THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT 
 
 From the Library of 
 
 Henry Goldman, Ph.D, 
 
 1886-1972
 

 
 BRITISH MORALISTS 
 
 SELBY-BIGGE
 
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 HENRY FROWDE, M,A. 
 
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 BRITISH MORALISTS 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM WRITERS 
 
 PRINCIPALLY OF THE EIGHTEENTH 
 
 CENTURY 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND ANALYTICAL INDEX 
 
 BY 
 
 L. A. SELBY-BIGGE, M.A. 
 
 FORMERLY FELLOW AND LECTURER OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I
 
 PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 
 
 BY HORACE HART, M.A. 
 PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
 
 Annex 
 
 v, \ 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 A BOOK of selections is never quite satisfactory, and 
 suggests apology on several grounds. Even if it is 
 wanted, its execution may easily be found fault with. 
 When all is irrevocably in print, one feels how much 
 better it might have been done how niggardly one 
 has been to one author, how stupidly indulgent to 
 another, how badly proportioned is the whole, and how 
 awkwardly arranged. In the present case it may be 
 pleaded that no particular principle has been violated, 
 for I soon came to the conclusion that to adopt one 
 or even two principles only as the basis of such a 
 selection was impossible, and would not be very profit- 
 able. I abandoned myself therefore to the guidance of 
 the principle of utility in its vaguest form, and simply 
 tried to make a book which would be useful, and fairly 
 representative of the British moral philosophy of the 
 eighteenth century. In making it the limits of space
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 have been more troublesome than those of time. At the 
 outset I found it necessary to exclude the deistical and 
 free will controversies (with an exception in favour of 
 Locke), though an interesting volume might be made 
 out of those alone. I have had also to exclude many 
 interesting and important passages in authors admitted 
 to the selection, and it certainly would not be fair to 
 pronounce judgement on the authors without regard 
 to what has been left out. In some cases diffuseness, the 
 bane of an easy style, was the disqualification ; in others 
 they did not bear closely enough upon the questions 
 principally discussed in my period, though they had 
 plenty of interest in themselves. In the first volume 
 are printed in large type the three principal texts 
 of the sentimental school Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, and 
 Butler, followed by Adam Smith and Bentham. In 
 the Appendix, in smaller type, are given additional ex- 
 tracts from Hutcheson's other writings. In the second 
 volume are printed at length S. Clarke, Balguy, and Price, 
 with extracts from Cudworth and Wollaston, and ad- 
 ditional extracts from Balguy in the Appendix, as repre- 
 sentatives of the intellectual school. In the Appendix to 
 this volume appear also extracts from the 'theological 
 utilitarians,' Brown, J. Clarke, and Paley. Kames and 
 Gay are included as more or less independent critics. 
 Of Mandeville I have only given a specimen. Hobbes 
 and Locke have really no business in the book except
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 for convenience of reference. Cudworth belongs to the 
 period because his ethical work was not published 
 till 1731. 
 
 In the second volume I print a bibliographical note, 
 from which those who take pleasure in making lists of ' the 
 best books' may easily compile a rival selection. The 
 Index is on the same plan as the Indices to the Clarendon 
 Press edition of Hume's Treatise and Inquiries, to 
 which edition reference is always made in the Introduc- 
 tion. The Introduction only pretends to be what it is 
 
 called. 
 
 L. A. S.-B.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 
 
 SHAFTESBURY. Inquiry concerning Virtue or Merit . . . 1-67 
 
 HUTCHESON. Inquiry concerning the original of our Ideas of 
 
 Virtue or Moral Good 68-187 
 
 BUTLER. Sermons 188-243 
 
 Dissertation II. Of the Nature of Virtue . . . 244-250 
 
 ADAM SMITH. Theory of the Moral Sentiments . . . 251-357 
 
 BENTHAM. Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legis- 
 lation 358-430 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 HUTCHESON. Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions 431-446 
 
 Illustrations upon the Moral Sense . . . 447-470 
 
 System of Moral Philosophy .... 471-481
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 r. Satire and moral philosophy. 
 
 THE moralist and the satirist are not always suited to 
 understand each other. The moralist seems to the satirist 
 to discourse of a state of things which is not and never was, 
 and to assume the prevalence of motives which never entirely 
 determine and do not considerably influence the actions of 
 ordinary men. When the moralist says that men ought to 
 regulate their conduct on certain principles and ought to cul- 
 tivate certain motives in preference to others, the satirist tests 
 the possibility of these principles, by asking whether in fact 
 men do usually or ever act on them : he does not ask how 
 far men recognize them as ideals or standards of conduct. It 
 is enough for the satirist that men do not practise what they 
 preach, and the significance of the preaching itself does not 
 concern him. Satire stops short of philosophy, even of sceptical 
 philosophy. 
 
 On the other hand, the moralist is apt to regard the satirist 
 less as scourging the unworthy than as denying the existence 
 of worth altogether and dissolving morality into nothing at all, 
 or replacing it by something which is positively immoral. In 
 reality, the whole force of satire, as distinguished from cynicism,
 
 xii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 is the force of contrast between profession and practice, 
 between reality and sham ; and the denunciation of the 
 sham is by implication the recognition of the reality. The 
 temper of the satirist is very different from that of the sceptic 
 and generally distinguishable from that of the cynic. He is 
 content to show that what men flatter themselves is moral 
 conduct, is generally immoral conduct when judged by the 
 standard which those men profess. He does not discuss 
 the origin or meaning of that standard itself, the recognition 
 of which is implied in his exposure of the counterfeit. 
 ' Nos vertus ne sont le plus souvent que des vices deguiss,' 
 and ' private vices public benefits ' are phrases which, on the 
 face of them, testify to the possible or ideal existence of 
 morality, and the assertion of general immorality, offensive 
 and inconvenient as it may be to the moralist in some 
 respects, is not half so dangerous to his position as the 
 reduction of the moral to the non-moral, which is the way of 
 the sceptic. 
 
 2. The 'selfish' theories of satire and scepticism. 
 
 Much of the moral philosophy of the eighteenth century, 
 even when it is hedonistic, may be regarded as a revolt against 
 the selfish theory. It is therefore of some importance to 
 distinguish between the selfish theory of the satirist, which 
 claims to be nothing more than the product of an empirical 
 study of human nature and social institutions as they exist 
 at the present time, and the selfish theory of the sceptical 
 philosopher, which rests upon an analysis of the primitive 
 constituents of human nature and society, or a theory of the 
 ultimate nature of desire or volition. It is indeed not always 
 easy to distinguish the satirist from the cynic, or the cynic from 
 the sceptic. The satirist sometimes drops the whip and throws
 
 THE SATIRIST AND THE SCEPTIC. xiii 
 
 mud, or allows his contempt for the actual to blind him to 
 the ideal from which he started, and so degenerates into the 
 cynic who is absorbed in a gloomy disgust of things as they 
 are, missing both the serenity of the negative sceptic and 
 the intellectual interest of the scientific sceptic, who finds it 
 pleasant to note the sequence of appearances and register the 
 shadows on the wall of his cave. Philosophers also some- 
 times take an unphilosophic pleasure in emphasizing the mean 
 beginnings of things, and the respectable man, intolerant 
 of the libels on human nature which are the common result 
 of very different principles, classes all the libellers together, 
 and so makes an ineffective reply. 
 
 Against the satirist and the cynic, whether of the court, 
 the coffee house, or the tavern, it is legitimate to appeal 
 to the plain man's experience of disinterested benevolent 
 affections, which to him feel quite different from the products 
 of calculating selfishness and are distinguished from such 
 in his judgements of others. It is also very legitimate to 
 urge that a fair interpretation of social institutions reveals 
 elements in human nature which are not, proximately at 
 all events, derivable from the individual's desire of private 
 pleasure. It is further proper to point out that such an 
 assertion as that moral virtue is 'the political offspring 
 which flattery begot upon pride' may be true of some 
 men and some virtue, but if asserted of all men and all virtue 
 becomes literally preposterous ; and, lastly, it is more profit- 
 able to take with the satirist than with the sceptic the ' short 
 way' of pointing out that in his very denial he asserts or 
 assumes what he denies. 
 
 But against the selfish theory of the empirical sceptic it 
 is vain to allege a counter-experience of unselfishness. For 
 on the one hand the sceptic does not deny the universality
 
 xiv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the illusion of unselfishness or cavil at the genuineness 
 of the plain man's testimony to his own feelings ; he does 
 not pretend that a superficial reflection on human nature is 
 sufficient to expose its secret springs but, on the other 
 hand, he professes to trace the illusion itself to its origin 
 in the operation of forces which are entirely selfish. 
 
 3. The satiric criticism of morals. 
 
 It is hard therefore to be fair to the ' benevolent ' theory 
 which figures so largely in this period unless we appreciate 
 the irritation and alarm caused to sober moralists by the 
 cynicism of Hobbes and the satire of Rochefoucauld, 
 Mandeville, and the tribe of dull imitators, such as James 
 Esprit, and Sir Richard Blackmore. It must be remembered 
 that the first half of the eighteenth century was a period 
 when the authority of the Church was weak, when the wanton- 
 ness of the Restoration had given place to a dull lewdness in 
 high places; when the materializing influences of prosperity 
 and wealth were strong, and spiritual ideals were smothered 
 under respectability. In such an age, and from a practical 
 point of view, the satirist and his wit, especially when it takes 
 the form of paradox, are sometimes more dangerous to 
 morality than the sceptic and his malice. The respectable 
 person finds that when his cloak of smug pretence is stripped 
 off he is no more naked than the statesman or divine, and 
 sees no reason why he should be better clothed than such 
 good company, while the disreputable person takes credit 
 to himself for his superior frankness. The moralist there- 
 fore who takes more than a speculative interest in good 
 conduct, may well be excused if he does not penetrate the 
 disguise which conceals from him the blessings of a Mande- 
 ville.
 
 MANDEVILLE. XV 
 
 Mandeville is certainly not an innocent writer, but he has 
 been considerably misunderstood both by his contemporaries 
 and by modern critics. His business is the exposure of 
 humbug and hypocrisy, and he does his work consistently 
 and thoroughly, though he dips his pen in a very nasty mixture 
 and carefully poses as a very disreputable person. His taste 
 is as abominable as his style is effective. The essentially 
 satirical character of his work is however concealed by his 
 constant indulgence in paradox, a method which enables him 
 to give a maximum of offence, while keeping in the back- 
 ground a few unexceptionable principles to which he can appeal 
 in case of need. It does not need much penetration to see 
 that when he is maintaining the odious thesis of 'private vices 
 public benefits,' he is really concerned to argue the converse, 
 viz. that persons lauded as public benefactors often show 
 small regard for the Christian code of morals which they 
 profess, and no regard at all for the public interest for the 
 promotion of which they take credit ; that material progress 
 by no means implies equivalent spiritual advance. So the 
 panegyric of prodigality is a vehicle for an assault upon the 
 complacent cant which sees in the accumulation of private 
 wealth the height of social virtue. But these are perpetual 
 topics of the pulpit, and we may apply to this case a remark 
 made long ago, and say that it is a mark of dirmfava-ia to 
 require speculative validity and completeness as well as practical 
 value in such exercises as sermons or satires. From the 
 practical point of view it may have been desirable that 
 William Law should undertake a serious refutation of Mande. 
 ville's paradoxes, but in truth if any one takes them seriously 
 and literally nothing but a stick will do him much good \ 
 
 1 See The True Meaning of the Fable of the Bees, Lond. 1726, 8vo, and 
 Essays towards a Critical Method, by J. M. Robertson, Lond. 1889.
 
 xvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Regarding Mandeville as a satirist, I see no reason to suppose, 
 as some have supposed, that his introduction of ' self-sacrifice ' 
 as the touchstone of merit was meant by him as a backhanded 
 attack upon ascetic and theological ethics. It is so essential 
 to his theory and is introduced with such aptitude that I do 
 not think he meant or indeed could afford to play a double 
 game with it. The private character of the satirist may lead 
 us to suppose that his real regard for the principle was small, 
 but it is no argument of theoretical insincerity in its use. His 
 treatment of luxury does not stand on this footing but is 
 evidently ironical, and finds a close parallel in the second 
 book of Plato's Republic. 
 
 4. Mandeville 's political theory of virtue. 
 
 The name of Mandeville is particularly associated with the 
 ' political ' theory of the virtues, as originating in the ' artifice of 
 politicians,' which represents Hobbism in its most artificial and 
 least important form. It has however its place in the scheme 
 of his satire proper. For many of us morals are little else than 
 ' manners,' and, whatever their meaning for the race, for the 
 individual they are only too often conventional and artificial, and 
 the satirist is quite within his right in letting us know it. But 
 as a general theory of virtue it is only an impertinence, though 
 it has been treated by minor moralists as the most important 
 and dangerous part of his work. Hume's few words of dismissal 
 are quite effectual (Treatise, pp. 500, 578), and it is certainly 
 not worth while setting up against it a theory of 'eternal 
 fitnesses,' which can in no way be represented as the necessary 
 alternative to the political theory. If a more detailed refutation 
 be thought necessary, William Law has taken the right way 
 with it, when he points out that you may as well ascribe man's 
 erect position to the cunning flattery of politicians as his virtue ;
 
 THE ' PLAIN MAN' xvii 
 
 the action of the politician being limited in both cases to 
 emphasizing pre-existent tendencies, and coming in as a modify- 
 ing influence only at a very late stage. It is also worth 
 considering whether much which is attributed to the operation 
 of flattery on pride is not implied in their very existence. The 
 fallacy of the preposterous has a wide range, but nowhere can 
 a better instance of it be found than in the artificial theory of 
 society. 
 
