■NRLF 
 
FRAGMENT 
 
 ON 
 
 MACKINTOSH 
 
 STRICTURES ON SOME PASSAGES IN THE DISSERTATION 
 
 BY SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH PREFIXED TO THE 
 
 ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA 
 
 >^ OP* THR 
 
 UNIVERSITYl 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES MILL 
 
 LONDON 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, READER, AND DYER 
 
 1870 
 
M^MS 
 
 "i^c yj-j 
 
^• 
 
 ^. 
 
 TO THE READER 
 
 I WROTE remarks on Sir James's Dissertation, 
 when copies of it were first distributed to his 
 friends ; before it was regularly published, as one 
 of the preliminary discourses of the Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica ; — induced to do so, by my belief, that 
 the confusion into which he had thrown the 
 science of Ethics was calculated to do great injury 
 to the minds of such young inquirers as might 
 resort to his work for instruction ; and my fear 
 that the puffing, on the part both of himself and 
 his friends, which had so successfully served the 
 author through life, and the reputation he thence 
 enjoyed, would procure a temporary and unfor- 
 tunate celebrity to a deleterious production. 
 
 I had made my remarks in the form of letters 
 to the author. And they were written with that 
 severity of reprehension which the first feelings 
 of indignation against an evil-doer inspire. 
 
 From accidental circumstances the publication 
 was delayed, till the death of Sir James, The 
 form of letters to himself then appeared incon- 
 
IV 
 
 gruous. And I also felt reluctant, under the 
 feelings which that event inspired, to speak so 
 harshly as I had done of a man who could no 
 longer appear in his own defence. 
 
 The form of the writing was therefore to be 
 changed. The return to the work, after the 
 warmth of the original feeling was over, was 
 repulsive. Leisure was wanting. The Disserta- 
 tion had not excited the public attention, and was 
 not likely to do so. There no longer appeared 
 a motive for taking any trouble about it. 
 
 After a season, however, leisure for looking at 
 what I had written, and a motive for doing so, 
 having occurred, 1 was induced by the perusal 
 to believe, that the state of the science of morals, 
 and of the public mind in regard to it, pre- 
 sented a call for the corrections which I had 
 endeavoured to apply to the most hurtful of the 
 prevalent misapprehensions, and the exposition 
 which I had presented of the more important 
 truths. And the publication, in its present form, 
 is the result of that persuasion. 
 
 I was drawn to the selection I have made of 
 the parts of the Dissertation on which I have 
 animadverted (it would have been intolerable to 
 go through with the whole), by my opinion of 
 their relative importance. Among the subjects 
 which Sir James has maltreated, the passages 
 I have examined appeared to present to us those 
 on which it was most desirable that the public 
 
mind should be set right ; and they were 
 among the passages which furnished the most 
 instructive specimens of the vices in Sir James's 
 mode of writing, from which it were good that 
 future writers should, by dread of punishment, be 
 deterred. 
 
 In executing my design, I have been embar- 
 rassed between two desires, which I have found 
 it very difficult to reconcile ; the desire of being 
 perspicuous, and the desire of being short. To 
 be perspicuous, it seemed that the exposition 
 of all the topics of moral philosophy should 
 be introduced. To avoid tediousness, it seemed 
 that almost every thing of this kind ought to 
 be excluded. My fear now is, that I have done 
 too much for brevity ; and that I shall often be 
 with difficulty understood, as well by supposing 
 a knowledge of principles which I ought to 
 have explained, as by abridging my exposure 
 of the lip- work we have from Sir James. I am 
 thus in danger of incurring two reproaches ; that 
 of tediousness, from which the nature of my 
 subject does not permit me to escape ; and that 
 of obscurity, which T may have deserved, by 
 endeavouring to make the call on my reader's 
 patience as little grievous to him as possible. 
 
 I have placed the subjects in the order in 
 which that which precedes is calculated to aid 
 in the ready apprehension of that which fol- 
 lows. It will therefore be for the convenience of 
 
VI 
 
 those who may deem the following pages worthy 
 of their attention, to carry their perusal regularly 
 from beginning to end ; as part of what is neces- 
 sary for the elucidation of the subsequent passages 
 will often be found to have been anticipated in 
 those which precede. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 SECTION 1. 
 
 Sir James on a great philosophical error 1 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Sir James on Hobbes I9 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Sir James on Bishop Butler 69 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Sir James on Bentham 120 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 Sir James on " Ethical Theory " 301 
 
 Appendix 382 
 
UNI7SRSITY, 
 
 A 
 FRAGMENT 
 
 ON 
 
 MACKINTOSH 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Sir James on a great Philosophical Error. 
 
 Sir James says, that moral inquiries " relate to 
 at least two perfectly distinct subjects. 1. The 
 nature of the distinction between right and 
 wrong in human conduct; and, 2. The nature 
 of those feelings with which right and wrong are 
 contemplated by human beings." * 
 
 Sir James does not go the length of claiming 
 this distinction as his own. But he says ex- 
 pressly that nobody but himself has understood 
 the value of it. 
 
 The first of the two subjects he calls, " the 
 nature of the distinction between right and 
 wrong." The nature of the distinction between 
 
 * Dissert. Sect. I. 
 
 B 
 
two things depends (does it not ?) upon the 
 nature of the things distinguished. The things 
 to be distinguished here are, rights and wrong. 
 We must therefore know what right is, and what 
 wrong, before we can know what the difference 
 between them is. 
 
 He gives us another expression for the same 
 thing. He says the investigation of " the nature 
 of the distinction between right and wrong in 
 human conduct," is the same with " investigation 
 into the criterion of morality in action." 
 
 This expression is not more satisfactory than 
 the former. The word criterion commonly 
 means something by which another thing is tried, 
 or tested, and shown to be what it is. Thus 
 chemists have a number of tests or criteria by 
 which they determine what things are, one to 
 test an alkali, another an acid ; and so on. But 
 what thing is it by which we test morality? 
 And, above all, because that is the previous 
 question, what is morality ? A test, is a test of 
 a thing known, not of a thing unknown. When 
 a man desires a touchstone, a test, or criterion of 
 gold, he knows beforehand what gold is — he only 
 knows not whether such a piece of matter be 
 gold or not. The test does not show what gold 
 is ; so neither does a test of morality show what 
 morality is. When we know morality, we shall 
 not be much in difficulty about the criterion of it. 
 
 " Morality in action " is Sir James's expression. 
 
3 
 
 And, as usual with Sir James's expressions, it is 
 ambiguous. When we speak of a thing in action, 
 we commonly mean a thing acting. A hand in 
 action, is a hand acting ; a mind in action, is a 
 mind acting. When Sir James speaks of morality 
 in action, does he mean morality acting ? I con- 
 clude not ; because when I ask myself what mo,- 
 rality not acting is — I cannot find an answer. 
 Morality not acting appears to me to be the 
 negation of morality. 
 
 There is another meaning we can suppose ; 
 and that is, the morality which is in an action : 
 as we say the smell which is in a rose. Did Sir 
 James then imagine, that there is morality in 
 anything else? Did he mean to speak of the 
 morality which is in action, as distinct from a 
 morality which is not in action ? When we say 
 morality, we name an attribute of action. 
 
 But then we need to be informed what that 
 attribute is. Sir James says, the business of the 
 moral inquirer is to find out the criterion of it. 
 But the criterion of a thing does not tell us what 
 it is — it only ascertains whether such or such a 
 thing be the thing in question or not. 
 
 The only hypothesis by which I can annex 
 anything like a meaning to the words of Sir 
 James, is by supposing that he has misapplied 
 the word criterion ; that he means by " the cri- 
 terion of morality in action," the moral quality of 
 the act; that, whatever it be, on account of 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 which we call it right, moral, good. Sir James's 
 proposition in this sense is, that the criterion of 
 morality is morality. We shall find, as we go on, 
 other propositions of Sir James, of the same de- 
 scription. 
 
 Well, Sir James says, this quality of actions, 
 this something, in or belonging to action, is one 
 thing, which deserves our inquiry ; and we fully 
 agree with him. 
 
 Another thing, as he says, is, the feelings 
 which men have, when this something is per- 
 ceived or contemplated by them. We agree with 
 him, that this is another thing. But we do not 
 agree with him, that inquiry into this thing, 
 except as an object of philosophical curiosity, is a 
 matter of equal importance. We rather lean to 
 the opinion of Adam Smith, that it is a matter of 
 very inferior importance. 
 
 We are of opinion also, in direct opposition to 
 Sir James, who thinks he has had a master's 
 hand, in establishing the duality of these 
 things, that it never was mistaken, or could be, 
 by any man in his senses. The acts of Nero 
 were acts of a man in Italy, who lived nearly 
 2,000 years ago; the feelings with which I 
 regard them are the feelings of a man now living 
 in England. Who is capable of taking one of 
 these things for the other ? 
 
 This confusion in the mind of Sir James was 
 wrought, no doubt, by ambiguity of terms. The 
 
» 
 
 terra " moral sentiments " either means the 
 compound of feelings, in the breast of the actor, 
 from which the action proceeds, being, in truth, 
 the very morality of the act; or it means the 
 sentiments raised in the breast of him who per- 
 ceives or contemplates the act. That is, one and 
 the same phrase is a name for each of the two 
 things, about the distinguishing of which Sir 
 James makes such a noise. 
 
 That Sir James was not foremost in making 
 the distinction between acts, and the sentiments 
 raised in the breasts of those who see or hear of 
 them, is hardly worth mentioning for its own 
 sake. It is, however, of importance on account 
 of those who need to be put on their guard against 
 imposing pretensions. 
 
 *' In treating of the principles of morals," 
 says Adam Smith, " there are two questions to 
 be considered. First, wherein does virtue con- 
 sist? Or what is the tone of temper and 
 tenor of conduct, which constitute the excellent 
 and praise-worthy character, the character which 
 is the natural object of esteem, honour, and ap- 
 probation ? And, secondly, by what power or 
 faculty in the mind is it, that this character, 
 whatever it be, is recommended to us ? Or in 
 other words, how and by what means does it 
 come to pass, that the mind prefers one tenor of 
 conduct to another, denominates the one right 
 and the other wrong; considers the one as the 
 
6 
 
 object of approbation, honour, and reward ; and 
 the other of blame, censure, and punishnient ? " 
 
 Had Sir James read this, he could not have 
 imagined that he had pointed out the two subjects 
 more distinctly ; though there is by no means, 
 even in the words of Smith, that philosophical 
 precision which the nature of the subject re- 
 quired. 
 
 Smith goes on to illustrate his meaning : " We 
 examine the first question when we consider 
 whether virtue consists in benevolence, as Dr. 
 Hutchison imagines ; or in acting suitably to 
 the different relations we stand in, as Dr. Clarke 
 supposes ; or in the wise and prudent pursuit of 
 our own real and solid happiness, as has been the 
 opinion of others." 
 
 With this, Smith leaves the illustration of the 
 first question, and adds the following illustration 
 of the second : " We examine the second question, 
 when we consider whether the virtuous character, 
 whatever it consists in, be recommended to us by 
 self-love, which makes us perceive that this 
 character, both in ourselves and others, tends 
 most to promote our own private interest ; or by 
 reason, which points out to us the difference 
 between one character and another, in the same 
 manner as it does that between truth and false- 
 hood ; or by a peculiar power of perception, 
 called a moral sense, which this character gratifies 
 and pleases, as the contrary disgusts and displeases 
 
it ; or, last of all, by some other principle in 
 human nature, such as a modification of sympathy 
 or the like." 
 
 See also the Preliminary Dissertation to Law's 
 translation of King on the Origin of Evil ; first 
 paragraph, &c. 
 
 Hutchison begins his Inquiry concerning Moral 
 Good and Evil, with these words : " The word 
 moral goodness in this treatise, denotes our idea 
 of some quality apprehended in action, which 
 procures approbation and love toward the actor 
 from those who receive no advantage by the 
 action." Had not this writer a clear conception 
 that the quality of the action was one thing, the 
 feelings it called forth in others toward the actor, 
 a different thing ? 
 
 Dr. Reid says. Essays on the Active Powers, 
 Essay 3, chap. 5 : " I shall first offer some ob- 
 servations with regard to the general notion of 
 duty, and its contrary, or of right and wrong in 
 human conduct ; and then consider how we come 
 to judge and determine certain things in human 
 conduct to be right, and others to be wrong." 
 Here what is right and wrong in human conduct; 
 and the sentiments with which we regard right 
 and wrong, are pointed out as two subjects of 
 inquiry. And in the beginning of the 6th 
 chapter, after having discussed the question what 
 is right and wrong, he says, " We are next to 
 
8 
 
 consider how we learn to judge and determine, 
 that this is right and that wrong. 
 
 " Some philosophers, with whom I agree, 
 ascribe this to an original power or faculty in 
 man, which they call the moral sense, moral 
 faculty, conscience. Others think, that our 
 moral sentiments may be accounted for without 
 supposing any original sense or faculty appro- 
 priated to that purpose, and go into very different 
 systems, to account for them." 
 
 In estimating Sir James, it is good to elucidate 
 this point very perfectly. Dugald Stewart says : 
 " The questions about which the theory of 
 morals is employed are chiefly the two following : 
 First, by what principle of our constitution are 
 we led to form the notion of moral distinctions, — 
 whether by the faculty which perceives the dis- 
 tinction between truth and falsehood, in the other 
 branches of human knowledge, or by a peculiar 
 power of perception (called by some the moral 
 sense), which is pleased with one set of qualities 
 and displeased with another ? Secondly, what is 
 the proper object of moral approbation ; or, in 
 other words, what is the common quality or 
 qualities belonging to all the different modes of 
 virtue? Is it benevolence, or a rational self- 
 love, or a disposition (resulting from the ascend- 
 ant of reason over passion) to act suitably to the 
 different relations in which we are placed ? These 
 
two questions seem to exhaust the whole theory 
 of morals." — Active and Moral Powers, B. 2, 
 ch. 5. Introd. 
 
 Take also Dr. Brown, who saw further than 
 D. Stewart and Sir James : " We may speak of 
 the fulfilment of duty, virtue, propriety, merit, &c., 
 and we may ascribe these variously to the action, 
 and to him who performed it ; but whether we 
 speak of the action or of the agent, we mean 
 nothing more, than that a certain feeling of moral 
 approbation has been excited in our mind by the 
 contemplation of a certain intentional production, 
 in certain circumstances, of a certain amount 
 of benefit or injury."— Lecture 27, p. 530. 
 
 What was the state of mind of a man who 
 could affirm, that the discrimination of the moral 
 quality of acts, and the sentiments with which it 
 is regarded, has seldom been made by philosophers? 
 
 This accusation of the philosophers in general, 
 Sir James presses home upon two of them, spe- 
 cially, and by name. These are, Paley, and Ben- 
 tham. He proves that they confound the quality 
 of an act with the sentiment in tire mind which 
 regards it, by the following process : they resolve 
 morality into utility, and they reject a moral 
 sense ; therefore, says Sir James, they confound 
 moral approbation with the object of it. 
 
 Between the premises and the conclusion there 
 is no connexion. 
 
 But let us hear Sir James. " Dr. Paley repre- 
 
10 
 
 sents the principle of a moral sense as being 
 opposed to that of utility. Now it is evident that 
 this representation is founded on a confusion of 
 the two questions which have been above stated." 
 
 Reader ! is this evident to you ? 
 
 But Sir James will tell what makes it evident. 
 " That we are endued with a moral sense, or, in 
 other words, a faculty which immediately ap- 
 proves what is right, and condemns what is 
 wrong, is only a statement of the feelings with 
 which we contemplate actions. But to affirm 
 that right actions are those which conduce to the 
 well-being of mankind, is a proposition con- 
 cerning the outward effects by which right 
 actions themselves may be recognized." The 
 meaning of this appears to be, that the affirmation 
 of Paley about utility, is an affirmation respecting 
 the action ; but the affirmation about the moral 
 sense is an affirmation respecting the mind of the 
 spectator; a different thing. Two affirmations, 
 however, about two different things, have no 
 bearing one upon another ; the truth or false- 
 hood of the one implies nothing as to the truth 
 or falsehood of the other. When Paley, there- 
 fore, supposed an inconsistency between the doc- 
 trine of utility, and that of the moral sense, he 
 confounded the object of moral approbation with 
 the approbation itself. 
 
 There is a small matter here, which Sir James 
 has overlooked, though it is that upon which the 
 
11 
 
 fate of his argumentation depends. He says, the 
 affirmation of a moral sense, is an affirmation only 
 with respect to the mind of him who is thinking 
 of the act. 
 
 There is not one of the theories of morals, of 
 which Sir James has a tolerable comprehension. 
 The affirmation of a moral sense is an affirmation 
 with respect to the act, as well as with respect to 
 the mind of the person who thinks of the act. 
 And its affirmation with respect to the act, is a 
 positive denial of the doctrine of utility. It 
 affirms that moral distinctions need a particular 
 faculty to discern them. Utility and its elements, 
 however, [need no particular faculty to discern 
 them ; the common feelings, and common under- 
 standing suffice. Paley, therefore, was right in 
 considering the affirmation of a moral sense as 
 inconsistent with the position that utility is the 
 moral quality of actions. 
 
 As the imputation of Sir James on Mr. Ben- 
 tham rests on the same process of reasoning, it 
 is unnecessary to consider it. Neither he, nor 
 Paley, confounded moral approbation with the 
 object of it ; and to say that they did so, because 
 they said that the theory of utility, and the theory 
 of the moral sense, are incompatible theories, is 
 only to show that the speaker is ignorant of the 
 subject. 
 
 It is useful to exhibit here what Sir James says 
 to implicate Leibnitz in this accusation. It occurs 
 
u 
 
 at the end of the article Cumberland, in Sect. 4, 
 and illustrates Sir James's care of accuracy, in 
 stating either matter of fact, or matter of opinion. 
 
 " It is little wonder that Cumberland should 
 not have disembroiled this ancient and estab- 
 lished confusion, since Leibnitz himself, in a 
 passage where he reviews the theories of morals 
 which had gone before him, has done his utmost 
 to perpetuate it. 'It is a question,' says he, 
 * whether the preservation of human society be 
 the first principle of the law of nature. This our 
 author denies, in opposition to Grotius, who laid 
 down sociability to be so ; to Hobbes, who as- 
 cribed that character to mutual fear ; and to 
 Cumberland, who held that it was mutual bene- 
 volence ; which are all three only different names 
 for the safety and welfare of society.' Here the 
 great philosopher considered benevolence or fear, 
 two feelings of the human mind, to be the first 
 principles of the law of nature, in the same sense 
 in which the tendency of certain actions to the 
 well-being of the community may be so regarded. 
 The confusion, however, was then common to 
 him with many, as it even now is with most. 
 The comprehensive view was his own." — Encyclo. 
 Britan. vol. i. p. 324. ed. 7th, 
 
 Scarcely one of all these assertions is correct. 
 
 In the passage referred to, Leibnitz does not 
 ** review the theories of morals which had gone 
 before him " (theories going before a man ; who 
 
IS 
 
 but Sir J. would thus have expressed himself?) 
 nor had a thought of doing any such thing. 
 He is giving a short account, in a familiar letter 
 to a friend, of a book which had just appeared — 
 De Principio Juris Naturalis, After mentioning 
 several other things discussed in the book, he 
 says, Quceritur deinde, utrum custodia societatis 
 humance sit principium juris. And he adds. Id 
 negat vir egregius (the author) contra Grotium 
 qui societatem, Hohhesium qui mutuum metum, 
 Cumherlandium et similes qui mutuam henevolen- 
 tiam, id est, semper societatem, adhibent. Who 
 does not see, that Sir James has mistranslated the 
 passage, and as well by the translation as the 
 comment, that he knew neither the meaning, nor 
 object of it ? First of all, the proposition is not 
 the proposition of Leibnitz, but of the author of 
 whom he is speaking, who removes this opinion 
 of the principium Juris, viz., that it was custodia 
 humance societatis, in which opinion he considered 
 that Grotius, Hobbes, and Cumberland, with 
 others, coincided ; in order to establish his own 
 opinion, that it is the will of God, jussumi Crea- 
 toris. But when this author thought that the 
 principium juris was not this custodia, and when 
 Grotius, Hobbes, and Cumberland thought that it 
 was, there is no necessity that any one of them 
 should have confounded the moral quality of 
 actions, with the feelings of which those actions 
 are the exciting cause ? " Here the great phi- 
 
u 
 
 losoplier considered benevolence or fear, to be the 
 first principles of the law of nature." This is 
 almost incredible. First, it is not the thought of 
 Leibnitz, but Leibnitz's statement of another 
 man's thought, which is "here" at all. And 
 then, most assuredly, that other man did not 
 impute to Grotius and Hobbes, the absurdity of 
 considering benevolence or fear to be the first 
 principles of the law of nature ; because, for one 
 thing, he was not speaking of the law of nature 
 at all, but of the principium Juris. 
 
 It is not easy to know what Sir James meant 
 either by " principles" or " laws of nature." One 
 would suppose the law of nature was the principle 
 of every thing else. 
 
 Laws of nature are of two sorts ; laws of 
 physical or corporeal nature, and those of mental 
 nature ; powers of body being denoted by the one 
 term, powers of mind by the other. 
 
 But neither of these sets of powers has any 
 first principles ; and certainly nobody would say 
 that benevolence and fear are the first principles 
 of either. 
 
 Perhaps Sir James meant laws of society, 
 agreeable to nature ; namely, those laws which 
 men in society impose upon themselves for their 
 common advantage. But when Sir James calls 
 them laws of nature, what nature does he mean ? 
 I conclude the nature of man ; because, in any 
 other acceptation, his words are without sense. 
 
15 
 
 The law of nature must therefore mean the 
 laws prescribed by man's nature. But the laws 
 prescribed by man's nature are. of course, the laws 
 tending to human good, whether they be laws 
 actually fixed by any society for its own use, or 
 not. The law of nature therefore in this case, 
 and the principle of utility, are the same. But 
 what can be meant by Sir James, when he talks 
 of the principles of this law! This law is the 
 principle of all other law. What can he mean, 
 when he says the "great philosopher" { propria 
 nomifie Leibnitz) considered benevolence or fear 
 to be the first principles of this principle ; i, e. the 
 first principles of the principle of utility ? 
 
 But whatever Sir James gives us to do in find- 
 ing out his meaning, it is very easy to see what 
 the author spoken of by Leibnitz designated by 
 his principium juris. He meant by its princi- 
 pium, that to which it owed its origin, that on 
 account of which it was brought into being. — 
 That on account of which, according to some, it 
 was brought into being, was the guardianship of 
 human society. To that society, men were led, 
 according to Grotius, by their expectation of good 
 from one another ; according to Hobbes, by their 
 fear of harm from one another; but in whatso- 
 ever way they were led to it, they did value its 
 preservation, and seeing the necessity of law for 
 that end, gave existence to law accordingly. And 
 these opinions assuredly both Grotius and Hobbes 
 
16 
 
 might hold, without believing, as Sir James would 
 have it, that " benevolence or fear are the first 
 principles of the law of nature." Sir James adds ; 
 " in the same sense in which the tendency of cer- 
 tain actions to the well-being of the community 
 may be so regarded." Let us try to find, if we 
 can, a meaning for this. The sentence put toge- 
 ther stands thus : Leibnitz " considered benevo- 
 lence or fear the first principles of the law of 
 nature : in the same sense in which the tendency 
 of certain actions to the well-being of the com- 
 munity may be so regarded." There are here 
 two subjects, and one predicate. The predicate 
 is, " regarded as the first principles of the law of 
 nature." The first of the two subjects is, " bene- 
 volence or fear ;" the second is, " the tendency of 
 certain actions to the well-being of the com- 
 munity." Of both. Sir James says, it may be 
 predicated, that they are the first principles of 
 the law of nature. " In the same sense," Sir 
 James says. But what is it that must be in the 
 same sense? The phrase must of necessity be 
 construed either with the subjects, or the predi- 
 cate. If with the subjects, the sense will be, that 
 benevolence or fear, and the tendency of actions, 
 are the same thing ; if with the predicate, he 
 declares that if the words " first principles of the 
 laws of nature," be understood both times in the 
 same sense, they may be predicated, according 
 to Leibnitz, both of " benevolence or fear," 
 
_>>- oc- TUT? "-^ 
 
 HiVEBSIT 
 
 and also of " the beneficial tendency of ac- 
 tions." 
 
 Sir James did not understand the passage. 
 Among the questions discussed by the anonymous 
 author, one, says Leibnitz, was, whether the safe- 
 guard of society, meaning a care for its safety, 
 was the origin of law, or that to which law owed 
 its principium f This opinion he denied, says 
 Leibnitz, — in opposition to Grotius, who main- 
 tained the sociability of men — and to Hobbes, 
 who maintained the fears men have of one another. 
 The expressions are elliptical. Grotius ascribed 
 the origin of human society to the social disposi- 
 tions of men, Hobbes to their fears. But whether 
 men valued society for their loves or their fears, 
 in either case they would seek the preservation of 
 that which they valued ; and therefore would 
 establish laws. Benevolence, according to Gro- 
 tius ; fear, according to Hobbes, was the princi- 
 pium societatis humance; and the custodia socie- 
 tatis humance, i.e. the desire of that custodia, and 
 the knowledge of what was required for it, was 
 the principium juris, or the cause why it began 
 to exist. 
 
 It is strange that Sir James saw in this any 
 thing like a confusion of the ideas of a moral 
 action, and of the state of mind of him who con- 
 templates it. 
 
 Sir James never omits an opportunity which he 
 either finds, or can make, of panegyric on a popu- 
 lar name. C 
 
18 
 
 ** The confusion," says Sir James, " was com- 
 mon to him (Leibnitz) with many, as it even now 
 is with most" (what an assertion ! ) " The 
 comprehensive view was his own." In the first 
 place, there was no confusion, on the part of any 
 body. In the next place, there is no view of 
 Leibnitz here at all, whether comprehensive or 
 contracted ; another man's sentiments, and not his, 
 being alone represented. And in the third place, 
 where is the comprehension of the view ; when, 
 speaking of a controversy on a single point, 
 Leibnitz does nothing but mention three names of 
 those who maintained one of the sides in the con- 
 troversy ? But Sir James knew, that the term, 
 " a comprehensive view," was a panegyrical term ; 
 he knew also that the name of Leibnitz was a 
 name of repute. That was enough for Sir James 
 to put the two together. 
 
19 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Sir James on Hohbes. 
 
 HoBBES is a great name in philosophy ; on 
 account both of the value of what he taught, and 
 the extraordinary impulse which he communicated 
 to the spirit of free inquiry in Europe. 
 
 The controversies roused by the daring attack 
 of Luther on the established religion had deeply, 
 for a considerable time, engaged the minds of men, 
 on the great questions relating to the Creator, and 
 his revelations to mankind. Philosophy, physical, 
 mental, or political, was hardly an object of 
 attention. A series of dogmas, handed down by 
 authority, were passively received ; and the very 
 idea of inquiring into the foundation of them, 
 seemed to have passed away from the minds of 
 men. Even the great effort of Bacon, to point 
 the views of men to the proper object of physical 
 inquiry, and to make them ardent in the pursuit, 
 had not yet produced any considerable effects. 
 With respect to the mental, and physical sciences, 
 they were hardly regarded as objects of inquiry. 
 The opinions of Aristotle were taught, as a branch 
 of education ; and the possession of them in the 
 
 C 21 
 
so 
 
 memory was all that even the most instructed 
 men imagined they had any occasion to desire. 
 
 In this benumbed and torpid state of the human 
 mind, the appearance of such a man as Hobbes, 
 who challenged so many received and fundamental 
 opinions, and exhibited his own views, with evi- 
 dence and brevity, was calculated to produce very 
 extraordinary effects. It is hardly, as Sir James 
 somewhere acknowledges, too much to say, that 
 the character of modern speculation was to a 
 great degree determined by the writings of 
 Hobbes. 
 
 Works of this importance assuredly required, 
 in an historical view of moral philosophy, to be 
 very carefully expounded ; — their matter to be 
 luminously displayed, its value accurately appre- 
 ciated, and the effects produced by its promulga- 
 tion profoundly investigated. 
 
 Toward this Sir James has done three things. 
 
 I. He tells us what were the causes of the 
 influence obtained by the writings of Hobbes. 
 
 II. He gives us an account of his philosophy. 
 
 III. He makes remarks on the philosophy. 
 
 I. He tells us what were the causes of his in- 
 fluence. They were these ; — 
 
 1. His genius for system. j 
 
 % His dogmatism. 
 
 3. The goodness of his style. 
 
 These things, says Sir James, account for his 
 influence. 
 
21 
 
 II. He gives us an account of Hohhes's j^^i- 
 losophy, 
 
 1. It is cold. Hobbes shows no feeling but 
 arrogance. 
 
 2. Hobbes's moral system was established for 
 the sake of his political ; and his political was 
 this — that the ends of government are best attained 
 by the rule of one man, to whom unlimited obe- 
 dience is secured. 
 
 This is Sir James's account of Hobbes's phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 III. His remarks on the philosophy^ meaning 
 his objections to it, are the following : — 
 
 1. Hobbes does not distinguish thought from 
 feeling. 
 
 2t. He makes desires instances of objects deli- 
 berately pursued. 
 
 3. He strikes the affections out of human 
 nature ; and does not recognize the moral sen- 
 timents. 
 
 4. It results from this that personal advantage 
 is the only motive. 
 
 5. Acknowledging with all men, the utility of 
 morals, and the coincidence of private and public 
 good, Hobbes wants moral sensibility ; which leads 
 him to the principle of utility, a pernicious erron 
 
 This is all which Sir James has to say to us, on 
 the subject of Hobbes's philosophy. 
 
 A man could not give a more signal proof of 
 incapacity for the work he had undertaken. There 
 
22 
 
 ia not a single thought of any the smallest value 
 in the article ; though a finer scope for the 
 reflections of a superior mind is not afforded by 
 any name in the annals of philosophy. 
 
 I. The causes which he assigns for the influence 
 of the writings of Hobbes, are first presented to 
 our notice. 
 
 " He owed his influence," says Sir James, " to 
 various causes ; at the head of which may be placed 
 that genius for system, which, though it cramps the 
 growth of knowledge, perhaps finally atones for 
 that mischief, by the zeal and activity which it 
 rouses among followers and opponents." 
 
 First of all, we need to understand what Sir 
 James means by " the spirit of system ; " which 
 produces so much evil, but at the same time so 
 much good, that Sir James declares he knows not 
 which preponderates. 
 
 Sir James gives us something of a clue to his 
 meaning ; but unhappily that clue leads to two 
 meanings. 
 
 In a note on the words " it cramps the growth 
 of knowledge," he gives us a quotation from 
 Bacon, whom he cannot pass without a smearing 
 from his brush, and absurdly calls him " the 
 Master of Wisdom." 
 
 " Another error is the over-early and peremp- 
 tory reduction of knowledge into arts and methods, 
 from which time it commonly receives small aug- 
 mentation. Method, carrying a show of total and 
 
23 
 
 perfect knowledge, has a tendency to generate ac- 
 quiescence ; " {Advancement of Learnirig,) Upon 
 which Sir James is in an ecstacy. And exclaims, 
 with a mark of admiration, — " What pregnant 
 words ! " 
 
 Every man acquainted with the writings of 
 Bacon knows well what he means. It is the syl- 
 logistic method, which he is speaking of. This 
 had been often considered as an all-sufficient in- 
 strument for the discovery of truth. It was 
 necessary for Bacon to show that it was not ; 
 and that such " arts and methods " if too peremp- 
 tory, and made too early, are apt to do harm. 
 But this is wholly inapplicable to Hobbes. Sir 
 James's talk is perfectly beside the matter. To 
 no man that ever wrote could the spirit of 
 system, in this sense, be less truly ascribed, than 
 to Hobbes. It is evident that Sir James did not 
 understand the words which he quoted from " the 
 Master of Wisdom." 
 
 There is another expression of Sir James, which 
 points to another meaning of his " spirit of sys- 
 tem." 
 
 In the sentence next to that I have quoted 
 above, he says, " A system which attempts a 
 task so hard as that of subjecting vast provinces 
 of human knowledge to one or two principles, if 
 it presents some striking conformity to super- 
 ficial appearances, is sure to delight the framer ; 
 and for a time, to subdue and captivate the 
 
student too entirely for sober reflection and 
 rigorous examination." 
 
 Sir James's habit of talking loosely was so 
 complete and blinding, that he did not perceive 
 when he was, or was not, expressing his own 
 opinion. He affirms here, that a system (aiming, 
 as he describes it, at the true end of philosophy), 
 delights its framer, and subdues his followers, 
 only if it is bad. This seems extraordinary, but 
 observe how true. He says, that the system de- 
 lights and subdues, under one condition ; that is, 
 if it presents some striking instances of con- 
 formity to superficial appearances. What Sir 
 James meant to say may be guessed at. He 
 meant to say that the system delights and cap- 
 tivates, if it does what he says, though it is so 
 imperfect as to do nothing more. He has in 
 reality said something nearly the opposite. 
 
 Endeavouring " to subject vast provinces of 
 human knowledge to one or two principles," is 
 that which Sir James now presents to us, as what 
 he means by the spirit of system. The pro- 
 pensity to express himself badly is more unre- 
 laxing in Sir James than in any other man. He 
 begins by making a system the agent. " A 
 system," he says, " which attempts subject- 
 ing," &c. Sir James forgets that the system is 
 the thing made, not the maker. A system is the 
 arrangement, by some man or men, of a certain 
 number of ideas, in a certain order, for a certain 
 
end. A system is a system, as well when its 
 ideas are arranged under many, as under few 
 heads. 
 
 After the absurdity of making the system a 
 system-maker, the complaint against a system, of 
 its " subjecting vast provinces of human know- 
 ledge to one or two principles," broadly displays 
 the absence of all correct ideas in the mind of 
 Sir James. 
 
 There are two very important philosophical 
 operations to which Sir James may have applied 
 his term, " subjecting vast provinces of human 
 knowledge to one or two principles." 
 
 First, the operation of classing ; when the phi- 
 losopher endeavours to range the objects of his 
 consideration under heads, and as many of them 
 as possible under one head ; so that he may 
 obtain propositions true of as great a number 
 of them as possible. Such propositions are found 
 to be of the greatest utility. And the man who 
 in this way subjects the largest province of 
 human knowledge to the fewest principles, is 
 universally esteemed the most successful philo- 
 sopher. This is what Plato conceived to be the 
 very business of philosophy. This is what 
 he called " seeing the one in the many," and 
 " the many in the one.'* And he said he 
 would follow to the end of the world, the man 
 whom he should discover to be a master in that 
 art. 
 
26 
 
 Secondly, the operation of expounding the laws 
 of nature. This consists wholly in tracing phe- 
 nomena to their general laws, that is, referring as 
 many of them as possible to the operation of a 
 single cause ; and the more extensive that opera- 
 tion — that is to say, the more comprehensive the 
 law which the philosopher has discovered ; or, in 
 Sir James's language, the larger the province of 
 human knowledge which he has subjected to a 
 single principle ; the more completely has he 
 accomplished his important purpose, and the 
 greater the admiration and applause which he 
 has earned. 
 
 That in this province Hobbes rendered most 
 important service is true ; though Sir James was 
 totally ignorant of it. For he represents him as 
 a man who was taken in, by " some striking in- 
 stances of conformity to superficial appearances." 
 
 If Sir James says, that it was this superficiality 
 of Hobbes which contributed to his reputation, it 
 is nonsense. If he says, that it was the power 
 with which he traced the phenomena of the 
 human mind to their general laws; he told us 
 what we need not thank him for, — that the merit 
 of Hobbes was one of the causes of his success. 
 What should contribute to a man's success more 
 than his merit? It is the natural, and best 
 cause of success. 
 
 Sir James's dissertation on Hobbes's spirit of 
 system is a sad specimen of a philosopher. 
 
2!7 
 
 The dogmatism of Hobbes, Sir James gives as 
 the next among the causes of his fame. 
 
 Two things Sir James has mistaken here. In 
 the first place, there is no peculiar dogmatism in 
 Hobbes. And in the next place, dogmatism in a 
 writer never was a cause of fame. In a speaker, 
 or a talker, an air of assurance often gains an 
 opinion of knowledge. Not so, in the written 
 page, which a reader has before him for cool con- 
 sideration. There, an appearance of demanding 
 our submission, without cause, inspires disgust, 
 and often obscures substantial merit. 
 
 It is reported of Hobbes, that, in conversation, 
 he was impatient of contradiction ; which in a 
 man of deep internal thought, unless he is also 
 much practised in conversation, that is, in hearing 
 and replying to the undigested thoughts of others, 
 is a very natural infirmity, not easy to be avoided. 
 From this Sir James has been pleased to infer, 
 that Hobbes is dogmatical in his writings. Sir 
 James evidently was unacquainted with these 
 writings ; and spoke of them, as of most other 
 writings, at second hand. There is nothing 
 of dogmatism in the writings of Hobbes. But 
 the mind of Hobbes was a mind of perfect sim- 
 plicity and truth. What was his thought, he set 
 down as his thought, directly and clearly, with- 
 out the mumblings of Sir James, who hardly 
 writes a sentence which he does not preface with 
 a " perhaps." Hobbes in every instance knew his 
 
28 
 
 own thought with accuracy, and gave it for what 
 it was. Sir James the contrary ; and therefore 
 he generally hesitates about pronouncing it. This 
 he no doubt flattered himself was graceful modesty. 
 The fact, however, is, that Hobbes is a very un- 
 pretending writer ; and Sir James one of the most 
 offensively pretending that ever put pen to paper. 
 
 Hobbes begins his Treatise of Human Nature, 
 in these words : — " The true and perspicuous ex- 
 plication of the elements of laws natural, and 
 politic (which is my present scope), dependeth 
 upon the knowledge of what is human nature, 
 what is body politic, and what it is we call a 
 law ; concerning which points, as the writings of 
 men from antiquity downwards have still in- 
 creased, so also have the doubts and controversies 
 concerning the same. And seeing that true 
 knowledge begetteth not doubt nor controversy, 
 it is manifest from the present controversies, that 
 they which have written heretofore thereof, have 
 not well understood their own subject. 
 
 " Harm I can do none, though I err no less 
 than they ; for I shall leave men but as they are, 
 in doubt and dispute. But, intending not to 
 take any principle upon trust ; but only to put 
 men in mind of what they know already, or may 
 know by their own experience, I hope to err the 
 less. And when I do, it must proceed from too 
 hasty concluding, which I will endeavour, as 
 much as I can, to avoid." 
 
9,9 
 
 This is real modesty ; modesty without affec- 
 tation ; which he never discredits in a single page 
 of his book. 
 
 There is a passage in the introduction to the 
 Leviathan, so much in the same spirit, and so 
 pregnant with various instruction, that I think it 
 will be agreeable to the reader to have it before 
 him. 
 
 " There is a saying much usurped of late, 
 that IVisdome is acquired, not by reading of 
 Booles, but Men, Consequently whereunto, those 
 persons, that for the most part can give no other 
 proof of being wise, take great delight to show 
 what they think they have read in men, by un- 
 charitable censures of one another behind their 
 backs. But there is another saying not of late 
 understood, by which they might learn truly to 
 read one another, if they would take the pains ; 
 and that is, Nosce teipsum. Read thyself: which 
 was not meant, as it is now used, to countenance, 
 either the barbarous state of men in power, 
 towards their inferiors ; or to encourage men of 
 low degree, to a sawcie behaviour towards their 
 betters ; but to teach us, that for the similitude 
 of the thoughts, and passions of one man, to the 
 thoughts, and passions of another, whosoever 
 looketh into himself, and considereth what he 
 doth, when he does thinJ^, opine, reason, Jiope, 
 feare, &c., and upon what grounds ; he shall 
 thereby read and know what are the thoughts, 
 
3Q 
 
 and passions of all other men, upon the like 
 occasions. I say the similitude oi passions, which 
 are the same in all men, desire, feare, hope, &c., 
 not the similitude of the objects of the passions, 
 which are the things desired, feared, hoped, &c. : 
 for these the constitution individuall, and par- 
 ticular education do so vary, and they are so 
 easie to be kept from our knowledge, that the 
 characters of man's heart, blotted and confounded 
 as they are, with dissembling, lying, counterfeit- 
 ing, and erroneous doctrines, are legible onely to 
 him that searcheth hearts. And though by 
 men s actions wee do discover their designe some- 
 times ; yet to do it without comparing them with 
 our own, and distinguishing all circumstances, 
 by which the case may come to be altered, is to 
 decypher without a key, and be for the most part 
 deceived, by too much trust, or by too much diffi- 
 dence ; as he that reads, is himself a good or evill 
 man. 
 
 " But let one man read another by his actions 
 never so perfectly, it serves him onely with his 
 acquaintance, which are but few. He that is to 
 govern a whole nation, must read in himself, not 
 this, or that particular man; but man-kind: 
 which though it be hard to do, harder than to 
 learn any language, or science; yet, when I 
 shall have set down my own reading orderly, 
 and perspicuously, the pains left another, will be 
 onely to consider, if he also find not the same in 
 
31 
 
 himself. For this kind of doctrine admitteth no 
 other demonstration." 
 
 It is not easy to find the genuine spirit of 
 philosophical inquiry, which is the reverse of 
 dogmatism, more truly expressed than in these 
 words. And no man acquainted with the 
 writings of Hobbes will affirm that they are not 
 throughout in character with what is here pro- 
 fessed. 
 
 Sir James's descant on the subject of Hobbes's 
 dogmatism, is instructive. To attempt any great 
 improvement in the region of thought, " com- 
 monly requires," says Sir James, " an over- 
 weening conceit of the superiority of a man's 
 own judgment." This is a reproach cast upon 
 the pursuit of knowledge. It was in a very 
 different spirit that Bacon and Locke urged on 
 the human mind, to break the shackles of autho- 
 rity, and to trust to its native strength. This is 
 in the taste of Oxford and Cambridge ; who 
 dread inquiry, and do all that in them lies, to 
 crush the spirit of it. A man, like Sir James, 
 who never knew the ground of an opinion in his 
 life, and never held one but upon trust, may well 
 think it arrogant to espouse, as Sir James ex- 
 presses it, '' very singular notions ; " that is, to 
 differ from the common herd. But the man who 
 looks at opinions through the reasons of them ; 
 when he arrives at a truth which he sees to be 
 founded on evidence, and publishes because he 
 
believes it important ; is not for that reason 
 arrogant ; he is only public spirited and brave. 
 An attack upon such a spirit, of which, unfor- 
 tunately for mankind, the specimens are yet but 
 few, is as low in the intellectual point of view, as 
 it is in the moral. 
 
 Sir James goes on ; " The dogmatism of 
 Hobbes has indeed one quality more offensive 
 than that of most others. Propositions the most 
 adverse to the opinions of mankind, and the most 
 abhorrent from their feelings, are introduced into 
 the course of his argument with mathematical 
 coldness. He presents them as demonstrated 
 conclusions, without deigning to explain to his 
 fellow creatures how they all happened to be- 
 lieve the opposite absurdities." 
 
 Sir James was utterly incapable of conceiving 
 the state of mind of such a man as Hobbes. 
 Hobbes had no other object than to set down 
 distinctly the thoughts which had been suggested 
 to him by his study of human nature, with as 
 much of the evidence of each as was compatible 
 with the great compression of his plan ; " to set 
 down," as he himself expresses it, " his own 
 reading of human nature, orderly and per- 
 spicuously;" after which he considered that his 
 task was done : " For this kind of doctrine," 
 says he, " admitteth no other demonstration." 
 
 The very perfection of the philosophical style, 
 the utmost degree of simplicity, compactness, and 
 
S3 
 
 perspicuity, combined, the purest transcript of 
 thought, which words seem capable of being 
 rendered, is stigmatised by Sir James, as " cold ; " 
 a word of great reproach with Sir James. And 
 the spirit of simplicity and sincerity, with which 
 a great mind delivers its thoughts to others in 
 the very shape in which it holds them, without 
 the affectation of a thousand apologies for the 
 impudence of differing a hair's-breadth from those 
 who had never thought upon the subject, is 
 charged upon Hobbes, as the arrogance of one 
 who despises mankind. It is clear and con- 
 clusive evidence of the contrary. 
 
 It is worth while to remark, in connection 
 with " Sir James on Dogmatism," what Hobbes 
 says of it. " There be two sorts of men that 
 commonly be called learned. One is that sort 
 that proceedeth evidently from humble prin- 
 ciples, as is described in the last section, and 
 these men are called Mathematici, The other are 
 they that take up maxims, from their education, 
 and from the authority of men, or of custom ; 
 and take the habitual discourse of the tongue for 
 ratiocination : and these are called Dogmatici, 
 Now seeing those we call Mathematici are ab- 
 solved of the crime of breeding controversy ; and 
 they that pretend not to learning cannot be 
 accused ; the fault lieth altogether in the T>og- 
 matici, that is to say, those that are imperfectly 
 earned, and with passion press to have their 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 opinions pass every where for truth, without any 
 evident demonstration, either from experience, or 
 from places of Scripture of uncontradicted inter- 
 pretation." — Human Nature, ch. 13. 
 
 So much for two out of the three causes of the 
 success of Hobbes. Sir James tells us that his 
 style was the third. And then he pronounces a 
 panegyric upon his style which it well de- 
 serves. 
 
 But the style of Hobbes, though admirable for 
 its purpose, was the very reverse of a popular 
 style. It has a charm for the man who is looking 
 out for thoughts ; because it gives them to him 
 at once, and effectually; but it is repulsive to the 
 common-place reader ; and can have done nothing 
 towards gaining admirers from the throng. No ; 
 if there had not been other causes of the success 
 of Hobbes, his manner as a writer would have 
 confined his works to the closets of the few. 
 
 II. We next receive the account of Hobbes's 
 philosophy. 
 
 This ought to be sufficient, at the least, to 
 remind us accurately of the doctrines maintained 
 by Hobbes ; the grounds on which he maintained 
 them ; the mode in which he connected them 
 together, so as to compose a whole; and the 
 point of view in which the subject must have 
 been presented to him, in order to draw his 
 thoughts into that peculiar train which his 
 writings present to us. 
 
35 
 
 r The first thing which Sir James tells us under 
 this head is, " That his philosophical writings 
 might be read without reminding any one that 
 the author was more than an intellectual machine. 
 They never betray a feeling except that insup- 
 portable arrogance, which looks down on men as 
 a lower species of beings." Such a feeling as 
 this, most certainly they do not betray. So that 
 Sir James's negation of feeling may be stript of 
 his solitary exception. 
 
 This, however, is at best only a criticism upon 
 the manner in which Hobbes delivered his philo- 
 sophy. To the matter of it, with which alone he 
 had here to do, it is altogether foreign. 
 
 But whether is it said, in praise, or in blame? 
 That Sir James's words determine not. If said 
 in praise, it is very high praise. It says that, in 
 treating of intellectual objects, Hobbes dealt with 
 them according to their nature, and did not pol- 
 lute them by any heterogeneous admixture. 
 
 We know, however, by experience, that when 
 Sir James talks of want of feeling, he talks of it 
 as a great blemish. He cannot bear that intel- 
 lectual things should be spoken of in the language 
 of intellect. A clear expression of a clear idea is 
 poor, with him, unless it be ranted about. Hobbes 
 is blamed, because, in dealing with matters of 
 pure intellect, he uses the language which is best 
 adapted to convey them pure into the minds of 
 others. Sir James did not understand a pure 
 
 D 2 
 
s& 
 
 conception of the intellect, nor the use of it ; he 
 wanted it always adulterated. 
 
 Yet his praise of Hobbes's style is not consis- 
 tent with this talk. He says, " It seems " (Sir 
 James is seldom sure about any thing) " it seems 
 the very perfection of didactic language." If so, 
 the very perfection of didactic language is to be 
 unmixed with the language of feeling. Sir James's 
 inconsistency, however, is so constantly occur- 
 ring, that to remark a particular instance of it is 
 of small importance. Sir James says again, 
 " Perhaps " (he is never certain) " no writer of any 
 age or nation, on subjects so abstruse, has mani- 
 fested an equal power of engraving his thoughts 
 on the minds of his readers." This is a happy 
 expression. The minds therefore of Hobbes's 
 readers, did not lose much, by not being " reminded 
 that he was more than an intellectual machine." 
 Sir James is at prodigious pains to assure his 
 readers, that he is not a mere intellectual machine. 
 He only fails in showing that intellectual can be 
 very safely predicated of his machine. 
 
 This is the first part of the account which Sir 
 James gives of the philosophy of Hobbes. 
 
 The remaining part is contained in this pro- 
 position. That Hobbes's moral system was pro- 
 pounded for the sake of his political. 
 
 Sir James announces this in the following 
 manner. " It was with perfect truth observed 
 by my excellent friend, Mr. Stewart " (N. B. what 
 
37 
 
 had we to do with the intrusion of the * excellent 
 friend ?') " that the ethical principles of Hobbes 
 are completely interwoven with his political sys- 
 tem. He might have said," continues Sir James, 
 " that the whole of Hobbes's system, moral, reli- 
 gious, and in part philosophical, depended on his 
 political scheme ; not indeed logically, as conclu- 
 sions depend on premises, but (if the word may 
 be excused) 'psychologically, as the formation of 
 one opinion may be influenced by a disposition 
 to adapt it to previously cherished opinions." 
 
 What is real in the case is stated by Hobbes 
 himself, in his own simple and true language, in 
 the opening of what he calls the " Explication of 
 the Elements of Law, Natural, and Political." 
 He says, " the true and perspicuous explication of 
 the elements of law, natural, and political, which 
 is my present scope, dependeth upon the know- 
 ledge of what is human nature." Going, as he 
 was, to expound the elements of political govern- 
 ment, he saw, and he was the first to see clearly, 
 that the elements of political government were the 
 principles of human nature. It was necessary for 
 him, therefore, to begin with the explication of 
 human nature. And he no doubt is at pains to 
 show, when he comes to his political doctrines, 
 that they are correctly deduced from the prin- 
 ciples of human nature. But Sir James goes 
 beyond this. He says that Hobbes's moral opi- 
 nions are twisted into deformity to make them 
 
38 
 
 accord with his political system. This means, 
 that it was necessary for Hobbes to trace to 
 selfish feelings the moral acts of men, in order 
 to recommend his political doctrine ; viz. that 
 government should possess unlimited power. 
 
 This, in the first place, is naked, and (if the 
 word may be excused, as Sir James would say) 
 foolish, assumption. Sir James knew, or might 
 have known, two things — what Hobbes said of 
 human nature — and what he said of government ; 
 but which came first, in the mind of Hobbes, he 
 did not know. The political opinions might have 
 been derived from the moral, as well as the moral 
 from the political. Observe, that this assumption 
 is not prefaced with "perhaps." Sir James is most 
 doubtful, where there is best ground of assurance. 
 His assertion is not only gratuitous, but evidently 
 false. There is no peculiar fitness, in what is 
 called the selfish system of morals, to form the 
 ground-work of the despotic system of govern- 
 ment. The sentimental system of morals, which 
 Sir James professes, is far better adapted to that 
 end, and far more frequently worked with a view 
 to its accomplishment. 
 
 I perceive that it will not easily be believed, 
 though I am now obliged to aver it, that this is 
 all which Sir James has to give us, as the account 
 of Hobbes 's philosophy ; for as to the rant with 
 which he terminates the concluding paragraph, 
 about enslaving religion to human tyrants, it is 
 
39 
 
 ;tJNI7BRSITT! 
 
 nothing to the purpose, and is not worth atten- 
 tion. , 
 
 III. I now come to Sir James's remarks upon 
 Hobbes's moral philosophy. 
 
 These should have told us, as well what was 
 good, as what was not good, in this part of 
 Hobbes's speculations. Sir James should have 
 informed us what light Hobbes threw upon the 
 subject of human nature ; for true it is, he threw 
 a great deal, though Sir James appears not tp 
 have been aware of it. The philosophy of human 
 nature was in a deplorable state, when he first 
 approached it. What he actually expounded, and 
 the openings he made for farther exposition, was 
 a subject of great curiosity, and great importance. 
 Unhappily, Sir James knew nothing, either about 
 the subject, or its importance ; and therefore 
 leaves it out altogether, as if he had nothing to 
 do with it. His remarks on Hobbes consist of a 
 string of objections. The reader shall now see 
 what they are. 
 
 1. Hohhes does not distinguish thought from 
 feeling. This is wholly untrue. Hobbes, in the 
 first chapter of his Treatise of Human Nature, 
 says, " Of the powers of the mind there be two 
 sorts. Cognitive and Motive." Under the first he 
 ranges all that is commonly called Thought; under 
 the second all that is called Feeling, Of the first 
 sort he treats, in the first six chapters ; and of the 
 second sort, in the next four. Is it possible that 
 
40 
 
 the man who says Hobbes confounds the powers 
 cognitive, and motive, of the human mind, can 
 have read these chapters? 
 
 Sir James grounds what he says upon a short 
 hint by Hobbes of his opinion as to the physical 
 causes of mental phenomena. Though that opi- 
 nion is absurd enough, and (according to Hobbes's 
 own judgment, when he declared that it was not^ 
 necessary to the business now in hand) had better 
 have been omitted, it was yet naturally suggested 
 by the received philosophy of the time, and affords 
 no coiintenance to the absurd assertion which Sir 
 James founds upon it. 
 
 All action, in the time of Hobbes, was consi^ 
 dered motion, and all passion, passio, the effect 
 produced by action, motion too ; since motion can 
 produce nothing but motion. But the two species 
 of motion, the actio, and the passio, were looked 
 upon as very different things to the sense and 
 conception of the man. '• 
 
 Hobbes, in consonance with this doctrine, says,* 
 ** To know the natural cause of sense is not very 
 necessary to the business now in hand. Never- 
 theless, to fill each part of my present method, I 
 will briefly deliver the same in this place. — The 
 cause of sense is the external body or object, which 
 presseth the organ proper to each sense, either 
 immediately, or mediately; which pressure, by 
 
 * Leviathan, part i. ch. i. 
 
41 
 
 the mediation of nerves, and other strings and 
 membranes of the body, continued inwards to the 
 brain, is that which men call sense ; and con- 
 sisteth, as to the eye, in a light, or colour figured ; 
 to the ear in a sound, &c. ; all which qualities, 
 called sensible, are, in the object that causeth 
 them, but so many several motions of the matter 
 by which it presseth our organs diversely. Neither 
 in us that are pressed, are they any thing else,: 
 but divers motions ; for motion produceth nothing 
 but motion." 
 
 So much for sensation. Now for ideas.* " When 
 a body is once in motion, it moveth (unless some- 
 thing else hinder it) eternally ; and whatsoever 
 hindereth it cannot, in an instant, but in time, 
 and by degrees, quite extinguish it. And, as we 
 see in the water, though the wind cease, the waves 
 give not over rolling for a long time after; so 
 also it happeneth in that motion which is made in 
 the internal parts of a man, then when he sees, 
 hears, &c. — for after the object is removed, or 
 the eye shut, we still retain an image of the thing 
 seen, though more obscure than when we see it. 
 And this is it the Latins call Imagination, from 
 the image made in seeing ; and apply the same, 
 though improperly, to all the other senses. But 
 the Greeks call it Fancy (phantasia), which signi- 
 fies appearance, and is as proper to one sense as 
 
 * Leviathan, part i. ch. ii. 
 
4a 
 
 another." Imagination, Fancy, are, therefore, in 
 Hobbes, names which stand for our modern term, 
 Idea. 
 
 Having made this attempt to account physi- 
 cally for sensation, and idea,=* he treats afterwards 
 of the train of ideas, which Hume has taught us 
 to call their association ; of naming, or the use of 
 signs ; and shews wherein memory, understanding, 
 reason, science, consist. 
 
 Having thus done with what he calls the 
 powers cognitive of the human mind, he comes in 
 Chapter vi. to what he calls the powers motive ; 
 and heads the chapter with these words : — " Of 
 the interior beginnings of voluntary motions ; 
 commonly called the passions; and the speeches 
 by which they are expressed :'' and I shall recount 
 a few of the numerous particulars whereof he 
 gives his explication : Desire, Aversion, Love, 
 Hate, Good, Evil ; Pulchrimi, Turpe ; Pleasure, 
 Offence ; Pleasures of sense. Pleasures of the 
 mind ; Joy, Grief ; Hope, Despair, &c. 
 
 How far Hobbes's account of thought and feel- 
 ing is just and sufficient — is another question, which 
 Sir James ought to have elucidated, and has not ; 
 but never surely was an author less liable to cen- 
 sure for having confounded the two, than he who 
 made the distinction between them the foundation 
 of the twofold division of the properties of the 
 
 * Leviathan, part i. ch. ii. to vi. 
 
43 
 
 human mind ; and treats of them as belonging to 
 two grand heads of inquiry. 
 
 When one meets with an assertion like this, in 
 an author who has some reputation, one's thoughts 
 begin to wander ; one stares, and asks, where one 
 is ? It looks as if one were in a dream. 
 
 It is worth remarking, in reference to Sir 
 James's ignorance of what he was talking about, 
 that Hobbes carefully points out a distinction, 
 which he thinks is found between the physical 
 causes of Thought and those of Feeling, or, as he 
 would call them, the cognitive and motive phe- 
 nomena of the human mind ; and accounts for the 
 difference between them. He was obliged by his 
 theory to refer them both to motion. But the 
 motion cognitive was motion in the head, consti- 
 tuting phantasia, in the mind. The motion 
 motive was motion carried on from the head to 
 the heart, constituting pleasure or pain. " This 
 motion," he said, " is also a solicitation or provo- 
 cation either to draw near to the thing that 
 pleaseth, or to retire from the thing that dis- 
 pleaseth ; and this solicitation is the endeavour or 
 internal beginning of animal motion, which when 
 the object delighteth is called appetite, when it 
 displeaseth, it is called aversion in respect of the 
 displeasure present, but in respect of the displea- 
 sure expected, fear. So that pleasure, love, and 
 
 * Human Nature, ch. vii. 
 
44 
 
 appetite, which is also called desire, are divers 
 names for divers considerations of the same thing." 
 
 2. Sir James's second objection is delivered in 
 the following words: — " J3y this great error^' (viz. 
 confounding thought and feeling, which we have 
 seen that Hobbes clearly distinguished) " Hohhes 
 was led to represent all the variety of the desires 
 of men, as being only so many instances of 
 objects deliberately and solely pursuedr As is 
 usual with Sir James's words, they put us on the 
 hunt for a meaning. They, at first sight, look like 
 an enigma. " Hobbes considered each desire of 
 a man as being an object of pursuit." This is Sir 
 James's assertion. But it is not sense. How can 
 a man pursue a desire ? Hunger is not an object 
 of pursuit. An object of desire is an object of 
 pursuit, because they are but two names for the 
 same thing. 
 
 Sir James gives us his reason for his assertion. 
 The desires of men were represented by Hobbes 
 as objects pursued, " because they" (the desires) 
 " were the means, and at the same time perceived 
 to be so, of directly or indirectly procuring organic 
 gratification to the individual." But this is as 
 far from sense as the former assertion. A desire 
 the means of an organic gratification ! The desire 
 of the gratification is the desire ; the means of 
 gratifying the desire is not surely the desire itself; 
 though it would not be unlike many of Sir James's 
 conclusions to say so. 
 
45 
 
 By desires, in both members of his sentence, 
 Sir James meant surely, objects of desire ; though 
 from his habit of abusing language he did not 
 perceive the absurdity of the expression he used. 
 
 Now then we are to see what sense there is in 
 his observation, upon this supposition. " Hobbes 
 did wrong in representing the objects of desire as 
 objects pursued." This however cannot be said ; 
 because objects of desire, and objects of pursuit, 
 are but two names for the same thing. Sir James 
 puts in the words " deliberately and solely." Are 
 we then to suppose that his objection lies in the 
 force of these two words? And that Hobbes 
 errs, in considering the objects of desire as objects 
 deliberately and solely pursued. 
 
 First of all, we may ask Sir James, if there is 
 any thing deliberately and solely pursued ? For 
 if there be, it is by necessity an object of desire. 
 That men do often desire things, not deliberately 
 and not solely, is a matter of fact of which nobody 
 is ignorant, and which most assuredly Hobbes 
 never uttered a syllable tending to deny; We 
 have therefore not yet got at any thing which 
 looks like a meaning. 
 
 Sir James goes on — " The human passions are 
 described as if they reasoned accurately, delibe- 
 rated coolly, and calculated exactly." Did ever 
 any body use language like this before ? A pas- 
 sion reasoning ! Why Hobbes considered passion, 
 and reason, to be so different one from the other. 
 
46 
 
 that they belonged to two separate heads of 
 inquiry. Hobbes certainly did not consider it 
 impossible, that a man should reason, and be under 
 passion at the same time ; or impossible, that he 
 should be carried away by his passion, in spite of 
 his reason. 
 
 Sir James goes on again — " It is assumed, that 
 in performing these operations" (namely, the ope- 
 rations of a passion reasoning accurately, of a 
 passion deliberating coolly, and of a passion cal- 
 culating exactly,) " there is and can be no act of 
 life in which a man does not bring distinctly 
 before his eyes the pleasure which is to accrue 
 to himself from the act." Here, at last, we have 
 a glimpse of what he would be at. After having 
 waded through all this jargon, we come to the 
 assertion, that the error of Hobbes consisted in his 
 endeavouring to trace the motive phenomena of 
 human nature, more frequently called the active 
 principles of human nature, to pain and pleasure. 
 Why, if that was what he meant to say, did he 
 not say so at the beginning ? The final cause is 
 plain. Sir James, in that case, would not have 
 appeared profound. To tell us this of Hobbes's 
 philosophy, was to tell us what nobody needed to 
 be told. Whether he did wrong in doing so, is 
 the very question to be resolved. Toward that 
 solution. Sir James did absolutely nothing; but 
 after repeating a parcel of words which heve 
 about as much meaning in them as the cawing of 
 
4T 
 
 rooks, he decides, upon his own authority, that 
 Hobbes is in the wrong, and he is in the right. 
 Such is Dandy philosophy. 
 
 The decision is followed up by another parcel 
 of words, casting abuse upon Hobbes's endeavour^ 
 but doing nothing which has a tendency to show 
 the unreasonableness of it. He indeed informs 
 us, that Hobbes would not have done as he did, 
 had he known, what few philosophers, he says, 
 have known, " that our desires seek a great diver- 
 sity of objects.'* Indeed ! is it so seldom known 
 that a man desires a great many things ? also, had 
 he known, "that the attainment of these objects'" 
 (the objects of desire) " is indeed followed by or 
 rather called pleasure." Wonderful again ! Was 
 Hobbes really ignorant, that the attainment of an 
 object of desire is pleasurable ? Sir James pro- 
 ceeds, " but that it could not be so, if the objects 
 had not been previously desired." That is ta 
 say, the gratification of a desire would not have 
 been the gratification of a desire, imless the desire 
 had previously existed. Blessed instruction ! And 
 blessings on the heads of those, who reared up 
 a reputation for such an instructor ! But let the 
 instruction be what it may, how does it show 
 that the active principles of human nature may 
 not be traced up to pain and pleasure ? As little 
 does it contribute to that object, to descend, like 
 Sir James, to the lowness of caricaturing a doc- 
 trine^ which he cannot refute. This he does, by 
 
48 
 
 taking out a few of the decisions of Hobbes with 
 respect to particular cases, stated nakedly, without 
 the analysis which leads to them. The evidence 
 of these decisions lies in the tenor of the whole 
 discourse. To pick them out singly, and hold 
 them up for observation, is a trick to make them 
 be misunderstood. It is also but fair to Hobbes 
 to remember, that, though he was the first to 
 descry the instrument of analysis, he made but 
 little progress in the use of it, and rather divined 
 the results, than traced them. It is no wonder, 
 therefore, if, sometimes, the words in which he 
 couches those results, carry the minds of those, 
 who read them without the context, to a meaning 
 not only not necessary to the general purport of 
 the discourse, but actually at variance with it. 
 Sir James does his endeavour to make this misap- 
 prehension general. 
 
 3. Sir James's third remark is, that " Hohhes 
 having struck the affections out of his map of 
 human nature, it is no ivonder, that me should 
 not find in it a trace of the moral sentiments'' 
 We have seen already, that the assertion about 
 striking out the affections is utterly untrue. Every 
 body knows, that the assertion about the moral 
 sentiments is untrue ; because every body knows 
 that Hobbes's political system is founded upon 
 the indefeasible obligation of covenants. If 
 there is a moral obligation, there are surely 
 moral sentiments. Hobbes, moreover, very dis- 
 
49 
 
 tinctly explains his opinion of what are called the 
 moral sentiments. Hobbes treats of moral obliga- 
 tions, as being dictates of the " law of nature." 
 And in his second chapter, JDe Corpore Politico^ 
 he says, " What it is we call the law of nature is 
 not agreed upon by those that have hitherto 
 written. For the most part, such writers as have 
 occasion to affirm, that anything is against the 
 law of nature, do allege no more than this, that 
 it is against the consent of all nations, or the 
 wisest and most civil nations. But it is not 
 agreed upon, who shall judge which nations are 
 the wisest. Others make that against the law of 
 nature which is contrary to the consent of all 
 mankind ; which definition cannot be allowed, be- 
 cause then no man could offend against the law of 
 nature ; for the nature of every man is contained 
 under the nature of mankind. But forasmuch as 
 all men are carried away by the violence of their 
 passion; and by evil customs do those things which 
 are commonly said to be against the law of nature; 
 it is not the consent of passions, or consent in some 
 error gotten by custom, that makes the law of na- 
 ture. Reason is no less of the nature of man, than 
 passion. And is the same in all men ; because all 
 men agree in the will to be directed and governed 
 in the way to that which they desire to attain ; 
 namely, their own good, which is the work of 
 reason. There can, therefore, be no other law of 
 nature than reason ; nor no other precepts of 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 natural law, than those which declare unto us the 
 ways of peace, where the same may be obtained, 
 and of defence where it may not." Here is a dis- 
 tinct answer to the two questions which Sir James 
 informs us comprehend the whole of moral science ; 
 namely, First, what is that we call moral in 
 actions ? Secondly, by what principle in human 
 nature, is the distinction between what is moral, 
 and immoral, in actions, made ? Hobbes says, it 
 is the useful in actions which constitutes their 
 morality ; and it is reason by which the morality 
 is ascertained and appreciated. And yet Sir 
 James has the infatuation to tell us, that there is 
 not a trace of the moral sentiments in the system 
 of Hobbes. 
 
 This is more than mere heedlessness, or disre- 
 gard of what is true or false, in representing the 
 opinions of others. This is to insinuate that 
 Hobbes's system is an immoral system. But this 
 is detraction ; which under the perpetual smirk of 
 universal benevolence. Sir James is ever watchful 
 to find room for, when he has to do with any 
 unpopular name ; the reverse, in the case of those 
 names which are popular ; they seldom escape a 
 daubing of unmerited praise. 
 
 The rant which follows, and which is merely 
 the vulgar abuse of that philosophy which traces 
 up moral good to private feeling, without a syl- 
 lable to shew that it is erroneous, is unworthy of 
 notice. 
 
4. In Sir James's fourth remark he includes 
 two objections. The first is, that Hobbes ^'per- 
 petually represents the deliberate regard to per- 
 sonal advantage^ as the only possible motive of 
 human action^ The second is, " that he does not 
 allow the pleasures of benevolence and morality^ 
 themselves^ to be a part of that interest which rea- 
 sonable beings pursue'' 
 
 Both imputations are unfounded. 
 
 Sir James must mean, if he means any thing, 
 that to trace up the motive affections of human 
 nature to pain and pleasure, is to make personal 
 advantage the only motive. This is to affirm, 
 that he who analyses any of the complicated 
 phenomena of human nature, and points out the 
 circumstances of their formation, puts an end to 
 them. 
 
 Sir James was totally ignorant of this part of 
 human nature. Gratitude remains gratitude, 
 resentment remains resentment, generosity, gene- 
 rosity, in the mind of him who feels them, after 
 analysis, the same as before. The man who can 
 trace them to their elements does not cease to feel 
 them, as much as the man who never thought 
 about the matter. And whatever effects they 
 produce, as motives, in the mind of the man who 
 never thought about the matter, they producie 
 equally, in the minds of those who have analysed 
 them the most minutely. 
 
 They are constituent parts of human nature. 
 
 E 2 
 
5S 
 
 How we are actuated, when we feel them, is 
 matter of experience, which every one knows 
 within himself. Their action is what it is, 
 whether they are simple or compound. Does a 
 complex motive cease to be a motive whenever it 
 is discovered to be complex ? The analysis of 
 the active principles leaves the nature of them 
 untouched. To be able to assert, that a philo- 
 sopher, who finds some of the active principles of 
 human nature to be compound and traces them 
 to their origin, does on that account exclude them 
 from human nature, and deny their efficiency as 
 constituent parts of that nature, discovers a total 
 incapacity of thinking upon these subjects. When 
 Newton discovered that a white ray of light is not 
 simple but compound, did he for that reason 
 exclude it from the denomination of light, and 
 deny that it produced its effects, with respect to 
 our perception, as if it were of the same nature 
 with the elementary rays of which it is composed ? 
 Sir James's second imputation is a mere repe- 
 tition of the same absurdity. The compound 
 pleasures of human nature ; curiosity, the being an 
 object of esteem and affection, the feeling of esteem 
 and affection, the sense of merit, and others too 
 numerous to mention ; are among the most valua- 
 ble pleasures of human nature. We know them, 
 by our inward experience of them, to be so. Are 
 they less pleasures because they are compound ? 
 Does he who shews them to be compound do any 
 
5S 
 
 thing to lessen their value; or to prevent their 
 being, as Sir James expresses it, " a most im- 
 portant part of that interest which reasonable 
 beings pursue?" Is there a single syllable in 
 Hobbes which implies that he did not set the 
 same value on them, as all other men ? To infer, 
 from his treating them, not as ultimate facts, but 
 capable of being traced to a common source, that 
 he did not allow them to be objects of rational 
 esteem, is to the last degree contemptible. 
 
 5. Sir James's last remark, alias objection, is, that 
 Hobbes had " an utter want of moral sensibility'' 
 This expression alone is enough to settle the cha- 
 racter of Sir James. Does it mean, that Hobbes 
 had no discernment, or a less accurate discern- 
 ment than other men, of right and wrong ? Or 
 that he was more indifferent to the distinction ? 
 that is, disregarded the difference between moral 
 good and evil, both in his own conduct, and in 
 that of other men ? To say either of these things 
 would be gross calumny. But what else can 
 delicacy of moral perception, if that be moral 
 sensibility, apply to ? 
 
 Sir James informs us, where this want of 
 moral sensibility is to be found. Hobbes " be- 
 trays it," he says, " by the coarse and odious 
 form in which he has presented the great prin- 
 ciple," that morals are necessary to society. I 
 am altogether unable to conceive what meaning 
 Sir James annexed to these words. I know no- 
 
thing coarse, and odious, in Hobbes's mode of 
 showing that what is good for society is, in truth, 
 morality. 
 
 Sir James adds to this, that the perception of 
 the utility of moral acts to society, and that of 
 the connexion between the good of the individual, 
 and the good of the community, are not moral 
 perceptions ; or what Sir James calls " essential 
 constituents of our moral feelings." Sir James 
 says that this is '* a common error " of moral 
 reasoners, and very pernicious. It would be 
 good in this case to know what feelings Sir 
 James calls " moral." We should then be able to 
 see what the perception of the tendency of a 
 certain class of actions to produce good, both 
 public and private, had to do with those feelings 
 of his. With the moral sentiments, as under- 
 stood by other men, it certainly has a great deal 
 to do. 
 
 Sir James informs us, that it is part of the 
 same pernicious error to suppose that the per- 
 ception of the tendency of an act to do good is 
 " ordinarily mingled with the most effectual 
 motives tp right conduct." 
 
 This is an application of the blunder of Sir 
 James about motives, which we have just ex- 
 posed. He means to say that gratitude, pity, 
 affection, &c., are the most ordinary motives. 
 Who denies it ? But does that imply that the 
 tendency of an act to produce good or evil does 
 
55 
 
 not enter into the consideration of the man who 
 acts from gratitude, pity, or affection? If not, 
 the man's act may be a grateful act, a compas- 
 sionate act, or an affectionate act, but certainly 
 not a moral act ; nay, possibly, it may be an act 
 thoroughly immoral ; an act for which the law 
 would hang the affectionate performer. 
 
 After some more of his stuff about cold, and 
 heat, in moral investigation, and about Hobbes's 
 want of moral sensibility, which, whether he 
 means by it, that Hobbes had an imperfect per- 
 ception and regard of moral distinctions ; or that 
 the social affections in him were weak (absurdly 
 expressed by the term moral insensibility), is an 
 assertion utterly without evidence ;* he tells us, 
 that the books which were written against 
 Hobbes " sowed the seed of the ethical writings 
 of Hume, Smith, Price, Kant, and Stewart ; in a 
 less degree also those of Tucker and Paley : not 
 to mention Mandeville, the buffoon and sophister 
 
 ♦ In the first of the two senses, it would be against evi- 
 dence, and a base calumny. Even in the second sense, — though 
 in Sir James's sentimental philosophy, a heavy charge, it is 
 utterly without evidence. What ground has he for pro- 
 nouncing that in Hobbes the social affections were weak ? 
 None whatsoever. Not that we should admit the impu- 
 tation as a disparagement, if it were proved ; as it is a weD- 
 known fact that the social affections were weak in some of 
 the best men who ever lived. 
 
of the ale-house ; or Helvetius, an ingenious but 
 flimsy writer, the low and loose moralist of the 
 vain, the selfish, and the sensual." 
 
 The dragging in of the names of these two 
 writers is characteristic of Sir James. ** Apropos 
 of your wife," says somebody in the play, " let us 
 talk of the great Mogul." Not to mention, is the 
 connective which introduces Mandeville and Hel- 
 vetius, along with those, the seeds of whose phi- 
 losophy had been sown by Cumberland, Cud- 
 worth, Butler, &c. ; though Mandeville wrote 
 nearly as early as any of those controvertists ; 
 and nothing, either in his writings, or those of 
 Helvetius, has the smallest connection with the 
 polemical doings against Hobbes, or can be sup- 
 posed to have been suggested by them. 
 
