firſt of human race; and that in the midſt of all
« this ſcene of woe and great calamity, you hear
« God foretelling with great folemnity a very tri-
« vial accident, that ſhould ſometimes happen in
« the world: that ferpents would be apt to bite
“ men by the heels, and that men would be apt
« to revenge themſelves by ſtriking them on the
« head. In the name of God what has this trifle
« to do with the loſs of mankind, with the cor-
« ruption of the natural and moral world, and
« the ruin of all the glory and happineſs of the
« creation? great comfort it was to Adam, doubt-
« leſs, after telling him that his days ſhould be
« ſhort and full of miſery, and his end without
hope, to let him know, that he ſhould now and
« then knock a ſnake on the head, but not even
« that, without paying dear for his victory, for
“ the ſnake ſhould often bite him by the heel.
« Adam, ſurely, could not underſtand the pro-
« phecy in this fenſe, though ſome of his ſons have
« ſo underſtood it; a plain indication how much
« more fome men are concerned to maintain a
« literal interpretation of Scripture, than they are
" to make it ſpeak common ſenſe. Leaving this
« there-
An Eſay on Virtue.
291
6 therefore as abſolutely abſurd, and ridiculous,
« let us conſider what meaning the circumſtances
« of the tranſaction do neceſſarily fix to the words
“ of this prophecy. Adam tempted by his wife,
« and ſhe by the ſerpent, had fallen from their
obedience, and were now in the preſence of
« God expecting judgment. They knew full well
at this juncture, that their fall was the victory
“ of the ſerpent, whom by experience they found
« to be an enemy to God and to man; to man,
<< whom he had ruined by ſeducing him to fin;
" to God, the nobleſt work of whoſe creation he
<< had defaced. It could not therefore but be ſome
« comfort to them to hear the ſerpent firſt con-
« demned, and to ſee that, however he had pre-
“ vailed againſt them, he had gained no victory
« over their maker; who was able to affert his
« own honour, and to puniſh this great author of
iniquity. By this method of God's proceeding
“ they were ſecured from thinking that there was
« any evil being equal to the creator in power and
« dominion: an opinion, which gained ground
« in after-times through the prevalency of evil:
« and is, where it does prevail, deſtructive of all
“ true religion. The condemnation therefore of
“ the ſerpent was the maintenance of God's fu-
premacy; and that it was ſo underſtood, we
« have, if I miſtake not, a very ancient teſtimony
« in the book of Job: with God is ſtrength and Job c. xita
wif"
V.IÓ,
0 0 2
66
292 An Eſay on Virtue.
wiſdom, the deceived and the deceiver are his,
“ that is, equally ſubject to his command. The
“ belief of God's ſupreme dominion, which is the
« foundation of all religion, being thus preſerved,
« it was ſtill neceſſary to give them ſuch hopes
« as might make them capable of religion toward
« God: theſe hopes they could not but conceive;
~ when they heard from the mouth of God, that
“ the ſerpent's victory was not a compleat victory
“ even over themſelves; that they and their po-
ſterity ſhould be enabled to conteſt his empire;
« and though they were to ſuffer much in the
« ſtruggle, yet finally they ſhould prevail, and
« bruiſe the ſerpent's head, and deliver themſelves
« from his power and dominion over them. What
« now could they conceive this conqueſt over the
« ferpent to mean? is it not natural to expect that
« we ſhall recover that by victory, which we loft
« by being defeated ? they knew that the enemy
« had fübdued them by fin, could they then con-
« ceive hopes of victory otherwiſe than by right-
« eoufneſs? they loſt through ſin the happineſs
“ of their creation, could they expect leſs from
« the return of righteouſneſs than the recovery
« of the bleſſings forfeited ? what elſe but this
“ could they expect? for the certain knowledge
“ they had of their loſs when the ſerpent prevail-
“ ed, could not but lead them to a clear know-
« ledge
An Eſay on Virtue
263
1
ledge of what they ſhould regain by prevailing
“ againſt the ſerpent.
But if this is the ſenſe in which the prophecy
muſt be underſtood, if it gave them reaſon to ex-
pect, that in their future victory over the ſerpent
they ſhould recover all, that they had loſt in his
victory over them; then there was good ground
to hope that their immortality would ſome time
or other be reſtored to them. If from the ſentence
pafſed upon the ſerpent it appeared, that they
ſhould be reinſtated in the happineſs, from which
they fell; and from the ſentence paſſed upon them-
felves, that they were doomed to labour and for-
row in this life, they muſt conclude that there
would be another.
From hence we may obferve, by the way, that Warburton
V.2. p. 449.
when Mofes in the hiſtory of the fall omits tak-
ing notice of the devil, who was the agent in this
affair, and always mentions the ſerpent inſtead of
him, who was only the inſtrument of that agent;
whatever reaſon he might have for this, it could
not be owing to any ſpecial deſign of concealing
the knowledge of a future ſtate from the Iſraelites,
for whoſe more immediate uſe this hiſtory was
intended. For if the notice of an evil ſpirit, who
oppoſes himſelf to God and endeavours to ſeduce
mankind from their obedience to him, was what
might have led them to the doctrine of a life to
come; then certainly the deſign of keeping this
doctrine
294 An Eſay on Virtue.
Deuter.
16.17
doctrine a ſecret was not the caufe of this omif-
ſion: fince, though Moſes does not ſpeak of him
in the hiſtory of the fall
, yet he mentions him
expreſsly, and repreſents him as the patron, if not
as the author, of idolatry, in deſcribing the defec-
tion of the Iſraelites from the true God: but Je-
XXXII. v. 15. Jhurun waxed fat and kicked: thou art waxen fat,
thou art grown thick, thou art covered with fat-
neſs: then he forfook God, which made him, and
lightly eſteemed the rock of his ſalvation: they pro-
voked him to jealouſy with ſtrange gods, with abo-
minations provoked they him to anger, they ſacri-
ficed unto a devils not to God. Perhaps it may
be
thought that, not the knowledge of ſuch an evil
ſpirit, but of his being the principal agent in the
fall, was what Mofes apprehended might lead the
Ifraelites to the hopes of a life after this; and
therefore, from a deſign of giving no ſort of en-
couragement to theſe hopes, he purpoſely omits
to mention that agency, which was ſo cloſely
connected with the ſpiritual effects of the fall
the work of redemption and the doctrine of a
future ſtate. But why ſhould he be ſo ſtudious to
* The word here tranſlated to devils is beginning which is uſed
in the ſame ſenſe Pl. cv.v.35, and is tranſlated by the Lxx in
both places diariovioss. To one of theſe paſſages St. Paul evidently
alludes when he tells the Corinthians 1 Ep. c. x. V. 20. à Júe ta
έθνη, δαιμονίοις θύει, και 8 Θεώ. So that if δαιμόνιον fignifes a fpirit at
all, it certainly here ſignifies an evil one, that does harm and op-
poſes itſelf to God; as the literal meaning of the Hebrew word,
and
An Eſay on Virtue.
295
conceal what was connected with the ſpiritual
effects of the fall, and yet mention the effects
themſelves; in the day thou eateſt of it thou ſhalt
ſurely die; duſt thou art and to duſt ſhalt thou
return? or why ſhould he omit what might
bring them accquainted with the work of redemp-
tion, and yet point out to them that very work in
relating the ſentence paſſed upon the ſerpent;
the feed of the woman ſhall bruiſe thy head? This
is a more direct notice of a future redemption
and of God's deſign to reſtore to mankind eternal
life, than any mention of the devil's agency could
have been. And mentioning the loſs of immorta-
lity, which, if it is not to be called a fpiritual effect
of the fall, has yet as cloſe a connection with the
work of redemption as any effect of it could have,
muſt give them as certain information of that
work, when repreſented to be brought about by
the ſerpent, as if they had known that it was
brought about by the devil himſelf.
In the days of Enos God gave ſome farther
aſſurances of his deſign to reſtore that happineſs
and immorality to mankind, which had been loft
and the oppoſition between the worſhip of that and the worſhip of
God ſufficiently ſhew. That the word sampóvion in the Helleniſtical
language does ſignify an evil ſpirit appears from the apocryphal
book of Tobit, where Aſmodaeus is conſtantly called fo: for though
the book is fabulous, yet the author of a fable would be as likely
to uſe words in their common meaning, as he who writes a true
hiſtory
by
296 An Elay on Virtue.
Gen. iv.
W. 26.
by the fall. The ſacred hiſtory informs us, e that
hopes were at that time given to mankind by calling
them after the name of the Lord; for in this ſenſe
we may underſtand the words which our tranſla-
tors have rendered, then began men to call upon
the name of the Lord. Or if we give them another
ſenſe not very unlike the tranſlation in the margin
of our Engliſh bibles, then it was begun to call
them by the name of the Lord, then they were
firſt called the fons of God; ſome good hope,
though in this latter rendering not expreſſed by
the hiſtorian, would naturally ariſe in thoſe, to
whom this name was given. They, whom God
had called his people, could not but hope, that
he deſigned to be reconciled to them; they, whom
he adopted for his ſons, could not but hope to be
reſtored to the inheritance, which had been loſt :
they muſt underſtand by this title, that they were
taken again into his favour; and then it would
be impoſſible for them to think they were ſtill
•
of our Engliſh bibles, then began men to call upon the name of the
Lord; but in the margin, then beg:an men to call themſelves by the
name of the Lord. The learned Dr. Shuckford tranſlates this paſſage,
then it was begun to call them by the name of the Lord, they were
then firſt catled the ſons of God, Connect. V.1. pag.41. I have follow-
are rendered in the text אָז הוּחַל לִקְרָא בְּשֵׁם יְהוָה The words •
though in one קָרָא בְשֵׁם ed him as to the meaning of the exprefiion
of his inſtances to prove that it ſignifies to call after the name he ſeems
to have miſtaken for 3 Gen. IV. 17. in all the, editions of the
bible, that I have ſeen, the word is bwy not bw but he has
produced inſtances enough without this to make good his conſtruc-
tion;
An Elay on Virtue. 297
1
inevitably doomed to ſuffer the ſevereſt puniſh-
ment, which in his moſt heavy diſpleaſure he had
thought fit to inflict. Calling them his ſons was
not indeed an expreſs grant of the happineſs and
immortality, which God at firſt beſtowed upon
mankind: but however this title was an earneſt,
that he actually was, or at leaſt that he was
willing to be reconciled to them: and it would
be natural for them to believe, that, as their hap-
pineſs and immortality had been taken away, be-
cauſe God was diſpleaſed with them; fo his receiv-
ing them again into favour was an intimation of
his deſign to make them once more happy and
immortal.
The example of Enoch would both confirm the
expectations of another life, which had been raiſed
in thoſe whom God was pleaſed to call after his
own name, and would teach them that the way
to it was by walking with God, or by obeying his
will. Moſes relates the fact in theſe words: Enoch
Gen, v.
V, 240
tion; and his obſervation, that Moſes himſelf calls them the ſons of
God [Gen. c. vi. v.1.] puts it out of all doubt. The word in
I tranſlate a little differently from him; it may be hophal of Smy
as well as of 5% and then it will ſignify it was made to hope. See
Pſalm xxxi. v. 22. Pfalm cxxx, v. 7. The lxx undoubtedly
thought that the radical word was, 57, for they tranſlate it nativº
they only read it Satin inſtead of by which was a very eaſy mif-
take in reading without points. The ſenſe of the whole paſſage in
this conſtruction is, then it was made to hope by calling them after the
name of the Lord; at that time hopes were given to mankind by
calling them the ſons of God.
walked
PP
298 An Eſay on Virtue.
Ecclus.
XLIV. V. 16.
Heb. XI.
V.5.
--
walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.
The account of the ſon of Sirach is thought to be
plainer; Enoch pleaſed the Lord and was tranſlated
being an example of repentance to all generations.
It is impoſſible to miſtake the meaning of the
author to the Hebrews; by faith, ſays he, Enoch
was tranſlated that he ſhould not fee death, and was
not found becauſe God had tranſlated him; for be-
fore his tranſlation he had this teſtimony, that he
pleaſed God; but without faith it is impoſſible to
pleaſe him: for be, that cometh to God, muft be-
lieve, that he is, and that he is a rewarder of themi,
that diligently ſeek him. From comparing theſe
three paſſages together it appears by what means
Enoch pleaſed God; by repentance and obedience,
proceeding upon a perſuaſion that there is a God,
and that He will reward thoſe who endeavour
to obey Him. But what could perſuade Enoch of
this, if mankind had been in the fame hopeleſs
condition, which the curſe of the fall had left
them in? a curſe, which he muſt be well aware
of, as he lived more than three hundred years.
with Adam, who had heard it denounced, who,
from having experienced better days, would be
highly ſenſible of the effects of it, and can there-
fore ſcarce be ſuppoſed to have concealed any
part of this affair from his contemporaries. Could
he, who knew, that he was to eat bread in the
ſweat of his face, that his life was to be a life of
for
!
An Eſay on Virtue.
299
forrow, and that he was condemned to return back
into the duſt from whence he was taken, have any
foretaſte of a reward for his obedience in this life, or
any hopes of being better provided for in another?
Here he could expect no happineſs
, but what his
own labour would procure for him; ſince that only
was the ſmall portion, which his offended Creator
had left him: nor could he have any grounds for
believing that he was to be made happy hereafter;
ſince his immortality, which was at firſt the condi- !
tional gift of God, was upon breach of the con-
ditions forfeited by Adam and by all his poſterity.
And yet Enoch, notwithſtanding he knew this,
believed, that God will reward thoſe, who obey
him: and this faith was the foundation of his ſo
walking with God as to pleaſe him. Had he
therefore any ſuperiour privilege of being happier
in this life than the reſt of his contemporaries
were ? ---This does not appear: nay, from what the
author to the Hebrews ſays, the contrary is evident;
for he f defines faith to be the evidence of things Heb.XI V. I.
* Mr. Warburton (V. II. pag. 578.] in explaining this 11 chapter
to the Hebrews ſays, that the author having defined what he means
by faith proceeds to ſhew it's nature by it's general efficacy: but
without faith it is impoſſible to pleaſe him (God] for be that cometh to
God muſt believe that he is and that he is a rewarder of them that dili-
gently ſeek him. If this had immediately followed the definition
of faith, there could have been no reaſon to doubt of it's being de-
ſigned to ſhew the nature and general efficacy of it: but between the
definition and this paſſage the efficacy of faith is ſhewn by the two
particular inſtances of Abel and Enoch; and after it the author goes
Pp 2
on
300 An Eſay on Virtue.
not ſeen; and therefore Enoch muſt have truſted
in happineſs to come, or otherwiſe it muſt have
been ſomething elſe, and not faith, which was the
foundation of his obedience. Beſides, if Enoch
had been made to truſt in any rewards of virtue
to be received in this life, he ſeems to have been
diſappointed in his expectations; and this example
would have been a very improper one to produce
for the encouragement of thoſe, to whom this
epiſtle is directed. It would have been
have been a very
weak reaſon for not cafting away their confidence
and for running with patience the race, that was
ſet before them, to propoſe to them an inſtance
of one, whoſe faith and obedience had been ſuch
as pleaſed God, and who, notwithſtanding this,
had the ſingular diſadvantage of dying three hun-
dred
years younger than any of his contempora-
ries, that they had heard of. & His faith therefore
was, that God will in a life to come reward thoſe
who diligently ſeek him in this; which faith we
have ſeen he could not have had, unleſs he had
on to particulars again. This makes it very unlikely that the deſign of
the paſſage ſhould be what Mr. Warburton repreſents. But the true
intent of the author' will appear from reading the verſe before it';
where Enoch is affirmed to have been tranſlated by faith, becaufe be-
fore his tranſlation he had a teſtimony given him that he pleaſed God:
and then the author goes on to ſhew the reaſon of this concluſion,
to prove that his pleaſing God was a ſure mark of his having faith,
for
without faith it is impoſſible to pleaſe him; for be that cometh to God
muſt believe, that he is and that he is a rewarder of them, that diligently
--
ſeek him,
Mr.
..
An Eſay on Virtue.
301
.:
received aſſurances that God would take off the
curſe of the fall. The philofophers of the preſent age
may think, that their reaſon teaches them the im-
poſſibility of a virtuous man's being miſerable; and
that it leads them to conclude, if he is ſo in this life,
that he muſt be happy in ſome other. But Enoch
could not make this concluſion; unleſs he would
diſpute againſt matter of fact, and truſt to his own
uncertain reaſonings though oppoſed by the expreſs
declarations of God. The ſanction annexed to God's
prohibition, in the day thou eateſt thou ſhalt ſurely
die, and the ſentence paſſed upon our firſt parents
in conſequence of their diſobedience, duſt thou
art, and unto duſt palt thou return, would have
more weight with him, who received the account
from the very perfon, that it was pronounced upon,
than allthe arguments from an unequal diſtribution
of things either ought to have or could have. We See pag.266.
may conclude therefore, that he had fome notice of 270.
God's gracious intention to remove the ſentence, by
which mankind had been made ſubject to miſery
and death: and, whatever the original of his own
8 Mr. Warburton maintains it to be impoſſible that the author of
the epiſtle to the Hebrews ſhould ſo forget himſelf as to affirm in
this 11th chapter that life and immortality was known and taught
under the law in contradiction to many expreſs declarations, which
he had made in other places. Theſe declarations ſhall be examined
proper place; and in the mean time without affirming what
might be the caſe under the law, I cannot help thinking that the
account of Enoch in this lith chapter plainly ſhews mankind to
have had hopes of immortality before the law..
hope
A
in their
1
302 An EJ ay on Virtue.
hope was, he became an example to all genera-
tions: from his being tranſlated, that he ſhould
not fee death, on account of his pleaſing God,
the reft of mankind, who knew his hiſtory, might
hope by the fame means to be made partakers of
immortality too.
The ſtory of Enoch has indeed been faid to be
told in the book of Genefis in too obſcure a man-
ner for any one to gather from thence that he
was made immortal. Suppoſe it to be ſo; nay,
ſuppoſe for the preſent, that this obſcurity was
affected, with a deſign to prevent the Iſraelites
from making any diſcoveries about a future ſtate;
yet they, who lived at the ſame time with Enoch,
muſt know the fact at leaſt as well as the ſon of
Sirach did, and he ſays, that he was tranſlated.
And the author of the epiſtle to the Hebrews con-
firms the truth of the ſon of Sirach's account, and
acquaints us that by the word tranſlated is meant
that he ſhould not ſee death. So that although ſuch as
had no other account, but what we meet with in the
book of Geneſis, might be uncertain what became
of Enoch; yet they, who were his contemporaries
and were witnefſes to what befell him, had evi-
dence enough for expecting a life after this;
where they who behave agreeably to the will of
Examin. of God here, fhall receive their reward. And if we
Mr. W's. conſider that the author of the book of Ecclefi-
aſticus knew the meaning of Moſes, when he ſays,
that
2d prop. pag.
19.
An Elay on Virtue. 303
that Enoch was not, for God took him; perhaps
it may not appear neceſſary to grant what was
ſuppoſed juſt above, that this ſtory is told with
fuch obſcurity, as if the writer had purpoſely de-
ſigned to hide the truth of the fact. It is ſuch
an obſcurity as we perceive might be ſeen through;
ſince whether tradition had delivered down the
true meaning to him, or he had diſcovered it by
his own fagacity, the ſame tradition, or as good
and penetrating a ſagacity would have cleared up
this moſt remarkable event long before his time,
and would have brought the Iſraelites acquainted
with a future ſtate.
After the flood God made a covenant with
Abraham, the purport of which will be worth
conſidering. The firſt notice that God gave of Gen. XII.
himſelf to this Patriarch was by calling him from xv. v.1:.
“his own.country and family with a promiſe that XVII.62;
« He would make of him a great nation, would 12.13
« bleſs him, would make his name great and he
« ſhould be a bleſſing; that He would bleſs thoſe,
« who ſhould bleſs him and curſe thoſe, who
« ſhould curſe him ; and that in him all the
« families of the earth ſhould be bleſſed. At an-
6 other time God affures him that He is his ſhield
« and his exceeding great reward. And when he
“ was ninety and nine years old, He appeared to
« him again and faid to him, I am the almighty
«. God,
I.
2.4. 6. 7. 8.
304 An Elay on Virtue.
“ God, walk before me and be thou perfect: and
" I will make my covenant between me and thee,
“ and will multiply thee exceedingly: and behold
my covenant is with thee and thou ſhalt be a
“ father of many nations: I will make thee ex-
“ ceeding fruitful and will make nations of thee
« and kings ſhall come out of thee and I will
« eſtabliſh my covenant between me and thee
" and thy feed after thee in their generations, for
“an everlaſting covenant to be a God to thee
« and to thy feed after thee: and I will give unto
“ thee and to thy feed after thee the land wherein
“ thou art a ſtranger, all the land of Canaan for
“ an everlaſting poſſeſſion, and I will be their God.