 5. General character of British moral philosophy . 
 
 I have dwelt at some length on the position of the satirist 
 in morals because it is connected essentially as well as 
 accidentally with what I believe to be the chief characteristic 
 of the British school of moralists. I have already said that 
 satire so far as it is an exposure of the sham rests upon and 
 assumes a reality of some kind or other in virtue. The 
 British moralists, whether sceptical or otherwise, ask, what is 
 this reality ? what is the meaning of the right and wrong, 
 good and evil, to which the evil-liver pays the tribute of 
 hypocrisy, that is, what does the ordinary man mean by 
 them? The level of the plain man, and even the 'honest 
 farmer,' is in the first instance adopted, not that of the saint in 
 his cell nor that of the philosopher in his closet, and his 
 experience is treated as supplying the material for further 
 examination. Just as the satirist appeals to the intelligence 
 of the plain man and is refuted by an appeal to his expe- 
 rience, so the moralists of this period start from the plain 
 man and the common sense of plain men (afterwards to be 
 elevated into the principle of a system) in their inquiry into 
 the reality of virtue. They concentrate their attention on the 
 phenomena of the normal moral consciousness in a cool and 
 impartial manner which reminds us of Aristotle, and had not 
 
 * b
 
 xviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 notably been exhibited since Aristotle. It is generally said 
 that British ethics are psychological, and though that epithet 
 is to be avoided on account of the controversies with which it 
 is associated, it may fairly be said that the chief achievements 
 of the eighteenth-century moralists were in the psychology of 
 ethics. They thought seriously about the content (assuming 
 that 'content' is a possible object of psychology) of plain 
 men's moral judgements and their natural and legitimate im- 
 plications, and there is perhaps no body of ethical writing which 
 within its own sphere can compare for originality and sincerity 
 with the work of this period. It was a work in which any one 
 could take a hand, and though there is much in it which is 
 trivial, tedious, and commonplace, there is singularly little 
 which is merely technical or formal. There is always an 
 effort, even on the part of the intellectualists, to bring a formula 
 to the test of a concrete and homely instance ] , and a deter- 
 mination to write so as to be understood by anybody. 
 Philosophy is no longer ' a self-centred speculation, an oracle 
 of wisdom ' : it is ' brought down from inaccessible heights, 
 and compelled to be intelligible,' and the public is umpire 2 . 
 The ease with which many of their fallacies are detected, 
 and the simplicity of the confusions on which they rest, 
 may tempt a casual reader to despise their intelligence. 
 Experience of philosophy teaches, however, that it is 
 the simplest confusions of thought which are the least 
 suspected and which remain the longest undetected ; that 
 the expression of philosophic formulae in plain words is one 
 of the most difficult things in the world, though never 
 impossible, and that one of the most splendid qualities of 
 
 1 Such as the boundaries of the Kingdom of Bohemia, or the incident of 
 the keyhole in Tristram Shandy. 
 3 M. Pattison, Essays, ii. 69, 73.
 
 UNMETAPHYSICAL ETHICS. xix 
 
 the philosopher is to write so as to be easily found out if 
 he is wrong. It is not a small thing that philosophy should 
 be written in the vulgar tongue and should use the words of 
 ordinary men. 
 
 6. The unmetaphysical character of the period. 
 That the moral philosophy of the eighteenth century should 
 be somewhat narrow in scope is the natural consequence of 
 its - starting-point, the common moral consciousness, and its 
 method. It is essentially inductive ; it collects the facts and 
 then looks for a theory to explain them, and the collection 
 of the facts is the chief thing. It has therefore little inclination 
 to exhibit the theory of ethics as part of a general system 
 of philosophy or as an appendix to a theory of knowledge. 
 Even the question on which it came most nearly into contact 
 with the theory of knowledge, the question whether moral 
 perceptions originate in sense or in reason, was commonly 
 treated with reference to little beyond its strictly ethical issues, 
 and there are none of those attempts, which are characteristic 
 of modern idealism, to argue backwards from practical to 
 speculative principles. The horizon of Cudworth and Price 
 is indeed wider, but Cudworth belonged to the seventeenth 
 century, when the appeal was still to authority and philosophy 
 was still a matter of large erudition, and Price was his disciple. 
 It is true that Hume combined in his principal work a dis- 
 cussion of the foundations of science and morality, and that 
 the fundamental hypothesis of the supremacy of sensation 
 runs through both. But one cannot also help remarking how 
 little support his moral theory receives from his speculative. 
 It illustrates the same assumption, but it stands in all essentials 
 on its own legs. It is very psychological and very little 
 metaphysical. And if we compare the treatment of 'self in 
 
 b 2
 
 XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the practical and speculative portions of Hume's work, we 
 shall see that the two theories do not tally, a point in which, 
 as in others, Hume was- the forerunner of Kant. In Locke's 
 essay, moral theory comes in at intervals in order to round 
 off the discussion, and though it certainly contains a great 
 deal which is of great importance for the metaphysic of 
 morals, it is distinctly episodical in character. Bishop Berkeley 
 was a most metaphysical person with very interesting views on 
 the relation of human and divine reason, which at once 
 suggest to us consequences of the most vital importance 
 for morals, but the ethical portions of his writings might, to 
 all appearance, have been written by Paley. Whether any- 
 thing of wider interest can be read into them by a careful 
 student is another question l . And Butler, the most typical 
 of British moralists, will have nothing whatever to do with 
 the metaphysics of his subject whether the moral faculty be 
 regarded as a ' sentiment ' of the understanding or a ' per- 
 ception of the heart,' or both, is for him a matter of small 
 importance ( 244, cf. 188). 
 
 7 . Distinction of the moral front the legal and theological 
 provinces. 
 
 The moral philosophy of the period is therefore distinctly 
 provincial, and ' home-made.' But there are compensations 
 in its provinciality. That morals have a peculiar interest for 
 the lawyer, the politician, and the divine needs no saying. 
 In the development of the immense doctrine of the law of 
 nature, the influence of the civilian and the statesman had 
 
 1 Mind, vol. xv. no. 60. The following passages contain most of 
 Berkeley's moral theory Principles, 100; Passive Obedience, 4-15, 
 38-34, 41, 42, 53; Alciphron, Dial. iii. 10, n. The references are to 
 Fraser's edition.
 
 MORALIZING THEOLOGY. xxi 
 
 been supreme. In its lengthy history the legal and political 
 view of morals had been fairly exhausted. For the rest ethics 
 had been in the hands of theologians, and though in dealing 
 with ethics the spiritual elements of theology, even in its most 
 spiritual periods, had a way of evaporating, leaving little more 
 than a legal code tempered with reminiscences of Aristotle, 
 still the theological point of view dominated everything except 
 the recalcitrant law of nature. 
 
 It is usual to trace the moralizing tendency of the eighteenth 
 century to the decay of theology and the lessened authority of 
 religious sanctions, and to represent the moral philosophy of that 
 period as an attempt to find a substitute for religion as a basis 
 of society and a guide of conduct l . It was perhaps rather the 
 emptiness and insufficiency of theological ethics in which 
 sanctions were the chief interest, which set serious people 
 upon original moral inquiries, rather than contempt for 
 theology altogether. Theologians themselves showed no un- 
 readiness to accept the position, and from this point of view 
 the moralizing character of theology itself is inevitable rather 
 than contemptible, and the period may more properly be 
 regarded as a necessary stage in the evolution of theology than 
 as one of degradation. It is not my purpose to enter into the 
 question of the relations of religion and morality. But it is 
 hardly necessary to point out the great gain both to theology 
 and ethics which was likely to result, and has in fact resulted, 
 from the independent investigation of moral phenomena from 
 the specifically moral point of view. It has been said that 
 ' those periods in which morals have been represented as the 
 proper study of man and his only business, have been periods of 
 spiritual abasement and poverty V But it would not be too 
 
 1 Leslie Stephen, English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, ii. 2. 
 
 2 M. Pattison, Essays, ii. 82.
 
 xxii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 much to say that the theological or religious revival of the 
 present day, which -is certainly not unspiritual, owes much of 
 its richness and fullness to the labours of what is commonly 
 stigmatized as a most unspiritual age. Whether in the last 
 resort religion and morality merge, is a question which is not 
 in any way prejudged when we congratulate our moralists 
 on their emancipation from the theological tradition of their 
 time. Their very narrowness certainly enabled them to do 
 their work better, and in the result they produced for the 
 use of future philosophers a mass of purely moral data which 
 would have been both smaller and less pure if they had had 
 the capacity or the inclination to consider their bearings on 
 more general problems. The deduction of a moral category 
 is an imposing undertaking, but whether that be possible or 
 not, it is quite impossible to deduce the necessity of such 
 a category from any consideration of the nature of things : 
 for that we must go to experience, and it is because the 
 philosophers of this period went there that the restoration 
 of moral philosophy in the wider sense became possible 
 for Kant and for us. And it is certainly impossible for us 
 to understand Kant without some knowledge of his British 
 predecessors. 
 
 8. The will of God as the source of moral distinctions. 
 
 I will not attempt to trace the various ways in which our 
 writers attempted to regulate their position towards religion : 
 this belongs mainly to the history of the deistical controversy, 
 and partly also to that of the free-will controversy. But 
 both the intellectual and sentimental schools were agreed 
 that it was not the mere will of God which constituted the 
 distinction between right and wrong, nor his power which con- 
 stituted the obligation to goodness. The legislative theory
 
 GOD'S WISDOM AND BENEVOLENCE. xxiii 
 
 of God's relation to moral law was decidedly rejected. To the 
 intellectual school represented by Cudworth, S. Clarke, Price, 
 and Balguy the eternal relations of things, dependent on their 
 essences, to which ' moral relations '* were traced, were at all 
 events not merely an expression of God's will. Moral duties 
 were deducible apart from revelation, though their revelation 
 as God's will was a great assistance to weak man, and though 
 secondarily, but not primarily, we may treat opposition to 
 the natures of things as self-will or rebellion against God's 
 will ( 525, 1032, 1053). To help themselves out of the 
 theological difficulty caused by asserting the independence of 
 morality on God, they employed the distinction between 
 essence and existence, between the formal and efficient cause, 
 between the will of God and his wisdom and goodness ( 813-14, 
 507, 828-29), ar >d the ' wisdom ' of God is of course a meeting- 
 point of the metaphysics of religion and knowledge. 
 
 The sentimental school, on the other hand, represents our 
 amiable, that is our moral affections, as analogous to God's, 
 and our conscience, whether regarded as supplying an 
 additional motive or constituting the obligation of virtue, as 
 the voice of God within. That this explanation is not 
 a final one is easily seen by the intellectual school, and 
 they ask what then constitutes the goodness of God's own 
 benevolence. The will to make man happy is in the last 
 resort the essence of God's goodness for both schools ( 524, 
 112, 186-87, 2 43< cf. 37 6 , 802, 864), though the intellectualist 
 stands out for the antecedent 'fitness' of making the 
 world happy ( 483, 528-29, 734). Happiness even for 
 Butler is ultimately the only thing worth having ( 239, 240 \ 
 and though it is foolish to think too much about happiness 
 ( 231), and illegitimate to make the thought of future 
 happiness the motive of our action, it is concluded, as Kant
 
 xxiv INTRODUCTION.' 
 
 afterwards concluded, that the final coincidence between 
 virtue and happiness can only be brought about by God's 
 dispensation of rewards in a future life, and this coincidence 
 is essential to their scheme of the universe, which without 
 it would be immoral. 
 
 We may however notice the utilitarian objection to the 
 ' divine legislator ' theory of morals that the will of God can 
 only be ascertained by reference to happiness, which is the 
 ultimate criterion ( 864), and what is more, by reference 
 to happiness as we. conceive it ( 376 ) We may also 
 notice Cudworth's theory of the participation of created 
 minds in the divine mind ( 838), which figures so largely in 
 recent speculation, and which is peculiarly serviceable in 
 correlating the practical and speculative 1 . 
 
 9. Positive law and moral distinctions. 
 
 What was denied to the divine was not likely to be allowed 
 to the human legislator. The political or legal theory may 
 have something to say for itself as an explanation of obligation, 
 but as an explanation of the distinction between right and 
 wrong, between just and unjust, it is clearly preposterous ; and 
 even if the position is shifted from positive law to a compact 
 antecedent to law, the necessity of moral distinctions antecedent 
 to the compact is the same. Hume, who rejects the theory 
 of an explicit social contract or promise, rests social institutions 
 on an unspoken convention like that of the rowers in a boat 
 to combine their efforts for a common end, or like that 
 by which language is established. The obligation to justice 
 is thus like the obligation of the members of a boat's 
 crew to keep time (Treatise, p. 490). The question thus 
 will be does the inarticulate sense of common interest on 
 1 Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, 66-73, 173.
 
 HOBBES AND POSITIVE LAW, XXV 
 
 which this convention rests imply anything more in man 
 than can be derived from his accumulated experience of 
 pleasure l ? 
 
 The theory of Hobbes is effectively criticized, especially by 
 the intellectualists ( 486, 514, 587, 672, 816), and they do 
 not fail to point out his arbitrary and illegitimate use of 
 the laws of nature ( 515). It is possible, however, to take 
 Hobbes's moral theory too seriously and literally, and it is 
 impossible to do him justice unless we make allowances 
 for his object, which was far more political than philo- 
 sophical. Adam Smith's remark ( 341) was not unnecessary, 
 that Hobbes's intention was 'to subject the consciences of 
 men immediately to the civil and not to the ecclesiastical 
 powers, whose turbulence and ambition he had been taught 
 by the example of his own times to regard as the principal 
 source of the disorders of society.' There is much in Hobbes 
 which is more dangerous to morality than his political theory, 
 but this for the most part escaped the notice of his critics, 
 who leave the foundation while they demolish the super- 
 structure. There is on the other hand an obscurity in 
 Hobbes's first principles, due largely to confusion of ex- 
 pression if not of thought, which renders him a bad starting- 
 point. Much of the obscurity of Hume's treatment of 
 justice seems due to a desire to follow Hobbes in asserting 
 its artificiality, although he had rejected the ideas of the 
 state of nature and social compact which alone made it 
 plausible. (Hume, Treatise, p. 484, cf. Inquiry, p. 258.) 
 
 As to the acknowledged obligatoriness of civil laws, the senti- 
 mental school is willing to rest it either upon their object the 
 promotion of general happiness, in which we are all interested, 
 or upon their sanctions, but Hutcheson and his followers do 
 1 Green, Proleg. 219, 282-83.
 
 xxvi INTRODUCTION, 
 
 not lay much stress on obligation in any connexion. For the 
 intellectualists, on the other hand, the obligatoriness of civil laws 
 is the same as that of the moral law from which it is derived. 
 In his distinctions between the will of the commander and the 
 intellectual nature of him that is commanded ( 817), and 
 between the formality and materiality of an act of obedience 
 ( 820), Cudworth emphasized ideas of the greatest importance 
 in the subsequent history of idealistic philosophy. 
 
 As to the nature and meaning of sanctions themselves, little 
 is said by the sentimental school : they were thoroughly 
 discredited as motives, and were not suspected of any other 
 import than their obvious utility. Butler, however, with his 
 keen sense of the significance of concrete social institutions, 
 endeavoured to recover in his treatment of punishment that 
 absolute distinction between the right and the useful, the 
 authoritative and the merely persuasive, which he had lost 
 in his co-ordination of conscience and cool self-love, on this 
 point coming into agreement with the intellectualists ( 246, 
 658), and with Adam Smith in his anti-utilitarian mood 
 ( 2 93, 3 02 -4). 
 