 At all events, they were two writers of name. 
 It was, therefore, in Sir James's way, to tell us 
 how well he was acquainted with them. They 
 were also two very unpopular names. It was 
 therefore also in Sir James's way to give them a 
 dash of his black brush. He knew with whom 
 it would be popular to speak ill of them. He 
 therefore looked out for disparaging epithets ; 
 any would do, so be they were strong enough. 
 So down went " the buffoon and sophister of the 
 ale-house," and " flimsy writer, the low and loose 
 moralist of the vain, the selfish, and the sensual." 
 By these few words Sir James proves that he 
 was unacquainted with the writings which he 
 
57 
 
 thus traduces. No man who was acquainted 
 with them would have chosen such terms to 
 express himself in ; however much he might have 
 dissented from what is contained in them. For 
 not only have they no appropriateness to the 
 faults that are in the writings, or have ever been 
 imputed to them ; but they do not even ''point in 
 that direction. 
 
 First, for the term sophister applied to Man- 
 deville. 
 
 Though a small criticism, it is pertinent with 
 respect to Sir James, to say, that no scholar uses 
 the word sophister. Sophist is the name of the 
 man who uses sophisms. Sophister is the same 
 absurdity as criticker would be. It is a vul- 
 garism, which the good company, kept by Sir 
 James, did not ensure him from. 
 
 The word is so inappropriate, that, applied to 
 Mandeville, it is nothing but vague abuse. Sir 
 James might just as well have called him black- 
 guard. 
 
 It is not erroneous reasoning, which is called 
 sophistry. No man calls Locke a sophist, even 
 when he differs from him the most widely. 
 
 So far is Mandeville from stating his doctrines 
 with artful shading and colourings to captivate 
 the unwary, that he seems to have a pride in 
 rousing men to opposition, by running directly 
 counter to their habitual modes of thinking. No 
 man ever gave his positions more nakedly to the 
 
5g 
 
 World. He reasons, from received opinions and 
 the actual experience of mankind, with so much 
 force, as to bestow great plausibility upon the 
 most doubtful of his conclusions : but of that 
 subtle artifice, to which we give the name so- 
 phistry, he has none ; the appearance of truth 
 which he contrives to throw upon his doctrines 
 is drawn, in fact, from the extent to which he 
 shews that they are supported, by what was gene- 
 rally taught, and by what we actually know of 
 mankind. 
 
 " Buffoon of the ale-house," are words exceed- 
 ingly discreditable to Sir James. The expres- 
 sion denotes a man, whose endeavour it is to 
 raise coarse and immoral laughter among low 
 and profligate people for the encouragement of 
 their debaucheries. 
 
 In the first place, there is no mirth in the book. 
 It is the gravest thing for a satire that was ever 
 written. So much for the buffoonery. 
 
 Next for the ale-house. Mandeville did not 
 write to the common people at all. It is only an 
 educated man that can enter into the spirit of the 
 work, and derive any pleasure from the perusal 
 of it. Accordingly it never was a book in the 
 hands of the people. I never met with an unin- 
 structed man who was acquainted with it. The 
 author truly describes it, as of the nature of 
 an abstract discourse. But by the term ale- 
 house, added to the sophister and the buffoon. 
 
59 
 
 Sir James conveys an insinuation of a kind, 
 which he is very careful about casting on any 
 name which the right sort of people praise, but 
 very ready to cast, without troubling himself 
 about the grounds of it, on any name which the 
 right sort of people abuse. 
 
 The imputation is utterly unfounded, and being 
 the imputation of a crime, is peculiarly base. 
 There is not a book in the English language 
 which is less chargeable with the guilt of ad- 
 ministering incentives to the appetites and tastes 
 of the vulgar. Improper gratifications are never 
 spoken of but in a way to make them odious, 
 even when the paradox is maintained, that certain 
 things called public benefits are promoted by 
 them. The object rather is, to degrade the things 
 denominated benefits, than to exalt the things 
 which cause them ; from the baseness of which, 
 on the other hand, is inferred the baseness of the 
 things which spring from them. 
 
 Not for the sake of Sir James (for of him the 
 exposure is sufficient already), but for the truth 
 of our literary history, the character of the Fable 
 of the Bees needs to be set forth. 
 
 It is a satire upon artificial society; and like 
 other satires partakes of the nature of a ca- 
 ricature. 
 
 The end is to expose the mummery of the 
 world, and the affectations of those who laid 
 traps for praise by singing eulogiums on the 
 
m 
 
 dignity of human nature ; to which end he 
 shews, how much of fair appearance there is 
 which is nothing but pretence ; and how much of 
 the fine things, and fine actions, on which we 
 pride ourselves, are the result of qualities in us 
 of which we are ashamed, and which we never 
 cease to decry. 
 
 He avails himself of two positions, which were 
 none of his breeding. He found them established 
 in the world, on the authority of religion, and 
 the gravest Divines. 
 
 The first is, that all indulgence in things which 
 are not necessary, is sensuality, and therefore 
 vice. 
 
 The second is, that there is no virtue without 
 self-denial. 
 
 From the first proposition it immediately fol- 
 lowed, that we owe every thing in the world 
 we reckon fine and glorious to vice. If men had 
 confined themselves to mere necessaries, there 
 never would have been any arts in the world, nor 
 any science. There would have been no wealth 
 in any country, and consequently no power. 
 Reasoning also correctly from the Political 
 Economy of his time, and not of his time only, 
 but of the greater part of those who think them- 
 selves Doctors in the science at the present hour, 
 he said, that if mankind were suddenly to grow 
 virtuous, the earth would be covered with 
 misery, since more than half the species derive 
 
61 
 
 their subsistence from the general vices, and would 
 perish if that source were dried up ; that a great 
 population, therefore, accumulated wealth, and 
 splendour, every thing which constitutes the 
 power and glory of a state, being the effect of 
 that multifarious industry which only our vices 
 create, it is easy to see what a noble thing, at 
 bottom, is that magnificence and power of which 
 we are so proud. 
 
 And as it is thus seen, from the first of the 
 two propositions, that in the things which are 
 most admired in the world there is nothing but 
 what is, at bottom, mean and condemnable ; so, 
 from the two together, it is with equal evidence 
 seen, that there is no such thing as virtue, or 
 very little at least, in mankind. For where is 
 the man, who contents himself with bare neces- 
 saries, when he can afford what is more agree- 
 able? Where is the man who denies himself 
 luxuries, up to the extent of his means, unless 
 for the gratification of some appetite, not less de- 
 grading ? 
 
 Where also do you find an action, voluntarily 
 performed, which is hurtful to the actor, and un- 
 attended with any compensation ? When a man 
 suffers evil in one way, which is made up to him 
 in another, that is not self-denial ; it is a sordid 
 calculation of interest ; and, upon a close scrutiny, 
 this is found to be all the self-denial which there 
 is in the world. The man calls upon his friends 
 
m 
 
 and neighbours to observe and remember what 
 he gives up. What is delighting him at heart, 
 in the way of equivalent, he keeps to himself, or 
 unwillingly permits to be seen. When a man 
 sacrifices his fortune, or his life, for his country, 
 what does he get in return ? Something which 
 he values beyond them : fame. And what is 
 fame ? The gratification afforded to the exces- 
 sive love of praise ; one of the meanest of our 
 vices. And such is the foundation of the high 
 and boasted deeds of mankind. 
 
 These inferences are supported by a variety of 
 well chosen incidents, and cases, of human life ; 
 of ordinary and low life, as often as the applica- 
 tion was peculiarly pointed and striking; de- 
 picted with great liveliness and force, in language 
 which indeed is almost always homely, but never 
 has any thing to offend the severest virtue, hardly 
 any thing to shock the most fastidious taste. 
 
 If I am to speak what I think of his picture 
 of human nature, I say, it is not true. And the 
 two propositions on which it is grounded are not 
 true. But the propositions were part of the 
 theological morality of Mandeville's time, not 
 altogether renounced in our own time ; and in the 
 minds of men, taken in the lump, there is such a 
 mixture of what is narrow and low, with what is 
 lofty and comprehensive, that when the meaner 
 ingredients are culled out, and placed in a strong 
 light, the wonder is not much that the senti- 
 
88 
 
 mental talk, which philosophers of the Sir 
 Jamesical cast hold about human nature, should 
 appear deceitful, and to deserve the exposure 
 Mandeville bestowed upon it. 
 
 What Sir James says, to please those who 
 delight in hearing Helvetius traduced, is next to 
 be explained. Sir James, as the representative of 
 a class, is an important study. 
 
 The " ingenious," and " flimsy," I shall pass. 
 Though by what title Sir James, who does not 
 come up to the flimsy, for that implies some 
 thinking, imputes it to Helvetius, it would 
 puzzle a man of moderate wits to find out. 
 
 " The low and loose moralist of the vain, the 
 selfish, and the sensual," deserves more attention ; 
 because such an accusation, where not true, 
 stamps a character on the man who makes it. 
 
 The character, thereby assigned to Helvetius, 
 makes it a sort of a match for that, just before, 
 assigned to Mandeville. As Mandeville wrote to 
 supply incentives to the vitious desires of the 
 poor and vulgar profligates, Helvetius on the 
 other hand wrote to supply incentives to the 
 desires, equally vitious, because selfish and 
 sensual, of the rich and more refined. 
 
 What I am anxious for here, is the word 
 which with the greatest simplicity and force 
 would deny this accusation in toto. 
 
 I am no extravagant admirer of Helvetiuis. 
 He is not deep, as a metaphysician ; nor close 
 
64 
 
 and strong as a reasoner. But he was a good 
 observer ; had reflected much on the operation of 
 moral causes ; and has set some important truths 
 connected with them, in a clearer light, than had 
 been done by any preceding philosopher. And 
 so far is it from being the tendency of his 
 writings to lower the standard of morality, that 
 the whole aim of them is to raise it to the utmost; 
 to apportion the esteem of men to the greatness of 
 the object which attracts it ; and thereby to call 
 forth the greatest exertions for the attainment of 
 the most valuable things. 
 
 The uninstructed and vulgar-minded part of 
 mankind, he says, have mean notions of morality. 
 The class of actions to which their esteem is 
 more particularly directed, is that of the actions, 
 peculiarly valuable with respect to themselves ; 
 the narrow views of the individual mark out in 
 such minds the bounds of morality. 
 
 But one degree elevated above this is the 
 morality of small societies, or connections of men. 
 In each of these little societies, the actions, 
 habitually praised, and recommended for imita- 
 tion, are the actions which have in view the 
 interests of the little connection, and most 
 effectually contribute to them. The members of 
 these little connections hear their interests, and 
 the actions which favour them, spoken of, ten 
 times, for once that they hear any other in- 
 terest, and the actions which favour them, 
 
65 
 
 spoken of, and with ten times the intensity of 
 applause. Imitation, and Custom, are the great 
 masters of the human mind. It is matter of 
 necessity that men, habituated to this narrow- 
 circle of ideas, should have poor and inadequate 
 conceptions of morality. 
 
 The man, whom his education or other for- 
 tunate circumstances have habituated to ideas of 
 the good of one of the larger communities of 
 men, a nation; and to consider the interests of 
 small societies, and of individuals, as subordinate 
 to the interests in which each and all of the other 
 individuals and societies composing the great 
 communities participate ; the man, who has 
 learned to fix his esteem upon the actions which 
 promote these great interests, and in whom the 
 motives to the performance of such actions over- 
 power all other motives, is the only man who has 
 reached the elevation of true morality. The 
 other moralities are not only infinitely inferior to 
 this in kind ; but, when they are not retained in 
 a perfect state of subordination to it, they are 
 the most efficient causes of the corruption of the 
 moral sentiments of mankind. Little has ever 
 yet been done in the world, to cultivate the en- 
 larged principle of morality ; whereas the narrow 
 principles, generated by the feelings of interest, 
 in individuals, and little societies, have never 
 been without constant and powerful incentives. 
 It is obvious, therefore, how the great morality 
 
66 
 
 has, to this hour, had so feeble an influence in 
 the affairs of mankind ; the narrow morality^ 
 an influence so great ; and how the happiness 
 of the human race has been kept at so low an 
 ebb. 
 
 To call the man, who puts forth these doc- 
 trines, with a flood of light, and bends all his en- 
 deavour to show, how the high and comprehensive 
 principle of morality may be made to bear that 
 sway in the affairs of men, which the low and 
 narrow principles have hitherto so unhappily- 
 usurped, " the low and loose moralist of the 
 vain, the selfish, and the sensual," looks like 
 madness. It is but ignorance, and servility. It 
 is a case of prostitution to the interest of a little 
 confederacy, not reconcileable with that of the 
 whole, whereof it is a part. 
 
 A few sentences, hastily picked out of the work 
 De I'Esprit, will show the tone as well as prin- 
 ciples, of the morality of Helve tins. The 
 14th chapter of the second discourse is entitled, 
 " Des vertus de prejuge, et des vraies vertus'^ 
 The chapter begins, " Je donne le nom des vertus 
 de prejuge a toutes celles dont I'observation 
 exacte ne contribue en rien au bonheur public. 
 Ces fausses vertus sont, dans la plupart des 
 nations, plus honorees que les vraies vertus, et 
 ceux qui les pratiquent en plus grande veneration 
 que les bons citoyens." In contradistinction to 
 these, he gives the name "vraies, a celles qui, sans 
 
67 
 
 cesse, ajoutent a la felicite publique, et sans les- 
 quelles les societes ne peuvent subsister." 
 
 In the beginning of the 11th chapter of the 
 same Discourse, he says, " Ge n'est plus de la 
 probite par rapport a un particulier ou une petite 
 societe, mais de la vraie probite, de la probite 
 consideree par rapport au public, dont il s'agit 
 dans ce chapitre. Cette espece de probite est la 
 seule, qui reellement en merite, et qui en obtient 
 generalement le nom. Ce n'est qu'en considerant 
 la probite sous ce point de vue, qu'on pent se 
 former des idees nettes de Fhonnetete, et trouver 
 un guide a la vertu.*' 
 
 In the 23rd chapter of the same Discourse, 
 where his object is to unfold the causes which 
 hitherto have retarded the progress of morality, 
 he says, " Pour hater les progres d'une science, 
 il ne suffit pas que cette science soit utile au 
 public ; il faut que chacun des citoyens, qui com- 
 posent une nation, trouve quelque avantage a la 
 perfectionner. Or, dans la revolution, qu'ont 
 eprouve tons les peuples de la terre, Tinteret 
 public, c'est a dire, celui du plus grand nombre, 
 sur lequel doivent toujours etre appuyes les prin- 
 cipes d'une bonne morale, ne s'etant pas toujours 
 trouve conforme a I'interet du plus puissant, ce 
 dernier, indifferent au progres des autres sciences, 
 a du s'opposer efficacement a ceux de la morale/' 
 
 I shall quote but one other passage. It is in 
 the 23rd chapter of the Third Discourse. " Ce 
 
 F 2t 
 
68 
 
 n'est done point sur le terrein du luxe, et des 
 richesses, mais sur celui de la pauvrete, que 
 croissant les sublimes vertus ; rien de si rare que 
 de rencontrer des ames elevees dans les empires 
 opulens, les citoyens y contractent trop de besoins. 
 Quiconque les a multiplies a donne a la tyrannic 
 des otages de sa bassesse et de sa lachete. La 
 vertu qui se contente de peu est la seule qui soit 
 a I'abri de la corruption.*' 
 
 And this is the man whom, in England, a 
 writer, with a philosophical reputation, was 
 found to call the " low and loose moralist of the 
 vain, the selfish, and the sensual ! " 
 
69 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Sir James on Bishop Butler. 
 
 Sir James glories in heaping praise on Butler. 
 
 He takes what Butler has said, as a foundation 
 on which to build. Butler, and Mackintosh, the 
 joint authors of a new and true theory of ethics ; 
 to one of whom we owe the foundation, to the 
 other the glorious superstructure : what an item 
 in a future eulogium ! 
 
 Passing by the flourishes of vague and general 
 praise, let us take the sentence which comes 
 nearest the matter. " In those deep, and some- 
 times dark dissertations," says Sir James, " which 
 Butler preached at the Chapel of the Rolls, and 
 which contain his ethical discussions, he has 
 taught truths, more capable of being exactly dis- 
 tinguished from the doctrines of his predecessors, 
 more satisfactorily established by him, more com- 
 prehensively applied to particulars, more ration- 
 ally connected with each other, and therefore 
 more worthy of the name of discovery than any 
 with which we are acquainted." 
 
 It is curious that, bestowing so many epithets 
 upon the truths of Butler, Sir James abstains 
 
70 
 
 from saying a word about the value of them. If 
 Sir James's epithets were all correctly applied, the 
 truths might still be insignificant. Distinguish- 
 able from other men's truths ; satisfactorily estab- 
 lished ; comprehensively applied ; rationally con- 
 riected with each other ; all this may be affirmed 
 of very trifling propositions. But Sir James says, 
 that the properties, thus assigned to Butler's 
 truths, entitled them to " the name of discovery." 
 One wonders what idea Sir James annexed to the 
 name discovery. The connexion between " the 
 properties thus assigned," and discovery, in the 
 usual sense of the word, it is not easy to perceive. 
 
 Some, however, of these characteristics of 
 Butler's truths, are a little wonderful ; their 
 being distinguishable, for example, from the 
 doctrines of his predecessors. We should ima- 
 gine, that the capability of distinction would de- 
 pend upon the difference ; and that every doc- 
 trine, which differed from other doctrines, would 
 be just as distinguishable as those of Butler. He 
 does not tell us what doctrines of Butler's prede- 
 cesssors he differs from. Butler himself speaks 
 of no difference he had with any body, but 
 Hobbes ; and with him, only on one point. 
 
 To judge of the pertinence of his other epithets, 
 " satisfactorily established," " comprehensively 
 applied," " rationally connected with each 
 other," we must first know what the truths are, 
 to which they are applied. 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 71 
 
 They are, according to Sir James's own account 
 of theiii, in number, two. 
 
 The first is, that man does not act from self- 
 love, which is a regard to the sum of his enjoy- 
 ments ; but from his particular appetites and 
 desires, each of which has its peculiar object, 
 which is its end. 
 
 The second is, that the faculty of conscience 
 has a right of control over those particular pro- 
 pensities, either to forbid or allow their seeking 
 their own gratification. 
 
 The first proposition is "satisfactorily estab- 
 lished," as Sir James says — ^upon what ? Upon 
 an abuse of language. 
 
 Self-love, or selfishness, says Butler, and his 
 follower, does not mean acting from a man's 
 selfish propensities, but acting with a view to 
 increase the sum of his enjoyments. All men 
 who are acquainted with the English language 
 know, that the word does mean what these two 
 writers say it does not mean. According to them, 
 there is no self-love but that which Dr. Reid is 
 at pains to distinguish from ordinary self-love, by 
 calling it rational self-love. — This is not a satis- 
 factory method of proving that self-love is not 
 the spring of man's actions. No man ever said it 
 was in this sense. 
 
 Their other instrument of proof is, also, an 
 abuse of language ; and a very copious source of 
 error and delusion. They personify an abstract 
 
7^ 
 
 term ; and then ascribe to it, literally, the qua- 
 lities of an agent. This is in the way of the 
 rhetorical Sir James. It is more surprising that 
 Butler should have been deluded by so poor a 
 fallacy. 
 
 Our appetites, say they, have their objects, 
 each its own, at which it aims as its end ; our 
 appetite of food, for example; our appetite of 
 drink ; the sexual appetite ; and so of other pro- 
 pensities. None of these has the augmentation 
 of the sum of our enjoyments as its object. 
 
 Is it not miserable, to build a philosophical 
 doctrine upon such a juggle of words ? Would 
 not a moderate portion of reflection have sufficed 
 to tell these men, that appetite is merely a 
 name ; that nothing really desires, or appetizes, 
 (to make a cognate word) ; nothing has an object, 
 or an end ; nothing aims ; but a man. And 
 when a man aims at an object, and that a selfish 
 one, is it not trifling to tell us, that it is his appe- 
 tite which aims, and not he ; therefore he is dis- 
 interested ? 
 
 Observe, this is one of the two truths which 
 Sir James tells us are more worthy of the name 
 of discovery, than any with which we are ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 Observe, also, by the bye, that what is here 
 adduced, as deciding the controversy about the 
 selfishness of man, does not touch the matter in 
 dispute. . There never was any question, till 
 
73 
 
 Butler came, about that state of mind in which a 
 man seeks his own gratification. The only 
 question was about the state of mind in which he 
 seeks the gratification of others. Does that deserve 
 to be called selfish or social ? 
 
 We may remark, that Sir James's decision on 
 this point is curious. According to him, it is 
 neither the one nor the other. As a man is 
 neither selfish, nor social, when he has an appetite 
 for food, or any other desire ; so, " the desire," 
 says Sir James, " that another person may be 
 gratified, seeks that outward object, according to 
 the general course of human desire ; " that is, 
 without making him, to whom the desire belongs, 
 either social or selfish. 
 
 The next of Butler's two truths, panegyrized 
 by Sir James, is, that conscience has a controling 
 power over man's other propensities. 
 
 There is here the same mystery of personifica- 
 tion, as we have had to deal with in regard to the 
 appetites. 
 
 What a man's conscience is said to do, the man 
 does. When the man's conscience is said to 
 control, the man controls. But how ridiculous 
 would any person be held who should go about to 
 tell us in lofty phrase that a man has a right to 
 control himself? 
 
 If it be replied, that the man ought to govern 
 himself in a certain way, we grant it. Nobody 
 denies it, or ever did. But we ask, why ought he ? 
 
74 
 
 That question has been long asked. And surely 
 it is no answer to tell us, that conscience has a 
 right to direct the way ; for that only brings us 
 round to the same point, that the man has a right 
 to direct the way. 
 
 This second truth of Butler, the object of Sir 
 James's eulogy, is, therefore, purely nugatory. 
 
 ■ And now for a glance at the pertinency of Sir 
 James's epithets. 
 
 They are '' satisfactorily established." We have 
 seen how they are established. 
 
 They are "comprehensively applied." There 
 is no attempt at any application. 
 
 They are " rationally connected with each 
 other." There is no connection whatsoever. Man 
 aims at food, and other objects. That is the 
 matter of fact, blundered about in one of the pro- 
 positions. Man distinguishes right from wrong. 
 That is the matter of fact blundered about in the 
 other. But what connection is there between 
 the two, other than that they are both parts of 
 the same nature ? 
 
 After the account of what Butler has done ; in 
 which Sir James says, there are " no errors ;" he 
 proceeds to point out what he calls defects. 
 
 Sir James says, that Butler assumes the exist- 
 ence of the moral faculty upon the strength of 
 experience. This he was safe in doing. The 
 matter of fact is undisputed. But Sir James 
 complains that he has done nothing more. He 
 
says, " he has made no attempt to determine*' 
 wherein the moral faculty consists. " He does 
 not venture steadily to denote it by a name." 
 
 And with regard to the other question, he says, 
 " the most palpable defect of Butler's scheme is, 
 that it affords no answer to the question, what is 
 the distinguishing quality common to all right 
 actions ? " 
 
 But, if there be only two questions in Ethical 
 Philosophy, viz. what is the moral faculty, and 
 trhat the moral quality in actions ; and if 
 Butler has answered neither ; what has he done ? 
 And where is the sense of Sir James's panegyrics, 
 upon a man who has done nothing ? 
 . The one and only object of Butler, in what Sir 
 James calls " those deep and dark disquisitions," 
 was to prove that man is not in all his actions a 
 self-interested being. To elucidate the theory of 
 morality seems not to have been in his con- 
 templation. 
 
 That which he attempted, we have seen that he 
 did nothing towards accomplishing. In pro- 
 ceeding to supply his defects. Sir James does two 
 things. He first enlarges, with a view probably 
 to its better elucidation, on Butler's own point, 
 the disinterestedness of mankind. And, secondly, 
 he gives us, what Butler had not attempted, a 
 theory of the moral sentiments, altogether his 
 own. 
 
 First, we shall look at what he says in aid of 
 
76 
 
 Butler ; viz., to prove the disinterestedness of 
 human nature. 
 
 1. He repeats, in great variety of phrase, that 
 is, a great many times, Butler's own fallacy ; that 
 it is not the man, but the maus appetites, which 
 desire, and therefore, that in pursuing the gratifi- 
 cation of his appetites he is not selfish. 
 
 2. He tell us, that self-love is " a derived prin- 
 ciple," and that this was not adverted to by 
 Butler ; though it follows from it, he says, that 
 " regard to self is not analogous to a self-evident 
 principle." What he means is, that self-love is 
 not a simple, original, principle of human nature, 
 but a compound, made of elements, which, of 
 course, existed before it. And in this he per- 
 ceives as little as Butler himself, that he is chang- 
 ing the meaning of the word self-love, and 
 contending for a mere truism, which no man ever 
 disputed. 
 
 / There is no man who doubts, that his idea of 
 the aggregate of his pleasurable feelings is a 
 complex idea, made up of the ideas of all the 
 pleasures he has experienced. And there is no 
 man, sufficiently acquainted with the principle of 
 association, who knows not, that this idea is a 
 desire; the desire of making additions to this 
 aggregate. But there is also no man who is 
 ignorant, that we have other desires, the simple 
 desires of the elementary pleasures, of which the 
 aggregate is composed. And all men, saving and 
 
77 
 
 excepting Butler and Sir James, have agreed iil 
 giving the name selfish to the pursuit of at least a 
 great part of these elementary pleasures. / 
 
 To give, as proof that man is disinterested, the 
 fact that his desire of augmenting the aggregate 
 of his pleasures is a derived, not an original desire, 
 is an attempt to make proof out of nothing. 
 
 Sir James cannot touch upon even the simplest 
 of the mental phenomena, without shovring that 
 he cannot express himself about them distinctly. 
 
 Among his other phrases, to tell us, that there 
 are elementary pleasures, which precede all states 
 of the mind which have reference to them — a 
 piece of information, which no one needed at his 
 hands — he uses this one ; — " No gratification can 
 indeed be imagined without a previous desire.^' 
 The predication must be reversed, in order to 
 make sense of it. There can he no desire without 
 a 'previous gratification. There can be no desire, 
 without an idea of the pleasure desired. But 
 there can be no idea, without a previous sensation. 
 It is hard to find a man, pretending to knowledge 
 on this subject, to whom these elements are a 
 mystery. 
 
 Take another of Sir James's phrases. "No 
 pursuit could be selfish or interested, if there were 
 not satisfactions first gained by appetites, which 
 seek their own outward objects without regard to 
 self ; which satisfactions compose the mass which 
 is called a man's interest." Is not this a ^n^ 
 
78 
 
 jargon, by which to tell us, that the springs of 
 action in man are the elementary pleasures of his 
 nature ? He says, that no pursuit could be. selfish 
 or interested, without these pleasures. Did he not 
 see, that there could be no pursuit at all ? To 
 pursue, there must be something to be pursued. 
 And only think of this for a name of these 
 elementary pleasures — " satisfactions first gained 
 by appetites ! " 
 
 Sir James might have learned from all the phi- 
 losophers who have treated with any accuracy of 
 this subject, Reid, Stewart, Brown, Mill, that the 
 states of mind called appetites consist of two 
 parts, an uneasy sensation, and a desire ; that the 
 uneasy sensation exists prior to experience of the 
 pleasure, the desire, posterior. That this uneasy 
 sensation, like all other uneasy sensations, puts 
 upon tentatives for its relief ; and that it affords 
 some direction, not yet distinctly explained, to th^ 
 object whence the relief is to be derived; is matter 
 of experience. But, to say there can be an idea of 
 a pleasure, before the pleasure has been had, is as 
 absurd as to say, that a blind man can have an 
 idea of colours. "A satisfaction gained by an 
 appetite" is therefore an incongruous expression ; 
 and a mark of gross ignorance. ^c jjrj^. ,^ 
 
 The expression, " appetites which seek their 
 own outward objects without regard to self," is 
 only a further reference to the trash of Butler, 
 about a man's appetite seeking an object. 
 
79 
 
 without his having any thing to do with the 
 matter. 
 
 The last part of the sentence has something in 
 it ; that "these satisfactions'' (meaning the plea- 
 sures corresponding to the appetites) " compose 
 the mass which is called a man's interest." In 
 other words, "a man's interest" is the mass of 
 his pleasurable sensations. How does this .tally 
 with Sir James's grand proposition, that a man is 
 interested when he seeks to add to this mass, but 
 not interested when he seeks to obtain the several 
 parts of it? 
 
 Sir James admits, as a corollary from this doc-? 
 trine, that there is no more benevolence in a bene* 
 volent feeling, than there is self-love, in a selfish 
 feeling ; that both sets of feelings are on a par as 
 regards disinterestedness, or selfishness. It is our 
 feelings, not we, who pursue the good, either of 
 ourselves, or others, except on the rare occasions 
 when we are looking at the mass of our own, or 
 the public good. No absurdity with respect to 
 consequences opened, perhaps I had better say 
 reached, the eyes of Sir James. 
 
 As self-love. Sir James says, is not less self- 
 love, for being formed of certain elements, so the 
 social affection is not less the social affection, for 
 being formed of certain elements. But what if 
 both are formed of the same sort of elements ? 
 What had Sir James to say to that ? 
 
 Nobody ever denied that we had feelings called 
 
80 
 
 pity, love, generosity, justice, kindness in short ; or 
 denied that these complex feelings, in their direct 
 operation, tended to the good of others ; the only 
 question is, what these feelings are made up of» 
 Sir James allows that they are made-up feel- 
 ings ; but no where attempts to explain their 
 composition. Now, the analytical inquirers shew, 
 that, directly as in their operation they do tend 
 to the good of others, they are nevertheless made 
 up of feelings which are rooted in self. There 
 was one way, and that an effectual one, of refuting 
 these inquirers ; viz., by analysing the social 
 affections, and shewing that they are not made 
 up of the elements, to which Hartley and Mill 
 have traced them. To leave this undone, and 
 only to tell us that self-love is " a secondary 
 formation," and social love is the same, therefore 
 they are different, is to talk without a meaning. 
 
 So much, for what Sir James has added to the 
 piece of work, executed by Butler, towards proving 
 the disinterestedness of man. 
 
 In regard to the theory of morals. Sir James ; 
 having asserted, in swollen phrase, first, that 
 Butler had nearly expounded every thing, se- 
 condly, that he had expounded nothing ; takes the 
 enterprise into his own hands. 
 
 We had better have the whole passage be- 
 fore us. 
 
 " The truth seems to be, that the moral senti- 
 ments in their mature state, are a class of feeU 
 
81 
 
 ings which have no other object hut the mental 
 dispositions leading to voluntary action, and the 
 voluntary actions which flow from those disposi- 
 tions. We are pleased with some dispositions and 
 actions, and displeased with others, in ourselves 
 and our fellows. We desire to cultivate the dis- 
 positions, and to perform the actions, which we 
 contemplate with satisfaction. These objects, like 
 all those of human appetite or desire, are sought 
 for their own sakes. The peculiarity of these 
 desires is, that their gratification requires the use 
 of no means. Nothing (unless it be a volition) is 
 interposed between the desire and the voluntary 
 act. It is impossible, therefore, that these pas- 
 sions should undergo any change by transfer from 
 the end to the means, as is the case with other 
 practical principles. On the other hand, as soon 
 as they are fixed on their ends, they cannot regard 
 any further object. When another passion pre- 
 vails over them, the end of the moral faculty is 
 converted into a means of gratification. But 
 volitions and actions are not themselves the end, 
 or last object in view, of any other desire or aver- 
 sion. Nothing stands between the moral senti- 
 ments and their object. They are as it were in 
 contact with the will. It is this sort of mental 
 position, if the expression may be pardoned, that 
 explains, or seems to explain, those characteristic 
 properties which true philosophers ascribe to 
 them. Being the only desires, aversions, senti- 
 
 G 
 
m 
 
 merits, or emotions, which regard dispositions and 
 actions, they necessarily extend to the whole cha-- 
 racter and conduct. Among motives to action, 
 they alone are justly considered as universal. 
 They may, and do, stand between any other prac- 
 tical principle and its object; while it is abso- 
 lutely impossible that any other shall intercept 
 their connection with the will. Be it observed, 
 that though many passions prevail over them, no 
 other can act beyond its own appointed and 
 limited sphere ; and that the prevalence itself, 
 leaving the natural order undisturbed in every 
 other part of the mind, is perceived to be a 
 disorder, when seen in another man, and felt to be 
 so in the mind disordered, when the disorder sub- 
 sides. Conscience may forbid the will to contri- 
 bute to the gratification of a desire. No desire 
 ever forbids will to obey conscience." — p. 436. 
 
 " The moral sentiments are a class of feelings 
 which have no other object hut the mental dispo- 
 sitions leading to voluntary actions, and the volun- 
 tary actions which flow from these dispositions'"^ 
 This Sir James sets down as his thesis^ and marks 
 for peculiar emphasis, by printing the words in 
 italics. 
 
 Is it possible that Sir James conceived he was 
 imparting information by these words ? 
 
 They give us a mere truism ; that the moral 
 sentiments have to do with voluntary acts. As- 
 suredly involuntary acts were never regarded as 
 
89 
 
 the object of the moral sentiments. Nobody ever 
 conceived that there was any thing either moral 
 or immoral in an involuntary act. 
 
 Sir James's language implies that he did not 
 know wherein a voluntary act consists. A volun- 
 tary act means both the operation of the body, 
 and the state of mind from which it proceeds. 
 Where then was the sense of telling us that the 
 moral sentiments regard both the acts and the 
 disposition, when the acts include both ? 
 
 And think of the state of mind of the man, who, 
 taking upon him, with an air, to tell us what the 
 moral sentiments are, only tells us what is their 
 object ; as if a man going about to tell us what 
 the eye is, should think he had done wonders, by 
 telling us, in misty phrase, it has light for its 
 object. Sir James does not tell us even this 
 object correctly. It is not voluntary acts, but a 
 class of those acts, which are the object of the 
 moral sentiments. And this all the world knew, 
 without the aid of Sir James, 
 
 Sir James follows with the exposition of his 
 thesis. " We are pleased with some dispositions 
 and actions, and displeased with others." This is 
 the same thing. This is only telling us that 
 certain actions are the objects of the moral senti- 
 ments. Our being pleased with good acts, dis- 
 pleased with bad, is what other people express 
 more properly by saying we approve of the one, 
 disapprove of the other. For, whatever Sir James 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 might think of the matter, there is more in moral 
 approbation than mere liking, the feeling we have 
 towards a tulip or a dance. 
 
 Does there not, also, appear an incoherence 
 between Sir James's former sentence and this ? 
 In the former he said, the moral sentiments have 
 for their object voluntary acts. In this he says, 
 they have for their object only "some" of them. 
 Surely Sir James, in his former sentence, did not 
 exclude the liking of good acts, the disliking of 
 bad, from his list of moral sentiments. 
 
 Sir James adds, in further exposition, "We 
 desire to cultivate the dispositions and perform 
 the actions, which we contemplate with satisfac- 
 tion." This is only telling us that we desire to 
 do what we like to do. There is no doubt about 
 that. It is the definition of a voluntary act, that 
 it is an act which the agent is pleased to do. 
 But all acts which are desirable (" contemplated," 
 as Sir James says, "with satisfaction") are not 
 moral acts, nor are the sentiments with which 
 they are regarded, moral sentiments. What in- 
 formation do we receive with respect to the 
 moral sentiments, by being told that there are 
 some voluntary acts which we like, and liking 
 them we desire to do them ? We still want to 
 know what is distinctive in the acts we call 
 moral, and what is the nature of the preference 
 we bestow upon them. 
 
 Sir James goes on : " These objects, like all 
 
85 
 
 those of human appetite or desire, are sought for 
 their own sakes." We have here a curious asser- 
 tion, that all things are desired for their own 
 sake; while of the innumerable objects of human 
 desire, the undoubted fact is, that the far greater 
 part are desired, not for their own sakes, but 
 wholly on account of something else. 
 
 What Sir James is about is sufficiently obvious. 
 He is repeating the stuff of Butler, about an 
 appetite's having an object, a desire's having an 
 object, which is its end. Unless understood 
 figuratively, to speak of a desire's having an 
 object, is simply nonsense. When a man's desire 
 is said to have an object, the real meaning, 
 and the whole meaning is, that the man desires. 
 And when Sir James says, that the desire is 
 limited to its own object, which is its end, the 
 fact is only this, that a man who desires a parti- 
 cular object does desire it, but whether he desires 
 it for its own sake, or for the sake of something 
 else, depends upon the nature of the case. 
 
 " These objects," which are " sought for their 
 own sakes," are the acts we like, and the disposi- 
 tions leading to them, which we like. That is to 
 say, the acts ; for the outward act, detached from 
 the mental part, is not an object of liking, or dis- 
 liking. What Sir James tells us, therefore, is, 
 that an act is sought for its own sake. The 
 ignorance, which could be guilty of such an 
 assertion as this, is not easy to be matched. 
 
86 
 
 It is not less astonishing that a man should be 
 found, who could treat of moral approbation 
 under the head of desire. Why, moral approba- 
 tion regards the past, an act done; a desire 
 always regards the future ; no man desires yes- 
 terday, nor anything which it contained. 
 
 We pass to another sentence. " The pecu- 
 liarity of these desires is, that their gratification 
 requires the use of no means." How this can 
 tend to the information which we need, and 
 which Sir James has promised us, namely, what 
 the moral sentiments are, does not appear. We 
 do not ask whether the moral sentiments act by 
 means, or without means ; but what they are ;— 
 which Sir James seems by no means forward to 
 tell ; it suits him better to beat about the bush. 
 
 Let us see, however, what he says in the next 
 sentence, which seems intended for an elucidation 
 of the apove. " Nothing (unless it be a volition) 
 is interposed between the desire and the voluntary 
 act." Sir James presents to us as an important 
 proposition, that the moral sentiments act with- 
 out means ; and the reason is, that they are in 
 juxta-position with the voluntary act. He says, 
 a few sentences onwards, " the moral sentiments 
 are, as it were, in contact with the will." Telling 
 us, however, what they are in contact with, and 
 that they act without means, is not telling us 
 what they are. It appears to be nothing to the 
 purpose. 
 
m 
 
 It implies, however, incredible confusion of 
 ideas. There are two sets of sentiments, which 
 regard a moral act ; those which precede the act, 
 and induce to it, that is, are the cause of it ; and 
 those which follow it, and are caused by it. 
 Those which precede the act are volitions, and 
 motives. Those which follow the act are the 
 moral approbation which it excites. 
 
 Now it may be said without much impro- 
 priety, in a figurative way, that those sentiments 
 which precede the act are in juxta-position with 
 it ; because the volition is its immediate ante- 
 cedent, and the motive is the immediate ante- 
 cedent of the volition. 
 
 But in no rational sense can it be said, that the 
 approbation which follows the act is in juxta- 
 position with it; because this approbation is 
 bestowed upon acts thousands of years after they 
 are performed. 
 
 Sir James appears to have jumbled together in 
 his head both sets of sentiments, and to have 
 affirmed of the sentiments which follow the act, 
 and which alone can properly be called the moral 
 sentiments, that which can only be affirmed of 
 those which precede the act, and which are not 
 moral sentiments at all. 
 
 When Sir James says, that his two desires, the 
 desire of the antecedent disposition, and that of 
 the consequent act, which two are only one, have 
 no need of means for their gratification, does he 
 
88 
 
 mean, that the sentiments which precede the act 
 have no need of means for their gratification ? 
 viz., that an act is immediately preceded by a 
 volition, and a volition by a motive ? If this be 
 what he says, it is what all the world says, and of 
 no use to be said here. If he means moral 
 approbation, which is the only other thing he 
 can mean ; how does approbation of any sort 
 need means for its gratification ? Approbation is 
 the gratification itself; the gratification received 
 from the thing approved. 
 
 Sir James goes on ; " It is impossible that 
 those passions should undergo any change by 
 transfer from the end to the means, as is the case 
 with other practical principles." 
 
 What Sir James calls here, by a gross abuse of 
 language, " passions," are the two desires spoken 
 of above, which we shewed to be only one desire, 
 that of the act, mental and corporeal parts in- 
 cluded. But the desire of an act, which except 
 by an abuse of language must respect the future, 
 ought to mean exclusively the sentiments which 
 precede the act ; and then nothing is expressed 
 but the well-known matter of fact, that a motive 
 is the immediate cause of a volition, and a voli- 
 tion the immediate cause of an act ; which 
 assuredly gives no information as to the moral 
 sentiments. 
 
 It is probable, however, that Sir James here 
 abuses the language; and calls the approbation 
 
89 
 
 of an act the desire of it, though the act approved 
 is past, and therefore not an object of desire. 
 What a speech would it be : " I did an act of 
 generosity last night ; I desire that act." 
 
 Let us however allow him his abuse of lan- 
 guage, and come to his ideas. What information 
 did he dream he was conveying to us, with 
 respect to this moral approbation, when he said, 
 that it is not changed by being transferred from 
 the end to the means ? The " end," he told us 
 before, was its " gratification." But what is the 
 gratification of moral approbation ? Why it is 
 the moral approbation itself. The moral approba- 
 tion is the gratification which a man derives from 
 a moral act. What, then. Sir James gives us for 
 our edification is, that a gratification is not 
 changed by transference to itself, because there is 
 no such transference. 
 
 The case of association, to which Sir James 
 alludes, was not introduced for the sake of his 
 subject, for it has nothing to do with it. The 
 design must have been, to shew off. But never 
 was a design more abortive ; for instead of 
 shewing knowledge of association, the attempt 
 makes manifest the most perfect ignorance of 
 that great principle. 
 
 It is true, there are cases in which an associa- 
 tion is formed between the idea of an end, and 
 the idea of the means to it, which is indissoluble ; 
 and that, frequently, the idea of the means, in such 
 
90 
 
 associations, obscures the idea of the end. This is 
 a case of association familiar to all those who 
 have studied the analysis of mind. But of what 
 use is it to tell us that there cannot be such an 
 association, in the case of moral approbation, and 
 act ? Nobody ever supposed there was. 
 
 .There still remains some of Sir James's lan- 
 guage, which importunately calls for a remark. 
 He says that though moral approbation, which 
 he ranks among the passions, does not undergo 
 any change, by transference from the end to the 
 means, other " practical principles " do. It is 
 evident that by principles he here means certain 
 phenomena of the human mind, such as the 
 desires, the appetites, &;c., not certain general 
 positions in words, as when we say, the principles 
 of geometry, the principles of political economy, &c. 
 
 Sir James then applies the word " practical," 
 which is only applicable to principles in the 
 second sense, to principles in the first sense, 
 where it is incongruous. Who ever talked of a 
 practical appetite, a practical affection? As if 
 there were any speculative appetites, speculative 
 affections. Sir James did not know the differ- 
 ence between " practical " and active. 
 
 Sir James's language is also very inaccurate, 
 when he says that things are changed by transfer- 
 ence from the end to the means. There is no 
 change. When money, the means of commanding 
 pleasures, the most familiar instance of the associa- 
 
91 
 
 tion I have above adverted to, becomes a more 
 constant object of desire, than any of the plea- 
 sures which it can command ; the desire of every- 
 thing, gross, or refined, is precisely the same 
 desire which it was before. What has happened 
 is, that a complex desire has been generated, which 
 acts more forcibly than its elements one by one. 
 
 What Sir James says next, it is more difficult 
 to comprehend, than any thing he has given us 
 yet. " When another passion prevails over 
 them, the end of the moral faculty is converted 
 into a means of gratification." 
 
 Sir James had been talking of the desires 
 which are in contact with the will, and which 
 need the use of no means. It would therefore 
 seem that his predication is of the sentiments 
 which precede the act. The meaning of the 
 words in that case would be, that when the 
 motive to a moral act is overcome by another 
 motive, the end of the moral faculty is converted 
 into a means of gratification. The nonsense of 
 this appears to be self-evident. When a man 
 acts immorally, he is gratified, it says, with the 
 morality of a moral act. 
 
 If we consider the predication as made of the 
 sentiments which follow the act, called moral 
 approbation and disapprobation, the discrepancy 
 of the ideas is not less. When moral approba- 
 tion is prevented, namely, by the incurring of 
 moral disapprobation, then the end of moral ap- 
 probation, viz. the good which has not been 
 
92 
 
 done, is converted into a means of gratification. 
 When evil is incurred, and good missed, the evil- 
 doer is gratified with the good he has prevented. 
 
 When Sir James's moral faculty (to use his 
 own and Butler's phraseology) is defeated, and 
 misses its end, that is, its gratification, its gratifi- 
 cation (when thus missed) is converted into a 
 means of gratification. Is it possible, that Sir 
 James could mean to say this? If not, what 
 could possess him, to use such language ? 
 
 " But volitions and actions are not themselves 
 the end, or last object in view, of any other desire, 
 or aversion." 
 
 What is this, other than to say, that the 
 desire or aversion of volitions and actions 
 is the desire or aversion of volitions and 
 actions ? Every other object of desire is in the 
 same situation. It is the object of its own 
 desire, and not the object of any other. A man 
 has a desire for a fine coat. The fine coat is the 
 object of that desire, and not the object of any 
 other desire. 
 
 " Nothing stands between the moral sentiments 
 and their object. They are as it were in contact 
 with the will." 
 
 Here again, it is doubtful whether Sir James, 
 by the term " moral sentiments," means the sen- 
 timents which precede, or those which follow, the 
 moral act. 
 
 If he means the sentiments which precede, 
 what he says is, that the motive to a moral act is 
 
93 
 
 a motive to the will. And certainly this is true 
 of all motives. 
 
 If he means the sentiments which follow the 
 act, in other words moral approbation, what he 
 says is, that moral approbation is the approbation 
 of that mental state which gave birth to the act ; 
 which is all that by possibility can be meant by 
 that most extraordinary saying, that moral ap- 
 probation is in contact with the will, or that 
 nothing stands between it and its object. And 
 it is undoubtedly true that moral approbation 
 peculiarly embraces the mental state. 
 
 This, however, is only telling us, once more, 
 what moral approbation is the approbation of. 
 It is, he repeats, the approbation of voluntary acts. 
 
 Having thus examined the propositions of Sir 
 James, piece-meal, let us look at them in conjunc- 
 tion. 
 
 1. 
 
 Some voluntary acts we like. 
 
 2. 
 Liking them, we desire to perform them. 
 
 3. 
 
 We desire them for their own sakes. 
 
 4. 
 The desires of voluntary acts are in contact 
 with the will. 
 
 5. 
 This mental position explains the supremacy of 
 conscience 
 
94 
 
 The first two sentences present to us this 
 position, that the moral sentiments are desires of 
 acts. What acts? Such acts as we like. 
 Moral acts, therefore, are such acts as any man 
 likes. And a man acts morally, when he follows 
 his inclination. 
 
 When Sir James said, that we have a desire to 
 perform certain acts, did he not know, that this is 
 true of all acts. We perform no acts, without a 
 desire to perform them ; one sort of desire to one 
 set of acts, another to another. 
 
 Did Sir James also not know, that the desire, 
 in consequence of which we perform an act, is the 
 motive to it ? 
 
 Sir James in these propositions therefore con- 
 founds moral acts with all other acts ; and he 
 confounds the moral approbation of an act with 
 the motive of it. 
 
 Sir James having made discovery of this desire 
 of acts, tells us some wonderful things about it. 
 
 It is the desire of its own object, in which it 
 rests, looking to nothing beyond. But this is no 
 distinction. This is true of all desires. Every 
 desire, if this be the mark of its morality, is a 
 moral desire. 
 
 Again, what is that desire, in consequence of 
 which we perform an act ? It is not the 
 desire of the act ; but of some consequence of 
 the act. 
 
 This desire, says Sir James, is in contact with 
 
95 
 
 the will. If he means, that a motive is the im- 
 mediate antecedent of a volition ; this is true of 
 all volitions, not those alone which are the ante- 
 cedents of moral acts. 
 
 The result of all is, that moral acts are pro- 
 duced by motives ; and therefore conscience is 
 supreme.* 
 
 Sir James is very clamourous about this 
 supremacy; and takes upon him to work the 
 proof of it in a new, and, it must be confessed, a 
 very surprising manner. 
 
 Butler had said, that the moral faculty, which 
 he takes as synonymous with conscience, has a 
 natural supremacy over the other active prin- 
 ciples of our nature, a right to regulate, and 
 command. Butler, however, gave no account of 
 this right. He did not explain why it is that we 
 recognize such a right. Sir James supplies that 
 omission. The moral sentiments have this su- 
 premacy, he says, because they are in contact 
 with the will. 
 
 He might just as well have assigned any thing 
 else whatsoever ; any thing that came in his head. 
 He might have said the moral sentiments are not 
 
 * The exposition here given is an abridgment of what I had 
 originally written on this portion of Sir James's lucubration. 
 The more minute developement, though rejected as tedious, 
 may have its use to some of those who are anxious about the 
 knowledge of these things. It is therefore inserted in the 
 Appendix. 
 
96 
 
 in contact with the will — therefore they have the 
 supremacy. Between his contact and his supre- 
 macy, there is precisely no connection at all. 
 
 Sir James's words are, " It is this sort of 
 mental position " (the contact) " that explains, or 
 seems to explain those characteristic properties" 
 (supremacy) " which some philosophers ascribe to 
 them." Sir James goes on : " Being the only 
 desires " (viz. the desire of having a disposition, 
 and the desire of performing an act) " they, 
 being the only desires, aversions, sentiments, or 
 emotions " (it seems that his two desires have 
 plenty of names) " which regard dispositions, 
 and actions, they necessarily extend to the whole 
 character and conduct. Among motives to action, 
 they alone are justly considered as universal.''^ 
 
 The feelings which precede the act in the 
 breast of the performer are here again con- 
 founded with the approbation which succeeds in 
 the breast either of the performer or other men. 
 Sir James transfers the name moral sentiments, or 
 conscience, to the motives which incite the per- 
 former to the act ; and because one set of feelings 
 are in contact, as he expresses it, with the will, 
 i. e. are motives ; another set of feelings, he 
 says, are endowed with supremacy. An excellent 
 title ! 
 
 But, if the point were ever so well made out, 
 that conscience has this supremacy, what does it 
 contribute to the exposition which Sir James 
 
97 
 
 promised us, of the nature of this supreme 
 faculty? Butler proved the supremacy, to the 
 satisfaction of Sir James ; and yet Sir James tells 
 \is that Butler left the exposition of the moral 
 faculty unperformed. What was not exposition 
 of that faculty in Butler cannot well be its expo- 
 sition in Sir James. 
 
 Sir James's wording still deserves a notice. 
 
 He says, that the desire to cultivate moral 
 dispositions, and the desire to perform moral 
 acts, are the only feelings in the breast of man, 
 " which regard dispositions and actions." 
 
 Moral dispositions are not all a man's disposi- 
 tions. He has dispositions which are immoral, 
 and dispositions which are neither the one nor 
 the other. One man has a disposition to fru- 
 gality, another not; one man a disposition to 
 horse-racing, another not ; and so on. 
 
 How came these dispositions to be generated ? 
 By desire assuredly; otherwise they are in- 
 voluntary; and the man is not responsible for 
 them. 
 
 As to desire of acts, it is too obvious to need 
 mentioning that no act is performed without a 
 desire. According to Sir James's doctrine, no act 
 is performed without a moral desire. 
 
 Sir James's assertion, that the desire to culti- 
 vate moral dispositions, and the desire to perform 
 moral acts, are the only feelings in the mind of 
 man which regard dispositions and actions, is so 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 ludicrously at variance with what every body 
 knows, that one's difficulty is to conceive the 
 «tate of mind in which a man must have been to 
 put forth such a proposition. The only rational 
 solution is, that a man who talks for the sake of 
 talking, gets a habit of running on with words, 
 connected with which he has not an idea in his 
 mind. 
 
 What here, therefore. Sir James delivers, as 
 the solution of the question, why the moral 
 faculty has an authority over the active prin- 
 ciples, is, in the first place, not true ; and in the 
 next place, if it were true, would afford no solu- 
 tion at all. The cause of their supremacy he 
 says is their universality. But universality is no 
 ground of supremacy: every thing universal is 
 not entitled to command. 
 
 Besides, this talk about one propensity being a 
 subservient, another a commanding propensity, is 
 merely that figurative jargon, the absurdity of 
 which we have already seen. ^ . 
 
 When we say that a propensity does so and so, 
 we mean that a man does so and so, from this or 
 that motive. When we say that one propensity 
 controls another, we only mean that a man thinks 
 it better to act in one way than in another. 
 
 In explaining the supremacy of the moral 
 faculty, by the pretence of universality, it is vain 
 to tell us, that the man always prefers acting 
 morally, for that is not the fact ; or to tell us, that 
 
99 
 
 he feels he ought always to prefer it ; for, grant- 
 ing the fact, and it is not to be granted abso- 
 lutely, it is only affirming the mental phenomenon, 
 not explaining it. The question, the solution of 
 which Sir James tells us he is after all this while, 
 namely, why a man judges, that he ought, is 
 untouched. 
 
 Sir James affirms, that there is an universal 
 feeling of obligation to do what is right, abstain 
 from what is wrong. But what does that prove? 
 Nothing at all, but its own existence. It is a 
 phenomenon of human nature. Is it an ultimate 
 fact ? or is it a complex phenomenon, resolvable 
 into more simple elements? 
 
 Sir James says, " Among motives to action, the 
 moral sentiments alone are justly considered as 
 universal'^ What Sir James here calls the moral 
 sentiments, if they are, as he says, motives, and 
 the universal motives, are the sentiments which 
 precede the acts ; and yet they are the same two 
 desires, the desire of volitions, and the desire of 
 acts, which we have been obliged to consider as 
 moral approbation and disapprobation. Moral 
 approbation, therefore, and the object of it, in the 
 language of Sir James, are the same thing. 
 
 And these two, moral approbation, and the 
 object of it, he says are universal motives. A man 
 capable of penning sentences like these is surely 
 no ordinary phenomenon.* 
 
 * " What a wretched abuse of words is this ; and what 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 " This result of the peculiar relation of con- 
 science to the will, justifies those metaphorical 
 expressions which ascribe to it authority, and the 
 right of universal command." 
 
 The peculiar relation which Sir James speaks 
 of, is what he had called before, " contiguity as it 
 were." What he means by the result of that con- 
 tiguity, is more obscure. The natural construc- 
 tion implies that it is the power of forbidding, or 
 commanding, ascribed to it in the two preceding 
 sentences. But if so, observe what the assertions 
 amount to. The right of command belongs to 
 conscience, from its relation to the will. This 
 right of command justifies the expressions which 
 ascribe to it that right. Why, what else should 
 justify any expression ascribing a quality to any 
 thing, but the fact of its belonging to the thing ? 
 Were a writer to say, the faculty of vision in man 
 justifies the use of expressions ascribing to him 
 that faculty ; what would be thought of him ? 
 But is the talk of Sir James better nonsense ? 
 
 Sir James goes on with what seems intended 
 for an illustration of the above important remark. 
 " The conscience is immutable." I believe this is 
 the first time that such an attribute, since the 
 word was first invented, was ever ascribed to it. 
 Does it mean that conscience is always con- 
 gross shifting ; in order to appear to give a solution of what 
 they do not understand." — Home Tooke, Diversions of Pur- 
 lev, ii. 450. 
 
101 
 
 science? In that sense it is only on a par with 
 all other things. A hand is always a hand. 
 
 Does it mean that conscience is always right ? 
 If so, what is meant by the terras, an ill-informed 
 conscience, a misguided conscience ? Sir James 
 explains. " The conscience is immutable," he 
 says ; " for, by the law which regulates all feel- 
 ings, it must rest on action, which is its object, 
 and beyond which it cannot look." 
 
 The immutability, then, consists in this — that 
 conscience has an object, and it always looks to 
 that object. But is this peculiar to conscience ? 
 Is not the appetite of food, the appetite of food ? 
 avarice the appetite of wealth? ambition the appe- 
 tite of power ? If conscience " rests on action," 
 (a funny expression), does not hunger, " by the 
 law which regulates all feelings," rest on food, 
 avarice on wealth, and so on ; and are they not, 
 if that be immutability, all as immutable as con- 
 science? And if this immutability constitutes 
 the right of command, have they not all that 
 right ? But, independently of this, why should 
 immutability give a right of command ? Between 
 immutability and right of command, there seems 
 to be no connection whatsoever. 
 
 With respect to this right of command, which 
 Sir James is so anxious to make out, a word is 
 necessary. 
 
 Sir James so little understands the import of 
 words, as to be ignorant that the very term con- 
 
102 
 
 science, moral faculty, involves the idea of com- 
 mand. It is this faculty which declares what is 
 right and what is wrong. But to declare what 
 ought to be done, what ought not to be done, the 
 same as declaring what is right and what is 
 wrong, is the very essence of command ; it is the 
 moral command, very distinct from the physical, 
 sanctioned by extrinsic punishments or rewards. 
 
 We have no occasion, therefore, to look out for 
 any ground of command ; it is involved in the 
 idea of right and wrong. Right is what ought 
 to be done ; wrong what ought not to be done. 
 The true account, therefore, of the idea of right 
 and wrong, is the only account of the command, 
 implied in the declaration of right and wrong. 
 
 Sir James, more foolish than Butler, who 
 assumed the right of command, without seeking 
 to account for it, seems to have thought he would 
 greatly improve upon Butler, if he shewed upon 
 what grounds it rested. 
 
 He has already given us universality, and immu- 
 tahility, as two of his grounds ; and we have seen 
 what they are good for. He comes now to an- 
 other, independence. What he means by inde- 
 pendence is this ; that our actions being all in our 
 own power, we cannot be hindered from perform- 
 ing a moral act, whenever we please. He puts this 
 matter of fact into strange lingo. But assuredly 
 this matter of fact has nothing to do with right 
 of command. 
 
103 
 
 We must, however, have Sir James's words. 
 If his ideas are always worthless, it is not an 
 ordinary lesson which may be extracted from his 
 use of words. 
 
 " As the objects of all other desires are out- 
 ward, the satisfaction of them may be frustrated 
 by outward causes. The moral sentiments may 
 always be gratified, because voluntary actions, 
 and moral dispositions, spring from within. No 
 external circumstance affects them. Hence their 
 independence. As the moral sentiment needs no 
 means, and the desire is instantaneously followed 
 by the volition, it seems to be either that which 
 first suggests the relation between command and 
 obedience, or, at least, that which affords the 
 simplest instance of it." 
 
 There is not one of the more complicated phe- 
 nomena of the human mind of which Sir James 
 has more in his brain than a confused shadow of 
 an idea. He is therefore constantly mistaking 
 one thing for another. 
 
 He says, " Voluntary actions and moral dispo- 
 sitions spring from within, hence the moral senti- 
 ments may always be gratified." He did not see 
 that immoral dispositions spring also from within; 
 and that voluntary actions include all actions. 
 According to this shewing, immoral sentiments 
 have as much right to command as moral senti- 
 ments. 
 
 Sir James says, " As the moral sentiment needs 
 
104 
 
 no means," [addy nor the immoral either], " and 
 the desire is instantaneously followed by the voli- 
 tion," [add, in the ease of the immoral sentiment, 
 as well as the moral], " it seems to be either that 
 which," &c. Sir Jameses its, and tJieys, &c., are 
 very much like those of the Bishop of Worcester, 
 of which Locke so frequently complained. The 
 bishop, he said, exercised a despotism over those 
 words, which no man of inferior consequence 
 could venture upon. It was often a matter of 
 doubtful inference, whether they related to the 
 words which stood in order of syntax with them, 
 or to something else, which was to be gathered 
 from the context. Thus Sir James's it, has 
 standing before it, " the moral sentiment," " the 
 desire," which is another name for the same 
 thing — and " the volition." Which of these is 
 the antecedent ? or is any of them the antece- 
 dent ? He says this, " It is either that which 
 first suggests the relation between command and 
 obedience, or," &c. First of all, what does he 
 mean by the first suggestion of the relation 
 between command and obedience ? Is it that 
 from which the idea, or knowledge of the relation, 
 is first derived ? In that sense the moral senti- 
 ment, or desire, cannot be the antecedent ; for 
 even Sir James will hardly venture to say, that 
 it is from the moral desire, our idea of the 
 relation between command and obedience, is first 
 derived. As little will volition answer the pur- 
 
105 
 
 can 
 ERSIT7J 
 
 pose. Volition does not give us the first ideas of 
 command and obedience. 
 
 Sir James, perhaps, means to say, that the 
 relation between desire and volition, which he 
 says is that of immediate sequence, suggests 
 the relation of command and obedience, which is 
 not an immediate sequence. 
 
 Did Sir James imagine, that we have no idea 
 of command and obedience, till we have an idea 
 of the relation between the desire and the will ? 
 The number of people is small, who ever make 
 that distinction at all : and no wonder ; for who 
 but Sir James ever yet spoke of the desire of a 
 will ? "I desire to lift my arm," is an expression 
 exactly equivalent to " I will to lift my arm." Sir 
 James would therefore say, " I desire to desire to 
 lift," &c. But what is " I desire to desire," but 
 a very bad mode of saying " I desire ?" 
 
 Sir James says the relation of the desire to the 
 will, " is at least that which affords the simplest 
 instance of it." Sir James refuses to express any 
 thing correctly. The relation of the desire to the 
 will is an instance of command and obedience, if 
 it has any thing to do with that phenomenon. 
 It does not afford an instance ; that is, produce 
 something else which is an instance. 
 
 Sir James then considers the desire a com- 
 mand, the will an obedience. One abstraction 
 commands another. Is not this instructive dis- 
 course ? Could Sir James never understand, that 
 
106 
 
 it is the man only that acts ? Those acts of his 
 which get abstract names for convenience, his 
 desires, his volitions, &c., are not things that act, 
 they are the man's acts. But to say that a man's 
 act acts, that his stroke strikes, is the sort of talk 
 which all men call nonsense. 
 
 Sir James says, the desire of a volition is the 
 command of a volition, making command syno- 
 nymous with desire. He would therefore say, if 
 he were to quit his personifications, and try to 
 state simply the matter of fact, " I command 
 myself to will." But what can we make of the 
 expression, " a man commands himself to will?" 
 It either means, that he wills himself to will, or 
 it means nothing. But is not this again another 
 specimen of that sort of discourse which men 
 call nonsense ? 
 
 But even if Sir James's desire and volition 
 were an instance of command and obedience, 
 which it is such nonsense to call them, what con- 
 nection has that with the right to command, 
 which Sir James ascribes to a particular class of 
 desires above all others? What Sir James 
 assigns for a reason is in general nothing at all, — 
 words, as here, without any meaning. And if 
 what he assigns were a reality, it would not in 
 the least account for that of which he gives it as 
 the account. 
 
 If a man can command himself to will, does 
 his^ moral command derive any authority from 
 
107 
 
 that? If commanding himself to will gives a 
 right, he commands himself to will, as much in 
 the case of immoral commands, as the moral 
 ones. 
 
 We have now examined Sir James's grounds 
 why we do, and approve doing, that which we 
 deem right ; abstain from doing, and approve 
 abstaining from doing, that which we deem 
 wrong, the account of which necessarily lies, in our 
 so deeming, — in that and nothing else, — instead 
 of which. Sir James tells us, that we so act, and 
 so abstain, so approve, and so disapprove, because 
 the desire of cultivating a disposition leading to 
 voluntary acts, and the desire of performing the 
 acts which follow from these dispositions, are 
 universal, immutable, and independent. The 
 nonsense which he has delivered under these 
 heads, is certainly not to be surpassed. 
 
 The whole of what follows, to the end of the 
 paragraph, is mere flourish, a declamatory repe- 
 tition of what Sir James thinks he has proved ; 
 and which we have shewn that he has not 
 proved ; having made obvious that he has done 
 nothing but trifle solemnly with the subject, ad- 
 vancing either trite observations, or truisms, or 
 identical propositions, or propositions totally, and 
 often ludicrously false. Nevertheless, it will be 
 useful to quote the passage, interspersing such 
 remarks, as Sir James's forms of expression may 
 seem to demand. 
 
108 
 
 *' It is therefore with the most rigorous pre- 
 cision that authority and universality are ascribed 
 to them." After what has been said, this requires 
 no remark. " Their only unfortunate property 
 is their too frequent weakness ; but it is apparent 
 that it is from that circumstance alone, that their 
 failure arises." In a contest of strength it could 
 arise from no other. " Thus considered, the lan- 
 guage of Butler concerning conscience, that had 
 it strength as it has right it would govern the 
 world, which may seem to be only an effusion of 
 general feeling, proves to be a just statement of 
 the nature and action of the highest of human 
 faculties.'* 
 
 There is no more certain test of an understand- 
 ing which has no force in it, than the facility 
 with which it is taken in by a truism. Butler 
 says, — that if the moral faculty were strong 
 enough, we should all act morally ; this is 
 the same thing as telling us, that if we all did 
 act morally, we all should act morally. And this 
 is one great half of the wonderful discoveries 
 ascribed to Butler by Sir James. When the 
 matter of fact, obscured by ridiculous language, 
 about a conscience having authority, is expressed 
 naturally, there is no difficulty to any body. The 
 man decides. Conscience is but a word. The 
 man decides that certain things are right, other 
 things are wrong. What authority does he want 
 for doing what is right ; abstaining from what is 
 
109 
 
 wrong ? In the very deciding, that an act is 
 right, he decides that it ought to be done. Is 
 not this all that is meant by the command of 
 conscience ? The very point decided is the ob- 
 ligation. The talk about the right of command 
 assigned to conscience is but so much jargon. It 
 literally means, that what is judged right to be 
 done, is judged right to be done ; which, to be 
 sure, is a conclusion of the class for which Sir 
 James has a predilection. 
 
 Sir James goes on ; " The union of univer- 
 sality, immutability, and independence, with 
 direct action on the will, which distinguishes 
 the moral sense from every other part of our 
 practical nature,* renders it scarcely metaphorical 
 language to ascribe to it unbounded sovereignty 
 and awful authority over the whole of the world 
 within." The predication here is mere repeti- 
 tion of what Sir James has been making out so 
 laboriously, and to so little purpose, that the 
 moral faculty has a right to command. It is a re- 
 petition, however, of that unmeaning proposition, 
 in very inflated language, some parts of which 
 
 * Practical nature, what is that ? A practical man is a 
 man conversant with practice. Is a practical nature, a nature 
 conversant with practice? Sir James in another place talked 
 of practical principles ; which by the usage of the language 
 should mean, principles conversant with practice. Sir James 
 misapplied the word. He mistook the difference between it 
 and action. He does the same thing here. And what is 
 more, mistakes '' our nature " for part of our nature. 
 
110 
 
 had better be noticed. Observe, first, that Sir 
 James here changes the terra moral faculty into 
 moral sense. Sir James knew that the term 
 moral sense is the designation of a particular 
 theory, which is wholly inconsistent with Sir 
 James's. According to Sir James, the moral sen- 
 timents, which have the right of command, are 
 desires ; but how he would make desires into a 
 sense, I pretend not to guess. Sir James says, 
 that the union of universality, immutability, and 
 independence (we have seen what they are) give 
 these desires " unbounded sovereignty." Why, or 
 how ? Sir James shews not. Sovereignty is one 
 thing; universality, immutability, independence, 
 are different things. Sir James affirms they con- 
 fer sovereignty; and that is all. We have his 
 words for it. That is Sir James's best mode of 
 proving. 
 
 Sir James goes on with his union ; it " shews," 
 he says, " that attributes, well denoted by terms 
 significant of command and control, are in fact 
 inseparable from it." The attributes he means 
 are his universality, immutability, and independ- 
 ence. The " union " of them, he says, " shews " 
 something. But what can the union of them 
 " shew," which they do not " shew" separately? 
 He says the names of them " are significant of 
 command and control." Did Sir James ever 
 think at all, when he was putting down the words 
 of this treatise ? Was there any intercourse 
 
Ill 
 
 between his mind and his fingers? Whoever 
 before imagined that the words universality, in- 
 dependence, immutability, involved any idea of 
 command ? Besides this, the union of them, he 
 says, " shews " something else. It " shews 
 that they are inseparable from it " (the moral 
 sense). How does the union come to shew any 
 such thing ? The union only means that they 
 agree in being attributes. That three attributes 
 agree in being attributes proves, he says, that 
 they are inseparable attributes. Can it be be- 
 lieved that a man wrote this seriously? What 
 follows is better still. That three attributes 
 agree in being attributes of some one thing, 
 proves, he says, that the three constitute the 
 very essence of the thing. Colour, and size, and 
 shape, are three attributes of a man's eye ; the 
 union of these three proves that they are the 
 very essence of the eye. 
 
 Sir James has not yet done with his " union :" — 
 ** It justifies those ancient moralists who repre- 
 sent it as alone securing, if not forming the moral 
 liberty of man." First of all, what is it Sir 
 James means by the " moral liberty of man ? " 
 Does he mean what is called the liberty of the 
 will? Let us see whether that meaning will 
 answer his purpose. Did any philosopher, either 
 ancient, or modern, ever say that the moral sense 
 " secured," or " formed," the liberty of the will ? 
 It has assuredly no connection with the will 
 
different in kind from that which any other of 
 our active principles possesses. 
 
 There is only one other meaning which I am 
 able to invent for what he calls the " moral 
 liberty of man." The Stoics boasted, that a 
 man's actions were in his own power, and that 
 he never could be compelled to do an immoral 
 act without his own consent. But what use is 
 there for Sir James's " union," to confirm an 
 opinion which nobody ever disputed ; and which 
 means only that a man cannot be compelled to 
 perform a voluntary act, without his consent. 
 Which is as much as to say, an act cannot be 
 voluntary, if it is at the same tim_e involun- 
 tary. Or a voluntary act is always a voluntary 
 act. 
 
 Sir James, still going on with his long sentence 
 about the " union," finishes thus : " And finally, 
 when religion rises from its roots in virtuous 
 feeling, it clothes conscience with the sublime 
 character of representing the divine purity and 
 majesty in the human soul." 
 
 Sir James's (its) in this sentence, is another 
 instance of the privilege Sir James uses in 
 common with Locke's bishop. In the former 
 sentences, wherein it appears, it always applies 
 either to his " union," or to his " moral 
 sense." In this case neither of these ante- 
 cedents will do. The only antecedent that com- 
 ports with any meaning is "religion." What 
 
113^ 
 
 he says, then, is, that " religion rises from its 
 own roots." It certainly cannot rise from any 
 other roots. Next he says, that " its roots are in 
 virtuous feeling." This expression is ambiguous ; 
 " the roots of religion in virtuous feeling," may 
 mean, either that the virtuous feeling is the root 
 or roots of religion ; or it may mean, that the 
 virtuous feeling is not the root, but the soil in 
 which the root is fixed. Sir James says, that 
 religion rises from virtuous feeling, which is its 
 root, or the soil in which its root is fixed. And 
 what does it do when it " rises ? " It " clothes." 
 And what does it " clothe ? " Conscience. And 
 what does it clothe conscience with? A *' sublime 
 character." And what is the " sublime character ? " 
 A power of " representing " the divine attributes 
 in the human soul. 
 
 Now to pass by the jargon about the " root," 
 which has nothing to do with the present subject, 
 and also the metaphorical flourishing, let us ask 
 what he means when he says religion imparts 
 to conscience a power of representing the divine 
 attributes in the human soul ? Does it mean the 
 more accurate ideas, which we derive from reve- 
 lation, of the divine perfections? Or does it 
 mean, the sanction which morality derives from 
 the idea of the divine approval ? These are all 
 the ways in which religion touches the moral 
 faculty. But what a jargon, in which to express 
 this solemn but simple truth ? And upon which 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 of the points, which Sir James was called upon to 
 make out, has it any bearing whatsoever ? 
 
 Sir James, having thus expounded the moral 
 sentiments ; given us, as he afterwards calls it> 
 his ethical theory, — appends an observation. 
 
 " Be it observed," he says, " that though many 
 passions prevail over them, no other can act 
 beyond its own appointed and limited sphere ; 
 and that the prevalence itself, leaving the natural 
 order undisturbed in any other part of the mind, 
 is perceived to be a disorder, when seen in 
 another man, and felt to be so by the mind dis- 
 ordered, when the disorder subsides,'* 
 
 Sir James says that the moral passions (he here 
 ranks the moral sentiments among the passions^ 
 according to his usual accuracy of speech) can 
 alone act beyond their own appropriate and 
 limited sphere. 
 
 What he means to say is, that the desire of 
 food never acts against the desire of drink, nor 
 the desire of drink against that of food, and so 
 on ; but the desire of a moral act opposes all 
 other desires, whenever they are wrong. Here, 
 again, Sir James wholly misapprehends the phe- 
 nomena. It is not true of any one of those 
 desires, thai it does not oppose another desire, in 
 the very sense in which the moral desire opposes 
 it. The moral desire does not oppose the desire 
 of food ; a man may desire food or drink as long 
 as he pleases. The moral desire (pardon the 
 
115 
 
 absurdity of the term) only desires a moral act ; 
 in doing which it antagonizes with every desire 
 of an immoral act, and, when it is stronger, pre- 
 vails. In this sense, the desire of food is opposed, 
 and that successfully, by the desire of drink, as 
 often as a man prefers the pleasure of intoxica- 
 tion, to the pleasure of eating. In fact, it is the 
 case, whenever of two antagonist and synchronous 
 desires one prevails. 
 
 Sir James says, that the prevalence itself, that 
 is, the man's acting, in obedience to some impulse 
 of his nature, with a violation of morality, leaves 
 the natural order undisturbed in any other part of 
 the mind. 
 
 Sir James's inaccuracy in the use of words, is 
 a phenomenon. He says, that something is in 
 any part of the mind, when he means every. 
 Suppose I should say this house is very disagree- 
 able ; there is a bad smell in any part of it ; — 
 what would be thought of my knowledge of the 
 English language ? 
 
 But now to come to Sir James's undisturbed 
 order. Let the case be a violation of chastity. 
 Sir James says, this is a disturbance of the natural 
 order in some part of the mind ; while the na- 
 tural order remains undisturbed in " any " other 
 part. 
 