« Circumciſion was made the ſign of this cove-
« nant and all the males, that were or ſhould be
« in his family, all, that were born in his houſe,
« and all, that were bought with money of the
“ ſtranger, which was not of his feed, were com-
« manded to be circumciſed. This covenant was
Gen. XXVII.
« renewed with Iſaac ; and was by him and by
« God himſelf tranſmitted to Jacob.
The circumſtances and the event of the cove-
nant were ſuch as would direct the Patriarchs to
refer ſome part of theſe promiſes to a future life.
If the promiſes, which God made to Abraham,
had related only to temporal bleſſings; they muſt
be underſtood either of the conveniencies and
Gen. XXVI.
V.3.4.
v. 29.
Sherlock on
prophecy
pag. 132.
Gen. XXVIII,
V. 14.
com-
An Elay on Virtue. 305
comforts of this life and an advantagious ſettle-
ment in general; or elſe of that ſettlement in par-
ticular and thoſe ſpecial bleſſings, which God de-
ſigned to beſtow upon his family in the land of
Canaan. Abraham could not but ſee that, accord-
ing to the promiſes of God, he ſhould leave behind
him a flouriſhing and happy poſterity: he was
to be made exceeding fruitful; nations and kings
were to come out of him. But then it was full
as obvious, that this was not the whole of what
God intended to give him. At the time of mak-Gen. XVII.
ing the covenant he had no child but Iſhmael;
and God promiſed, that he ſhould have a fon by
his wife Sarah. Abraham's fondneſs for him that
was born already made him unwilling to have
the bleſſings, which his offspring was to enjoy,
confined to one, that he could not have the ſame
fondneſs for, as not being yet born. The faith-
ful Patriarch might indeed be as fully affured,
that he ſhould have a ſon by Sarah, as he was,
that he then had one by Hagar; but the ten-
der father could not help being fonder of a child,
which had grown up under his care, than of one,
which had never yet had any opportunities of
gaining upon his affection. Though he ſtaggered R . Iv.
not at the promiſe of God through unbelief, but was
ſtrong in faith giving glory to God; yet he could
not forbear offering up a ſhort and modeſt peti-
tion for his preſent favourite; O tbat Iſhmael might
Qq
live
V. 20.
306
An Eſay on Virtue.
live before thee! God was pleaſed to grant his re-
queſt and to anſwer, as for Iſhmael I have heard
thee; behold I have bleſſed him, and will make him
fruitful, and will multiply him exceedingly: twelve
princes ſhall be beget, and I will make him a great
nation : and then farther adds, but my covenant
will I eſtabliſh with Iſaac, whom Sarah ſhall bear
unto thee.
When Abraham faw this diſtinction made be-
tween his fons, when he heard God himſelf pro-
miſe as great temporal bleſſings to Iſhmael as he
did to Iſaac, and yet found at the ſame time that
the bleſſings of the covenant were limited to the
latter; this was enough to inform him, that God,
by engaging to be his God, to be his ſhield and his
exceeding great reward, and by promiſing, that
all the families of the earth ſhould be bleſſed in him,
deſigned fomething more than to make the gene-
ral proſperity of his family in this world ſo ex-
ceeding great, as to give occaſion in time to come
for thoſe, who would wiſh the greateſt good to
ſuch as they loved beſt, to bleſs them in this form,
God make thee as Abraham. There muſt have
been ſomething more than this in the covenant,
which was reſtrained to Iſaac; fomething, that
would carry the thoughts of the Patriarch forward
into a world to come: for in the greateſt favours,
which heaven beſtows in this life, there was no-
thing peculiar to the family of Ifaac, in which
the
An Eſſay on Virtue.
307
the poſterity of Iſhmael were not made equal to
his; except only in the particular grant of the land
of Canaan.
But as the bleſſing of Abraham could not con-
fiſt in any other temporal happineſs, becauſe all
other ſorts of it would be too general; ſo neither
could it conſiſt in the inheritance of Canaan, be-
cauſe this was too reſtrained. A promiſe, which
was at the time of making it confined to the de-
ſcendants of Iſaac and Jacob only, could not be
ſatisfied by beſtowing upon them the ordinary
good things of this life, in which Iſhmael and
Eſau had, by the immediate appointment of God,
as large a ſhare as they had. Nor could the
pro-
miſed bleſſing mean the inheritance of the fand
of Canaan, for this was of neceffity for ever con-
fined to the choſen race; whereas that bleſſing
was in proceſs of time to diffuſe itſelf univerſally,
and to take in all mankind; for in Abraham and
in his feed all the families of the earth were to be
bleffed.
It may not be amiſs to conſider in what ſenſe Sherlock on
it
prophecy,
the promiſe of God to Abraham, in thee, or as
is in another place, in thy ſeed, ſhall all the fami-Gen XXII
.
lies of the earth be bleſſed, is to be underſtood: and
though the ſtreſs of the argument does not de-
pend upon this, yet it will be of ſome uſe to prove,
that the Apoſtles explained it of a bleſſing to be
derived from Abraham upon all mankind, becauſe
Qq2
this
pag. 124.
308 An Eſay on Virtue.
Acts III.
V. 25. 26.
this will make it probable that the Patriarch him-
ſelf underſtood it ſo too. St. Peter tells the Jews,
that they were the children of the prophets and of the
covenant, which God made with their fathers, Jay-
ing unto Abraham, and in thy ſeed Mall all the
kindreds of the earth be bleſſed. What follows will
make it very clear how the Apoſtle underſtood
this bleſſing; unto you firſt God having raiſed up
his fon Jeſus ſent bim to bleſs you in turning away
every one of you from his iniquities. God had
promiſed that all the kindreds of the earth ſhould
be bleſſed in Abraham's ſeed; and if he entered
upon the completion of this promiſe by ſending
his fon Jeſus to bleſs them firft, then bleſfing all
the nations of the earth in the feed of Abraham
muſt mean, that this Jeſus the ſon of Abraham
fhould bleſs all the nations of the earth in the
ſame manner, as he had begun to bleſs thoſe, who
were the children of that covenant, by which the
bleſſing was promiſed.
But ſure St. Peter himſelf cannot be ſuppoſed
better acquainted with the true ſenſe of this
pro-
miſe than Abraham was, to whom it was made:
if the Apoſtle faw, that it contained a future bleſs-
ing to be conveyed by the ſeed of Abraham to all
mankind, the Patriarch muſt ſee it too. And, as
the family of Ifaac was to bear the name of his
feed, and not that of Iſhmael, it could not but be
clear to him, that this univerſal bleſſing was the
fpecial
1
An Elay on Virtue. 309
{pecial matter of God's covenant with him ; of
that part of it however, which was reſtrained to
Ifaac, excluſively of his brother Iſhmael.–St.Paul
informs us what the univerſal bleſſing is: it is Gal. III. V. 14
that, which through Jeſus Chriſt is come on the
Gentiles: and as this is the bleſſing of a future
life, Abraham had theſe hopes to encourage his
obedience and to ſupport his virtue.
How indeed could the Patriarch reconcile the
promiſes, which God had made to him, with the
event, unleſs he had been acquainted with a life
after this? God promiſed to bleſs him, to be his
God, and to give the land of Canaan to him and
to his ſeed. That part of the promiſe, which re-Warburton
lates to giving him the land of Canaan, might be V. II. p. 561-
ſatisfied, and Abraham might be aware that it
was ſo, if the family was put in poſſeſſion of this
land, when they were numerous enough to occu-
py and defend it. He might know that, where a
grant of any thing is made to a body of men col-
lectively, no laws of compact ever underſtand the
performance to confift in putting every individual
in poſſeſſion. But then the other parts of the pro-
miſe, thoſe, which related immediately to him-
felf, were not made good by what his poſterity
enjoyed: to be his God, to be his field and his ex-
ceeding great reward muſt ſignify bleſſings, that
he himſelf was to be put in poſſeſſion of; and he
muſt be at a loſs to know what thoſe bleſſings
could
310 An Elay on Virtue.
could be, if he had been unacquainted with the
hopes of another life. He was called away from
his kindred and from his father's houſe; and was
made to wander as a ſtranger in the land that was
Heb. XI. V. 9. given to his family; he ſojourned in the land of pro-
miſe as in a ſtrange country, dwelling in taberna-
cles with Iſaac and Jacob the heirs with bim of the
Jame promiſe. By this he might underſtand, that the
bleſſing promiſed to himſelf was not to conſiſt in
the poſſeſſion of the land of Canaan: and the ex-
perience of his whole life would teach him, that, in
every inſtance of temporal profperity, others were
in as good a condition as he was. Lot his brother's
ſon was as wealthy and lived as happily as he did;
for amidſt all his affluence, there were unfortu-
nate incidents enough to diſtreſs him, and to pre-
vent him from enjoying the fortunes, which God
Gen. XII.v. had given him. Soon after he was come into the
18:11.12.17. land of Canaan, a famine obliged him to go into
Egypt: this journey, we may be ſure, was under-
taken much againſt his inclinations, and was at-
tended with much hazard and uneaſineſs from
the apprehenſions, which the ſacred hiſtorian in-
forms us he was under, of loſing his wife and of
being murdered himſelf upon her account. The
providence of God did indeed interpoſe in his fa-
vour; but ſuch an interpoſition was not what
Abraham relied upon either then, or afterwards
at Gerar, where he made uſe of the ſame ſtrata-
gem
XX, V, 1.2.
..
An Efay on Virtue. 311
gem again, of ſaying ſhe was his fifter, to preſerve
his life. But if the bleſſings, which the Patriarch
expected through faith in God's promiſes, had been
thoſe of temporal felicity, he might have been
ſure thoſe bleſſings would never fail
, as long as he
walked before God in perfectneſs and integrity.
He would have been as little ſolicitous about go-
ing into Egypt, had God promiſed to ſecure to
him, by His eſpecial care, the happineſs of this
world, as he was about leaving his father and all
his relations, to go into a country where he was a
ſtranger, when God commanded him to go. And
if the immediate guardianſhip of heaven, to pro-
tect him in all his ways and to make his whole life
proſperous, had been what God by his promiſes
directed him to rely upon; he would very
ill have
deſerved the title of the father of the faithful,
when after one ſignal interpoſition of providence to
reſcue him and his wife out of the hands of Pha-
raoh, he again, inſtead of truſting to the fame fa-
vour of heaven, ſaid, that Sarah was his ſiſter, for
fear of Abimelech. The uneaſineſſes in his fami-
ly, the quarrels between Hagar and Sarah, which
ended at laſt in his being forced to part with his
fon Iſhmael, were doubtleſs conſiderable abate-
ments of his happineſs, too great to have hap-
pened to the friend of God, if no advantages but
thoſe of the preſent life were to be expected from
this friendſhip.
Jacob
+
312 An Eſſay on Virtue.
Deuter.XXVI.
V. 5:
Gen XXXI.
v. 36. &c.
XXX. V. 1. 2.
,
Jacob was heir to the promiſes of Abraham ;
but ſure his inheritance was not that of earthly
Gen. xxvII. felicity. The fear of being killed by his brother
XXXII. v.7. Eſau; the mean condition, in which his father
XXXII
. v. io, diſmiſſed him, to make his own fortune amongſt
his relations; his ſervitude with Laban, and the
cruel treatment that he met with from him ;
XXXV.v. 18. the long barrenneſs of his favourite wife, and the
Gen.XXXVII. early loſs of her; the bad behaviour of his chil-
XXXIV. v. 2. dren; the debauching of his daughter; and a-
XXXVII.v.35. bove all, the loſs of Joſeph; were ſufficient reaſons
XLVII.v.9. for him to complain as he did to Pharaoh, that
his days had been few and evil
.
Certain it is, that God had increaſed the ſub-
ſtance of the Patriarch, that he had given him,
according to the bleſſing of Ifaac, of the dew of
heaven and the fatneſs of the earth, and plenty of
corn and wine: but then there was affliction
enough attending theſe favours to teach him not
to look upon them as the only enjoyments de-
figned for him. This he muſt have underſtood
very early, from comparing the bleſſing beſtowed
upon himſelf with that, which was given to Efau.
Sherlock on With the dominion over his brethren he received
the peculiar bleſſing of the family, which, it was
evident, could not conſiſt in temporal felicity, be-
cauſe in this Efau was made equal to him. And if
Jacob had not drawn this concluſion, if he had
been made to truſt in nothing but the good things
of
prophecy
pag. 132.
G
An Eſay on Virtue 313
of this world, nor had conceived that by the pro-
miſe of God made to his family a better life was
to be expected; either God failed in his promiſe
by giving Jacob reaſon to complain as he did;
or elſe the Patriarch failed in his faith and piety
by making ſuch a complaint without reaſon.
Since therefore Abraham and his immediate de-
ſcendants had bleſſings promiſed to them by God,
which He did not beſtow upon them in this life,
and which they do not ſeem to have expected He
would beſtow, whilſt they continued here; how
muſt we underſtand the promiſes made to them?
or how did they underſtand them? — The author
to the Hebrews has informed us:- they looked for Heb
. XI. *:
a city, which bath foundations, whoſe builder and
maker is God. Since they ſojourned in the land of
promiſe as in a ſtrange country, ſince they had pro-
miſes made to them, which they did not receive; they
perceived themſelves to be but ftrangers and pil-
grims upon earth, and fixed their hopes upon a bet-
ter country, that is, an heavenly. Their faith aſſur-
ed them, that God could not fail of performing
what he had engaged for; and, as he did not
perform it in this life, they expected another.
The queſtion at preſent is not whether Moſes, Warburtor
in his hiſtory of the Patriarchs, has purpoſely omit- V.II. p. 451.
ted, or thrown into ſhade the accounts of thoſe
revelations, which, we learn from the new tefta-
ment, ſome of them were actually favoured with,
.
Rr
CON-
>
314 An Eſay on Virtue.
concerning the h redemption of mankind: for
we are not enquiring now, what notices of a fu-
Mr. Warburton [V. II. pag. 589.) has given another inſtance
of Abraham's acquaintance with the redemption of mankind, in his
manner of explaining God's command to him to offer up his ſon Iſaac:
and ſo very remarkable an inſtance it is, that I wiſh I could make
uſe of it to prove, that theſe doctrines of redemption and a future
ſtate were known to the Patriarchs, But I ſhall be forced to omit it up-
on account of ſome difficulties in it, which I am not able to clear
up
The propoſition, which he undertakes to prove, is, “that when God
ſays to Abraham, [Gen. XXII. V.2.) take now thy fon, thine only
son Ifaac, whom thou loveſt, and offer him for a burnt offering, the
command is merely an information, by action inſtead of words,
“ of the great ſacrifice for the redemption of mankind, given at the
“ earneſt requeſt of Abraham, who longed impatiently to ſee Chriſt's
“ day. The foundation of this he lays in that ſcripture, where Jeſus
ſays to the unbelieving Jews, your father Abraham rejoiced to ſee
may day and he ſaw it and was glad; (Joh. XVIII.V. 17.] and, to clear
“ his way to the truth of this propoſition, he undertakes to prove,
" that the doctrine of redemption was revealed to Abraham; and that
so the hiſtory of this revelation is recorded in ſcripture.” The former
is moſt indiſputably true, the authority of Chriſt has abundantly aſſu-
sed us of it. But Mr. W. is of opinion, “that the manner of this
great revelation is revealed in the text, as well as the matter; and
" that when Chriſt tells the Jews, your father Abraham rejoiced to ſee
my day, and he ſave it and was glad, he deſigns to inform them,
" that the redemption of mankind was not only revealed to the
“ Patriarch, but was revealed likewiſe by repreſentation. This he
« confirms from the verb sitw made uſe of in this place, which in
“ the new teſtament frequently ſignifies to ſee ſenſibly: but whether
literally or figuratively it always denotes full intuition: and that
" the expreſſion was as ſtrong in the Syriac language uſed by Jeſus,
as here in the Greek of his hiſtorian, appears, he thinks, from the
“ reply the Jews made to him - Thou art not yet fifty years old and
haft thou ſeen Abraham : plainly intimating that they underſtood
" the affertion of Abraham's ſeeing Chriſt's day to be a real behold-
“ing him in perſon." But what can we conclude from the ſenſe in
which the Jews interpreted his words? they might deſignedly miſ-
take his meaning, or pervert it, on purpoſe to have a fair pretence
for
(
An Elay on Virtue.
315
ើ
ture ſtate the Iſraelites might have from reading
the hiſtory of the Patriarchs in the books of Mo-
for ſtoning him : it is ſure no good argument -The captious Jews
underſtood him ſo, therefore he meant fo. Though indeed the ſenſe,
in which the Jews interpreted the words of Jeſus, will prove, not
that the Patriarch farw ſuch an action or was engaged in performing
ſuch an one as repreſented the myſtery of redemption, but that he
ſaw the redeemer himſelf: for thus it is plain they underſtood him;
nor would they have had any difficulty in conceiving that Abraham
might have ſeen an action repreſenting what was to be done many
ages after he lived : the queſtion they aſk is --thou art not yet fifty
years old, and haſt thou ſeen Abraham? from whence it is clear, that, in
the ſenſe which they gave to his words, Abraham could not have ſeen
Chriſt's day, but Chriſt muſt have had an opportunity of ſeeing his
too: but this would not have been a neceſſary conſequence, if by fee-
ing they had underſtood ſeeing in repreſentation by action. E'w may
ſignify ſeeing either literally, as when Iſaiah (Joh. XII.V.41.] is faid
to have ſeen the glory of Chriſt, or figuratively by the eye of faith, as
when the Patriarchs are ſaid (Heb. xi. v. 13.] to have died in faith
not having received the promiſes but having ſeen them afar off: but who
could be ſaid in either ſenfe to have ſeen what he had only ſeen res
preſented by ſuch actions as the prophets made uſe of? or who can
be ſaid to have ſeen, in any proper ſenſe of the word, what he has only
ſeen a type of? When one of the prophets (Jerem. XXVII. V.2.]
made yokes and bonds and put them upon his neck to foreſhew
the conqueſt of Nebuchadnezzar over Edom, Moab, Ammon,
Tyre and Zidon; no one, who looked on, would ſay, that he had
ſeen thoſe conqueſts. Nor could they be ſaid to have ſeen the captivity
of Zedekiah, who only ſaw Ezekiel removing his houſhold goods.
[Ezek. XII. V.3.] Mr. W. in proving his fecond point, ---that the
hiſtory of that revelation of the redemption of mankind, which was
made to Abraham, is recorded in ſcripture, ſets out with obſerving
from the hiſtory of Chriſt's miniſtry, as that in his diſputations with
" the Jews, he never urged them with any circumſtance of God's
“ diſpenſations to their forefathers, which they either were not,
or might not be, well acquainted with, by the ſtudy of their ſcrip-
tures,
and therefore he concludes from Jeſus's own words, that
“ the circumſtance of Abraham's knowledge of Chriſt's day muſt
56 be found in Abraham's hiſtory: but, the words of Jeſus, he ſays,
66
Rr2
66 in-
316
An Elay on Virtue.
ſes; but what notices the Patriarchs themſelves
had. And in this queſtion we may ſafely urge
the authority of the new teſtament; and may con-
clude, that Abraham himſelf had as certain a
knowledge of a future ſtate, as the Apoſtles and
Evangeliſts ſay he had. Though as the author
to the Hebrews ſhews what Abraham's faith was,
from comparing the condition, in which he lived,
with the promiſes made to him, one would think
the fame muſt have appeared to any one, who
ſhould read the book of Geneſis, and ſhould make
Examin. of the ſame compariſon. And indeed it is not poſſi-
prop. p. 28. ble to ſupppoſe, that Abraham ſhould conceal
from his pofterity the knowledge of thoſe revela-
tions, which he was favoured with. The charac-
Gen. xviii. ter, that God himſelf gave of him was, that he
would command his children and his houſhold after
him, and they ſhould keep the way of the Lord to
do juſtice and judgment. But he would have been
no very faithful inſtructor of his houſhold, if he
. 19.
imply, that Abraham earneſtly follicited the God of heaven to
“ reveal to him the myſtery of man's redemption; they expreſs that
* tumultuous pleaſure, which he felt from the certain expectations of
“ the approach of this bleſſing; that action, which, according to the
“ common mode of information at that time, he was commanded
" to do; and that calm and ſettled joy, which ariſes from the pof-
“ fefſion of a much wiſhed for bleſſing.” But which of all theſe par-
ticulars can be found in the hiſtory of God's command to Abraham,
related in ſuch a manner that, not the carnal-minded Jews, for theſe
Mr. W. himſelf excepts, but thoſe amongſt them, who ſtudied the
fcriptures, might be well acquainted with the facts and circumſtances
to
An Eſay on Virtue. 317
had only taught them what God required of them,
without letting them know the proper engagements
and motives to obedience. If it at all concerned
him to take care, that his poſterity ſhould walk
before God as he did, and be perfect, as he was;
it was neceſſary for him to give them the ſame
hopes, that he had: for it would have been un-
reaſonable to expect ſuch an obedience, as he pre-
ſerved through his whole conduct, from thoſe,
who had not any intimation of the promiſes, by
which his obedience was ſupported.