 10. The law of nature. 
 
 The moralists of our period are not anxious to exhibit the 
 laws of morals in relation to the ' law of nature ' as explained 
 by Grotius, Puffendorff, and Cumberland. That law is the 
 law of sociality, the law which primarily binds man to man 
 in a society, and secondarily binds one society to another. Its 
 commentators indeed did not confine themselves, as Hobbes 
 did, to considerations of the intolerable nature of unsocial 
 life; they dwelt upon the kindly social tendencies of human 
 nature ' naturalis iuris mater est ipsa humana natura, quae 
 nos, etiamsi re nulla indigeremus, ad societatem mutuam
 
 THE LAW OF NATURE. xxvii 
 
 appetendam ferret V But in two respects it was disagreeable 
 to the age it rested to some extent upon authority, and that 
 by no means the authority of the ' honest farmer,' and in 
 its treatment of benevolence and the obligation to benevo- 
 lence appealed frankly to self-interest. 'The endeavour to 
 the utmost of our power of promoting the common good 
 of the whole system of rational agents, conduces as far as 
 in us lies to the good of every part, in which our own 
 happiness, as that of a part, is contained,' and ' the greatest 
 benevolence of every rational agent towards all, forms the 
 happiest state of every and of all the benevolent V are 
 phrases which would appear likely to be acceptable enough 
 to Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, the latter of whom in fact 
 has to fall back on them for his explanation of 'obligation.' 
 They are capable however of a use obnoxious to the ' dis- 
 interested ' theory, and also to the theory of spontaneous and 
 immediate approbation ( 79, 107, 186). As a fact we find 
 Cumberland's translator, John Maxwell 3 , submitting him to 
 a severe criticism from the point of view of Shaftesbury as well 
 as from the point of view of 'absolute' morality. There is 
 in some ways more temptation for the intellectualists to adopt 
 the 'law of nature,' in order to give content to the eternal, 
 immutable, and necessary law to which they are committed, 
 and of which it is so difficult to find concrete instances. Thus 
 S. Clarke, as well as Hutcheson, accepts the tendency of bene- 
 volence to produce happiness as an illustration of a necessary 
 law arising from the natures or reasons of things ( 502, 506-7, 
 cf. 466), and Locke might have pointed to this kind of law 
 
 1 Grotius, de lure Belli, prol. 16. 
 
 2 Cumberland, Laws of Nature, Introd. ix., c. i. 4, ed. Maxwell, 1727. 
 
 3 Dissertation on the Law of Nature, cap. i. ; published as Appendix to 
 the translation of Cumberland. London, 1727.
 
 xxviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 when he declared that morality was capable ot demonstra- 
 tion. This law may be stated indeed as a ' law of nature ' in 
 the ordinary physical sense, and as such is capable of support 
 by empirical evidence, and if proved is as necessary as any 
 other empirical law; but it is evident that in this sense it 
 cannot be a law of morals in Clarke's own sense, and that its 
 necessity is not what he means by necessity. His adoption 
 of it however is quite consistent with the utilitarian tendency of 
 the intellectual school which is so conspicuous in Wollaston 
 ( 1066-7). Gay, who was by no means a supporter of 'ab- 
 solute fitnesses,' put forward the relations of things as the 
 criterion of happiness in very much the way in which Clarke 
 had attempted to use them. 
 
 ii. Virtue declared to be real and ' natural? 
 
 I have already several times spoken of the ' intellectual ' and 
 'sentimental' schools as representing two principal lines of 
 thought in this period, but have not thought it necessary 
 to define or even describe them. They are primarily dis- 
 tinguished by their adoption of reason and feeling respectively 
 as the faculty which perceives moral distinctions, a faculty 
 declared in each case to be peculiar and not identifiable 
 with ordinary reason or ordinary feeling. When they draw 
 inferences from the faculty to the criterion, the subject-matter, 
 the motive and the obligation of morality, the issues become 
 confused, and there is much ground for Bentham's assertion 
 that both schools, as soon as they come to particulars, are 
 equally utilitarian. The fact is that, whatever the particular 
 form or topic of discussion, they have one common object 
 to show that virtue is real and is worth pursuing in 
 itself; that virtue and the motive to it are irreducible to a 
 merely animal experience of pleasure and pain. The dispute
 
 VIRTUE is ' NATURAL' xxix 
 
 between them is as to the most effective way of attaining 
 this object, and it may fairly be said that they are much 
 stronger in their criticisms of each other than in their own 
 solutions of the problem. They see clearly enough the 
 difficulty of maintaining the specific character of morality ; 
 the tendency of the moral to dissipate itself into the non- 
 moral, whether on the side of experience or on the side of 
 mathematical abstract truth opposite to experience. The fact 
 is that they both start from an uncritical view of experience 
 itself, from the abstract view of their common opponents the 
 sensationalists, and so whether they appeal to or revolt from 
 experience they rest their theories on an equally insecure 
 foundation. Their dispute however is on its own plane very 
 instructive, and in the following pages some of its principal 
 turns and issues are followed out. 
 
 That virtue is ' natural ' and ' according to nature ' is indeed 
 an article of faith with both schools, though they are not 
 unaware of that ambiguity of the term on which Hume remarks 
 (Treatise, p. 474). The sense of 'nature' adopted by 
 Hobbes is of course rejected by both, and both are inclined 
 to minimize rather unduly the artificial element in morality. 
 For the intellectual school virtue is natural primarily because 
 it conforms to the ' intelligible nature and essence of things,' 
 or the relations arising from them ( 825, 491, 550, 1053', 
 secondarily because it recognizes the actual nature, i. e. the 
 constitution of man ( 550, 1007). For the sentimental school, 
 on the other hand, virtue is natural because it conforms 
 to and is the normal expression of uncorrupted human 
 nature. When it is asked however what is human nature, 
 some difference of opinion arises : for Shaftesbury and 
 Hutcheson the kindly or benevolent affections regulated by 
 regard to the whole ' system of rationals ' made up the
 
 xxx INTRODUCTION. 
 
 real nature of man, though they sometimes put in a saving 
 word for other affections : for Butler conscience speaks with 
 the voice of the whole man, and the real nature of man 
 is that constitution (not entirely benevolent) which con- 
 science (and cool self-love) approves of ( 216-17): for 
 Hume that conduct is natural which we ordinarily expect, 
 and for Adam Smith that conduct with which the impartial 
 spectator is able to sympathize. There is a vagueness in these 
 conceptions which renders welcome the further definition 
 contributed by Kames : the common and proper nature of man 
 is that constitution which best enables the species to maintain 
 itself in relation to the external circumstances, now called the 
 environment 1 , in which it is placed ( 911). 
 
 12. Moral laws and natural relations. 
 
 The attempt of one section at least of the intellectual school 
 to deduce moral laws from the ' nature of things ' requires 
 closer scrutiny. Everything is said to have a permanent 
 nature, essence, or character which determines its relations to 
 other things. Since the essences are eternal and immutable, 
 so also are the relations. A thing which is once equal to 
 another is always so, as long as they both remain the same, 
 and the propositions which arise from or are made about 
 their relations are eternally and immutably true. This 
 reminds us of the ' permanent system of relations ' on which 
 the modern idealist dwells in his theory of knowledge, 
 but the moralists of our period were bolder in its use than 
 we should be. Most of the instances of their natural 
 relations and truths are taken from mathematics, and it is 
 asserted that to deny a moral proposition, such as ' gratitude 
 is due to benefactors,' is as formally absurd as to deny the 
 1 Herbert Spencer, Data of Ethics, c. 6.
 
 NATURE AND NATURAL RELATIONS. xxxi 
 
 mathematical truth that 'two straight lines cannot enclose 
 a space,' or that 'things which are equal to the same thing 
 are equal to each other' ( 490-91). Conduct suitable to 
 a certain person in certain circumstances might by a stretch 
 of language be described as proportionate to the person's 
 relations, i.e. his character and circumstances ( 483), and 
 advantage is taken of the word proportion to suggest the 
 identity of moral and mathematical relations. The same 
 jugglery is practised with equity and equality, and it is 
 declared that 'the reason which obliges every man in 
 practice so to deal always with another as he would . . . 
 expect that others should . . . deal with him, is the very 
 same as that which forces him in speculation to affirm, 
 that if one line or number be equal to another, that other 
 is reciprocally equal to it ' ( 500). It is candidly admitted 
 ( 491) that it is not in our power to withhold assent from a 
 plain speculative truth, whereas we can refuse to act up to 
 a plain moral truth, but this admission is not followed up 
 to its proper conclusion that 'practical truth' is a metaphorical 
 phrase and that the ' practical absurdity ' of refusing to perform 
 the act indicated cannot be a ' formal absurdity.' 
 
 It is of course possible to contend that immoral action is 
 absurd in another sense i. e. of defeating its own end, but 
 this is material absurdity, like that of refusing to act on 
 a known physical law. This idea of material absurdity as 
 a test of vice, has a long and not undistinguished history. 
 It figures in Hobbes as an argument for the obligation of 
 justice (injustice being as if a man should deny in the end 
 what he had declared in the beginning) ( 903), and it figures 
 in Kant \ and again in Prof. Green, who ultimately condemns 
 the hedonist as seeking satisfaction in pursuits which cannot 
 1 Metaphysic of Morals, Transl. Abbott, 2, p. 39, ed. 3.
 
 xxxii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 afford it 1 . In the writers of the intellectual school it appears as 
 the absurdity of treating things as other than they are the 
 absurdity of treating men as brutes and brutes as stones of 
 ignoring the eternal natures of things, but it soon appears that 
 it is not the absurdity which makes such action wrong, but the 
 self-will ( 491, 525, 1032, 1053) and wantonness and waste 
 of opportunity which it implies, which are not necessarily 
 absurd at all. This line of argument moreover leads easily 
 into utilitarianism, for to treat men as they are is to treat them 
 primarily as capable of and desiring happiness ( 1066-67, 665, 
 cf. 241 . 
 
 13. Morality and ' truth} 
 
 In the same way as the ' absurdity ' relied on by the intel- 
 lectualists turns out to be self-will, so the violation of truth, of 
 which Wollaston makes so much, turns out to be 'untruth- 
 fulness,' which can certainly be practised without absurdity 
 (though it cannot be imagined a universal practice without 
 some absurdity; lying would cease to be profitable to the liar if 
 no one spoke the truth or expected others to speak the truth). 
 His system, as Balguy points out ( 550), rests on a confusion 
 between ' objective and subjective truth,' and as Price argues 
 ( 693^ it is hard to regard the evil of cruelty or ingratitude as 
 being the same as that of telling a lie. The attempt, however, 
 made by Balguy and Price themselves to exhibit virtue as 
 ' truth,' breaks down almost as easily. Truth is of propositions, 
 and is about things. The object of science is to attain truth 
 about things, but it is not the object of morals to attain 
 truth about actions. You can make as many true propositions 
 about a bad action as about a good one, as Hutcheson points 
 out ( 448, 454), and moral laws are a good deal more than 
 such truths, at all events to anybody who is not a philosopher. 
 1 Prolegomena, 176-77.
 
 TRUTH AND FITNESS. xxxiii 
 
 They can of course be cast into the form of a proposition, 
 and ' thou shalt not steal ' may be rendered ' it is wrong to 
 steal,' but the form in which they naturally appeal to the 
 unsophisticated man is that of the imperative, whether it be 
 hypothetical or categorical. It seems that in the last resort 
 the insistence displayed by Balguy and Price ( 551, 626) in 
 describing a right action as a ' true ' one, is due to their con- 
 viction that moral distinctions are a function of reason and 
 are also objective, and that if so they must be in some way 
 or other an expression of ' truth,' ' practical reason ' not yet 
 being invented, or not yet applied to the solution of this diffi- 
 culty. It is perhaps noticeable that there is a tendency to 
 couple 'order and truth' ( 719, 730), and it may be admitted 
 that the idea of a moral ' order ' is much more suitable for 
 the purpose of these writers, than that of truth, but in their 
 minds it is at least partly a theological idea. 
 
 14. The fitness of actions. 
 
 As for ' relations,' Balguy is easily driven to admit that 
 mathematical relations can only be used figuratively in morals, 
 and that moral perceptions, e.g. of moral agreement and fit- 
 ness, are different in kind from mathematical perceptions 
 ( 7i4-i9>, though they are still perceptions of reason and 
 not of sense. A great deal of the intellectualist argument 
 turns upon merely verbal ambiguity, which Price is obliged to 
 admit ( 670, 694); relation, agreement, congruity, suitable- 
 ness, fitness, form a series which lead, conveniently but loosely, 
 from the non-moral to the moral. ' But to serve the purpose 
 of the intellectualist, with his demand for absolute virtue, it 
 must be absolute fitness ( 483), and absolute fitness is a con- 
 tradiction in terms. Moral fitness must mean either fitness 
 to an end, e.g. happiness, or fitness to gratify a desire
 
 xxxiv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ( 807, 1014), or that conformity to a certain standard of 
 character, otherwise determined, which is more usually called 
 propriety or decency. Suitableness to human nature, whether 
 that of the ideal man or the ordinary man ( 220, 262), 
 is a quite intelligible phrase, but it recognizes a standard 
 which the intellectualists could not accept. That a virtuous 
 act must not violate the physical laws of the universe, 
 and in this sense must be suitable to the nature of things, 
 is quite true, but that is only a negative condition of virtue, 
 and such violation would constitute folly rather than vice, 
 and an" action which was calculated with most exact reference 
 to physical conditions might yet be a very bad one. Abstract 
 fitness is certainly not sufficient to constitute virtue ( 739, 
 747 n\ and it is impossible to give a definition of virtuous 
 fitness without including 'in the definition the idea of virtue. 
 'These expressions,' says Price, referring to congruity, suit- 
 ability, &c., 'are of no use and have little meaning if con- 
 sidered as intended t6 define virtue; for they evidently 
 presuppose it' ( 697). Hume's remark on the writers of this 
 school, that ' they thought it sufficient if they could bring the 
 word relation into the argument without troubling themselves 
 whether it was to the purpose or not ' (Treatise, p. 464 n), is 
 much to the point, as indeed is his whole criticism of the 
 theory which places virtue and vice in relations (ib. pp. 463- 
 470). If you say that the virtue of an act is a relation, he 
 replies that all the four relations discoverable by reason are 
 perceptible between inanimate objects or animals just as 
 much as between persons : there is no actual relation in 
 parricide which does not exist between the ivy and the oak, nor 
 in incest which does not occur between animals. If it be re- 
 plied that the moral .relation is a new relation different from 
 any of the four recognized relations, he says, show it me !
 
 IMMUTABLE MORALITY. xxxv 
 
 That is precisely what the intellectualists are inclined to do, 
 and they name it ' fitness ' or ' rectitude.' Fitness we have 
 already dealt with, and shown that it carries us beyond itself 
 to some standard which is already moral or else not founded 
 in the ' nature of things ' ; of ' Rectitude ' we may say with 
 Price that it is only another name for 'oughtness' ( 671, 686 
 n). And if 'oughtness' is a relation it is at all events a dif- 
 ferent kind of relation from the other relations, and thus far 
 there is no ground for ascribing its perception to the same 
 kind of reason as perceives them, nor is there any ground for 
 deducing this new relation from others which are entirely 
 different from it (Hume, Treatise, p. 469). 
 
 1 5 . Are there acts which are virtuous in all relations ? 
 