 One or two questions here. A violation of 
 chastity disturbs the natural order in one part of 
 the mind. What part? Or into how many 
 
 I 2 
 
116 
 
 parts does Sir James divide the mind ? Or is 
 this only a metaphorical division, while, in 
 reality, there is no division at all ? What, then^ 
 is the meaning ? That the sexual impulse, in- 
 stead of being subordinate to the moral dictate^ 
 becomes superior to it ? But why is this a viola- 
 tion of the natural order ? Is it not according to 
 nature to obey the strongest impulse ? Sir 
 James says, the sexual impulse ought not, and the 
 moral ought to have been obeyed. This is merely 
 bringing us once more to the same point. It is 
 giving us the phenomenon for its own explana- 
 tion. The phenomenon of moral obligation is a 
 fact in human nature. Sir James undertakes to 
 explain this fact ; and after leading us through a 
 labyrinth of words, he ends in this, that the phe- 
 nomenon is the phenomenon, and farther the 
 exponent saith not. 
 
 If Sir James means, by the natural order he 
 here speaks of, obedience to the moral impulse 
 over all other impulses (and I can assign no other 
 rational meaning to his words), his telling us that 
 the violation of this order in a case of sexual 
 indulgence leaves the natural order undisturbed in 
 " any" other part of the mind, can only mean 
 that obedience to the sexual appetite in pre- 
 ference to the moral dictate of the mind, does not 
 imply obedience to the appetite of food, or any 
 other impulse, in disobedience of the moral dictate. 
 But surely this is a matter of common experience. 
 
117 
 
 of which no man needed to be informed by Sir 
 James. Oh, what a misfortune to have acquired 
 the habit of venting trite, or identical proposi- 
 tions, in perplexed and mysterious language, before 
 audiences easily and willingly deceived ! 
 
 This obedience to the sexual, disobedience to 
 the moral impulse. Sir James says, is perceived to 
 be a disorder, when seen in another man. By 
 disorder he means disobedience to the moral dic- 
 tates. Is it then any thing extraordinary, that a 
 violation of morality should by those who see it 
 be known to be a violation of morality ? or con- 
 sidered to be so, by the man himself, when the 
 temptation is over ? 
 
 It is for the benefit of exemplifying strongly to 
 the young, the tendency of vague and circuitous 
 language, in philosophy, that there is any use in 
 attending to Sir James. For that reason, we 
 notice the two sentences which he gives us next. 
 " Conscience may forbid the will to contribute to 
 the gratification of a desire. No desire ever for- 
 bids will to obey conscience." All this personifi- 
 cation of certain mental phenomena ; one pheno- 
 menon forbidding another phenomenon ; one 
 phenomenon contributing to the gratification of 
 another phenomenon ; a certain phenomenon 
 never forbidding a certain phenomenon to obey a 
 third phenomenon ; is, in itself, rank nonsense. 
 And when you apply to it the only rational mean- 
 ing of which it is susceptible, it is a trite, or rather 
 
118 
 
 nugatory observation ; neither more nor less that 
 this, that it is sometimes immoral to obey a desire; 
 but it is never immoral to obey conscience in 
 opposition to a desire ; which seems to come to 
 this, that it is moral to act morally, immoral to 
 act immorally. And this is the sum and sub- 
 stance of Sir James's " theory." 
 
 At the same time, and after all this laborious 
 trifling, the subject itself is simple. 
 
 There are, as we have had frequent occasion to 
 observe, two sets of feelings (using feeling gene- 
 rically as the name of any state of mind) concerned 
 about moral acts. The first set of feelings are 
 those which precede the act in the mind of the 
 actor, and are the cause of it. The second set 
 are those which follow the act, and are caused 
 by it. 
 
 About the first set of feelings, there never has 
 been any difficulty. They have been always well 
 understood. They are the motives to the acts, 
 and the dispositions or affections from which the 
 motives proceed. There never was a question 
 about them but one, whether they were original 
 or derived ; that is, whether they were ultimate 
 facts, or had their origin in the personal feelings 
 of the individual. 
 
 The second set are comprehended in the terms 
 moral approbation and disapprobation. With 
 respect to the existence of these feelings, there is 
 as little room for controversy. Every man has 
 
119 
 
 the consciousness of them ; knows what causes 
 them, and what the effects which it is their ten- 
 dency to produce. But there has been great con- 
 troversy about what they are, and various opinions 
 have been put forth and maintained concerning 
 them. 
 
 Sir James undertook to tell us what they are ; 
 and, after a tedious round of talk, has ended by 
 telling us — what we are not the wiser for. 
 
 The greater part of what he has said relates to 
 the first set of feelings, those which precede the 
 act, about which we had no need of his talk ; for 
 every body understands them ; and the only 
 inquiry which concerns them, viz. what is their 
 composition, he has left untouched. He has told 
 us, that they are desires ; that, as such, they have 
 objects ; that these objects are their objects ; that 
 they are in contact with the wilL This, however, 
 is only a strange way of stating the matter of fact, 
 which all men know, that moral acts, like other 
 acts, are produced by volitions, and volitions by 
 desires. 
 
 The remarkable thing is Sir Jameses transition 
 to the sentiments which follow the act, and are 
 produced by it. He says, that the sentiments 
 which precede the act are also the sentiments 
 which follow the act; and that they are so by being 
 in contact with the will. 
 
 And this is Sir James's account of moral ap- 
 probation and disapprobation. 
 
ISO 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Sir James on Bentham. 
 
 Sir James has made the most perfect exhibition 
 of himself, in the article on Mr. Bentham. 
 
 He begins, as most due, with a panegyric on 
 himself. He has had the courage to speak 
 honestly of former philosophers. He is willing 
 to put his courage and honesty to the severest 
 test, in speaking of Mr. Bentham. And he appeals 
 to " the very few who are at once enlightened, 
 and unbiassed," whether " his firmness and equity 
 have stood this trial." 
 
 The reader may ask, naturally enough, what 
 call there was for this loud profession of virtue on 
 the present occasion? As Sir James was not 
 going to praise, but to help in disparaging, an 
 unpopular writer, he had nothing to fear. His 
 " courage," and " firmness," at all events, what- 
 ever was the case wuth his "honesty," had no 
 severe trial to undergo, in taking the very course 
 which led most directly to his end. 
 
 Sir James's mode of expressing himself gives 
 us here, as elsewhere, something to do. " Per- 
 haps," he says, (Sir James is seldom sure,) ** the 
 utter hopelessness of any expedient for satisfying 
 
121 
 
 his (Bentham's) followers, or softening his oppo- 
 nents — " Who called upon Sir James for any such 
 ^'expedient?" His business was to appreciate 
 accurately the merits, and demerits of the writer, 
 without consulting the pleasure, either of those 
 who liked, or of those who disliked him. *' The 
 utter hopelessness of any such expedient may," 
 he says, " perhaps enable a writer to look steadily 
 and solely at what he believes to be the dictates 
 of truth and justice." If Sir James needed helps, 
 to enable him to regard exclusively what " he 
 believed to be the dictates of truth and justice," in 
 representing the characters of other writers, he 
 was very unfit for the task he had undertaken. 
 What species of man is it, who can speak other 
 than what " he believes to be the dictates of truth 
 and justice?" Sir James says, it was the utter 
 hopelessness of pleasing any body, at least any of 
 those who took a part, one way or other, regarding 
 Bentham, which elevated him to that height of 
 virtue. ^ Could he have pleased any body by an 
 " expedient" — truth and justice, he seems to think, 
 might have fared indifferently. 
 
 In the short discourses, which Sir James gives 
 us on a list of names, one after another, (the sort 
 of things which make articles in a magazine, and 
 which he calls, when hung together like beads on 
 a string, the history of philosophy), the first part 
 is generally something in the way of biography. 
 This rule he observes in the article on Bentham. 
 
in 
 
 When any one takes on him to state matters of 
 fact, material to the reputation of individuals, 
 even those of former times, much more those who 
 are alive, (Mr. Bentham was alive when the notable 
 dissertation appeared), he is bound to the utmost 
 vigilance, in ascertaining the truth, even to mi- 
 nuteness, of every thing which he states. The 
 accusation against Sir James, on this score, is very 
 serious. 
 
 The degree of ignorance which he displays 
 respecting the habits of Mr. Bentham, considering 
 the opportunities of knowledge which he had, is 
 amazing. His statements, confidently given, are, 
 with hardly any exception, such departures from 
 the truth as deserve the name of misrepresenta- 
 tions ; and, as they are on the unfavourable side, 
 of unfounded imputations. This does not entitle 
 us to impute wilful, and malignant mendacity to 
 Sir James. But it proves him to have been a 
 man who, in speaking of others, to serve a pur- 
 pose, little minded whether he was speaking cor- 
 rectly or incorrectly. 
 
 He begins his talk about Mr. Bentham, with 
 some unknown persons whom he calls his disci- 
 ples. He frames a picture in his imagination, 
 as remote from the truth as can well be imagined,^ 
 at the same time very unfavourable to the parties 
 concerned in it, and vouches for this to the public, 
 as a statement of matters of fact. 
 
 What motive Sir James had for such a pro- 
 
123 
 
 ceeding as this, is a question which will not fail 
 to be asked by those who are coming upon the 
 stage ; and to which the recollection of the prin- 
 cipal divisions of political opinion, and pretension, 
 in this country, a few years previous to the time 
 when Sir James began to pen the Dissertation, 
 supplies the answer. 
 
 " The disciples of Mr. Bentham derive their 
 opinions not so much from the cold perusal of his 
 writings, as from familiar converse with a master, 
 from whose lips," &c. 
 
 This is mere fiction. It may be safely affirmed, 
 that no man ever derived his opinions from the 
 lips of Mr. Bentham. It is well known, to all 
 who are acquainted with the habits of that great 
 man, that conversation with him was relaxation 
 purely. It was when he had his pen in his hand, 
 that his mind was ever raised to the tone of 
 disquisition ; and he hated at any other time to be 
 called upon for the labour of thinking. Except in 
 the way of allusion, or the mention of some casual 
 circumstance, the doctrines he taught were rarely, 
 if ever, the subject of conversation in his pre- 
 sence. 
 
 It is also a matter of fact, that till within a very 
 few years of the death of Mr. Bentham, the men, 
 of any pretension to letters, who shared his inti- 
 macy, and saw enough of him to have the oppor- 
 tunity of learning much from his lips, were, in 
 number, two. These men were familiar with the 
 
124 
 
 writings of Mr. Bentham ; one of them, at least, be- 
 fore he was acquainted with his person. And they 
 were neither of them men, who took any body for 
 a master, though they were drawn to Mr. Bentham 
 by the sympathy of common opinions, and by the 
 respect due to a man who had done more than any 
 body else to illustrate and recommend doctrines, 
 which they deemed of first-rate importance to the 
 happiness of mankind. 
 
 This is the whole foundation, in matter of fact, 
 which Sir James had for making the statement to 
 the world, with unhesitating assurance (none of 
 the "perhapses" here, without which, on other 
 occasions, he hardly ventures to affirm, that two 
 and two make four), that Mr. Bentham's habit, 
 and practice was, to hold forth in a conventicle of 
 fools, or knaves, or both, such as elsewhere was 
 not to be found on the face of the earth. 
 
 During a few years previously to Mr. Ben- 
 tham's death, when his reputation throughout 
 Europe made the pleasure of seeing him generally 
 sought, he was led by degrees to open his doors 
 to a greater number of visitors ; the larger pro- 
 portion of them, however, strangers, mostly in- 
 deed foreigners, who saw him a few times, and 
 then closed their intercourse. Such men, as he, 
 consented to see, he received at dinner, and only 
 one at a time. For it was one of his rules, seldom 
 infringed, that his working hours in the morning 
 Vere not to be interrupted for any body ; and 
 
125 
 
 another, that conversation was never good for any 
 thing with more than one person at a time. The 
 men whom, even during this short and last period 
 of his life he saw with any frequency, or who 
 professed peculiar esteem for his doctrines, were 
 but two or three at most. 
 
 Sir James has more to say about his conven- 
 ticle. " He and they," (the grand quack, and the 
 little ones), " as they desire the credit of braving 
 vulgar prejudices, so must be content to incur the 
 imputation of falling into the neighbouring vices, 
 of seeking distinction by singularity; of clinging 
 to opinions because they are obnoxious; of 
 wantonly wounding the most respectable feelings 
 of mankind ; of regarding an immense display 
 of method and nomenclature as a sure token of 
 a corresponding increase of knowledge ; and of 
 considering themselves as a chosen few, whom an 
 initiation into the most secret mysteries of philo- 
 sophy entitles to look down with pity, if not 
 contempt, on the profane multitude." 
 
 This is not a short catalogue of imputations, 
 all opprobrious (they are called " vices " by Sir 
 James himself), and all unfounded. 
 
 Sir James, first, pays the men an equivocal com- 
 pliment. They brave vulgar prejudices. This 
 is good, or not good, as the case may be. It 
 is sometimes an act of virtue, to yield to pre- 
 judices. Further, it is hardly ever any thing but 
 a vice, to brave them. The people are not to be 
 
126 
 
 insulted for their errors ; but weaned from them ; 
 even when the time is most fully come for acting 
 on principles better than theirs. 
 
 Mr. Bentham never braved prejudices. He 
 reasoned with those who were mistaken. But he 
 braved sinister interests, however powerful ; and 
 gave them no quarter, wherever he found them at 
 mischievous work. And extraordinary, even at 
 this early day, are the effects which may be 
 traced to his manly and unsparing disclosures ; 
 thoroughly, I am ready to confess, out of the 
 line of Sir James's exertions, and calculated to 
 excite in him, and in those who patronized him, 
 no ordinary resentment. 
 
 The imputation, standing first in order, is — 
 that Mr. Bentham, and the tribe who listened to 
 him, *' sought distinction by singularity." To 
 seek reputation by fraudulent means, is the 
 characteristic property of the mountebank; and 
 a most despicable course of life, whether a man 
 follows it by affecting similarities, or singularities; 
 only it is to be remembered, that the line of the 
 similarities is the most common, and by far the 
 most gainful. 
 
 The only question of importance is, what 
 evidence Sir James had of this criminal conduct? 
 To men, known only as writers, the singularities 
 which can with any pertinence be imputed, are 
 their singularities as writers. And singulari- 
 ties in a man's writings can only be of two sorts ; 
 
127 
 
 singularities in the matter ; or singularities in the 
 manner. In the matter, every author whose 
 aim is to add to the stock of knowledge, makes 
 it his utmost endeavour to obtain singularities ; 
 and the more successful he is, the greater the 
 honour to which he is entitled. Every new idea, 
 nay every improvement in the mode of expound- 
 ing important ideas, is a singularity; but at the 
 same time a benefit, which mankind have always 
 treated, not as a vice, which the talk of Sir James 
 would make it, but as a merit, entitled to the 
 highest applause. 
 
 If the matter of a book of philosophy be good, 
 the manner is a thing of very inferior consequence. 
 Besides, a manner may be very singular, without 
 being very bad. Sir James might have known,, 
 if he had known any thing, that there never yet 
 was a truly original thinker, who had not pecu- 
 liarities of manner. What more singular, than 
 the manner of Aristotle, or the manner of Plato ? 
 Yet who ever thought of bringing manner as a 
 charge against them ? Bacon is singular in 
 manner, and Locke, and Montesquieu. Who 
 more singular than Milton, even in poetry, where 
 manner is of more importance ? And with what 
 matchless effect ? 
 
 There are singularities, no doubt, in Mr. Ben- 
 tham's mode of writing. His anxiety to give his 
 ideas with the utmost possible precision, induced 
 him to do two things, for which he has met with 
 
no mercy at the hands of the small critics ; first, 
 to make his sentences complex, with qualifying 
 clauses ; and secondly, to employ a new word, of 
 his own making, when he did not find an old one 
 suited to his purpose. But this does not hinder 
 the writings of Mr. Bentham from abounding in 
 beauties of expression, both exquisite and original. 
 To the charge of affectation, or the desire of pro- 
 ducing effect by manner instead of matter, the 
 writings themselves give the most direct contra- 
 diction. And of the men whom Sir James may 
 be supposed to have included in the set who went 
 to learn quacking at the abode of Mr. Bentham, 
 to not one have the singularities of this writer, or 
 any other singularities in the mode of writing, 
 been ever imputed. When Sir James, therefore, 
 laid the charge against them, that they pursued 
 reputation by unworthy means, he had not even 
 a shadow of evidence for what he affirmed. 
 
 The next imputation is of a still more serious 
 nature. Bentham, and his brood, were men. Sir 
 James informs us, who " clung to opinions be- 
 cause they were obnoxious." By clinging to an 
 opinion, must be understood, I suppose, adhering 
 to it strongly. But the men who can adhere 
 strongly to an opinion, for any thing, but the 
 truth of it, are not only not philosophers, but 
 not honest men ; and, instead of approbation and 
 honour, deserve nothing but the contempt and 
 hatred of the world. The evidence, again, is 
 
129 
 
 the point of importance. If such a charge is 
 advanced without evidence, the man who is the 
 author of it is not good for much. 
 
 An obnoxious opinion means an offensive 
 opinion ; that is, offensive to somebody. But that 
 proves nothing against the opinion. So long as 
 there are classes of men, who have interests 
 adverse to the rest of the community, the most 
 important opinions will be the most offensive to 
 those, too frequently the most powerful, classes of 
 the community. There is great virtue in putting 
 forth opinions of that sort, and also, as Sir James 
 expresses it, in clinging to them. But Sir James 
 acts not the part of a friend to that kind of 
 virtue, when he endeavours to throw upon it the 
 obloquy of proceeding from a hateful motive, that 
 of giving offence to other men. What ground 
 had Sir James for imputing to Mr. Bentham, or 
 any of those whom he meant to class along with 
 him, this criminal course of conduct ? Nay, the 
 case is still worse. For against what power 
 of evidence, that these men were distinguished in 
 a peculiar manner by care to shew the foundation 
 of their opinions, and to value opinions for 
 nothing but the truth and importance of them, 
 had he the impudence to assert that they adhered 
 to them, because they were mischievous ? 
 
 Sir James's malignity is still more glaringly 
 displayed, in the next passage, where he says, 
 Mr. Bentham, and those whom he classes with 
 
 K 
 
ISO 
 
 him, " incurred the vice of wounding the most 
 respectable feelings of mankind." The feelings^ 
 which men most respect in others, are the feelings 
 by which they are most strongly tied to the dis- 
 charge of their duties. To put forth opinions 
 which wound those feelings, must be to put forth 
 opinions which outrage the principles of morality. 
 Was Sir James so lost to all sense, not of mo- 
 rality, but of shame, as to impute this to 
 Mr. Bentham, and those who hold opinions ana- 
 logous to his ? If not, what did he mean ? And 
 what shade of guilt was it his honourable pur- 
 pose to insinuate? If there is any man alive 
 who is bold enough to defend Sir James, let him 
 shew a single opinion of Mr. Bentham, which 
 tends to wound any feeling, that deserves to be 
 respected, in any human being. Mr. Bentham's 
 opinions grew from one root ; viz., that the good 
 of mankind is the obligatory principle. He em- 
 ployed his whole life in applying that principle to 
 the great branches of human interests ; to laws, 
 to the construction of governments, to ecclesi- 
 astical establishments, to education, and to mo- 
 rality. In all these great departments he found, 
 that the interests of the many had been habitually 
 sacrificed to the interests of the few. In other 
 words, vice, instead of virtue, had been the domi- 
 nant power in the management of human affairs. 
 To tear the veil from this mystery of iniquity, 
 and to shew the many how they had been 
 
131 
 
 treated, as was done with no sparing hand by 
 Mr. Bentham, was sure to wound the feelings, 
 whether respectable or not we have yet to in- 
 quire, of those knots of the few, who grasped in 
 their hands the several branches of the national 
 interests, political, legal, and ecclesiastical ; and 
 who viewed with rage the man who demonstrated 
 the importance of protecting against them the 
 interests of the greater number. These feelings 
 Mr. Bentham wounded, and none other. He, and 
 they who thought with him, regarded such feel- 
 ings as interested attachments to things injurious 
 to mankind, and, agreeably to their principles, 
 decided that the good of mankind was the pre- 
 ferable object Sir James was one of those who 
 take part with the knots, and desire to discredit 
 those who stand up for mankind. 
 
 Sir James's next imputation, too, is false, but 
 frivolous. He says tliat these wounders of the 
 feelings which attach the few to the plunder of 
 the many, " regarded an immense display of 
 method and nomenclature as a sure proof of a 
 corresponding increase of knowledge." In the 
 first place, they did not make any such display ; 
 and in the next place, if they had shewn more 
 than usual care of method and nomenclature, it 
 would not have followed, that they regarded it as 
 a sure proof of a corresponding increase of know- 
 ledge. This is only abuse, as destitute of sense 
 as of foundation. 
 
 K S 
 
132 
 
 Sir James goes on. They, the same persons 
 who took method and nomenclature for know- 
 ledge, " considered themselves as a chosen few, 
 whom an initiation into the most secret mysteries 
 of philosophy, entitled to look down with pity, if 
 not contempt, on the profane multitude." Sir 
 James was a blunderer, in cunning, as well as 
 philosophy. He knew there was nothing man- 
 kind were more sure to repay with usury, than 
 contempt. He, therefore, thought, that he could 
 do nothing more effectual to prevent them from 
 esteeming either Mr. Bentham, or those who 
 held"similar opinions, than by representing them 
 as crazy with self-conceit. Here, as usual. Sir 
 James disregarded evidence ; but he talked too 
 much, and his talk betrays him. He says, that 
 this board of quacks were puffed up, by consider- 
 ing themselves initiated into the most secret mys- 
 teries of philosophy. Sir James forgot, that the 
 times we live in are two thousand years from the 
 times when there were philosophers with secret 
 mysteries, to which they admitted a chosen few. 
 Mr. Bentham, at all events, printed and pub- 
 lished all that he considered valuable in his 
 thoughts ; and all the world knew, or might have 
 known, as much about them as any of those who 
 enjoyed his acquaintance. Sir James, therefore, 
 was unguarded in telling us, that the heads of 
 Mr. Bentham and his friends were turned by 
 secret mysteries. Every thing in Mr. Bentham's 
 
133 
 
 writings is the very reverse of mysterious. He 
 applies plain principles to things the existence of 
 which is not denied ; and desires mankind to look 
 and see what is good for them, and what is not. 
 So far from trying to persuade the world that 
 there is great difficulty in understanding what he 
 teaches, Mr. Bentham is perpetually expressing 
 his astonishment that men should have been so 
 long unable to see their own interest. No ; the 
 quality in Mr. Bentham, which Sir James would 
 willingly degrade, by confounding it with self- 
 conceit, was an attribute of a very different order; 
 that high moral courage, with which he announced 
 opinions, when he knew them to be well founded, 
 and of importance to mankind ; however they 
 might be hated by those to whose interests they 
 were opposed. A man like Sir James can hardly 
 have an idea of this state of mind. The firmness 
 of belief, grounded on evidence ; and the ardour 
 of enunciation, inspired by the love of mankind, 
 shew nothing to him but a man foolishly admiring 
 himself, and underrating the rest of his species. 
 
 The mode of viewing the operation of the 
 sinister interests by Mr. Bentham, and Sir James, 
 constituted a radical distinction between the men. 
 To Mr. Bentham it appeared to the last degree 
 odious ; Sir James was very indulgent, if not 
 partial to it. Mr. Bentham always spoke of it in 
 the language of indignation and scorn. This, in 
 the eyes of Sir James, was highly reprehensible. 
 
134 
 
 *^ To the unpopularity/' he says, " of his philo- 
 sophical and political doctrines," meaning the dis- 
 like of them by those of the sinister interest, 
 whom he attacked, " he has added the more 
 general and lasting obloquy which arises from an 
 unseemly treatment of doctrines and principles 
 which, if there were no other motives for reve- 
 rential deference, even a regard to the feelings of 
 the best men requires to be approached with 
 decorum and respect." The " doctrines and 
 principles," here spoken of, are the pleas made use 
 of to support the sinister interest, in its inroads 
 upon the good of mankind ; for no other doctrines 
 or principles did Mr. Bentham ever mention with 
 that strong reprobation, which Sir James here 
 calls " unseemly treatment." The pleas and pre- 
 texts, which the interested set up, to encourage 
 and defend themselves in perpetrating mischief 
 to the rest of mankind, ought, says Sir James, to 
 be treated " with reverential deference ; " shewing 
 well in what school he had learned his morality. 
 And even, continues Sir James, if there were not 
 other motives for this sort of devotional respect to 
 the sinister interest, " a regard to the feelings of 
 the best men requires that " its mischievous pleas 
 and pretexts " should be approached with decorum 
 and respect." Mr. Bentham's views were drawn 
 from other sources. The pleas and pretexts, by 
 which mischief was done to mankind, it was 
 right, in his opinion, to teach the world to know 
 
135 
 
 and detest, whoever the men might be, whose 
 feelings were to be hurt by the endeavour. They 
 could not, in his opinion, be the "best men," 
 they could not be good men, whose feelings were 
 engaged in favour of those who lived as the 
 enemies of their species. 
 
 So much for what Sir James's historical re- 
 searches have enabled him to charge upon 
 Mr. Bentham, and those whom it pleases him to 
 treat as his accomplices. 
 
 We now proceed to Sir James's account of the 
 doctrines of Mr. Bentham. 
 
 He begins with jurisprudence ; that is, the 
 great field of Mr. Bentham's labours. What he 
 did elsewhere was either auxiliary to those 
 labours, or something which grew out of them. 
 I am tempted to give the passage at length. 
 
 *^ The great merit of this work, and of his 
 other writings in relation to Jurisprudence pro- 
 perly so called, is not within our present scope. 
 To the Roman jurists belongs the praise of 
 having allotted a separate portion of their Digest 
 to the signification of the words of most frequent 
 use in law and legal discussion. Bentham 
 not only first perceived and taught the great 
 value of an introductory section, composed of 
 definitions of general terms, as subservient to 
 brevity and precision in every part of a code, but 
 he also discovered the unspeakable importance of 
 natural arrangement in jurisprudence, by ren^ 
 
136 
 
 dering the mere place of a proposed law in such 
 an arrangement a short and easy test of the fitness 
 of the proposal. But here he does not distinguish 
 between the value of arrangement as scaffolding, 
 and the inferior convenience of its being the very 
 frame-work of the structure. Mr. Bentham, in- 
 deed, is mu^h more remarkable for laying down 
 desirable rules for the determination of rights, 
 and the punishment of wrongs, in general, than 
 for weighing the various circumstances which 
 require them to be modified in different countries 
 and times in order to render them either more 
 useful, more easily introduced, more generally 
 respected, or more certainly executed. The art 
 of legislation consists in thus applying the prin- 
 ciples of jurisprudence to the situation, wants, 
 interests, feelings, opinions, and habits, of each 
 distinct community at any given time. It bears 
 the same relation to jurisprudence which the 
 mechanical arts bear to pure Mathematics. Many 
 of these considerations serve to shew, that the 
 sudden establishment of new codes can seldom be 
 practicable or effectual for their purpose; and 
 that reformation, though founded on the prin- 
 ciples of jurisprudence, ought to be not only 
 adapted to the peculiar interests of a people, but 
 engrafted on their previous usages, and brought 
 into harmony with those national dispositions on 
 which the execution of laws depends. The 
 Romans under Justinian, adopted at least the 
 
true principle, if they did not apply it with suffi- 
 cient freedom and boldness. They considered 
 the multitude of occasional laws, and the still 
 greater mass of usages, opinions, and determina- 
 tions, as the materials of legislation, not pre- 
 cluding, but demanding a systematic arrangement 
 of the whole by the supreme authority. Had 
 the arrangement been more scientific, had there 
 been a bolder examination and a more free 
 reform of many particular branches, a model 
 would have been offered for liberal imitation by 
 modern lawgivers. It cannot be denied, with- 
 out injustice and ingratitude, that Mr. Bentham 
 has done more than any other writer to rouse the 
 spirit of juridical reformation, which is now 
 gradually examining every part of law, and, when 
 further progress is facilitated by digesting the 
 present laws, will doubtless proceed to the im- 
 provement of all. Greater praise it is given to 
 few to earn. It ought to satisfy Mr. Bentham, 
 for the disappointment of hopes which were not 
 reasonable, that Russia should receive a code 
 from him, or that North America could be 
 brought to renounce the variety of her laws and 
 institutions, on the single authority of a foreign 
 philosopher, whose opinions had not worked their 
 way either into legislation or into general recep- 
 tion in his own country. It ought also to dis- 
 pose his followers to do fuller justice to the 
 Romillys and Broughams, without whose pru- 
 
138 
 
 dence and energy, as well as reason and elo- 
 quence, the best plans of reformation must have 
 continued a dead letter, — for whose sake it might 
 have been fit to reconsider the obloquy heaped on 
 their profession, and to shew more general indul- 
 gence to all those whose chief offence seems to 
 consist in their doubts whether sudden changes, 
 almost always imposed by violence on a commu- 
 nity, be the surest road to lasting improvement." 
 
 Sir James ascribes to Mr. Bentham two " dis- 
 coveries ;" First, the usefulness of definitions of 
 general terms ; Secondly, the usefulness of a good 
 arrangement. Assuredly, Mr. Bentham did not 
 claim the merit of a discoverer, in regard to either 
 of these two very useful things. It will be said, 
 perhaps, that Sir James only meant the discovery 
 of their usefulness, in jurisprudence. But it was 
 no very great discovery, to find out that what 
 was useful in every other department of thought, 
 would be useful also in this. If he meant, that it 
 was never seen before, not even by the crowds of 
 persons, who, from generation to generation, had 
 been manufacturing wealth and power to them- 
 selves, out of their knowledge, or pretended 
 knowledge of the subject, a curious state of intel- 
 lectual capacity is imputed to them. 
 
 On one point, the words of Sir James deserve 
 looking at. Mr. Bentham "discovered the unspeak- 
 able importance of natural arrangement in juris- 
 prudence." Very well. And then Sir James tells 
 
139 
 
 us what he did it by. He did it, " by rendering 
 the mere place of a proposed law in such an 
 arrangement a short and easy test of the fitness 
 of the proposal." The process is curious. Mr. 
 Bentham, first of all, made the good arrangement, 
 for he could not make a place in it till he had it. 
 He had it, however, without yet knowing whether 
 it was good for any thing or not. To arrive at 
 that knowledge, it was necessary to put a pro- 
 posed law in it, in its proper place ; to make that 
 place the test of the goodness or badness of the 
 law ; and when the law was so tested, Mr. Ben- 
 tham saw, and not before, that a good arrange- 
 ment was a good thing. Sir James does not tell 
 us, in what way, the chapter and section, in which 
 such or such a law would be inserted in a well- 
 made code, would shew its goodness or badness, 
 and no man that lives, or ever will live, will do 
 it for him. 
 
 Mr. Bentham's knowledge of a good arrange- 
 ment, after he had made it, and after he had 
 discovered (which was a subsequent operation) 
 the unspeakable importance of it, was still very 
 imperfect. " He did not distinguish between the 
 value of arrangement as scaffolding, and the infe- 
 rior convenience of its being the very frame-work 
 of the structure." A man accustomed to hear 
 words used with ideas annexed to them, is con- 
 founded, when he listens to such a volley as this. 
 What notion of arrangement could Sir James 
 
140 
 
 have had in his head, when he called it scaffold- 
 ing ? The scaffolding is something extraneous to 
 the building. The arrangement is the putting 
 every part of the materials, every brick, every 
 beam, every plank, every nail, in its proper place. 
 The arrangement, however, in Sir James's notion, 
 is not the scaffolding merely ; it is both the scaf- 
 folding, and the frame-work of the building. Is 
 not this sufficiently marvellous ? And Mr. Ben- 
 tham is blamed for not knowing that its utility as 
 frame-work is less considerable than its utility as 
 scaffolding. I dare be sworn that Mr. Bentham 
 never contemplated it in either light. 
 
 So much for Mr. Bentham's merits, and de- 
 merits, in the work of arrangement. Sir James 
 next proceeds to the beaten topic of theory and 
 practice ; and tells us, of Mr. Bentham, what the 
 blockheads are so fond of saying, of the men who 
 think ; that he was theoretical, rather than prac- 
 tical. Sir James thus delivers himself of the usual 
 prattle. " Mr. Bentham, indeed, is much more 
 remarkable for laying down desirable rules for the 
 determination of rights, and the punishment of 
 wrongs in general, than for weighing the various 
 circumstances which require them to be modified 
 in different countries and times, in order to render 
 them either more useful, more easily introduced, 
 more generally respected, or more certainly exe- 
 cuted." These few lines display, what poor, 
 inadequate, ideas were in the head of Sir James, 
 
141 
 
 upon the subject of jurisprudence. He says, that 
 Mr. Bentham, being a theoretical jurist, was most 
 strong in laying down rules for the determination 
 of rights, and the punishment of crimes in gene- 
 ral. He did not see that this is not the business 
 of jurisprudence at all. Sir James was ignorant 
 of the import of the words he used. There are 
 no rules in general ; all rules are rules in par- . 
 ticular ; they are directions for the performance 
 of acts one by one. The arithmetical rule of 
 three, though it applies equally to an infinite 
 number of cases, applies to them individually. 
 
 Sir James confounds jurisprudence and legis- 
 lation. The business of jurisprudence, is exposi- 
 tion ; the business of legislation, is prospective 
 command. The jurist investigates the true ends 
 of law ; and explains the system of operations or 
 means, by which these objects may be the most 
 perfectly obtained. These are the great subjects 
 on which the powers of Mr. Bentham's mind 
 were habitually employed ; not in making rules 
 in general for the determination of rights ; rules 
 in general for the punishment of wrongs. Such 
 combinations of words are mere jargon. 
 
 This is Sir James's account of what Mr. Ben- 
 tham could do : next follows his account of what 
 he could not do. He could not weigh the cir- 
 cumstances to which laws are to be accommodated. 
 Question. — How did Sir James know ? Answer. 
 — He did not know. Question. — How, then. 
 
142 
 
 came he to say so ? Answer. — By the bad habit 
 of asserting what made for the present purpose, 
 whether he knew it to be so or not. 
 
 Had Sir James any instance he could shew of 
 a law proposed by Mr. Bentham for any of Sir 
 James's " different countries and times," and 
 which was at variance with any of " the various 
 circumstances which require laws to be modified 
 in order to make them either more useful, more 
 easily introduced, more generally respected, or 
 more certainly executed ?" He had not. But he 
 had before him another thing, of which it did 
 not suit him to take any notice; evidence that 
 Mr. Bentham considered attention to the circum- 
 stances which distinguish any people for whom 
 a particular code is designed, as essential, and of 
 primary importance. 
 
 There are two sets of circumstances, to which 
 it is necessary to attend in the making of laws. 
 There are circumstances, which all nations have 
 in common. There are other circumstances, 
 which each nation has peculiar to itself. The 
 first set of circumstances, those which nations 
 have in common ; at least, nations which are nearly 
 on the same level in point of civilization ; are 
 beyond comparison the most important ; and were 
 laws well adapted to them, the modifications 
 required for the particular circumstances of each 
 particular country, would not be very great. But 
 here is the curious thing, in the theory of those 
 
14S 
 
 who prate like Sir James. The men, they say, 
 who alone are capable of attending to the general 
 circumstances ; the more numerous, and the more 
 important ; of understanding them, and making 
 provision for them, are utterly incapable of under- 
 standing and making provision for the peculiar, 
 far less numerous and less important, circum- 
 stances, which are found in particular communi- 
 ties. Why should they? Has it ever been 
 shewn, that there are any of those circumstances 
 which cannot be made known to these men, when 
 they have occasion to know them? that there is 
 any of them, the import of which they cannot 
 comprehend? or for which, when so compre- 
 hended, they are unable to perceive the provision 
 which should be mad« ? The very reverse of all 
 this is the truth. The only men who can appre- 
 ciate the circumstances which are accidental to 
 this or that particular people, are the men who 
 best understand that far more important part of 
 the circumstances constituting their condition, 
 which they have in common with the men of 
 other communities. The operation of the minor 
 circumstances can only be judged of by knowing 
 the bearing upon them of the fundamental, and 
 the predominant. But how can that be known 
 to them to whom the circumstances themselves 
 are unknown, to whom they have never been 
 objects of study, hardly of a casual regard ? 
 Accordingly, we see what work is made by the 
 
144 
 
 men called practical, when they have to construct 
 laws for another country than their own. They 
 utterly neglect both sets of circumstances, both 
 those which the country in question has in com- 
 mon with other countries, and those which are 
 peculiar to itself. They transplant bodily the 
 laws of iheir own country, as if this were the 
 best provision which could be made for a country, 
 the circumstances of which may differ in any 
 degree. 
 
 Sir James then goes on to inform us, wherein 
 the " art of legislation consists." It consists in 
 applying principles to circumstances. It applies 
 the principles of jurisprudence to the circum- 
 stances of a people. This is stale talk, which 
 gives no information, and proves the utmost 
 poverty of ideas. What does Sir James take the 
 principles of jurisprudence to be? Does he sup- 
 pose, that they are a parcel of theorems, embody- 
 ing abstract truth ? Such as the theorem, that 
 things equal to the same thing are equal to one 
 another? One would imagine that this is what 
 he does suppose, by what he says about the 
 resemblance of the principles of jurisprudence 
 to pure mathematics. But if this be what he 
 understands by the principles of jurisprudence, 
 jurisprudence has no such principles; and his 
 definition of the art of legislation, therefore, is, 
 that it applies nothing to something ; viz. to the 
 circumstances of a people. 
 
145 
 
 The business of jurisprudence is not to lay 
 down theorems ; but to trace, and expound, the 
 means adapted to a certain end. That end, to 
 denote it the most generally, is the protection 
 of rights. Jurisprudence, then, investigates the 
 means which are best for the protection of rights. 
 It does not determine what ought to be rights, 
 and what ought not; or what is that distribution 
 of powers, which is most conducive to the hap- 
 piness of mankind upon the whole. That belongs 
 to the science of legislation, wholly distinct from 
 that of jurisprudence; though Sir James, in his 
 plenitude of knowledge, appears to have con- 
 founded the two. 
 
 Nations have not been uniform in the constitu- 
 tion of rights. Rights have been constituted in 
 some countries, which have not been constituted 
 in others. It is, however, remarkable to what 
 an extent uniformity prevails. There is wonder- 
 ful similarity, in all that is most important in 
 rights, between what is constituted in one country 
 and another, even under great differences in point 
 of civilization, and other circumstances. 
 
 Rights, jurisprudence takes as it finds them ; 
 and then inquires by what means they can best 
 be secured. By its investigations it has esta- 
 blished, that for this security it is necessary, first, 
 that rights should be accurately defined; secondly, 
 that such acts as would impair or destroy them, 
 should be prevented by punishment ; thirdly, that 
 
146 
 
 men should be appointed to determine all ques- 
 tions relating to rights, and the violation of them; 
 fourthly, that the trust vested in each, and the 
 mode of exercising it, should be according to cer- 
 tain principles, and fixed by rules. Definition of 
 rights, punishment for wrongs, constitution of 
 tribunals, mode of procedure in the tribunals, are 
 the heads under which all the objects of jurispru- 
 dence are arranged. What does Sir James mean 
 by applying these to circumstances ? The defini- 
 tion of rights is the definition of rights, under all 
 circumstances ; the punishing of crime, or the 
 creation of artificial motives to abstain from cer- 
 tain acts, is of the same nature, under all circum- 
 stances ; the deciding of differences by third 
 parties, is equally necessary under all circum- 
 stances ; and the best mode of proceeding, in 
 order to get at the truth in the disputed case, is 
 the same under all circumstances. What, in 
 truth, is all this, but a skilful use of circumstances 
 to the attainment of a great end ; an end common 
 to all nations, by use, mostly, of the circumstances 
 common to all nations ; modified, to be sure, where 
 need is, by the circumstances peculiar to each. 
 The phrase, principles of jurisprudence, then, in 
 any correct sense of the word, means the skilful 
 adaptation of circumstances to a particular end. 
 But what can Sir James mean by telling us, that 
 the art of legislation consists in applying the use 
 of circumstances to circumstances? " >, 
 
147 
 
 ^ Sir James favours us with another choice re- 
 mark on the subject of jurisprudence. His words 
 are, " Many of these considerations," the in- 
 structive ones we have been just examining, 
 " serve to shew that the sudden establishment of 
 new codes can seldom be practicable or effectual 
 for their purpose ; and that reformations, though 
 founded on the principles of jurisprudence, ought 
 to be not only adapted to the peculiar interests of 
 a people, but engrafted on their previous usages, 
 and brought into harmony with those national 
 dispositions on which the execution of laws de- 
 pends." — This is the slang of those who are the 
 enemies of all reform. This serves for a while, 
 after the language of direct adherence to what is 
 contrary to reason can no longer be held. Your 
 reform is a good reform, a code is a good thing ; 
 but the " sudden establishment " of it is bad ; 
 therefore wait a while ; and as the argument is 
 equally good at all succeeding times, it is an 
 argument for everlasting postponement. 
 
 What meaning had Sir James, when he talked 
 of " new codes?" A code is the expression, in 
 written characters, of the rights, existing in some 
 country, for the purpose of making them certainly 
 and easily known. If a book, containing that 
 expression, were once made; and that, though 
 difficult, is not impracticable; where is there any 
 impracticability whatsoever in the use of it ? 
 The use of it would be to render every thing easier. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 Sir James had a jumble in his head of an 
 alteration of rights, along with a definition of 
 rights. There are much more serious objections 
 to an alteration of rights, than are contained in 
 Sir James's words " impracticable," and " in- 
 effectual for their purpose." But these are no 
 concern of those who do not propose by their 
 codes to make any alteration of rights. 
 
 Sir James says, that his foregoing considera- 
 tions tell us another thing; that the reforms 
 intended for a people, should not only be good for 
 the people, but seen by them to be so ; for if, in 
 consequence of previous habits, they should be- 
 lieve them to be injurious, they will impede 
 their operation. " These considerations serve 
 to shew," he says, " that reformations, though 
 founded on the principles of jurisprudence, ought 
 to be not only adapted to the peculiar interests of 
 a people, but engrafted on their previous usages, 
 and brought into harmony with those national dis- 
 positions on which the execution of laws depends," 
 
 *' Peculiar interests of a people." Did Sir 
 James know any interests of a people which are 
 not peculiar ? And if he did, was it his opinion 
 that reformations did not need to be adapted to 
 that portion of a people's interests ? 
 
 As it may always be alledged that a people's 
 " usages " and " dispositions " are adverse to the 
 reforms which any body has his reasons for dis- 
 liking, this is a standing argument against all 
 
149 
 
 reform ; though it is easily seen to be utterly 
 worthless for that purpose ; because if any man 
 says, that such or such a measure is good for the 
 people, but the people do not see that it is good 
 for them, there is only one honest course open to 
 him, and that is, immediately to set about in- 
 structing them. If any thing is really good for 
 the people, it is rarely indeed a very difficult 
 matter to make them see that it is so. The only 
 difficulty is with that class of persons who see, 
 that whether good or not for the people, it will 
 not be good for them ; who therefore do all they 
 can to misguide the people ; and as long as they 
 have power and influence are never without such 
 folks as Sir James to aid and abet them. 
 
 The mistakes of the people, regarding their 
 own interest, may commonly be rectified, where 
 much influence and artifice are not employed to 
 delude them. What is wanted, therefore, is, to 
 unmask the influence, and detect the artifice. 
 Because Mr. Bentham did this, with the per- 
 severance and power, which all acknowledge, he 
 brought upon himself the obloquy which we have 
 found Sir James so eager to repeat, and to con- 
 firm, by all the weight of his authority; — which, 
 however, by the time we have done with him, 
 will not, I imagine, go for much. 
 
 Besides, the observation is extraneous to the 
 present purpose; for what is there, in the law 
 reforms which jurisprudence recommends, that 
 
can be ill-adapted to the " previous usages," and 
 " national dispositions," of any people ? No 
 people can be unwilling that their rights, which 
 are rights only so far as known, should be 
 accurately made known. No man who needs 
 redress of wrongs can be sorry to see a fit person 
 appointed, near his door, to afford him that re- 
 dress. No man who desires decision according to 
 the truth can be unwilling that such a course of 
 inquiry should be prescribed, as leads to it with 
 most certainty, and least expense. No man who 
 desires security against wrong decision, but must 
 be pleased to have the power of calling, at little 
 or no expense, for a review of the decision of 
 which he complains, by another and a higher 
 tribunal. What then could be Sir James's 
 motive for prating to us about the necessity of 
 adapting these operations " to the peculiar in- 
 terests of a people; engrafting them on their 
 previous usages ; and bringing them into harmony 
 with those national dispositions on which the ex- 
 ecution of laws depends ? " 
 
 The last thing Sir James tells us of Mr. Ben- 
 tham's labours in jurisprudence is, that he 
 " roused the spirit of juridical reformation." Sir 
 James says that this deserves great praise. And 
 I shall tell how it was done. It was, by laying 
 bare to public view the deformities of the existing 
 system ; and covering with shame the artifices 
 by which sinister interest had so long protected 
 
151 
 
 Ihem. And for doing this Sir James catches 
 eagerly every opportunity of loading him with 
 reproaches. It is for this, that he, and they 
 whom it suits Sir James to associate with him, 
 are held forth to the world as fools and knaves, 
 deluding themselves with ideas of their own con- 
 sequence, and seeking to impose upon the world 
 by false pretences. 
 
 As an instance of this self-delusion in Mr. Ben- 
 tham, Sir James says, that he actually entertained 
 hopes that Russia would receive a code from him, 
 and that North America would renounce " the 
 variety of her laws and ^ institutions,'* on his 
 single authority. This is a very gross misrepre- 
 sentation. In consequence of correspondence 
 with men of influence in both countries, on the 
 subject of a reform of their laws, Mr. Bentham 
 was induced to say to both of them, if you really 
 design to reform your laws, and think that I can 
 be of use to you in the undertaking, I must tell 
 you the way in which to me it appears that my 
 labours can be rendered most advantageous to 
 you. It is in making for you the draught of a 
 code. This I will do, upon your invitation, 
 without pay or reward, and without any other 
 condition, than that you shall print and publish 
 it ; after which, you shall make whatever use of 
 it may to you seem meet. In the simplicity of 
 his heart Mr. Bentham believed that there could 
 be no harm in making this proposal to the go- 
 
152 
 
 vernments themselves, little thinking of those 
 whom Sir James knew he would delight by re- 
 presenting it as a ludicrous and contemptible 
 instance of over-grown vanity and conceit. 
 
 Mr. Bentham's merit in rousing the spirit of 
 law reform, Sir James says, ought to have done 
 two things. It ought to have consoled him for 
 the disappointment of his ridiculous hopes. And 
 " it ought to have disposed his followers to do 
 fuller justice to the Romillys and Broughams." 
 That his followers, and all other men, ought to do 
 justice to the Romillys and Broughams, is most 
 certain. But it is not so easy to see how the 
 merit of Mr. Bentham should be a reason for 
 it? Wherein, moreover, have those whom he 
 most probably intends to mark by the name of 
 followers of Mr. Bentham, failed in doing justice 
 to the Romillys and the Broughams ? Sir James 
 does not tell us any thing those two reformers 
 had done which remained without due acknow- 
 ledgement. With respect to them, he, according 
 to custom, uses vague, eulogistic terms ; " prudence 
 and energy" — " reason and eloquence." And 
 then he gives us this valuable remark, that 
 without the prudence and energy, the reason and 
 eloquence, of these two individuals, " the best 
 plans of reformation must have remained a dead 
 letter." How little did Sir James know about 
 the matter ! The question, whether law was to 
 be reformed or not reformed, did not depend, 
 
15S 
 
 thank God ! upon the existence of any two men 
 whatsoever. Law would have been reformed had 
 these men never been born. They had the merit 
 of being the first men of station in this country 
 who caught the spirit of law reform ; and one of 
 them has lived to render it signal service. But 
 if they had not, others most assuredly would. 
 The fulness of time was come. The harvest was 
 ripe for the sickle, and there would not have been 
 wanting men to put it in. 
 
 Even here. Sir James must return to his 
 favourite pastime of abusing Mr. Bentham, for 
 having covered with shame the efforts of the 
 sinister interest to uphold profitable abuses. The 
 merit of the Romillys and Broughams ought 
 to have had two effects ; it ought to have pro- 
 cured praise, the Lord knows how much, to the 
 Romillys and Broughams ; and it ought to have 
 saved from blame all those who had laboured in 
 the opposite direction, viz., to do evil and prevent 
 good. The sinister interest, and its operation, 
 the cause of the worst evils which have afflicted 
 mankind. Sir James tells us are only " doubts, 
 whether sudden changes, almost always imposed 
 by violence on a community, be the surest road to 
 lasting improvement." This is a curious ex- 
 hibition. The man who exposes the cruel opera- 
 tion of the sinister interest, is held up in the 
 light of a man proposing sudden changes im- 
 posed by violence ; and those who are the authors 
 
154. 
 
 of that cruel operation are only men who doubt 
 whether sudden changes, imposed by violence, are 
 the surest road to lasting improvement. The 
 sinister interest, according to Sir James, is your 
 only true lover of the lasting improvement. 
 Reform is only safe in the hands of those who 
 have an interest in preventing it. The in- 
 sinuation with respect to Mr. Bentham marks 
 indelibly the character of Sir James. When did 
 Mr. Bentham recommend any sudden change, 
 importing the need of violence to impose it on a 
 community? 
 
 Such is the information relative to the great 
 business of Mr. Bentham's life, jurisprudence, 
 which Sir James found himself competent to im- 
 part to us. Yet Sir James, once in his life, was a 
 teacher. Lord guide us ! of jurisprudence; and we 
 possess, left behind him, his introductory dis- 
 course. Dr. Beattie says, somewhere, of Boling- 
 broke's " Idea of a Patriot King," that it is 
 vox et prcBterea 7iihiL But it is a discourse 
 loaded with matter compared with this of Sir 
 James. 
 
 Sir James now comes to give his account of 
 what is ethical in the writings of Mr. Bentham. 
 In this part, it is necessary, in order to answer 
 any useful purpose, to be minute with Sir James. 
 And as Sir James is a man of many words, and 
 few ideas, the being minute with him is being 
 jminute with his words. Nothing can hinder this 
 
155 
 
 from being tedious ; but I hope to make it 
 apparent that it is useful. 
 
 " It is unfortunate," says Sir James, " that 
 ethical theory, with which we are now chiefly 
 concerned, is not the province in which Mr. Ben^ 
 tham has reached the most desirable distinction." 
 It is probable that Sir James meant here to cast 
 an injurious reflection. It is said of a man that 
 he has not reached the most desirable distinction, 
 when he is distinguished for something bad. If 
 Sir James meant only that Mr. Bentham had not 
 reached the highest distinction, iti ethical science, 
 that is, in a science in which he had never tried to 
 reach any, having only touched upon it, as a pre* 
 liminary to jurisprudence, and no further than 
 was necessary to that end, the observation is 
 nugatory. - : 
 
 Sir James next tells us, with an air of discovery, 
 that the master of a school generally does much 
 to give a character to the school. Who else 
 should ? He also says, that Mr. Bentham thought 
 himself the discoverer of the principle of utility. 
 This is worth mentioning only as a specimen of 
 what Sir James was about, when he was thinking. 
 But now we come to the first of his philosophical 
 objections. " That," he says, " in which Mr. 
 Bentham really differs from others is in the 
 necessity which he teaches, and the example which 
 he sets, of constantly bringing that principle before 
 us." This is not true. Mr. Bentham says no 
 
156 
 
 more about the necessity of looking to his prin- 
 ciple, than every other philosopher says about the 
 necessity of looking to his. 
 
 However, Sir James says, " this peculiarity 
 appears to us to be his radical error." If he 
 means, that taking utility for the principle of 
 morality is his radical error, we can understand 
 him. He dissents from this doctrine, and that is 
 all. But if he means, that Mr. Bentham differed 
 from other philosophers in this, that he taught 
 the necessity of looking to the principle of morality, 
 and they did not, this is not true ; and would be 
 a distinction singularly in favour of Mr. Bentham, 
 if it were. Every philosopher teaches the neces- 
 sity of bringing perpetually before us what he 
 deems the principle of morality; right reason, 
 one ; the will of God, another ; and so on. Mr. 
 Bentham does the same ; and not more than they 
 do. — Sir James concludes thus his account of this 
 error. " In an attempt, of which the constitution 
 of human nature forbids the success," (namely, 
 bringing the principle of morality continually 
 before us), " he seems to us to have been led into 
 fundamental errors in moral theory, and to have 
 given to his practical doctrine a dangerous taint." 
 Observe the connection of this talk. Sir James 
 first tells us, the bringing the principle of morality 
 continually before us, is Mr. Bentham's radical 
 error. He now says, — in this error, Mr. Bentham 
 falls into fundamental errors. He falls into 
 
157 
 
 fundamental errors, in his radical error. And 
 this curious case of falling, on the part of Mr. 
 Bentham, viz., his recommending, along with all 
 other philosophers, a vigilant attention to the 
 principle of morality, gives a dangerous taint to 
 his practical doctrine. Does it, indeed ? The 
 thing cannot be done, says Sir James. That is, 
 no man is perfectly true to the principle of 
 morality ; every man is guilty of deviations. But 
 is that a reason why every man should not be 
 taught to be true to it ? Sir James's practical 
 doctrine, at least, seems to have a very dangerous 
 taint in it. 
 
 Sir James has another paragraph, long and 
 intricate, which seems to be intended for an illus- 
 tration of this error of Mr. Bentham. 
 
 " The necessity of constantly bringing the prin- 
 ciple of utility," by which Mr. Bentham under- 
 stands the principle of morality, " perpetually 
 before us," is now called, making " utility the 
 chief motive of human conduct." 
 
 Does Sir James mean to deny that the principle 
 of morality is the rightful guide and controller of 
 human conduct ? Does he mean to affirm, that 
 when a man clearly determines that it is right for 
 him to do such a thing, wrong to do such another 
 thing, a motive may exist, entitled to overbear the 
 obligation of morality ? If so, what becomes of 
 all that noisy talk we had about Butler's " disco- 
 very ; " that conscience alone is entitled to com- 
 
158 
 
 mahd ? Is Butler to be praised, Bentham abused, 
 for one and the same thing? Conscience com- 
 manding, is only another name for acting accord- 
 ing to the principle of morality ; but how can a 
 man be said to act according to a principle, if he 
 does not bring it before him. 
 
 Sir James is at great pains with this principle 
 of his, that the principle of morality is not the 
 chief motive of human conduct. He says, " the 
 confusion of moral approbation with the moral 
 qualities which are its objects, already mentioned 
 at the opening of this dissertation, has led Mr. 
 Bentham to assume, that because the principle of 
 utility forms a necessary part of every moral 
 theory, it ought therefore to be the chief motive 
 of human conduct." We have here a reference to 
 that charge against Bentham and Paley, which 
 we formerly considered, and shewed to be about 
 the strangest thing that ever dropped from a pen. 
 This confusion, which Bentham never committed, 
 i. e. a nothing, a thing without existence, led 
 Mr. Bentham to draw a conclusion. What con- 
 clusion ? Why this ; — " the principle of utility 
 forms a necessary part of every moral theory, 
 therefore it ought to be the chief motive of human 
 conduct." Now to the fact. Mr. Bentham never 
 drew such a conclusion in his life. He never 
 said, or dreamed of saying, that any thing's being 
 a part of a moral theory, constituted it necessarily 
 the chief motive of human conduct. In fact he 
 
15^ 
 
 never said, that the principle of morality was ^ 
 motive at all. He knew better the meaning of 
 the word. His doctrine of motives was, that 
 neither morality nor immorality belongs to mo- 
 tives, but to a different part of the mental process. 
 
 Sir James lays down his own doctrine, as if in 
 refutation of Mr. Bentham. " A theory founded 
 on utility requires that we should cultivate, as 
 excitements to practice, those other habitual dis- 
 positions, which we know by experience to be 
 generally the source of actions beneficial to our- 
 selves and our fellows ; habits of feeling produc- 
 tive of habits of virtuous conduct, and in them 
 more strengthened by the re-action of these last." 
 
 We have occasion, first, for a little verbal cri- 
 ticism. Dispositions are made by cultivation. 
 Sir James says, the habitual dispositions, that is, 
 dispositions with respect to which there is no 
 longer need of cultivation, should be cultivated. 
 He does not mean this ; but it shews how little 
 capable he was of expressing a meaning. 
 
 The doctrine is, that there are dispositions 
 auxiliary to virtue, and that they ought to be 
 cultivated. This is a truth which no man who 
 ever reflected upon these things was ignorant of, 
 and which no man in the world ever denied. 
 What was the "disposition" of Sir James when 
 he gave it to be understood that Mr. Bentham 
 had either denied it, or overlooked it ? 
 
 We pick up, as we go on, that the feelings he 
 
160 
 
 speaks of are " the social affections, felt with the 
 utmost warmth." He then tells us something 
 about social affections* They " give birth to 
 more comprehensive benevolence." That is to 
 say, the love of John, and of Kate, gives birth to 
 the love of a whole parish. But the social affec- 
 tions, when they give birth to the more compre- 
 hensive benevolence, " are not supplanted by it," 
 That is to say, the love of Kate and of John, 
 when it has begotten the love of the parish, 
 remains the love of Kate and of John all the 
 same. Further, when the social affections are 
 felt with the utmost warmth, " the moral senti- 
 ments most strongly approve what is right and 
 good." This is rather puzzling. Does it mean, 
 that when the love of John and of Kate is felt 
 with the utmost warmth, the moral sentiments 
 most strongly approve a reform of the law, for 
 (example, which is undoubtedly right and good ; 
 one of the most right and good of all possible 
 things ? Again, the moral sentiments, under the 
 love of John and Kate, " are not perplexed by a 
 calculation of consequences." Here Sir James 
 gets hold of the hack argument against the prin- 
 ciple of utility. It requires calculation, and men 
 are not good at calculating. Is action to be 
 always suspended, till calculation is performed ? 
 
 The shallowness, evinced by this talk, is asto- 
 nishing; and yet it has been held by men of 
 considerable name. Is it possible to avoid per- 
 
161 
 
 ceiving, at a glance, that it utterly subverts 
 morality ? 
 
 Mr. Bentham demonstrated that the morality 
 of an act does not depend upon the motive. The 
 same motive may give birth to acts which are of 
 the most opposite nature. The man who earns 
 five shillings by his day's labour, and the man 
 who robs him of it as he is returning at night to 
 his home, both act from the same motive, the 
 desire of obtaining a few shillings. 
 
 Mr. Bentham further demonstrated, that the 
 morality of an act is altogether dependant on the 
 intention. One man fires a gun at a partridge, 
 and kills it ; another man fires a gun at a par- 
 tridge, but kills his brother. If care was not 
 wanting to ascertain whether any person was 
 exposed, the latter act, notwithstanding its fatal 
 consequences, was as void of guilt as the former. 
 
 The intention has a reference exclusively to the 
 consequences of the act. When a man performs 
 an act, he is said to intend the consequences of it, 
 those at least which he foresees. He induces, for 
 example, a married woman to yield to his impure 
 desires, aware of the ruin which it is calculated to 
 bring upon herself, and the sufferings which it 
 may inflict on her children and husband. These 
 consequences, as far as foreseen, or capable of 
 being foreseen, he is said to intend. 
 
 Sir James's talk implies, that he committed the 
 miserable blunder of confounding motive, and 
 
 M 
 
16^2 
 
 intention. Let us attend a little to this point. 
 The motive regards one, or a few, of the conse- 
 quences of the act ; the intention regards them 
 all. In the case above stated, the pleasure to the 
 seducer is the motive to the seduction, and is one 
 consequence of the act ; the intention includes 
 both that and its other consequences. These 
 consequences in this case evidently divide them- 
 selves into two sorts ; the one sort, pleasurable, 
 viz. to the author of the act ; the other, painful, 
 viz. to other persons. 
 
 When the consequences of the act are pleasura- 
 ble to other persons, as well as to the actor, the 
 case, is simple ; the intention has in it nothing but 
 what is good. When, however, among the conse- 
 quences of the act, some are hurtful to others, con- 
 sideration is required. If they are hurtful to 
 others to a certain degree, and pleasurable to the 
 actor in a less degree, the conclusion of all men is, 
 that it is wrong, immoral, to perform the act. 
 The question, ought, or ought not, the act to be 
 performed, is evidently a question of comparison. 
 There is a certain amount of good on the one 
 side ; a certain amount of evil on the other : 
 which preponderates ? If a man intends by any 
 act a greater amount of evil than of good, his 
 intention is bad ; his conduct criminal. Morality, 
 or immorality, therefore, depends, by the very 
 nature of the case, upon calculation. A man 
 cannot act without intention, without looking at 
 
163 
 
 the consequences of his act. If he looks imper- 
 fectly at them ; that is, takes not the necessary 
 pains to ascertain the evil, which the act may do 
 to others, and nevertheless performs it, he is cri- 
 minal with regard to all the consequences which 
 he might have foreseen. An intention therefore 
 is good or bad, according as the good or evil con- 
 sequences of the act predominate. This is ascer- 
 tained by calculation. 
 
 The calculation is, no doubt, in many cases, 
 easy ; the preponderance of good, or of evil, being 
 such, that no man can be at a loss about it. The 
 greater number of cases, also, are classified ; and 
 placed under general rules, universally recognized ; 
 so that a man acts upon them, as pre-established 
 decisions, which he may trust. Such are the 
 rules of prudence, of temperance, of justice, of 
 fortitude. The acts to which these names are 
 clearly applicable, are acts the good consequences 
 of which are recognized as greatly overbalancing 
 the bad. A man feels himself exempted from the 
 obligation of calculating in such cases, because the 
 calculation has already been made. 
 
 It is of importance, that the learner should 
 familiarize to himself this fundamental truth ; 
 though it is almost in fact an identical proposi- 
 tion. Without an immoral intention there is no 
 immoral act. An intention is immoral in two 
 erases ; first, when a man acts with a foreknow- 
 ledge of the preponderance of evil consequences ; 
 
 M 2 
 
164 
 
 secondly, when he acts without inquiring, that is, 
 without caring, whether there will be a prepon- 
 derance of evil consequences or not. The goodness 
 or badness of an act is the goodness or badness of 
 the intention. The goodness or badness of the 
 intention is the superiority of good over evil, or 
 evil over good, in the consequences of the act 
 performed ; a superiority ascertained by calcula- 
 tion, either made by the individual, or presumed 
 to be correctly expressed in a general rule. The 
 men, therefore, philosophers they ought not to be 
 called, who preach a morality without calculation, 
 take away morality altogether ; because morality 
 is an attribute of intention ; and an intention is 
 then only good when the act intended has in the 
 sum of its ascertainable consequences a superiority 
 of good over evil. Take away calculation, you 
 take away the goodness or badness of intention, 
 and without goodness of intention there is no 
 morality. Where there is no calculation, there- 
 fore, there is no morality; in fact, there is nothing 
 rational, any more than moral. To act, without 
 regard to consequences, is the property of an 
 irrational nature. But to act without calculation 
 is to act without a regard to consequences. The 
 best morality, says Sir James, is to act without 
 regard to consequences. It is fortunate that Sir 
 James's instructions are not calculated to have 
 much effect. 
 
 When *^ the moral sentiments " act " without 
 
165 
 
 the calculation of consequences, they are not inca* 
 pable of being gradually rectified by reason ;" 
 that is to say, when they go wrong for want of 
 calculation, they are capable of being set right by 
 calculation. Sir James adds, " whenever they are 
 decisivelyproved by experience not to correspond in 
 some of their parts to the universal and perpetual 
 effects of conduct." Is not this precious jargon ? 
 
 "Some of their parts ;'* some of the parts of 
 the moral sentiments. Do the moral sentiments 
 then consist of parts ? 
 
 " When the moral sentiments do not correspond 
 to the effects of conduct." What is meant by the 
 moral sentiments not corresponding to the effects 
 of conduct? The "effects of conduct" mean, I 
 suppose, the consequences of acts, good or evil, as 
 we have been speaking of them above. Whea 
 Sir James then says, that the moral sentiments do 
 not always correspond with the effects of conduct, 
 he means that they do not correspond with the dis- 
 tinction between good and evil, in the consequences 
 of acts ; that is, approve of acts which produce a 
 preponderance of evil, disapprove of acts which 
 produce a preponderance of good. No wonder 
 they commit such blunders, if they decide accord- 
 ing to the warm affections, without calculation. 
 But when this happens. Sir James says, there is a 
 remedy; these moral sentiments, which blunder so, 
 may be set right by that which, according to Sir 
 James, would have set them wrong, calculation. 
 
166 
 
 " Reason," Sir James here calls it, by a tie 
 sleight of hand. But " reason," in ascertaining the 
 balance of two amounts, the amount of evil con- 
 sequences, and the amount of good, is honest, dry 
 calculation, and nothing else, whatever Sir James 
 may think. 
 
 Sir James, however, in these words, admits, 
 that the moral sentiments ought to " correspond 
 with the effects of conduct," and that calculation 
 is that alone which can make them do so. Yet 
 he tells us that calculation is that which disgraces 
 the principle of utility. What a Sir James ! 
 
 " Universal and perpetual effects of conduct," 
 is the expression of Sir James ; and is worth re- 
 marking, to shew Sir James's skill in expressing 
 his own meaning. By " effects of conduct," he 
 can mean nothing but consequences of acts. But 
 what is meant by '^ universal and perpetual" 
 consequences of acts ? This can relate to nothing 
 but constancy of sequence, and means the conse- 
 quences which are not accidental. But it is not 
 true, that the moral Sentiments regard only the 
 invariable consequences of acts. The accidental 
 consequences, when they can be foreseen, de- 
 serve as much attention, as the invariable ; only 
 it more frequently happens that they cannot be 
 foreseen. 
 
 Sir James enforces his argument against calcu- 
 lation, which he seems to have it greatly at heart 
 to decry, by saying, " It is a false representation 
 
167 
 
 of human nature to affirm that courage is only- 
 prudence ; " and he quotes Mr. Mill, as the author 
 of that affirmation. He explains what he sup- 
 poses Mr. Mill to mean, by saying, " a man who 
 fights because he thinks it more hazardous to 
 yield is not brave." Sir James says, Mr. Mill has 
 made " a false representation of human nature ;" 
 Sir James makes '* a false representation" of 
 Mr. Mill. That computatio, or o-uAAoyto-jwof ; that 
 thinking together, of the effects, good and bad, of 
 an act, which I have just described as essential to 
 a moral intention, that is, a moral act, is not 
 expressed, in the case of an act of courage, by 
 the phrase " more hazardous to yield than to 
 fight;" any more than it would be, in the case 
 supposed above, of the man seducing the woman, 
 by the phrase, more safe to abstain than to go on. 
 This is not the main part of the consideration, 
 as it is put by Mr. Mill. 
 
 Mr. Mill had shewn, in what way our ideas of 
 pains and pleasures, and our ideas of the causes 
 of them, combined into complex ideas by associa- 
 tion, constitute the various affections of our 
 nature, that is, the pleasurable and painful states, 
 other than sensmtions, of which we are conscious. 
 He had shewn, that in many of these combina- 
 tions the idea of the cause of the pleasure or 
 pleasures, of the pain or pains, so predominated 
 in the compound, as to obscure, or even render 
 imperceptible, the idea of the pleasures or pains 
 
168 
 
 themselves. This explanation will enable the 
 reader to understand the following quotations 
 from Mr. Mill, which are necessary to shew, in 
 what way Sir James deals with those authors, 
 whom it is his object to defame. 
 
 " We have already remarked," says Mr. Mill, 
 ** that of all the causes of our pleasures and pains, 
 none are to be compared, in point of importance, 
 with the actions of ourselves and our fellow- 
 creatures. From this class of causes, a far 
 greater amount of pleasures and pains proceed, 
 than from all other causes taken together. It 
 follows that these causes are objects of intense 
 affection to us ; either favourable, if they are the 
 cause of pleasure, or unfavourable, if they are the 
 cause of pain. 
 
 " The actions from which men derive advantage 
 have all been classed under foui^" titles ; prudence, 
 fortitude, justice, beneficence. 
 
 " We apply the names, prudent, brave, just, 
 beneficent, both to our own acts, and to the acts 
 of other men. 
 
 " When these names are applied to our own 
 acts, the first two, prudent and brave, express acts 
 which are useful to ourselves in th^ first instance ; 
 the latter two, justice, and beneficence, express 
 acts which are useful to others in the first in- 
 stance. 
 
 *' It is further to be remarked, that those acts 
 of ours, which are primarily useful to ourselves, 
 
169 
 
 are secondarily useful to others ; and those which 
 are primarily useful to others, are secondarily 
 useful to ourselves. Thus, it is by our prudence, 
 and fortitude, that we are best enabled to do acts 
 of justice and beneficence to others. And it is 
 by acts of justice, and beneficence to others, that 
 we best dispose them to do similar acts to us." 
 
 After these explanations Mr. Mill proceeds to 
 examine the associations into which the ideas of 
 these actions, as causes of good, enter. 
 
 " We have two sets of associations," he says, 
 " with the acts which are thus named," viz. 
 prudent, brave, just, beneficent ; — " one set of 
 associations, when they are considered as our 
 own acts ; another set, when they are considered 
 as the acts of other men. 
 
 " When they are considered as our own acts ; 
 in other words, when we consider our own pru- 
 dence, bravery, justice, and beneficence, we have 
 associations with them of the following kind. 
 
 " With our own acts of prudence and bravery, 
 we associate good to ourselves ; that is, either 
 pleasure or the cause of pleasure, as the imme- 
 diate consequent. Acts of prudence, for example, 
 are divided into two sorts ; the sort productive of 
 good, and the sort preventive of evil. All acts 
 which add to our wealth, power, and dignity, or 
 any one of them, so far as they produce this 
 effect, without counterbalancing evil, may be 
 called acts of prudence. Thus, incessant labour. 
 
170 
 
 by all those to whom it is necessary for subsist- 
 ence, or for reputation, is a course of prudence. 
 Prudence, however, in its common acceptation, is 
 more employed to denote the acts by which we 
 avoid evils, than those by which we obtain good ; 
 those by which we reject present pleasures, when 
 followed by pains which overbalance them, and 
 those by which we endure present pains when 
 they prevent the following of greater pains. It 
 thus appears, that for acts of prudence, knowledge 
 is required. It is the choice, among the acts within 
 our power, of those the consequences of which 
 constitute the greatest amount of good." 
 
 And now we come to Sir James's courage. 
 
 " When we perform," says Mr. Mill, " acts of 
 courage or fortitude, the chance of evil is incurred 
 for the sake of a preponderant good. If the good 
 were not a balance for the chance of evil, the 
 consequences of the act would not be a balance 
 of good. The act would not be a moral act, and 
 would have no title to the name of courage. 
 Knowledge, therefore, is as necessary to the ex- 
 ercise of this virtue, as to that of prudence. 
 Courage, in fact, is but a species of the acts of 
 prudence ; a class, selected for distinction by a 
 particular name ; that class in which evils of a 
 particular description are to be hazarded for the 
 sake of a preponderant good. 
 
 " When, with the ideas of our acts of prudence, 
 and acts of courage, past, and future, have been 
 
171 
 
 associated, sufficiently often, the class of benefits, 
 which are the consequences of them, they are no 
 longer simple ideas, indifferent ideas ; they are 
 complex pleasurable ideas. That is, they are 
 affections ; " and affections of any degree of in- 
 tensity and power. 
 
 Now then, let us see how this account cor- 
 responds with the representation of Sir James. 
 He makes Mr. Mill say, that courage consists in 
 fighting only when there is more danger in 
 running away; as if the whole consideration was 
 a balance of chances against the life of the in- 
 dividual. Is it possible, that this was any thing 
 else, than an intended misrepresentation? Do 
 not Mr. Mill's words, as clearly as it is possible 
 for words to express an idea, declare, that it is a 
 balance of good upon all the consequences of the 
 act, which makes it an act fit to be performed ; 
 and that this is the grand property in which an 
 act of courage agrees with an act of prudence ? 
 So much so, that in a case in which the death of 
 the individual is certain, courage may require 
 that he maintain his post. 
 
 Having considered the associations we each of 
 us have with our own acts of prudence, fortitude, 
 justice, and beneficence, Mr. Mill proceeds to the 
 associations we have with such acts, when per- 
 formed by other people ; and, when he comes to 
 courage, says, " We have seen that fortitude is 
 the name of that class of acts, in which a good 
 
172 
 
 is aimed at by the risk of a great evil. There is 
 a grand class of cases in which the good aimed 
 at is not the peculiar good of the individual by 
 whom the act or series of acts is performed, but 
 a good common to others, to a whole people. Of 
 course, in such a case, we have a strong associa- 
 tion of our own pleasures, or exemption from 
 pains, with other men's courage, whether we are 
 sharing with them in the danger, or exempted 
 from it by their acts. This association is such as 
 to constitute a very strong affection. Even when 
 the good sought by the act of courage is only 
 the good of the individual, we have with it a 
 sufficient association of pleasurable ideas to con- 
 stitute it an affection. We have, first of all, an 
 agreeable association with the balance of good 
 which the act is calculated to produce to the 
 actor. And next we have a very powerful asso- 
 ciation of pleasure with the state of mind in 
 which the idea of a great evil is controlled by 
 the idea of a greater good. When the motive 
 exists to do us good in a man who has such a 
 mind, he will not be deterred by the prospect of 
 an inadequate evil. When we encounter danger 
 in company with such a man, we shall not be ex- 
 posed to greater danger by his deserting us." 
 
 What Sir James poorly smatters afterwards, 
 when he fancies he gives us information about 
 the formation of habits, is unworthy of notice ; 
 except where he concludes, by saying, " the best 
 
173 
 
 writers of Mr. Bentham's school overlook the in- 
 dissolubility of these associations " (viz. those by 
 which habits are formed,) " and appear not to bear 
 in mind that their strength and rapid action con- 
 stitute the perfect state of a moral agent." This 
 is almost incredible, in a man who includes 
 Mr. Mill by name among those writers. It is 
 Mr. Mill, who first made known the great im- 
 portance of the principle of the indissoluble asso- 
 ciation. It is he, who has shewn, that various 
 mental phenomena, which had puzzled all pre- 
 ceding inquirers, may be satisfactorily accounted 
 for, by application to them of the principle of in- 
 indissoluble association. It is by aid of this 
 principle, that he has performed all the more im- 
 portant parts of his analytical process. And yet 
 Sir James is capable of setting him down among 
 those who have neglected that principle. 
 