And in fact we find that the knowledge of the Examin. of
true God, and of the relation, which he bore to prop. p. 31-
Abraham, was handed down by him to his pof-
terity : for when Moſes was commiſſioned to go
to the Iſraelites in the name of God, and he en-Exod. G. III.
quires by what title he ſhould call Him, that they 04.15.
might know from whom he came; he was direct-
ed to tell them, that he came from the Lord God
of their fathers, the God of Abraham the God of
v. 7.10. 137
3
to which Chriſt here appeals ? if all or the principal of them, then
the knowledge, which Abrahain had of a future ſtate is not ſo in-
duſtriouſly concealed by Moſes, as Mr. W. elſewhere ſeems to think;
but if none of them or only the moſt obfcure, ſuch as ſcarce ſhew to
the moſt laborious enquirer what knowledge of the redemption
Abraham was favoured with, then either Jeſus does appeal to circum-
ſtances, which the common Jews could not be acquainted with, and
which the more learned might eaſily miſs of, and fo his premiſes
are falſe; or elſe that command is not what Jeſus referred to, and ſo
the concluſion is not true.
Iſaac
318
An Eſay on Virtue.
Iſaac and the God of Jacob. And as in this title
he includes his whole relation to the Patriarchs,
and their claim to the bleſſings, which he had
promiſed them; one cannot eaſily believe, that
the name would be conveyed down in the family,
and the nature of thoſe bleſſings be kept a ſecret
in it. This paffage in the book of Exodus our
bleſſed Lord makes uſe of to prove that at leaſt a
future exiſtence of the ſoul may be plainly inferred
from the writings of Moſes: and though his argu-
ment was a new one, though the Phariſees had
never made this inference, and therefore it does
not appear from hence, that Mofes inculcated the
doctrine of a future ſtate ; yet as it was a conclu-
five argument, as it was an inference, which
might have been made, it will prove to us, that
Moſes was not ſtudious to conceal this doctrine,
nor purpoſely omitted every thing, that might
bring his readers acquainted with thoſe notices
of redemption and of another life, which the
Patriarchs were favoured with.
CHAP
An Elay on Virtue.
319
CHA P. XII.
Obedience to the will of God was enforced under
the Mofaic diſpenſation by the hopes of a future
life, as well as by the promiſes of temporal hap
pineſs.
F
Rom the death of the Patriarch Jacob to the
time of Mofes we have no account of any
revelation, which God made either to mankind
in general, or to any particular nation or family.
But when the Iſraelites were delivered out of the
ſlavery, in which they had been kept by the
Egyptians, and were going to take poſſeſſion of
the land promiſed to their fathers; God was pleaſed
to give them a law, which was intended to keep
them diſtinct from the reſt of the world.
By this law he neither abrogated the religion
of the Patriarchs, nor ſuperſeded the promiſes made
to them; if we may depend upon the authority
of St. Paul, who ſays of the Moſaic law, that it Gal. II. v:1g.
was added becauſe of tranſgreſſion, till the feed
ſhould come, to whom the promiſe was made. I can-
not better explain theſe words of the Apoſtle than
by thoſe of a late learned and very ingenious
writer. " It was added:
to what? ſurely to Warburton
« the religion of the Patriarchs:-
: - to what end ? V.II. p. 36r..
« becauſe of tranſgreſſions, that is the idolatrous
a devia-
320 An Elay on Virtue
66
06
CC
“ deviations from that religion: into which ido-
latry the reſt were already gone and the Jews then
haſtening apace; and from which they could be
“ reſtrained no otherwiſe than by this addition,
« that kept them ſeparate from all others; and
preſerved the doctrine of the Unity till the com-
ing of the promiſed feed.” But if the poſitive
precepts of the law were only additions to the
Patriarchal duties, and the latter continued, after
the former were enjoyned; ſure it is reaſonable
to conclude, that the temporal ſanctions of the
law were added to the promiſes, which God had
before made to Abraham, to Iſaac, and to Jacob;
and that the hopes, which the Patriarchs enter-
tained of a future life, were no more ſuperſeded
by the promiſe of temporal happineſs, than the
moral duties, which they practiſed, were ſet aſide
by the poſitive ones of the law. One religion was
added whole and entire to the other, the precepts
of the Moſaic law to thoſe of that law, by which
the father of the faithful had governed his con-
duct, and the encouragements of temporal bleſſings
to thoſe of eternal life. The Apoſtle's whole rea-
ſoning is intended to ſhew, that the law did not
make void theſe promiſes, nor lead off the expec-
tations of the Iſraelites from them; but was a
means of keeping up their hopes of obtaining the
bleſſing of Abraham, and was their ſchool-maſter
to bring them to Chrift. In what manner the law
did
An Eſſay on Virtue.
321
V. 10. &c.
did produce this effect, ſhall be ſhewn in another See chap. XIII.
place; it is enough for the preſent purpoſe that
we have St. Paul's authority for ſaying it was de-
ſigned to produce it.
If we look into the law itſelf, we find that the
Abrahamic covenant was expreſsly made a part
of that ſanction, by which obedience was enforced
under the Moſaic diſpenſation. Yeſtand, ſays Moſes, Deuter. XXIX.
this day all of you before the Lord your God: your
captains of your tribes, your elders, and your officers,
with all the men of Iſrael; your little ones, your
wives, and thy ſtranger, that is in thy camp, from
the hewer of thy wood, unto the drawer of thy water:
that thou ſhouldeſt enter into covenant with the Lord
thy God, and into his oath, which the Lord thy
God maketh with thee this day; that he may eſta-
bliſh thee to day for a people unto himſelf, and that
be
may
be unto thee a God, as he hath ſaid unto
thee, and as he hath ſworn unto thy fathers, to
Abraham, to Ifaac and to Jacob. Whatever there-
fore was contained in the Patriarchal covenant,
was promiſed in the law: in whatever manner
God had ſworn to be a God to Abraham and to
his feed after him, in the ſame manner he engaged
to be a God to the Iſraelites; as long as they con-
tinued obedient to his commands. So that they
had a right to every part of thoſe promiſes, which
God made to their forefathers, as well in virtue
of the law, that was eſtabliſhed upon every part
Ss
of
322 An Eſſay on Virtue.
Rom. IX.
V.4.
of the Abrahamic covenant without diſtinction, as
in virtue of the promiſes themſelves, that were made
in ſuch terms as to belong, not to Abraham only,
but to his ſeed after him: for God promiſed the
fame bleſſings to him, and to all his poſterity, and
engaged to be a God to his poſterity, in the ſame
manner that he was to himſelf. This St. Paul in-
timates, when he ſays, that to the Iſraelites per-
tained the adoption, and the glory, and the cove-
nants, and the giving of the law, and the ſervice
of God, and the promiſes. If God made more
covenants than one, or if only one conſiſting of
feveral parts; if he made promiſes to Abraham
both of temporal bleſſings and of a life to come,
they all pertained to the Iſraelites: and the Apoſtle
has taken care to expreſs himſelf in ſuch a man-
ner, as to ſhew his deſign of including every hope,
which the revelation made to Abraham could
poſſibly have raiſed, and of repreſenting them all
a& common to him with his poſterity.
But beſides the aſſurance, which we have, that
the bleſſing of Abraham, was conveyed down to
his deſcendants, and was made a part of that
fanction, upon which the Moſaic law was eſtabli-
fhed ; if we interpret the promiſes of life and
happineſs, that were made in the law, ſo as to make
them intelligible and conſiſtent with themſelves
and with the event; or if we follow the authority of
Chriſt and his Apoſtles in interpreting them; we
ſhall
An Elay on Virtue.
323
V.5.
ſhall find that thoſe, who lived under the Moſaic
diſpenſation, had the hopes of a future ſtate given
them to enforce their obedience to the will of God.
The book of Geneſis is an introduction to the
law, and begins with an account of our firſt parents
having loft eternal life; the law itſelf concludes
with this fanction this do and thou ſhalt live. And Lev
. XVIII.
if there is any connection between the proeme
and the fanction; if one may be uſed as a com-
ment upon the other; then it would be no im-
probable concluſion, that the life, which was pro-
miſed, was the fame with that, which had been
forfeited ; that as eternal life had been loſt by
diſobeying a former appointment of God, ſo what
was to be recovered by obſerving thoſe new ones
contained in the law, muſt be eternal life too.
The hiſtory of mankind contained in this book
would bring them acquainted with two remark-
able changes, that had happened, ſince the firſt
creation, in regard to the time man was to con-
tinue in life: the former at the fall, according to
the penalty threatened, in the day thou eateſt of it,
thou ſhalt ſurely die, and to the execution of that
penalty, duft thou art, and unto duft ſalt thou
return; the latter at the flood, when it was de-
creed that the age of man ſhould for the future
commonly not exceed an hundred and twenty
years; though before that time the uſual age had
been between eight and nine hundred. When
Ss 2
there-
A
324 An Eſay on Virtue.
Pſalm Xc.
Pſalm xc.
H.IO.
therefore they heard life promiſed to them again,
if they obeyed the law; they could not but ex-
pect, that one of theſe inconveniencies was to be
removed; either that of being deprived of their
hopes of immortality, or that of having their life
ſo much ſhortened. But if the Pfalm, which goes .
under the name of Moſes, was really written by
him; their legiſlator himſelf had furniſhed them
with ſuch a comment as would certainly prevent
them from concluding, that their lives were to be
protracted to any thing near the length of their's,
who lived before the flood. He taught them that
they were to be ſtill ſhorter than the decree at
the flood had left them, that the days of our age
are but threeſcore years and ten, and that a longer
life is far from being a bleſſing: for, if any one's
conſtitution ſhould be ſtrong enough to bear him
out to fourſcore years, he would find nothing in
it worth defiring, nothing but labour and ſorrow.
Or if they had not this comment to guide them,
till after the times of Moſes; yet their own expe-
rience would foon have convinced them of the
fame thing, and would have taught them that
the meaning of what the law promiſed was not
that the lives of thoſe, who obeyed the law, would
be lengthened out to the old ſtandard. But as
neither all nor any part of the days, that were
ftruck off from the life of man at the flood, were
deſigned to be reſtored by that promiſe of life,
which
An Eſay on Virtue. 325
which the law had made; they muſt conclude,
that the reward deſigned for thoſe, who were obe-
dient, muſt be the life, that had been forfeited at
the fall.
There were ſome remarkable inſtances before
the captivity, which make it impoſſible for any
one, who is acquainted with them, to believe, that
God had promiſed a longer life than ordinary to
ſuch as ſhould obey him; unleſs we can believe
at the fame time, that God could fail in making
good his promiſes. The character, which the fa-
cred hiſtory gives of Joſiah, is, that like unto him 2 Kings XXIIL
was there no king before bim, that turned to the W.25.
Lord with all his heart, and with all his ſoul, and
with all his might, according to all the law of Moſes;
neither after him aroſe there any like him. And
what was the event of all this piety ? Surely if
God had promiſed length of days to thoſe, who
were exact in the obſervance of their duty, this
good and religious prince muſt have been gather-
ed to his fathers at a good old age. But inſtead 2 Kings XXII.
of this we find that he died a violent death, when XXIII. v. 29.
he was only thirty nine years old. One of the hi-
ſtorians gives this account of his engaging in the
war with Necho, in which he was killed; Necho 2 Chron.
king of Egypt came up to fight againſt Carchemiſh&c.
by Euphrates
, and Fofiah went out againſt him:
but he ſent embaſſadors to him, ſaying, what have
I to do with thee, thou king of Judah? I come
XXXV. V. 20.
not
326
An Eſay on Virtue.
not againſt thee this day, but againſt the houſe
wherewith I have war : for God commanded me
to make haft: forbear thee from meddling with
God, who is with me, that he deſtroy thee not. Ne-
vertheleſs Jofah would not turn his face from him,
but diſguiſed himſelf, that he might fight with him,
and hearkened not unto the words of Necho from
the mouth of God, and came to fight in the valley
of Megiddo. This gives Joſiah's laſt act the ap-
pearance of diſobedience to the command of God
and of rebellion againſt his authority: ſo that his
untimely death may perhaps be looked upon as
the puniſhment of his crime. But why was Jo-
fiah to give more credit to what Necho ſaid about
2 Kingsxvır. God's being with him, than Hezekiah had done
before him to Sennacherib the king of Aſſyria, who
affirmed, that he was not come up againſt Jeruſa-
lem without the Lord, but the Lord had ſaid unto
him, go up againſt this land and deſtroy it? Heze-
kiah indeed conſulted with Iſaiah in what he did :
and it is ſo unlikely, that, if what Necho ſaid had
been true, Jeremiah would, even unasked, have
neglected to adviſe Joſiah; that ſome of the com-
mentators have, without any appearance of reaſon
from the paſſage itſelf
, ventured to affirm, that
the word of the Lord, which Joſiah hearkened
not to, was the advice of this prophet. But be that
as it will: it is moſt certain that God himſelf
looked upon the untimely death of Joſiah, not as
V. 25
а.
An Eſay on Virtue. 327
XXXIV.V. 27.
a puniſhment, but as a reward of his piety. For
he had by Huldah the propheteſs made him this
promiſe; becauſe thine heart was tender, and thou 2 Chron.
didſt humble thyſelf before God, when thou heardejt .
his words againſt Jeruſalem, and againſt the inha-
bitants thereof, and þumbled it thyſelf before me,
and didſt rend thy clothes, and weep before me; I
have even heard thee alſo, ſaith the Lord. Behold,
I will gather thee to thy fathers, and thou ſhalt be
gathered to thy grave in peace, neither ſhall thine
eyes ſee all the evil, that I will bring upon this
place and upon the inhabitants of the ſame. This
might indeed be a comfort to the king, though
death put an end to all his expectations; becauſe
he might think it better not to be at all, than to
be miſerable: but it cannot poſſibly be reconciled
with the law, nor in any ſenſe be called a reward,
if Moſes under the notion of life had promiſed
nothing to the righteous but length of days here,
and had given them no hopes of any thing here-
after.
When the wife of Jeroboam was ſent by her · Kings XIV.
husband to enquire of Ahijah the prophet, what”. 2. 3.
ſhould become of their child, that was fallen fick;
the prophet threatens deſtruction to the whole houſe
of Jeroboam and calamities, which related indeed
to the body only, yet ſuch as ſhould purſue them
even after death: Him that dieth of Jeroboam in
the city ſhall the dogs eat, and him that dieth in
the
328
An Elay on Virtue.
Į
the field Mall the fowls of the air eat. But as to
the child in particular, that ſhe came to enquire
Ibid. v. 12. about, he anſwers, that at her return, as ſoon as
she entered the city, he ſhould die, and all Iſrael
jould mourn for him and bury him: for he only
of Jeroboam ſhall come to the grave, becauſe in him
there is found ſome good thing towards the Lord
God of Iſrael. A moſt unaccountable reward this
for innocence and piety under a diſpenſation,
which promiſed nothing but a long and happy
Ibid. v. 11.13. life here! the reſt of the family were to be eaten
by the dogs or by the fowls of the air, but he
ſhould come to the grave; becauſe in him only
there was ſome good found. Had he lived long
and come to the grave in peace, the reward would
have been ſuch as, in a law promiſing none but
temporal rewards, ought to have been beſtowed:
but he was to die in his infancy; and the only
difference, worth regarding, between him and
thoſe, who had diſpleaſed God, was, that he was
to die much younger than they: for, that they
were after death to be expoſed to the birds and the
beaſts, but that he was to be buried, was not very
material; nor could this be fulfilling thoſe fan-
&tions of the law, which promiſe life to the good
and threaten death to the bad.
It is true, both theſe inſtances happened after
• p.445- the people had demanded a king, and after God
had complied with their demand, and had ſet a
Warburton
V.II.
king
An Elay on Virtue. 329
XXX. V. 19
king over them: at which time the vigour of the
extraordinary providence has been repreſented “as
abating and from thence to the captivity de-
caying gradually, till on their full ſettlement,
« after their return it intirely ceaſed.” But had
temporal rewards and puniſhments, adminiſter-
ed by an equal providence, been the only ſanction
of the law of Moſes; then either the prophets
eſtabliſhed it upon freſh ſanctions, contrary to
what the lawmaker intimates, that he had ſet be- Deuteron.
fore the people motives ſufficient to enforce their 20:
obedience, and contrary to what he declares, that
nothing was afterwards to be added to the law; IV.v.z.
or elſe, as it was gradually deprived of its fanction,
the obligation of it grew continually weaker, till
at laſt, after the people were returned from the cap-
tivity, it muſt have ceaſed to oblige them at all.
For whatever may be the caſe of God's moral laws,
yet moſt certainly, as he withdraws the ſanctions
of his poſitive ones, he takes off ſomething from
their obligation; and, when he has wholly with-
drawn the promiſe of reward and the threatning
of puniſhment, thoſe laws oblige no longer. But
it is plain that the law continued in full force till
the captivity; and the preparations, which Ezra
and Nehemiah made, for the future obſervance of
it, at the people's return, fufficiently ſhew that
they thought it continued in force afterwards.
Though whenever the equal adminiſtration of
pro-
It
330 An Elay on Virtue.
providence ceaſed intirely is not material to theſe
two examples of what in a law, which promiſed
no life but the preſent, would have been a moſt
notorious inequality: for neither of them could
be owing to the gradual decay of an extraordinary
providence. The hand of God appears, by the pro-
phet Ahijah's account, to have been immediately
concerned in the death of Jeroboam's child: and
God had, by expreſs promiſe, engaged Himſelf to
make the death of Jofiah ſuch as might happen
to and even be deſired by the moſt exact obſerver
of the law. Whatever inequalities had ariſen from
the withdrawing God's eſpecial care, they would
have appeared in cafes where things were left to
the adminiſtration of ordinary laws; and not in
thoſe, which were as certainly under God's direc-
tion as any events, that had ever been brought
about during the whole continuance of the Jewiſh
ftate.
We fee too from theſe two examples and from
the declaration of God about them, that, in the cir-
cumſtances of the Iſraelites, the law muſt be eſta-
bliſhed upon other promiſes than thoſe of a long
continuance here; and that the life it was to be-
ftow upon the good and virtuous, muſt, if it was
deſigned to be a conſtant and ſteady reward to
them, mean ſomething different from length of
days, for this would frequently be a puniſhment.
In a general, corruption of manners, when by the
ex
An Eſay on Virtue. 331
XXVIII, V. 51
53.
extraordinary providence over the ſtate in
gene-
ral, the whole nation was to be carried captive
into the land of their enemies; when they ſhould Deuter.
be beſieged in all their gates, and be compelled to
eat the fleſh of their fons and of their daughters;
it could be no reward to the pious, that their
life was prolonged to ſee the miſery of their coun-
try, and to have their ſhare in it. Can we think
that Jeremiah ſuffered nothing upon his own ac-
count, when, beſides being involved in the com-
mon diſtreſs, whilſt the city was beſieged, he was
perſecuted, beaten, and impriſoned ? could his
virtue fo harden his heart as to make him an un-
concerned ſpectator of the calamities of his coun-
trymen, his friends, and his relations? if he had
not been moft ſincerely intereſted in the welfare
of the public, or had not even felt himſelf what
others ſuffered; could he have put himſelf in the
place of the children of his people and have com-
plained in that pathetic manner? Is it nothing to Lament. I.
you, all ye that paſs by.? behold and ſee, if there be yo.2
. 13. 15.
any forrow like unto my ſorrow, which is done unto
me, wherewith the Lord bath afflicted me in the
day of his fierce anger. From above hath he ſent
fire into my bones, and it prevaileth againſt them:
he hath Spread a net for my feet, be hath turned
me back : be hath made me defolate and faint all
the day. The Lord hath trodden under foot all my
Mighty men in the midſt of me: he hath called an
allem-
T t 2
332 An Eſay on Virtue.
aſſembly againſt me to cruſh my young men. The
Lord hath trodden the virgin, the daughter of Ju-
dah as in the wine preſs. For theſe things I weep;
mine eye, mine eye runneth down with water, be-
cauſe the comforter, that ſhould relieve my foul, is
far from me. What then was to become of the
righteous man in theſe circumſtances, fuppofing
he had nothing to expect hereafter? if his days
were prolonged, he muſt be miſerable; and if they
were ſhortened, where was the promiſe of life,
and where his reward? --The prophet Iſaiah has
informed us what would be beſt for him and up-
on what he might fix his hopes in this calamitous
condition: the righteous periſbeth and no man lay-
eth it to heart; and merciful men are taken away,
none conſidering that the righteous is taken away
from the evil to come. He fall enter into peace ;
they ſhall reſt in their i beds, each one walking in his
uprightneſs
. How like is this to what was faid by
Wiſdom III. one, who lived under the ſame diſpenſation! The
ſouls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and
there ſhall no torment touch them: in the fight of
the unwiſe they ſeemed to die and their departure
Ifai. LVII.
v. 1. 2
V. 1.2.3.
The word 2pun which we tranſlate a bed, can ſignify. nothing
but the grave in this place, for that is the only bed where the righ-
teous, each one that walketh in his uprightneſs, can reſt after he is
taken away. The Lxx have rendered it taon, and though this is
the only place in which they do render it ſo, yet in one paffage, where
they tranſlate it xhívn, it muſt mean ſuch a bed as dead bodies are
laid in: [2 Chron. xvi. v. 15.] and they buried him [Afå] in his own
ſepul
An Elay on Virtue.