 Hume properly points out (loc. cit.) that no conclusion can 
 be drawn as to the nature of virtue or the faculty which 
 perceives it from the assertion that ' we perceive an act in 
 certain relations to be virtuous or vicious.' It may also be 
 pointed out that it warrants no conclusion as to the immu- 
 table nature of morality. It may be granted that the same act 
 in the same relations is always virtuous or vicious, if ' relations ' 
 be taken in the widest possible sense, but that is a perfectly 
 barren proposition. What the intellectualists want to assert 
 is something very different, viz. that there are certain acts, or 
 classes of acts, which are virtuous or vicious in all relations 
 and all circumstances. They instance ' keeping faith and per- 
 forming equitable covenants and equity ' (487, 498), ' making 
 a virtuous agent happy ' ( 654 f.), and gratitude ( 717). But as 
 soon as they come to define that gratitude which is always 
 virtuous they are obliged to limit their statement to the state of 
 mind or will, ' the ultimate principle of conduct or the deter- 
 
 c 2
 
 xxxvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ruination of a reasonable being' ( 622\ as distinguished from 
 the overt act, for we clearly cannot say that any particular act is 
 always virtuous or vicious in all circumstances. But can we say 
 any more of any state of mind that it is always and in all circum- 
 stances virtuous ? Is there not a proper and an improper grati- 
 tude, as Adam Smith suggests ( 290, 294-6) ? and is it possible 
 to advance a single step in the definition of the gratitude or 
 other state of mind which is proper, without including in the 
 definition the idea of virtue itself? Can we ever say more 
 than that ' the gratitude which is virtuous is always virtuous,' 
 which again is a perfectly barren proposition ? We are thus 
 driven practically to reduce immutable morality to the one 
 empty proposition of Kant : there is nothing good but a good 
 will, the goodness of which consists in formality alone. His 
 efforts to get materiality into his moral; law led him to recur 
 to those considerations of material absurdity which we have 
 already examined, It maybe repeated, in this connexion, that 
 Kant would be a good deal better understood if he were read in 
 connexion with the British Moralists, with whom he was well 
 acquainted. There is little in him that is not in them, though 
 his general attitude towards ethics is a different and more 
 distinguished one. It is perhaps worth noting that the theory 
 of the absolute fitness of certain kinds of action sometimes 
 takes the form of asserting that one kind of action is 'fitter ' 
 in itself than another, generally its opposite ( 483, 619). 
 This suggests the modification, lately revived by Dr. Mar- 
 tineau, of an absolute code of duties into an absolute scale 
 of duties, in which each class of act or motive appears not as 
 ' good ' or ' bad ' but as better or worse than those below or 
 above it 3 . 
 
 1 Types of Ethical Theory, part ii. c. I. 2, vol. ii. p. 40 f.
 
 MORAL DISTINCTIONS AND REASONS. xxxvii 
 
 1 6. Reason as the moral faculty . 
 
 Let us pass from the consideration of the attempt to deduce 
 morality from the ' nature of things ' to exhibit it as part of 
 that order of nature with which science is concerned, and to 
 apply the formal tests of truth and falsehood to virtue and vice, 
 and consider the meaning of the attempt to exhibit morality 
 as a function of Reason. And first let us take it in its weakest 
 aspect, in which it appears as a positive rather than a negative 
 theory. We have here to deal with bold intuitionists. Price 
 quite rightly points out that the sensationalist argument that 
 reason gives rise to no new ideas is framed with reference 
 primarily to deductive reason (to which we may add inductive 
 reason, if there is any essential difference), the function of which 
 in morals can only be ancillary. This reason, which 'is and only 
 ought to be the slave of the passions ' (Hume, Treatise, p. 415), 
 is not the only form of reason, and it is asserted that intuitive 
 reason does give rise to new ideas. Price ( 589-604) goes 
 through the stock arguments (borrowed from Plato and Cud- 
 worth) for the activity of reason in the formation of general and 
 abstract ideas, in the criticism and correction of sensation ; 
 he also instances the ideas of solidity, power, and causation. 
 He then boldly asserts that right and wrong are simple ideas 
 arising from ' some power of immediate perception in the 
 human mind ' ( 605), i. e. from ' our intuition of the nature 
 of things' ( 612). He means presumably that as soon as 
 the idea of gratitude or truthfulness is brought before us 
 we also form the idea of ' right,' and that this perception of 
 right, being simple, is ultimate and undefinable ( 670, 682). 
 This statement may be true, and yet not warrant any con- 
 clusion such as he has drawn. We touch, of course, here upon 
 the general Idealist argument that the activity of reason
 
 xxxviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 is necessary for the constitution of the world of know- 
 ledge, and even for the constitution of ' objects ' of sense. 
 The argument is mainly negative and rests, even in the specu- 
 lative sphere, upon the alleged insufficiency of sense, but in 
 the practical sphere it is still more negative. The modern form 
 of the idealist argument deals in the speculative sphere chiefly 
 with the manufacture of relations, which are felt to furnish 
 the most satisfactory instances of the activity of reason : and 
 there is no lack of such instances, whether we take time and 
 space, or causation, or the mathematical relations. But in 
 the practical sphere it is no longer possible to deal with re- 
 lations, and it is very hard to give any definite instances at all 
 of the products of reason, especially if it be desired to exhibit 
 those products as ' universal and necessary.' The whole force 
 of the argument lies therefore in the negative criticism of sense, 
 and it is peculiarly hard in. the practical region to force on an 
 opponent the alternative, 'either sense or reason,' which, in 
 fact, Adam Smith refuses to accept ( 343). He is always 
 able to reply, ' The sense which you declare to be insufficient 
 is not the sense which I mean : I mean by sense a good deal 
 more than Hume meant, and I quite agree with you that such 
 a sense as Hume referred everything to is a mere fiction.' The 
 same reply, of course, can be_ and is made in the speculative 
 sphere, but it is easier to make and more difficult to meet in 
 morals. I am not going to enter into the general Idealist 
 controversy. It may be noted, however, that the argument 
 that, as reason is necessary to constitute objects of knowledge, 
 so it is necessary to constitute any motives or objects of desire ', 
 does not appear in the writings of this period, though the 
 analysis of desire plays a very important part in them. 
 Whether that argument strengthens the Idealist position is 
 1 Green, Pro!. 88 f., 120.
 
 CAN ENDS BE REASONABLE? xxxix 
 
 another question. It may also be noted that the attribution 
 of self-determination to reason, and the vindication of freedom 
 in morals by reference to that self-determination, do not dis- 
 tinctly appear 1 ( 597, 701): how far that self-determination 
 which characterizes speculative as well as practical reason is 
 a sufficient foundation for responsibility is again another 
 question 2 . Price indeed asserts that, though reason implies 
 liberty, yet liberty does not imply reason, true liberty being 
 possessed by animals ( 703). 
 
 1 7 . Can reason move to action 1 
 
 Hume's principal argument against reason is that it excites 
 to no action, is ' perfectly inert,' and ' can never be the source 
 of so active a principle as conscience or a sense of morals ' 
 (Treatise, 413-18, 457). Reason can indicate the means 
 to an end, or can show us the existence of a desired 
 end, but it cannot itself recommend an end ( 449 f., 450). 
 This argument primarily applies to discursive, not to intuitive 
 reason, and it may be said that the hard distinction drawn 
 by Hume (as previously by Aristotle) between means and end 
 does not prevail in morals : we do not as a matter of fact 
 when judging of an action always or often regard it as a means 
 or as distinct from its end (cf. 572, 304, 881-5). When we 
 judge morally of an act, we more often regard it as the 
 part of a whole, a system of conduct than as the means to 
 an end. But when we do consider our actions as means to an 
 end it is not easy to say in what sense the end can be callecJ 
 ' reasonable.' Whether there are ultimate ends, and whether 
 virtue is an ultimate end, or whether pleasure is the only ultimate 
 
 1 Cf. Cudworth, Of Freewill, p. 71. Ed. Allen, 1838. 
 
 2 Green, Prol. 76-7, 86-9, 108.
 
 xl ' INTRODUCTION. 
 
 end, are further questions ; I am now only concerned with the 
 attempt made to exhibit reason as constituting ' ends ' which 
 are capable of moving us to action, and for this purpose 
 something more is required than that function of reason 
 by which it makes an end or anything else an object 
 of knowledge. The modern argument which attributes to 
 reason an important part in the constitution of the ideas of 
 ' self ' and ' self-satisfaction,' and so in the constitution of all 
 motives, is curiously reversed by Balguy ( 724-5). Balguy's 
 own arguments are perhaps less convincing on this point 
 than on any other, especially when he rings the changes on 
 ' reason ' and ' reasons.' It is useless in this connexion to 
 reiterate, as Price does ( 706), that the 'perception of right 
 and wrong does excite to action'; this is not only admitted by 
 Hume, but urged by him to show that the perception cannot 
 be a function of Reason. In the same way it is no good 
 urging that the moral law moves to action by its inherent worth 
 (by exciting ' respect ' as Kant would say) unless you can prove 
 that the perception of ' worth ' is peculiar to reason, the diffi- 
 culty of which I have suggested in the last paragraph. Balguy 
 identifies 'Reason and moral good' ( 563, 720) and says 
 that in pursuing reason or moral good a reasonable creature 
 is acting according to his nature, i.e. reasonably. It is as 
 absurd therefore to ask why a reasonable creature should act 
 reasonably as to ask why a sensible creature should pursue 
 happiness ( 732), an argument which still has considerable 
 vitality. The difficulty is to give any particular meaning to 
 acting ' reasonably ' which does not contradict the argument. 
 Kant gave some meaning to ' reasonably ' when he interpreted 
 it as ' universally,' but the difficulty then arose of distin- 
 guishing ' universal ' action from action that was not ' universal.' 
 Of course both schools recognize that 'reasonable' action
 
 THE SENTIMENTALIST AND HUMAN NATURE, xli 
 
 in the sense of considerate and careful action is generally 
 best : rational is thus contrasted with instinctive benevolence, 
 rational or cool self-love with passion. Hume indeed traces 
 the fallacy of the intellectual school to the universal acknow- 
 ledgement of the superiority of the calm passions (Treatise, 
 PP- 4i7, 437)- 
 
 1 8. The sentimental theory of human nature. 
 
 Let us now turn to the sentimentalists and examine their 
 attempt to show that virtue is real and natural by relating it, 
 not to the ' nature of things,' but to ' human nature.' There 
 are two points on which they have to defend themselves against 
 the sceptic : they have to show that moral ideas are not resolv- 
 able into non-moral by any of the great solvents, sympathy, or 
 habit, or association of ideas : they have also to show that, 
 though they are ultimate, yet they are inherently attractive and 
 influential and do not owe their power to anything which is 
 non-moral. At the same time they have to defend themselves 
 against the intellectualists who urge that no sense or sentiment 
 whatever can yield moral ideas possessing either the qualities 
 required by the controversy with scepticism, or the quality of 
 obligatoriness required by the intellectualist. For the senti- 
 mentalist, therefore, it is a ' war with two fronts/ and when he 
 faces one enemy he generally exposes his flank to the other. 
 When he has vindicated against the sceptic the distinction 
 between moral and natural good, the intellectualist meets him 
 with the objection that his moral good imposes only a natural 
 obligation, and is therefore no more acceptable as a basis 
 of morality than pleasure pure and simple. When he has 
 succeeded to his own satisfaction in showing that the feeling of 
 approbation is quite different from the feeling of the anticipation
 
 xlii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of pleasure, that it is differently regarded by all men and leads 
 to a different course of action, he is met by the intellectualist 
 with the objection that a subjective feeling is never the same 
 as an objective quality, and that in point of subjectivity, i.e. 
 arbitrariness, variability, particularity, the feeling of approbation 
 is not at all superior to the feeling of pleasure. On one point, 
 however, the two schools are in fact more or less agreed and 
 that is on the possibility of disinterested desire. This has not 
 much effect in bringing them together, though Price refers to 
 Butler's theory with approval ( 651 ff.). 
 
 19. The ' reflex sense' in human nature. 
 
 Virtue is natural, urges the sentimentalist, because it is an 
 expression of the uncorrupted nature of man, of his nature 
 regarded in all its relations and as part of a system, of his 
 nature as distinguished by self-consciousness and reflection 
 and ' affection towards affections ' from that of animals, of his 
 whole nature as comprising a peculiar moral sense, of his nature 
 as an organic whole organized under two authoritative and 
 reflective principles, conscience and self-love : it is an expression 
 of the real and entire nature of man as distinguished from those 
 partial and distorted aspects of human nature to which the 
 enemies of virtue appeal. 
 
 In Shaftesbury's theory there is no strong contrast between 
 the moral and non-moral, except that for morality a further 
 complication of animal nature is required, viz. reflection on 
 affection ('reflected sense ') and consequent affection towards 
 affection ( n, 25). It might, of course, be urged that this 
 difference is one of degree only, not of kind, and it is pointed 
 out afterwards by Kames ( 931), with reference to Butler's 
 stronger doctrine, that mere ' reflection ' does not constitute 
 the authority of conscience. In the modern Idealist controversy
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENTIMENTAL THEORY, xliii 
 
 indeed great stress is laid upon self-consciousness, and the 
 evidence it gives of the activity of reason l , but Shaftesbury's 
 theory can hardly be regarded as an adumbration of that 
 theory. As against the satirists, indeed, his picture of the 
 natural benevolence (with which he generally identifies virtue) 
 of man has some force, and against the individualists his 
 picture of the essential relation in which man stands to the 
 social system has also force, though it is weakened rather 
 than strengthened by his. reference to universal nature 
 ( 4). At this point Shaftesbury's theory comes in ap- 
 pearance close to that of the intellectualist. By giving free 
 play to his kindly affections man plays his. part not only in 
 the limited system or society of which he is primarily a member, 
 but in the wider 'system of all rationals, and ultimately 
 in that great systematic scheme of all things with re- 
 ference to which alone things can be called absolutely 
 good or ill. But in this scheme there is no room for the 
 essential difference of moral and natural, and the theory 
 easily admits of a naturalistic or biological interpretation. 
 Also his theory has no power of resistance in the face of 
 ' universalistic hedonism,' nor indeed against ' individualistic 
 hedonism ' except in its rawest form. 
 
 Hutcheson is not contented with a mere ' reflex sense ': he 
 considers that man has in him a peculiar sense giving rise 
 to a peculiar and disinterested feeling of approbation, dis- 
 tinguishable from all other feelings and more particularly 
 from the anticipation of pleasure immediate or remote, con- 
 sequential or concomitant. Virtue, which he also generally 
 identifies with benevolence, is the object of this sense, and 
 man is incited to its pursuit by this sense and the love which 
 springs from it. This theory has some force against the theory 
 1 Green, Prol. 88.
 
 xliv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of conscious calculating selfishness, but not much against the 
 more refined forms of hedonism. Its assertion of the essential 
 difference between moral and natural good ( 68, 472) is 
 verbally an advance on Shaftesbury, but it is exposed to very 
 rough criticism by the intellectualists. 
 