 Either Sir James never read the book ; and 
 then he imputed errors to it, without knowing or 
 caring, whether he spoke truth or falsehood ; or, 
 if he had read the book, he spoke falsehood wil- 
 fully. I suppose the former case, which is the 
 common case with Sir James; for this disserta- 
 tion proves, beyond all possibility of doubt, that, 
 pretending to read every thing, he read hardly 
 any thing ; but nevertheless made his criticisms, 
 laudatory, or condemnatory, as he found the 
 motive, with as much assurance as if his acquaint- 
 ance with the books he criticised had been familiar 
 and complete. 
 
174 
 
 These two objections, first, that Mr. Bentham 
 made the principle of morality the sole motive to 
 a virtuous act, in which we have seen that Sir 
 James confounded motive and intention, and at 
 the same time spoke in defiance of evidence ; 
 secondly, that Mr. Bentham made calculation, 
 alias, good intention, to form a necessary part 
 of every virtuous act ; constitute, in reality, the 
 whole of Sir James's argument against the ethical 
 system of Mr. Bentham. 
 
 Sir James, however, goes on to arraign good 
 intention, under the name of calculation, by 
 ascribing to it a couple of deplorable effects. 
 
 First, it prevents " the inherent delight of the 
 virtuous affections from being duly estimated." 
 
 Secondly, it prevents the " beneficial effect 
 of good conduct on the frame of the mind," from 
 being attended to. 
 
 At least, he affirms, that those whom he calls 
 the followers of Mr. Bentham are guilty of those 
 faults. 
 
 He couches both accusations in the following 
 words : " The followers of Mr. Bentham have 
 carried to an unusual extent the prevalent fault 
 of the more modern advocates of utility, who 
 have dwelt so exclusively on the outward ad- 
 vantages of virtue" (viz. those beneficial con- 
 sequences of an act which form the essence of 
 good intention,) " as to have lost sight of the 
 delight which is a part of virtuous feeling" (the 
 
175 
 
 first of the two grounds of accusation) ; " and of 
 the beneficial influence of good actions upon the 
 frame of the mind," — which is the second. 
 
 This is a matter, on which we must dwell with 
 the more minuteness, because it is one on which 
 Sir James lays stress. He treats of it with 
 seeming fervour, and is unwilling to leave it. 
 He desires that virtue should be considered to be 
 the offspring of the affections. . But what is still 
 more remarkable, and calls more urgently upon 
 our attention, he represents the having of the 
 affections as the main thing, the performing the 
 acts, as of minor importance. 
 
 From what Sir James says immediately after- 
 wards, in a wordy panegyric on the " delight of 
 virtuous feeling," we learn that by " virtuous 
 feeling," he means the social affections. The 
 social affections are such as gratitude, pity, love of 
 kindred, love of country, benevolence to indivi- 
 duals generally, and so on. 
 
 Sir James sings a loud song about the delight 
 which he says forms " a part" of these feelings. 
 This expression shews full well, that of the com- 
 position of these feelings Sir James was ignorant. 
 Delight a part of gratitude ! He might as well 
 have talked of pain's being " a part" of the prick 
 of a needle. What any other man would have 
 said is, that gratitude is a pleasurable feeling. 
 The feeling is not one thing, the pleasure another. 
 The feeling is one of that class of feelings which 
 
176 
 
 are pleasurable ; as gold is of that class of things 
 which are yellow. 
 
 ^Allowing then these affections to be as delight- 
 ful as Sir James thought it was fine to call them ; 
 let them, if it will please him, be ten times more 
 delightful than experience shews them to be, how 
 does that affect the necessity of a good intention 
 to a moral act? And how does the necessity of a 
 good intention, and of that regard to consequences 
 in which it consists ; or rather, how does the 
 inculcating that necessity, with any degree of 
 earnestness, argue an ignorance, in any respect, of 
 the value of the social affections? Is a man, 
 because the social affections are delightful, not to 
 look to the consequences of his acts? Is he, 
 because he has a great pleasure in pleasing some- 
 body, to perform an act which will please him, 
 whatever the consequences ? Is he not to balance 
 the consequences, if they are partly good, and 
 partly evil ; and to abstain from the act alto- 
 gether, how intense soever the " delight" of his 
 social feeling, if the bad consequences prepon- 
 derate ? Sir James's delightful affections operate 
 by producing motives ; and though in constituting 
 motives they operate generally in the right direc- 
 tion, they do occasionally operate in the wrong ; 
 and would do so to a deplorable extent, if they 
 were not held in continual restraint by the obliga- 
 tion, which every man feels, of acting with a good 
 intention ; that is, with a due regard to all the 
 
177 
 
 consequences of his acts ; that is, with honest 
 calculation ; that is, in obedience to the principle 
 of utility. 
 
 The accusation, then, of Mr. Bentham and 
 '*' his followers," that they attended so much to 
 the intention implied in the act, that they did not 
 attend enough to the intensity of the pleasure 
 which in a class of cases incites to the act, is 
 purely ridiculous. Did not Sir James perceive, 
 that the more violent this incitement, if the man 
 is not effectually controled by the regard to con- 
 sequences, the greater is the danger of his acting 
 immorally ? No ; Sir James saw no such thing. 
 He did not even see that motive is one thing, and 
 intention another. 
 
 The stress, then, of this accusation against 
 Mr. Bentham, and those whom it pleases Sir James 
 to call his followers, is, that they inculcated on 
 men, attention to the consequences of their acts 
 too much ; attention to the delight of the social 
 affections too little. The answer is, that they did 
 neither, Mr. Mill, among those who are probably 
 included in Sir James's term ** followers,'* is the 
 only one who has written any thing on the sub- 
 ject. He and Mr, Bentham, so far from having 
 neglected the social affections, have spoken of 
 them, and of the consequences of acts, as far as 
 their subject required, and no farther. Their 
 subject was the theory of morals, not the practice. 
 They had to expound those phenomena of our 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 nature which involve the judgment we form of 
 actions as right and wrong. Their duty was 
 exposition solely. Inculcation is the province of 
 the practical moralist ; and it is for him to tell 
 how much, with a view to good consequences, the 
 social affections deserve cultivation ; whether the 
 selfish pleasure of having them, which Sir James 
 makes such a rant about, is the only object in view, 
 or the beneficial actions to which, as contributing 
 to the formation of motives, they incite. 
 
 But however insignificant the inculpatory lan- 
 guage of Sir James is thus seen to be, it is 
 material to shew against what a power of evidence 
 that his accusation was unfounded and discre- 
 ditable, he chose to deliver it to the world. 
 
 Mr. Bentham, in expounding the business of 
 law, had much to do with intentions, and motives ; 
 the former, as the ground on which an agent 
 becomes the subject of punishment or reward ; 
 the latter, as the instrument with which the legis- 
 lator has to operate, both in preventing bad 
 .actions, and producing good. 
 
 The origin of motives is pleasures and pains. 
 For the sake of tracing motives to their origin, 
 Mr. Bentham gives a list of pleasures and pains. 
 In his list of pleasures are found, the pleasures of 
 amity, the pleasures of a good name, the pleasures 
 of benevolence. Of these last, he says ; " the 
 pleasures of benevolence are the pleasures result- 
 ing from the view of any pleasures supposed to be 
 
179 
 
 possessed by the beings who may be the objects of 
 benevolence ; to wit, the sensitive beings we are 
 acquainted with ; under whjch are commonly 
 included, — 1, the Supreme Being ; 2, human 
 beings ; 3, other animals. These may also be 
 called the pleasures of good will, the pleasures of 
 sympathy, or the pleasures of the benevolent or 
 social affections." 
 
 We now turn to the account which he gives of 
 the motives which spring from these pleasures, 
 when we shall see not only the place which they 
 hold among the causes of good actions, but the 
 restraint under which they need to be held to 
 prevent their becoming the cause of bad actions. 
 
 " To the pleasures of sympathy," he says,* 
 *' corresponds the motive which, in a neutral 
 sense, is termed good-will. The word sympathy 
 may also be used on this occasion : though the 
 sense of it seems to be rather more extensive. In 
 a good sense, it is styled benevolence ; and in 
 certain cases, philanthropy ; and, in a figurative 
 way, brotherly love ; in others, humanity ; in 
 others, charity ; in others, pity and compassion ; 
 in others, mercy ; in others, gratitude ; in others, 
 tenderness ; in others, patriotism ; in others, 
 public spirit. Love is also employed in this as in 
 so many other senses. In a bad sense, it has no 
 name applicable to it in all cases : in particular 
 
 * Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, 
 ch. 10. § 25. 
 
 n2 
 
180 
 
 cases it is styled partiality. The word zeal, with 
 certain epithets prefixed to it, might also be 
 employed sometimes on this occasion, though the 
 sense of it be more extensive ; applying some- 
 times to ill as well as to good will. It is thus we 
 speak of party zeal, national zeal, and public zeal. 
 The word attachment is also used with the like 
 epithets : we also say family-attachment. The 
 French expression, esprit de corps, for which as 
 yet there seems to be scarcely any name in 
 English, might be rendered, in some cases, though 
 rather inadequately, by the terms corporation 
 spirit, corporation attachment, or corporation zeal. 
 " 1. A man who has set a town on fire is appre- 
 hended and committed : out of regard or compas- 
 sion for him, you help him to break prison. In 
 this case the generality of people will probably 
 scarcely know whether to condemn your motive 
 or applaud it : those who condemn your conduct, 
 will be disposed rather to impute it to some other 
 motive : if they style it benevolence or compas- 
 sion, they will be for prefixing an epithet, and 
 calling it false benevolence or false compassion.* 
 
 * Among the Greeks, perhaps the motive, and the conduct 
 it gave birth to, would, in such a case, have been rather ap- 
 proved than disapproved of. It seems to have been deemed an 
 act of heroism on the part of Hercules, to have delivered his 
 friend Theseus from hell : though divine justice, which held 
 him there, should naturally have been regarded as being at 
 least upon a footing with human justice. But to divine justice, 
 even when actnowledged under that character, the respect paid 
 
181 
 
 2. The man is taken again, and is put upon his 
 trial : to save him you swear falsely in his favour. 
 People, who would not call your motive a bad 
 one before, will perhaps call it so now. 3. A man 
 is at law with you about an estate : he has no 
 right to it : the judge knows this, yet, having an 
 esteem or affection for your adversary, adjudges 
 it to him. In this case the motive is by every 
 body deemed abominable, and is termed injustice 
 and partiality. 4, You detect a statesman in 
 receiving bribes : out of regard to the public 
 interest, you give information of it, and prosecute 
 him. In this case, by all who acknowledge your 
 conduct to have originated from this motive, your 
 motive will be deemed a laudable one, and styled 
 public spirit. But his friends and adherents will 
 not choose to account for your conduct in any 
 such manner : they will rather attribute it to 
 party enmity. 5. You will find a man on the 
 point of starving : you relieve him ; and save his 
 life. In this case your motive will by every 
 body be accounted laudable, and it will be termed 
 compassion, pity, charity, benevolence. Yet in 
 all tl^ese cases the motive is the same : it is 
 neither more nor less than the motive of good-will." 
 
 at that time of day does not seem to have been very profound, 
 or well-settled : at present, the respect paid to is profound and 
 settled enough, though the name of it is but too often applied 
 to dictates which could have had no other orighi than the worst 
 •sort of human caprice. 
 
182 
 
 After enumerating all the classes of motives, 
 and tracing them to their origin, he comes to 
 consider .the order of pre-eminence among them ; 
 when he says, " Of all these sorts of motives, 
 good-will is that of which the dictates, taken in a 
 general view, are surest of coinciding with those 
 of the principle of utility. For the dictates of 
 utility are neither more nor less than the dictates 
 of the most extensive and enlightened (that is, 
 well-advised) benevolence. The dictates of the 
 other motives may be conformable to those of 
 utility, or repugnant, as it may happen." 
 
 This throws light not only on Sir James's 
 charge, that Mr. Bentham, and those who think 
 as he does, overlook the value, as a source of 
 motives, of the social affections ; but also on that 
 other charge, that they represent the principle of 
 utility as the only motive of a moral act. 
 
 Mr. Mill, whose object it was to analyze all 
 those states of mind, and shew wherein they con- 
 sist, goes more minutely to work. 
 
 He considers the state of mind, which is gene- 
 rated by the idea of a pleasure or train of plea- 
 sures associated with the idea of its cause ; and 
 he shews that this is what has received the 
 generical name of love, or affection. I shall pass 
 over what he says of the case in which other 
 causes enter into this association, either imme- 
 diate and particular, or remote and general, of 
 which last the more remarkable species are, wealth, 
 
183 
 
 dignity, and power ; and shall come to those cases 
 in which the idea of our fellow-creatures, as cause 
 of our pleasures, enters into the associations which 
 we call affections. He begins the subject in this 
 manner* : — 
 
 " Wealth, power, and dignity, being the origin 
 of such powerful affections as we find them to be, 
 though the causes of pleasure to us only by being 
 the causes of the actions of our fellow-creatures ; 
 it would be wonderful if our fellow-creatures 
 themselves, the more immediate causes of those 
 actions, should not be the origin of affections. 
 But this is not the case ; our fellow-creatures are 
 the origin of affections of the greatest influence in 
 human life ; to the enumeration of which it is now 
 our business to proceed." 
 
 He thus goes on : — 
 
 ** We contemplate our fellow creatures, as 
 cause of our pleasures, either individually, or in 
 groups. We shall consider the several cases 
 which have attracted sufficient attention to be 
 distinguished by names. 1. That of friendship. 
 2. That of kindness. 3. That of family. 4. That 
 of country. 5. That of party. 6. That of man- 
 kind." 
 
 To exemplify the mode in which he presents 
 the analysis of these cases, I shall select kindness, 
 and the family affection. 
 
 Of kindness he says, " There is nothing which 
 
 * Analysis of the Human Mind, cli. 21. sub-sect. 2. 
 
184 
 
 more instantly associates with itself the ideas of 
 our own pleasures and pains, than the idea of the 
 pleasures and pains of another of our fellow crea- 
 tures. The expositions already afforded suffi- 
 ciently indicate the source of this association, 
 which exerts a powerful and salutary influence 
 in human life. The idea of a man enjoying a 
 train of pleasures, or happiness, is felt by every 
 body to be a pleasurable idea. The idea of a 
 man under a train of sufferings or pains is 
 equally felt to be a painful idea. This can arise 
 from nothing but the association of our own 
 pleasures with the first idea, and of our own 
 pains with the second. We never feel any pains 
 and pleasures but our own. The fact indeed, is, 
 that our very idea of the pains or pleasures of 
 another man is only the idea of our own pains 
 or our own pleasures associated with the idea of 
 another man. This is one, not of the least im- 
 portant and curious of all cases of association ; 
 and instantly shews how powerful must be the 
 association of ideas of our own pains and pleasures, 
 in a feeling so compounded. The pleasurable 
 association composed of the ideas of a man and 
 his pleasures, and the painful association com- 
 posed of the ideas of a man and his pains, are 
 both affections ; which have so much of the same 
 tendency, that they are included under one name, 
 kindness ; though the latter affection has a name 
 appropriate to itself, compassion." 
 
185 
 
 When Mr. Mill comes to the case of family, he 
 says, " The group, which consists of a father, 
 mother, and children, is called a family. The 
 associations which each member of this group has 
 of his pains and pleasures, with the pains and 
 pleasures of the other members, constitute some 
 of the most interesting states of human conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 " The affection of the husband and wife is, in 
 its origin, that of two persons of different sex, 
 and needs not be farther analysed. To this 
 source of pleasurable association is added, when 
 the union is happy, all those other associations, 
 just enumerated, which constitute the affection of 
 friendship. To this another addition is made by 
 the union of interests ; or that necessity under 
 which they are placed, of deriving pain and 
 pleasure from the same causes. Though in too 
 many instances, these pleasurable associations are 
 extinguished, by the generation of others of an 
 opposite description ; in other cases they are 
 carried to such a height, as to afford an exempli- 
 fication of that remarkable state of mind, in 
 which a greater value seems to be set upon the 
 means, than upon the end. Persons have been 
 found, the one of whom could not endure to live 
 without the other." 
 
 Mr. Mill next proceeds to analyse the parental 
 affection ; but thinks it necessary to do this with 
 so much minuteness, that the passage is too long 
 
186 
 
 for quotation. After treating both of this and 
 the filial affection, he comes to that which exists 
 among brothers and sisters. " This has in it," 
 he says, " most of the ingredients which go to 
 the composition of friendship. There is, first of 
 all, companionship ; the habit of enjoying plea- 
 sures in common, and also of suffering pains ; 
 hence a great readiness in sympathising with one 
 another ; that is, in associating trains, each of his 
 own pains and pleasures, with the pains and 
 pleasures of the rest. There is next, where the 
 education is good, a constant reciprocation, to the 
 extent of their power, of beneficent acts. And 
 lastly, there is their common relation to the grand 
 source of all their pleasures, the parent." 
 
 ,Mr. Mill concludes his exposition of the family 
 affections with these words : — " When the affec- 
 tions of the domestic class exist in perfection (in 
 such a state of education and morals as ours this 
 rarely can happen), they afford so constant a 
 succession of agreeable trains, that they form, 
 perhaps, the most valuable portion of human 
 happiness. Acts of beneficence to the larger 
 masses of mankind afford still more interesting 
 trains to those who perform them. But they are 
 the small number. The happiness of the domestic 
 affections is open to all." 
 
 What has now been adduced is abundantly 
 sufficient to shew, that when Sir James brought 
 his charge against Mr. Bentbam and Mr. Mill, of 
 
187 
 
 not having spoken enough of the pleasures of the 
 social affections, and of having spoken too much 
 of the obligation on a moral agent of attention to 
 the consequences of his acts, he spoke in the 
 teeth of conclusive evidence, and with a dis- 
 graceful ignorance of his subject. 
 
 After explaining how the social affections are 
 formed, Mr. Mill explains by what change in 
 these associations they become motives, and the 
 cause of acts ; and, in what manner, namely, by 
 acting in frequent obedience to those motives, the 
 corresponding disposition is created, namely, a 
 facility of being acted upon by those motives, or 
 a tendency to the performance of the acts, — acts, 
 which for the most part are good, but may be evil 
 to any extent, and need, therefore, the control of at- 
 tention to the moral principle, as completely as the 
 acts which flow from any other class of motives. 
 
 So much, then, for the truth of the charge, 
 that " the followers of Mr. Bentham have lost 
 sight of the delight which is a part of virtuous 
 feeling." 
 
 Those, however, have seen but little of Sir 
 James who have not looked at his words. I 
 therefore think it important, both for the advan- 
 tage of shewing Sir James in his true colours, 
 and the instruction which may be derived from a 
 specimen of the mode of cross-questioning delin- 
 quent words, to look at the phrases in which he 
 clothed his wisdom on this occasion. 
 
188 
 
 " The followers of Mr. Bentham," says Sir 
 James, " have carried to an unusual extent the 
 prevalent fault of the more modern advocates of 
 utility, who have dwelt so exclusively on the 
 outward advantages of virtue as to have lost 
 sight of the delight which is a part of virtuous 
 feeling, and of the beneficial influence of good 
 actions upon the mind. * Benevolence towards 
 others,' says Mr. Mill, ' produces a return of 
 benevolence from them.' The fact is true, and 
 ought to be stated. But how unimportant is it 
 in comparison with that which is passed over in 
 silence, the pleasure of the affection itself, which 
 if it could become lasting and intense, would con- 
 vert the heart into a heaven ! " 
 
 Mr. Mill says that benevolence produces a 
 return of benevolence. Is this, then, all which 
 Mr. Mill said about benevolence ? Are not the 
 passages above cited some proof to the contrary ? 
 
 Mr. Mill " passed over in silence the pleasure 
 of the affection itself." He was not an ordinary 
 man who could venture upon this assertion. 
 Mr. Mill had traced home to their source, not one, 
 but all of the social affections ; and had shewn 
 by distinct analysis that they are entirely com- 
 posed of pleasurable feelings ; in fact that they 
 are, each, a cluster of pleasurable feelings ; that 
 is, pleasure itself ; constituting in their best form 
 one of the most valuable portions of human hap- 
 piness. In fact, they could not enter into motives 
 
189 
 
 without beings pleasures ; and Mr. Mill treats of 
 them as constituting a most important class of 
 motives. 
 
 Mr. Mill not only shews that these affections 
 are composed of pleasures, but further, that they 
 operate as a fertile source of pleasures, viz., to 
 other men, being a very frequent cause of good 
 acts, though needing, by perpetual watchfulness, 
 to be kept obedient to the moral principle, in 
 order that, by seeking to do good to one or a few, 
 they may not produce a preponderance of evil to 
 others ; in fact, that one of these affections may 
 not be gratified by the violation of another ; 
 more especially, that benevolence, the generical 
 affection, may not be violated, in obedience to the 
 impulse of some one of inferior importance. 
 
 Yet the man, who got a reputation under the 
 name of Mackintosh, could give it to the world, 
 that Mr. Mill had nothing more to say about 
 benevolence, than that it produced a return of 
 benevolence ; though that is no trifle ; and is 
 deserving of more respect, if Sir James knew all, 
 than seems to be implied in his exclamation, 
 " how unimportant." 
 
 This pleasure of benevolence, which Mr. Mill 
 expounded fully, both as to what it is, and what 
 it does, but which. Sir James says, he passed over 
 in silence, would, " if it could become lasting and 
 intense," that is, if it could become a very plea- 
 surable state of mind, for that is the meaning of 
 
190 
 
 a pleasure lasting and intense, would be a very 
 pleasurable state of mind ; for that is the only 
 meaning which can be annexed to the macaroni 
 phrase, " a heart converted into a heaven." And 
 because benevolence, if it could become a very 
 pleasurable state of mind, would be a very plea- 
 surable state of mind, therefore the followers of 
 Mr. Bentham have dwelt so exclusively on the 
 outward advantages of virtue, that is, the con- 
 sequences of their acts, as to have lost sight of 
 the delight which is a part of virtuous feeling. 
 How attention to the consequences of acts is 
 inconsistent with attention to the delight of the 
 social affection. Sir James should have explained 
 to us ; and has not. 
 
 Sir James's next words are these. " No one 
 who has ever felt kindness, if he could accurately 
 recall his feelings " (he must be a strange fellow 
 who cannot recall his feelings when he felt kind- 
 ness) " could hesitate about their infinite supe- 
 riority." Superiority? To what? The thing 
 which Sir James was speaking about was the 
 fact adverted to by Mr. Mill, that benevolence in 
 one man towards other men, is a cause of bene- 
 volence in them towards him. But when Sir 
 James says that the feelings a man has when he 
 is kind, i. e. when he is benevolent, are superior 
 to the return of benevolence, what is it he means ? 
 That it is more pleasing to love other men, than 
 to be loved by them ? This, at any rate, may be 
 
191 
 
 doubted; and therefore there can be no great 
 superiority; still less that '' infinite superiority''' 
 Sir James is pleased to tell us of. This being 
 silly, let us suppose Sir James to mean, that the 
 pleasure of good will to other men is infinitely su- 
 perior to all the pleasure derived from all the good 
 which men can receive at the hands of other men 
 in consequence of their benevolence. Every body 
 knows that this is untrue. If it is Sir James's 
 opinion that of all the good which exists in the 
 world, the proportion which proceeds from this 
 source, the reciprocation of kindness, is not very 
 great, he is too ignorant to be talked to upon any 
 thing which concerns the moral condition of 
 mankind. 
 
 But besides all this, where is the good of 
 bringing the pleasure of having good will toward 
 other men into comparison, either with the 
 delight of being the object of their good will, or 
 that of being the object of their good acts, the 
 effect of their good will ; or of bringing col- 
 lectively the good of having the pleasurable 
 feeling of good will into comparison with the 
 collective good of the acts of beneficence of which 
 the benevolence kindled in one man by the bene- 
 volence of another is the productive cause ? 
 
 The value to mankind of having the feeling 
 of benevolence, is one thing ; the value to them 
 of the good things which spring from bene- 
 volence as effects, is another. The first value is 
 
19S 
 
 not lessened, by the magnitude of the second. 
 The sum of the ingredients of happiness is only 
 so much the greater. And there is yet another 
 question, which comes nearer home to that of 
 Sir James's competency to the task he has under- 
 taken ; what connection has the tawdry talk of 
 Sir James, about the delight of the social affec- 
 tions, with the two questions, the solution of 
 which, according to himself, completes the science 
 of morals ? % 
 
 The first of these questions is, — What is 
 morality ? 
 
 The second is, — What is the approbation of 
 morality, or the feeling we have when we con- 
 template virtuous acts ? 
 
 1. Sir James does not mean to say, that the 
 " delight " he speaks of, is the " morality " of an 
 act. He does not probably mean to say that 
 any of the social affections, though he calls them, 
 not very aptly, virtuous feeling, is the morality 
 of the act to which it may have given birth ; 
 because they may all give birth to immoral acts. 
 To tell us, that the social affections are delightful ; 
 and to call upon all those who touch upon moral 
 questions, to bawl loudly about the delight of 
 them ; and to treat it as infinitely superior in 
 value to all the good acts which grow from reci- 
 procation of benevolence, is not to tell us what 
 morality is. 
 
 2. As little certainly do we derive any informa- 
 
193 
 
 tion about the nature of that sentiment with 
 which we contemplate a moral act, and which we 
 denominate moral approbation, from eulogiums, 
 however hyperbolical, on the pleasure of the 
 social affections. The social affection is not the 
 moral approbation. The social affection, when 
 it has any thing to do with an act, has it in the 
 way of cause ; it gives birth to the motive. That 
 is, it precedes the act ; but the moral approbation 
 follows it. Besides, if the social affection were 
 both the morality of the act, and also the approba- 
 tion of it, there would be that very confusion of the 
 quality of the act, with the sentiment with which 
 it is regarded, which Sir James so ridiculously 
 ascribed to Bentham, Paley, and Leibnitz. 
 
 The next sentence we have from Sir James is 
 a first-rate curiosity. " The cause of the general 
 neglect of this consideration is, that it is only 
 when a gratification is something distinct from 
 a state of mind, that we can easily learn to con- 
 sider it as a pleasure." 
 
 " This consideration " is that which was spoken 
 of in the preceding sentence, to wit, the infinite 
 superiority of the feelings a man has when he 
 feels kindness. Sir James complains that these 
 feelings have been neglected, and he says he will 
 tell us the reason of it. The cause is, that they 
 are states of mind. Had it been otherwise, had 
 they not been states of mind, the delight of them 
 would have been known, and attended to ; would 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 at least have had a better chance of being so. 
 " For," says Sir James, " it is only when a gra- 
 tification " (alluding to that delight) " is some- 
 thing distinct from a state of mind, that," &c. 
 Now, reader, do but settle with yourself, what the 
 man could have known about the mind, who 
 talked of a " gratification," as " something distinct 
 from a state of mind." Why, a gratification is a 
 state of mind ; if not a state of mind, it is no- 
 thing. The word gratification is a name given to 
 a state of the mind ; a pleasurable state. A gra- 
 tification, therefore, distinct from a state of mind, 
 is a gratification distinct from itself; in other 
 words, not itself ; in other words, nothing. 
 
 Now then observe, what Sir James says next. 
 He says, " We cannot easily learn to consider a 
 gratification as a pleasure," that is, a gratification 
 as a gratification, or a pleasure as a pleasure (very 
 hard !) unless under a condition, and that as- 
 suredly a miraculous one, that the gratification 
 shall be distinct from a state of mind. 
 
 It is very disgusting to follow such a man as 
 this through his labyrinth of jargon. It is, how- 
 ever, useful ; both for the exposure of such a 
 case of imposture ; and as a practical lesson to' 
 the young ; to whom nothing is of more import- 
 ance than the art of detecting want of meaning, 
 or foolish meaning, or bad meaning, under foggy 
 expressions. 
 
 Take his next sentence. " Hence the great 
 
195 
 
 error respecting the affections, where the i7iherent 
 delight is not duly estimated, on account of that 
 very peculiarity of being a part of a state of 
 mind, which renders it unspeakably more va- 
 luable as independent of every thing without." I 
 wish the reader would here ask himself what he 
 understands by these words. 
 
 " Hence," says Sir James, that is, from what 
 he said in the preceding sentence, that a gratifica- 
 tion is not easily found to be a gratification, 
 unless in the case in which it is no gratification ; 
 from this he says, proceeds " the great error 
 respecting the affections." An amusing origin, it 
 must be confessed. 
 
 His next word is " where ; " equivalent to in 
 which, and may have for its antecedent, either 
 " great error," or *^ affection," but is improperly 
 used in either case. " An error " where some- 
 thing is not duly estimated, is not English. And 
 " affections " where the inherent delight is so and 
 so, is an expression equally absurd. 
 
 But passing by particles and connectives, let us 
 come to the predication. " The inherent delight 
 is not duly estimated, on account of that very 
 peculiarity of being a part of a state of mind." 
 But why should its being a part of a state of 
 mind hinder its being duly estimated ? Sir James 
 does not tell us why. And I do not expect to 
 meet with any body else who will do it for him. 
 And what does Sir James mean by a delight's. 
 
 o 2! 
 
196 
 
 being a part of a state of iriind ? Does he ima- 
 gine that a state of mind exists by parts ? This 
 is the same ignorance we had before, when delight 
 was spoken of as a part of feeling ; as if delight 
 was anything but a name for a delightful feeling, 
 that is, a delightful state of mind. 
 
 " Which renders it unspeakably more valuable 
 as independent of every thing without." 
 
 Here Sir James tells us three things, — 1st. That 
 the delight of the affections is independent of every 
 thing without ; 2ndly. That it is thereby unspeak- 
 ably more valuable ; Srdly. That it lias this inde- 
 pendence by being part of a state of mind. 
 
 What Sir James means by " independent of 
 every thing without," we have to guess. He says, 
 it is a quality unspeakably valuable. He also 
 says it belongs to every state of mind, or part of 
 a state, since it is in right of its being such a part, 
 that a delight has it. In that case, the whole 
 man is independent of every thing without. The 
 feelings of the living man make up his being ; 
 and these feelings, from the highest exertions of 
 intellect, and the noblest designs of benevolence, 
 down to sensations, are all states of mind. Every 
 thing, therefore, which man has is of unspeak- 
 able value. And hence he must be an unspeak- 
 ably happy being. 
 
 I incline to think that what here Sir James 
 was blundering about, was some vague recollec- 
 tion of the boast of the ancient Stoics, that they 
 
197 
 
 had their virtue in their own hands, for it de* 
 pended on their inward purposes, and not on any 
 thing without. But the Stoics never said that 
 a man's delights did not depend on any thing 
 without. 
 
 Are the social affections independent of every 
 thing without, when they are caused by some- 
 thing without, and have for their objects nothing 
 but what is without ; that is, have both their 
 beginning and their end in what is without ? 
 
 There is more of Sir James on the delight of 
 the affections, equal in value to what I have 
 pointed out ; but I find it intolerable to take up 
 every sentence, and shall pass to what he calls 
 " the other virtuous dispositions." He says, the 
 delight of having them, too, is a very great 
 delight ; and he takes for one instance the 
 courageous disposition. He says its use in pro- 
 tecting its owner from danger is of far less value 
 to him than the consciousness of possessing it. 
 But from what did Sir James imagine does the 
 pleasure of this consciousness arise? Men are 
 generally not much pleased in the consciousness 
 of possessing something which is of no use to 
 them. The pleasing consciousness of a possession 
 is the association with the idea of it, of the idea 
 of all the advantages which may result from it. 
 Sir James alludes to the advantages to others, 
 which a man of courage may contemplate, as 
 among the fruits of his bravery ; the defence, fo?: 
 
198 
 
 example, of " a righteous cause." Undoubtedly ; 
 such ideas contribute powerfully to constitute his 
 pleasing consciousness. Information from Sir 
 James to this effect was little called for, since the 
 fact is neither strange nor disputed. We have 
 already seen how fully they are shewn by 
 Mr. Mill to be included in the associations which 
 regard the virtue of courage. 
 
 Sir James, after informing us that, in the pleas- 
 ing consciousness of possessing courage, more is 
 included than the mere thought of the good effects 
 immediately regarding the man himself, proceeds 
 to tell us that the same is the case with humility ; 
 very unnecessarily ; for there is nobody who will 
 dispute that it is the case with every virtuous 
 disposition. The consciousness of possessing it 
 is a pleasurable state of mind, made up of the 
 thought of all the good consequences, of which it 
 is naturally the cause. Humility, however, seems 
 to be mentioned for the sake of introducing the 
 perversion of a passage in the work of Mr. Mill, 
 and thereupon building a condemnation of the 
 author. 
 
 " Humility has of late been unwarrantably 
 used to signify that painful consciousness of infe- 
 riority which is the first stage of envy." And for 
 this " unwarrantable use," the reference is, '' Mill's 
 Analysis of the Human Mind, vol. ii. p. 222." 
 He does not favour us with any statement of the 
 grounds of this charge ; other than this bare 
 
199 
 
 reference in a note at the bottom of the page. 
 We are therefore obliged to look at the passage in 
 the book. 
 
 In referring to a passage in this work, which is 
 a course of analysis, proceeding from the most 
 simple, to the most complicated phenomena of the 
 human mind, there is frequently this disadvan- 
 tage, that a preceding part of the analysis must 
 be taken into view, to ascertain the import of 
 that which is the immediate object of attention. 
 Such is the case, at present. 
 
 One grand class of the cases which Mr. Mill had 
 to analyze, was the union formed by association 
 of the ideas of our pleasures and pains, with the 
 ideas of the causes of them. The causes of our 
 pleasures and pains he found it convenient to his 
 analysis to consider as of two kinds — 1, the 
 immediate causes ; 2t, the remote. 
 
 Having examined the associations formed with 
 the immediate causes, and the affections they 
 constitute, he proceeds to the consideration of 
 those formed with the remote causes, and com- 
 mences thus : — 
 
 " As among the remote causes of our pleasures 
 and pains may be reckoned every thing which in 
 any way contributes to them, it follows that the 
 number of such causes is exceedingly great. Of 
 course it is only the principal cases which have 
 been alluded to, and classed under titles. They 
 are the following ; — wealth, power, dignity, as 
 
200 
 
 regards the pleasurable sensations ; poverty, im- 
 potence, contemptibility, as regards the painful." 
 
 Mr. Mill then expounds at length, the states of 
 mind which are formed by association of the ideas 
 of these remote causes with the ideas of the plea- 
 sures and pains which they are calculated to 
 produce, noticing the names which, as affections, 
 they have received ; and afterwards remarks this 
 important fact, that these states of mind undergo 
 considerable modification, when the different de- 
 grees are contemplated in which those important 
 causes appertain to different persons. This pas- 
 sage is of importance for exhibiting the perversion 
 which Sir James presents to his reader of the 
 sense of Mr. Mill. 
 
 " It is to be observed," says Mr. Mill, " that 
 wealth, power, and dignity, derive a great portion 
 of their efficacy, from their comparative amount ; 
 that is, from their being possessed by an individual 
 m greater quantity than by most other people. 
 In contemplating them with the satisfaction with 
 which powerful causes of pleasure are contem- 
 plated, we seldom fail to include the comparison. 
 And the state of consciousness formed by the 
 contemplation and comparison taken together is 
 called Pride, 
 
 " We are said to be proud of our wealth, proud 
 of our power, proud of our dignity ; and also of 
 any of the ingredients of which our power or 
 dignity is composed, of our knowledge, of our 
 
201 
 
 eloquence, of our family, of our personal 
 beauty, &c. 
 
 " It is obvious that, in the contemplation of 
 our own wealth, power, and dignity, as greater, 
 we include the contemplation of another man's as 
 less. As the state of consciousness thus formed, 
 when the reference is to ourselves, is called pride, 
 it is called contempt, when the reference is to 
 others. When the case is reversed, that is^ when 
 a man contemplates his wealth, power, and dig- 
 nity, as less than those of other men, the state of 
 consciousness is called Humility'' 
 
 Such is Mr. Mill's account of humility. It is 
 unquestionably a term of comparison ; just as 
 pride is, — its counterpart. No man is humble 
 because he thinks himself greater than another 
 man, but because he thinks himself less, in some 
 respect which he deems of importance. The 
 word has many shades of meaning, in common 
 parlance ; but this is its generical import. 
 
 This contemplation of a man's self as inferior, 
 is not a pleasing state of consciousness, and incites 
 to such actions as may remove the inferiority. 
 This inferiority may be removed by actions of 
 two sorts ; either, actions tending to pull down 
 the man who is superior, or actions tending to 
 raise the person himself who feels the inferiority. 
 When he is incited to acts of the latter sort, his 
 state of mind is applauded ; it is called honour- 
 able emulation,^ laudable ambition, and so on. 
 When he is incited to acts of the former sort, his 
 
202 
 
 state of mind is abhorred, and is called envy, one 
 of the most dishonouring of terms. 
 
 It is cruel that Sir James's ignorance, and evil 
 disposition, should force us upon these tedious 
 explanations. But now at last we shall be 
 enabled to see to the bottom of his imputation. 
 
 " Humilitij,'' he says, " has of late been unwar- 
 rantably used to signify that painful consciousness 
 of inferiority, which is the first stage of envy." 
 
 By this he plainly imputes to Mr. Mill an 
 intention to disparage the virtue of humility, as 
 tending to nothing but envy. Is there any truth 
 in this representation ? The answer may be 
 safely left to the reader. 
 
 What Mr. Mill has said of humility, according 
 to Sir James, is this, and this only, that it is the 
 first stage of envy. With exactly the same pro- 
 priety might he be accused of saying, that shame 
 is the first stage of murder. Shame has nothing 
 to do with murder, though an ill-directed mind 
 may have recourse to murder as a means of 
 escaping from shame. Humility has as little to 
 do with envy, though an ill-directed mind may 
 take wrong methods to relieve the painful feeling 
 of inferiority. 
 
 Sir James was utterly ignorant of the relation 
 in which an affection stands to a motive and a 
 motive to a disposition, though this is one of the 
 most useful portions of that analysis which 
 Mr. Mill has effected. 
 
 The reference in support of Sir James's perver- 
 
203 
 
 sion is to what Mr. Mill says of humility in his 
 chapter of Motives. He imposes upon us the 
 necessity of reciting the passage. 
 
 " We have seen that the value of wealth, power, 
 and dignity, is greatly enhanced by their compa- 
 rative amount ; that is, the degree in which they 
 are possessed by us compared with the degree in 
 which they are possessed by others. 
 
 " We have seen in what manner this com- , 
 parison generates certain affections, which have 
 received the names of pride, on the one hand, 
 contempt on the other ; humility on the one 
 hand, respect, admiration, on the other. We 
 have now to shew in what manner this compa- 
 rison generates both motives, and dispositions, 
 
 " As it is not only of value to me to have 
 wealth, power, and dignity, but to have more 
 than other men, the surj^assing of other men thus 
 becomes a cause of pleasure ; and hence the idea 
 of this surpassing associated with the idea of acts 
 of mine as its cause becomes a motive. 
 
 " We may endeavour to surpass other men by 
 either of two ways ; by adding to our own wealth* 
 power, dignity ; or by abstracting from theirs. 
 When only ideas of the acts which add to our 
 advantages enter into the motive, it is called emu- 
 lation. When ideas of the acts which abstract 
 from theirs enter into it, it is called envy.'" 
 
 Having said so much of the motives which may 
 ai'ise from this comparison, part urging in tlie 
 
204 
 
 right, part in the wrong direction, with the names 
 given to them respectively, he proceeds to speak 
 of the corresponding dispositions, and the names 
 given to them. " Emulation," he says, *' is some- 
 times the name of the disposition, as well as that 
 of the motive," viz. the motive which urges in 
 the right direction : but he adds that ambition is 
 the more frequent name of this disposition. He 
 then turns to the motive which operates in the 
 wrong direction, and says, " Envy is the name 
 both of the disposition and the motive. It has 
 the appearance also of being the name of the cor- 
 responding affection, or state of consciousness 
 arising from the comparison of another man's 
 greater, with our own less advantages." Mr. 
 Mill says, that this however is not the case. 
 When the state of consciousness is merely compa- 
 rison, and has not yet been converted into a 
 motive to act, either in the right direction or the 
 wrong, it has, as he had said before, the name of 
 humility. " It is never envy but when the 
 motive to act in the wrong direction is felt ; " 
 just as it is emulation, ambition, when the 
 motive to act in the right direction is felt. 
 Of these two dispositions, the disposition cor- 
 responding to the motive which urges in the 
 right direction, and the motive which urges in the 
 wrong, Mr. Mill speaks generally thus : " The 
 same end is attainable by two sets of means, the 
 one virtuous, the other vicious. The man who 
 
205 
 
 takes the virtuous course is the man who has 
 formed the habit of associating his desire of sur- 
 passing others with the acts which increase his 
 own advantages. The man who takes the vicious 
 course is the man who has formed the habit of 
 associating with his idea of the benefit of sur- 
 passing others the ideas of the acts by which 
 their advantages are diminished. This is a case," 
 adds Mr. Mill, " of the greatest importance in 
 education, and ethics." 
 
 Is it possible to find an attempt to put a wrong 
 and odious construction upon a man's words, with 
 intention, not only without, but in defiance of 
 evidence, more flagrant than that which is dis^ 
 played in Sir James's declaration, " Humility has 
 been unwarrantably used by Mr. Mill to signify 
 that painful consciousness of inferiority, which is 
 the first stage of envy ? " 
 
 Sir James, then, in prosecution of his ambition 
 of speaking loudly about the delight of social 
 affections, and " other virtuous dispositions," and 
 of the superior value of this delight to all the 
 difference between the consequences of good 
 actions and bad, goes on to talk of the " delight" 
 of humility. In the sentimental song, sung by 
 Sir James on this occasion, there is enough of 
 what it would be good to expose. He confounds 
 humility with other virtues ; the correct estimate, 
 for example, of a man's self. He talks nonsense ; 
 as when he says that " humility soothes and com- 
 
206 
 
 poses vanity, and pride ;" as if the presence of 
 humility were not another name for the absence 
 of vanity and pride. Vanity and pride do not re- 
 main to be soothed by humility ; they are gone 
 when humility comes. The word humility is the 
 negation of pride and vanity. But as there is 
 hardly a sentence of Sir James which does not 
 present a demand for exposure, it is impossible to 
 do more than give samples of this philosopher. 
 
 After having spent so many words in praising 
 the delight. Sir James comes to philosophise 
 upon it ; and thus he performs : — 
 
 " Virtue has often outward advantages, and 
 always inward delights ; but the second, though 
 constant, strong, inaccessible, and inviolable, are 
 not easily considered by the common observer as 
 apart from the virtue with which they are 
 blended. They are so subtle and evanescent as 
 to escape the distinct contemplation of all but 
 the very few who meditate on the acts of mind. 
 The outward advantages, on the other hand, 
 cold, uncertain, dependent, and precarious as they 
 are, yet stand out to the sense and memory, may 
 be handled and counted, and are perfectly on a 
 level with the general apprehension. Hence they 
 have become the almost exclusive theme of all 
 the moralists who profess to follow reason." 
 
 The having certain feelings of a delightful 
 nature, antecedent to action, and independent of 
 it, and the consequences which flow from good 
 
207 
 
 acts, are here placed in counterview ; and the 
 feelings are represented as of far greater import- 
 ance than the acts. 
 
 In the next place, we are let to know, that it is 
 a very difficult thing, to distinguish the feelings ; 
 and except to " the very few who meditate on the 
 acts of mind," they are unknown, or something 
 very near it. One would imagine that a feeling, 
 which is very delightful, would be one of the last 
 things to be unknown to the man that felt it. 
 
 I think it necessary to fix the attention of the 
 reader, for a little time, on this curious doctrine. 
 
 It has been frequently mentioned with regret, 
 that sentimental novels, and other sentimental 
 breathings, have a pernicious effect upon the 
 morals of those who are addicted to them, 
 especially the young, by encouraging in them a 
 notion, that those who have the fine feelings are 
 the fine people ; and that having the fine feelings 
 they may concern themselves but moderately 
 about acts. Sir James, assuredly, is the first who 
 has undertaken to erect this sort of thinking into 
 a philosophical creed, and to preach formally the 
 doctrine that moral acts go a very little way to 
 constitute the moral man ; that moral feeling is 
 the great thing, moral acting a matter of inferior 
 consideration. 
 
 As Sir James is the first who has set up this 
 system, I venture to predict that he will be alone 
 of his school. No man hereafter will dare to 
 
208 
 
 write moral philosophy, so utterly unqualified for 
 the task as Sir James. 
 
 After the intensity of Sir James's " delights," 
 we come to the ineognoscibility of them. He 
 says, " though constant, strong, inaccessible, and 
 inviolable, they are not easily considered by the 
 common observer as apart from the virtue with 
 which they are blended." If we could, we would 
 get an answer, from somebody, to the question 
 what Sir James meant by the " inaccessibility" 
 of a delight ; or its " inviolability." A violated 
 delight, I should think it not easy to find. 
 
 Sir James says, the fault of the common 
 observer is that he does not consider these de- 
 lights, " constant, strong, inaccessible, and in- 
 violable " though they be, " as apart from the 
 virtue with which they are blended." They are 
 not, then, the virtue. They are something 
 separate from it ; and it is a failure in perspi- 
 cacity, not to distinguish them. 
 
 But then it is necessary to inquire, what 
 " the virtue " is, which they are not, but with 
 which they are blended. 
 
 Beside the sentiment, Sir James's " delight," 
 which may be regarded as cause of the act, there 
 is nothing in the case connected with virtue but 
 the act itself, and the consequences of it. The 
 act, then, and the consequences, are all that re- 
 main, apart from the delight, to make the virtue 
 out of. And what Sir James tells us is this — that 
 
209 
 
 the delight is far superior in importance to the 
 virtue. This moralist does honour to those who 
 enabled him to live in the delights of fame. 
 Mr. Peter Pounce was his predecessor ; who, in a 
 discussion with Parson Adams, established the 
 superior merit of good feelings over good acts ; 
 which, or the consequences of which. Sir James 
 treats as " cold, uncertain, dependent, and pre- 
 carious." " Sir, said Adams, my definition of 
 charity is a generous disposition to relieve the 
 distressed. There is something in that definition, 
 answered Peter, which I like well enough ; it is, 
 as you say, a disposition ; and does not so much 
 consist in the act as in the disposition to do it." 
 
 There are two things, then, the " delight," 
 and " the virtue," which Sir James says it is 
 difficult to consider as separate. The virtue, as we 
 have seen, is in the act and its consequences. 
 Now we may safely affirm, that no man ever 
 found the least difficulty in considering the feel- 
 ing, by which he is inclined to a good act, as dis- 
 tinct from the act itself, and its consequences ; 
 there never was either man or woman who did 
 not distinguish them. When a poor servant girl, 
 without a halfpenny in her pocket, says to her 
 companion, " that woman and child seem to be 
 starving ; I wish to God, I had some halfpence to 
 give them ; " does she not know that the pity she 
 feels is one thing, the act of giving the half- 
 pence, if she had them, and the pleasure of the 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 starving wretches in eating the bread which the 
 halfpence would purchase, another thing ? 
 
 Sir James says, his " delights " are " subtle, 
 evanescent.*' What is it that he means here to 
 denote by the word " subtle ? " In its primary 
 use, it would seem to have denoted corporeal 
 thinness, exility of parts. But if this is applied 
 figuratively to a pleasure, which is neither dense 
 nor rare, it would seem to express only weak- 
 ness ; a slender pleasure is a weak pleasure. 
 " Evanescent," he also calls his " delights." 
 And " evanescent" means something, so faint as 
 barely to exist, or barely to be seen ; just about 
 to become non-existent, or imperceptible. 
 
 Sir James had got into an intellectual state so 
 thoroughly depraved, that I doubt whether a 
 parallel to it is possible to be found. He seems 
 to have become utterly regardless of, perhaps in- 
 capable of regarding, what he said. He had but 
 two lines before told us, with equal emphasis, 
 that his " delights " were " strong," " constant." 
 He now tells us that they are " subtle," " evanes- 
 cent," which seems to be precisely the negation 
 of the former qualities. 
 
 He also tells us, that they are blended with the 
 virtue, and all this to explain to us how that 
 happens, which does not happen, that they are 
 by most observers confounded with the virtue. 
 
 The virtue, as we have seen, is in the act, and 
 its consequences. How can delight, which is a 
 
ml 
 
 feeling in the mind, be blended with an act^ 
 which is something without the mind ; and with 
 the consequences of the act, which are some- 
 thing posterior to the act ? To assert, however, 
 an impossibility, is not more difficult to Sir James, 
 than to assert as a matter of fact, that which 
 had no existence^ and against the existence of 
 which he had before him incontrovertible evi- 
 dence. 
 
 Some one may take up the defence of Sir James, 
 and say, that though the delight, which is in the 
 mind, cannot be blended with the act and its con- 
 sequences, which are not in the mind, it may very 
 naturally and easily be blended with the ideas of 
 the act and its consequences. But such a defender 
 has to b^ informed, that his memory is short. 
 Sir James has debarred himself of this resource. 
 This is what he abuses Mr. Bentham for. To 
 teach men to have in their minds, before acting, 
 the ideas of the consequences of their acts, is to 
 tell them, he says, to set the principle of utility 
 silways before them ; a recommendation which he 
 treats with ineffable contempt. The defender 
 is, indeed, right in his remark, though mistaken 
 in his attempt to use it in defence of Sir James. 
 It is true that the pleasurable feeling which first 
 prompts to the act does call up ideas of the act 
 and its consequences ; and just as these conse- 
 quences are upon the whole beneficial, that is, in 
 proportion as the ideas of them are pleasurable 
 
 p 2 
 
^12 
 
 ideas, is the original impulse rendered more and 
 more highly pleasurable : in other words, and to 
 state the conclusion more generally ; the mental 
 delight which is connected with virtuous acting, 
 becomes more and more intense, in proportion 
 exactly as the principle of utility is more fully 
 and correctly brought into play. This most im- 
 portant class of associations has been analysed 
 carefully by Mr. Mill, and may be understood 
 by any man who reads his book ; if he does but 
 read with the attention which the nature of his 
 subject requires. 
 
 Sir James does not think that he has suffi- 
 ciently exalted the feelings, till he has also de- 
 graded the acting. The " outward advantages 
 of virtue," (which we have shewn can be nothing 
 else but acts and their consequences) he says, are 
 " cold, uncertain, dependent, and precarious, can 
 be handled and counted," and so on. — This is Sir 
 James's practical morality. — The mere fondness 
 a man has for his child, the delight which an idiot 
 is capable of having in the highest possible 
 degree, which we are not sure that the lower 
 animals have not in the highest degree, is to be 
 considered of greater value, than the outward 
 advantages of parental virtue, the man's hard 
 and persevering labours to supply the wants of 
 his child, his perpetual study of its future happi- 
 ness, the care with which he watches its inward 
 movements, and endeavours to impart to it those 
 
213 
 
 habits which are best calculated to render its life 
 a source of happiness to itself and others. 
 
 Every body knows, that in the mind of the 
 virtuous parent, the anticipation of these con- 
 sequences, " outward advantages" though they 
 be, " cold," capable of being " counted," and so 
 on, is the supreme delight ; that which cheers 
 him in his long and tedious labours, and 
 strengthens him to persevere in his virtuous 
 though painful course. Sir James is too ignorant 
 to see that in his gabble about the inward delights 
 and the outward advantages, he excludes those 
 joyous hopes from the parental affection, because 
 they rest only on the " outward advantages," 
 which are insignificant as motives, so says Sir 
 James, " infinitely inferior," these are his very 
 words, to the " inward delight," and which most 
 people he says commit a great mistake in not 
 separating from the " inward delight," which 
 ought always to be considered as " apart " from 
 them. 
 
 Sir James having said, that the outward ad- 
 vantages, obvious to the senses, have been more 
 taken notice of by the vulgar, than the inward 
 delights, goes on ; " there is room for suspecting 
 that a very general illusion prevails on this 
 subject. Probably the smallest part of the plea- 
 sure of virtue, because it is the most palpable, 
 has become the sign and mental representative 
 of the whole. The outward and visible sign 
 
214 
 
 suggests insensibly the inward and mental de- 
 light." 
 
 That delight which fills the breast of a virtuous 
 father whien he looks forward to the conser 
 quences of what he has done for his child, in the 
 wise and beneficent conduct of the full grown 
 man, the object of the respect and affection of all 
 who know him. Sir James has the fatuity to tell 
 us, is the smallest part of the pleasure which the 
 father has in his parental virtue. Yet after this 
 is deducted, what is it which remains ? Only 
 that animal fondness, which the worst of men 
 share perhaps in equal degree with the best, and 
 which is enjoyed, and in perhaps not a lower 
 degree, by the inferior animals. The whole of 
 the delightful anticipations which spring fromt 
 virtuous acting, the view of the extensive and 
 never ending trains of beneficial consequences 
 which spring from certain kinds of acting to 
 myriads of men fypm genex^ation to generation, 
 are " perhaps," says Sir James, " the smallest 
 part of the pleasure of virtue." 
 
 Such is the result of Sir James's elaborate en- 
 deavour to put the pleasure of feeling above that 
 of acting. The idea of all the consequences, 
 how great and glorious soever, of a course of wise 
 and beneficial action, serves only to " suggest 
 insensibly the inward and mental delight ; " that 
 delight which is of little value, except as it pro- 
 duces those ** outward advantages," which Sir 
 
215 
 
 James speaks of with a kind of distaste, and re- 
 proaches Mr. Benthara and others for too strenu- 
 ously calling upon men to regard. 
 
 Sir James is perpetually presenting a call for 
 verbal criticism. Here is an instance. Every 
 body understands the fact, that an inward delight 
 is often suggested by an outward object. But 
 how an inward delight can be suggested " in- 
 sensibly," it would have puzzled Sir James to 
 explain. It seems to mean suggested without 
 being suggested ; felt insensibly, is felt without 
 being felt. 
 
 Upon this exposition of the superiority of the 
 inward delight to the outward advantages. Sir 
 James hooks, (the Lord knows how,) a disserta- 
 tion upon the love of fame. " Much of our love 
 of praise," he says, " may be thus ascribed to 
 humane and sociable pleasure in the sympathy of 
 others with us. Praise is the symbol which re- 
 presents sympathy, and which the mind insen- 
 sibly substitutes for it in recollection and in 
 language." 
 
 Sir James says we have a pleasure in sympathy 
 (his " humane and sociable " are here wholly 
 without meaning) ; praise is the representative of 
 this pleasure ; and therefore we love praise. 
 Upon this shewing, the man who is most fond of 
 sympathy, must be the man who is most fond of 
 praise. But it is a common remark, that they 
 who are most fond of praise, are not the most 
 
216 
 
 careful to deserve it. On the other hand, the 
 greatest benefactors of mankind have frequently 
 been distinguished for contempt of praise. These 
 phenomena needed explanation at the hand of Sir 
 James, Where is it ? 
 
 The idea of the favourable opinion of our 
 fellpw creatures as cause, is associated with the 
 idea of a great portion of our most valuable 
 pleasures, as effects. Praise, in its true nature, 
 is the expression of a favourable opinion. But 
 who needed Sir James to tell him, in new, and 
 hardly intelligible phrase, that he loves the good 
 opinion of mankind, and therefore loves to be told 
 of it? 
 
 Having told us why we love present praise. 
 Sir James proceeds to account for the love of 
 posthumous fame. He says we love that also as 
 the representative of sympathy. And he breaks 
 out into a rhapsody in praise of this same love, 
 which explains nothing. The phraseology I 
 recommend to the reader's own attention ; but 
 some of the things I must not pass unnoticed. 
 It would have been impossible for Sir James, had 
 he asked himself what he meant, not to have re- 
 membered (for he had a memory) hundreds of 
 instances of men seeking posthumous fame with- 
 out either morality or genius. 
 
 Sir James, consistently with his perfect 
 ignorance of the subject, exults in the proof, 
 which he says the love of posthumous praise 
 
217 
 
 affords, of his favourite philosophy, that man has 
 " disinterested desires." Yet he allows that the 
 love of posthumous praise is wholly grounded on 
 the desire of present praise, which surely he 
 would not have had the face to say is dis- 
 interested. 
 
 Having changed the name, viz. love of praise, 
 to " regard for character," he says, " men infuse 
 into that word a large portion of that sense 
 in which it denotes the frame of the mind." 
 The word character has two meanings ; in one 
 sense it is synonymous with reputation, in another 
 it means the actual qualities of the mind. In the 
 phrase " regard for character," it has the first 
 meaning. Regard for character is regard for re- 
 putation. When we say of a man, that he is a 
 noble character, it has the second meaning ; we 
 affirm that he has noble qualities of mind. 
 What Sir James then says, is, that when a man 
 speaks of regard for his character in its sense of 
 reputation, he infuses into this meaning a great 
 portion of the other meaning. But could not 
 Sir James have expressed this in the language of 
 a Christian, and have said at once, that the desire 
 of being thought to have good qualities is not 
 always separate from the desire of possessing 
 them ? Who is ignorant of this ? And where 
 is the use of giving us such truisms in an almost 
 unintelligible jargon ? 
 
 He passes from the word " character," to the 
 
^18 
 
 word " honor," and speaks of it as admitting of 
 a similar " infusion ; " the infusion of its mean- 
 ing when it signifies some one's possession of 
 good qualities, into its meaning when it signifies 
 other men's belief in that possession. The good 
 qualities, or quality, which it denotes, when it 
 signifies the qualities, and not the reputation of 
 them, is a certain minute attention, says Sir 
 James, to small wrongs. 
 
 But no body needs to be told, that there ought 
 to be no wrongs, either great or small, and that if 
 two men are equally attentive to avoid great 
 wrongs, but one of them more attentive to avoid 
 small wrongs than the other, he is the better man 
 of the two. This is such stuff as would not find 
 its way into a pulpit exercise. 
 
 If, however. Sir James's minute attention to 
 small wrongs, means, not a minute attention to 
 avoid them, in one's conduct towards others ; but 
 a minute attention to resent them, in others, 
 towards oneself, it is a vice, not a virtue. Is not 
 Sir James an accurate writer, using words which 
 leave it doubtful which of these two things he 
 means to express ? 
 
 Sir James then breaks out, and somewhat 
 abruptly, into a rhapsodical eulogy of the man 
 who prefers the true merit to the lying report of 
 it. The meaning, here, is trite, even to puerility, 
 but the wording is curious. " What heart does 
 not warm at the noble exclamation of the ancient 
 
2tl9 
 
 poet: * Who is pleased by false honour, or 
 frightened by lying infamy, but he who is false 
 and depraved ? ' " There is not much to warm a 
 heart in being told that a paltry fellow is a 
 paltry fellow. But if it be so despicable to be 
 pleased with undeserved praise, what is it to be 
 the bes tower of it ? " Every uncorrupted mind," 
 says Sir James, " feels unmerited praise as a 
 bitter reproach." Sir James must have rarely 
 met with these " uncorrupted minds ; " for he 
 was one of the boldest hands of his day at tlie 
 unmerited praise, and I do not believe he ever, in 
 any one instance, found it treated as a reproach. 
 
 Sir James goes on : " Every uncorrupted mind 
 regards a consciousness of demerit as a drop of 
 poison in the cup of honour." A consciousness 
 of demerit is certainly not a comfortable feeling ; 
 it is however a consciousness which most men are 
 very clever in escaping. Whatever their want 
 of merits, they mostly contrive to keep on good 
 terms with themselves. 
 
 But what has a consciousness of demerit to do 
 in the cup of honour? Honour means merit. 
 Demerit is therefore the negation of it. If 
 honour here only means the praise of honourable- 
 ness, the man who does not deserve it is a 
 despicable person, if he has pleasure in receiving 
 it. But this is precisely what he told us before, 
 without his " cup," and his " drop." Observe 
 that the " cup of honour," in this beautiful 
 
220 
 
 metaphor, means undeserved reputation, and the 
 knowledge that it is undeserved is a drop of 
 poison in it. This cup would have been a 
 salutary draught, it seems, except for the know- 
 ledge, but that makes it poisonous. Undeserved 
 praise, when a man knows not that it is un- 
 deserved, is no bad cup ; when he does know, a 
 drop of poison is in it. 
 
 Sir James having thus supported his charge 
 against Mr. Bentham, and those whom he classes 
 with him, that they did not set the " inward 
 delight " far above the " outward advantages ; " 
 that is, fine feeling above virtuous acting, comes 
 now to the second count in his indictment, that 
 they overlooked entirely the effect of virtuous 
 acting upon the mind. 
 
 I do not think it was possible even for Sir 
 James, though his daring in this particular is not 
 easily matched, to have made an affirmation so 
 utterly at variance with evidence, had he known 
 what was in the works of Mr. Bentham and 
 Mr. Mill ; because he could not have hoped to 
 escape detection and disgrace. And Sir James's 
 ignorance of the books he criticizes is so far from 
 being a difficult supposition, that the fact is mani- 
 fest in almost every page of his work. 
 /The accusation against Mr. Mill, that he 
 entirely overlooked the effect on the mind pro- 
 duced by acting; the man who first had ex- 
 pounded that effect successfully, by shewing that 
 
221 
 
 affections are associations formed of the ideas of 
 pleasures and the causes of them ; that the asso- 
 ciations formed of the ideas of pleasures or the 
 causes of them and of an act of our own as cause 
 of either, are motives ; and that a facility of form- 
 ing this last association, to be acquired solely by 
 repetition, that is, frequent obedience to the 
 motive, that is, frequent acting, is disposition — 
 is something so outrageous, that ordinary dis- 
 regard of the distinction between truth and false- 
 hood will not account for ity^ 
 
 Sir James seems to have thought of nothing 
 but a mysterious jargon ; and when he had com- 
 passed that, and could work it for praise or blame 
 in any quarter, as he listed, alias lusted, to have 
 felt satisfied with himself, as a man in the full 
 enjoyment of his object. It seems never to have 
 crossed his brain, that what he was charging 
 against these writers, in the wonderful language 
 we shall afterwards hear, is only this, that they 
 were ignorant of that of which nobody is igno- 
 rant, the power of habit ; or, at least, did not 
 think habits of obeying the motives to virtuous 
 acting, that is, dispositions, as expounded by 
 Mr. Mill, a matter of importance. If this accusa- 
 tion had been true, every body sees what a deep 
 condemnation it would have inferred. When it 
 is utterly untrue, and against glaring evidence, 
 what does it infer against the man who brought 
 it? 
 
222 
 
 Sir James begins : — " They who have most 
 inculcated the doctrine of utility have given an- 
 other notable example of the very vulgar preju- 
 dice which treats the unseen as insignificant." 
 " The unseen" here means the habits acquired by 
 repetition of virtuous acts. He accuses " those 
 who have most inculcated the doctrine of utility," 
 of treating good habits (" the unseen ") as " insig- 
 nificant;" and he calls this a case of a vulgar 
 prejudice. On the contrary, the vulgar are re- 
 markable for making too much of the " unseen;" 
 witness their ideas of ghosts, devils, and so on. 
 At all events, there is no man so vulgar as to 
 overlook the power of habit. 
 
 Sir James proceeds : — " Tucker is the only one 
 of them who occasionally considers that most 
 important effect of human conduct which consists 
 in its action on the frame of the mind, by fitting its 
 faculties and sensibilities for their appointed pur- 
 pose." This is the Sir-Jamesical mode of saying, 
 that frequent acting produces habit. Observe 
 the words, and how they stand. He says, that 
 "the action of human conduct fits the faculties and 
 sensibilities of the mind for their appointed pur- 
 pose;" that is, gives good habits. Sir James 
 never reflected, that there are many modes of 
 human conduct which give bad habits, and not 
 good. Sir James, then, meant good conduct, and 
 did not know how to express himself. 
 
 Sir James says, " the action of human conduct 
 
223 
 
 on the mind," that is, the effect of it ; when one 
 thing acts on another, it means that it has effect 
 on it. Sir James's affirmation, then, is, " that 
 the effect of human conduct on the frame of the 
 mind consists in" its effect on it. — Sir James calls 
 good habits " faculties and sensibilities of mind 
 fitted for their appointed purpose." This is pro- 
 found instruction. Are his faculties, and sen- 
 sibilities, the same, or different ? And if different, 
 wherein do they differ ? Sir James is silent. One 
 faculty of the mind is dreaming. How is that 
 " fitted to its purpose" by " that most important 
 effect of human conduct which consists in its effect 
 on the frame of the mind, by fitting its faculties 
 and sensibilities to their purpose ? " The fear of 
 ghosts is one of the sensibilities of the mind, and 
 the smell of a rose is another. How are these 
 fitted to their purpose by the action of human 
 conduct on the mind ? This is very needless 
 work, as regards the subject. But the exposure 
 of a successful pretender, of this kind, is not 
 needless. 
 
 Sir James goes on illustrating the importance 
 of forming good habits, in a manner truly his 
 own. " A razor or a penknife would well enough 
 cut cloth, or meat ; but if they were often so used 
 they would be entirely spoiled." Reader, this 
 gives you real insight (does it not), into the for- 
 mation and use of good habits. " The same sort 
 of observation" (the same as that about the 
 
224 
 
 razor) ** is much more strongly applicable to 
 habitual dispositions" (a disposition, though Sir 
 James did not know so much, is a habit, habitual 
 disposition, therefore, is habitual habit, that is, 
 simply habit), " which if they be spoiled, we have 
 no certain means of replacing or mending." 
 
 Nobody needed the razor and the penknife, 
 cutting cloth and meat, to make him comprehend 
 the evil of losing good habits. There is not a 
 tailor's wife who does not inculcate this upon her 
 child. Losing a good habit. Sir James calls 
 " spoiling," by his usual infelicity of expression. 
 A good habit may be lost, and a bad one niay be 
 acquired in its stead ; but spoiling a habit is non- 
 sense. And when spoiled he says, " we have no 
 certain means of replacing or mending it." Had 
 Sir James ever reflected at all he could not but 
 have known, that there are certain means of reco- 
 vering good habits which have been lost, as well 
 as of correcting bad ones, which have been ac- 
 quired. Is any thing more common, even in the 
 mouths of the common people, than the expostu- 
 lation to one another, why do you not break 
 yourself of that bad habit ? 
 
 Sir James invents another phrase, to tell us 
 once more, as if we did not know it already, that 
 the loss of a good habit is the loss of a very good 
 thing. " Whatever act, therefore, discomposes 
 the moral machinery of mind " (what a name for 
 good habits !) " is more injurious to the welfare 
 
2^5 
 
 of the agent," &c. Granted. The lOss of good 
 habits, if it extends t6 any considerable number, 
 is the greatest of misfortunes ; and every body 
 knows it. But Sir James shews great ignorance, 
 when he speaks of a single act, as breaking up a 
 habit. Habits are lost, as they are acquired, only 
 by repetition. 
 
 Sir James has a new invented phraseology also, 
 to tell us that a set of good habits is a very good 
 thing. " Health of mind '* (that is the name for 
 the set) " is not only productive in itself of a 
 greater sum of enjoyments than arises from other 
 sources ; but is the only condition of our frame 
 in which we are capable of receiving pleasures 
 from without." This is as much as to tell us, 
 that we have no pleasures, either from within or 
 without, but what are derived from good habits. 
 
 It is remarkable, that a man could be found, 
 ignorant that a habit never created a pleasure in 
 its life. Good habits are those courses of action, 
 by which the pleasures from nature's sources are 
 in greatest abundance made ours. 
 
 It is not true that good habits are " the only 
 condition of our frame in which we are capable of 
 receiving pleasure from without." The very 
 worst of men, who of course are the men most 
 devoid of good habits, are susceptible of very 
 intense pleasure both from without and within. 
 The consequence of the want of good habits, in 
 any man, is, that the sum of his enjoyments is 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 much less, and of his pains much greater, than 
 otherwise it would have been. 
 
 Sir James could not, it should seem, prevail 
 upon himself to come to a pause in his panegyric 
 on good habits. He knew of a thing, which is 
 not nearly so good as good habits, that is, " a 
 present interest." He says, there are some people, 
 meaning Mr. Bentham, and those whom in his 
 bounty he gives him as followers, who were so 
 foolish as not to know this ; and foolish, in that 
 case, they must indeed have been ; for if good 
 habits are the means of compassing the greatest 
 siun of pleasures, to say that one pleasure, or 
 source of pleasures, is equal to them, is only to 
 say that the whole is not greater than one of its 
 parts. 
 
 This is nonsense sufficiently pure ; but we 
 come to something next which I really think is 
 better. " When they " (habits) " are most moral," 
 that is, I suppose, when they are of a kind to 
 produce the greatest sum of pleasures, " they 
 may often prevent us from obtaining advan- 
 tages ; " undoubtedly, viz., by the sacrifice of the 
 less to the greater, and not otherwise. 
 
 And " it would be absurd," Sir James says, 
 *' to desire to lower them for that reason." If by 
 lowering a habit (a strange expression). Sir James 
 meant, making it less perfect; to make a habit 
 less perfect, because it gives us the greater plea- 
 sure, instead of the less ; that is, to make it less 
 
2S7 
 
 an instrument of good, he might well pronounce 
 absurd, such an absurdity as human being never 
 yet was guilty of. 
 
 Sir James, having thus advanced, and thus 
 supported, his accusation against Mr. Bentham 
 and those whom he associates with him, that 
 they did not know the value of good habits, nor 
 the mode of their formation, proceeds a step 
 farther, and affirms, that they preach a doctrine 
 which goes to the destruction of good habits. 
 
 " It is impossible," he says, " to combine the 
 benefit of the general habit with the advantages 
 of occasional deviation." And then he proceeds, 
 in Sir Jamesical phrase, to prove to us this 
 recondite proposition, that the way to weaken a 
 habit, is to act contrary to it. Before, however, 
 he comes to apply his charge to his intended 
 victims. Sir James philosophizes a little. " The 
 infirmity of recollection," he says, " aggravated 
 by the defects of language, gives an appearance of 
 more selfishness to man than truly belongs to his 
 nature ; and the effect of active agents upon the 
 habitual state of mind, one of the considerations 
 to which the epithet sentimental has of late been 
 applied in derision, is really among the most 
 serious and reasonable objects of moral philo- 
 sophy." 
 
 Sir James's first observation is too profound for 
 me ; that because man's memory is not good, and 
 iiis language an imperfect instrument, therefore 
 
 Q 21 
 
he appears more selfish than he is. First of all, 
 as to the fact : — Does man appear more selfish 
 than he is? I am afraid he much more fre- 
 quently appears more benevolent than he is. 
 But if there were such a delusion, how badness 
 of memory, and imperfection of language, would 
 account for it, I confess myself unable to under* 
 stand. Nor does Sir James help me a whit 
 by saying, it is manifest from what he had 
 said before. Wliat he had said before was, that 
 an act in opposition to a good habit does great 
 injury to the mind. But that has no bearing 
 that I can see upon the question of the disinter- 
 estedness, or selfishness, of human nature. 
 
 His other penetrating observation is, that " the 
 effect of active agents upon the habitual state of 
 mind, is among the most serious and reasonable 
 objects of moral philosophy." Now, first of all, 
 we need to be told what " those active agents " 
 here spoken of, which work upon the mind, are. 
 Does he mean other men ? Undoubtedly they are 
 the grand class of agents which produce effects on 
 each man's mind. But no human being ever 
 doubted, that the mode in which the mind of 
 man is acted on by his fellow creatures is among 
 the most important objects of philosophical in- 
 quiry. And assuredly, no person ever applied 
 the epithet sentimental to such inquiry, either in 
 derision, or otherwise. Besides, what has such 
 an observation to do with the subject our philo- 
 
229 
 
 sopher is upon, viz., the effect produced upon 
 eadi man's mind by his own act ? Upon my 
 life, I believe, incredible as it may seem, that 
 Sir James's active agents are no other than the 
 agent's own acts. A man acts ; these acts. Sir 
 James says, have effects on the man's mind ; and 
 thence he calls these acts " active agents." 
 
 We have seen that the effects, beyond the 
 merely temporary effects, produced by a man's 
 acts on his own mind, are habits. Now where 
 is the use of telling us (in whatever prodigy of 
 phrase) that habits are acquired, and also altered, 
 by acting ; and that the mode of their formation 
 is an important topic in philosophy ? Was this 
 ever doubted ? When Sir James says, that the 
 consideration of men's acts as the cause of their 
 habits, has been called sentimental, he speaks 
 without book. This was never called sentimental 
 in this world. 
 
 Sir James inserts here (for what purpose is not 
 visible) a re-statement of his doctrine, that the 
 fine feelings of the agent are of infinitely more 
 importance than his acts. Sir James is never 
 tired of inculcating that doctrine. And his 
 words on this occasion deserve notice, because 
 they are more explicit than ordinary. He says, 
 " When the internal pleasures and pains which 
 accompany good and bad feelings, or, rather, form 
 a part of them, and the external advantages and 
 disadvantages which follow good and bad actions, 
 
2S0 
 
 are sufficiently considered, the comparative im- 
 portance of outward consequences will be more 
 and more narrowed." Good God ! What a 
 doctrine is this ? Good actions, and all their 
 effects, all the happiness which human beings 
 derive from the good actions of one another ; in 
 fact, almost all the happiness which it is given to 
 them to enjoy; is insignificant, compared with 
 certain pleasurable states of mind antecedent to 
 action. >^rom this doctrine it follows, that if the 
 feelings did but exist in perfection, it would be a 
 matter of little or no importance, whether there 
 were any good actions or not i^ Observe on what, 
 in his blindness. Sir James stumbles next. " So 
 that the Stoical philosophy may be thought 
 almost excusable for rejecting it altogether, were 
 it not an indispensably necessary consideration 
 for those in whom right habits of feeling are not 
 sufficiently strong. They alone are happy, or 
 even truly virtuous, who have little need of it." 
 The meaning is, that if a man has " the right 
 habits of feeling," he is truly virtuous and happy, 
 whether he acts or does not act, and whether he 
 acts so as to produce good or evil effects. I do 
 not accuse him of meaning this. He had a mind 
 incapable of knowing the import of what he said. 
 He cannot touch even upon the Stoical philo- 
 sophy, without marring it. Does he suppose that 
 ihe Stoics altogether rejected the importance of 
 acts ? if" rejecting importance " has any meaning. 
 