333
is taken for miſery, and their going from us to be
utter deſtruction : but they are in peace.
Theſe two paſſages of the prophet and of the
ſuppoſed Solomon would almoſt determine one
to interpret the words of the true Solomon in their
moſt obvious fenſe: the wicked is driven away in Prov. XIV,
his wickedneſs, but the righteous hath hope in his ". 32.
death. This later writer, whoever he was, has here
been alledged not as an authority to prove, that
the law promiſed a future life, but as a comment
upon the words of Iſaiah: and the only uſe that
was intended to be made of the paſſage from this
prophet, was to ſhew, from an authentic inter-
preter, in what manner we are to account for
ſuch an inequality as happened in the inſtance
of Jeremiah. But they, who lived long before
Jeremiah, might be ſure that ſuch caſes were pof-
ſible, and that they would, in the courſe of an
extraordinary providence over the ſtate in gene-
ral, very frequently happen. And one, who had
never read Ifaiah, could hardly fail of accounting
for this neceſſary inequality in the ſame manner
that he does; if he was only aſſured that God
ſepulchres, which he had made for himſelf in the city of David, and
laid him in the bed (29VID {v rña xaívn] which was filled with ſweet
odours and divers kinds of spices prepared by the apothecary's art; and
they made a very great burning for him. - This would be a poor
reward for the righteous, to reſt in their graves, unleſs their works
followed them.
could
334 An Efay on Virtue.
could not make a promiſe, which in the event he
did not fulfil, nor eſtabliſh his law upon ſuch a
fan&tion, as was impoſſible to be made good in
the moſt afflicting circumſtances of the virtuous,
that is, when they had the greateſt occafion for
his interpoſition to ſupport them. Or if there ne-
ver had been any man before with fagacity and
faith enough to diſcover, that when God makes
an univerſal promiſe of life to the good, which in
many inſtances it is impoſſible for Him to beſtow
here, He muſt be underſtood of a life after this:
yet however blind or faithleſs man might be,
God could not fail of performing his word: God's
deſign and the meaning of his promiſe was al-
ways the ſame, whether man perceived it or no;
and what the prophet ſaid was only to explain a
former fanction of the law and, not by a freſh
commiſſion from the legiſlator to add a new
one.
It may indeed be replied ; that the life, which
is promiſed in the law, is that of the public rather
than of individuals; that it does not mean length
of days to be beſtowed upon particular perſons
for obeying the law, but a long continuance of
the political life, the preſervation of the ſtate for
many generations in a flouriſhing and happy
condition, by an extraordinary providence, which
fhould watch over the welfare of the whole, as
long as religion was cultivated by the generality,
as
An Eſay on Virtue. 335
as long as the public in its collective capacity, or
as a body politic, was obedient to the commands
of God. In the mean time ſuch a life was granted
to particular perſons, who obeyed God's will, as
is the only one, that deſerves the name; a life,
which conſiſted, not in having their days length-
ned beyond the common ſtandard, but in being
made happy, whilſt they continued here: an im-
mediate providence ſupplyed the virtuous and re-
ligious with all the temporal enjoyments, which
were worth having; it ſecured the poſſeſſion of
them as long as they were worth keeping; and
at laſt kindly removed the true worſhipers of
God from hence, though not into other enjoy-
ments, yet into freedom from miſery, whenever
their own condition, that of their families, or that
of the public would have made it a misfortune
to have had their days prolonged.
I grant that an extraordinary providence of this
fort was actually promiſed and is repreſented in
ſcripture to have been ſometimes adminiſtered.
But it does not follow that becauſe temporal re-
wards and puniſhments were the fanction of the
Moſaic law and religion, therefore future were
not. And upon enquiry we ſhall find, that unleſs
future rewards and puniſhments, as well as preſent,
are included in the ſanctions of that law, they
cannot be ſo explained as to be either intelligible
or confiftent.
Let
336
An Eſay on Virtue.
V.II.p.446.
66
Let us ſee whither we ſhall be led by the follow-
Warburton, ing concluſion, “an extraordinary providence was
promiſed in the law of Moſes, and is repreſented
« in ſcripture to have been really adminiſtered ;
« therefore temporal rewards and puniſhments, the
« effects of this providence, and not future, were
« the fanction of that law and religion.” The ſcrip-
ture promiſes that an extraordinary providence ſhall
watch over the affairs of Chriſtians, and repreſents
this promiſe to have been ſometimes actually ful-
filled. But who would conclude from hence, that
temporal rewards and puniſhments, the proper
effects of this providence, and not future, are
therefore the fanction of Chriſtianity? The con-
cluſion is not juſt in either caſe; fince God, by
promiſing and beſtowing preſent rewards, does
not render it impoſſible for him to promiſe and
beſtow future ones: it is however as juſt in Chri-
ftianity as it is in the law; it muſt be equally true
in both inſtances, or equally falſe in both.
That the Goſpel promiſes an extraordinary
providence over private men, who ſhould engage
in the ſervice of Chriſt, is beyond all doubt.
Matt
. XIX. Every one, fays our Saviour, that hath forſaken
bouſes or brethren, or fifters, or father, or mother, or
wife, or children, or lands for my name's ſake, ſhall
receive an hundred fold. And in his ſermon on the
mount, he bids his diſciples take no thought for
their life, what they ſhould eat, or what they ſhould
V. 29.
Matt. VI.
*31.32.33.
drink;
An Eſſay on Virtue. 337
i
drink; or wherewithall they ſhould be clothed (for
after all theſe things do the Gentiles ſeek) for tseir
heavenly father knew that they had need of all
theſe things: but, if they would ſeek the kingdom
of God and his righteouſneſs, he promiſes, that all
theſe things ſhould be added unto them. Theſe are
very different from the common bleſſings of life,
which are beſtowed promiſcuouſly: gifts, that
are limited to ſuch as forſake all things to follow
Chriſt, to ſuch as ſeek the kingdom of God and
his righteouſneſs, cannot be thoſe of an ordinary
providence, in the adminiſtration of which the
Parent of all is equally kind to all His creatures ;
He maketh his fun to riſe on the evil as well as the Matt.V. v.16.
good, and ſendeth rain on the juſt and on the unjuſt.
If the ſpecial bleſſings, which Solomon, at the dedi- įKings VIII.
cation of his temple, prayed that God would beſtow Warburton
on every one, who ſhould ſpread forth his hands
to that houſe, were of a temporal nature; yet his
prayer was not conceived in more expreſs terms
than the promiſes, which Chriſt made of beſtowing
bleſſings of all ſorts on thoſe, who asked him.
If two of you ſhall agree on earth as touching any Matt. XVII.
thing, that they ſhall ask, it ſhall be done for them v. 19. 20.
of my father, which is in heaven: for where two
or three are gathered together in my name, there
am I in the midſt of them. Whatſoever ye ſhall ask lohXIV.
in my name, I will do it. That theſe promiſes were
to be in force no longer than till Chriſtianity was
eſta-
V.II.p.435.
Vv
>
338 An Eſay on Virtue.
V 20,
eſtabliſhed, does not appear. God has made no
ſuch declaration; but another promiſe made by
Matt xxviii. Chriſt, behold I am with you always even unto the
end of the world, has been thought to imply the
contrary ? Or what if theſe promiſes of extraordi-
nary bleſſings were temporary? Were not thoſe
made by the law temporary too? did not they fail
Warburton entirely after the captivity; and do not even thoſe,
V. II. p.445. who contend, that they were the only proper fanc-
tion of the law, confeſs that they began to fail much
ſooner ? So that, if from extraordinary bleſſings in
this life, which were to be continued to the Ifraelites
only for a certain time, and were to ceaſe before
the law was abrogated, we may conclude that they
had no bleſſings promiſed them in a world to
come; the ceaſing of the ſame ſort of bleſſings
promiſed to Chriſtians can be no reaſon for this
conclufion being weaker, when applied to our
religion, than it is, when applied to theirs.
If it ſhould be asked where is this particular pro-
vidence over Chriſtians repreſented in ſcripture to
have been adminiſtered? to whom were theſe pro-
A&s XII. v6. miſes ever fulfilled ?-We may anſwer, to St. Peter,
when he was delivered out of priſon; to St. Paul,
when, after all men had forſaken him, the Lord
Aas XXVII. ftood with him and ſtrengthened him; to the fame
4.22. 23.24. Apoſtle, when he was himſelf delivered from the
perils of the ſhipwreck, and all, that failed with
him, were, by the eſpecial care of God, preſerved
upon
&c.
2 Tim. IV.
v. 16. 17.
An Elay on Virtue. 339
46.
upon his account; to all the primitive Chriſtians, Aas II. v.
when there was not one of them that lacked, 47. IV. V.34.
when they eat their meat with gladneſs, and had
favour with all people; and laſtly (though the
ſcripture hiſtory does not reach ſo far) to all the Eufeb. Hift.
Chriſtians, who dwelt at Jeruſalem, when they L.III. c. 5.
were ſo remarkably delivered at the time that the
city was beſieged. Or if a parabolical command Warburton
V.II.p.436.
in the prophecy of Ezekiel will ſhew, how exactly
the promiſes of an extraordinary providence over
particulars were fulfilled to the Ifraelites; a com-
mand of the fame fort in the book of Revelations
will prove, that theſe promiſes were as exactly ful-
filled to Chriſtians. The words of Ezekiel are; Ezek. 18.V.fi
and the Lord ſaid unto him, go through the midſt
of the city, through the midſt of Jeruſalem and
fet a mark upon the foreheads of the men that figh,
and that cry for all the abominations, that be done
in the midſt thereof. And to others he ſaid in mine
hearing, go ye after him through the city, and
ſmite: let not your eye ſpare, neither have ye pity:
ſay utterly old and young, both maids and little
children, and women; but come not near any man
upon whom is the mark. The paſſage in the Reve- Rev. VII. V. I.
lations is perfectly like it, and the margin of our
Engliſh bible refers us to it; After theſe things,
I ſaw four angels ſtanding on the four corners of
the earth holding the four winds of the earth, that
the winds ſhould not blow on the earth nor on the
Sea,
2.3
VV 2
340 An Elay on Virtue.
2 Cor. xv.
v. 19.
ſea, nor on any tree. And I ſaw another angel a-
ſcending from the eaſt, having the ſeal of the living
God: and he cried with a loud voice to the four
angels, to whom it was given to hurt the earth and
the ſea, ſaying, hurt not the earth, neither the ſea,
nor the trees; till we have ſealed the ſervants of
our God in their foreheads.
The complaint of St. Paul that if in this life
only we have bofe in Chriſt, we are of all men moſt
miſerable, is no more inconſiſtent with the belief
of an extraordinary providence adminiſtering the
affairs of Chriſtians, than the promiſe of ſuch an
adminiſtration under the law was with the like
3 Kings xix. complaint of Elijah; I have been very jealous for
the Lord God of hofts; becauſe the children of
Iſrael have forſaken thy covenant, thrown down
thine altars, and ſain thy prophets with the ſword;
and I, even I only, am left; and they ſeek my life,
to take it away. And I doubt not that at this time
1 Kings xix. he and many of the ſeven thouſand, whom God had
reſerved for himſelf in Iſrael
, might have uſed
the words of the Apoſtle, if in this life only we
have hope from the law, we are of all men moſt
miſerable
. Upon the whole therefore, we find that
the k promiſe of the life, that now is, has been made
V.14.
y. 18.
* There is another ſenſe given by Mr. Warburton [V. II.p.468.)
to the text here alluded to. (1 Tim. IV. v.8.] “ Though numerous
" ritual obſervances were enjoined by the law, and ſome there muſt
« needs be under the Goſpel, wherever there is a church; yet they
"s are of little advantages in compariſon of moral obſervances; which
under
An Eſſay on Virtue.
341
to Chriſtians under the Goſpel diſpenſation, and
we know that it does not exclude them from the
promiſe of that which is to come. From whence
it follows that temporal rewards and puniſhments,
engaged for by the law, do by no means ſhew
that it made no promiſe of a future life: for what
is compatible in one inſtance, may be ſo in the
other; and ſuch united hopes, as are the ſanction
of Chriſtianity, might, if it ſo pleaſed the legis-
lator, be the ſanction of the Moſaic law too.
That this was the deſign of the legiſlator will
appear from conſidering, that ſome of the legal
ſanctions are either unintelligible or inconſiſtent
upon any other ſuppofition. It is indiſputably cer-
tain that the law promiſed public proſperity to the
Ifraelites, as long as they ſhould continue obedient
to the commands of God, and that it threatened
public calamities, whenever a general corruption
of manners and neglect of duty ſhould prevail
.
But if the extraordinary providence watched over
the ſtate only, and did not at the ſame time take
care to diſpenſe rewards and puniſhments with
an equal hand to particulars; though the nation
could not be made happy, but ſome at leaſt of
the members muſt be fo toq; yet the worſt men
-
«s under both religions, had the proper reward of each annexed to
" them only, namely, under the Jewiſh, the rewards of the life,
" that now is; under the Chriſtian, of that which is to come."
But it does not appear from the law, that it's temporal promiſes
were, annexed to moral obſervances only; the ritual ones are all
along
342
An Eſſay on Virtue.
in it might frequently have a ſhare in the natio-
nal advantages, and the beſt might at the ſame
time be excluded from them. Juſt as it happens
in the government of the whole world; where,
though every thing is calculated for the good of
the ſyſtem, though the welfare of mankind in
general is under the care of God's ordinary pro-
vidence; yet the beſt men do not always enjoy
the bleſſings of heaven, and the worſt have too
often the largeſt ſhare of them. This would have
been poor encouragement to an Iſraelite to be ex-
act in keeping the law, when all, which he could
propoſe by it, was only to make the ſtate proſpe-
rous; whilſt he himſelf, how inſtrumental ſoever
in advancing the common happineſs, was but to
take his chance for enjoying any part of it, and
might probably never taſte the fruit of his piety.
The Iſraelites, if theſe were all the promiſes that
they had to truſt to, could not be ſo ſelfiſh a peo-
ple, as they have been repreſented; there muſt,
along enjoined under the ſame penalties, and the practice of theſe,
as far as appears from the law, is every where encouraged by the
fame hopes as that of the others. And it would be of little ſervice
to St. Paul's argument, when he is condemning ritual obſervances
in Chriſtians, to urge that moral obſervances under the law were
encouraged by the proper fanction of that diſpenſation ; unleſs he
had proved, that they only had this encouragement : fince other-
wiſe the judaizers would ſee no reaſon for giving the preference to
theſe obſervances, when in the law the ſame promiſe of the life that
now is was annexed to ceremonies of poſitive inſtitution.
To prove that the promiſe of the life that now is does not relate to
the Chriſtian diſpenſation, Mr. Warburton urges the words of St.
Paul;
3
An Elay on Virtue.
343
if this was the Moſaic diſpenſation, have been
more public ſpirit in that religion than in any
other. The heathen legiſlators inculcated ſuch
doctrines as made it worth the while to die for
the public; and the Chriſtian, who lays down
his life for his friends, is entitled to the reward of
thoſe, who imitate their Maſter. But the Ifraelite,
if nothing had been promiſed to individuals ei-
ther in this life or another, muſt have been far
more diſintereſted than either heathen or Chri-
ſtian: for otherwiſe he could not have perſevered
in obſerving the law, amidſt all the diſcourage-
ments of his own calamitous circumſtances, with
no other view but to contribute, as much as was
in his power, to the good of his country. But it
is not material to determine what was the pecu-
liar temper of the Iſraelites, whether they were
more ſelfiſh or more diſinterested than the reſt of
the world. If they were only men and had com-
mon feeling, it is ſcarce credible that God would
Paul; (1 Cor. xv.v.18.) if in this life only we have hope in Chriſt we
are of all men moſt miſerable. I have endeavoured to ſhew in the text,
that this complaint might be made even where we are ſure there was
the promiſe of temporal rewards: but, whether this is proved or no,
Mr. Warburton certainly miſunderſtood the paſſage : for he ſays,
that in order to take the force of theſe words, we muſt conſider,
“ that they were addreſſed to Jewiſh converts tainted with Saddu-
• ciſm." But no ſenſe given to the text upon this fùppoſition can
be the true one, becauſe St. Paul himſelf fays to the Corinthians,
Ye know that ye were Gentiles, carried away unto theſe dumb idols.
(1 Cor. XII. V. 2.).
ene
344 An Elay on Virtue.
enjoin them a poſitive law containing many pre-
cepts, the obſervance of which belonged rather to in-
dividuals than to the public, and yet that He would
give to each pious and devout obſerver of His will
no better encouragement to do what the law of
nature did not require of them, than a precarious
reward, an accidental ſhare only of that happineſs,
which was beſtowed upon the collective body.
But that is not always moſt proper for God to
do, which appears molt proper to us: and there-
fore it is poſſible, that the ſanctions of the law
might not relate to individuals, though we may
think, that, if they did not, they would have been
inſufficient to enforce the obſervance of it. Let us
Deuter. xxIx. therefore conſult the law itſelf. re ftand, ſays
Moſes, this day all of you before the Lord your
God: your captains of your tribes, your
elders, and
your officers, with all the men of Iſrael; your little
ones, your wives and sour ſtranger, that is in the
camp, from the bewer of thy wood unto the drawer
of thy water : that thou ſhouldeſt enter into cove-
nant with the Lord thy God, and into his oath,
which the Lord thy God maketh with thee this day :
that he may eſtabliſh thee to day for a people unto
himſelf, and that he may be unto thee a God, as he
bath ſaid unto thee, and as he hath ſworn unto thy
fathers, to Abraham, to Iſaac, and to Jacob. Nei-
ther with you only do I make this covenant and this
oath, but with him, that ſtandeth here with us this
day,
y. 10. &c.
:
An Eſay on Virtue.
345
day, before the Lord our God, and alſo with him,
that is not here with us this day: leaſt there ſhould
be among you, man or woman, or family, or tribe,
whoſe heart turneth away this day from the Lord
our God, to go and ſerve the gods of theſe nations'.
1
1 What I have quoted of this paſſage is ſufficient to ſhew that
the fanctions of the law, both the rewards and puniſhments of it,
belonged not only to the nation in general but to particular perſons
too. The commentators are not agreed as to the ſenſe of what follows.
Left there ſhould be among you a root that beareth gall and worm-
wood; and it come to paſs, when be beareth the words of this curſe,
that he bleſs himſelf in his heart, ſaying, I Mall have peace, though I
walk after the imagination of mine heart to add drunkenneſs to thirſt
(or, as it is in the margin, the drunken to the thirſty :) the Lord will
not ſpare bim, but then the anger of the Lord and his jealouſy ſball
ſmoke againſt that man, and all the curſes, that are written in this
book ſhall lie upon him: and the Lord Mall blot out his name from un-
der heaven; and the Lord ſhall ſeparate him unto evil, out of all the
tribes of Iſrael, according to all the cur ſes of the covenant, that are
written in this book of the law. Onyo here tranſlated thirſt or thir-
ſty, may have the ſame ſignification with the Latin word ficcus, which
is joined by Petronius Arbiter to the word fobrius and uſed in almoſt
the fame ſenſe with it; -ficca, fobrià, et bonorum conſiliorum.
[pag. 127. Edit. Amftel. 1669.] The ſame word fignifies Sober or
abſtemious in the beginning of the fragment of Cicero's oration againft
Rullus before the Senate. —Haec, per Deos immortales, utrum effe
vobis confilia ficcorum, an vinolentorum ſomnia- videntur? And
in this ſenſe it is uſed in the Aſinaria of Plautus, Act. v. ſcen. 2.
