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 Ex Lib r is 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 PALEY'S MORAL PHILOSOPHY: 
 
 WITH 
 
 ANNOTATIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 RICHARD- WHATELY, D.D. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 
 
 LONDON: 
 JOHN W. PARKER AND SON, WEST STRAND. 
 
 1859.
 
 IS I 
 
 LONDON! 
 
 SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET, 
 COVENT GARDEN.
 
 
 EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 ALTHOUGH some of the Works of the justly celebrated 
 Archdeacon Paley, especially his Natural Theology and 
 Evidences, are more read than his Moral Philosophy, and have 
 met with more unmixed approbation, this last lias been 
 exercising great influence, not only directly, but indirectly. 
 Having long been an established Text-book at a great and flou- 
 rishing University, it has laid the foundation of the Moral 
 Principles of many hundreds — probably thousands — of Youths 
 while under a course of training designed to qualify them for 
 being afterwards the Moral instructors of Millions. Such a 
 Work therefore cannot fail to exercise a very considerable and 
 extensive influence on the Minds of successive generations. And 
 accordingly, to supply any needful explanations, illustrations, or 
 modifications of its principles, and above all, to correct any 
 considerable errors in them, cannot be deemed a superfluous or 
 an unimportant task. 
 
 Besides several other well-known Writers, as Dugald Stewart, 
 Sir J. Mackintosh, &c, who are opposed to Paley's utilitarian 
 theory, there is one Writer — Dr. Whewell — whom it is the more 
 important to particularize, from his having been a distinguished 
 Professor of Moral Philosophy in Paley's own University. 
 And from a Work of his accordingly I have cited some extrarcts. 
 
 I am far from thinking that Paley's Work ought not to be 
 one of the Text-books employed. But the study of it should 
 be accompanied with cautions to the Young Student against 
 adopting the whole of his System. 
 
 The Header is entreated to make due allowance for the
 
 iv editor's preface. 
 
 somewhat invidious position in which an Editor may sometimes 
 be placed. When it is found needful to supply omissions, to 
 suggest objections, and to controvert something that has been 
 advanced, he may be represented as seeking to exalt himself at 
 the Author's expense, and as looking out for blemishes, and 
 passing over excellences ; unless he is continually repeating 
 which would be intolerably tedious) ' this is very true ;' ' that 
 is a just and valuable remark ;' and the like. But the more 
 reasonable view would be, to understand approbation of what 
 is edited to be the rule, and censure, the exception; and to 
 regard everything, against which no objection is stated, as 
 having the approval of the Editor, up to this point at least, 
 that it is deemed worthy of careful perusal, and entitled to 
 respectful attention. 
 
 I have confined myself to the first volume ; which may be 
 
 . irded as an entire Work ; being a Treatise on what is most 
 
 properly called ' Moral Philosophy :' though I have introduced 
 
 incidentally a few remarks that have reference to the second 
 
 volume, that on Political Philosophy. 
 
 The Work is printed complete, according to Paley's own 
 division into Chapters ; any Annotations that appeared needful 
 being placed at the end of each Chapter, so as to interrupt as 
 little as possible the continuity of the Work.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Author's Preface i 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS. 
 
 Chap. I. Definition and Use of the Science n 
 
 II. The Law of Honour 1 1 
 
 III. The Law of the Land 13 
 
 IV. The Scriptures 14 
 
 V. The Moral Sense 17 
 
 VI. Human Happiness 31 
 
 VII. Virtue 43 
 
 BOOK II. 
 MORAL OBLIGATION. 
 
 Chap. I. The Question, Why am I obliged to keep my Word 1 
 
 considered . 56 
 
 II. What we mean, when we say a Man is obliged to do 
 
 a thing 57 
 
 III. The Question, Why am I obliged to keep my Word ? 
 
 resumed 59 
 
 IV. The Will of God > 7° 
 
 V. The Divine Benevolence 74 
 
 VI. Utility 80 
 
 VII. The Necessity of General Rules 81 
 
 VIII. The Consideration of General Consequences pursued . 84 
 
 IX. Of Right 86 
 
 X. The Division of Rights 91 
 
 XL The General Rights of Mankind 95
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 RELATIVE DUTIES. 
 PART I. 
 
 OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE DETERMINATE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Chap. I. Of Property 103 
 
 II. The Use of the Institution of Property . ... 104 
 
 III. The History of Property 106 
 
 IV. In what the Eight of Property is founded . . . . 107 
 V. Promises 112 
 
 VI. Contracts 124 
 
 VII. Contracts of Sale 125 
 
 VIII. Contracts of Hazard 128 
 
 IX. Contracts of Lending of Inconsumable Property . . 130 
 
 X. Contracts concerning the Lending of Money . . . 131 
 
 XI. Contracts of Labour — Service 135 
 
 XII. Contracts of Labour — Commissions 138 
 
 XIII. Contracts of Labour — Partnership 14 1 
 
 XIV. Contracts of Labour — Offices 142 
 
 XV. Lies 144 
 
 XVI. Oaths 148 
 
 XVII. Oath in Evidence 153 
 
 Will. Oath of Allegiance 155 
 
 -.-> 
 
 XIX. Oaths against Bribery in the Election of Members of 
 
 Parliament 157 
 
 XX. Oath against Simony 158 
 
 XXI. Oaths to observe local Statutes 161 
 
 XXII. Subscription to Articles of Religion 162 
 
 XXIII. Wills 168 
 
 PART II. 
 
 OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE INDETERMINATE, AND OF THE 
 CRIMES OPPOSITE TO THESE. 
 
 Chap. I. Charity i74 
 
 II. Charity — The. Treatment of our Domestics and De- 
 pendents 174 
 
 III. Slavery 17 6
 
 CONTENTS. VU 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Chap. IV. Charity — Professional Assistance 179 
 
 "V. Charity — Pecuniary Bounty 181 
 
 VI. Resentment 188 
 
 VII. Anger 189 
 
 VIII. Revenge 191 
 
 IX. Duelling 194 
 
 X. Litigation 197 
 
 XL Gratitude 200 
 
 XII. Slander 201 
 
 PART III. 
 
 OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH RESULT FROM THE CONSTITUTION OF 
 THE SEXES, AND OF THE CRIMES OPPOSED TO THESE. 
 
 Chap. I. Of the Public Use of Marriage Institutions .... 203 
 
 II. Fornication 204 
 
 III. Seduction 209 
 
 IV. Adultery 211 
 
 V. Incest 214 
 
 VI. Polygamy 215 
 
 VII. Divorce 219 
 
 VIII. Marriage 225 
 
 IX. Of the Duty of Parents 228 
 
 X. The Rights of Parents 240 
 
 XL The Duty of Children 241
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 IN the treatises that I have met with upon the subject of morals, 
 I appear myself to have remarked the following imperfections ; 
 — either that the principle was erroneous, or that it was indis- 
 tinctly explained, or that the rules deduced from it were not 
 sufficiently adapted to real life and to actual situations. The 
 writings of Grotius, and the larger work of Puffendorff, are of 
 too forensic a cast, — too much mixed up with civil law and with 
 the jurisprudence of Germany — to answer precisely the design of 
 a system of ethics, — the direction of private consciences in the 
 general conduct of human life. Perhaps, indeed, they are not 
 to be regarded as institutes of morality calculated to instruct an 
 individual in his duty, so much as a species of law-books and law- 
 authorities, suited to the practice of those courts of justice, whose 
 decisions are regulated by general principles of natural equity, 
 in conjunction with the maxims of the Roman code; of which 
 kind, I understand, there are many upon the Continent. To 
 which may be added, concerning both these authors, that they 
 are more occupied in describing the rights and usages of inde- 
 pendent Communities than is necessary in a work which pro- 
 fesses not to adjust the correspondence of nations, but to deli- 
 neate the offices of domestic life. The profusion also of classical 
 quotations with which many of their pages abound seems to me 
 a fault from which it will not be easy to excuse them. If these 
 extracts be intended as decorations of style, the composition is 
 overloaded with ornaments of one kind. To anything more 
 than ornament they can make no claim. To propose them as 
 serious arguments, — gravely to attempt to' establish or fortify a 
 moral duty by the testimony of a Greek or Roman poet, — is to 
 trifle with the attention of the reader, or rather to take it off 
 from all just principles of reasoning in morals.
 
 author's preface. 
 
 Of our own writers in this branch of philosophy, I find none 
 that I think perfectly free from the three objections which I 
 have stated. There is likewise a fourth property observable 
 almost in all of them, namely, that they divide too much the 
 law of Nature from the precepts of Revelation ; some authors 
 industriously declining the mention of Scripture-authorities, as 
 belonging to a different province; and others reserving them 
 for a separate volume : which appears to me much the same 
 defect, as if a commentator on the laws of England should con- 
 tent himself with stating upon each head the common law of the 
 land, without taking any notice of acts of parliament ; or should 
 eh use to give his readers the common law in one book, and the 
 statute law in another. ( When the obligations of morality are 
 taught/ says a pious and celebrated writer, ' let the sanctions 
 of Christianity never be forgotten ; by which it will be shown 
 that they give strength and lustre to each other : religion will 
 appear to be the voice of reason, and morality will be the will 
 of God.' ' 
 
 The manner also in which modern writers have treated of sub- 
 jects of morality is, in my judgment, liable to much exception. 
 It has become of late a fashion to deliver moral institutes in 
 strings or series of detached propositions, without subjoining a 
 continued argument or regular dissertation to any of them. This 
 sententious apophthegmatising style, by crowding propositions 
 and paragraphs too fast upon the mind, and by carrying the eye 
 of the reader from subject to subject in too quick a succession, 
 gains not a sufficient hold upon the attention to leave either the 
 memory furnished, or the understanding satisfied. However 
 useful a syllabus of topics or a series of propositions may be in 
 the hands of a lecturer, or as a guide to a student, who is sup- 
 posed to consult other books, or to institute upon each subject 
 researches of his own, the method is by no means convenient for 
 ordinary readers; because few readers are such thinkers as to 
 want only a hint to set their thoughts at work upon ; or such as 
 will pause and tarry at every proposition, till they have traced 
 out its dependency, proof, relation, and consequences, before 
 they permit themselves to step on to another. A respectable 
 
 1 Preface to The Preceptor, by Dr. Johnson.
 
 author's preface. 
 
 writer of this class 1 has comprised his doctrine of slavery in the 
 three following propositions : — 
 
 ' No one is born a slave ; because every one is born with all 
 his original rights/ 
 
 ' No one can become a slave ; because no one from being a 
 person can, in the language of the Roman law, become a thing, 
 or subject of property.' 
 
 c The supposed property of the master in the slave, therefore, 
 is matter of usurpation, not of right.' 
 
 It may be possible to deduce from these few adages such a 
 theory of the primitive rights of human nature, as will evince 
 the illegality of slavery : but surely an author requires too 
 much of his reader, when he expects him to make these deduc- 
 tions for himself; or to supply, perhaps from some remote 
 chapter of the same treatise, the several proofs and explanations 
 which are necessary to render the meaning and truth of these 
 assertions intelligible. 
 
 There is a fault, the opposite of this, which some moralists 
 who have adopted a different, and I think a better plan of com- 
 position, have not always been careful to avoid ; namely, the 
 dwelling upon verbal and elementary distinctions, with a labour 
 and prolixity proportioned much more to the subtlety of the 
 question than to its value and importance in the prosecution o f 
 the subject. A writer upon the law of nature, 2 whose explica- 
 tions in every part of philosophy, though always diffuse, are 
 often very successful, has employed three large sections in endea- 
 vouring to prove that 'permissions are not laws.' The dis- 
 cussion of this controversy, however essential it might be to 
 dialectic precision, was certainly not necessary to the progress 
 of a work designed to describe the duties and obligations of 
 civil life. The reader becomes impatient when he is detained by 
 disquisitions which have no other object than the settling of terms 
 and phrases ; and, what is worse, they for whose use such books 
 are chiefly intended will not be persuaded to read them at all. 
 
 I am led to propose these strictures, not by any propensity 
 to depreciate the labours of my predecessors, much less to invite 
 a comparison between the merits of their performances and my 
 
 1 Dr. Ferguson, author of Institutes of Moral Philosophy, i -67. 
 2 Dr. Rutherford, author of Institutes of Natural Law. 
 
 B 2
 
 author's preface. 
 
 own ; but solely by the consideration, that when a writer offers 
 a book to the Public, upon a subject on which the Public are 
 already in possession of mauy others, he is bound by a kind of 
 literary justice to inform his readers, distinctly and specifi- 
 cally, what it is he professes to supply and what he expects to 
 improve. The imperfections above enumerated are those which 
 I have endeavoured to avoid or remedy. Of the execution, the 
 reader must judge : but this was the design. 
 
 Concerning the principle of morals it would be premature to 
 speak : but concerning the manner of unfolding and explaining 
 that principle, I have somewhat which I wish to be remarked. 
 An experience of nine years in the office of a public tutor in 
 one of the universities, and in that department of education to 
 which these chapters relate, afforded me frequent occasions to 
 observe, that in discoursing to young minds upon topics of 
 morality, it required much more pains to make them perceive 
 the difficulty than to understand the solution ; that, unless the 
 subject was so drawn up to a point as to exhibit the full force 
 of an objection or the exact place of a doubt, before any expla- 
 nation was entered upon, — in other words, unless some curiosity 
 was excited before it was attempted to be satisfied, the labour 
 of the teacher was lost. When information was not desired, it 
 was seldom, I found, retained. I have made this observation 
 my guide in the following work : that is, upon each occasion I 
 have endeavoured, before I suffered myself to proceed in the 
 disquisition, to put the reader in complete possession of the 
 question ; and to do it in the way that 1 thought most likely to 
 stir up his own doubts and solicitude about it. 
 
 In pursuing the principle of morals through the detail of 
 cases to which it is applicable, I have had in view to accommo- 
 date both the choice of the subjects and the manner of handling 
 them to the situations which arise in the life of an inhabitant 
 of this countrv in these times. This is the thins that I think 
 to be principally wanting in former treatises; and perhaps the 
 chief advantage that will be found in mine. I have examined no 
 doubts, I have discussed no obscurities, I have encountered no 
 errors, I have adverted to no controversies, but what I have 
 Been actually to exist. If some of the questions treated of 
 appear to a more instructed reader minute or puerile, I desire 
 such reader to be assured that I have found them occasions of
 
 AUTHOR* S PREFACE. 
 
 difficulty to young minds ; and what I have observed in young 
 minds, I should expect to meet with in all who approach these 
 subjects for the first time. Upon each article of human duty, 
 I have combined with the conclusion of reason the declarations 
 of Scripture, when they are to be had, as of co-ordinate autho- 
 rity, and as both terminating in the same sanctions. 
 
 In the manner of the work, I have endeavoured so to attemper 
 the opposite plans above animadverted upon, as that the reader 
 may not accuse me either of too much haste, or too much delay. 
 I have bestowed upon each subject enough of dissertation to 
 give a body and substance to the chapter in which it is treated 
 of, as well as coherence and perspicuity : on the other hand, I 
 have seldom, I hope, exercised the patience of .the reader by the 
 length and prolixity of my essays, or disappointed that patience 
 at last by the tenuity and unimportance of the conclusion. 
 
 There are two particulars in the following work, for which it 
 may be thought necessary that I should offer some excuse. The 
 first of which is, that I have scarcely ever referred to any other 
 book ; or mentioned the name of the author whose thoughts, and 
 sometimes, possibly, whose very expressions, I have adopted. 
 My method of writing has constantly been this : to extract what 
 I could from my own stores and my own reflections, in the first 
 place ; to put down that, and afterwards to consult upon each 
 subject such readings as fell in my way ; which order, I am con- 
 vinced, is the only one whereby any person can keep his thoughts 
 from sliding into other men's trains. The effect of such a plan 
 upon the production itself will be, that, whilst some parts in 
 matter or manner may be new, others will be little else than a re- 
 petition of the old. I make no pretensions to perfect originality: 
 I claim to be something more than a mere compiler. Much, no 
 doubt, is borrowed ; but the fact is, that the notes for this work 
 having been prepared for some years, and such things having 
 been from time to time inserted in them as appeared to me worth 
 preserving, and such insertions made commonly without the 
 name of the author from whom they were taken, I should, at this 
 time, have found a difficulty in recovering those names with suf- 
 ficient exactness to be able to render to every man his own. 
 Nor, to speak the truth, did it appear to me worth while to repeat 
 the search merely for this purpose. When authorities are relied 
 upon, names must be produced : when a discovery has been
 
 6 author's preface. 
 
 made in science, it may be unjust to borrow the invention with- 
 out acknowledging the author. But in an argumentative treatise, 
 and upon a subject which allows no place for discovery or in- 
 vention, properly so called ; and in which all that can belong to 
 a writer is his mode of reasoning, or his judgment of proba- 
 bilities ; I should have thought it superfluous, had it been easier 
 to me than it was, to have interrupted my text, or crowded my 
 margin with reference to every author whose sentiments I have 
 made use of. There is, however, one work to which I owe so 
 much, that it would be ungrateful not to confess the obligation : 
 I mean the writings of the late Abraham Tucker, Esq., part of 
 which were published by himself, and the remainder since his 
 death, under the title of The Light of Nature pursued, by 
 Edward Search, Esq. I have found in this writer more original 
 thinking and observation upon the several subjects that he has 
 taken in hand than in any other, not to say, than in all others put 
 together. His talent also for illustration is unrivalled. But his 
 thoughts are diffused through a long, various, and irregular work. 
 1 shall account it no mean praise, if I have. been sometimes able 
 to dispose into method, to collect into heads and articles, or to 
 exhibit in more compact and tangible masses, what, in that other- 
 wise excellent performance, is spread over too much surface. 
 
 The next circumstance for which some apology may be ex- 
 pected is the joining of moral and political philosophy together, 
 or the addition of a book of politics to a system of ethics. 
 Against this objection, if it be made one, I might defend myself 
 by the example of many approved writers, who have treated de 
 officiis hominis et civis, or, as some chuse to express it, ' of the 
 rights and obligations of Man, in his individual and social capa- 
 city/ in the same book. I might allege, also, that the part a 
 member of the commonwealth shall take in political contentions, 
 the vote he shall give, the counsels he shall approve, the support 
 he shall afford, or the opposition he shall make to any system of 
 public measures, — is as much a question of personal duty, as 
 much concerns the conscience of the individual who deliberates, 
 as the determination of any doubt which relates to the conduct 
 of private life : that consequently political philosophy is, pro- 
 perly speaking, a continuation of moral philosophy; or rather 
 indeed a part of it, supposing moral philosophy to have for its 
 aim the information of the human conscience in every deli-
 
 author's preface. 
 
 beration that is likely to come before it. I might avail myself 
 of these excuses, if I wanted them ; but the vindication upon 
 which I rely is the following : — In stating the principle of 
 morals, the reader will observe that I have employed some in- 
 dustry in explaining the theory, and showing the necessity of 
 general rules ; without the full and constant consideration of 
 which, I am persuaded that no system of moral philosophy can 
 be satisfactory or consistent. This foundation being laid, or 
 rather this habit being formed, the discussion of political subjects, 
 to which, more than to almost any other, general rules are appli- 
 cable, became clear and easy. Whereas, had these topics been 
 assigned to a distinct work, it would have been necessary to have 
 repeated the same rudiments, to have established over again the 
 same principles, as those which we had already exemplified, and 
 rendered familiar to the reader, in the former parts of this. In 
 a word, if there appear to any one too great a diversity or too 
 wide a distance, between the subjects treated of in the course of 
 the present volume, let him be reminded, that the doctrine of 
 general rules pervades and connects the whole. 
 
 It may not be improper, however, to admonish the reader, that, 
 under the name of politics, he is not to look for those occasional 
 controversies, which the occurrences of the present day, or any 
 temporary situation of public affairs, may excite ; and most of 
 which, if not beneath the dignity, it is beside the purpose, of a 
 philosophical institution to advert to. He will perceive that the 
 several disquisitions are framed with a reference to the condition 
 of this country, and of this government : but it seemed to me to 
 belong to the design of a work like the following, not so much to 
 discuss each altercated point with the particularity of a political 
 pamphlet upon the subject, as to deliver those universal princi- 
 ples, and to exhibit that mode and train of reasoning in politics, 
 by the due application of which every man might be enabled to 
 attain to just conclusions of his own. I am not ignorant of an ob- 
 jection that has been advanced against all abstract speculations 
 concerning the origin, principle, or limitation of civil authority ; 
 namely, that such speculations possess little or no influence upon 
 the conduct either of the State or of the subject, of the governors 
 or the governed ; nor are attended with any useful consequences 
 to either : that in times of tranquillity they are not wanted ; in 
 times of confusion they are never heard. This representation,
 
 8 author's preface. 
 
 however, in my opinion, is not just. Times of tumult, it is true, 
 are not the times to learn ; but the choice which men make of 
 their side and party, in the most critical occasions of the com- 
 monwealth, may nevertheless depend upon the lessons they have 
 received, the books they have read, and the opinions they have 
 imbibed, in seasons of leisure and quietness. Some judicious 
 persons who were present at Geneva during the troubles which 
 lately convulsed that city, thought they perceived, in the conten- 
 tions there carrying on, the operation of that political theory, 
 which the writings of Rousseau, and the unbounded esteem in 
 which these writings are holden by his countrymen, had diffused 
 amongst the people. Throughout the political disputes that have 
 within these few years taken place in Great Britain, in her sister- 
 kingdom, and in her foreign dependencies, it was impossible not 
 to observe in the language of party, in the resolutions of public 
 meetings, in debate, in conversation, in the general strain of 
 those fugitive and diurnal addresses to the Public which such oc- 
 casions call forth, the prevalency of those ideas of civil authority 
 which are displayed in the works of Mr. Locke. The credit of 
 that great name, the courage and liberality of his principles, the 
 skill and clearness with which his arguments are proposed, no 
 less than the weight of the arguments themselves, have given a re- 
 putation and currency to his opinions, of which I am persuaded, in 
 any unsettled state of public affairs, the influence would be felt. 
 As this is not a place for examining the truth or tendency of 
 these doctrines, I would not be understood by what I have said 
 to express any judgment concerning either. I mean only to 
 remark, that such doctrines are not without effect; and that it is 
 of practical importance to have the principles from which the 
 obligations of social union, and the extent of civil obedience, are 
 derived, rightly explained and well understood. Indeed, as far 
 as I have observed, in political, beyond all other subjects, where 
 men are without some fundamental and scientific principles to 
 resort to, they are liable to have their understandings played 
 upon by cant phrases and unmeaning terms, of which every party 
 in every country possesses a vocabulary. We appear astonished 
 when we sec the multitude led away by sounds; but we should 
 remember that, if sounds work miracles, it is always upon igno- 
 rance. The influence of names is in exact proportion to the 
 want of knowledge.
 
 ANNOTATIONS ON THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 9 
 
 These are the observations with which I have judged it expe- 
 dient to prepare the attention of my reader. Concerning the 
 personal motives which engaged me in the following attempt, it 
 is not necessary that I say much : the nature of my academical 
 situation, a great deal of leisure since my retirement from it, the 
 recommendation of an honoured and excellent friend, the autho- 
 rity Gf the venerable prelate to whom these labours are inscribed, 
 the not perceiving in what way I could employ my time or ta- 
 lents better, and my disapprobation, in literary men, of that 
 fastidious indolence which sits still because it disdains to do Utile, 
 were the considerations that directed my thoughts to this design. 
 Nor have I repented of the undertaking. Whatever be the fate 
 or reception of this work, it owes its author nothing. In sick- 
 ness and in health I have found in it that which can alone alle- 
 viate the one, or give enjoyment to the other, — occupation and 
 engagement. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS ON THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Tucker's Light of Nature, from which Paley derived, as he 
 has here informed us, a great part of his System of Morals, is 
 a Work of great originality and ingenuity in many parts, and 
 contains much 'that is very valuable, mixed up with no small 
 amount of very inferior Matter. It may be compared to a 
 gold-mine, in which there are many particles, and several con- 
 siderable masses, of precious metal mixed with gravel and clay. 
 
 The portion which Paley fixed on for adoption is one which 
 cannot, I think, be reckoned among the most valuable. Bishop 
 Butler would have been a far safer guide. 
 
 For the rest, the mode of making use of previous Writers 
 which our Author describes himself as having pursued, is one 
 strongly to be recommended. ' My method, ' he says, ' of 
 writing has constantly been this ; to extract what I could from 
 my own stores and my own reflections, in the first place ; to put 
 down that, and afterwards to consult upon each subject such 
 readings as fell in my way ; which order, I am convinced, is 
 the only one whereby any person can keep his thoughts from 
 sliding into other men's trains.'
 
 PALEY'S 
 
 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DEFINITION AND USE OF THE SCIENCE. 
 
 MORAL Philosophy, Morality, Ethics, Casuistry, Natural 
 Law, mean all the same thing ; namely, that science which 
 teaches men their duty and the reasons of it. 
 
 The use of such a study depends upon this, that, without it, 
 the rules of life, by which men are ordinarily governed, often- 
 times mislead them, through a defect either in the rule, or in 
 the application. 
 
 These rules are, the Law of Honour, the Law of the Land, 
 and the Scriptures. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LAW OF HONOUR. 
 
 THE Law of Honour is a system of rules constructed by 
 people of fashion, and calculated to facilitate their inter- 
 course with one another ; and for no other purpose. 
 
 Consequently, nothing is adverted to by the Law of Honour, 
 but what tends to incommode this intercourse. 
 
 Hence this law only prescribes and regulates the duties
 
 12 Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 betwixt equals; omitting such as relate to the Supreme Being, 
 as well as those which we owe to our inferiors. 
 
 For which reason, profaneness, neglect of public worship or 
 private devotion, cruelty to servants, rigorous treatment of 
 tenants or other dependents, want of charity to the poor, injuries 
 done to tradesmen by insolvency, or delay of payment, with 
 numberless examples of the same kind, are accounted no breaches 
 of honour ; because a man is not a less agreeable companion for 
 these vices, nor the worse to deal with, in those concerns which 
 are usually transacted between one gentleman and another. 
 
 Again ; the Law of Honour, being constituted by men occu- 
 pied in the pursuit of pleasure, and for the mutual conveniency 
 of such men, will be found, as might be expected from the 
 character and design of the law-makers, to be, in most instances, 
 favourable to the licentious indulgence of the natural passions. 
 
 Thus it allows of fornication, adultery, drunkenness, prodi- 
 gality, duelling, and of revenge in the extreme ; and lays no 
 stress upon the virtues opposite to these. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 Perhaps the ! Law of Honour' might not improperly be taken 
 in a wider acceptation, as embracing any system of rules 
 established by some Class of persons, who require a conformity 
 thereto of all members of their Society, and which are to be 
 observed on pain of exclusion from that Society, or, as we 
 sometimes say, ( losing Caste/ Hence, these rules vary in each 
 Nation, Sex, or Circle ; what would be in one a breach of honour, 
 such as would cause a person to be despised and shunned by 
 those of his Class, being no such offence in another circle. A 
 Chinese for instance, is very little ashamed of being detected as 
 a cheat ; but he would be disgraced by not treating his parents 
 with due respect, or not keeping the Tombs of his Ancestors 
 in good repair. And he is not disgraced by being flogged ; but 
 he would be ready to die of mortification at having his hair 
 cut off 
 
 And in the same nation, different Classes of persons have 
 differenl points of Honour. The Honour of the Male Sex for 
 instance, and of the Female, are not the same.
 
 Chap, iii.] The Law of the Land. 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE LAW OF THE LAND. 
 
 THAT part of mankind, who are beneath the Law of Honour, 
 often make the Law of the Land their rule of life ; that is, 
 they are satisfied with themselves, so long as they do or omit 
 nothing, for the doing or omitting of which the law can punish 
 them. 
 
 Whereas every system of human laws, considered as a rule 
 of life, labours under the two following defects : 
 
 I. Human laws omit many duties, as not objects of compul- 
 sion ; such as piety to God, bounty to the poor, forgiveness of 
 injuries, education of children, gratitude to benefactors. 
 
 The law never speaks but to command, nor commands but 
 where it can compel ; consequently those duties, which by their 
 nature must be voluntary, are left out of the statute-book, as 
 lying beyond the reach of its operation and authority. 
 
 II. Human laws permit, or, which is the same thing, suffer to 
 go unpunished, many crimes, because they are incapable of being 
 defined by any previous description. Of which nature are 
 luxury, prodigality, partiality at voting at those elections in 
 which the qualifications of the candidate ought to determine the 
 success, caprice in the disposition of men's fortunes at their death, 
 disrespect to parents, and a multitude of similar examples. 
 
 For, this is the alternative : either the law must define before- 
 hand and with precision the offences which it punishes ; or it 
 must be left to the discretion of the magistrate, to determine 
 upon each particular accusation, whether it constitute that offence 
 which the law designed to punish, or not ; which is, in effect, 
 leaving to the magistrate to punish or not to punish, at his 
 pleasure, the individual who is brought before him ; which is just 
 so much tyranny. Where, therefore, as in the instances above 
 mentioned, the distinction between right and wrong is of too 
 subtile or of too secret a nature to be ascertained by any pre- 
 concerted language, the law of most countries, especially of free 
 States, rather than commit the liberty of the subject to the dis- 
 cretion of the magistrate, leaves men in such cases to themselves.
 
 14 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 Paley has pointed out very clearly, and justly, the two defects 
 of any system of human laws considered as a ' rule of life ;' 
 that is, in reference merely to the external acts, done or 
 omitted. But in warning Men (as he does) against the error of 
 being satisfied ivith themselves so long as their conduct is not in 
 violation of the Laws, it is needful to add a third consideration; 
 the reference to the inward motive of the agent. For even if 
 it were possible for the laws to enjoin everything that is good, 
 and prohibit everything that is wrong, still, a man who should 
 act rightly merely in obedience to the laws, and for the sake of 
 avoiding legal penalties, would not be at all what any one 
 would account a good man ; because he would not be acting 
 from a virtuous motive ; and it is entirelv on the motives and 
 disposition of the mind that the moral character of any one's 
 conduct depends. An action, indeed, which is done from a 
 bad or from an inferior motive, may be in itself right, as being 
 what a good man would be disposed to do ; as when a man 
 pays his debts for fear of being imprisoned, or having his goods 
 seized ; but this does not make him an honest man. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 WHOEVER expects to find in the Scriptures a specific 
 direction for cverv moral doubt that arises, looks for 
 more than he will meet with. And to what a magnitude such 
 a detail of particular precepts would have enlarged the sacred 
 volume, may be partly understood from the following considera- 
 tion : — The laws of this country, including the acts of the legis- 
 lature, and the decisions of our supreme courts of justice, are 
 not contained in fewer than fifty folio volumes ; and yet it is 
 not once in ten attempts that you can find the case you look for, 
 in any law-book whatever: to say nothing of those numerous 
 points of conduct, concerning which the law professes not to 
 prescribe or determine anything. Had then the same parti-
 
 Chap, iv.] The Scriptures. 15 
 
 cularity which obtains in human laws so far as they go, been 
 attempted in the Scriptures, throughout the whole extent of 
 morality, it is manifest they would have been by much too 
 bulky to be either read or circulated ; or rather, as St. John 
 says, ' even the world itself could not contain the books that 
 should be written.' 
 
 Morality is taught in Scripture in this wise. — General rules 
 are laid down, of piety, justice, benevolence, and purity : such 
 as, worshipping God in spirit and in truth ; doing as we would 
 be done by; loving our neighbour as ourself; forgiving others, 
 as we expect forgiveness from God ; that mercy is better than 
 sacrifice ; that not that which entereth into a man, (nor, by 
 parity of reason, any ceremonial pollutions,) but that which pro- 
 ceedeth from the heart, defileth him. These rules are occasion- 
 ally illustrated, either by fictitious examples, as in the parable of 
 the good Samaritan ; and of the cruel servant, who refused to his 
 fellow-servant that indulgence and compassion which his master 
 had shown to him : or in instances which actually presented them- 
 selves, as in Christ's reproof of his disciples at the Samaritan 
 village ; his praise of the poor widow, who cast in her last mite ; 
 his censure of the Pharisees who chose out the chief rooms, — 
 and of the tradition, whereby they evaded the command to sus- 
 tain their indigent parents : or, lastly, in the resolution of ques- 
 tions, which those who were about our Saviour proposed to him ; as 
 his answer to the young man who asked him, ' What lack I 
 vet V and to the honest scribe, who had found out, even in that 
 age and country, that ' to love God and his neighbour, was 
 more than all whole burnt-offerings and sacrifice.' 
 
 And this is in truth the w r ay in which all practical sciences 
 are taught, as Arithmetic, Grammar, Navigation, and the like. — 
 Rules are laid down, and examples are subjoined : not that these 
 examples are the cases, much less all the cases, which will 
 actually occur ; but by way only of explaining the principle of 
 the rule, and as so many specimens of the method of applying 
 it. The chief difference is, that the examples in Scripture are 
 not annexed to the rules with the didactic regularity to which 
 we are now-a-days accustomed, but delivered dispersedly, as 
 particular occasions suggested them ; which gave them, however, 
 (especially to those who heard them, and were present on the 
 occasions which produced them,) an energy and persuasion,
 
 1 6 Moral and Political Philosophy, [Book i. 
 
 much beyond what the same or any instances would have ap- 
 peared with, in their places in a system. 
 
 Besides this, the Scriptures commonly presuppose in the per- 
 sons to whom they speak, a knowledge of the principles of 
 natural justice ; and are employed not so much to teach new rules 
 of morality, as to enforce the practice of it by new sanctions, 
 and by a greater certainty ; which last seems to be the proper 
 business of a revelation from God, and what was most wanted. 
 
 Thus the ( unjust, covenant-breakers, and extortioners/" are 
 condemned in Scripture, supposing it known, or leaving it, 
 where it admits of doubt, to moralists to determine, what in- 
 justice, extortion, or breach of covenant, are. 
 
 The above considerations are intended to prove that the 
 Scriptures do not supersede the use of the science of which we 
 profess to treat, and at the same time to acquit them of any 
 charge of imperfection or insufficiency on that account. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 It is highly important that the Student should attentively 
 notice, and steadily keep in mind, Palcy's remark (near the 
 close of this Chapter) that e the Scriptures presuppose in the 
 persons addressed a knowledge of the principles of natural justice, 
 and are employed not so much to teach new rules of Morality, as 
 to enforce the practice of it,' &c. 
 
 This is most true and highly important ; but I do not see 
 how it is to be reconciled with the subsequent parts of the 
 Treatise. For supposing Man a Being destitute of all Moral- 
 faculty, and deriving all notions of right and wrong that he 
 can ever possess, entirely from a consideration of the Will of 
 God, and the expectation of reward and punishment in the next 
 World from Him, one docs not see how those to whom our 
 Scriptures were addressed — the Gentile- Converts at least 
 — could have had any notion at all of ' Natural Justice/ 
 Not only must they have needed ' New Rules of Morality/ 
 but the very idea of any such thing as Morality must 
 have been entirely a Novelty to them. Of the Eternal Supreme 
 Creator they seem to have scarcely had a thought. The gods 
 they worshipped were little better than evil Demons. And as
 
 Chap, v.] The Moral Sense. 17 
 
 for a future state of retribution, they had little, if any, belief 
 iu any such thing. Paul accordingly speaks of ' the rest/ — i.e. 
 all the unconverted Gentiles 1 as sorrowing for their departed 
 friends, from ' having no hope.' Now, on Paley's theory, these 
 persons could have had no more idea of moral right and wrong 
 than a blind-born man has of light and colours. And yet he 
 speaks of their being addressed as understanding what (on his 
 theory) must have been a totally unknown language. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MORAL SENSE. 
 
 ' rpHE father of Caius Toranius had been proscribed by the 
 J- triumvirate. Caius Toranius, coming over to the interests of 
 that party, discovered to the officers, who were in pursuit of his 
 father's life, the place where he concealed himself, and gave 
 them withal a description, by which they might distinguish his 
 person, when they found him. The old man, more anxious for 
 the safety and fortunes of his son, than about the little that 
 might remain of his own life, began immediately to inquire of 
 the officers who seized him, whether his son was well, whether 
 he had done his duty to the satisfaction of his generals. 
 ' That son (replied one of the officers), so dear to thy affec- 
 tions, betrayed thee to us ; by his information thou art ap- 
 prehended, and diest.' The officer with this, struck a poniard 
 to his heart, and the unhappy parent fell, not so much 
 affected by his fate, as by the means to which he owed it."' 
 
 Now the question is, whether, if this story were related to 
 the wild boy caught some years ago in the woods of Hanover, 
 or to a savage without experience, and without instruction, cut 
 
 1 ol \oittoi, not ' others,' as in our Version, but ' all the rest.' 
 2 Caius Toranius triumvirum partes secutus, proscripti patris sui pra;torii et 
 ornati viri latebras, ffitatein, notasque corporis, quibus agnosci posset, centurionibus 
 edidit, qui eura persecuti sunt. Senes de filii magis vitd et incrementis, qnam de 
 reliquo spiritu suo sollicitus, an incolumis esset, et an iruperatoribus satisfaceret, 
 interrogare eos coepit. Equibus unus : ' Ab illo,' inquit, ' quem tantopere diligis, 
 demonstrates nostro ministerio, filii indicio occideris :' protinusque pectus ejus 
 gladio trajecit. Collapsus itaque est infelix, auctore csedis, quain ipsa, csede, 
 niiserior. — Valer. Max. lib. ix. cap. 1 1 . 
 
 P. C
 
 1 8 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book t. 
 
 off in his infancy from all intercourse Avith his species, and, 
 consequently, under no possible influence of example, authority, 
 education, sympathy, or habit ; whether, I say, such a one 
 would feel, upon the relation, any degree of that sentiment of 
 disapprobation of Toranins's conduct which we feel, or not ? 
 
 They who maintain the existence of a moral sense ; of 
 innate maxims ; of a natural conscience ; that the love of 
 virtue and hatred of vice are instinctive ; or the perception of 
 right and wrong intuitive (all which are only different ways of 
 expressing the same opinion) ; affirm that he would. 
 
 They who deny the existence of a moral sense, &c. affirm 
 that he would not. 
 
 And upon this, issue is joined. 
 
 As the experiment has never been made, and, from the 
 difficulty of procuring a subject, (not to mention the impossi- 
 bility of proposing the question to him, if we had one,) is 
 never likely to be made, what would be the event, can only 
 be judged of from probable reasons. 
 
 They who contend for the affirmative, observe, that we ap- 
 prove examples of generosity, gratitude, fidelity, &c. and con- 
 demn the contrary, instantly, without deliberation, without 
 having any interest of our own concerned in them, oft-times 
 without being conscious of, or able to give any reason for, our 
 approbation ; that this approbation is uniform and universal, the 
 same sorts of conduct being approved or disapproved in all ages 
 and countries of the world : — circumstances, say they, which 
 strongly indicate the operation of an instinct or moral sense. 
 
 On the other hand, answers have been given to most of these 
 arguments, by the patrons of the opposite system : and, 
 
 First, as to the uniformity above alleged, they controvert the 
 fact. They remark, from authentic accounts of historians and 
 travellers, that there is scarcely a single vice which, in some age 
 or country of the world, has not been coimtenanced by public 
 opinion : that in one country, it is esteemed an office of piety in 
 childi'cn to sustain their aged parents ; in another, to despatch 
 them out of the way : that suicide, in one age of the world, has 
 been heroism, is in another felony : that theft, which is punished 
 by most laws, by the laws of Sparta was not unfrequently re- 
 warded : that the promiscuous commerce of the sexes, although 
 condemned by the regulations and censure of all civilized na-
 
 Chap, v.] The Moral Sense. 16 
 
 1 
 tions, is practised by the savages of the tropical regions without 
 reserve, compunction, or disgrace : that crimes, of which it is no 
 longer permitted us even to speak, have had their advocates 
 amongst the sages of very renowned times : that, if an inhabitant 
 of the polished nations of Europe be delighted with the appear- 
 ance, wherever he meets with it, of happiness, tranquillity, and 
 comfort, a wild American is no less diverted with the writhings 
 and contortions of a victim at the stake : that even amongst 
 ourselves, and in the present improved state of moral knowledge, 
 we are far from a perfect consent in our opinions or feelings : 
 that you shall hear duelling alternately reprobated and ap- 
 plauded, according to the sex, age, or station, of the person you 
 converse with : that the forgiveness of injuries and insults is 
 accounted by one sort of people magnanimity, by another mean- 
 ness : that in the above instances, and perhaps in most others, 
 moral approbation follows the fashions and institutions of the 
 country we live in ; which fashions, also, and institutions them- 
 selves have grown out of the exigencies, the climate, situation, 
 or local circumstances of the country ; or have been set up by 
 the authority of an arbitrary chieftain, or the unaccountable 
 caprice of the multitude : — all Avhieh, they observe, looks very 
 little like the steady hand and indelible characters of Nature. 
 But, 
 
 Secondly, because, after these exceptions and abatements, it 
 cannot be denied but that some sorts of actions command and 
 receive the esteem of mankind more than others; and that the 
 approbation of them is general, though not universal : as to this, 
 they say, that the general approbation of virtue, even in in- 
 stances where we have no interest of our own to induce us to 
 it, may be accounted for, without the assistance of a moral 
 sense ; thus : — 
 
 ' Having experienced, in some instance, a particular conduct 
 to be beneficial to ourselves, or observed that it would be so, a 
 sentiment of approbation rises up in our minds ; which senti- 
 ment afterwards accompanies the idea or mention of the same 
 conduct, although the private advantage which first excited it no 
 longer exist. 5 
 
 And this continuance of the passion, after the reason of it has 
 ceased, is nothing more, say they, than what happens in other 
 cases ; especially in the love of money, which is in no person so 
 
 c a
 
 20 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 easer as it is oftentimes found to be in a rich old miser, without 
 family to provide for, or friend to oblige by it, and to whom, 
 consequently, it is no longer (and he may be sensible of it too) 
 of any real use or value; yet is this man as much overjoyed 
 with gain, and mortified by losses, as he was the first day he 
 opened his shop, and when his very subsistence depended upon 
 his success in it. 
 
 By these means the custom of approving certain actions com- 
 menced : and when once such a custom hath got footing in the 
 world, it is no difficult thing to explain how it is transmitted 
 and continued ; for then the greatest part of those who approve 
 of virtue, approve of it from authority, by imitation, and from a 
 habit of approving such and such actions, inculcated in early 
 youth, and receiving, as men grow up, continual accessions of 
 strength and vigour, from censure and encouragement, from the 
 books they read, the conversations they hear, the current appli- 
 cation of epithets, the general turn of language, and the various 
 other causes by which it universally comes to pass, that a society 
 of men, touched in the feeblest degree with the same passion, 
 soon communicate to one another a great degree of it. 1 This is 
 the case with most of us at present ; and is the cause, also, that 
 the jn-ocess of association, described in the last paragraph but one, 
 is little now cither perceived or wanted. 
 
 Amongst the causes assigned for the continuance and diffu- 
 sion of the same moral sentiments amongst mankind, we have 
 mentioned imitation. The efficacy of this principle is most 
 observable in children : indeed, if there be anything in them, 
 which deserves the name of an instinct, it is their propensihj to 
 imitation. Now, there is nothing which children imitate or 
 apply more readily than expressions of affection and aversion, 
 of approbation, hatred, resentment, and the like ; and when 
 these passions and expressions are once connected, which they 
 soon will be by the same association which unites words with 
 
 1 • From instances of popular tumults, seditions, factions, panics, and of all 
 passions which are shared with a multitude, we may learn the influence of society, 
 in exciting and supporting any emotion ; while the most ungovernable disorders are 
 raised, we find, bj that means, from the slightest and most frivolous occasions. He 
 must be more or less than man who kindles not in the common blaze. What 
 wonder, then, that moral sentiments are found of such influence in life, though 
 springing from principles, which may appear, at first sight, somewhat small and 
 delicate? 1 — Hume's Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, sect. ix. p. 326.
 
 Chap, v.] The Moral Sense. 21 
 
 their ideas, the passion will follow the expression, and attach 
 upon the object to which the child has been accustomed to apply 
 the epithet. In a word, when almost everything else is learned 
 by imitation, can we wonder to find the same cause concerned in 
 the generation of our moral sentiments ? 
 
 Another considerable objection to the system of moral in- 
 stincts, is this, that there are no maxims in the science which 
 can well be deemed innate, as none perhaps can be assigned, 
 which are absolutely and universally true ; in other words, which 
 do not bend to circumstances. Veracity, which seems, if any 
 be, a natural duty, is excused in many cases towards an enemy, 
 a thief, or a madman. The obligation of promises, which is a 
 first principle in morality, depends upon the circumstances 
 under which they were made : they may have been unlawful, or 
 become so since, or inconsistent with former promises, or erro- 
 neous, or extorted ; under all which cases, instances may be 
 suggested, where the obligation to perform the promise would 
 be very dubious ; and so of most other general rules, when 
 they come to be actually applied. 
 
 An argument has been also proposed on the same side of the 
 question, of this kind. Together with the instinct, there must 
 have been implanted, it is said, a clear and precise idea of the 
 object upon which it was to attach. The instinct and the idea 
 of the object are inseparable even in imagination, and as neces- 
 sarily accompany each other as any correlative ideas whatever : 
 that is, in plainer terms, if we be prompted by nature to the 
 approbation of particular actions, we must have received also 
 from nature a distinct conception of the action we are thus 
 prompted to approve ; which we certainly have not received. 
 
 But as this argument bears alike against all instincts, and 
 against their existence in brutes as well as in Man, it will 
 hardly, I suppose, produce conviction, though it may be difficult 
 to find an answer to it. 
 
 Upon the whole, it seems to me, either that there exist no 
 such instincts as compose what is called the moral sense, or that 
 they are not now to be distinguished from prejudices and habits; 
 on which account they cannot be depended upon in moral 
 reasoning : I mean that it is not a safe way of arguing, to assume 
 certain principles as so many dictates, impulses, and instincts of 
 nature, and then to draw conclusions from these principles, as to
 
 22 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book I. 
 
 the rectitude or wrongne'ss of actions, independent of the ten- 
 dency of such actions, or of any other consideration whatever. 
 
 Aristotle lays down, as a fundamental and self-evident 
 maxim, that nature intended barbarians to be slaves ; and pro- 
 ceeds to deduce from this maxim a train of conclusions, calcu- 
 lated to justify the policy which then prevailed. And I question 
 whether the same maxim be not still self-evident to the company 
 of merchants trading to the coast of Africa. 
 
 Nothing is so soon made as a maxim ; and it appears from 
 the example of Aristotle, that authority and convenience, 
 education, prejudice, and general practice, have no small share 
 in the making of them ; and that the laws of custom are very 
 apt to be mistaken for the order of uature. 
 
 For which reason, I suspect, that a system of morality, built 
 upon instincts, will only find out reasons and excuses for opinions 
 and practices already established, — will seldom correct or reform 
 either. 
 
 But further, suppose we admit the existence of these instincts ; 
 what, it may be asked, is their authority ? No man, you say, 
 can act in deliberate opposition to them, without a secret remorse 
 of conscience. But this remorse may be borne with : and if the 
 sinner chuse to bear with it, for the sake of the pleasure or the 
 profit which he expects from his wickedness ; or finds the plea- 
 sure of the sin to exceed the remorse of conscience, of which he 
 alone is the judge, and concerning which, when he feels them 
 both together, he can hardly be mistaken, the moral-instinct 
 man, so far as I can understand, has nothing more to offer. 
 
 For if he allege that these instincts are so many indications 
 of the will of God, and consequently presages of what we are to 
 look for hereafter; this, I answer, is to resort to a rule and a 
 motive ulterior to the instincts themselves, and at which rule 
 and motive we shall by-and-by arrive by a surer road : — I say 
 surer, so long as there remains a controversy whether there be 
 any instinctive maxims at all ; or any difficulty in ascertaining 
 what maxims arc instinctive. 
 
 The celebrated question therefore becomes in our system a 
 question of pure curiosity ; and as such, wc dismiss it to the 
 determination of those who arc more inquisitive, than we are 
 concerned to be, about the natural history and constitution of 
 the human species.
 
 Chap v.] Annotations. 23 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 'And upon this, issue is joined.' 
 
 One can hardly suppose that any persons ever did seriously 
 propose, in determining an important question, to 'join issue' 
 on the result of an experiment which it is manifest never could 
 possibly be tried. But most persons would readily admit that 
 Paley's supposed savage would be destitute of a Moral-faculty ; 
 as he would also be of speech, 1 and a stranger to all reasoning- 
 process; since, for that, the use of 'general terms' is essential." 
 Yet it would not be allowed to follow that the natural state of 
 Man is dumbness, and destitution of the Reasoning-faculty. Man 
 is as manifestly designed by Nature for the society of his fellows, 
 as the bee or the ant. And it is surely strange to allow nothing 
 to be natural to Man that is not either born with him, or else 
 sure to be spontaneously developed in one who has grown up 
 in a solitary state, for which it is manifest he was not formed. 
 Any one who saw the pine near the verge of the perpetual 
 snow on the Alps, stunted to the height of two or three feet, 
 and struggling, as it were, to exist, amidst rocks and ice, would 
 hardly call that the ' natural state ' of a tree, which, in a more 
 genial climate and soil, a little lower down, is found towering 
 to the height of fifty or sixty yards. 
 
 It is a curious fact that Paley's theory of the total absence 
 in Man, of any Moral Faculty, is strenuously maintained by a 
 large class of persons the most opposed to him as a theologian, 
 and who regard his opinions on religion as utterly unsound. 3 
 
 The cause of this their adherence to Paley's theory, 1 con- 
 ceive to be a well-intentioned but misdirected desire to exalt 
 God's glory, and set forth Man's sinfulness, without perceiving 
 that they are in fact doing away with both the one and the 
 other. 
 
 1 The word ' infant, ' etyniologically signifying ' speechless/ may serve to remind 
 us of this. And all would continue such, if not taught to speak. 
 
 2 See Lessons on Reasoning. 
 
 3 M. Napoleon Roussel is one out of many of these. He has published a number 
 of little tracts, all ingenious, and most of them sound and edifying. But in one of 
 them — ' The Believing Infidel' (L'lucrediUe Croyant) he strongly advocates 
 (though not more so than many other divines of a very influential school) the views 
 I have been alluding to.
 
 24 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 Tf Man be naturally destitute of any faculty that distinguishes 
 right and wrong, — any notion of such a thing as Duty — then, 
 no one can be accounted sinful, any more than a brute beast, 
 or a born idiot. These do many things that are odious and 
 mischievous, and that would be sin in a rational Being; : but 
 the term stn we never apply to their acts (any more than the 
 term folly) precisely because they lack a Moral-faculty and a 
 rational nature ; — because not having a Conscience, they cannot 
 violate the dictates of conscience. Indeed, an idiot is accord- 
 ingly called, in some parts of the country, an ' innocent/ on 
 the very ground of his having this deficiency, which Paley and 
 his followers attribute to all mankind. And a revelation of the 
 divine commands to a Being destitute of the Moral-faculty, 
 though it might deter him from certain acts through fear of 
 punishment, as brutes, we all know, may be so influenced, 
 would leave him still remaining (as they are) a stranger to any 
 notion of such a thing as Duty. He would be no more a moral 
 agent than a dog or a horse. 1 
 
 And to speak to such a Being of the moral attributes of the 
 Deity, would be like speaking of colours to a blind-born man. 
 If he attaches no meaning to the words 'good/ and 'just/ 
 and ' right/ except that such is the divine command, then, to 
 say that God is good, and his commands just, is only saying in 
 a circuitous way, that He is what He is, and that what He 
 wills He wills ; which might equally be said of any Being in the 
 universe. Indeed, this is what Paley himself perceives and 
 distinctly admits. [Chap, ix.] He admits that we attribute 
 goodnesj to the Most High, on account of the conformity of 
 his acts to the principles which we are accustomed to call 
 'good/ and that these principles are called 'good' solely 
 from their conformity to the divine will. It is very strange 
 that when he did perceive that he was thus proceeding in a 
 circle, this did not open his eyes to the erroneousness of the 
 principle which had led him into it. 
 
 And any one would be equally involved in a vicious circle, 
 who, while he held Palcy's theory, should refer to the pure and 
 moral tone of the New Testament as an internal evidence (and 
 
 Itora. 
 
 1. u.
 
 Chap, v.] Annotations. 25 
 
 in reality it is a very strong one) to prove that it could not be 
 the unaided work of ignorant, half-crazy Jewish peasants and 
 fishermen. For, if all our moral notions are entirely derived 
 from that book, to say that the morality of the book 
 is correct, is merely to say that it is what it is. We should be 
 arguing like the Mahometans, who infer the inspiration of the 
 Koran from the excellence of its style ; they having made the 
 Koran their sole standard of style, and reckoning every work 
 to be the better or the worse Arabic, in proportion as it 
 approaches more or less to the language of the Koran. 
 
 But what tends to keep up this confusion of thought in 
 some men's minds is this ; we do conclude in this or that par- 
 ticidar instance, that so and so is wise and good, though we 
 do not perceive its wisdom and goodness, but found our convic- 
 tion solely on its being the divine will. But then, this is from 
 our general conviction that God is wise and good ; not from 
 our attaching no meaning to the words wise and good, except 
 the divine will. Then, and then only, can the command of a 
 Superior make anything a duty, when we set out with the con- 
 viction that it is a duty to obey him. It is just so, accordingly, 
 that we judge even in what relates to our fellow-men. If some 
 measure were proposed by any friend whom you knew from his 
 past conduct to be a very able and upright man, you would 
 presume, even before you knew any particulars of that measure, 
 that it must be a wise and good one. This would be a natural 
 and a fair mode of judging of the unknown from the known. 
 And you would think a person very absurd who should there- 
 upon conclude that you had no notion at all of what is a wise 
 and good measure, and meant nothing by those words except 
 that it is what proceeds from that friend of yours. And so it 
 is in many other cases. You have read (suppose) several works 
 of a certain author, and have found them all highly interesting 
 and instructive. If, then, you hear of his bringing out a new 
 work, you expect, before you have seen it, that it will be a 
 very valuable one. But this is not from your meaning by a 
 ' valuable work ' nothing at all but that it comes from his pen, 
 but from your reasoning — very justly — from the known to the 
 unknown. 
 
 To infer that because this or that particular book, or 
 measure, or rule of conduct, may be presumed to be good,
 
 <x6 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 solely on account of the person it proceeds from, therefore the 
 same may be the case with all of them collectively, would be a 
 gross fallacy, (what in logical language is called the ' fallacy of 
 composition,') and one which, in such instances as those just 
 given, would be readily detected. 
 
 A right-minded Christian then will say, f I am sure so and 
 so is right, though I do not understand why, or how it is ; but 
 such is the command of my heavenly Father ; and I do under- 
 stand that I have good grounds for trusting in Him/ And 
 such a man will keep clear of the presumption (calling itself 
 humility) of those who insist on it that in such and such 
 instances the Almightly had no reason at all for what He has 
 done, except (as they express it) to ' declare his sovereignty ;' 
 and that He acted only ' for his own glory ;' as if He could 
 literally seek glory ! Whenever the Most High has merely, 
 revealed to us his will, we must not dare to pronounce that He 
 had no reasons for it except his will, because He has not thought 
 fit to make those reasons known to us. To say (as some have 
 presumed to say 1 ) that He does so and so for no cause ivhatever 
 except that He chases it, seems little, if at all, short of 
 blasphemy. Even an earthly king, being not responsible to 
 any of his subjects for the reasons of his commands, may some- 
 times think fit to issue commands without explaining his rea- 
 sons. And it would be insolent rashness for any one thence to 
 conclude that he had no reasons, but acted from mere caprice. 
 
 So also, a dutiful child will often have to say, f I do so and 
 so because my kind and wise parents have commanded me : that 
 is reason enough for me.' But though this is — to the child — 
 a very good reason for obeying the command, it would be a very 
 bad reason, with the parents, for giving that command. And 
 he would show his filial veneration, and trust, not by taking 
 for granted that his parents had no reason for their commands, 
 but, on the contrary, by taking for granted that there ivas a 
 good reason both for their acting as they did, and for their 
 withholding from him any explanation. 
 
 Palcy's theory is derived (as he informs us), in great measure, 
 
 1 See Lessons on Morals, less, xviii. § 4, note.
 
 Chap, v.] Annotations. 27 
 
 from Tucker's Light of Nature : a work of great originality, and 
 containing much curious and valuable matter, mixed up with 
 much that is not at all deserving of approbation. It is a book 
 which I have been accustomed (as I have observed in the Preface) 
 to compare to a gold-mine, containing many particles, and some 
 considerable masses, of very precious metal, confusedly inter- 
 mingled with much gravel and clay. I cannot think Paley was 
 happy in his choice of the portion he has selected. He would 
 have found a much safer guide in the celebrated Bishop Butler. 
 The denial however of a Moral-faculty was no new device of 
 Tucker's ; being substantially what was maintained by the infidel 
 Hobbes in his once-celebrated work the Leviathan. And it was 
 so far from being new, then, that it is noticed by Aristotle as 
 having been maintained in his time. 
 
 It is to be observed however that Paley's fault as a Moralist 
 is chiefly one of omission. I mean, that much of what he says 
 is truth, though far short of the whole truth ; and that he 
 arrives at many right conclusions, though based on insufficient 
 grounds. It is true, for instance, that we are commanded to 
 do what is right, and forbidden to do what is wrong ; though 
 it is not true that this is the only meaning of the words 'right' 
 and ' wrong.' And it is true that God will reward and punish ; 
 though it is not true that a calculation of reward and punish- 
 ment constitutes the whole notion of Duty. 
 
 ( Answers have been given . ... by the patrons of the opposite 
 
 system.' 
 
 The diversities that are to be found in men's moral notions 
 led some persons as long ago as in Aristotle's time 1 to deny that 
 the distinctions of moral right and wrong have any foundation 
 in nature. He however observes, in opposition to them, that 
 it is allowable to speak of the right hand, as naturally the 
 stronger, notwithstanding the existence of some who are left- 
 handed or ambidextrous. 
 
 As is observed in the Lessons on Morals [less. 1. § 3], 
 1 Every one of our faculties is capable of cultivation and im- 
 
 1 Eth. Nicom. b. v.
 
 28 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 provcmcnt, and is also liable to be corrupted and depraved, and 
 is subject to various imperfections. Human Reason is far from 
 being infallible ; for many men are deceived by fallacious argu- 
 ments, and fall into various errors ; and there are great varieties 
 in the opiuions formed by different persons. Yet no one would 
 on that ground deny that Man is a rational Being. And again, 
 you may occasionally see great variations even in the bodily 
 senses, and in the bodily formation, of different individuals. 
 But we do not consider these variations as doing away with all 
 general rules. Some are born idiots, and some blind; some 
 have been born with only one arm, and some with neither arms 
 nor legs. Yet we speak of Man as a Being possessing reason, 
 and having eyes, and arms, and legs. And again, to a person 
 in fever, sweet things taste bitter; and some have a taste so 
 depraved by disease or by habit as to prefer bitter or sour things 
 to sweet. Yet no one would deny that wormwood is bitter, 
 and honey sweet; or would say that aloes has naturally a 
 pleasanter taste than honey. And it would be equally absurd 
 to deny that there is anything naturally odious in ingratitude, 
 or that justice and beneficence are natural and proper objects of 
 approbation.-' 
 
 It is very strange, yet such appears to be the case, that 
 Palcy apparently considers it the same thing to disprove the 
 existence of Moral Maxims, and to disprove a ^lora\-faculty . 
 Yet what would be thought of any one who should maintain 
 that there is no such thing as an ear for music, because there 
 are no innate tunes ? 
 
 As the point now before us is one of great importance, I 
 will take the liberty of citing, in reference to it, an extract from 
 Bishop Fitzgerald's preliminary dissertation to his selection 
 from Aristotle's Moral Philosophy. 
 
 1 It is strange to see how this confusion, between an 
 innate moral faculty and innate maxims of morality, has 
 imposed upon some of the clearest thinkers. Paley himself, 
 after relating the story of Caius Toranius, proposes the probable 
 feelings of Peter the wild boy on hearing it, as a proper experi- 
 mentum crncis, — a test of the reality of a natural moral sense. 
 ' The question is/ says he, ' whether such a one would feel, 
 upon the relation, any degree of that sentiment of disapproba-
 
 Chap, v.] Annotations. 29 
 
 tion of Toranius' conduct which we feel or not ;' and then he 
 proceeds : ' They who maintain the existence of a moral sense ; 
 of innate maxims ; of a natural conscience ; that the love of 
 virtue and hatred of vice are instinctive ; or the perception of 
 right and wrong intuitive {all which are only different ways 
 of expressing the same opinion) ; affirm that he would.' Is it 
 not plain that this singularly perspicacious writer was labouring 
 all along under the mistaken notion that, in showing that there 
 are no innate general maxims of morality, he was disproving 
 the existence of the moral faculty ? and is it not equally plain 
 that in this he fell into the same error as if he were to doubt 
 the existence of human Reason, because it is much to be ques- 
 tioned whether that same unprejudiced savage could have been 
 made to understand that the angles at the base of an isosceles 
 triangle are demonstrably equal to each other? 
 