231 
 
 Any man who knows English would have said, 
 " denying the importance." The Stoics were so far 
 from denying the importance of right acting, that 
 they thought nothing else was important. The 
 Stoics troubled themselves little with Sir James's 
 delights, the companions or the parts (Sir James 
 knows not which) of his feelings. They were 
 remarkable for holding them in contempt. What 
 they taught was this ; that when a man acted 
 with good intention, but was disappointed of the 
 effects he intended, by circumstances over which 
 he had no controul, the merit of his act was not 
 lessened, nor the self-satisfaction he was entitled 
 to entertain. To misrepresent such a doctrine in 
 such a way is a sample of Sir James. This is 
 his established mode of dealing with otheu men's 
 doctrines. 
 
 Does it not seem incredible, that a man should 
 have been found, who could not see,n:hat all the 
 value of acts consists in the consequences of the 
 acts ; that if the acts are detached from their 
 consequences, they are unmeaning contractions of 
 muscles, and had as well not be performed ; and 
 that if any being performs those contractions 
 without a regard to the consequences, such a 
 being ranks with mere animal nature ?/ 
 
 Some of Sir James's phrases would need remark, 
 if it were not intolerable to remark on every 
 thing in a long train of absurdities. His talking 
 of a feeling as one thing, and the pleasure of it 
 
23^ 
 
 as another, has been akeady exposed. We shall 
 advert to one more, " that the consideration of 
 consequences is necessary for those in whom 
 right habits of feeling are not sufficiently strong." 
 Why is the consideration of consequences neces- 
 sary to them ? If consequences are of little im- 
 portance, how can the consideration of them be of 
 any, either to those who have, or those who have 
 not, " right habits of feeling?" Again, how can 
 right habits of feeling make the consideration of 
 consequences of less importance ? Are the con- 
 sequences of a man's acts less important, in pro- 
 portion as the man has more of the right habits 
 of feeling ? Once more ; what does Sir James 
 mean by " right habits of feeling ? " Habits of 
 right feeling is the proper expression. But what 
 is right feeling, and what is wrong ? A feeling, 
 in itself, can neither be right, nor wrong. Its 
 being a feeling is its whole essence, and its 
 qualities are to be pleasurable, painful, or in- 
 different. If it prompts to good actions, it may, 
 as cause of the action, get metaphorically the 
 name of good, as in the opposite case that of evil. 
 But acts are good or bad because of their con- 
 sequences. Feelings, therefore, are good or bad, 
 because of the consequences of the acts of which 
 they are the cause. Yet observe the sagacity of 
 Sir James. Good feelings, he says, render all 
 regard to consequences unnecessary; though the 
 feelings are good only in consequence of that 
 
23S 
 
 regard. Good feelings render that unnecessary, 
 which is necessary; viz. to their own existence. 
 How triumphantly Sir James establishes the bad- 
 ness of the ethical system of Mr. Bentham and 
 Mr. Mill ! 
 
 We now come to something which is of the 
 nature of a recapitulation of Sir James's charges, 
 with corollaries. 
 
 " The later moralists who adopt the principle 
 
 of utility have so misplaced it " (the italics are 
 
 Sir James's own) " that in their hands it has as 
 
 great a tendency as any theoretical error can have 
 
 to lessen the intrinsic pleasure of virtue, and to 
 
 unfit our habitual feelings for being the most 
 
 effectual inducements to good conduct. This is 
 
 the natural tendency of a discipline which brings 
 
 utility too closely and frequently into contact 
 
 with action. By this habit, in its best state, an 
 
 essentially weaker motive is gradually substituted 
 
 for others which must always be of more force. 
 
 The frequent appeal to utility as the standard of 
 
 action tends to introduce an uncertainty with 
 
 respect to the conduct of other men, which 
 
 would render all intercourse insupportable. It 
 
 affords also so fair a disguise for selfish and 
 
 malignant passions, as often to hide their nature 
 
 from him who is their prey. Some taint of these 
 
 mean and evil principles will at least creep in, 
 
 and by their venom give an animation not its own 
 
 to the cold desire of utility. The moralists who 
 
234 
 
 take an active part in these affairs which often 
 call out unenviable passions, ought to guard with 
 peculiar watchfulness against such self-delusions." 
 
 Now, then, for the sense of these accusatory 
 phrases. 
 
 All but the last part is poor repetition. It is 
 the same trash which we had at the beginning of 
 Sir James's outpourings against the system of 
 Mr. Bentham ; that he required the principle of 
 utility to be brought too constantly before us ; 
 " the radical error, in which Mr. Bentham fell 
 into fundamental errors." So Sir James was 
 pleased to express himself. 
 
 Having before shewn, that to make an act good, 
 it is the intention, not the motive, into which the 
 consideration of utility enters ; that the intention 
 is wholly made up of it ; but that in the motive 
 it is often altogether wanting; that Sir James 
 confounded motive with intention ; and by in- 
 cluding all virtue in the motive, and treating 
 good intention as insignificant, did in fact subvert 
 morality, — we have only to attend here to certain 
 wonderful expressions he uses, and certain won- 
 derful consequences which he ascribes to the 
 doctrine, that good intention is a necessary in- 
 gredient in a moral act. 
 
 Sir James says, that Mr. Bentham, and certain 
 others, no better than he, have misplaced the 
 principle of utility. It is not very easy to 
 know what is meant by misi)lacing a principle. 
 
235 
 
 The only error he specifically imputes to them is 
 that of applying the principle too frequently, re- 
 ferring to it for guidance too often. This is only 
 telling them that they are too careful not to per- 
 form immoral acts. 
 
 Sir James says, that this is substituting the 
 principle of utility for other motives. He had 
 not the sense to see, that in this he was contend- 
 ing against what he had been lauding in Butler 
 as a wonderful discovery ; that the dictate of con- 
 science ought to prevail over all motives, and 
 that the dictate of conscience was nothing but 
 the choice of the greatest good. 
 
 To say, that men ought to act on most occasions 
 without regard to the principle of utility, is merely 
 to say, that they ought to act without good in- 
 tention, that is, without regard to the dictates of 
 a well informed conscience ; trusting entirely to 
 some of the inferior impulses of their nature. 
 According to Sir James, conscience is a useless 
 part of our inward constitution ; useless, or 
 rather deeply hurtful on all, except some rare 
 occasions. In general, all that is necessary, or 
 good, is to have certain feelings. 
 
 This vigilant attention to the dictates of con- 
 science, which Sir James calls " bringing utility 
 too closely and frequently into contact with 
 action " (a phrase truly Sir Jamesical) " lessens," 
 he says, " the intrinsic pleasure of virtue." 
 What Sir James means by " the intrinsic 
 
236 
 
 pleasure of virtue," he does not say. One 
 pleasure at least he cannot mean— and that not 
 an insignificant one, whatever Sir James may- 
 think ; the testimony of a good conscience, be- 
 cause that belongs only to him who has " brought 
 utility into contact with his action," which either 
 means nothing at all, or means the having taken 
 care that his action has not violated utility ; in 
 other words, has been agreeable to the dictates of 
 a well informed conscience. 
 
 According to the tenor of Sir James's talk, we 
 must suppose him to mean by his " intrinsic 
 pleasure of virtue," the " delights " we have 
 heard so much about, which " accompany," or 
 " form a part of " the feelings which precede 
 action, in other words, motives. But it is difficult 
 to conceive what the brain of Sir James was 
 about, when he affirmed that a consideration of 
 the consequences of the act to which the motive 
 incites could possibly alter the qualities of the 
 motive, pleasurable, or painful When a man is 
 incited to perform an act, by gratitude, or pity, or 
 friendship, or the conjugal, parental, or filial 
 affiiction, a consideration whether the act is 
 proper or not, that is, whether its consequences 
 are good or bad ; that is, " bringing utility into 
 contact with it," to use that most ridiculous of 
 phrases, assuredly leaves the gratitude, the pity, 
 the friendship, &c. just what they were, neither 
 more pleasurable, nor less. A motive is not less 
 
237 
 
 a motive, when it is met by counter-considera- 
 tions, than when it is not. 
 
 This consideration of consequences, this listen- 
 ing attentively to the dictates of conscience, not 
 only alters (so says Sir James) the quality of the 
 motive, though it has no operation upon it at all, 
 but does another thing, not less wonderful ; " it 
 unfits our habitual feelings for being the most 
 effectual inducements to good conduct." This is 
 the same assertion over again, in not less won- 
 derful phrase ; and certainly one more devoid of 
 sense never dribbled from a goose quill. Let 
 gratitude, &c., which are his habitual feelings, be 
 motives of any force he pleases, they are capable 
 of inciting to bad actions, as well as good. Does, 
 then, the consideration, whether the act to which 
 any of them is inciting, be a good act or a bad 
 act, unfit them for being incentives to good acts ? 
 It does not look so much like ignorance and folly 
 to make such an assertion, as pure insanity. In 
 every case in which they are inciting to good 
 conduct this consideration affords them the im- 
 portant sanction of conscience, and thus gives its 
 utmost strength to their action. It is only when 
 they are inciting to bad actions that they are 
 opposed by the consideration of consequences, 
 which is but another name for the dictate of con- 
 science. 
 
 One may well take up toward the principle of 
 utility, the words in which Boileau addressed his 
 
SI38 
 
 Maker ; " Mon Dieu, que vous avez de sots 
 ennemies ! " 
 
 That which Sir James gives us next is a case 
 in point. " The frequent appeal to utility as the 
 standard of action," that is, the consideration 
 whether an act is to produce evil or good, 
 " tends," he says, " to introduce an uncertainty 
 with respect to the conduct of other men, which 
 would render all intercourse insupportable." If 
 one did not positively see this, one would have 
 believed it impossible, that such a proposition 
 could have been written, by a person in his 
 senses. That which all other men, from the 
 beginning of time, have regarded as the only 
 thing which gives steadiness and certainty to 
 human action. Sir James had an intellect, or 
 something else in lieu of it, capable of affirming 
 is the very thing which takes it away. Just in 
 proportion as a man is expected to look to the 
 consequences of his acts, and to guide them by a 
 rule, in that exact proportion can his actions be 
 foreseen and counted upon. If a man acts merely 
 from impulses, even those which Sir James calls 
 the habitual feelings, the impulses, for example, of 
 pity, love, gratitude, and so on, all that we know 
 of him is, that he will most commonly be trying 
 to do good to some individual or individuals, but 
 whether in any instance he may not be doing the 
 greatest evil to others, since he " brings not 
 utility into contact with action," that is, does not 
 
2S9 
 
 consult the rule of right, we can have no cer- 
 tainty whatsoever. This, if general, would most 
 assuredly " render all intercourse insupportable." 
 Sir James's accusations assume a blacker hue 
 as he goes on. " The frequent appeal to utility 
 affords so fair a disguise for selfish and malig- 
 nant passions, as often to hide their nature from 
 him who is their prey." Sir James had it deeply 
 at heart to get " the later moralists who adopt 
 the principle of utility " to be thought odious, as 
 well as contemptible. The difficulty here is to 
 find even a shadow of connection between the 
 supposed cause and effect. There is some plausi- 
 bility, to those at least who judge by words, not 
 the meaning of them, in the assertion that too 
 much attention to utility takes away attention 
 from other things. But that good intention, for 
 which the appeal to utility is but another name, 
 should afford a disguise, or motive (for it is the 
 latter he means), to " selfish and malignant 
 passions," is the most monstrous proposition, that 
 any thing in the shape of a rational creature ever 
 produced. That incessant care, on the part of 
 him who acts, that every thing he does, from 
 whatever motive, shall be productive of good, not 
 evil, should have a tendency to make him an evil- 
 doer of the worst description, is an affirmation 
 which could only be taken for an excessively bad 
 joke, if the weakness of Sir James, under a strong 
 temptation, were not competent to account even 
 
240 
 
 for this. Yet it is the assertion, that a con- 
 scientious man is drawn, by his good conscience, 
 to be selfish and malignant ; in other words, that 
 a man earnestly intending to do good, does 
 thereby intend to do evil. 
 
 " Some taint of these mean and selfish prin* 
 ciples will at least creep in." This we must 
 suppose to have a particular application, other- 
 wise it would be impertinent. Where would be 
 the use, in an attack upon the teachers of utility, 
 of telling us, that men in general have some 
 tendency to malignity ? What he means is, that 
 the frequent appeal to utility has a tendency to 
 make men malignant. 
 
 The proposition is so utterly irrational, that it 
 is substantially a contradiction in terms. When 
 men are malignant, they are seeking to do evil ; 
 when they are appealing to utility, they are seek- 
 ing to do good, and making the best use of their 
 lights to ensure their object. By intending to do 
 good, says Sir James, men are made, to intend to 
 do evil. The stupidity of this accusation is not 
 its worst quality ; the immorality of it, is what 
 deserves attention the most. 
 
 One feels it as rather a petty business to 
 descend from the matter of such accusations to 
 the terms in which they are couched. But the 
 terms are here so exquisitely Sir Jamesical, that 
 they ought not to be overlooked. 
 
 " Some taint." Taint is here a metaphorical 
 
241 
 
 expression. It means literally something which 
 tinges. " The mean and malignant passions'* 
 are therefore, first of all, a substance which 
 tinges. This substance which tinges " will creep." 
 It is thus converted from a stuff which tinges 
 into a reptile which creeps. " Some taint of 
 these mean and evil principles will at least creep 
 in, and by their venom give an animation not its 
 own to the cold desire of utility." Taint is in this 
 sentence the nominative to the verb " will give." 
 *' Their venom " must mean the venom of the 
 mean and malignant passions. Now for the 
 union of these phrases. " The taint " of these 
 passions, the tinging matter, after having become 
 a reptile, and crept in (where is not said) 
 does, by the venom of these passions (the taint 
 of a thing acting by the venom of it), what? 
 " Give an animation, not its own, to the cold 
 desire of utility." To give animation to a 
 desire, I suppose, means to increase it. And an 
 animation, " not its own," must be an extraor- 
 dinary increase. Now, then ; the taint of the 
 selfish and malignant passions, acting by the venom 
 of the same passions, increases to an extraor- 
 dinary degree a desire. And what desire ? 
 " The desire of utility;" or of the greatest 
 quantity of good. In other words, the malig- 
 nant passions, which mean the desire of evil, 
 increase to the greatest degree the desire of good. 
 Sir James now proceeds to wind up ; and 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 assuredly finds a sufficient amount of evil qualities 
 in " the late moralists who adopt the principles 
 of utility," and in the doctrine which they teach^ 
 to fix upon them the hatred and indignation of 
 mankind. 
 
 After telling us, that they are tainted with evil 
 principles, namely, the selfish and malignant 
 passions, he says, that those of them who " take 
 an active part in these affairs, which often call 
 out unamiable passions," that is, who write on 
 politics, " ought to guard with peculiar watch- 
 fulness against such self-delusions." Did Sir 
 James know any of them who had not so guarded 
 himself? He did not. But the man who could 
 make such an insinuation, without grounds, and 
 point it against individuals, would deserve the 
 detestation of mankind, if every other feeling 
 were not precluded by contempt. 
 
 We have here another taste of the Sir Jamesical 
 lingo. " Passions," he calls " self-delusions : " 
 States of mind, radically dissimilar. 
 
 He goes on. Under these malignant passions, 
 " the sin that must most easily beset them, is 
 that of sliding from general to particular con- 
 sequences, — that of trying single actions, instead 
 of dispositions, habits, and rules, by the standard 
 of utility, — that of authorizing too great a lati- 
 tude for discretion and policy in moral conduct, — 
 that of readily allowing exceptions to the most 
 important rules, — that of too lenient a censure 
 
243 
 
 of the use of doubtful means where the end 
 seems to them good, — and that of believing, un- 
 philosophically, as well as dangerously, that there 
 can be any measure or scheme so useful to the 
 world as the existence of men who would not do 
 a base thing for any public advantage. It was 
 said of Andrew Fletcher, he would lose his life to 
 serve his country, but he would not do a base 
 thing to save it" 
 
 This sin which " must most easily beset " the 
 persons whom Sir James is at such pains to de- 
 fame ; that is, according to the natural interpre- 
 tation of the phrase, a sin with which they are 
 strongly polluted, is a very multifarious sin. 
 We shall take it piece-meal, as Sir James presents 
 it to us. 
 
 " The sin of sliding from general, to particular 
 consequences." In the first place, we have to 
 inquire, what is meant by general and particular 
 consequences. A consequence is an event; but 
 all events are particular. It is true, however, 
 that consequences may be classed; and a class 
 may have a name, and the name of the class may 
 be the same with the name of the individual. 
 But where did Sir James find any harm in sliding 
 from the class to the individual ? To do so, is 
 the main use of classification ; viz., that we may 
 get propositions which are true of a number (the 
 greater the better) of particulars, and which 
 may be applied to each of them, wheresoever, and 
 
 R 2 
 
244 
 
 as often as, occasion requires. As an imputation, 
 'this is only proof of disgraceful ignorance. 
 
 " The sin of trying single actions, instead of 
 dispositions, habits, and rules, by the standard of 
 utility." To try any thing by the standard of 
 utility, is, I suppose, to consider whether it is 
 useful or not. That, I think, is the translation 
 here of the Sir Jamesical tongue. Well, we may 
 consider, it seems, whether dispositions, habits, 
 and rules, are useful. But Sir James will not let 
 us consider whether single actions are useful ; we 
 must perform them, without any regard to their 
 consequences, good or bad ; that is, as we have 
 already shewn, without any regard to the rule of 
 right, renouncing entirely that authority of con- 
 science, which Sir James talked of in such 
 strains, when he was letting off his phrases about 
 Bishop Butler. This, therefore, is the old dish, 
 hashed up again. 
 
 In considering, however, whether "disposi- 
 tions and habits" are good or bad (Sir James did 
 not know, though he pretends to have read 
 Mr. Mill, that dispositions are habits), what is it 
 that we do ? Is it not to consider, whether the 
 acts to which they lead are good or bad ? But 
 how are we to judge whether acts be good 
 or bad, but by the consideration of their conse- 
 quences ? That trying, therefore, of " single 
 acts," which Sir James repudiates, is absolutely 
 necessary to that trying of dispositions, which 
 
24,5 
 
 he seems to recommend. The blindness of poor 
 Sir James, his inability to see the most obvious 
 consequences of his words, is a source of never- 
 ceasing astonishment. — He treats afterwards of 
 rules (though he here jumbles them with habits), 
 under another form of the " besetting sin ; " and 
 when we come to them, I shall speak of what he 
 says, in the manner it deserves. 
 
 " The sin of authorizing too great a latitude 
 for discretion and policy in moral conduct." 
 This is a foul imputation. That is to say, it is 
 defamatory, and it is without a shadow of foun- 
 dation, as regards either the individuals aimed 
 at, or the doctrine. To authorize too great a 
 latitude in moral action means to license immoral 
 acts. First, for the doctrine. Where does the 
 doctrine of utility license an immoral act ? The 
 doctrine of Sir James, that actions may be per- 
 formed without a regard to their consequences, 
 does indeed license immoral acts, and that to a 
 notable extent. What is a bad act, but an 
 act which has bad consequences? What is a 
 good act, but an act which has good conse- 
 quences ? The application, therefore, of the 
 principle of utility is the only effectual security 
 against that latitude, of which Sir James says 
 it is the ca;use. Now, as to the individuals ; 
 what evidence had Sir James, that any one 
 of them ever authorized a latitude for im- 
 moral acts ? Not a particle. And after that, I 
 
246 
 
 leave it to others to affix the proper name to 
 his act. 
 
 " The sin of readily allowing exceptions to the 
 most important rules." Did Sir James know any 
 thing of one of the most important of all rules, 
 the rule of making exceptions ? Not he. The 
 more proper question, indeed, would be, what 
 did he know ? Yet he had certainly heard the 
 vulgar adage, that there is no rule without excep- 
 tions. But why should it be imputed as a sin 
 to the assertors of utility, that they readily allow 
 what ought to be allowed ; namely, all proper 
 exceptions to all rules, important, or not im- 
 portant ? If there are proper and improper ex- 
 ceptions, why did not Sir James distinguish them ? 
 And if the assertors of utility allowed improper 
 ones, why did he not point them out ? It better 
 suited Sir James to insinuate gratuitously, that 
 they did make improper ones. 
 
 I shall confine myself to rules of morality, 
 which alone concern us here. There is no ex- 
 ception to a rule of morality, but what is made 
 by a rule of morality ; when a man cannot yield 
 obedience to one rule, without withholding obe- 
 dience from another. Was Sir James so ignorant 
 as not to know that there are such cases ? And 
 that they are so numerous as to cover a large 
 portion of the field of human action ? 
 
 The subject of moral rules, and the exceptions 
 to them, has been considered with much diligence. 
 
247 
 
 and expounded in great detail, though with not 
 much of the light of philosophy, by the class of 
 ethical writers who have obtained the name of 
 casuists, some of whom to very great industry 
 added very great powers of mind. And the sub- 
 ject is of so much importance, that I am willing 
 to risk the charge of tediousness, by endea- 
 vouring to remove the confusion in which Sir 
 James, and writers of his stamp, labour to in- 
 volve it. 
 
 Sir James should have begun by asking, which 
 he seems never to have done, what a general rule 
 is ? A rule prescribes what is to be done ; but 
 liow ? Not what is to be done in one instance. 
 What then ? What is to be done in a class of 
 instances. This is material. A general rule 
 respects a class. Before a rule can be made, 
 therefore, classification must be performed. 
 
 Classification is a subject of the highest im- 
 portance. In the process of classification there 
 are things, to which it is necessary to pay the 
 greatest attention. Sir James would have known 
 the value of these things, had he read, as he 
 pretended to have done, Mr. Mill's Analysis ; 
 where mistakes are cleared up, which have done 
 more to perpetuate darkness on the subject of 
 mind, than any other cause, perhaps than all other 
 causes taken together. 
 
 Nature make? no classes. Nature makes indi- 
 viduals. Classes are made by men ; and rarely 
 
. 248 
 
 with such marks as determine certainly what is 
 to be included in them. 
 
 Men make classifications, as they do every 
 thing else, for some end. Now, for what end wa8 
 it that men, out of their innumerable acts, selected 
 a class, to which they gave the name of moral, 
 and another class, to which they gave the name of 
 immoral ? What was the motive of this act ? 
 What its final cause ? 
 
 Assuredly the answer to this question is the 
 first step, though Sir James saw it not, towards 
 the solution of his two questions, comprehending 
 the whole of ethical science ; first, what makes an 
 act to be moral ? and secondly, what are the sen- 
 timents with which we regard it ? 
 
 We may also be assured, that it was some very 
 obvious interest, which recommended this classifi- 
 cation ; for it was performed, in a certain rough 
 way, in the very rudest states of society. 
 
 Farther, we may easily see how, even in very 
 rude states, men were led to it, by little less than 
 necessity. Every day of their lives they had ex- 
 perience of acts, some of which were agreeable, 
 or the cause of what was agreeable, to them ; 
 others disagreeable, or the cause of what was 
 disagreeable to them, in all possible degrees. 
 
 They had no stronger interest than to obtain 
 the repetition of the one sort, and to prevent the 
 repetition of the other. 
 
 The acts in which they were thus interested 
 
24& 
 
 were of two sorts ; first, those to which the actor 
 was led by a natural interest of his own; se- 
 condly, those to which the actor was not led by 
 any interest of his own. About the first sort 
 there was not occasion for any particular concern. 
 They were pretty sure to take place, without any 
 stimiilus from without. The second sort, on the 
 contrary, were not likely to take place, unless an 
 interest was artificially created, sufficiently strong 
 to induce the actor to perform them. 
 
 And here we clearly perceive the origin of that 
 important case of classification which, before 
 talking of moral rules, Sir James ought to have 
 well understood ; the classification of acts as 
 moral, and immoral. The acts, which it was im- 
 portant to other men that each individual should 
 perform, but in which the individual had not a 
 sufficient interest to secure the performance of 
 them, were constituted one class. The acts, which 
 it was important to other men that each indi- 
 vidual should abstain from, but in regard to 
 which he had not a personal interest sufficiently 
 strong to secure his abstaining from them, were 
 constituted another class. The first class were 
 distinguished by the name moral acts ; the second, 
 by the name immoral. 
 
 The interest which men had in securing the 
 performance of the one set of acts, the non-per- 
 formance of the other, led them by a sort of 
 necessity to think of the means. They had to 
 
250 
 
 create an interest, which the actor would not 
 otherwise have, in the performance of the one 
 sort, the non-performance of the other. And in 
 proceeding to this end, they could not easily miss 
 their way. They had two powers applicable to 
 the purpose. They had a certain quantity of 
 good at their disposal ; and they had a certain 
 quantity of evil. If they could apply the good in 
 such a manner as to afford a motive both for the 
 performance and non-performance which they 
 desired, or the evil, in such a manner, as to afford 
 a motive against the performance and non-per- 
 formance which they wished to prevent, their end 
 was attained. 
 
 And this is the scheme which they adopted ; 
 and which, in every situation, they have invariably 
 pursued. The whole business of the moral sen- 
 timents, moral approbation, and disapprobation, 
 has this for its object, the distribution of the good 
 and evil we have at command, for the production 
 of acts of the useful sort, the prevention of acts of 
 the contrary sort. Can there be a nobler object ? 
 
 But though men have been thus always right 
 in their general aim, their proceedings have been 
 cruelly defective in the detail ; witness the conse- 
 quence, — the paucity of good acts, the frequency 
 of bad acts, which there is in the world. 
 
 A portion of acts having thus been classed into 
 good and bad ; and the utility having been per- 
 ceived of creating motives to incite to the one. 
 
9,51 
 
 and restrain from the other, a sub-classification 
 was introduced. One portion of these acts was 
 such, that the good and evil available for their 
 production and prevention, could be applied by 
 the community in its conjunct capacity. Another 
 portion was such, that the good and evil available 
 could be applied only by individuals in their in- 
 dividual capacity. The first portion was placed 
 under the control of what is called law ; the other 
 remained under the control of the moral senti- 
 ments ; that is, the distribution of good and evil, 
 made by individuals in their individual capacity. 
 
 No sooner was the class made, than the rule 
 followed. Moral acts are to be performed ; im- 
 moral acts are to be abstained from. 
 
 Beside this the general rule, there was needed, 
 for more precise direction, particular rules. 
 
 We must remember the fundamental condition, 
 that all rules of action must be preceded by a 
 corresponding classification of actions. All moral 
 rules, comprehended in the great moral rule, 
 must relate to a class of actions comprehended 
 within the grand class, constituted and marked 
 by the term moral. This is the case with grand 
 classes in general. They are subdivided into 
 minor classes, each of the minor classes being a 
 portion of the larger. Thus, the grand class of 
 acts called moral has been divided into certain 
 convenient portions, or sub-classes, and marked 
 by particular names, Just, Beneficent, Brave, 
 
259 
 
 Prudent, Temperate; to each of which classes 
 belongs its appropriate rule, that men should be 
 just, that they should be beneficent, and so on. 
 
 Had Sir James understood as much as this, 
 about the doctrine of rules, he would not have 
 blundered as he did about the obligation of excep- 
 tions. I shall present for illustration some noto- 
 rious instances. 
 
 Sometimes a whole class of cases are excepted 
 out of preference to another. Take for example 
 the class of beneficent, generous acts ; those acts 
 which, according to Sir James, have the delicious 
 feelings to produce them, and which, if his 
 standard of choice were adopted, would stand 
 foremost in point of moral obligation. All those 
 acts are made an exception of in the lump ; and 
 whatever the motive to them, how delicious 
 soever the benevolent feeling, not one of them is 
 to be performed, if they are incompatible with the 
 performance of another class, which are remark- 
 able for what Sir James would call the coldness of 
 the feelings which attend them. This case of 
 exception has been erected into a great moral rule, 
 which Sir James could not but have heard of; 
 that men ought to be just, before they are 
 generous. 
 
 Did Sir James ever ask himself the meaning of 
 this ? ever inquire what was the reason of a pre- 
 ference, which must have appeared to him, upon 
 the delicious feeling principle, so extraordinary. 
 
253 
 
 and so objectionable? It is not sure that Sir 
 James, if he had sought for the reason, would 
 have found it, but it is not far off. A far greater 
 share of what is good for mankind depends upon 
 the performance of just, than of generous actions. 
 Had Sir James been capable of understanding 
 this, he would have seen it to be decisive in 
 favour of that appeal to utility which, there were 
 people he knew of, to whom he would recommend 
 himself, by speaking his nonsense against. 
 
 There is another rule of exception, calculated 
 not less to disturb the fine feelings of Sir James ; 
 the rule, that charity begins at home. Here the 
 generous acts, in spite of the delights, and feel- 
 ings, are postponed even to prudent acts, which 
 are not only cold, but another thing, of great 
 disrepute with Sir James, interested, selfish. 
 
 There are other things, if they had been shewn 
 to him, which would have astonished Sir James. 
 Some of the cases, the praise of which he 
 resounds with the loudest of his notes, are 
 " exceptions to the most important rules." Sup- 
 pose an individual can perform a service of great 
 importance to one of two men, but not to both. 
 To which of the two shall he render it? The 
 men are equal in all other respects ; but one of 
 them is his father. Instantly the question is 
 decided. There are cases in which men have 
 agreed that the members of our own family should 
 obtain the preference in our beneficent acts to the 
 
254 
 
 rest of our fellow-creatures. These are so many 
 cases of exception to the general rule. The 
 reason also why all men have concurred in the 
 propriety of making those exceptions, is obvious. 
 There is great utility in making them. The 
 limited power of beneficence possessed by an indi- 
 vidual is likely to produce the greatest effects 
 when he exerts it within a sphere proportioned 
 to itself, in favour of those individuals the wants 
 of whom are best known to him, and with whom 
 he has naturally the strongest sympathies. 
 
 The rules of justice are a tissue, in which rules 
 and exceptions are almost equally numerous ; a 
 circumstance which Sir James, though a lawyer, 
 and ex-judge, and professor of jurisprudence, 
 appears never to have reflected on. 
 
 If any one had told Sir James how much even 
 of the morality of courage was composed of excep- 
 tions, what a revelation it would have been to 
 him ! Courage is understood to consist mainly in 
 a readiness to meet danger without fear, and the 
 greater the danger, the greater the courage. Yet 
 it is not only allowed, but laudable, to avail your- 
 self of every advantage against your enemy ; 
 that is, to lessen the danger of meeting him, by 
 all the means in your power, even lying ; in other 
 words, to gain your object with the minimum of 
 courage. What are all arts and practices for 
 acquiring skill in the use of weapons, but means 
 to the same end ; lessening the danger of all 
 
255 
 
 encounters with an enemy? — exceptions, assuredly, 
 to the rule of courage ; yet laudable, because 
 tending to general utility, the end for which the 
 rule of courage exists. 
 
 Sir James was not only so ill read in the rules 
 of practical morality, as to be ignorant that a 
 great part of them were rules of exception, but 
 he has an argument to shew, that these excep- 
 tions, besides being immoral, produce damage to 
 what he calls the " machinery of the mind," and 
 also the "health of the mind." 
 
 " It is impossible," he says, " to combine the 
 benefit of the general habit with the advantages of 
 occasional deviation ; for any such deviation 
 either produces remorse, or weakens the habit, 
 and prepares the way for its gradual destruction." 
 
 I promised above, that I would notice this 
 observation here. And the importance of clearing 
 the subject of morals from the confusion in which 
 brains of the texture of Sir James are prone to 
 involve it, makes me desirous of fulfilling my pro- 
 mise, though, as far as regards Mr. Bentham, and 
 Mr. Mill, it is wholly superfluous. They had no 
 occasion to speak of exceptions, and do not. Their 
 subject was not practical morality. 
 
 The general habit, says Sir James, is impaired 
 by every occasional deviation. Let us try his 
 proposition by a case or two. The habit of 
 walking is impaired by occasional sitting, or 
 standing. The habit of talking is impaired by 
 
^56 
 
 occasional silence. The habit of speaking English 
 is impaired by learning to speak French. Is he 
 not a strange companion, who could make a 
 general proposition, involving these particular 
 ones ? Did Sir James really imagine that a man 
 could not have in perfection the habit of perform- 
 ing generous acts, and yet make all the exceptions 
 which the superior calls of justice required ? Is 
 it impossible to have the habit of performing just 
 acts, and yet to remember the maxim, summum 
 jus, summa injtiria ? Such a course implies no 
 enfeebling of the moral habits. Had Sir James 
 understood the subject better, he would have seen 
 that it is only completing the system of them. 
 A habit of obeying the rules of exception is as 
 necessary to moral acting, as that of -obeying the 
 other rules. 
 
 Sir James, in labouring to introduce confusion 
 of ideas into the doctrine of morals, talks such 
 language about habits, and the necessity of that 
 promptitude in action, which leaves no time for 
 reflection (as if acting without reflection, in the 
 greatest affairs, were a virtue), that I deem it 
 necessary to make a reference to those mere 
 elements of the science, which he is thus ignorant 
 enough to contradict. 
 
 In the performance of our duties two sets of 
 cases may be distinguished. There is one set in 
 which a direct estimate of the good of the par- 
 ticular act is inevitable ; and the man acts immo- 
 
257 
 
 rally who acts without making it. There are 
 other cases in which it is not necessary. 
 
 The first are those, which have in them so 
 much of singularity, as to prevent their coming 
 within the limits of any established class. In 
 such cases a man has but one guide; he must 
 consider the consequences, or act not as a moral, 
 or rational agent at all. 
 
 The second are cases of such ordinary and 
 frequent occurrence as to be distinguished into 
 classes. And every body knows, even Sir James 
 knew, that when a class of acts are performed 
 regularly and frequently, they are at last per-, 
 formed by habit ; in other words, the idea of the 
 act and the performance of it follow so easily and 
 speedily, that they seem to cohere, and to be but 
 one operation. It is only necessary to recall some of 
 the more familiar instances, to see the mode of 
 this formation. In playing on a musical instru- 
 ment, every note, at first, is found by an effort. 
 Afterwards, the proper choice is made so rapidly 
 as to appear as if made by a mechanical process 
 in which the mind has no concern. The same is 
 the case with moral acts. When they have been 
 performed with frequency and uniformity, for a 
 sufficient length of time, a habit is generated. 
 The meaning of this, however, needs to be a little 
 opened, since in heads like that of Sir James, 
 strange work is apt to be made of it. 
 
 When a man acts from habit, he does not act 
 
 s 
 
258 
 
 without reflection. He only acts with a very- 
 rapid reflection. In no class of acts does a man 
 begin to act by habit. He begins without habit ; 
 and acquires the habit by frequency of acting. 
 The consideration, on which the act is founded, 
 and the act itself, form a sequence. And it is 
 obvious from the familiar cases of music and of 
 speaking, that it is a sequence at first not very 
 easily performed. By every repetition, however, 
 it becomes easier. The consideration occurs with 
 less effort ; the action follows with less effort ; 
 they take place with greater and greater rapidity, 
 till they seem blended. To say, that this is act- 
 ing without reflection, is only ignorance ; for it 
 is thus seen to be a case of acting by reflection so 
 easily and rapidly, that the reflection and the act 
 cannot be distinguished from one another. Habits 
 of moral acting are habits of obedience to the 
 principle of utility, and are so far from being liable 
 to be prevented or hurt, as poor Sir James would 
 have it, by bringing utility, as he phrases it, 
 " into contact with action," that they can be 
 formed by no other means. 
 
 On the formation of moral habits, reference 
 being had to the confusion in the ideas of Sir 
 James, another word may be necessary. 
 
 Since moral acts are not performed at first by 
 habit, but each upon the consideration which 
 recommends it ; upon what considerations, we may 
 be asked, do moral acts begin to be performed ? 
 
259 
 
 The question has two meanings, and it is 
 necessary to reply to both. It may be asked, upon 
 what consideration the men of our own age and 
 country, for example, at first, and before a habit 
 is formed, perform moral acts ? Or, it may be 
 asked, upon what consideration did men originally 
 perform moral acts ? 
 
 To the first of these questions every one can 
 reply from his own memory and observation. 
 We perform moral acts at first, from authority. 
 Our parents tell us, that we ought to do this, 
 ought not to do that. They are anxious that we 
 should obey their precepts. They have two sets 
 of influences, with which to work upon us ; praise 
 and blame; reward and punishment. All the 
 acts which they say we ought to do, are praised 
 in the highest degree, all those which they say we 
 ought not to do, are blamed in the highest degree. 
 In this manner, the ideas of praise and blame 
 become associated with certain classes of acts, at 
 a very early age, so closely, that they cannot 
 easily be disjoined. No sooner does the idea of 
 the act occur than the idea of praise springs up 
 along with it, and clings to it. And generally 
 these associations exert a predominant influence 
 during the whole of life. 
 
 Our parents not only praise certain kinds of 
 acts, blame other kinds ; but they praise us when 
 we perform those of the one sort, blame us when 
 we perform those of the other. In this mannei:' 
 
 s 2 
 
^60 
 
 other associations are formed. The idea of our- 
 selves performing certain acts is associated with 
 the idea of our being praised, performing certain 
 other acts with the idea of our being blamed, so 
 closely that the ideas become at last indissoluble. 
 In this association consist the very important com- 
 plex ideas of praise-worthiness, and blame- worthi- 
 ness. An act which is praiseworthy, is an act 
 with the idea of which the idea of praise is 
 indissolubly joined ; an agent who is praise- 
 worthy is an agent with the idea of whom the 
 idea of praise is indissolubly joined. And in the 
 converse case, that of blame-worthiness, the forma- 
 tion of the idea is similar. 
 
 Many powerful circumstances come in aid of 
 these important associations, at an early age. We 
 find, that not only our parents act in this manner, 
 but all other parents. We find that grown people 
 act in this manner, not only towards children, but 
 towards one another. The associations, therefore, 
 are unbroken, general, and all-comprehending. 
 
 Our parents administer not only praise and 
 blame, to induce us to perform acts of one sort, 
 abstain from acts of another sort, but also rewards 
 and punishments. They do so directly ; and, 
 further, they forward all our inclinations in the 
 one case, baulk them in the other. So does every 
 body else. We find our comforts excessively 
 abridged by other people, when we act in one way, 
 enlarged when we act in another way. Hence 
 
261 
 
 another most important class of associations ; that 
 of an increase of well-being from the good- will of 
 our fellow-creatures, if we perform acts of one sort, 
 of an increase of misery from their ill-will, if we 
 perform those of another sort. 
 
 In this manner it is that men, born in the 
 social state, acquire the habits of moral acting, 
 and certain affections connected with it, before 
 they are capable of reflecting upon the grounds 
 which recommend the acts either to praise or 
 blame. Nearly at this point the greater part of 
 them remain, continuing to perform moral acts 
 and to abstain from the contrary, chiefly from the 
 habits they have acquired, and the authority upon 
 which they originally acted ; though it is not 
 possible that any man should come to the years 
 and blessing of reason, without perceiving, at 
 least in an indistinct and general way, the advan- 
 tage which mankind derive from their acting 
 'towards one another in one way, rather than 
 another. 
 
 We come now to the second question, viz. what 
 are the considerations upon which men originally 
 performed moral acts ? The answer to this ques- 
 tion is substantially contained in the explanation 
 already given of the classification of acts as moral 
 and immoral. 
 
 AVhen men began to mark the distinction 
 between acts, and were prompted to praise one 
 class, blame another, they did so, either because 
 
262 
 
 the one sort benefitted, the other hurt them ; or 
 for some other reason. If for the first reason, the 
 case is perfectly intelligible. The men had a 
 motive, which they understood, and which was 
 adequate to the end. If it was not on account of 
 utility that men classed some acts as moral, others 
 as immoral, on what other account was it ? 
 
 To this question, an answer, consisting of 
 any thing but words, has never been returned. 
 
 It has been said, that there is a beauty, and a 
 deformity, in moral and immoral acts, which 
 recommended them to the distinctions they have 
 met with. 
 
 It is obvious to reply to this hypothesis, that 
 the mind of a savage, that is, a mind in the state 
 in which the minds of all men were, when they 
 began to classify their acts, was not likely to be 
 much affected by the ideal something called the 
 beauty of acts. To receive pain or pleasure from 
 an act, to obtain, or be deprived of, the means of 
 enjoyment by an act ; to like the acts and the 
 actors, whence the good proceeded, dislike those 
 whence the evil proceeded ; all these were things 
 which they understood. 
 
 But we must endeavour to get a little nearer to 
 the bottom of this affair. 
 
 In truth, the term beauty, as applied to acts, is 
 just as unintelligible to the philosopher, as to the 
 savage. Is the beauty of an act one thing ; the 
 morality of it another ? Or are they two names 
 
263 
 
 for the same thing ? If they are two things, 
 what is the beauty, distinct from the morality ? 
 If they are the same thing, what is the use of the 
 name morality ? It only tends to confusion. 
 
 But this is not all. The beautiful is that which 
 excites in us the emotion of beauty, a state of 
 mind with which we are acquainted by experience. 
 This state of mind has been successfully analysed, 
 and shewn to consist of a train of pleasurable 
 ideas, awakened in us by the beautiful object. 
 
 But is it in this way only that we are concerned 
 in moral acts ? Do we value them for nothing, 
 but as we value a picture, or a piece of music, 
 for the pleasure of looking at them, or hearing 
 them ? Every body knows the contrary. Acts 
 are objects of importance to us, on account of 
 their consequences, and nothing else. This con- 
 stitutes a radical distinction between them and 
 the things called beautiful. Acts are hurtful or 
 beneficial, moral or immoral, virtuous or vicious. 
 But it is only an abuse of language to call them 
 beautiful or ugly. 
 
 That it is jargon, the slightest reflection is 
 sufficient to evince ; for what is the beauty of an 
 act, detached from its consequences ? We shall be 
 told, perhaps, that the beauty of an act was never 
 supposed to be detached from its consequences. 
 The beauty consists in the consequences. I am 
 contented with the answer. But observe to' 
 what it binds you. The consequences of acts 
 
264 
 
 are the good or evil they do. According to you, 
 therefore, the beauty of acts is either the utility 
 of them, or it is nothing at all ; — a beautiful 
 ground on which to dispute with us, that acts 
 are classed as moral, not on account of their 
 utility, but on account of their beauty. 
 
 It will be easily seen, from what has been said, 
 that they who ascribe the classification of acts, as 
 moral, and immoral, to a certain taste, an agree-* 
 able or disagreeable sentiment which they excite 
 (among whom are included the Scottish profes- 
 sors Hutcheson, and Brown, and David Hume 
 himself, though on his part with wonderful incon- 
 sistency) — hold the same theory with those who 
 say, that beauty is the source of the classification 
 of moral acts. Things are classed as beautiful, 
 or deformed, on account of a certain taste, or 
 inward sentiment. If acts are classed in the 
 same way, on account of a certain taste or inward 
 sentiment, they deserve to be classed under the 
 names beautiful, and deformed ; otherwise not. 
 
 I hope it is not necessary for me to go minutely 
 into the exposure of the other varieties of jargon, 
 by which it has been endeavoured to account for 
 the classification of acts, as moral, and immoral. 
 " Fitness " is one of them. Acts are approved on 
 account of their fitness. When fitness is hunted 
 down, it is brought to bay exactly at the place 
 where beauty was. Fitness is either the goodness 
 of the consequences, or it is nothing at all. 
 
^65 
 
 The same is the case with " Right Reason," or 
 "Moral Reason." An act according to moral 
 reason, is an act, the consequences of which are 
 good. Moral reason, therefore, is another name, 
 and not a bad name, for the principle of utility. 
 
 Having thus guarded the reader, though at the 
 expense of rather a long dissertation, against the 
 confusion of ideas in which Sir James laboured to 
 involve the doctrine of moral rules, I now proceed 
 to the remaining parts, or aspects (it is difficult to 
 know which of the two he thinks he is giving us), 
 of " the sin which must most easily beset " those 
 who class human actions as moral or immoral on 
 the principle of utility. 
 
 After the sin of making exceptions to impor- 
 tant rules, he charges " the sin of too lenient a 
 censure of the use of doubtful means, when the 
 end seems to them to be good." 
 
 The morality of this accusation is that which 
 first challenges attention. The ordinary character 
 of bad men is, that they are little scrupulous about 
 means for the attainment of their ends. This, 
 therefore, is a form of words calculated to class 
 the assertors of utility with bad men in general. 
 
 When we examine the charge, we see that it is 
 either the same with the foregoing, a poor repe- 
 tition of the complaint about exceptions to impor- 
 tant rules ; which we have seen is only a com- 
 plaint against acting morally, that is, preferring 
 the higher obligation to the lower; or it is the 
 
266 
 
 charge of disregarding, in the choice of means, 
 moral obligations altogether. In that sense, it 
 would be a direct and impudent violation of the 
 truth. If asserted of the doctrine, it is a contra- 
 diction in terms ; an assertion, that the successful 
 pursuit of the greatest good is the pursuit of evil. 
 If asserted of the individuals, it has all the turpi- 
 tude of an intention to do injury by an imputation 
 which is false. 
 
 Follows " the sin of believing unphilosophically 
 as well as dangerously, that there can be any 
 measure or scheme so useful to the world as the 
 existence of men who would not do a base thing 
 for any public advantage." 
 
 This is a charge against the assertors of utility 
 of mistaking the less'for the greater good. If this 
 mistake is shewn to them, they will be the most in- 
 consistent of men, if they do not correct it ; for the 
 pursuit of the greatest good is but another name 
 for their principle. What has Sir James done to 
 shew it ? Nothing, as you may suppose. 
 
 The two things which the wisdom of Sir James 
 here puts at the two ends of his balance are, mea- 
 sures or schemes of public advantage, and men 
 who will not do a base thing. The former kicks 
 the beam. Yet in the former are included such 
 things as the best form of government, successful 
 combination to save a country from foreign sub- 
 jugation, or to deliver it from a body of internal 
 and misruling enemies. One would like to know. 
 
267 
 
 how many of Sir James's worthies we ought to 
 have, to overbalance things of so much value. 
 
 Next we have need to know, what we get by 
 these wonderful persons ; what they do for us. 
 By those other things, which Sir James treats as 
 inferior, we know that we get advantages of 
 unspeakable importance. 
 
 All the information we obtain from Sir James 
 is, that his worthies will not do a base thing. 
 But this is only negative. It does not follow that 
 they will do any good at all. If so, we should 
 have a poor bargain in exchanging for them all 
 schemes and measures calculated to benefit the 
 community. Was there ever a philosopher like 
 Sir James ? 
 
 Again : — What are we to understand by Sir 
 James's "base thing?" What does he mean by 
 "base?" Is it immoral? If so, it will not 
 answer his purpose. In that case, he does not 
 prove any thing against the assertors of utility ; 
 he agrees with them. A man who will not do 
 an immoral act, is a man who will not prefer the 
 less to the greater good. Now this, according to 
 the principle of utility, is just what ought to be 
 done. If Sir James means by " base," something 
 different from immoral, he has found out a prin- 
 ciple, which is superior to morality, and which is 
 entitled to supersede it. 
 
 Sir James gives us an example. 
 
 " It was said of Andrew Fletcher, he would 
 
268 
 
 lose his life to serve his country ; but would not 
 do a base thing to save it'' This is the flourish 
 of a panegyrist ; and of one of the same class or 
 clan with Sir James. 
 
 To an ordinary mind, it would appear, that 
 when a man had it in his power to save his 
 country, and did not, he acted as one of the hasest, 
 not one of the best of men. 
 
 To save a country, the loss of millions of lives, 
 the destruction of half the population, and reduc- 
 tion of the other half to the extremity of want 
 and misery, have sometimes not been thought too 
 great a sacrifice. To rescue from all this evil, 
 there is an act, which Andrew Fletcher, or Sir 
 James Mackintosh, no matter which, would not 
 do. If weighed in the moral balance, it would 
 not be easy to find an act, within the competence 
 of Andrew, upon which so much would depend ; 
 and if, to avoid some smaller evil, consequent 
 upon an act of his, he coolly preferred this over- 
 balance of evil, he might be a visionary, or a 
 mountebank, but certainly not a virtuous man. 
 
 Let us try the case by an instance or two : 
 and we shall begin by an act, which we shall 
 express by its most offensive name. Would 
 Andrew not have lied, to save all this evil? 
 That he would ; and for a much smaller matter. 
 Suppose him leading a party of his countrymen, 
 engaged in deadly struggle for the salvation of 
 "their country ; and that he sees a prospect of 
 
269 
 
 surprising the enemy. Would he hesitate to give 
 out, to declare, ay, and to swear, if need were, 
 that he was to march in one direction, when he 
 intended to march in another ? 
 
 Would Andrew scruple to take away, and with 
 his own hand, the life of an innocent man, on a 
 much more insignificant occasion than that of 
 saving his country? Suppose him defending a 
 fortress of some importance, and that from the 
 top of the wall, he sees taken by the enemy in a 
 sally, a man in possession of a secret essential to 
 the defence of the place, upon whose constancy he 
 cannot depend ; instantly he levels his rifle and 
 shoots him through the heart. Sir James, with 
 whatever inclination to chicane, would not have 
 ventured to condemn this act, because he knew 
 that Andrew would have ordered a sentinel, 
 whom he had found asleep at his post, to be shot 
 before his eyes. That Andrew would have made 
 very free with other men's property in such a 
 situation. Sir James could not have called in 
 doubt. He would not have alleged that as soon 
 as the necessity was pressing, Andrew would not 
 have turned the inhabitants, men, women, and 
 children, not allowing them to carry with them 
 an article belonging to them which could be 
 useful to himself, out of their houses, and out of 
 the place, to starve, or survive, in the most 
 dreadful of all circumstances, as accident might 
 determine. 
 
270 
 
 What then is the base act which Andrew 
 would not have done to save his country? 
 
 It would be curious to mark the pains taken 
 by Sir James, in his controversy with the assertors 
 of utility, to place public spirit, patriotism, low in 
 the scale of duties ; were it not a characteristic 
 of those who write for an aristocracy. Examine 
 carefully the writings which have issued from such 
 sources : you will find a straining, so general as 
 to be almost constant, to make the duty a man 
 owes to his country be regarded as a mean duty. 
 For that purpose, the narrow affections are 
 exalted above the enlarged, and the great morali- 
 ties are lost sight of, in a blaze of panegyric on 
 the small. 
 
 It is sufficiently obvious, what ends are served 
 by this ; and what motives are thence supplied for 
 decrying the principle of utility; which marshals 
 the duties in their proper order, and will not 
 permit mankind to be deluded, as so long they 
 have been, sottishly to prefer the lower to the 
 higher good, and to hug the greater evil, from 
 fear of the less. 
 
 There is more of Sir James, about the de- 
 light of the feelings, and about the heart as the 
 seat of virtue ; but I am tired of this work, and 
 so must be the reader. I shall, therefore,'"proceed 
 to a new charge of Sir James against those whom 
 he calls the Bentham school. They are totally 
 without taste. He might just as well have talked 
 
271 
 
 of their stature, or of the colour of their hair, as 
 helping us to an estimate of the truth and value of 
 their doctrines. This charge could serve only one 
 purpose, a purpose evidently dear to Sir James, 
 that of giving unfavourable impressions of those 
 men. The want of taste, he knew, was a very 
 discrediting circumstance, in the minds of those 
 whose admiration he wanted for himself. 
 
 These are the words of the charge : " The 
 coincidence of Mr. Bentham's school with the 
 ancient Epicurean, in the disregard of the pleasures 
 of taste and of the arts dependent on imagination, 
 is a proof, both of the inevitable adherence of 
 much of the popular sense of the words interest 
 and pleasure, to the same words in their philoso- 
 phical acceptation, and of the pernicious influence 
 of narrowing utility to mere visible and tangible 
 objects, to the exclusion of those which form the 
 larger part of human enjoyment." 
 
 Here are a parcel of words, strung together in 
 a manner, the wonderfulness of which we shall 
 presently see ; but of which the main object 
 evidently is, to fix upon those whom he calls the 
 school of Bentham the charge of confining their 
 principle of morality to sensible objects ; placing 
 " the larger part of human enjoyment," that is, 
 of human happiness, out of its sphere. 
 
 No man could have written this sentence, who 
 was not habitually regardless of the truth or 
 falsehood of what he uttered; trusting for im- 
 
S72 
 
 punity to the cloudiness of his phrase, and the 
 carelessness of those whom he addressed. That 
 the principle of utility takes in every ingredient 
 wherein human happiness consists, is the very 
 definition of the term. Mr. Bentham and 
 Mr. Mill are the only writers belonging to the 
 imaginary " school," who have touched on 
 more than detached portions of the doctrine. 
 But no other writers, who can be named, have so 
 carefully traced every modification of human en- 
 joyment, and suffering, and so minutely explained 
 whence they are derived, how, if complex, they 
 are formed, and what their value as so many 
 items in the sum of human happiness or misery. 
 To say, that these men have paid attention to no 
 sources of enjoyment, but those which are visible 
 and tangible, is one of the most barefaced pieces 
 of misrepresentation ever ventured upon by any 
 man who had any character to lose. 
 
 Sir James charges the ancient Epicureans 
 with a " disregard of the pleasures of taste, and 
 of the arts dependent on imagination." This is 
 notoriously untrue. Were Lucretius, and Horace, 
 and Virgil, and Julius Caesar, to name no more, 
 regardless of the pleasures of taste, and of the arts 
 dependent on imagination ? 
 
 And whence did Sir James derive the ground 
 of his assertion with respect to those among the 
 moderns whom he attacks? I answer, he had 
 no grounds. The assertion is utterly without 
 foundation. 
 
273 
 
 And now let us see, in what manner Sir James 
 puts his ideas together. The coincidence of certain 
 ancients and certain moderns in certain particulars, 
 which Sir James imputes to them falsely ; that is, a 
 coincidence which has no existence ; proves, he 
 says, two things ; first, that much of the meaning 
 of the words " interest *' and " pleasure," in the 
 popular use of them, sticks to them in the philo- 
 sophical. Why, the whole of it sticks. Interest 
 and pleasure have the same meaning in all cases ; 
 though all men are not acquainted with all plea- 
 sures, and some would make out one list, some 
 another, both of pleasures, and the causes of them. 
 
 The next thing which this coincidence, this 
 non-existent something, proves, is, that " narrow- 
 ing utility to mere visible and tangible objects is 
 pernicious." It is fortunate for this proposition 
 that it needs no such proving. Nobody ever did, 
 or will dispute it. "What needs proof is, that 
 which Sir James affirms, in opposition to proof, 
 that the assertors of utility do so narrow it. 
 
 Sir James having made a school for Mr. Ben- 
 tham, by force of his imagination, resolved to 
 leave nothing undone, to disparage those whom he 
 thought proper to include in it. 
 
 After having finished with them, in the 
 " Ethical Theory" department, the only one he 
 told us which came within his province, we find 
 him stepping out of his province, in order to im- 
 pute to them sins in the Logical department. 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 They are ignorant, he says, of the true method of 
 philosophizing. This he proves, by asserting 
 that they, h'ke the Cartesians, endeavour to 
 account for too much by a single principle; where- 
 upon he gives us to know his depth, in physical 
 science, as well as moral, by a discourse on the 
 laws of nature ; the complication which Newton 
 introduced into the account of those laws ; and the 
 exploits of Laplace to reconcile the phenomena to 
 Newton's complexity, " by introducing inter- 
 mediate laws, and calculating disturbing powers ; " 
 — a specimen of Sir James which I recommend to 
 the reader's curiosity. 
 
 Sir James was probably not aware, that this 
 charge against Mr. Bentham and the school he 
 gives him, is the old and stale objection to philo- 
 sophy itself; the same in substance as the vulgar 
 cry of, No theory ! No speculation ! 
 
 I wonder what Sir James imagined it is, which 
 a man does, when he philosophizes. Those who 
 speak of philosophy, like men who know any thing 
 about it, say, that its business consists in tracing 
 up particular phenomena to a general principle, 
 and always from the less general to the more 
 general ; and that the most successful philosopher 
 is he who comprehends under one principle the 
 greatest number. 
 
 ' It is a novelty in impertinence to tell us that a 
 philosopher is in the wrong, because he goes to 
 the bottom of his subject. The Cartesians did 
 
275 > 
 
 not err, by tracing phenomena to a very general 
 principle, but by assuming gratuitously a prin- 
 ciple, and one which did not account for the 
 phenomena. Had they traced them up to a real 
 principle, which did account for them, the more 
 general the principle, that is, the more numerous 
 the phenomena which it embraced, the more 
 splendid would have been their success ; and 
 their philosophy the more signally beneficial. 
 
 Sir James appears to include, under his pre- 
 sent accusation, the opinion that the principle of 
 utility accounts for the moral phenomena. But 
 if this be accounting for too much by a single 
 principle, he should have told us what other 
 principle or principles are to be used in aid of the 
 principle of utility, and how much remains to be 
 accounted for, when all that it can dispose of is 
 taken away. 
 
 Instead of this. Sir James here quits Mr. Ben- 
 tham, and the principle of utility, to fasten on 
 Mr. Mill ; and two articles written by him for 
 the Supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 
 one on Government, another on Education, are 
 the subjects of attack. 
 
 On the treatise on government. Sir James 
 delivers his wisdom thus : *•' Mr. Mill, for ex- 
 ample, derives the whole theory of government 
 from the single fact, that every man pursues his 
 interest, when he knows it ; which he assumes to 
 be a sort of self evident practical principle, if 
 
 T 2 
 
276 
 
 such a phrase be not contradictory. That a 
 man's pursuing the interest of another, or indeed 
 any other object in nature, is just as conceivable 
 as that he should pursue his own interest, is a 
 proposition which seems never to have occurred 
 to this acute and ingenious writer. Nothing, 
 however, can be more certain than its truth, if 
 the term interest be employed in its proper sense 
 of general well-being, which is the only accepta- 
 tion in which it can serve the purpose of his 
 arguments. If indeed the term be employed to 
 denote the gratification of a predominant desire, 
 his proposition is self-evident, but wholly un- 
 serviceable in his argument ; for it is clear that 
 individuals and multitudes often desire what they 
 know to be most inconsistent with their general 
 welfare. A nation, as much as an individual, 
 and sometimes more, may not only mistake its 
 interest, but, perceiving it clearly, may prefer the 
 gratification of a strong passion to it. The whole 
 fabric of his political reasoning seems to be over- 
 thrown by this single observation ; and instead of 
 attempting to explain the immense variety of 
 political facts, by the simple principle of a contest 
 of interests, we are reduced to the necessity of 
 once more referring them to that variety of 
 passions, habits, opinions, and prejudices, which 
 we discover only by experience." And in a note 
 Sir James says, " The same mode of reasoning 
 has been adopted by the writer of a late criticism 
 
277 
 
 on Mr. Mill's Essay. — See Edinburgh Review, 
 No. 97, March 1829."— This is convenient; 
 because the answer, which does for Sir James, 
 will answer the same purpose with the Edinburgh 
 Review. 
 
 All that is here alledged against Mr. Mill, in 
 the way of matter, is — that men do not always 
 act in conformity with their true interest, some- 
 times mistaking it, and sometimes impelled by 
 passion to disregard it. Sir James says, and 
 according to him, " the writer of a late criticism 
 in the Edinburgh Review " says, that this " over- 
 throws the whole fabric of Mr. Mill's political 
 reasoning." So far is this from being true, that 
 Mr. Mill's " political reasoning " is in perfect 
 conformity with it. We have had experience 
 enough of Sir James, not to be surprised that he 
 should commit this trifling mistake. But with 
 respect to Mr. Mill, his vindication is complete ; 
 unless the assertion I have now made be success- 
 fully contradicted. 
 
 Sir James's wording, however, is here a matter 
 of curiosity. He says, that the fact of men's 
 acting sometimes without an immediate view to 
 their own interest, never occurred to Mr. Mill, as 
 a thing conceivable. Did Sir James expect any 
 body to believe him, when he made this asser- 
 tion ? 
 
 , To come a little nearer to the point ; is there a 
 single proposition of Mr. Mill's which implies an 
 
278 
 
 ignorance of this fact ? Or is there one of his 
 conclusions which is vitiated by inattention to it ? 
 /To Mr. Mill, considering as he did that the 
 principles of government mean the principles by 
 which men are governed, and the principles by 
 which men are governed mean the principles by 
 which their acts are determined, it was not only 
 necessary, it was indispensable, that he should ask 
 himself, what is that within a man which has the 
 principal influence in determining his actions. — 
 The answer of Mr. Mill was, — " the man's view 
 of his own interest.'V Would Sir James have 
 had him return any other answer ? Sir James 
 abstains from saying this. But he loudly con- 
 demns Mr. Mill for what he did answer. 
 
 I am not at all disposed to quibble with Sir 
 James, about the meaning of the word " interest." 
 It is very obvious, to any one who has read 
 Mr. Mill's Treatise, in what sense he uses it. 
 He uses it, neither in the refined sense of a man's 
 best interest, or what is most conducive to his 
 happiness upon the whole ; nor to signify every 
 object which he desires, though that is a very in- 
 telligible meaning too. Mr. Mill uses it, in its 
 rough and common acceptation, to denote the 
 leading objects of human desire ; Wealth, Power, 
 Dignity, Ease; including escape from the contrary. 
 Poverty, Impotence, Degradation, Toil. 
 
 I suppose nobody, at least nobody now alive, 
 will dispute, that, taking men generally, the bulk 
 
279 
 
 of their actions is determined by consideration of 
 these objects. As little, I suppose, will it be dis- 
 puted, that in deliberating on the best means for 
 the government of men in society, it is the 
 business of philosophers and legislators (what 
 title had Sir James to meddle with the business 
 of either ?) — to look to the more general laws of 
 their nature, rather than the exceptions. The 
 bearing of Sir James's talk (you can seldom 
 gather more from it than its bearing) is to re- 
 commend attention principally to the exceptions. 
 At least, his whole complaint of Mr. Mill is that 
 he did not confine his attention to the exceptions. 
 
 Sir James, though he had no ideas of his own 
 to set him right, might have derived from his 
 memory, which was reported as good {i, e. for 
 words and dates — possibly enough it did not 
 extend to ideas), that Mr. Mill, if in error, in this 
 matter, is in good company. 
 
 Bishop Berkeley says, " Self-love being a prin- 
 ciple of all others the most universal, and the 
 most deeply engraven on our hearts, it is natural 
 for us to regard things as they are fitted to 
 augment or impair our own happiness ; and ac- 
 cordingly we denominate them good or eviV * 
 This is a very comprehensive decision ; the very 
 terms good and evil derive their meaning from 
 self-interest. 
 
 The following quotation from David Hume is 
 
 * Berkeley's Works, ii. p. 7. Ed. 4to. 
 
280 
 
 of the more importance ; because it teaches the 
 very same application of the same general law, 
 for which, carried out into detail, Mr, Mill is 
 accused, as shewing his ignorance, at once, of the 
 most notorious facts in human nature, and of the 
 proper mode of philosophizing. 
 
 ** Political writers have established it as a 
 maxim, that, in contriving any system of govern- 
 ment, and fixing the several checks and controls 
 of the constitution, every man ought to be sup- 
 posed a knave, and to have no other end, in all 
 his actions, than private interest. By this in- 
 terest we must govern him, and by means of it 
 make him, notwithstanding his insatiable avarice 
 and ambition, co-operate to public good. With- 
 out this, say they, we shall in vain boast of the 
 advantages of any constitution, and shall find in 
 the end, that we have no security for our liberties 
 and possessions, except the good will of our 
 rulers ; that is, we shall have no security at all." 
 
 " It is, therefore, a just political maxim, that 
 every man must be supposed a knave ; though at 
 the same time, it appears somewhat strange, that 
 a maxim should be true in politics which is false 
 in fact. But to satisfy us on this head, we may 
 consider, that men are generally more honest in 
 their private than in their public capacity, and 
 will go greater lengths to serve a party, than 
 when their own private interest is alone con- 
 cerned. Honour is a great check upon mankind ; 
 
S81 
 
 but when a considerable body of men act together, 
 this check is in a great measure removed ; since a 
 man is sure to be approved of by his own party 
 for what promotes the common interest ; and he 
 soon learns to despise the clamours of adversaries. 
 To which we may add, that every court or senate 
 is determined by the greater number of voices ; 
 so that, if self-interest influences only the majority 
 (as it will always do), the whole senate follows 
 the allurements of this separate interest, and acts 
 as if it contained not one member who had any 
 regard to public interest and liberty." 
 ' " When there offers, therefore, to our censure 
 and examination, any plan of government, real or 
 imaginary, where the power is distributed among 
 several courts and several orders of men, we 
 should always consider the separate interest of 
 each court and each order ; and if we find that, 
 by the skilful division of power, this interest 
 must necessarily, in its operation, concur with the 
 public, we may pronounce that government to be 
 wise and happy. If, on the contrary, separate 
 interests be not checked, and be not directed to 
 the public, we ought to look for nothing but 
 faction, disorder, and tyranny, from such a go- 
 vernment. In this opinion I am justified by ex- 
 perience, as well as by the authority of all philo- 
 sophers and politicians, both ancient and mo- 
 dern."* 
 
 ^ * Essay on the Independency of Parliament. 
 
2H2 
 
 Did Sir James consider this an example of the 
 error of the Cartesians? Did he condemn 
 Mr. Hume, because he " derived the whole 
 theory of government from the single fact, that 
 every man pursues his own interest when he 
 knows it ; which he assumes to be a sort of self- 
 evident practical principle, if such a phrase be not 
 contradictory." 
 
 The common experience of mankind is well 
 expressed by the old dramatic writer : — 
 
 Verum illud verbum est, vulgo quod dici solet, 
 Omnes sibi malle melius esse, quam alteri. 
 
 Teren. Andr. Act ii. Sc, 5. 
 
 The next quotation I deem of importance ; both 
 on account of the reputation the author enjoys, as 
 being what they call a practical man ; and from 
 the striking manner in which he puts and applies 
 the very fact, which we have to guard against 
 Sir James's perversion. 
 
 " As the Creator is a being, not only of 
 infinite power and wisdom, but also of infinite 
 goodness, he has been pleased so to contrive 
 the constitution and frame of humanity, that 
 we should want no other prompter to inquire 
 after and pursue the rule of right, but only our 
 own self-love, that universal principle of action. 
 For he has so intimately connected, so insepa- 
 rably interwoven, the laws of eternal justice 
 with the happiness of each individual, that the 
 latter cannot be obtained but by observing the 
 
283 
 
 former ; and, if the former be punctually obeyed, 
 it cannot but induce the latter. In consequence 
 of which mutual connexion of justice and human 
 felicity, he has not perplexed the law of nature 
 with a multitude of abstracted rules and precepts, 
 referring merely to the fitness or unfitness of 
 things, as some have gravely surmised ; but has 
 graciously reduced the rule of obedience to this 
 one paternal precept, * that man should pursue 
 his own happiness^ This is the foundation of 
 what we call ethics, or natural law. For the 
 several articles into which it is branched in our 
 system, amount to no more than demonstrating, 
 that this or that action tends to man's real hap- 
 piness, and therefore, very justly concluding that 
 the performance of it is a part of the law of 
 nature ; or, on the other hand, that this or that 
 action is destructive of man's real happiness, and 
 therefore, that the law of nature forbids it. This 
 law of nature, being coeval with mankind, and 
 dictated by God himself, is of course superior in 
 obligation to any other. It is binding over all 
 the globe, in all countries, and at all times. No 
 human laws are of any validity, if contrary to 
 this : and such of them as are valid derive all 
 their force, and all their authority, mediately or 
 immediately from this original." * 
 
 In the opinion of Blackstone, self-love is not 
 
 * Blackstone's Commentaries on the Laws of England^ 
 Introd. §2. c ,,, 
 
284 
 
 only the universal principle of action, but, what 
 is necessarily consequent upon this, the sole prin- 
 ciple of moral obligation. If the theory of go- 
 vernment is not built upon the universal principle 
 of action, I should like to know on what foun- 
 dation Sir James would place it. 
 
 Sir James would have done well to observe 
 what is said by Blackstone about the law of na- 
 ture, and the authority of human laws : that the 
 law of nature commands what is favourable,^ 
 forbids what is unfavourable to man's happiness : 
 and that no human law, which is contrary to this 
 law of nature, is of any validity. Did Sir James 
 not think that this is giving a pretty extensive 
 operation to the principle of utility ? 
 
 Mr. Mill, going upon what thus appears, not- 
 withstanding the contradiction of Sir James, to 
 be pretty sure ground, inferred, that if the in- 
 terest of those who rule could, by any contrivance, 
 be made to coincide with the interest of those 
 who obey, we should have the best security, which 
 the nature of man affords, that the interest of the 
 community would be steadily pursued by rulers ; 
 because we should have the security of their own 
 interest. And though it may perhaps be true of 
 certain individuals out of a multitude, that they 
 are not habitually governed by their own in- 
 terest ; yet, as is truly remarked by Mr. Hume, 
 it may be affirmed of all bodies of men, that they 
 are guided by the principle of interest invariably- 
 
285 
 
 The necessity, which those who examine what 
 is the best form of government are under, of 
 building on this foundation, is the leading position 
 in Mr. Mill's discourse. The truth of it is self- 
 evident. But, for the due exposure of the ig- 
 norance and presumption of Sir James, who 
 derides it, a reference may be useful to some of 
 those who have had occasion expressly to teach it. 
 
 The whole of Plato's Republic may be regarded 
 as a development, and, in many of its parts, a 
 masterly development, of the principle applied by 
 Mr. Mill ; that identity of interests between the 
 governors and the governed affords the only 
 security for good government. In the third 
 book, after a long and beautiful deduction of the 
 qualities required in the rulers (guardians, he 
 calls them) of the state, the result is exhibited in 
 the following striking expressions. 
 
 £Ti yinSs[Ji.6vxg rrig TroAfw? ; Ecri rocvroi, Kyi^oito $i 
 yoi^y TK fji.di>.i(rrcc thts ruyp^^avoi (piXwu ; Avocyycn. Kat 
 
 roxivoLVjiov ; Outco?, \<pif\. 
 
 The meaning is, that those chosen guardians 
 should have three grand qualities ; wisdom 
 adapted to their trust ; power adapted to their 
 
 * Platon. Respub. 1. iii, §19. 
 
286 
 
 trust ; and above all, care for the interests of the 
 community : That a man's care, however, of 
 other interests than his own, is then best secured, 
 when both are promoted by the same events ; 
 because when any one expects that every addition 
 to the happiness of others will be attended with 
 a similar addition to his own, he pursues their 
 happiness with the same constancy as his own. 
 
 Such is " the fabric of political reasoning, " 
 which Sir James tells us, for our edification, is over- 
 thrown by his sapient remark, that " a nation, as 
 much as an individual, and sometimes more, may 
 not only mistake its interest, but, perceiving it 
 clearly, may prefer the gratification of a strong 
 passion to it." 
 
 Does it, according to his logical head, follow, 
 that because a nation may sometimes mistake its 
 true interest, therefore its best security for good 
 government is not to be found in effecting an 
 identity of interests between those who govern, 
 and itself? 
 
 " Nothing," says Mr. Burke, " is security to 
 any individual, but the common interest of all."* 
 
 Without identity of interest with those they 
 rule, the rulers, Plato says, instead of being the 
 guardians of the flock, become wolves and its 
 devourers. 
 
 * Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol. Burke's Works. Ed. in 
 4to. vol. ii. p. 112. 
 
287 
 
 TotouTS? ye xat outw T^£^£ti/ xvvocg £7riX8^«j Trotju-wojl/, 
 w(rT£ UTTo axoXacTia? rj Ai/A8 rj rivog aXXa xaxa £08? aura? 
 THf xuva? £7rtp^£t^7i(rat tok Tr^o^ooroiq xatxa^'yfiij/, xal 
 
 There is another passage in the Fifth Book of 
 the same remarkable production, in which the 
 necessity of this identification, which he calls 
 »! fjiXv y^^ovTiq rs xat Autth? yioiuoovioc, is still farther ex- 
 pounded, and set in a striking point of view. 
 
 'Ep^Oju-£v ovv Ti [AiiC^ov xaxov TToXn ri Ix,i7)f0 av «ut»)v 
 $iO(.(nrot, xat iroiVj TroXXoc-g oivn fjt,ix^ \ rj fjuli^ov ayaOov 
 roZ (XV ^uvJ^iJ Tf xoti 7roi)i jw-i'ai/ ; Oux i^ofxev. Ouxoui/ >i 
 jUEV n(J'evn? re xat Xutth? xoij/wvta ^uv^i?, orav or* fAocXia-Tcc 
 7raj/Tff Oi TToAiTa* tcov a^vruiv yiyvo[j.iVuv re xa» «7roAXu- 
 |w,£vw^ Tra^aTrXno-icof p^ai^W(ri xa» Au7rwvTa» ; IIxvrec7roc<ri 
 fjiXv ovv, £(pn. H (^£ yi rm Totourwv l$iu<^^^ ^luXvei, orocv ol 
 ju,£v TTf^iaX-yfrf Oi J'e 7re^i^oc^e7g 'j/iyvwi'Tat Itt* tok auTOK 
 TToc^Yi^occri rrig TroXeoog re xal ruv ev rvi iroXei, T/ ^ot> ; 
 Ap o\)v £x Touo£ TO roiovoe yiyverony orxv ^y\ a^a 
 ^^£<y«ycovTai Iv rvi TToXei roi roioc^e priju-ara, ro re Ifxov 
 ycoii ro oux £^ov J xai tts^i tou aXAoT^iou xara raura ; 
 Ko/xiJ^i? jWEV oui/. 'Ev V) rm ^^ TroXei irXe'iqroi ett) to 
 CO/TO xara raura touto Xiy<iV(Ti ro ly^ov xal to oux i^ov, 
 oi.hrv\ oe.Pi<rro(. $^o^yti7roc^ ; TIoXv ye, Ka^ ri ri^ J'tj £«y<yi)- 
 TaT« evog ai/0^«7rou £;^£t, Oiov, oT«y irov ii^ixwv ^axTuAoj 
 TOU TrXnyvj, 7r(x<roc y\ yioivoovia, r\ xara to (rufxoc tt^o? tiii/ 
 if'u;^*!!' rerotiA^ivn e\q (xlocv trvvrx^iv rriv row oco^ovro^ 
 iv Q(,\)ry] i^(T^ero re xat iroicra. oly^ot, ^uvriXyYure fxepovg Trovn- 
 
 * Platon. Respub. 1. iii. § 22. 
 