At, ſceleſta! ego, praeter alios, meum virum fui rata
Siccum, frugi, continentem, amantem uxoris maxime.
The words miso yo may be tranſlated becauſe there is an adding
or becauſe he adds the drunken to the thirſty, that is, becauſe he joins
them together in the fame common fate. In ſuch a ſenſe Horace
uſes the word addo, Od. 2. lib. 3.
Saepe Dieſpiter
Neglectus inceſto addidit integrum.
And
x x
346 An Eſay on Virtue.
Their legiſlator was, we find, very careful to in-
form them, that the covenant and oath of the Lord,
to be their God, belonged to particulars, and that
each member of the nation was concerned in the
precepts which it enjoined, in the bleſſings which
it promiſed, and in the curſes which it threaten-
ed. And we have already ſeen that the extraor-
dinary providence to the ſtate would ſometimes
claſh in ſuch a manner with what was thus pro-
miſed to particulars, as to leave them without
any motive to obedience; unleſs they expected
to find that the promiſes of God reached to a life
beyond the preſent; and that he would be ſure to
make thoſe promiſes good, either here or hereafter.
And thus the neceſſary ſhare, which the beſt and
moſt religious muſt bear in the public calamity,
And nion as it is a gerund has an indefinite ſignification, and may
be referred to God as well as to the perfon, who bleſſes himſelf
. Or
ſince the ſame word ſignifies to conſume as well as to add, and ſince
it is no uncommon thing, amongſt the Hebrew writers, to make one
vice ſtand for all, and the avoiding of one vice ſtand for all virtue,
7yTn 1977 ebrium cum ficco, the drunken with the ſober,
may mean the righteous with the wicked; and we may tranſlate
the ſentence thus, becauſe he conſumes the righteous with the wicked.
The comfort, which the wicked man, the root bearing gall and
wormwood, might be ſuppoſed to give himſelf, was, that no parti-
cular harm was likely to happen to him in perſon, let him do what he
would;
ſince the threatenings of God were general and affected the
whole nation, cutting off the good and the bad promiſcuouſly. To
prevent this, Mofes aſſures the Ifraelites, that it was otherwiſe, and
that not only tribes and families, but individuals, each man and each
woman, were concerned in all the curſes of the covenant; and eſpe-
cially that he, who ventured to ſin upon the contrary preſumption,
ſhould be ſure to feel that it was fo,
There
1
An Elay on Virtue.
347
whenever God thought fit to puniſh a national
corruption, would diſcharge each perſon from his
obedience to ſuch precepts, as had nothing but
the hopes of a temporal reward to enforce them.
But the fanctions of the law, if they had been
only temporal, would frequently have claſhed with
each other too, ſo as to cancel it's obligation. When
the innocent and virtuous poſterity of a wicked Exod. XX.V.S.
man were condemned to ſuffer for the crimes of
their parent, it would avail them nothing to ſerve
God: they could not be made happy in this life,
and at the ſame time bear the iniquity of their fa-
thers; they could not ſuffer what the law threaten-
ed, and enjoy what it promiſed, if it had pro-
miſed nothing but preſent happineſs. And as the Deuter. xr.
There is a paffage in Jeremiah, (C. VII.v.10.] where fyra with a
gerund is uſed much in the ſame manner, and where our Engļiſh yer-
. 3
Ano nijying-59 we tranſlate the whole paffage, will je ſteal
,
murder, and commit adultery, and ſwear falſely, and burn incenſe unto
Baal, and walk after other Gods, whom ye know not; and come and
ſtand in this houſe, which is called by my name, and ſay, we are deli-
vered to do all theſe abominations? But the word 2254) may ſigni-
fy we are ſpoiled, and then if we tranſlate niey yay becauſe we
have done, the whole ſentence will be ----We are ſpoiled, becauſe we
have done all theſe abominations. This makes a break in the ſen-
tence, where the pauſe is in the original, and agrees very well with
the prophet's deſign in this chapter ; for he was here exhorting the
nation to be ſincere in turning to God: and it was very proper upon
this occaſion to take notice of their preſent hypocriſy, and to ac-
quaint them, that it was to no purpoſe to come into the houſe of
God and confeſs with their mouths, that the evils, which they ſuf-
fered, were brought upon them for their crimes; ſo long as they
continued without ſcruple to practice them,
V. 27. 28.
XXX. V, 15.
X X 2
ma
348 An Eſay on Virtue
motives, which their lawgiver had ſet before them,
were life and good, and death and evil; a bleſſing,
if they obeyed the commandment of the Lord their
God; and a curſe, if they refuſed to obey; when-
ever theſe motives failed, as in the caſe before us
they muſt fail, if the law had been ſupported by
temporal rewards and puniſhments only; when-
ever they, who obeyed the law, could not be bleſs-
ed, nor be even more fatally accurfed, though they
ſhould rebel againſt God, than they found them-
felves already; in theſe circumſtances the law
would loſe all its authority, and one generation
of men, by entailing a curſe upon their pofterity,
would make the obſervance of it of little or no
importance to thoſe, who ſucceeded them.
It is as difficult to make out the juſtice of this
diſpenſation, unleſs we take in the hopes of a fu-
ture ſtate, as to ſhew it to be either conſiſtent or
ſufficient to produce a conſtant and uniform ob-
Warburton fervance of the law. «The violence indeed of
V. II. p.451. « irregular paſſions might make ſome ſort of ,
« of ſtronger complexions, ſuperior to all the fear
« of perfonal temporal evil: and an aſcendent
« might frequently be gained over the moſt de-
« termined by puniſhments, that ſhould extend
“ to the poſterity of wicked men, as the inſtinc-
“ tive fondneſs of parents to their offspring would
« make ſuch puniſhments terrible even to thoſe,
<< who have hardened themſelves into an inſenſi-
bility
men,
1
An Eſay on Virtue. 349
« bility of perſonal ones.” But the great queſtion
here has been, not whether this method of puniſh-
ing would be moſt effectual in ſecuring the ob-
ſervance of the law, but whether it is a juſt me-
thod; not whether the end of God's government
would be moſt certainly brought about by in-
flicting upon an innocent poſterity the puniſh-
ment of crimes, in the guilt of which they were
unconcerned, but whether the goodneſs and juſtice
of God would permit him to make any of his
creatures miſerable, unleſs they had deſerved it;
thoſe more eſpecially, who, though they were de-
ſcended from criminal parents, had by their own
obedience to his will, and in virtue of his pro-
miſes, an expreſs claim to happineſs
. For the end
might be good and juſt, and yet the means be
quite the reverſe. The abſolute dominion of God Grot. de jur.
over His creatures, may vindicate His juſtice in L. II. c. 21.
taking away that life and thoſe bleſſings, when S. 14.
and in what manner He pleaſes, which were ori-
ginally His gifts, and were beſtowed
upon
ſuch
precarious title, as gave no claim to then, only
during His pleaſure. But then He muſt take away
the life with the bleſſings; for He could no more,
conſiſtently with His goodneſs
, leave thoſe miſe-
rable, whom He had once made happy, and who
had never offended Him, than He could, confi-
ſtently with the ſame goodneſs, have made them
miſerable at firſt; and His juſtice would not al-
low
а.
350 An Eſay on Virtue.
low Him to recall either life or bleſſings, that are
aſcertained to the poſſeſſors, by expreſs promiſe.
When He ſays, he who doth my ſtatutes Mall live
in them, when He ſets before them a bleſſing, and
engages to beſtow it if they obeyed the command-
ment of the Lord their God; He had no longer
an abſolute dominion over theſe gifts of His, the
promiſe that He had made having given to them,
who kept his ſtatutes and obeyed his command-
ments, ſuch a claim as could not be juſtly ſuperſe-
Warburton ded for the iniquity of any other perſon. But it is ur-
V. II. p.457. ged that the conſequence of the Theocracy, in
« which God ſupported the Iſraelites by an ex-
“ traordinary providence, was great temporal
bleſſings given them on condition, and to which
they had no natural claim: ſo that theſe ex-
traordinary bleſſings, like fiefs of the crown,
« became forfeit upon violating thoſe conditions,
“ under which they are held; and therefore no-
« thing could be more equitable than to with
“ draw them from the children of a father thus
« offending m. But how were the children puniſh-
9. This is one principle upon which the learned Mr. Warburton
vindicates this diſpenſation ; but it is not the only one. For firſt
he repreſents it as a part of a civil inſtitution [V. II. pag. 455.]
given by God to this people, of which he was the tutelary Deity
and civil governour; and obſerves, that it is the practice in all ſtates
to puniſh
the crime of leſe majeſty in this manner,
and that, to render
it juft, nothing more is requiſite than it's being in the compact (as
it was here) on man's free entrance into fociety. But what were
the bleſſings, which according to the original contract were to be
forfeited by the children for the crimes of their parents? were they
all
An Elay on Virtue.
351
upon them;
ed ? Not barely by withdrawing theſe extraor-
dinary bleſſings only, but either by making them
miſerable, whilſt they lived, or by depriving them
of life itſelf. The withdrawing ſpecial favours,
held under an extraordinary providence, would
have left them to that common providence, which
overlooks and takes care of the affairs of all man-
kind: but ſometimes they had poſitive evils in-
flicted
and ſometimes their life was
the forfeiture; in which caſe they certainly loſt,
not any peculiar bleſſing granted to thoſe who
lived under a Theocracy, but one of thoſe natural
ones, which God beſtows promiſcuouſly upon all
mankind.
But let the life and happineſs promiſed by the law
reach beyond the grave, and then the obligation to
obey it becomes uniformand conſtant, it's fanctions
are reconciled and their juſtice is vindicated. No
motives or encouragement to obey God's will could
ever be wanting to thoſe, who were, if it was poſſi-
ble, to be made happy here; and if it was not, had rea-
fon to expect that they ſhould be made ſo hereafter.
all the bleſſings, which God beſtows upon any of his creatures ? or
thoſe only, which were the effects of an extraordinary providence,
and were held as fiefs of the crown? If the latter only, then indeed
this principle is the ſame with that conſidered in the text, and does not
come up to the caſe; becauſe in puniſhing the children they were
more than deprived of theſe extraordinary bleſſings; poſitive evils
were inflicted upon them, if they lived to bear the iniquity of their
fathers. [Lament. v. v.7.] But if their life was taken away as the
puniſhment of their parents crimes, then they loſt what was not held.
under the extraordinary providence, like a fief of the crown in our
Gothic
352 An Elay on Virtue.
When the puniſhment of the ſtate had involved
the innocent in the public calamity; or when the
innocent bore the iniquity of their wicked parents ;
Gothic conſtitutions, but what was one of the cominon benefits
granted alike, by the author of our being, to all mankind. But were
theſe bleſſings, which God beſtows upon all his creatures, what by
the original compact between him and the Iſraelites ſhould be for-
fieted in caſe they were guilty of treaſon, both by him who com-
mitted the crime, and by his children too, though they were inno-
cent? This, I think, can ſcarce be imagined : for (if no future ſtate
was promiſed) this ſuppoſition contradicts the genius of the law,
which repreſents it as always in a man's own power to chuſe whether
he will obtain the bleſſings of the covenant and avoid the curſes of
it; whereas this ſuppoſition makes as much, or more, depend upon
the behaviour of a man's parents as upon his own. And thus the
people of God, by being under the protection of his extraordinary
providence, were in a much worſe condition than the reſt of the
world: the virtuous man in any other ſituation might be happy;
but the virtuous Ifraelite, if his father only had been wicked, muſt
be miſerable. For granting all the bleſſings of this world and even
life itſelf, I mean the preſent life, to become forfeit by the original
compact, ſo as to be wholly loſt both to the offender and to his pofterity
for the crime of leſe majeſty; yet this principle is not applicable
here, and ſomething more than it's being in the compact at the firſt
entrance into fociety ſeems requiſite to vindicate the juſtice of ſuch a
diſpenſation. The principle is not applicable ; becauſe not only the
crime of idolatry, which is properly that of treaſon, where God is
the civil governour, but many other crimes were puniſhed upon the
children of thoſe, who committed them. The declaration in the
ſecond commandment is a general one, and fets forth, not what
God would do to thoſe who were guilty of idolatry, but what he
oes in all inſtances whatever. I the Lord thy God am a jealons God,
viſiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, unto the third aud
fourth generation of them that hate me. For though the place, where
it ſtands, has connected it with the prohibition of idolatry, yet the
words of it are ſuch as will take in all other caſes. And the inſtances
of Achan's family. (Joſh. vii. V. 15. 24. 25.] and of David's child
[2 Sam. XII. V. 14.] plainly prove that the penalty due to the father's
offences was executed upon the poſterity in other inſtances beſides
that
An Elay on Virtue.
353
yet God did not fail in his promiſes of giving
them life and bleſſings, if the law by theſe pro-
miſes had opened to their view the proſpect of
1
1
that of treaſon againſt God: for I ſuppoſe that every breach of the
laws or commands of a civil governour is not properly treaſon.
Mr. Warburton himſelf ſeems to apprehend, that ſomething elſe is
requiſite to make this puniſhment juft, beſides it's being in the com-
pact upon man's free entrance into fociety: why elſe ſhould he con-
ſider it as a compact of a peculiar fort, by which the bleſſings they
enjoyed were held, under an extraordinary providence,, like fiefs of
the crown? why elſe ſhould he go on to inform the reader, that the
execution of this puniſhment was reſerved to God himſelf, and that
the magiſtrate was forbid to imitate this inethod of puniſhing, becauſe
no power leſs than omniſcient could in all caſes keep clear of injuſtice in
ſuch an adminiſtration? (V. II. pag. 456.] For could any thing leſs
than Omniſcience, in all caſes keep clear of injuſtice in puniſhing
the criminal himſelf? if not, then why was the magiſtrate allowed to
do this, ſince the ſame reaſon ſubſiſts here? and if the reaſon was of
weight enough to forbid him puniſhing the poſterity; it would have
had the fame weight in preventing him from puniſhing thoſe who
committed the crime. But if leſs than Omniſcience might keep clear
of injuſtice in puniſhing the offender in his own perſon, and nothing
more was requiſite to make the puniſhment of the children juſt,
where the parents had offended, than it's being in the original com-
pact; then the magiſtrate might have been allowed to imitate this
method of puniſhment, with as little danger of acting unjuſtly in
puniſhing the children of wicked parents, as in puniſhing thoſe parents
themſelves. If indeed the conſent of the children to the iniquities of
their parents, or if their approbation at leaſt, had been requiſite, then
as theſe might frequently be tacit, nothing leſs than Omniſcience
could have kept clear of injuſtice in uſing this method of puniſh-
ment; and though this is making ſomething elſe neceſſary to vindicate
this diſpenſation, beſides the compact at entering into ſociety, yet
Mr. Warburton ſeems to intimate that this was the caſe:[pag. 456.]
but however he does not inſiſt upon it; he owns [pag. 457. ] that
the facts are againſt the ſuppoſition, and that doubtleſs an innocent
poſterity was ſometimes puniſhed, according to the denunciation of this
law, for the crimes of their wicked fathers.
у
ano-
Y Y
1
354 An Efay on Virtue.
another world: and they in the mean time would
have no reaſon to complain againſt the juſtice of
God for making them miſerable here, as it was
done in conſequence of ſanctions, that were de-
ſigned to preſerve the obſervance of a law, from
which they had the hopes of being made immortal
and happy hereafter. And ſince the Iſraelites muſt
have underſtood, that the rewards and puniſh-
ments propoſed in the law belonged to particular
perfons as well as to the public ; ſince they ſaw,
that, unleſs there was a future ſtate, the ſeveral parts
of this diſpenſation would claſh with each other,
and the fanctions, be frequently inconſiſtent and
ſometimes unjuſt; and ſince they were perſuaded,
that the law was of divine original, and that
nothing, which comes from God, can be charged
with theſe imperfections; it would be natural for
them to conclude, that the life and bleſſings, which
the law had promifed, were in part to be referred
to a world to come.
This concluſion of theirs would be farther con-
firmed by obſerving, that the penalty threatened
to ſome crimes did not only regard particulars,
but was ſuch too, as could not be inflicted in the
preſent life, and therefore would be unintelligible,
if there was no future one. The words of the law
are theſe: Whoſoever he be of the children of Iſrael,
or of the ſtrangers that ſojourn in Iſrael, that giveth
any of his ſeed unto Molech, he ſhall ſurely be put
Lev.XX. V, 2.
to
An Elay on Virtue. 355
1
to death: the people of the land ſhall ſtone him with
ſtones, and I (the Lord) will ſet my face againſt
that man and will cut him off from among his
people : becauſe he hath given of his feed unto Molech,
to defile my fanétuary, and to profane my holy name.
And if the people of the land do any ways hide their
eyes from the man, when he giveth of his feed unto
Molech, and kill him not; then I will ſet my face
againſt that man, and againſt his family, and will
cut him off and all that go a whoring after him,
to commit whoredom with Molech, from among
their people. But how are we to underſtand this
penalty ? - The people of the land were to ſtone
him to death, who offered any of his feed unto
Molech, and then God was to cut him off from
among his people. --God's cutting him off from
among his people cannot mean, that he ſhould
die an immature death by the ſpecial guidance and
direction of providence: for when the puniſhment
enjoyned by the law was regularly inflicted, this
would always prevent the hand of God. Nor can it
mean, that God would make uſe of the people as
his inftrument and take care, by appointment of
law, that he, who had been guilty of this deteſted
idolatry ſhould be put to death: for God, we find,
threatens, thàt, if the people neglected to ſtone him,
yet he ſhould not eſcape with impunity; ſtill, ſays
he, I will ſet my face againſt that man and againſt
his family, and will cut him off, and all that go
Yy 2
5
-
1
а.
556 An Elay on Virtue.
----
a whoring after him, to commit whoredom with
Molech, from among their people. Cutting off
from among his or their people is the ſame expref-
fion in both places, and muſt have the ſame fig-
nification in both: but in the latter place it
cannot ſignify, that the criminal ſhould die by
the hand of man; and in the former it cannot
ſignify, either that he ſhould ſuffer any puniſh-
ment in this world, ſince his being ſtoned to death
would prevent any farther puniſhment here, or
that he ſhould die by the hand of God. The only
ſenſe, in which the penalty can be underſtood, is,
that there was an inheritance, which God deſigned
to beſtow upon his people in another life, from
which all, who committed the crime here de-
ſcribed, ſhould be finally excluded; and whilſt
they, who kept the law, ſhould fit down with
Abraham, and Iſaac and Jacob, they, who kept
it not, ſhould be caſt out into outer darkneſs
. n.
Whether the Iſraelites attended to theſe hopes,
is another queſtion : they might have ſufficient
" Where the puniſhment took in, not only the criminal, but his
family too, we ſee, in this inſtance, what parts of his family
, were to
fuffer, if it was final. God would ſet his face againſt the man and
againſt his family, and would cut off him and all that imitated his
example : a limitation, which was neither expreſſed in ſwords nor
obtained in fact, where the poſterity ſuffered temporal puniſhment
for the offences of their wicked parent. In this life the innocent were
puniſhed with the guilty, in the next thoſe only were to ſuffer, who
were concerned in the crime.
no-
An Eſay on Virtue.
357
notices, given them of future rewards and puniſh-
ments, and yet regard nothing but the preſent
life and the temporal advantages, which were
promiſed to thoſe, who ſhould obey the law. This
was at laſt moſt remarkably the caſe of the whole
fect of the Sadducees. In the time of our Saviour
the Jews were certainly acquainted with the
doctrine of a future ſtate; and the extraordinary
providence, which was adminiſtered before the
captivity, had then entirely ceaſed: ſo that who-
ever would adhere to their law muſt depend either
upon the hopes of a life to come, or elſe upon
thoſe of a preſent reward, which every day's ex-
perience would ſhew to be uncertain and ground-
leſs. Yet in theſe circumſtances we find the Sad-
ducees tenacious of the law, more ſo indeed than
ever the Iſraelites were before the captivity; though
they denied even the poſſibility of a future exi-
ſtence and had no expectations but of preſent bleſſ-
ings. And if their mind could be fo taken up
with promiſes of temporal happineſs, at a time
when thoſe promiſes were not made good, as to
neglect the doctrine of a future ſtate; though we
are ſure it was then known and cultivated by the reſt
of their brethren; why might not it be known in
the firſt ages of the law, though it ſhould appear,
that the Iſraelites, wholly taken up not only with
paſt promiſes but with the actual enjoyment of
tem-
358 An Eſſay on Virtue.
i
I
Duter. XVIH.
V. II
1 Samuel
XXVIII.
temporal happineſs
, did not attend much to it or
make it the ground of their obedience?