 That this was really the confusion in Paley's mind becomes 
 more and more evident at every step. He tells us, for instance, 
 that f there is scarcely a single vice which, in some age or country 
 of the world, has not been countenanced by public opinion ; that 
 in one country it is esteemed an office of piety in children to 
 sustain their aged parents, in another to despatch them out of 
 the way.' Now, those Avho deem it pious to despatch their 
 aged parents, approve the action, because they regard deliver- 
 ance from a wretched old age the highest service they can 
 render them, and because they believe the practice to be sanc- 
 tioned by the Superior Beings who are the authors of their 
 religion. Here the rational faculty is at least as much in fault 
 as the moral ; and the truth is, that such instances as these 
 militate as much against any theory of morals, which claims 
 support in any principle of human nature, as against that which 
 makes Conscience its foundation. 
 
 'These objections tacitly assume that where the objects 
 approved and disapproved really are the same, there, they appear 
 the same to the minds of those who, nevertheless, pass such 
 opposite judgments ; — that every essential element of the whole 
 case, as it really subsists, is, in every such instance, present to 
 the mind ; and that it is upon such a survey of the case, that 
 the moral sentiments in question arise. But in the great mass 
 of cases, in which one set of men pronounce that praiseworthy 
 or innocent which another censure as vicious, it will be found
 
 30 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 that, on one side or the other, there is some imaginary element 
 in the mind, wliichis not in the object, — some confused blending 
 of a virtuous element with a vicious one which it accidentally 
 resembles, — or the presence of some predominating passion, 
 which prevents the mind from attending to those characters of 
 the object which, but for that disturbing influence, it would be 
 able to perceive, and which, whenever that influence is removed, 
 it does perceive. In a word, all the known causes of error in 
 the rational, are possible causes of error in the moral faculty ; 
 and the test of error is in both cases the same. What either 
 pronounces true or just respectively in any case, it implicitlv 
 pronounces true or just, under the same circumstances, in all 
 cases. The first step, therefore, towards correction, is to 
 generalize the phenomena ; and it is acutely remarked by 
 Aristotle that, in moral syllogisms, the mistake is made much 
 oftener in the particular Minor than in the universal Major 
 premise. The nation which encouraged their boys to pilfer, 
 did not regard with approval the disposition to abstract the pro- 
 perty of others, nor did they commend such pilfering as the 
 result of such a disposition, but under a totally different aspect ; 
 and so in other cases. The statements of those who love to 
 dwell upon these anomalies of the moral-sense, owe much of 
 their effect to their being expressed in general terms, and will 
 lose a great deal of their weight when it is remembered that, 
 though, in this form, they doubtless state the case as it really 
 is, they do not state it as it was before the minds of the 
 persons concerned. 
 
 ' But the most amazing circumstance in that remarkable 
 chapter of Paley's Moral Philosophy, is the total unconsciousness 
 which the author seems to exhibit of there being anything 
 peculiar or specific in our feeling of moral approbation. He 
 seems to think that, as soon as he has shown that the approval 
 which wc bestow upon things because they are useful, may 
 become by habit immediately attached to them, after the percep- 
 tion of their utility has dropped out of the mind, he has done 
 all that could be reasonably expected by his antagonists ; or, 
 in other words, he seems to imagine that no one can possibly 
 suppose the emotion which approves the virtue of a man, to 
 differ specifically from that which commends the proportions of 
 a doorway, or the elegance of a tweezer-casc.'
 
 Chap, vi.] Human Happiness. 31 
 
 ' Aristotle lays it down as a self-evident and fundamental Maxim, 
 that Nature intended Barbarians to be slaves' 
 
 This gross misrepresentation, doubtless, did not arise from 
 designed falsification on Paley's part, but from his carelessly 
 giving credence to some report at second or third hand, without 
 taking the trouble himself to look into the author. 
 
 What Aristotle does say, 1 is, that the only kind of person who 
 can be regarded as [SouAoc rpvaei] a 'slave by nature/ is one who, 
 though capable of acting under another's direction, is incapable 
 of acting rationally by himself ; and that as soon as he becomes 
 capable of being his own master, he has a natural right to 
 freedom, though he may be retained by force in a state of 
 slavery. 
 
 One of the worst evils however of slavery as an institution, is, 
 that the master's interest is generally not to train his slaves so 
 as to become qualified for freedom, but on the contrary, to keep 
 them in a state of ignorance and degradation. 
 
 The laws of ancient Greece and Rome did not encourage, 
 but, on the other hand, did not prohibit (as in some slave-states 
 in our dav) the education of slaves. 2 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 HUMAN HAPPINESS. 
 
 THE word happy is a relative term : that is, when we call a 
 man happy, we mean that he is happier than some others, 
 with whom we compare him, — than the generality of others ; — or 
 than he himself was in some other situation. Thus, speaking of one 
 who has just compassed the object of a long pursuit, — '.Now/ 
 we say, ' he is happy; and in a like comparative sense, — com- 
 pared, that is, with the general lot of mankind, — we call a man 
 happy who possesses health and competency. 
 
 In strictness, any condition may be denominated happy, in 
 
 1 In the Politics. 2 See American Slavery. Longmans.
 
 32 Moral and Political Philosophy. [Book I. 
 
 which the amount or aggregate of pleasure exceeds that of pain; 
 and the degree of happiness depends upon the quantity of this 
 excess. 
 
 And the greatest quantity of it ordinarily attainable in human 
 life, is what we mean by happiness, when we inquire or pro- 
 nounce what human happiness consists in. 1 
 
 In which inquiry I will omit much usual declamation on the 
 dignity and capacity of our nature ; the superiority of the soul 
 to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our con- 
 stitution ; upon the worthiness, refinement,, and delicacy of 
 some satisfactions, or the meanness, grossness, and sensuality, of 
 others ; because I hold that pleasures differ in nothing but in 
 continuance and intensity : from a just computation of which, 
 confirmed by what we observe of the apparent cheerfulness, 
 tranquillity, and contentment, of men of different tastes, tempers, 
 stations, and pursuits, every question concerning human hap- 
 piness must receive its decision. 
 
 It will be our business to show, if we can, 
 
 I. What Human Happiness does not consist in : 
 
 II. What it does consist in. 
 
 First, then, Happiness does not consist in the pleasures of 
 sense, in whatever profusion or variety they be enjoyed. By 
 the pleasures of sense, I mean, as well the animal gratifications 
 
 1 If any positive signification, distinct from what we mean by pleasure, can be 
 affixed to the term 'happiness,' I should take it to denote a certain state of the 
 nervous system in that part of the human frame in which we feel joy and grief, 
 passions and affections. Whether this part be the heart, which the turn of most 
 languages would lead us to believe, or the diaphragm, as Buffon, or the upper 
 orifice of the stomach, as Van Ilelmont thought ; or rather be a hind of fine net- 
 work, lining the whole region of the pneeordia, as others have imagined; it is pos- 
 sible, not only that each painful sensation may violently shake and disturb the fibres 
 :il I lie time, hot that a series of such may at length so derange the very texture 
 of the system, as to produce a perpetual irritation, which will show itself by fret- 
 fulness, impatience, and restlessness. It is possible also, on the other hand, that a 
 succession of pleasurable sensations may have such an effect upon this subtile 
 organization, as to cause the fibres to relax, and return into their place and order, 
 ami thereby to recover, or, if not lost, to preserve, that harmonious conformation 
 which gives to flic mind its sense of complacency and satisfaction. This stale may 
 be denominated happiness, and is so far distinguishable from pleasure, that it does 
 not refer to any particular object of enjoyment, or consist, like pleasure, in the gra- 
 tification of one or more of the senses, but is rather the secondary effect which such 
 objects and gratifications produce upon the nervous system, or the state in which 
 tin- leave it. These conjectures belong not, however, to our province. The com- 
 parative sense, in which we have explained the term Happiness, is more popular, 
 anil is sufficient for the purpose of the present chapter.
 
 Chap, vi.] Human Happiness. 33 
 
 of eating, drinking, and that by which the species is continued, 
 as the more refined pleasures of music, painting, architecture, 
 gardening, splendid shows, theatric exhibitions ; and the plea- 
 sures, lastly, of active sports, as of hunting, shooting, fishing, 
 &c. For, 
 
 1st, These pleasures continue but a little while at a time. 
 This is true of them all, especially of the grosser sort of them. 
 Laying aside the preparation and the expectation, and com- 
 puting strictly the actual sensation, Ave shall be surprised to find 
 how inconsiderable a portion of our time they occupy, how 
 few hours in the four-and-twenty they are able to fill up. 
 
 2ndly, These pleasures, by repetition, lose their relish. 
 
 It is a property of the machine, for which we know no remedy, 
 that the organs, by which Ave perceive pleasure, are blunted and 
 benumbed by being frequently exercised in the same way. 
 There is hardly any one who has not found the difference 
 between a gratification, when new, and aa hen familiar ; or 
 any pleasure which does not become indifferent as it groA\*s 
 habitual. 
 
 31'dly, The eagerness for high and intense delights takes aAvay 
 the relish from all others: and as such delights fall rarely in our 
 way, the greater part of our time becomes, from this cause, empty 
 and uneasy. 
 
 There is hardly any delusion by which men are greater suf- 
 ferers in their happiness, than by their expecting too much from 
 what is called pleasure ; that is, from those intense delights, 
 which vulgarly engross the name of pleasure. The very expecta- 
 tion spoils them. When they do come, we are often engaged 
 in taking pains to persuade ourselves how much Ave are pleased, 
 rather than enjoying any pleasure which springs naturally out of 
 the object. And whenever Ave depend upon being vastly de- 
 lighted, Ave always go home secretly grieved at missing our aim. 
 Likewise, as has been observed just iioav, Avhen this humour of 
 being prodigiously delighted has once taken hold of the imagina- 
 tion, it hinders us from providing for, or acquiescing in, those 
 gently soothing engagements, the due variety and succession of 
 which are the only things that supply a vein or continued stream 
 of happiness. 
 
 What I have been able to observe of that part of mankind, 
 whose professed pursuit is pleasure, and who are withheld in the 
 p. d
 
 34 Moral Philosophy. [Book t. 
 
 pursuit by no restraints of fortune, or scruples of conscience, 
 corresponds sufficiently with this account. I have commonly 
 remarked in such men, a restless and inextinguishable passion 
 for variety : a great part of their time to be vacant, and so much 
 of it irksome; and that, with Avhatever eagerness and expecta- 
 tion they set out, they become, by degrees, fastidious in their 
 choice of pleasure, languid in the enjoyment, yet miserable under 
 the Avant of it. 
 
 The truth seems to be, that there is a limit at which these 
 pleasures soon arrive, and from which they ever afterwards de- 
 cline. They are by necessity of short duration, as the organs 
 cannot hold on their emotions beyond a certain length of time; 
 and if you endeavour to condensate for this imperfection in 
 their nature by the frequency with which you repeat them, you 
 suffer more than you gain, by the fatigue of the faculties, and 
 the diminution of sensibility. 
 
 We have said nothing in this account of the loss of oppor- 
 tunities, or the decay of faculties, which, whenever they happen, 
 leave the voluptuary destitute and desperate ; teased by desires 
 that can never be gratified, and the memory of pleasures which 
 must return no more. 
 
 It will also be allowed by those who have experienced it, and 
 perhaps by those alone, that pleasure which is purchased by the 
 encumbrance of our fortune, is purchased too dear ; the pleasure 
 never compensating for the perpetual irritation of embarrassed 
 circumstances. 
 
 These pleasures, after all, have their value; and as the young 
 are always too eager in their pursuit of them, the old are some- 
 times too remiss, that is, too studious of their ease, to be at the 
 pains for them which they really deserve. 
 
 Secondly, Neither does happiness consist in an exemption 
 from pain, labour, care, business, suspense, molestation, and 
 ' those evils which are without;' such a state being usually 
 attended,' not with ease, but with depression of spirits, a taste- 
 lcs-Miess in all our ideas, imaginary anxieties, and the whole 
 train of hypochondriacal affections. 
 
 For which reason, the expectations of those, who retire from 
 their shops and counting-houses, to enjoy the remainder of their 
 days in leisure and tranquillity, are seldom answered by the 
 effect; much less of such, as, in a fit of chagrin, shut themselves
 
 Chap, vi.] Human Happiness. 33 
 
 up in cloisters and hermitages, or quit the world, and their 
 stations in it, for' solitude and repose. 
 
 Where there exists a known external cause of uneasiness, the 
 cause may be removed, and the uneasiness will cease. But those 
 imaginary distresses which men feel for want of real ones, (and 
 which are equally tormenting, and so far equally real,) as they 
 depend upon no single or assignable subject of uneasiness, admit 
 oftentimes of no application of relief. 
 
 Hence a moderate pain, upon which the attention may fasten 
 and spend itself, is to many a refreshment ; as a fit of the gout 
 will sometimes cure the spleen. And the same of any less violent 
 agitation of the mind, as a literary controversy, a law-suit, a 
 contested election, and, above all, gaming ; the passion for which, 
 in men of fortune and liberal minds, is only to be accounted for 
 on this principle. 
 
 Thirdly, Neither does happiness consist in greatness, rank, 
 or elevated station. 
 
 Were it true that all superiority afforded pleasure, it would 
 follow, that by how much we were the greater, that is, the more 
 persons we were superior to, in the same proportion, so far as 
 depended upon this cause, we should be the happier ; but so it 
 is, that no superiority yields any satisfaction, save that which we 
 possess or obtain over those with whom we immediately compare 
 ourselves. The shepherd perceives no pleasure in his superiority 
 over his dog ; the farmer, in his superiority over the shepherd ; 
 the lord, in his superiority over the farmer ; nor the king, lastly, 
 in his superiority over the lord. Superiority, where there is no 
 competition, is seldom contemplated ; what most men are quite 
 unconscious of. 
 
 But if the same shepherd can run, fight, or wrestle, better 
 than the peasants of his village ; if the farmer can show better 
 cattle, if he keep a better horse, or be supposed to have a longer 
 purse, than any farmer in the hundred ; if the lord have more 
 interest in an election, greater favour at court, a better house, or 
 larger estate, than any nobleman in the county ; if the king 
 possess a more extensive territory, a more powerful fleet or army, 
 a more splendid establishment, more loyal subjects, or more 
 weight and authority in adjusting the affairs of nations, than any 
 prince in Europe ; in all these cases, the parties feel an actual 
 satisfaction in their superiority. 
 
 d 2
 
 j6 Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 Now the conclusion that follows from hence is this; that the 
 pleasures of ambition, which are supposed to be peculiar to high 
 stations, are in reality common to all conditions. The farrier 
 who shoes a horse better, rind who is in greater request for his 
 skill, than any man within ten miles of him, possesses, for all 
 that I can see, the delight of distinction and of excelling, as 
 truly and substantially as the statesman, the soldier, and the 
 scholar, who have filled Europe with the reputation of their 
 wisdom, their valour, or their knowledge. 
 
 No superiority appears to be of any account, but superiority 
 over a rival. This, it is manifest, may exist wherever rivalships 
 do ; and rivalships fall out amongst men of all ranks and 
 degrees. The object of emulation, the dignity or magnitude of 
 this object, makes no difference : as it is not what either possesses 
 that constitutes the pleasure, but what one possesses more than 
 the other. 
 
 Philosophy smiles at the contempt with which the rich and 
 great speak of the petty strifes and competitions of the poor ; 
 not reflecting that these strifes and competitions are just as 
 reasonable as their own, and the pleasure, which success affords, 
 the same. 
 
 Our position is, that happiness does not consist in greatness. 
 And this position we make out by showing, that even what are 
 supposed to be the peculiar advantages of greatness, the plea- 
 sures of ambition and superiority, are in reality common to all 
 conditions. But whether the pursuits of ambition be ever wise, 
 whether they contribute more to the happiness or misery of the 
 pursuers, is a different question ; and a question concerning 
 which we may be allowed to entertain great doubt. The plea- 
 sure of success is exquisite ; so also is the anxiety of the pursuit 
 and the pain of disappointment ; — and what is the worst part 
 of the account, the pleasure is short-lived. We soon cease to 
 look back upon those whom we have left behind; new contests 
 air (imaged in, new prospects unfold themselves; a succession 
 of struggles is kept up, whilst there is a rival left within the 
 compass of our views and profession ; and when there is none, 
 the pleasure with the pursuit is at an end. 
 
 II. We have seen what Happiness does not consist in. We 
 are next to consider in what it does consist. 
 
 In the conduct of life, the great matter is, to know before- 
 hand, what will please us, and what pleasure will hold out. So
 
 Chap, vi.] Human Happiness. 37 
 
 far as we know this, our choice will be justified by the event. 
 And this knowledge is more scarce and difficult than at first 
 sight it may seem to be : for sometimes, pleasures, which are 
 wonderfully alluring and flattering in the prospect, turn out in 
 the possession extremely insipid; or do not hold out as we 
 expected : at other tunes, pleasures start up which never 
 entered into our calculation ; and which uc might have missed 
 of by not foreseeing : whence we have reason to believe, 
 that we actually do miss of many pleasures from the same 
 cause. I say, to know ' beforehand ;' for, after the experiment 
 is tried, it is commonly impracticable to retreat or change ; 
 beside that shifting and changing is apt to generate a habit of 
 restlessness, which is destructive of the happiness of every con- 
 dition. 
 
 By the reason of the original diversity of taste, capacity, and 
 constitution, observable in the human species, and the still 
 greater variety, which habit and fashion have introduced in 
 these particulars, it is impossible to propose any plan of happi- 
 ness, which will succeed to all, or any method of life which is 
 universally eligible or practicable. 
 
 All that can be said is, that there remains a presumption in 
 favour of those conditions of life, in which men generally 
 appear most cheerful and contented. For though the apparent 
 happiness of mankind be not always a true measure of their 
 real happiness, it is the best measure we have. 
 
 Taking this for my guide, I am inclined to believe that hap- 
 piness consists, 
 
 I. In the exercise of the social affections. 
 
 Those persons commonly possess good spirits, who have 
 about them many objects of affection and endearment, as wife, 
 children, kindred, friends. And to the want of these may be 
 imputed the peevishness of monks, and of such as lead a 
 monastic life. 
 
 Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domestic 
 affections, and equally refreshing to the spirits, is the pleasure 
 which results from acts of bounty and beneficence, exercised 
 either in giving money, or in imparting to those who want it 
 the assistance of our skill and profession. 
 
 Another main article of human happiness is, 
 
 II. The exercise of our faculties, either of body or mind, in 
 the pursuit of some engaging end.
 
 38 Moral Philosophy. [Book 1. 
 
 It seems to be true, that no plenitude of present gratifica- 
 tions can make the possessor happy for a continuance, unless 
 he has something in reserve, — something to hope for, and look 
 forward to. This I conclude to be the case, from comparing 
 the alacrity and spirits of men who are engaged in any pursuit 
 which interests them, with the dejection and ennui of almost 
 all, who are either born to so much that they want nothing 
 more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and 
 drained the sources of them. 
 
 It is this intolerable vacuity of mind, which carries the rich 
 and great to the horse-course and the gaming-table;' and often 
 engages them in contests and pursuits, of which the success 
 bears no proportion to the solicitude and expense with which it 
 is sought. An election for a disputed borough shall cost the 
 parties twenty or thirty thousand pounds each, — to say nothing 
 of the anxiety, humiliation, and fatigue of the canvass ; when a 
 seat in the House of Commons, of exactly the same value, may 
 be had for a tenth part of the money, and with no trouble. I 
 do not mention this, to blame the rich and great (perhaps 
 they cannot do better), but in confirmation of what I have ad- 
 vanced. 
 
 Hope, which thus appears to be of so much importance to our 
 happiness, is of two kinds ; — where there is something to be 
 done towards attaining the object of our hope, and where there 
 is nothing to be done. The first alone is of any value ; the 
 latter being apt to corrupt into impatience, having no power 
 but to sit still and wait, which soon grows tiresome. 
 
 The doctrine delivered under this head may be readily ad- 
 mitted ; but how to provide ourselves w T ith a succession of 
 pleasurable engagements is the difficulty. This requires two 
 things : judgment in the choice of ends adapted to our opportu- 
 nities ; and a command of imagination, so as to be able when the 
 judgment has made choice of an end, to transfer a pleasure to 
 the means : after which, the end may be forgotten as soon as 
 \w will. 
 
 Hence those pleasures are most valuable, not which are most 
 exquisite in the fruition, but which arc most productive of 
 engagement and activity in the pursuit. 
 
 A man who is in earnest in his endeavours after the happi- 
 ness of a future state, has, in this respect, an advantage over all
 
 Chap, vi.] Human Happiness. 39 
 
 the world : for he has constantly before his eyes an object of 
 supreme importance, productive of perpetual engagement and 
 activity, and of which the pursuit (which can be said of no 
 pursuit besides) lasts him to his life's end. Yet even he must 
 have many ends, besides the far end : but then they will conduct 
 to that, be subordinate, and in some way or other capable of 
 being referred "to that, and derive their satisfaction, or an 
 addition of satisfaction, from that. 
 
 Engagement is everything : the more significant, however, 
 our engagements are, the better : such as the planning of laws, 
 institutions, manufactures, charities, improvements, public works; 
 and the endeavouring, by our interest, address, solicitations, and 
 activity, to carry them into effect ; or, upon a smaller scale, the 
 })rocuring of a maintenance and fortune for our families by a 
 course of industry and application to our callings, which forms 
 and gives motion to the common occupations of life ; training 
 up a child ; prosecuting a scheme for his future establishment ; 
 making ourselves masters of a language or a science ; improving 
 or managing an estate ; labouring after a piece of preferment ; 
 and, lastly, any engagement, which is innocent, is better than 
 none ; as the writing of a book, the building of a house, the 
 laying out of a garden, the digging of a fish-pond, — even the 
 raising of a cucumber or a tulip. 
 
 Whilst our minds are taken up with the objects or business 
 before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object or busi- 
 ness be ; when the mind is absent, and the thoughts are 
 wandering to something else than what is passing in the place 
 in which we are, we are often miserable. 
 
 III. Happiness depends upon the prudent constitution of the 
 habits. 
 
 The art in which the secret of human happiness in a great 
 measure consists, is to set the habits in such a manner, that every 
 change may be a change for the better. The habits themselves 
 are much the same ; for, whatever is made habitual, becomes 
 smooth and easy, and nearly indifferent. The return to an old 
 habit is likewise easy, whatever the habit be. Therefore the 
 advantage is with those habits which allow of an indulgence in 
 the deviation from them. The luxurious receive no greater plea- 
 sure from their dainties, than the peasant does from his bread 
 and cheese ; but the peasant, whenever he goes abroad, finds a
 
 40 Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 feast ; whereas the epicure must be well entertained, to escape 
 disgust. Those who spend every day at cards, and those who 
 go every day to plough, pass their time much alike : intent upon 
 what they are about, wanting nothing, regretting nothing, they 
 are both for the time in a state of ease ; but then, whatever 
 suspends the occupation of the card-player, distresses him; 
 whereas to the labourer, every interruption is a refreshment : and 
 this appears in the different effects that Sunday produces upon 
 the two, which proves a day of recreation to the one, but a 
 lamentable burthen to the other. The man who has learned to 
 live alone, feels his spirits enlivened whenever he enters into 
 company,and takes his leave without regret; another, who has long 
 been accustomed to a crowd, or continual succession of company, 
 experiences in company no elevation of spirits, nor any greater 
 satisfaction, than what the man of a retired life finds in his chim- 
 ney-corner. So far their conditions are equal : but let a change 
 of place, fortune, or situation, separate the companion from his 
 circle, his visitors, his club, common-room, or coffee-house ; and 
 the difference and advantage in the choice and constitution of 
 the two habits will show itself. Solitude comes to the one, 
 clothed with melancholy ; to the other, it brings liberty and 
 quiet. You will sec the one fretful and restless, at a loss how to 
 dispose of his time, till the hour come round when he may 
 forget himself in bed ; the other easy and satisfied, taking up his 
 book or his pipe, as soon as he finds himself alone; ready to 
 admit any little amusement that casts up, or to turn his hands 
 and attention to the first business that presents itself; or content, 
 without either, to sit still, and let his train of thought glide in- 
 dolently through his brain, without much use, perhaps, or plea- 
 sure, but without hankering after anything better, and without 
 irritation. — A reader who has inured himself to books of science 
 and argumentation, if a novel, a well- written pamphlet, an 
 article of news, a narrative of a curious voyage, or a journal of a 
 traveller, fall in his way, sits down to the repast with relish; en- 
 joys his entertainment while it lasts ; and can return, when it is 
 over, to his graver reading, without distaste. Another, with 
 whom nothing will go down but works of humour and pleasantry, 
 or whose curiosity must be interested by perpetual novelty, m ill 
 consume a bookseller's window in half a forenoon ; during which 
 time he is rather in search of diversion than diverted; and as books
 
 Chap, vi.] Human Happiness. 41 
 
 to his taste are few, and short, and rapidly read over, the stock 
 is soon exhausted, when he is left without resource from this 
 principal supply of harmless amusement. 
 
 So far as circumstances of fortune conduce to happiness, it is 
 not the income, which any man possesses, but the increase of 
 income, that affords the pleasure. Two persons, of whom one 
 begins with a hundred, and advances his income to a thousand 
 pounds a-year, and the other sets off with a thousand, and 
 dwindles down to a hundred, may, in the course of their time, 
 have the receipt and spending of the same sum of money ; yet 
 their satisfaction, so far as fortune is concerned in it, will be very 
 different ; the series and sum total of their income being the 
 same, it makes a wide difference at which end they begin. 
 
 IV. Happiness consists in health. 
 
 By health I understand, as well freedom from bodily distem- 
 pers, as that tranquillity, firmness, and alacrity of mind, which 
 we call good spirits ; and which may properly enough be included 
 in our notion of health, as depending commonly upon the same 
 causes, and yielding to the same management, as our bodily 
 constitution. 
 
 Health, in this sense, is the one thing needful. Therefore no 
 pains, expense, self-denial, or restraint, to which we subject our- 
 selves for the sake of health, is too much. Whether it require 
 us to relinquish lucrative situations, to abstain from favourite 
 indulgences, to control intemperate passions, or undergo tedious 
 regimens ; whatever difficulties it lays us under, a man who 
 pursues his happiness rationally and resolutely, will be content 
 to submit. 
 
 When we are in perfect health and spirits, we feel in ourselves 
 a happiness independent of any particular outward gratification 
 Avhatever, and of which we cau give no account. This is an enjoy- 
 ment which the Deity has annexed to life ; and it probably con- 
 stitutes, in a great measure, the happiness of infants and brutes, 
 especially of the lower and sedentary orders of animals, as of 
 oysters, periwinkles, and the like-; for which I have sometimes 
 been at a loss to find out amusement. 
 
 The above account of human happiness will justify the two 
 following conclusions, which, although found in most books of 
 morality, have seldom, I think, been supported by any sufficient 
 reasons : —
 
 42 Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 First, that happiness is pretty equally distributed amongst 
 the different orders of civil society : 
 
 Secondly, that vice has no advantage over virtue, even with 
 respect to this world's happiness. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 f / hold that pleasures differ in nothing but in continuance and 
 
 in intensity.' 
 
 1 If we could use such a term/ says Professor Whewell, 
 ' without an unbecoming disrespect toward a virtuous and useful 
 writer, this opinion might properly be called brutish ; since it 
 recognises no difference between the pleasures of Man, and those 
 of the lowest animals. If we are to promote human happiness, 
 in this sense, I do not see how the same obligation does not 
 lie upon us to promote the happiness of brutes with the same 
 care. And if the pleasures of sense ' differ only in intensity 
 and duration/ from the pleasures of filial and parental affection, 
 we ought to know how many days of luxurious living are 
 equivalent to the pleasure of saving a father's life, that we may 
 decide rightly when these claims happen to come in competition. 
 If utilitarian Moral-obligation consists in being regulated by 
 such calculations, we cannot be surprised at the disgust with 
 which so many persons speak of the scheme which refers us to 
 the ' calculations of utility .' ' 
 
 ' Happiness does not consist in the pleasiwes of Sense.' 
 
 In the enumeration which follows, he seems to include under 
 this head all pleasures that are conveyed to us through the 
 medium of any of the senses; which is a very unusual and also 
 inconvenient and unphilosophical kind of language. For, by 
 this rule, books should be added to the list, since it is through 
 the senses of sight or hearing that they convey gratification. 
 Yet no one would reckon reading a sensual pleasure. And 
 when we speak of being very glad to see a dear friend, and of 
 the pleasure we have in his conversation, no one would enumerate 
 these among pleasures of sense.
 
 Chap, vii.] Virtue. 43 
 
 ' In all these cases the parties feel an actual satisfaction in their 
 
 superiority. ' 
 
 And accordingly — it is worth remarking — the labourers are 
 not so likely to envy the farmer, or the farmers, the squire, or 
 the squires, the king, as each of these are to envy one another. 
 
 It is well for Society that this is so, considering how prone 
 men are to the vice of Envy. For if the lower classes envied 
 the higher as much as they are apt to envy one another, we 
 should have perpetual Revolutions. It is only when the mass 
 of the People are very much distressed, and have long been 
 misgoverned, and grievously oppressed by their Superiors (as in 
 France under the old Monarchy), that the full tide of popular 
 envy is turned against the possessors of rank and wealth. And 
 the consequences are dreadful. 
 
 As for Emulation, that, from its very nature, can only be 
 felt towards those but a few steps above us. For, it is only 
 those, that we can hope to overtake, or to surpass. A Village- 
 schoolmaster, or a Farmer, cannot feel any towards a Minister 
 of State, or a Prince : but the sight of a school, or a farm, better 
 managed than their own, may fire them with emulation. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 VIRTUE. 
 
 VIRTUE is ' the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the 
 will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness.' 
 
 According to which definition, ' the good of mankind ' is the 
 subject ; the ' will of God/ the rule ; ' and everlasting happi- 
 ness/ the motive, of human virtue. 
 
 Virtue has been divided by some moralists into benevolence, 
 prudence, fortitude, and temperance. Benevolence proposes good 
 ends ; prudence suggests the best means of attaining them ; forti- 
 tude enables us to encounter the difficulties, danger, and discou* 
 ragements, which stand in our way in the pursuit of these ends ; 
 temperance repels and overcomes the passions that obstruct it. Be- 
 nevolence, for instance, prompts us to undertake the cause of an
 
 44 Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 oppressed orphan ; prudence suggests the best means of going 
 about it ; fortitude enables us to confront the danger, and bear 
 up against the loss, disgrace, or repulse, that may attend our 
 undertaking ; and temperance keeps under the love of money, of 
 ease, or amusement, which might divert us from it. 
 
 Virtue is distinguished by others into two branches only, 
 prudence and benevolence : prudence, attentive to our own interest; 
 benevolence, to that of our fellow-creatures : both directed to the 
 same end, the increase of happiness in nature ; and taking equal 
 concern in the future as in the present. 
 
 The four cardinal virtues arc, prudence, fortitude, temperance, 
 and justice. 
 
 But the division of virtue, to which we are in modern times 
 most accustomed, is into duties : — 
 
 Towards God; as piety, reverence, resignation, gratitude, &c. 
 
 Towards other men (or relative duties) ; as justice, charity, 
 fidelity, loyalty, &c. 
 
 Towards ourselves ; as chastity, sobriety, temperance, preser- 
 vation of life, care of health, &c. 
 
 More of these distinctions have been proposed, which it is 
 not worth while to set down. 
 
 I shall proceed to state a few observations, which relate to the 
 general regulation of human conduct, unconnected indeed with 
 each other, but very worthy of attention, and which fall as 
 properly under the title of this chapter as of any future one. 
 
 I. Mankind act more from habit than reflection. 
 
 It is on few only and great occasions that men deliberate at 
 all ; on fewer still, that they institute anything like a regular 
 inquiry into the moral rectitude or depravity of what they are 
 about to do ;■ or wait for the result of it. We arc for the most 
 part determined at once ; and by an impulse, which is the effect 
 and energy of pre-established habits. And this constitution 
 seems well adapted to the exigencies of human life, and to the 
 imbecility of our moral principle. In the current occasions and 
 rapid opportunities of life, there is oftentimes little leisure for 
 reflection ; and were there more, a man, who has to reason about 
 his duty, when the temptation to transgress it is upon him, is 
 almost sure to reason himself into an error.
 
 Chap, vii.] Virtue. 45 
 
 If we are in so great a degree passive under our habits, 
 Where, it is asked, is the exercise of virtue, the guilt of vice, or 
 any use of moral and religious knowledge ? I answer, In the 
 forming cud contracting of these habits. 
 
 And hence results a rule of life of considerable importance, 
 viz. that many things are to be done and abstained from, solely 
 for the sake of habit. We will explain ourselves by an example 
 or two : — A beggar, with the appearance of extreme distress, 
 asks our charity. If we come to argue the matter, whether the 
 distress be real, whether it be not brought upon himself, whe- 
 ther it be of public advantage to admit such application, whether 
 it be not to encourage idleness and vagrancy, whether it may 
 not invite impostors to our doors, whether the money can be well 
 spared, or might not be better applied ; when these considera- 
 tions are put together, it may appear very doubtful, whether wo 
 ought or ought not to give anything. But when we reflect, 
 that the misery before our eyes excites our pity, whether we will 
 or not ; that it is of the utmost consequence to us to cultivate 
 this tenderness of mind ; that it is a quality, cherished by 
 indulgence, and soon stifled by opposition ; when this, I say, is 
 considered, a wise man will do that for his own sake, which he 
 would have hesitated to do for the petitioner's; he will give 
 way to his compassion, rather than oiler violence to a habit of 
 so much general use. 
 
 A man of confirmed good habits will act in the same manner 
 without any consideration at all. 
 
 This may serve for one instance ; another is the following : — 
 A man has been brought up from his infancy with a dread of 
 lving. An occasion presents itself where, at the expense of a 
 little vivacity, he may divert his company, set off his own wit 
 with advantage, attract the notice and engage the partiality of 
 all about him. This is not a small temptation. And when he 
 looks at the other side of the question, he sees no mischief that 
 can ensue from this liberty, no slander of any man's reputation, 
 no prejudice likely to arise to any man's interest. Were there 
 nothing further to be considered, it would be difficult to show 
 why a man under such circumstances might not indulge his 
 humour. But when he reflects that his scruples about lying have 
 hitherto preserved him free from this vice ; that occasions like 
 the present will return, where the inducement may be equally
 
 4 6 Moral PldlosopJnj. [Book 1. 
 
 strong, but the indulgence much less innocent ; that his scruples 
 will wear away by a few transgressions, and leave him subject 
 to one of the meanest and most pernicious of all bad habits, — 
 a habit of lying, whenever it will serve his turn : when all this, 
 I say, is considered, a wise man will forego the present, or a 
 much greater pleasure, rather than lay the foundation of a cha- 
 racter so vicious and contemptible. 
 
 From what has been said, may be explained also the nature 
 o^Jtabitual virtue. By the definition of virtue, placed at the 
 beginning of this chapter, it appears, that the good of mankind 
 is the subject, the will of God the rule, and everlasting happiness 
 the motive and end, of all virtue. Yet, in fact, a man shall 
 perform many an act of virtue, without having either the good 
 of mankind, the will of God, or everlasting happiness in his 
 thought. How is this to be understood ? In the same manner 
 as that a man may be a very good servant, without being con- 
 scious, at every turn, of a particular regard to his master's will, 
 or of an express attention to his master's interest : indeed, your 
 best old servants are of this sort : but then he must have served 
 for a length of time under the actual direction of these motives, 
 to bring it to this ; in which service, his merit and virtue 
 consist. 
 
 There are habits, not only of drinking, swearing, and lying, 
 and of some other things, which are commonly acknowledged to 
 be habits, and called so ; but of every modification of action, 
 speech, and thought. Man is a bundle of habits. 
 
 There arc habits of industry, attention, vigilance, advertency ; 
 of a prompt obedience to the judgment occurring, or of yield- 
 ing to the first impulse of passion ; of extending our views to 
 the future, or of resting upon the present ; of apprehending, 
 methodizing, reasoning; of indolence and dilatoriness ; of 
 vanity, self-conceit, melancholy, partiality ; of fretfulness, sus- 
 picion, captiousness, censoriousness ; of pride, ambition, covet- 
 ousness ; of over-reaching, intriguing, projecting : in a word, 
 there is not a quality or function, either of body or mind, which 
 does not feel the iniluenceof this great law of animated nature. 
 
 II. The Christian religion hath not ascertained the precise 
 quantity of virtue necessary to salvation. 
 
 This has been made an objection to Christianity ; but without 
 reason. For as all revelation, however imparted originally, must
 
 Chap, vii.] Virtue. 47 
 
 be transmitted by the ordinary vehicle of language, it behoves 
 those who make the objection to show that any form of words 
 could be devised, that might express this quantity ; or that it is 
 possible to constitute a standard of moral attainments, accom- 
 modated to the almost infinite diversity which subsists in the 
 capacities and opportunities of different men. 
 
 It seems most agreeable to our conceptions of justice, and is 
 consonant enough to the language of Scripture, 1 to suppose, 
 that there are prepared for us rewards and punishments, of all 
 possible degrees, from the most exalted happiness down to ex- 
 treme misery ; so that ' our labour is never in vain •/ whatever 
 advancement we make in virtue, we procure a proportionable 
 accession of future happiness : as, on the other hand, every ac- 
 cumulation of vice is the ' treasuring up so much wrath against 
 the day of wrath.' It has been said, that it can never be a just 
 economy of Providence, to admit one part of mankind into 
 heaven, and condemn the other to hell; since there must be very 
 little to chuse, between the worst man who is received into 
 heaven, and the best who is excluded. And how know we, it 
 might be answered, but that there may be as little to chuse in 
 the conditions? 
 
 Without entering into a detail of Scripture morality, which 
 would anticipate our subject, the following general positions 
 may be advanced, I think, with safety. 
 
 1. That a state of happiness is not to be expected by those 
 who are conscious of no moral or religious rule : I mean those 
 who cannot with truth say, that they have been prompted to 
 one action, or withholden from one gratification, by any regard 
 to virtue or religion, either immediate or habitual. 
 
 There needs no other proof of this, than the consideration, 
 that a brute would be as proper an object of reward as such a 
 
 1 ' He which soweth sparingly, shall reap also sparingly ; and he which soweth 
 bountifully, shall reap also bountifully/ — 2 Cor. ix. 6. ' And that servant which 
 knew his Lord's will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, 
 shall be beaten with many stripes ; but he that knew not, shall be beaten with few 
 stripes.' — Luke xii. 47, 48. ' Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in 
 my name ; because ye belong to Christ ; verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his 
 reward,' to wit, intimating that there is in reserve a proportionable reward for even 
 the smallest act of virtue. — Mark ix. 41. See also the parable of the pounds (Luke, 
 xix. 16, &c), where he whose pound had gained ten pounds was placed over ten 
 cities, and he whose pound had gained five pounds was placed over five cities.
 
 48 Moral Philosophy. [Book 1. 
 
 man ; and that, if the case were so, the penal sanctions of 
 religion could have no place. For, whom would you punish, if 
 you make such a one as this happy ? — or rather indeed religion 
 itself, both natural and revealed, would cease to have either use 
 or authority. 
 
 2. That a state of happiness is not to be expected by those, 
 who reserve to themselves the habitual practice of any one sin, 
 or neglect of one known duty. 
 
 Because no obedience can proceed upon proper motives, 
 which is not universal, that is, which is not directed to every com- 
 mand of God alike, as they all stand upon the same authority. 
 
 Because such an allowance would in effect amount to a tolera- 
 tion of every vice in the world. 
 
 And because the strain of Scripture language excludes any 
 sueh hope. When our duties are recited, they arc put collecticehj, 
 that is, as all and every one of them required in the Christian 
 character. ' Add to your faith virtue, and to virtue knowledge, 
 and to knowledge temperance, and to temperance patience, and 
 to patience godliness, and to godliness brotherly kindness, and 
 to brotherly kindness charity. 5 ' On the other hand, when vices 
 are enumerated, they are put disjvnctively, that is, as separately 
 and severally excluding the sinner from heaven. 'Neither for- 
 nicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor 
 abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, 
 nor drunkards, nor revilcrs, nor extortioners, shall inherit the 
 kingdom of heaven. 5 2 
 
 Those texts of Scripture, which seem to lean a contrary way, 
 as that 'charity shall cover the multitude of sins/ 2 that f he 
 v, liich convcrtcth a sinner from the error of his way, shall hide a 
 multitude of sins; 51 cannot, I think, for the reasons above 
 mentioned, be extended to sins deliberately, habitually, and ob- 
 stinately persisted in. 
 
 3. That a state of mere unprofitableness will not go un- 
 punished. 
 
 This is expressly laid down by Christ, in the parable of the 
 talents, which supersedes all further reasoning upon the subject. 
 ' Then he which had received one talent, came and said, Lord, 
 
 1 2 Pet. i. 5—7. ■ I Cor. vi. 9, 10. 3 1 Pet. iv. 8. 4 James v. 20.
 
 Chap, vii.] Virtue. 49 
 
 I knew thee that thou art an austere man, reaping where thou 
 hast not sown, and gathering where thou hast not strawed : and 
 I was afraid, and hid thy talent in the earth ; lo, there thou hast 
 that is thine. His lord answered and said unto him, Thou 
 wicked and slothful servant, thou knewest (or, knewest thou?) 
 that I reap Avere I sowed not, and gather were I have not 
 strawed ; thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the 
 exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received mine 
 own with usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and give 
 it unto him which hath ten talents ; for unto every one that hath 
 shall be given, and he shall have abundance ; but from him that 
 hath not, shall be taken awav even that which he hath : and 
 cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness, there shall 
 be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' ' 
 
 III. In every question of conduct, where one side is doubtful,, 
 and the other side safe, we are bound to take the safe side. 
 
 This is best explained by an instance ; and I know of none 
 more to our purpose than that of suicide. Suppose, for example's 
 sake, that it appear doubtful to a reasoner upon the subject, 
 whether he may lawfully destroy himself He can have no doubt, 
 that it is lawful for him to let it alone. Here therefore is a case, 
 in which one side is doubtful, and the other side safe. By virtue 
 therefore of our rule, he is bound to pursue the safe side ; that is, 
 to forbear from offering violence to himself, whilst a doubt 
 remains upon his mind concerning the lawfulness of suicide. 
 
 It is prudent, you allow, to take the safe side. But our ob- 
 servation means something more. We assert that the action 
 concerning wdiich we doubt, whatever it may be in itself, or to 
 another, would, in us, whilst this doubt remains upon our minds, 
 be certainly sinful. The case is expressly so adjudged by St. 
 Paul, with whose authority we will for the present rest con- 
 tented. ' I know and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that 
 there is nothing unclean of itself; but to him that esteemeth any 
 thing to be unclean, to him it is unclean. Happy is he that con- 
 demneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth ; and he 
 that doubteth, is damned (condemned) if he eat, for whatsoever is 
 not of faith {i.e. not done with a full persuasion of the lawful- 
 ness of it) is sin.' 2 
 
 1 Matt. xxv. 24. &c. 2 Rom. xiv. 14, 22, 23.
 
 jjo Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 ' Whether it be not to encourage idleness and vagrancy. ' 
 
 When treating of habits, Paley ought not to have overlooked 
 the danger of forming a habit of wholly disregarding the public 
 good. Benevolence (as is remarked in the Lessons on Mind), 
 though one of the most amiable and most useful Sentiments, 
 yet requires to be kept under the guidance of Reason ; else it 
 may defeat its own object by doing much more harm than good. 
 Thoughtless indiscriminate alms-giving, for instance, is sure to 
 promote idleness and imprudence, and thus to lead to an 
 enormous amount of distress and immorality. And again, to 
 be led by weak compassion towards bad men, to recommend 
 them to situations of which they are unworthy, or to let loose 
 on Society hardened villains, may produce a vast amount of 
 mischief. 
 
 But one who is influenced not by mere kindly feelings alone, 
 but by a conscientious desire also to do what is right, will hold 
 himself bound to use the utmost care in inquiring and con- 
 sidering how he can do the most good, with the least hurt to 
 any one. 
 
 Paley has some very wise remarks, in another place, on the 
 importance of considering not merely the particular effects of 
 any action, but the general tendency ; that is, the result that 
 would follow if people were generally to act so. Now in this 
 case, the particular effect of careless alms-giving is the waste of 
 a few shillings ; the general effect would be to reduce thousands 
 to beggary, and to paralyse the industry of a whole nation. 
 
 What is called ' public- Spirit ' consists in Benevolence 
 combined with Abstraction. Those who are deficient in the 
 facultv of Abstraction, and are not accustomed to take wide 
 ;mh1 comprehensive views, will perhaps be kind and helpful to 
 those individuals who come in their wav, but will not exert 
 themselves for the benefit of the Public ; — of their Country, — 
 of Posterity, — or of the Human Race. And it often happens 
 that benevolent men of this character, will even sacrifice, 
 unthinkingly, the public good, to that of some individual.
 
 Chap, vii.] Annotations. 51 
 
 ' Virtue is the doing good to Mankind, in obedience to the Will 
 
 of God.' 
 
 This simple system of Morals (as doubtless it appeared to 
 him) Paley adopted, denying the existence of a Moral-faculty ! on 
 account of the great discrepancy in men's Moral judgments. But 
 he forgot to inquire whether nearly as great discrepancies do not 
 exist in their notions of what is the AVill of God, and what is 
 doing good to Mankind. We have it on the highest authority 
 that those who killed the disciples of Jesus f thought they were 
 doing God service ;' and doubtless they thought also that they 
 were ' doing good to mankind ' in putting down a pestilent 
 heresy. Such also was the belief of Paul (while a persecutor) 
 who ' verily thought that he ought to do many things contrary 
 to the name of Jesus/ And among professing Christians, no 
 one can doubt that some at least of the Romish Inquisitors 
 were convinced that they Mere conforming to the Will of 
 God, and doing good to Mankind, in burning heretics. 
 Such also was no doubt, the belief of Cranmer when 
 he brought Anabaptists to the stake, and of Calvin in burning 
 Servetus. 
 
 And let no one suppose that such notions are confined to 
 Ages or Countries far remote from ours, and are quite obsolete 
 among us at the present day. The following is a passage from 
 a History of England — an Educational Book — which, it may 
 fairly be said, is circulated throughout England at the public 
 expense; being used in Roman Catholic Schools receiving 
 Government grants under what is called the ' separate system/ 
 the system which some are desirous to introduce into Ireland 
 also : ' At last the Queen and her council had Cranmer and 
 a great many Protestant bishops put in prison, and they were 
 burnt for heresy. It is very difficult to say now what should 
 or should not have been done. The whole country was unsettled 
 and diseased with heresy, and it was clearly impossible to stop 
 it by gentle means. In this case, you know, when men are 
 determined to destroy not only their own souls, but the souls 
 of many others, they have to be treated as malefactors, and are 
 given over by the church to the law, to be punished. It was 
 
 E 2
 
 52 Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 very shocking that people should he burned ; but it was much 
 more shocking that they should he leading so many more people 
 to he burned in the flames of hell for ever ; and this was what 
 Bishop Gardiner thought." 
 
 Many other passages might he cited from various authors, 
 showing what notions men entertain of doing good to Mankind 
 in obedience to the Will of God. 
 
 Among others, a Protestant writer, in a work published a 
 few years ago, maintains that ' the magistrate who restrains, 
 coerces and punishes those who seek to propagate an erroneous 
 religion/ (which he will of course think any to be that differs 
 from his own,) ' obeys the will of God, and is not a per- 
 secutor !' 
 
 ' He that knew not .... shall he beaten with few stripes.' 
 
 This passage might alone suffice to overthrow the theory of 
 the absence of a Moral-faculty : Our Lord says that ' the 
 servant who knew not his lord's will, and did commit things 
 worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes ; but that he 
 who knew his lord's will and did it not, shall be beaten with 
 many stripes.' Now, that one who knew his lord's will, and 
 did it not, should receive the heavier punishment, is a rule which 
 one can easily understand ; but that one ' who knew not his 
 lord's will ' — that is, who had not received any express command 
 — could ' commit things worthy of stripes,'' would be utterly in- 
 conceivable, if we supposed all notions of right and wrong to 
 have been originally derived entirely from a knowledge of the 
 divine will. 
 
 ' When one side is doubtful, and the other side safe, we are 
 bound to take the safe side.' 
 
 This very ancient maxim, which is most just and valuable, 
 is one of which the misapplication has led to an unspeakable 
 amount of evil. I mean, when men have sought to keep on 
 the safe side, hut have erred as to what is the 'safe side.' For 
 
 1 The History of England/or Catholic Children. London: Burns and Lambert, 
 I >j, Portman Street. Birmingham: Lauder, Powell and Co. 1850.
 
 Chap, vii.] Annotations. 53 
 
 (1.) what appears to be perfectly safe and harmless, will some- 
 times not be really such : and (2.) that which is in itself harm- 
 less, may, under some circumstances, carry with it the admission 
 of a dangerous principle. 
 
 (].) As an instance of the first kind, we may observe how apt 
 the vulgar are to superadd to the prescription of a wise Phy- 
 sician, some Nostrum recommended by their neighbours, to aid 
 its operation ; — something which they think may do good, and 
 can do no harm ; but which perhaps has a powerful and dele- 
 terious effect. I have even known an instance of a medical 
 practitioner, who published an account of his trial of Acetate of 
 Lead [yulyo, Sugar of Lead] to stop a haemorrhage, for which it 
 had been recommended to him. He recorded that, to aid its 
 operation (by way of being on the ' safe side') he added to it 
 another well-known and very innocent Styptic, Alum : and was 
 disappointed at finding no good result. Now in reality, since 
 these two substances decompose each other, he had applied 
 neither Sugar of Lead nor Alum, but Sulphate of Lead ; which has 
 no styptic efficacy. 
 
 Even so, the idolatrous Israelites had usually no thought of 
 rejecting their God Jehovah, but thought it was keeping on the 
 ' safe side' to pay some reverence to the gods of the Heathen 
 also. And a like practice is followed in many an obscure corner 
 of Christendom at this day, by ignorant Rustics who pay some 
 superstitious reverence to the gods of their heathen ancestors ; 
 which they do not indeed call Gods, but Fairies, Brownies, Trolls, 
 &c. In fact this kind of error is the chief stronghold of Super- 
 stition. Many a one who has no full belief in the mediaeval 
 Legends of miracles wrought by supposed Saints, thinks it a safe 
 course to inculcate that belief along with a belief in Scripture ; 
 because, forsooth, there is at any rate no harm in men's be- 
 lieving a little more than is true. And when men come to 
 deride all these tales as groundless fictions, it will often happen 
 that they will proceed to reject all religion. The ' wall daubed 
 with untempered mortar' will be likely, in its fall, to throw down 
 with itself the sound building also. Again, there are probably 
 many — some there are, to my knowledge — who practise and 
 recommend the invocation of (supposed) Saints, as the ' safe 
 side/ though without any full conviction that there is any ad- 
 vantage in it. But a little reflection would show that the oppo-
 
 54 Moral Philosophy. [Book i. 
 
 site is the really safe side. For we know that God is able and 
 willing to hear prayers addressed to Him through Christ : and 
 we cannot he equally sure that it may not be offensive to Him 
 to have deceased men so far exalted into gods as to have the 
 divine attribute of omniscience assigned to them, by which they 
 can hear the prayers of millions of votaries iu various parts of 
 the world. 
 
 (2.) Of the other error, — that of adopting some course in 
 itself harmless and safe, but which may imply the admission of a 
 wrong principle, we have a striking instance in the Judaizing of 
 some of the early Gentile- converts. There could be no harm, 
 at any rate, they thought, in adopting the observances of the 
 Mosaic Law, which the Apostles themselves adhered to ; and 
 there might be some sanctifying benefit in it. The Galatians 
 were doubtless much surprised to hear from Paul, who ' himself 
 walked orderly and kept the Law/ that if they adopted the 
 Jewish Ordinances ' Christ became of none effect to them/ But 
 the rule he laid down was, ' Let every man continue in his 
 vocation wherein he is called :' that is, let no man change his 
 customs on becoming a Christian, except where the Gospel 
 requires it. He who should, for instance, begin to abstain, on 
 embracing the Gospel, from some kind of meat which he had 
 been accustomed to use, or should begin to partake of what he 
 had been accustomed to reject — each of these would be admitting 
 a false principle ; since neither the eating, nor the abstaining, is 
 any part of Christianity. 
 
 Any one, again, who should see no harm in such and such a 
 dogma or practice enjoined by a Church claiming universal and 
 absolute supremacy, may think compliance the safe side ; not 
 considering that lie is thus helping to establish ' groundless and 
 most dangerous elaim to a complete dominion over men's 
 conscience.' 
 
 Again, one who is not quite sure of the truth of the alleged 
 tradition of the Apostles having transferred the Sabbath from 
 the seventh day to the first, and of the perpetual obligation of 
 the fourth Commandment, to be thus obeyed, may yet think 
 this the ' safe side,' as being likely to secure the observance of 
 the Lord's Day by the mass of the people. But he will be 
 thus estahlishing the dangerous principle that we are allowed to
 
 Chap, vii.] Annotations. 55 
 
 alter, according to our own discretion, on the strength of a sup- 
 posed tradition (one which cannot be traced up so far as most 
 of the Romish Traditions), a command given in Scripture and 
 admitted to be binding on us. 1 
 
 1 Paley justly remarks in his second volume, that if the Law respecting the 
 Sabbath contained in the Books of Moses be binding on Christians, we must be 
 bound to observe it strictly, just as it was given. 
 
 When the same doctrine, substantially, with his, was put forth some years since, 
 it was denounced by Writers of some note, as not merely unsound, but a startling 
 novelty, unheard of before ! Whether Paley's view is correct or not (and it is that 
 which was held almost universally for the first fifteen centuries and more) is a ques- 
 tion of opinion; but the existence of his work is a, fact, of which one would think- 
 no educated person could have been ignorant; and it was very bold for any Writer 
 to trust to his readers being ignorant of it.
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 MORAL OBLIGATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE QUESTION, ' WHY AM I OBLIGED TO KEEP MY WORD ? ; 
 
 CONSIDERED. 
 
 WHY am I obliged to keep my word ? 
 Because it is right, says one. — Because it is agreeable to 
 the fitness of things, says another. — Because it is conformable to 
 reason and nature, says a third. — Because it is conformable to 
 truth, says a fourth. — Because it promotes the public good, 
 says a fifth. — Because it is required by the will of God, con- 
 cludes a sixth. 
 
 Upon which different accounts, two things are observable : — 
 
 First, that they all ultimately coincide. 
 
 The fitness of things means their fitness to produce hap- 
 piness ; the nature of things means that actual constitution of 
 the world, by which some things, as such and such actions, for 
 example, produce happiness, and others misery. Reason is the 
 principle, by which we discover or judge of this constitution : 
 truth is this judgment expressed or drawn out into propositions. 
 So that it necessarily comes to pass, that what promotes the 
 public happiness, or happiness on the whole, is agreeable to the 
 fitness of things, to nature, to reason, and to truth : and such 
 (as will appear by and by) is the divine character, that what 
 promotes the general happiness is required by the will of God, 
 and what has all the above properties must needs be right ; for 
 right means no more than conformity to the rule we go by, what- 
 ever that rule be. 
 
 And this is the reason that moralists, from whatever different 
 principles they set out, commonly meet in their conclusions ; that 
 is, they enjoin the same conduct, prescribe the same rules of 
 duty, and, with a few exceptions, deliver upon dubious cases the 
 same determinations.
 
 The Meaning of ' Obliged.' 57 
 
 Secondly, it is to be observed, that these answers all leave 
 the matter short ; for the inquirer may turn round upon his 
 teacher with a second question, in which he will expect to be 
 satisfied, namely, Why am I obliged to do what is right ; to act 
 agreeably to the fitness of things ; to conform to reason, nature, 
 or truth ; to promote the public good, or to obey the will of 
 God? 
 
 The proper method of conducting the inquiry is, First, to 
 examine what we mean, when we say a man is obliged to do any- 
 thing; and then to show whij he is obliged to do the thing 
 which we have proposed as an example, namely, c to keep his 
 word/ 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHAT WE MEAN WHEN WE SAY A MAN IS f OBLIGED' TO DO A 
 
 THING. 
 
 A MAN is said to be obliged, ' when he is urged by a violent 
 motive resulting from the command of another' 
 
 I. ' The motive must be violent.' If a person, who has done 
 me some little service, or has a small place in his disposal, a>k 
 me upon some occasion for my vote, I may possibly give it to 
 him, from a motive of gratitude or expectation : but I should 
 hardly say that I was obliged to give it him ; because the induce- 
 ment does not rise high enough. Whereas if a father or a 
 master, any great benefactor, or one on whom my fortune de- 
 pends, require my vote, I give it him of course : and my answer 
 to all who ask me why I voted so and so is, that my father or 
 my master obliged me ; that I had received so many favours from, 
 or had so great a dependence upon, such a one, that I was 
 obliged to vote as he directed me. 
 
 Secondly, ' It must result from the command of another.' 
 Offer a man a gratuity for doing anything, for seizing, for 
 example, an offender, he is not obliged by your offer to do it ; 
 nor would he say he is ; though he may be induced, persuaded, 
 prevailed upon, tempted. If a magistrate or the man's immediate 
 superior command it, he considers himself as obliged to comply, 
 though possibly he would lose less by a refusal in this case than 
 in the former.
 
 58 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 I will not undertake to say that the words obligation and 
 obliged are used uniformly in this sense, or always with this 
 distinction : nor is it possible to tie down popular phrases to any 
 constant signification : but wherever the motive is violent enough, 
 and coupled with the idea of command, authority, law, or the 
 will of a superior, there, I take it, we always reckon ourselves to 
 be obliged. 
 
 And from this account of obligation it follows, that we can 
 be obliged to nothing, but what we ourselves are to gain or 
 lose something by ; for nothing else can be a ' violent motive' to 
 us. As we should not be obliged to obey the laws, or the 
 magistrate, unless rewards or punishments, pleasure or pain, 
 somehow or other, depended upon our obedience ; so neither 
 should we, without the same reason, be obliged to do what is 
 right, to practise virtue, or to obey the commands of God. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' I will not undertake to say that the words ' obligation' and 
 ' obliged' are used uniformly in this sense.' 
 
 Certainly no one can be fairly called on to give a definition 
 that shall embrace every sense of these words. But Paley's 
 definition would be thought by most persons to be not applicable 
 at all to the case of what is called moral obligation. A planter's 
 slave, for instance, is urged by a violent motive— a very violent 
 one, — to work in the fields at his master's command, and some- 
 times to assist in flogging his fellow-labourers. But though 
 lie is obliged to do this, few, except slave-owners, Avould call this 
 a moral obligation, or would deny his being justified in escaping 
 when he had an opportunity, into a free country. 
 
 If it should be said that the master has no just right over 
 him, and is not therefore a rightful ' superior,' this would 
 be to recognise a Moral- faculty. But if every one is a ' superior' 
 who has power to enforce submission, the slave-owner is such ; 
 and so is the robber who holds a pistol to your head.
 
 Chap, in.] ' Why am I obliged to keep my word?' 59 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE QUESTION, ' WHY AM I OBLIGED TO KEEP MY WORD ?' 
 
 RESUMED. 
 
 LET it be remembered, that to be obliged, is ' to be urged by 
 a violent motive, resulting from the command of another.' 
 
 And then let it be asked, Why am I obliged to keep my 
 Avord ? and the answer will be, ' because I am urged to do so 
 by a violent motive' (namely the expectation of being after this 
 life rewarded, if I do, or punished for it if I do not), ' resulting 
 from the command of another' (namely of God). 
 
 This solution goes to the bottom of the subject, as no further 
 question can reasonably be asked. 
 
 Therefore, private happiness is our motive, and the will of 
 God our rule. 
 
 When I first turned my thoughts to moral speculations, an air 
 of mystery seemed to hang over the whole subject ; which arose, 
 I believe, from hence, — that I supposed, with many authors 
 whom I read, that to be obliged to do a thing, was very different 
 from being induced only to do it ; and that the obligation to 
 practise virtue, to do what is right, just, &c, was quite another 
 thing, and of another kind, than the obligation which a soldier 
 is under to obey his officer, a servant his master ; or any of the 
 civil and ordinary obligations of human life. Whereas, from 
 what has been said it appears, that moral obligation is like all 
 other obligations ; and that obligation is nothing more than an 
 inducement of sufficient strength, and resulting, in some way, 
 from the command of another. 
 
 There is always understood to be a difference between an act 
 of prudence and an act of duty. Thus, if I distrust a man who 
 owed me a sum of money, I should reckon it an act of prudence 
 to get another person bound with him ; but I should hardly call 
 it an act of duty. On the other hand, it would be thought a 
 very unusual and loose kind of language to say, that, as I had 
 made such a promise, it was prudent to perform it ; or that, as 
 my friend, when he went abroad, placed a box of jewels in my 
 hands, it would be prudent in me to preserve it for him till he 
 returned. 
 
 Now in what, you will ask, does the difference consist?
 
 60 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 inasmuch as, according to our account of the matter, both in 
 the one case and the other, — in acts of duty as well as acts of 
 prudence, — we consider solely what we ourselves shall gain or 
 lose by the act. 
 
 The difference, and the only difference, is this; that in the 
 one case, we consider what we shall gain or lose in the present 
 world : in the other case, we consider also what we shall gain or 
 lose in the world to come. 
 