288 
 
 Taj/TO? oXn, yioci oItoo ^y^ Xiyo^iv on o aiv^^uTrog tov 
 (J'axTuAov aA«y£t' na* tte^j aWov orovovv roott tov dv^poowou 
 6 auToc Xoyo^y 7r£^t Tf Autth? ttovouvto? ^i^ov<; aoci ttb^i 
 r^ovrig poci'^ovrog. O oivrog ya^, s^rj' >tal touto o cfiwra?, 
 Tou TOiouTou lyyurara »] cc^tcTTa TroXtrevo^ivri noXig oiy.ii. 
 'Ej/off J'lJ, oTy.ixiy ^da-^ovTog roov -TroAtrcov, oTtouv ri dyoc^ov 
 ^ xaxoj/ 11 TOi«UT» ttoAk (J^ooXia-roc ts (pntni Ixvrng iUoci ro 
 Trao-p^ov, >tai »! 0uv»j(r6>i(rfTai a.ircx.iTOf, n ^uAA'j7r»(rfT«i. 
 
 Not daring to attempt a translation of this pas- 
 sage, I shall endeavour shortly to express its 
 meaning. *' There is no evil in a community so 
 great, as that which disunites, and makes it seve- 
 ral, instead of one ; nor any good so great, as that 
 which makes it one, instead of several. The 
 means of effecting this unity, is so to regulate the 
 component parts, that what is a cause of pleasure 
 or pain to one or a few, shall be so to all, or as 
 many as possible. On the contrary, when inter- 
 ests are disunited, so that from the same political 
 events, one portion of the community derives 
 pleasure, another pain, this state of things, by 
 inevitable consequence, leads to the dissolution of 
 states." 
 
 It is mortifying to find one's self under the 
 necessity of vindicating the wisdom of ages, from 
 the pitiful objections of a man who, finding it 
 stated in some quarter which he disliked, that 
 identity of interests with the community is the 
 best security the community can have for the 
 
S89 
 
 good conduct of its rulers ; gives out a propo- 
 sition which has no bearing on the matter, and 
 cries out, " There ! I have demolished your best 
 security : men sometimes mistake their true in- 
 terest : therefore, the identity of the interests of 
 the rulers with the interests of the community is 
 not the best security for care of the interests of 
 the community." 
 
 Well reasoned ! Would it not be a still better 
 connected conclusion to say, that individuals 
 sometimes mistake their true interest ; therefore, 
 no individual should manage his own affairs, but 
 every man those of some other ? 
 
 Plato, seeing thus clearly the necessity of iden- 
 tifying the interests ot the guardians, <puAa>c£?, with 
 the interests of the guarded, bent the whole force 
 of his penetrating mind, to discover the means of 
 effecting such identification ; but being ignorant, 
 as all the ancients were, of the divine principle of 
 representation, found himself obliged to have 
 recourse to extraordinary methods. He first of all 
 prescribes a very artificial system of education for 
 the class of guardians, <puXa)t£? : a system of such 
 vigilance, begun so early, and continued so long, 
 as to make of them a very different sort of beings 
 from the ordinary race of mortals, to make of 
 them, in short, philosophers, Plato laying it down 
 as a universal truth, that there can be no happi- 
 ness for states, until either philosophers are the 
 rulers, or the rulers philosophers. In the next 
 
 u 
 
mo 
 
 place, in order to prevent the existence of any 
 private interest militating against that of the 
 community, in the breasts of the guardians, he 
 thought it necessary that they (he did not say the 
 rest of the people, that is a vulgar error), should 
 have nothing belonging to them individually, not 
 even wives and children. This system of means, 
 for the attainment of that identity of interests 
 between the guardians and the guarded, on which 
 good guardianship depends, has been the subject 
 of much ignorant ridicule ; but if the principle of 
 representation, unknown to Plato, be excluded, it 
 will not be easy to find another combination of 
 means better adapted to the end ; and surely that 
 end is of sufficient importance to render it expe- 
 dient to employ the most extraordinary means for 
 its attainment, if other and simpler means are not 
 to be found. Besides, Plato had an example of 
 something nearly as extraordinary as the means 
 he proposed, actually before his eyes, at Sparta. 
 And the inhabitants of modern Europe have had 
 examples of something still more extraordinary in 
 the whole set of monastic institutions ; above all 
 that of the Jesuits. 
 
 Aristotle lays down the same doctrine ; but, as 
 his manner is, in a more abstract way ; where he 
 treats of ends, reXn, in the most comprehensive 
 sense. 
 
 It is illustrated also, at great length, and with 
 great beauty, in many parts of the writings of 
 
Xenophon. It is the great theme of two of his 
 most exquisite and instructive productions, his 
 Institution of Cyrus, and his Economics ; and is 
 touched upon with great effect in some of the 
 dialogues in the Memoirs of Socrates. 
 
 Mr. Mill, it is necessary to observe, confines 
 his inquiry to one department' of government. 
 The only thing he takes in hand, is, to shew, by 
 what means good legislation can be effected. 
 He certainly took it for granted, not having duly 
 fathomed the intellects of such men as Sir James, 
 that it was necessary for this end to establish an 
 identity of interests between the community and 
 those to whom they intrust the power of legis- 
 lating for them. 
 
 And next he found, that the same means 
 precisely which produce a true representation ; 
 that is, ^ body of representatives, the real, 
 and not the pretended, choice of the people ; 
 produce most happily, indeed wonderfully, the 
 identity of interest, on which good legislation 
 depends ;Vnd that exactly in proportion as the 
 system of representation falls short of this per- 
 fection, it fails in producing that effect. No 
 wonder, that the class who were permitted to rule, 
 without that identity of interests, in other words, 
 to misrule, were very angry at hearing this doc- 
 trine ; and that they who sought their favour 
 were eager to signalize themselves by reviling 
 both the doctrine and its author. 
 
 u 2 
 
S92 
 
 Let the vehicles of aristocratical opinions, and 
 of the advocation of aristocratical interests in 
 England, for the last fifty years, be consulted ; it 
 will be found with what perseverance the neces- 
 sity of that identification has been reprobated. 
 It will also be found, what wrath has been poured 
 upon those who maintained its importance. 
 They would not repose confidence in public men. 
 That was the complaint. The not reposing con- 
 fidence in public men, is another name for re- 
 quiring that their interests should be identified 
 with the interests of those whom they govern. 
 And the confidence itself is another name for 
 scope to misrule. The author of Hudibras said 
 well ; all that the knave stands in need of is to 
 be trusted ; after that, his business does itself. 
 Sir James stood in the first rank of those who 
 called out for confidence in public men, and 
 poured contumely on those who sought the 
 identity of interests. 
 
 The words in which Sir James has unfolded 
 his sapience would afford the reader some sport. 
 But the work is getting bulky ; and I shall only 
 notice an expression or two, which contain some- 
 thing like new matter of accusation. 
 
 Sir James gives us his opinion about two 
 things ; one of which he says is right, the other 
 wrong ; and the wrong he lays to the charge of 
 Mr. Mill. But Mr. Mill has no concern with 
 either. Sir James's wrong thing may be ^either 
 
293 
 
 wrong or right, his right thing may be either 
 right or wrong ; and Mr. Mill's reasoning stands 
 unaffected in either case. 
 
 It is a wrong thing, he says, to attempt to 
 explain the immense variety of political facts, by 
 the simple element of a contest of interests. 
 
 Be it so, to please Sir James ; but Mr. Mill has 
 not sought to explain the immense variety of 
 political facts at all. All that Mr. Mill attempted 
 was, to shew how a community could obtain the 
 best security for good legislation ; and that he 
 said, was, by establishing, as far as possible, an 
 identity of interests between the law-makers and 
 themselves. 
 
 Does Sir James dispute that position ? 
 
 Sir James's bad thing we have thus seen. His 
 good thing is, to refer the immense variety of 
 political facts (these are surely all the facts of 
 history) to that variety of passions, habits, 
 opinions and prejudices, which we discover only 
 by experience. Sir James's enumeration, far as 
 he thinks it goes beyond Mr. Mill, is by no 
 means complete. Sir James, for example, does 
 not include reason among the principles in human 
 nature, which account for historical facts. I, on 
 the contrary, am of opinion, and I have no doubt 
 that Mr. Mill is with me, that the whole nature 
 of man must be taken into account, for explaining 
 the " immense variety" of historical facts. 
 
 But between this proposition, that the whole 
 
294 
 
 of human nature is to be taken into account, in 
 explaining the immense variety of historical 
 facts: and this other proposition, that the best 
 security for good government is found in the 
 identity of interest between the governors and 
 the governed, did Sir James perceive any con- 
 trariety? 
 
 The European public has been a good deal 
 occupied of late, in discussing the fact, and con- 
 sidering the reasons, of the decline of the Physical 
 Sciences in England. The degraded state of the 
 moral sciences is a thing still more lamentable. Of 
 our sad condition in this respect, the work of 
 Sir James is a monument. Any thing sb dis- 
 creditable to the literature of England, as such a 
 book, allowed to pretend to the highest honors, 
 in its highest department, is new in its history. 
 
 This first of the instances adduced by Sir James 
 to prove that the advocates of utility philosophize 
 in the wrong way, turns out, therefore, to be an 
 instance of philosophizing in the right way. We 
 shall easily shew that the same is the case with 
 his second instance, the Treatise on Education. 
 
 To do justice to Sir James's words, they must 
 be quoted ; and for easier reference I shall 
 number the sentences. 
 
 " 1. Mr. Mill's Essay on Education, affords 
 another example of the inconvenience of leaping 
 at once from the most general laws, to a multi- 
 plicity of minute appearances. 2. Having as- 
 
295 
 
 sumed, or at least inferred from insufficient pre- 
 mises, that the intellectual and moral character is 
 entirely formed by circumstances, he proceeds, in 
 the latter part of the essay, as if it were a neces- 
 sary consequence of that doctrine, that we might 
 easily acquire the power of combining and direct- 
 ing circumstances in such a manner as to produce 
 the best possible character. 3. Without dis- 
 puting for the present the theoretical proposition, 
 let us consider what would be the reasonableness 
 of similar expectations in a more easily intelligible 
 case. 4. The general theory of the winds is 
 pretty well understood ; we know that they pro- 
 ceed from the rushing of air from these portions 
 of the atmosphere which are more condensed, into 
 those which are more rarefied ; but how great a 
 chasm is there between that simple law and the 
 great variety of facts which experience teaches us 
 respecting winds ! The constant winds between 
 the tropics are large and regular enough to be in 
 some measure capable of explanation ; but who 
 can tell why, in variable climates, the wind blows 
 to-day from the east, to-morrow from the west ? 
 Who can foretell what its shiftings and variations 
 are to be ? Who can account for a tempest on 
 one day, and a calm on another ? Even if we 
 could foretell the irregular and infinite variations, 
 how far might we not still be from the power of 
 combining and guiding their causes? 5. No 
 man but the lunatic in the story of Rasselas ever 
 
296 
 
 dreamt that he could command the weather. 
 The difficulty plainly consists in the multiplicity 
 and minuteness of the circumstances which act 
 on the atmosphere. Are those which influence 
 the formation of the human character likely to be 
 less minute and multiplied ? " 
 
 1. Sir James says, he produces " another " 
 example of '' the leaping from general laws to a 
 multiplicity of minute appearances." He had 
 produced no example of this saltation before. 
 This " another " is therefore another instance of 
 the mode in which Sir James draws upon the 
 credulity of his reader. Mr. Mill's Essay on 
 Government, in shewing that what makes a re- 
 presentative body to be the real choice of the 
 people produces also an identity of interests 
 between that body and the people, does not leap 
 from the most general laws to a multiplicity of 
 minute particulars. 
 
 But, good God ! what language is this ? Did 
 Sir James not know that the business of philo- 
 sophy consists of two great functions ; 1, from 
 the examination of particulars to ascend to general 
 laws ; 2, from the knowledge of general laws, to 
 descend to particulars : that is, if we use the fine 
 language of Sir James, it consists of two leaps ; 
 1, from particulars to generals ; 2, from generals 
 to particulars. Sir James parades the philosophy 
 of Bacon ; and yet so little knows he wherein it 
 consists, that he marks out a case of the strictest 
 
297 
 
 adherence to the precepts of Bacon, as a departure 
 from the true mode of philosophizing. 
 
 2. " Having assumed that the intellectual and 
 moral character is entirely formed by circum- 
 stances." Sir James should have informed us, 
 what in this phrase he means by " circumstances." 
 " Formed by circumstances " appears to mean 
 formed hy something. Does Sir James accuse 
 Mr. Mill of error, in saying that the intellectual 
 and moral character \% formed hy something f If 
 so, I doubt not that Mr. Mill will very readily 
 plead guilty to the charge ; and to this further 
 charge, of saying that we ought most carefully 
 to inquire what that something is. In truth, 
 Mr. Mill's object is to shew, that a perfect work 
 on Education would do two things ; 1 , it would 
 ascertain what the means are of forming the in- 
 tellectual and moral character ; 2, it would give 
 rules for the best application of them to that end. 
 
 Well; Mr. Mill having presumed to think, 
 that the intellectual and moral character informed 
 hy something; in which Sir James takes the 
 liberty modestly to differ from him ; " proceeds, 
 as if it were a necessary consequence of that 
 doctrine, that we might easily acquire the power 
 of combining and directing circumstances in such 
 a manner as to produce the best possible cha- 
 racter." Oh! no. There it pleased Sir James 
 entirely to mistake the matter. Mr. Mill repre- 
 sents the best possible education as a very diffi- 
 
298 
 
 cult, not a very easy thing. But he says that we 
 may, and that we ought, with our utmost en- 
 deavour, to make the best possible use of the 
 means we possess toward the formation of good 
 intellectual and moral characters ; and that the 
 difference between the intellectual and moral 
 characters formed by the worst and the best 
 education is immense. 
 
 That is the matter of fact, very different, it 
 appears, from that which it was the purpose of 
 Sir James to make people believe. 
 
 3. We may pass the third sentence without any 
 remark. 
 
 4. This goes beyond driveling. It is more of 
 the nature of raving. Because we can do nothing 
 to produce winds, though we know the causes of 
 winds ; does Sir James desire us to conclude, that 
 we can do nothing towards the producing of good 
 intellectual and moral characters ? As well 
 might he infer that we can do nothing towards 
 the making of a good shoe. The reason why we 
 can do nothing toward the making of winds, is, 
 because we have no power over the causes of 
 winds ; the reason why we can do a great deal 
 towards the formation of the intellectual and 
 moral character, is, because we have great power 
 over the means of that formation. Mercy on us ! 
 And Sir James did take these two cases for 
 parallels ! 
 
 The reason why we can predict the winds, as 
 
299 
 
 little nearly as we can act upon them, is, that we 
 know little or nothing of the order in which the 
 causes of them take place. But we know a great 
 deal about the order of the causes which operate 
 to the formation of a good character. 
 
 5. This is the last sentence of Sir James's well- 
 considered and well-meant attack upon the sup- 
 porters of the principle of utility with which we 
 shall trouble the reader. 
 
 Does Sir James, then, mean to give it out, that 
 when the causes which co-operate to any effect 
 are " minute and multiplied," it would be absurd 
 to attempt to reduce them to order, or to frame 
 rules for the direction of them to the attainment 
 of the effects which we desire ? 
 
 If so, he is not worth thinking of for a 
 moment. If he only means to give us the in- 
 formation, that many and minute circumstances 
 do operate to the formation of character, nobody 
 needed that information at his hands, at any rate 
 not Mr. Mill, who has made a more comprehen- 
 sive enumeration of those circumstances than any 
 preceding writer. 
 
 Does Sir James not know many instances, 
 beside that of Education, in which, though cir- 
 cumstances be minute and multiplied, we obtain 
 a very complete command over them ? The cir- 
 cumstances are minute, and multiplied, which in- 
 fluence the course of a ship, from the Thames to 
 the Ganges ; but we have obtained such a com- 
 
300 
 
 mand over them, as generally to insure a par- 
 ticular event. And here we may remark that 
 even Sir James's intractable winds, are rendered 
 the instrument of this steady result. 
 
 The circumstances are minute, and multiplied 
 to an infinite degree, which contribute to the 
 supply of London, or any other great city, with 
 the necessaries and luxuries which it consumes ; 
 yet we can trace them all, to the one principle 
 in human nature which produces that supply 
 with invariable constancy, and measures it with 
 almost incredible precision. 
 
 Surely we have no occasion to give more in- 
 stances. And surely we may affirm, that never, 
 since philosophy began, was matter like this 
 given to the world for philosophy before. 
 
301 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 Sir James on " Ethical Theory" 
 
 The view of Sir James is not complete, until, 
 after having seen him at work on other men's 
 doctrines, we see him at work also on his own. 
 
 He makes delivery of what he denominates his 
 ethical theory, in his seventh, or concluding 
 section, called " General Remarks." 
 
 For the reader's convenience I insert the whole 
 passage, with the paragraphs numbered, in the 
 Appendix.* 
 
 The first three of the said paragraphs offer 
 nothing for remark. In the fourth. Sir James, 
 with his usual skill, begins a dissertation which 
 was little to his purpose. 
 
 It is introduced, by the notice of Brown's 
 admission, that every act which is moral is also 
 useful. Hereupon Sir James draws a conclusion. 
 If this, says he, be true, then morality and utility 
 should be considered reciprocally tests of each 
 other. 
 
 Does this mean, that wherever we find morality 
 
 * Vide Appendix B. 
 
302 
 
 in an act, it is a test or proof that there is also 
 utility in it ; and wherever we find utility in an 
 act, it is also a test or proof that there is morality 
 in it ? This is not an inference from Brown's 
 admission ; it is sheer repetition ; Brown's admis- 
 sion itself, only in obscure phrase. To say, that 
 two things are always found together ; and next, 
 that where you find one of them, you will find 
 the other, is merely to afiirm the same thing 
 twice ; a very common method of inferring with 
 Sir James. 
 
 Let us go on. According to this doctrine of 
 Sir James, that morality and utility are recipro- 
 cally tests of each other, they are two separate 
 things. The thing which tests is one thing ; the 
 thing which is tested is another. 
 
 Further ; when any thing is to be used as a 
 test, it must first be known ; at least so far 
 known, as to be distinguished from every other 
 thing ; else we never can tell when we have got 
 it. Now, then, when morality is to be used as 
 a test of utility, how are we to know that we have 
 it ? Sir James gave it us, as a sort of discovery, 
 long ago, that one out of the two grand objects 
 of moral philosophy was, to tell us what morality 
 is. Sir James has not any where yet told us 
 what it is, nor attempted to do so. He is there- 
 fore premature in instructing us to use it as a 
 test. 
 
 Sir James, however, does one thing here. He 
 
303 
 
 contradicts the theory of utility. The theory of 
 utility makes the utility of an act, and the morality 
 of an act, two names for the same thing. Sir 
 James says they are two things ; which recipro- 
 cally test one another. Well, then, what we have 
 vehement occasion to know is, what is the 
 morality of an act, distinct from the utility of it ? 
 What is it, in, and by itself, consisting purely of 
 its own elements ? 
 
 This talk about testing morality is away from 
 the purpose. It is pure trifling. We do not 
 want to know what is an indication of the pre- 
 sence of morality. We want to know what 
 morality is. 
 
 Sir James, however, thinks we have not yet 
 got talk enough about the tests ; he therefore 
 gives us more, and of a truly curious kind. " It 
 is hard," he says, " to say why morality and 
 utility should not be reciprocally tests of each 
 other, though in a very different way." This 
 " different way," one would suppose to mean, 
 that morality tests utility in one way, and utility 
 tests morality in another way, and that the differ- 
 ence between the two ways is great. Well, one 
 looks forward after this, with some curiosity, to 
 see how morality does its testing work on utility, 
 and how utility does its testing work on morality. 
 Sir James talks as follows ; " Morality and utility 
 reciprocally test one another, in a very different 
 way ; the virtuous feelings, fitted as they are by 
 
304 
 
 immediate appearance, by quick and powerful 
 action, being sufficient tests of morality in the 
 moment of action ; while the consideration of 
 tendency to general happiness, a more obscure 
 and slowly discoverable quality, should be applied 
 in general reasoning, as a test of the sentiments 
 and dispositions themselves." 
 
 Remark, first, that Sir James, by telling us 
 that the virtuous feelings are the test of morality, 
 informs us that they are not morality. This 
 needs to be remembered. But, as he was to 
 inform us how morality tests utility in one way, 
 and how utility tests morality in another way, 
 what had we to do, in this explanation, with the 
 introduction of another test, which is neither the 
 one nor the other? 
 
 Sir James ought to have explained two things : 
 1st, how morality was tested ; Slndly, how utility 
 was tested ; they being tested, as he says, by one 
 another, but in a different way. Sir James has 
 given us his account of the testing of morality ; 
 but has not said a word about the reciprocal 
 testing of utility. He also now changes his 
 account of the testing of morality, having told us 
 first, that it was tested by utility, but now telling 
 us that it is tested by feelings, and only at an 
 after stage by utility ; by feelings in practice, by 
 utility in speculation. 
 
 This is a curious doctrine, this of the double 
 test; one for action, and one for speculation. 
 
305v 
 
 Sir James was ambitious of beifig a discoverer in 
 moral science. Here he has succeeded. Assuredly, 
 no man ever thought of testing in this fashion 
 before. 
 
 When a man acts from feeling, he acts from 
 the strongest propensity. This is so strictly true, 
 that the one term is but a substitute for the 
 other. But among actions, when it is the feeling 
 that selects, it is the strongest propensity that 
 selects ; in other words, tests the eligibility, 
 i.e. the morality of the act, in the moment of action. 
 This is as much as to say, that whatever a man, 
 in the moment of action, feels himself most 
 inclined to do, he does rightly, for his impulse is 
 the test. In short, it is impossible for him to do 
 wrong. And this is the sort of morality which 
 all must come to, who make feelings their guide. 
 We shall find other occasions of seeing how 
 necessarily the morality of Sir James fixes itself at 
 this standard. 
 
 It is true, that Sir James uses the expression 
 " virtuous feelings." But what does the word 
 " virtuous " avail him, while he leaves us unin- 
 formed what the virtuous feelings are ? Again, 
 what is the difference between one feeling and 
 another, but that one sort impels us more fre- 
 quently to good actions, another sort more fre- 
 quently to bad ; not that any sort may not carry 
 us to any act, even the most atrocious ? This 
 we have already seen so clearly, that there is no 
 
 X 
 
306 
 
 need of adding to the illustration of it. It is 
 therefore undeniably true, that following Sir 
 James's virtuous feelings, as the test of the 
 morality of his acts, a man might feel justified in 
 the perpetration of any, the foulest, act that ever 
 disgraced humanity. 
 
 So much for Sir James's test in the moment of 
 action. We must now consider what he has to 
 say about the speculative test. 
 
 That, he tells us, is utility. He tells us, also, 
 how it is to be used. It is to be applied " in 
 general reasoning." And it is to be applied " as 
 a test of the sentiments and dispositions them- 
 selves." 
 
 A quantity of time must always be spent upon 
 Sir James's mouthings, in order to get any thing 
 definite which we can speak about. 
 
 We must here suppose that what he calls " the 
 sentiments and dispositions themselves," are " the 
 virtuous feelings" he had just talked about — the 
 tests in action. 
 
 But what is it, to test a virtuous feeling ? 
 
 That is by no means clear. Is it, to find out 
 whether it is virtuous or not ? 
 
 Further, in finding out whether a " virtuous 
 feeling" is virtuous or not, by the test of utility, 
 what is it we do ? Judge, whether it is useful 
 or not? And in judging whether it is useful 
 or not, do we not judge whether it produces useful 
 actions or not ? Is that feeling virtuous which 
 
307 
 
 produces useful actions ; the contrary, the con- 
 trary ? 
 
 Well, then ; would Sir James have called any 
 feeling virtuous, at the time when it was pro- 
 ducing vicious acts ? There is no feeling of 
 which more can be predicated, than that it com- 
 monly impels us in the right direction ; none of 
 which it cannot be predicated, that it does often 
 impel in the wrong. Is it to be followed, when it 
 impels in the wrong ? If not, then comes another 
 question ; how are we to know whether it is impel- 
 ling us in the right direction or the wrong ? Is 
 there any other mode than asking, whether the 
 action to which it urges, is good or bad ? And is 
 it not good, or bad, according as it is useful, or 
 hurtful ? But, if so, the test of utility is indis- 
 pensable, even in the moment of action, notwith- 
 standing Sir James's " virtuous feelings," and 
 notwithstanding the unspeakable nonsense about 
 them, with which he has deluged us. What end 
 it is calculated to serve in speculation, we have 
 still to inquire. 
 
 Sir James tells us, that to this end it is to be 
 applied, "in general reasoning," to test the vir- 
 tuous feelings. I do not suppose that Sir James 
 means "general reasoning" to be here taken in 
 its proper sense ; for that is syllogizing. I sup- 
 pose that he means it in the sense of general 
 inquiry, investigation ; philosophizing, in short ; 
 whether performed by analysis or synthesis, syl- 
 logism or induction. x 2 
 
308 
 
 Well, then, in our speculative hours, and doings, 
 we may have recourse to utility. We may test 
 by it the virtuous feelings. That is all the use 
 which in Sir James's ethical system is to be made 
 of utility. And what is it that a man, as he 
 speculates, does, when he tests the virtuous feel- 
 ings by utility? It does not appear that Sir 
 James ever put to himself that question. And 
 all the answer I can make for him is, that the 
 man asks himself whether they are useful or not ? 
 
 Now, if a man of sense puts to himself that 
 question, it is very evident what answer he will 
 return. He will say that, certainly, there is a 
 considerable list of " feelings," called also " senti- 
 ments and dispositions," by Sir James, which are 
 useful ; and the most useful of them all is self- 
 love ; because on that the very being of the 
 species depends. But when all this is done, are 
 we advanced one step in our inquiry? What 
 have we done, either to determine what morality 
 is, in the abstract ; or what is to guide us in 
 practice? Self-love, we know, though it moves 
 us to many useful acts, moves us also to hurtful 
 ones. The same is the case with social love in 
 all its branches but the highest. 
 
 Quitting the use of utility as a test, he goes 
 on, in his sixth paragraph, to tell us two things 
 more about it. He gives us what he calls " a 
 clear, short, and unanswerable proof, that bene- 
 ficial tendency is an essential quality of virtue." 
 
309 
 
 Virtue must be taken here in the same sense with 
 morality. Then why quit the more precise word 
 of the two? Let us try the predication upon 
 morality; utility is a quality of morality. This, 
 we see at once, will not do. Morality itself is a 
 quality ; but a quality of a quality is nonsense. 
 
 2!. He further tells us, that "religion cannot 
 subsist without a belief in benevolence as the sole 
 principle of Divine government ; that therefore 
 God acts upon the principle of utility ; but it is 
 not a fit principle for man ; because man is not 
 all-perfect." But why should not an imi)erfect, 
 as well as a perfect being, act upon the principle 
 of utility ? Why should he not do all the good 
 he can ? 
 
 It will now be convenient to see what all this 
 amounts to. 
 
 We have been told of something which is a 
 test of morality : 
 
 Of something which is a quality of morality ; 
 
 Of something which is a good motive to mo- 
 rality, in the narrow sphere; not good in the 
 enlarged. 
 
 But to tell us of a test of morality, and of a 
 quality of morality, and of a motive to morality, 
 which is both good, and not good, is not to tell 
 us what morality is ; nor any approach to it. 
 
 We are also told something about utility ; that 
 it is a test of morality, which is as much as to 
 say something different from morality ; that it is 
 
310 
 
 a quality of morality, which is as much as to say, 
 not morality, but something belonging to it ; that 
 it is the principle of action in the Deity, but not 
 fit to be the principle of action in man. 
 
 Thus far Sir James has not spoken to his ques- 
 tion, what makes an act to be moral ; but has 
 evaded it. This, however, does not hinder him 
 from proceeding with assurance to make dis- 
 coveries about moral acts, which are truly his 
 own. 
 
 " Every moral act must be considered as an 
 end." 
 
 Of ends there are two kinds ; the intermediate, 
 and the ultimate. And of these the intermediate 
 are only means towards a farther end. They are 
 not good in themselves ; they are good only as 
 contributing to the attainment of something which 
 is good. 
 
 Now, in which of these two classes of ends did 
 Sir James reckon moral acts ? Not certainly in 
 that of ultimate ends. The only thing which is 
 of value in an act is its consequences. The act 
 itself, the muscular contraction, is indifferent, or 
 painful, for the most part. Acts are performed, 
 not for their own sake, but for the sake of their 
 consequences. A voluntary act has no other 
 meaning than that it is an act performed as the 
 means to an end. 
 
 But if moral acts cannot be classed among 
 ultimate ends, they must, if at all classed as 
 
311 
 
 ends, be classed among those which are secondary, 
 or intermediate ; that is, which are means to 
 some farther end. 
 
 Now, then, what is the farther end, to which 
 moral acts are the means ? On this subject, Sir 
 James is silent as the grave. But this, it is evi- 
 dent, is the very point which he was called upon 
 to determine. 
 
 In the paragraphs from the 7th to the 10th 
 inclusive. Sir James puts and answers this ques- 
 tion — " Why, if tendency to general welfare be 
 the standard of virtue, is it not always present to 
 the contemplation of every man who does or 
 prefers a virtuous action ? Must not utility in 
 that case be the felt essence of virtue ? Why are 
 other ends, besides general happiness, fit to be 
 pursued ? " 
 
 Sir James replies : — " These questions, which 
 are all founded on that confusion of the theory 
 of actions with the theory of sentiments, against 
 which the reader was so early warned, might be 
 discussed with no more than a reference to that 
 distinction." Sir James's reference is to a passage 
 in the first section of his Dissertation, of which 
 we have already given the reader an account ; 
 where he tells us, that Mr. Bentham, with some 
 other philosophers, take the moral qualities of 
 acts, and the approbation bestowed upon them, 
 for the same thing. No man, with exception of 
 himself, ever did commit any such blunder. That 
 
312 
 
 the present questions imply that confusion, Sir 
 James is probably the only man in the world that 
 would have affirmed. Dr. Brown says, for it is 
 his objection which Sir James is dealing with, that 
 if utility was the quality in acts to which moral 
 approbation relates, the idea of that utility would 
 be present to us in every act of moral approba- 
 tion. But it is not so present. Therefore, &c. 
 It is very evident that this objection not only 
 does not imply the absurd supposition, that the 
 approbation, and the thing approved, are one and 
 the same thing; but that it actually proceeds 
 upon the supposition that they are different. 
 
 Sir James expounds himself in the following 
 words : — 
 
 " By those advocates of utility, indeed, who 
 hold it to be a necessary part of their system, that 
 some glimpse, at least, of tendency to personal or 
 general well-being, is an essential part of the 
 motives which render an action virtuous, these 
 questions cannot be satisfactorily answered. 
 Against such they are arguments of irresistible 
 force ; but against the doctrine itself, rightly un- 
 derstood, and justly bounded, they are altogether 
 powerless. The reason why there may, and 
 must be, many ends morally more fit to be pur- 
 sued in practice than general happiness, is plainly 
 to be found in the limited capacity of man. A 
 perfectly good being, who foresees and commands 
 all the consequences of action, cannot indeed be 
 
313 
 
 conceived by us to have any other end in view 
 than general well-being. Why evil exists under 
 that perfect government, is a question towards 
 the solution of which, the human understanding 
 can scarcely advance a single step. But all who 
 hold the evil to exist only for good, and own 
 their inability to explain why or how, are per- 
 fectly exempt from any charge of inconsistency 
 in their obedience to the dictates of their moral 
 nature. The measure of the faculties of man 
 renders it absolutely necessary for him to have 
 many other practical ends ; the pursuit of all of 
 which is moral, when it actually tends to general 
 happiness, though that last end never entered 
 into the contemplation of the agent. It is impos- 
 sible for us to calculate the effects of a single 
 action, any more than the chances of a single 
 life. But let it not be hastily concluded, that the 
 calculation of consequences is impossible in mor^l 
 subjects. To calculate the tendency of every sort 
 of human action, is a possible, easy, and common 
 operation. The general good effects of tem- 
 perance, prudence, fortitude, justice, benevolence, 
 gratitude, veracity, fidelity, — of the affections of 
 kindred, and of love for our country, — are the 
 subjects of calculations which, taken as gene- 
 ralities, are absolutely unerring. They are 
 founded on a larger and firmer basis of more uni- 
 form experience, than any of those ordinary cal- 
 culations which govern prudent men in the whole 
 
314 
 
 business of life. An appeal to these daily and 
 familiar transactions furnishes at once a decisive 
 answer, both to those advocates of utility who 
 represent the consideration of it as a necessary 
 ingredient in virtuous motives, as well as moral 
 approbation, and to those opponents who turn 
 the unwarrantable inferences of unskilful advo- 
 cates into proofs of the absurdity into which the 
 doctrine leads." 
 
 " Those advocates. . . . glimpse of tendency. . . . 
 part of motives," &c. This is the self-same 
 puddle, with which we have already found Sir 
 James endeavouring to bespatter Mr. Bentham, 
 and those whom he will have to be Mr. Bentham's 
 followers. Sir James, however, shews a grievous 
 ignorance of those quacks and their quackery, 
 alias, those philosophers and their philosophy, 
 when he supposes they would be at any loss for 
 an answer to Dr. Brown. Brown was but 
 poorly read in the doctrine of association. Had 
 he known it better he would have easily answered 
 himself. It is no rare thing, in the higher cases 
 of complex association, for an ingredient, and a 
 main ingredient, to be concealed by the closeness 
 of its union with the compound. Nor does it 
 follow, that the general idea of utility is not pre- 
 sent to the mind in moral approbation, because 
 Dr. Brown was unable to trace it. Before the 
 discovery of Berkeley, he would have been equally 
 insensible of the presence of ideas of touch in 
 
315 
 
 the perception of figure and magnitude by the 
 eye. 
 
 This paragraph, however, deserves more notice. 
 It brings certain charges against the advocates 
 of utility ; and it presents a theological disserta- 
 tion on the existence of evil. 
 
 The charges brought against the advocates of 
 utility are two. 
 
 First, they maintain, that some consideration of 
 utility '^ is an essential part of the motives which 
 render an action virtuous." 
 
 Secondly, they maintain, that a moral act can 
 have no end but general utility. 
 
 As these charges are repetition, the answer 
 to them has been already given. It will only, 
 therefore, be necessary to recall to the reader 
 what he already knows. 
 
 The first of the charges, as the reader will 
 immediately recognise, is wholly untrue. The 
 teachers of utility do not think that the consi- 
 deration of utility is required in the motives of 
 virtuous acts. The place for that consideration 
 according to them is not the motive, but the 
 intention of the agent ; a part of the mental pro- 
 cedure, which it would seem Sir James had never 
 adverted to. 
 
 Sir James has also another assertion here, 
 which will be scorned by every man who has any 
 knowledge of the philosophy of the human mind. 
 He says, it is the motives which make an action 
 
316 
 
 to be virtuous. The virtue does not depend upon 
 the motive. There is no bad motive. Every 
 motive is the desire of good ; to the agent himself, 
 or some one else. 
 
 The second charge; that the teachers of the 
 principle of utility, regard utility as the only end 
 of a virtuous act, is founded upon ignorance of 
 the meaning of the word end; profound igno- 
 rance, it must be admitted. The end of an act 
 is synonymous with the motive. The end, some- 
 thing which is to be gained by the act, is that 
 which moves to the act. This charge is therefore 
 disposed of, in what we have replied to the first. 
 The teachers of utility never considered utility as 
 the end of every moral act. 
 
 Sir James's reasons are commonly diverting 
 things. The reason why the teachers of utility 
 are wrong in doing what they never did is, that 
 utility is unfit to be the end of such a being as 
 man. One would think that the fact might have 
 contented Sir James. The fact is, that men per- 
 form moral acts with other ends. But Sir James 
 having assigned unfitness, finds it necessary to 
 prove the unfitness, and the reason of it is, that 
 man is a limited being. But this is no reason at 
 all. Why should not a being, as limited as man, 
 have had as his only motive to the performance of 
 good acts, the good which redounds from them ? 
 No other reason can be assigned for his being 
 made otherwise, but the will of that Being who 
 
317 
 
 did make him. Sir James says, that a limited 
 being knows not all the consequences of his acts. 
 But this is nothing to the purpose ; he might still 
 follow his end with the benefit of all the lights he 
 might have. 
 
 Though Sir James had told us before, as a 
 fundamental part of his doctrine, that man cannot 
 calculate the consequences of acts ; he now tells 
 us not to believe him. " Let it not," he says, 
 " be hastily concluded, that the calculation of 
 consequences is impossible, in moral subjects." 
 And then he says, that the general tendency of 
 the acts of a class is correctly understood by 
 every body. But is not this all which is re- 
 quired ? Is not that a perfect answer, given by 
 Sir James himself, to all his spoutings against the 
 principle of utility, because it is troublesome to 
 calculate ? Can the man, who takes utility as his 
 rule, do any thing better, than go upon the general 
 tendencies of acts, where he does not foresee some 
 unusual consequence ? A man takes food, know- 
 ing the general tendency to be good. He only 
 abstains, when he has some reason for expecting a 
 different from the ordinary consequences. The 
 rule is the same in the case of moral acts. 
 
 Sir James's theological intrusion is only worth 
 noticing, in a place where it has so little business 
 to be found, for the curiosity of the sort. 
 
 It amounts to this, that the men who believe 
 that the evil found in this world exists for good. 
 
318 
 
 though they cannot tell in what manner, are not 
 inconsistent in acting morally. It is utterly im- 
 possible to conceive what could induce a man to 
 put down such a combination of words. Why 
 should not we act morally, though there are 
 many things which we cannot account for ; this — 
 the existence of evil in a world constituted by 
 perfect goodness, with the rest ? 
 
 Sir James hardly writes a sentence in which 
 there is not some blunder of expression. He 
 says, that men, though they cannot account for 
 the existence of evil, are not inconsistent in obey- 
 ing " the dictates of their moral nature." Man's 
 nature is immoral, as well as moral. Has he 
 then two natures ? There is a large sect, indeed, 
 who think that his nature is altogether immoral ; 
 " conceived in sin, and brought forth in iniquity." 
 Sir James meant to say, " the moral dictates of 
 his nature ; " and did not know how to express 
 himself. 
 
 Sir James says, " the measure " (limited) " of 
 the faculties of man renders it absolutely neces- 
 sary for him to have many other practical ends : " 
 (than general utility) — " the pursuit of all which 
 is moral, when it actually tends to general happi- 
 ness, though that last had never entered into the 
 contemplation of the agent." 
 
 " The pursuit of all of them is moral, when it 
 actually tends to general happiness." Granted. 
 ** Though that last had never entered into the 
 
319 
 
 contemplation of the agent." At this we 
 demur. 
 
 First of all, how is the agent to know that this 
 pursuit of his, "actually tends to the general 
 happiness," if it never enters into his contempla- 
 tion ? Here would seem to be a limit to a man's 
 obedience to his virtuous affections. But if it is 
 one which he need not have in his contemplation, 
 it is one which he need not apply. A limit which 
 need not be applied, is no limit at all. The con- 
 sequence of this doctrine is, that simple obedience 
 to the virtuous (alias, unknown) affections, is 
 simply and absolutely virtue. 
 
 Next, if a man can be moral without any regard 
 to utility, obeying simply one of the blind im- 
 pulses of his nature, Sir James should have 
 explained to us, why the beasts should not be 
 deemed moral agents? Upon this theory, they 
 have all the requisites. 
 
 Farther, Sir James ought to have told us, what 
 check a man, acting from the impulse of his 
 affection, without a thought of the utility of his 
 acts, can feel, in perpetrating the greatest crimes 
 for the benefit of his child or his friend ? A 
 moral parent, a moral friend, go so far and no 
 farther, in operating the good either of themselves, 
 or of the individuals whom they love to serve. 
 At what limit do they stop? Where general 
 utility bids them, sanctioned as it is by the appro- 
 bation and disapprobation of mankind. But how 
 
S20 
 
 can they stop where general utility bids them, if 
 they have it not present to their minds ? 
 
 Thus far Sir James has been replying to 
 Dr. Brown. Dr. Brown had refused to admit 
 the principle of utility as the principle of morality, 
 because man pursues other ends than general 
 happiness. The meaning must be, that the pur- 
 suit of other ends than general happiness may be 
 moral. This the assertors of utility never denied. 
 Yet Sir James, in his wisdom, says, that the 
 preachers of utility cannot reply to this objection. 
 Why ? Because they say, that there can be no 
 motive but one to a moral act. And this they do 
 not say. 
 
 Once more we are constrained to remark, that 
 Sir James has not yet touched upon the question, 
 what is morality. Here, however, he takes his 
 leave of it. He now proceeds to the second part 
 of his undertaking, that which he calls the 
 " Theory of Sentiments," or the answer to the 
 question, what is moral approbation and disap- 
 probation ? 
 
 Without the aid, then, of Sir James, we must 
 place before ourselves a list of the requisites of a 
 moral act ; because it serves to clear the way for 
 our future progress. 
 
 1. The motive. There is no act without a 
 motive ; but, the motive in itself is neither moral, 
 nor immoral. 
 
 2. The volition. There is no act which is not 
 
321 
 
 willed ; but the act of willing, is neither moral, 
 nor immoral. 
 
 3. What is called the external act ; to wit, the 
 bodily part or motion. That, like the motive, is, 
 in itself, neither moral nor immoral. The same 
 bodily operation is indifferently a part of every sort 
 of act. It is however a necessary part of every act. 
 
 4. The consequences of the act. An act which 
 has no consequences that are materially either 
 beneficial or hurtful, is not called a moral act. 
 That alone receives this denomination, which has 
 consequences material to some one or more human 
 beings. 
 
 5. The expectation of the beneficial conse- 
 quences in the mind of the agent. This hardly 
 needs illustration, but take the following. 
 
 A man gives a drug to another, expecting it 
 will poison him. The act is immoral, because 
 the expected consequences are pernicious. The 
 actual consequences were salutary : the drug 
 proved a sovereign remedy for a mortal disease . 
 Reverse the case, and the act would be moral, 
 though the actual consequences fatal. 
 
 6. This is not all. It is not enough, to make 
 an act moral, that the agent expects from it bene- 
 ficial consequences to some body. It is farther 
 necessary, that he have no reason to expect from 
 it, evil consequences equivalent, to any other 
 body : that is, in other words, that he have a 
 conviction of its general utility. 
 
322 
 
 All this is settled by universal consent ; it is 
 vain, therefore, to think of disputing it. And 
 this being premised, it will be seen, that no act of 
 the rudest agent, performed with the smallest time 
 for reflection, is moral, without a conviction in 
 his mind of its general utility, how little soever 
 Dr. Brown was able to perceive the existence of 
 that ingredient. 
 
 It is not possible to conceive any thing 
 more ludicrous, than the airs with which Sir 
 James presents himself on the stage, for the per- 
 formance of his part, in this the second act 
 of his piece. He decides, as if it were a thought 
 for which the world is indebted to him, that 
 association must account for the moral senti- 
 ments : he next announces, that to make out the 
 exposition, the task reserved for him, demanded 
 miraculous powers ; but arduous as it was, he 
 was endowed with a courage equal to the enter- 
 prise, and was possessed of modesty withal ; for 
 he did not promise to complete the analysis ; all 
 he should absolutely promise was, to give an 
 outlme, which would shew what might be done. 
 
 Reader, if you are acquainted with the state of 
 the facts, you need a little time to compose your 
 countenance. The vast undertaking which Sir 
 James was thus announcing, with the rotund 
 mouth, and about to set upon, with the spirit of 
 a Samson, was a finished job. The thing was 
 done. 
 
323 
 
 Dr. Hartley carried on the important investiga- 
 tion a certain way. He, after the Rev. Mr. Gay, 
 propounded the opinion, that association would 
 account for all the complex phenomena of the 
 human mind ; and performed by means of it the 
 analysis of some very important cases. With 
 respect to the moral sentiments, he proceeded only 
 so far as to render it probable that they might 
 be strictly accounted for by association. And 
 even Mr. Belsham, though not a metaphysician 
 of much power, clearly understood the scope of 
 Dr. Hartley's investigation, and added some useful 
 reflections. 
 
 Mr. Mill took up the subject where they left 
 it, and prosecuted the inquiry to its end. He 
 traced minutely the complex phenomena of moral 
 approbation and disapprobation to simple ideas ; 
 and shewed what simple ideas, combined by asso- 
 ciation, constitute the phenomena. 
 
 This being the matter of fact, not to be dis- 
 puted, or evaded, I question whether a parallel 
 to the following passage can be produced from 
 the records of literature. 
 
 Sir James, having introduced the subject, by 
 seeking an answer to the question why, if moral 
 approbation respects only the utility of voluntary 
 acts, is it confined to that species of utility ; and 
 having alleged that it is not a sufficient answer 
 to say, that the application of moral approbation 
 is limited by its end, the affording a motive to 
 
 y2 
 
beneficial acts, — goes on, in the eleventh of the 
 paragraphs, as follows : — 
 
 " To seek a foundation for universal, ardent, 
 early, and immediate feelings, in processes of an 
 intellectual nature, has, since the origin of philo- 
 sophy, been the grand error of ethical inquirers 
 into human nature. To seek for such a founda- 
 tion in association, an early and insensible process, 
 which confessedly mingles itself with our first 
 and simplest feelings, and which is common to 
 both parts of our nature, is not liable to the same 
 animadversions. If conscience be uniformly pro- 
 duced by the regular and harmonious co-operation 
 of many processes of associations, the objection is 
 in reality a challenge to produce a complete 
 theory of it, founded on that principle, by exhi- 
 biting such a full account of all these processes as 
 may satisfactorily explain why it proceeds thus 
 far and no farther. This would be a very arduous 
 attempt, and perhaps it may be premature. But 
 something may be more modestly tried towards 
 an outline, which, though it might leave many 
 particulars unexplained, may justify a reasonable 
 expectation that they are not incapable of expla- 
 nation ; and may even now assign such reasons 
 for the limitation of approbation to voluntary 
 acts, as may convert the objection derived from 
 that fact into a corroboration of the doctrines to 
 which it has been opposed as an insurmountable 
 difficulty. Such an attempt will naturally lead 
 
S25 
 
 to the close of the present Dissertation. The 
 attempt has indeed been already made, but not 
 without great apprehensions, on the part of the 
 author, that he has not been clear enough, espe- 
 cially in those parts which appeared to himself to 
 owe most to his own reflection. He will now 
 endeavour, at the expense of some repetition, to 
 be more satisfactory." 
 
 The very first sentence of this passage is 
 damning. Sir James says, it is rational to seek 
 the origin of the moral sentiments in " associa- 
 tion," but irrational to seek it in "intellectual 
 processes." 
 
 , Did Sir James suppose that "intellectual pro- 
 cesses" are not association ? 
 
 Association is ''a process, which mingles itself 
 with the composition of our first and simplest 
 feelings." Could any man have written this, who 
 knew any thing about association ? or any thing 
 else which the mind consists of? 
 ; Association is the term, by which we express 
 the fact, that one of our ideas is followed by 
 another, according to certain laws ; and that two 
 or more of them may be so drawn together as to 
 form what we call a complex idea. 
 ; " Our first and simplest feelings." These most 
 assuredly are, 1st, our sensations ; 2dly, our 
 simple ideas, the copies of those sensations. There 
 is no composition in those feelings. What was 
 in the head of Sir James when he could talk of 
 
326 
 
 the composition of a simple sensation, the compo- 
 sition of a simple idea ? the composition of things 
 which are not compounded ! 
 
 Let us suppose that he did not mean sensations 
 and simple ideas (in fact he did not know what 
 he meant), but the simplest of our compound 
 ideas ; and then let us see if he has more wisdom 
 in his talk. 
 
 The composition of compound ideas is the 
 association of the simple ideas. Association and 
 composition are here two names for the same 
 thing. Now listen to Sir James. The " associa- 
 tion of ideas is a process which mingles itself 
 with the composition of ideas." In other words, 
 association is a process which mingles itself with 
 itself. Seeing is a process which mingles itself 
 with sight. Good God ! 
 
 I shall pass over a long passage which seems 
 to be inserted chiefly for the purpose of shewing, 
 that Sir James is acquainted with what it is hot 
 very easy not to be acquainted with, Newton's 
 rules of philosophizing; with which rules. Sir 
 James takes great pains to inform us, it is not 
 inconsistent (did any body ever dream it was ?) to 
 endeavour to account for the phenomena of the 
 human mind on the principle of association : 
 where, also, he touches upon a point, which is 
 a favourite with him, the disinterestedness of 
 human nature. Dugald Stewart and Dr. Brown 
 had objected to the account which has been 
 
327 
 
 given of the social affections, as derived from 
 organic pleasures by association ; alleging that 
 this account established the selfishness of human 
 nature. Sir James says, no ; the affections, 
 though composed of selfish ingredients, are 
 themselves social, and not selfish. 
 
 Take notice, that, thus far. Sir James has only 
 been announcing his purpose. He says now, 
 " If conscience be uniformly produced by the 
 regular and harmonious co-operation of many 
 processes of association, the objection " (that it 
 does not extend to utility in all its modes) " is in 
 reality a challenge to produce a complete theory 
 of it, founded on that principle, by exhibiting 
 such a full account of all these processes as may 
 satisfactorily explain why it proceeds thus far 
 and no farther." And then follows Sir James's 
 Pindaric on the heroism and modesty of him, 
 who undertakes to furnish us with this " com- 
 plete theory." 
 
 What the words are remarkable for, is, the 
 farther evidence they afford of Sir James's 
 ignorance of association; which he is going, 
 nevertheless, with the air of a master, of the 
 master, the top master, to apply to the formation 
 of " a complete theory of conscience." 
 
 He says, " conscience is produced by the re- 
 gular and harmonious co-operation of many pro- 
 cesses of association." This is strange. An act 
 of moral approbation is one process, not many 
 
328 
 
 processes. A process of association is the joining 
 one idea to another, and then a third to the two, 
 a fourth to the three, and so on, till the combina- 
 tion is entire. What did Sir James think he 
 meant by the co-operation of these processes? 
 He had, as usual, no meaning at all ; he had only 
 words ; but he had some experience that they 
 answered his purpose. 
 
 Sir James proceeds to the exhibition of these 
 processes. 
 
 We must have his words before us. Words 
 are the soul of Sir James. 
 
 Those he gives us on this occasion occupy the 
 l6th paragraph, the sentences of which, to facili- 
 tate reference, I shall mark by numbers. 
 
 " 1. When the social affections are thus formed, 
 they are naturally followed, in every instance, by 
 the will to do whatever can promote their object. 
 ^. Compassion excites a voluntary determination 
 to do whatever relieves the person pitied. 3. The 
 like process must occur in every case of gratitude, 
 generosity, and affection. 4. Nothing so uni- 
 formly follows the kind disposition as the act of 
 will, because it is the only means by which the 
 benevolent desire can be gratified. 5. The result 
 of what Brown justly calls, ' a finer analysis,' 
 shews a mental contiguity of the affection to the 
 volition to be much closer than appears on a 
 coarser examination of this part of our nature 
 6. No wonder, then, that the strongest associa- 
 
329 
 
 tion, the most active power of reciprocal sug- 
 gestion, should subsist between them. 7. As all 
 the affections are delightful, so the volitions, 
 voluntary acts which are the only means of their 
 gratification, become agreeable objects of con- 
 templation to the mind. 8. The habitual disposi- 
 tion to perform them is felt in ourselves, and 
 observed in others with satisfaction. 9. As 
 these feelings become more lively, the absence of 
 them may be viewed in ourselves with a pain, in 
 others with an alienation capable of indefinite in- 
 crease. 10. They become entirely independent 
 sentiments ; still, however, receiving constant 
 supplies of nourishment from their parent affec- 
 tions, which, in well-balanced minds, recipro-^ 
 cally strengthen one another ; unlike the unkind 
 passions, which are constantly engaged in the 
 most angry conflicts of civil w^ar. 11. In this state 
 we desire to experience these beneficent volitions, 
 to cultivate a disposition towards them, and to do 
 every correspondent voluntary act. 12. They 
 are for their own sake the objects of desire. 
 
 13. They thus constitute a large portion of those 
 emotions, desires, and affections, which regard 
 certain dispositions of the mind and determina- 
 tions of the will, as their sole and ultimate end. 
 
 14. These are what are called the moral sense, 
 the moral sentiments, or best, though most 
 simply, by the ancient name of Conscience ; which 
 has the merit, in our language, of being applied 
 
330 
 
 to no other purpose, which peculiarly marks the 
 strong working of these feelings on conduct, and 
 which, from its solemn and sacred character, is 
 well adapted to denote the venerable authority of 
 the highest principle of human nature." 
 
 As this passage contains the essence of Sir 
 James's cogitations, it is matter of necessity to 
 be particular with it, painful though it be to tax 
 the reader's patience with so many repetitions of 
 elementary truths, and so much scrutiny of words, 
 only to give a precious specimen of what is done 
 by a man, when he is making a desperate effort 
 to appear learned on a subject of which he knows 
 nothing. 
 
 Sir James gives us a mess of ingredients of 
 which to compound moral approbation. We 
 have the social affections ; the volitions they pro- 
 duce ; reciprocal suggestion between the two ; 
 the mind's agreeable contemplation of such voli- 
 tions, and voluntary acts ; the satisfaction with 
 which the disposition to perform such volitions 
 and acts is felt and observed; the pain with 
 which the absence of them is felt and observed ; 
 the desire to experience beneficent volitions, to 
 cultivate the dispositions, and perform the acts, 
 together with emotions, desires, and affections, 
 the end of which is benevolent volitions and dis- 
 positions. 
 
 There are three things here which it is neces- 
 sary to disentangle, for they are jumbled together 
 
S31 
 
 by Sir James, in a confusion which is marvellous ; 
 viz., the sentiments which precede the act ; the 
 act itself; and the sentiments which follow the 
 act. The first six of the sentences relate to the 
 sentiments which precede the act. The seventh, 
 eighth, and ninth, relate to those which follow it. 
 The tenth is obscure, but seems to revert to the 
 sentiments which precede the act. The eleventh 
 comes back to the sentiments which follow the 
 act. The twelfth is a proposition which refers to 
 the sentiments which precede the act, with the act 
 following. The thirteenth relates to the senti- 
 ments which precede the act. And the fourteenth 
 relates to those which follow it. 
 
 Let us endeavour to make out the propositions 
 which he delivers in regard to each : and first, in 
 regard to the sentiments which precede the act. 
 
 1. The social affections are the sentiments 
 which precede volitions. 2. They are followed 
 by volitions. 3. The volitions become inde- 
 pendent sentiments ; though they receive con- 
 tinual nourishment from their parent affections. 
 4. The sentiments which precede the acts are for 
 their own sakes the objects of desire ; as is also 
 the act. 5. They constitute the sentiments which 
 follow the acts. 
 
 Let us next enumerate the propositions he gives 
 us with respect to the sentiments which follow ; 
 the only question which at present he had any 
 thing to do with. 
 
332 
 
 1. We contemplate the sentiments which pre- 
 cede the acts with pleasure ; the want of them 
 with pain. 2. By this pleasurable contemplation 
 we desire the sentiments which precede the acts, 
 and also the acts. 3. This desire is a desire of 
 them for their own sakes. 4. The sentiments 
 which follow the act are constituted by the senti- 
 ments which precede it. 
 
 And this is the account which Sir James gives 
 of moral approbation and disapprobation. 
 
 The detail is as follows : — 
 
 Sentence 1st. " When the social affections are 
 thus formed ; " formed as he had told us in the 
 13th paragraph, " by the transfer of a small 
 number of pleasures, perhaps organic, by the law 
 of association, to a vast variety of new objects," 
 (a very blundering expression of a fact which 
 had been clearly expounded by Mr. Mill,) " they 
 are followed by the will to do whatever can pro- 
 mote their object." The object of a man's con- 
 jugal affection is his wife. Sir James's declara- 
 tion then is, that the husband, in consequence of 
 his affection, wills to promote his wife. 
 
 Sir James here confounds affection with desire, 
 as formerly he confounded motive with intention. 
 A man's affection for one of his fellow creatures 
 involves the desire of doing him good, and that 
 desire produces the will to perform, when occa- 
 sion serves, acts calculated to contribute to his 
 good. If this is Sir James's meaning, he only 
 
333 
 
 states a matter of fact, with which iio human 
 being, having the exercise of reason, is unac- 
 quainted. Every body knows that a benevolent 
 affection to any person means, with whatever 
 else, a tendency, greater or less, to do him kind- 
 ness. 
 
 Sir James, in the first four of his sentences, 
 having stated the deep, and hidden fact, that 
 benevolent affections tend to produce benevolent 
 acts, gives us a piece of notable information in 
 the fifth. " The result of what Brown justly 
 calls a finer analysis, shews a mental contiguity 
 of the affection to the volition to be much closer 
 than appears on a coarser examination of this 
 part of our nature." Sir James was a prime 
 hand at the finer examination. 
 
 What does he mean by the mental contiguity 
 of the affection to the will ? Did he suppose 
 there is such a thing as a corporeal contiguity of 
 two mental states ? 
 
 But again, what idea had he in his head, when 
 he used the word contiguity on this occasion ? 
 Contiguity between compassion, for example, and 
 the giving of alms. Does it express anything but 
 the matter of fact ; that compassion for a man in 
 want is very often followed by an act to relieve 
 him ? If it be merely a statement of the fact, it 
 answers no purpose ; if it be intended for an 
 explanation of the fact, it explains nothing. 
 When he says, that compassion is contiguous to 
 
334 
 
 the will to relieve, does it mean anything else 
 than that, somehow or other, the one follows the 
 other ? If so, it is again a mere statement of the 
 fact. If it means any thing else, what is it ? I 
 am able to conceive but one other meaning. 
 States of mind exist in sequence, one after 
 another. This being so, two states of mind in a 
 train may be either proximate, or they may be 
 separated, by one or more intervening states. It 
 may be said for Sir James, that he stated the com- 
 passion and the volition, in this case, to be 
 proximate states. In the first place, this as little 
 accounts for the moral approbation of the act, as 
 if the two states were ever so far asunder. The 
 remark is away from the subject. In the next 
 place, they are not proximate states. The sight 
 of the beggar excites in me the idea of his dis- 
 tress; that suggests the idea of relief to his 
 distress ; the idea of relief to distress is a plea- 
 surable idea, that is, a desire ; the desire strongly 
 suggests the idea of what will produce the effect 
 desired ; that is, money ; that suggests the idea 
 of where money is to be had, namely, in my 
 pocket ; that suggests the idea of taking it out ; 
 the idea of taking it out suggests the idea of the 
 movement of my hand, which is followed by the 
 appropriate muscular contraction ; the money in 
 my hand suggests the idea of putting it into the 
 hand of the beggar ; that idea suggests the idea 
 of the operation necessary, and the muscular con- 
 
335 
 
 traction follows. Such is the result of " the finer 
 analysis " which Sir James talked of. It does 
 the very reverse of what he expected. It shows 
 that contiguity is not the relation in which the 
 affection stands to the volition. 
 
 However, Sir James, having established his 
 contiguity in his own way, that is, by making a 
 proposition asserting it, tells us what happens in 
 consequence. " The most active power of reci- 
 procal suggestion subsists between them." This 
 is incomprehensible. Reciprocal suggestion be- 
 tween A and B can only mean this, that A 
 suggests B, and back again B suggests A. But 
 who before ever talked of a will's being suggested ; 
 an affection's being suggested ? A will is caused; 
 an affection is caused. Now an affection may, in 
 some sense, be considered as cause, though a 
 remote, not the proximate cause, of the volitions 
 which may be traced up to it ; but what exqui- 
 site absurdity in saying, that affection is cause, 
 will effect ; and reciprocally, will is cause, affec- 
 tion effect ? The effect produces the cause, as the 
 cause produces the effect. It could not, I think, 
 have been believed, till the experience of the fact, 
 that the habit of using words without annexing 
 ideas to them, could have carried any man to this 
 excess. 
 
 In the 10th sentence we are told, " they be- 
 come entirely independent sentiments." 
 
 It is not very easy to find out what is the 
 
336 
 
 antecedent to " they." After a search, which goes 
 back to the seventh sentence, it appears to be the 
 volitions which are contiguous to the affections. 
 
 He says these volitions are independent. He 
 might just as well have called them green or 
 globular. If independent, of what are they inde- 
 pendent ? Not surely of the desire which causes 
 them. Nor is the desire which causes them inde- 
 pendent of the contemplated pleasure by which 
 itself is caused. The pleasure of him who wills 
 is still the cause of the will. If Sir James means 
 that the will depends upon nothing but the 
 man who wills ; what is that more than to say, 
 he that wills, wills ? 
 
 But this is not all ; these independent volitions 
 have affections for their parents. This is a 
 curious way of talking of the volitions which 
 spring from the desires included in the complex 
 state of mind we call an affection. But it is still 
 more curious to tell us that volitions " receive 
 nourishment." What idea is it possible to annex 
 to that expression ? Nourishment performs two 
 operations ; it contributes to growth, and it pre- 
 serves alive ? Volition has no occasion for either. 
 Volition is a momentary state of mind. Its ge- 
 neration and extinction, are not only proximate ; 
 they are almost simultaneous. 
 
 A volition, says Sir James, is continually 
 "receiving supplies of nourishment from its 
 parent affections." Sir James, when talking of 
 
337 
 
 volition, seems to have thought of something like 
 a sucking pig. 
 
 If he meant to say, that a benevolent affection 
 toward an individual tends to produce a succes- 
 sion of benevolent acts ; this is not nourishing a 
 volition, it is the causing of many volitions. 
 
 Further, if this be the meaning, it is a bare 
 repetition of what we have had occasion to remark 
 on before, the statement of a well-known fact, 
 which has no bearing on the question Sir James 
 is at work upon. 
 
 On account of what follows, it is necessary to 
 notice the concluding expressions of the sentence, 
 which go back to the parent affections, to tell us 
 something important about them. They, " in 
 well balanced minds, reciprocally strengthen each 
 other ; unlike the unkind passions, which are 
 constantly engaged in the most angry conflicts of 
 civil war." 
 
 To say that gratitude, compassion, and other 
 social affections, reciprocally strengthen each 
 other, is to tell us something of this sort, that a 
 man's compassion for A is stronger for his grati- 
 tude to B ; his kindness to his servant stronger 
 on account of his love for his wife; the love of his 
 wife stronger on account of his kindness to his 
 servant, and so on. By the same theory, his love 
 of his wife ought to be the stronger, the more he 
 loves other women ; an inference which wives in 
 general do not allow. 
 
 z 
 
338 
 
 But it seems the case is totally different with 
 the dissocial affections. They do not strengthen 
 each other. They operate to mutual destruction. 
 An admirable operation, surely ; for if such prin- 
 ciples exist, the very thing to be desired is, that 
 they should oppose and extinguish one another, 
 by being, as Sir James, in Blackmore phrase, in- 
 forms us, " continually engaged in the most 
 angry conflicts of civil war," citizen against 
 citizen, son against father, father against son. 
 
 Sir James, at the same time, gives us to un- 
 derstand, that of the conflicts of civil war, some 
 are more angry, and some less ; but that the 
 conflicts in the civil war of the dissocial affec- 
 tions, that is, the conflicts or battles of one dis- 
 social affection with another, which it seems are 
 perpetual, are the most angry of all. 
 
 Now general opinion, which appears in this 
 case to be the faithful interpreter of general expe- 
 rience, holds, that in so far as there are any ties 
 of affinity among affections of the same genus, 
 those among the dissocial are even stronger than 
 those among the social ; that anger does not 
 oppose hatred, nor hatred anger, but the con- 
 trary; that jealousy does not oppose envy, nor 
 envy jealousy, nor either revenge, but the re- 
 verse. 
 
 But what there is of truth in the case, mangled 
 in Sir James's talk, about the strength which one 
 social affection derives from another, the angry 
 
339 
 
 conflicts of civil war in which one dissocial affec- 
 tion is continually engaged with another, is this ; 
 that the mind passes from one state to another of 
 a similar kind, more easily and readily, than it 
 does to one of a dissimilar kind. Something of 
 this readiness is no doubt observed in the states 
 of mind we call the social affections. They do, 
 to a certain degree, go together, but in a very 
 irregular and unsteady way. It by no means 
 follows, because a man is fond of his wife, and 
 pliant to her will, that he is not a hard-hearted, 
 oppressive brute. It by no means follows, because 
 a man has affection towards his children, that he 
 has much fellow-feeling with the rest of his 
 species. We know perfectly well, that the most 
 intense friendship and affection to individuals can 
 exist in the most savage and remorseless of all 
 human minds; witness the tendency to favouritism 
 in the worst of tyrants. 
 
 And so totally does Sir James miss the matter 
 (no rare thing, you will say, with Sir James), that 
 this tendency to pass from one affection to an- 
 other of the same kind, is far more constant in 
 the case of the dissocial, which, according to him, 
 are in continual conflict, than in the case of the 
 social, which, according to the same authority, 
 are continually strengthening one another. 
 
 The 12th is the next sentence, relating to the 
 sentiments which precede the act, and it might be 
 considered a miracle, if Sir James did not treat 
 
 z 2 
 
340 
 
 us to so many things of the same sort. " They" 
 (the sentiments which precede the act, and the act 
 itself) " are for their own sakes, the object of 
 desire." 
 
 We need not go further back than to the voli- 
 tion. A volition exists for the sake of an act. 
 An act exists for the sake of its consequences. 
 Neither a volition, therefore, nor an act, ever is 
 an object of desire for its own sake. I will to 
 move my arm ; not for the sake of willing, but 
 of something else. I move ray arm, not for the 
 sake of moving it, but the consequences, — the 
 striking down a serpent, for example, making 
 ready to bite a person who is dear to me. 
 
 Wonderful as is the 12th sentence, the 13th 
 surpasses it. " They " (the states of mind which 
 precede the act) " thus constitute a large portion 
 of those emotions, desires, and affections, which 
 regard certain dispositions of the mind, and deter- 
 minations of the will as their sole and ultimate 
 object." By " large portion " he means all 
 that relates to benevolence, and only reserves 
 what relates to courage and the self-regarding 
 virtues, which are to be expounded subsequently. 
 
 " The desires, aversions, sentiments, or emo- 
 tions," which have dispositions and actions for 
 their end, were, in the article on Butler, spoken of 
 as motives. " Among motives to action," said Sir 
 James, ** they alone are justly considered as uni- 
 versal." 
 
34<1 
 
 We are here told how they are constituted. 
 They are constituted by the sentiments spoken of 
 in the preceding or 12th sentence. But these 
 also are the sentiments which precede the act. 
 What we are told then in the 13th sentence is, 
 that the sentiments which precede the acts are 
 constituted by themselves. And in the 14th we 
 come to the grand development. The sentiments 
 which precede the act, which are constituted by 
 themselves, are the sentiments which follow the 
 act ; " what are called," says Sir James, " the 
 moral sense, moral sentiments,* or conscience'' In 
 other words, the object of moral approbation, and 
 moral approbation, are one and the same thing. 
 
 Let us, however, try, if the words will bear 
 another meaning. Let us suppose, that "the 
 desires, aversions, sentiments, or emotions," 
 which have actions for their end, are not motives, 
 as Sir James called them before, or the sentiments 
 which precede the act ; but moral approbation 
 and disapprobation, or the sentiments which follow 
 it. First of all, it is curious to call moral appro- 
 bation and disapprobation, by the name of " de- 
 sires, aversions, sentiments, emotions." It seems 
 to be a state of mind of a different order. In the 
 next place. Sir James says, this approbation or 
 disapprobation is constituted, which here must 
 mean caused, by the acts, mental and corporeal 
 parts included. But the act which causes moral 
 approbation is the act approved. What Sir 
 
James then says is,^ — that when I approve a 
 moral act, a desire, sentiment, or emotion, one or 
 all, is constituted in me, by that which I approve. 
 Which seems to me to amount to this, that what 
 I approve excites in me approbation. Or, in other 
 words, moral approbation is what it is. 
 
 There is still, however, a puzzle. Sir James 
 says, these desires, &c., alias, this approbation, 
 has acts for its end. If this means that acts 
 are its object ; that is, that acts are the things 
 approved, it is a truth, though monstrously 
 expressed, and of which no mortal needed to be 
 informed. But when Sir James says, that this 
 approbation, which, in order to exist, must be 
 caused, and of which, according to the above 
 interpretation, the cause is the end, has acts for 
 its end, what does that mean? that beside the 
 acts which caused, there are other acts which are 
 to be caused by it ? And in Sir James's use of 
 language, are both the cause, and the effects, of 
 an action, to be called its end ? This is rather 
 confusing. 
 
 Sir James tells us more about this moral sense, 
 or conscience, in the 7th, 8th, and 9th sentences. 
 He there says, we have a pleasure in contem- 
 plating moral acts, the contrary in contemplating 
 immoral acts. This is tantamount to saying, 
 that we have the faculty of moral approbation 
 and disapprobation, called also, as he tells us, 
 ** the moral sentiments, moral sense, conscience." 
 
us 
 
 We tell him once more, that we had no occasion 
 for this information, at his hands. 
 
 Besides a pleasure in the contemplation of a 
 moral act. Sir James, in the 11th sentence, says, 
 that under the influence of this pleasure we have 
 a desire to perform similar acts. But this is only 
 another part of that very unnecessary information 
 which Sir James is giving us ; that we have the 
 moral sentiments. Did Sir James not know, that 
 in moral approbation there is both a pleasure and 
 a desire? Moral approbation is a pleasurable 
 sentiment, as all the world knows. Also, when I 
 feel moral approbation, is not that as much as to 
 say, I feel the desirableness of the act ? and can 
 any thing else be meant, by saying we desire to 
 perform such acts ? 
 
 Sir James's wording is always original. " We 
 desire to experience volitions." To experience a 
 volition is to will. But what is the will? 
 Answer: Desire of an act To desire to will, 
 therefore, is to desire to desire. 
 
 " We desire to cultivate a disposition towards 
 a volition." As a disposition towards a volition 
 is the habit of obeying the motives to it, this is 
 the same desire as the former. 
 
 Sir James also here speaks of voluntary acts 
 correspondent to volitions. Did he imagine that 
 there are voluntary acts not so correspon- 
 dent? 
 
 Sir James comes at last to the act, and says, our 
 
344 
 
 desire also is to perform it. He might, in that 
 case, have spared his talk about the volition, and 
 the disposition. The man who desires the act 
 desires the mental part of it as well as the cor- 
 poreal. All is included in the act. 
 
 A few explanatory words on disposition are 
 necessary, to obviate ill effects from the confusion 
 of Sir James's. Mr. Mill has analysed and ex- 
 plained disposition ; and shewn it to be a readiness 
 of being acted upon by a particular class of mo- 
 tives. This readiness is produced by repetition. 
 A desire to cultivate a disposition is, therefore, a 
 desire to repeat the acts. 
 
 And now it will be agreeable to have the pro- 
 positions by which we have been conducted to 
 this important point, before us, in order : — 
 
 1. 
 
 Affections are formed by the transfer of plea- 
 sures to new objects. 
 
 2. 
 Affections are followed by volitions to gratify 
 them. 
 
 3. 
 
 The affections are contiguous to the will. 
 
 4. 
 Between the affections and the will there is an 
 active power of mutual suggestion. 
 

 345 fiUNIVBRSITTj 
 
 The idea of benevolent acts, the bodily and 
 mental parts both included, is a pleasurable 
 idea. 
 
 6. 
 
 The volitions are independent sentiments. 
 
 7. 
 These volitions have affections for their parents, 
 and receive nourishment from their parents. 
 
 8. 
 
 The benevolent affections strengthen one an- 
 other ; the angry fight. 
 
 9. 
 
 When the kind passions are in operation, we 
 desire to do kind acts, mental and corporeal parts 
 included. 
 
 10. 
 
 Benevolent acts, mental and corporeal parts 
 included, are desired for their own sakes. 
 
 11. 
 
 Benevolent acts, mental and corporeal parts 
 included, constitute emotions, desires, and affec- 
 tions, which have acts (mental and corporeal 
 parts included) for their ends. 
 
346 
 
 12. 
 
 These emotions, desires, and affections, are the 
 moral faculty, moral approbation. 
 
 We have thus, as far as the benevolent motives 
 are concerned. Sir James's " Theory" complete. 
 
 1. Feelings, or affections, which are moral, 
 cause actions which are moral : Answer to the 
 question, what is morality ; — a moral act is 
 that which is caused by a moral affection. 
 
 2. These feelings, which cause moral acts, are 
 moral approbation, or the cause of it ; doubtful 
 which. In the first sense, the cause and the 
 effect are the same. In the second, the affirma- 
 tion is, that moral approbation is the approbation 
 of moral acts. 
 
 I am afraid to spend more time in illustrating 
 the mode in which Sir James has brought us to 
 these wonderful conclusions ; and I am also afraid 
 to make such a call upon my reader for attentive 
 thought, as the brevity of my exposition obliges 
 me to hazard. Another part of Sir James's 
 theory now comes into view. 
 
 The benevolent feelings play the great part, 
 but not the only one, in Sir James's "theory;" 
 the malevolent feelings come in for their share. 
 
 " When anger is duly moderated, when it is 
 proportioned to the wrong, when it is detached 
 
S47 
 
 from personal considerations, when dispositions 
 and actions are its ultimate objects, it becomes a 
 sense of justice, and is so purified as to be fitted 
 to be a new element of conscience." 
 
 It looks strange, at first, to see anger made an 
 ingredient of conscience. This is doing business 
 with the feelings to some extent. 
 
 Observe the wording. " When anger is pro- 
 portioned to the wrong, it becomes a sense of 
 justice." How does the angry man know when 
 his anger is proportioned to the wrong, except by- 
 applying to it his sense of justice ? He has the 
 sense of justice therefore before he makes his 
 anger such a sense ; and then what is the use of 
 his operation ? 
 
 " When detached ftom personal considerations." 
 What does that mean ? When is a man's anger 
 detached from personal considerations ? Is it 
 when he is angry for a wrong, not done to him- 
 self, but to some other body ? It is not com- 
 monly in that case difficult to keep one's anger 
 from running to excess. The restraint of con- 
 science is needed principally when it is our own 
 wrongs we are resenting. 
 