In the interval between the giving of the law
and the return from the captivity there are many
plain intimations, that the Iſraelites were acquaint-
ed with the doctrine of a future ſtate. The law,
which forbids nécromancy cannot be alledged
as a proof, that the ſoul ſurvives the body; but
this we may be ſure of, that the practice of
conſulting with the dead, about future events and
about the conduct of our own lives, cannot poſſi-
bly prevail, unleſs where the doctrine of the ſouls
future exiſtence is known and received. And we
find that necromancy was very general in the days
of Saul, till he had put away the wizards and the
conſulters with familiar ſpirits
. Theſe people are
indeed not called necromancers in this part of the
facred hiſtory: but that they, who conſulted with
familiar ſpirits, pretended to conſult with the dead,
at leaſt that one of them did pretend to this, is plain
from the account of what paſſed between Saul
and the woman at Endor. Whether that, which
appeared, was the real Samuel, or an evil ſpirit in
his ſhape, or whether the whole was a cheat of
the woman's, is not material to be determined;
ſince the ſtory itſelf thews what was the opinion
of Saul; and the manner, in which it is told by
the hiſtorian, as well as the prevalency of necro-
mancy in thoſe days, is a clear proof that the
I Samuel
XXVIII. v., 8.
II. 12.
Iſrae-
An Eſay on Virtue. 359
1
!
ma
v. 8. 9. 10.11.
Ifraelites, wherever they had their information,
did at that time know ſomething of the doc-
trine of a future ſtate. Their abuſing this know-
ledge to ſupport a practice, which the law had
forbidden, is no reaſon for concluding that they
had not derived it from the law, any more than
their abuſing the brazen ſerpent to a purpoſe ex- 2KingsXVIII.
preſsly forbidden in the law will prove that they Exod
. xx.
had not received from the books of Moſes their V. 4. 5.
account of thoſe benefits, which were, according
to God's appointment, conveyed to their fathers by Numb. Xxxr.
that ſerpent.
David does not ſpeak in the ſixteenth pſalm like
one, who was ignorant of either a future ſtate or
the doctrine of redemption, where he ſạys; I have
ſet the Lord always before me; becauſe he is at my
right hand, I mall not be moved : therefore my
heart is glad, and my glory
, rejoyceth: my fleſh alſo
ſhall reſt in hope: for thou wilt not leave my ſoul
in hell; neither wilt thou ſuffer thine holy one to
ſee corruption : thou ſhalt few me the path of life;
in thy preſence is fulneſs of joy, at thy right hand
there are pleaſures for evermore. If theſe words
may be underſtood either of a redeemer, a reſur-
rection, and a future life; or of David's aſſurance Warburton
that God would not ſuffer him to fall immaturely, V. II. p. 564.
and of the high pleaſure, as well as ſecurity which
there is in walking according to the law of God;
I know how they ought to be underſtood: if the
words
-
360
An Eſſay on Virtue.
words themſelves are equally capable of either
fenſe, St. Peter has determined which is the true
Aas. II. v.29. one. Men and brethren; let me freely Speak unto
you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead
and buried, and his fepulchre is with us unto this
day; therefore being a prophet and knowing that
God had ſworn with an oath to him, that of the
fruit of his loins, according to the fleſh, he would
raiſe up Chriſt, to ſit on his throne : he ſeeing this
before ſpake of the reſurrection of Chriſt, that bis
Joul was not left in hell
, neither, his fleſh did ſee
corruption. Other prophetical paſſages there may
be, which are applicable to Chriſt only in their
ſpiritual meaning, and which in a primary ſenſe
were true of ſome other perſon: but this cannot
be the caſe of the paſſage before us; for St. Peter
does not apply it to Chriſt by an authoritative in-
terpretation, but by proving, that it could not
poſſibly be ſpoken originally of David: and his
argument would have been inconcluſive, if the
words had been at firſt deſigned by the pſalmiſt
to relate in any ſenſe to what did or might con-
cern himſelf.
The prayer, which Solomon addreſſed to the
God of Iſrael in the dedication of the temple, is
looked
upon as a comment on the ſanctions of
the law, as a petition for a continuance of the
old covenant made by the miniſtry of Moſes. In
this light it may ſerve to teach us what thoſe
fanc-
Warburton
pag. 435.
เ* *
An Eſſay on Virtue. 361
v. 28. &c.
fanctions were, or what in the days of Solomon
they were eſteemed to be. The part of it, which
more eſpecially relates to the preſent queſtion, is
thus expreſſed: If there be dearth in the land, if 2 Chron. Yı.
there be peſtilence, if there be blaſting or mildew,
locufts or caterpillars; if their enemies befege them
in the cities of their land; whatſoever fore, or
whatſoever fickneſs there be: then what prayer or
fupplication foever Mall be made of any man, or of
all thy people Iſrael, when every one ſall know his
own fore, and his own grief, and mall ſpread forth
his hands in this houſe ; then hearThou from heaven,
and forgive and render unto every man according
unto all his ways, whoſe heart Thou knoweſt. When 2 Chron. VII.
Solomon had finiſhed this prayer, he ſtood andbleſs-
ed all the congregation of Iſrael with a loud voice
Jaying, bleſſed be the Lord, that hath given reft un-
to His people Iſrael, according to all that he pro-
miſed: there hath not failed one word of all His
good promiſe, which He promiſed by the band of
Moſes His ſervant. From this declaration of So-
lomon it
appears, that the diſpenſations of provi-
dence had conſtantly been as equal, from the time
of giving the law, to the time, in which he lived,
as Moſes had promiſed they ſhould be. And when 1 Kings IX.
the Lord appeared to Solomon and aſſured him,
that He had heard his prayer and his fupplication,
this was engaging to make good all that he had
prayed for and extended the ſame equal providence
V, I. &c.
V. 2. 3:
Zz
362
An Elay on Virtue.
,-.
to the captivity. If therefore that prayer is a com-
ment upon the Moſaic ſanctions, and yet there are
found in the hiſtory of the Iſraelites, before the
captivity, manifeſt inequalities in the diſpenſation
of good and evil, theſe cannot be accounted for by
a gradual withdrawing of God's extraordinary pro-
vidence over them, but muſt be conſiſtent with the
rewards and puniſhments promiſed in the law.
And when God had engaged to render to every
man according unto all his ways, and yet did
not do ſo in this life; it was obvious to conclude,
that there is a life after this : and ſuch a conclu-
fion could not but be made by one, who, though
he had been favoured with ſuch a promiſe, ſtill
faw that in the preſent world there was one event
to the righteous and to the wicked.
One would think that the author of the book of
Eccleſiaſtes did not live under an extraordinary
providence, ſo equally adminiſtered as conſtantly
to diſpenſe in this life rewards to thoſe, who did
well; and puniſhments to thoſe, who did otherwiſe.
Ecclef
. vii. His obſervation and experience had ſhewn him,
VII.v.14. that there is a juſt man, that periſheth in his right-
eouſneſs, and there is a wicked man, that prolong-
eth his life in his wickedneſs; that there be juſt men,
unto whom it happeneth according to the work of
the wicked, and again there be wicked men, to whom
it happeneth according to the work of the righteous.
Warburton It was not amongſt his Pagan neighbours that he
had
V.II.p.443.
1
An Eſay on Virtue. . 363
V. 2.
V. I 2
had taken notice of this inequality; but in Judea
itſelf amongſt the people of God: all things, ſays Ecclef. IX.
he, come alike to all; there is one event to the right-
eous and to the wicked, to the good and to the clean
and to the unclean, to him that ſacrificeth and to
him that ſacrificeth not. He is certainly here de-
fcribing inequalities, which happened, not any
where elſe, not amongſt idolaters, but in that place
where facrificing was doing right, or where it
was a part of the true religion. He expected in-
deed that theſe inequalities would be ſet right;
and that although a finner do evil an hundred Eccleſ. viii.
times, and his days be prolonged, yet ſurely, ſays
he, I know, that it mall be well with them that
fear God, which fear before him. But when, or by
whom was this to be brought about ? _Not by the
magiſtrate in a juſt execution of the law; for be Ecclef
. III.
ſaw the place of judgment, that wickedneſs was there,
and the place of righteouſneſs, that iniquity was
there. It was God, by whom he expected to have
all theſe difficulties adjuſted; he ſaid in his own Tbid. v. 25.
heart, God ſhall judge the righteous and the wicked;
and he adviſes others, when they ſaw the oppreſſion of Ecclef. v.
the poor, and violent perverting of judgment and
juſtice in a province, not to marvel at the matter;
for He, that is higher than the higheſt, regardeth it,
and there be higher than they. But could he,
whoſe whole experience had ſhewn him, that all
things come alike to all men, expect that the
Moſt
+
Z z 2
364
An Elay on Virtue.
Ecclef. IX.
V.1,
Moſt High would correct theſe inequalities in the
preſent ſtate of things? muſt not he in the courſe
of his life have ſeen the end of many juſt and of
many unjuſt men? and if before their death one
ſort had been always rewarded, and the other al-
ways puniſhed, could he have affirmed, that no one
can know either love or hatred by all that is before
him; that no one from any obſervations, which he
might make, would be able to diſcern, who were
the favourites of heaven, and who were not? And
as he had not often ſeen the ſanctions of tempo-
ral rewards and puniſhments take place, in re-
gard to particulars, amongſt all the inſtances of
good and bad men, that had fallen under his no-
tice; he could have no hopes of ſeeing a more
equal providence reſtored, in order to clear up
theſe difficulties. Nay, he declares, that he did not
expect to ſee them cleared up in this preſent life; for
when he conſidered all the oppreſſions, that are done
under the ſun, when he ſaw the tears of ſuch as
were oppreſſed, and they had no comforter, and on
the fide of their oppreſſors there was power, but they
had no comforter; theſe inequalities gave him rea-
fon to praiſe the dead, which are already dead,
more than the living, which are yet alive. This
muſt have been a very odd declaration for one,
who lived under a diſpenſation, where length of
days was the principal reward of virtue, and where
preſent miſery was all the puniſhment, which vice
had
Ecclef. iv.
Y.).
Ibid. v. 2.
:-
An Elay on Virtue i
365
had to fear. Such a declaration could ſcarce have
been made, if he expected to ſee the inequalities,
that he ſo much complained of, adjuſted in this
life: and yet, we find, he was perſuaded that
they would be adjuſted ſomewhere; and therefore
he muſt know that death is not the end of our
exiſtence, but that God intended to call mankind
to judgment in another world, and to pafs ſen-
tence upon them, according to what they have
done in this. Had he believed, that nothing but
temporal rewards were promiſed to thoſe, who
ſhould keep the commandments of God; as his
extenſive and continued experience had taught
him, that in the generality of inſtances no ſuch
prorniſes were made good; he muſt have con-
cluded, that it was quite indifferent, whether God
was obeyed or no, as to any thing that would
happen to a man in conſequence of his behaviour.
But inſtead of this, from his experience of the
vanity of this world, joined to his aſſurance that
God would fulfil his promiſes, he concludes up-
on the whole; fear God and keep his command-Ecclef. Xır.
ments for this is the whole of man; becauſe God
will bring every work into judgment with every
ſecret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be
evilº ,
V. 13: 14.2
• When Solomon ſays that the dead know not any thing, neither
have they any more a reward, for the memory of them is forgotten ;
(EC-
366
An Eſay on Virtue.
&c.
The authority of Chriſt and his Apoſtles has
confirmed this interpretation of the legal fanctions.
Luke X. v.25. When our bleſſed Saviour was asked by the law-
yer what he ſhould do to inherit eternal life, he
fends him to the law; what, ſays he, is written in
the law ? how readeſt thou? and he anſwering,
ſaid, thou ſhalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart, and with all thy ſoul, and with all thy
Arength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbour
as thyſelf
. And he ſaid unto him, thou haſt anſwer-
ed right: this do, and thou ſhalt live. Theſe words
of Chriſt are very near the ſame with thoſe, in
which the Mofaic fanction was expreſſed; and as
they are an anſwer to the lawyer's queſtion,+what
he ſhould do to inherit eternal life,—they are cer-
tainly to be explained by that queſtion; and
therefore to live muſt in this place mean to live
eternally. It is very unlikely, that Chriſt ſhould
intend to add freſh ſtrength to the Moſaic cove-
nant, and to ſupport the expiring law by a new
[Eccleſ. 1x. V.5-] I underſtand him much in the ſame ſenſe as I do
Teucer in the Ajax of Sophocles,
Φευ, το θανόν ως ταχεία τις βροτοίς
Χάρις διαρρεί, και προδεσ’ αλίσκέλαι.
And thus he ſeems to explain himſelf in the words, which immedi-
ately follow; and their love and their hatred and their envy is now pe-
riſbed; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing, that
is done under the fun. (v. 6.) This limits all, that had been ſaid before,
to the portion of a man in this-life, after he himſelf is gone out of it.
fan-
An Eſay on Virtue. 367
Gal. III. v. 112
ſanction, and a more valuable one too than any, or
than all of thoſe, with which it was originally en-
forced. And it is certain that the promiſe of life,
which is here made, does not belong to the Goſpel
covenant; for the terms of it are the very fame
with thoſe of the law, the man that doth them fall Gal. III. v. 12.
live in them; the promiſes of Chriſtianity are
made upon a very different condition, they offer
life to every one that believeth; for the juſt Mall Rom. I. v. 16.
live by faith. Nor could this be a fanction, which iv.v. 5
had been added by the prophets, who lived after
the times of Mofes, ſince the law neither wanted
any ſuch nor would admit of any : the lawgiver
himſelf had both declared, that what he had pro-Deuteron.
miſed was ſufficient to enforce obedience, and
had moſt folemnly forbidden the leaſt addition to Deuteron. IV.
be made to the written inſtitution.
The later Jews might, notwithſtanding this,
have altered the fanction, as they made void the
precepts, by their own traditions : but had this
tradition been, like the reſt, had it been one that
was raiſed without any good grounds, and fup-
ported by no authority from the word of God;
Chriſt would not have accuſed thoſe, who denied
a reſurrection, of erring, for want of knowing the Matt
. XXII.
fcriptures and the power of God: they could not
poſſibly have been charged with this; unleſs the
ſcriptures had contained what thoſe, who were
dilim
XXX.v.15.&c.
V. 2:
V.29:
368 An Eſay on Virtue.
diligent in P ſearching them, expe&ted to find there,
the promiſes of eternal life: he would not have
p. The paffage here alluded to is in the original, (Joh. v.v. 39:40.]
έρευνάτε τας γραφάς, ότι υμείς δοκείτε εν αυταίς ζωήν αιώνιον έχειν, και εκεί-
ναι εισιν αι μαρτυρεσαι σερί εμε" και 8 θέλεθε έλθείν προς με, ένα ζωην
{Xnte. Chriſt ſeems to ſpeak of it as a ſtrange thing that they, who
thought they had the promiſes of eternal life in the ſcriptures, ſhould
not come to him, when thoſe very ſcriptures gave teſtimony of
him: but it would have been no ſtrange thing at all, if they had
never ſearched the ſcriptures; Chriſt might be pointed out there,
and yet they not come to him, if they had not been converfant in
thoſe books: therefore as tranſlating the word peuvãre imperatively,
ſearch the ſcriptures, ſuppoſes them
not uſed to ſearch there before,
and ſo will make this paffage confuſed and little to the purpoſe,
what if we ſhould tranſlate it indicatively? ye ſearch the ſcriptures,
for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and they are they which teſtify
of me; and ye will not come to me, that ye might have life.
I fancy there are ſome other paſſages in the ſcriptures, where the
ſame miſtake has left an obfcurity, that may be cleared up only by
altering the tranſlation. (Rom. xii. V. 8.] Mndevi under seineTE,
which we render owe no man any thing, had better have been ren-
dered
ye owe no man any thing: for then it would have fallen in ex-
actly with the Apoſtle's reaſoning in this place, which is deſigned to
Shew, that the evangelical precept of charity, when rightly com-
plyed with, contains the whole law, and is the ſum of whatever we
can be obliged to in our dealings with each other.
They are ſurely in the right, who tranſlate the word xabiféle in
the following paffage (1 Cor. VI.v.4.] indicatively and with an inter-
rogation: Τολμά τις υμών πράγμα έχων προς τον έτερον κρίνεται επί των
αδίκων, και όχι επί των αγίων και εκ οίδε ότι οι άγιοι τον κόσμον κρινεσι, και
ει εν υμίν κρίνειαι ο κόσμG", ανάξιοί εσε κριτηρίων ελαχίστων και εκ οίδατε ότι
αγέλες κρινομεν; μήτι γε βιωτικά και βιωτικα μεν εν κριτήρια εαν έχητε,
τες έξωθενημένες εν τη εκκλησία, τέτες καθίζελε. This whole paffage I
would tranſlate, dare any of you having a matter againſt another, go
to law before the unjuſt, and not before the ſaints? do ye not know, that
the ſaints ſhall judge the world? and if the world ſhall be judged by you,
are ye unworthy to judge the ſmalleſt matters ? know ye not, that we
ſhall judge angels? how much more things, that pertain unto this life?
if then ye have judgment of things pertaining to this life, do ye ſet them
to
An Elay on Virtue. 369
referred this enquirer to the law for a promiſe,
which appeared no where, but in their own tra-
בָזָה
-
to judge, who are deſpiſed in the church? this conſtruction makes the
paſſage uniform and intelligible, and connects it, at leaſt, as well with
what follows, as the common one does; I ſpeak to your mare, is it
fo, that there is not a wiſe man amongſt you, no not one, that all be
able to judge between his brethren? but brother goeth to law with bro-
ther, and that before the unbelievers. The unbelievers are thoſe, who
are deſpiſed in the church, of whom the church makes no account:
if any one thinks this too hard an appellation, and ſuch as the Apoſtle
is not uſed to give to the heathens, he may be ſatisfied by looking
back to the firſt verſe of the chapter, where he will find them called
the unjuft. The words i Esdevéw and & Extevéw are of the ſame ſignifica-
tion in the Helleniſtical writers: the Lxx tranſlate the word
ſometimes by one of them and ſometimes by the other ; and Pfal.
LXXII.
V. 20. we find & Esdevéw uſed in exactly the ſame ſenſe, in
which I have here tranflated εξεθενέω, εν τη πόλει σε την εικόνα αυτων
έξυδενώσεις. .
Our Saviour ſays, [Matth. XXIII.V.2.] The Scribes and Phariſees fit
in Moſes ſeat, all therefore whatſoever they bid you obſerve, that obſerve
and do, (Inpeite vy WOLETTE] but do not ye [lu s WONETTE] after their works.
But could Chriſt, who bids his diſciples beware of the doctrine of
the Phariſees, [Matt. XVI. V. 12.] ever be ſuppoſed to direct the
multitude to do what they commanded? could he, who charged the
Phariſees [Matt. xv.v.6.] with making void the precepts of God
by their traditions, think of bidding his hearers obſerve what they
ordered ? could he, who immediately afterwards (XXIII. V, 16.17.
18.] called theſe Scribes and Phariſees blind guides (not only for the
example which they ſet, but for the doctrine which they taught) or-
der thoſe, who came to be inſtructed by him, to commit themſelves
to the direction of ſuch guides? ſurely there is more reaſon for think-
ing, that he ſpoke to them in this manner; the Scribes and Phariſees
fit in Mofes feat: all therefore whatſoever they bid you obſerve that ye
obſerve and do; but do not ye after their works. The word wonente in
the former part of the ſentence ſhould be tranſlated indicatively, and
in the latter imperatively. Though the authority of the Scribes and
Phariſees is ſuch, that it dazzles you, and makes you pay obedience
to their commands; yet you cannot be deceived by their example ;
do not imitate their works, for you will fee by theſe how little they
are to be depended upon, ſince they ſay and do not.
1.
3 A
exhortation to give up his integrity, but a doubt whether he had
370 An Elay on Virtue.
ditions: and he, who was upon all occaſions ſo
bitter againſt their unwarranted traditions, would
not have countenanced this, if it had been falſe;
eſpecially ſince it was ſuch an one, as, we find, did
Warburton, afterwards greatly obſtruct the reception of true
V.II.p.581.
582.
Chriſtianity. If therefore the Jewiſh traditions
had interpreted the promiſes of the law in this
fenſe, we may venture to follow that interpreta-
tion, and to affirm, that the law did promiſe eter-
nal life, not merely becauſe the Jews thought ſo,
but becauſe the moſt authentic interpreter of that
law confirmed their opinion.
St. Paul, in his epiſtles, ſpeaks the language of
his Maſter, that the law was ordained to life; and
V. IO.
Warburton.