 They who establish a system of morality, independent of a 
 future state, must look out for some different idea of moral 
 obligation, unless they can show that virtue conducts the pos- 
 sessor to certain happiness in this life, or to a much greater 
 share of it than he could attain by a different behaviour. 
 
 To us there are two great questions : 
 
 I. Will there be after this life any distribution of rewards 
 and punishments at all ? 
 
 II. If there be, what actions will be rewarded, and what will 
 be punished ? 
 
 The first question comprises the credibility of the Christian 
 religion, together with the presumptive proofs of a future retri- 
 bution from the light of nature. The second question comprises 
 the province of morality. Both questions are too much for one 
 work. The affirmative therefore of the first, although we con- 
 fess that it is the foundation upon which the whole fabric rests, 
 must in this treatise be taken for granted. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 ' Why am I obliged to keep my word?' 
 
 ' The irrelevancy/ ' says Professor Whewell, ' of Paley's mode 
 of treating the question of the Moral sense is so generally 
 allowed at present that we need not dwell on it here. But wc 
 may observe, that other mistakes, flowing from a like misappre- 
 hension, affect his analysis of virtue. He endeavours to make 
 an advance in this inquiry by the question, ' Why am I obliged 
 to keep my word, or to do any other moral act V And by his 
 
 1 Preface to Dissertation prefixed to Encyclopedia Britannica.
 
 Chap, iii.] Annotations. 61 
 
 answer to this question, he reduces Moral obligations to two 
 elements — external restraint, and the command of a superior. 
 This attempt at an analysis of Morality is singularly futile : for, 
 of the two supposed elements, external constraint annihilates 
 the morality of the act, and the reference to a superior presup- 
 poses Moral obligation, since a superior is one whom it is our 
 duty to obey. If Paley had stated his question in the simpler 
 form, f Why ought I to keep my word ?' he would have had 
 before him a problem more to the purpose of Moral philosophy, 
 and one to which his answer would have been palpably 
 inapplicable/ 
 
 It has been suggested that Paley might, conceivably, have 
 maintained, that perhaps there had been an ancient revelation 
 (though there is no record of it in the Book of Genesis) teaching 
 that God would reward or punish in another world certain 
 kinds of actions ; and that men thereupon, adopting Paley's 
 ground of distinction, applied the word ' Duty ' in cases where 
 they calculated on what they were to ' gain or lose in the next 
 world ;' and ' Prudence? in cases where the present world alone 
 is concerned ; that this revelation was afterwards forgotten, along 
 with the knowledge of the true God ; but that the custom 
 remained, and prevailed throughout all languages, of thus dis- 
 tinguishing the two classes of actions. It might be replied that 
 there is nothing but unsupported conjecture for such a theory, 
 and there are many improbabilities in it. But I think the 
 main consideration is, that men never do, and, apparently, 
 never did, account any conduct virtuous which they believe to 
 have proceeded entirety from calculations of self-interest ; even 
 though the external act itself be such as they conceive would 
 have been done by a virtuous man. 
 
 ' There is always understood to be a difference between an act of 
 prudence and an act of duty? 
 
 Not only is this true, but the distinction is fully recognised 
 by those who had no notion of a ' World to come,' and who 
 made no reference to any divine command : by Aristotle, for 
 instance, in his Ethics, who speaks therein of death as, the 
 ' boundary, beyond which there is neither good nor evil ;' and 
 by Cicero in his De Officiis, who gives distinct treatises on the
 
 62 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 [Honestum] virtuous, and the [Utile] expedient; and who 
 derides the idea of fearing the wrath of Jupiter, and evidently 
 believed in no personal existence after death. 
 
 And all the ancient heathen writers use words which evidently 
 signify what we call 'Virtue' — ' Duty' — ' Moral-goodness ;' which 
 words could not possibly have found their way into the languages 
 of men destitute (as most of them were) of any belief in a future 
 state of retribution, if Paley's theory were correct. It is dis- 
 proved not by any supposed truth and soundness in the views 
 of the ancient Writers, but by the very words they employ. 
 
 Some few individuals, it is well known, are to be found who 
 labour under that curious defect of vision, the non-perception 
 of colours. Though their sight is good in other respects, they 
 perceive only darker and lighter shades, as we do in a print, or 
 a pencil-drawing. Now if we could conceive a whole Nation 
 labouring under this defect, we might be sure they would not 
 have in their language any such words as red, green, yellow, 
 and blue. And we may be no less certain that a nation having 
 no more belief in a ' world to come' than the ancient Greeks 
 and Romans, would have had no words in their language 
 answering to ' Virtue,' or ' Duty,' supposing men's notions on 
 the subject were wholly and solely derived from considerations 
 relating to the next world. 
 
 Some persons are apt to fall into indistinctness of language, 
 and confusion of thought, on this subject, from not taking care 
 to distinguish between our moral judgment on some particular 
 cases, and our notion of Duty generally. On any particular 
 point, a pious man will be ready, if he is convinced that a divine 
 command has been given, to obey it at once without further 
 inquiry ; taking for granted that it is right, though he may not 
 see the reason of it. But this is not from his having no notion 
 at all, generally, of anything being in itself right or wrong, and 
 knowing no meaning of the word ' good,' except ' what is com- 
 manded by a superior power.' On the contrary, he acts as he 
 does from his general trust in God's goodness, and just claim 
 to obedience. For, in this or that particular point, a divine 
 command may make that a duty which was not so before. But 
 this can only be when the command is given to a Being endowed 
 with a moral sense, which enables him to perceive that there is 
 such a thing as Duty, and that (Hod has a rightful claim to be 
 obeyed, even when the reason of his commands is not perceived.
 
 Chap, ili Annotations. 6$ 
 
 In like manner, a telescope will enable a man possessing the 
 sense of sight, to see objects invisible to the naked eye. But 
 the revelation of a divine command could no more originate 
 the notion of Duty, generally, in a Being destitute of Moral 
 Faculty, and to whom, therefore, the word ' duty' would have 
 no meaning at all (though he might be afraid to disobey), than 
 a telescope could confer sight on a blind man. 
 
 ' He who would establish a system of Morality independent of a 
 future state, must look out for a different idea of Moral 
 obligation.' 
 
 But on Paley's theory, they manifestly could not possibly 
 form any such idea at all. For if, as he maintains, the only 
 foundation of that idea is the expectation of reward and punish- 
 ment in the next world, those who have no knowledge or no 
 belief of this, could never have a notion of such a thing as 
 Duty. It would be thought ridiculous to say ' Men see with 
 their eyes, and cannot see any otherwise ; and those who have 
 no eyes, must see as well as they can without them.' 
 
 Iget it is an indisputable fact that the ancient Heathen did, 
 without the knowledge of a future state, entertain a notion of 
 Dutv. Whether their views of it were or were not reasonable 
 and well-founded, is nothing to the present purpose. The/«c/, 
 that they did entertain some, is a disproof of the theory in 
 question. 
 
 { Such as reject the Christian religion are to make the best shift 
 they can to build up a system and to lay the foundation 
 of Morality without it.' 
 
 On this point I will cite a passage from a Sermon of mine 
 preached before the University of Oxford, which Bishop 
 Fitzgerald extracted, with my permission, from the MS., and 
 printed in his edition of selections from Aristotle. 
 
 ' Since it is acknowledged that the morality of the heathen 
 writers is not universally unexceptionable, and that their errors 
 are corrected by the principles of the Gospel, which alone are 
 pure and perfect, it might seem, at first sight, as if the systems 
 of ethics which have been or may be founded on christian
 
 64 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 principles must be alone worthy of attention ; and that, when 
 we are studying the moral treatises which unassisted human 
 reason has produced, we are following an insufficient guide 
 when a better is at hand. 
 
 ' But there is an objection of great importance to the 
 exclusive study of christian writers on morality, that since 
 they naturally and rightly are disposed to sanction every 
 precept, where they can, by the authority of divine revelation, 
 they are likely either themselves to adopt, or to lead their 
 readers to adopt the notion that the commands of God, as 
 delivered in Scripture, are the sole foundation of morality. 
 There is, at first glance, a show of piety in thus referring at 
 once to the divine will as the standard of right and wrong, 
 which has contributed to recommend such a doctrine. But its 
 inevitable consecmencc is to derogate from God's honour, and to 
 deprive the christian revelation of part of its just evidence ; for 
 it is nugatory to speak of the moral attributes of the Deity, and 
 to praise the pure morality of the Gospel, if the Gospel itself, 
 and the express commands of the Deity, are the source from 
 which we derive all our notions of morality. To call the will 
 of God righteous and good, if our original ideas of righteousness 
 and goodness imply merely a conformity to the divine will, is 
 an empty truism. It is, in fact, no more than saying that the 
 will of God is the will of God ; and, if we dwell on the excel- 
 lence of the christian morality at the same time that we make 
 Christianity the sole and original standard of moral excellence, 
 we are evidently arguing in a vicious circle, and merely 
 attributing to the Gospel the praise of being conformable to the 
 rules derived from itself. Dr. Paley, accordingly, who acknow- 
 ledges, and all along proceeds upon the doctrine that all our 
 moral sentiments are derived entirely from considering what 13 
 the will of the Supreme Being, with his usual candour distinctly 
 states, and does not attempt to extenuate the inevitable con- 
 si quence, that the moral attributes of the Deity are hereby 
 nullified, and that, when we speak of God's justice and goodness, 
 we mean no more than a conformity to those principles which 
 we have learned solely from observing what He Himself has 
 appointed. All our ideas of virtue and vice, according to this 
 writer, consist in this, that the one will be rewarded and the 
 other punished by the Almighty in the next world ; and all the
 
 Chap, iii.] Annotations. 65 
 
 difference between an act of prudence and an act of duty is, as 
 he distinctly admits, that, in the one case, we consider what we 
 shall gain in this life, in the other what we shall gain in the 
 next life ; so that sin does not lead to suffering because it is 
 sin, but it is sin because it leads to suffering ; whence it follows 
 that the ignorance or disbelief of a future state not only absolves 
 from all moral obligation, but destroys even the very idea of 
 moral obligation, except so far as virtue shall appear to bring 
 the larger share of enjoyment in this life. 
 
 ' By such doctrines all fair appeal to the morality of the 
 precepts of the Gospel, in confirmation of its divine origin, is 
 entirely taken away. Those, says Dr. Paley, who have no 
 knowledge of a future state of retribution, must frame the best 
 system of morals they can without it. But he ought to have 
 considered that, if his view be correct, they could not possibly 
 have framed any. It is not enough to say that they had no 
 sufficient grounds on which to build their distinction of virtue 
 and vice ; no sufficient sanction to enforce a conformity to their 
 precepts. Still it may be asked, how came they by any notions 
 at all of virtue and vice, correct or incorrect ? How could the 
 idea of such a thing as a moral precept ever enter their minds ? 
 According to Dr. Paley's principles it is evidently impossible, 
 and yet we know that it did take place. His principles, there- 
 fore, are completely refuted by such a work, e. (j., as Aristotle's 
 Treatise of Ethics. I do not mean, on the supposition that the 
 doctrines of that treatise are sound, and the work valuabie, but 
 simply from the circumstance that it exists. No such work 
 could have been even attempted if Man were what Dr. Paley 
 describes him — a Being totally destitute of a moral faculty, and 
 incapable of forming any notion of virtue and vice except from 
 a reference to the arbitrary will of a superior Being, who will 
 reward and punish them respectively in another world. For 
 Aristotle seems to have had no expectation of future retribu- 
 tion, nor makes any reference to the will of the Deity. His 
 moral doctrines, therefore, being derived from unassisted reason, 
 alone afford a plain proof that unassisted reason can furnish us 
 with some knowledge of Duty, however insufficient it may be 
 to supply an adequate motive for the practice of it. Thus, the 
 moral writings of the ancient Pagans, conformable as they are 
 in all the most fundamental points to the morality of the 
 
 p. F
 
 66 Moral Pldlosophy. [Book n. 
 
 Gospel, furnish an independent and unexceptionable testimony 
 in favour of the Gospel. If the Author of the universe and the 
 Author of Christianity, the Giver of reason and of revelation, 
 be, as we contend, the same Being, it is to be expected that the 
 declarations of His will which we meet with in revelation should 
 correspond with the dictates of the highest and most perfect 
 Reason ; and the testimony of the heathen moralists proves that 
 such is the fact. 
 
 ' As for the differences in many points between the morality 
 of the heathen writers, and that of the Gospel, they seem to 
 establish still more firmly the conclusion which is drawn from 
 their general coincidence ; for, all the peculiarities of the 
 Gospel morality appear manifestly, on an attentive inspection, 
 to consist not in departures from natural morality, but in the 
 correction, completion, and exaltation of what had been laid 
 down by human moralists. It is not in contradiction, but in 
 conformity to the purest ethical principles that Christianity 
 amends what is faulty, supplies what is deficient, and improves 
 what is right in human systems. As far as any moralist has 
 fallen short of the Gospel-precepts, or been at variance with 
 them, so far has he been inconsistent with his own principles 
 rightly considered and duly followed up. The forgiveness of 
 injuries, e. g , might be proved to a candid heathen to be 
 more magnanimous upon his own moral principles than revenge. 
 
 ' The advantage, in point of internal evidence, which Chris- 
 tianity thus gains from the study of human systems of ethics, 
 is furnished in the highest degree by heathen systems, which 
 must, of course, furnish the most evidently unbiassed testimony 
 in its favour. Other Christian writers, indeed, there are, who 
 have not adopted the same principles as Dr. Paley ; but we can 
 never be sure how far the ethical system of any author familiar 
 with the christian revelation, though he may profess and intend 
 to inquire what are the moral principles that may be ascertained 
 by unaided reason, — we can never be certain, I say, even though 
 he be an infidel, how far this system may be in reality drawn 
 from the christian Scriptures ; and as far as it is (whatever 
 may bo the advantages gained in other respects) the testimony 
 which his conclusions bear to the excellence of the Gospel 
 morality is in the same degree weakened. Whereas the uncou- 
 scions testimony of the unenlightened Pagans is, in this respect,
 
 Chap, iii.] Annotations. 6y 
 
 perfectly unexceptionable. And this evidence becomes most 
 powerful and convincing when it is considered that the morality 
 which thus coincides in the main with the deductions of the 
 greatest philosophers, and thus excels them where it differs 
 from them, was brought into the world not by learned Greeks, 
 but by obscure Jewish peasants and fishermen. 
 
 c But the argument is still much more confirmed when we con- 
 template not only the general agreement of Christianity with the 
 moral systems which men have devised, but also its disagreement 
 with their religious systems. Men having, as we have seen, the 
 power to so great a degree of ascertaining the nature of virtue 
 and its conduciveness to man's happiness in this life, they 
 would, one might have supposed, have been naturally led to 
 conclude that this line of conduct would be the principal thing 
 to secure the favour of the gods, and the attainment of the 
 greatest happiness in the future life. For if the same God be 
 the Author and the Governor of this world and the next, 
 it is reasonable to suppose that such a course of behaviour as, 
 generally speaking, leads to the greatest and most exalted enjoy- 
 ments in the present world, should coincide in most respects 
 with that which the Deity prescribes as tending to the happiness 
 of the other world. Such, however, is not, in fact, the principle 
 on which any systems of religion devised by human ingenuity 
 do actually proceed. The means which they prescribe for 
 attaining the favour of the Deity and the enjoyments of the 
 next life, are chiefly such as are either unconnected with Man's 
 welfare in this life, or completely adverse to it ; consisting either 
 in rich offerings, spleudid shows, and empty ceremonies, or in 
 wearisome pilgrimages, painful and unnatural privations, and 
 self-inflicted tortures ; often, indeed, in acts of impurity and 
 cruelty. The constitution and course of Nature are sufficient 
 to detect the imposture of such pretended religions. Tn the 
 christian system, on the contrary, that kind of life which is 
 most fitted to promote the welfare of Man in this world is 
 prescribed and principally insisted on as necessary to secure the 
 divine favour, and the promised happiness of the next world. 
 This alone is a presumption that the Author of this world is, 
 indeed, the Author of our religion. But this presumption is 
 much strengthened when we find that no other pretended scheme 
 of religion exhibits this conformity; and the force of the argu- 
 
 F 2 '
 
 6S Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 merit is completed when we find, as we do find, from the study 
 of heathen moralists, that this defect in their religious systems 
 did not arise from their incapacity to be 'a law unto themselves/ — 
 from ignorance of the character of virtue, or of its tendency to 
 increase human happiness in this life ; though the system of 
 moral truth which they had the skill to form was so much 
 neglected and so much set at nought by their religion. 
 
 ' Let him, then, not neglect the study of ethical writers, and 
 especially profane writers, who wishes both, to derive the greatest 
 benefit from the Gospel-revelation, and to obtain and impart 
 the most satisfactorv conviction of its divine ori°;in. The 
 doctrine that human nature is corrupt, and needs to be renewed 
 and purified (i. e., that Man is prone to transgress the dictates 
 of his own better judgment), — a doctrine which some Christians, 
 as well as infidels, seem to regard as one of the burdens which 
 Christianity has to support, will, on the contrary, appear 
 (mysterious as it is) one of the bulwarks of evidence which 
 sustain it, when we contemplate the strong and independent 
 testimony borne to it by a comparison of the heathen moralists 
 with the heathen historians. When we find them acknowledging 
 that in itself to be right and good, which they also acknowledge 
 Man is of himself too weak to practise, and which the Bible 
 proclaims as well pleasing to God ; we see Man himself bearing 
 witness to the purity of the divine laws, to the corruption of his 
 own nature, and to the need he has of a Redeemer and Sancti- 
 fier : and when we consider the discrepancy of philosophical 
 principles of morality with the absurdities and wickedness of the 
 Pagan religions, and the agreement of those same principles 
 with the precepts of the Gospel (that Gospel which was preached 
 by unlearned fishermen), we have the heathens themselves testi- 
 fying, as it w r ere, that their religions do not proceed from the 
 God of Nature, and that ours does.' 
 
 In truth, Paley's distinction between an act of duty and an 
 act of prudence, is one which is not recognised in the expres- 
 sions or the notions of any class of men in any country ; and 
 amounts (as far as regards the present question) to no distinc- 
 tion at all. Whatever is done wholly and solcty from motives 
 of personal expediency, — from calculations of individual loss or 
 gain — is»always accounted a matter of prudence, and not of
 
 Chap, iii.] Annotations. 69 
 
 virtue. If you could suppose a man who had no disapproba- 
 tion whatever of cruelty, injustice, and ingratitude, as things 
 bad in themselves, arid who would feel no scruple against com- 
 mitting theft or murder, if he could do so with impunity, but 
 who abstained from such acts purely from fear of suffering for 
 it, whether in this life or the next, just as he would abstain 
 from placing his money in an insecure bank ; and if he relieved 
 the distressed, and did services to his neighbours, without any 
 kindly feeling, or any sense of duty, but entirely with a view 
 to his own advantage, hoping to obtain, — suppose, — votes at an 
 election, or some benefit in another world, — just as a grazier 
 feeds his cattle well, that he may make the better profit of them, 
 — we should not, if we thought thus of him, call him a virtuous 
 man, but merely prudent. 
 
 Revelation was not bestowed on Mankind to impart to them 
 the first notions of moral good and evil, but to supply sufficient 
 motives for right practice, and sufficient strength to act on 
 those motives. And accordingly you find in the New Testa- 
 ment, that those to whom the Gospel was preached are not 
 addressed as persons having no notion of any difference between 
 right and wrong ; but are exhorted to ' add to their faith, 
 virtue, brotherly love, charity,' and to follow after ' ivhatsoecer 
 things are pure, and lovely, and honest, and of good report.' 
 
 And this indeed is distinctly and fully admitted by Paley 
 himself; who says, in the opening of his Treatise, that ' the 
 Scriptures pre-suppose in the persons to whom they speak, a 
 knowledge of the principles of natural justice ; and are employed, 
 not so much to teach new rules of morality, as to enforce the 
 practice of it by new sanctions.' It is strange he did not 
 perceive that this admission overthrows his theory of the non- 
 existence of a natural conscience. For, the far greater part of 
 those whom the New Testament Scriptures address had been 
 brought up in Paganism ; a religious system as immoral as it 
 was absurd. They could not therefore have originally derived 
 their ' principles of natural justice' from calculations founded on 
 a knowledge of the divine will ; bui must have had (as Paul 
 assures us) ' the law written in their hearts ; their conscience 
 also bearing witness.' 
 
 But the great heathen Moralist, Aristotle, after having 
 given a full and glowing description of what virtue is, and on
 
 •jo Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 the whole, not an incorrect one, laments (in the conclusion of 
 his treatise) that so few can be induced in practice to model 
 their life on the principles he has laid down. He is like the 
 fabled Prometheus, ayIio was said to have succeeded in fashioning 
 a well-constructed human body, but found it a cold and lifeless 
 corpse, till he had ascended up to heaven, to bring down 
 celestial fire to animate the frame. And thus it is that the 
 writings of this, and of other Heathen Moral Philosophers 
 furnish a strong confirmation of the divine origin of our reli- 
 gion ; since it is morally impossible, humanly speaking, that 
 ignorant Galilrean peasants and fishermen could have written in 
 a moral tone partly coinciding with, and partly surpassing, that 
 of the most learned Philosophers of Greece. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 AS the will of God is our rule ; to inquire what is our duty, 
 or what we are obliged to do, in any instance, is, in effect, to 
 inquire what is the will of God in that instance ? which conse- 
 quently becomes the whole business of morality. 
 
 Now there are two methods of coming at the will of God on 
 any point : 
 
 I. By his express declarations, when they are to be had, and 
 which must be sought for in Scripture. 
 
 II. By what we can discover of his designs and disposition 
 from his works ; or, as we usually call it, the light of nature. 
 
 And here we may observe the absurdity of separating natural 
 and revealed religion from each other. The object of both is 
 the same, — to discover the will of God, — and, provided we do 
 but discover it, it matters nothing by what means. 
 
 An ambassador, judging by what he knows of his sovereign's 
 disposition, and arguing from what he has observed of his con- 
 duet, or is acquainted with of his designs, may take his measures
 
 Chap, iv.] The Will of God. 7 1 
 
 in many cases with safety, and presume with great probability 
 how his master would have him act on most occasions that arise : 
 but if he have his commission and instructions in his pocket, it 
 would be strange not to look into them. He will be directed 
 by both rules : when his instructions are clear and positive, 
 there is an end to all further deliberation (unless indeed he sus- 
 pect their authenticity) ; where his instructions are silent or 
 dubious, he will endeavour to supply or explain them, by what 
 he has been able to collect from other quarters, of his master's 
 general inclination or intentions. 
 
 Mr. Hume, in his fourth Appendix to his Principles of Morals, 
 has been pleased to complain of the modern scheme of uniting 
 Ethics with the christian Theology. They who find themselves 
 disposed to join in this complaint, will do well to observe what 
 Mr. Hume himself has been able to make of morality without 
 this union. And for that purpose, let them read the second 
 part of the ninth section of the above essay ; which part contains 
 the practical application of the whole treatise, — a treatise which 
 Mr. Hume declares to be ' incomparably the best he ever wrote.' 
 When they have read it over, let them consider, whether any 
 motives there proposed are likely to be found sufficient to with- 
 hold men from the gratification of lust, revenge, envy, ambition, 
 avarice ; or to prevent the existence of these passions. Unless 
 they rise up from this celebrated essay with stronger impressions 
 upon their minds than it ever left upon mine, they will acknow- 
 ledge the necessity of additional sanctions. But the necessity of 
 these sanctions is not now the question. If they be in fact esta- 
 blished, if the rewards and punishments held forth in the Gospel 
 will actually come to pass, they must be considered. Such as 
 reject the christian Religion, are to make the best shift they can 
 to build up a system, and lay the foundation of morality, without 
 it. But it appears to me a great inconsistency in those who re- 
 ceive Christianity, and expect something to come out of it, to 
 endeavour to keep all such expectations out of sight in their rea- 
 sonings concerning human duty. 
 
 The method of coming at the will of God concerning any 
 action, by the light of nature, is to inquire into c the tendency 
 of the action to promote or diminish the general happiness.' 
 This rale proceeds upon the presumption, that God Almighty 
 wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures ; and, conse-
 
 j2 Moral Philosophy. [Book u. 
 
 quently, that those actions, which promote that will and wish, 
 must he agreeable to him ; and the contrary. 
 
 As this presumption is the foundation of our whole system, it 
 becomes necessary to explain the reasons upon which it rests. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 ' The will of God is our rule.' 
 
 There is a distinction noticed and dwelt on by most writers 
 on Morality, between what are called Moral [natural] precepts, 
 and Positive precepts. And, as Butler has remarked, such 
 passages as ' I will have mercy and not sacrifice :' ' The 
 kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness/ &c. : 
 ' Ye tithe mint and anise and cummin, and have neglected the 
 weightier matters of the law/ are manifest recognitions of this 
 distinction, and of the superiority of moral to positive laws. 
 This distinction Paley does not notice ; it being excluded by the 
 very character of his theory, which teaches that Man has no 
 Moral-faculty by which to judge anything to be intrinsically 
 good or evil. 
 
 The distinction however, being a real and an important one, 
 I have noticed it in the Lessons on Morals [less. 2. §§ i, 2]. 
 
 ' In order to have a clear view of this subject, you must be 
 careful to observe the distinction (which some persons are apt 
 to overlook) between what are called moral precepts [or 'natural' 
 precepts] and positive precepts. We are bound to comply with 
 both j but ' moral precepts' are what relate to things right and 
 wrong in themselves, independently of any command ; and 
 ' positive precepts' arc what relate to things originally indiffe- 
 rent, but which are made right or wrong by the command of a 
 Superior who has a just claim to obedience. 
 
 ' Thus, when children are forbidden to tell lies, or to quarrel, 
 these are things forbidden because they are wrong in themselves. 
 And when they arc toll to improve their minds by learning what 
 is useful, and to be kind and helpful to each other, and the like, 
 these things are commanded because they are right in them- 
 selves. But when they are forbidden to go beyond the bounds
 
 Chap, iv.] Annotations. 73 
 
 of the play-ground, and are charged to come in at a certain hour, 
 these are what are called ' positive' precepts. To go beyond 
 a certain spot was originally nothing wrong in itself; but 
 became wrong, after the rule had been laid down, because it 
 Avould be an act of disobedience. And to come in from play 
 at twelve o'clock, or at one, is in itself a matter of indifference, 
 but it is made a matter of duty, as soon as the master or parent 
 has appointed the time. 
 
 ' So also it is a moral duty to obey the laws of the Land 
 when not wrong in themselves ; and some of these relate to 
 things originally and naturally right or wrong ; others, to things 
 originally indifferent. For instance, to import tea, or wine, or 
 to manufacture candles or malt, is a thing originally indifferent. 
 But when a tax has been laid on these things, then, to evade 
 this tax, is to rob the revenue — that is, to rob the nation. 1 
 And, accordingly, to sell, or to buy, smuggled goods, is a 
 thing morally wrong. 
 
 ' The like holds good with private contracts. In these, a 
 person may be bound, as to matters originally indifferent, not 
 by the command of a superior, but by his own act. For it is 
 clearly a moral duty to fulfil one's engagements. Thus, a 
 husband and wife are bound, by the marriage-contract they have 
 made, to their mutual duties, though they were not bound to 
 each other before. Children, on the other hand, are bound by 
 an original and natural obligation, to honour their parents. 
 
 ' Again, when the Israelites were commanded, in the Mosaic 
 law, to be kind to their neighbours, and liberal to the poor, 
 this was commanded because it was in itself right. But when 
 they were commanded to keep the feast of the Passover, and 
 to perform certain appointed ceremonies, and to set aside 
 certain specified days and years as sanctified, this was right 
 because it was commanded. 
 
 ' So, also, the prohibition of murder and theft were what 
 are called ' moral ' [or natural] precepts, as relating to things 
 wrong in themselves ; but to eat the flesh of the animals 
 specified as ' unclean,' which is a matter originally indifferent, 
 was wrong — for Israelites — because it was forbidden in their 
 Law. 
 
 1 Lessons on the British Constitution.
 
 74 Moral Philosophy. [Book it. 
 
 ' In such cases, the command of a rightful Superior makes 
 things morally right and wrong which were not so before the 
 express command was given. And when such a command 
 does exist, we are bound in duty to obey it.' 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 WHEN God created the human species, either He wished 
 their happiness, or He wished their misery, or He was 
 indifferent and unconcerned about both. 
 
 If He had wished our misery, He might have made sure of his 
 purpose, by forming our senses to be so many sores and pains 
 to us, as they are now instruments of gratification and enjoy- 
 ment ; or by placing us amidst objects so ill-suited to our 
 perceptions, as to have continually offended us, instead of 
 ministering to our refreshment and delight. He might have 
 made, for example, everything we tasted, bitter; everything 
 we saw, loathsome ; everything we touched, a sting ; every 
 smell, a stench ; and every sound, a discord. 
 
 If He had been indifferent about our happiness or misery, we 
 must impute to our good fortune (as all design by this supposi- 
 tion is excluded) both the capacity of our senses to receive plea- 
 sure, and the supply of external objects fitted to produce it. But 
 either of these (and still more both of them) being too much to 
 be attributed to accident, nothing remains but the first supposi- 
 tion, that God, when He created the human species, wished their 
 happiness ; and made for them the provision which He has made, 
 with that view, and for that purpose. 
 
 The same argument may be proposed in different terms, thus ■ 
 Contrivance proves design ; and the predominant tendency of 
 the contrivance indicates the disposition of the designer. The 
 world abounds with contrivances : and all the contrivances which 
 wc are acquainted with, arc directed to beneficial purposes. Evil, 
 no doubt, exists ; but is never, that we can perceive, the object 
 of contrivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to ache ; their 
 aching now and then, is incidental to the contrivance, perhaps 
 inseparable from it : or even, if you will, let it be called a defect
 
 Chap, v.] The Divine Benevolence. 75 
 
 in the contrivance ; but it is not the object of it. This is a dis- 
 tinction which Avell deserves to be attended to. In describing: 
 implements of husbandry, you would hardly say of the sickle, 
 that it is made to cut the reaper's fingers, though from the 
 construction of the instrument, and the manner of using it, this 
 mischief often happens. But if you had occasion to describe in- 
 struments of torture or execution, this engine, you would say, is 
 to extend the sinews ; this to dislocate the joints ; this to break 
 the bones ; this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here, pain and 
 misery are the very objects of the contrivance. Now, nothing of 
 this sort is to be found in the works of nature. We never dis- 
 cover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. No 
 anatomist ever discovered a system of organization calculated to 
 produce pain and disease ; or, in explaining the parts of the hu- 
 man body, ever said, this is to irritate ; this to inflame ; this duct 
 is to convey the gravel to the kidneys; this gland to secrete the 
 humour which forms the gout : if by chance he come at a part of 
 which he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it is 
 useless : no one ever suspects that it is put there to incommode, 
 to annoy, or to torment. Since then God hath called forth his 
 consummate wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness, 
 and the world appears to have been constituted with this design 
 at first ; so long as this constitution is upholden by Him, we must 
 in reason suppose the same design to continue. 
 
 The contemplation of universal nature rather bewilders the 
 mind than affects it. There is always a bright spot in the pro- 
 spect, upon which the eye rests; a single example, perhaps, by 
 which each man finds himself more convinced than by all others 
 put together. I seem, for my own part, to see the benevolence 
 of the Deity more clearly in the pleasures of very young children, 
 than in anything in the world. The pleasures of grown per- 
 sons may be reckoned partly of their own procuring ; especially 
 if there has been any industry, or contrivance, or pursuit, to 
 come at them ; or if they are founded, like music, painting, &e. 
 upon any qualification of their own acquiring. But the pleasures 
 of a healthy infant are so manifestly provided for it by another, 
 and the benevolence of the provision is so unquestionable, that 
 every child I see at its sport, affords to my mind a kind of sen- 
 sible evidence of the finger of God, and of the disposition which 
 directs it.
 
 7 6 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 But the example, which strikes each man most strongly, is 
 the true example for him : and hardly two minds hit upon the 
 same ; which shows the abundance of such examples about us. 
 
 We conclude, therefore, that God wills and wishes the happi- 
 ness of his creatures. And this conclusion being once established, 
 Ave are at liberty to go on with the rule built upon it, namely, 
 'that the method of coming at the will of God, concerning any 
 action by the light of nature, is to inquire into the tendency of 
 that action to promote or diminish the general happiness.' 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 In what Paley says, both here, and in his Natural Theology, 
 and, universally, in all that relates to the Moral attributes of 
 the Deity, he labours under a disadvantage resulting from his 
 peculiar views on the subject of morality. Not that he is to be 
 complained of for not satisfactorily explaining — what no 
 man can explain — the existence of evil in the universe. But 
 considering what a mixture of good and evil actually does 
 present itself to our view, it would be impossible for Man, if 
 he really were such a Being as Paley represents him to be, to 
 form those notions of the divine benevolence which Paley him- 
 self contends for. 
 
 Man, according to him, has no moral faculty, — no power 
 of distinguishing right from wrong, — no preference of justice 
 to injustice, or kindness to cruelty, except when one's own personal 
 interest happens to be concerned. And this he attempts to 
 establish by collecting all the instances that are to be found in 
 various ages and countries, of anomalies in men's moral judg- 
 ments j showing that this kind of crime was approved in one 
 country, and that kind in another : that one vice was tolerated 
 in one age, and another in another. And even so, one might 
 collect specimens of anomalies in the human frame ; showing 
 that some persons have been born without arms or without legs ; 
 some, deaf-mutes, some blind, and some idiots. Whence it 
 might be inferred, that Man ought not to be described as a 
 rational Being, or one endowed with the faculty of speech, or 
 having eyes, and hands, and feet. A man then, according to his
 
 Chap, v.] Annotations. 77 
 
 view, being compelled, by the view of the universe, to admit 
 that God is benevolent, is thence led, from prudential motives 
 alone, to cultivate benevolence in himself, with a view to secure 
 a future reward. The truth, I conceive, is exactly the reverse 
 of this; viz., that Man having in himself a Moral-faculty (or 
 taste, as some prefer to call it) by which he is instinctively led 
 to approve virtue and disapprove vice, is thence disposed and 
 inclined antecedently' to attribute to the Creator of the uni- 
 verse, — the most perfect and infinitely highest of Beings, — all 
 those moral (as well as intellectual) qualities which to himself 
 seem the most worthy of admiration, and intrinsically beautiful 
 and excellent. For, to do evil rather than good, appears to 
 all men (except to those who have been very long hardened and 
 depraved by the extreme of wickedness) to imply something of 
 weakness, imperfection, corruption, and degradation. I say 
 ' disposed and inclined/ because our admiration for benevolence, 
 wisdom, &c, would not alone be sufficient to make us attribute 
 these to the Deity, if we saw no marks of them in the creation ; 
 but our finding in the creation many marks of contrivance, and 
 of beneficent contrivance, together with the antecedent bias in 
 our own minds, which inclines us to attribute goodness to the 
 Supreme Being — both these conjointly lead us to the conclusion 
 that God is infinitely benevolent, notwithstanding the admix- 
 ture of evil in His works, which we cannot account for. But 
 these appearances of evil would stand in the way of such a con- 
 clusion, if Man really were, what Dr. Paley represents him, a 
 Being destitute of all moral sentiment, all innate and original 
 admiration of goodness. He would, in that case, be more 
 likely to come to the conclusion (as many of the Heathen seem 
 actually to have done) that the Deity was a Being of a mixed 
 or of a capricious nature ; an idea which, shocking as it is to 
 every well-constituted mind, would not be so in the least, to 
 such a mind as Dr. Paley attributes to the whole human 
 species. 
 
 To illustrate this argument a little further ; suppose a taste- 
 ful architect and a rude savage to be both contemplating a 
 magnificent building, unfinished, or partially fallen to ruin ; the 
 one, not being at all able to comprehend the complete design, 
 nor having any taste for its beauties if perfectly exhibited, would 
 not attribute any such design to the author of it, but would
 
 7 8 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 suppose the prostrate columns and rough stones to be as much 
 designed as those that were erect and perfect ; the other would 
 sketch out in his own mind something like the perfect structure 
 of which he beheld only a part ; and though he might not be 
 able to explain how it came to be unfinished, or decayed, would 
 conclude that some such design was in the mind of the builder : 
 though this same man, if he were contemplating a mere rude 
 heap of stones which bore no marks of design at all, would not 
 in that case draw such a conclusion. 
 
 Or again, suppose two persons, one having an ear for music, 
 and the other totally destitute of it, were both listening to a 
 piece of music imperfectly heard at a distance, or half drowned 
 by other noises, so that only some notes of it were distinctly 
 caught, and others were totally lost, or heard imperfectly ; the 
 one might suppose that the sounds he heard were all that were 
 actually produced, and think the whole that met his ear to be 
 exactly such as was designed ; but the other would form 
 some notion of a piece of real music, and would conclude that 
 the interruptions and imperfections of it were not parts of the 
 design, but were to be attributed to his imperfect hearing : 
 though if he heard on another occasion, a mere confusion of 
 sounds without any melody at all, he would not conclude that 
 anything like music was designed. 
 
 The application is obvious : the wisdom and goodness discer- 
 nible in the structure of the universe, but imperfectly discerned, 
 and blended with evil, leads a man who has an innate appro- 
 bation of those attributes, to assign them to the Author of the 
 universe, though he be unable to explain that admixture of evil ; 
 but if Man were destitute of moral sentiments, the view of 
 the universe, such as it appears to us, would hardly lead him to 
 that conclusion. 1 
 
 1 When the edition of Archbishop King's discourse appeared (from the Appendix 
 to which the above passage is extracted) a gentleman belonging to a University 
 in which Paley's Moral Philosophy is a text-book, published a vindication of him 
 from the charge of denying the existence of a Moral-faculty. He sent me, along 
 \\ ii h a very courteous letter, a copy of his work. I expressed, in answer, my very 
 great surprise that there should exist any difference of opinion, not, as to the sound- 
 ness of Paley's view, but of what it is that he does say; considering how very 
 perspicuous his style is. And I transcribed a short passage from the Moral 
 Philosophy, giving a reference to several others ; all to the same purpose. In
 
 Chap, v.] Annotations. 79 
 
 ' God ivills and wishes the happiness of his creatures' 
 
 "When Paley goes on from this to speak about ' doing good 
 to Mankind,' it doubtless never occurred to him, or to thou- 
 sands of his readers, that nothing had been said to warrant a 
 preference, on our part, of our fellow-mew, to the brute crea- 
 tion, or even to vegetables. That there is something nobler 
 and more virtuous and more congenial to the best feelings of 
 our nature, in increasing the number and promoting the wel- 
 fare of the human species, than in multiplying and protecting 
 brutes, and propagating thistles or any other plants, seems too 
 obvious to need being even stated. But this is' because every 
 man — Paley amongst the rest — must possess something — more 
 or less — of those Moral Sentiments whose existence his theory 
 denies. 
 
 It is excessively difficult to put one's-self in imagination, 
 completely in the condition of a Being wholly destitute of those 
 sentiments. It is as difficult as it is to realize (according to the 
 American phrase) the condition of a deaf-mute, of a blind-born 
 man, or of a savage. Most people make mistakes when they 
 attempt to do so. But if you will steadily reflect on the state 
 of judgment, and feelings, and notions, of an imaginary Being, 
 possessing intelligence, but wholly indifferent to justice or 
 injustice, kindness or cruelty (which is Paley's view of Man's 
 natural state), and suppose him looking merely to the Works 
 of the Peity, in order to ascertain by what conduct he is to 
 earn reward, and escape punishment, you will perceive, that 
 from a view of the manifest contrivances for the protection, for 
 instance, of thistles, and their dissemination, he would infer 
 that he is epiite as much furthering the designs of Providence, 
 in cultivating these, as in doing good to Mankind. 
 
 reply, the writer of the vindication confessed that he had overlooked these passages, 
 which did, he admitted, fully bear out my remarks. 
 
 I was indeed well prepared to believe, that many persons hear much, and talk 
 much, of Paley's works, while they have read little or nothing of them. But that 
 any one should publish a commentary on a work which he had not read with even 
 moderate attention, overlooking a statement which is no slight incidental remark, 
 but the very basis of the whole system, — this did seem to me very strange.
 
 8o Moral Philosophy. [Book it. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 UTILITY'. 
 
 SO then actions are to be estimated by their tendency. 1 
 Whatever is expedient, is right. It is the utility of any 
 moral rnle alone, which constitutes the obligation of it. 
 
 But to all this there seems a plain objection, viz. that many 
 actions are useful, which no man in his senses will allow to be 
 right. There are occasions, in which the hand of the assassin 
 would be very useful. The present possessor of some great 
 estate employs .his influence and fortune, to annoy, corrupt, or 
 oppress, all about him. His estate would devolve, by his death, 
 to a successor of an opposite character. It is useful, therefore, 
 to dispatch such a one as soon as possible out of the way ; as 
 the neighbourhood will exchange thereby a pernicious tyrant for 
 a wise and generous benefactor. It might be useful to rob a 
 miser, and give the money to the poor : as the money, no doubt, 
 would produce more happiness, by being laid out in food and 
 clothing for half a dozen distressed families, than by continuing 
 locked up in a miser's chest. It may be useful to get possession 
 of a place, a piece of preferment, or of a seat in parliament, by 
 bribery or false swearing : as by means of them we may serve 
 the public more effectually than in our private station. What 
 then shall we say? Must we admit these actions to be right, 
 which would be to justify assassination, plunder, and perjury ; or 
 must we give up our principle, that the criterion of right is 
 utility ? 
 
 It is not necessary to do either. 
 
 The true answer is this ; that these actions, after all, are not 
 useful, and for that reason, and that alone, are not right. 
 
 To see this point perfectly, it must be observed that the bad 
 consequences of actions arc twofold, particular and general. 
 
 1 Actions in the abstract are right or wrong, according to their tendency; tlie 
 il is virtuous or vicious, according to his design. Thus, if the question be, 
 Whether relieving common beggars be right or wrong ? we inquire into the tendency 
 duct to ilir public advantage or inconvenience, if the question be, 
 Whether a man remarkable for this sort of bounty is to be esteemed virtuous for that 
 reason? we inquire into his design, whether his liberality sprang from charity or 
 from ostentation ? II is evident that our concern is with actions in the abstract.
 
 Chap, vii.] The Necessity of General Rules. 81 
 
 The particular bad consequence of an action, is the mischief 
 which that single action directly and immediately occasions. 
 
 The general bad consequence is, the violation of some necessary 
 or useful general rule. 
 
 Thus, the particular bad consequence of the assassination 
 above described, is the fright and pain which the deceased un- 
 derwent ; the loss he suffered of life, which is as valuable to a 
 bad man, as to a good one, or more so; the prejudice and 
 affliction, of which his death was the occasion, to his family, 
 friends, and dependents. 
 
 The general bad consequence is the violation of this necessary 
 general rule, that no man be put to death for his crimes but by 
 public authority. 
 
 Although, therefore, such an action have no particular bad 
 consequences, or greater particular good consequences, yet it is 
 not useful, by reason of the general consequence, which is of 
 more importance, and which is evil. And the same of the other 
 two instances, and of a million more which might be mentioned. 
 
 But as this solution supposes, that the moral government of 
 the world must proceed by general rules, it remains that we 
 show the necessity of this. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES. 
 
 YOU cannot permit one action and forbid another, without 
 showing a difference between them. Consequently, the same 
 sort of actions must be generally permitted or generally for- 
 bidden. Where, therefore, the general permission of them 
 would be pernicious, it becomes necessary to lay down and 
 support the rule which generally forbids them. 
 
 Thus, to return once more to the case of the assassin. The 
 assassin knocked the rich villain on the head, because he thought 
 him better out of the way than in it. If you allow this excuse 
 in the present instance, you must allow it to all who act in the 
 same manner, and from the said motive ; that is, you must allow 
 every man to kill any one he meets, whom he thinks noxious or 
 
 p. G
 
 82 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 useless ; which, in the events would be to commit every man's 
 life and safety to the spleen, fury, and fanaticism, of his neigh- 
 bour ; — a disposition of affairs which would soon fill the world 
 with misery and confusion ; and ere long put an end to human 
 society, if not to the human species. 
 
 The necessity of general rules in human government is ap- 
 parent : but whether the same necessity subsist in the divine 
 economy, — in that distribution of rewards and punishments to 
 which a moralist looks forward, — may be doubted. 
 
 I answer, that general rules are necessary to every moral 
 government : and by moral government I mean any dispensa- 
 tion, whose object is to influence the conduct of reasonable 
 creatures. 
 
 For if, of two actions perfectly similar, one be punished, and 
 the other be rewarded or forgiven, which is the consequence of 
 rejecting general rules, the subjects of such a dispensation would 
 no longer know either what to expect or how to act. Rewards 
 and punishments would cease to be such, — would become acci- 
 dents. Like the stroke of a thunderbolt, or the discovery of a 
 mine, like a blank or a benefit-ticket in a lottery, they would 
 occasion pain or pleasure when they happened ; but, following in 
 no known order, from any particular course of action, they could 
 have no previous influence or effect upon the conduct. 
 
 An attention to general rules, therefore, is included in the 
 very idea of reward and punishment. Consequently, whatever 
 reason there is to expect future reward and punishment at the 
 hand of God, there is the same reason to believe, that He will 
 proceed in the distribution of it by general rules. 
 
 Before we prosecute the consideration of general consequences 
 any further, it may be proper to anticipate a reflection, which 
 will be apt enough to suggest itself, in the progress of our 
 
 argument. 
 
 As the general consequence of an action, upon which so much 
 of the guilt of a bad action depends, consists in the example ; it 
 should seem, that if the action be done with perfect secrecy, so 
 as to furnish no bad example, that part of the guilt drops off. 
 In the case of suicide, for instance, if a man can so manage 
 matters, as to take away his own life, without being known or
 
 Chap, vii.] Annotations. 83 
 
 suspected to have done so, he is not chargeable with any mischief 
 from the example; nor does his punishment seem necessary, in 
 order to save the authority of any general rule. 
 
 In the first place, those who reason in this manner do not 
 observe, that they are setting up a general rule, of all others the 
 least to be endured ; namely, that secrecy, whenever secrecy is 
 practicable, will justify any action. 
 
 Were such a rule admitted, for instance, in the case above 
 produced ; is there not reason to fear that people would be dis- 
 appearing perpetually ? 
 
 In the next place, I would wish them to be well satisfied about 
 the points proposed in the following queries : 
 
 1. Whether the Scriptures do not teach us to expect that, at 
 the general judgment of the world, the most secret actions will 
 be brought to light. 1 
 
 2. For what purpose can this be, but to make them the objects 
 of reward and punishment ? 
 
 3. Whether, being so brought to light, they will not fall under 
 the operation of those equal and impartial rules, by which God 
 will deal with his creatures ? 
 
 They will then become examples, whatever they be now ; and 
 require the same treatment from the judge and governor of the 
 moral world, as if they had been detected from the first. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 ' If, of two actions perfectly similar, the one be punished and 
 the other rewarded] &c. 
 
 It is usually understood that ' general rules' apply to cases 
 which though coming under the same class, are not l precisely 
 similar' in all points. And if, as Paley's language would seem 
 to imply, the absence of this perfect similarity is to be allowed 
 to be the ground of an exception to the general rule, then his 
 
 1 < In the clay when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ.' — 
 Rom. xi. 16. 'Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who will 
 bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of 
 the heart.' — I Cor. iv. 5. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 Moral Philosophy . [Book 11. 
 
 supposed assassin might justify himself for killing the rich 
 miser, on the ground that this case is far from being ' perfectly 
 similar' to that of killing a good man. 
 
 ' A general rule . . . that secrecy will justify any action.' 
 
 This is not quite a correct statement. The general rule 
 ■which he is objecting to (very rightly, though on insufficient 
 grounds) is only that secrecy will justify any action whose imme- 
 diate effects are not hurtful. 
 
 1 They will then become examples.' 
 
 It is difficult to understand how, or to whom, anything can 
 be an example, at the end of the world, when Man's probation 
 is over and past. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE CONSIDERATION OF GENERAL CONSEQUENCES PURSUED. 
 
 THE general consequence of any action may be estimated, by 
 asking what would be the consequence, if the same sort of ac- 
 tions were generally permitted. — But suppose they were, and a 
 thousand such actions perpetrated under this permission ; is it just 
 to charge a single action with the collected guilt and mischief 
 of the whole thousand ? I answer, that the reason for prohibit- 
 ing and punishing an action (and this reason may be called the 
 guilt of the action, if you please) will always be in proportion to 
 the whole mischief that would arise from the general impunity 
 and toleration of actions of the same sort. 
 
 1 Whatever is expedient is right.' But then it must be ex- 
 pedient on the whole, at the long run, in all its effects collateral 
 ami remote, as well as in those which are immediate and direct; 
 as it is obvious, that, in computing consequences, it makes no 
 difference in what way or at what distance they ensue. 
 
 To impress this doctrine on the minds of young readers, and 
 to teach them to extend their views beyond the immediate 
 mischief of. a crime, I shall here subjoin a string of instances, in
 
 Chap, viii.] Of General Consequences. 85 
 
 which the particular consequence is comparatively insignificant ; 
 and where the malignity of the crime, and the severity with 
 which human laws pursue it, is almost entirely founded upon the 
 general consequence. 
 
 The particular consequence of coining is, the loss of a guinea, 
 or of half a guinea, to the person who receives the counterfeit 
 money : the general consequence (by which I mean the con- 
 sequence that would ensue, if the same practice were generally 
 permitted) is, to abolish the use of money. 
 
 The particular consequence of forgery is, a damage of twenty 
 or thirty pounds to the man who accepts the forged bill : the 
 general consequence is, the stoppage of paper currency. 
 
 The particular consequence of sheep-stealing, or horse-steal- 
 ing, is a loss to the owner to the amount of the value of the 
 sheep or horse stolen : the general consequence is, that the land 
 could not be occupied, nor the market supplied, with this kind 
 of stock. 
 
 The particular consequence of breaking into a house empty of 
 inhabitants, is, the loss of a pair of silver candlesticks, or a few 
 spoons : the general consequence is, that nobody could leave 
 their house empty. 
 
 The particular consequence of smuggling may be a deduction 
 from the national fund too minute for computation : the general 
 consequence is, the destruction of one entire branch of public 
 revenue; a proportionable increase of the burthen 'upon other 
 branches ; and the ruin of all fair and open trade in the article 
 smuggled. 
 
 The particular consequence of an officer's breaking his parole 
 is, the loss of a prisoner, who was possibly not worth keeping ; 
 the general consequence is, that this mitigation of captivity would 
 be refused to all others. 
 
 And what proves incontestably the superior importance of 
 general consequences is, that crimes are the same, and treated in 
 the same manner, though the particular consequence be very 
 different. The crime and fate of the house-breaker is the same, 
 whether his booty be five pounds or fifty. And the reason is, 
 that the general consequence is the same. 
 
 The want of this distinction between particular and general 
 consequences, or rather, the not sufficiently attending to the 
 latter, is the cause of that perplexity which we meet with in an-
 
 86 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 cient moralists. On the one hand, they were sensible of the 
 absurdity of pronouncing actions good or evil, without regard to 
 the good or evil they produced. On the other hand, they were 
 startled at the conclusions to which a steady adherence to con- 
 sequences seemed sometimes to conduct them. To relieve this 
 difficulty, they contrived the ro Trpiirov, or the honestum, by 
 which terras they meant to constitute a measure of right, distinct 
 from utility. Whilst the utile served them, that is, whilst it cor- 
 responded with their habitual notions of the rectitude of actions, 
 they went by it. When they fell in with such cases as those 
 mentioned in the sixth chapter, they took leave of their guide, 
 and resorted to the honestum. The only account they could 
 give of the matter was, that these actions might be useful ; but, 
 because they were not at the same time ho nest a, they were by 
 no means to be deemed just or right. 
 
 Frorn the principles delivered in this and the two preceding 
 chapters, a maxim may be explained, which is in every man's 
 mouth, and in most men's without meaning, viz. ' not to do evil, 
 that good may come :' that is, let us not violate a general rule, 
 for the sake of any particular good consequence we may expect. 
 Which is for the most part a salutary caution, the advantage 
 seldom compensating for the violation of the rule. Strictly 
 speaking, that cannot be ' evil/ from which ' good comes •/ 
 but in this wav, and with a view to the distinction between 
 particular and general consequences, it may. 
 
 We will conclude this subject of consequences with the follow- 
 ing reflection. A man may imagine, that any action of his, with 
 respect to the Public, must be inconsiderable : so also is the 
 agent. If his crime produce but a small effect upon the unU 
 versal interest, his punishment or destruction bears a small pro- 
 portion to the sum of happiness and misery in the creation. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OF KIGHT. 
 
 RIGHT and obligation are reciprocal ; that is, wherever there is 
 a right in one person, there is a corresponding obligation upon 
 Others. If one man has a ' right' to an estate ; others are 
 ' obliged' to abstain from it:— If parents have a 'right' to
 
 Chap, ix.] Of Right. 87 
 
 reverence from their children ; children are ' obliged' to re- 
 verence their parents : — and so in all other instances. 
 
 Now, because moral obligation depends, as we have seen, upon 
 the will of God ; right, which is correlative to it, must depend 
 upon the same. Eight therefore signifies, consistency with the 
 will of God. 
 
 But if the divine will determine the distinction of right and 
 wrong, what else is it but an identical proposition to say of God, 
 that He acts right ? or how is it possible to conceive even that 
 He should act wrong ? Yet these assertions are intelligible and 
 significant. The case is this : By virtue of the two principles, 
 that God wills the happiness of his creatures, and that the will 
 of God is the measure of right and wrong, we arrive at certain 
 conclusions; which conclusions become rules; and we soon 
 learn to pronounce actions right or wrong, according as they 
 agree or disagree with our rules, without looking any further : 
 and when the habit is once established of stopping at the rules, 
 we can go back and compare with these rules even the divine 
 conduct itself : and yet it may be true (only not observed by us 
 at the time) that the rules themselves are deduced from the 
 divine will. 
 
 Bight is a quality of persons or of actions. 
 
 Of persons ; as when we say, such a one has a { right' to 
 this estate ; parents have a ' right' to reverence from their 
 children ; the king to allegiance from his subjects ; masters 
 have a ' right' to their servants' labour ; a man has not a 
 ' right' over his own life. 
 
 Of actions ; as in such expressions as the following : it is 
 1 right' to punish murder with death ; his behaviour on that 
 occasion was ' right ;' it is not ' right' to send an unfortunate 
 debtor to gaol ; he did or acted ' right/ who gave up his place 
 rather than vote against his judgment. 
 
 In this latter set of expressions, you may substitute the defi- 
 nition of right above given, for the term itself : e.g. it is ' con- 
 sistent with the will of God' to punish murder with death ; — ■ 
 his behaviour on that occasion was ' consistent with the will of 
 God' — it is not ' consistent with the will of God' to send an 
 unfortunate debtor to gaol ; — he did, or acted, ' consistently 
 with the will of God,' who gave up his place rather than vote 
 against his judgment.
 
 88 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 In the former set, you must vary the construction a little, 
 when you introduce the definition instead of the term. Such a 
 one has a c right' to this estate, that is, it is 'consistent Avith 
 the will of God' that such a one should have it ; — parents have 
 a ' right' to reverence from their children, that is, it is f con- 
 sistent with the will of God' that children should reverence 
 their parents ; — and the same of the rest. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' Yet these assertions are intelligible and significant' 
 
 Arguing in a circle is very common ; with crafty sophists, 
 from design, and with bad reasoners, from confusion of thought. 
 But the former are careful to conceal the fallacy ; and the 
 latter do not perceive it. 
 
 It is very strange that Palcy should perceive and acknowledge 
 that he is involved in a circle, and should yet adhere to it. The 
 procedure is (as I have above remarked) something like that of the 
 Mahometans, who give as a proof of the divine origin of the Koran, 
 that its style is so eminently beautiful ; all other works being 
 reckoned the better or worse Arabic according as they approach 
 more or less to the style of the Koran. But then it comes out that 
 they have made the Koran the standard of good Arabic, and 
 have deduced from that all their rules of stvle. So that the 
 argument when thus exposed, merely amounts to this, that ' the 
 style of the Koran is — the style of the Koran !' 
 
 On this point I have remarked in the Lessons on Morals 
 that ' the sacred Writers always speak of God as jus? and good, 
 and his commands as right and reasonable. ' Are not my 
 ways,' said He by a prophet, 'equal? Are not your ways 
 unequal?' And again, 'Why, even of yourselves judge ye not 
 what is right?' Now all this would have been quite unmean- 
 ing, if Man had no idea of what is good or bad in itself, and 
 meant by those words merely what is commanded or forbidden 
 by God. For then, to say that God's commands are just and 
 good, would be only saying that his commands arc his 
 commands. If Man had not been originally endowed by his 
 Maker with any power of distinguishing between moral good
 
 Chap, ix.] Annotation. 89 
 
 and evil, or with any preference of the one to the other, then, 
 it would be mere trifling to speak of the divine goodness ; since 
 it would be merely saying that ' God is what He is ;' which 
 is no more than might be said of any Being in the universe. 
 
 Whenever, therefore, you hear any one speaking of our 
 having derived all our notions of morality from the will of 
 God, the sense in which you must understand him is, that it 
 was God's will to create Man a Being endowed with conscience, 
 and capable of perceiving the difference of right and wrong, and 
 of understanding that there is such a thing as Duty. And if 
 any one should use expressions which seem not to mean this, 
 but to imply that there is no such thing as natural-Conscience 
 — no idea in the human mind of such a thing as Duty — still 
 you may easily prove that his real meaning must be what we 
 have said. If any persons tell you that our first notion of 
 right and wrong is entirely derived from the divine Law, and 
 that those words have no meaning except obedience and disobe- 
 dience to the declared will of God, you may ask them whether 
 it is a matter of duty to obey God's will, or merely a matter of 
 prudence, inasmuch as He is able to punish those who rebel 
 against Him ? Whether they think that God is justly entitled 
 to obedience, or merely that it would be very rash to disobey one 
 who has power to enforce his commands ? 
 
 They will doubtless answer, that we ought to obey the 
 divine commands as a point of duty, and not merely on the 
 ground of expediency — that God is not only powerful, but good 
 — and that conformity to his will is a thing right in itself, and 
 should be practised, not through mere fear of punishment, or 
 hope of rew r ard, but because it is right. 
 
 Now this proves that they must be sensible that there is in 
 the human mind some notion of such a thing as Duty, and of 
 things being right or wrong in their own nature. For, when 
 any persons submit to the will of another merely because it is 
 their interest, or because they dare not resist, we never speak 
 of this submission as a matter of duty, but merely of prudence. 
 If robbers were to seize you and carry you off as a slave, 
 threatening you with death if you offered to resist or to escape, 
 you might think it advisable to submit, if you saw that 
 resistance would be hopeless : but you would not think yourself 
 bound in duty to do so. Or again, if you were offered good
 
 90 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 wages for doing some laborious work, you might think it expe- 
 dient to accept the offer, but you would not account it a moral 
 duty. And when a farmer supplies his cattle, or a slave-owner 
 his slaves, with abundance of the best food, in order that they 
 may be in good condition, and do the more work for himself, 
 or fetch a better price, and not from benevolence to them, every 
 one would regard this as mere prudence, and not virtue. And 
 we judge the same in every case where a man is acting solely 
 with a view to his own advantage. 
 
 You can easily prove, therefore, that when people speak of a 
 knowledge of the divine will being the origin of all our moral 
 notions, they cannot mean exactly what the words would seem 
 to signify ; if, at least, they admit at the same time that it is a 
 matter of duty, and not merely of prudence, to obey God's 
 will, and that He has a just claim to our obedience. 
 
 It is urged by some that Man's judgment on Moral questions 
 is an utterly incompetent tribunal, because his notions of right 
 and wrong have been grievously perverted by the fall. Now it 
 is very true that the Moral-faculty is imperfect and fallible : but 
 the same may be said of the Reasoning -faculty also. And there 
 is no need of putting in the qualification of ' since the fall f 
 because our first parents manifestly showed an imperfection, 
 both moral and intellectual, in listening to the arguments of 
 the Tempter. Had they been perfect both in point of conscience 
 and of reason, they would never have transgressed the divine 
 command. If then, on the ground of the imperfection of the 
 Moral-faculty, we are to forego all employment of it, we must 
 do the same by the Reasoning-faculty also ; and then Revelation 
 itself would be of no use to us. How do you know, it may be 
 asked, that so and so is declared in the Bible ? You will say, 
 ' I so understand the words :' but it may be answered, ' Lean 
 not to thine own understanding.' How do you know that the 
 Bible itself contains the revelation of God's will ? or that there 
 is a God at all ? You think you have good reason for the be- 
 lief; your Reason leads you to that conclusion : but your Reason 
 is imperfect, fallible, and impaired; and is therefore c an utterly 
 incompetent tribunal.' Your argument therefore is completely 
 suicidal ; it leaves you no ground to stand on; no just assurance 
 for believing anything at all. 
 
 But in truth the Reasoning-faculty, and the Moral-faculty, —
 
 Chap, x.] The Division of Rights. 91 
 
 and in short every faculty of the human mind, though imperfect 
 and fallible, are to be employed, but with due allowance for that 
 imperfection and fallibility, and with caution to guard against 
 their occasional errors. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 RIGHTS, when applied to persons, are, — 
 Natural or adventitious : 
 Alienable or unalienable : 
 Perfect or imperfect. 
 