 An anger detached from personal considera- 
 tions, may mean an anger detached from persons 
 or individuals. If so, it can only be anger, on 
 account of wrongs done to the public. This kind 
 of anger, it is not generally very difficult to keep 
 within bounds. 
 
348 
 
 Anger, among other things, means the desire 
 of punishment on the wrong-doer. 
 
 But punishment of public wrongs is for the 
 sake of prevention, not of revenge. It regards 
 future acts, not the past. The past act is done, 
 and cannot be made not to be done. With 
 respect to that, punishment would be altogether 
 useless ; therefore unjustifiable. But with respect 
 to future acts, which require prevention, punish- 
 ment, just sufficient to create a motive for abstain- 
 ing from them, and no more, is all that is good. 
 And this requires no anger. Punishment of this 
 sort is better managed without anger. 
 
 To make anger an element of conscience, it 
 must conform to another condition. It must 
 have " dispositions and actions for its ultimate 
 objects." 
 
 We have been puzzled, before, to make out, in 
 Sir James's philosophy, whether the feelings which 
 have dispositions and actions for their objects, 
 and which he calls emotions, desires, affections, 
 are those feelings which precede, or those which 
 succeed the act. We seem here to be relieved of 
 that difficulty. It is evident that anger is caused 
 by an act. We are angry at something done. 
 The anger follows the act. When Sir James 
 then says, that anger has actions for its object, 
 does he mean by object, cause ? And if the act 
 which causes it, is not its object, what is the 
 other act to which he gives that name ? It is 
 
349 
 
 deplorably true, that Sir James calls sometimes 
 the cause of an act, and sometimes its effect, its 
 object. He leaves us here in doubt whether he 
 means the one or the other. Is this worthy of 
 the man who told us, in so high a tone, in the 
 beginning of the article on Bentham, that he was 
 capable of performing, and had performed, the 
 part of a consummate judge of the philosophers 
 of all ages and nations ? 
 
 Sir James, by saying, " when it has actions for 
 its ultimate objects," undoubtedly means, that 
 there are times when it has not. But there can 
 be no time when it has not a cause. His lan- 
 guage, then, here implies (whether he meant it 
 God knows ! ) that we are to consider effects as 
 the "objects" spoken of. Now what acts are 
 the effects of anger ? The acts of course of the 
 angry man. What are they ? Acts of revenge. 
 Sir James says, the anger which prompts them 
 is an element of conscience, when it is detached 
 from personal considerations. Is not this a satis- 
 factory account of moral disapprobation? The 
 cause of the act (the anger) becomes conscience, 
 when the angry man is not angry for any 
 harm done to himself, nor acts, under his anger, 
 with a view to procure any good to himself. He 
 can do nothing, in short, under the impulse of his 
 anger, which is wrong, provided it is not done on 
 his own account. 
 
 Sir James having thus formed a conscience for 
 
350 
 
 benevolent acts, and also for malevolent acts, in 
 certain cases, bethought himself that a conscience 
 was also needed for heroic acts, and temperate 
 acts. I say bethought himself, literally, not 
 ironically, because in telling us what makes an 
 act moral, he entirely overlooked these classes. 
 He gave us his account, such as it was, why 
 benevolent acts are called moral. We have as 
 yet no information from him, why acts of justice 
 are moral, or acts of courage, or acts of tem- 
 perance. He is now however going to tell us 
 how courage and temperance " become parts of 
 conscience." 
 
 On courage he discourses in the 18th of the 
 paragraphs we have quoted above ; and to save 
 transcription, I shall entreat the reader to refer to 
 it, and peruse it. The result, as given in the 
 last sentence is, " that courage, energy, decision, 
 contribute to form conscience, which levies large 
 contributions on every province of human nature." 
 
 The contributions which conscience is here said 
 to levy are things to form part of itself Con- 
 science, it seems, levies these contributions from 
 every province of human nature. That is to 
 say, conscience is made up of parts from every 
 province of human nature. Is not this another 
 instance, and that a remarkable one, of the habit 
 which possessed Sir James, of putting words 
 together without regard to their meaning? Is 
 not the faculty of receiving sensations, a pretty 
 
351 
 
 large and important province in human nature ? 
 What are the sensations which go to the formation 
 of conscience ? Those of the touch, those of the 
 eye, or what other ? 
 
 But is not the present talk of Sir James about 
 the reception into conscience of the various affec- 
 tions of human nature, the impulse of courage . 
 included, inconsistent with what, instructed by- 
 Butler, whom he professes to follow, he told us 
 formerly, that conscience is a faculty apart from 
 all the active principles, the impulses, of human 
 nature ; they pursuing, each its own object, with- 
 out regard to good or evil ; and conscience having 
 for its province to dictate when they are to be 
 obeyed, and when resisted ? 
 
 Sir James appears to have known about as 
 much of the philosophy of courage, as he did of 
 " The First Book of Euclid," of which he was 
 not ignorant that it was about diagrams. As 
 and Bs. 
 
 Sir James had no notion, that courage is in 
 itself a mere rating of the chance of certain evils 
 at less than the good which is sought by incurring 
 it ; and just as capable of being employed for the 
 worst of purposes as for the best. Sir James, 
 indeed, admits, " that the nature of courage, 
 energy, and decision, is prone to evil ; " which is 
 not true. Courage is not more prone to evil 
 than good, nor to good than evil. The man who 
 has it, uses it according to his propensities, good 
 
352! 
 
 or bad. It is power ; and like every other kind 
 of power affords temptation to the man who has 
 it, to make a bad use of it. And it must be con- 
 fessed that it operates hurtfully in another way. 
 It has a great effect on the imagination ; and is 
 not without a certain admiration attached to it, 
 even when it is employed mischievously ; whence 
 it has been one great cause of the perversion of 
 the moral sentiments. 
 
 When Sir James talks about the wild state of 
 courage, in which state it is savage and destruc- 
 tive, he entirely misses the matter. Courage is 
 not more savage in one state than another ; but 
 man is ; and uses his courage more often for 
 savage purposes. And when he talks about its 
 being tamed by the affections, he only gives us 
 some of his nonsense. When a man becomes 
 wise and virtuous, he uses his courage for good 
 purposes. And this Sir James (God bless us) 
 calls the taming of courage by the society of the 
 affections. I shall pass over the tasteful compa- 
 rison of a tamed courage with a tamed elephant, 
 and Sir James's panegyric upon the tamed cou- 
 rage, and come to " the delightful contemplation 
 of it." Whatever was in the head of Sir James, 
 when he set down these words, if there was any 
 thing in it beyond the words themselves, evjen 
 young learners, in this science, know that there 
 can be only one thing which is the delightful 
 contemplation of courage. It is the idea of it, as 
 
353 
 
 a cause of good ; that is, the idea of it joined by 
 association with the ideas of all the good things, 
 some of them of the highest value, of which it 
 may be considered as, in some way, the cause. 
 And that idea is a pleasurable idea ; pleasurable 
 sometimes in a very high degree. 
 
 What next does he tell us about this idea? 
 It " becomes, when purely applied, one of the 
 sentiments of which the dispositions and actions 
 of voluntary agents are the direct and final 
 object." 
 
 " When purely applied." When is it that the 
 idea of courage is impurely applied ? 
 
 " The idea of courage becomes (is) a sentiment." 
 What sort of a sentiment ? " One of those which 
 have voluntary acts for their object." Does object 
 here mean cause, or effect ? 
 
 Sir James's ideas are so exquisitely confused, 
 that it is impossible to trace his syntax. He 
 says, " the delightful contemplation of these quali- 
 ties " (the courageous qualities), " when purely 
 applied, becomes one of the sentiments, of which 
 the dispositions and actions of voluntary agents 
 are the direct and final object. By this resem- 
 blance they are associated with the other moral 
 principles, and with them contribute to form 
 conscience." I will give a premium to him who 
 will tell me what " they," in the last sentence, 
 refers to ? 
 
 By trying the different suppositions, with a 
 
 2a 
 
354 
 
 view to fix upon that which seems the least remote 
 from sense, I suppose the qualities, which are 
 the object of the delightful contemplation. These 
 are the various forms of courage. His assertion, 
 then, is, that the various forms of courage, being 
 contemplated with delight, contribute to form 
 conscience. 
 
 But Sir James is always very niggard of his 
 meaning. When he says, we contemplate courage 
 with delight, does he mean courageous acts ? 
 And do they become part of conscience ? The 
 acts, and the moral approbation of them — are 
 they the same ? If it be said for him, that he 
 means the mental states which lead to courageous 
 acts ; that is, the mental part of the acts ; we 
 have only the same conclusion we had before, 
 that the sentiments which precede the act, and 
 the sentiments which follow it, are the same. In 
 other words, moral approbation, in the case of 
 courage, is courage. . 
 
 " By this resemblance." The point of resem- 
 blance is, the being one of " the sentiments of 
 which the dispositions and actions of voluntary 
 agents are the direct and final object." But what 
 is it which has this resemblance ? The delightful 
 contemplation. Well, by this resemblance, you 
 imagine, that the delightful contemplation becomes 
 something. No such thing. The qualities, the 
 things contemplated become. Because the con- 
 templation of them is a sentiment which has a 
 
355 
 
 resemblance to the sentiments which have volun- 
 tary acts for their end, they are associated vi^ith 
 the other moral principles. 
 
 This has not even the aspect of any thing but 
 an abortion of a meaning. The sentiments 
 which have voluntary acts for their end, we have 
 had enough to do with already. Sir James 
 seldom enables us to decide, whether by end he 
 means cause or effect ; that is, whether the sen- 
 timents he speaks of are prospective, or retro- 
 spective. In fact, he did not make the distinc- 
 tion. But any sentiment, all sentiments, " aver- 
 sions, desires, emotions, sentiments," if they have 
 but acts for their end, whether causes, or effect, 
 are, Sir James assures us, conscience. The sen- 
 timent retrospective is moral approbation. That 
 we allow him to call conscience, though he 
 should have told us something more about moral 
 approbation, than that it has another name, con- 
 science. The sentiments prospective may be all 
 included under the name motive, as marking both 
 the desire which precedes, and the volition which 
 follows ; and then motive and moral approbation 
 are the same. 
 
 I trust it is not necessary to say any thing 
 more about the glaring absurdity on which all 
 this unmeaning talk has turned, that a sentiment, 
 whether desire or motive, has an end, while 
 nothing has an end but a man. When the man 
 looks towards an act prospectively, the conse- 
 
 2 A 2 
 
S56 
 
 qiiences of the act are his end. When he looks 
 towards the act retrospectively, he approves or 
 disapproves the act; though there is an utter 
 absurdity in saying that a past act is the efid of a 
 present sentiment. 
 
 So much, to shew us how courage, which is the 
 object of moral approbation, becomes an element 
 of conscieuce, that is, the moral approbation of 
 itself. 
 
 Sir James in his 19th paragraph, undertakes 
 to teach us all about the self-regarding virtues ; 
 and a fine piece of teaching it is. I must request 
 the reader to turn to the Appendix for this also. 
 
 First of all, these virtues must be valued for 
 their own sake. In other words, they must be 
 their own end. A man performs an act of 
 temperance, an act of prudence, not for the sake 
 of the consequences, but for the sake of the act. 
 In confirmation whereof, he tells us that Aristotle 
 was of the same opinion. " It was excellently 
 observed," he says, " by Aristotle, that a man is 
 not commended as temperate, so long as it costs 
 him efforts of self-denial to persevere in the 
 practice of temperance, but only when he prefers 
 that virtue for its own sake." But Sir James 
 was poorly read in Aristotle. Aristotle is directly 
 opposed to Sir James on this point ; for 
 Aristotle's opinion is, that actions are good and 
 called virtuous, solely on account of their con- 
 sequences. When Aristotle says, that as a man 
 
367 
 
 is master of a foreign language, not when he can 
 barely pick out words, to make himself under- 
 stood by; but when he has by habit acquired the 
 power of using the words readily, and as it were 
 mechanically ; so, a man only merits the name of 
 virtuous, when virtuous acting is so habitual to 
 him, that he performs it in the way which 
 Hartley calls secondarily automatic. Sir James 
 imagines this is the same thing with saying, that 
 the acts are their own ends. Oh, Reputation, 
 Reputation ! what art thou, in a land where 
 the well-born, and the ill-educated, have the 
 making of thee ? 
 
 Next, Sir James says, " Jt may reasonably be 
 asked, why these useful qualities are morally 
 approved, and how they become capable of being 
 combined with those public and disinterested 
 sentiments, which principally constitute con- 
 science?" That is to say, how they become, both 
 the object of moral approbation, and also the 
 moral approbation itself. 
 
 ** The answer," he says, " is, because they are 
 entirely conversant with volitions, and voluntary 
 actions." This makes them both morality, and 
 moral approbation. 
 
 You stare, reader, and well you may. 
 
 " A quality entirely conversant with volitions 
 and voluntary acts;" why, is not the walking 
 quality, a quality of this sort, and the sitting 
 quality, and the standing quality, and the eating 
 
S5S 
 
 and drinking qualities, and the speaking quality 
 and the singing quality; aye, and the nonsense- 
 philosophy quality? 
 
 When Sir James says, that Prudence and 
 Temperance are " entirely conversant with voli- 
 titions and voluntary acts," it can be nothing 
 more than the Sir Jamesical mode of telling us, 
 that acts of Prudence, and acts of Temperance 
 are voluntary acts. And then Sir James's pro- 
 position is, that acts of temperance and acts of 
 prudence are objects of moral approbation, 
 because they are voluntary acts. Certainly they 
 would not be objects of moral approbation, if 
 they were not voluntary. Thus far all the world 
 are of Sir James's mind. 
 
 Sir James goes on : " Like those other prin- 
 ciples" (that is, the other constituents of con- 
 science, of which anger is one) " they" (that is, 
 the self-regarding virtues) " may be detached 
 from what is personal and outward, and fixed on 
 the dispositions and actions, which are the only 
 means of promoting their ends." 
 
 Of this the object seems to be, to maintain the 
 disinterestedness of human nature ; that even 
 when a man is acting for his own good, purely, 
 he is not acting for it ; that in labouring for the 
 support of himself and family, and in abstaining 
 from every indulgence which may curtail his 
 security against a period of inability to labour, 
 he is doing all without a thought of him- 
 
359 
 
 self. A writer who can make propositions in- 
 volving absurdities like this, does deserve to be 
 held up as a warning. " Dispositions and 
 actions " of this sort need to be fixed on ; if not 
 by prudence and temperance, at least by some- 
 thing which may operate to their prevention. 
 
 Prudence and temperance (which he calls 
 " qualities" " useful qualities ") when detached 
 from their consequences ; that is, the good which 
 acts of prudence and temperance do ; are to be 
 fixed on dispositions and actions. 
 
 Fixing a quality on a disposition, — what is it 
 we are to understand by that ? 
 
 As a disposition is a quality, does it mean, 
 fixing one quality on another ; making a union 
 of two qualities ? But Sir James says, they are 
 fixed both on dispositions and actions ; now, how 
 a quality is to be fixed on an action, is more 
 puzzling. The dispositions and actions, on which 
 these qualities must be fixed, in order to entitle 
 them to moral approbation, are the dispositions 
 and actions, which are " the only means of pro- 
 moting their ends." 
 
 " Their," — does that mean prudence and tem- 
 perance ? or does it mean the dispositions and 
 actions on which they are fixed ? 
 
 If the latter, what is affirmed is, that there are 
 certain dispositions and actions, which are the 
 only means of promoting their own ends. But 
 this is true of all actions. Malevolent actions 
 
360 
 
 (for actions include the dispositions) are the only 
 means to the gratification of a malevolent purpose. 
 In this sense, when Sir James says, that prudence 
 and temperance must be fixed on such dispositions 
 and actions as are the means of promoting their 
 own ends, he says that prudence and temperance 
 must be fixed on all actions. 
 
 If " their " is to be construed with prudence 
 and temperance as its antecedent, the meaning is, 
 that they are to be fixed on themselves ; for it is 
 not questionable that the only acts and disposi- 
 tions which are the means to promote the ends of 
 prudence and temperance, are acts of prudence 
 and temperance. 
 
 According to all preceding philosophers, the 
 end of the self-regarding virtues, prudence, 
 temperance, is the good of the individual, of him 
 who practises them. Sir James says no ; the 
 end of them is themselves. This he had told us 
 before, and we had told him something of our 
 mind about it. A thing may be an end ; but if 
 so, it is the end of some thing different from 
 itself. Pleasure is an end, and generically speak- 
 ing, the only end. But it is precisely the same 
 nonsense, to say that a pleasure is its own end, 
 as to say that a pleasure is its own pleasure. In 
 the same manner, to say that temperance is its 
 own end, is to say that temperance is its own 
 temperance ; which is only a very absurd way of 
 saying that temperance is temperance. 
 
361 
 
 To sum up. There are two reasons, why 
 temperance and prudence are entitled to moral 
 approbation. First, they consist of voluntary 
 acts ; secondly, they are their own ends. They 
 are good ; why? Because they are good for 
 themselves. 
 
 This is what Sir James calls " the theory of 
 action," in regard to prudence and temperance. 
 We now proceed to what he calls the " theory of 
 the sentiments." 
 
 " All those sentiments, of which the final object 
 is a state of the will, become thus intimately and 
 inseparably blended ; and of that perfect state of 
 solution the result is conscience.''' 
 
 By " state of the will," an absurd expression, 
 he can only mean an act of willing, a volition. 
 Well ; what are the sentiments whose object is an 
 act of willing, or a volition? Motives, to be 
 sure ; and all motives alike. 
 
 What we now, therefore, learn from him is, 
 that all motives become intimately and in- 
 separably blended ; and of that perfect state of 
 solution, conscience is the result : in other words, 
 conscience is such a dissolving of motives, as is 
 called by chemists, in relation to chemical matters, 
 a solution. 
 
 Reader, are you not well instructed in the 
 nature of conscience now ? Is not your obliga- 
 tion to Sir James of a high order? 
 
 Peradventure, in behalf of Sir James, some one 
 
S62 
 
 will say, he did not mean all " sentiments whose 
 object is a state of the will," but those only 
 whose object is a virtuous state of the will. 
 Allow him this correction ; though he is not en- 
 titled to it, for it is evident he knew nothing of 
 his need of it : and let us see what can be made 
 of it for his advantage. 
 
 His meaning will then amount to this, that the 
 motives to virtuous volitions, so blended as to 
 form a solution, are what we call conscience. 
 
 The only case in which there is any blending 
 of motives, is when various motives to the per- 
 formance of an act concur ; which is no doubt a 
 very common case. But then a combination of 
 motives to a particular act, is but a compound 
 motive after all. 
 
 Sir James's great discovery, therefore, is, that 
 a motive is conscience, that the incitement to an 
 act, and the moral approbation or disapprobation 
 of it, are the same ; in other words, that every 
 act to which we have an inclination, is thereby 
 morally approved. 
 
 It is true that Sir James has told us of emo- 
 tions, desires, and affections, which have the will 
 for their object. These, as we have already seen, 
 must be either the prospective sentiments, mo- 
 tives ; or the retrospective, which is moral appro- 
 bation. The absurdity in the first case has just 
 been shewn for the third or fourth time. The 
 assertion on the latter supposition is, — that moral 
 
363 
 
 approbation is a number of affections towards 
 actions, in some sort of combination. He finds 
 work for his affections. He has already informed 
 VIS, that they are the sole motives to a moral act, 
 and also that they are the sole objects of moral 
 approbation. He now informs us that they are 
 moral approbation too. He concludes, therefore, 
 with this sublime information, that moral appro- 
 bation is the approbation of itself. 
 
 Even this, however, does not go beyond the 
 absurdity of calling moral approbation a solution 
 of affections. Moral approbation is a judgment. 
 Did Sir James know the difference between judg- 
 ment and affection ? Upon my life, I am not 
 sure. 
 
 Sir James has not yet done with his discoveries. 
 He says in his 20th paragraph, that he has looked 
 at the coalition of the private and public feelings 
 from two points of view, from which it has been 
 looked at by very few except himself, perhaps by 
 none. 
 
 First, we have to inquire what he means by 
 " the coalition of the private and public feelings." 
 
 Among all the wonderful things we have heard 
 from him, we have not before heard of the coali- 
 tion of the private and public feelings. 
 
 Just before, he was shewing us, in his own 
 extraordinary way, how certain private, and cer- 
 tain public feelings, obtain the denomination of 
 moral or virtuous ; that is, how they come to be 
 
364 
 
 classed together, under a name, which expresses 
 something they have in common. But classing 
 things under a name, because they have some- 
 thing in common, implies no coalition. We 
 classed Sir James and Sir James's pig under one 
 name, because they had a great deal in common ; 
 but we did not by that mean to say that there 
 was any coalition betwetn them. I resist a strong 
 temptation to a hurtful pleasure ; I expose my 
 life, and sacrifice half my fortune, to save my 
 friend. Both proceedings are most properly 
 classed under the name of virtue ; but there is 
 no coalition, either between the acts, or the states 
 of mind which preceded them. 
 
 Well, but what does Sir James mean by his 
 looking at this coalition, which is no coalition, 
 from two points of view ? He means, that the 
 coalition does two things. Remarking, that a 
 thing does two things, is looking at it from two 
 points of view. Remarking, that my fire boils 
 my eggs, and warms my fingers, is looking at it 
 from two points of view. 
 
 Of the two things done by this non-existing 
 coalition, one is its helping to prove, that " the 
 peculiar character of the moral sentiments con- 
 sists in their exclusive reference to states of will." 
 The nonsense of the position to be proved, has 
 been already exposed. The aptitude of a non- 
 entity to prove any thing, needs not to be insisted 
 on. 
 
365 
 
 This non-entity, however, goes on proving. 
 It proves that " everj^ feeling which has that 
 quality," (viz., an exclusive reference to states of 
 will,) " when it is purified from all admixture 
 with different objects, becomes capable of being 
 absorbed into conscience." 
 This is rich. 
 
 " Every feeling which has an exclusive refer- 
 ence to a state of will." States of will are three- 
 fold ; good, bad, and indifferent. Every body 
 knows, who knows anything about the matter, 
 that no feeling has an exclusive reference to a 
 state of will, but a motive. What, then. Sir 
 James affirms is, that every motive to every act, 
 good, bad, or indifferent, is capable of being 
 absorbed into conscience, and becoming a part 
 of it. 
 
 Sir James has the qualifying clause — " when 
 it is purified from all admixture with different 
 objects." 
 
 A motive can have but one object ; the volition 
 by which it is followed. It cannot have admix- 
 ture with different objects. It still appears, 
 therefore, that all motives to all actions are parts 
 of conscience ; of the fusion of which into one 
 mass, conscience consists. 
 
 The second point of view, from which Sir 
 James looks at his coalition ; meaning, the second 
 thing which ^t does ; is, its making us know, or at 
 least know better than we did before, that virtue 
 
S66 
 
 is conducive to individual interest. Qualities 
 useful to ourselves become virtues by the coalition 
 of the private and public feelings ; and by this 
 we know that virtue is conducive to individual 
 happiness. Admirable instruction ! We learn in 
 the same way, from justice, he says, that virtue 
 is conducive to general interest. And then he 
 goes on to tell us what a happy thing it is to 
 know, that virtue is good for the individual. 
 Recondite philosophy ! 
 
 I was at first inclined, from mere weariness, to 
 pass by paragraph 21 ; but I find there are things 
 in it, which it will not be good to pass by. 
 
 He first talks to us of the fusion into one mass 
 of the elements of conscience, — says that it is a 
 very perfect fusion ; he then tells us, that these 
 elements are " passions ; " the elements by the 
 fusion of which (" solution," he calls it) conscience 
 is made, are the passions. Conscience is a solu- 
 tion of passions. I put the doctrine into different 
 expressions, that the reader may, to borrow Sir 
 James's phraseology, " observe it from different 
 points of view.'* 
 
 Now, then, we are to learn what the thing is 
 which he calls a " solution." It is an " affinity." 
 And what is this " affinity ? " A " common pro- 
 perty." The passions, then, which compose a 
 compound conscience, compose it by their having 
 " a common property." Reader, you are curious 
 about the common property. And a curiosity 
 
367 
 
 you will find it. It is " their having no object 
 but states of the will." 
 
 No passion (properly so called) has for its 
 object the state of the will. This is a fact which 
 folly itself seems hardly in need to be told of. 
 
 Besides, if one passion has for its object a state 
 of the will, so have all passions. Is conscience 
 composed of the bad passions as much as the 
 good ? 
 
 He finishes with a position which has nothing 
 to do with his premises ; but which merits all 
 our attention on its own account. He says, that 
 the object of moral approbation is merely the 
 power to excite moral approbation. In other 
 words, the object of moral approbation is what- 
 ever any man is pleased with ; an account of 
 morality which we have had from Sir James 
 before ; and which few men, we think, need our 
 help to appreciate. 
 
 Well, then. Sir James tells us, we approve that 
 which makes us approve ; and that which we 
 approve is, by that very circumstance, worthy of 
 our approbation. 
 
 If we are asked, why we approve such and such 
 an action ? According to this doctrine there is 
 but one answer : Because we approve it. A 
 blessed account of moral approbation ! which yet 
 Sir James affords us, after a much greater man. 
 Dr. Brown. 
 
 What these personages do not see (and such 
 
368 
 
 confusion is really surprising in a man like 
 Brown) is, that they are inverting the case. 
 " We approve of actions," say all other men, 
 " because there is something in them which de- 
 serves our approbation." " Actions," say these 
 two, " deserve our approbation, because they re- 
 ceive it." 
 
 When a rational assertor of the principle of 
 utility says, " I approve of an action, because it 
 is good ; " his meaning is precise. If he is asked 
 why he calls the action good ; he says, " because 
 it conduces to happiness." If asked why he 
 bestows not his moral approbation on all actions 
 conducive to happiness ? he answers, that " the 
 approbation, called moral, which is merely the 
 approbation of a portion of human actions 
 classed under that name, is bestowed only where 
 it is needed ; not on acts, the performance of 
 which is provided for by the constitution of the 
 individual, but on acts, the performance of 
 which society needs, by the use of means, to 
 secure ; of which means, its approbation is one of 
 the most powerful." 
 
 We now proceed to Sir James's 22nd para- 
 graph. We cannot do less than quote it entire. 
 
 " The question, why we do not morally ap- 
 prove the useful qualities of actions which are 
 altogether involuntary, may now be shortly and 
 satisfactorily answered : because conscience is in 
 perpetual contact, as it were, with all the dispo- 
 
369 
 
 sitions and actions of voluntary agents, and is by 
 that means indissolubly associated with them ex- 
 clusively. It has a direct action on the will, and 
 a constant mental contiguity to it. It has no 
 such mental contiguity to involuntary changes. 
 It has never, perhaps, been observed, that an 
 operation of the conscience precedes all acts deli- 
 berate enough to be in the highest sense volun- 
 tary, and does so as much when it is defeated as 
 when it prevails. In either case the association 
 is repeated. It extends to the whole of the 
 active man. All passions have a definite outward 
 object to which they tend ; and a limited sphere 
 within which they act. But conscience has no 
 object but a state of will ; and as an act of will 
 is the sole means of gratifying any passion, con- 
 science is co-extensive with the whole man, and 
 without encroachment, curbs or aids every feel- 
 ing, even within the peculiar province of that 
 feeling itself. As will is the universal means, 
 conscience, wliich regards will, must be a uni- 
 versal principle. As nothing is interposed be- 
 tween conscience and the will, when the mind is 
 in its healthy state, the dictate of conscience is 
 followed by the determination of the will, with a 
 promptitude and exactness, which very naturally 
 is likened to the obedience of an inferior to the 
 lawful commands of those whom he deems to be 
 rightly placed over him. It therefore seems 
 clear, that on the theory which has been 
 
 2 B 
 
370 
 
 attempted, moral approbation must be limited to 
 voluntary operations, and conscience must be uni- 
 versal, independent, and commanding." 
 
 Why is moral approbation applied to volun- 
 tary, not to involuntary acts ? That is the 
 problem which Sir James has taken this won- 
 derful round-about to solve. 
 
 An ordinary man would not be much at a loss 
 for an answer. What use, he would say, in 
 approving the stones with which my house is 
 built, or disapproving the fire by which it is con- 
 sumed? Approbation and disapprobation, like 
 all other rational acts, are performed, where they 
 are capable of producing some effect. 
 
 Sir James goes much deeper. The reason, he 
 says, is, that *' conscience is in perpetual contact, as 
 it were, with all the dispositions and actions of vo- 
 luntary agents ; " and afterwards, that " conscience is 
 in a state of constant mental contiguity to the will.'' 
 Does he mean that every man's conscience is in 
 contact with all other men's actions and volitions? 
 Or that each man's conscience is in contact only 
 with his own ? In either case, what does his con- 
 tact mean ? If I were called upon to devise 
 something of a rational meaning to the phrase 
 that " conscience is in a state of constant mental 
 contiguity to the will," I should say, I can find 
 only this ; that when I approve or disapprove 
 actions as moral or immoral, that is, when my 
 conscience acts, I so approve or disapprove only 
 
371 
 
 voluntary acts. The answer of Sir James, there- 
 fore, to the question, why moral approbation is 
 applied to voluntary acts, is simply this, — it is so 
 applied, because it is so applied. 
 
 We have to analyse, as well as translate Sir 
 James's lingo. 
 
 " Conscience is in perpetual contact, as it were, 
 with all the dispositions and actions of voluntary 
 agents." 
 
 " A contact, as it were," is not easily under- 
 stood. Is it contact, or not contact ? 
 
 " All the dispositions and actions of voluntary 
 agents." One man has a disposition to walk, 
 another to ride. One man shoots partridges, 
 another catches rats. When Sir James says, that 
 a man's conscience is in contact with his dispo- 
 sition to ride, or his shooting a partridge, what 
 does he mean ? Is it, that the man approves of 
 his disposition and action as morally good ? The 
 name moral, according to the usage of language, 
 belongs to neither. 
 
 Let us now collect the parts of Sir James's 
 account of conscience. It is a solution of the 
 emotions, desires, and affections, which have 
 the will for their object. Those desires which 
 have the will for their object, that is, are 
 desires of the will, and those affections which 
 have the will for their object, that is, are 
 affections for, or love of, the will, when combined 
 in solution (for then they become conscience), are 
 
 21 B 2! 
 
372 
 
 in a state of contiguity to the will ; meaning (for 
 it can mean nothing else), that they are desires 
 and love of the will. We thus arrive at one of 
 Sir James's customary conclusions. The desire of 
 acts of will, and the love of acts of will, are the de- 
 sire of acts of the will, and love of the acts of the 
 will ; for we do not suppose that, for the present 
 purpose, he will desire us to make any distinc- 
 tion between an act of will and a voluntary act;, 
 and these desires and loves are conscience. 
 
 Sir James goes on, and says, — 
 
 " It has never, perhaps, been observed, that an 
 operation of the conscience precedes all acts deli- 
 berate enough to be in the highest sense volun- 
 tary, and does so as much when it is defeated as 
 when it prevails." This, you see, is one of the 
 discoveries which Sir James gives himself the 
 credit of. But it is asserting as a fact that of 
 which the assertion was, he said, " the radical 
 error in which Mr. Bentham fell into fundamental 
 errors." The operation of a man's conscience 
 which precedes his act, is the consideration of its 
 consequences ; that is, bringing the question of 
 utility before his eyes. 
 
 But this by the bye; our object at present is 
 to trace the mazes of Sir James's lingo. To un- 
 derstand what an operation of Sir James's con- 
 science, " in a state of constant mental contiguity 
 to the will," is, we must recollect what his con- 
 science is. It is a solution of those desires and 
 
373 
 
 affections, if any such there be, which are desires 
 of acts of will and affections of acts of will. 
 But the acts of desires and affections, whether 
 in solution or not in solution, can be nothing 
 but desiring and loving; that is, nothing but 
 the desires and affections themselves. Sir 
 James's conscience, therefore, and an act of 
 his conscience, are one and the same thing. 
 When he tells us, that an operation of the con- 
 science precedes every voluntary act, lie must 
 mean that a desire and love of the will so to act 
 precedes the act. We have shewed him, and I 
 trust satisfactorily, that to desire a will, and love 
 a will, is just to will. What we learn from him, 
 therefore, thus painfully, is, that every voluntary 
 act is preceded by an act of volition ; or, in other 
 words, that every voluntary act, is a voluntary 
 act. And then we have the problem solved, why 
 conscience is limited to voluntary acts. It is, 
 because voluntary acts are voluntary acts. 
 
 Sir James, however, goes a step farther for 
 this solution. The true and ultimate r; ason of 
 the limitation of conscience to voluntary acts is, 
 that it is " co-extensive with the whole man : " 
 going somewhat beyond the voluntary act. 
 
 He proves this proposition by the following 
 process : " Conscience has no object but a state of 
 the will ; " and " an act of will is the sole means 
 of gratifying any passion." His premises do 
 not support his conclusion. 
 
374 
 
 If it were true, that conscience had no object 
 but a state of the will, it follows not, that it 
 would have every state of the will for an object : 
 it might have only a part of those states. 
 
 Again, if an act of will were the sole means of 
 gratifying a passion, all the acts of men are not 
 for the gratification of passions. 
 
 Sir James, therefore, fails in his proof, that 
 conscience is co-extensive with the whole man. 
 
 And the proof that this co-extension implies 
 the limitation of conscience to voluntary acts, 
 which would have been somewhat difficult, he 
 does not attempt at all. 
 
 For the sake of such of my readers as are in 
 the state of learners, I must state the case in the 
 English tongue. 
 
 The question is asked, why we morally ap- 
 prove the generous deed of a man, do not so 
 approve the pulsation of his heart, or the growth 
 of his nails ? 
 
 The answer is certain, says Sir James, though 
 not easy to find. The approbation is in contact 
 with the will ! 
 
 Can it be believed, even after the fact, that a 
 man who had the exercise of reason, wrote this ? 
 
 When I approve the moral act of another man, 
 the approbation is a state of my mind ; the will 
 is a state of his. What contact or contiguity is 
 there between these two ? 
 
 There are two things which all other men dig- 
 
S75 
 
 tinguish, with the greatest ease, but which are 
 contirmally making confusion in the head of Sir 
 James. 
 
 These are, the sentiments with which we 
 regard the moral acts of other men ; and the 
 sentiments with which we regard our own moral 
 acts. 
 
 The terms moral and immoral were applied by 
 men, primarily, not to their own acts, but the 
 acts of other men. Those acts, the effects of 
 which they observed to be beneficial, they desired 
 should be performed. To make them be per- 
 formed, they, among other things they did, 
 affixed to them marks of their applause ; they 
 called them, good, moral, well-deserving ; and 
 behaved accordingly. 
 
 Such is the source of the moral approbation we 
 bestow on the acts of other men. The source of 
 that which we bestow on our own is twofold. 
 First, .every man's beneficial acts, like those of 
 every other man, form part of that system of 
 beneficial acting, in which he, in common with 
 all other men, finds his account. Secondly, he 
 strongly associates with his own beneficial acts, 
 both that approbation of other men, which is of 
 so much importance to him, and that approbation 
 which he bestows on other men's beneficial acts\ 
 
 It is also easy to shew what takes place in the 
 mind of a man, before he performs an act, which 
 he morally approves or condemns. 
 
376 
 
 What is called the approbation of an act not 
 yet performed, is only the idea of future approba- 
 tion : and it is not excited by the act itself ; it is 
 excited by the idea of the act. The idea of 
 approbation or disapprobation is excited by the 
 idea of an act, because the approbation would be 
 excited by the act itself. But what excites moral 
 approbation or disapprobation of an act, is 
 neither the act itself, nor the motive of the 
 act ; but the consequences of the act, good or 
 evil, and their being within the intention of the 
 agent. 
 
 Let us put a case. A man with a starving 
 wife and family is detected wiring a hare on my 
 premises. What happens ? I call up the idea of 
 sending him to prison. I call up the ideas of 
 the consequences of that act, the misery of the 
 helpless creatures whom his labour supported ; 
 their agonizing feelings, their corporal wants, 
 their hunger, cold, their destitution of hope, their 
 despair. I call up the ideas of the man himself 
 in jail ; the sinking of heart which attends incar- 
 ceration ; the dreadful thought of his family 
 deprived of his support ; his association with 
 vicious characters ; the natural consequences, — his 
 future profligacy, the consequent profligacy of 
 his ill-fated children, and hence the permanent 
 wretchedness and ruin of them all. I next have 
 the idea of my own intending all these conse- 
 quences. And only then am I in a condition to 
 
377 
 
 perform, as Sir James says, the " operation of 
 conscience." I perform it. But in this case, it 
 is, to use another of his expressions, " defeated." 
 Notwithstanding the moral disapprobation, which 
 the idea of such intended consequences excites in 
 me, I perform the act. 
 
 Here, at all events, any one may see, that 
 conscience, and the motive of the act, are not the 
 same, but opposed to one another. The motive 
 of the act, is the pleasure of having hares ; not 
 in itself a thing anywise bad. The only thing 
 bad is the producing so much misery to others, 
 for securing that pleasure to myself. 
 
 The state of the case, then, is manifest. The 
 act of which I have the idea, has two sets of con- 
 sequences ; one set pleasurable, another hurtful. 
 I feel an aversion to produce the hurtful conse- 
 quences. I feel a desire to produce the plea- 
 surable. The one prevails over the other. And 
 this is what Sir James calls the contact of the 
 conscience and the will. This too, is that prece- 
 dence of conscience, which he says is a discovery 
 of his own. 
 
 Bless the memory of Sir James ! Was he 
 ignorant that this is included in the very defini- 
 tion of a voluntary act ? Nothing in an act is 
 voluntary but the consequences that are intended. 
 The idea of good consequences intended, is the 
 pleasurable feeling of moral approbation : the 
 idea of bad consequences intended is the painful 
 
378 
 
 feeling of moral disapprobation. The very term 
 voluntary, therefore, applied to an act, which pro- 
 duces good or evil consequences, expresses the an- 
 tecedence of moral approbation or disapprobation. 
 
 From the universality of conscience, he infers, 
 not only that it is limited to voluntary acts, 
 (limited by universality ! ) but that it is entitled 
 to take the command, and exercise authority over 
 the man. Between these premises and the conclu- 
 sion there is no connection. Universality carries 
 with it no title to authority. 
 
 If Sir James had consulted me, I could have 
 told him of a principle more exactly coextensive 
 with the whole man than moral approbation and 
 disapprobation. 
 
 When any person takes a view of the conse- 
 quences of his acts, and marks some of them as 
 good, some evil, to other persons, he necessarily 
 marks them all as good or evil to himself; and 
 as their goodness or badness with respect to 
 others has an effect upon him as a motive, their 
 goodness or badness with respect to himself can- 
 not be without some influence. 
 
 If Sir James had known of this principle, he 
 surely would have said that self-love is the prin- 
 ciple which is entitled to authority over the man ; 
 and the reason is, that self-love is in constant 
 contact with the will, and co-extensive with the 
 whole man. 
 
 Sir James says, " when the mind is in its 
 
379 
 
 healthy state," whatever that state may be, " there 
 is nothing interposed between conscience and the 
 will." Conscience, in this healthy state, there- 
 fore, is motive. 
 
 As conscience and motive are the same. Sir 
 James says, ** the dictate of conscience is followed 
 by the determination of the will." Not always : 
 all motives are liable to be opposed, and over- 
 come by a stronger motive. When Sir James's 
 motive called conscience is so overcome, the deter- 
 mination of the will cannot be called a following 
 of conscience, but of something else. 
 
 ' Ohe, 
 
 Jam satis. 
 
 There are two other paragraphs of Sir James's 
 general remarks. But as they are immaterial to 
 his theory, we gladly spare the reader and our- 
 selves the trouble of expounding them. 
 
 The business, which Sir James undertook, was 
 to shew, that association accounts for moral appro- 
 bation and disapprobation. 
 
 This was to be done by performing the analysis 
 of these sentiments ; tracing them to their simple 
 elements ; making it appear how these elements 
 combined or associated compose the sentiments, 
 and how the phenomena correspond with this 
 explanation. 
 
 Of this Sir James has performed not a tittle. 
 Instead of it, Avhat has he done ? Covered some 
 
380 
 
 pages with the most perfect nonsense that ever 
 blotted paper. 
 
 Having already presented a synoptical view of 
 the original process, by which Sir James shewed 
 VIS what moral approbation is in regard to bene- 
 ficence, I think it good to present a similar view 
 of the process by which he shews what it is, first 
 in regard to courage, secondly, in regard to pru- 
 dence and temperance. 
 
 1. Courage is in itself admirable, independently 
 of its tendency to produce good or evil. 
 
 2. " The delightful contemplation of it, when 
 purely applied, has for its direct and final object 
 dispositions and actions of voluntary agents." 
 
 3. Courage is thence " associated with the other 
 moral principles ; and becomes a part of con- 
 science." 
 
 More briefly : — The delightful contemplation 
 of courage, has for its object courage ; and cou- 
 rage being thus contemplated, becomes a part of 
 conscience. 
 
 1. Virtuous acts of the self-regarding kind, to 
 deserve moral approbation, must be their own 
 ends; alias, they are done for the sake of being 
 done. 
 
 2. The self-regarding virtues are entirely con- 
 
381 
 
 versant with volitions and voluntary acts. And 
 as the volitions and the voluntary acts in question 
 are themselves the virtues in question ; this is as 
 much as to say, the self-regarding virtues are" 
 entirely conversant with themselves; in which, 
 he adds, they resemble the other constituents of 
 conscience. Remember that, just before, we had 
 found the constituents of conscience to be motives. 
 The self-regarding virtues, therefore, resemble 
 motives in this, that they are entirely conversant 
 with themselves. 
 
 3. By this resemblance, they become fitted to 
 coalesce wuth them ; that is, by being conversant 
 entirely with themselves, they are fitted to coalesce 
 with other things which are entirely conversant 
 with themselves. Surprising aptitude ! 
 
 4. The self-regarding virtues may be fixed on 
 the means of promoting their ends. Their ends, 
 according to Sir James, are themselves ; they are 
 therefore fixed on the means of promoting them- 
 selves ; a volition fixed on the means of promot- 
 ing itself ! 
 
 5. From the perfect blending of all the senti- 
 ments of which the final object is a state of the 
 will, results conscience. 
 
 Does this, after what we have seen, need any 
 comment ? No. 
 
 And thus. Reader, have you received Sir James's 
 instructions in the mysteries of moral approba- 
 tion. But whether it is an emotion, or a desire, 
 
382 
 
 or an affection, or a motive, or a volition, one or 
 other, or all, or a delightful contemplation, or an 
 entire blending of the sentiments which regard 
 the w^ill, whatever those sentiments may be, 
 which Sir James says not — he has left you in the 
 dark ; and whether you are less or more wise 
 about the matter, than when he began with you, 
 determine and speak for yourself. 
 
APPENDIX A.— (See p. 95.) 
 
 *' The moral sentiments are a class of feelings which 
 have no other object but the mental dispositions leading 
 to voluntary actions., and the voluntary actions which 
 flow from those dispositions,'''' This Sir James sets down 
 as his thesis, and marks for peculiar emphasis, by printing 
 the words in Italics. 
 
 The genus under which he arranges the moral senti- 
 ments, is that of feelings. They are a class of feelings. 
 Well, and what class ? 
 
 Sir James tells us one thing about them ; viz. what is 
 their object ; and nothing else whatsoever. It is — 
 
 The mental dispositions leading to voluntary action, 
 and the voluntary actions which flow from those dis- 
 positions. 
 
 First of all, we have to inquire, what it is for a feeling 
 to have an object ? One can understand what is meant 
 by the cause of a feeling, or the effect of a feeling. But 
 what is the object of a feeling ? In the case of some 
 feelings, we say that something is felt ; if we see, there 
 is something seen ; love, there is something loved. In 
 other cases the feeling itself is all : the feeling, (if we may 
 use the expression), is the thing felt. Pain, for example, 
 is a feeling ; but it is the only thing felt. 
 
 In the cases in which we say that something else is 
 felt, as when we say, in the case of admiration, that some- 
 thing is admired, we call the thing felt the object of the 
 feeling ; that is, we call the cause of the feeling by that 
 
384 
 
 name. The thing seen is the cause of the seeing ; tlie 
 thing admired is tlie cause of the admiration. 
 
 In the case of those feelings which the Professors Reid 
 and Stewart class under the title Appetite^ there is a 
 complexity, which obstructs the conception. An uneasy 
 sensation precedes the desire. Thus, what we call hunger 
 is a complex feeling. It includes an uneasy sensation, 
 and the desire of food. The mind therefore, in turn- 
 ing to the cause of the desire, is apt to think of the 
 uneasy sensation. But an uneasy sensation does not, in 
 itself, imply the desire of any thing but relief; the desire 
 of a particular object is caused by the object itself. The 
 desire of water when a man is thirsty, includes the idea of 
 the water, and its agreeable effect It is that idea which 
 determines him to the water, i. e. constitutes (causes) the 
 desire. 
 
 The case is more clear as regards the complicated 
 affections. What we call the object of the love, is the 
 cause of the love. What we call the object of the pity, 
 is the cause of the pity, and so on. 
 
 If this be general, then Sir James's indistinct words 
 must mean, that the moral sentiments are caused, or 
 made to exist, by certain things. 
 
 We shall not doubt that they are caused. Let us 
 next see what they are caused by. 
 
 The feelings of this class, he says, are caused by dispo- 
 sitions, and actions. So far there is not much information. 
 Every body knows, that certain of the feelings, excited by 
 actions with the dispositions from which they proceed, 
 are the very feelings to which the name moral sentiments 
 is given. The proper expression therefore is — not that 
 there is a class of feelings which have for their object 
 actions rising out of dispositions ; but that such and such 
 actions, rising out of such and such dispositions, excite 
 such and such feelings ; to which feelings, as a class, the 
 name moral sentiments has been given. 
 
 Now then there are two things placed before us ; cer- 
 
385 
 
 tain things which cause certain feelings, and the feelings 
 themselves which are thus caused. Our business, there- 
 fore, is to ascertain correctly ; that is, to distinguish and 
 define ; first, the class of causes ; secondly, the class of 
 effects : in more particular terms, to what actions, flowing 
 out of what dispositions, is the terra moral applied ? and 
 next, what are the feelings which these actions, when per- 
 formed, are found to excite or to cause ? 
 
 The solution of these two problems being the business 
 of moral inquiry, let us see how Sir James goes to work, 
 for satisfying the demand of philosophy in this respect. 
 
 He sets forth the class of causes in these words : — " the 
 mental dispositions leading to voluntary action, and the 
 voluntary actions which flow from these dispositions."" 
 
 This is not very distinct. First of all ; '• the voluntary 
 actions flowing out of the mental dispositions leading to 
 voluntary action,"" are all voluntary actions whatsoever. 
 Is that Sir Jameses meaning ? Are all voluntary actions, 
 without exception, moral or immoral ? Next ; " mental 
 dispositions leading to voluntary action,"'"' is about as 
 vague and undistinguishing a description as can well be 
 made. No man with the least tincture of philosophy 
 could have used such an expression on such an occasion ; 
 his nature would have revolted at it. 
 
 A mental disposition means some state of the mind ; 
 the mental dispositions leading to voluntary actions, must 
 mean every mental state which causes volition. Is every 
 mental state, then, which causes volition, either moral or 
 immoral ? Is this part of his theory, — that every volun- 
 tary act, and every state of the mind causing it, excite 
 the sentiments which he calls the moral sentiments ? 
 
 Let us see what this doctrine amounts to. Sir James, 
 proceeding to explain the moral sentiments, informs us, 
 they are the sentiments excited by voluntary acts and 
 the states of mind which cause them ; making the term 
 voluntary, and moral or immoral, co-extensive. If so, 
 this is merely telling us that the moral sentiments are the 
 
 2c 
 
386 
 
 sentiments which are excited by moral acts. In other 
 words, the moral sentiments are the moral sentiments. 
 
 It is surprising how great a quantity of the reasoning 
 called profound terminates in this manner; making out, 
 by a laborious, and frequently a very obscure process, 
 that the same thing is the same thing. And then the 
 formula Q. E. D. 
 
 Sir James says, that " the mental dispositions leading 
 to voluntary action, and the voluntary actions which flow 
 from these dispositions,*" are the cause of the moral senti- 
 ments. Does Sir James mean that the two things here 
 mentioned, the dispositions, and the actions, are two 
 separate causes, each of them producing a separate, and 
 independent effect, the disposition producing one parcel of 
 moral sentiments, the action another ? The structure of 
 the sentence certainly implies this. The moral senti- 
 ments have for their object {i.e, cause), the dispositions, 
 and the actions. This is different from what all other 
 men have thought. They say, that the action, separated 
 from the disposition, excites no moral sentiment. The 
 action abstracted from the state of mind, is a physical 
 movement, which has no moral quality. It gets its moral 
 quality from the disposition entirely. In fact, the moral 
 quahty is no where but in the mind of the agent. It is 
 the mind of the agent which therefore is the sole cause of 
 the moral feeling ; the mere physical movement has 
 nothing to do with it, but as an instrument employed. 
 But what is it in the mind of the agent, which gives it 
 this causitiveness ? Sir James says, it is the " mental 
 dispositions leading to voluntary action." And this is all 
 we get from him. First, are there any dispositions 
 leading to involuntary action ? This, though a verbal 
 criticism, is not insignificant. No man even half con- 
 versant with these speculations would have committed 
 this blunder. Next, in reply to the important question, 
 what is it in the mind of the agent, which causes the 
 feelings we call moral sentiments ; or what state of mind 
 
387 
 
 in the agent is it, which has this power; — Sir James 
 produces the " mental dispositions leading to voluntary 
 action." Why, these are all the springs of action without 
 exception. The appetites, the desires, the affections, good, 
 bad, and indifferent, all lead to voluntary action. This 
 is manifestly a man who speaks with the lip, but in 
 whom " the lips " are not " parcel of the mind." 
 
 It is not the mental disposition leading to acts in 
 general, but those leading to a particular class of acts, 
 which excite our moral feelings. Why did not Sir 
 James discriminate and expound that particular class of 
 mental dispositions .? Had he done this — had he made 
 us know exactly wherein that state of mind consists, 
 which excites in us the feelings called moral, he would 
 have answered one of the questions of which he had 
 undertaken the solution. 
 
 All Sir James'^s phrases seem to be studiously indeter- 
 minate ; framed to bear the appearance of a meaning, of 
 which in reality they are utterly destitute. 
 
 ''Leading to." That means causation, of course. 
 But there are causes, some proximate, some remote, and 
 remote in all degrees. Does Sir James, by his " dispo- 
 sitions leading to," mean the causes proximate ? or the 
 causes remote ? or does he mean both ? 
 
 " Voluntary actions." Does Sir James mean here to 
 distinguish the volition from the act ? or to take them 
 both together ? For example, I will to move my arm ; 
 the volition: my arm moves; the act. If he takes them 
 separately, he means the dispositions which cause voli- 
 tion. If he takes them together, he means the disposi- 
 tions which cause volition, which causes the act. 
 
 In either case he must mean the dispositions which 
 cause volition ; i.e. the causes of volition. The causes 
 of volition have been very carefully examined; and Sir 
 James, had he been half as great a reader as he pre- 
 tended to be, might have told us a good deal that was 
 useful, out of books. 
 
 2c2 
 
388 
 
 Sir James not having told us whether he means proxi- 
 mate causes, or remote, compels us to go upon both 
 suppositions. To begin with the proximate. These 
 all inquirers are agreed about. Motives are the proxi- 
 mate causes of volition. If then we suppose that Sir 
 James's dispositions mean the proximate cause, when he 
 says that the sentiments we call the moral sentiments 
 are caused by these dispositions, he says they are caused 
 by motives ; that which causes a moral sentiment is a 
 motive of the agent. Nothing excites a moral sentiment, 
 but a motive. Moral is a quality of motives. And 
 every motive is moral, at least every motive which causes 
 a volition, which causes an act. 
 
 This comes back to the doctrine we have already 
 noted ; that voluntary and moral are synonymous terms. 
 And Sir James, moreover, seems to be ignorant that 
 motives have no moral quality. In vulgar language a 
 motive is called good or bad ; but in this vulgar language 
 two things are confounded, will and intention. 
 
 If we can get no information from Sir James, on the 
 supposition, that by the cause of volition, he means the 
 proximate cause, let us try him on the supposition, that 
 he means the remote causes. 
 
 Causes precede one another in a series. A is caused 
 by B ; but B was caused by C, C by D, and so back- 
 wards. Every cause is itself caused; that is to say, 
 every cause is also an effect. In the series we have 
 mentioned, B, C, D, &c.y B is the proximate cause of A,, 
 C and D remote causes, and we may go on multiplying 
 the remote causes to any extent ; they are in fact 
 endless. 
 
 To take the particular case before us. The proximate 
 cause of the act is volition ; the proximate cause of voli- 
 tion is the motive ; the proximate cause of the motive, is 
 what ? 
 
 Did Sir James ever ask himself what a motive is.^ 
 There is no evidence in his book, that he ever did; but 
 
389 
 
 much eviderxce that he did not. Yet he talks about it as 
 glibly as if it were all perfectly familiar to him. 
 
 A motive is something which moves — moves to what ? 
 To action. But all action as Aristotle says, (and all 
 mankind agree with him) is for an end. Actions are 
 essentially means. The question, then, is, what is the 
 end of action ? Actions, taken in detail, have ends in 
 detail. But actions, taken in classes, have ends which 
 may be taken in classes. Thus the ends of the actions 
 which are subservient to the pleasures of sense, are com- 
 bined in a class, to which, in abstract, we give the name 
 sensuality. The class of actions which tend to the 
 increase of power, have a class of ends to which we give 
 the name ambition, and so on. When we put all these 
 classes together, and make a genus ; that is, actions in 
 general; can we in like manner make a genus of the 
 ends ; and name ends in general ? 
 
 If we could find what the several classes of ends ; 
 sensuality for example ; ambition ; avarice ; glory ; 
 sociality, &c. ; have in common, we could. 
 
 Now, they have certainly this in common, that they 
 are all agreeable to the agent. A man acts for the sake 
 of something agreeable to him, either proximately or 
 remotely. But agreeable to, and pleasant to ; agreeable- 
 ness, and pleasantness, are only different names for the 
 same thing ; the pleasantness of a thing is the pleasure it 
 gives. So that pleasure, in a general way, or speaking 
 generically ; that is, in a way to include all the species of 
 pleasures, and also the abatement of pains ; is the end 
 of action. 
 
 A motive is that which moves to action. But that 
 which moves to action is the end of the action, that 
 which is sought by it; that for the sake of which it is 
 performed. Now that, generically speaking, is the plea- 
 sure of the agent. Motive, then, taken generically, is 
 pleasure. The pleasure may be in company or con- 
 nection with things infinite in variety. But these are 
 
390 
 
 the accessaries ; the essence, is the pleasure. Thus, in 
 . one case, the pleasure may be connected with the form, 
 and other qualities of a particular woman ; in another, 
 with a certain arrangement of colours in a picture ; in 
 another, with the circumstances of some fellow-creature. 
 But in all these cases, what is generical, that is, the 
 essence, is the pleasure, or relief from pain. 
 
 A motive, then, is the idea of a pleasure ; a particular 
 motive, is the idea of a particular pleasure ; and these 
 are infinite in variety. 
 
 Another question is, in what circumstances does the 
 idea of a pleasure become a motive ? For it is evident 
 that it does not so in all. It is only necessary here to 
 illustrate, not to resolve the question. First, the plea- 
 sure must be regarded as attainable. No man wills an 
 act, which he knows he cannot perform, or which he 
 knows cannot effect the end. In the next place, the idea 
 of the particular pleasure must be more present to the 
 mind, than any other of equal potency. That which 
 makes the idea of one pleasure more potent than 
 another ; or that which makes one idea more present to 
 the mind than another, is the proximate cause of the 
 motive, and a remote cause of the volition. The cause 
 of that superior potency, or of that presence to the mind^ 
 is a cause of the volition, still more remote, and so on. 
 
 Now then, how much or how little of this does Sir 
 James include in his phrase '^ mental dispositions leading 
 to voluntary action V Sir James is silent. 
 
 The motive he must include ; that is, the idea of a 
 pleasure, more potent than others, in the mind of the 
 agent, either from the absence of others, or its own 
 superior force. Does he include any thing more ? If 
 so, it must be the idea of the cause of that superior 
 potency. If more still — the cause of that cause, and 
 so on. 
 
 The idea of a pleasure, therefore, predominant from 
 certain causes, with the cause of that predominancy, and 
 
391 
 
 so on, are the dispositions leading to voluntary actions, 
 which Sir James saye, excite, or produce, or cause, the 
 moral sentiments. 
 
 We may observe, incidentally, that in that case, Siu 
 James's grand ambition, to prove that man has disin- 
 terested motives (a contradiction in terms by the bye) is 
 defeated by himself. 
 
 Further, it is evident that these dispositions lead to all 
 bad actions as well as to all good. Not to have seen 
 this, does not argue Sir James a very clear-sighted phi- 
 losopher. 
 
 There must of necessity, however, be a difference in 
 the causes to produce such a difference in the effects. 
 Sir James did not advert to that necessity. 
 
 If he had been questioned on the subject, he would' 
 have told us, in circuitous phrases, somewhat obscure, that 
 the distinction, indeed, is most important, but by preceding 
 philosophers, such as Paley and Bentham, had not beea 
 sufficiently observed ; when carefully examined, how- 
 ever, it would be found to be this ; that of the mental 
 dispositions leading to voluntary acts, some lead to acts 
 of a laudable nature, others to acts of a censurable 
 nature. This, at least, is an answer which seems in the 
 true spirit of Sir James's philosophy. 
 
 The case which Sir James has left us to make what 
 we can of for ourselves is sufficiently clear, though it is 
 not very easy to make the language about it clear, with- 
 out a more lengthened exposition, than I am willing to 
 bestow upon it. 
 
 The dispositions which are the cause of good, and the 
 dispositions which are the cause of evil, actions, have this in 
 common, that they include the idea of a pleasure to the 
 agent. 
 
 If along with this they include the idea of good to 
 some other person or persons, we call them, and the 
 actions they produce, good. If along with the idea of a 
 pleasure to the agent, they include the idea of evil to 
 
392 
 
 another person or persons, they and the action are 
 called evil. 
 
 The mental state which precedes action is thus some- 
 what complicated. It includes the idea of the pleasure 
 to self ; it includes the idea of the action, or actions to be 
 performed, and the idea of the several consequences 
 which may flow from them. 
 
 Thus, in the case of a sensual gratification, there is 
 the idea of the gratification, the idea of the act or acts 
 necessary to procure it, and some idea, more or less 
 perfect, of the consequences, either to the agent himself, 
 or to other persons. If the act is to be injurious to 
 other persons, as in the case of adultery, seduction, or 
 rape, we call the action bad, wicked ; if the evil con- 
 sequences afffect only the agent, we call it imprudent. 
 
 In these cases, the evil consequences are sometimes 
 seen; in others, they are not distinctly seen, or not 
 capable of being distinctly seen. This makes a differ- 
 ence in the degree of the aversion we feel. 
 
 Thus, if the evil consequences to the agent are doubt- 
 ful, we have less of the feeling which makes us ascribe 
 to him imprudence. If the evil consequences to another 
 party are doubtful, we have less of the feeling which 
 imputes guilt to the agent. Thus, too much indulgence 
 in the bodily pleasures is hurtful ; but it is so difficult to 
 say, where the harmless ends, and the hurtful begins, 
 that any moderate degree even of excess is very slightly 
 blamed. 
 
 Thus, again, if a man borrow money without any 
 intention of repaying it, he is a dishonest man. If he 
 borrows it, and embarks it in a speculation which fails ; 
 his conduct, though not exempt from blame, is much less 
 strongly blamed. 
 
 Thus, however, it is obvious, that an action is stamped 
 moral, or immoral, from the view of its consequences in 
 the mind of the agent. 
 
 When a man believes that such and such will be the con- 
 
393 
 
 sequences of his act, and he performs the act, he is said to 
 intend those consequences. When he believes that hurt 
 will accrue to another from such or such an act, and he 
 performs the act, he is said to intend the hurt. When he 
 believes that hurt to himself will be the consequence, 
 there would be some demur in saying, that he intended 
 hurt to himself; but here intention is confounded with 
 desire. A man cannot desire hurt to himself; but when 
 he performs an act with a perfect foresight that it will do 
 harm to him, it cannot be said that he does not intend it; 
 in the very same sense in which we say that the evil 
 consequences to another, of which he has perfect fore- 
 sight, are intended by him, though not the end of his 
 action. 
 
 Now, then, let us see what we have found for ourselves, 
 without the help of Sir James. 
 
 We have found that the mind of the agent alone is 
 capable of virtue, or vice, alone excites in us the feelings 
 called moral sentiments ; that the state in which it is, 
 immediately before acting, if it is of one or another kind, 
 excites in us respectively the feeling called moral appro- 
 bation, or that called moral disapprobation; that this 
 peculiar state of mind includes the motives, together with 
 the intention of good or evil, to the agent, or other per- 
 son, or persons ; the sentiment less strong in the case of 
 the good or evil to the agent, more strong in the case of 
 the good or evil to other person or persons. 
 
 Thus, then, we see, what there is in the logomachy 
 (for it is nothing better) about the selfishness or disin- 
 terestedness of human nature. There is, in the state of 
 mind preceding every virtuous act (bating the classes of 
 temperate and prudent acts, the direct end of which is the 
 good of the agent), the idea of good to the agent, and 
 also to others. There is no act, except for the sake of 
 pleasure, or a cause of pleasure, to the agent, and there 
 is no virtuous act, bating the classes mentioned, in which 
 the good of others is not intended. 
 
394 
 
 It is said, and said with truth, that the good of an- 
 other may be the motive. The idea of a cause of plea- 
 sure is as fit to make a motive, as a pleasure. If the 
 good of another is a cause of pleasure to the agent, the 
 idea of the good of another may be his motive ; as 
 honour may be, or wealth, or power. Can any greater 
 degree of social love be required, than that the good of 
 others should cause us pleasure; in other words, that 
 their good should be ours ? 
 
 We have thus also found the answer to the first of 
 Sir James's two ethical problems ; what is it in an action, 
 which procures it the praise of moral .^ One class of acts, 
 the prudent and temperate, where the good of the indi- 
 vidual is the motive, are the object of moral approbation, 
 if clear of all evil consequences to others, foreseen, i.e. in- 
 tended. Other acts are virtuous, if good to others is 
 intended, though it be not the motive to the act. They 
 are virtuous in a still higher degree, if good to others is 
 also the motive. 
 
 The idea, in the mind of the agent, of good to be 
 obtained from his act, is then the sole foundation of the 
 favourable feelings we call moral approbation ; it may be 
 the idea of good to himself exclusively, if the prospect of 
 evil to others is not conjoined ; if the prospect of good to 
 others is conjoined, though the motive be good to self, 
 the act is still more virtuous ; it is treated as entitled to 
 the greatest praise, when good to others is the motive, 
 and the prospect of nothing but what is good to them is 
 conjoined. 
 
 This is what is meant by those who say that utiHty is 
 the principle of virtue. It is the expression of a matter 
 of fact. Useful is a name for the cause of good. The 
 actions which cause good to mankind, that is, which are 
 useful, alone receive the appellation of virtuous. 
 
 But when we have found that good to mankind gives 
 their moral quality to actions, one thing remains to be 
 inquired; namely, wherein that good consists. This is 
 
395 
 
 an important part of the investigation, but not necessary 
 for our present purpose. 
 
 Sir James, having told us that the mental dispositions 
 leading to voluntary actions, and the voluntary actions, 
 are the object or cause of the sentiments called moral, 
 proceeds to what he intends to be the illustration, or 
 perhaps proof, of his predication. 
 
 Of these dispositions and actions he says, that there are 
 some we like, some we dislike; and that we desire to 
 cultivate the dispositions we like, perform the actions we 
 like. 
 
 This, if it has any meaning, means, that we desire to 
 be virtuous. But what information is in this? We 
 desire to be wealthy, and powerful, perhaps learned. In 
 Sir James's lingo, we desire to cultivate the dispositions, 
 and perform the acts which lead to those ends. As- 
 suredly, whenever we desire an end, we desire the means 
 towards it. 
 
 But to see what is the real import of his talk, we must 
 go to the analysis we have made of what he calls the 
 dispositions leading to voluntary acts. We have seen 
 that the disposition, or state of mind which proximately 
 causes a voluntary act, is the idea of the pleasure which 
 is to be caused by the act. In the case of a moral act, 
 the idea of good to the agent, or some other person, by 
 means of the act, must be combined with the idea of the 
 pleasure to the agent, the one idea called motive, the 
 other intention. 
 
 What therefore Sir James tells us is, that we love 
 these two ideas ; and love the actions which follow from 
 them ; that we desire to cultivate the ideas, and to per- 
 form the actions. 
 
 Now what is meant by cultivating an idea ? The idea, 
 for example, of the sweetness of sugar, or bitterness of 
 aloes? Is it the taking means to have the idea very 
 often present to our minds? That is to be done by 
 creating certain associations. The ideas which are in- 
 
396 
 
 volved in what Sir James here calls the mental disposition 
 leading to a moral act of the benevolent class, are two ; 
 the idea of pleasure to the agent; and the idea of good to 
 somebody, further accruing from the act. With regard 
 to the first idea, it can never be absent from the mind, 
 and is not an object either of liking or disliking, and has 
 no need to be cultivated. With regard to the second, 
 the idea of the further good, to the agent or others, the 
 having that present to the mind, and predominant there, 
 is no doubt an object of liking; but to tell us so, is only 
 to tell us, in far-fetched and obscure terms, which explain 
 nothing, what other men, who speak good English, ex- 
 press, when they say that benevolence is an amiable dis- 
 position of mind. 
 
 But when Sir James tells us, in his own remarkable 
 way, that we love the dispositions which lead to the good 
 of the agent, and the good of others, not a very necessary 
 piece of information, he still omits the question, why we 
 do so. That is the real thing to be expounded. Sir 
 James, however, has given us, instead of that exposition, 
 nothing but a truism in misty phraseology. 
 
 Sir James says, we not only like the dispositions, but 
 we like the actions. What is there in an action to like ? 
 We have seen that the action is a mere muscular con- 
 traction. The disposition which is the cause of the 
 action may be an object of liking, and the consequences 
 which follow from it may be an object of liking, and 
 sometimes both are included under the name action, 
 when the term liking or disliking may, without absurdity, 
 be applied to it. But when a man pretends to speak 
 philosophy, and, taking the action by itself, separated 
 from its antecedent and its consequent, calls it an object 
 of liking or dishking, he only shews himself ignorant of 
 what he is talking about. 
 
 Sir James says we not only love the act, but we desire 
 to perform it. What difference, I wonder, did Sir James 
 suppose there is between the desire to perform an act. 
 
•397 
 
 and the performing it ? I desire to move my arm. The 
 arm moves. The effect follows the cause. The desire of 
 the act, and the action, are antecedent and consequent, in 
 a constant sequence ; and the term "performing an action""* 
 implies both. 
 
 This may be said to be only a criticism on Sir James"*s 
 language. It is so ; but it is something more ; it shews 
 that Sir James could not speak like a man who knew any 
 thing about his subject ; and it shews instructively to the 
 learner in this science, what a writer comes to, who has 
 lost the faculty of annexing ideas to his words. 
 
 Thus much for Sir James"'s love of the dispositions 
 which lead to voluntary actions, and of the actions 
 which follow from those dispositions; and also for his 
 desire to cultivate the dispositions, and his desire to 
 perform ihe acts. He says we have that love, and 
 that desire ; that is, we are capable of being moved 
 to moral acts, and feel approbation of moral acts. But 
 where was the use of expressing a common sentiment in 
 most uncommon language, which obscures the matter of 
 fact, and does not even attempt any thing towards the 
 explanation of it ? Every man has in himself the experi- 
 ence of the moral sentiments. Sir James was not wanted 
 to tell us, either in plain or wonderful language, that we 
 have them. But there are two things which he should 
 have told us, and has not; what these sentiments are, 
 and from what they proceed. He somewhere tells us, 
 that they are a "secondary formation;" but what that 
 is, he has not attempted to shew. 
 
 We now come to some more of Sir James's language. 
 Where a man uses and presents to us words only, and 
 not ideas, it is useless to object to verbal criticism. There 
 is nothing else to be done. 
 
 " These objects, like all those of human appetite or 
 desire, are sought for their own sakes." 
 
 The objects here referred to are " the dispositions and 
 the actions, which we contemplate with satisfaction." Or, 
 
398 
 
 perhaps, they are the cultivation of the dispositions, and 
 the performing of the acts. He had said before, that 
 these are desired, here he says " sought,*" which is pro- 
 bably intended to mean the same thing. 
 
 The desire to cultivate the dispositions leading to 
 voluntary acts, and the desire to perform the actions, 
 regard these objects as ends. 
 
 These desires have no need of means for their gratifi- 
 cation. 
 
 To say that a desire has an object, unless by a figure 
 of speech, is nonsense. A desire, detached from a man 
 desiring, is nothing. A man desiring is said, for conve- 
 nience of speaking, to have a desire ; and to have a desire 
 to a particular object ; but this does not mean that there 
 is a something called a desire, and that the desire has an 
 object. There is nothing desiring, but a man ; the thing 
 desired is the object of the man. It may be called the 
 object of the desire ; but this is only a figurative expres- 
 sion, used because it marks distinctly the particular affec- 
 tion of the man which makes it his object, j 
 
 Now let us apply the direct and natural language to 
 the subjects of Sir James's figurative discoursing. Let 
 us say that a man desires to cultivate certain dispositions, 
 desires to perform certain acts ; and that these objects, 
 this cultivation, and this performance, are the man's ends. 
 
 A man''s end is to cultivate a disposition ; a man's end 
 is to perform an act. 
 
 This sounds oddly ; and would be rejected by every 
 body at first hearing, but that it is ambiguous — true in 
 one sense — untrue in another ; true in the sense in 
 which it is of no use to Sir James — untrue in the sense 
 in which Sir James endeavours to make use of it. 
 
 There are two sorts of ends, which should have been 
 distinguished in the mind of Sir James. These are 
 immediate ends, and the ultimate end. 
 
 The husbandman desires to plough a field. That is 
 the object. Sir James would say, of the desire ; and the 
 
S99 
 
 object of a desire, is its end ; it is sought for its own sake. 
 Of the husbandman, however, ploughing is not the ulti- 
 Inate end ; it is his immediate end ; but he desires it only 
 for another end, that he may sow seed in the field ; that 
 also he desires for another end; that he may obtain a 
 crop ; that for another end, that he may carry the crop 
 to market; that for another end, that he may obtain 
 money for it ; and the money itself, for the command of 
 all the good things which may be had for the money. 
 
 Now when Sir James says, that to cultivate a disposi- 
 tion is the end of the man who desires to cultivate it, the 
 question is, whether it is his immediate, or his ultimate 
 end. Sir James's mode of proving that it is his ultimate 
 end, by saying it is the end of the desire, is nothing. 
 The end of a desire, is that which a man desires ; but 
 that which he desires, he may desire, not as an end, but 
 as a means ; not as desirable for its own sake ; but 
 desirable solely for the sake of something else. 
 
 Now I affirm, as a proposition not doubtful, but cer- 
 tain ; and of which to be ignorant, is to be unacquainted 
 with even the elements of this kind of knowledge, that 
 when a man desires to cultivate a disposition, or to per- 
 form an act, he desires neither as his ultimate, but only 
 as his immediate end ; as a means to something else. 
 
 What is a disposition ? A readiness to obey a certain 
 class of motives. In other words, it is the means to a 
 farther end. 
 
 An act or action never is an end; it is always, and 
 necessarily, a means to something else. 
 
 Whatever, therefore. Sir James would build upon his 
 notion, that the objects of his two desires are ultimate 
 ends, falls to the ground. 
 
 Sir James's other position is, that these desires need no 
 means for their gratification. 
 
 That which gratifies a desire to cultivate a disposition 
 must necessarily be the attainment of the disposition. 
 But the whole process of cultivation is only a series of 
 
400 
 
 means to that end. So far the assertion of Sir James is 
 unfounded. 
 
 AVhen he asserts, that the desire to perform an act 
 needs no means to its gratification, the expression is 
 ambiguous. Suppose I desire to take down a book from 
 one of the top shelves in my library : must I not use 
 means? Must I not walk to the spot, and place the 
 steps, ascend the steps, take hold of the book, descend 
 the steps, and walk to my chair ? Talking in this way is 
 very insignificant. 
 
 If any one says, the desire meant by Sir James is not 
 the desire of the last act of a train, but the desire of an 
 immediate act ; as when I desire to move my arm, and 
 the movement immediately follows ; he is to be told, 
 that what Sir James calls here the desire of moving, is 
 generally called the will to move. The will and the 
 motion are cause and effect. But cause and effect is a 
 name for an antecedent and a consequent immediately 
 conjoined. This happens in the case of all acts, not 
 moral acts only. It therefore gives no help to the 
 explanation of moral phenomena. 
 
 So far Sir James has made no progress whatsoever. 
 He has either spoken what is clearly incorrect ; or he has 
 spoken what is nugatory, and not to his purpose. 
 
 In copying the sophistry of Butler, Sir James has 
 misapplied it, and converted it into an absurdity. 
 
 Butler says, our appetites have each its object, which 
 is its end. Thus our appetite of food has food for its 
 object, and so of the rest. This is true. But what does 
 it mean ? Simply this, that our appetite of food is our 
 appetite of food, our appetite of sex the appetite of sex, 
 and so on. He says that these appetites are not self- 
 love. And how does he prove it.'^ Very easily: by 
 changing the meaning of the term self-love. He says, 
 self-love is regard to our happiness as a whole. Other 
 people mean by it the pursuit of selfish gratifications. 
 The man who, to the greatest degree, spends his life in 
 
401 
 
 pursuing the gratifications of his appetites and desires, 
 is according to them the most selfish man. In the 
 language of Butler, he is not selfish at all. A man is 
 not selfish, though he regards nothing but his own grati- 
 fications; he is only selfish, when he acts from a regard 
 to his good upon the whole. 
 
 Butler knew the import of words better than Sir James. 
 Butler only says, that each appetite has its own object, 
 which it seeks as its end, and never goes beyond. He 
 never says a man has the object of an appetite for his 
 ultimate end. When the man desires food, his idea 
 goes beyond the food, to the pleasure which the food will 
 yield him. 
 