 It is in Butler that the sentimental school really reaches its 
 climax. He is indeed careful not to commit himself to any 
 decision between the claims of reason and sense ( 188, 244), 
 but it is impossible not to treat his theory as intimately related 
 to the speculation of Hutcheson, who indeed in his last work 
 ( 472-4) evidently has taken a good deal from Butler. Man 
 as an organic whole consists not only of parts, but of parts 
 interrelated under a reflective faculty, which is endued not 
 only with power or attractiveness but with authority. It is 
 not merely the source of an additional feeling, distinguish- 
 able from other feelings : its deliverances stand on a different 
 level from those of the other faculties, they are superior and 
 imperative. To act according to human nature is to fall in with 
 the system imposed by this authority, which has regard to all 
 the capacities of human nature and by no means confines 
 its interest to benevolence. 
 
 20. Sense as a source of obligation. 
 
 But, urges the intellectualist, how does your system secure 
 the obligatoriness of virtue ? Even if it be true that the view 
 of benevolent acts or affections does not leave us indifferent, 
 even if a ' reflex sense ' on consideration of them yields a 
 peculiar and exquisite pleasure or gives rise to a new feeling 
 which we call approbation, does this impose on me any 
 obligation to perform such acts or gratify such affections ? It 
 may move or attract me, as a matter of fact, more than 
 anything else, but does it oblige me? And, supposing that
 
 OBLIGA TION AND FEELING. xlv 
 
 at any time it fails to move or attract a man, or supposing 
 a man to be naturally weak or altogether deficient in it, is 
 that to excuse him partially or wholly for his vicious acts ? 
 Balguy urges the distinction between the natural obligation 
 of pleasure and pain, viewed as the sanctions or conse- 
 quences of acts, which appeals to us as sensible creatures, 
 and moral obligation, which cannot be derived from our 
 sensible natures ( 720-2). Price urges that 'the attraction 
 or excitement which the mind feels upon perceiving right and 
 wrong ... is the effect of obligation perceived rather than 
 obligation itself ' ( 682) \ As a matter of fact Shaftesbury and 
 Hutcheson have very little to say about obligation, and they 
 do not claim- as against the hedonist that the obligation of 
 moral laws is other than that of pleasure. When Shaftesbury 
 sets out to show the obligations to virtue he only attempts 
 to show that to have that balance of affections which 
 he calls virtue ' is to have the chief means and power of self- 
 enjoyment' ( 26, 37). This really is nothing more than 
 a discussion of the motive to virtue, and, though Hutcheson 
 objects to the inclusion of the ' concomitant pleasure ' of bene- 
 volence in such motive, he does not really advance upon 
 Shaftesbury's position as to the nature of obligation. He 
 has indeed no liking for the topic. With some justification 
 perhaps he denounces ' ought ' as a ' confused word,' and 
 obligation as ' a term both complex and ambiguous ' ( 460, 
 481). When he is dealing with the theory that all obligation 
 proceeds from laws, he asks ( 172), How can we then say 
 that God ought to make the innocent happy ? This question 
 might have suggested to him that there is a sense of obligation 
 other than those which he enumerates elsewhere ( 166-7), 
 
 1 Kant, Analytic of Pure Practical Reason, transl. Abbott, ed. 3, 
 p. 128.
 
 xlvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 unless he is prepared to accept J. Clarke's hedonistic theory 
 of God's action ( 802). But when he deals with obligation it 
 is always in accordance with his own pronouncement that ' the 
 principal business of the moral philosopher ' is to show from 
 solid reasons ' that universal benevolence tends to the happiness 
 of the benevolent.' In the whole of the controversy, indeed, 
 the ideas of ' obligation ' and ' motive ' are so mixed up by the 
 Intellectual (the confusion is pointed out by Price, 682) as 
 well as by the Sentimental school that nothing very useful 
 emerges, except with regard to the definition of ' duty ' 
 ( 688 f.) and the relation of obligation and ' constraint ' ( 1 74). 
 
 21. Butler's theory of obligation and punishment. 
 
 Whether from incapacity to do otherwise or for some better 
 reason, the Intellectualists really confine themselves to declaring 
 that obligation is part of the notion of virtue : to ask what 
 obliges us to virtue is to ask why we are obliged to do what we 
 are obliged to do ( 679). This is also Butler's position : 
 his assertion of the authority and supremacy of conscience is 
 only another way of asserting that the moral law has the aspect of 
 an imperative, obedience to which is obligatory as obedience to 
 a rightly constituted civil authority is obligatory. In this con- 
 nexion Butler, like Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, lays great stress 
 upon the superiority of a reflective faculty to a simple propension 
 or appetite. In Butler's case it looks almost like a sop to the 
 intellectualists (cf. 687). But, besides being open to Kames' 
 criticism, referred to above, it lands him in serious difficulties 
 with self-love, which is also a reflective principle, and as such 
 seems to have a co-ordinate authority with conscience ( 217, 
 226). Conscience, however, and self-love look on pleasure 
 and pain with different eyes to self-love they are natural 
 consequences of actions, to conscience they always appear as
 
 SIGNIFICANCE OF PUNISHMENT. xlvii 
 
 punishment or reward. This point of view is at least partly 
 theological, and conscience is not only that which enables 
 a man to be a law to himself, but it also speaks as the 
 voice of God. This throws the whole stress of the obliga- 
 toriness of the moral law on the theory of punishment, which 
 is certainly one of the most important parts of Butler's 
 speculation 1 . The introduction of punishment has indeed 
 the advantage of once more assimilating the moral to the 
 legal notion of obligation and relieving moral obligation 
 from the charge of being something merely in the clouds 
 to which no intelligible meaning could be attached a mere 
 name. But this theory of punishment is not only open 
 to the utilitarian criticism, but is also liable to be treated from 
 the naturalistic point of view as based on a non-moral principle 
 of retaliation (cf. 293, 302). It also, as above suggested, lets 
 in the theological point of view, though of course in the eyes 
 of one to whom the whole world is but ' the ante-room of 
 heaven and hell,' this would be no disadvantage. 
 
 We may also notice again the hint in Cudworth of the 
 peculiar ' formality ' of moral obligation ( 820, cf. 492). 
 
 22. The sentimental theory supplies no criterion. 
 
 The point on which sentimentalist morals are chiefly attacked 
 by the intellectualist is their subjectivity and consequent lack 
 of universality : and this attack takes two directions. The 
 sentimentalist is first accused of substituting a faculty for 
 a criterion, the subjective act of approbation for an objective 
 quality, and, secondly, of identifying the moral faculty, from 
 which approbation proceeds, with a sense. These two criticisms 
 are as a fact seldom distinguished by their authors, nor is the 
 idea of a criterion very distinctly conceived by any of the chief 
 1 Cf. Bradley, Ethical Studies, p. 25 f.
 
 xlviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 parties to the controversy. Wollaston, who has most to say 
 about it ( 1023, 1044 f.), is not the most successful in dealing 
 with it, and some of the absurdity of his theory is due to his 
 preoccupation with it. But the intellectualists are quite clear 
 in general that to say that 'good ' means and is nothing more 
 than what we approve is preposterous ( 536, 685). Both 
 parties are agreed, as against the hedonist, that no reason can 
 be given for our approbation, which is necessary and ultimate 
 ( 585, 608, 559, cf. 369-37 1) ; but so long as the intellectua- 
 list is unable to do more than name the quality which is ap- 
 proved the controversy is rather barren. The effort to give 
 material content to ' rectitude ' is a failure, and he has not yet 
 resigned himself to merely formal content. The sentimentalist, 
 on the other hand, boldly produces ' benevolence ' as the quality 
 approved, and the controversy shifts its ground and becomes 
 an inquiry into the sufficiency of benevolence to constitute 
 moral good. Two questions therefore are mainly discussed : 
 if the approving faculty is of the nature of a sense, and if the 
 approved quality is of the nature of an instinct, can anything 
 but an arbitrary morality be constructed upon such a basis ? 
 
 23. Is a moral sense l arbitrary ' 1 
 
 Against the identification of the approving faculty with any 
 kind of sense or anything like a sense it is urged that the 
 constitution of our senses is arbitrary and might have been 
 different. Might not God have given us a sense to which 
 malicious instead of benevolent acts were agreeable, and which 
 would approve of ingratitude and perfidy ( 186, 538)? If so, 
 then virtue is made dependent on the arbitrary will of God, 
 and the question arises which we have already discussed. 
 Hutcheson suggests two answers : first, that the present 
 constitution of our moral sense is good, because it tends on
 
 VARIABILITY OF MORAL SENSE. xlix 
 
 l 
 the whole to the happiness of creation, which must be a matter 
 
 of concern to a benevolent God ( 186, 457). He does 
 not lay much stress on this argument, because it seems to 
 make moral dependent on natural good, but rather urges that 
 God's approval of the present constitution of our moral sense 
 proceeds from some principle in him analogous to man's moral 
 sense ( 459). This explanation, of course, only puts the 
 difficulty one step further back, as Balguy points out ( 528). 
 Besides the arbitrariness of virtue alleged to follow from this 
 theory there is its variability; you cannot expect uniformity 
 in the senses of different men, or of the same man at different 
 times ; ' to make the rectitude of moral actions, ... in propor- 
 tion to the warmth and strength of the moral sense, rise and 
 fall like spirits in a thermometer is depreciating the most 
 sacred thing in the world and almost exposing it to ridicule ' 
 ( 539) an d certainly rendering morality 'incapable of demon- 
 stration' ( 728), besides ascribing to it a low origin and impairing 
 its dignity ( 540). If Hutcheson urges that as a matter of fact 
 ' it is highly probable that the senses of all men are pretty 
 uniform ' ( 463), Balguy replies that ' this universality does not 
 remove the imputation we are speaking of. Hunger and thirst 
 are universal instincts, but, however suitable they may be 
 to our present condition, they are never reckoned honourable 
 to human nature' (731). It is clear that to Balguy, whose 
 arguments are more than slightly rhetorical, 'the hunger 
 and thirst after righteousness ' could not be an acceptable 
 phrase. 
 
 24. Moral sense as furnishing a criterion and motive. 
 
 But a greater difficulty lies behind. All senses stand in 
 need of correction, and it was a principle of ancient idealism 
 that the faculty which judges of and corrects the senses cannot 
 
 * d
 
 1 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 be itself sense. It is admitted that moral sense at times 
 requires correction, and can be improved by education and 
 training. What sets the standard of this correction and im- 
 provement? Hutcheson ( 465-7) boldly faces this question, 
 and it strains his theory almost to the breaking point. He 
 says that reason undoubtedly corrects our opinions (a) as to 
 the tendencies of certain actions to happiness (Bentham thinks 
 this is the only possible form of correction, 366), (&) as to the 
 affections by which an agent is actually influenced, and in these 
 ways rather corrects the data upon which our moral sense 
 pronounces judgement than regulates our moral sense itself. 
 He admits that our organs of sense may be disordered or may 
 mislead us, and that we correct their deliverances by the 
 standard of a normal sense. He expresses a doubt whether in 
 fact our moral sense itself ever is disordered as the organs of 
 sight or hearing are disordered (Adam Smith has no doubts as 
 to this, 350), but if it were so disordered he says that reason 
 could do nothing to correct it except by ' suggesting to its 
 remembrance its former approbations and representing the 
 general sense of mankind,' and from this, he declares, we cannot 
 infer that reason antecedently to sensation has ideas of virtue 
 and vice. It must of course be admitted that the inference 
 drawn by the intellectualist is not justifiable, but, on the 
 other hand, Hutcheson's subjective empiricism, if followed up, 
 lands him in difficulties. The doctrine of the moral sense is 
 a sensationalist, individualist doctrine, through which Locke's 
 metaphysical assumptions can easily be seen. His morality is a 
 'protestant' morality of private judgement, and there is no hint 
 of a ' national conscience,' or of that organic conception of the 
 good, evolved in and through society alone, on which Green 
 laid so much stress, and which corresponds to the organic 
 conception of a Ko'o-/*or of inter-related phenomena which serves
 
 CORRECTION OF MORAL SENSE. li 
 
 as the basis of science \ Hutcheson therefore would, if he 
 pursued the subject, find that the correction of the individual's 
 moral sense by the general sense is peculiarly difficult for him. 
 In speculative matters we are all accustomed to correct our 
 opinions by those of others or by the verified laws of science : 
 but are we entitled to correct our own moral judgements by those 
 of others in a matter of right as distinguished from a matter of 
 fact ? How far is the appeal to the ' general sense ' either attrac- 
 tive to the unreflective or valid for the reflective ? Respectability 
 has many merits, but it does not often raise enthusiasm. On 
 a really social and ' catholic ' theory, such as Aristotle's was, the 
 (TiTovBmos takes a rank as standard and motive which on a 
 ' protestant ' theory he cannot have. Speaking generally, the 
 idealist contention has much truth, that sense (as regarded by 
 sensationalists themselves) is not a bond of union or a basis 
 of common action, and that the conception of a common 
 good is a cause rather than an effect of sympathy. 
 
 But the real fact is that the moral sense theory is a theory 
 of motive rather than of criterion. It is not put forward with 
 a view to assisting us to distinguish right from wrong ( 136) : 
 for this purpose to refer us to a faculty would be a good deal 
 more futile than to refer us to the <rnov8alos. Nor is it really 
 framed with much reference to the intellectualist school ; 
 except in so far as Hutcheson's metaphysics convince him that 
 sense is the only sure basis of any experience. It is really a 
 counter-theory to the selfish theory, which is essentially a theory 
 of motives. Virtue is real and natural, says the sentimentalist, 
 because there is in every man a sufficient motive to it. We all 
 of us have some benevolence, but purely natural benevolence 
 is apt to be weak or partial. It is strengthened and corrected 
 by the moral sense, which adds a novel and exquisite pleasure 
 1 Green, Prol. 232 ; Pol. Obligation, 138-9. 
 d 2
 
 Hi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to that which accompanies the gratification of any natural im- 
 pulse. When benevolence is wide and impartial this accessory 
 pleasure derived from the moral sense reaches its highest pitch. 
 
 25. Is moral sense itself an element in virtue? 
 
 This is very well urged by Hutcheson against the crude 
 form of the selfish theory. Virtue or benevolence is made our 
 greatest happiness, apart from any external consequences, by 
 the action of moral sense. But some confusion results 
 as regards the nature of virtue. Does the virtue of an act 
 consist in the strong benevolence it shows, or in the keen moral 
 sense which regulates the benevolence? He says ( 473) that 
 we do not call an acute moral sense itself virtuous, but we 
 ' approve it above all other abilities,' nor will he ( 474, but cf. 
 349) identify virtue with the ' love of moral excellence or love 
 of complacency ' which is the direct expression of the moral 
 sense. To some extent the distinction between benevolence 
 and complacency corresponds to that between instinctive and 
 rational benevolence, which he admits (442), inasmuch as 'calm 
 universal benevolence ' can only be the effect of long operation 
 of the moral sense. Balguy is quite justified in identifying 
 universal benevolence and complacency (557) and in making 
 this rational complacency rather than benevolence the basis of 
 virtue. 
 