 I. Rights are natural or adventitious. 
 
 Natural rights are such as would belong to a man, although 
 there subsisted in the world no civil government whatever. 
 
 Adventitious rights are such as would not. 
 
 Natural rights are, a man's right to his life, limbs, and liberty ; 
 his right to the produce of his personal labour j to the use, in 
 common with others, of air, light, water. If a thousand different 
 persons, from a thousand different corners of the world, were 
 cast together upon a desert island, they would from the first be 
 every one entitled to these rights. 
 
 Adventitious rights are, the right of a king over his subjects ; 
 of a general over his soldiers ; of a judge over the life and liberty 
 of a prisoner ; a right to elect or appoint magistrates, to impose 
 taxes, to decide disputes, direct the descent or disposition of 
 property ; a right, in a word, in any one man, or particular 
 body of men, to make laws and regulations for the rest. For 
 none of these rights would exist in the newly inhabited island. 
 
 And here it will be asked, how adventitious rights are created ; 
 or, which is the same thing, how any new rights can accrue from 
 the establishment of civil society ; as rights of all kinds, we 
 remember, depend upon the will of God, and civil society is but 
 the ordinance and institution of Man? For the solution of this 
 difficulty, we must return to our first principles. God wills the 
 happiness of mankind ; and the existence of civil society, as 
 conducive to that happiness. Consequently, many things, 
 which are useful for the support of civil society in general, or
 
 92 Moral Philosojrfiy. [Book ir. 
 
 for the conduct and conservation of particular societies already 
 established, are, for that reason, ' consistent with the will of 
 God/ or ' right/ which, without the reason, i, e. without the 
 establishment of civil society, would not have been so. 
 
 From whence, also, it appears, that adventitious rights, 
 though immediately derived from human appointment, are not, 
 for that reason, less sacred than natural rights, nor the obliga- 
 tion to respect them less cogent. They both ultimately rely 
 upon the same authority, the will of God. Such a man claims 
 a right to a particular estate. He can show, it is true, nothing 
 for his right, but a rule of the civil community to which he 
 belongs ; and this rule may be arbitrary, capricious, and absurd. 
 Notwithstanding all this, there would be the same sin in dis- 
 possessing the man of his estate by craft or violence, as if it 
 had been assigned to him, like the partition of the country 
 amongst the twelve tribes, by the immediate designation and 
 appointment of Heaven. 
 
 II. Rights are alienable or unalienable. 
 Which terms explain themselves. 
 
 The right we have to most of those things which we call 
 property, as houses, lands, money, &c., is alienable. 
 
 The right of a prince over his people, of a husband over his 
 wife, of a master over his servant, is generally and naturally un- 
 alienable. 
 
 The distinction depends upon the mode of acquiring the right. 
 If the right originate from a contract, and be limited to the 
 pej'son by the express terms of the contract, or by the common 
 interpretation of such contracts (which is equivalent to an ex- 
 press stipulation), or by a personal condition annexed to the 
 right ; then it is unalienable. In all other cases it is alienable. 
 
 The right to civil liberty is alienable ; though, in the vehe- 
 mence of men's zeal for it, and the language of some political re- 
 monstrances, it has often been pronounced to be an unalienable 
 right. The true reason why mankind hold in detestation the 
 memory of those who have sold their liberty to a tyrant, is, that, 
 together with their own, they sold commonly, or endangered, the 
 liberty of others; which certainly they had no right to dispose of. 
 
 III. Rights are perfect or imperfect. 
 
 Perfect rights may be asserted by force, or, what in civil 
 society comes into the place of private force, by course of law.
 
 Chap, x.] The Division of Rights. 93 
 
 Imperfect rights may not. 
 
 Examples of perfect rights. — A man's rights to his life, person, 
 house ; for, if these he attacked, he may repel the attack by 
 instant violence, or punish the aggressor by law : a man's right 
 to his estate, furniture, clothes, money, and to all ordinary 
 articles of property ; for, if they be injuriously taken from him, 
 he may compel the author of the injury to make restitution or 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Examples of imperfect rights. — In elections or appointments 
 to offices, where the qualifications are prescribed, the best 
 qualified candidate has a right to success ; yet, if he be rejected, 
 he has no remedy. He can neither seize the office by force, nor 
 obtain redress at law : his right therefore, is imperfect. A poor 
 neighbour has a right to relief; yet, if it be refused him, he 
 must not extort it. A benefactor has a right to returns of gra- 
 titude from the person he has obliged ; yet, if he meet with none, 
 he must acquiesce. Children have a right to affection and edu- 
 cation from their parents ; and parents, on their part, to duty 
 and reverence from their children : yet, if these rights be on 
 either side withholden, there is no compulsion by which they 
 can be enforced. 
 
 It may be at first view difficult to apprehend how a person 
 should have a right to a thing, and yet have no right to use 
 the means necessary to obtain it. This difficulty, like most 
 others in morality, is resolvable into the necessity of general 
 rules. The reader recollects, that a person is said to have a 
 ' right' to a thing, when it is ' consistent with the will of 
 God' that he should possess it. So that the question is reduced 
 to this : How it comes to pass that it should be consistent with 
 the will of God that a person should possess a thing, and yet not 
 be consistent with the same will that he should use force to 
 obtain it ? The answer is, that by reason of the indeterminate- 
 ness, either of the object, or of the circumstances of the right, 
 the permission of force in this case would, in its consequence, 
 lead to the permission of force in other cases, where there existed 
 no right at all. The candidate above described has, no doubt, 
 a right to success ; but his right depends upon his qualifications, 
 for instance, upon his comparative virtue, learning, &c. ; there 
 must be somebody therefore to compare them. The existence, 
 degree, and respective importance, of these qualifications, are ail
 
 94 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 indeterminate : there must be somebody therefore to determine 
 them. To allow the candidate to demand success by force, is to 
 make him the judge of his own qualifications. You cannot do 
 this but you must make all other candidates the same ; which 
 would open a door to demands without number, reason, or right. 
 In like manner, a poor man has a right to relief from the rich ; 
 but the mode, season, and quantum of that relief, who shall con- 
 tribute to it, or how much, are not ascertained. Yet these points 
 must be ascertained, before a claim to relief can be prosecuted 
 by force. For, to allow the poor to ascertain them for them- 
 selves, would be to expose property to so many of these claims, 
 that it would lose its value, or rather its nature, that is, cease 
 indeed to be property. The same observation holds of all other 
 cases of imperfect rights ; not to mention, that in the instances 
 of gratitude, affection, reverence, and the like, force is excluded 
 by the very idea of the duty, which must be voluntary, or cannot 
 exist at all. 
 
 Wherever the right is imperfect, the corresponding obligation 
 is so too. I am obliged to prefer the best candidate, to relieve 
 the poor, be grateful to my benefactors, take care of my children, 
 and reverence my parents ; but in all these cases, my obligation, 
 like their right, is imperfect. 
 
 I call these obligations ' imperfect/ in conformity to the 
 established language of writers upon the subject. The term, 
 however, seems ill chosen, on this account, that it leads many to 
 imagine, that there is less guilt in the violation of an imperfect 
 obligation, than of a perfect one : which is a groundless notion. 
 For an obligation being perfect or imperfect, determines only 
 whether violence may or may not be employed to enforce it ; 
 and determines nothing else. The degree of guilt incurred by 
 violating the obligation, is a different thing, and is determined 
 by circumstances altogether independent of this distinction. A 
 man who by a partial, prejudiced, or corrupt vote, disappoints a 
 worthy candidate of a station in life, upon which his hopes, 
 possibly, or livelihood, depended, and who thereby grievously 
 discourages merit and emulation in others, commits, I am per- 
 suaded, a much greater crime, than if he filched a book out of 
 a library, or picked a pocket of a handkerchief; though in 
 the one case he violates only an imperfect right, in the other a 
 perfect one.
 
 Chap, xi.] The General Rights of Mankind. 95 
 
 As positive precepts 1 are often indeterminate in their extent, 
 and as the indeterminateness of an obligation is that which makes 
 it imperfect ; it comes to pass, that positive precepts commonly 
 produce an imperfect obligation. 
 
 Negative precepts or prohibitions, being generally precise, 
 constitute accordingly perfect obligations. 
 
 The fifth commandment is positive, and the duty which 
 results from it is imperfect. 
 
 The sixth commandment is negative, and imposes a perfect 
 obligation. 
 
 Religion and virtue find their principal exercise among the 
 imperfect obligations ; the laws of civil society taking pretty 
 good care of the rest. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND. 
 
 BY the General Rights of Mankind, I mean the rights 
 which belong to the Species collectively; the original 
 stock, as ~tr may say, which they have since distributed among 
 themselves. 
 These are, 
 
 1. A right to the fruits or vegetable produce of the earth. 
 The insensible parts of the creation are incapable of injury; 
 
 and it is nugatory to inquire into the right, where the use can be 
 attended with no injury. But it may be worth observing, for 
 the sake of an inference which will appear below, that, as God 
 had created us with a want and desire of food, and provided 
 things suited by their nature to sustain and satisfy us, we may 
 fairly presume, that He intended we should apply these things to 
 that purpose. 
 
 2. A right to the flesh of animals. 
 
 This is a very different claim from the former. Some excuse 
 seems necessary for the pain and loss which we occasion to 
 
 1 The expression ' positive' is here evidently opposed to « negative.' In other 
 places, ' positive precepts' are those distinguished from ' moral' or natural.
 
 g6 Moral Philosophy. [Book n. 
 
 brutes, by restraining them of their liberty, mutilating their 
 bodies, and, at last, putting an end to their lives (which we 
 suppose to be the whole of their existence), for our pleasure or 
 convenicncy. 
 
 The reasons alleged in vindication of this practice are the 
 following : that the several species of brutes being created to 
 prey upon one another, affords a kind of analogy to prove that 
 the human species were intended to feed upon them; that, if let 
 alone, they would overrun the earth, and exclude mankind from 
 the occupation of it ; that they are requited for what they suffer 
 at our hands, by our care and protection. 
 
 Upon which reasons I would observe, that the analogy con- 
 tended for is extremely lame ; since brutes have no power to 
 support life by any other means, and since we have ; for the 
 whole human species might subsist entirely upon fruit, pulse, 
 herbs, and roots, as many tribes of Hindoos actually do. The 
 two other reasons may be valid reasons, as far as they go ; for, 
 no doubt, if Man had been supported entirely by vegetable food, 
 a great part of those animals which die to furnish his table would 
 never have lived : but they by no means justify our right over 
 the lives of brutes to the extent in which we exercise it. What 
 clanger is there, for instance, of fish interfering with us, in the 
 occupation of their element ? or what do we contribute to their 
 support or preservation ? 
 
 It seems to me, that it would be difficult to defend this right 
 by any arguments which the light and order of nature afford ; 
 and that we are beholden for it to the permission recorded in 
 Scripture, Gen. ix. i, 2, 3 : ' And God blessed Noah and his 
 sons, and said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and re- 
 plenish the earth ; and the fear of you, and the dread of you, 
 shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl 
 of the air, and upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon 
 all the fishes of the sea; into your hand arc they delivered : every 
 moving thing shall be meat for you ; even as the green herb, have 
 I given you all things.' To Adam and his posterity had been 
 granted, at the creation, ' every green herb for meat,' and 
 nothing more. In the last clause of the passage now produced, 
 the old grant is recited, and extended to the flesh of animals ; 
 ' even as the green herb, have I given you all things.' But 
 this was not till after the flood ; the inhabitants of the ante-
 
 Chap, xi.] The General Rights of Mankind. 97 
 
 diluvian world had therefore no such permission, that wc know 
 of. Whether they actually refrained from the flesh of animals, 
 is another question. Abel, we read, was a keeper of sheep ; 
 and for what purpose he kept them, except for food, is difficult 
 to say (unless it were sacrifices) : might not, however, some of 
 the stricter sects among the antediluvians be scrupulous as to 
 this point ? and might not Noah and his family be of this 
 description? for, it is not probable that God would publish a 
 permission, to authorize a practice which had never been 
 disputed. 
 
 Wanton, and, what is worse, studied cruelty to brutes, is 
 certainly wrong, as coming within none of these reasons. 
 
 From reason then, or revelation, or from both together, it 
 appears to be God Almighty's intention, that the productions 
 of the earth should be applied to the sustentation of human 
 life. Consequently all waste and misapplication of these pro- 
 ductions is contrary to the divine intention and will ; and 
 therefore wrong, for the same reason that any other crime is so. 
 Such as, what is related of William the Conqueror, the convert- 
 ing of twenty manors into a forest for hunting ; or, which is 
 not much better, suffering them to continue in that state ; or 
 the letting of large tracts of land lie barren, because the owner 
 cannot cultivate them, nor will part with them to those who 
 can ; or destroying, or suffering to perish, great part of an 
 article of human provision, iu order to enhance the price of the 
 remainder (which is said to have been, till lately, the case with 
 fish caught upon the English coast) ; or diminishing the breed 
 of animals, by a wanton, or improvident, consumption of the 
 young, as of the spawn of shell-fish, or the fry of salmon, by 
 the use of unlawful nets, or at improper seasons. To this head 
 may also be referred, what is the same evil in a smaller way, 
 the expending of human food on superfluous dogs or horses ; and, 
 lastly, the reducing of the quantity, in order to alter the quality, 
 and to alter it generally for the worse ; as the distillation of 
 spirits from bread-corn, the boiling down of solid meat for 
 sauces, essences, &c. 
 
 This seems to be the lesson which our Saviour, after his 
 p. H
 
 98 Moral Philosophy . [Book it. 
 
 manner; inculcates, when he bids his disciples 'gather up the 
 fragments that nothing be lost/ And it opens indeed a new 
 field of duty. Schemes of wealth or profit prompt the active 
 part of mankind to cast about, how they may convert their 
 property to the most advantage ; and their own advantage, and 
 that of the Public, commonly concur. But it has not as yet 
 entered into the minds of mankind, to reflect that it is a duty 
 to add what we can to the common stock of provision, by 
 extracting out of our estates the most they will yield ; or that 
 it is any sin to neglect this. 
 
 From the same intention of God Almighty, we also deduce 
 another conclusion, namely, f that nothing ought to be made 
 exclusive property, which can be conveniently enjoyed in 
 common.' 
 
 It is the general intention of God Almighty, that the produce 
 of the earth be applied to the use of Man. This appears from 
 the constitution of nature, or, if you will, from his express 
 declaration ; and this is all that appears at first. Under this 
 general donation, one man has the same right as another. You 
 pluck an apple from a tree, or take a lamb from a flock, for 
 your immediate use and nourishment, and I do the same ; and 
 we both plead for what we do, the general intention of the 
 Supreme Proprietor. So far all is right : but you cannot claim 
 the whole tree, or the whole flock, and exclude me from any 
 share of them, and plead this general intention for what you 
 do. The plea will not serve you ; you must show something 
 more. You must show, by probable arguments at least, that 
 it is God's intention, that these things should be parcelled out 
 to individuals ; and that the established distribution, under 
 which you claim, should be upholden. Show me this, and I 
 am satisfied. But until this be shown, the general intention, 
 which ha3 been made appear, and which is all that does appear, 
 must prevail; and, under that, my title is as good as yours. 
 Now there is no argument to induce such a presumption, but 
 one ; that the thing cannot be enjoyed at all, or enjoyed with 
 the same, or with nearly the same advantage, while it continues 
 in common, as when appropriated. This is true, where there 
 is not enough for all, or where the article in cmestion requires 
 care or labour in the production or preservation : but where no 
 such reason obtains, and the thing is in its nature capable
 
 Chap, xi.] The General Rights of Mankind. 99 
 
 of being enjoyed by as many as will, it seems an arbitrary 
 usurpation upon the rights of mankind to confine the use of 
 it to any. 
 
 If a medicinal spring were discovered in a piece of ground 
 which was private property, copious enough for every purpose 
 to which it could be applied, I would award a compensation to 
 the owner of the field, and a liberal profit to the author of the 
 discovery, especially if he had bestowed pains or expense upon 
 the search : but I question whether any human laws would be 
 justified, or would justify the owner, in prohibiting mankind 
 from the use of the water, or setting such a price upon it as 
 would almost amount to a prohibition. 
 
 If there be fisheries, which are inexhaustible, as the cod-fishery 
 upon the banks of Newfoundland, and the herring-fishery in the 
 British Seas, are said to be ; then all those conventions, by which 
 one or two nations claim to themselves, and guarantee to each 
 other," the exclusive enjoyment of these fisheries, are so many 
 encroachments upon the general rights of mankind. 
 
 Upon the same principle may be determined a question, which 
 makes a great figure in books of natural law, utrum mare sit 
 liberum ? that is, as I understand it, whether the exclusive right 
 of navigating particular seas, or a control over the navigation of 
 these seas, can be claimed, consistently with the law of nature, 
 by any nation ? What is necessary for each nation's safety, wc 
 allow; as their own bays, creeks, and harbours, the sea con- 
 tiguous to, that is, within cannon-shot, or three leagues of their 
 coast : and upon this principle of safety (if upon any principle), 
 must be defended the claim of the Venetian State to the Adriatic, 
 of Denmark to the Baltic Sea, and of Great Britain to the seas 
 which invest the island. But, when Spain asserts a right to the 
 Pacific Ocean, or Portugal to the Indian Seas, or when any 
 nation extends its pretensions much beyond the limits of its own 
 territories, they erect a claim which interferes with the bene- 
 volent designs of Providence, and which no human authority 
 can justify. 
 
 3. Another right, which may be called a general right, as it 
 is incidental to every man who is in a situation to claim it, is 
 the right of extreme necessity ; by which is meant, a right to 
 use or destroy another's property, when it is necessary for our 
 own preservation to do so ; as a right to take, without or against 
 
 h 2 .
 
 ioo Moral Philosophy . [Book ti. 
 
 the owner's leave, the first food, clothes, or shelter we meet with, 
 when we are in danger of perishing through want of them ; a 
 right to throw goods overboard to save the ship ; or to pull down 
 a house, in order to stop the progress of a fire ; and a few other 
 instances of the same kind. Of which right the foundation 
 seems to be this : that when property was first instituted, the 
 institution was not intended to operate to the destruction of 
 any ; therefore when such consequences would follow, all regard 
 to it is superseded. Or rather, perhaps, these are the few cases, 
 where the particular consequence exceeds the general conse- 
 quence ; where the remote mischief resulting from the violation 
 of the general rule is overbalanced by the immediate advantage. 
 Restitution however is due, when in our power : because the 
 laws of property are to be adhered to, so far as consists with 
 safety ; and because restitution, which is one of those laws, sup- 
 poses the clanger to be over. But what is to be restored? Not 
 the full value of the property destroyed, but what it was worth 
 at the time of destroying it ; which, considering the danger it 
 was in of perishing, might be very little. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 ' It seems to me ... . that we are beholden for it to the per- 
 mission recorded in Scripture? 
 
 It seems left doubtful whether this permission is restricted 
 to those who know of it ; or whether (which surely is paradoxical) 
 a course of conduct which tvould be unjustifiable but for a certain 
 <* press permission, is justifiable in those — the far greater part of 
 mankind — who never heard of any such permission. 
 
 ' The converting of Manors into a forest .... or, which is not 
 much better, suffering them to continue in that state.' 
 
 This incidental remark was probably thrown out hastily and 
 v ithout thought. A very little reflection will show how widely 
 different are the two things here spoken of as nearly alike. To 
 throw out of cultivation land already productive, is a positive 
 loss. Leaving waste-land as it is, is merely the absence of a
 
 Chap xi.] Annotations. 101 
 
 possible gain. The one procedure, if carried on to any con- 
 siderable extent, would cause ruin to the occupiers, and distress 
 to the whole community : the other is merely negative, and hurts 
 nobody. It is only as if our island had been originally just so 
 much smaller ; in which case, though less powerful, there is no 
 reason to suppose it would have been less prosperous. There is 
 no one, probably, who would think of assigning as a cause of any 
 distress that may exist in Great Britain, the circumstance of 
 the Island being no bigger than it is ; though if a large portion 
 of the existing island were swallowed up by the sea, this would 
 cause great distress : and if on the contrary it were enlarged by 
 an extensive tract of fertile land rising up from the adjoining 
 sea, this would be a source of wealth, till the new land had 
 become as fully populated as the old. 
 
 1 The expenditure of human food on superfluous dogs or horses.' 
 
 This maxim seems to forbid the keeping of horses at all, 
 except such as are indispensable for agriculture and travelling. 
 For, the oats which they eat are (as Dr. Johnson records) ( food 
 for men in Scotland.'' But indeed the same may be said to be, 
 virtually, the case with all the food of horses. For though the 
 clover, for instance, which they eat is not itself human food, it 
 is purposely cultivated for them in land which might otherwise 
 bear such vegetables as do afford human food. 
 
 The cultivation of a flower -garden would be forbidden by the 
 same rule. 
 
 But Paley's extreme anxiety for the greatest possible multi- 
 plication of the human species led him to overlook some cir- 
 cumstances of great importance to human welfare. When a 
 dearth arises, a nation which has been living on a system which 
 Paley would condemn as wasteful, has a resource to resort to. 
 Part of the barley which had been raised for brewing, and of 
 the oats which had been destined for horses, may be used as 
 food for man. And land which had been kept as pasture or 
 pleasure-ground may be broken up for the cultivation of articles 
 of human nutriment. But a people -who have been accustomed 
 in ordinary seasons to make the most of everything that can 
 sustain Man's life, have nothing for it, when a season of famine 
 comes, but to sit down and die. In the fable of the Frogs
 
 io2 Moral Philosophy. [Book u. 
 
 seeking Water, when it was proposed to jump clown into a deep 
 well, the wisest of their party objected : ' if the water in this 
 dries up, where can we go next ? being at the bottom of a well, 
 we must perish/ 
 
 In his second volume — that on Political Philosophy, Paley 
 puts forth more fully the doctrine which was, till of late 
 years, the prevailing one respecting population. He teaches 
 that the direct encouragement of population is the ' object 
 which in all countries ought to be aimed at, in preference 
 to every other political purpose whatever.' And this is to 
 be done by inducing the mass of the people to content 
 themselves with the lowest description of food, clothing, and 
 dwellings that are compatible with a bare subsistence. The 
 result is, such a condition as that of the chief portion of the 
 population in many parts of India, and in some of the worst 
 districts of Ireland a few years ago. Indeed India and Ireland 
 are the very countries Paley refers to with approbation. You 
 have a swarming population, very poor, debased, and leading a 
 life approaching that of savages. This is the state of things in 
 ordinary seasons. But when there comes a failure in the rice- 
 crop or the potato-crop, the people having nothing to fall back 
 upon, perish by myriads from famine and its attendant 
 diseases. 
 
 It must be remembered, however, in Paley's favour, that the 
 above doctrine was nearly universal, up to the time when 
 Malthus wrote. And even now, persons may be found among 
 what are called ' the educated classes/ who decry that eminent 
 and most valuable writer. They do not indeed disprove his 
 facts, or answer his arguments. In truth, one might as well 
 talk of answering Euclid. But they misrepresent him ; which 
 is easily done, to those who judge of a book merely from hearsay. 
 And they allude to him as an author long since so thoroughly 
 refuted and exploded as not to be worth notice : which is what 
 may easily be said, — though not always so easily proved, — of 
 anything whatever. 
 
 But Paley, as I have said, is only maintaining the erroneous 
 notions, which, up to his time, had never received, as they have 
 Since, a clear refutation.
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 RELATIVE DUTIES. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE DETERMINATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF PROPERTY. 
 
 IF you should see a flock of pigeons in a field of corn ; and if 
 (instead of each picking where and what it liked, taking just as 
 much as it wanted, and no more) you should see ninety-nine of 
 thern gathering all they got, into a heap j reserving nothing for 
 themselves, but the chaff and the refuse j keeping this heap for 
 one, and that the weakest, perhaps worst, pigeon of the flock; 
 sitting round, and looking on, all the winter, whilst this one was 
 devouring, throwing about, and wasting it ; and if a pigeon more 
 hardy or hungry than the rest touched a grain of the hoard, all 
 the others instantly flying upon it, and tearing it to pieces ; if 
 you should see this, you would see nothing more than what is 
 every day practised and established among men. Among men, 
 you see the ninety-and-nine toiling and scraping together a heap 
 of superfluities for one (and this one too, oftentimes the feeblest 
 and worst of the whole set, a child, a woman, a madman, or a 
 fool) j getting nothing for themselves all the while, but a little of 
 the coarsest of the provision, which their own industry produces ; 
 looking quietly on, while they see the fruits of all their labour 
 spent or spoiled; and if one of the number take or touch a 
 particle of the hoard, the others joining against him, and hang- 
 ing him for the theft.
 
 104 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part. i. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE USE OF THE INSTITUTION OF PROPERTY. 
 
 THERE must be some very important advantages to account 
 for an institution, which, in the view of it above given, is 
 so paradoxical and unnatural. 
 
 The principal of these advantages are the following : — 
 
 I. It increases the produce of the earth. 
 
 The earth, in climates like ours, produces little without cul- 
 tivation : and none would be found willing to cultivate the 
 ground, if others were to be admitted to an equal share of the 
 produce. The same is true of the care of flocks and herds of 
 tame animals. 
 
 Crabs and acorns, red deer, rabbits, game and fish, are all 
 which we should have to subsist upon in this country, if we 
 trusted to the spontaneous productions of the soil ; and it fares 
 not much better with other countries. A nation of North- 
 American savages, consisting of two or three hundred, will take 
 up, and be half-starved upon, a tract of land, which in Europe, 
 and with European management, would be sufficient for the 
 maintenance of as many thousands. 
 
 In some fertile soils, together with great abundance of fish 
 upon their coasts, and in regions where clothes are unnecessary, 
 a considerable degree of population may subsist without property 
 in land ; which is the case in the Islands of Otaheite : but in less 
 favoured situations, as in the country of New Zealand, though 
 this sort of property obtain in a small degree, the inhabitants, 
 for want of a more secure and regular establishment of it, are 
 driven oftentimes by the scarcity of provision to devour one 
 another. 
 
 II. It preserves the produce of the earth to maturity. 
 
 We may judge what would be the effects of a community of 
 right to the production of the earth, from the trifling specimens 
 which we see of it at present. A cherry-tree in a hedge-row, 
 nuts in a wood, the grass of an unstinted pasture, are seldom of 
 much advantage to anybody, because people do not wait for the 
 proper season of reaping them. Corn, if any were sown, would 
 never ripen ; lambs and calves would never grow up to sheep 
 and cows, because the first person that met them would reflect,
 
 Chap, ii.] The Institution of Property. 105 
 
 that he had better take them as they are, than leave them for 
 another. 
 
 III. It prevents contests. 
 
 War and waste, tumult and confusion, must be unavoidable 
 and eternal, where there is not enough for all, and where there 
 are no rules to adjust the division. 
 
 IV. It improves the conveniency of living. 
 
 This it does two ways. It enables mankind to divide them- 
 selves into distinct professions ; which is impossible, unless a 
 man can exchange the productions of his own art for what he 
 wants from others; and exchange implies property. Much of 
 the advantage of civilized over savage life depends upon this. 
 "When a man is from necessity his own tailor, tent-maker, 
 carpenter, cook, huntsman, and fisherman, it is not probable 
 that he will be expert at any of his callings. Hence the rude 
 habitations, furniture, clothing, and implements, of savages ; and 
 the tedious length of time which all their operations require. 
 
 It likewise encourages those arts, by which the accommo- 
 dations of human life are supplied, by appropriating to the 
 artist the benefit of his discoveries and improvements ; with- 
 out which appropriation, ingenuity will never be exerted with 
 effect. 
 
 Upon these several accounts, we may venture, with a few 
 exceptions, to pronounce, that even the poorest and the worst 
 provided, in countries where property and the consequences of 
 property prevail, are in a better situation, with respect to food, 
 raiment, houses, and what are called the necessaries of life, than 
 any are in places where most things remain in common. 
 
 The balance, therefore, upon the whole, must preponderate in 
 favour of property with a manifest and great excess. 
 
 Inequality of property, in the degree in which it exists in 
 most countries of Europe, abstractedly considered, is an evil : 
 but it is an evil which flows from those rules concerning the ac- 
 quisition and disposal of property, by which men are incited to 
 industry, and by which the object of their industry is rendered 
 secure and valuable. If there be any great inequality uncon- 
 nected with this origin, it ought to be corrected.
 
 ic6 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF PROPERTY. 
 
 THE first objects of property were the fruits which a man 
 gathered, and the wild animals he caught ; next to these, the 
 tents or houses which he built, the tools he made use of to 
 catch or prepare his food ; and afterwards weapons of war and 
 offence. Many of the savage tribes in North America have ad- 
 vanced no farther than this yet j for they are said to reap their 
 harvest, and return the produce of their market with foreigners, 
 into the common hoard or treasury of the tribe. Elocks and 
 herds of tame animals soon became property ; Abel, the second 
 from Adam, was a keeper of sheep ; sheep and oxen, camels and 
 asses, composed the wealth of the Jewish patriarchs, as they do 
 still of the modern Arabs. As the world was first peopled in the 
 East, where there existed a great scarcity of water, wells pro- 
 bably were next made property ; as we learn from the frequent 
 and serious mention of them in the Old Testament ; the con- 
 tentions and treaties about them j 1 and from its being recorded, 
 among the most memorable achievements of very eminent men, 
 that they dug or discovered a well. Land, which is now so 
 important a part of property, which alone our laws call real 
 property, and regard upon all occasions with such peculiar 
 attention, was probably not made property in any country, till 
 long after the institution of many other species of property, that 
 is, till the country became populous, and tillage began to be 
 thought of. The first partition of an estate which we read of, 
 was that which took place between Abram and Lot, and was one 
 of the simplest imaginable : ' If thou wilt take the left hand, 
 then I will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the right hand, 
 then I will go to the left/ There are no traces of property in 
 land in Caesar' s account of Britain ; little of it in the history of 
 the Jewish patriarchs j none of it found amongst the nations of 
 North America; the Scythians are expressly said to have ap- 
 propriated their cattle and houses, but to have left their land in 
 common. 
 
 1 Genesis xxi. 25; xxvi. 18.
 
 Chap, iv.] In what the Right of Property is founded. 107 
 
 Property in immoveables continued at first no longer than 
 the occupation : that is, so long as a man's family continued in 
 possession of a cave, or whilst his flocks depastured upon a 
 neighbouring hill, no one attempted, or thought he had a right, 
 to disturb or drive them out : but when the man quitted his 
 cave, or changed his pasture, the first who found them unoccu- 
 pied, entered upon them, by the same title as his predecessor's ; 
 and made way in his turn for any one that happened to succeed 
 him. All more permanent property in land was probably pos- 
 terior to civil government and to laws ; and therefore settled by 
 these, or according to the will of the reigning chief. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN WHAT THE RIGHT OF PROPERTY IS FOUNDED. 
 
 WE now speak of Property in Land : and there is a difficulty 
 in explaining the origin of this property, consistently with 
 the law of nature ; for the land was once, no doubt, common ; 
 and the question is, how any particular part of it could justly be 
 taken out of the common, and so appropriated to the first owner, 
 as to give him a better right to it than others ; and, what is 
 more, a right to exclude all others from it. 
 
 Moralists have given many different accounts of this matter; 
 which diversity alone, perhaps, is a proof that none of them are 
 satisfactory. 
 
 One tells us that mankind, when they suffered a particular 
 person to occupy a piece of ground, by tacit consent relinquished 
 their right to it ; and as the piece of gi'ound, they say, belonged 
 to mankind collectively, and mankind thus gave up their right 
 to the first peaceable occupier, it thenceforward became his pro- 
 perty, and no one afterwards had a right to molest him in it. 
 
 The objection to this account is, that consent can never be 
 presumed from silence, where the person whose consent is re- 
 quired knows nothing about the matter; which must have been 
 the case with all mankind, except the neighbourhood of the place 
 where the appropriation was made. And to suppose that the 
 piece of ground previously belonged to the neighbourhood, and
 
 io8 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 that they had a just power of conferring a right to it upon whom 
 they pleased, is to suppose the question resolved, and a partition 
 of land to have already taken place. 
 
 Another says, that each man's limbs and labour are his own 
 exclusively ; that, by occupying a piece of ground, a man in- 
 separably mixes his labour with it ; by which means the piece 
 of ground becomes thenceforward his own, as you cannot take 
 it from him without depriving him at the same time of something 
 which is indisputably his. 
 
 This is Mr. Locke's solution ; and seems indeed a fair reason, 
 where the value of the labour bears a considerable proportion 
 to the value of the thing; or where the thing derives its chief 
 use and value from the labour. Thus game and fish, though 
 they be common whilst at large in the woods or water, instantly 
 become the property of the person that catches them ; because 
 an animal, when caught, is much more valuable than when at 
 liberty ; and this increase of value, which is inseparable from, 
 and makes a great part of, the whole value, is strictly the pro- 
 perty of the fowler or fisherman, being the produce of his per- 
 sonal labour. For the same reason, wood or iron, manufactured 
 into utensils, becomes the property of the manufacturer ; be- 
 cause the value of the workmanship far exceeds that of the 
 materials. And upon a similar principle, a parcel of unappro- 
 priated ground, which a man should pare, burn, plough, harrow, 
 and sow, for the production of corn, would justly enough be 
 thereby made his own. But this will hardly hold, in the man- 
 ner it has been applied, of taking a ceremonious possession of a 
 tract of land, as navigators do of new T -discovered islands, by 
 erecting a standard, engraving an inscription, or publishing a 
 proclamation to the birds and beasts ; or of turning your cattle 
 into a piece of ground, setting up a landmark, digging a ditch, 
 or planting a hedge round it. Nor will even the clearing, 
 manuring, and ploughing of a field, give the first occupier a 
 right to it in perpetuity, and after this cultivation and all effects 
 of it arc ceased. 
 
 Another, and in my opinion a better, account of the first right 
 of ownership, is the following; that, as God has provided these 
 flings for the use of all, he has of consequence given each leave 
 to take of them what he wants : by virtue, therefore, of this leave, 
 a man may appropriate what he stands in need of to his own.
 
 Chap, iv.] In wliat the Right of Property is founded. log 
 
 use, without asking, or waiting for, the consent of others ; in like 
 manner as, when an entertainment is provided for the free- 
 holders of a county, each freeholder goes, and eats and drinks 
 what he wants or chuses, without having or waiting for the 
 consent of the other guests. 
 
 But then this reason justifies property, as far as necessaries 
 alone, or, at the most, as far as a competent provision for our 
 natural exigencies. For, in the entertainment we speak of 
 (allowing the comparison to hold in all points), although every 
 particular freeholder may sit down and eat till he be satisfied, 
 without any other leave than that of the master of the feast, or 
 any other proof of that leave than the general invitation, or the 
 manifest design with which the entertainment is provided; yet, 
 you would hardly permit any one to fill his pockets or his wallet, 
 or to carry away with him a quantity of provision to be hoarded 
 up, or wasted, or given to his dogs, or stewed .down into sauces, 
 or converted into articles of superfluous luxury ; especially if, by 
 so doing, he pinched the guests at the lower end of the table. 
 
 These are the accounts that have been given of the matter 
 by the best writers upon the subject, but, were these accounts 
 perfectly unexceptionable, they would none of them, I fear, 
 avail us in vindicating our present claims of property in land, 
 unless it were more probable than it is, that our estates were 
 actually acquired at .first, in some of the ways which these 
 accounts suppose ; and that a regular regard had been paid to 
 justice, in every successive transmission of them since; for, if 
 one link in the chain fail, every title posterior to it falls to the 
 ground. 
 
 The real foundation of our right is, the law of the land. 
 
 It is the intention of God, that the produce of the earth be 
 applied to the use of Man : this intention cannot be fulfilled 
 without establishing property ; it is consistent, therefore, with his 
 will, that property be established. The land cannot be divided 
 into separate property, without leaving it to the law of the 
 country to regidate that division : it is consistent, therefore, with 
 the same will, that the law should regulate the division ; and, 
 consequently, ' consistent with the will of God,' or ' right,' that 
 I should possess that share which these regulations assign me. 
 
 By whatever circuitous train of reasoning you attempt to 
 derive this right, it must terminate at last in the will of God ;
 
 no Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 the straightest, therefore, and shortest way of arriving at this 
 will, is the best. 
 
 Hence it appears, that my right to an estate does not at all 
 depend upon the manner or justice of the original acquisition ; 
 nor upon the justice of each subsequent change of possession. 
 It is not, for instance, the less, nor ought it to be impeached, 
 because the estate was taken possession of at first by a family of 
 aboriginal Britons, who happened to be stronger than their 
 neighbours ; nor because the British possessor was turned out 
 by a Roman, or the Roman by a Saxon invader ; nor because it 
 was seized, without colour of right or reason, by a follower of 
 the Norman adventurer ; from whom, after many interruptions 
 of fraud and violence, it has at length devolved to me. 
 
 Nor does the owner's right depend upon the expediency of the 
 law which gives it to him. On one side of a brook, an estate 
 descends to the eldest son ; on the other side, to all the chil- 
 dren alike. The right of the claimants under both laws of 
 inheritance is equal ; though the expediency of such opposite 
 rules must necessarily be different. 
 
 The principles we have laid down upon this subject apparently 
 tend to a conclusion of which a bad use is apt to be made. As 
 the right of property depends upon the law of the land, it seems 
 to follow, that a man has a right to keep and take everything 
 which the law will allow him to keep and take ; which, in many 
 cases, will authorize the most flagitious chicanery. If a creditor 
 upon a simple contract neglect to demand his debt for six years, 
 the debtor may refuse to pay it: would it be right therefore to 
 do so, where he is conscious of the justice of the debt? If a 
 person, who is under twenty-one years of age, contract a bargain 
 (other than for necessaries), he may avoid it by pleading his 
 minority : but would this be a fair plea, where the bargain was 
 originally just? 
 
 The distinction to be taken in such cases is this : With 
 the law, we acknowledge, resides the disposal of property : 
 so long, therefore, as we keep within the design and intention 
 of a law, that law will justify us, as well in foro conscientia>, 
 as in foro laimano, whatever be the equity or expediency of the 
 law itself. But when we convert to one purpose, a rule or ex- 
 pression of law, which is intended for another purpose, then Ave 
 plead, in our justification, not the intention of the law, but the
 
 Chap, iv.] In what the Right of Property is founded. in 
 
 words : that is, we plead a dead letter, which can signify nothing : 
 for words ivithout meaning or intention have no force or effect 
 in justice ; much less, words taken contrary to the meaning and 
 intention of the speaker or writer. To apply this distinction 
 to the examples just now proposed : — in order to protect men 
 against antiquated demands, from which it is not probable they 
 should have preserved the evidence of their discharge, the law 
 prescribes a limited time to certain species of private securities, 
 beyond which it will not enforce them, or lend its assistance to 
 the recovery of the debt. If a man be ignorant or dubious of the 
 justice of the demand made upon him, he may conscientiously 
 plead this limitation : because he applies the rule of law to the 
 purpose for which it ivas intended. But when he refuses to pay 
 a debt, of the reality of which he is conscious, he cannot, as 
 before, plead the intention of the statute, and the supreme 
 authority of law, unless he could show, that the law intended to 
 interpose its supreme authority, to acquit men of debts, of the 
 existence and justice of which they were themselves sensible. 
 Again, to preserve youth from the practices and impositions to 
 which their inexperience exposes them, the law compels the pay- 
 ment of no debts incurred within a certain age, nor the per- 
 formance of any engagements, except for such necessaries as are 
 suited to their condition and fortunes. If a young person, there- 
 fore, perceive that he has been practised or imposed upon, he 
 may honestly avail himself of the privilege of his nonage, to 
 defeat the circumvention. But, if he shelter himself under this 
 privilege, to avoid a fair obligation, or an equitable contract, he 
 extends the privilege to a case, in which it is not allowed by 
 intention of law, and in which consequently it does not, in 
 natural justice, exist. 
 
 As property is the principal subject of justice, or of f the 
 determinate relative duties/ we have put down what we -had to 
 say upon it in the first place : we now proceed to state these 
 duties in the best order we can.
 
 ii2 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PROMISES. 
 
 I. From ivhence the obligation to perform promises arises. 
 II. In what sense promises are to be interpreted. 
 III. In vjhat cases firomises are not binding. 
 
 I. From whence the obligation to perform promises arises. 
 
 THEY who argue from innate moral principles suppose a sense 
 of the obligation of promises to be one of them ; but without 
 assuming this, or anything else, without proof, the obligation to 
 perform promises may be deduced from the necessity of such a 
 conduct to the well-being, or the existence indeed, of human 
 society. 
 
 Men act from expectation. Expectation is in most cases 
 determined by the assurances and engagements which we receive 
 from others. If no dependence could be placed upon these as- 
 surances, it would be impossible to know what judgment to form 
 of many future events, or how to regulate our conduct with 
 respect to them. Confidence, therefore, in promises, is essential 
 to the intercourse of human life : because, without it, the greatest 
 part of our conduct would proceed upon chance. But there 
 could be no confidence in promises, if men were not obliged to 
 perform them ; the obligation therefore to perform promises, is 
 essential to the same ends, and in the same degree. 
 
 Some may imagine, that if this obligation Avere suspended, a 
 general caution and mutual distrust would ensue, which might 
 do as well : but this is imagined, without considering how, every 
 hour of our lives, we trust to, and depend upon, others ; and how 
 impossible it is, to stir a step, or, what is worse, to sit still a 
 moment, without such trust and dependence. I am now writing 
 at my ease, not doubting (or rather never distrusting, and there- 
 fore never thinking about it) that the butcher will send in the 
 joint of meat which I ordered; that his servant will bring it; 
 that my cook will dress it ; that my footman will serve it up ; 
 and that I shall find it upon the table at one o'clock. Yet have I 
 nothing for all this, but the promise of the butcher, and the 
 implied promise of his servant and mine. And the same holds
 
 Chap, v.] Promises. 313 
 
 of the most important as well as the most familiar occurrences of 
 social life. In the one, the intervention of promises is formal, 
 and is seen and acknowledged ; our instance, therefore, is in- 
 tended to show it in the other, where it is not so distinctly ob- 
 served. 
 
 II. In what sense promises are to be interpreted. 
 
 "Where the terms of promise admit of more senses than one, 
 the promise is to be performed ' in that sense in which the 
 promiser apprehended at the time, that the promisee received it. 
 
 It is not the sense in which the promiser actually intended it, 
 that always governs the interpretation of an equivocal promise : 
 because, at that rate, you might excite expectations, which you 
 never meant, nor would be obliged to satisfy. Much less is it 
 the sense, in which the promisee actually received the promise ; 
 for, according to that rule, you might be drawn into engagements 
 which you never designed to undertake. It must therefore be 
 the sense (for there is no other remaining) in which the promiser 
 believed that the promisee accepted his promise. 
 
 This will not differ from the actual intention of the promiser, 
 where the promise is given without collusion or reserve ; but we 
 put the rule in the above form, to exclude evasion in which the 
 popular meaning of a phrase, and the strict grammatical signifi- 
 cation of the words, differ ; or, in general, wherever the promiser 
 attempts to make his escape through some ambiguity in the 
 expressions which he used. 
 
 Temures promised the garrison of Sebastia, that, if they 
 would surrender, no blood should be shed. The garrison surren- 
 dered : and Temures buried them all alive. Now Temures ful- 
 filled the promise in one sense, and in the sense too in which he 
 intended it at the time; but not in the sense in which the gar- 
 rison of Sebastia actually received it, nor in the sense in which 
 Temures himself knew that the garrison received it : which last 
 sense, according to our rule, was the sense in which he was in 
 conscience bound to have performed it. 
 
 From the account we have given of the obligation of promises, 
 it is evident, that this obligation depends upon the expectations 
 which we knowingly and voluntarily excite. Consequently, any 
 action or conduct towards another, which we are sensible excites 
 expectations in that other, is as much a promise, and creates as 
 strict an obligation, as the most express assurances. Taking, 
 
 p. 1
 
 ii4 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 for instance, a kinsman's child, and educating him for a liberal 
 profession, or in a manner suitable only for the heir of a large 
 fortune, as much obliges us to place him in that profession, or 
 to leave him such a fortune, as if we had given him a promise 
 to do so under our hands and seals. In like manner, a great 
 man, who encourages an indigent retainer; or a minister of 
 state, who distinguishes and caresses at his levee one who is in 
 a situation to be obliged by his patronage ; engages, by such 
 behaviour, to provide for him. — This is the foundation of tacit 
 promises. 
 
 You may either simply declare your present intention, or you 
 may accompany your declaration with an engagement to abide 
 by it, which constitutes a complete promise. In the first case, 
 the duty is satisfied, if you were sincere at the time, that is, if you 
 entertained at the time the intention you expressed, however 
 soon, or for whatever reason, you afterwards change it. In the 
 latter case, you have parted with the liberty of changing. All 
 this is plain : but it must be observed, that most of those forms 
 of speech, which, strictly taken, amount to no more than decla- 
 rations of present intention, do yet, in the usual way of under- 
 standing them, excite the expectation, and therefore carry with 
 them the force of absolute promises. Such as, ' I intend you 
 this place' — ' I design to leave you this estate' — f I purpose 
 giving you my vote' — ' I mean to serve you.' — In which, 
 although the ' intention/ ' the design,' the ' purpose,' the 
 c meaning,' be expressed in words of the present time, yet you 
 cannot afterwards recede from them without a breach of good 
 faith. If you chuse therefore to make known your present 
 intention, and yet to reserve to yourself the liberty of changing 
 it, you must guard your expressions by an additional clause, as, 
 ' I intend at present/ — ' if I do not alter/ — or the like. And 
 after all, as there can be no reason for communicating your 
 intention, but to excite some degree of expectation or other. 
 A wanton change of an intention which is once disclosed, 
 always disappoints somebody; and is always, for that reason, 
 wrong. 
 
 There is, iti some men, an infirmity with regard to promises, 
 which often betrays them into great distress. From the con- 
 fusion, or hesitation, or obscurity, with which they express 
 themselves, especially when overawed, or taken by surprise, they
 
 Chap, v.] Promises. 115 
 
 sometimes encourage expectations, and bring upon themselves 
 demands, which, possibly, they never dreamed of. This is a 
 want, not so much of integrity, as of presence of mind. 
 III. In ivhat cases promises are not binding. 
 
 1. Promises are not binding, where the performance is 
 impossible. 
 
 But observe, that the promiser is guilty of a fraud, if he be 
 strictly aware of the impossibility, at the time of making the 
 promise. For, when any one promises a thing, he asserts his 
 belief, at least, of the possibility of performing it ; as no one 
 can accept or understand a promise under any other supposition. 
 Instances of this sort are the following : The minister promises 
 a place, which he knows to be engaged, or not at his disposal : — 
 A father, in settling marriage-articles, promises to leave his 
 daughter an estate, which he knows to be entailed upon the 
 heir male of his family : — A merchant promises a ship, or share 
 of a ship, which he is privately advised is lost at sea : — An 
 incumbent promises to resign a living, being previously assured 
 that his resignation will not be accepted by the bishop. The 
 promiser, as in these cases, with knowledge of the impossibility, 
 is justly answerable in an equivalent; but otherwise not. 
 
 When the promiser himself occasions the impossibility, it 
 is neither more nor less than a direct breach of the promise ; 
 as when a soldier maims, or a servant disables himself, to get 
 rid of his engagements. 
 
 2. Promises are not binding, where the performance is 
 unlawful. 
 
 There are two cases of this : one, where the unlawfulness is 
 known to the parties, at the time of making the promise ; as 
 where an assassin promises his employer to despatch his rival or 
 his enemy ; a servant to betray his master ; a pimp to procure 
 a mistress : or a friend to give his assistance in a scheme of 
 seduction. The parties in these cases are not obliged to 
 perform what the promise requires, because they were under a 
 prior obligation to the contrary. From which prior obligation 
 what is there to discharge them ? Their promise, — their own 
 act and deed. — But an obligation, from which a man cau ] 
 discharge himself by his own act, is no obligation at all. The 
 guilt therefore of such promises lies in the making, not iu 
 the breaking of them ; and if, in the interval betwixt the 
 
 1 2
 
 1 1 6 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 promise and the performance, a man so far recover his reflec- 
 tion, as to repent of his engagements, he ought certainly to 
 break through them. 
 
 The other case is, where the unlawfulness did not exist, or 
 was not known at the time of making the promise ; as where a 
 merchant promises his correspondent abroad, to send him a ship- 
 load of corn at a time appointed, and before the time arrive, an 
 embargo is laid upon the exportation of corn : — A woman gives 
 a promise of marriage ; before the marriage, she discovers that 
 her intended husband is too nearly related to her, or that he has 
 a wife yet living. In all such cases, where the contrary does not 
 appear, it must be presumed that the parties supposed what they 
 promised to be lawful, and that the promise proceeded entirely 
 upon this supposition. The lawfulness therefore becomes a 
 condition of the promise ; which condition failing, the obligation 
 ceases. Of the same nature was Herod's promise to his daughter- 
 in-law, ' that he would give her whatever she asked, even to the 
 half of his kingdom.' The promise was not unlawful in the 
 terms in which Herod delivered it ; and when it became so by 
 the daughter's choice, by her demanding ' John the Baptist's 
 head,' Herod was discharged from the obligation of it, for the 
 reason now laid down, as well as for that given in the last 
 paragraph. 
 
 This rule, f that promises are void, where the performance is 
 unlawful,' extends also to imperfect obligations : for, the reason 
 of the rule holds of all obligations. Thus, if you promise a man 
 a place, or your vote, and he afterwards render himself unfit to 
 receive either, you are absolved from the obligation of your 
 promise ; or, if a better candidate appear, and it be a case in 
 which you are bound by oath, or otherwise, to govern yourself 
 by the qualification, the promise must be broken through. 
 
 And here I would recommend, to young persons especially, a 
 caution, from the neglect of which many involve themselves in 
 embarrassment and disgrace; and that is, ' never to give a 
 promise, which may interfere in the event with their duty ;' for, 
 if it do so interfere, their duty must be discharged, though at 
 the expense of their promise, and not unusually of their good 
 name. 
 
 The specific performance of promises is reckoned a perfect 
 obligation. And many casuists have laid down, in opposition to
 
 Chap, v.] Promises. 117 
 
 what has been here asserted, that, where a perfect and an im- 
 perfect obligation clash, the perfect obligation is to be preferred. 
 For which opinion, however, there seems to be no reason, but 
 what arises from the terms ' perfect' and ' imperfect/ the im- 
 propriety of which has been remarked above. The trntli is, of 
 two contradictory obligations, that ought to prevail which is 
 prior in point of time. 
 
 It is the performance being unlawful, and not unlawfulness in 
 the subject or motive of the promise, which destroys its validity : 
 therefore a bribe, after the vote is given ; the wages of prosti- 
 tution • the reward of any crime, after the crime is committed ; 
 ought, if promised, to be paid. For the sin and mischief, by this 
 supposition, are over; and will be neither more nor less for the 
 performance of the promise. 
 
 In like manner, a promise does not lose its obligation merely 
 because it proceeded from an unlawful motive. A certain person, 
 in the life-time of his wife, who was then sick, had paid his ad- 
 dresses, and promised marriage, to another woman ; — the wife 
 died ; and the woman demanded performance of the promise. 
 The man, who, it seems, had changed his mind, either felt or 
 pretended doubts concerning the obligation of such a promise, 
 and referred his case to Bishop Sanderson, the most eminent, in 
 this kind of knowledge, of his time. Bishop Sanderson, after 
 writing a dissertation upon the question, adjudged the promise 
 to be void. In which, however, upon our principles, he was 
 wrong : for, however criminal the affection might be, which in- 
 duced the promise, the performance, when it was demanded, was 
 lawful ; which is the only lawfulness required. 
 
 A promise cannot be deemed unlawful, where it produces, 
 when performed, no effect, beyond what would have taken place 
 had the promise never been made. And this is the single case, 
 in which the obligation of a promise will justify a conduct, 
 which, unless it had been promised, would be unjust. A captive 
 may lawfully recover his liberty, by a promise of neutrality ; for 
 his conqueror takes nothing by the promise, which he might not 
 have secured by his death or confinement ; and neutrality would 
 be innocent in him, although criminal in another. It is mani- 
 fest, however, that promises which come into the place of co- 
 ercion, can extend no further than to passive compliances; for 
 coercion itself could compel no more. Upon the same principle,
 
 1 1 8 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 promises of secrecy ought not to be violated, although the Public 
 would derive advantage from the discovery. Such promises 
 contain no unlawfulness in them, to destroy their obligation ; 
 for, as the information would not have been imparted upon any 
 other condition, the public lose nothing by the promise, which 
 they would have gained without it. 
 
 3. Promises are not binding, when they contradict a former 
 promise. 
 
 Because the performance is then unlawful; which resolves 
 this case into the last. 
 
 4. Promises are not binding before acceptance ; that is, before 
 notice given to the promisee ; for, where the promise is bene- 
 ficial, if notice be given, acceptance may be presumed. Until 
 the promise be communicated to the promisee, it is the same 
 only as a resolution in the mind of the promiser, which may be 
 altered at pleasure. For no expectation has been excited, there- 
 fore none can be disappointed. 
 
 But suppose I declare my intention to a third person, who, 
 without any authority from me, conveys my declaration to the 
 promisee ; is that such a notice as will be binding upon me ? It 
 certainly is not : for I have not done that which constitutes the 
 essence of a promise ; — I have not voluntarily excited expecta- 
 tion. 
 
 5. Promises are not binding which are released by the pro- 
 misee. 
 
 This is evident : but it may be sometimes doubted who the 
 promisee is. If I give a promise to A of a place or vote for B ; 
 as to a father for his son ; to an uncle for his nephew ; to a friend 
 of mine, for a relation or friend of his ; then A is the promisee, 
 whose consent I must obtain, to be released from the engagement. 
 
 If I promise a place or vote to B by A, that is, if A be a mes- 
 senger to convey the promise, as if I should say, ' You may tell 
 B that he shall have this place, or may depend upon my vote :' 
 or if A be employed to introduce B's request, and I answer in 
 any terms which amount to a compliance with it : then B is the 
 promisee. 
 
 Promises to one person, for the benefit of another, are not 
 released by the death of the promisee : for his death neither 
 makes the performance impracticable, nor implies any consent 
 to release the promiser from it.
 
 Chap, v.] Promises. 119 
 
 6. Erroneous promises are not binding in certain cases ; as, 
 
 1. Where the error proceeds from the mistake or misrepre- 
 sentation of the promisee. 
 
 Because a promise evidently supposes the truth of the account, 
 which the promisee relates in order to obtain it. A beggar 
 solicits your charity, by a story of the most pitiable distress ; you 
 promise to relieve him, if he will call again : — In the interval 
 you discover his story to be made up of lies ; this discovery, no 
 doubt, releases you from your promise. One who wants your 
 service, describes the business or office for which he would 
 engage you : — you promise to undertake it ; — when you come 
 to enter upon it, you find the profits less, the labour more, or 
 some material circumstance different from the account he gave 
 you : — In such case, you are not bound by your promise. 
 
 2. When the promise is understood by the promisee to pro- 
 ceed upon a certain supposition, or when the promiser appre- 
 hended it to be so understood, and that supposition turns out to 
 be false; then the promise is not binding. 
 
 This intricate rule will be best explained by an example. A 
 father receives an account from abroad, of the death of his only 
 son ; — soon after which, lie promises his fortune to his nephew. 
 — The account turns out to be false. — The father, we say, is 
 released from his promise : not merely because he never would 
 have made it, had he known the truth of the case, — for that 
 alone will not do; — but because the nephew also himself under- 
 stood the promise to proceed upon the supposition of his cou- 
 sin's death : or, at least, his uncle thought he so understood 
 it ; and could not think otherwise. The promise proceeded 
 upon this supposition in the promiser's own apprehension, and 
 as he believed, in the apprehension of both parties ; and this 
 belief of his, is the precise circumstance which sets him free. 
 The foundation of the rule is plainly this : a man is bound 
 only to satisfy the expectation which he intended to excite; 
 whatever condition, therefore, he intended to subject that expecta- 
 tion to, becomes an essential condition of the promise. 
 
 Errors, which come not within this description, do not annul 
 the obligation of a promise. I promise a candidate my vote : — 
 presently another candidate appears, for whom I certainly would 
 have reserved it, had I been acquainted with his design. Here 
 therefore, as before, my promise proceeded from an error ; and I
 
 120 Moral Philosophy . [Book in. Part i. 
 
 never should have given such a promise, had I been aware of 
 the truth of the case, as it has turned out. — But the promisee 
 did not know this ; — he did not receive the promise subject to 
 any such condition, or as proceeding from any such supposition: 
 — nor did I at the time imagine he so received it. This error, 
 therefore, of mine, must fall upon my own head, and the promise 
 be observed notwithstanding. A father promises a certain for- 
 tune with his daughter, supposing himself to be worth so much 
 — his circumstances turn out, upon examination, worse than he 
 was aware of. Here again the promise was erroneous, but, for 
 the reason assigned in the last case, will nevertheless be 
 obligatory. 
 
 The case of erroneous promises, is attended with some diffi- 
 culty : for, to allow every mistake, or change of circumstances, 
 to dissolve the obligation of a promise, would be to allow a lati- 
 tude, which might evacuate the force of almost all promises : 
 and, on the other hand, to gird the obligation so tight, as to 
 make no allowances for manifest and fundamental errors, would, 
 in many instances, be productive of great hardship and 
 absurdity. 
 
 It has long been controverted amongst moralists, whether 
 promises be binding, which are extorted by violence or fear. 
 The obligation of all promises results, we have seen, from the 
 necessity or the use of that confidence which mankind repose in 
 them. The question, therefore, whether these promises are 
 binding, will depend upon this : whether mankind, upon the 
 whole, are benefited by the confidence placed on such promises? 
 A highwayman attacks you — and being disappointed of his 
 booty, threatens or prepares to murder you ; — you promise, 
 with many solemn asseverations, that if he will spare your life, 
 he shall find a purse of money left for him, at a place appointed ; 
 —upon the faith of this promise, he forbears from further vio- 
 lence. Now, your life was saved by the confidence reposed in a 
 promise extorted by fear ; and the lives of many others may be 
 saved by the same. This is a good consequence. On the other 
 hand, confidence in promises like these, greatly facilitates the 
 perpetration of robberies : they may be made the instruments of 
 almost unlimited extortion. This is a bad consequence : and in
 
 Chap, v.] Annotations. 121 
 
 the question between the importance of these opposite conse- 
 quences, resides the doubt concerning the obligations of such 
 promises. 
 
 There are other cases which are plainer; as where a magis- 
 trate confines a disturber of the public peace in gaol, till he 
 promises to behave better ; or a prisoner of war promises, if set 
 at liberty, to return within a certain time. These promises, 
 say moralists, are binding, because the violence or duress is just ; 
 but, the truth is, because there is the same use of confidence in 
 these promises, as of confidence in the promises of a person at 
 perfect liberty. 
 
 Vows are promises to God. The obligation cannot be made 
 out upon the same principle as that of other promises. The 
 violation of them, nevertheless, implies a want of reverence to 
 the Supreme Being; which is enough to make it sinful. 
 
 There appears no command or encouragement in the christian 
 Scriptures to make vows ; much less any authority to break 
 through them when they are made. The few instances 1 of 
 vows which we read of in the New Testament, were religiously 
 observed. 
 
 The rules we have laid down concerning promises, are appli- 
 cable to vows. Thus Jephtha's vow, taken in the sense in which 
 that transaction is commonly understood, was not binding; be- 
 cause the performance, in that contingency, became unlawful. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 ' The obligation to perform promises' 
 
 There is an important distinction between two classes of 
 promises (including promissory oaths) corresponding to that 
 between Moral [natural] precepts and positive precepts : of 
 which the one relates to what is commanded because it is a duty, 
 and the other, to what is a duty because it is commanded. So 
 also in promises, in some cases the party promises because he is 
 bound ; in the other he is bound because he has promised. In 
 
 1 Acts xviii. 18; xxi. 23.
 
 J 22 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 the one case there is merely the acknowledgment of an obliga- 
 tion ; in the other, the obligation is created. And much con- 
 fusion of thought arises from not distinguishing these cases. 
 
 For instance, it is the custom for the King to be publicly and 
 solemnly crowned some time after his accession. And part of 
 the ceremony of a coronation consists in his taking an Oath to 
 maintain the Constitution, and not make an ill use of his power. 
 Now some have thought or professed to think that this oath 
 is a great security to our rights. But this is a mistake. It 
 is indeed very proper that the King should thus solemnly 
 declare before his People his determination to govern faithfully, 
 and that the oath should remind, him of his duties. But it does 
 not bind him to anything that he was not bound to before. 
 He has all the rights, and powers, and duties of a King, before 
 the coronation, as much as after it. And a conscientious man 
 considers the very act of accepting any office as amounting to a 
 promise that he will faithfully fulfil its duties. He will do what 
 is right, not on account of any professions made by him, but 
 because it is right. And, moreover, the King may, if he 
 pleases, defer his coronation from year to year, or even dispense 
 with it altogether. But it would be most absurd to suppose 
 that he would thus be left at liberty to act differently from 
 what the oath requires. 
 