V.II. p. 581. I know not whether a difficult paſſage in the book of Job
[II. v. 9.] may not be cleared up by ſuch a change in the con-
ſtruction of it. Then ſaid his wife unto him, doſt thou ſtill retain thine
integrity ? curſe God and die : the original is a DS 779
by changing the points, which may be done without any ſcruple,
we might change theſe imperative verbs of the conjugation pihel
,
(or indeed 799 is itſelf the benoni of kal, though this form is
leſs uſed than the other.] If then we underſtand this to be ſpoken
interrogatively we might tranſlate it, does be that bleſſes or that
worſhips God even die? Job's wife reproached him juſt in the fame
manner that his friends did afterwards, and put the fame un-
kind conſtruction upon his ſufferings : fhe fuppofed it impoſſible
for thoſe, who obey God to be miſerable ; and therefore when ſhe
ſaw the calamity of her huſband, ſhe concluded, that, notwithſtand-
ing his fair appearance, he muſt have been a ſinner : doſt thou ſtill,
ſays ſhe, retain thine integrity? which I underſtand to be, not an
Rom. VII.
בּרֶךְ אֱלֹהִים יָמֵת into the participles benoni of kal
,
and read it
not parted with it already. Is it poſſible that you, who ſuffer fo
much, ſhould have retained your integrity ? God is always more
kind
An Eſſay on Virtue. 371
that the life, which it offered, was the ſame with
what was offered by the Goſpel: for he makes no
other difference between the two promiſes, but
only in the conditions of obtaining what was of-
fered by them: the juſt Mall live he underſtands
as a promiſe of the ſame import in both covenants;
only the means of obtaining the character of juſt
was not the fame in both; under the Mofaic dif-
penſation, it belonged to thoſe, who kept the right-Rom. II.v.26.
eouſneſs of the law; under the Goſpel, to thoſe, Rom. x. v. 3.
who ſubmitted themſelves into the righteouſneſs of
God, which is by faith of Jeſus Chrift; the former Gal. II. v. 12.
ſays, the man that doth them fall live in them, the Ibid. v. 11.
latter ſays, the juſt ſhall live by faith.
kind to his ſervants; are not thoſe, who are pure from iniquity, under
his protection ? does he, who bleſſes or who worſhips God periſh?
Job's reply to this is very pertinent, thou Speakeſt as one of the fooliſh
women ſpeaketh : what? ſhall we receive good at the hand of God and
Spall we not receive evil? are you ſo weak, or ſo little acquainted with
the ways of providence, as to imagine, that God ſends nothing
but good to thoſe who ſerve him? are not his diſpenſations
more mixed, and ought not we to be contented though they are ſo?
ſhall we receive good only, and ſhall we not receive evil? - Every
body knows, that 772 more frequently ſignifies to bleſs than to
curſe: and I underſtand Dribs ia be that bleſſes God to mean
be that worſhips God, becauſe I find that [Ifai.lxvi.v.3.] 178777?
means worſhipping an idol. A conſtruction not unlike what I have
given to this paſſage, and a fimilar uſe of the particle 1 may be met
with (Malach. 111. v. 15-] 1999! Duis una yea they who
tempt God are even delivered. Or if we make na the praeter tenſe
ofkal with the converſive 9 there is a paſſage (Deut. V. V. 22.] where
ſtill , x
: we
Lord our God, then we ſhall die.
3 A 2
What
אִם־יסְפִים אֲנַחְנוּ לִשְׁמעַ the conftruction is still more like this
if one bear any more the voice of the אֶת־קוֹל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ עוֹד וָמָתְנוּ
1
372 An Eſay on Virtue.
1
Warburton
What could have perſuaded the Apoſtle to make
this conceſſion and to reaſon from it, unleſs it had
been true?- ſure he would not have made it upon
any
confideration, if it had been attended with
a conſequence fo fatal to Chriſtianity as ſome
V.II. p.578.
have imagined : he would not have allowed the
truth of an opinion merely Jewiſh, and without
foundation, that they had eternal life in their
Scriptures
, if from thence it would neceſſarily fol-
low, that the miſſion of Jeſus was entirely vain,
Warburton as being ſuperſeded by that of Moſes. Or, if Moſes
V. II. p.478.
taught not a future ſtate, had it been an unavoid-
able conſequence, that his religion can only be
preparative to that of Jeſus, which did; and ſo
the total abolition of Judaiſm muſt neceſſarily
have followed upon the preaching of the Goſpel;
it is ſcarce to be imagined, that when the Apoſtle
was endeavouring to convince the perſons, to whom
he wrote, of the law's being abrogated, he ſhould
comply with a fond notion of the Jews, and grant
that Moſes had taught a future ſtate: nothing ſure
but the truth of this opinion could have prevailed
with him to allow it, when by doing ſo he was
forced to uſe an indirect method of proving what
would have been obvious to the meaneſt capaci-
Warburton ties, if he had done otherwiſe. This conduct of his
V. II. p.582. could not be owing to any fear of ſhocking an
univerſal tradition ſupported by a national belief;
unleſs the tradition was true, and the belief well
ground-
An Eſay on Virtue.
373
grounded: for we find that no reverence, either
to the antiquity, or to the general reception of an
opinion, could prevent him from oppoſing it, if it
was falſe. He, who was not afraid of contradict-
ing an univerſal tradition, that mankind could be
juſtified by the works of the law; he who againſt
the authority of a national belief, affirms that the
obligation of the law was void by the coming of
Chriſt, cannot be ſuppoſed to have been tender
of denying, that the law promiſed a future ſtate,
only becauſe the Jews thought otherwiſe.
Thus we have ſeen from the connection be-
tween the law of Mofes and the Abrahamic cove-
nant, from the nature of the legal ſanctions, and
from the authority of Chriſt and his Apoſtles, that
obedience to the will of God was enforced by
the promiſes of a future life, and that mankind
were taught to look for their ultimate happineſs
in a world to come, whilſt the Moſaic diſpenſa-
tion continued.
A
СНАР.
374
An Elay on Virtue.
CHAP. XIII.
Chriſtianity completes the patriarchal religion; and
promiſes the happineſs of another life, upon eafer
conditions than the law of Moſes had promiſed it.
D
Uring a great part of the interval between
Moſes and Chriſt, the Jews were favoured
with a ſucceſſion of prophets. But I do not con-
ſider this as a diſtinct period of revelation; be-
cauſe their office related partly to the law, which
was already given, and partly to the Goſpel, which
was to be publiſhed afterwards. In reſpect of the
law, thoſe inſpired teachers were to inculcate it's
precepts and to explain it's ſanctions; in reſpect
of the Goſpel, they were to do what the law it-
felf had in ſome fort done before, they were to
keep up in the minds of their countrymen the
expectations of a future redeemer, and were to
prepare them for his reception, whenever he
ſhould appear amongſt them.
Chriſtianity is the laſt revelation of God's will
to mankind; and in this He has completed the
gracious deſign, which was begun in the patriar-
chal diſpenſation and was carried on under the
See pag. 287. law. Our firſt parents were favoured with a very
early notice, that God would be reconciled after
the fall, and would reſtore to them and to their
post-
2
---
An Eſay on Virtue. 375
pofterity the happineſs and immortality, which
had been forfeited by their diſobedience. It did Sherlock on
not appear to them, when, or by whom this recon- pag. 74.
ciliation was to be brought about: the ſupport of
their obedience was a general promiſe of victory
over the ſerpent, in which were included the
hopes of recovering what had been loft by his vi-
ctory over them; and the will of God, as far as
they could diſcover it, was the rule of their be-
haviour.
In this general promiſe of recovering eternal
happineſs all the deſcendants of Adam were equal-
ly concerned. But ſome particular aſſurances of See pag.295.
this ſort ſeem to have been given to the family of
Seth: and Abraham was afterwards chofen out See pag. 303.
of this family to receive the promiſed bleſſings, 306. 307.
which were in his feed to be conveyed to the reſt
of mankind. So that Chriſtianity is plainly the
end and perfection of the patriarchal diſpenſation:
for to Abraham it was promiſed, that all the fa-
milies of the earth ſhould be bleſſed in his feed; and,
in conſequence of this prophecy, St. Peter aſſured
the Jews, that God had ſent Chriſt to bleſs them;
and St. Paul aſſured the Gentiles, that one end of
Chriſt's coming was, that the bleſſing of Abraham Gal. III.v. 14-
might come on them alſo. This was what their Lord
had expreſsly given in commiſſion, after he was
riſen from the dead; for he commanded his dif-
ciples to teach all nations, to promiſe remiſſion of Matt. XXVIII.
Gen. XXII
v. 18.
Aēts III. V.250
v. 19.
fins Mar. XVI.
y. 26.
376 1
24.
An Eſay on Virtue.
fins to thoſe, who ſhould believe in Him, and to
make an offer of eternal happineſs to as many
Rom. II.v.7. as by patient continuance in well-doing, would ſeek
for glory, and honour, and immortality.
In the law of Moſes, beſides the promiſe of
temporal bleſſings, ſome offers were made of a
future reward; but they were made in ſuch a
manner, and
upon
ſuch conditions, as ſtill to car-
ry on the ſame deſigns of providence, that had al-
ready been opened to the Patriarchs: for as God
Gal
. III.v.8. had preached before the Goſpel unto Abraham; ſo
the law was a ſchool-maſter to bring the Ifraelites
to Chriſt.
It was neceſſary that a people, which was cho-
Warburton fen to bring about the future deſigns of heaven,
V. II. p.361. and to preſerve the true religion, ſhould be mark-
ed out and diſtinguiſhed from the idolatrous
world by ſome viſible inſtances of God's favour:
this was undoubtedly one reaſon for making tem-
poral bleſſings a part of the Moſaic ſanctions. And
indeed the nature of the law itſelf required that
it ſhould be thus eſtabliſhed : for there were ſe-
veral precepts in it, which none but a people un-
der the more immediate care and protection of
Exod. XXXIV. God, could poſſibly have complied with. All their
males could not have attended the ſtated worſhip
at Jeruſalem three times in a year; unleſs He,
who commanded this ſervice, had defended their
wives and families by His providence, and had
taken
1
V. 23. 24.
An Elay on Virtue.
377
V.4.5.20.21.
taken care that no man pould defire their land,
when they went up to appear before Him. The law Levit
. XXV.
directed, that the ſeventh year ſhould be a fabbath
of reſt unto the land, a ſabbath for the Lord, in
which they ſhould neither Sow their field nor prune
their vineyard: they were forbidden either to
reap, in this year of reſt, that which grew of itſelf,
or to gather the grapes of their vine undreſſed. It
would be natural for the Iſraelites upon hearing
theſe precepts, to ask; what Mall we eat the
ſeventh year? behold, we ſhall not fow, nor gather
in our encreaſe! and there would have been no
way of making this part of their duty appear pra-
cticable; if God, who enjoined it, had not at the
ſame time promiſed to command his bleſſing upon
them in the fixth year, that their land
might bring
forth fruit for three years. And laſtly, though See pag. 305.
a peaceful ſettlement and a proſperous condition
in the land of Canaan has been ſhewn not to be
the whole of what God had promiſed to the cho-
ſen branch of Abraham's family; yet as theſe
bleſſings were principal parts of the covenant, they
muſt neceſſarily be included in the legal ſanctions: See pag.321.
becauſe the patriarchal covenant and the law of
Moſes were inſeparably connected with each other
by God himſelf, who was the Author of them
both.
i
But
:
3 B
378
An Elay on Virtue.
Ibid.
Rom, VII.
V. 10, 12,
But we ſhould always remember, that the reli-
gion of Moſes was connected with the ſpiritual
as well as with the temporal part of the former
covenant. The commandment, as the Apoſtle af-
firms, was ordained to life, and was holy, juft, and
good. The rule of behaviour, which this inſtitu-
tion preſcribed, was agreeable to the nature of it's
Author; and they, to whom it was given, had the
promiſe of an inheritance in a world to come con-
firmed to them by it's ſanctions. Yet this difpen-
Rom. VIII. fation, though perfect in itſelf, was weak through
Locke's com- the fleſh: it taught men what they were to do,
ment on Rom. but then left them to try their own abilities; with
out affording them any helps againſt their fräil-
ties and vicious inclinations: it promiſed, that
they, who obeyed it's precepts, ſhould live by them,
but required an exact compliance with them all,
and made death the penalty for every tranfgref-
fion. Had this firſt covenant been imperfect in
it's precepts, or had it wanted a ſufficient fanc-
tion, it would have been unworthy of God; and
yet, had it been wholly faultlefs, then ſhould no place
have been fought for a ſecond: upon the former
fuppofition, it could not have prepared the way
for any true religion; and upon the latter, it
would have made all future revelations needleſs.
The weakneſs and unprofitableneſs of the law
was a ſufficient reaſon for repealing it after Chriſt
had
-
Heb. VIII,
v. 7
Heb. VII.
v. 18.
.
An Eſay on Virtue. 379
V, 10.
had taught an eaſier way to obtain eternal life:
but yet, whilſt this diſpenſation laſted, thoſe qua-
lities ſerved and were purpoſely deſigned to ſhew
the Ifraelites that they had as much occaſion for
the Goſpel as the Gentiles had. They, who had
no other guide but their own reaſon, could indeed
have little aſſurance that eternal happineſs in an-
other life will be the reward of the good, which
they have done in this : but they, who lived under
the Moſaic diſpenſation, being unable to attain to
ſuch righteouſneſs as their religion required, would
find the law to be unto death, which was by the Rom. VII.
Author of it ordained to life.
From hence it appears, that the law was weak,
not becauſe either the rule of behaviour contained
in it, or the ſanctions, upon which it was eſtabliſh-
ed, were imperfect, but becauſe they were weak,
to whom it was given: it was unprofitable, not
becauſe it made no promiſes of a future reward,
but becauſe, through the infirmities of the fleſh,
they, to whom theſe promiſes were made, could
not comply with the conditions ſo as to receive
the benefit of them; unleſs they looked forward
to a future diſpenſation; 'unleſs they truſted in a
Saviour, who ſhould deliver them from the curſe
of the law, even in Him, who has been in all
ages of the world the only Mediator between VII.
God and man
3 B 2
Gal. III. V. 13.
Artic. of relig
In
380
An Elay on Virtue.
L
In ſhort; God deſigned that the religion of
Moſes ſhould not interrupt the hopes, which he
had given to Abraham, and that it ſhould make
the Iſraelites ſenſible of their weakneſs, and bring
them to Chriſt. For theſe reaſons it was neceſſary,
that eternal life ſhould be a part of it's fanction,
but that they, who lived under it, ſhould have no
helps afforded them againſt their frailties, and
that the conditions of obtaining what it promiſed
ſhould be ſuch, as might conſtantly inculcate the
Warburton want of a Redeemer. And thus the firſt covenant
V. II. p.472. by making nothing perfeɛt was the introduction of
a better hope; and led them, who were under it,
to a ſecond, which is eſtabliſhed upon better promiſes.
From this view of the nature and deſign of the
V. II. p.473. law, we may underſtand, why the hopes and pro-
miſes of the ſecond covenant are ſaid to be better
than thoſe of the firſt: it is not becauſe the Goſpel
offered a more excellent reward than the law had
done, but becauſe the conditions of obtaining the
ſame reward were much eaſier under the Chri-
ftian diſpenſation than they had been under the
Moſaic one. This is the only difference which ap-
pears in S. Paul's repreſentation of the matter ; -
The law ſays, this do, and thou ſhalt live;
The
Goſpel ſays, the juf Mall live by faith. Nor is
there
any
other difference taken notice of in a
well-known paſſage of the epiſtle to the Hebrews,
Warburton
→
Gal. III.
v. 11. I 2.
to
An El ay on Virtue. 381
to which I have before had occaſion to refer the
reader. Chriſt bath obtained a more excellent Heb. VIII.
miniſtry, by how much he is the mediator of a better 1.6. &c.
covenant, which was eſtabliſhed upon better promiſes.
For if the firſt covenant had been faultleſs, then
ſhould no place have been fought for the ſecond :
for finding fault with them he faith; behold the
days come ſăith the Lord) when I will make a new
covenant with the houſe of Iſrael and with the
houſe of Judah: not according to the covenant, that
I made with their fathers in the day, when I took
them by the hand to lead them out of the land of
Egypt, becauſe they continued not in my covenant,
and I regarded them not, faith the Lord. For this
is the covenant, that I will make with the houſe of
Iſrael after thoſe days, faith the Lord; I will put
my laws in their mind, and will write them in
their hearts: and I will be to them a God, and
they ſhall be to me a people: and they ſhall not
teach
every man his neighbour, and every man his
brother, ſaying, know the Lord; for all ſhall know
me, from the leaſt to the greateſt : fór I will be
merciful to their unrighteouſneſs, and their fins and
their iniquities will I remember no more. The law
had promiſed life upon the hard terms of an un-
ſinning obedience, and had afforded men no af-
ſiſtances to bear them out in the diſcharge of the
duties, which it enjoyned: the new covenant has
pro-
/
An Elay on Virtue.
382
provided againſt both theſe defects; for God has
promiſed to write his laws in our hearts, and to
be merciful to our iniquities. But when the ſame
thing is promiſed upon very difficult conditions
at firſt, and afterwards upon more eaſy ones,
there is a plain reaſon, from this difference alone,
for ſaying, that the latter promiſe is better than
the former. And ſince St. Paul in comparing the
promiſes of the law with thoſe of the Goſpel, has
taken notice of no other difference, I fee not what
authority we have for concluding from his calling
one a better diſpenſation than the other, that one
of them offered only a temporal reward, but that
the other aſſures us of everlaſting happineſs
. Nay,
there is great reaſon to believe, that if he had
known of any ſuch difference, he would not have
omitted it, when his only deſign in comparing
them together was to ſhew the ſuperiour excel-
lence of the Chriſtian covenant.
The inflexible rigour of the law, by which, as
it ſentenced men to dye for every tranſgreffion,
what was ordained to life was found to be unto
death, has made St. Paul call it the miniſtration
of death and the miniſtration of condemnation.
Warburton And ſince the Goſpel has aboliſhed the law of fin
V. II. p.471. and death by ſetting them free, who were under
the curſe of that law; ſince it affords all neceſſary
aſſiſtance towards the diſcharge of our duty, and
al-
2 Cor. III.
V.7. &c.
An Eſay on Virtue. 383
affures us, through faith in Chriſt, of the pardon
of fin; the author of theſe. gracious promiſes is
fitly ſaid to have a aboliſhed death and to have a Tim.I.v.10.
brought life and immortality to light.
Thus at length the day-ſpring from on high.has Luke I. v. 78.
viſited all mankind; it has given light to the &c.
Gentiles, who ſat in darkneſs and in the ſhadow of See chap. X.
death, and, by giving knowledge of ſalvation for the
remiffion of fins, it bas guided the feet of the Fews
into the ways of peace. This is the point, to which
I deſigned to bring the reader. I have endeavoured
to ſhew him, that the wants of nature and the
Mr. Warburton (V. II. pag. 471.] has explained this paſſage in
a different manner. He concludes from theſe words of the Apoſtle,
that life and immortality were kept hid and out of ſight, till the
preaching of the Goſpel. The reader, after conſidering what has
been ſaid in the foregoing chapters, concerning the Moſaic and the
patriarchal religion, muſt determine which is the true ſenſe of the
paſſage. Mr. Warburton adds, “ for this reaſon we find that life
to and immortality, which is here ſaid to be brought to light through
" the Goſpel, is ſo often called the myſtery of the Goſpel: that is a.
myſtery, till this promulgation of it by the diſciples of Chriſt,
" which had been hid from ages and from generations, but was then
" made manifeſt unta bis ſaints.” [Ephes. vi. V. 16.] But if we
compare this paſſage with another in the ſame epiſtle, [Ephes. III.
V. 3. 5.6.] we may fee fome reaſon for believing that the myſtery of
the Goſpel does not mean the knowledge of a future life then firſt
communicated to mankind, but the calling of the Gentiles in particular
to be partakers of God's promiſes in Chriſt. By revelation, ſays
St. Paul, God made known unto me the myſtery, which in other ages .
was not made known unto the fons of men, as it is now revealed unto
bis holy Apoſtles and prophets by the Spirit ; that the Gentiles ſhould be
fellow-heirs, and of the ſame body, and partakers af bis promiſes by
Chriſt in the Goſpel.
im-
384 An Elay on Virtue.
imperfections of reaſon have made a revelation
neceſſary, both to teach us how to make ourſelves
happy, and to oblige us to be virtuous; that God
has taught mankind, in every age of the world, to
expect their final good in another life, as the re-
ward of their obedience to his will in this; and
that the promiſes of all former revelations were fo
contrived as to make the Goſpel neceſſary, and
were all of them intended by their Author to lead
us to Chriſt.
THE END
I N D E X.
A.