 Hutcheson was no doubt wise in his generation in refusing 
 to identify virtue with anything so recondite as love of moral 
 excellence, though he was obliged to recognize its existence. 
 It would be difficult for him to assert against the selfish 
 school that such a love was universal among common men. 
 He wanted something which he could plausibly ascribe to the 
 mass of men, for he certainly wanted to make most men out 
 to be virtuous if he could. But in reality, though the moral
 
 MULTIPLICATION OF SENSES. liii 
 
 sense theory reinforces his theory of benevolence, it embarrasses 
 his theory of virtue, and it does so all the more because he 
 does not avail himself of the ' will ' as the seat of virtue. He 
 seems once on the point of doing so ( 442, note), but he was 
 probably unwilling to involve his theory in the free-will 
 controversy, and we for our part may be thankful that he did 
 not. Since Kant the will has been freely referred to as the 
 ultimate residence of virtue, but not always with profit. 
 
 26. Is a moral sense necessary ? 
 
 In the moral sense theory the questions of the nature and 
 subject-matter and motives of virtue are so mixed up that it is 
 almost impossible to separate them, as Price would have us do 
 ( 586). It is therefore difficult, and would after all be rather 
 artificial, to develop one's criticism of the theory in any very 
 logical or consecutive way. But before coming to the discussion 
 of desire, which is in some ways the most interesting part of the 
 writings of this period, we may mention some miscellaneous 
 criticisms of the moral sense theory. 
 
 The intellectualists of course denounce the moral sense theory 
 not only as offensive but as gratuitous ( 538, 607). Butler 
 does not commit himself ( 244), but Adam Smith denounces 
 it as contrary to the economy of nature ( 347), and Gay says 
 that it is at the best based on an argument ad ignorantiam, by 
 which we should be as justified in asserting a ' pecuniary 
 sense' as a moral sense ( 855, 883). As a matter of fact, 
 Hutcheson displays a most alarming readiness to multiply 
 senses ( 441-3), which finds its proper caricature in Kames' 
 ' sense of property ' ( 948 f.). The real sting however of these 
 criticisms lies in their counter-assertions of sympathy or asso- 
 ciation of ideas as explanations of the admitted phemomenon 
 of ' immediate approbation.' To these we shall recur.
 
 liv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 There is also certainly some ground for J. Clarke's assertion 
 that what the theory gives with one hand it takes away with the 
 other : that it invents a sense to make virtue pleasant, and then 
 says we must not pursue that pleasure ( 806). Hutcheson, who 
 had criticized Shaftesbury for allowing the virtuous man to have 
 regard to the concomitant pleasure of benevolence ( 470), is 
 most careful to impress on us that our benevolence must be 
 entirely disinterested if it is to be virtuous : the concomitant 
 pleasure of benevolence must not and indeed cannot be the 
 motive to benevolence. But he is not so clear about the 
 pleasure of the moral sense. He of course asserts that appro- 
 bation is itself disinterested and is not excited by desire 
 to obtain the concomitant pleasure of approbation, but he does 
 admit ( 460) that ' the prospect of the pleasure of self- 
 approbation is often a motive to choose one action rather 
 than another,' and he would presumably regard it as a proper 
 motive in ' choosing to continue in the agreeable state ' of 
 benevolence (131). In general, however, he runs a risk with 
 his theory of disinterested desire of proving too much viz. 
 that all desire is disinterested, in which case disinterestedness 
 is no longer the mark of virtuous desire ; or that no thought 
 of the pleasure of moral sense must enter into the mind of the 
 virtuous person, in which case the moral sense is not very 
 useful to virtue, but on the contrary frequently imperils its 
 existence. It may also be noted that Hutcheson's limitation 
 of the function of moral sense to the production of a peculiar 
 pleasure opens the way to such an assimilation of this pleasure 
 to other pleasure as Hume carried out through the medium 
 of sympathy. His theory comes perilously near to saying 
 that virtue is ' that which pleases us after a particular manner ' 
 (Hume, Treatise, p. 470).
 
 NATURAL BENEVOLENCE OF MAN. Iv 
 
 27. Virtue as benevolence. 
 
 As for benevolence itself, the sentimentalists are quite sure 
 that disinterested benevolence is the foundation and summary of 
 virtue. The rigour of their altruism is, however, qualified by 
 the admission that in considering the good of ' the system 
 of rationals ' a man is allowed to regard himself as a member of 
 that system, and if the good resulting to others from a given 
 act is not so great as the evil resulting to himself he may 
 properly abstain from it for that reason ( 117-118, cf. 133, 
 1 80). Benevolence itself, or regard for the good of a system, 
 requires a man to be solicitous about himself, and to have 
 special regard to his relations and friends. 
 
 It is quite clear here that something else is considered 
 than the amount of benevolence implied in an act. It may 
 perhaps be said that regard to the good of a wide system 
 requires more benevolence than regard to the good of a narrow 
 system, but when we are instructed to prefer the good of the 
 higher to that of the lower system the appeal is evidently to 
 other considerations than those of benevolence : the difficulty 
 is, in fact, the same as arises for the hedonist over ' higher ' 
 and 'lower ' pleasures ( 479, cf. 476). 
 
 The theory of benevolence, moreover, was founded on the 
 assumption of what Butler calls ' the natural principle of attrac- 
 tion between man and man ' ( 207), or a benevolence, as 
 Hutcheson says, ' in some degree extended to all mankind ' 
 ( 108). Hume had attacked the 'benevolent' theory by 
 declaring that ' there was no such passion in human minds as 
 the love of mankind merely as such, independent of personal 
 qualities, of genius, or of relation to oneself ' (Treatise, pp. 481-2), 
 or, as Kames puts it, ' there is no such principle of general 
 fondness of man to man by nature as there is in dogs towards
 
 Ivi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 man' ( 937). Such general benevolence as is displayed is 
 said to be due to ' sympathy,' on the theory of which a good 
 deal of the controversy turns. The benevolent theory was 
 also attacked by the intellectualists as basing virtue upon 
 instincts the operation of which is necessary and so devoid 
 of merit ( 532-5). As against the selfish school and their 
 instinct of self-love, Hutcheson is prepared to defend a ' bene- 
 volent universal instinct' ( 131), but as a rule he prefers to 
 emphasize against both criticisms the distinction between 
 ' calm universal benevolence,' the product of reflection, and the 
 particular benevolent affections ( 442). This reflection 
 upon ' all mankind or the system of rationals ' turns out, 
 however, to be only the reflection that by regard to them ' we 
 may gratify either our self-love or kind affections in the fullest 
 manner.' The good of the species appears to be hardly 
 a possible object of affection, and the reflective love seems 
 hardly disinterested ( 452-3). Thus the idea of the ' universal 
 natural good of mankind ' or ' the system of rationals ' which 
 in his earlier writings is distinctly 'constitutive' ( 112) 
 becomes attenuated into a very regulative principle in his 
 later writings. And if we appeal to the moral sense we find 
 that it often approves and disapproves without any regard to 
 the good of any system ( 480), and it turns out (probably 
 under the influence of Butler) that ' the righteousness or good- 
 ness of actions is not the same notion with their tendency to 
 universal happiness or flowing from the desire of it.' 
 
 Butler's treatment of benevolence is indeed of great im- 
 portance in the history of moral philosophy : benevolence is 
 disinterested indeed, but it is no more disinterested than any 
 of the particular affections, every one of which 'rests in its 
 object as an end ' ( 207). The love of our neighbour is as 
 interested or disinterested as the love of anything else ; there
 
 BUTLER'S THEORY OF BENEVOLENCE. Ivii 
 
 is no peculiar contrariety between benevolence and self-love 
 (5 2 33~4) j disinterestedness is not the distinguishing mark of 
 virtue, and ' benevolence and the want of it, simply considered, 
 are in no sort the whole of virtue and vice' ( 249, cf. 532), 
 though most of the common virtues and vices may be traced 
 up to benevolence or the want of it ( 242). Benevolence 
 is for some purposes placed by Butler on the same level as the 
 particular affections, though it is not therefore a blind pro- 
 pension, but is to be regarded as naturally allied with calculative 
 reason (240), but on a lower level than the two great reflective 
 principles, self-love and conscience. Both of these combine 
 to encourage benevolence to the greatest extent, though con- 
 science certainly is influenced by other considerations than the 
 amount of happiness produced, and more particularly by that 
 of ' desert ' ( 244). The way is thus opened for a more 
 liberal view of human nature and its ' perfection,' a conception 
 which had been almost stifled by the weight of benevolence, 
 and for other aspects of morality besides its hedonistic, though 
 he is not afraid to admit that ' nothing can be of consequence 
 to mankind or any other creature but happiness' ( 241). 
 Butler's theory is by no means free from confusion, but he 
 gets rid of the confusions which grew so thick round the 
 'calm universal benevolence' of the sentimentalists, and 
 also of that narrowness which is so apt to make the ' dis- 
 interested ' theory merely uninteresting. 
 
 28. Sympathy. 
 
 Before we consider the significance of Butler's theory of 
 desire it may be convenient to notice the two great principles 
 which have been used to explain the admitted immediacy of 
 moral approbation and the alleged disinterestedness of both
 
 Iviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 approbation and benevolence sympathy and association of 
 ideas. Hume's theory of sympathy is primarily designed to 
 explain how an individual whose experience is absolutely 
 confined to his own feelings can yet acquire such an interest in 
 the feelings of other individuals as to form a society in which 
 his own feelings are subordinated to those of others. Hume's 
 psychology of sympathy has a metaphysical interest beyond 
 that of an explanation of a disputed moral phenomenon, and 
 effective criticism of it involves metaphysical considerations 
 on which it is neither possible nor desirable to dwell here, 
 because they belong to a totally different level of thought from 
 that adopted by the other moralists of the period. Let us, 
 therefore, take his metaphysics and his psychological machinery 
 (Treatise^ p. 317 f.) for granted, and assume that it is possible 
 for a man to enter into the feelings of another man by 
 sympathy. This assumption he uses to explain the incon- 
 sistency between the theory that the virtue of an act is nothing 
 but the pleasure it gives us and the admitted fact that we 
 often approve (i. e. feel pleasure at the sight of) actions which 
 are decidedly hurtful to us and advantageous to our enemies. 
 We sympathize, he says, with the supposed pleasure which a 
 quality or character gives the possessor, as we do with the 
 supposed pleasure of the owner of a useful article, and that 
 transferred pleasure is sufficient to overcome the pleasure we 
 feel in surveying qualities useful to ourselves, and to raise in 
 us a disapproval of our own unjust though profitable actions. 
 He repudiates the idea that we sympathize with others by 
 imagining ourselves in their place, but yet he is obliged to 
 admit that we often sympathize with a purely imaginary pleasure 
 which no one feels. He also has to admit that sympathy itself 
 is partial and varies with the proximity and relationship of the 
 other persons whose supposed pleasure causes ours, whereas
 
 CORRECTION OF SYMPA THY B Y ' GENERA L R ULES.' lix 
 
 our moral esteem is impartial and does not vary. To get 
 over these difficulties Hume has to call in the assistance of 
 ' general rules ' by reference to which we correct the natural 
 variations and deficiencies of our sympathy ( 581-6). But 
 the whole difficulty which the theory of sympathy is invoked 
 to solve is the difficulty of explaining how such a ' creature of 
 feeling ' as Hume supposes man to be can form or subject 
 himself to general rules of judgement. It is difficult to acquit 
 Hume here of a ' suppositio probandi ' of a very flagrant kind. 
 Somewhat on the lines of this criticism the idealist sets 
 up a theory of sympathy which reverses the relation between 
 sympathy, other than merely animal sympathy, and the con- 
 ception of a common good, and condemns Hume's theory as 
 preposterous. It is only, he urges, through the conception of a 
 common good that we get that close relation between ourselves 
 and other persons' selves which is required for the working of 
 sympathy. It is because we love and identify ourselves with our 
 neighbour that we are able to sympathize with him. A curious 
 hint of this criticism crops up in Hutcheson ( 106, cf. 811), 
 though he arrives at it in a very different way, and the same 
 point is raised by Plato's theory of simultaneous feeling in the 
 fifth book of the Republic^. 
 
 Adam Smith is mainly concerned with the psychology 
 of sympathy, but incidentally he makes considerable contri- 
 butions to the metaphysics of the subject. He starts with 
 an assertion of the individualism of sense, and therefore at 
 once establishes sympathy on a basis of thought. He rejects 
 the ' transfusion ' and communicated vivacity of feelings as 
 the foundation of sympathy, and dispenses with all Hume's 
 elaborate machinery for transferring into ourselves the pleasure 
 of another person in things useful to him. He bases moral 
 
 1 Rep. v. 462 ; cf. Green, Proleg. 200-1 ; Introd. to Hume, ii. 40.
 
 Ix INTRODUCTION. 
 
 approval neither on direct nor indirect utilitarianism. We 
 approve of another's passions when we observe that we entirely 
 sympathize with them ( 262) ; we approve of our own passions 
 when we are able to think that an impartial spectator can sym- 
 pathize with them ( 306), and the effect of this sympathy is 
 that every member of society tries to lower or raise his passions 
 to that pitch at which the ordinary spectator can sympathize 
 with them ( 273-4, 276-7). At first sight this looks merely 
 like Hume's standard of morality over again 'the ordinary 
 course of our passions and actions,' ' the natural and usual force 
 of our passions' (Treatise, pp. 483-8, 532) and seems to be 
 only a glorified respectability : indeed it is put forward under the 
 not very inspiring title of an account of ' propriety.' On examina- 
 tion, however, it reveals a view of the organic unity of social 
 feeling based on common circumstances and conditions of life 
 and well-being, which is a great advance on anything which 
 had fallen from his benevolent or utilitarian predecessors. 
 Neither party to the controversy had fully recognized the signifi- 
 cance of society, nor the really essential relation of morality 
 to it : the utilitarian had assumed that in society there was 
 very little to explain, and the sentimentalist accepted this 
 assumption and offered an explanation which was altogether 
 insufficient. It was an age of facile individualism, and men 
 started from a conception of society as built up of individuals 
 equipped each with a complete moral faculty. The idea of the 
 individual conscience as only emerging from the social con- 
 science ( 307-10), the idea of society as the whole from which 
 the individual disentangles himself, and in which alone he can 
 find himself, which is the central idea of Adam Smith's system, 
 was a notable return to a more concrete method of thought. 
 As has already been said, the most serious moralists of the time 
 were preoccupied with the content of the individual moral
 
 ADAM SMITH AND THE SOCIAL CONSCIENCE. Ixi 
 
 consciousness, and their method was mainly introspective. 
 They did their work well, but their method was not one which 
 would lead them to exhaust the meaning of society. Adam 
 Smith was one of the least metaphysical persons that ever 
 wrote, but in some respects he anticipated a theory which some 
 people would regard as metaphysical in the highest degree, 
 that of the ' social self,' and it is a social self which 
 enables us to effect not only an imaginary change of situation 
 with the persons chiefly concerned, but a complete identifica- 
 tion of our own person and character with that of another 
 person ( 339). Yet he does not ignore the influence of 
 common interest, and, if sympathy with the motives of the 
 agent is the source of our idea of propriety, sympathy with 
 the gratitude of the person acted on is the source of our idea 
 of merit : but the latter sympathy does not arise unless there 
 be, first, propriety in the motives of the agent. He is thus 
 enabled to recognize the undeniable element of utility in 
 moral institutions, to which the selfish school had confined 
 its view, and also to preserve those other elements which dis- 
 tinguish moral approval from the approval which we bestow 
 on a well-contrived machine ( 357). His deliverance of 
 moral approbation from the dead level imposed on it by the 
 selfish and benevolent schools alike, and his restoration of 
 variety and elasticity to that function, would alone be a con- 
 siderable achievement ( 353). His theory of sympathy is 
 rather a preservative than a solvent. His system, however, 
 is a ' closed system,' and he refused to recognize the existence 
 of any question which necessarily leads beyond it, and, however 
 useful for practical purposes, as a theory of the moral criterion 
 it is insufficient. He insists, as against Hutcheson, that we do 
 approve, if not of the faculty of approbation, at all events of 
 acts of approbation, and regard them as morally good or bad :
 
 Ixii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 but we can only do this if the basis of approbation is the 
 coincidence of approbations ( 354). In the same way the 
 'general rules' which, like Hume, he uses for the correction 
 of our sympathies can only arise from experience of what 
 in particular cases we approve or disapprove of : ' We do not 
 originally approve or condemn particular actions because upon 
 examination they appear to be agreeable or inconsistent with 
 a certain general rule. The general rule, on the contrary, is 
 formed by finding from experience that all actions of a certain 
 kind or circumstanced in a certain manner are approved or 
 disapproved of ( 315). The difficulty which we found in 
 allowing Hume to claim the assistance of general rules does 
 not arise here, at all events in the same form. Hume's theory 
 of general rules is preposterous, in the literal sense of the term ; 
 Adam Smith's is rather circular, but the essence of his system 
 is that it is a closed circle of reciprocal sympathy, and as such 
 it deserves more attention than it has recently received from 
 the sociologist, the psycSojoqist, and the moralist. 
 