 It is important to guard against confounding together two 
 different kinds of contract ; those in which a man promises 
 something that he was already bound to (as in the case of the 
 coronation-oath), and those in which he is not bound till he 
 has made the promise. In any contract, for instance, of buying 
 and selling, the obligation arises out of the agreement made, 
 and did not exist before. If you engage to supply a man with 
 certain goods at such and such a price, and he agrees to pay 
 that price, you are, then, both bound to stand to the bargain, 
 though you were originally free to decline it. So also in the 
 case of marriage, the husband and wife are bound to each other 
 by the marriage itself, and were not bound before. The 
 marriage vow does not remind them (like the coronation-oath) 
 of a duty already existing, but creates the duty. But, on the 
 other hand, the connexion, for instance, between parents and 
 children, and the duties thence arising, do not depend on any 
 engagement made by them. If a father should promise to take
 
 Chap, v.] Annotations. 123 
 
 flue care of his child, and the child should promise to f honour 
 his father/ they are promising no more than what they were 
 already bound to. 
 
 ' In what sense promises are to be interpreted.' 
 
 Paley is nearly, but not entirely right, in the rule he has 
 here laid down. A man expressing himself very carelessly 
 might not only intend, but might really suppose the other to 
 understand, something quite wide of what his words conveyed, 
 or could fairly convey. He is bound not by what he did 
 apprehend the other to understand, but by what he had 
 good reason to apprehend was understood. Every assertion, 
 or promise, or declaration of whatever kind, is to be interpreted 
 on the principle that the right meaning of any expression is 
 that which may be fairly presumed to be understood by it. 
 This may chance to be different from Avhat the other party 
 actually did understand ; for you are not bound to be answer- 
 able for his mistakes. And again, it may be different from 
 what you yourself inwardly meant, if you were designing to 
 mislead the other by an equivocation, or if you expressed 3-our- 
 self carelessly and inaccurately. But in whatever sense it 
 might reasonably be expected that a declaration of any kind 
 will be understood, this is to be regarded as the true sense, and 
 that to which you are bound. 
 
 In enumerating the cases in which promises are not binding, 
 Paley speaks of its being quite evident that a promise is not 
 binding when the performance is impossible. And yet daily 
 experience shows that this rule does not hold good, except when 
 it is distinctly stated or fully understood by both parties, that 
 the promise is to have this limitation ; that is, where you 
 prudently insert the condition of ' if possible/ or ' I will do my 
 utmost/ But without this, any one who makes an engagement 
 is supposed to have fully considered all possibilities ; and if he 
 fails, from whatever cause, he is held bound to make good the 
 damage, or to suffer the blame and penalty of non-fulfilment. 
 If, for instance, a merchant or manufacturer contracts to deliver 
 certain goods on such a day, he is never allowed to plead that 
 the non-arrival of an expected ship, or a strike of his workmen,
 
 124 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 rendered the fulfilment impossible. In fact no such plea is 
 ever put in ; because it is known that it would not be listened 
 to. Every court of justice would sentence him to pay damages 
 just the same as if the failure had been caused by negligence. 
 And if the other party chuses, out of compassion for an un- 
 avoidable and unexpected mischance, to forego the claim, this is 
 a matter of charity, but not a claim of right. If, in short, you 
 engage merely to do what you can to effect a certain object, 
 you are bound to use your best endeavours, and you are not 
 bound to succeed, nor are liable to any blame for unavoidable 
 failure. But an unconditional promise claims an unconditional 
 fulfilment \ and if it is not fulfilled, the other party has a right 
 to complain, and may claim any compensation that can be 
 obtained. 
 
 c Vows are promises to God.' 
 
 In treating of this point, the Author seems to have forgotten 
 what he had said above, that f a promise is not binding before 
 acceptance.' He there adds, indeed, that where the promise 
 is beneficial, acceptance may be presumed. But this evidently 
 has reference only to promises from Man to Man ; since no 
 act of ours can be reatly beneficial to the Most High. And 
 therefore a person who has made a voav to God, is authorized 
 and bound to consider whether the thing promised is what He 
 may be supposed to approve. If, for instance, he has been led 
 to believe that God disapproves of marriage, or, at least, delights 
 more in the single than the married, or that He approves of 
 celibacy in the Clergy ; and if the person who has thus been 
 induced to make a vow of celibacy, afterwards finds that he has 
 been deluded by ' false prophets,' he may fairly plead that his 
 vow was not realty accepted by the God of truth. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONTRACTS. 
 
 A CONTRACT is a mutual promise. The obligation therefore 
 of contracts, the sense in which they are to be interpreted, and 
 the cases where they are not binding, will be the same as of 
 promises.
 
 Chap, vii.] 
 
 Contracts of Sale. 
 
 i*5 
 
 From the principle established in the last chapter, ' that the 
 obligation of promises is to be measured by the expectation 
 which the proiniser anyhow voluntarily and knowingly excites/ 
 results a rule which governs the construction of all contracts, and 
 is capable, from its simplicity, of being applied with great ease 
 and certainty, viz. That 
 
 Whatever is expected by one side, and known to be so expected 
 by the other, is to be deemed apart or condition of the contract. 
 
 The several kinds of contract, and the order in which wc 
 propose to consider them, may be exhibited at one view, thus : 
 
 f Sale. 
 Hazard. 
 
 Contracts of ■{ Lending of 
 
 Labour. 
 
 ( Inconsumable property. 
 
 \ Money. 
 
 f Service. 
 
 \ Commissions. 
 
 J Partnership. 
 
 (.Offices. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONTRACTS OF SALE. 
 
 THE rule of justice, which wants with most anxiety to be in- 
 culcated in the making of bargains, is that, the seller is bound 
 in conscience to disclose the faults of what he offers to sale. 
 Amongst other methods of proving this, one may be the fullowing: 
 I suppose it will be allowed, that to advance a direct falsehood, 
 in recommendation of our wares, by ascribing to them some qua- 
 lity which we know that they have not, is dishonest. Now com- 
 pare with this the designed concealment of some fault, which we 
 know that they have. The motives and the effects of actions are 
 the only points of comparison, in which their moral quality cau 
 differ : but the motive in these two cases is the same, viz. to 
 procure a higher price than we expect otherwise to obtain : the 
 effect, that is, the prejudice to the buyer, is also the same; for 
 he finds himself equally out of pocket by his bargain, Avhether 
 the commodity, when he gets home with it, turn out worse than 
 he had supposed, by the want of some quality which he expected, 
 or the discovery of some fault which he did not expect. If
 
 1 26 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 therefore actions be the same, as to all moral purposes, which 
 proceed from the same motives, and produce the same effects; 
 it is making a distinction without a difference, to esteem it a 
 cheat to magnify beyond the truth the virtues of what we have 
 to sell, but none, to conceal its faults. 
 
 It adds to the value of this kind of honesty, that the faults 
 of many things are of a nature not to be known by any, but by 
 the persons who have used them ; so that the buyer has no 
 security from imposition, but in the ingenuousness and integrity 
 of the seller. 
 
 There is one exception however to this rule ; namely, where 
 . the silence of the seller implies some fault in the thing to be 
 sold, and where the buyer has a compensation in the price for 
 the risk which he runs : as where a horse, in a London reposi- 
 tory, is sold by public auction, without warranty ; the want of 
 warranty is notice of some unsoundness, and produces a pro- 
 portionable abatement in the price. 
 
 To this of concealing the faults of what we want to put off, 
 may be referred the practice of passing bad money. This prac- 
 tice we sometimes hear defended by a vulgar excuse, that we 
 have taken the money for good, and must therefore get rid of it. 
 Which excuse is much the same as if one, who had been robbed 
 upon the highway, should allege that he had a right to reimburse 
 himself out of the pocket of the first traveller he met ; the justice 
 of which reasoning, the traveller possibly may not comprehend. 
 
 Where there exists no monopoly or combination, the market- 
 price is always a fair price ; because it will always be propor- 
 tionable to the use and scarcity of the article. Hence, there 
 need be no scruple about demanding or taking the market price ; 
 and all those expressions, ' provisions are extravagantly dear/ 
 ' corn bears an unreasonable price/ and the like, import no 
 unfairness or unreasonableness in the seller. 
 
 If your tailor or your draper charge, or even ask of you, more 
 for a suit of clothes than the market-price, you complain that 
 j oil arc imposed upon ; you pronounce the tradesman who makes 
 such a charge, dishonest : although, as the man's goods were his 
 own, and he had a right to prescribe the terms upon which he 
 would consent to part with them, it may be questioned what 
 dishonesty there can be in the case, or wherein the imposition 
 consists. AA hoevcr opens a shop, or in any manner exposes
 
 Chap, vii.] Contracts of Sale. 127 
 
 goods to public sale, virtually engages to deal with his customers 
 at a market-price; because it is upon the faith and opiuiou of 
 such an engagement, that any one comes within his shop-doors, 
 or offers to treat with him. This is expected by the buyer j is 
 known to be so expected by the seller; which is enough, 
 according to the rule delivered above, to make it a part of the 
 contract between them, though not a syllable be said about it. 
 The breach of this implied contract constitutes the fraud 
 inquired after. 
 
 Hence, if you disclaim any such engagement, you may set 
 what value you please upon your property. If, upon being 
 asked to sell a house, you answer that the house suits your 
 fancy or conveniency, and that you will not turn yourself out 
 of it, under such a price; the price fixed may be double of what 
 the house cost, or would fetch at a public sale, without any 
 imputation of injustice or extortion upon you. 
 
 If the thing sold be damaged, or perish, between the sale 
 and the delivery, ought the buyer to bear the loss, or the seller ? 
 This will depend upon the particular construction of the contract. 
 If the seller, either expressly, or by implication, or by custom, 
 engage to deliver the goods ; as if I buy a set of china, and the 
 china-man ask me to what place he shall bring or send, them, 
 and they be broken in the conveyance, the seller must abide 
 by the loss. If the thing sold remain with the seller, at the 
 instance, or for the conveniency, of the buyer, then the buyer 
 undertakes the risk ; as if I buy a horse, and mention, that I 
 will send for it on such a day (which is in effect desiring that 
 it may continue with the seller till I do send for it), then what- 
 ever misfortune befals the horse in the mean time, must be at 
 my cost. 
 
 And here, once for all, I would observe, that innumerable 
 questions of this sort are determined solely by custom ; not that 
 custom possesses any proper authority to alter or ascertain the 
 nature of right and wrong ; but because the contracting parties 
 are presumed to include in their stipulation all the conditions 
 which custom has annexed to contracts of the same sort : and 
 when the usage is notorious, and no exception made to it, this 
 presumption is generally agreeable to the fact. 1 
 
 It happens here, as in many cases, that what the parties ought to do, and what
 
 128 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 If I order a pipe of port from a wine-merchant abroad ; at 
 ■what period the property passes from the merchant to me ; 
 whether upon delivery of the wine at the merchant's warehouse ; 
 upon its being put on shipboard at Oporto ; upon the arrival of 
 the ship in England at its destined port ; or not till the wine be 
 committed to my servants, or deposited in my cellar ; are all 
 questions which admit of no decision, but what custom points 
 out. Whence, in justice, as well as law, what is called the 
 custom of merchants regulates the construction of mercantile 
 concerns. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONTRACTS OF HAZARD. 
 
 BY Contracts of Hazard, I mean gaming and insurance. 
 What some say of this kind of contracts, f that one side 
 ought not to have any advantage over the other/ is neither 
 practicable nor true. It is not practicable ; for that perfect 
 equality of skill and judgment, which this rule requires, is seldom 
 to be met with. I might not have it in my power to play with 
 fairness a game at cards, billiards, or tennis ; lay a wager at a 
 horse-race ; or underwrite a policy of insurance, once in a 
 twelvemonth, if I must wait till I meet with a person, whose 
 art, skill, and judgment, in these matters, is neither greater nor 
 less than my own. Nor is this equality requisite to the justice 
 of the contract. One party may give to the other the whole of 
 the stake, if he please, and the other party may justly accept it, 
 if it be given him ; much more therefore may one give to the 
 other a part of the stake ; or, what is exactly the same thing, 
 an advantage in the chance of winning the whole. 
 
 The proper restriction is, that neither side have an advantage 
 by means of which the other is not aware ; for this is an ad- 
 vantage taken, without being given. Although the event be still 
 
 a judge or arbitrator would award to be done, may be very different. What the 
 parties ought to do, l>y virtue of their contract, depends npon their consciousness at 
 the time of making it; whereas a third person rinds it necessary to found his 
 judgment upi n presumptions, which presumptions may be false, although the most 
 probable that he could proceed by.
 
 Chap, viii.] Contracts of Hazard. 129 
 
 an uncertainty, your advantage in the chance has a certain 
 value; and so much of the stake, as that value amounts to, is 
 taken from your adversary without his knowledge, and therefore 
 without his consent. If I sit down to a game at whist, and 
 have an advantage over the adversary, by means of a better 
 memory, closer attention, or a superior knowledge of the rules 
 and chances of the game, the advantage is fair ; because it is 
 obtained by means of which the adversary is aware : for he is 
 aware, when he sits down with me, that I shall exert the skill 
 that I possess to the utmost. But if I gain an advantage by 
 packing the cards, glancing my eye into the adversaries' hands, 
 or by concerted signals with my partner, it is a dishonest ad- 
 vantage ; because it depends upon means which the adversary 
 never suspects that I make use of. 
 
 The same distinction holds of all contracts into which chance 
 enters. If I lay a wager at a horse-race, founded upon the con- 
 jecture I form from the appearance, and character, and breed of 
 the horses, I am justly entitled to any advantage which my 
 judgment gives me : but, if I carry on a clandestine corre- 
 spondence with the jockeys, and find out from them, that a 
 trial has been actually made, or that it is settled before-hand 
 which horse shall win the race ; all such information is so much 
 fraud, because derived from sources which the other did not 
 suspect, when he proposed or accepted the wager. 
 
 In speculations in trade or in the stocks, if I exercise my 
 judgment upon the general aspect and prospect of public 
 affairs, and deal with a person who conducts himself by the 
 same sort of judgment; the contract has all the equality in it 
 which is necessary : but if I have access to secrets of state at 
 home, or private advice of some decisive measure or event 
 abroad, I cannot avail myself of these advantages with justice, 
 because they are excluded by the contract, which proceeded 
 upon the supposition that I had no such advantage. 
 
 In insurances, in which the underwriter computes his risk 
 entirely from the account given by the person insured, it is ab- 
 solutely necessary to the justice and validity of the contract, 
 that this account be exact and complete. 
 
 K
 
 130 Moral Philosojihy. [Book tit. Part i. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CONTRACTS OF LENDING OF INCONSUMABLE PROPERTY. 
 
 WHEN the identical loan is to be returned, as a book, 
 a horse, a harpsichord, it is called inconsumable ; in 
 opposition to corn, wine, money, and those things which perish, 
 or are parted with, in the use, and can therefore only be 
 restored in kind. 
 
 The questions under this head are few and simple. The 
 first is, if the thing lent be lost or damaged, we ought to bear 
 the loss or damage ? If it be damaged by the use, or by 
 accident in the use, for which it was lent, the lender ought to 
 bear it; as if I hire a job-coach, the wear, tear, and soiling of 
 the coach must belong to the lender ; or a horse to go a par- 
 ticular journey, and in going the proposed jouruey, the horse die 
 or be lamed, the loss must be the lender's : on the contrary, if 
 the damage be occasioned by the fault of the borrower, or by 
 accident in some use for which it was not lent, then the borrower 
 must make it good ; as if the coach be overturned or broken to 
 pieces by the carelessness of your coachman ; or the horse be 
 hired to take a morning's ride upon, and you go a hunting with 
 him, or leap him over hedges, or put him into your cart or 
 carriage, and he be strained, or staked, or galled, or accident- 
 ally hurt, or drop down dead, whilst you are thus using him ; 
 you must make satisfaction to the owner. 
 
 The two cases are distinguished by this circumstance : that 
 in one case, the owner foresees the damage or risk, and there- 
 fore consents to undertake it ; in the other case he does not. 
 
 It is possible that an estate or a house may, during the term 
 of a lease, be so increased or diminished in its value, as to 
 become worth much more, or much less, than the rent agreed 
 to be paid for it. In some of which cases it may be doubted, to 
 whom, of natural right, the advantage or disadvantage belongs. 
 The rule of justice seems to be this: If the alteration might be 
 expected by the parties, the hirer must take the consequence ; if 
 it could not, the owner. An orchard, or a vineyard, or a mine, 
 or a fishery, or a decoy, may thus yield nothing, or next to 
 nothing, yet the tenant shall pay his rent ; and if they next year
 
 Chap, x.] Contracts affecting the Lending of Money. 13] 
 
 produce tenfold the usual profit, no more shall be demanded • 
 because the produce is in its nature precarious, and this variation 
 might be expected. If an estate in the fens of Lincolnshire, or 
 the isle of Ely, be overflowed with water, so as to be incapable 
 of occupation, the tenant, notwithstanding, is bound by his lease ; 
 because he entered into it with a knowledge and foresight of the 
 danger. On the other hand, if, by the irruption of the sea into 
 a country where it was never known to have come before, by the 
 change of the course of a river, the fall of a rock, the breaking 
 out of a volcano, the bursting of a moss, the incursions of an 
 enemy, or by a mortal contagion amongst the cattle ; if, by 
 means like these, an estate change or lose its value, the loss shall 
 fall upon the owner; that is, the tenant shall either be dis- 
 charged from his agreement, or be entitled to an abatement of 
 rent. A house in London, by the building of a bridge, the 
 opening of a new road or street, may become of ten times its 
 former value ; and, by contrary causes, may be as much reduced 
 in value : here also, as before, the owner, not the hirer, shall be 
 affected by the alteration. The reason upon which our deter- 
 mination proceeds is this • that changes such as these, being 
 neither foreseen, nor provided for, by the contracting parties, 
 form no part or condition of the contract ; and therefore ought 
 to have the same effect as if no contract at all had been made 
 (for none was made with respect to them), that is, ought to fall 
 upon the owner. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE LENDING OF MONEY. 
 
 THERE exists no reason in the law of nature, why a man 
 should not be paid for the lending of his money, as well as 
 of any other property into which the money might be converted. 1 
 The scruples that have been entertained upon this head, and 
 upon the foundation of which, the receiving of interest or usury 
 (for they formerly meant the same thing) was once prohibited in 
 almost all Christian countries," arose from a passage in the law 
 
 1 See Bacon's Essay on Usury. 
 By a statute of James the First, interest above eight pounds per cent, was pro- 
 
 K 2
 
 1^2 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 of Moses, Deut. xxiii. 1 9, 20 : ' Thou slialt not lend upon 
 usury to thy brother ; usury of money, usury of victuals, usury 
 of anything that is lent upon usury : unto a stranger thou 
 mayest lend upon usury ; but unto thy brother thou shalt not 
 lend upon usury .' 
 
 This prohibition is now generally understood to have been 
 intended for the Jews alone, as part of the civil or political law 
 of that nation, and calculated to preserve amongst themselves 
 that distribution of property, to which many of their institutions 
 were subservient ; as the marriage of an heiress within her own 
 tribe ; of a widow who was left childless, to her husband's 
 brother; the year of jubilee, when alienated estates reverted to 
 the family of the original proprietor : — regulations which were 
 never thought to be binding upon any but the commonwealth 
 of Israel. 
 
 This interpretation is confirmed, I think, beyond all contro- 
 versy, by the distinction made in the law, between a Jew and a 
 foreigner : — ' Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury ; 
 but unto thy brother thou mayest not lend upon usury ;' a 
 distinction which could hardly have been admitted into a law, 
 which the Divine Author intended to be of moral and of 
 universal obligation. 
 
 The rate of interest has in most countries been regulated by 
 law. The Roman law allowed of twelve pounds per cent., 
 which Justinian reduced at one stroke to four pounds. A statute 
 of the thirteenth year of Queen Elizabeth, which was the first 
 that tolerated the receiving of interest in England at all, re- 
 strained it to ten pounds per cent. ; a statute of James the First, 
 to eight pounds ; of Charles the Second, to six pounds ; of 
 Queen Anne, to five pounds, on pain of forfeiture of treble the 
 value of the money lent : at which rate and penalty the matter 
 now stands. The policy of these regulations is, to check the 
 power of accumulating wealth without industry ; to give encou- 
 ragement to trade, by enabling adventurers in it to borrow 
 money at a moderate price ; and of late years, to enable the 
 state to borrow the subject's money itself. 
 
 hibited (and consequently under that rate allowed), with this sage provision : That 
 this si at 11 tr shall iiut be construed or expounded to allow the practice of usury in 
 point of religion or conscience.
 
 Chap, x.] Contracts affecting the Lending of Money. 133 
 
 Compound interest, though forbidden by the law of England, 
 is agreeable enough to natural equity ; for interest detained after 
 it is due, becomes to all intents and purposes, part of the sum 
 lent. 
 
 It is a question which sometimes occurs, how money borrowed 
 in one country ought to be paid in another, where the relative 
 value of the precious metals is not the same. For example, 
 suppose I borrow a hundred guineas in London, where each 
 guinea is worth one-and -twenty shillings, and meet my creditor 
 in the East Indies, where a guinea is worth no more perhaps 
 than nineteen ; is it a satisfaction of the debt to return a hundred 
 guineas, or must I make up so many times one-and -twenty 
 shillings ? I should think the latter ; for it must be presumed, 
 that my creditor, had he not lent me his guineas, would have 
 disposed of them in such a manner, as to have now had, in the 
 place of them, so many one-and-twenty shillings ; and the 
 question supposes that he neither intended, nor ought to be a 
 sufferer, by parting with the possession of his money to me. 
 
 When the relative value of coin is altered by an act of the 
 State, if the alteration would have extended to the identical 
 pieces which were lent, it is enough to return an equal number 
 of pieces of the same denomination, or their present value in 
 any other. As, if guineas were reduced by act of parliament to 
 twenty shillings, so many twenty shillings, as I borrowed 
 guineas, would be a just repayment. It would be otherwise, 
 if the reduction was owing to a debasement of the coin ; for 
 then respect ought to be had to the comparative value of the 
 old guinea and the new. 
 
 Whoever borrows money is bound in conscience to repay it. 
 This, every man can see : but every man cannot see, or does not 
 however reflect, that he is, in consequence, also bound to use the 
 means necessary to enable himself to repay it. ' If he pay the 
 money when he has it, or has it to spare, he does all that an 
 honest man can do/ and all, he imagines, that is required of 
 him ; whilst the previous measures, which are necessary to fur- 
 nish him with that money, he makes no part of his care, nor 
 observes to be as much his duty as the other ; such as selling a 
 family-seat or a family estate, contracting his plan of expense, 
 laying down his equipage, reducing the number of his servants, 
 or any of those humiliating sacrifices, which justice requires of a
 
 134 Moral Philosophy . [Book iit. Part i. 
 
 man in debt, the moment lie perceives that he has no reasonable 
 prospect of paying his debts without them. An expectation 
 ■which depends upon the continuance of his own life, will not 
 satisfy an honest man, if a better provision be in his power ; 
 for it is a breach of faith to subject a creditor, when we can help 
 it, to the risk of our life, be the event what it will; that not 
 being the security to which credit was given. 
 
 I know few subjects wdrich have been more misunderstood, 
 than the law which authorizes the imprisonment of insolvent 
 debtors. It has been represented as a gratuitous cruelty, which 
 contributed nothing to the reparation of the creditor's loss, or to 
 the advantage of the community. This prejudice arises prin- 
 cipally from considering the sending of a debtor to gaol, as an 
 act of private satisfaction to the creditor, instead of a public 
 punishment. As an act of satisfaction or revenge, it is always 
 WTong in the motive, and often intemperate and undistinguish- 
 ing in the exercise. Consider it as a public punishment ; 
 founded upon the same reason, and subject to the same rules, 
 as other punishments ; and the justice of it, together with the 
 degree to which it should be extended, and the objects upon 
 whom it may be inflicted, will be apparent. There are frauds 
 relating to insolvency, against which it is as necessary to pro- 
 vide punishment, as for any public crimes whatever : as where a 
 man gets your money into his possession, and forthwith runs 
 away with it ; or, what is little better, squanders it in vicious 
 expenses ; or stakes it at the gambling-table ; in the Alley ; or 
 upon wild adventures in trade ; or is conscious at the time he 
 borrows it, that he can never repay it ; or wilfully puts it out 
 of his power, by profuse living ; or conceals his effects, or 
 transfers them by collusion to another : not to mention the 
 obstinacy of some debtors, who had rather rot in gaol, than 
 deliver up their estates ; for, to say the truth, the first absurdity 
 is in the law itself, which leaves it in a debtor's power to with- 
 hold any part of his property from the claim of his creditors. 
 The only question is, whether the punishment be properly 
 placed in the hands of an exasperated creditor : for which it 
 may be said, that these frauds are so subtile and versatile, that 
 nothing but a discretionary power can overtake them ; and that 
 no discretion is likely to be so well informed, so vigilant, or so 
 active, as that of the creditor.
 
 Chap, xi.] Contracts of Labour — Service. 135 
 
 It must be remembered, however, that the confinement of a 
 debtor in gaol is a punishment ; and that every punishment 
 supposes a crime. To pursue, therefore, with the extremity of 
 legal rigour, a sufferer, whom the fraud or failure of others, his 
 own want of capacity, or the disappointments and miscarriages 
 to which all human affairs are subject, have reduced to ruin, 
 merely because we are provoked at our loss, and seek to relieve 
 the pain we feel by that which we inflict, is repugnant not only 
 to humanity, but to justice : for it is to pervert a provision of 
 law, designed for a different and a salutary purpose, to the 
 gratification of private spleen and resentment. Any alteration 
 in these laws, which could distinguish the degrees of guilt, or 
 convert the service of the insolvent debtor to some public profit, 
 might be an improvement ; but any considerable mitigation of 
 their rigour, under colour of relieving the poor, would increase 
 their hardships. For whatever deprives the creditor of his power 
 of coercion, deprives him of his security ; and as this must add 
 greatly to the difficulty of obtaining credit, the poor, especially 
 the lower sort of tradesmen, are the first who would suffer by 
 such a regulation. As tradesmen must buy before they sell, 
 vou would exclude from trade two-thirds of those who now carry 
 it on, if none were enabled to enter into it without a capital 
 sufficient for prompt payments. An advocate, therefore, for the 
 interests of this important class of the community, will deem it 
 more eligible, that one out of a thousand should be sent to gaol 
 by his creditors, than that the nine hundred and ninety-nine 
 should be straitened and embarrassed, and many of them lie 
 idle, by the want of credit. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 
 
 SERVICE. 
 
 SERVICE in this country is, as it ought to be, voluntary, 
 and by contract; and the master's authority extends no 
 further than the terms or equitable construction of the contract 
 will justify. 
 
 s
 
 136 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 The treatment of servants, as to diet, discipline, and accom- 
 modation, the kind and quantity of work to be required of them, 
 the intermission, liberty, and indulgence to be allowed them, 
 must be determined in a great measure by custom ; for where 
 the contract involves so many particulars, the contracting 
 parties express a few perhaps of the principal, and, by mutual 
 understanding, refer the rest to the known custom of the 
 country in like cases. 
 
 A servant is not bound to obey the unlawful commands of 
 his master ; to minister, for instance, to his unlawful pleasures ; 
 or to assist him by unlawful practices in his profession ; as in 
 smuggling or adulterating the articles in which he deals. For 
 the servant is bound by nothing but his own promise ; and the 
 obligation of a promise extends not to things unlawful. 
 
 For the same reason, the master's authority is no justifica- 
 tion of the servant in doing wrong ; for the servant's own 
 promise, upon which that authority is founded, would be none. 
 Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed entirely in the 
 profession or trade which they are intended to learn. Instruction 
 is their hire ; and to deprive them of the opportunities of in- 
 struction, by taking up their time with occupations foreign to 
 their business, is to defraud them of their wages. 
 
 The master is responsible for what a servant does in the ordi- 
 nary course of his employment ; for it is done under a general 
 authority committed to him, which is in justice equivalent to a 
 specific direction. Tims, if I pay money to a banker's clerk, the 
 banker is accountable ; but not if I had paid it to his butler or 
 his footman, whose business it is not to receive money. Upon 
 the same principle, if I once send a servant to take up goods upon 
 credit, whatever goods he afterwards takes up at the saiue shop, 
 so long as he continues in my service, are justly chargeable to 
 my account. 
 
 The law of this country goes great lengths in intending a kind 
 of concurrence in the master, so as to charge him with the con- 
 sequences of his servant's conduct. If an inn-keeper's servant 
 rob his guests, the inn-keeper must make restitution; if a farrier's 
 servant lame a horse, the farrier must answer for the damage ; 
 and still further, if your coachman or carter drive over a pas- 
 senger in the road, the passenger may recover from you a satis- 
 faction for the hurt he suffers. But these determinations stand,
 
 Chap, xi.] Contracts of Labour — Service. 137 
 
 I think, rather upon the authority of the law, than any principle 
 of natural justice. 
 
 There is a carelessness and facility in c giving characters/ as 
 it is called, of servants, especially when given in writing, or ac- 
 cording to some established form, which, to speak plainly of it, 
 is a cheat upon those who accept them. They are given with so 
 little reserve and veracity, ' that I should as soon depend/ says 
 the author of the Rambler, ' upon an acquittal at the Old 
 Bailey, by way of recommendation of a servant's honesty, as 
 upon one of these characters.' It is sometimes carelessness ; 
 and sometimes also to get rid of a bad servant without the un- 
 easiness of a dispute ; for which nothing can be pleaded but the 
 most ungenerous of all excuses, that the person whom we deceive 
 is a stranger. 
 
 There is a conduct the reverse of this, but more injurious, 
 because the injury falls where there is no remedy ; I mean the 
 obstructing of a servant's advancement, because you are unwill- 
 ing to spare his service. To stand in the way of your servant's 
 interest, is a poor return for his fidelity ; and affords slender 
 encouragement for good behaviour, in this numerous, and there- 
 fore important part of the community. It is a piece of injustice 
 which, if practised towards an equal, the law of honour would 
 lay hold of; as it is, it is neither uncommon nor disreputable. 
 
 A master of a family is culpable, if he permit any vices among 
 his domestics, which he might restrain by due discipline, and a 
 proper interference. This results from the general obligation to 
 prevent misery when in our power ; and the assurance which we 
 have, that vice and misery at the long run go together. Care to 
 maintain in his family a sense of virtue and religion, received 
 the divine approbation in the person of Abraham, Gen. xviii. 
 19 : 'I know him, that he will command his children, and his 
 household after him ; and they shall keep the way of the Lord, 
 to do justice and judgment.' And indeed no authority seems 
 so well adapted to this purpose, as that of masters of families ; 
 because none operates upon the subjects of it with an influence 
 so immediate and constant. 
 
 What the christian Scriptures have delivered concerning the 
 relation and reciprocal duties of masters and servants, breathes 
 a spirit of liberality, very little known in ages when servitude 
 was slaverv ; and which flowed from a habit of contemplating
 
 i^S Mural Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 mankind under the common relation in which they stand to 
 their Creator, and with respect to their interest in another 
 existence r 1 ' Servants, be obedient to them that are your 
 masters, according to the flesh, with fear and trembling ; in 
 singleness of your heart, as unto Christ ; not with eye-service as 
 men-pleasers, but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of 
 God from the heart ; with good will, doing service as to the Lord, 
 and not to men : knowing that whatsoever good thing any man 
 doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord, whether he be 
 bond or free. And ye masters, do the same thing unto them, 
 forbearing threatening ; knowing that your Master also is in 
 heaven ; neither is there respect of persons with him.' The 
 idea of referring their service to God, of considering Him as 
 having appointed them their task, that they were doing his will, 
 and were to look to Him for their reward, was new ; and affords 
 a greater security to the master than any inferior principle, be- 
 cause it tends to produce a steady and cordial obedience, in the 
 place of that constrained service, which can never be trusted out 
 of sight, and which is justly enough called eye-service. The 
 exhortation to masters, to keep in view their own subjection and 
 accountableness, was no less seasonable. 
 
 CHAPTER XI L 
 
 CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 
 
 COMMISSIONS. 
 
 WHOEVER undertakes another man's business, makes it his 
 own ; that is, promises to employ upon it the same care, 
 attention, and diligence, that he would do if it were actually his 
 own : for he knows that the business was committed to him with 
 that expectation. And he promises nothing more than this. 
 Therefore an agent is not allowed to wait, inquire, solicit, ride 
 about the country, toil, or study, whilst there remains a possibility 
 of benefiting his employer. If he exerts so much of his activity, 
 
 1 Epli. vi. 5-9.
 
 Chap. xii.J Contracts of Labour — Commissions. 139 
 
 and use such caution, as the value of the business, in his judg- 
 ment, deserves ; that is, as he would have thought sufficient if 
 the same interest of his own had been at stake, he has discharged 
 his duty, although it should afterwards turn out, that by more 
 activity, and longer perseverance, he might have concluded the 
 business with greater advantage. 
 
 This rule defines the duty of factors, stewards, attorneys, and 
 advocates. 
 
 One of the chief difficulties of an agent's situation is, to know 
 how far he may depart from his instructions, when, from some 
 change or discovery in the circumstances of his commission, 
 he sees reason to believe that his employer, if he were present, 
 would alter his intention. The latitude allowed to agents in this 
 respect will be different, according as the commission was 
 confidential or ministerial ; and according as the general rule and 
 nature of the service require a prompt and precise obedience to 
 orders, or not. An attorney, sent to treat for an estate, if he 
 found out a flaw in the title, would desist from proposing the 
 price he was directed to propose ; and very properly. On the 
 other hand, if the Commander-in-chief of an army detach an 
 officer under him upon a particular service, which service turns 
 out more difficult, or less expedient, than was supposed ; 
 insomuch that the officer is convinced, that his commander, if 
 he were acquainted with the true state in which the affair is 
 found, would recall his orders ; yet must this officer, if he 
 cannot wait for fresh directions without prejudice to the 
 expedition he is sent upon, pursue, at all hazards^ those which 
 he brought out with him. 
 
 AVhat is trusted to an agent, may be lost or damaged in his 
 hands by misfortune. An agent who acts without pay, is 
 clearly not answerable for the loss ; for, if he give his labour 
 for nothing, it cannot be presumed that he gave also security 
 for the success of it. If the agent be hired to the business, the 
 question will depend upon the apprehension of the parties at the 
 time of making the contract; which apprehension of theirs 
 must be collected chiefly from custom, by which probably it was 
 guided. Whether a public carrier ought to account for goods 
 sent by him ; the owner or master of a ship for the cargo ; the 
 post-office for letters, or bills enclosed in letters, where the loss 
 is not imputed to any fault or neglect of theirs ; are questions
 
 14° Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Parti. 
 
 of this sort. Any expression which by implication amounts to 
 a promise, will be binding upon the agent, without custom; as 
 where the proprietors of a stage coach advertize that they will 
 not be accountable for money, plate, or jewels, this makes them 
 accountable for everything else ; or where the price is too much 
 for the labour, part of it may be considered as a premium for 
 insurance. On the other hand, any caution on the part of the 
 owner to guard, against danger, is evidence that he considers the 
 risk to be his : as cutting a bank-bill in two, to send by the post 
 at different times. 
 
 Universally, unless a promise, either express or tacit, can be 
 proved against the agent, the loss must fall upon the owner. 
 
 The agent may be a sufferer in his own person or property 
 by the business which he undertakes ; as where one goes a 
 journey for another, and lames his horse, or is hurt himself by 
 a fall upon the road ; can the agent in such a case claim a com- 
 pensation for the misfortune ? Unless the same be provided for 
 by express stipulation, the agent is not entitled to any com- 
 pensation from his employer on that account : for where the 
 danger is not foreseen, there can be no reason to believe that 
 the employer engaged to indemnify the agent against it ; still 
 less where it is foreseen : for whoever knowingly undertakes a 
 dangerous employment, in common construction, takes upon 
 himself the danger and the consequences ; as where a fireman 
 undertakes for a reward to rescue a box of writings from the 
 flames j or a sailor to bring off a passenger from a ship in a 
 storm. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' Any caution on the part of the owner to guard against danger, 
 is evidence that he considers the risk to be his.' 
 
 This rule seems rather incautiously laid down. For it might 
 be understood to imply that all precautions against fire, or 
 against shipwreck, would release the insurers from liability.
 
 Chap, xiii.] Contracts of Labour — Partnership. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 
 
 PAKTNERSHIP. 
 
 t 
 
 I KNOW nothing upon the subject of partnership that 
 requires explanation, but in what manner the profits are to 
 be divided, where one partner contributes money, and the 
 other labour ; which is a common case. 
 
 Rule. From the stock of the partnership deduct the sum ad- 
 vanced, and divide the remainder between the moneyed partner 
 and the labouring partner, in the proportion of the interest of 
 the money to the wages of the labourer, allowing such a rate of 
 interest as money might be borrowed for upon the same security, 
 and such wages as a journeyman would require for the same 
 labour and trust. 
 
 Example. A advances a thousand pounds, but knows nothing 
 of the business ; B produces no money, but has been brought up 
 to the business, and undertakes to conduct it. At the end of 
 the year, the stock and the effects of the partnership amount to 
 twelve hundred pounds ; consequently there are two hundred 
 pounds to be divided. Now, nobody would lend money upon the 
 event of the business succeeding, which is A's security, under 
 six per cent. ; — therefore A must be allowed sixty pounds for 
 the interest of his money. B, before he engaged in the part- 
 nership, earned thirty pounds a year, in the same employment ; 
 his labour therefore ought to be valued at thirty pounds : and 
 the two hundred pounds must be divided between the parties in 
 the proportion of sixty to thirty ; that is, A must receive one 
 hundred and thirty-three pounds six shillings and eightpencc, 
 and B sixty-six pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence. 
 
 If there be nothing gained, A loses his interest, and B his 
 labour ; which is right. If the original stock be diminished, by 
 this rule B loses only his labour, as before ; whereas A loses his 
 interest and part of the principal ; for which eventual disad- 
 vantage A is compensated, by having the interest of his money 
 computed at six per cent, in the division of the profits, when 
 there are any.
 
 142 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 It is true that the division of the profit is seldom forgotten 
 in the constitution of the partnership, aud is therefore commonly 
 settled by express agreements : but these agreements, to be 
 equitable, should pursue the principle of the rule here laid 
 down. 
 
 All the partners are bound to what any one of them does in 
 the course of the business ; for, quoad hoc, each partner is con- 
 sidered as an authorized agent for the rest. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 
 
 OFFICES. 
 
 IN many offices, as schools, fellowships of colleges, professor- 
 ships of the universities, and the like, there is a two-fold 
 contract : one with the Founder, the other with the Electors. 
 
 The contract with the Founder obliges the incumbent of the 
 office to discharge every duty appointed by the charter, statutes, 
 deed of gift, or will of the Founder ; because the endowment was 
 given, and consequently accepted, for that purpose, and upon 
 those conditions. 
 
 The contract with the Electors extends this obligation to all 
 duties that have been customarily connected with and reckoned a 
 part of the office, though not prescribed by the founder ; for the 
 electors expect from the person they chuse, all the duties which 
 his predecessors have discharged ; and as the person elected 
 cannot be ignorant of their expectation, if he meant to have 
 refused this condition, he ought to have apprised them of his 
 objection. 
 
 And here let it be observed, that the Electors can excuse the 
 conscience of the person elected, from this last class of duties 
 alone ; because this class results from a contract to which the 
 Electors and the person elected are the only parties. The other 
 class of duties results from a different contract. 
 
 It is a question of some magnitude and difficulty, what offices 
 may be conscientiously supplied by a deputy. 
 
 We will state the several objections to the substitution of a
 
 Chap, xiv.] Contracts of Labour — Offices. 143 
 
 deputy ; and then it will be understood, that a deputy may be 
 allowed in all cases to which these objections do not apply. 
 An office may not be discharged by deputy, 
 
 1. Where a particular confidence is reposed in the judgment 
 and conduct of the person appointed to it ; as the office of 
 a steward, guardian, judge, commander-in-chief by land or 
 sea. 
 
 2. Where the custom hinders ; as in the case of school- 
 masters, tutors, and of commissions in the army or navy. 
 
 3. Where the duty cannot, from its nature, be so well per- 
 formed by a deputy ; as the deputy-governor of a province may 
 not possess the legal authority, or the actual influence of his 
 Principal. 
 
 4. When some inconveniency would result to the service iu 
 general from the permission of deputies in such cases : fur ex- 
 ample, it is probable that military merit would be much dis- 
 couraged, if the duties belonging to commissions in the army 
 were generally allowed to be executed by substitutes. 
 
 The non-residence of the parochial clergy, who supply the 
 duty of their benefices by curates, is worthy of a more distinct 
 consideration. And in order to draw the question upon this 
 case to a point, we will suppose the officiating curate to discharge 
 every duty which his principal, were he present, would be bound 
 to discharge, and in a manner equally beneficial to the parish : 
 under which circumstances, the only objection to the absence of 
 the principal, at least the only one of the foregoing objections, 
 is the last. 
 
 And, in my judgment, the force of this objection will be much 
 diminished, if the absent rector or vicar be, in the meantime, 
 engaged in any function or employment of equal, or of greater, 
 importance to the general interest of religion. For the whole 
 revenue of the national church may properly enough be consi- 
 dered as a common fund for the support of the national religion ; 
 and if a clergyman be serving the cause of Christianity and 
 Protestantism, it can make little difference, out of what parti- 
 cular portion of this fund, that is, by the tithes and glebe of 
 what particular parish, his service be requited ; any more than 
 it can prejudice the king's service that an officer who has sig- 
 nalized his merit in America, should be rewarded with the 
 government of a fort or castle in Ireland, which he never saw ;
 
 144 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 but for the custody of which, proper provision is made, and care 
 taken. 
 
 Upon the principle thus explained, this indulgence is due to 
 none more than to those who are occupied in cultivating or 
 communicating religious knowledge, or the sciences subsidiary 
 to religion. 
 
 This way of considering the revenues of the church as a com- 
 mon fund for the same purpose, is the more equitable, as the 
 value of particular preferments bears no proportion to the par- 
 ticular charge or labour. 
 
 But when a man draws upon this fund, whose studies and 
 employments bear no relation to the object of it, and who is no 
 further a minister of the christian religion than as a cockade 
 makes a soldier, it seems a misapplication little better than a 
 robbery. 
 
 And to those who have the management of such matters I 
 submit this question, whether the impoverishment of the fund, 
 by converting the best share of it into annuities for the gay aud 
 illiterate youth of great families, threatens not to starve and 
 stifle the little clerical merit that is left amongst us ? 
 
 All legal dispensations from residence proceed upon the sup- 
 position, that the absentee is detained from his living by some 
 engagement of equal or of greater public importance. There- 
 fore, if, in a case where no such reason can with truth be 
 pleaded, it be said that this question regards a right of pro- 
 perty, and that all right of property awaits the disposition of 
 law ; that, therefore, if the law, which gives a man the emolu- 
 ments of a Living, excuse him from residing upon it, he is 
 excused in conscience ; we answer that the laAv does not excuse 
 him by intention, and that all other excuses are fraudulent. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LIES. 
 
 LIE is a breach of promise : for whoever seriously addresses 
 his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the truth, 
 because he knows that the truth is expected. 
 
 A
 
 Chap, xv.] Lies. 145 
 
 Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the 
 direct ill-consequences of lying to social happiness. Which 
 consequences consist, either in some specific injury to particular 
 individuals, or in the destruction of that confidence which is 
 essential to the intercourse of human life ; for which latter 
 reason, a lie may be pernicious in its general tendency, and 
 therefore criminal, though it produce no particular or visible 
 mischief to any one. 
 
 There are falsehoods which are not lies; that is, which are 
 not criminal : as, 
 
 1. When no one is deceived; which is the case in parables, 
 fables, novels, jests, tales to create mirth, ludicrous embellish- 
 ments of a story, where the declared design of the speaker is not 
 to inform, but to divert ; compliments in the subscription of a 
 letter, a servant's denying his master, a prisoner's pleading not 
 guilty, an advocate asserting the justice, or his belief of the justice, 
 of his client's cause. In such instances, no confidence is destroyed, 
 because none was reposed; no promise to speak the truth is 
 violated, because none was given, or understood to be given. 
 
 2. Where the person to whom you speak has no right to know 
 the truth, or, more properly, where little or no inconveniency 
 results from the want of confidence in such cases ; as where you 
 tell a falsehood to a madman, for his own advantage ; to a 
 robber, to conceal your property ; to an assassin, to defeat or 
 divert him from his purpose. The particular consequence is by 
 the supposition beneficial ; and, as to the general consequence, 
 the worst that can happen is, that the madman, the robber, the 
 assassin, will not trust you again ; which (beside that the first is 
 incapable of deducing regular conclusions from having been once 
 deceived, and the last two not likely to come a second time 
 in your way) is sufficiently compensated by the immediate benefit 
 which you propose by the falsehood. 
 
 It is upon this principle, that, by the laws of war, it is allowed 
 to deceive an enemy by feints, false colours/ spies, false intel- 
 
 1 There have been two or three instances of late, of English ships decoying an 
 enemy into their power, by counterfeiting signals of distress ; an artifice which ought 
 to be reprobated by the common indignation of mankind ! for a few examples of 
 captures effected by this stratagem would put an end to that promptitude in afford- 
 ing assistance to ships in distress, which is the best virtue in a sea-faring character, 
 and by which the perils of navigation are diminished to all. — a.d. 1775. 
 P. L
 
 146 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 ligence, and the like ; but by no means in treaties, truces, signals 
 of capitulation or surrender. And the difference is, that the 
 former suppose hostilities to continue, the latter are calculated 
 to terminate or suspend them. In the conduct of war, and whilst 
 the war continues, there is no use, or rather no place, for con- 
 fidence betwixt the contending parties ; but in whatever relates 
 to the termination of war, the most religious fidelity is expected, 
 because without it wars could not cease, nor the victors be secure, 
 but by the entire destruction of the vanquished. 
 
 Many people indulge, in serious discourse, a habit of fiction 
 and exaggeration, in the accounts they give of themselves, of 
 their acquaintance, or of the extraordinary things which they 
 have seen or heard : and so long as the facts they relate are 
 indifferent, and their narratives, though false, are inoffensive, it 
 may seem a superstitious regard to truth to censure them merely 
 for truth's sake. 
 
 In the first place, it is almost impossible to pronounce before- 
 hand, with certainty, concerning any lie, that it is inoffensive. 
 Volat irrevocabile ; and collects sometimes accretions in its flight 
 which entirely change its* nature. It may owe possibly its mis- 
 chief to the officiousness or misrepresentation of those who cir- 
 culate it ; but the mischief is, nevertheless, in some degree 
 chargeable upon the original editor. 
 
 In the next place, this liberty in conversation defeats its own 
 end. Much of the pleasure, and all the benefit, of conversation, 
 depends upon our opinion of the speaker's veracity ; for which 
 this rule leaves no foundation. The faith indeed of a hearer 
 must be extremely perplexed, who considers the speaker, or 
 believes that the speaker considers himself, as under no obliga- 
 tion to adhere to truth, but according to the particular import- 
 ance of what he relates. 
 
 But beside and above both these reasons, white lies always 
 introduce others of a darker complexion. I have seldom known 
 any one who deserted truth in trifles, that could be trusted in 
 matters of importance. Nice distinctions are out of the question, 
 upon occasions which, like those of speech, return every hour. 
 The habit, therefore, of lying, when once formed, is easily ex- 
 tended, to serve the designs of malice or interest ; — like all 
 habits, it spreads indeed of itself. 
 
 Pious frauds, as they arc improperly enough called, pretended
 
 Chap, xv.] Lies. 147 
 
 inspirations, forged books, counterfeit miracles, are impositions 
 of a more serious nature. It is possible that they may some- 
 times, though seldom, have been set up aud encouraged, with a 
 design to do good : but the good they aim at requires that the 
 belief of them should be perpetual, which is hardly possible ; and 
 the detection of the fraud is sure to disparage the credit of all 
 pretensions of the same nature. Christianity has suffered more 
 injury from this cause, than from all other causes put together. 
 
 As there may be falsehoods which are not lies, so there may be 
 lies without literal or direct falsehood. An opening is always 
 left for this species of prevarication, when the literal and gram- 
 matical signification of a sentence is different from the popular 
 and customary meaning. It is the wilful deceit that makes the 
 lie ; and we wilfully deceive, when our expressions are not true 
 in the sense in which we believe the hearer to apprehend them : 
 besides that it is absurd to contend for any sense of words, in 
 opposition to usage ; for all senses of all words are founded upon 
 usage, and upon nothing else. 
 
 Or a man may act a lie ; as by pointing his finger in a wrong 
 direction, when a traveller inquires of him his road ; or when a 
 tradesman shuts up his windows, to induce his creditors to be- 
 lieve that he is abroad : for, to all moral purposes, and there- 
 fore as to veracity, speech and action are the same ; speech 
 being only a mode of action. 
 
 Or, lastly, there may be lies of omission. A writer of English 
 history, who, in his account of the reign of Charles the First, 
 should wilfully suppress any evidence of that prince's despotic 
 measures and designs, might be said to lie ; for, by entitling his 
 book a History of England, he engages to relate the whole truth 
 of the history, or, at least, all that he knows of it. 
 
 l 2
 
 14^ Moral Philosophy. [Book m. Part i. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 OATHS. 
 
 I. Forms of Oaths. 
 II. Signification. 
 
 III. Lawfulness. 
 
 IV. Obligation. 
 
 V. What Oaths do not hind. 
 VI. In what Sense Oaths are to be interpreted. 
 
 I. r piIE forms of oaths, like other religious ceremonies, have 
 J- in all ages been various ; consisting, however, for the 
 most part, of some bodily action, 1 and of a prescribed form of 
 words. Amongst the Jews, the juror held up his right hand 
 towards heaven, which explains a passage in the 144th Psalm ; 
 ' Whose mouth speaketh vanity ; and their right hand is a 
 right hand of falsehood.' The same form is retained in Scot- 
 land still. Amongst the same Jews an oath of fidelity was 
 taken, by the servant's putting his hand under the thigh of his 
 lord, as Eliezer did to Abraham, Gen. xxiv. 2 ; from whence, 
 with no great variation, is derived perhaps the form of doing 
 homage at this day, by putting the hands between the knees, 
 and within the bands, of the liege. 
 
 Amongst the Greeks and Romans, the form varied with the 
 subject and occasion of the oath. In private contracts, the 
 parties took hold of each other's hand, whilst they swore to the 
 performance ; or they touched the altar of the god by whose 
 divinity they swore. Upon more solemn occasions, it was the 
 custom to slay a victim; and the beast being struck down with 
 certain ceremonies and invocations, gave birth to the expres- 
 sions Tt/iiveiv opKov, ferire pactum ; and to our English phrase, 
 translated from these, of ' striking a bargain.' 2 
 
 1 It is commonly thought that oaths are denominated corporal oaths from the 
 bodily action which accompanies them, of laying the right hand upon a book con- 
 taining the four Gospels. This opinion, however, appears to be a mistake; for the 
 term is borrowed from the ancient usage of touching, on these occasions, the cor- 
 porate, or cloth which covered the consecrated elements. 
 
 2 Hence, in Heb. ix., the word diatheke should have been rendered 'covenant ;' 
 and our Lord's words at the last Supper evidently mean 'my blood of the new 
 covenant.'
 
 Chap, xvi.] Oaths. 149 
 
 The forms of oaths in Christian countries are also very 
 different ; but in no country in the world, I believe, worse con- 
 trived, either to convey the meaning, or impress the obligation 
 of an oath, than in onr own. The juror with us, after re- 
 peating the promise or affirmation which the oath is intended 
 to confirm, adds, ' So help me God :' or more frequently the 
 substance of the oath is repeated to the juror by the officer or 
 magistrate who administers it, adding in the conclusion, ' So . 
 help you God.' The energy of the sentence resides in the 
 particle so ; so, that is, hdc lege, upon condition of my speaking 
 the truth or performing this promise, and not otherwise, may 
 God help me. The juror, whilst he hears or repeats the words 
 of the oath, holds his right hand upon a Bible or other book 
 containing the four Gospels. The conclusion of the oath some- 
 times runs, ' Ita me Deus adjuvct, et hsec sancta evangelia/ or, 
 ' So help me God, and the contents of this book •' which last 
 clause forms a connexion between the words and action of the 
 juror, that before was wanting. The juror then kisses the 
 book : the kiss, however, seems rather an act of reverence to 
 the contents of the book, (as, in the popish ritual, the priest 
 kisses the Gospel before he reads it,) than any part of the oath. 
 
 This obscure and elliptical form, together with the levity and 
 frequency with which it is administered, has brought about a 
 general inadvertency to the obligation of oaths ; which, both in 
 a religious and political view, is much to be lamented : and it 
 merits public consideration, whether the requiring of oaths on 
 so many frivolous occasions, especially in the Customs, and in 
 the qualification for petty offices, has any other effect than to 
 make them cheap in the minds of the people. A pound of tea 
 cannot travel regularly from the ship to the customer, without 
 costing half a dozen oaths at the least ; and the same security 
 for the due discharge of their office, namely, that of an oath, is 
 required from a churchwarden and an archbishop, from a petty 
 constable and the chief justice of England. Let the law continue 
 its own sanctions, if they be thought requisite ; but let it spare 
 the solemnity of an oath. And where, from the want of some- 
 thing better to depend upon, it is necessary to accept men's own 
 word or own account, let it annex to prevarication penalties pro- 
 portioned to the public mischief of the offence. 
 
 II. But whatever be the form of an oath, the signification is
 
 ico Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Parti. 
 
 the same. Tt is ' the calling upon God to witness, i. e. to 
 take notice of, what we say/ and it is c invoking his vengeance, 
 or renouncing his favour, if what we say he false, or what we 
 promise be not performed.' 
 
 III. Quakers and Moravians refuse to swear upon any occa- 
 sion ; founding their scruples concerning the lawfulness of oaths 
 upon our Saviour's prohibition, Matt. v. 34. ' I say unto you, 
 Swear not at all.' 
 
 The answer which we give to this objection cannot be under- 
 stood without first stating the whole passage : ' Ye have heard 
 that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou shalt not for- 
 swear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths. But 
 I say unto you, Swear not at all : neither by heaven, for it is 
 God's throne ; nor by the earth, for it is his footstool ; neither 
 bv Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt 
 thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair 
 white or black. But let your communication be, Yea, yea ; Nay, 
 nay : for whatsoever is more than these, cometh of evil.' 
 
 To reconcile with this passage of Scripture the practice of 
 swearing, or of taking oaths, when required by law, the following 
 observations must be attended to : — 
 
 1. It docs not appear that swearing ' by heaven/ ' by the 
 earth/ f by Jerusalem/ or ' by their ow r n head/ was a form of 
 swearing ever made use of amongst the Jews in judicial oaths : 
 and, consequently, it is not probable that they were judicial 
 oaths, which Christ had in his mind when he mentioned those 
 instances. 
 
 2. As to the seeming universality of the prohibition, ' Swear 
 not at all/ the emphatic clause ' not at all ' is to be read in 
 connexion with what follows ; ' not at all/ h. e. neither l by the 
 heaven/ nor ' by the earth/ nor ' by Jerusalem/ nor ' by thy 
 head / ' not at all/ docs not mean upon no occasion, but by 
 none of these forms. Our Saviour's argument seems to suppose, 
 that the people to whom he spake made a distinction between 
 swearing directly by the ' name of God/ and swearing by those 
 inferior objects of veneration, ' the heavens/ ' the earth/ 
 'Jerusalem/ or 'their own head.' In opposition to which 
 distinction, he tells them, that on account of the relation which 
 these things bore to the Supreme Being, to swear by any of them. 
 was in effect and substance to swear by Him; ' by heaven, for it
 
 Chap, xvi.] Oaths. 151 
 
 is his throne ; by the earth, for it is his footstool ; by Jerusalem, 
 for it is the city of the great King ; by thy head, for it is his 
 workmanship, not thine, — thou canst not make one hair white 
 or black :' for which reason he says, ' Swear not at all,' that 
 is, neither directly by God, nor indirectly by anything related 
 to him. This interpretation is greatly confirmed by a passage 
 in the twenty -third chapter of the same Gospel, where a similar 
 distinction, made by the Scribes and Pharisees, is replied to in 
 the same manner. 
 
 3. Our Saviour himself being ' adjured by the living God/ 
 to declare whether he was the Christ, the Son of God, or not, 
 condescended to answer the high-priest, without making any 
 objection to the oath (for such it was) upon which he examined 
 Him. — ' God is my ivitness,' says St. Paul to the Romans, ' that 
 without ceasing I make mention of you in my prayers :' and to 
 the Corinthians still more strongly, ' I call God for a record 
 upon my soul, that to spare you, I came not as yet to Corinth.' 
 Both these expressions contain the nature of oaths. The Epistle 
 to the Hebrews speaks of the custom of swearing judicially, 
 without any mark of censure or disapprobation : ' Men verily 
 swear by the greater ; and an oath, for confirmation, is to them 
 an end of all strife.' 
 
 Upon the strength of these reasons, we explain our Saviour's 
 words to relate, not to judicial oaths, but to the practice of vain, 
 wanton, and unauthorized swearing, in common discourse. Saint 
 James's words, chap. v. 12, are not so strong as our Saviour's, 
 and therefore admit the same explanation with more ease. 
 
 IV. Oaths are nugatory, that is, carry with them no proper 
 force or obligation, unless we believe that God will punish false 
 swearing with more severity than a simple lie, or breach of 
 promise ; for which belief there are the following reasons : — 
 
 1. Perjury is a sin of greater deliberation. The juror has the 
 thought of God and of religion upon his mind at the time ; at 
 least, there are very few who can shake them off entirely. He 
 offends, therefore, if he do offend, with a high hand ; in the 
 face, that is, and in defiance of the sanctions of religion. His 
 offence implies a disbelief or contempt of God's knowledge, 
 power, and justice ; which cannot be said of a lie where there 
 is nothing to carry the mind to any reflection upon the Deity, 
 or the divine Attributes at all.
 
 152 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 2. Perjury violates a superior confidence. Mankind must 
 trust to one another ; and they have nothing better to trust to 
 than one another's oath. Hence legal adjudications, which 
 govern and affect every right and interest on this side of the 
 grave, of necessity proceed and depend upon oaths. Perjury, 
 therefore, in its general consequence, strikes at the security of 
 reputation, property, and even of life itself. A lie cannot do 
 the same mischief, because the same credit is not given to it. 1 
 
 3. God directed the Israelites to swear by his name; 2 and 
 was pleased, ' in order to show the immutability of his own 
 counsel/ 3 to confirm his covenant with that people by an 
 oath : neither of which it is probable He would have clone, had 
 He not intended to represent oaths as having some meaning 
 and effect beyond the obligation of a bare promise ; which 
 effect must be owing to the severer punishment with which He 
 will vindicate the authority of oaths. 
 
 "V. Promissory oaths are not binding where the promise itself 
 would not be so : for the several cases of which, see the Chapter 
 of Promises. 
 
 VI. As oaths are designed for the security of the imposer, 
 it is manifest that they must be interpreted and performed in 
 the sense in which the imposer intends them ; otherwise they 
 afford no securitv to him. And this is the meaning and reason 
 of the rule, ' jurare in animum impouentis;' which rule the 
 reader is desired to carry along with him, whilst we proceed to 
 consider certain particular oaths, which are either of greater 
 importance, or more likely to fall in our way, than others. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' Whatever be the form of an oath, the obligation is the same.' 
 
 Paley has sufficiently vindicated the general lawfulness of 
 oaths. But if those of an opposite opinion would take their 
 stand on the ground of expediency, waiving the general question 
 of lawfulness, they might make out a stronger case. You 
 
 ' Except, indeed, where a Quaker's or Moravian's affirmation is accepted in the 
 place of an oath ; in which case, a lie partakes, so far as this reason extends, of the 
 nature and guilt of perjury. 
 
 2 Dent. vi. 13;' x.' 20. 3 Heb. vi. 17.
 
 Chap, xvii.] Oath in Evidence. 153 
 
 maintain, they might say, the allowableness of administering an 
 oath, but you do not hold it to be imperative : it is with you a 
 question of expediency. You infer the utility of oaths from the 
 circumstance, that some men who are not scrupulous about 
 truth and falsehood, in cases of simple affirmation, have a scruple 
 against violating an oath. But may it not be that the practice 
 of administering oaths tends to make men the less scrupulous 
 about veracity whenever they are not upon oath ? And may not 
 the expressions of ' calling God to witness/ ' invoking the divine 
 judgment/ and the like, tend to foster in men's minds the 
 notion, — grossly absurd as it is when distinctly stated, — that 
 God is not a witness of our conduct unless we invite Him to be 
 so, and that He will not punish false-witness except with our 
 permission ? An oath, properly considered, is merely a decla- 
 ration on our part that we are fully sensible of God's being a 
 witness and a judge of all our actions. Would it not be better 
 therefore to substitute for the oaths usually administered, a 
 solemn affirmation, accompanied with a declaration to the above 
 effect ; — either uttered by the Witness himself, or (in the form 
 of an admonition) by the Judge ? This should be made, to all 
 legal purposes, an oath ; with the penalties for perjury in case 
 of falsehood. 
 