 But when a man desires a pleasure, he desires it for 
 himself; which is a case of self-love ; and it is only by 
 an abuse of words, that the name self-love can be denied 
 to it. 
 
 Sir James says, a man desires a disposition ; and 
 because Butler said, that a desire has its own object, 
 which is its end; so this desire has its own object, which is 
 its end : therefore the man desires the disposition for 
 its own sake. This is lame reasoning. Though an 
 appetite may be personified into a sort of a living crea- 
 ture, and said to have an object, which is its ultimate 
 end ; it will not do to substitute man for appetite, and 
 say that the same thing which had been called the end of 
 the appetite, is the end of the man. The word appetite 
 is a name given to the desire of a particular thing. The 
 name is limited to that. But when a man desires a par- 
 ticular thing, his thoughts are not so limited. His ideas 
 may, and do go beyond the particular thing. When he 
 desires food, the food is not his sole, and ultimate object. 
 He does not desire food solely for its own sake. He 
 desires it for its consequences. 
 
 When you say, therefore, that a man desires a disposi- 
 tion, it does not follow, that he desires it for its own sake ; 
 it may not be desired for its own sake at all, but solely 
 for the sake of its consequences. 2 n 
 
402 
 
 Besides this, what is meant by a man's desiring a 
 disposition ? A desire is the idea of a pleasure, to be 
 derived from something to be done, or to be had. What 
 is a disposition? Let us describe it; first, in general 
 language, next in particular. It is commonly called a 
 tendency to act, or to think, in a certain way. It is, in 
 short, a mental habit. But a mental habit has been 
 fully explained by philosophers, and there is no question 
 about the phenomenon. It is a train of ideas become 
 fixed by repetition ; a train of ideas which call up one 
 another in order, and with constancy. 
 
 To say that the habitual associations which are the 
 dispositions leading to moral acts, are desirable associa- 
 tions, is only to say that they are agreeable. We know 
 that. But why are they agreeable ? That is what we 
 want to know. Are the elements of the pleasure the 
 thoughts of other men's happiness or our own ? 
 
 We must now look at some more of Sir James's 
 phrases. Those objects, characterized by him as objects 
 of desire, "like all those of human appetite or desire, 
 are," &c. The most remarkable assertion involved in 
 these words, is — that every thing which is desired by 
 man, is desired for its own sake. The habit of going on 
 with words, totally disjoined from ideas, must have 
 been strong in this man to a degree of which the 
 instances must be rare. Good God ! almost all the 
 things desired by man are desired for the sake of some- 
 thing else. You desire a horse for the sake of riding, a 
 house for the sake of shelter, a fire for the sake of warmth, 
 victuals for the sake of eating, clothes for the sake of 
 wearing, a picture for the pleasure of seeing it, music 
 for the pleasure of hearing it, a game of skill for the 
 pleasure of playing, or the money which may be gained 
 by it, a star and garter for the sake of shewing them. 
 
 He says, the cultivation of the dispositions leading to 
 voluntary action, is desired for its own sake.. Why, this 
 is a case directly proving the absurdity of his proposition. 
 
40S 
 
 The cultivation of any thing is desirable tmly for the 
 sake of the thing cultivated. 
 
 But let him say, that he means the disposition. We 
 have seen, that in the case of a virtuous act this implies 
 two ideas ; the one called motive, the other intention. 
 The motive is neither virtuous nor vicious. The inten- 
 tion, in the case of acts affecting others, is the intention 
 of good to some one. The great question in moral 
 philosophy is, why is the intention of good to others 
 desirable ? I answer that question, says Sir James. 
 I affirm that it is desirable for its own sake. But philo- 
 sophy asks for reasons. Ipse diwit it regards as a sign 
 that reasons are not at hand. 
 
 An intention desirable for its own sake — what shadow 
 of a meaning can belong to this ? Why should one 
 intention be more desirable than another — the intention 
 of good to a man more than the intention of evil ? It is so, 
 Sir James might say ; such is the fact. True : the fact 
 is not disputed ; but the question still remains, how the 
 fact is to be accounted for. Sir James gives us an 
 affirmation for an exposition. He affirms that the prin- 
 ciple of virtue is, like an instinct, inherent in human 
 nature ; and incapable of farther analysis. This is easy 
 philosophizing. And not more easy than unsatisfactory. 
 It is the figment of a moral sense in disguise, which, like 
 the taste of sweet and bitter, not only gives us the per- 
 ception of good and evil, but gives us a relish for the 
 one, and a disrelish for the other. 
 
 We do not relish being put off with the assignment of 
 an occult cause. We ask why moral acts are esteemed ? 
 The answer here is, because we are so made as to esteem 
 them. Is this any thing more than a mere assertion of 
 the fact, that we do esteem them ? But the assertion of 
 a fact is not the explanation of it. And so fares it with 
 the moral sense. 
 
 Besides the desire of cultivating the dispositions which 
 please us, we desire to perform the actions which please 
 
 2d2 
 
404 
 
 us. This is useful information ; as if it were possible to 
 do otherwise. The very definition of a free agent is, that 
 he acts as he pleases. 
 
 A desire to perform an action is not separable from the 
 performance. There is no performance without desire of 
 performing. And there is no desire, without perform- 
 ance. To say, you desire to perform, and do not, is a 
 contradiction in terms. It is to say you desire to per- 
 form, but do not desire to perform. You cannot fail to 
 perform but by not desiring to perform ; if the act is 
 within your competence ; of which sort of acts exclusively 
 we are at present speaking. 
 
 This performing, then, which is in fact desiring to 
 perform (desiring to lift the arm is in truth the act, the 
 muscular contraction takes place we know not how), is 
 desirable for its own sake. A desire is desirable. This 
 is merely to say that a desire is a desire. A desire is 
 what.^ A pleasurable idea. A desire is desirable, is 
 simply this — a pleasurable idea is pleasurable. Profound 
 instruction. 
 
 Go back to the desire of the dispositions we like. A 
 desire is a pleasurable idea. The disposition we like is a 
 series of pleasurable ideas. A desire of a series of plea- 
 surable ideas, i. e. the pleasurable idea of a series of plea- 
 surable ideas — does this say any thing more than that a 
 pleasurable series is pleasurable ? But that is merely a 
 statement of the fact ; and a bad way of stating the fact 
 is not an explanation of it. 
 
 Once more, then. Sir James's telling us, that the dis- 
 positions we like, and the actions we like, are likeable, 
 for their own sakes, is telling us what he has given us no 
 reason for believing. 
 
 The next thing we are told by Sir James is, that " the 
 gratification of these desires,'" (i.e. the desires of culti- 
 vating the disposition, and performing the actions which 
 we like), "requires the use of no means." 
 
 Sir James is an obscure writer. It is not obvious what 
 
i05 
 
 he means by this assertion. To gratify the desire of 
 food, means must be used to get the food. To gratify 
 the desire of wealth, means must be used to get the 
 wealth. To gratify the desire of wisdom, means must 
 be used to acquire it. But to gratify the desire of cul- 
 tivating a disposition, no means are to be used. Is the 
 meaning this — that it is enough to desire the disposition, 
 and immediately the disposition is formed ? Is the 
 desire the immediate, and all-sufficient cause of the dis- 
 position ? If so, the moment a man desires to have a 
 good disposition, he has it. But this is not true. 
 The acquiring a good disposition is a slow process, 
 requiring great care and pains, that is, the use of many 
 means. 
 
 With regard to the desire of performing an action, if 
 it be the simple, elementary action, the voluntary move- 
 ment of some part of the body ; there are no means in 
 this case, since the desire is the immediate cause of the 
 movement. I desire to lift my arm. The arm rises : a 
 fixed and immediate sequence. But what information 
 is there in this ? It is the process known to all men, 
 under the name of volition. Volition needs no means. 
 Why.^ Because it is itself the means; the sole, and 
 all sufficient means. 
 
 Let us see what follows. " Nothing (unless it be a 
 volition) is interposed between the desire and the volun- 
 tary act.'"* What does Sir James suppose a volition to 
 be ? If it can be interposed between the desire and the 
 act; Sir James contradicts his own doctrine, that the 
 desire requires no means. The volition is a necessary 
 medium or means. 
 
 " Between the desire and the voluntary act." Is 
 the desire of the cultivation of the disposition, the desire 
 of the disposition ? or is it something else ? The culti- 
 vation of the disposition is in reality the means for 
 acquiring the disposition. The matter of fact then is, 
 
406 
 
 that the disposition alone is the object of desire, not the 
 cultivation, which would not be performed, but from the 
 desire of the disposition. 
 
 Sir James''s denial of the need of means for the 
 gratification of his two desires, is, therefore, with respect 
 to one of them, false, the other, insignificant. 
 
APPENDIX B.— (See p. 243.) 
 
 1. Having thus again premised an already often repeated 
 warning, it remains that we should offer a few observa- 
 tions on the questions so understood, which naturally 
 occur on the consideration of Dr. Brown's argument in 
 support of the proposition, that moral approbation is not 
 only in its mature state independent of and superior to 
 any other principle of human nature, regarding which 
 there is no dispute, but that its origin is altogether inex- 
 plicable, and that its existence is an ultimate fact in 
 mental science. Though these observations are imme- 
 diately occasioned by the perusal of Brown, they are yet, 
 in the main, of a general nature, and might have been 
 made without reference to any particular writer. 
 
 2. The term Suggestion, which might be inoffensive in 
 describing merely intellectual associations, becomes pecu- 
 liarly unsuitable when it is applied to those combinations 
 of thought with emotion, and to those unions of feeling, 
 which compose the emotive nature of man. Its common 
 sense of a sign recalling the thing signified, always em- 
 broils the new sense vainly forced upon it. No one can 
 help owning, that if it were consistently pursued, so as 
 that we were to speak of suggesting a feeling or passion, 
 the language would be universally thought absurd. To 
 suggest love or hatred is a mode of expression so mani- 
 festly incongruous, that most readers would choose to 
 understand it as suggesting reflections on the subject of 
 these passages. Suggest would not be understood by 
 
408 
 
 any common reason as synonymous with revive or re- 
 kindle. Defects of the same sort may indeed be found 
 in the parallel phrases of most if not all philosophers, and 
 all of them proceed from the same source, — namely, the 
 erroneous but prevalent notion, that the law of association 
 produces only such a close union of a thought and a 
 feeling, as gives one the power of reviving the other; 
 instead of the truth, that it forms them into a new com- 
 pound, in which the properties of the component parts 
 are no longer discoverable, and which may itself become 
 a substantive principle of human nature. They sup- 
 posed the condition, produced by its power, to resemble 
 that of material substances in a state of mechanical dif- 
 fusion ; whereas in reality it may be better likened to a 
 chemical combination of the same substances, from which 
 a totally new product arises. The language involves a 
 confusion of the question which relates to the origin of 
 the principles of human activity, with the other and far 
 more important question which relates to their nature ; 
 and as soon as this distinction is hidden, the theorist is 
 either betrayed into the selfish system by a desir^ of 
 clearness and simplicity, or tempted to the needless mul- 
 tiplication of ultimate facts by mistaken anxiety for what 
 he supposes to be the guards of our social and moral 
 nature. The defect is common to Brown with his pre- 
 decessors, but in him less excusable ; for he saw the 
 truth and recoiled from it. 
 
 3. It is the main defect of the term association itself, 
 that it does not, without long habit, convey the notion of 
 a perfect union, but rather leads to that of a combination 
 which may be dissolved, if not at pleasure, at least with 
 the help of care and exertion ; which is utterly and dan- 
 gerously false in the important cases where such unions 
 are considered as constituting the most essential prin- 
 ciples of human nature. Men can no more dissolve these 
 unions than they can disuse their habit of judging of 
 distance by the eye, and often by the ear. But sugges- 
 
409 
 
 tion implies, that what suggests is separate from what is 
 suggested, and consequently negatives that unity in an 
 active principle which the whole analogy of nature, as 
 well as our own direct consciousness, shews to be per- 
 fectly compatible with its origin in composition. 
 
 4. Large concessions are, in the first place, to be 
 remarked, which must be stated, because they very much 
 narrow the matter in dispute. Those who, before Brown, 
 contended against beneficial tendency as the standard of 
 morality, have either shut their eyes on the connection of 
 virtue with general utility ; or carelessly and obscurely 
 allowed, without further remark, a connection which is at 
 least one of the most remarkable and important of ethical 
 facts. He acts more boldly, and avowedly discusses 
 " the relation of virtue to utility.'" He was compelled 
 by that discussion to make those concessions which so 
 much abridge this controversy. " Utility and virtue are 
 so related, that there is perhaps no action generally felt 
 to be virtuous, which it would not be beneficial that all 
 men in similar circumstances should imitate.*" * " In 
 every case of benefit or injury willingly done, there arise 
 certain emotions of moral approbation or disapproba- 
 tion."" -f- " The intentional produce of evil, as pure evil, 
 is always hated ; and that of good, as pure good, always 
 loved."" J All virtuous acts are thus admitted to be 
 universally beneficial ; morality and the general benefit 
 are acknowledged always to coincide. It is hard to say, 
 then, why they should not be reciprocally tests of each 
 other, though in a very different way; — the virtuous 
 
 • Lectures, vol. iv. p. 45. The unphilosophical word " perhaps " must 
 be struck out of the proposition, unless the whole be considered as a mere 
 conjecture. It limits no affirmation, but destroys it, by converting it into a 
 guess. See the like concession, vol. iv. p. 33. with some words interlarded, 
 which betray a sort of reluctance and fluctuation, indicative of the difficulty 
 with which Brown struggled to withhold his assent from truths which he 
 unreasonably dreaded. 
 
 f Ibid. vol. iii. p. 567. Il: Ibid. vol. iii. p. 623. 
 
410 
 
 feelings, fitted as they are by immediate appearance, by 
 quick and powerful action, being sufficient tests of 
 morality in the moment of action, and for all practical 
 purposes ; while the consideration of tendency to general 
 happiness, a more obscure and slowly discoverable 
 quality, should be applied in general reasoning, as a test 
 of the sentiments and dispositions themselves. It has 
 been thus employed, and no proof has been attempted, 
 that it has ever deceived those who used it in the proper 
 place. It has uniformly served to justify our moral con- 
 stitution, and to show how reasonable it is for us to be 
 guided in action by our higher feelings. At all events, it 
 should be, but has not been considered, that from these 
 concessions alone it follows, that beneficial tendency is at 
 least one constant property of virtue. Is not this, in 
 effect, an admission that beneficial tendency does dis- 
 tinguish virtuous acts^and dispositions from those which 
 we call vicious ? If the criterion be incomplete or de- 
 lusive, let its faults be specified, and let some other 
 quality be pointed out, which, either singly or in combi- 
 nation with beneficial tendency, may more perfectly indi- 
 cate the distinction. 
 
 5. But let us not be assailed by arguments which 
 leave untouched its value as a test, and are in truth 
 directed only against its fitness as an immediate incentive 
 and guide to right action. To those who contend for its 
 use in the latter character, it must be left to defend, if 
 they can, so untenable a position. But all others must 
 regard as pure sophistry the use of arguments against it 
 as a test, which really shew nothing more than its acknow- 
 ledged unfitness to be a motive. 
 
 6. When voluntary benefit and voluntary injury are 
 pointed out as the main, if not the sole objects of moral 
 approbation and disapprobation, — when we are told truly, 
 that the production of good, as good, is always loved, 
 and that of evil, as such, always hated, — can we require 
 a more clear, short, and unanswerable proof, that bene- 
 
m 
 
 ficial tendency is an essential quality of virtue ? It is 
 indeed an evidently necessary consequence of this state- 
 ment, that if benevolence be amiable in itself, our affec- 
 tion for it must increase with its extent ; and that no man 
 can be in a perfectly right state of mind, who, if he con- 
 sider general happiness at all, is not ready to acknow- 
 ledge that a good man must regard it as being in its own 
 nature the most desirable of all objects, however the con- 
 stitution and circumstances of human nature may render 
 it Unfit or impossible to pursue it directly as the object of 
 life. It is at the same time apparent that no such man 
 can consider any habitual disposition, clearly discerned 
 to be in its whole result at variance with general happi- 
 ness, as not unworthy of being cultivated, or as not fit to 
 be rooted out. It is manifest that, if it were otherwise, 
 he would cease to be benevolent. As soon as we conceive 
 the sublime idea of a Being who not only foresees, but 
 commands, all the consequences of the actions of all 
 voluntary agents, this scheme of reasoning appears far 
 more clear. In such a case if our moral sentiments re- 
 main the same, they compel us to attribute his whole 
 government of the world to benevolence. The conse- 
 quence is as necessary as in any process of reason ; for 
 if our moral nature be supposed, it will appear self- 
 evident, that it is as much impossible for us to love and 
 revere such a Being, if we ascribe to him a mixed or 
 imperfect benevolence, as to believe the most positive 
 contradiction in terms. Now, as religion consists in that 
 love and reverence, it is evident that it cannot subsist 
 without a belief in benevolence as the sole principle of 
 divine government. It is nothing to tell us that this is 
 not a process of reasoning, or, to speak more exactly, 
 that the first propositions are assumed. The first proposi- 
 tions in every discussion relating to intellectual operations 
 must likewise be assumed. Conscience is not reason, but 
 it is not less an essential part of human nature than 
 reason. Principles which are essential to all its opera- 
 
4121 
 
 tions are as much entitled to immediate and implicit 
 assent, as those principles which stand in the same rela- 
 tion to the reasoning faculties. The laws prescribed by 
 a benevolent Being to his creatures must necessarily be 
 founded on the principle of promoting their happiness. 
 It would be singular indeed, if the proofs of the goodness 
 of God, legible in every part of nature, should not, 
 above all others, be most discoverable and conspicuous 
 in the beneficial tendency of his moral laws. 
 
 7. But we are asked, if tendency to general welfare be 
 the standard of virtue, why is it not always present to 
 the contemplation of every man who does or prefers a 
 virtuous action ? Must not utility be in that case '' the 
 felt essence of virtue?''* Why are other ends, besides 
 general happiness, fit to be morally pursued ? 
 
 8. These questions, which are all founded on that con- 
 fusion of the theory of actions with the theory of senti- 
 ments, against which the reader was so early warned, -f- 
 might be dismissed with no more than a reference to that 
 distinction from the forgetfulness of which they have 
 arisen. By those advocates of utility, indeed, who hold 
 it to be a necessary part of their system, that some 
 glimpse at least of tendency to personal or general well- 
 being is an essential part of the motives which render an 
 action virtuous, these questions cannot be satisfactorily 
 answered. Against such they are arguments of irresistible 
 force ; but against the doctrine itself, rightly understood 
 and justly bounded, they are altogether powerless. The 
 reason why there may, and must be, many ends morally 
 more fit to be pursued in practice than general happiness, 
 is plainly to be found in the limited capacity of man. 
 A perfectly good Being, who foresees and commands all 
 the consequences of action, cannot indeed be conceived 
 by us to have any other end in view than general well- 
 being. Why evil exists under that perfect government, 
 
 ♦ Lectures, vol. iv. p 38. f Sec supra, p. 8—10. 
 
413 
 
 is a question towards the solution of which the human 
 understanding can scarcely advance a single step. But 
 all who hold the evil to exist only for good, and own 
 their inability to explain why or how, are perfectly 
 exempt from any charge of inconsistency in their obedi- 
 ence to the dictates of their moral nature. The measure 
 of the faculties of man renders it absolutely necessary 
 for him to have many other practical ends ; the pursuit 
 of all of which is moral, when it actually tends to general 
 happiness, though that last end never entered into the 
 contemplation of the agent. It is impossible for us to 
 calculate the effects of a single action, any more than 
 the chances of a single life. But let it not be hastily 
 concluded, that the calculation of consequences is im- 
 possible in moral subjects. To calculate the general 
 tendency of every sort of human action, is a possible, 
 easy, and common operation. The general good effects 
 of temperance, prudence, fortitude, justice, benevolence, 
 gratitude, veracity, fideUty, — of the affections of kindred, 
 and of love for our country, — are the subjects of calcula- 
 tions which, taken as generalities, are absolutely un- 
 erring. They are founded on a larger and firmer basis 
 of more uniform experience, than any of those ordinary 
 calculations which govern prudent men in the whole 
 business of life. An appeal to these daily and familiar 
 transactions furnishes at once a decisive answer, both to 
 those advocates of utility who represent the consideration 
 of it as a necessary ingredient in virtuous motives, as 
 well as moral approbation, and to those opponents who 
 turn the unwarrantable inferences of unskilful advocates 
 into proofs of the absurdity into which the doctrine leads. 
 9. The cultivation of all the habitual sentiments from 
 which the various classes of virtuous actions flow — the 
 constant practice of such actions — the strict observance 
 of rules in all that province of Ethics which can be sub- 
 jected to rules — the watchful care of all the outworks of 
 every part of duty, of that descending series of useful 
 
414 
 
 habits which, being securities to virtue, become them- 
 selves virtues, — are so many ends which it is absolutely 
 necessary for man to pursue and to seek for their own 
 sake. 
 
 10. "I saw D'Alembert," says a very late writer, 
 *' congratulate a young man very coldly, who brought 
 him a solution of a problem. The young man said, ' I 
 have done this in order to have a seat in the Academy.' 
 ' Sir,** answered D'Alembert, ' with such dispositions you 
 never will earn one. Science must be loved for its own 
 sake, and not for the advantage to be derived. No other 
 principle will enable a man to make progress in the 
 sciences.' " * It is singular that D'Alembert should not 
 perceive the extensive application of this truth to the 
 whole nature of man. No man can make progress in a 
 virtue who does not seek it for its own sake. No man is 
 a friend, a lover of his country, a kind father, a dutiful 
 son, who does not consider the cultivation of affection 
 and the performance of duty in all these cases re- 
 spectively as incumbent on him for their own sake, and 
 not for the advantage to be derived from them. Who- 
 ever serves another with a view of advantage to himself 
 is universally acknowledged not to act from affection. 
 But the more immediate application of this truth to our 
 purpose is, that in the case of those virtues which are the 
 means of cultivating and preserving other virtues, it is 
 necessary to acquire love and reverence for the secondary 
 virtues for their own sake, without which they never will 
 be effectual means of sheltering and strengthening those 
 intrinsically higher qualities to which they are appointed 
 to minister. Every moral act must be considered as an 
 end, and men must banish from their practice the regard 
 to the most naturally subordinate duty as a means. 
 Those who are perplexed by the supposition that se- 
 condary virtues, making up by the eoctent of their bene-* 
 
 * Memoires de Montlosier, vol. i. p. 60. 
 
415 
 
 ficial tendency for what in each particular instance they 
 may want in magnitude, may become of as great im- 
 portance as the primary virtues themselves, would do 
 well to consider a parallel though very homely case. A 
 house is useful for many purposes : many of these pur- 
 poses are in themselves, for the time, more important 
 than shelter. The destruction of the house may, never- 
 theless become a greater evil than the defeat of several 
 of these purposes, because it is permanently convenient, 
 and indeed necessary to the execution of most of them. 
 A floor is made for warmth, for dryness — to support 
 tables, chairs, beds, and all the household implements 
 which contribute to accommodation and to pleasure. 
 The floor is valuable only as a means ; but, as the only 
 means by which many ends are attained, it may be much 
 more valuable than some of them. The table might be^ 
 and generally is, of more valuable timber than the floor ; 
 but the workmen who should for that reason take more 
 pains in making the table strong than the floor secure, 
 would not long be employed by customers of common 
 sense. The connection of that part of morality which 
 regulates the intercourse of the sexes with benevolence, 
 affords the most striking instance of the very great im- 
 portance which may belong to a virtue, in itself 
 secondary, but on which the general cultivation of the 
 highest virtues permanently depends. Delicacy and 
 modesty may be thought chiefly worthy of cultivation, 
 because they guard purity; but they must be loved for 
 their own sake, without which they cannot flourish. 
 Purity is the sole school of domestic fidelity, and domestic 
 fidelity is the only nursery of the affections between 
 parents and children, from children towards each other, 
 and, through these affections, of all the kindness which 
 renders the world habitable. At each step in the pro- 
 gress, the appropriate end must be loved for its own 
 sake ; and it is easy to see how the only means of sowing 
 the seeds of benevolence, in all its forms, may become of 
 
416 
 
 far greater importance than many of the modifications 
 and exertions even of benevolence itself. To those who 
 will consider this subject, it will not long seem strange 
 that the sweetest and most gentle affections grow up only 
 under the apparently cold and dark shadow of stern 
 duty. The obligation is strengthened, not weakened, 
 by the consideration that it arises from human imperfec- 
 tion ; which only proves it to be founded on the nature 
 of man. It is enough that the pursuit of all these 
 separate ends leads to general well-being, the promotion 
 of which is the final purpose of the creation. 
 
 11. The last and most specious argument against 
 beneficial tendency, even as a test, is conveyed in the 
 question, why moral approbation is not bestowed on every 
 thing beneficial, instead of being confined, as it con- 
 fessedly is, to voluntary acts. It may plausibly be said, 
 that the establishment of the beneficial tendency of all 
 those voluntary acts which are the objects of moral appro- 
 bation is not sufficient, since, if such tendency be the 
 standard, it ought to follow, that whatever is useful 
 should also be morally approved. To answer, as has 
 before been done,* that experience gradually limits 
 moral approbation and disapprobation to voluntary acts, 
 by teaching us that they influence the will, but are wholly 
 wasted if they be applied to any other object, — though 
 the fact be true, and contributes somewhat to the result, 
 is certainly not enough. It is at best a partial solution. 
 Perhaps, on reconsideration, it is entitled only to a 
 secondary place. To seek a foundation for universal, 
 ardent, early, and immediate feelings, in processes of an 
 intellectual nature, has, since the origin of philosophy, 
 been the grand error of ethical inquirers into human 
 nature. To seek for such a foundation in association, an 
 early and insensible process, which confessedly mingles 
 itself with the composition of our first and simplest 
 
 • See *«pra, p. 99, 100. 
 
417 
 
 feelings, and which is common to both parts of our nature, 
 is not liable to the same animadversion. If conscience be 
 uniformly produced by the regular and harmonious co- 
 operation of many processes of association, the objection 
 is in reality a challenge to produce a complete theory of 
 it, founded on that principle, by exhibiting such a full 
 account of all these processes as may satisfactorily explain 
 why it proceeds thus far and no farther. This would be 
 a very arduous attempt, and perhaps it may be premature. 
 But something may be more modestly tried towards an 
 outline, which, though it might leave many particulars 
 unexplained, may justify a reasonable expectation that 
 they are not incapable of explanation ; and may even 
 now assign such reasons for the limitation of approbation 
 to voluntary acts, as may convert the objection derived 
 from that fact into a corroboration of the doctrines to 
 which it has been opposed as an insurmountable diffi- 
 culty. Such an attempt will naturally lead to the close 
 of the present Dissertation. The attempt has indeed 
 been already made,* but not without great apprehensions 
 on the part of the author that he has not been clear 
 enough, especially in those parts which appeared to him- 
 self to owe most to his own reflection. He will now 
 endeavour, at the expense of some repetition, to be more 
 satisfactory. 
 
 12. There must be primary pleasures, pains, and even 
 appetites, which arise from no prior state of mind, and 
 which, if explained at all, can be derived only from bodily 
 organization; for if there were not, there could be no 
 secondary desires. What the number of the underived 
 principles may be, is a question to which the answers of 
 philosophers have been extremely various, and of which 
 the consideration is not necessary to our present purpose. 
 The rules of philosophizing, however, require that causes 
 should not be multiplied without necessity. Of two 
 
 • See siipra^ p. 82-84, 113-118. 
 
 2e 
 
418 
 
 explanations, therefore, which give an. equally satisfactory 
 account of appearances, that theory is manifestly to be 
 preferred which supposes the smaller number of ultimate 
 and inexplicable principles. This maxim, it is true, is 
 subject to three indispensable conditions. 1. That the 
 principles employed in the explanation should be known 
 really to exist : in which consists the main distinction 
 between hypothesis and theory. Gravity is a principle 
 universally known to exist ; ether and a nervous fluid are 
 mere suppositions. 2. That these principles should be 
 known to produce effects like those which are ascribed to 
 them in the theory. This is a further distinction between 
 hypothesis and theory ; for there are an infinite number 
 of degrees of likeness^ from the faint resemblances which 
 have led some to fancy that the functions of the nerves 
 depend on electricity, to the remarkable coincidences 
 between the appearances of projectiles on earth, and the 
 movements of the heavenly bodies, which constitutes the 
 Newtonian system ; a theory now perfect, though exclu- 
 sively founded on analogy, and in which one of the classes 
 of phenomena brought together by it is not the subject 
 of direct experience. 3. That it should correspond, if 
 not with all the facts to be explained, at least with so 
 great a majority of them as to render it highly probable 
 that means will in time be found of reconciling it to all. 
 It is only on this ground that the Newtonian system 
 justly claimed the title of a legitimate theory during that 
 long period when it was unable to explain many celestial 
 appearances, before the labours of a century, and the 
 genius of Laplace, at length completed the theory, by 
 adapting it to all the phenomena. A theory may be just 
 before it is complete. 
 
 13. In the application of these canons to the theory 
 which derives most of the principles of human action 
 from the transfer of a small number of pleasures, perhaps 
 organic, by the law of association to a vast variety of new 
 objects, it cannot be denied, 1st. That it satisfies the 
 
419 
 
 first of the above conditions, inasmuch as association is 
 really one of the laws of human nature ; 2dly. That it 
 also satisfies the second, for association certainly produces 
 effects like those which are referred to it by this theory, 
 otherwise there would be no secondary desires, no acquired 
 relishes and dislikes; — ^facts universally acknowledged, 
 which are and can be explained only by the principle 
 called by Hobbes mental discourse ; — by Locke, Hume, 
 Hartley, Condillac, and the majority of speculators, as 
 well as in common speech, association; — by Tucker, 
 translation ; — and by Brown, suggestion. The facts 
 generally referred to the principle resemble those which 
 are claimed for it by the theory in this important par- 
 ticular, that in both cases equally, pleasure becomes 
 attached to perfectly new things, so that the derivative 
 desires become perfectly independent on the primary. The 
 great dissimilarity of these two classes of passions has been 
 supposed to consist in this, that the former always regards 
 the interests of the individual, while the latter regards the 
 welfare of others. The philosophical world has been 
 almost entirely divided into two sects ; the partisans of 
 selfishness, comprising mostly all the predecessors of 
 Butler, and the greater part of his successors ; and the 
 advocates of benevolence, who have generally contended 
 that the reality of disinterestedness depends on its being 
 a primary principle. Enough has been said by Butler 
 against the more fatal heresy of selfishness. Something 
 has already been said against the error of the advocates 
 of disinterestedness, in the progress of this attempt to 
 develope ethical truths historically, in the order in which 
 inquiry and controversy brought them out with increasing 
 brightness. The analogy of the material world is indeed 
 faint, and often delusive ; yet we dare not utterly reject 
 that on which the whole technical language of mental 
 and moral science is necessarily grounded. The whole 
 creation teems with instances where the most powerful 
 agents and the most lasting bodies are the acknowledged 
 
 2e2 
 
420 
 
 results of the composition, sometimes of a few, often of 
 many elements. These compounds often in their turn 
 become the elements of other substances ; and it is with 
 them that we are conversant chiefly in the pursuits of 
 knowledge, solely in the concerns of life. No man ever 
 fancied, that because they were compounds, they were 
 therefore less real. It is impossible to confound them 
 with any of the separate elements which contribute 
 towards their formation. But a much more close resem- 
 blance presents itself. Every secondary desire, or 
 acquired relish, involves in it a transfer of pleasure to 
 something which was before indifferent or disagreeable. 
 Is the new pleasure the less real for being acquired ? Is 
 it not often preferred to the original enjoyment .^ Are 
 not many of these secondary pleasures indestructible .^^ 
 Do not many of them survive primary appetites ? Lastly, 
 the important principle of regard to our ov/n general 
 welfare, which disposes us to prefer it to immediate plea- 
 sure, unfortunately called self-love (as if, in any intelli- 
 gible sense of the term love^ it were possible for a man to 
 love himself), is perfectly intelligible if its origin be 
 ascribed to association, but utterly incomprehensible if it 
 be considered as prior to the appetites and desires, which 
 alone furnish it with materials. As happiness consists of 
 satisfactions, self-love presupposes appetites and desires 
 which are to be satisfied. If the order of time were 
 important, the affections are formed at an earlier period 
 than many self-regarding passions, and they always pre- 
 cede the formation of self-love. 
 
 14. Many of the later advocates of the disinterested 
 system, though recoiling from an apparent approach to 
 the selfishness into which the purest of their antagonists 
 had occasionally fallen, were gradually obliged to make 
 concessions to the derivative system, though clogged with 
 the contradictory assertion, that it was only a refinement 
 of selfishness : and we have seen that Brown, the last and 
 not the least in genius of them, has nearly abandoned the 
 
421 
 
 greater, though not indeed the most important part of the 
 territory in dispute, and scarcely contends for any unde- 
 rived principle but the moral faculty. 
 
 15. In this state of opinion among the very small 
 number in Great Britain who still preserve some remains 
 of a taste for such speculations, it is needless here to trace 
 the application of the law of association to the formation 
 of the secondary desires, whether private or social. For 
 our present purposes, the explanation of their origin may 
 be assumed to be satisfactory. In what follows, it must, 
 however, be steadily borne in mind, that this concession 
 involves an admission that the pleasure derived from low 
 objects may be transferred to the most pure ; that from a 
 part of a self- regarding appetite such a pleasure may 
 become a portion of a perfectly disinterested desire ; and 
 that the disinterested nature and absolute independence 
 of the latter are not in the slightest degree impaired by 
 the consideration, that it is formed by one of those grand 
 mental processes to which the formation of the other 
 habitual states of the human mind have been, with great 
 probability, ascribed. 
 
 16. — 1. When the social affections are thus formed, they 
 are naturally followed in every instance by the will to do 
 whatever can promote their object. 2. Compassion 
 excites a voluntary determination to do whatever relieves 
 the person pitied. 3. The like process must occur in 
 every case of gratitude, generosity, and affection. 4. No- 
 thing so uniformly follows the kind disposition as the act 
 of will, because it is the only means by which the bene- 
 volent desire can be gratified. 5. The result of what 
 Brown justly calls " a finer analysis/' shews a mental 
 contiguity of the affection to the volition to be much 
 closer than appears on a coarser examination of this part 
 of our nature. 6. No wonder, then, that the strongest 
 association, the most active power of reciprocal suggestion, 
 should subsist between them. 7- ^s all the affections 
 are delightful, so the volitions, voluntary acts which are 
 
422 
 
 the only means of their gratification, become agreeable 
 objects of contemplation of the mind. 8. The habitual 
 disposition to perform them is felt in ourselves, and 
 observed in others, with satisfaction. 9. As these feel- 
 ings become more lively, the absence of them may be 
 viewed in ourselves with a pain, in others with an aliena- 
 tion capable of indefinite increase. 10. They become 
 entirely independent sentiments ; still, however, receiving 
 constant supplies of nourishment from their parent 
 affections, which, in well-balanced minds, reciprocally 
 strengthen each other ; unlike the unkind passions, which 
 are constantly engaged in the most angry conflicts of 
 civil war. 11. In this state we desire to experience these 
 henejicent volitions^ to cultivate a disposition towards 
 them, and to do every correspondent voluntary act. 
 
 12. They are for their own sake the objects of desire. 
 
 13. They thus constitute a large portion of those emo- 
 tions, desires, and affections, which regard certain dis- 
 positions of the mind and determinations of the will as 
 their sole and ultimate end. 14. These are what are 
 called the moral sense, the moral sentiments, or best, 
 though most simply, by the ancient name of Conscience ; 
 which has the merit, in our language, of being applied to 
 no other purpose, which peculiarly marks the strong 
 working of these feelings on conduct, and which, from its 
 solemn and sacred character, is well adapted to denote 
 the venerable authority of the highest principle of human 
 nature. 
 
 17- Nor is this all. It has already been seen that not 
 only sympathy with the sufferer, but indignation against 
 the wrong-doer, contributes a large and important share 
 towards the moral feelings. We are angry at those who 
 disappoint our wish for the happiness of others. We 
 make the resentment of the innocent person wronged our 
 own. Our moderate anger approves all well-proportioned 
 punishment of the wrong-doer. We hence approve those 
 dispositions and actions of voluntary agents which pro- 
 
423 
 
 "mote such suitable punishment, and disapprove those 
 which hinder its infliction or destroy its effect; at the 
 head of which may be placed that excess of punishment 
 beyond the average feelings of good men which turns the 
 indignation of the calm by-stander against the culprit 
 into pity. In this state, when anger is duly moderated, — 
 when it is proportioned to the wrong, — when it is detached 
 from personal considerations, — when dispositions and 
 actions are its ultimate objects, — it becomes a sense of 
 justice, and is so purified as to be fitted to be a new ele- 
 ment of conscience. There is no part of morality which 
 is so directly aided by a conviction of the necessity of 
 its observance to the general interest, as justice. The 
 connection between them is discoverable by the most 
 common understanding. All public deliberations profess 
 the public welfare to be their object ; all laws propose it 
 as their end. This calm principle of pubhc utility serves 
 to mediate between the sometimes repugnant feelings 
 which arise in the punishment of criminals, by repressing 
 undue pity on one hand, and reducing resentment to its 
 proper level on the other. Hence the unspeakable im- 
 portance of criminal laws as a part of the moral education 
 of mankind. Whenever they carefully conform to the 
 moral sentiments of the age and country, — when they 
 are withheld from approaching the limits within which 
 the disapprobation of good men would confine punish- 
 ment, they contribute in the highest degree to increase 
 the ignominy of crimes, to make men recoil from the 
 first suggestions of criminality, and to nourish and mature 
 the sense of justice, which lends new vigour to the con- 
 science with which it has been united. 
 
 18. Other contributary streams present themselves. 
 Qualities which are necessary to virtue, but may be sub- 
 servient to vice, may, independently of that excellence or 
 of that defect, be in themselves admirable. Courage, 
 energy, decision, are of this nature. In their wild state 
 they are often savage and destructive. When they are 
 
424 
 
 tamed by the society of the affections, and trained up in 
 obedience to the moral faculty, they become virtues of 
 the highest order, and, by their name of magnanimity^ 
 proclaim the general sense of mankind that they are the 
 characteristic qualities of a great soul. They retain 
 whatever was admirable in their unreclaimed state, toge- 
 ther with all that they borrow from their new associate 
 and their high ruler. Their nature, it must be owned, 
 is prone to evil; but this propensity does not hinder 
 them from being rendered capable of being ministers of 
 good, in a state where the gentler virtues require to be 
 vigorously guarded against the attacks of daring de- 
 pravity. It is thus that the strength of the well- 
 educated elephant is sometimes employed in vanquishing 
 the fierceness of the tiger, and sometimes used as a means 
 of defence against the shock of his brethren of the same 
 species. The delightful contemplation, however, of these 
 qualities, when purely applied, becomes one of the senti- 
 ments of which the dispositions and actions of voluntary 
 agents are the direct and final object. By this resem- 
 blance they are associated with the other moral principles, 
 and with them contribute to form Conscience, which, as 
 the master faculty of the soul, levies such large contri- 
 butions on every province of human nature. 
 
 19. It is important, in this point of view, to consider 
 also the moral approbation which is undoubtedly bestowed 
 on those dispositions and actions of voluntary agents 
 which terminate in their own satisfaction, security, and 
 well-being. They have been called duties to ourselves, 
 as absurdly as a regard to our own greatest happiness is 
 called self-love. But it cannot be reasonably doubted, 
 that intemperance, improvidence, timidity, even when 
 considered only in relation to the individual, are not only 
 regretted as imprudent, but blamed as morally wrong. 
 It was excellently observed by Aristotle, that a man is 
 not commended as temperate^ so long as it costs him 
 efforts of self-denial to persevere in the practice of tem- 
 
425 
 
 perance, but only when he prefers that virtue for its 
 own sake. He is not meek, nor brave, as long as the 
 most vigorous self-command is necessary to bridle his 
 anger or his fear. On the same principle, he may be 
 judicious or prudent; but he is not benevolent if he 
 confers benefits with a view to his own greatest happiness. 
 In like manner, it is ascertained by experience, that all 
 the masters of science and of art — that all those who have 
 successfully pursued truth and knowledge — ^love them 
 for their own sake, without regard to the generally ima- 
 ginary dower of interest, or even to the dazzling crown 
 which fame may place on their heads.* But it may still 
 be reasonably asked, why these useful qualities are 
 morally improved, and how they become capable of being 
 combined with those public and disinterested sentiments 
 which principally constitute conscience ? The answer is, 
 because they are entirely conversant with volitions and 
 voluntary actions, and in that respect resemble the other 
 constituents of conscience, with which they are thereby 
 fitted to mingle and coalesce. Like those other prin- 
 ciples, they may be detached from what is personal and 
 outward, and fixed on the dispositions and actions, which 
 are the only means of promoting their ends. The sequence 
 of these principles and acts of will becomes so frequent, 
 that the association between both may be as firm as in 
 the former cases. All those sentiments of which the 
 final object is a state of the will, become thus intimately 
 
 ♦ See the Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties^ a discourse forming 
 the first part of the third volume of the Library of Entertaining Know- 
 ledge, London, 1829. The author of this Essay, for it can be no other 
 than Mr. Brougham, will by others be placed at the head of those who, 
 in the midst of arduous employments, and surrounded by all the allurements 
 of society, yet find leisure for exerting the unwearied vigour of their minds 
 in every mode of rendering permanent service to the human species ; more 
 especially in spreading a love of knowledge, and diffusing useful truth 
 among all classes of men. These voluntary occupations deserve our atten- 
 tion still less as examples of prodigious power than as proofs of an intimate 
 conviction, which binds them by unity of purpose with his public duties, that 
 (to use the almost dying words of an excellent person) " man can neither 
 be happy without virtue, nor actively virtuous without liberty, nor securely 
 free without rational knowledge." (Close of Sir W. Jones's last Dis- 
 course to the Asiatic Society of Calcutta.) 
 
426 
 
 and inseparably blended; and of that perfect state of 
 solution (if such words may be allowed) the result is 
 Conscience — the judge and arbiter of human conduct ; 
 which, though it does not supersede ordinary motives 
 of virtuous feelings and habits, which are the ordinary 
 motives of good actions, yet exercises a lawful authority 
 even over them, and ought to blend with them. What- 
 soever actions and dispositions are approved by conscience 
 acquire the name of virtues or duties : they are pro- 
 nounced to deserve commendation; and we are justly 
 considered as under a moral obligation to practise the 
 actions and cultivate the dispositions. 
 
 20. The coalition of the private and public feelings is 
 very remarkable in two points of view, from which it 
 seems hitherto to have been scarcely observed. Firsts 
 It illustrates very forcibly all that has been here offered 
 to prove, that the peculiar character of the moral sen- 
 timents consists in their exclusive reference to states of 
 will, and that every feeling which has that quality, when 
 it is purified from all admixture with different objects, 
 becomes capable of being absorbed into Conscience, and 
 of being assimilated to it, so as to become a part of it. 
 For no feelings can be more unlike each other in their 
 object than the private and the social ; and yet, as both 
 employ voluntary actions as their sole immediate means, 
 both may be transferred by association to states of the 
 will, in which case they are transmuted into moral senti- 
 ments. No example of the coalition of feelings in their 
 general nature less widely asunder, could afford so much 
 support to this position. Secondly, By raising qualities 
 useful to ourselves to the rank of virtues, it throws a 
 strong light on the relation of virtue to individual 
 interest ; very much as justice illustrates the relation of 
 morality to general interest. The coincidence of morality 
 with individual interest is an important truth in Ethics. 
 It is most manifest in that part of Ethics which we are 
 now considering. A calm regard to our general interest 
 
427 
 
 is indeed a faint and infrequent motive of action. Its 
 chief advantage is, that it is regular, and that its move- 
 ments may be calculated. In deliberate conduct it may 
 often be relied on, though perhaps never safely without 
 knowledge of the whole temper and character. But in 
 moral reasoning, at least, the coincidence is of unspeak- 
 able advantage. If there be a miserable man who has 
 cold aifections, a weak sense of justice, dim perceptions 
 of right and wrong, and faint feelings of them ; — if, still 
 more wretched, his heart be constantly torn and devoured 
 by malevolent passions — the vultures of the soul; — we 
 have one resource still left, even in cases so dreadful. 
 Even he still retains a human principle, to which we can 
 speak. He must own that he has some wish for his own 
 lasting welfare. We can prove to him that his state of 
 mind is inconsistent with it. It may be impossible indeed 
 to shew, that while his disposition continues the same, he 
 can derive any enjoyment from the practice of virtue. 
 But it may be most clearly shewn, that every advance in 
 the amendment of that disposition is a step towards even 
 temporal happiness. If he do not amend his character, 
 we may compel him to own that he is at variance with 
 himself, and oifends against a principle of which even he 
 must recognise the reasonableness. 
 
 21. The formation of Conscience from so many ele- 
 ments, and especially the combination of elements so 
 vinlike as the private desires and the social affections, 
 early contributes to give it the appearance of that sim- 
 plicity and independence which in its mature state really 
 distinguish it. It becomes, from these circumstances, 
 more difficult to distinguish its separate principles ; and 
 it is impossible to exhibit them in separate action. The 
 affinity of these various passions to each other, which 
 consists in their having no object but states of the will^ 
 is the only common property which strikes the mind. 
 Hence the facility with which the general terms, first 
 probably limited to the relations between ourselves and 
 
428 
 
 others, are gradually extended to all voluntary acts and 
 dispositions. Prudence and temperance become the ob- 
 jects of moral approbation. When imprudence is imme- 
 diately disapproved by the by-stander, without deliberate 
 consideration of its consequences, it is not only dis- 
 pleasing, as being pernicious, but it is blamed as wrongs 
 though with a censure so much inferior to that bestowed 
 on inhumanity and injustice, as may justify those writers 
 who use the milder term improper. At length, when the 
 general words come to signify the objects of moral appro- 
 bation, and the reverse, they denote merely the power to 
 excite feelings which are as independent as if they were 
 underived, and which coalesce the more perfectly, because 
 they are detached from objects so various and unlike, as 
 to render their return to their primitive state very 
 difficult. 
 
 22. The question,* why we do not morally approve the 
 useful qualities of actions which are altogether involun- 
 tary, may now be shortly and satisfactorily answered: 
 because conscience is in perpetual contact, as it were, 
 with all the dispositions and actions of voluntary agents, 
 and is by that means indissolubly associated with them 
 exclusively. It has a direct action on the will, and a 
 constant mental contiguity to it. It has no such mental 
 contiguity to involuntary changes. It has never perhaps 
 been observed, that an operation of the conscience pre- 
 cedes all acts deliberate enough to be in the highest sense 
 voluntary, and does so as much when it is defeated as 
 when it prevails. In either case the association is 
 repeated. It extends to the whole of the active man. 
 All passions have a definite outward object to which they 
 tend, and a limited sphere within which they act. But 
 conscience has no object but a state of will ; and as an 
 act of will is the sole means of gratifying any passion, 
 conscience is co-extensive with the whole man, and with- 
 
 * See supra, p. 85. 
 
429 
 
 out encroachment curbs or aids every feeling, even within 
 the peculiar province of that feeling itself. As will is the 
 universal means, conscience, which regards will, must be 
 a universal principle. As nothing is interposed between 
 conscience and the will when the mind is in its healthy 
 state, the dictate of conscience is followed by the deter- 
 mination of the will, with a promptitude and exactness 
 which very naturally is likened to the obedience of an 
 inferior to the lawful commands of those whom he deems 
 to be rightfully placed over him. It therefore seems 
 clear, that on the theory which has been attempted, moral 
 approbation must be limited to voluntary operations, and 
 conscience must be universal, independent, and com- 
 manding. 
 
 23. One remaining difficulty may perhaps be objected to 
 the general doctrines of this Dissertation, though it does 
 not appear at any time to have been urged against other 
 modifications of the same principle. " If moral appro- 
 bation,"' it may be said, " involve no perception of 
 beneficial tendency, whence arises the coincidence be- 
 tween that principle and the moral sentiments ?'''' It may 
 seem at first sight, that such a theory rests the foundation 
 of morals upon a coincidence altogether mysterious, and 
 apparently capricious and fantastic. Waiving all other 
 answers, let us at once proceed to that which seems con- 
 clusive. It is true that conscience rarely contemplates 
 so distant an object as the welfare of all sentient beings. 
 But to what point is every one of its elements directed ? 
 What, for instance, is the aim of all the social affections.? 
 Nothing but the production of larger or smaller masses of 
 happiness among those of our fellow-creatures who are 
 the objects of these affections. In every case these affec- 
 tions promote happiness, as far as their foresight and their 
 power extend. What can be more conducive, or even 
 necessary, to the being and well-being of society, than 
 the rules of justice.? Are not the angry passions them- 
 selves, as far as they are ministers of morality, employed 
 
430 
 
 in removing hinderances to the welfare of ourselves and 
 others, which is indirectly promoting it? The private 
 passions terminate indeed in the happiness of the indivi- 
 vidual, which, however, is a part of general happiness, 
 and the part over which we have most power. Every 
 principle of which conscience is composed has some por- 
 tion of happiness for its object. To that point they all 
 converge. General happiness is not indeed one of the 
 natural objects of conscience, because our voluntary acts 
 are not felt and perceived to affect it. But how small a 
 step is left for reason. It only casts up the items of the 
 account. It has only to discover that the acts of those 
 who labour to promote separate portions of happiness 
 must increase the amount of the whole. It may be truly 
 said, that if observation and experience did not clearly 
 ascertain that beneficial tendency is the constant attend- 
 ant and mark of all virtuous dispositions and actions, the 
 same great truth would be revealed to us by the voice of 
 conscience. The coincidence, instead of being arbitrary, 
 arises necessarily from the laws of human nature, and the 
 circumstances in which mankind are placed- We per- 
 form and approve virtuous actions, partly because con- 
 science regards them as right, partly because we are 
 prompted to them by good affections. All these affections 
 contribute towards general well-being, though it were not 
 necessary, nor would it be fit, that the agent should be 
 distracted by the contemplation of that vast and remote 
 object. 
 
 The various relations of conscience to religion we have 
 already been led to consider on the principles of Butler, 
 of Berkeley, of Paley, and especially of Hartley, who was 
 led by his own piety to contemplate as the last and 
 highest stage of virtue and happiness, a sort of self- 
 annihilation, which, however unsuitable to the present 
 condition of mankind, yet places in the strongest light 
 the disinterested character of the system, of which it is a 
 conceiveable though perhaps not attainable result. The 
 
431 
 
 completeness and rigour acquired by conscience, when all 
 its dictates are revered as the commands of a perfectly 
 wise and good Being, are so obvious, that they cannot be 
 questioned by any reasonable man, however extensive his 
 incredulity may be. It is thus that conscience can add 
 the warmth of an affection to the inflexibility of principle 
 and habit. It is true that, in examining the evidence of 
 the divine original of a religious system, in estimating an 
 imperfect religion, or in comparing the demerits of reli- 
 gions of human origin, conscience must be the standard 
 chiefly applied. But it follows with equal clearness, that 
 those who have the happiness to find satisfaction and 
 repose in divine revelation, are bound to consider all those 
 precepts for the government of the will, delivered by it, 
 which are manifestly universal, as the rules to which all 
 their feelings and actions should conform. The true dis- 
 tinction between conscience and a taste for moral beauty 
 has already been pointed out;* a distinction which, not- 
 withstanding its simplicity, has been unobserved by 
 philosophers, perhaps on account of the frequent co- 
 operation and intermixture of the two feelings. Most 
 speculators have either denied the existence of the taste, 
 or kept it out of view in their theory, or exalted it to the 
 place which is rightfully filled only by conscience. Yet 
 it is perfectly obvious that, like all the other feelings called 
 pleasures of imagination, it terminates in delightfvil con- 
 templation, while the moral faculty always aims exclu- 
 sively at voluntary action. Nothing can more clearly 
 shew that this last quality is the characteristic of con- 
 science, than its being thus found to distinguish that 
 faculty from the sentiments which most nearly resemble 
 it, most frequently attend it, and are most easily blended 
 with it. — Mackintosh, Dissert. Encyclop. Britan. 
 Sect. 7- 
 
 * See supra, p. 117, 118. 
 
 THE END. >77>^ ^^ THR 
 
 U1TI7BR 
 
 ^ OP THR^ 
 
ERRATA. 
 
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INDEX. 
 
 Acton's Modern Cookei-y 20 
 
 Afterglow (The) 19 
 
 Alcock's Residence in Japan 16 
 
 Allies on Formation of Christianity 15 
 
 Alpine Guide (The) 16 
 
 Ap John's Manual of the Metalloids 9 
 
 Abnold's Manual of English Literature . . 5 
 
 Aenott's Elements of Physics 8 
 
 Arundines Cami 18 
 
 Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson .... 6 
 
 Atee's Treasury of Bible Knowledge 14 
 
 Bacon's Essays by Whatkly 5 
 
 Life and Letters, by Spedding . . 3 
 
 Works 4 
 
 Bain's Mental and Moral Science 7 
 
 on the Emotions ana "Will 7 
 
 on the Senses and Intellect 7 
 
 on the Study of Character 7 
 
 Ball's Guide to the Central Alps 16 
 
 • Guide to the Western Alps 16 
 
 Guide to the Eastern Alps 16 
 
 Baenaed's Drawing fi'om Nature 12 
 
 Bayldon's Rents and Tillages 13 
 
 Beaten Tracks 16 
 
 Beckee's Charicles and Gallus 17 
 
 Benpey's Sanskrit-English Dictionary .... 6 
 
 Black's Treatise on Brewing 20 
 
 Blackley's Word-Gossip 7 
 
 Blackley and Feiedlandee's German 
 
 and English Dictionary 6 
 
 Blaine's Rural (Sports 19 
 
 Veterinary Art 19 
 
 Booth's Epigrams 6 
 
 BouENE on Screw Propeller 12 
 
 's Catechism of the Steam Engine . . 12 
 
 Examples of Modern Engines . . 13 
 
 Handbook of Steam Engine .... 13 
 
 Treatise on the Steam E ngine .... 12 
 
 BowDLEE's Family Shakspeaee 18 
 
 Beande's Dictionary of Science, Literature, 
 
 and Art 9 
 
 Beay's (C.) Education of the Feelings .... 7 
 
 Philos< iphy of Necessity 7 
 
 On Force 7 
 
 Beinton on Food and Digestion 20 
 
 Beodie's (SirC. B.) Works 10 
 
 Beowne's Exposition of the 39 Articles .... 13 
 
 Buckle's History of Civilisation 2 
 
 Bull's Hints to Mothers 20 
 
 Maternal Management of Children . . 20 
 
 Bunsen's Ancient Egypt 3 
 
 God in History 3 
 
 Memoirs 3 
 
 BUNSEN (E. De) on Apocrypha 15 
 
 's Keys of St. Peter 15 
 
 Buebuey's Mary's Every Day Book 20 
 
 Bueke's Vicissitudes of Families 4 
 
 BuETON's Christian Church 3 
 
 Cabinet Lawyer 20 
 
 Calveet's Wife's Manual 15 
 
 Cannon's Grant's Campaign 2 
 
 Caepentee's Six Months in India 16 
 
 Cates's Biographical Dictionary 3 
 
 Cats and Faelie's Moral Emblems 11 
 
 Changed Aspects of Unchanged Truths .... 6 
 
 Chesney's Euphrates Expedition 17 
 
 Indian Polity 2 
 
 Waterloo Campaign 2 
 
 Child's Physiological Essays 10 
 
 Chorale Book for England 11 
 
 C hurchraan's Daily Remembrancer I4 
 
 Clough's Lives from Plutarch 2 
 
 CoBBE's Norman Kings 3 
 
 CoLENBO (Bishop) on Pentateuch and Book 
 
 of Joshua 14 
 
 Commonplace Philosopher in Town and 
 
 Country 
 
 Conington's Chemical Analysis 9 
 
 Translation of Virgil's iEneid 18 
 
 Contanseau's Two French Dictionaries . . 6 
 CONYBEAEE and Howson's Life and Epistles 
 
 of St. Paul 13 
 
 Cook's Acts of the Apostles 13 
 
 Voyages 4 
 
 Copland's Dictionary of Practical Medicine 10 
 
 Coulthaet's Decimal Interest Tables .... 20 
 
 Counsel and Comfort from a City Pulpit . . 6 
 
 Cox's (G. W.) Manual of Mythology 17 
 
 Tale of the Great Persian War 2 
 
 Tales of Ancient Greece .... 17 
 
 (H.) AncientParliamentary Elections 1 
 
 ■ History of the Reform Bills 1 
 
 ■■ — Whig and Tory Administrations 1 
 
 Ceesy's Encyclopaedia of Civil Engineering 12 
 
 Critical Essays of a Country Parson 6 
 
 Ceoss's Old Story 19 
 
 Ceowe's History of France 2 
 
 Ceump on Banking, &c 19 
 
 Culley's Handbook of Telegraphy 12 
 
 CusACK's History of Ireland 2 
 
 Daet's Iliad of Homer 18 
 
 D'AuBiGNi's History of the Reformation in 
 
 the time of Calvin 2 
 
 Davidson's Introduction to New Testament 14 
 
 Dayman's Dante's Divina Commedia 18 
 
 Dead Shot (The) , by M aeksman 19 
 
 Db la Rive's Treatise on Electricity 8 
 
22 
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS and CO. 
 
 De Tocqueville's Democracy in America . 2 
 
 DoBSON on the Ox 19 
 
 Dove's Law of Storms 8 
 
 Dyer's City of Rome 2 
 
 Eastlake's Hints on Household Taste 12 
 
 Historyof Oil Painting 11 
 
 Edginton's Odyssey 18 
 
 Edwakds's Shipmaster's Guide 20 
 
 Elements of Botany 9 
 
 Ellicott's Commentary on Ephesians .... 14 
 
 Destiny of the Creature 14 
 
 Lectures on Life of Christ .... 14 
 
 Commentary on Galatians .... 14 
 
 Pastoral Epist. 14 
 
 Phihppians,&c. 14 
 
 Thessalonians 14 
 
 Essays and Reviews 15 
 
 EwALD's History of Israel 14 
 
 Faiebairn's Application of Cast and 
 
 Wrought Iron to Building 12 
 
 Information for Engineers .... 12 
 
 Treatise on Mills and Millwork 12 
 
 Fairbairn on Iron Shiphuildi!ig 12 
 
 Eakrar's Chapters on Language 5 
 
 Felkin on Hosiery & Lace Manufactures. . 13 
 
 Ffoulkes's Christendom's Divisions 15 
 
 FiTZGiBBON's Ireland 2 
 
 Fxiedxer's (Pastor) Life S 
 
 FORBEs's Earls of Granard 4 
 
 Francis's Fishing Book 19 
 
 Froude's History of England 1 
 
 Short Studies 6 
 
 Gakot's Elementary Physics 8 
 
 Gilbert's Cadore 16 
 
 and Churchill's Dolomite Moun- 
 tains 16 
 
 GiLLT's Shipwrecks of the Navy 17 
 
 Girtin's House I Live In 10 
 
 Goldsmith's Poems, Illustrated 18 
 
 Goodbye's Elements of Mechanism 12 
 
 Gould's Silver Store 6 
 
 Graham's Book About Words 5 
 
 Grant's Ethics of Aristotle 5 
 
 Graver Thoughts of a Country Parson 6 
 
 Gray's Anatomy 10 
 
 Greene's Corals and Sea Jellies 9 
 
 Sponges and Animalculae 9 
 
 Greknhow on Bronchitis 10 
 
 Grove on Correlation of Physical Forces . . 8 
 
 G wilt's Encyclopaedia of Architecture .... 12 
 
 Hare on Election of Representatives 5 
 
 Hartwig's Harmonies of Nature 9 
 
 Polar World 9 
 
 Sea and its Living Wonders .... 9 
 
 Tropical World 9 
 
 Haughton's Manual of Geology 8 
 
 Hawker's Instructions to Young Sports- 
 men 19 
 
 Henderson's Folk-Loro 6 
 
 Herschel's Outlines of Astronomy 7 
 
 Preliminary Discourse on the 
 
 Study of Natural Philosophy 8 
 
 j Hewitt on the Diseases of Women 
 
 ; Holmes's Surgical Treatment of Children. . 
 I ■ System of Surgery 
 
 Hooker and Walker-Arnott's British 
 Flora 
 
 Horne's Introduction to the Scriptures' '.'.' 
 
 Compendium of the Scriptures . . 
 
 How we Spent the Summer 
 
 Howard's Gymnastic Exercises 
 
 Howitt's Australian Discovery 
 
 ; ■ Northern Heights of London .... 
 
 Rural Life of England 
 
 ; Visits to Remarkable Places 
 
 I Hughes's Manual of Geography 
 
 I IIuLLAH's Lectures on Modern Music 
 
 I Part Music, Sacred and Secular. . 
 
 i Sacred Music 
 
 ! Humphreys's Sentiments of Shakspeare . . ' 
 
 HuTTON's Studies in Parliament 
 
 , Hymns from Lyra Germanica : 
 
 Icelandic Legends, Second Series : 
 
 \ Ingelow's Poems : 
 
 i — ■ Storj' of Doom 
 
 I Instructions in Household Matters i 
 
 I Jameson's Legends of Saints and Martyrs . . 1 
 
 j Legends of the Madonna ] 
 
 : Legends of the Monastic Orders 1 
 
 I " Legends of the Saviour 1 
 
 , Jenner's Holy Child i 
 
 I Johnston's Geographical Dictionary 
 
 ! Jordan on Vis Inertise in Ocean 
 
 Jukes on Second Death i 
 
 on Typts of Genesis 1 
 
 Kalisch's Commentary on the Bible 
 
 Hebrew Grammar 
 
 Keith on Destiny of the World. 1 
 
 i Fulfilment of Prophecy ] 
 
 j Kerl's Metallurgy, by Crookes and 
 j ROHRIG 1 
 
 Kesteven's Domestic Medicine 1 
 
 i Kirby and Spence's Entomology 
 
 i 
 
 ! Landon's (L. E. L.) Poetical Works 1 
 
 ; Latham's English Dictionary 
 
 River Plate 
 
 \ Lecky's History of European Morals 
 
 ! Rationalism 
 
 I Leighton's Sermons and Charges 1' 
 
 ; Leisure Hours in Town 
 
 Lessons of Middle Age 
 
 j Lewes's Biographical History of Philosophy ! 
 
 j LiDDELLand Scott's Greok-EngUsh Lexicon E 
 
 I Abridged ditto 
 
 ! Life of Man Symbolised 1 
 
 LiNDLEY and Moore's Treasury of Botany i 
 
 Longman's Edward the Third : 
 
 r— Lectures on History of England 
 
 Loudon's Bncj^clopajdia of Agriculture .... 1 
 
 Gardening 11 
 
 — — Plants ! 
 
 Lowndes's Engineer's Handbook li 
 
NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS and CO. 
 
 23 
 
 Lyra Domestica 15 
 
 — — Eucharistica 15 
 
 Germanica 11, 15 
 
 • Messianica 15 
 
 Mystica 15 
 
 Macaulay's (Lord) Essays 3 
 
 History of England . . 1 
 
 Lays of Ancient Rome 18 
 
 Miscellaneous Writings 6 
 
 — Speeches 5 
 
 Works 1 
 
 Macfaeeen's Lectures on Harmony 11 
 
 MACLEOD'S Elementsof Political Economy 4 
 
 Dictionary of Political Economy 4 
 
 Elements of Banking 20 
 
 Theory and Practice of Banking 19 
 
 McCulloch's Dictionary of Commerce .... 19 
 
 Geographical Dictionary 7 
 
 Maguike's Irish in America 17 
 
 3Iagtjire's Life of Father Mathew 3 
 
 Malleson's French in India 2 
 
 Manning's England and Christendom .... 15 
 
 Marshall's Physiology 10 
 
 Maeshman's History of India 2 
 
 Life of Havelock 4 
 
 Martineau's Endeavours after the Chris- 
 tian Life 16 
 
 Martineau's Letters from Australia 16 
 
 Massey's History of England 1 
 
 Massingberd's History or tne Kerormation 3 
 
 Maundek's Biographical Treasury 4 
 
 Geographical Treasury 7 
 
 ■ Historical Treasury 3 
 
 Scientific and Literary Treasury 9 
 
 Treasury of Knowledge 20 
 
 Treasury of Natural History . . 9 
 
 Maury's Physical Geography 7 
 
 May's Constitutional History of England. . 1 
 
 Meissner's Biographical and Critical Essays 4 
 
 Melia on Virgin Mary 14 
 
 Melville's Digby Grand 17 
 
 General Bounce 17 
 
 ■ Gladiators 17 
 
 Good for Nothing 17 
 
 Holmby House 17 
 
 Interpreter , . 17 
 
 Kate Coventry 17 
 
 Queen's Maries 17 
 
 Mendelssohn's Letters 4 
 
 Merit ale's (H.) Historical Studies 1 
 
 (C.) Fall of the Roman Republic 2 
 
 . Romans under the Empire 2 
 
 Boyle Lectures 2 
 
 Merrifield and Evers's Navigation 7 
 
 Miles on Horse's Foot and Horse Shoeing . 19 
 
 on Horses' Teeth and Stables 19 
 
 Mill (J.) on the Mind 4 
 
 Mill (J. S.) on Liberty 4 
 
 on Representative Government 4 
 
 on Utilitarianism 4 
 
 's Dissertations and Discussions 4 
 
 Political Economy 4 
 
 Sj'stem of Logic 4 
 
 Hamilton's Philosophy 4 
 
 — Inaugural Address at St. Andrew's . 4 
 
 Miller's Elements of Chemistry 9 
 
 Hymn Writers 15 
 
 Mitchell's IManual of Assaying 1.'} 
 
 Modern Ireland 2 
 
 Monsell's Beatitudes 16 
 
 His Presence not his Memory. . 15 
 
 ' Spiritual Songs ' 16 
 
 Moore's Irish Melodies 18 
 
 LallaRookh 18 
 
 Journal and Correspondence .... 8 
 
 Poetical Works 18 
 
 (Dr.G.) First Man 8 
 
 Power of the Soul over 
 
 the Body 15 
 
 Morell's Elements of Psychology 7 
 
 ■ Mental Philosophy 7 
 
 MouNTEiELD ou National Church 14 
 
 Mijller's (Max) Chips from a German 
 
 Workshop 7 
 
 Lectures on the Science of Lan- 
 guage 6 
 
 (K. O.) Literature of Ancient 
 
 Greece 2 
 
 MuRCHisoN on Continued Fevers 10 
 
 on Liver Complaints 10 
 
 IMuee's Language and Literature of Greece 2 
 
 New Testament Illustrated with Wood En- 
 gravings from the Old Masters 11 
 
 Newman's History of his Religious Opinions 3 
 
 Nicholas's Pedigree of the English People 6 
 
 Nichols's Handbook to British Museum . . 20 
 
 Nightingale's Notes on Hospitals 20 
 
 NiLSSON's Scandinavia 8 
 
 Northcote's Sanctuary of the Madonna . . 14 
 
 Northcott on Lathes and Turning 12 
 
 Norton's City of London 17 
 
 Odling's Animal Chemistry 10 
 
 Course of Practical Chemistry . . 10 
 
 Manual of Chemistry 9 
 
 Original Designs for Wood Carving 12 
 
 Owen's Comparative Anatomy and Physio- 
 logy of Vertebi-ate Animals 8 
 
 Owen's Lectures on the Invertebrata 8 
 
 Packe's Guide to the Pyrenees 16 
 
 Paget's Lectures on Surgical Pathology . . 10 
 
 Palm Leaves 16 
 
 Pereira's Manual of Materia Medica 11 
 
 Perkins's Italian and Tuscan Sculptors . . 12 
 
 Phillips's Guide to Geology 8 
 
 Phillipps's Horse and Man 19 
 
 Pictures in Tyrol 16 
 
 Piesse's Art of Perfumery 18 
 
 Chemical, Natural, and Physical Magic 13 
 
 Pike's E nglish and their Origin 6 
 
 Playtime with the Poets 18 
 
 Plowden's Abyssinia 17 
 
 PoLKO's Reminiscences of Blendolssohn. . . . 4 
 
 Pratt's Law of Building Societies 20 
 
 Prescott's Scripture Difficulties 14 
 
 Proctor's Handbook of the Stars 7 
 
 Saturn 7 
 
 Pyckopt's Cricket Field 19 
 
 Quarterly Journal of Science 9 
 
 Quick's Educatioual Eeforir.ers 4 
 
24 
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS and CO. 
 
 Raymond on Fishing without Cruelty .... 18 
 
 Recreations"of a Country Parson 6 
 
 Rellly'8 Map of Mont Blanc 16 
 
 Reimann on Aniline Dyes 13 
 
 Religious Republics 15 
 
 Richardson's Life, by M'll wraith 4 
 
 Riley's Memorials of London 17 
 
 RivEEs's Rose Amateur's Guide 9 
 
 RoBBiNs's Cavalry Catechism 19 
 
 RoGEKs's Correspondence of Greyson 7 
 
 Eclipse of Faith 7 
 
 Defence of Faith 7 
 
 Essays from the Edinburgh Be- 
 
 view 6 
 
 Reason and Faith 6 
 
 Roget's Thesaurus of English Words and 
 
 Phrases 5 
 
 Roma Sotterranea 16 
 
 RoNALDS's Fly-Fisher's Entomology 19 
 
 Rowton's Debater 5 
 
 Rudd's Aristophanes 18 
 
 Russell on Government and Constitution l 
 
 Sandaes's Justinian's Institutes 5 
 
 SCHEFFLEE, on Ocular Defects 10 
 
 Schubekt'b Life, translated by Coleeidge 3 
 
 Scott's Lectures on the Fine Arts n 
 
 Seebohm's Oxford Reformers of 1498 2 
 
 Senior's Journals &c. relating to Ireland. . 2 
 
 Sewell's After Life 17 
 
 G limpse of the World 17 
 
 3 
 
 History of the Early Church ... 
 
 Journal of a Home Life 17 
 
 Passing Thoughts on Religion . . 15 
 
 Preparation f<jr Communion .... 15 
 
 . Principles of Education 15 
 
 Readings for Confirmation 15 
 
 Readings for Lent 15 
 
 Examination for Confirmation . . 15 
 
 Stories and Tales 17 
 
 Sttakspeaee's Midsummer Night's Dream, 
 
 illustrated with Silhouettes 11 
 
 Shaw's Work on Wine 20 
 
 Shepherd's Iceland 16 
 
 Shipley's Church and the World 14 
 
 Invocation of Saints 16 
 
 ShortWhist 20 
 
 Short's Church History 3 
 
 Smart's Walker's English Pronouncing 
 
 Dictionaries 6 
 
 Smith's ( Southwood) Philosophy of Health 20 
 
 (J.) Paul's "Voyage and Shipwreck 13 
 
 (Sydney) Miscellaneous Works . . 6 
 
 Wit and Wisdom 6 
 
 Southey's (Doctor) 5 
 
 Poetical Works 18 
 
 Stafford's Life of the Blessed Virgin .... 14 
 
 Stanley's History of British Birds 9 
 
 Stebbing's Analysis of Mill's Logic 4 
 
 Stephen's Essays in Ecclesiastical Bio- 
 graphy 4 
 
 Stirling's Secret of Hegel 7 
 
 Stokes's Life of Petrie 4 
 
 Stonbhenge on the Dog 19 
 
 on the Greyhound 19 
 
 Strickland's Tudor Princesses 4 
 
 Sunday Afternoons at the Parish Church of 
 a Scottish University City 
 
 Taylor's (Jeremy) Works, edited by Eden 
 
 ■ (E.) Selections from some Con- 
 temporary Poets 
 
 Tennent's Ceylon !.!!!!!! 
 
 Thirlwall's History of Greece ......' . . . . 
 
 Timbs's Curiosities of London 
 
 Thomson's (Archbishop) Laws of Thought 
 
 (A. T.) Conspectus 
 
 Three Fountains (The) 
 
 Todd (A.) on Parliamentary Government .* .' 
 
 and Bowman's Anatomy and Phy- 
 
 siologj' of Man 
 
 Trench's Realities of Irish Life 
 
 Trollope's Barchester Towers 
 
 Warden 
 
 Twiss's Law of Nations 
 
 Tynd all's Lectures on Heat 
 
 Lectures on Sound . . 
 
 Memoir of Faraday . 
 
 Uncle Peter's Fairy Tale 17 
 
 Ure's Dictionary of Arts, Manufactures, and 
 Mines 22 
 
 Van Deb Hoeven's Handbook of Zoology . . 8 
 Ventouillac's French Poetry 18 
 
 Warburton's Hunting Songs 19 
 
 Watson's Principles and Practice of Physic 10 
 
 Watts's Dictionary of Chemistry 9 
 
 Webb's Objects for Common Telescopes 7 
 
 Webster & Wilkinson's Greek Testament 14 
 
 Wellington's Life, by Gleig 3 
 
 Wells on Dew « 
 
 West on Children's Diseases 10 
 
 on Nursing Children 20 
 
 Whately's English Synonymes 5 
 
 Life and Correspondence s 
 
 Logic 5 
 
 Rhetoric 5 
 
 on Religious Worship 16 
 
 Whist, what to Lead, by Cam 20 
 
 White and Riddle's Latin-English Dic- 
 tionaries 5 
 
 WiLCOCKS's Sea Fisherman 19 
 
 Willich's Popular Tables 20 
 
 WiNSLOW on Light g 
 
 Wood's (J. G.) Bible Animals s 
 
 Homes without Hands .... 8 
 
 ■ — ■ (T.) Chemical Notes 10 
 
 Woodward's Historical and Chronological 
 
 Encyclopaedia 3 
 
 Wright's Homer's Iliad is 
 
 Teo's Manual of Zoology 8 
 
 Yonge's English-Greek Lexicons 5 
 
 Two Editions of Horace 18 
 
 You ATT on the Dog 19 
 
 on the Horse 19 
 
 Zelleb's Socrates 3 
 
 STomSWOODX mB CO , FXINTSBS, mtW-STHEBT SQUABE AITD FABLIAUB.XX STfiSBT. 
 
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