 29. Association of ideas. 
 
 Association of ideas does not figure as largely in the contro- 
 versies of this period as one would expect. Hartley, whose 
 Observations on Man were published in 1748, states that he was 
 ' put upon considering the power of association ' by hearing 
 that ' the Rev. Mr. Gay asserted the possibility of deducing all 
 our intellectual pleasures and pains from association.' Gay 
 asserts that ultimately all affections arise from a desire of private 
 happiness, and that all approbation of acts arises from the 
 consideration of this tendency to private happiness : but the 
 admitted fact that we approve acts and desire objects without 
 considering or being able to see this tendency is due to asso- 
 ciation of ideas, such approval and affection being properly
 
 ASSOCIATION AND DESIRE. Ixiii 
 
 called habits ( 855). Under the influence of association we 
 come to look on acts, which originally were only valued as 
 means to pleasure, as ends in themselves, and the origin of 
 these habits is still further concealed from us by the fact that 
 we ' do not always (and perhaps not for the most part) make 
 this association for ourselves, but learn it from others by 
 imitation, inheritance, or education' ( 881-7). Hartley's 
 work is of the first importance, but it stands on such a different 
 level, and is carried out in such a different spirit from that 
 of the ordinary moral philosophy of the period, that it is 
 omitted from consideration here as well as from the selections. 
 
 30. Desire and pleasure. 
 
 And now we come at last to the fundamental principle of 
 the ' selfish ' system that in the last resort a man does and 
 can desire nothing but his own pleasure, a fact concealed from 
 himself and others by the thousand complications introduced 
 by social life. Locke makes an important contribution to the 
 psychology of this theory when he asserts that the thought 
 of future pleasure is not sufficient alone to move us to 
 action : it is only when its absence causes us uneasiness 
 that we are stirred to change our situation ( 977-980). 
 Locke's theory certainly has the appearance of eliminating 
 conscious thought altogether from desire, of treating desire as 
 a mere sensation, and of reducing to a minimum that contem- 
 plation of an object upon which modern Idealism lays so 
 much stress. Whether it really has that effect or is con- 
 ceived with the malice sometimes attributed to it is doubtful. 
 His theory seems to be not so much that desire is uneasiness, 
 as that desire is never effectual until it reaches the pitch of an 
 uneasiness.
 
 Ixiv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Hutcheson in his earlier book is chiefly concerned to 
 assert the existence in man of a direct desire for another 
 person's good, and he finds evidence of its existence in the fact 
 that it is the object of moral approbation. He is especially care- 
 ful to show that what we approve is not the subordinate desire 
 of another person's good as a means to our own. Afterwards 
 he enters more seriously into the nature of desire, and asserts 
 as against Locke that desire is ' as distinct from any sensation 
 as the will is from the understanding or senses ' ( 441, 
 443), though he admits that perhaps ' we are never con- 
 scious of any desire absolutely free from all uneasiness.' 
 The ultimate question, however, is not so much whether desire 
 at its ordinary level is a sensation, as whether it is a natural 
 product of sensation, and further of our own sensation of our own 
 pleasure. This question is concealed behind a crowd of other 
 questions in the decision of which it is not vitally interested. 
 It is not suggested by the sensationalists and hedonists that 
 the immediate conscious object of all desire is pleasure, but 
 it is suggested that we desire other things (e.g. wealth, friend- 
 ship) for the sake of the pleasures resulting as consequences 
 from their possession or for the sake of the pleasure of 
 successful activity, or for the sake of the pleasure of satisfying 
 a desire and so removing a cause of uneasiness, or for the sake of 
 the concomitant pleasure of self-approval, e.g. in benevolence : 
 that is, that we have had antecedent experience of these 
 pleasures, and the remembrance of them incites us to desire 
 the actions by which they were obtained. 
 
 Now with regard to some of these pleasures it is not difficult 
 to show that the selfish theory is preposterous. If it be true 
 that what our moral sense approves in benevolence is only the 
 direct desire of other persons' good, it is clear that we must have 
 had the desire before we could experience the pleasure of ap-
 
 THE SELFISH THEORY OF DESIRE. Ixv 
 
 proving it. Also we must have had the desire before we could 
 experience the pleasure of feeling that its uneasiness is removed, 
 or what is more commonly called the pleasure of the gratifi- 
 cation or satisfaction of the desire. Perhaps also it might be 
 said that the pleasure of success only comes to the man who 
 has entertained a desire for the activity. But with regard to 
 the pleasure which results from an activity as its consequence 
 it must be remembered that the selfish school is entitled to all 
 the benefit of the theory of association of ideas (until that 
 theory is shown to be fallacious or inapplicable) whereby 
 actions, which have in the course of undesigned experience 
 been associated with pleasure, first become regarded as means 
 to pleasure, and afterwards become regarded as ends in them- 
 selves. It does not seem, therefore, to be a sufficient answer 
 to the selfish theory to say with Butler that at the present 
 stage of man's existence his desires ' rest in their objects ' as 
 ends. You will have to show from an analysis of the idea 
 of desire itself that there is something more in it than can be 
 accounted for by a reminiscence of pleasure as modified by 
 association. But he, it is true, ingeniously defines pleasure, 
 or rather happiness, in such a way as to support his theory 
 of ultimate desires, when he says ( 231) that 'happiness . . . 
 consists only in the enjoyment of those objects which are by 
 nature suited to our several particular appetites, passions, and 
 affections ' : if this be meant not merely as a description of 
 the present psychological conditions of happiness for man, but 
 as a statement of the nature of happiness, it does indeed 
 imply that appetites, &c., are necessarily antecedent to the 
 experience of happiness. But it may obviously be accepted 
 in the other sense as the judgement of a reflective person 
 on the present position of mankind, of the same kind and 
 entitled to the same respect as his declaration that ' disengage- 
 * e
 
 Ixvi INTRODUCTION, 
 
 ment is absolutely necessary to enjoyment.' In other words, 
 it forms part of his argument that we are not moved to all our 
 actions by a reflective and conscious self-love, and that we are 
 not nearly so engrossed with ourselves as some people tell us. 
 It is noticeable that Butler lumps together for this purpose 
 ' appetites, passions, and affections,' though one would have 
 thought it necessary to distinguish, in an account of desire, 
 between hunger and the desire of esteem or benevolence. 
 Price concurs with Butler and Hutcheson in their criticisms of 
 the selfish theory (651-3), and he definitely asserts the foun- 
 dation of ultimate desires in the ' nature of things ' ( 644, 648). 
 Grave considerations of ' economy ' have to be reckoned with 
 here, and, though we may admit that against the crude theory 
 of conscious selfishness Butler and Hutcheson make a fair 
 defence, we have to ask, Is their theory valid against a further 
 analysis ? We may also admit that at a certain level, the level of 
 the adult civilized man, their analysis is fairly good, but to offer 
 as final a theory of desire which is based on such an analysis is 
 obviously impossible. It may be true that in the desire of a 
 social human being there is some element which is not present 
 in animal desire, but it is clear that a theory of desire which 
 ignores its physiological and biological aspects is even more im- 
 possible at the present day than it was when Plato discoursed 
 about ?pa>s, the continuous principle alike of animal reproduction 
 and of philosophic absorption in reality ; and when we are con- 
 sidering the relation of desire to pleasure those aspects 
 become especially prominent. The empirical hedonistic ex- 
 planation of desire such as is given by J. Clarke ( 778-782) 
 accepts the alternative offered it by Price (652) and assumes 
 that our first activities are unmotived gropings and our first 
 experiences of pleasure accidental so far as the individual is 
 concerned, though for the scientific observer they have a great
 
 DESIRE AND THE EXPERIENCE OF PLEASURE. Ixvii 
 
 significance 1 ( 808, 941). The experience of pleasure in an 
 act or resulting from an act tends to make us repeat the act, 
 until we come consciously to perform the act for the sake 
 of obtaining the pleasure attached to it. The love of our 
 neighbour is as much interested as the love of oysters, though 
 the theory requires the first oyster to have been eaten by 
 accident. The ' mind is conscious of a pleasure arising from 
 the observed union of virtue and happiness, and of uneasiness 
 from their separation, and this without the mixture of any 
 selfish views ; but then the disposition of the mind to actions 
 of civility and kindness in favour of the eminently virtuous 
 arises from the reflection upon the said pleasure and pain, 
 and the performance of those actions is visibly intended in 
 order to avoid the pain and procure the pleasure' ( 782). 
 
 It is worth noting that the argument used by Balguy ( 725) 
 to depreciate pleasure viz. that in desiring pleasure the ulti- 
 mate end of the agent is not pleasure but self, the idea of 
 which is perpetually uppermost has been reversed and used 
 to show the presence in all human desire of an element 
 attributable to reason alone 2 . 
 
 3 1 . The greatest happiness of the greatest number. 
 
 There is very little discussion of the ' summum bonum ' in our 
 writers. It is generally assumed to be happiness, though there 
 is a visible tendency to modify it into ' deserved happiness,' 
 and though the intellectualists assert the distinction between 
 moral and natural good. 
 
 It was not reserved for Bentham to formulate ' the greatest 
 happiness of the greatest number ' principle, though he may 
 fairly claim the credit of ' one man to count for one and no 
 
 1 Cf. Herbert Spencer, Data of Ethics, c. 6. 33 f. 
 8 Green, Proleg. 129-130, 222-3. 
 
 e 2
 
 Ixviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 more than one,' a principle which alone makes the calculation 
 of ' lots of happiness ' theoretically possible and morally useless. 
 The moralists of our period were indeed very well aware of 
 the difficulties of the greatest happiness formula. Hutcheson 
 points out truly enough ( 452) that the conception of 'the 
 greatest possible aggregate or sum of happiness,' like the 
 conception of ' all mankind or the system of rationals,' is 
 not a working conception, used by us in deciding on particular 
 actions. ' These conceptions only serve to suggest greater 
 ends than would occur to us without reflection/ ' that so 
 we may gratify our self-love or kind affections in the fullest 
 manner as far as our power extends, and may not content 
 ourselves with smaller degrees either of public or private good 
 while greater are in our power.' On the other hand, Kames 
 ( 939) justly points out the notable effect of general terms 
 upon our imagination ; ' nothing is more wonderful than that 
 a general term to which a very faint, if any, idea is affixed 
 should be the foundation of a more intense affection than 
 is bestowed, for the most part, upon particular objects, how 
 attractive soever '; and so we do for ' our country, our religion, 
 our government,' what we would not do for our friends, and 
 give up to mankind, like Mrs. Jellyby in Bleak House^ what 
 were more properly bestowed upon our families. 
 
 Hutcheson also ( 453) emphatically blocks the direct 
 road between ' individualistic ' and ' universalistic ' hedonism. 
 Unless we have public affections, he says, ' this truth " that 
 a hundred felicities is a greater sum than one felicity " will no 
 more excite to study the happiness of the hundred than this 
 truth, "an hundred stones are greater than one," will excite 
 a man who has no desire of heaps to cast them together.' 
 The distinction between the quality and quantity of pleasure, 
 and the selection of the experienced man, who can only be the
 
 KANT AND THE BRITISH MORALISTS. Ixix 
 
 good man, as arbitrator in the question of the superiority of 
 pleasures, of which Mill l makes such use, both appear in 
 Hutcheson ( 478). 
 
 32. Conclusion. 
 
 To carry the examination of the moral philosophy of this 
 period further would lead me beyond the limits of space and 
 method suitable to an introduction. From the topics, however, 
 upon which I have been able to touch, it is evident that 
 modern moral speculation has developed principally on lines 
 which took a fresh start even if they did not originate in the 
 eighteenth century. Kant, whose principal moral writings were 
 published between 1785 and 1788, adopts an attitude towards 
 experience which is essentially that of the intellectualists. He 
 goes indeed far beyond them, in that he offers his theory of 
 morals in connexion with a systematic theory of experience, 
 speculative and practical; but he starts as they do, and as 
 Professor Green does, by accepting the assumption of the 
 sensationalist, that sense alone is blank, chaotic, and incapable 
 of organization into such a cosmos of experience as we all claim 
 to possess. The depreciation of sense is willingly accepted in 
 order to magnify the function of reason, and though later 
 English adherents of the school repudiate the doctrine that 
 sensation apart from reason is anything but a name, they con- 
 tinue to take full advantage of the antithesis which is admitted 
 to be false, instead of beginning over again with a more concrete 
 conception of sense. So far, however, as Kant is concerned, 
 no criticism of his moral theory (apart from the doctrine of the 
 ' practical reason ') is more useful than that which proceeds on 
 the sober, rather unimaginative lines of the British moralist, 
 
 1 Utilitarianism, c. 2.
 
 Ixx INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and demands the justification of each argument before the bar 
 of the common moral consciousness. 
 