 Under such a regulation, all conscientious scruples would be 
 satisfied ; and I am convinced there would be rather a general 
 improvement than the contrary, in respect of veracity. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 OATH IN EVIDENCE. 
 
 THE witness swears ' to speak the truth, the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth, touching the matter in question.' 
 Upon which it may be observed, that the designed conceal- 
 ment of any truth, which relates to the matter in agitation, is as 
 much a violation of the oath, as to testify a positive falsehood ; 
 and this, whether the witness be interrogated as to that par- 
 ticular point or not. For when the person to be examined is 
 sworn upon a voir dire, that is, in order to inquire whether he
 
 ]^4 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 ought to be admitted to give evidence in the cause at all, the 
 form runs thus : ' You shall true answer make to all such ques- 
 tions as shall be asked you :' but when he comes to be sworn in 
 chief, he swears ' to speak the whole truth/ without restraining 
 it, as before, to the questions that shall be asked : which diffe- 
 rence shows, that the law intends, in this latter case, to require 
 of the witness, that he give a complete and unreserved account 
 of what he knows of the subject of the trial, whether the ques- 
 tions proposed to him reach the extent of his knowledge or not. 
 So that if it be inquired of the witness afterwards, why he did 
 not inform the court so and so, it is not a sufficient, though a 
 very common answer, to say, c because it was never asked me.' 
 
 I know but one exception to this rule ; which is, when a full 
 discovery of the truth tends to accuse the witness himself of 
 some legal crime. The law of England constrains no man to 
 become his own accuser; consequently imposes the oath of 
 testimony with this tacit reservation. But the exception must 
 be confined to legal crimes. A point of honour, of delicacy, or 
 of reputation, may make a witness backward to disclose some 
 circumstance with which he is acquainted ; but will in no wise 
 justify his concealment of the truth, unless it could be shown, 
 that the law which imposes the oath, intended to allow this 
 indulgence to such motives. The exception of which we are 
 speaking is also withdrawn by a compact between the magi- 
 strate and the witness, when an accomplice is admitted to give 
 evidence against the partners of his crime. 
 
 Tenderness to the prisoner, although a specious apology for 
 concealment, is no just excuse : for if this plea be thought suf- 
 ficient, it takes the administration of penal justice out of the 
 hands of judges and juries, and makes it depend upon the temper 
 of prosecutors and witnesses. 
 
 Questions may be asked, which arc irrelative to the cause, 
 which affect the witness himself, or some third person ; in which, 
 and in all cases where the witness doubts of the pertinency and 
 propriety of the question, he ought to refer his doubts to the 
 court. The answer of the court, in relaxation of the oath, is 
 authority enough to the witness ; for the law which imposes the 
 oath, may remit what it will of the obligation : and it belongs to 
 the court to declare what the miud of the law is. Nevertheless, 
 it cannot be said universally, that the answer of the court is
 
 Chap, xviii.] Oath of Allegiance. 155 
 
 conclusive upon the conscience of the witness ; for his obligation 
 depends upon what he apprehended, at the time of taking the 
 oath, to be the design of the law in imposing it ; and no after- 
 requisition or explanation by the court can carry the obligation 
 beyond that. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 
 
 DO sincerely promise and swear, that I will be faithful and 
 -L bear true allegiance to his Majesty King George.' Formerly 
 the oath of allegiance ran thus : ' I do promise to be true and 
 faithful to the king and his heirs, and truth and faith to bear, 
 of life, and limb, and terrene honour ; and not to know or hear 
 of any ill or damage intended him, without defending him 
 therefrom :' and was altered at the Revolution to the present 
 form. So that the present oath is a relaxation of the old one. 
 And as the oath was intended to ascertain, not so much the 
 extent of the subject's obedience, as the person to whom it was 
 due, the legislature seems to have wrapped up its meaning upon 
 the former point, in a word purposely made choice of for its 
 general and indeterminate signification. 
 
 It will be most convenient to consider, first, w T hat the oath 
 excludes as inconsistent with it ; secondly, what it permits. 
 
 1. The oath excludes all intention to support the claim or 
 pretensions of any other person or persons to the crown and 
 government, than the reigning sovereign. A Jacobite, who is 
 persuaded of the Pretender's right to the croAvn, and who, more- 
 over, designs to join with the adherents to that cause to assert 
 this right, whenever a proper opportunity, with a reasonable 
 prospect of success, presents itself, cannot take the oath of 
 allegiance ; or, if he could, the oath of abjuration follows, which 
 contains an express renunciation of all opinions in favour of the 
 claim of the exiled family. 
 
 2. The oath excludes all design, at the time, of attempting to 
 depose the reigning prince, for any reason whatever. Let the 
 justice of the Revolution be what it would, no honest man could
 
 i^6 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 have taken even the present oath of allegiance to James the 
 Second, who entertained, at the time of taking it, a design of 
 joining in the measures which were entered into to dethrone him. 
 3. The oath forbids the taking up of arms against the reign- 
 ing prince, with views of private advancement, or from motives 
 of personal resentment or dislike. It is possible to happen in 
 this, what frequently happens in despotic governments, that an 
 ambitious general, at the head of the military force of the 
 nation might, by a conjuncture of fortunate circumstances, and 
 a great ascendancy over the minds of the soldiery, depose the 
 prince upon the throne, and make way to it for himself, or for 
 some creature of his own. A person in this situation would be 
 Avithholden from such an attempt by the oath of allegiance, if 
 he paid regard to it. If there were any who engaged in the 
 rebellion of the year forty-five, with the expectation of titles, 
 estates, or preferment ; or because they were disappointed, and 
 thought themselves neglected and ill-used at court ; or because 
 they entertained a family animosity, or personal resentment 
 against the king, the favourite, or the minister;— if any were 
 induced to take up arms by these motives, they added to the 
 many crimes of an unprovoked rebellion, that of wilful and cor- 
 rupt perjury. If, in the late American war, the same motives 
 determined others to connect themselves with that opposition, 
 their part in it was chargeable with perfidy and falsehood to 
 their oath, whatever Avas the justice of the opposition itself, or 
 however well-founded their own complaints might be of private 
 
 injury. 
 
 We are next to consider what the oath of allegiance permits, 
 
 or does not require. 
 
 j . It permits resistance to the king, when his ill-behaviour 
 or imbecility is such, as to make resistance beneficial to the 
 community. It may fairly be presumed that the Convention Par- 
 liament, which introduced the oath in its present form, did not 
 intend, by imposing it, to exclude all resistance; since the members 
 of that legislature had many of them recently taken up arms 
 against James the Second, and the very authority by which they 
 sat together was itself the effect of a successful opposition to an 
 acknowledged sovereign. Some resistance, therefore, was meant 
 to be allowed ; and, if any, it must be that which has the public 
 interest for its object.
 
 Chap, xix.] Oath against Bribery. 157 
 
 2. The oath does not require obedience to such commands of 
 the king as are unauthorized by law. No such obedience is implied 
 by the terms of the oath ; the fidelity there promised, is intended 
 of fidelity in opposition to his enemies, and not in opposition to 
 law ; and allegiance, at the utmost, can only signify obedience to 
 lawful commands. Therefore, if the king should issue a procla- 
 mation, levying money, or imposing any service or restraint 
 upon the subject beyond what the crown is empowered by law to 
 enjoin, there would exist no sort of obligation to obey such a pro- 
 clamation, in consequence of having taken the oath of allegiance. 
 
 3. The oath does not require that we should continue our 
 allegiance to the king, after he is actually and absolutely 
 deposed, driven into exile, carried away captive, or otherwise 
 rendered incapable of exercising the regal office, whether by his 
 fault or without it. The promise of allegiance implies, and is 
 understood by all parties to suppose, that the person to whom 
 the promise is made continues king ; continues, that is, to exer- 
 cise the power, and afford the protection, which belongs to the 
 office of king : for it is the possession of this power, which makes 
 such a particular person the object of the oath ; without it, why 
 should I swear allegiance to this man, rather than to any man 
 in the kingdom ? Beside which, the contrary doctrine is bur- 
 thened with this consequence, that every conquest, revolution 
 of government, or disaster which befalls the person of the prince, 
 must be followed by perpetual and irremediable anarchy. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 OATH AGAINST BRIBERY IN THE ELECTION OF MEMBERS OF 
 
 PARLIAMENT. 
 
 f 1 DO swear, I have not received, or had, by myself, or any 
 J- person whatsoever, in trust for me, or for my use and 
 benefit, directly or indirectly, any sum or sums of money, office, 
 place, or employment, gift, or reward, or any promise or security, 
 for any money, office, employment, or gift, in order to give my 
 vote at this election/
 
 *5$ Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 The several contrivances to evade this oath, such as the elec- 
 tors accepting money under colour of borrowing it, and giving 
 a promissory note, or other security, for it, which is cancelled 
 after the election ; receiving money from a stranger, or a person 
 in disguise, or out of a drawer, or purse, left open for the pur- 
 pose ; or promises of money to be paid after the election ; or 
 stipulating for a Place, Living, or other private advantage of any 
 kind ; if they escape the legal penalties of perjury, incur the 
 moral guilt ; for they are manifestly within the mischief and 
 design of the statute which imposes the oath, and within the 
 terms indeed of the oath itself; for the word ' indirectly ' is in- 
 serted on purpose to comprehend such cases as these. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 OATH AGAINST SIMONY. 
 
 FROM an imaginary resemblance between the purchase of a 
 benefice, and Simon Magus's attempt to purchase the gift 
 of the Holy Ghost (Acts viii. 19), the obtaining of ecclesias- 
 tical preferment by pecuniary considerations has been termed 
 Simony. 
 
 The sale of advowsons is inseparable from the allowance of 
 private patronage ; as patronage would otherwise devolve to the 
 most indigent, and for that reason the most improper hands it 
 could be placed in. Nor did the law ever intend to prohibit 
 the passing of advowsons from one patron to another; but to 
 restrain the patron, who possesses the right of presenting at the 
 vacancy, from being influenced, in the choice of his presentee, 
 by a bribe, or benefit to himself. It is the same distinction 
 with that which obtains in a freeholder's vote for his represen- 
 tative in Parliament. The right of voting, that is, the freehold 
 to which the right pertains, may be bought and sold as freely as 
 any other property ; but the exercise of that right, the vote 
 itself, may not be purchased, or influenced by money. 
 
 For this purpose, the law imposes upon the presentee, who is 
 generally concerned in the simony, if there be any, the following
 
 Cliap. xx.] Oath against Simony. 159 
 
 oath : ' I do swear that I have made no simoniacal payment, 
 contract, or promise, directly or indirectly, by myself, or by any 
 other to my knowledge, or with my consent, to any person or 
 persons whatsoever, for or concerning the procuring and obtain- 
 ing of this ecclesiastical place, &c. ; nor will, at any time here- 
 after, perform, or satisfy, any such kind of payment, contract, or 
 promise, made by any other without my knowledge or consent : 
 So help me, God, through Jesus Christ !' 
 
 It is extraordinary that Bishop Gibson should have thought 
 this oath to be against all promises whatsoever, when the terms 
 of the oath expressly restrain it to simoniacal promises ; and 
 the law r alone must pronounce what promises, as well as what 
 payments and contracts, are simoniacal, and consequently come 
 within the oath j and what do not so. 
 
 Now the law adjudges to be simony, 
 
 1. All payments, contracts, or promises, made by any person 
 for a benefice already vacant. The advowson of a void turn by 
 law, cannot be transferred from one patron to another; there- 
 fore, if the void turn be procured by money, it must be by a 
 pecuniary influence upon the then subsisting patron in the 
 choice of his presentee, which is the very practice the law 
 condemns. 
 
 2. A clergyman's purchasing of the next turn of a benefice 
 for himself, ' directly or indirectly,' that is, by himself, or by 
 another person with his money. It does not appear that the 
 law prohibits a clergyman from purchasing the perpetuity of 
 a patronage, more than any other person : but purchasing 
 the perpetuity, and forthwith selling it again with a reservation 
 of the next turn, and with no other design than to possess 
 himself of the next turn, is in f ran clem legis, and inconsistent 
 Avith the oath. 
 
 3. The procuring of a piece of preferment, by ceding to the 
 patron any rights, or probable rights, belonging to it. This is 
 simony of the worst kind ; for it is not only buying preferment, 
 but robbing the succession to pay for it. 
 
 4. Promises to the patron of a portion of the profit, of a 
 remission of tithes and dues, or other advantage out of the 
 produce of the benefice ; which kind of compact is a pernicious 
 condescension in the clergy, independent of the oath j for it tends 
 to introduce a practice, which may very soon become general, of
 
 160 Moral Philosophy. ' [Book in. Part i. 
 
 giving the revenue of churches to the lay patrons, and supplying 
 the duty by indigent stipendiaries. 
 
 5. General bonds of resignation, that is, bonds to resign upon 
 demand. 
 
 I doubt not but that the oath against simony is binding upon 
 the consciences of those who take it, though I question much 
 the expediency of requiring it. It is very fit to debar public 
 patrons, such as the king, the lord chancellor, bishops, eccle- 
 siastical corporations, and the like, from this kind of traffic : 
 because from them may be expected some regard to the quali- 
 fications of the persons whom they promote. But the oath 
 lays a snare for the integrity of the clergy ; and I do not per- 
 ceive, that the requiring of it in cases of private patronage pro- 
 duces any good effect, sufficient to compensate for this danger. 
 
 Where advowsons are holden along with manors, or other 
 principal estates, it would be an easy regulation to forbid that 
 they should ever hereafter be separated j and would, at least, 
 keep church preferment out of the hands of brokers. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' J question much the expediency of requiring it' [the oath against 
 
 simony] . 
 
 If in this matter, and also in several others, a distinct state- 
 ment were published of what it is that the law requires or 
 forbids, and of the penalty against infringement, this would be 
 as good a security as is attainable, and far preferable to the 
 multiplication of Oaths. 
 
 But in the case of Simony, perhaps a relaxation of the law 
 is in one point desirable. If A has a living of 400/. per annum 
 in the midst of the friends and connexions of B, who has a living 
 of 500/. or 600/., in the midst of A's friends, they would be 
 glad to exchange, if they could be allowed to make an arrange- 
 ment such that neither should gain or lose in income. This 
 surely ought to be allowed, under the consent and approbation 
 of their respective Patrons and Bishops. 
 
 If it be said that this might lead to abuses, if the parties were 
 unscrupulous, one might answer that those same parties would 
 evade the present law.
 
 Chap, xxi.] Oaths to observe Local Statutes. 16 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 OATHS TO OBSERVE LOCAL STATUTES. 
 
 MEMBERS of Colleges in the Universities, and of other 
 ancient foundations, are required to swear to the obser- 
 vance of their respective statutes ; which observance is become 
 in some cases unlawful, in others impracticable, in others useless, 
 in others inconvenient. 
 
 Unlawful directions are countermanded by the authority which 
 made them unlawful. 
 
 Impracticable directions are dispensed with by the necessity 
 of the case. 
 
 The only question is, how far the members of these societies 
 may take upon themselves to judge of the inconveniency of any 
 particular direction, and make that a reason for laying aside the 
 observance of it. 
 
 The animus imponentis, which is the measure of the juror's 
 duty, seems to be satisfied, when nothing is omitted, but what, 
 from some change in the circumstances under which it was pre- 
 scribed, it may fairly be presumed that the founder himself 
 would have dispensed with. 
 
 To bring a case within this rule, the inconveniency must — 
 
 1. Be manifest; concerning which there is no doubt. 
 
 2. It must arise from some change in the circumstances of 
 the institution : for, let the inconveniency be what it will, if it 
 existed at the time of the foundation, it must be presumed that 
 the founder did not deem the avoiding of it of sufficient import- 
 ance to alter his plan. 
 
 3. The direction of the statute must not only be inconvenient 
 in the general (for so may the institution itself be), but pre- 
 judicial to the particular end proposed by the institution: for, 
 it is this last circumstance which proves that the founder would 
 have dispensed with it in pursuance of his own purpose. 
 
 The statutes of some colleges forbid the speaking of any 
 language but Latin, within the walls of the college ; direct that a 
 certain number, and not fewer than that number, be allowed the 
 use of an apartment amongst them ; that so many hours of each 
 day be employed in public exercises, lectures, or disputations ; 
 and some other articles of discipline adapted to the tender years 
 
 P. M
 
 1 61 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 of the students who in former times resorted to universities. 
 Were colleges to retain such rules, nobody now-a-days would 
 come near them. They are laid aside, therefore, though parts 
 of the statutes, and as such included within the oath, not merely 
 because they are inconvenient, but because there is sufficient 
 reason to believe that the founders themselves would have 
 dispensed with them, as subversive of their own designs. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' Members of Colleges .... are required to swear to the 
 observance of their Statutes.' 
 
 Many such oaths as are here treated of are now abolished. 
 They are a snare to the conscience, and do much harm in many 
 ways, and effect no good purpose that might not be better 
 effected in other modes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION TO ARTICLES OF RELIGION. 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION to articles of religion, though no more than 
 a declaration of the subscriber's assent, may properly enough 
 be considered in connexion with the subject of oaths, because 
 it is governed by the same rule of interpretation : 
 
 Which rule is the animus imponentis. 
 
 The inquiry, therefore, concerning subscription will be, quis 
 imposuit, et quo animo ? 
 
 The bishop who receives the subscription, is not the im poser, 
 any more than the crier of a court, who administers the oath to 
 the jury and witnesses, is the person that imposes it ; nor, con- 
 sequently, is the private opinion or interpretation of the bishop 
 of any signification to the subscriber, one way or other. 
 
 The compilers of the Thirty-nine Articles are not to be con- 
 sidered as the imposcrs of subscription, any more than the framer 
 or drawer up of a law is the person that enacts it.
 
 Chap, xxii.] Annotations. 163 
 
 The legislature of the 13th Eliz. is the imposer, whose inten- 
 tion the subscriber is bound to satisfy. 
 
 They who contend, that nothing less can justify subscription 
 to the Thirty-nine Articles, than the actual belief of each and 
 every separate proposition contained in them, must suppose, 
 that the legislature expected the consent of ten thousand men, 
 and that in perpetual succession, not to one controverted pro- 
 position, but to many hundreds. It is difficult to conceive how 
 this could be expected by any, who observed the incurable diver- 
 sity of human opinion upon all subjects short of demonstration. 
 
 If the authors of the law did not intend this, what did they 
 intend ? 
 
 They intended to exclude from offices in the church, 
 
 1. All abettors of popery. 
 
 2. Anabaptists ; who were at that time a powerful party on 
 the Continent. 
 
 3. The Puritans ; who were hostile to an episcopal constitu- 
 tion : and in general the members of such leading sects or 
 foreign establishments as threatened to overthrow our own. 
 
 Whoever finds himself comprehended within these descriptions, 
 ought not to subscribe. Nor can a subscriber to the Articles 
 take advantage of any latitude which our rule may seem to allow, 
 who is not first convinced that he is truly and substantially 
 satisfying the intention of the legislature. 
 
 During the present state of ecclesiastical patronage, in which 
 private individuals are permitted to impose teachers upon 
 parishes with which they are often little or not at all connected, 
 some limitation of the patron's choice may be necessary to pre- 
 vent uneclifying contentions between neighbouring teachers, or 
 between the teachers and their respective congregations. But 
 this danger, if it exist, may be provided against with equal effect, 
 by converting the articles of faith into articles of peace. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 ' Subscription to Articles of Religion' 
 
 It is undoubtedly a great evil, on many accounts, to have 
 Articles and other Formularies unnecessarily rigid and exclu- 
 
 m 2
 
 ^4 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 sive. But something of the nature of a Test, framed by the 
 Kulers of a Church, is indispensable. And the pretensions 
 sometimes put forth, of dispensing with everything of the kind, 
 are altogether delusive. To have (as some have wildly pro- 
 posed) no test or terms of Communion at all, would be to 
 renounce entirely the character of a christian Church ; since, of 
 such a Body, it is plain that a Jew, a Polytheist, or an Atheist, 
 might, quite as consistently as a Christian, be a member, or even 
 a governor. And to have (as some have as wildly proposed) no 
 test but the very words of Scripture, would be scarcely less 
 extravagant ; since there is no one professing Christianity who 
 does not maintain that his sentiments are in accordance with 
 the true meaning of Scripture, however absurd or pernicious 
 those sentiments may really be. For it is notorious that Scrip- 
 ture itself is at least as liable as human Formularies (and 
 indeed, more so), to have forced interpretations put on its 
 language. 
 
 Accordingly, there is no christian Community which does not, 
 in some way or other, apply some other test besides the very 
 words of Scripture. Some churches, indeed, do not reduce any 
 such Tests to writing, or express it in any fixed form, so as to 
 enable every one to know beforehand precisely how much he 
 will be required to bind himself to. But nevertheless, those 
 churches do apply a test, and very often a much more stringent, 
 elaborate, and minute test, than our Liturgy and Articles. In 
 such Communities, the candidate-pastor of a Congregation is 
 not, to be sure, called on to subscribe in writing a definite 
 Confession of Faith, drawn up by learned and pious persons 
 after mature deliberation, and publicly set forth by common 
 authority. But he is called upon to converse with the leading 
 members of the Congregation, and satisfy them as to the sound- 
 ness of his views ; not, of course, by merely repeating texts of 
 Scripture, — which a man of any views might do, and do honestly ; 
 — but by explaining the sense in which he understands the 
 Scriptures. Thus, instead of subscribing the Thirty-nine 
 Articles, he subscribes the sentiments of the leading members 
 —for the time being — of that particular congregation over 
 which He is to be placed as Teacher. 
 
 Ami thus it is that Tests of some kind or other, written or 
 unwritten [i.e., transmitted by oral tradition], fixed for the
 
 Chap, xxii.] Annotations. 165 
 
 whole Body, or variable according to the discretion of particular 
 Governors, are, and must be, used in every christian Church. 
 Now the legitimate object of such Formularies is equally de- 
 feated, by making them Standards for the Interpretation of 
 Scripture, or by making what we take to be the sense of Scrip- 
 ture, the Standard for interpreting them. 
 
 For, the object of the Church in imposing these Formularies, 
 is to ascertain whether the result of our inquiries into the sense 
 of Scripture has been the same as hers : and this object is 
 equally defeated by our forcing the Church's words to square 
 with our notion of the sense of Scripture, or by forcing our 
 notion of the sense of Scripture into accordance with the decla- 
 rations of the Church. 
 
 1 Nor can a subscriber to the Articles take advantage of any 
 latitude which our rule may seem to allow, unless he is con- 
 vinced that he is truly and substantially satisfying the inten- 
 tion of the legislator.' 
 
 Some remarks on the celebrated Tract 90 (which has been 
 since reprinted by Messrs. Hope), which are to the purpose, 
 I will take the liberty of extracting from a Note to Essay xi. 
 of the Second Series of Essays : — 
 
 ' It may be objected (says that Tract) that the tenor of the 
 above explanations is anti- Protestant, whereas it is notorious 
 that the Articles were drawn up by Protestants, and intended 
 for the establishment of Protestantism ; accordingly, that it is 
 an evasion of their meaning to give them any other than a pro- 
 testant -drift, possible as it may be to do so grammatically, and 
 in each separate part 
 
 ' But I. It is a duty we owe both to the Catholic Church and 
 to our own, to take our reformed Confessions in the most 
 catholic sense they will admit 
 
 ' The Articles are evidently framed on the principle of 
 leaving open large questions, on which the controversy hinges. 
 They state broadly extreme truths, and are silent about their 
 adjustment. For instance, they say that all necessary faith 
 must be proved from Scripture; but do not say who is to 
 prove it 
 
 ' They say that Councils called by Princes may err : they do
 
 166 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 not determine whether Councils called in the name of Christ will 
 err 
 
 ' . . Since both Homilies and Articles appeal to the Fathers 
 and Catholic Antiquity, let it he considered whether, in inter- 
 preting them by these, we are not going to the very authority 
 to which they profess to submit themselves/ &c. — Fourth Ed. 
 Feast of St. John Evang. 1841. J. H. N. 
 
 In accordance with the principles here laid down, the Tract 
 itself is composed throughout. See, especially § 1. On Holy 
 Scripture and the authority of the Church. § 2. On Justifi- 
 cation by Faith. § 3. Works before and after Justification. 
 § 4. The Visible Church. § 5. General Councils. § 6. Pur- 
 gatory, &c. § 7. Sacraments. § 8. Transubstantiation. § 9. 
 Masses. 
 
 On all these points, and throughout the Tract, doctrines are 
 maintained totally opposite to the plain sense of the Articles, 
 and to the known design of their framers. And the whole 
 object of the Tract, is evidently, to show that a person may with 
 a safe conscience, hold the doctrines of one Church, and the 
 endowments of another quite opposed to it. 
 
 The Author of the Tract, however, did at length, some years 
 after, as is well known, openly join the Church of Rome ; 
 having, some years previously, acknowledged that the censures 
 he had been publicly passing on that Church were, at the time, 
 not at all in accordance with his real sentiments ! 
 
 Yet the public Protest against the condemnation passed at 
 Oxford on this and similar publications, has never been retracted ! 
 
 And here a question suggests itself which all must allow to 
 be quite pertinent to the matter in hand. Suppose an applicant 
 for Institution to a Benefice, who should hold either such doc- 
 trines as the foregoing, or the extreme contrary ones, or any 
 others whatever, to adopt that system of interpretation just 
 alluded to, might he not thus avoid all the difficulties and con- 
 tests which might otherwise be apprehended? He would only 
 have to give to all inquiries such answers as might be most 
 satisfactory to the Diocesan ; and when in possession of his 
 Living, might preach the direct contrary of what he had before 
 -aid : alleging that he had been ' using words in a peculiar sense? 
 
 Those who would regard such a procedure, or anything even 
 remotely approaching to it, as unpardonable in one whose doc-
 
 Chap, xxii.] Annotations. i6j 
 
 trinal views they disapprove, but allowable in the cause of what 
 they consider as orthodoxy, — these, if their sincerity is doubted 
 when they profess to abhor disingenuousness, cannot surely 
 complain of uncharitable treatment. 
 
 Then again, several writers on the opposite side pursue a 
 similar plan. One of these describes himself as having 'nailed 
 his colours to the mast of the Evangelical Party/ Of course, 
 his real meaning is the converse. He doubtless means that it 
 is — not his colours, but the colours of the Evangelical Party — 
 that he has nailed, — not to their mast, but to his. The meta- 
 phor is a common one, and quite intelligible. In a sea-fight, a 
 commander who nails the flag of his Country to the mast of his 
 ship, is understood to have resolved that he will never surrender 
 to any force that can be brought against him, but will suffer 
 his vessel to be sunk, rather than yield. And in a controversy 
 accordingly — the weapons employed being not bullets, but argu- 
 ments, — to announce a corresponding determination, is to pro- 
 claim a resolution not to yield to any arguments, but to maintain 
 the opinion once formed, whatever reasons, strong or weak, may 
 be adduced against it. 
 
 Accordingly, this Writer, having set forth certain views which 
 he regards as unauthorized by Scripture, proceeds to remark, 
 that, this being so, ' We necessarily conclude a pkiori, that 
 they form no part of the Creed of the Church of England.' .... 
 ' Against this, however/ he goes on to say, ' it will be objected, 
 that the Formularies of the Church do nevertheless contaiu some 
 expressions, which seem to countenance those doctrines, and, 
 therefore, that either the doctrine so favoured is scriptural, or 
 that the Formulary which implies it is not scriptural. The 
 question then is, — upon the assumption that the said doctrine is 
 not scriptural, whether our Church be inconsistent with its 
 own rule of Faith ? To which the answer is here given in the 
 Negative. And the reason is this ; That Rule of Faith which 
 excludes from our Creed all that is not scriptural, excludes also 
 from our Formularies every Acceptation which is not scriptural. 
 And consequently, every Minister of the Church of England is 
 inevitably bound, both by his Subscription and by his ordination 
 Vow, to put such a construction upon the words of our Church 
 Services as shall be in agreement with its Rule of Faith.' 
 
 Now this is exactly of a piece with the procedure of the
 
 1 68 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 author of Tract 90, above cited. Our Reformers, he assumes, 
 considered themselves (as they certainly did) to be in agreement 
 with c catholic antiquity ;' and then, having laid down what — in 
 his opinion — Catholic Antiquity decides, he proceeds to wrest 
 the language of our Reformers into a conformity with this ; 
 just as the other Writer forces their language into an agreement 
 with his view of Scripture. 
 
 It is curious to observe that this is, almost word for word, 
 the plea upon which the Arians of the last century endeavoured 
 to justify themselves in subscribing the Formularies of our 
 Church. Those Formularies, they admitted, contained some 
 expressions which seemed to countenance (what they called) the 
 vulgar notions about the Trinity ; but then ' the Protestant 
 churches require men to comply with their Forms merely on 
 account of their being agreeable to Scripture, and consequently 
 in such sense only wherein they are agreeable to Scripture ; n 
 and as it seemed evident to them (the Arians) that the Atha- 
 nasian doctrine was quite repugnant to Scripture, they ( neces- 
 sarily concluded a priori/ that it was not, to them, the just 
 meaning of our Formularies. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 WILLS. 
 
 T 
 
 HE fundamental question upon this subject is, whether Wills 
 
 J- are of natural or of adventitious right ? that is, whether the 
 right of directing the disposition of property after his death be- 
 longs to a man in a state of nature, and by the law of nature, or 
 whether it be given him entirely by the positive regulations of 
 the country he lives in ? 
 
 The immediate produce of each man's personal labour, as the 
 tools, weapons, and utensils, which he manufactures, the tent or 
 hut that he builds, and perhaps the flocks and herds which he 
 breeds and rears, are as much his own as the labour was which 
 he employed upon them, that is, are his property naturally and 
 absolutely; and consequently he may give or leave them to 
 
 1 Clarke's Introduction to The Scripture-doctrine of the Trinity .
 
 Cliap. xxiii.] Wills. 169 
 
 whom he pleases, there being nothing to limit the continuance 
 of his right, or to restrain the alienation of it. 
 
 But every other species of property, especially property in 
 land, stands upon a different foundation. 
 
 We have seen, in the Chapter upon Property, that, in a state 
 of nature, a man's right to a particular spot of ground arises from 
 his using it, and his wanting it ; consequently ceases with the 
 use and want : so that at his death the estate reverts to the com- 
 munity, without any regard to the last owner's will, or even any 
 preference of his family, further than as they become the first 
 occupiers after him, and succeed to the same want and use. 
 
 Moreover, as natural rights cannot, like rights created by act 
 of parliament, expire at the end of a certain number of years ; if 
 the testator have a right, by the law of nature, to dispose of his 
 property one moment after his death, he has the same right to 
 direct the disposition of it for a million of ages after him j which 
 is absurd. 
 
 The ancient apprehensions of mankind upon the subject were 
 conformable to this account of it : for, wills have been introduced 
 into most countries by a positive act of the State ; as by the Laws 
 of Solon into Greece ; by the Twelve Tables into Rome ; and 
 that not till after a considerable progress had been made in legis- 
 lation, and in the economy of civil life. Tacitus relates, that 
 amongst the Germans they were disallowed ; and what is more 
 remarkable, in this country, since the Conquest, lands could not 
 be devised by will, till within little more than two hundred 
 years ago, when this privilege was restored to the subject, by an 
 act of parliament, in the latter end of the reign of Henry the 
 Eighth. 
 
 No doubt, many beneficial purposes are attained by extending 
 the owner's power over his property beyond his life, and beyond 
 his natural right. It invites to industry ; it encourages mar- 
 riage ; it secures the dutifulness and dependency of children : 
 but a limit must be assigned to the duration of this power. The 
 utmost extent to which, in any case, entails are allowed by the 
 laws of England to operate, is during the lives in existence at 
 the death of the testator, and one-and-twenty years beyond 
 these ; after which, there are ways and means of setting them 
 aside. 
 
 From the consideration that wills are the creatures of the
 
 1 70 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part i. 
 
 municipal law which gives them their efficacy, may he deduced 
 a determination of the question, whether the intention of the 
 testator in an informal will be binding upon the conscience of 
 those, who, by operation of law, succeed to his estate. By an 
 informal will, I mean a will void in law for want of some 
 requisite formality, though no doubt be entertained of its mean- 
 ing or authenticity : as, suppose a man make his will, devising 
 his freehold estate to his sister's son, and the will be attested by 
 two only, instead of three, subscribing witnesses ; would the 
 brother's son, who is heir at law to the testator, be bound in 
 conscience to resign his claim to the estate, out of deference to 
 his uncle's intention? or, on the contrary, would not the devisee 
 under the will be bound, upon discovery of this flaw in it, to 
 surrender the estate, suppose he had gained possession of it, to 
 the heir at law ? 
 
 Generally speaking, the heir at law is not bound by the inten- 
 tion of the testator : for the intention can signify nothing, unless 
 the person intending have a right to govern the descent of the 
 estate. That is the first question. Now this right the testator 
 can ordy derive from the law of the land : but the law confers 
 the right upon certain conditions, with which conditions he has 
 not complied ; therefore, the testator can lay no claim to the 
 power which he pretends to exercise, as he hatli not entitled 
 himself to the benefit of that law, by virtue of which alone the 
 estate ought to attend his disposal. Consequently, the devisee 
 under the will, who, by concealing this flaw in it, keeps posses- 
 sion of the estate, is in the situation of any other person who 
 avails himself of his neighbour's ignorance to detain from him 
 his property. The will is so much waste paper, from the defect 
 of right in the person who made it. Nor is this catching at an 
 expression of law to pervert the substantial design of it : for I 
 apprehend it to be the deliberate mind of the legislature, that 
 no will should take effect upon real estates, unless authenticated 
 in the precise manner which the statute describes. Had tes- 
 tamentary dispositions been founded in any natural right, inde- 
 pendent of positive constitutions, I should have thought diffe- 
 rently of this question : for then I should have considered the 
 law rather as refusing its assistance to enforce the right of the 
 devisee, than as extinguishing or working any alteration in the 
 right itself.
 
 Chap, xxiii.] Wills. 171 
 
 And after all, I should chuse to propose a case, where no 
 consideration of pity to distress, of duty to a parent, or of 
 gratitude to a benefactor, interfered with the general rule of 
 justice. 
 
 The regard due to kindred in the disposal of our fortune 
 (except the case of lineal kindred, which is different) arises 
 either from the respect we owe to the presumed intention of the 
 ancestor from whom we received our fortunes, or from the ex- 
 pectations which we have encouraged. The intention of the 
 ancestor is presumed with greater certainty, as well as entitled 
 to more respect, the fewer degrees he is removed from us ; which 
 makes the difference in the different degrees of kindred. For 
 instance, it may be presumed to be a father's intention and 
 desire, that the inheritance which he leaves, after it has served 
 the turn and generation of one son, should remain a provision 
 for the families of his other children, equally related and dear 
 to him as the oldest. Whoever, therefore, without cause, gives 
 away his patrimony from his brother's or sister's family, is 
 guilty not so much of an injury to them, as of ingratitude to 
 his parent. The deference due from the possessor of a fortune 
 to the presumed desire of his ancestor, will also vary with this 
 circumstance : whether the ancestor earned the fortune by his 
 personal industry, acquired it by accidental successes, or only 
 transmitted the inheritance which he received. 
 
 Where a man's fortune is acquired by himself, and he has 
 done nothing to excite expectation, but rather has refrained 
 from those particular attentions which tend to cherish expecta- 
 tion, he is perfectly disengaged from the force of the above 
 reasons, and at liberty to leave his fortune to his friends, to 
 charitable or public purposes, or to whom he will : the same 
 blood, proximity of blood, and the like, are merely modes of 
 speech, implying nothing real, nor any obligation of themselves. 
 
 There is always, however, a reason for providing for our poor 
 relations, in preference to others who may be equally necessi- 
 tous, which is, that if we do not, no one else will ; mankind, by 
 an established consent, leaving the reduced branches of good 
 families to the bounty of their wealthy alliances. 
 
 The not making a will is a very culpable omission, where it 
 is attended with the following effects : where it leaves daughters, 
 or younger children, at the mercy of the oldest son ; where it
 
 172 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Parti. 
 
 distributes a personal fortune equally amongst the children, 
 although there be no equality in their exigencies or situations ; 
 where it leaves an opening for litigation ; or lastly, and prin- 
 cipally, where it defrauds creditors ; for, by a defect in our laws, 
 which has been long and strangely overlooked, real estates are 
 not subject to the payment of debts by simple contract, unless 
 made so by will; although credit is, in fact, generally given to 
 the possession of such estates : he, therefore, who neglects to 
 make the necessary appointments for the payment of his debts, 
 as far as his effects extend, sins, as it has been justly said, in his 
 grave ; and if he omits this on purpose to defeat the demands of 
 his creditors, he dies with a deliberate fraud in his heart. 
 
 Anciently, when any one died without a will, the bishop of 
 the diocese took possession of his personal fortune, in order to 
 dispose of it for the benefit of his soul, that is, to pious or cha- 
 ritable uses. It became necessary, therefore, that the bishop 
 should be satisfied of the authenticity of the will, when there was 
 ' any, before he resigned the right which he had to take possession 
 of the dead man's fortune in case of intestacy. In this way 
 wills, and controversies relating to wills, came within the cogni- 
 sance of ecclesiastical courts ; under the jurisdiction of which, 
 wills of personals (the only wills that were made formerly) still 
 continue, though, in truth, no more now-a-days connected with 
 religion, than any other instruments of conveyance. This is a 
 peculiarity in the English laws. 
 
 Succession to intestates must be regulated by positive rules of 
 law, there being no principle of natural justice whereby to as- 
 certain the proportion of the different claimants : not to mention 
 that the claim itself, especially of collateral kindred, seems to 
 have little foundation in the law of nature. 
 
 These regulations should be guided by the duty and presumed 
 inclination of the deceased, so far as these considerations can be 
 consulted by general rules. The statutes of Charles the Second, 
 commonly called the Statutes of Distribution, which adopt the 
 rule of the Roman law in the distribution of personals, are suf- 
 ficiently equitable. They assign one third to the widow, and 
 two thirds to the children ; in case of no children, one half to 
 the widow, and the other half to the next of kin ; where neither 
 widow nor lineal descendants survive, the whole to the next of 
 kin, and to be equally divided amongst kindred of equal degree,
 
 Chap, xxiii.] Annotation. 173 
 
 without distinction of whole blood and half blood, or of con- 
 sanguinity by the father's or mother's side. 
 
 The descent of real estates, — of houses, that is, and land, — 
 having been settled in more remote and in ruder times, is less 
 reasonable. There never can be much to complain of in a rule 
 which every person may avoid, by so easy a provision as that of 
 making his will : otherwise, our law in this respect is chargeable 
 with some flagrant absurdities ; such as, that an estate shall in 
 no wise go to the brother or sister of the half blood, though it 
 came to the deceased from the common parent ; that it shall go 
 to the remotest relation the intestate has in the world, rather 
 than to his own father or mother ; or even be forfeited for want 
 of an heir, though both parents survive ; that the most distant 
 paternal relation shall be preferred to an uncle, or own cousin, 
 by the mother's side, notwithstanding the estate was purchased 
 and acquired by the intestate himself. 1 
 
 Land not being so divisible as money, may be a reason for 
 making a difference in the course of inheritance : but there 
 ought to be no difference but what is founded upon that reason. 
 The Roman law made none. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' The law confers the right [of making a Will] upon certain 
 
 conditions.' 
 
 If, however, it be understood that the sole object of those 
 conditions, is, to guard against forgery, it might be urged that to 
 avail oneself of an accidental informality when the Will is known 
 to be genuine, is to apply the Law to a purpose for which it was 
 not designed : even as Paley has laid down, in speaking of the 
 unfairness of availing oneself of the f Statute of Limitations/ 
 to evade the payment of what we know to be a just debt. 
 
 1 Alterations in these laws have heen made since Paley's time.
 
 BOOK III. 
 PART II. 
 
 OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE INDETERMINATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 I USE the term charity neither in the common sense of bounty 
 to the poor, nor in St. Paul's sense of benevolence to all man- 
 kind : but I apply it at present, in a sense more commodious to 
 my purpose, to signify the promoting the happiness of our inferiors. 
 
 Charity, in this sense, I take to be the principal province of 
 virtue and religion : for, whilst worldly prudence will direct our 
 behaviour towards our superiors, and politeness, towards our 
 equals, there is little beside the consideration of duty, or an 
 habitual humanity which comes into the place of consideration, 
 to produce a proper conduct towards those who are beneath us, 
 and dependent upon us. 
 
 There are three principal methods of promoting the happiness 
 of our inferiors. 
 
 i. By the treatment of our domestics and dependents. 
 
 2. By professional assistance. 
 
 3. By pecuniary bounty. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 TIIE TREATMENT OF OUR DOMESTICS AND DEPENDENTS. 
 
 A PARTY of friends setting out together upon a journey, soon 
 find it to be the best for all sides, that while they are upon 
 the road, one of the company should wait upon the rest ; another
 
 Charity. 1 75 
 
 ride forward to seek out lodging and entertainment ; a third 
 carry the portmanteau j a fourth take charge of the horses ; a 
 fifth bear the purse, conduct and direct the route ; not for- 
 getting, however, that, as they were equal and independent when 
 they set out, so they are all to return to a level again at their 
 journey's end. The same regard and respect ; the same for- 
 bearance, lenity, and reserve in using their service ; the same 
 mildness in delivering commands ; the same study to make their 
 journey comfortable and pleasant, which he whose lot it was to 
 direct the rest, would in common decency think himself bound 
 to observe towards them ; ought we to show to those who, in the 
 casting of the parts of human society, happen to be placed within 
 our power, or to depend upon us. 
 
 Another reflection of a like tendency with the former is, that 
 our obligation to them is much greater than theirs to us. It is 
 a mistake to suppose that the rich man maintains his servants, 
 tradesmen, tenants, and labourers : the truth is, they maintain 
 him. It is their industry which supplies his table, furnishes his 
 wardrobe, builds his houses, adorns his equipage, provides his 
 amusements. It is not the estate, but the labour employed upon 
 it, that pays his rent. All that he does, is to distribute what 
 others produce; which is the least part of the business. 
 
 Nor do I perceive any foundation for an opinion which is 
 often handed round in genteel company, that good usage is 
 thrown away upon low and ordinary minds ; that they are in- 
 sensible of kindness, and incapable of gratitude. If by ' low 
 and ordinary minds' are meant the minds of men in low and 
 ordinary stations, they seem to be affected by benefits in the 
 same way that all others are, and to be no less ready to requite 
 them : and it would be a very unaccountable law of nature if it 
 were otherwise. 
 
 Whatever uneasiness we occasion to our domestics, which 
 neither promotes our service, nor answers the just ends of punish- 
 ment, is manifestly wrong ; were it only upon the general prin- 
 ciple of diminishing the sum of human happiness. 
 By which rule we are forbidden, 
 
 1 . To enjoin unnecessary labour, or confinement, from the 
 mere love and wantonness of domination. 
 
 2. To insult our servants by harsh, scornful, or opprobrious 
 language.
 
 jy6 Moral Philosophy. [Book m. Part ii. 
 
 3. To refuse them any harmless pleasures : 
 
 And, by the same principle, are also forbidden causeless or 
 immoderate anger, habitual peevishness, and groundless sus- 
 picion. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SLAVERY. 
 
 THE prohibitions of the last chapter extend to the treatment 
 of slaves, being founded upon a principle independent of 
 the contract between masters and servants. 
 
 I define slavery to he ' an obligation to labour for the 
 benefit of the master, without the contract or consent of the 
 servant.' 
 
 This obligation may arise, consistently with the law of nature, 
 from three causes : 
 
 1. From crimes. 
 
 2. Prom captivity. 
 
 3. Prom debt. 
 
 In the first case, the continuance of the slavery, as of any 
 other punishment, ought to be proportioned to the crime ; in 
 the second and third cases, it ought to cease as soon as 
 the demand of the injured nation, or private creditor, is 
 satisfied. 
 
 The slave-trade upon the coast of Africa is not excused by 
 these principles. When slaves in that country are brought to 
 market, no questions, I believe, are asked about the origin or 
 justice of the vendor's title. It may be presumed, therefore, 
 that this title is not always, if it be ever, founded in any of the 
 causes above assigned. 
 
 But defect of right in the first purchase is the least crime 
 with which this traffic is chargeable. The natives are excited 
 to war and mutual depredation, for the sake of supplying their 
 contracts, or furnishing the market with slaves. With this the 
 wickedness begins. The slaves, torn away from parents, wives, 
 children, from their friends and companions, their fields and 
 flocks, their home and country, are transported to the European 
 settlements in America, with no other accommodation on ship-
 
 Chap, iii.] Slavery. 177 
 
 board than what is provided for brutes. This is the second 
 stage of cruelty ; from which, the miserable exiles arc delivered, 
 only to be placed, and that for life, in subjection to a dominion 
 and system of laws, the most merciless and tyrannical that ever 
 were tolerated upon the face of the earth ; and from all that 
 can be learned by the accounts of the people upon the spot, the 
 inordinate authority which the plantation-laws confer upon the 
 slave-holder is exercised, by the English slave-holder especially, 
 with rigour and brutality. 1 
 
 Bat necessity is pretended; the name under which every 
 enormity is attempted to be justified. And, after all, what is 
 the necessity ? It has never been proved that the land could 
 not be cultivated there, as it is here, by hired servants. It is 
 said that it could not be cultivated with quite the same con- 
 venience 7 and cheapness, as by the labour of slaves : by which 
 means, a pound of sugar, which the planter now sells for six- 
 pence, could not be afforded under sixpence-halfpenny ; — and 
 this is the necessity. 
 
 The great revolution which has taken place in the Western 
 world may probably conduce (and who knows but that it was 
 designed ?) to accelerate the fall of this abominable tyranny : 
 and now that this contest and the passions which attend it, are 
 no more, there may succeed perhaps a season for reflecting, 
 whether a legislature -which had so long lent its assistance to the 
 support of an institution replete with human misery, was fit to 
 be trusted with an empire the most extensive that ever obtained 
 in any age or quarter of the world. 
 
 Slavery was a part of the civil constitution of most countries, 
 
 %/ JL J 
 
 when Christianity appeared ; yet no passage is to be found in 
 the christian Scriptures, by which it is condemned or prohibited. 
 This is true : for Christianity, soliciting admission into all 
 nations of the world, abstained, as behoved it, from intermeddling 
 with the civil institutions of any. But does it follow, from 
 the silence of Scripture concerning them, that all the civil in- 
 stitutions which then prevailed were right? or that the bad 
 should not be exchanged for better ? 
 
 Besides this, the discharging of slaves from all obligation to 
 
 1 Bad as the African Slave-trade is, the internal slave-trade of the American 
 U.S. is far worse. — See American Slavery. (Longmans.) 
 P. N
 
 178 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 obey their masters, which is the consequence of pronouncing- 
 slavery to be unlawful, would have had no better effect than to 
 let loose one half of mankind upon the other. Slaves would 
 have been tempted to embrace a religion, which asserted their 
 right to freedom ; masters would hardly have been persuaded to 
 consent to claims founded upon such authority ; the most cala- 
 mitous of all contests, a bellum servile, might probably have ensued, 
 to the reproach, if not the extinction, of the christian name. 
 
 The truth is, the emancipation of slaves should be gradual, 
 and be carried on by provisions of law, and under the pro- 
 tection of civil government. Christianity can only operate as 
 an alterative. By the mild diffusion of its light and influence, 
 the minds of men are insensibly prepared to perceive and cor- 
 rect the enormities, which folly, or wickedness, or accident, have 
 introduced into their public establishments. In this way the 
 Greek and Roman slavery, and since these, the feudal tyranny, 
 has declined before it. And we trust that, as the knowledge 
 and authority of the same religion advance in the world, they 
 will banish what remains of this odious institution. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 c No passage is to be found in the Christian Scriptures by which 
 it [Slavery] is condemned.' 
 
 It may be added to Paley's most just remarks on this sub- 
 ject, that the Apostles, when exhorting slaves to patience, never 
 vindicated the institution, but (like the modern Moravians) 
 dwelt on the duty of taking care not to bring an ill-name on 
 their religion. They are rather to suffer a wrong than to raise 
 a prejudice against Christianity. [See 1 Tim. chap, vi.] A 
 Slave cannot fairly be called a thief for taking anything from 
 his Master, or for stealing his own liberty. He may be con- 
 sidered as in an enemy's country, in the midst of those who 
 recognise no rights of his as against them, and who therefore 
 have no rights as against him. But it is his christian duty to 
 forego any rights he may possess, if this be needful with a view 
 to the furtherance of the Gospel. [See an Article on Uncle 
 Tom in the North British Review.~]
 
 Chap, iv.] Charity. 179 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 PKOFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE. 
 
 THIS kind of beneficence is chiefly to be expected from 
 members of the legislature, magistrates, medical, legal, and 
 sacerdotal professions. 
 
 1. The care of the poor ought to be the principal object of 
 all laws ; for this plain reason, that the rich are able to take 
 care of themselves. 
 
 Much has been, and more might be, done by the laws of this 
 country, towards the relief of the impotent, and the protection 
 and encouragement of the industrious poor. Whoever applies 
 himself to collect observations upon the state and operation of 
 the poor-laws, and to contrive remedies for the imperfections 
 and abuses which he observes, aud digests these remedies into 
 acts of parliament ; and conducts them, by argument or influ- 
 ence, through the two branches of the legislature, or communi- 
 cates his ideas to those who are more likely to carry them into 
 effect ; deserves well of a class of the community so numerous, 
 that their happiness forms a principal part of the whole. The 
 study and activity thus employed, is charity, in the most meri- 
 torious sense of the word. 
 
 1. The application of parochial relief is intrusted, in the first 
 instance, to overseers and contractors, who have an interest in 
 opposition to that of the poor, inasmuch as whatever they allow 
 them comes in part out of their own pocket. For this reason, 
 the law has deposited with justices of the peace a power of 
 superintendence aud control ; and the judicious interposition of 
 this power is a most useful exertion of charity, and ofttiraes 
 within the ability of those who have no other way of serving 
 their generation. A country gentleman of very moderate edu- 
 cation, and who has little to spare from his fortune, by learning 
 so much of the poor-law as is to be found in Dr. Burn's Justice, 
 and by furnishing himself with a knowledge of the prices of 
 labour and provision, so as to be able to estimate the exigencies 
 of a family, and what is to be expected from their industry, 
 may, in this way, place out the one talent committed to him, to 
 great account. 
 
 N 2
 
 ] 8o Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 3. Of all private professions, that of medicine puts it in a 
 man's power to do the most good at the least expense. Health, 
 which is precious to all, is to the poor invaluable : and their 
 complaints, as agues, rheumatisms, &c, are often such as yield 
 to medicine. And with respect to the expense, drugs at first 
 hand cost little, and advice costs nothing, were it is only 
 bestowed upon those who could not afford to pay for it. 
 
 4. The rights of the poor are not so important or intricate, as 
 their contentions are violent and ruinous. A lawyer or attorney, 
 of tolerable knowledge in his profession, has commonly judg- 
 ment enough to adjust these disputes, with all the effect, and 
 without the expense, of a law-suit ; and he may be said to give 
 a poor man twenty pounds, who prevents his throwing it aw r ay 
 upon law. A legal man, whether of the profession or not, wdio, 
 •together with a spirit of conciliation, possesses the confidence of 
 his neighbourhood, Avill be much resorted to for this purpose, 
 especially since the great increase of costs has produced a general 
 dread of going to law. 
 
 Nor is this line of beneficence confined to arbitration. Sea- 
 sonable counsel, coming with the weight which the reputation of 
 the adviser gives it, will often keep or extricate the rash and 
 uninformed out of great difficulties. 
 
 Lastly, I know not a more exalted charity than that which 
 presents a shield against the rapacity or persecution of a tyrant. 
 
 5. Betwixt argument and authority (I mean that authority 
 which flows from voluntary respect, and attends upon sanctity and 
 disinterestedness of character) something maybe done, amongst 
 the lower orders of mankind, towards the regulation of their 
 conduct, and the satisfaction of their thoughts. This office be- 
 longs to the ministers of religion ; or rather, whoever undertakes 
 it, becomes a minister of religion. The inferior clergy, who are 
 nearly upon a level with the common sort of their parishioners, 
 and who on that account gain an easier admission to their 
 society and confidence, have in this respect more in their power 
 than their superiors. The discreet use of this power constitutes 
 one of the most respectable functions of human nature.
 
 Chap, v.] Charity. 181 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 PECTTNIABY BOUNTY. 
 
 I. The obligation to bestow relief upon the poor. 
 II. The manner of bestowing it. 
 III. The pretences by which men excuse themselves from it. 
 
 I. The obligation to bestow relief upon the poor. 
 
 rPHEY who rank pity amongst the original impulses of our 
 J- nature rightly contend, that, when this principle prompts 
 us to the relief of human misery, it indicates the divine intention, 
 and our duty. Indeed, the same conclusion is deducible from the 
 existence of the passion, whatever account be given of its origin. 
 Whether it be an instinct or a habit, it is in fact a property of our 
 nature, which God appointed j and the final cause for which it was 
 appointed, is to afford to the miserable, in the compassion of 
 their fellow-creatures, a remedy for those inequalities and dis- 
 tresses which God foresaw that many must be exposed to, under 
 every general rule for the distribution of property. 
 
 Besides this, the poor have a claim founded in the law of na- 
 ture, which may be thus explained : — All things were originally 
 common. No one being able to produce a charter from Heaven, 
 had any better title to a particular possession than his next 
 neighbour. There were reasons for mankind's agreeing upon a 
 separation of this common fund ; and God for these reasons is 
 presumed to have ratified it. But this separation was made and 
 consented to, upon the expectation and condition that every one 
 should have left a sufficiency for his subsistence, or the means of 
 procuring it : and as no fixed laws for the regulation of property 
 can be so contrived, as to provide for the relief of every case and 
 distress which may arise, these cases and distresses, when their 
 right and share in the common stock were given up or taken 
 from them, were supposed to be left to the voluntary bounty of 
 those who might be acquainted with the exigencies of their situ- 
 ation, and in the way of affording assistance. And, therefore, 
 when the partition of property is rigidly maiptained against the 
 claims of indigence and distress, it is maintained in opposition to 
 the intention of those who made it, and to his, who is the
 
 182 Moral Philosophy, [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 Supreme Proprietor of everything, and who has filled the world 
 with plenteousness, for the sustentation and comfort of all whom 
 He sends into it. 
 
 The christian Scriptures are more copious and explicit upon 
 this duty than upon almost any other. The description which 
 Christ hath left us of the proceedings of the Last Day, establishes 
 the obligation of bounty beyond controversy : — ' When the 
 Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with 
 him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory, and before 
 him shall be gathered all nations ; and he shall separate them 
 one from another. — Then shall the King say unto them on his 
 right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom 
 pi'epared for you from the foundation of the world : for I was 
 an hungered, and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave 
 me drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me in : naked, and ye 
 clothed me : I was sick, and ye visited me : I was in prison, and 
 ye came unto me. — And inasmuch as ye have done it to one of 
 the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' l It 
 is not necessary to understand this passage as a literal account 
 of what will actually pass on that day. Supposing it only a 
 scenical description of the rules and principles, by which the 
 Supreme Arbiter of our destiny will regulate his decisions, it 
 conveys the same lesson to us ; it equally demonstrates of how 
 great value and importance these duties in the sight of God are, 
 and what stress will be laid upon them. The apostles also 
 describe this virtue as propitiating the divine favour in an 
 eminent degree. And these recommendations have produced 
 their effect. It does not appear that, before the times of 
 Christianity, an infirmary, hospital, or public charity of any 
 kind, existed in the world ; whereas most countries in Chris- 
 tendom have long abounded with these institutions. To which 
 may be added, that a spirit of private liberality seems to flourish 
 amidst the decay of many other virtues; not to mention the 
 legal provision for the poor, which obtains in this country, and 
 which was unknown and unthought of by the most humanized 
 nations of antiquity. 
 
 St. Paul adds upon the subject an excellent direction, and 
 which is practicable by all who have anything to give : — f Upon 
 
 J Matt. xxv. 31.
 
 Chap, v.] Charity. 183 
 
 the first day of the week (or any other stated time) let every one 
 of you lay by in store, as God hath prospered him/ By which 
 I understand St. Paul to recommend what is the very thing 
 wanting with most men, the being charitable upon a plan ; that is, 
 upon a deliberate comparison of our fortunes with the reasonable 
 expenses and expectation of our families, to compute what we 
 can spare, and to lay by so much for charitable purposes in some 
 mode or other. The mode will be a consideration afterwards. 
 
 The effect which Christianity produced upon some of its first 
 converts, was such as might be looked for from a diviue religion, 
 coming with full force and miraculous evidence upon the con- 
 sciences of mankind. It overwhelmed all worldly considerations 
 in the expectation of a more important existence : — f And the 
 multitude of them that believed, were of one heart and of one 
 soul ; neither said any of them that aught of the things which 
 he possessed was his own ; but they had all things in common. 
 Neither was there any among them that lacked ; for as many as 
 were possessors of lands or houses, sold them, and brought the 
 prices of the things that were sold, and laid them down at the 
 apostles' feet : and distribution was made unto every man accord- 
 ing as he had need.' Acts iv. 32. 
 
 Nevertheless, this community of goods, however it manifested 
 the sincere zeal of the primitive Christians, is no precedent for 
 our imitation. 1 It was confined to the Church at Jerusalem ; 
 continued not long there ; was never enjoined upon any 
 (Acts v. 4) ; and, although it might suit with the particular 
 circumstances of a small and select society, is altogether im- 
 practicable in a large and mixed community. 
 
 The conduct of the apostles upon the occasion deserves to be 
 noticed. Their followers laid down their fortunes at their feet : 
 but so far were they from taking advantage of this unlimited 
 confidence, to enrich themselves, or to establish their own 
 authority, that they soon after got rid of this business, as in- 
 consistent with the main object of their mission, and transferred 
 the custody and management of the public fund to deacons 2 
 elected to that office by the people at large. (Acts vi.) 
 
 1 What this ' community of goods' really was, is well explained in Hinds's History 
 of the Rise of Christianity. 
 
 2 See Bernard's Synagogue and Church, abridged from Yitringa; who shows 
 that these Almoners were not deacons.
 
 184 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 II. The manner of bestowing bounty ; or the different kinds 
 of charity. 
 
 Every question between the different kinds of charity, sup- 
 poses the sum bestowed to be the same. 
 
 There are three kinds of charity which prefer a claim to 
 attention. 
 
 The first, and in my judgment one of the best, is to give 
 stated and considerable sums, by way of pension or annuity, to 
 individuals or families, with whose behaviour and distress Ave 
 ourselves are acquainted. When I speak of considerable sums, I 
 mean only that five pounds, or any other sum, given at once, or 
 divided amongst five or fewer families, will do more good than 
 the same sum distributed amongst a greater number in shillings 
 or half-crowns ; and that, because it is more likely to be properly 
 applied by the persons who receive it. A poor fellow, who can 
 find no better use for a shilling than to drink his benefactor's 
 health, and purchase half an hour's recreation for himself, would 
 hardly break into a guinea for any such purpose, or be so im- 
 provident as not to lay it by for an occasion of importance, 
 e.g. for his rent, his clothing, fuel, or stock of winter's provision. 
 It is a still greater recommendation of this kind of charity, that 
 pensions and annuities, which are paid regularly, and can be 
 expected at the time, are the only way by which we can prevent 
 one part of a poor man's sufferings, — the dread of want. 
 
 2. But as this kind of charity supposes that proper objects of 
 such expensive benefactions fall within our private knowledge 
 and observation, which does not happen to all, a second method 
 of doing good, which is in every one's power who has the money 
 to spare, is by subscription to public charities. Public charities 
 admit of this argument in their favour, that your money goes 
 farther towards attaining the end for which it is given, than it 
 can do by any private and separate beneficence. A guinea, for 
 example, contributed to an infirmary, becomes the means of 
 providing one patient at least with a physician, surgeon, apothe- 
 cary, with medicine, diet, lodging, and suitable attendance ; 
 which is not the tenth part of what the same assistance, if it 
 could be procured at all, would cost to a sick person or family in 
 any other situation. 
 
 3. The last, and, compared with the former, the lowest ex- 
 ertion of benevolence, is in the relief of beggars. Nevertheless,
 
 Chap, v.] Charity. 185 
 
 I by no means approve the indiscriminate rejection of all who 
 implore our alms in this way. Some may perish by such a 
 conduct. Men are sometimes overtaken by distress, for which 
 all other relief would come too late. Beside which, resolutions 
 of this kind compel us to offer such violence to our humanity, as 
 may go near, in a little while, to suffocate the principle itself; 
 which is a very serious consideration. A good man, if he do not 
 surrender himself to his feelings without reserve, will at least 
 lend an ear to importunities which come accompanied with out- 
 ward attestations of distress ; and after a patient audience of the 
 complaint, will direct himself, not so much by any previous 
 resolution which he may have formed upon the subject, as by 
 the circumstances and credibility of the account that he receives. 
 
 There are other species of charity well contrived to make the 
 money expended go far : such as keeping down the price of fuel 
 or provision, in case of monopoly or temporary scarcity, by 
 purchasing the articles at the best market, and retailing them at 
 prime cost, or at a small loss ; or the adding of a bounty to 
 particular species of labour, when the price is accidentally 
 depressed. 
 