BRAHAM, purport of the covenant with him 303.
covenant with him, part of the fanćtion of the Mofaic
law
321. knew of a future ſtate 304.309. 312.313. taught this
do&trine to his poſterity ibid. 316. 317. command to offer up
his fon was not an information by action 314.
Academics charge the Stoics with inconſiſtencies 186. their
manner of ſpeaking about virtue. 188.
Action, fitneſs of. (ſee Fitneſs.)
Actions not called virtuous, or vicious, becauſe productive of
private happineſs, or miſery 11. 15. 17.25. may be called
virtues without being 80 36. not irrational becauſe done
without reaſon 132. nor becauſe done againſt reaſons not af-
fecting the agent 134. virtuous ones, not catalogued 5. com-
ing from a rational agent, capable of different ſenſes 135. &c.
ſuch as give pain not contrary to the nature of the agent 136.
expreſſive of relations, neither always virtuous, nor always
Agents, natural 240.241. 245. moral 68.248.
Agreement with the nature of a fenfible being, may mean two
very different things 123. &c.
Apoſtle, St. Paul, underſtands the life promiſed in the law
to mean eternal life 370. does not reaſon from a Jewiſh
tradition, that was groundleſs 372.
Application, fitneſs of. (See Fitneſs.)
Approbation, procuring it, not the mark of moral good 65. of
virtue not difntereſted 74. &c. a precarious principle of
virtuous behaviour 114. in the vicious, accounted for 115.
may be changed by education 116.
Affafſins, 96. (ſee conquerour.) have beeen diſntereſted 110.
Atheiſt, knows not the true cauſe of moral obligation 238.
Atheiſm, martyrs for it 111.
Authors
duties 140.
3 C
.
I N D E X.
Authors, danger from their uſing words in a ſenſe different from
the common one, even though they define their terms 63. &c.
Behaviour, makes a moral agent 68. (fee Agent.)
Benevolence, what? 24. (lee Juſtice.)
Bounty, in what ſenſe it tallies with gratitude 139. &c.
Brutes, pain as diſagreeable to their nature as to ours 128. &c.
natural agents 241. good-natured, and tender-hearted ſport
with their fufferings 252. their fufferings mot momentary
ibid.. their incapacity for being parties in an obligation no
reaſon for treating them as we pleaſë 253. God has work-
ed for their good 248. man works for their good 249. why
we may uſe them to our advantage 257.
Cauſes, of happineſs how loved 85. &c.
Cafuift, bis province diftin&t from that of the moralift 143
Chaſtity, how proved to be a virtue 8. &c. inconveniencies
attending the want of it ibid, want of it why diſliked 16.
Charity, what? 49.
Characters, may be expreſſed by behaviour 140. ſo different as
thoſe of God and man cannot be expreſſed by the fame beha-
CHRIST, interprets the life promiſed in the law to mean eternal
life 366. &c. only Mediator between God and man 379.
Chriſtianity, laſt revelation 374, completes the patriarchal
religion 375. in what ſenjë a better covenant than the law
380.
CHRYSIPPUS, accuſed by Plutarch of contraditing himſelf
I8o.
Conquerour, why he feels no remorfe for actions, at which the
aſſaſſin does feel it 97.
Content, does not confijt in an indolent repoſe 158. 159.
reconcileable with a defire of improving our condition 160.
161, what it is 162. partly the ſame with the fortitude
of the ancients ibid. Not, a
Criminal
, why he approves the ſentence, which condemns him
viour 149
16o.
79. 80.
Death,
Í N D E X.
k$:2
Death, may change our reliſh for good 216
Defining words differently from their common uſe dangerous ;
inſtance, moral good 63. 64.
Deſertion of virtue in ſome caſes right and reaſonable upon
ſuppoſition there was no motive to it but preſent happineſs 236.
Defire, of the agent's happineſs not the mark of his behaviour
being morally good 64.
Difference of behaviour, one fort of it fit to expreſs certain rem
lations another unfit. (See fitneſs of action.)
Differences, of things granted 120. equally oblige to vice
, and
virtue ibid. an eſential one between virtue, and vice 37.
38. &c.
Diogenes, the Stoic, bis definition of good 173.
Diſintereſtedneſs, inſtance of it 109. accounted for 110.
Diſputes, about ſome of our actions, whether they are to be cal-
Duties, all are not virtues 20.21. which we owe to ourſelves,
why called virtues 22. not univerſally allowed fo. 7. who
they are that diſpute this 8. and why? 22.23. moral and
poſitive 20. how diſtinguiſhed 68.
Duty, what it means 239.240. it and virtue different from
each other, every virtue a duty, not every duty a virtue 20.
diviſion of duties and virtues not the ſame 21.
End ultimate, how defined 204. not virtue ibid. 206. 209.
what it is 207. virtue cannot be ſo conſiſtently with the Mo
ſaic hiſtory 281. 285. happinejš.equally ſuch before and af-
ter the fall 283.
Enemy, gallant, why praiſed, and even loved 82.
Enjoyment, of virtue, deſired in conſequence of loving it: we
enjoy it not by practiſing it 93.
ENOCH, was aware:of another. life, where the virtuous will be
rewarded
297. his example proved a future ſtate to his
contemporaries ibid. his ſtory not purpoſely obſcure in the
Mofaic hiſtory 202.
EPI-
3 C2
IN DE X.
EPICURUS, bis definition of good 173. 181.
Experience, of other men, what uſe to be made of it in our
purſuit of happineſs 215.
Extraordinary, providence. (ſee Providence.)
Fable of the bees, title page contradiets the author's defini-
tion of virtue 41. reconcileable by ſuppoſing him to mean that
virtue is notional 42.43. one inſtance mentioned in it to prove
private vices publick benefits, if it proves any thing, would
only few that they are private benefits 57.
Fall, misfortunes ariſing from it made virtue a precarious means
of obtaining happineſs 280. 281. the difference made by it
in the condition of man 280.
Fataliſt, knows not the true cauſe of moral obligation 238.
Field, fruitful, why not approved of in the ſame manner with
a generous friend 85.
Fit, a term ambiguouſly uſed 141.
Fitneſs, (fee Rectitude.)
Fitneſs of application, what? 12. does not conſtitute virtue 13.
obliges not more to virtue than vice, if it fignifies uſing as
nature has fitted to be uſed 124. cannot oblige us to virtue
where intereſt interferes, if it fignifies uſing as one would
like to be uſed 125. 126. 127. no motive at all to virtue
ibid. 128. would oblige us not to kill brutes, if it obliged
us not to kill men 129.
Fitneſs of action, what? 12. does not conſtitute virtue 15.
not the cauſe of obligation to virtue 132. &c. 136. ariſing
from unfit application granted by the defenders of it not to
oblige, when a ſtronger reaſon intervenes 133. ſometimes
means that our actions are expreſſive of our relations 140.
141. fuch fitneſs cannot be the cauſe of obligation to virtue
ibid.
Fortitude, what the ancients meant by it 162. Nat. a.
Future life, though promiſed, might not be attended to by the
Ifraelites 356. &c. known to David 359. and to Solomon 362.
Future
.
I N D E X.
Future ſtate of reward for virtue, argument to prove it leads
us round in a circle 267. not proved from the neceſſary mi-
fery of ſome in this life 268. nor from the natural immor-
tality of the foul 270. included in what was promiſed im-
mediately after the fall 287. hopes of it renewed in the days
of Enos 295:
God, virtue does not confijt in imitating him 27. 28. 29. 30.
the excellence of his nature above ours, not the cauſe of our
obligation to worſhip him 145. 146. 147. has made us
happy, but not independent 237. requires us to be virtuous
only as far as it will make us happy 258. 259. has kept
the government of the moral world in his own hands
237
Good, what? 61. natural 62. moral, has two fenfes ibid.
a definition of it examined 63. moral not what makes the
agent happy 66. moral diftinčt from natural 83. 85. moral
makes us love a man, natural does not produce the ſame
effect 84.
Good, ſovereign, philoſophers divided in their enquiries after
it's nature 169. all agree that it is the laſt end of ačtion
ibid. what they meant by it 170. not defined by philofo-.
phers 210,211.
Good to be done, and reaſonable to be done, equivocal ex-
preſſions 121.
Good to be done, means either good for him who does it, or
good for others 121. want of diſtinčtion occaſion of a fallacy
Good and bad, muſt frequently ſuffer alike in this life, under
the Moſaic law 330.
Goodneſs of God, what ? 67. fallacy in the demonſtration
of it a priori 150. proved' 241. 242. 243. 244. 245. ex-
tends to brutes 247.
Goſpel, promiſes temporal bleſſings, as well as eternal 336.
preached to Abraham 376. expectation of it kept up under
the law of Mofes 379. &c.
Gratia
ibid. 122
+
1
I N D E X.
Gratitude, why approved in others 100. in ourſelves does not
mean a diſintereſted affection 101. what it is 102. other
benevolent and chriſtian affections miſtaken for it 104. who
the objects of it 103. to thoſe who are abfent explained 107.
towards thoſe who have not fortunes, or power to be ſervice-
able, why it continues 106. to God, an affe&tion intereſted
in it's obje&t 108.
Happineſs, virtue does not conſiſt in the promoting our own in
this life 11. 12. 15. nor in a life to.come 19. making others
happy does not conſtitute the happineſs of the agent 122.
the purſuit of it difowned, and why 154. 155. the ultimate
end, according to nature, proved from the praćtice of man-
kind 156. from univerſal conſent 163. no otherwiſe pur-
fued by all, than as all endeavour to be happy 164. whence
our diſappointments in purſuing it ibid. change in our plan
proves wkat is our end 165. the ultimate end, according to
reaſon 168. not defined by the philoſophers; fee Good. what
it is, not to be learned from our own experience 211. nor
from that of others 214. not to be determined by reaſon,
without experience 217. after death, not to be known 216.
does not conff in obeying true proportions 219. nor in the
mere act of virtue 223. deſire of it.e firſt principle 261.
a ſanction of virtue before the fall 282.283. &c. not the
ſame thing as virtue before the fall 284. in poleffion, loft at
the fall 280. temporal, wby promiſed by the law of Moſes
376.
Happineſs of a future life, not likely to conſiſt in the free ex-
erciſe of virtue 223. in the preſent life, annexed to virtue,
but not always 230.
Highwayman, what good be is ſuppoſed to do his country, by
the author of The Fable of the Bees 55. 56. 57.
Hoſpitality, and magnificence are not luxury; inſtance, proper
behaviour for a gentleman of fortune 45. when it becomes
laviſonefs 51.
Hope of immortality ſuggeſted immediately upon the fall 287.
Idola-
IN D E X.
Idolatry, whence it might arife 89.
Indolence, miſtaken for content 158.159. 160.
Injuſtice, fingle act of it makes a man vicious, only a habit of
intemperance will make him fa 26.
Intemperance, ill effeEts of it 18. it's all effects on the intem-
perate do not make it a vice 17. why vicious 18.
Juſtice, what? 24. not a virtue from the bappineſs of the
juſt man, either here or hereafter, nor from the will of God,
nor from a moral fenfe 25.26. this and benevolence always
allowed to be virtues, becauſe the notion of virtue is cona
tained in the definition of them 24.
Knowledge, free of, why ſo called
273
Not. a.
Law, that which God works by, whence to be colle&ted
240.
Law of Moſes, did not abrogate the religion of the patriarchs
319. included the promiſes of the patriarcbal covenant 320.
321. temporal rewards and puniſhments only, not it's fan-
&tion 329. 347. nor length of days 324. 325. 327. for this
would be fometimes a punishment 331. nor national bleflings
only 334. 342. but alſo future rewards and punifhments
351. &c. it's fanctions inconſiſtent with each other, unleſs
they related to a future life 347. it's fanctions interpreted
from Solomon's prayer 360. &c. obligation of it continued
after the captivity 329. promiſed happineſs to individuals
341. 343. holy, juſt, and good in it's precepts 378. ordain-
ed to life, and therefore perfect in its fanctions ibid. weak-
neſs and unprofitableneſs of it, to what caufes owing ibid.
379. how it led men to Chriſt, and introdriced a better hope
Legiſlator's addreſs and management, is not what makes our
actions beneficial 58.
Life, loft by eating the forbidden fruit, means eternal life 273.
promiſed in the Moſaic law, was not length of days in this
world
323.
but that forfeited at the fall 323.324. (see
Euture.)
Love,
379. 380.
S
INDE X.
Love, what? 75. of money how occaſioned 87. of the fexes,
ſometimes diſintereſted; enthuſiaſm when it is ſo 109.110.
no proof of innate diſintereſted affections III.
Love of God, not a firſt principle 261. 262. raiſed in us by
the goodneſs of God 264. bad effe&ts of it, when it begins on
a wrong foundation, or is carried beyond it's rational cauſe
264. no principle of virtue, till we know that virtue will
make us happy 265.
Love of virtue, in perſons who lived fome ages ago,
what?
77:
78. appears moſt, where virtue does thoſe who love it moſt
good 76. in whom virtue.is beloved 75.91. raiſed by what?
74.94
Luxury, what? 45. wrongly defined by the author of The
Fable of the Bees 44. 45. as he has defined it, not a vice
ibid. his definition liable to ſome variety in the particular
application of it 50. Some little uncertainty in the applica-
tion of the common notion of it to particular inſtances, no
reaſon for going out of the way 48.49. 50. no benefit to the
public, when rightly defined; no vice according to that de-
finition which makes it beneficial 50.51.52. 53. what
harm it does the publick ibid. when a man may be ſaid to
be guilty of it 51.
Magiſtrate, how a juſt ſentence from bim is approved, even
by the criminal, whom he condemns 79.80.
Magnificence, when it becomes luxury 51.
Manners, good, what? 66.
Men, in one regard natural agents 243. 244. required to
work toward the general good only as far as this purſuit will
make them happy 258. often in the proper purſuit of their
own happineſs promote that of others 244. by ſome actions,
promote the happineſs of creatures below them 249.
Merchant, and ufurer, their characters compared 32. why
ane of them vicious, the other not ſo 33.
Metaphyſics, leſs intelligible and leſs convincing than facts
and appeals to the ſenſe of mankind 3.
Mo-
1
IN DE X.
Modern, (ſee Philoſophers.)
Money, advantage ariſing from it's circulation not owing to
thoſe who squander it away in luxury, but to thoſe who ga-
ther it up 54. 55.
Moral, the meaning of the word, has in all it's ſenſes a refe-
rence to the latin word mores 61. (ſee Duties, Good,
Obligation, World, Truth, Science, Senſe.) Evidence,
why probable evidence, ſo called 61.
Moraliſts, when they encroach on the province of the cafuift
143. 144. fome of them deſtroy the diſtinction between mo-
ral and natural good 62.
Moses, had no deſgn of concealing a future ftate, when he
mentions the ſerpent as agent in the fall, inſtead of the devil
293
1
Natural agents, shew us in their manner of working, what is
the will of their maker 240.
Necromancy, prevalency of it, shews that the Iſraelites knew
of a future ſtate 358.
Obligation, moral, what it is 70.71. cauſe of it ſhould be
level to every man's capacity 2. true cauſe of it to be look-
ed for in the revealed will of God 271. does not ariſe from
any inſtinctive approbation 91. &c. 114. 116. 117. nor from
any eternal relations of things 120. &c. true cauſe of it
unknown, both to the Atheiſt and the Fatalift
Patriot, (ſee Tyrant.)
Peripatetics, their notion of the ultimate end. (ſee Stoics.)
define good as the Stoics do 175. count pain, and misfor--
tunes evils 186.
Perfection of nature, ſignifies perfect rule of action, or perfect
condition of being 221.
Philoſophers, ancient, ſeem in their notions of virtue to have
had no conſideration of another life 19. what they called
3D
for
IN DE X.
1
fortitude 162. Not.a. utility, what they mean by it 190.
.
modern, all
agree that happineſs is the ultimate end 195.
Pleaſure, why we diſlike thoſe who are fond of it 11. 16.
PLUTARCH, emended 174. Not. 180. Not.".
Politicians, if they would make a nation happy, ſhould encou-
rage virtue and ſuppreſs vice 59.60. in how many fenfes
the author of The Fable of the Bees may
call virtue their
contrivance 40.
Poſitive Duties, (fee Duties.)
Pride, what? 48. 87.
Probable motives, are what men act upon 235.
Projector, not diſliked for hurting his fortunes 12.
Promiſe, to Abraham, did not conſiſt in temporal felicity only,
nor in the grant of the land of Canaan 307. how underſtood
by the Apoſtles 308. how by the Patriarch himſelf 309.
Prophets, their office 374.
Providence, extraordinary promiſe of it, no more excludes fu-
ture rewards and puniſhments from the Moſaic, than from
the Chriſtian diſpenſation 336.337. 338.340. adminiſter-
ed under the Goſpel 338.339.
Puniſhment, of children for the crimes of parents how to be
defended 348. &c. of cutting off
' a man from among his
people, muſt relate to a future life 354.
Reaſon, which may excuſe from obſerving fitneſs of action, if
from intereſt of the agent, makes fuch fitneſs an inſufficient
Jupport of virtue 133. inſuficient for this purpoſe if this.
reaſon ariſes from any other cauſe 134.
Rectitude, what the ancients meant by it 193. 194.
Relations, may be expreſſed by actions 138. of things, a pre-
carious cauſe of obligation, proved from their authority who
undertake the defence of them 118. 119.
Relation between creature and creator cannot be expreſſed by
the ſame conduet, as that between beings of the ſame ſpecies
149.
Religion, the only tye upon them who are above the reach of
the law 234.
Rea
IN DE X.
Reluctance, in doing a vicious action, whence it arifes 96.
97: 98.99. 115. (fee Vicious.)
Revelation, divided into three periods 273.
Righteous man, what he had to expect under the Moſaic law
when he ſuffered with the public 332.
Robber, why he makes a conſcience of letting his partners
have a ſhare in the booty 97.98. not from an affection
for virtue ibid.
-
Science, moral 61.
Selfiſhneſs, what? 199.
Senſe, moral, not the uppermoſt in our conſtitution 73. has
two meanings 21. 22. no idea of virtue from it 22.26.
Senfes, all of them perceive virtue ; no occaſion for a moral
one to give us a reliſh of it 92.93.
Senſualiſt, why diſliked 8.9. 16. 17. not merely for impair-
ing his health and fortunes 11. nor for acting contrary to
the relations of things 12. 16.
SOCRATES, his opinion of virtue and utility 189.
Sobriety, a virtue, why ? 17. 18. 19.
Sovereign Good, (fee Good.)
SPANIARDS, not puniſhed for their injuſtice to the Indians 232.
Stoics, make virtue and happineſs the ſame 184. make virtue
the only good 170. and by it mean ſelf-good, or happineſs
170.182. 195. their definition of good 172. their opinion
inconſiſtent with the Moſaic hiſtory of the fall 281.
Student, not diſliked for hurting his health 11.
9
Temperance, a virtue in a man impriſoned for life, or living
alone upon a deſolate iſland 25.
Temporal Rewards, annexed to the law of Moſes, no argu--
ment to prove that it did not promife eternal life 335.
Teſt of our approbation of virtue, whether diſintereſted or not,
is our praťtiſing it or not, upon diſintereſted motives go.
91.
Treaſon, loved whilſt the traitor is hated, not to be accounted
for, but upon intereſted motives 81.
Truth,
IN D E X.
Truth, moral, what? 61. not the fame either with piety, or
virtue 112, 113, acting agreeably to it not the ſtandard of
virtue and vice 13.
Tyrant, and patriot, their characters compared 33. why one
virtuous, the other vicious ibid.
ibid. 96.
Variety, of purſuits, all tend to the fame purpoſe 156.
Vice, hated moſt where it does thoſe that hate it moſt harm 76.
Vicious, feel reluctance when they neglet virtue 94. their
evidence not fincere ibid. 95. their reluctance accounted for
Virtue, a definition of it 6. confits in doing good, or prevent-
ing harm 10. 14. 17.23. 24. 32. 33. whence the obligation
Ultimate end,'(lee End, Happineſs.) two queſtions concerning
it 166.
Uſurer, his character, why vicious 32. 33. (ſee Merchant.)
Utility, or intereſt, uſed by the ancients in two different fenfes
190. 191.
to it 261.271.
Will of God, not the ſtandard of virtue 19. 20. 21. will
that directs his conduct not neceſſarily what be expects us
to imitate 248–253. to make us happy for our virtue,
the cauſe of obligation 261. in what ſenſe acting virtuouſly
is ačting agreeably to it 247,
World, moral, what? 245. virtue the law for it's govern-
ment 246.271. natural, fome inconvenience neceſſarily
ariſes from the laws by which it is governed 242. the de-
hign of the Deity apparent from thoſe laws 246.
ZENO, differs from Polemo, not in ſentiment, but in afixing
a name 179. his notion of a happy life 182.
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