 The proprietors of large estates have it in their power to 
 facilitate the maintenance, and thereby to encourage the esta- 
 blishment, of families (which is one of the noblest purposes to 
 which the rich and great can convert their endeavours), by 
 building cottages, splitting farms, 1 erecting manufactories, culti- 
 vating wastes, embanking the sea, draining marshes, and other 
 expedients, which the situation of each estate points out. If the 
 profits of these undertakings do riot repay the expense, let the 
 authors of them place the difference to the account of charity. 
 It is true of almost all such projects, that the Public is a gainer 
 by them, whatever the owner be. And where the loss can be 
 spared, this consideration is sufficient. 
 
 It is become a question of some importance, under what cir- 
 cumstances works of charity ought to be done in private, and 
 when they may be made public without detracting from the 
 merit of the action, if indeed they ever may ; the Author of our 
 
 1 The • splitting of farms' is a very doubtful procedure. For, very small farms, 
 beld by men who have but little either of capital or skill, are seldom profitably or 
 economically cultivated.
 
 i85 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 religion having delivered a rule upon this subject -which seems to 
 enjoin universal secrecy : — ' When thou doest alms, let not thy 
 left hand know what thy right hand doeth ; that thy alms may 
 he in secret, and thy Father, which seeth in secret, himself shall 
 reward thee openly/ (Matt. vi. 3, 4.) From the preamble to 
 this prohibition I think it, however, plain, that our Saviour's 
 sole design was to forbid ostentation, and all publishing of good 
 works which proceeds from that motive. ' Take heed that ye 
 do not your alms before men, to be seen of them; otherwise ye 
 have no reward of your Father which is in heaven ; therefore, 
 when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, 
 as the hypocrites do, in the synagogues and in the streets, that 
 they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, they have 
 their reward.' — ver. 2. There are motives for the doing our 
 alms in public, beside those of ostentation, with which therefore 
 our Saviour's rule has no concern : such as to testify our appro- 
 bation of some particular species of charity, and to recommend 
 it to others ; to take off the prejudice which the want, or, which 
 is the same thing, the suppression, of our name in the list of 
 contributors might excite against the charity, or against ourselves. 
 And, so long as these motives are free from any mixture of 
 vanity, they are in no danger of invading our Saviour's pro- 
 hibition ; they rather seem to comply with another direction 
 which He has left us : ' Let your light so shine before men, that 
 they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which 
 is in heaven.' If it be necessary to propose a precise distinction 
 upon the subject, I can think of none better than the following : 
 When our bounty is beyond our fortune and station, that is, when 
 it is more than could be expected from us, our charity should be 
 private, if privacy be practicable : when it is not more than 
 might be expected, it may be public : for we cannot hope to in- 
 fluence others to the imitation of extraordinary generosity, and 
 therefore want, in the former case, the only justifiable reason for 
 making it public. 
 
 Having thus described several different exertions of charity, 
 it may not be improper to take notice of a species of liberality, 
 which is not charity, in any sense of the word : I mean the 
 giving of entertainments or liquor, for the sake of popularity ; 
 or the rewarding, treating, and maintaining, the companions of 
 our diversions, as hunters, shooters, fishers, and the like. I do
 
 Chap, v.] Charity. 187 
 
 not say that this is criminal ; I only say that it is not charity ; 
 and that we are not to suppose, because we give, and give to 
 the poor, that it will stand in the place, or supersede the obli- 
 gation, of more meritorious and disinterested bounty. 
 
 III. The pretences by which men excuse themselves from giving 
 to the poor. 
 
 1. ' That they have nothing to spare/ i. e. nothing for which 
 they have not provided some other use ; nothing which their 
 plan of expense, together with the savings they have resolved 
 to lay by, will not exhaust : never reflecting whether it be in 
 their power, or that it is their duty, to retrench their expenses, 
 and contract their plan, ' that they may have to give to them 
 that need :' or, rather, that this ought to have been part of 
 their plan originally. 
 
 2. ' That they have families of their own, and that charity 
 begins at home.' The extent of this plea will be considered, 
 when we come to explain the duty of parents. 
 
 3. ' That charity does not consist in giving money, but in 
 benevolence, philanthropy, love to all mankind, goodness of 
 heart/ &c. Hear St. James : ' If a brother or sister be naked, 
 and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, 
 Depart in peace ; be ye warmed and filled ; notwithstanding ye 
 give them not those things which are needful to the body ; what 
 doth it profit?' (James ii. 15, 16.) 
 
 4. ' That giving to the poor is not mentioned in St. Paul's 
 description of charity, in the thirteenth chapter of his First 
 Epistle to the Corinthians.' This is not a description of charity, 
 but of good-nature ; and it is not necessary that every duty be 
 mentioned in every place. 
 
 5. ' That they pay the poor-rates.' They might as well 
 allege that they pay their debts : for the poor have the same 
 right to that portion of a man's property which the laws assign 
 to them, that the man himself has to the remainder. 
 
 6. ' That they employ many poor persons:' — for their own 
 sake, not the poor's ; — otherwise it is a good plea. 
 
 7. 'That the poor do not suffer so much as we imagine; 
 that education and habit have reconciled them to the evils of 
 their condition, and make them easy under it.' Habit can 
 never reconcile human nature to the extremities of cold, hunger, 
 and thirst, any more than it can reconcile the hand to the touch
 
 188 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 of a red-hot iron : besides, the question is not, how unhappy 
 any one is, but how much more happy we can make him. 
 
 8. ' That these people, give them what you will, will never 
 thank you, or think of you for it.' In the first place, this is 
 not true : in the second place, it was not for the sake of their 
 thanks that you relieved them. 
 
 9. ' That we are liable to be imposed upon.' If a due 
 inquiry be made, our merit is the same : beside that the dis- 
 tress is generally real, although the cause be untruly stated. 
 
 10. ' That they should apply to their parishes.' This is not 
 always practicable : to which we may add, that there are many 
 requisites to a comfortable subsistence, which parish relief does 
 not supply ; and that there are some, who would suffer almost 
 as much from receiving parish relief as by the want of it ; and, 
 lastly, that there are many modes of charity to which this 
 answer does not relate at all. 
 
 11. ' That giving money, encourages idleness and vagrancy.' 
 This is true only of injudicious and indiscriminate generosity. 
 
 12. ' That we have too many objects of charity at home, to 
 bestow anything upon strangers ; or, that there are other cha- 
 rities, which are more useful, or stand in greater need.' The 
 value of this excuse depends entirely upon the fact, whether we 
 actually relieve those neighbouring objects, and contribute to 
 those other charities. 
 
 Beside all these excuses, pride, or prudery, or delicacy, or 
 love of ease, keep one half of the world out of the way of 
 observing what the other half suffer. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 RESENTMENT. 
 
 RESENTMENT may be distinguished into anger and revenge. 
 By anger, I mean the pain we suffer upon the receipt of 
 an injury or affront, with the usual effects of that pain upon 
 ourselves. 
 
 By revenge, the inflicting of pain upon the person who has 
 injured or offended us, farther than the just ends of punishment 
 or reparation require.
 
 Chap, vii.] Anger. 189 
 
 Anger prompts to revenge ; but it is possible to suspend the 
 effect, when we cannot altogether quell the principle. We are 
 bound also to endeavour to qualify and correct the principle 
 itself. So that our duty requires two different applications of 
 the mind ; and, for that reason, anger and revenge may be con- 
 sidered separately. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ANGER. 
 
 ' T) "E ye angry, and sin not ;' therefore all anger is not sinful : 
 JD I suppose, because some degree of it, and upon some occa- 
 sions, is inevitable. 
 
 It becomes sinful, or contradicts, however, the rule of Scrip- 
 ture, when it is conceived upon slight and inadequate provoca- 
 tions, and when it continues long. 
 
 1. When it is conceived iqoon slight provocations: for, 
 ' charity suffereth long, is not easily provoked/ — c Let every 
 man be slow to anger/ Peace, long-suffering, gentleness, meek- 
 ness, are enumerated among the fruits of the Spirit, Gal. v. 22, 
 and compose the true christian temper, as to this article of duty. 
 
 2. When it continues long: for, ' let not the sun go down 
 upon your wrath.' 
 
 These precepts, and all reasoning indeed on the subject, sup- 
 pose the passion of anger to be within our power ; and this 
 power consists not so much in any faculty we possess of ap- 
 peasing our wrath at the time, (for we are passive under the 
 smart which an injury or affront occasions, and all we can then 
 do, is to prevent its breaking out into action,) as in so mollify* 
 ing our minds by habits of just reflection, as to be less irritated 
 by impressions of injury, and to be sooner pacified. 
 
 Reflections proper for this purpose, and which may be called 
 the sedatives of anger, are the following : the possibility of 
 mistaking the motives from which the conduct that offends us 
 proceeded ; how often our offences have been the effect of inad- 
 vertency, when they were construed into indications of malice ; 
 the inducement which prompted our adversary to act as he did, 
 and how powerfully the same inducement has, at one time or
 
 190 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part il. 
 
 other, operated upon ourselves : that he is suffering perhaps 
 under a contrition, which he is ashamed, or wants opportunity, 
 to confess ; and how ungenerous it is to triumph by coldness or 
 insult over a spirit already humbled in secret ; that the returns 
 of kindness are sweet, and that there is neither honour, nor 
 virtue, nor use, in resisting them : — for, some persons think 
 themselves bound to cherish and keep alive their indignation, 
 when they find it dying away of itself. We may remember that 
 others have their passions, their prejudices, their favourite aims, 
 their fears, their cautions, their interests, their sudden impulses, 
 their varieties of apprehension, as well as we : we may recollect 
 what hath sometimes passed in our minds, when Ave have gotten 
 on the wrong side of a quarrel, and imagine the same to be 
 passing in our adversary's mind now ; when we became sensible 
 of our misbehaviour, what palliations we perceived in it, and 
 expected others to perceive ; how we were affected by the kind- 
 ness, and felt the superiority, of a generous reception and ready 
 forgiveness ; how persecution revived our spirits with our enmity, 
 and seemed to justify the conduct in ourselves which we before 
 blamed. Add to this, the indecency of extravagant anger : how 
 it renders us, whilst it lasts, the scorn and sport of all about us, 
 of which it leaves us, when it ceases, sensible and ashamed ; 
 the inconveniences and irretrievable misconduct into which our 
 irascibility has sometimes betrayed us : the friendships it has 
 lost us ; the distresses and embarrassments in which we have 
 been involved by it ; and the sore repentance which, on one 
 account or other, it alwavs cost us. 
 
 But the reflection calculated above all others to allay the 
 haughtiness of temper which is ever finding out provocations, 
 and which renders anger so impetuous, is that which the Gospel 
 proposes ; namely, that Ave oursehes are, or shortly shall be, 
 suppliants for mercy and pardon at the judgment- seat of God. 
 Imagine our secret sins disclosed and brought to light ; imagine 
 us thus humbled and exposed ; trembling under the hand of 
 God ; casting ourselves on his compassion ; crying out for 
 mercy ; imagine such a creature to talk of satisfaction and 
 revenge; refusing to be entreated, disdaining to forgive; ex- 
 treme to mark and to resent what is done amiss; — imagine, I 
 say, this, and you can hardly frame to yourself an instance of 
 more impious and unnatural arrogance.
 
 Chap, viii.] Revenge. 191 
 
 The point is, to habituate ourselves to these reflections, till 
 they rise up of their own accord when they are wanted, that is, 
 instantly upon the receipt of an injury or affront, and with such 
 force and colouring, as both to mitigate the paroxysms of our 
 anger at the time, and at length to produce an alteration in the 
 temper and disposition itself. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 ALL pain occasioned to another in consequence of an offence 
 or injury received from him, further than what is calcu- 
 lated to procure reparation, or promote the just ends of punish- 
 ment, is so much revenge. 
 
 There can be no difficulty in knowing when we occasion pain 
 to another ; nor much in distinguishing whether we do so, with 
 a view only to the ends of punishment, or from revenge ; for, in 
 the one case we proceed with reluctance, in the other with 
 pleasure. 
 
 It is highly probable from the light of nature, that a passion, 
 which seeks its gratification immediately and expressly in giving 
 pain, is disagreeable to the benevolent will and counsels of the 
 Creator. Other passions and pleasures may, and often do, pro- 
 duce pain to some one: but then pain is not, as it is here, the 
 object of the passion, and the direct cause of the pleasure. 
 
 This probability is converted into certainty, if we give credit 
 to the authority which dictated the several passages of the 
 christian Scriptures that condemn revenge, or, what is the same 
 thing, which enjoin forgiveness. 
 
 We will set down the principal of these passages; and 
 endeavour to collect from them, what conduct upon the whole is 
 allowed towards an enemy, and what is forbidden. 
 
 f If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father 
 will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, 
 neither will your Father forgive your trespasses/ — ' And his 
 lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he
 
 102 Moral Philospjjhy. [Book m. Part ii. 
 
 should pay all that was due unto him : so likewise shall my 
 heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive 
 not every one his brother their trespasses/ — ' Put on bowels of 
 mercy, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering ; 
 forbearing one another, forgiving one another, if any man have 
 a quarrel against any, even as Christ forgave you, so also do 
 ye.' — ' Be patient towards all men ; see that none render evil 
 for evil to any man.' — 'Avenge not yourselves, but rather give 
 place unto wrath : for it is written, Vengeance is mine ; I will 
 repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed 
 him ; if he thirst, give him drink : for, in so doing, thou shalt 
 heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but 
 overcome evil with good." 
 
 T think it evident, from some of these passages taken sepa- 
 rately, and still more so from all of them together, that revenge, 
 as described in the beginning of this chapter, is forbidden in 
 every degree, under all forms, and upon every occasion. We 
 are likewise forbidden to refuse to an enemy even the most 
 imperfect right : ' if he hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him 
 drink ;' 3 which are examples of imperfect rights. If one who 
 has offended us solicit from us a vote to which his qualifications 
 entitle him, we may not refuse it from motives of resentment, 
 or the remembrance of what we have suffered at his hands. 
 His right, and our obligation which follows the right, are not 
 altered by his enmity to us, or by ours to him. 
 
 On the other hand, I do not conceive that these prohibitions 
 were intended to interfere with the punishment or prosecution 
 of public offenders. In the eighteenth chapter of St. Matthew, 
 our Saviour tells his disciples; ' If thy brother who has tres- 
 passed against thee neglect to hear the church, let him be unto 
 thee as an heathen man, and a publican/ Immediately after 
 this, when St. Peter asked him, ' How oft shall my brother sin 
 against me, and I forgive him ? till seven times?' Christ replied, 
 ' I sav not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy times 
 
 1 Matt, vi. 14, 15; xviii. 34, 35; Col. iii. 12, 13; 1 Thess. v. 14, 15; Rom. 
 
 xii. 19, 20, 21. 
 
 5 See also Exodus xxiii. 4. — { If tliou meet thine enemy's ox, or his ass, going 
 astray, thou shalt surely hring it hack to him again ; if thou see tlie ass of him that 
 hatetl) thee, lying under his burden, and wouldest forbear to help him, thou shalt 
 surely help with him. 5
 
 Chap, viii.] Revenge. 193 
 
 seven ;' that is, as often as he repeats the offence. From these 
 two adjoining passages compared together, we are authorized to 
 conclude that the forgiveness of an enemy is not inconsistent 
 with the proceeding against him as a public offender; and that 
 the discipline established in religious or civil societies, for the 
 restraint or punishment of criminals, ought to be upholden. 
 
 If the magistrate be not tied down with these prohibitions 
 from the execution of his office, neither is the prosecutor ; for the 
 office of the prosecutor is as necessary as that of the magistrate, 
 Nor, by parity of reason, are private persons withhoklen from 
 the correction of vice, when it is in their power to exercise it; 
 provided they be assured that it is the guilt which provokes 
 them, and not the injury; and that their motives are pure from 
 all mixture and every particle of that spirit which delights and 
 triumphs in the humiliation of an adversary. 
 
 Thus it is no breach of christian charity, to withdraw our 
 company or civility when the same tends to discountenance any 
 vicious practice. This is one branch of that extrajudicial disci- 
 pline, which supplies the defects and the remissness of law ; and 
 is expressly authorized by St. Paul (1 Cor. v. 11) : ' But now 
 I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that 
 is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, 
 or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner ; with such an one, 
 no not to eat.' The use of this association against vice continues 
 to be experienced in one remarkable instance, and might be ex- 
 tended with good effect to others. The confederacy amongst 
 women of character, to exclude from their society kept-mistresses 
 and prostitutes, contributes more perhaps to discourage that 
 condition of life, and prevents greater numbers from entering 
 into it, than all the considerations of prudence and religion put 
 together. 
 
 We are likewise allowed to practise so much caution as not 
 to put ourselves in the way of injury, or invite the repetition of 
 it. If a servant or tradesman has cheated us, we are not bound 
 to trust him again ; for this is to encourage him in his dishonest 
 practices, which is doing him much harm. 
 
 Where a benefit can be conferred only upon one or few, and the 
 choice of the person upon whom it is conferred is a proper object 
 of favour, we are at liberty to prefer those who have not offended 
 us to those who have ; the contrary being nowhere required. 
 p. o
 
 194 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 Christ, who, as hath been well demonstrated/ estimated vir- 
 tues by their solid utility, and not by their fashion or popularity, 
 prefers this of the forgiveness of injuries to every other. He 
 enjoins it oftener; with more earnestness; under a greater 
 variety of forms ; and with this weighty and peculiar circum- 
 stance, that the forgiveness of others is the condition upon which 
 alone we are to expect, or even ask, from God, forgiveness for 
 ourselves. And this preference is justified by the superior im- 
 portance of the virtue itself. The feuds and animosities in 
 families and between neighbours, which disturb the intercourse 
 of human life, and collectively compose half the misery of it, 
 have their foundation in the want of a forgiving temper ; and 
 can never cease, but by the exercise of this virtue, on one side, 
 or on both. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DUELLING. 
 
 DUELLING, as a punishment, is absurd ; because it is an 
 equal chance, whether the punishment fall upon the offender, 
 or the person offended. Nor is it much better as a reparation : 
 it being difficult to explain in what the satisfaction consists, or 
 how it tends to undo the injury, or to afford a compensation 
 for the damage already sustained. 
 
 The truth is, it is not considered as either. A law of honour 
 having annexed the imputation of cowardice to patience under 
 an affront, challenges are given and accepted with no other de- 
 sign than to prevent or wipe off this suspicion ; without malice 
 against the adversary, generally without a wish to destroy him, 
 or any other concern than to preserve the duellist's own repu- 
 tation and reception in the world. 
 
 The unreasonableness of this rule of manners is one consi- 
 deration ; the duty and conduct of individuals, while such a rule 
 exists, is another. 
 
 As to which, the proper and single question is this, whether 
 a regard for our own reputation is, or is not, sufficient to justify 
 the taking away the life of another ? 
 
 1 See a View of the Internal Evidence of the Christian Religion.
 
 Chap, ix.] Duelling. 195 
 
 Murder is forbidden ; and wherever human life is deliberately 
 taken away, otherwise than by public authority, there is murder. 
 The value and security of human life make this rule necessary ; 
 for I do not see what other idea or definition of murder can be 
 admitted, which will not let in so much private violence, as to 
 render society a scene of peril and bloodshed. 
 
 If unauthorized laws of honour be allowed to create excep- 
 tions to divine prohibitions, there is an end of all morality, as 
 founded in the will of the Deity ; and the obligation of every 
 duty may, at one time or other, be discharged by the caprice 
 and fluctuations of fashion. 
 
 ' But a sense of shame is so much torture ; and no relief pre- 
 sents itself otherwise thau by an attempt upon the life of our 
 adversary/ What then ? The distress which men suffer by the 
 want of monev is oftentimes extreme, and no resource can be dis- 
 covered but that of removing a life which stands between the 
 distressed person and his inheritance. The motive in this case 
 is as urgent, and the means much the same, as in the former : 
 yet this case finds no advocate. 
 
 Take away the circumstance of the duellist's exposing his own 
 life, and it becomes assassination ; add this circumstance, and 
 what difference does it make ? None but this, that fewer per- 
 haps will imitate the example, and human life will be somewhat 
 more safe, when it cannot be attacked without equal danger to 
 the aggressor's own. Experience, however, proves that there is 
 fortitude enough in most men to undertake this hazard ; and were 
 it otherwise, the defence, at best, would be only that which a high- 
 wayman or housebreaker might plead, whose attempt had been 
 so daring and desperate, that few were likely to repeat the same. 
 
 In expostulating with the duellist, I all along suppose his 
 adversary to fall. Which supposition I am at liberty to make, 
 because, if he have no right to kill his adversary, he has none 
 to attempt it. 
 
 In return, I forbear from applying to the case of duelling 
 the christian principle of the forgiveness of injuries j because 
 it is possible to suppose the injury to be forgiven, and the 
 duellist to act entirely from a concern for his own reputation. 
 Where this is not the case, the guilt of duelling is manifest, and 
 is greater. 
 
 In this view it seems unnecessary to distinguish between him 
 
 o %
 
 196 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 -who gives, and him who accepts, a challenge : for, on the one 
 hand, they incur an equal hazard of destroying life ; and on the 
 other, both act upon the same persuasion, that what they do is 
 necessary, in order to recover or preserve the good opinion of 
 the world. 
 
 Public opinion is not easily controlled by civil institutions : 
 for which reason I question whether any regulations can be con- 
 trived, of sufficient force to suppress or change the rule of honour, 
 which stigmatizes all scruples about duelling with the reproach 
 of cowardice. 
 
 The insufficiency of the redress which the laA\* of the land 
 affords, for those injuries which chiefly affect a man in his sen- 
 sibility and reputation, tempts many to redress themselves. 
 Prosecutions for such offences, by the trifling damages that are 
 recovered, serve only to make the sufferer more ridiculous. — 
 This ought to be remedied. 
 
 For the army, where the point of honour is cultivated with 
 exquisite attention and refinement, I would establish a Court of 
 Honour, with a power of awarding those submissions and acknow- 
 ledgments, which it is generally the purpose of a challenge to 
 obtain ; and it might grow into a fashion with persons of rank 
 of all professions, to refer their quarrels to this tribunal. 
 
 Duelling, as the law now stands, can seldom be overtaken by 
 legal punishment. The challenge, appointment, and other pre- 
 vious circumstances, which indicate the intention with which 
 the combatants met, being suppressed, nothing appears to a 
 court of justice, but the actual rencounter; and if a person be 
 slain when actually fighting with his adversary, the law deems 
 Iiis death nothing more than manslaughter. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 In a work entitled Expedition to the Interior of Neiv Holland 
 (Bcutlcy), the subject of Duelling is fully treated of; the argu- 
 ments on both sides being stated clearly and fairly. It is there 
 pointed out that public Opinion (on which alone Duelling rests) 
 might easily be so directed as to compel every man, on pain of 
 losing his place in Society, to conduct himself correctly as to 
 certain points; instead of giving him — as now — the alternative 
 of either doing so, or else fighting.
 
 Chap, x.] Litigation. 197 
 
 Among the advantages of such a course would be these two : 
 (1) That the rule would extend to certain classes of persons who 
 are now, by custom, exempt from the (supposed) salutary check 
 provided by Duelling ; and (2) that the offending and offended 
 parties would not be — as now — placed on the same level. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LITIGATION. 
 
 TY it be possible, live peaceably with all men ;' which precept 
 -1- contains an indirect confession that this is not always possible. 
 The instances 1 in the fifth chapter of Saint Matthew are 
 rather to be understood as proverbial methods of describing the 
 general duties of forgiveness and benevolence, and the temper 
 which we ought to aim at acquiring, than as directions to be 
 specifically observed ; or of themselves of any great importance 
 to be observed. The first of these is, l If thine enemy smite 
 thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also ;' yet, when 
 one of the officers struck Jesus with the palm of his hand, we 
 find Jesus rebuking him for the outrage with becoming indig- 
 nation : ' If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil ; but if 
 well, why smitest thou me V (John xviii. 43.) It may be ob- 
 served, likewise, that the several examples are drawn from in- 
 stances of small and tolerable injuries. A rule which forbade 
 all opposition to injury, or defence against it, could have no other 
 effect, than to put the good in subjection to the bad, and deliver 
 one half of mankind to the depredation of the other half; which 
 must be the case, so long as some considered themselves as 
 bound by such a rule, whilst others despised it. St. Paul, 
 though no one inculcated forgiveness and forbearance with a 
 deeper sense of the value and obligation of these virtues, did 
 not interpret either of them to require an unresisting submis- 
 sion to every contumely, or a neglect of the means of safety and 
 self-defence. He took refuge in the laws of his country, and in 
 the privileges of a Roman citizen, from the conspiracy of the 
 
 1 ' Whoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also : and 
 if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak 
 also; and whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain.'
 
 198 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 Jews (Acts xxv. 11); and from the clandestine violence of the 
 chief captain (Acts xxii. 25). And yet this is the same apostle 
 who reproved the litigiousness of his Corinthian converts with 
 so much severity. ' Now, therefore, there is utterly a fault 
 among you, because ye go to law one with another. Why do 
 ye not rather take wrong ? why do ye not rather suffer your- 
 selves to be defrauded V 
 
 On the one hand, therefore, Christianity excludes all vindic- 
 tive motives, and all frivolous causes of prosecution ; so that 
 where the injury is small, where no good purpose of public 
 example is answered, where forbearance is not likely to invite 
 a repetition of the injury, or where the expense of an action 
 becomes a punishment too severe for the offence ; there the 
 Christian is withholdeu by the authority of his religion from 
 going to law. 
 
 On the other hand, a law-suit is inconsistent with no rule of 
 the Gospel, when it is instituted, 
 
 1. For the establishing of some important right. 
 
 2. For the procuring a compensation for some considerable 
 damage. 
 
 3. For the preventing of future injury. 
 
 But since it is supposed to be undertaken simply with a view 
 to the ends of justice and safety, the prosecutor of the action is 
 bound to confine himself to the cheapest process which will 
 accomplish these ends, as well as to consent to any peaceable 
 expedient for the same purpose ; as to a reference, in which the 
 arbitrators can do, what the law cannot, divide the damage, 
 when the fault is mutual ; or to a compounding of the dispute, 
 by accepting a compensation in the gross, without entering into 
 articles and items, which it is often very difficult to adjust 
 separately. 
 
 As to the rest, the duty of the contending parties may be 
 expressed in the following directions : — 
 
 Not by appeals to prolong a suit against your own conviction. 
 
 Not to undertake or defend a suit against a poor adversary, 
 or render it more dilatory or expensive than necessary, with 
 the hope of intimidating or wearing him out by the expense. 
 
 Not to influence evidence by authority or expectation ; 
 
 Nor to stifle any in your possession, although it make against 
 
 you. 
 
 Hitherto we have treated of civil actions. In criminal pro-
 
 Chap, x.] Litigation. 199 
 
 seditions, the private injury should be forgotten, and the pro- 
 secutor proceed with the same terrier, and upon the same 
 motives, as the magistrate ; the one being a necessary minister 
 of justice as well as the other, and both bound to direct their 
 conduct by a dispassionate care of the public welfare. 
 
 In whatever degree the punishment of an offender is con- 
 ducive, or his escape dangerous, to the interest of the commu- 
 nity, in the same degree is the party against whom the crime 
 was committed bound to prosecute, because such prosecutions 
 must in their nature originate from the sufferer. 
 
 Therefore great public crimes, as robberies, forgeries, and the 
 like, ought not to be spared, from an apprehension of trouble 
 or expense in carrying on the prosecution, from false shame, or 
 misplaced compassion. 
 
 There are many offences, such as nuisances, neglect of public 
 roads, forestalling, engrossing, smuggling, sabbath-breaking, 
 profaneness, drunkenness, prostitution, the keeping of lewd or 
 disorderly houses, the writing, publishing, or exposing to sale, 
 lascivious books or pictures, with some others, the prosecution of 
 which, being of equal concern to the whole neighbourhood, can- 
 not be charged as a peculiar obligation upon any. 
 
 Nevertheless, there is great merit in the person who under- 
 takes such prosecutions upon proper motives ; which amounts to 
 the same thing. 
 
 The character of an informer is in this country undeservedly 
 odious. But where any public advantage is likely to be attained 
 by information, or other activity in promoting the execution of 
 the laws, a good man will despise a prejudice founded in no just 
 reason, or will acquit himself of the imputation of interested 
 designs by giving away his share of the penalty. 
 
 On the other hand, prosecutions for the sake of the reward, 
 or for the gratification of private enmity, where the offence pro- 
 duces no public mischief, or where it arises from ignorance or 
 inadvertency, are reprobated under the general description of 
 applying a rule of law to a purpose for which it was not intended. 
 Under which description may be ranked an officious revival of 
 the laws against Popish priests, and dissenting teachers,
 
 2co Moral Philosojjhy. [Book in. Part ii. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 EXAMPLES of ingratitude check and discourage voluntary 
 beneficence ; and in this, the mischief of ingratitude consists. 
 Nor is the mischief small ; for after all is clone that can be done, 
 towards providing for the public happiness, by prescribing rules 
 of justice, and enforcing the observance of them by penalties or 
 compulsion, much must be left to those offices of kindness, which 
 men remain at liberty to exert or withhold. Now not only the 
 choice of the objects, but the quantity and even the existence of 
 this sort of kindness in the world, depends, in a great measure, 
 upon the return which it receives ; and this is a consideration of 
 general importance. 
 
 A second reason for cultivating a grateful temper in our- 
 selves, is the following : The same principle, which is touched 
 with the kindness, of a human benefactor, is capable of being 
 affected by the divine goodness, and of becoming, under the in- 
 fluence of that affection, a source of the purest and most exalted 
 virtue. The love of God is the sublimest gratitude. It is a 
 mistake, therefore, to imagine, that this virtue is omitted in the 
 christian Scriptures ; for every precept which commands us 
 ' to love God, because He first loved us/ presupposes the prin- 
 ciple of gratitude, and directs it to its proper object. 
 
 It is impossible to particularize the several expressions of 
 gratitude, inasmuch as they vary with the character and 
 situation of the benefactor, and with the opportunities of the 
 person obliged ; which variety admits of no bounds. 
 
 It may be observed, however, that gratitude can never oblige 
 a man to do what is wrong, and what by consequence he is 
 previously obliged not to do. It is no ingratitude to refuse to 
 do, what we cannot reconcile to any apprehensions of our duty ; 
 but it is ingratitude and hypocrisy together, to pretend this 
 reason, when it is not the real one ; and the frequency of such 
 pretences has brought this apology for non-compliance with the 
 will of a benefactor into unmerited disgrace. 
 
 It has long been accounted a violation of delicacy and gene- 
 rosity to upbraid men with the favours they have received : but
 
 Chap, xii.] Slander. 20] 
 
 it argues a total destitution of both these qualities, as well as of 
 moral probity, to take advantage of that ascendency which the 
 conferring of benefits justly creates, to draw or drive those whom 
 we have obliged into mean or dishonest compliances. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 SPEAKING is acting, both in philosophical strictness, and as 
 to all moral purposes : for if the mischief and motive of our 
 conduct be the same, the means which we use make no difference. 
 
 And this is in effect what our Saviour declares, Matt. xii. 37 : 
 f By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou 
 shalt be condemned ■' by thy words, as well, that is, as by thy 
 actions ; the one shall be taken into the account as well as the 
 other, for they both possess the same property of voluntarily 
 producing good or evil. 
 
 Slander may be distinguished into two kinds ; malicious 
 slander, and inconsiderate slander. 
 
 Malicious slander is the relating of either truth or falsehood, 
 for the purpose of creating misery. 
 
 I acknowledge that the truth or falsehood of what is related 
 varies the degree of guilt considerably ; and that slander, in the 
 ordinary acceptation of the term, signifies the circulation of mis- 
 chievous falsehoods : but truth may be made instrumental to the 
 success of malicious designs as well as falsehood ; and if the end 
 be bad, the means cannot be innocent. 
 
 I think the idea of slander ought to be confined to the pro- 
 duction of gratuitous mischief. When Ave have an end or interest 
 of our own to serve, if we attempt to compass it by falsehood, it 
 is fraud ; if by a publication of the truth, it is not without some 
 additional circumstance of breach of promise, betraying of con- 
 fidence, or the like, to be deemed criminal. 
 
 Sometimes the pain is intended for the person to whom, we 
 are speaking ; at other times, an enmity is to be gratified by the 
 prejudice or disquiet of a third person. To infuse suspicions, 
 to kindle or continue disputes, to avert the favour and esteem of
 
 202 Moral Philosophy . [Book in. Part. ii. 
 
 benefactors from their dependents, to render some one whom we 
 dislike contemptible or obnoxious in the public opinion, are all 
 offices of slander ; of which the guilt must be measured by the 
 intensity and extent of the misery produced. 
 
 The disguises under which slander is conveyed, whether in a 
 whisper, with injunctions of secrecy, by way of caution, or with 
 affected reluctance, are all so many aggravations of the offence, 
 as thev indicate more deliberation and design. 
 
 Inconsiderate slander is a different offence, although the same 
 mischief actually follow, and although the mischief might have 
 been foreseen. The not being conscious of that design which 
 we have hitherto attributed to the slanderer, makes the 
 difference. 
 
 The guilt here consists in the want of that regard to the 
 consequences of our conduct, which a just affection for human 
 happiness, and concern for our duty, would not have failed to have 
 produced in us. And it is no answer to this crimination to say, 
 that Ave entertained no evil design. A servant may be a very 
 bad servant, and yet seldom or never design to act in opposition 
 to his master's interest or will ; and his master may justly punish 
 such servant for a thoughtlessness and neglect nearly as preju- 
 dicial as deliberate disobedience. I accuse you not, he may say, 
 of any express intention to hurt me ; but had not the fear of my 
 displeasure, the care of my interest, and indeed all the qualities 
 which constitute the merit of a good servant, been wanting in 
 you, they would not only have excluded every direct purpose of 
 giving me uneasiness, but have been so far present to your 
 thoughts, as to have checked that unguarded licentiousness by 
 which I have suffered so much, and inspired you in its place with 
 an habitual solicitude about the effects and tendency of what you 
 did or said. — This very much resembles the case of all sins of 
 inconsidcration ; and, amongst the foremost of these, that of 
 inconsiderate slander. 
 
 Information communicated for the real purpose of warning, or 
 cautioning, is not slander. 
 
 Indiscriminate praise is the opposite of slander, but it is the 
 opposite extreme ; and, however it may affect to be thought to 
 be excess of candour, is commonly the effusion of a frivolous 
 understanding, or proceeds from a settled contempt of all moral 
 distinctions.
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH RESULT FROM THE CON- 
 STITUTION OF THE SEXES. 
 
 TPIE constitution of the sexes is the foundation of marriage. 
 Collateral to the subject of marriage, are fornication, 
 seduction, adultery, incest, polygamy, divorce. 
 
 Consequential to marriage, is the relation and reciprocal duty 
 of parent and child. 
 
 We will treat of these subjects in the following order : first, of 
 the public use of marriage institutions ; secondly, of the subjects 
 collateral to marriage, in the order in which we have here pro- 
 posed them; thirdly, of marriage itself; and, lastly, of the 
 relation and reciprocal duties of parents and children. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OP THE PUBLIC USE OF MARRIAGE INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 THE public use of marriage institutions consists in their 
 promoting the following beneficial effects : — 
 
 i. The private comfort of individuals, especially of the female 
 sex. It may be true, that all are not interested in this reason ; 
 nevertheless, it is a reason to all for abstaining from any conduct 
 which tends in its general consequence to obstruct marriage ; for 
 whatever promotes the happiness of the majority, is binding upon 
 the whole. 
 
 2. The production of the greatest number of healthy children, 
 their better education, and the making of due provision for their 
 settlement in life.
 
 204 Moral Philosopliy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 3. The peace of human society, in cutting off a principal 
 source of contention, by assigning one or more women to one 
 man, and protecting his exclusive right by sanctions of morality 
 and law. 
 
 4. The better government of society, by distributing the com- 
 munity into separate families, and appointing over each the 
 authority of a master of a family, which has more actual influence 
 than all civil authority put together. 
 
 5. The same end, in the additional security which the State 
 receives for the good behaviour of its citizens, from the solicitude 
 they feel for the welfare of their children, and from their being 
 confined to permanent habitations. 
 
 6. The encouragement of industry. 
 
 Some ancient nations appear to have been more sensible of 
 the importance of marriage institutions than we are. The 
 Spartans obliged their citizens to marry by penalties, and the 
 Romans encouraged theirs by the jus trium liberorum. A man 
 who had no child, was entitled by the Roman law only to one 
 half of any legacy that should be left him, that is, at the most, 
 could only receive one half of the testator's fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FORNICATION. 
 
 THE first and great mischief, and by consequence the guilt, of 
 promiscuous concubinage, consists in its tendency to dimi- 
 nish marriages, and thereby to defeat the several beneficial 
 purposes enumerated in the preceding chapter. 
 
 Promiscuous concubinage discourages marriage, by abating 
 the chief temptation to it. The male part of the species will 
 not undertake the encumbrance, expense, and restraint of mar- 
 ried life, if they can gratify their passions at a cheaper price ; 
 and they will undertake anything, rather than not gratify 
 them. 
 
 The reader will learn to comprehend the magnitude of this 
 mischief, by attending to the importance and variety of the uses 
 to which marriage is subservient; and by recollecting withal, 
 that the malignity and moral quality of each crime is not to be
 
 Chap, ii.] Fornication. 205 
 
 estimated by the particular effect of one offence, or of one 
 person's offending, but by the general tendency and consequence 
 of crimes of the same nature. The libertine may not be con- 
 scious that these irregularities hinder his own marriage, from 
 which he is deterred, he may allege, by different considerations ; 
 much less does he perceive how his indulgences can hinder other 
 men from marrying ; but what will he say would be the con- 
 sequence, if the same licentiousness were universal ? or what 
 should hinder its becoming universal, if it be innocent or allow- 
 able in him? 
 
 2. Fornication supposes prostitution ; and prostitution brings 
 and leaves the victims of it to almost certain misery. It is no 
 small quantity of misery in the aggregate, which, between want, 
 disease, and insult, is suffered by those outcasts of human so- 
 ciety, who infest populous cities; the whole of which is a general 
 consequence of fornication, and to the increase and continuance 
 of which, every act and instance of fornication contributes. 
 
 3. Fornication 1 produces habits of ungovernable lewdness, 
 which introduce the more aggravated crimes of seduction, 
 adultery, violation, &c. Likewise, however it be accounted for, 
 the criminal commerce of the sexes corrupts and depraves the 
 mind and moral character more than any single species of vice 
 whatsoever. That ready perception of guilt, that prompt and 
 decisive resolution against it, which constitutes a virtuous cha- 
 racter, is seldom found in persons addicted to these indulgences. 
 They prepare an easy admission for every sin that seeks it ; are, 
 in low life, usually the first stage in men's progress to the most 
 desperate villanies ; and, in high life, to that lamented dis- 
 soluteness of principle, which manifests itself in a profligacy of 
 public conduct, and a contempt of the obligations of religion and 
 of moral probity. Add to this, that habits of libertinism inca- 
 pacitate and indispose the mind for all intellectual, moral, and 
 religious pleasures ; which is a great loss to any man's happiness. 
 
 4. Fornication perpetuates a disease, which may be accounted 
 one of the sorest maladies of human nature ; and the effects of 
 which are said to visit the constitution of even distant genera- 
 tions. 
 
 1 Of this passion it has been truly said, that ' irregularity has no limits ; that one 
 excess draws on another ; that the most easy, therefore, as well as the most excellent 
 way of being virtuous, is to be so entirely.' — Ogdbn, Serm. xvi.
 
 2o6 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part. ill. 
 
 The passion being natural, proves that it was intended to be 
 gratified ; but under what restrictions, or whether without any, 
 must be collected from different considerations. 
 
 The christian Scriptures condemn fornication absolutely and 
 peremptorily. ' Out of the heart/ says our Saviour, ' proceed 
 evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornication, thefts, false wit- 
 ness, blasphemies ; these are the things which defile a man.' 
 These are Christ's own words ; and one word from Him upon 
 the subject is final. It may be observed Avith what society for- 
 nication is classed ; with murders, thefts, false witness, blasphe- 
 mies. I do not mean that these crimes are all equal, because 
 they are all mentioned together ; but it proves that they are all 
 crimes. The apostles are more full upon this topic. One well- 
 known passage in the Epistle to the Hebrews may stand in the 
 place of all others ; because, admitting the authority by 
 which the apostles of Christ spake and wrote, it is decisive : 
 1 Marriage and the bed undefiled is honourable amongst all 
 men : but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge ;' 
 which was a great deal to say, at a time w 7 hen it was not 
 agreed, even amongst philosophers themselves, that fornication 
 was a crime. 
 
 The Scriptures give no sanction to those austerities, which 
 have been since imposed upon the world under the name of 
 Christ's religion ; as the celibacy of the clergy, the praise of 
 perpetual virginity, the prohibitio concubitus cum gravida uxore ; 
 but with a just knowledge of, and regard to, the condition and 
 interest of the human species, have provided, in the marriage of 
 one man with one woman, an adequate gratification for the 
 propensities of their nature, and l*ave restricted them to that 
 gratification. 
 
 The avowed toleration, and in some countries the licensing, 
 taxing, and regulating of public brothels, has appeared to the 
 people an authorizing of fornication ; and has contributed, with 
 other causes, so far to vitiate the public opinion, that there is no 
 practice of which the immorality is so little thought of or 
 acknowledged, although there are few in which it can more 
 plainly he made out. The legislators who have patronized 
 receptacles of prostitution, ought to have foreseen this effect, as 
 well as considered, that whatever facilitates fornication, dimi- 
 nishes marriages. And, as to the usual apology for this relaxed
 
 Chap, ii.] Fornication. 207 
 
 discipline, the danger of greater enormities, if access to prosti- 
 tutes were too strictly watched and prohibited, it will be time 
 enough to look to that, when the laws and the magistrates 
 have done their utmost. The greatest vigilance of both will 
 do no more, than oppose some bounds and some difficulties 
 to this intercourse. And, after all, these pretended fears are 
 without foundation in experience. The men are in all respects 
 the most virtuous, in countries where the women are most 
 chaste. 
 
 There is a species of cohabitation, distinguishable, no doubt, 
 from vagrant concubinage, and which, by reason of its resem- 
 blance to marriage, may be thought to participate of the 
 sanctity and innocence of that estate ; I mean the case of 
 kept -mistresses, under the favourable circumstance of mutual 
 fidelity. This case I have heard defended by some such apology 
 as the following : — 
 
 f That the marriage-rite being different in different countries, 
 and in the same country amongst different sects, and with some, 
 scarce anything ; and, moreover, not being prescribed or even 
 mentioned in Scripture, can be accounted for only as of a form 
 and ceremony of human invention : that, consequently, if a man 
 and woman betroth and confine themselves to each other, their 
 intercourse must be the same, as to all moral purposes, as if 
 they were legally married ; for the addition or omission of that 
 which is a mere form and ceremony, can make no difference 
 in the sight of God, or in the actual nature of right and 
 wrong/ 
 
 To all which it may he replied, 
 
 1. If the situation of the parties be the same thing as 
 marriage, why do they not marry ? 
 
 2. If the man chuse to have it in his power to dismiss 
 the woman at his pleasure, or to retain her in a state of 
 humiliation and dependence inconsistent with the rights which 
 marriage would confer upon her, it is not the same thing. 
 
 It is not at any rate the same thing to the children. 
 
 Again, as to the" marriage-rite being a mere form, and that 
 also variable, the same may be said of signing and sealing of 
 bonds, wills, deeds of conveyance, and the like, which yet make 
 a great difference in the rights and obligations of the parties 
 concerned in them.
 
 2o8 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 And with respect to the rite not being appointed in Scrip- 
 ture ; — the Scriptures forbid fornication, that is, cohabitation 
 without marriage, leaving it to the law of each country to pro- 
 nounce w T hat is, or what makes, a marriage ; in like manner as 
 they forbid thefts, that is, the taking away of another's property, 
 leaving it to the municipal law to fix what makes the thing 
 property, or whose it is ; which also, as well as marriage, 
 depend upon arbitrary and mutable forms. 
 
 Laying aside the injunctions of Scripture, the plain account 
 of the question seems to be this : It is immoral, because it is 
 pernicious, that men and women should cohabit, without under- 
 taking certain irrevocable obligations, and mutually conferring 
 certain civil rights ; if, therefore, the law has annexed these 
 rights and obligations to certain forms, so that they cannot be 
 secured or undertaken by any other means, which is the case 
 here, (for, whatever the parties may promise to each other, 
 nothing but the marriage-ceremony can make their promise ir- 
 revocable,) it becomes in the same degree immoral, that men 
 and women should cohabit without the interposition of these 
 forms. 
 
 If fornication be criminal, all those incentives which lead to 
 it are accessories to the crime, as lascivious conversation, whether 
 expressed in obscene, or disguised under modest phrases ; also 
 wanton songs, pictures, books ; the writing, publishing, and cir- 
 culating of which, whether out of frolic, or for some pitiful 
 profit, is productive of so extensive a mischief from so mean a 
 temptation, that few crimes, within the reach of private wicked- 
 ness, have more to answer for, or less to plead in their excuse. 
 
 Indecent conversation, and by parity of reason all the rest, 
 are forbidden by St. Paul, Eph. iv. 29 : ' Let no corrupt com- 
 munication proceed out of your mouth ;' and again, Col. iii. 8 : 
 - Put off filthy communication out of your mouth.' 
 
 The invitation, or voluntary admission of impure thoughts, or 
 the suffering them to get possession of the imagination, falls 
 within the same description, and is condemned by Christ, Matt. 
 v. 28 : ' Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath 
 committed adiiltery with her already in his heart.' Christ, by 
 tlms enjoining a regulation of the thoughts, strikes at the root of 
 the evil. 

 
 Chap, iii.] Seduction, log 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SEDUCTION. 
 
 THE seducer practises the same stratagems to draw a woman's 
 person into his power, that a swindler does to get possession of 
 your goods, or money ; yet the laiv of honour, which abhors deceit, 
 applauds the address of a successful intrigue ; so much is this ca- 
 pricious rule guided by names, and with such facility does it ac- 
 commodate itself to the pleasures and conveniency of higher life ! 
 
 Seduction is seldom accomplished without fraud ; and the 
 fraud is by so much more criminal than other frauds, as the 
 injury effected by it is greater, continues longer, and less admits 
 reparation. 
 
 This injury is threefold : to the woman, to her family, and to 
 the public. 
 
 1. The injury to the woman is made up of the pain she suffers 
 from shame, or the loss she sustains in her reputation and pro- 
 spects of marriage, and of the depravation of her moral principle. 
 
 i . This pain must be extreme, if we may judge of it from those 
 barbarous endeavours to conceal their disgrace, to which women, 
 under such circumstances, sometimes have recourse ; comparing 
 also this barbarity with their passionate fondness for their off- 
 spring in other cases. Nothing but an agony of mind the most in- 
 supportable can induce a woman to forget her nature, and the pity 
 which even a stranger would show to a helpless and imploring 
 infant. It is true, that all are not urged to this extremity ; but if 
 any are, it affords an indication of how much all suffer from the 
 same cause. What shall we say to the authors of such mischief? 
 
 2. The loss which a woman sustains by the ruin of her reputa- 
 tion almost exceeds computation. Every person's happiness 
 depends in part upon the respect and reception which they meet 
 with in the world ; and it is no inconsiderable mortification, 
 even to the firmest tempers, to be rejected from the society of 
 their equals, or received there with neglect and disdain. But 
 this is not all, nor the worst. By a rule of life, which it is not 
 easy to blame, and which it is impossible to alter, a woman loses 
 with her chastity the chance of marrying at all, or in any manner 
 equal to the hopes she had been accustomed to entertain. Now 
 marriage, whatever it be to a man, is that from which every 
 
 p. p
 
 210 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 woman expects her chief happiness. And this is still more true 
 in low life, of which condition the women are who are most ex- 
 posed to solicitations of this sort. Add to this, that where a 
 woman's maintenance depends upon her character, (as it does, 
 in a great measure, with those who are to support themselves by 
 service,) little sometimes is left to the forsaken sufferer, but to 
 starve for want of employment, or to have recourse to prostitution 
 for food and raiment. 
 
 3. As a woman collects her virtue into this point, the loss of 
 her chastity is generally the destruction of her moral principle ; 
 and this consequence is to be apprehended, whether the criminal 
 intercourse be discovered or not. 
 
 II. The injury to the family may be understood, by the 
 application of that infallible rule, ' of doing to others, what we 
 would that others should do unto us.' — Let a father or a brother 
 say, for what consideration they would suffer this injury to a 
 daughter or a sister ; and whether any, or even a total, loss of 
 fortune, could create ecmal affliction and distress. And when 
 they reflect upon this, let them distinguish, if they can, between 
 a robbery, committed upon their property by fraud or forgery, 
 and the ruin of their happiness by the treachery of a seducer. 
 
 III. The public at large lose the benefit of the woman's 
 service in her proper place and destination, as a wife and 
 parent. This, to the whole community, may be little ; but it 
 is often more than all the good which the seducer does to the 
 community can recompense. Moreover, prostitution is supplied 
 by seduction ; and in proportion to the danger there is of the 
 woman's betaking herself, after her first sacrifice, to a life of 
 public lewdness, the seducer is answerable for the multiplied 
 evils to which his crime gives birth. 
 
 Upon the whole, if we pursue the effects of seduction through 
 the complicated misery which it occasions, and if it be right to 
 estimate crimes by the mischief they knowingly produce, it 
 will appear something more than mere invective to assert, that 
 not one half of the crimes for which men suffer death by the 
 laws of England are so flagitious as this. 1 
 
 1 Yd tin' law has provided no punishment for this offence heyond a pecuniary 
 satisfaction to the injured family; and this can only be come at, by one of the 
 quaintest fictions in the world; by the father's bringing his action against the se- 
 ducer, for the loss of his daughter's service, during her pregnancy and nurturing.
 
 Chap, iv.] Adultery. 211 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ADULTERY. 
 
 ANEW sufferer is introduced, the injured husband, who 
 receives a wound in his sensibility and affections, the most 
 painful and incurable that human nature knows. In all other 
 respects, adultery on the part of the man who solicits the 
 chastity of a married woman, includes the crime of seduction, 
 and is attended with the same mischief. 
 
 The infidelity of the woman is aggravated by cruelty to her 
 children, who are generally involved in their parent's shame, 
 and always made unhappy by their quarrel. 
 
 If it be said that these consequences are chargeable, not so 
 much upon the crime, as the discovery, we answer, first, that 
 the crime could not be discovered unless it were committed, 
 and that the commission is never secure from discovery ; and, 
 secondly, that if we excuse adulterous connexions, whenever 
 they can hope to escape detection, which is the conclusion to 
 which this argument conducts us, we leave the husband no other 
 security for his wife's chastity, than in her want of opportunity or 
 temptation ; which would probably either deter men from marry- 
 ing, or render marriage a state of such jealousy and alarm to the 
 husband, as must end in the slavery and confinement of the wife. 
 
 The vow, by which married persons mutually engage their 
 fidelity, ' is witnessed before God/ and accompanied with cir- 
 cumstances of solemnity and religion, which approach to the 
 nature of an oath. The married offender therefore incurs a 
 crime little short of perjury, and the seduction of a married 
 woman is little less than subornation of perjury ; — and this 
 guilt is independent of the discovery. 
 
 All behaviour which is designed, or which knowingly tends, 
 to captivate the affection of a married woman, is a barbarous 
 intrusion upon the peace and virtue of a family, though it fall 
 short of adultery. 
 
 The usual and only apology for adultery is, the prior trans- 
 gression of the other party. There are degrees, no doubt, in 
 this, as in other crimes : and so far as the bad effects of adultery 
 are anticipated by the conduct of the husband or wife who 
 offends first, the guilt of the second offender is less. But this 
 
 p 2
 
 2 1 i Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 falls very far short of a justification ; unless it could be shown 
 that the obligation of the marriage-vow depends upon the con- 
 dition of reciprocal fidelity ; for which construction there 
 appears no foundation, either in expediency, or in the terms of the 
 promise, or in the design of the legislature which prescribed the 
 marriage-rite. Moreover, the rule contended for by this plea 
 has a manifest tendency to multiply the offence, but none to 
 reclaim the offender. 
 
 The way of considering the offence of one party as a provo- 
 cation to the other, and the other as only retaliating the injury 
 by repeating the crime, is a childish trifling with words. 
 
 ' Thou shalt not commit adultery/ was an interdict delivered 
 by God himself. By the Jewish law, adultery was capital to 
 both parties in the crime : c Even he that committeth adultery 
 with his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and adulteress shall 
 surely be put to death.' — Levit. xx. 10. Which passages prove, 
 that the Divine Legislator placed a great difference between 
 adultery and fornication. And with this agree the christian 
 Scriptures : for, in almost all the catalogues they have left us of 
 crimes and criminals, they enumerate ' fornication, adultery, 
 whoremongers, adulterers/ (Matt. xv. 19; i Cor. vi. 9; Gal. v. 9; 
 Heb. viii. 4,) by which mention of both, they show that they 
 did not consider them as the same : but that the crime of 
 adultery was, in their apprehension, distinct from, and accu- 
 mulated upon, that of fornication. 
 
 The history of the woman taken in adultery, recorded in the 
 eighth chapter of St. John's Gospel, has been thought by some 
 to give countenance to that crime. As Christ told the Avoman, 
 ' Neither do I condemn thee/ we must believe, it is said, that 
 he deemed her conduct either not criminal, or not a crime, how- 
 ever, of the heinous nature which we represent it to be. A more 
 attentive examination of the case will, I think, convince us, that 
 from it nothing can be concluded as to Christ's opinion concern- 
 ing adultery, either one way or the other. The transaction is 
 thus related : ' Early in the morning Jesus came again into the 
 temple, and all the people came unto him : and he sat down and 
 taught them. And the Scribes and Pharisees brought unto him 
 a woman taken in adultery : and when they had set her in the 
 midst, they say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in 
 adultery, in the very act: now Moses, in the law, commanded 
 that such should be stoned ; but what sayest thou ? This they
 
 Chap, iv.] Adultery. 213 
 
 said tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. Bat 
 Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, 
 as though he heard them not. So when they continued 
 asking him, he lift up himself, and said unto them, He that is 
 without sin amongst you, let him first cast a stone at her ; and 
 again he stooped down and wrote on the ground : and they 
 which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went 
 out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last ; and 
 Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When 
 Jesus had lift up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said 
 unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers ? hath no man 
 condemned thee ? She said unto him, No man, Lord. And he 
 said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no more/ 
 f This they said tempting him, that they might have to accuse 
 him ;' to draw him, that is, into an exercise of judicial authority, 
 that they might have to accuse him before the Roman governor, 
 of usurping or intermeddling with the civil government. This 
 Avas their design ; and Christ's behaviour throughout the whole 
 affair proceeded from a knowledge of this design, and a deter- 
 mination to defeat it. He gives them at first a cold and sullen 
 reception, well suited to the insidious intention with which they 
 came : ' He stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the 
 ground, as though he heard them not.' ' When they continued 
 asking him,' when they teased him to speak, he dismissed them 
 with a rebuke, which the impertinent malice of their errand, as 
 well as the sacred character of many of them, deserved : ' He 
 that is without sin (that is, this sin) 1 among you, let him first cast 
 a stone at her.' This had its effect. Stung with the reproof, 
 and disappointed of their aim, they stole away one by one, and 
 left Jesus and the woman alone. And then follows the conver- 
 sation, which is the part of the narrative most material to our 
 present subject. ' Jesus said unto her, Woman, where are those 
 thine accusers ? hath no man condemned thee ? She said, No 
 man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn 
 thee ; go, and sin no more.' Now, when Christ asked the 
 woman, ' hath no man condemned thee ?' He certainly spoke, and 
 was understood by the woman to speak, of a legal and judicial 
 
 1 This interpretation seems hardly warrantable. It is not likely that all the 
 persons present were adulterers, though all sinners. Nor do our Lord's words 
 imply it.
 
 214 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 condemnation ; otherwise, her answer, ' No man, Lord/ was not 
 true. In every other sense of condemnation, as blame, censure, 
 reproof, private judgment, and the like, many had condemned 
 her; all those indeed who brought her to Jesus. If then a 
 judicial sentence was what Christ meant by condemning in the 
 question, the common use of language requires us to suppose 
 that He meant the same in his reply, ' Neither do I condemn 
 thee/ i. e. I pretend to no judicial character or authority over 
 thee ; it is no office or business of mine to pronounce or execute 
 the sentence of the law. 
 
 When Christ adds, ' Go, and sin no more/ He in effect tells 
 her, that she had sinned already : but as to the degree or 
 quality of the sin, or Christ's opinion concerning it, nothing is 
 declared, or can be inferred, either way. 
 
 Adultery, which was punished with death during the Usurpa- 
 tion, is now regarded by the law of England only as a civil 
 injury ; for which the imperfect satisfaction that money can 
 afford may be recovered by the husband. 1 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 INCEST. 
 
 IN order to preserve chastity in families, and between persons 
 of different sexes, brought up and living together in a state 
 of unreserved intimacy, it is necessary by every method pos- 
 sible to inculcate an abhorrence of incestuous conjunctions ; 
 which abhorrence can only be upholden by the absolute repro- 
 bation of all commerce of the sexes between near relations. 
 Upon this principle, the marriage as well as other cohabitations 
 of brothers and sisters, of lineal kindred, and of all who usually 
 live in the same family, may be said to be forbidden by the law 
 of nature. 
 
 Restrictions which extend to remoter degrees of kindred than 
 what this reason makes it necessary to prohibit from inter- 
 marriage, are founded in the authority of the positive law 
 which ordains them, and can only be justified by their tendency 
 to diffuse wealth, to connect families, or to promote some poli- 
 tical advantage. 
 
 The Levitical law, which is received in this country, and 
 
 1 Such wus the law, when Paley wrote.
 
 Chap, vi.] Poly (/amy. 21^ 
 
 from which the rule of the Roman law differs very little,, pro- 
 hibits 1 marriage between relations, within three degrees of 
 kindred ; computing the generations, not from, but through the 
 common ancestor, and accounting affinity the same as consan- 
 guinity. The issue, however, of such marriages are not bas- 
 tardized, unless the parents be divorced during their lifetime. 2 
 
 The Egyptians are said to have allowed of the marriage of 
 brothers and sisters. Amongst the Athenians, a very singular 
 regulation prevailed ; brothers and sisters of the half-blood, if 
 related by the father's side, might marry ; if by the mother's 
 side, they were prohibited from marrying. The same custom 
 also probably obtained in Chaldea so early as the age in which 
 Abraham left it ; for he and Sarah his wife stood in this rela- 
 tion to each other : ' And vet, indeed, she is my sister ; she is 
 the daughter of my father, but not of my mother ; and she be- 
 came my wife.' — Gen. xx. 12. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 POLYGAMY. 
 
 THE equality 3 in the number of males and females born into 
 the world intimates the intention of God, that one woman 
 should be assigned to one man : for if to one man be allowed 
 an exclusive right to five or more women, four or more men 
 must be deprived of the exclusive possession of any ; which 
 could never be the order intended. 
 
 It seems also a significant indication of the divine will, that 
 he at first created only one woman to one man. Had God 
 intended polygamy for the species, it is probable He would 
 have begun with it ; especially as, by giving to Adam more 
 wives than one, the multiplication of the human race would 
 have proceeded with a quicker progress. 
 
 Polygamy not only violates the constitution of nature, and the 
 
 1 The Roman law continued the prohibition to the descendants of brothers and 
 sisters without limits. In the Levitical and English law, there is nothing to hinder 
 a man from marrying his rjreat-mece. 
 
 - For some remarks on the marriage-laws, see the Remains of Bishop Copleston. 
 (Parker.) 
 
 3 This equality is not exact. The number of male infants exceeds that of 
 females in the proportion of nineteen to eighteen, or thereabouts ; which excess 
 provides for the greater consumption of males by war, seafaring, and other dangerous 
 or unhealthy occupations.
 
 216 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 apparent design of the Deity, but produces to the parties them- 
 selves, and to the Public, the following- bad effects : contests and 
 jealousies amongst the wives of the same husband j distracted 
 affections, or the loss of all affection, in the husband himself ; a 
 voluptuousness in the rich, which dissolves the vigour of their in- 
 tellectual as well as active faculties, producing that indolence 
 and imbecility both of mind and body, which have long cha- 
 racterized the nations of the East ; the abasement of one half of 
 the human species, who, in countries where polygamy obtains, 
 are degraded into mere instruments of physical pleasure to the 
 other half; neglect of children; and the manifold, and some- 
 times unnatural mischiefs, which arise from a scarcity of women. 
 To compensate for these evils, polygamy does not offer a single 
 advantage. In the article of population, which it has been 
 thought to promote, the community gain nothing: 1 for the 
 question is not whether one man will have more children by five 
 or more wives than by one ; but whether these five wives would 
 not bear the same or a greater number of children to five 
 separate husbands. And as to the care of the children, when 
 produced, and the sending of them into the world in situations 
 in which they may be likely to form and bring up families of 
 their own, upon which the increase and succession of the human 
 species in a great degree depend ; this is less provided for, and 
 less practicable, where twenty or thirty children are to be sup- 
 ported by the attention and fortunes of one father, than if they 
 were divided into five or six families, to each of which were 
 assigned the industry and inheritance of two parents. 
 
 Whether simultaneous polygamy was permitted by the law of 
 Moses seems doubtful r but whether permitted or not, it was 
 
 1 Nothing, I mean, compared with a state in which marriage is nearly universal. 
 Where marriages are less general, and many women unfruitful from the want of 
 husbands, polygamy might at first add a little to population; and hut a little: for, 
 us a variety of wives would he sought chiefly from temptations of voluptuousness, it 
 would rather increase the demand for female beauty, than for the sex at large. And 
 this little would soon be made less by many deductions. For, first, as none but the 
 opulent can maintain a plurality of wives, where polygamy obtains, the rich indulge 
 in it, while the rest take up with a vague and barren incuntinency. And, secondly, 
 women would grow less jealous of their virtue, when they had nothing for which 
 to reserve it, but a chamber in the haram ; when their chastity was no longer to be 
 rewarded with the rights and happiness of a wife, as enjoyed under the marriage of 
 one woman to one man. These considerations may be added to what is mentioned 
 in the text, concerning the easy and early settlement of children in the world. 
 
 2 See Deut. xvii. 17; xxi. 15.
 
 Chap, vi.] Polygamy. 217 
 
 certainly practised by the Jewish patriarchs, both before that 
 law and under it. The permission, if there were any, might be 
 like that of divorce, 'for the hardness of their heart/ in conde- 
 scension to their established indulgences, rather than from the 
 general rectitude or propriety of the thing itself. The state of 
 manners in Judea had probably undergone a reformation in this 
 respect before the time of Christ, for in the New Testament we 
 meet with no trace or mention of any such practice being tolerated. 
 
 For which reason, and because it was likewise forbidden 
 amongst the Greeks and Romans, we cannot expect to find any 
 express law upon the subject in the christian code. The words 
 of Christ : (Matt. xix. 9) may be construed by an easy implica- 
 tion to prohibit polygamy : for, if ' whoever putteth away his 
 wife, and marrieth another, committeth adultery,' he who mar- 
 rieth another without putting away the first, is no less guilty of 
 adultery : because the adultery does not consist in the repudia- 
 tion of the first wife, (for, however unjust or cruel that may be, 
 it is not adultery,) but in entering into a second marriage during 
 the legal existence and obligation of the first. The several 
 passages in St. Paul's writings, which speak of marriage, always 
 suppose it to signify the union of one man with one woman. 
 Upon this supposition he argues, Rom. vii. 1, 2, 3 : ' Know ye 
 not, brethren (for I speak to them that know the law), how that 
 the law hath dominion over a man, as long as he liveth ? For 
 the woman which hath an husband, is bound by the law to her 
 husband so long as he liveth ; but if the husband be dead, she 
 is loosed from the law of her husband : so then, if while her 
 husband liveth she be married to another man, she shall be 
 called an adulteress.' When the same apostle permits marriage 
 to his* Corinthian converts, (which, ' for the present distress,' he 
 judges to be inconvenient,) he restrains the permission to the mar- 
 riage of one husband with one wife : — ' It is good for a man not to 
 touch a woman ; nevertheless, to avoid fornication, let every man 
 have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband.' 
 
 The manners of different countries have varied in nothing 
 more than in their domestic constitutions. Less polished and 
 more luxurious nations have either not perceived the bad effects 
 of polygamy, or, if they did perceive them, they who in such 
 
 1 ' I say unto you, Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for forni- 
 cation, and shall marry another, committeth adultery.'
 
 2i 8 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 countries possessed the power of reforming the laws have been 
 unwilling to resign their own gratifications. Polygamy is re- 
 tained at this day among the Turks, and throughout every part 
 of Asia, in which Christianity is not professed. In christian 
 countries, it is universally prohibited. In Sweden, it is punished 
 with death. In England, besides the nullity of the second 
 marriage, it subjects the offender to transportation, or imprison- 
 ment and branding, for the first offence, and to capital punish- 
 ment for the second. And whatever may be said in behalf of 
 polygamy when it is authorized by the law of the land, the mar- 
 riage of a second wife during the lifetime of the first, in coun- 
 tries where such a second marriage is void, must be ranked with 
 the most dangerous and cruel of those frauds, by which a woman 
 is cheated out of her fortune, her person, and her happiness. 
 
 The ancient Medes compelled their citizens, in one canton, 
 to take seven wives; in another, each woman to receive five 
 husbands ; according as war had made, in one quarter of their 
 country, an extraordinary havoc among the men, or the women 
 had been carried away by an enemy from another. This regu- 
 lation, so far as it was adapted to the proportion which subsisted 
 between the number of males and females, was founded in the 
 reason upon which the most approved nations of Europe proceed 
 at present. 
 
 Csesar found amongst the inhabitants of this island a species 
 of polygamy, if it may be so called, which was perfectly singular. 
 Uxores, says he, habent cleni duodenique inter se communes ; et 
 maxime fratres cum fratribus, parentesque cum liberis : sed si qui 
 sint ex his nati, eorum habentur liberie quo primum virgo quaque 
 deducta est. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 It is very properly enacted in christian Churches that no 
 man shall marry more than one wife. But whether a Pagan 
 or Mussulman who has already two wives, is bound, on becoming 
 a Christian, to divorce one of them, is a question which has of 
 late been hotly debated. The contract made with each of them 
 was lawful when it was made ; and it does not seem right that 
 the man's conversion should dissolve it, and cast off as a divorced 
 woman one who ivas a lawful wife.
 
 Chap, vii.] Of Divorce. 219 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OF DIVORCE. 
 
 BY divorce, I mean the dissolution of the marriage-contract, by 
 the act, and at the will, of the husband. 
 
 This power was allowed to the husband, among the Jews, the 
 Greeks, and latter Romans ; and is at this clay exercised by the 
 Turks and Persians. 
 
 The congruity of such a right with the law of nature is the 
 question before us. 
 
 And, in the first place, it is manifestly inconsistent with the 
 duty which the parents owe to their children ; which duty can 
 never be so well fulfilled as by their cohabitation and united 
 care. It is also incompatible with the right which the mother 
 possesses, as well as the father, to the gratitude of her children 
 and the comfort of their society ; of both which she is almost 
 necessarily deprived, by her dismission from her husband's 
 family. 
 
 Where this objection does not interfere, I know of no prin- 
 ciple of the law of nature applicable to the question, beside that 
 of general expediency. 
 
 For if we say that arbitrary divorces are excluded by the 
 terms of the marriage-contract, it may be answered, that the 
 contract might be so framed as to admit of this condition. 
 
 If we argue, with some moralists, that the obligation of a 
 contract naturally continues, so long as the purpose, which the 
 contracting parties had in view, requires its continuance, it will 
 be difficult to show what purpose of the contract (the care of 
 children excepted) should confine a man to a woman, from whom 
 he seeks to be loose. 
 
 If we contend, with others, that a contract cannot, by the law 
 of nature, be dissolved, unless the parties be replaced in the 
 situation which each possessed before the contract was entered 
 into, we shall be called upon to prove this to be a universal or 
 indispensable property of contracts. 
 
 I confess myself unable to assign any circumstance in the 
 marriage-contract which essentially distinguishes it from other 
 contracts, or which proves that it contains, what many have as-
 
 220 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part lii. 
 
 cribed to it, a natural incapacity of being dissolved by the con- 
 sent of the parties, at the option of one of them, or either of 
 them. But if we trace the effects of such a rule upon the 
 general happiness of married life, we shall perceive reasons of 
 expediency, that abundantly justify the policy of those laws which 
 refuse to the husband, the power of divorce, or restrain it to a 
 few extreme and. specific provocations ; and our principles teach 
 us to pronounce that to be contrary to the law of nature, which 
 can be proved to be detrimental to the common happiness of the 
 human species. 
 
 A lawgiver, whose counsels are directed by views of general 
 utility, and obstructed by no local impediment, would make the 
 marriage-contract indissoluble during the joint lives of the 
 parties for the sake of the following advantages : — 
 
 I. Because this tends to preserve peace and concord betw r een 
 married persons, by perpetuating their common interest, and by 
 inducing a necessity of mutual compliance. 
 
 There is great weight and substance in both these consider- 
 ations. An earlier termination of the union would produce a 
 separate interest. The wife would naturally look forward to the 
 dissolution of the partnership, and endeavour to draw to herself 
 a fund against the time when she was no longer to have access to 
 the same resources. This would beget peculation on one side, 
 and mistrust on the other ; evils which at present very little dis- 
 turb the confidence of married life. The second effect of making 
 the union determinable only by death, is not less beneficial. It 
 necessarily happens that adverse tempers, habits, and tastes, often- 
 times meet in marriage. In which case,each partymust take pains 
 to give up what offends, and practise what may gratify the other. 
 A man and woman in love with each other do this insensibly; but 
 love is neither general nor durable : and where that is wanting, no 
 lessons of duty, no delicacy of sentiment, will go half so far with 
 the generality of mankind and womankind as this one intelli- 
 gible reflection, that they must each make the best of their 
 bargain ; and that, seeing they must either both be miserable, or 
 both share in the same happiness, neither can find their own 
 comfort, but in promoting the pleasure of the other. These 
 compliances, though at first extorted by necessity, become in 
 time easy and mutual ; and, though less endearing than assi- 
 duities which take their rise from affection, generally procure to
 
 Chap, vii.] Of Divorce. 22 1 
 
 the married pair a repose and satisfaction sufficient for their 
 happiness. 
 
 II. Because new objects of desire would be continually- 
 sought after, if men could, at will, be released from their sub- 
 sisting engagements. Suppose the husband to have once pre- 
 ferred his wife to all other women, the duration of this preference 
 cannot be trusted to. Possession makes a great difference ; and 
 there is no other security against the invitations of novelty, than 
 the known impossibility of obtaining the object. Did the cause 
 which brings the sexes together hold them together by the same 
 force with which it first attracted them to each other ; or could 
 the woman be restored to her personal integrity, and to all the 
 advantages of her virgin estate, the power of divorce might be 
 deposited in the hands of the husband, with less danger of abuse 
 or inconveniency. But constituted as mankind are, and injured 
 as the repudiated wife generally must be, it is necessary to add a 
 stability to the condition of married women, more secure than 
 the continuance of their husband's affection ; and to supply to 
 both sides, by a sense of duty and of obligation, what satiety 
 has impaired of passion and of personal attachment. Upon the 
 whole, the power of divorce is evidently and greatly to the dis- 
 advantage of the woman ; and the only question appears to be, 
 whether the real and permanent happiness of one half of the 
 species shoidd be surrendered to the caprice and voluptuousness 
 of the other ? 
 
 We have considered divorces as depending upon the will of 
 the husband, because that is the way in which they have actually 
 obtained in many parts of the world : but the same objections 
 apply, in a great degree, to divorces by mutual consent; especially 
 when we consider the indelicate situation and small prospect of 
 happiness, which remains to the party who opposed his or her 
 dissent to the liberty and desire of the other. 
 
 The law of nature admits of an exception in favour of the 
 injured party, in cases of adultery, of obstinate desertion, of 
 attempts upon life, of outrageous cruelty, of incurable madness, 
 and perhaps of personal imbecility ; but by no means indulges 
 the same privilege to mere dislike, to opposition of humours and 
 inclinations, to contrariety of taste and temper, to complaints 
 of coldness, neglect, severity, peevishness, jealousy : not that 
 these reasons are trivial, but because such objections may always
 
 222 Moral Philosophy . [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 be alleged, and are impossible by testimony to be ascer- 
 tained ; so that to allow implicit credit to them, and to dissolve 
 marriages whenever either party thought fit to pretend them, 
 would lead in its effect to all the licentiousness of arbitrary 
 divorces. 
 
 Milton's story is well known. Upon a quarrel with his wife, 
 he paid his addresses to another woman, and set forth a public 
 vindication of his conduct, by attempting to prove, that con- 
 firmed dislike was as just a foundation for dissolving the mar- 
 riage-contract as adultery : to which position, and to all the 
 arguments by which it can be supported, the above considera- 
 tion affords a sufficient answer. And if a married pair, in actual 
 and irreconcileable discord, complain that their happiness would 
 be better consulted, by permitting them to determine a con- 
 nexion, which is become odious to both, it may be told them, 
 that the same permission, as a general rule, would produce liber- 
 tinism, dissension, and misery, amongst thousands, who are now 
 virtuous, and quiet, and happy, in their condition ; and it ought 
 to satisfy them to reflect, that when their happiness is sacrificed 
 to the operation of an unrelenting rule, it is sacrificed to the hap- 
 piness of the community. 
 
 The Scriptures seem to have drawn the obligation tighter 
 than the law of nature left it. ' Whosoever/ saith Christ, c shall 
 put away his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall many 
 another, committeth adultery ; and whoso marrieth her which is 
 put away, doth commit adultery.' — Matt. xix. 9. The law of 
 Moses, for reasons of local expediency, permitted the Jewish 
 husband to put away his wife : but whether for every cause, or 
 for what causes, appears to have been controverted amongst the 
 interpreters of those times. Christ, the precepts of whose re- 
 ligion were calculated for more general use and observation, 
 revokes this permission (as given to the Jews ' for the hardness 
 of their hearts'), and promulges a law which was thenceforward 
 to confine divorces to the single case of adultery in the wife. 
 And I see no sufficient reason to depart from the plain and strict 
 meaning of Christ's words. The rule was new. It both sur- 
 prised and offended his disciples; yet Christ added nothing to 
 relax or explain it. 
 
 Inferior causes may justify the separation of husband and wife, 
 although they will not authorize such a dissolution of the mar-
 
 ^hap. vii.] Of Divorce. 223 
 
 riage-contract as would leave either party at liberty to marry 
 again : for it is that liberty, in which the clanger and mischief of 
 divorces principally consist. If the care of children does not re- 
 quire that they should live together, and it is become, in the serious 
 judgment of both, necessary for their mutual happiness that they 
 should separate, let them separate by consent. Nevertheless, 
 this necessity can hardly exist, without guilt and misconduct 
 on one side or on both. Moreover, cruelty, ill-usage, extreme 
 violence or moroseness of temper, or other great and continued 
 provocations, make it lawful for the party aggrieved to withdraw 
 from the society of the offender without his or her consent. The 
 law which imposes the marriage- vow, whereby the parties pro- 
 mise to ' keep to each other/ or in other words, to live together, 
 must be understood to impose it with a silent reservation of 
 these cases; because the same law has constituted a judicial 
 relief from the tyranny of the husband, by the divorce a mensa 
 et toro, and by the provision which it makes for the separate 
 maintenance of the injured wife. St. Paul likewise distinguishes 
 between a wife's merely separating herself from the family of her 
 husband, and her marrying again : — ' Let not the wife depart 
 from her husband : but and if she do depart, let her remain 
 unmarried/ 
 
 The law of this country, in conformity to our Saviour's injunc- 
 tion, confines the dissolution of the marriage-contract to the 
 single case of adultery in the wife ; and a divorce even in that 
 case can only be brought about by the operation of an act of 
 parliament, founded upon a previous sentence in the ecclesias- 
 tical court, and a verdict against the adulterer at common law : 
 which proceedings taken together, compose as complete an inves- 
 tigation of the complaint as a cause can receive. It has lately 
 been proposed to the legislature to annex a clause to these acts, 
 restraining the offending party from marrying with the com- 
 panion of her crime, who, by the course of proceeding, is always 
 known and convicted : for there is reason to fear, that adulterous 
 connexions are often formed with the prospect of bringing them 
 to this conclusion ; at least, when the seducer has once captivated 
 the affection of a married woman, he may avail himself of this 
 tempting argument to subdue her scruples, and complete his 
 victory ; and the legislature, as the business is managed at 
 present, assists by its interposition the criminal design of the
 
 224 Moral Philosophy; [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 offenders, and confers a privilege where it ought to inflict a 
 punishment. The proposal deserved an experiment : but some- 
 thing more penal will, I apprehend, be found necessary to check 
 the progress of this alarming depravity. Whether a law might 
 not be framed directing the fortune of the adulteress to descend as 
 in case of her natural death ; reserving, however, a certain pro- 
 portion of the produce of it, by way of annuity, for her subsist- 
 ence, (such annuity, in no case, to exceed a fixed sum,) and also 
 so far suspending the estate in the hands of the heir as to pre- 
 serve the inheritance to any children she might bear to a second 
 marriage, in case there was none to succeed in the place of their 
 mother by the first ; whether, I say, such a law would not render 
 female virtue in higher life less vincible, as well as the seducers 
 of that virtue less urgent in their suit, we recommend to the 
 deliberation of those who are willing to attempt the reformation 
 of this important, but most incorrigible, class of the community. 
 A passion for splendour, for expensive amusements and distinc- 
 tion, is commonly found, in that description of women who 
 would become the objects of such a law, not less inordinate than 
 their other appetites. A severity of the kind we propose, applies 
 immediately to that passion. And there is no room for any 
 complaint of injustice, since the provisions above stated, with 
 others which might be contrived, confine the punishment, so far 
 as it is possible, to the person of the offender ; suffering the 
 estate to remain to the heir, or within the family, of the ancestor 
 from whom it came, or to attend the appointments of his 
 will. 
 
 Sentences of the ecclesiastical courts, which release the parties 
 a vinculo matrimonii by reason of impuberty, frigidity, consan- 
 guinity within the prohibited degrees, prior marriage, or want of 
 the requisite consent of parents and guardians, are not dissolu- 
 tions of the marriage contract, but judicial declarations that there 
 ne\ er was any marriage ; such impediment subsisting at the time, 
 as rendered the celebration of the marriage-rite a mere nullity. 
 Arid the rite itself contains an exception of these impediments. 
 The man and woman to be married are charged, ' if they Jpiow 
 any impediment why they may not be lawfully joined together, 
 to confess it ;' and assured ' that so many as are coupled together, 
 otherwise than God's word doth allow, are not joined together 
 by God, neither is their matrimony lawful;' all which is in-
 
 Chap, viii.] Marriage. 225 
 
 tended by way of solemn notice to the parties, that the vow they 
 are about to make will bind their consciences and authorize their 
 cohabitation, only upon the supposition that no legal impediment 
 exists. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 WHETHER it has grown out of some tradition of the 
 divine appointment of marriage in the persons of our first 
 parents, or merely from a design to impress the obligation of 
 the marriage-contract with a solemnity suited to its importance, 
 the marriage-rite, in almost all countries of the world, has been 
 made a religious ceremony; 1 although marriage, in its own 
 nature, and abstracted from the rules and declarations which the 
 Jewish and Christian Scriptures deliver concerning it, be properly 
 a civil contract, and nothing more. 
 
 With respect to one main article in matrimonial alliances, a 
 total alteration has taken place in the fashion of the world ; the 
 wife now brings money to her husband, whereas anciently the 
 husband paid money to the family of the wife ; as was the case 
 among the Jewish patriarchs, the Greeks, and the old inhabitants 
 of Germany? This alteration has proved of no small advantage 
 to the female sex : for their importance in point of fortune 
 procures to them, in modern times, that assiduity and respect, 
 which are always wanted to compensate for the inferiority of their 
 strength ; but which their personal attractions would not always 
 secure. 
 
 Our business is with marriage, as it is established in this 
 country. And in treating thereof, it will be necessary to state 
 the terms of the marriage-vow, in order to discover, — 
 
 1. What duties this vow creates. 
 
 1 It was not, however, in christian countries required that marriages should he 
 celebrated in churches, till the thirteenth century of the christian era. Marriages 
 in England during the Usurpation were solemnized before j ustices of the peace; 
 but for what purpose this novelty was introduced, except to degrade the clergy, does 
 not appear. 
 
 2 The ancient Assyrians sold their beauties by an annual auction. The prices 
 were applied by way of portions to the more homely. By this contrivance, all of 
 both sorts were disposed of in marriage. 
 
 Y. Q
 
 226 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 2. What a situation of mind at the time is inconsistent with it. 
 
 3. By what subsequent behaviour it is violated. 
 
 The husband promises, on his part, f to love, comfort, 
 honour, and keep, his wife :' the wife on hers, ' to obey, serve, 
 love, honour, and keep, her husband ;' in every variety of health, 
 fortune, and condition : and both stipulate l to forsake all others, 
 and to keep only unto one another, so long as they both shall 
 live.' This promise is called the marriage- vow ; is witnessed 
 before God and the congregation ; accompanied with prayers to 
 Almighty God for his blessing upon it ; and attended with such 
 circumstances of devotion and solemnity as place the obligation 
 of it, and the guilt of violating it, nearly upon the same foundation 
 with that of oaths. 
 
 The parties by this vow engage their personal fidelity expressly 
 and specifically ; they engage likewise to consult and promote 
 each other's happiness ; the wife, moreover, promises obedience 
 to her husband. Nature may have made and left the sexes of 
 the human species nearly equal in their faculties, and perfectly 
 so in their rights ; but to guard against those competitions which 
 equality, or a contested superiority, is almost sure to produce, 
 the christian Scriptures enjoin upon the wife that obedience Avhich 
 she here promises, and in terms so peremptory and absolute, 
 that it seems to extend to everything not criminal, or not entirely 
 inconsistent with the woman's happiness. ' Let the wife,' says 
 St. Paul, ' be subject to her own husband in everything.' — 'The 
 ornament of a meek and quiet spirit,' says the same apostle, 
 speaking of the duty of wives, ' is, in the sight of God, of great 
 price.' No words ever expressed the true merit of the female 
 character so well as these. 
 
 The condition of human life will not permit us to say, that no 
 one can conscientiously marry, who does not prefer the person 
 at the altar to all other men or women in the world : but Ave can 
 have no difficulty in pronouncing, (whether we respect the end of 
 the institution, or the plain terms in which the contract is con- 
 ceived,) that whoever is conscious, at the time of his marriage, of 
 such a dislike to the woman he is about to marrv, or of such a 
 subsisting attachment to some other woman, that he cannot 
 reasonably, nor does in fact, expect ever to entertain an affection 
 for his future wife, is guilty, when he pronounces the marriage- 
 vow, of a direct and deliberate prevarication ; and that, too,
 
 Chap, viii.] Marriage. 227 
 
 aggravated by the presence of those ideas of religion, and of the 
 Supreme Being, which the place, the ritual, and the solemnity of 
 the occasion, cannot fail of bringing to his thoughts. The same 
 likewise of the woman. This charge must be imputed to all 
 who, from mercenary motives, marry the objects of their aver- 
 sion and disgust ; and likewise to those who desert, from any 
 motive whatever, the object of their affection, and, without being 
 able to subdue that affection, marry another. 
 
 The crime of falsehood is also incurred by the man who in- 
 tends, at the time of his marriage, to commence, renew, or con- 
 tinue a personal commerce with any other woman. And the 
 parity of reason, if a wife be capable of so much guilt, extends to 
 her. 
 
 The marriage vow is violated, 
 
 I. By adultery. 
 
 II. By any behaviour which, knowingly, renders the life of 
 the other miserable ; as desertion, neglect, prodigality, drunken- 
 ness, peevishness, penuriousness, jealousy, or any levity of con- 
 duct which administers occasion of jealousy. 
 
 A late regulation in the law of marriages, in this country, has 
 made the consent of the father, if he be living, of the mother, if 
 she survive the father, and remain unmarried, or of guardians, if 
 both parents be dead, necessary to the marriage of a person 
 under twenty-one years of age. By the Roman law, the con- 
 sent et avi et patris was required so long as they lived. In 
 France, the consent of parents is necessary to the marriage of 
 sons, until they attain to thirty years of age ; of daughters, until 
 twenty-five. In Holland, for sons, till twenty-five; for daugh- 
 ters, till twenty. And this distinction between the sexes appears 
 to be well-founded ; for a woman is usually as properly qualified 
 for the domestic and interior duties of a wife or mother at 
 eighteen, as a man is for the world, and the more arduous care 
 of providing for a family, at twenty-one. 
 
 The constitution also of the human species indicates the same 
 distinction. 1 
 
 1 Cum vis prolein procreandi diutiiis haereat in uiare quam in foemina, poputi 
 numerus nequaquam minuetur, si serins venerem colere inceperint viri. 
 
 Q 2
 
 2a8 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 ANNOTATION. 
 
 ' Marriages in England during the Usurpation were solemnized 
 before a Justice of the Peace ; but for what purpose this 
 novelty was introduced, except to degrade the Clergy, does 
 not appear.' 
 
 As it does not appear that the parties were prohibited from 
 superadding any religious ceremony they might chuse, Paley's 
 censure of the law seems unreasonable. 
 
 As long as this full liberty of conscience is left, such a law 
 appears the wisest — indeed the only wise one — on the subject. 
 For, marriage may be considered in two points of view : ( i st) 
 as a civil contract, referring to the legal rights and duties of the 
 parties concerned, and their offspring ; which comes properly 
 within the province of the civil government : and (2ndly) as a 
 religious engagement ; which is a matter between each person's 
 own conscience and his God. And in this, it is best for the 
 secular government not to interfere, especially when there are 
 so many different religious persuasions. If the parties, of what- 
 ever religious denomination, were required (with due precautions 
 against fraud) to make a regular contract before a Magistrate, 
 and have this duly registered by him, they being of course left 
 at liberty to go through any religious ceremony (before or after) 
 that their conscience might dictate, — and if this contract were 
 made universally, the sole evidence of a legal and valid marriage, 
 no one's conscience could be hurt, and we should escape at once 
 and for ever, all the auomalies, and grievances, and abuses, of our 
 patchwork legislation on the subject. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OF THE DUTY OF PARENTS. 
 
 T 
 
 HAT virtue, which confines its beneficence within the walls of 
 a man's own house, we have been accustomed to consider 
 as little better than a more refined selfishness ; and yet it will 
 be confessed, that the subject and matter of this class of duties
 
 Chap, ix.] Of the Duty of Parents. 229 
 
 are inferior to none in utility and importance : and where, it 
 may be asked, is virtue the most valuable, but where it does 
 the most good ? What duty is the most obligatory, but that on 
 which the most depends ? And where have we happiness and 
 misery so much in our power, or liable to be so affected by our 
 conduct, as in our own families ? It will also be acknowledged 
 that the good order and happiness of the world are better 
 upholden whilst each man applies himself to his own concerns and 
 the care of his own family, to which he is present, than if every 
 man, from an excess of mistaken generosity, should leave his own 
 business, to undertake his neighbour's, which he must always 
 manage with less knowledge, conveniency, and success. If, 
 therefore, the low estimation of these virtues be well founded, it 
 must be owing, not to their inferior importance, but to some 
 defect or impurity in the motive. And indeed it cannot be 
 denied, that it is in the power of association so to unite our 
 children's interest w r ith our own, as that we shall often pursue 
 both from the same motive, place both in the same object, and 
 with as little sense of duty in one pursuit as in the other. 
 Where this is the case, the judgment above stated is not far 
 from the truth. And so often as we find a solicitous care of a 
 man's own family, in a total absence or extreme penury of every 
 other virtue, or interfering with other duties, or directing its 
 operation solely to the temporal happiness of the children, placing 
 that happiness in amusement and indulgence whilst they are 
 young, or in advancement of fortune when they grow up, there 
 is reason to believe that this is the case. In this way, the common 
 opinion concerning these duties may be accounted for and de- 
 fended. If we look to the subject of them, we perceive them to 
 be indispensable : if we regard the motive, we find them often 
 not very meritorious. Wherefore, although a man seldom rises 
 high in our esteem who has nothing to recommend him beside 
 the care of his own family, yet we always condemn the neglect 
 of this duty with the utmost severity ; both by reason of the 
 manifest and immediate mischief which we see arising from this 
 neglect, and because it argues a want not only of parental affection, 
 but of those moral principles which ought to come in aid of that 
 affection where it is wanting. And if, on the other hand, our 
 praise and esteem of these duties be not proportioned to the good 
 they produce, or to the indignation with which wc resent the ab-
 
 230 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 sence of them, it is for this reason, that virtue is the most valuable, 
 not where it produces the most good, but where it is the most 
 wanted : which is not the case here ; because its place is often 
 supplied by instincts, or involuntary associations. Nevertheless, 
 the offices of a parent may be discharged from a consciousness 
 of their obligation, as well as other duties ; and a sense of this 
 obligation is sometimes necessary to assist the stimulus of 
 parental affection ; especially in stations of life, in which the 
 wants of a family cannot be supplied without the continual 
 hard labour of the father, and without his refraining from many 
 indulgences and recreations which unmarried men of like con- 
 dition are able to purchase. Where the parental affection is 
 sufficiently strong, or has few T er difficulties to surmount, a prin- 
 ciple of duty may still be wanted to direct and regulate its 
 exertions : for otherwise it is apt to spend and waste itself in a 
 womanish fondness for the person of the child ; an improvident 
 attention to his present ease and gratification; a pernicious 
 facility and compliance with his humours ; an excessive and 
 superfluous care to provide the externals of happiness, with little 
 or no attention to the internal sources of virtue and satisfac- 
 tion. Universally, wherever a parent's conduct is prompted or 
 directed by a sense of duty, there is so much virtue. 
 
 Having premised thus much concerning the place which 
 parental duties hold in the scale of human virtues, we proceed 
 to state and explain the duties themselves. 
 
 When moralists tell us, that parents are bound to do all they 
 can for their children, they tell us more than is true ; for, at 
 that rate, every expense which might have been spared, and 
 every profit omitted which might have been made, would be 
 criminal. 
 
 The duty of parents has its limits, like other duties ; and 
 admits, if not of perfect precision, at least of rules definite 
 enough for application. 
 
 These rules may be explained under the several heads of 
 maintenance, education, and a reasonable provision for the child's 
 happiness in respect of outward condition. 
 
 I. Maintenance. 
 
 The wants of children make it necessary that some person 
 
 maintain them; and as no one lias a right to burthen others by 
 
 actj it follows, that the parents are bound to undertake this
 
 Chap, ix.] Of the T)nty of Parents. 231 
 
 charge themselves. Beside this plain inference, the affection 
 of parents to their children, if it be instinctive, and the provi- 
 sion which nature has prepared in the person of the mother for 
 the sustentation of the infant, concerning the existence and 
 design of which there can be no doubt, are manifest indications 
 of the divine will. 
 
 Hence we learn the guilt of those who run away from their 
 families, or (what is much the same), in consequence of idleness 
 or drunkenness, throw them upon a parish j or who leave them 
 destitute at their death, when, by diligence and frugality, they 
 might have laid up a provision for their support : also of those 
 who refuse or neglect the care of their bastard offspring, aban- 
 doning them to a condition in which they must either perish, or 
 become burthensome to others ; for the duty of maintenance, 
 like the reason upon which it is founded, extends to bastards, as 
 Avell as to legitimate children. 
 
 The christian Scriptures, although they concern themselves 
 little with maxims of prudence or economy, and much less 
 authorize worldly-mindedness or avarice, have yet declared in 
 explicit terms their judgment of the obligation of this duty : 
 1 If any pi'ovide not for his own, especially for those of his own 
 household, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel* 
 (1 Tim. v. 8); he hath disgraced the christian profession, and 
 fallen short in a duty which even infidels acknowledge. 
 
 II. Education. 
 
 Education, in the most extensive sense of the word, may com- 
 prehend every preparation that is made in our youth for the 
 sequel of our lives ; and in this sense I use it. Some such 
 preparation is necessary for children of all conditions, because 
 without it they must be miserable, and probably will be vicious, 
 when they grow up, either from the want of the means of subsist- 
 ence, or from want of rational and inoffensive occupation. In 
 civilized life, everything is effected by art and skill. Whence a 
 person who is provided with neither (and neither can be acquired 
 without exercise and instruction) will be useless ; and he that 
 is useless, will generally be at the same time mischievous to the 
 community. So that to send an uneducated child into the world, 
 is injurious to the rest of mankind ; it is little better than to turn 
 out a mad dog or a wild beast into the streets. 
 
 In the inferior classes of the community, this principle con-
 
 232 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 demns the neglect of parents, who do not inure their children 
 betimes to labour and restraint, by providing them with appren- 
 ticeships, services, or other regular employment, but who suffer 
 them to waste their youth in idleness and vagrancy, or to betake 
 themselves to some lazy, trifling, and precarious calling : for the 
 consequence of having thus tasted the sweets of natural liberty, 
 at an age when their passion and relish for it are at the highest, 
 is, that they become incapable, for the remainder of their lives, 
 of continued industry, or of persevering attention to anything ; 
 spend their time in a miserable struggle between the importunity 
 of want, and the irksomeness of regular application ; and are 
 prepared to embrace every expedient, which presents a hope of 
 supplying their necessities without confining them to the plough, 
 the loom, the shop, or the counting-house. 
 
 In the middle orders of society, those parents are more repre- 
 hensible, who neither qualify their children for a profession, nor 
 enable them to live without one j 1 and those in the highest, 
 who, from indolence, indulgence, or avarice, omit to procure 
 their children those liberal attainments which are necessary to 
 make them useful in the stations to which they are destined. 
 A man of fortune, who permits his son to consume the season 
 of education in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting horse-races, 
 assemblies, or other unedifying, if not vicious, diversions, 
 defrauds the community of a benefactor, and bequeaths them a 
 nuisance. 
 
 Some, though not the same, preparation for the sequel of 
 their lives, is necessary for youth of every description ; and 
 therefore for bastards, as well as for children of better expecta- 
 tions. Consequently, they who leave the education of their 
 bastards to chance, contenting themselves with making provi- 
 sion for their subsistence, desert half their duty. 
 
 III. A reasonable provision for the happiness of a child, in 
 respect of outward condition, requires three things : a situation 
 suited to his habits and reasonable expectations ; a competent 
 provision for the exigencies of that situation ; and a probable 
 security for his virtue. 
 
 The first two articles will vary with the condition of the 
 
 1 Amongst tlic Athenians, if the parent did not put his child into a way of getting 
 ft livelihood, the child was not bound to make provision for the parent when old and 
 
 necessitous.
 
 Cliap. ix.] Of the Duty of Parents. 233 
 
 parent. A situation somewhat approaching in rank and condi- 
 tion to the parent's own; or, where that is not practicable, 
 similar to what other parents of like condition provide for 
 their children ; bounds the reasonable, as well as (generally- 
 speaking) the actual, expectations of the child, and therefore 
 contains the extent of the parent's obligation. 
 
 Hence, a peasant satisfies his duty, who sends out his children, 
 properly instructed for their occupation, to husbandry or to any 
 branch of manufacture. Clergymen, lawyers, physicians, officers 
 in the army or navy, gentlemen possessing moderate fortunes of 
 inheritance, or exercising trade in a large or liberal way, are 
 required by the same rule to provide their sons with learned 
 professions, commissions in the army or navy, places in public 
 offices, or reputable branches of merchandize. Providing a 
 child with a situation, includes a competent supply for the 
 expenses of that situation, until the profits of it enable the 
 child to support himself. Noblemen and gentlemen of high 
 rank and fortune may be bound to transmit an inheritance to the 
 representatives of their family, sufficient for their support with- 
 out the aid of a trade or profession, to which there is little hope 
 that a youth who has been flattered with other expectations, 
 will apply himself with diligence and success. In these parts 
 of the world, public opinion has assorted the members of the 
 community into four or five general classes, each class com- 
 prising a great variety of employments and professions, the 
 choice of which must be committed to the private discretion of 
 the parent. 1 All that can be expected from parents as a duty, 
 
 1 The health and virtue of a child's future life are considerations so superior to 
 all others, that whatever is likely to have the smallest influence upon these, deserves 
 the parent's first attention. In respect of health, agriculture, and all active, rural, 
 and out-of-door employments are to be preferred to manufactures and sedentary oc- 
 cupations. In respect of virtue, a course of dealings in which the advantage is 
 mutual, in which the profit on one side is connected with the benefit of the other, 
 (which is the case in trade, and all serviceable art or labour,) is more favourable to 
 the moral character, than callings in which one man's gain is another man's loss ; in 
 which what you acquirers acquired without equivalent, and parted with in distress; 
 as in gaming, and whatever partakes of gaining, and in the predatory profits of war. 
 The following distinctions also deserve notice : A business, like a retail trade, in 
 which the pre fits are small and frequent, and accruing from the employment, fur- 
 nishes a mode: ate and constant engagement to the mind, and, so far, suits better 
 with the general disposition of mankind, than professions which are supported by 
 fixed salaries, as stations in the church, army, navy, revenue, public offices, &c, or 
 wherein the profits are made in large sums, by a few great concerns or fortunate ad-
 
 234 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 and therefore the only rule which a moralist can deliver upon 
 the subject, is that they endeavour to preserve their children 
 in the class in which they are horn, that is to say, in which 
 others of similar expectations are accustomed to be placed ; 
 and that they he careful to confine their hopes and habits of 
 indulgence to objects which will continue to he attainable. 
 
 It is an ill-judged thrift, in some rich parents, to bring up 
 their sons to mean employments, for the sake of saving the charge 
 of a more expensive education : for these sons, when they become 
 masters of their liberty and fortune, will hardly continue in 
 occupations by which they think themselves degraded, and are 
 seldom qualified for anything better. 
 
 An attention, in the first place, to the exigencies of the chil- 
 dren's respective conditions in the world ; and a regard, in the 
 second place, to their reasonable expectations, always postponing 
 the expectations to the exigencies when both cannot be satisfied ; 
 ought to guide parents in the disposal of their fortunes after 
 their death. And these exigencies and expectations must be 
 measured by the standard which custom has established : for 
 there is a certain appearance, attendance, establishment, and 
 mode of living, which custom has annexed to the several ranks 
 and orders of civil life (and which compose what is called decency), 
 together with a certain society, and particular pleasures, belong- 
 ing to each class : and a young person who is withheld from 
 sharing in these for want of fortune, can scarcely be said to 
 have a fair chance for happiness ; the indignity and mortification 
 of such a seclusion being what few tempers can bear, or bear 
 with contentment. And as to the second consideration, of what 
 a child may reasonably expect from his parent, he will expect 
 what he sees all or most others in similar circumstances receive ; 
 and we can hardly call expectations unreasonable, which it is 
 impossible to suppress. 
 
 By virtue of this rule, a parent is justified in making a differ- 
 ence between his children according as they stand in greater or 
 
 ventures; as in many branches of wholesale and foreign merchandize, in which the 
 occupation is neither so constant, nor the activity so kept alive by immediate encou- 
 ragement. I'm- security, manual arts exceed merchandize, and such as supply the 
 wants of mankind an' better than those which minister to their pleasures. Situations 
 which promise an early settlement in marriage, are, on many accounts, to be chosen 
 ire those which require a longer waiting for a larger establishment.
 
 Chap, ix.] Of the Duty of Parents. 235 
 
 less need of the assistance of his fortune, in consequence of the 
 difference of their age or sex, or of the situations in which they 
 are placed, or the various success which they have met with. 
 
 On account of the few lucrative employments which are left to 
 the female sex, and by consequence the little opportunity they 
 have of adding to their income, daughters ought to be the par- 
 ticular objects of a parent's care or foresight ; and as an option 
 of marriage, from which they can reasonably expect happiness, 
 is not presented to every woman who deserves it, especially in 
 times in which a licentious celibacy is in fashion with the men, a 
 father should endeavour to enable his daughters to lead a single 
 life with independence and decorum, even though he subtract 
 more for that purpose from the portions of his sons than is 
 agreeable to modern usage, or than they expect. 
 
 But when the exigencies of their several situations are pro- 
 vided for, and not before, a parent ought to admit the second 
 consideration, the satisfaction of his children's expectations ; and 
 upon that principle to prefer the eldest son to the rest, and sons 
 to daughters : which constitutes the right, and the whole right, 
 of primogeniture, as well as the only reason for the preference of 
 one sex to the other. The preference, indeed, of the first-born 
 has one public good effect, that if the estate were divided equally 
 amongst the sons, it would probably make them all idle, whereas, 
 by the present rule of descent, it makes only one so ; which is 
 the less evil of the two. And it must further be observed on the 
 part of the sons, that if the rest of the community make it a rule 
 to prefer sous to daughters, an individual of that community 
 ought to guide himself by the same rule, upon principles of mere 
 equality. For, as the son suffers by the rule, in the fortune he 
 may expect in marriage, it is but reasonable that he should 
 receive the advantage of it in his own inheritance. Indeed, 
 whatever the rule be, as to the preference of one sex to the 
 other, marriage restores the equality. And as money is gene- 
 rally more convertible to profit, and more likely to promote 
 industry, in the hands of men than of women, the custom of this 
 country may properly be complied with, when it does not inter- 
 fere with the weightier reason explained in the last paragraph. 
 
 The point of the children's actual expectations, together with 
 the expediency of subjecting the illicit commerce of the sexes to 
 every discouragement which it can receive, makes the difference
 
 236 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 between the claims of legitimate children and of bastards. But 
 neither reason will in any case justify the leaving of bastards to 
 the world without provision, education, or profession ; or, what 
 is more cruel, without the means of continuing in the situation 
 to which the parent has introduced them ; which last is, to leave 
 them to inevitable misery. 
 
 After the first requisite, namely, a provision for the exigencies 
 of his situation, is satisfied, a parent may diminish a child's por- 
 tion, in order to punish any flagrant crime, or to punish contu- 
 macy and want of filial duty in instances not otherwise criminal : 
 for a child who is conscious of bad behaviour, or of contempt of 
 his parent's will and happiness, cannot reasonably expect the 
 same instances of his munificence. 
 
 A child's vices may be of that sort, and his vicious habits so 
 incorrigible, as to afford much the same reason for believing that 
 he will waste or misemploy the fortune put into his power, as if 
 he were mad or idiotish, in which case a parent may treat him 
 as a madman or an idiot ; that is, may deem it sufficient to pro- 
 vide for his support, by an annuity equal to his wants and inno- 
 cent enjoyments, and which he may be restrained from alienating. 
 This seems to be the only case in which a disinherison, nearly 
 absolute, is justifiable. 
 
 Let not a father hope to excuse an inofficious disposition of 
 his fortune, by alleging, that f every man may do what he will 
 with his own.' All the truth which this expression contains is, 
 that this discretion is under no control of law ; and that his 
 will, however capricious, will be valid. This by no means 
 absolves his conscience from the obligations of a parent, or 
 imports that he may neglect, without injustice, the several wants 
 and expectations of his family, in order to gratify a whim or 
 pique, or indulge a preference founded in no reasonable dis- 
 tinction of merit or situation. Although in his intercourse 
 with his family, and in the lesser endearments of domestic life, 
 a parent may not always resist his partiality to a favourite child 
 (which, however, should be both avoided and concealed, as 
 oftentimes productive of lasting jealousies and discontents) ; 
 yet, when he sits down to make his will, these tendernesses 
 must give place to more manly deliberations. 
 
 A father of a family is bound to adjust his economy with a 
 view to these demands uoon his fortune; and until a sufficiency
 
 Chap, ix.] Of the Duty of Parents. 237 
 
 for these ends is acquired, or in due time probably will be ac- 
 quired, (for, in human affairs, probability ought to content us,) 
 frugality and exertions of industry are duties. He is also justi- 
 fied in the declining expensive liberality : for, to take from those 
 who want, in order to give to those who want, adds nothing to 
 the stock of public happiness. Thus far, therefore, and no 
 farther, the plea of ' children/ of f large families/ ' charity 
 begins at home/ &c. is an excuse for parsimony, and an answer 
 to those who solicit our bounty. Beyond this point, as the use 
 of riches becomes less, the desire of laying up should abate pro- 
 portionably. The truth is, our children gain not so much as we 
 imagine, in the chance of this world's happiness, or even of its 
 external prosperity, by setting out in it with large capitals. Of 
 those who have died rich, a great part began with little. And, 
 in respect of enjoyment, there is no comparison between a for- 
 tune which a man acquires by well-applied industry, or by a 
 series of successes in his business, and one found in his posses- 
 sion, or received from another. 
 
 A principal part of a parent's duty is still behind, viz. the 
 using of proper precautions and expedients, in order to form and 
 preserve his children's virtue. 
 
 To us, who believe that, in one stage or other of our exist- 
 ence, virtue will conduct to happiness, and vice terminate in 
 misery ; and who observe withal, that men's virtues and vices 
 are, to a certain degree, produced or affected by the manage- 
 ment of their youth, and the situations in which they are placed ; 
 to all who attend to these reasons, the obligation to consult a 
 child's virtue will appear to differ in nothing from that by which 
 the parent is bound to provide for his maintenance or fortune. 
 The child's interest is concerned in the one means of happiness 
 as well as in the other; and both means are equally, and 
 almost exclusively, in the parent's power. 
 
 For this purpose, the first point to be endeavoured after is, to 
 impress upon children the idea of accountable ness, that is, to ac- 
 custom them to look forward to the consequences of their actions 
 in another world ; which can only be brought about by the 
 parents visibly acting with a view to these consequences them- 
 selves. Parents, to do them justice, are seldom sparing of lessons 
 of virtue and religion : in admonitions which cost little, and 
 which profit less ; whilst their example exhibits a continual con-
 
 238 Moral Philosophy. [Book in. Part iii. 
 
 tradiction of what they teach. A father, for instance, will, with 
 much solemnity and apparent earnestness, warn his son against 
 idleness, excess in drinking, debauchery, and extravagance, who 
 himself loiters about all day without employment ; comes home 
 every night drunk; is made infamous in his neighbourhood by 
 some profligate connexion ; and wastes the fortune which should 
 support, or remain a provision for his family, in riot, or luxury, 
 or ostentation. Or he will discourse gravely before his children 
 of the obligation and importance of revealed religion, whilst they 
 see the most frivolous and oftentimes feigned excuses detain him 
 from its reasonable and solemn ordinances. Or he will set 
 before them, perhaps, the supreme and tremendous authority of 
 Almighty God ; that such a Being ought not to be named, or 
 even thought upon, without sentiments of profound awe and 
 veneration. This may be the lecture he delivers to his family 
 one hour ; when the next, if an occasion arise to excite his anger, 
 his mirth, or his surprise, they will hear him treat the name of 
 the Deity with the most irreverent profanation, and sport with the 
 terms and denunciations of the christian religion, as if they were 
 the language of some ridiculous and long-exploded superstition. 
 Now, even a child is not to be imposed upon by such mockery. 
 He sees through the grimace of this counterfeited concern for 
 virtue. He discovers that his parent is acting a part ; and receives 
 his admonitions as he would hear the same maxims from the 
 mouth of a player. And when once this opinion has taken pos- 
 session of the child's mind, it has a fatal effect upon the parent's 
 influence, in all subjects; even those, in which he himself may be 
 sincere and convinced. Whereas a silent, but observable, regard 
 to the duties of religion, in the parent's own behaviour, will take 
 a sure and gradual hold of the child's disposition, much beyond 
 formal reproofs and chidings, which, being generally prompted 
 by some present provocation, discover more of anger than of 
 principle, and are always received with a temporary alienation 
 and disgust. 
 
 A good parent's first care is, to be virtuous himself; his second, 
 to make his virtues as easy and engaging to those about him as 
 their nature will admit. Virtue itself offends, Avhen coupled 
 with forbidding manners. And some virtues may be urged to 
 such excess, or brought forward so unseasonably, as to dis- 
 courage and repel those who observe and who arc acted upon by
 
 Chap, ix.] Of the Duty of Parents. 239 
 
 them, instead of exciting an inclination to imitate and adopt 
 them. Young minds are particularly liable to these unfortunate 
 impressions. For instance, if a father's economy degenerate into 
 a minute and teasing parsimony, it is odds but that the son, who 
 has suffered under it, sets out a sworn enemy to all rules of order 
 and frugality. If a father's piety be morose, rigorous, and tinged 
 with melancholy, perpetually breaking in upon the recreation of 
 his family, and surfeiting them <*rith the language of religion on 
 all occasions, there is danger lest the son carry from home with 
 him a settled prejudice against seriousness and religion, as in- 
 consistent with every plan of a pleasurable life; and turn out, 
 when he mixes with the world, a character of levity or dissolute- 
 ness. 
 
 Something likewise may be done towards the correcting or 
 improving of those early inclinations which children discover, by 
 disposing them into situations the least dangerous to their par- 
 ticular characters. Thus, I would make choice of a retired 
 life for young persons addicted to licentious pleasures ; of private 
 stations for the proud and passionate ; of liberal professions, and 
 a town-life, for the mercenary and sottish : and not, according to 
 the general practice of parents, send dissolute youths into the 
 army ; penurious tempers to trade ; or make a crafty lad an 
 attorney ; or flatter a vain and haughty temper with elevated 
 names, or situations, or callings, to which the fashion of the 
 world has annexed precedency and distinction, but in which his 
 disposition, without at all promoting his success, will se,rve both 
 to multiply and exasperate his disappointments. In the same 
 way, that is, with a view to the particular frame and tendency of 
 the pupil's character, I would make choice of a public or private 
 education. The reserved, timid, and indolent, will have their 
 faculties called forth and their nerves invigorated by a public 
 education. Youths of strong spirits and passions will be safer in 
 a private education. At our. public schools, as far as I have ob- 
 served, more literature is acquired, and more vice; quick parts 
 are cultivated, slow ones are neglected. Under private tuition, a 
 moderate proficiency in juvenile learning is seldom exceeded, but 
 with more certainty attained.
 
 240 Moral Philosophy/ [Bobk III, Part. iii. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE RIGHTS OF PARENTS. 
 
 n^HE rights of parents result from their duties. If it be the 
 JL duty of a parent to educate his children, to form them for 
 a life of usefulness and virtue, to provide for them situations 
 needful for their subsistence and suited to their circumstances, 
 and to prepare them for those situations j he has a right to such 
 authority, and in support of that authority to exercise such 
 discipline as may be necessary for these purposes. The law of 
 nature acknowledges no other foundation of a parent's right 
 over his children, besides his duty towards them. (I speak now 
 of such rights as may be enforced by coercion.) This relation 
 confers no property in their persons, or natural dominion over 
 them, as is commonly supposed. 
 
 Since it is, in general, necessary to determine the destination 
 of children, before they are capable of judging of their own 
 happiness, parents have a right to elect professions for them. 
 
 As the mother herself owes obedience to the father, her 
 authority must submit to his- In a competition, therefore, of 
 commands, the father is to be obeyed. In case of the death of 
 either, the authority, as well as duty, of both parents, devolves 
 upon the survivor. 
 
 These rights, always following the duty, belong likewise to 
 guardians ; and so much of them as is delegated by the parents 
 or guardians, belongs to tutors, schoolmasters, &c. 
 
 From this principle, ' that the rights of parents result from 
 their duty/ it follows that parents have no natural right over 
 the lives of their children, as was absurdly allowed to Roman 
 fathers ; nor any to exercise unprofitable severities ; nor to com- 
 mand the commission of crimes : for these rights can never be 
 wanted for the purpose of a parent's duty. 
 
 Nor, for the same reason, have parents any right to sell their 
 children into slavery. Upon which, by the way, we may ob- 
 serve, that the children of slaves are not, by the law of nature, 
 born slaves : for, as the master's right is derived to him through 
 the parent, it can never be greater than the parent's own.
 
 Chap, xi.] The Duty of Children. 241 
 
 Hence also it appears, that parents not only pervert, but ex- 
 ceed, their just authority, when they consult their own ambition, 
 interest, or prejudice, at the manifest expense of their children's 
 happiness. Of which abuse of parental power, the following are 
 instances : the shutting up of daughters and younger sons in 
 nunneries and monasteries, in order to preserve entire the estate 
 and dignity of the family ; or the using of any arts, either 
 of kindness or unkindness, to induce them to make choice of 
 this way of life themselves ; or, in countries where the clergy are 
 prohibited from marriage, putting sons into the church for the 
 same end, who are never likely either to do or receive any good 
 in it, sufficient to compensate for this sacrifice ; the urging of 
 children to marriages from which they are averse, with the view 
 of exalting or enriching the family, or for the sake of connecting 
 estates, parties, or interests ; or the opposing of a marriage, in 
 which the child would probably find his happiness, from a 
 motive of pride or avarice, of family hostility, or personal 
 pique. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 
 
 THE Duty of children may be considered, 
 I. During childhood. 
 
 II. After they have attained to manhood, but continue in 
 their father's family. 
 
 III. After they have attained to manhood, and have left 
 their father's family. 
 
 I. During childhood. 
 
 Children must be supposed to have attained to some degree 
 of discretion before they are capable of any duty. There is an 
 interval of eight or nine years between the dawning and the 
 maturity of reason, in which it is necessary to subject the incli- 
 nation of children to many restraints, and direct their application 
 to many employments, of the tendency and use of which they 
 cannot judge ; for which cause, the submission of children during 
 this period must be ready and implicit, with an exception, how- 
 ever, of any manifest crime which may be commanded them. 
 
 p. R
 
 242 Moral Philosophy., [Book m. Part iii. 
 
 II. After they have attained to manhood, but continue in their 
 father's family. 
 
 If children, when they are grown up, voluntarily continue 
 members of their father's family, they are hound, beside the 
 general duty of gratitude to their parents, to observe such regu- 
 lations of the family as the father shall appoint ; contribute their 
 labour to its support, if required ; and confine themselves to such 
 expenses as he shall allow. The obligation would be the same, 
 if they were admitted into any other family, or received support 
 from any other hand. 
 
 III. After they have attained to manhood, and have left their 
 father's family. 
 
 In this state of the relation, the duty to parents is simply the 
 duty of gratitude ; not different in kind, from that which we owe 
 to any other benefactor; in degree, just so much exceeding other 
 obligations, by how much a parent has been a greater benefactor 
 than any other friend. The services and attentions, by which 
 filial gratitude may be testified, can be comprised within no 
 enumeration. It will show itself in compliances with the will 
 of the parents, however contrary to the child's own taste or 
 judgment, provided it be neither criminal, nor totally inconsis- 
 tent with his happiness ; in a constant endeavour to promote 
 their enjoyments, prevent their wishes, and soften their 
 anxieties, in small matters as well as in great ; in assisting them 
 in their business ; in contributing to their support, ease, or 
 better accommodation, when their circumstances require it ; in 
 affording them our company, in preference to more amusing 
 engagements ; in waiting upon their sickness or decrepitude : 
 in bearing with the infirmities of their health or temper, with 
 the peevishness and complaints, the unfashionable, negligent, 
 austere manners, and offensive habits, which often attend upon 
 advanced years : for where must old age find indulgence, if it 
 do not meet with it in the piety and partiality of children ? 
 
 The most serious contentions between parents and their 
 children are those commonly which relate to marriage, or to 
 the choice of a profession. 
 
 A parent has, in no case, a right to destroy his child's hap- 
 piness. If it be true, therefore, that there exists such personal 
 and exclusive attachments between individuals of different sexes, 
 that the possession of a particular man or woman in marriage be
 
 Chap, xi.] The Duty of Children. 243 
 
 really necessary for the child's happiness ; or, if it he true, that 
 an aversion to a particular profession may be involuntary and 
 unconquerable; then it will follow, that parents, where this is 
 the case, ought not to urge their authority, and that the child is 
 not bound to obey it. 
 
 The point is, to discover how far, in any particular instance, 
 this is the case. Whether the foudness of lovers ever continues 
 with such intensity, and so long, that the success of their desires 
 constitutes, or the disappointment affects, any considerable por- 
 tion of their happiness, compared with that of their whole life, 
 it is difficult to determine : but there can be no difficulty in 
 pronouncing, that not one half of those attachments, which 
 young people conceive with so much haste and passion, are of 
 this sort. I believe it also to be true, that there are few aver- 
 sions to a profession, which resolution, perseverance, activity in 
 going about the duty of it, and, above all, despair of changing, 
 will not subdue : yet there are some such. Wherefore, a child 
 who respects his parents' judgment, and is, as he ought to be, 
 tender of their happiness, owes, at least, so much deference to 
 their will, as to try fairly and faithfully, in one case, whether 
 time and absence will not cool an affection which they disap- 
 prove ; and, in the other, whether a longer continuance in the 
 profession which they have chosen for him may not reconcile him 
 to it. The whole depends upon the experiment being made on the 
 child's part with sincerity, and not merely with a design of com- 
 passing his purpose at last, by means of a simulated and tem- 
 porary compliance. It is the nature of love and hatred, and of 
 all violent affections, to delude the mind with a persuasion that 
 we shall always continue to feel them as Ave feel them at present ; 
 we cannot conceive that they will either change or cease. Expe- 
 rience of similar or greater changes in ourselves, or a habit of 
 giving credit to what our parents, or tutors, or books, teach us, 
 may control this persuasion, otherwise it renders youth very un- 
 tractable : for they see clearly and truly that it is impossible they 
 should be happy under the circumstances proposed to them, in 
 their present state of mind. After a sincere but ineffectual 
 endeavour, by the child, to accommodate his inclination to 
 his parent's pleasure, he ought not to suffer in his parent's 
 affection, or in his fortunes. The parent, when he has reasonable 
 proof of this, should acquiesce ; at all events, the child is then 
 at liberty to provide for his own happiness.
 
 244 Moral Philosophy. ■ [Book in. Part iii.. 
 
 Parents have no right to urge their children upon marriages 
 to which they are averse ; nor ought, in any shape, to resent the 
 children's disobedience to such commands. This is a different 
 case from opposing a match of inclination, because the child's 
 misery is a much more probable consequence ; it being easier to 
 live without a person that we love, than with one whom we hate. 
 Add to this, that compulsion in marriage necessarily leads to 
 prevarication j as the reluctant party promises an affection, 
 which neither exists, nor is expected to take place : and parental, 
 like all human authority, ceases at the point where obedience 
 becomes criminal. 
 
 In the above-mentioned, and in all contests between parents 
 and children, it is the parent's duty to represent to the child the 
 consequences of his conduct ; and it will be found his best po- 
 licy to represent them with fidelity. It is usual for parents to 
 exaggerate these descriptions beyond probability, and by ex- 
 aggeration to lose all credit with their children ; thus, in a great 
 measure, defeating their own end. 
 
 Parents are forbidden to interfere, where a trust is reposed 
 personally in the son ; and where, consequently, the son was ex- 
 pected, and by virtue of that expectation is obliged, to pursue 
 his own judgment, and not that of any other : as is the case 
 with judicial magistrates in the execution of their office ; with 
 members of the legislature in their votes ; with electors, where 
 preference is to be given to certain prescribed qualifications. 
 The son may assist his own judgment by the advice of his 
 father, or of any one whom he chuses to consult : but his own 
 judgment, whether it proceed upon knowledge or authority, 
 ought finally to determine his conduct. 
 
 The duty of children to their parents was thought worthy to 
 be made the subject of one of the Ten Commandments ; and, as 
 such, is recognised by Christ, together with the rest of the moral 
 precepts of the Decalogue, in various places of the Gospel. 
 
 The same Divine Teacher's sentiments concerning the relief 
 of indigent parents, appear sufficiently from that manly and 
 deserved indignation with which he reprehended the wretched 
 casuistry of the Jewish expositors, who, under the name of a 
 tradition, had contrived a method of evading this duty, by con- 
 verting, or pretending to convert, to the treasury of the temple, 
 so much of their property as their distressed parent might be 
 entitled by their law to demand.
 
 Chap, xi.] Annotations, 2^.$ 
 
 Agreeably to this law of Nature and Christianity, children 
 are, by the law of England, bound to support, as well their im- 
 mediate parents, as their grandfather and grandmother, or re- 
 moter ancestors, who stand in need of support. 
 
 Obedience to parents is enjoined by St. Paul to the Ephesians : 
 c Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right / 
 and to the Colossians : ' Children, obey your parents in all 
 things, for this is well-pleasing unto the Lord.' 1 
 
 By the Jewish law, disobedience to parents was in some ex- 
 treme cases capital, Deut. xxi. 18. 
 
 ANNOTATIONS. 
 
 ' Parents have no rigid to urge their Children upon Marriages 
 
 to which they are averse.' 
 
 In several tales of considerable popularity (especially those 
 written by females), the heroine is represented as making a 
 laudable and noble self : sacrifice in marrying (for the advantage 
 of her parents, or with some other disinterested object) a man 
 whom she cannot love. But is not this to make (in the 
 Marriage Service) a public and solemn declaration before God 
 and Man, of what is untrue ? 
 
 ' Upon which two f^hrases ' this is right' and 'for this is well- 
 phasing unto the Lord,' being used by St. Paul in a sense 
 perfectly parallel, ive may observe that Moral rectitude and 
 conformity to the Divine Will, were, in his apprehension, 
 the same.' 
 
 In this place, and in several others, Paley seems to assume 
 that to prove a perfect coincidence between Moral rectitude and 
 the Divine Will, is the same thing as to prove that the one is 
 entirely derived from the other. But the distinction which he 
 appears to overlook, is a very obvious one. If there are two 
 
 1 Upon which two phrases, ' this is right,' and, ' for this is well-pleasing unto 
 the Lord,' being used by St. Paul in a sense perfectly parallel, we may observe, 
 that moral rectitude and conformity to the Divine will were in his apprehension the 
 same.
 
 246 Moral Philosophy . [Boon m. Part iii. 
 
 countries, the one under a constitutional Monarchy, and governed 
 by an upright and wise Prince, and the other under an absolute 
 despotism, in each of these countries there is a complete coinci- 
 dence between the commands of the Sovereign, and the Law. And 
 yet the two Countries are very unlike. In the one the Sovereign's 
 commands are legal because he conforms them to the law : in 
 the other there is no law at all except the Sovereign's 
 commands. 
 
 THE END. 


 
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