 The sentimentalists may seem to have contributed com- 
 paratively little to living moral theory, but we owe a good 
 deal to their method of holding fast to the content of experience 
 and resisting all attempts to explain it away. If, as appears 
 probable, the recent developments of scientific psychology 
 are destined to modify very considerably our views as to 
 the capacity of sensible experience, it may be that the senti- 
 mentalists will be found not to have been stranded so far 
 from the main stream of speculation as once was thought. 
 In spite of the development of sociology, social psychology 
 has received very little attention. Utilitarianism and scientific 
 hedonism have proceeded mainly on an individualistic basis, 
 for which the atomism of the sensationalist theory on which 
 they rest is at least partly responsible. There has, it is true, 
 been of recent years quite an Aristotelian reaction in our 
 Universities against atomism in political and social theory, 
 but the development of this tendency into a re-examination 
 of the psychological data has so far been rather disappointing. 
 We have been so much engrossed with tracing the historical 
 evolution of institutions from the primitive to the civilized, 
 that we have been rather neglectful of their interpretation, 
 the key to which, even more conspicuously in the theory of 
 practice than in the theory of knowledge, lies in psychological 
 analysis. 
 
 Feb. i, 1897.
 
 BRITISH MORALISTS
 
 SHAFTESBURY 
 
 AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE 
 OR MERIT
 
 [First printed, 1699. Reprinted in 'Characteristics of Men, Manners, 
 
 Opinions, and Times,' vol. ii. 1711. 
 Reprinted here from the fifth edition of the 'Characteristics,' 1732.]
 
 SHAFTESBURY 
 
 W 
 
 An Inquiry concerning Virtue 
 
 BOOK I. PART II. 
 Sect. I. 
 
 WHEN we reflect on any ordinary Frame or 
 either of Art or Nature ; and consider how hard it is to give 
 the least account of a particular Part, without a competent 
 Knowledg of the Whole : we need not wonder to find our-selve$ Jsf 
 at a loss in many things relating to the Constitution and Frame 
 of Nature her-self. For to what End in Nature many things, 
 even whole Species of Creatures, refer ; or to what purpose 
 they serve ; will be hard for any-one justly to determine : But 
 to what End the many Proportions and various Shapes of 
 Parts in many Creatures actually serve ; we are able, by the 
 help of Study and Observation, to demonstrate, with great 
 exactness. 
 
 We know that every Creature has a private Good and In- 
 terest of his own; which Nature has compel'd him to seek, 
 by all the Advantages afforded him, within the compass of his 
 Make. We know that there is in reality a right and a wrong 
 State of every Creature ; and that his right-one is by Nature 
 forwarded, and by himself affectionately sought. There being 
 therefore in every Creature a certain Interest or Good ; there 
 
 B 2
 
 4 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 must be also a certain END, to which every thing in his Con- 
 stitution must naturally refer. To this END, if any thing, either 
 in his Appetites, Passions, or Affections, be not conducing, but 
 the contrary ; we must of necessity own it /// to him. And in 
 this manner he is ///, with respect to himself-, as he certainly 
 is, with respect to others of his kind, when any such Appetites 
 or Passions make him any-way injurious to them. Now, if by 
 the natural Constitution of any rational Creature, the same 
 Irregularitys of Appetite which make him ill to Others, make 
 him ill also to Himself; and if the same Regularity of Affec- 
 tions, which causes him to be good in one sense, causes 
 him to be good also in the other; then is that Goodness by 
 which he is thus useful to others, a real Good and Advantage 
 
 ' to himself. And thus Virtue and Interest may be found at 
 last to agree. 
 
 Of this we shall consider particularly in the latter part of 
 our Inquiry. Our first Design is, to see if we can clearly 
 determine what that Quality is to which we give the Name of 
 Goodness, or VIRTUE. 
 
 2 Shou'd a Historian or Traveller describe to us a certain 
 Creature of a more solitary Disposition than ever was yet heard 
 of ; one who had neither Mate nor Fellow of any kind ; nothing 
 of his own Likeness, towards which he stood well-affected or 
 inclin'd ; nor any thing without, or beyond himself, for which 
 he had the least Passion or Concern : we might be apt to 
 say perhaps, without much hesitation, ' That this was doubtless 
 a very melancholy Creature, and that in this unsociable and 
 sullen State he was like to have a very disconsolate kind of 
 Life.' But if we were assur'd, that notwithstanding all Appear- 
 ances, the Creature enjoy'd himself extremely, had a great 
 relish of Life, and was in nothing wanting to his own Good ; 
 
 , we might acknowledg perhaps, 'That the Creature was no 
 Monster, nor absurdly constituted as to himself. 1 But we 
 shou'd hardly, after all, be induc'd to say of him, ' That he 
 was a good Creature' However, shou'd it be urg'd against
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 5 
 
 us, 'That such as he was, the Creature was still perfect in 
 himself, and therefore to be esteem'd good : For what had 
 he to do with others?' In this sense, indeed, we might be 
 forc'd to acknowledg, 'That he was a good Creature; if he 
 cou'd be understood to be absolute and compleat in himself; 
 without any real relation to any thing in the Universe besides.' 
 For shou'd there be any where in Nature a System, of which 
 this living Creature was to be consider'd as a Part ; then cou'd 
 he no-wise be allow'd good; whilst he plainly appear'd to be 
 such a Part, as made rather to the harm than good of that 
 System or Whole in which he was included. 
 3 If therefore in the Structure of this or any other Animal, 
 there be any thing which points beyond himself, and by which 
 he is plainly discover'd to have relation to some other Being 
 or Nature besides his own ; then will this Animal undoubtedly 
 be esteem'd a Part of some other System. For instance, if an 
 Animal has the Proportions of a Male, it shews he has relation 
 to a Female. And the respective Proportions both of the 
 Male and Female will be allow'd, doubtless, to have a joint- 
 relation to another Existence and Order of things beyond 
 themselves. So that the Creatures are both of 'em to be con- 
 sider'd as Parts of another System : which is that of a particular 
 Race or Species of living Creatures, who have some one 
 common Nature, or are provided for, by some one Order or 
 Constitution of things subsisting together, and co-operating 
 towards their Conservation, and Support. 
 
 In the same manner, if a whole Species of Animals con- 
 tribute to the Existence or Well-being of some other ; then 
 is that whole Species, in general, a Part only of some other 
 System. 
 
 For instance ; To the Existence of the Spider, that of the 
 Fly is absolutely necessary. The heedless Flight, weak Frame, 
 and tender Body of this latter Insect, fit and determine him 
 as much a Prey, as the rough Make, Watchfulness, and Cunning 
 of the former, fit him for Rapine, and the ensnaring part. The
 
 6 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 Web and Wing are suted to each other. And in the Structure 
 of each of these Animals, there is as apparent and perfect 
 a relation to the other, as in our own Bodys there is a relation 
 of Limbs and Organs ; or, as in the Branches or Leaves of 
 a Tree, we see a relation of each to the other, and all, in 
 common, to one Root and Trunk. 
 
 In the same manner are Flies also necessary to the Existence 
 of other Creatures, both Fowls and Fish. And thus are other 
 Species or Kinds subservient to one another ; as being Parts 
 of a certain System, and included in one and the same Order 
 of Beings. 
 
 So that there is a System of all Animals ; an Animal-Order 
 or (Economy, according to which the animal Affairs are 
 regulated and dispos'd. 
 
 Now, if the whole System of Animals, together with that of 
 Vegetables, and all other things in this inferior World, be 
 properly comprehended in one System of a Globe or Earth : 
 And if, again, this Globe or Earth it-self appears to have a real 
 Dependence on something still beyond ; as, for example, either 
 on its Sun, the Galaxy, or its Fellow-Planets ; then is it in 
 reality a PART only of some other System. And if it be 
 allow'd, that there is in like manner a SYSTEM of all Things, 
 and a Universal Nature ; there can be no particular Being or 
 System which is not either good or ill in that genera! one of 
 the Universe : For if it be insignificant and of no use, it is 
 a Fault or Imperfection, and consequently ill in the general 
 System. 
 
 4 Therefore if any Being be wholly and really ILL, it must 
 be ill with respect to the Universal System ; and then the 
 System of the Universe is ill, or imperfect. But if the 111 of 
 one private System be the Good of others ; if it makes still to 
 the Good of the general System, (as when one Creature lives 
 by the Destruction of another ; one thing is generated from 
 the Corruption of another ; or one planetary System or Vortex 
 may swallow up another) then is the 111 of that private System
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE, 7 
 
 no real fll in it-self; any more than the pain of breeding 
 Teeth is ill, in a System or Body which is so constituted, 
 that without this occasion of Pain, it wou'd suffer worse, by 
 being defective. 
 
 So that we cannot say of any Being, that it is wholly and 
 absolutely ill, unless we can positively shew and ascertain, that 
 what we call ILL is no where GOOD besides, in any other 
 System, or with respect to any other Order or CEconomy 
 whatsoever. 
 
 But were there in the World any intire Species of Animals 
 destructive to every other, it may be justly call'd an /// Species ; 
 as being ill in the Animal-System. And if in any Species^ of 
 Animals (as in Men, for example) one Man is of a nature 
 pernicious to the rest, he is in this respect justly styl'd an ill Man. 
 
 5 We do not however say of any-one, that he is an *'// Man 
 because he has the Plague-Spots upon him, or because he has 
 convulsive Fits which make him strike and wound such as 
 approach him. Nor do we say on the other side, that he is 
 a good Man, when having his Hands ty'd up, he is hinder'd 
 from doing the Mischief he designs ; or (which is in a manner 
 the same) when he abstains from executing his ill purpose, thro' 
 a fear of some impending Punishment, or thro' the allurement 
 of some exterior Reward. 
 
 So that in a sensible Creature, that which is not done thro' r 
 any Affection at all, makes neither Good nor 111 in the nature 
 of that Creature ; who then only is suppos'd Good, when the 
 Good or 111 of the System to which he has relation, is the 
 immediate Object of some Passion or Affection moving him. 
 
 Since it is therefore by Affection merely that a Creature is 
 esteem'd good or ill, natural or unnatural ; our business will 
 be, to examine which are the good and natural, and which the 
 /// and unnatural Affections. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 6 In the first place then, it may be observ'd, that if there be 
 an Affection towards any Subject consider'd as private Good,
 
 8 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 which is 1 not really such, but imaginary; this Affection, as 
 being superfluous, and detracting from the Force of other 
 requisite and good Affections, is in it-self vitious and ill, even 
 in respect of the private Interest or Happiness of the Creature. 
 If there can possibly be suppos'd in a Creature such an 
 Affection towards Self-Good, as is actually, in its natural degree, 
 conducing to his private Interest, and at the same time incon- 
 sistent with the publick Good ; this may indeed be call'd still 
 a vitious Affection : And on this Supposition a Creature l 
 cannot really be good and natural in respect of his Society or 
 Publick, without being ill and unnatural toward himself. But 
 if the Affection be then only injurious to the Society, when it 
 is immoderate, and not so when it is moderate, duly temper'd, 
 and allay'd ; then is the immoderate degree of the Affection 
 truly vitious, but not the moderate. And thus, if there be found 
 in any Creature a more than ordinary Self-concernment, ^or 
 Regard to private Good, which is inconsistent with the Interest 
 of the Species or Publick; this must in every respect be 
 esteem'd an ill and vitious Affection. And this is what we 
 commonly call 1 SELFISHNESS, and disapprove so much, in 
 whatever Creature we happen to discover it. 
 7 On the other side, if the Affection towards private or Self- 
 good, however selfish it may be esteem'd, is in reality not only 
 consistent with publick Good, but in some measure contributing 
 to it ; if it be such, perhaps, as for the good of the Species in 
 general, every Individual ought to share ; 'tis so far from being 
 ill, or blameable in any sense, that it must be acknowledg'd 
 absolutely necessary to constitute a Creature Good. For if the 
 want of such an Affection as that towards Self-preservation, be 
 injurious to the Species ; a Creature is ill and unnatural as 
 well thro' this Defect, as thro' the want of any other natural 
 Affection. And this no-one wou'd doubt to pronounce, if he 
 saw a Man who minded not any Precipices which lay in his 
 way, nor made any distinction of Food, Diet, Clothing, or, 
 1 Infra, 27, 60, &c.
 
 Part ii.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 9 
 
 whatever else related to his Health and Being. The same 
 wou'd be aver'd of one who had a Disposition which render'd 
 him averse to any Commerce with Womankind, and of conse- 
 quence unfitted him thro' Illness of Temper (and not merely 
 thro' a Defect of Constitution) for the propagation of his Species 
 or Kind. 
 
 8 Thus the Affection towards Self-good, may be a good 
 Affection, or an ill-one. For if this private Affection be too 
 strong, (as when the excessive Love of Life unfits a Creature for 
 any generous Act) then is it undoubtedly vitious ; and if vitious, 
 the Creature who is mov'd by it, is vitiously mov'd, and can 
 never be otherwise than vitious in some degree, when mov'd 
 by that Affection. Therefore if thro' such an earnest and 
 passionate Love of Life, a Creature be accidentally induc'd to 
 do Good, (as he might be upon the same terms induc'd to do 
 ILL) he is no more a good Creature for this Good he executes, 
 than a Man is the more an honest or good Man either for 
 pleading a just Cause, or fighting in a good one, for the sake 
 merely of his Fee or Stipend. 
 
 9 Whatsoever therefore is done which happens to be advan- 
 tageous to the Species, thro' an Affection merely towards 
 Self-good, does not imply any more Goodness in the Creature 
 than as the Affection it-self is good. Let him, in any particular, 
 act ever so well ; if at the bottom, it be that selfish Affection 
 alone which moves him ; he is in himself still vitious. Nor can 
 any Creature be consider'd otherwise, when the Passion towards 
 Self-good, tho ever so moderate, is his real motive in the doing 
 that, to which a natural Affection for his Kind ought by right to 
 have inclin'd him. 
 
 And indeed whatever exterior Helps or Succours an ill- 
 dispos'd Creature may find, to push him on towards the 
 performance of any one good Action ; there can no Goodness 
 arise in him, till his Temper be so far chang'd, that in the issue 
 he comes in earnest to be led by some immediate Affection, 
 directly, and not accidentally, to Good, and against 111.
 
 10 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 For instance ; if one of those Creatures suppos'd to be by 
 Nature tame, gentle, and favourable to Mankind, be, contrary 
 to his natural Constitution, fierce and savage ; we instantly 
 remark the Breach of Temper, and own the Creature to be 
 unnatural and corrupt. If at any time afterwards, the same 
 Creature, by good Fortune or right Management, comes to lose 
 his Fierceness, and is made tame, gentle, and treatable, like 
 other Creatures of his Kind; 'tis acknowledg'd that the 
 Creature thus restor'd becomes good and natural. Suppose, 
 now, that the Creature has indeed a tame and gentle Carriage ; 
 but that it proceeds only from the fear of his Keeper ; which if 
 set aside, his predominant Passion instantly breaks out : then 
 is his Gentleness not his real Temper ; but, his true and 
 genuine Nature or natural Temper remaining just as it was, 
 the Creature is still as /// as ever. 
 
 10 Nothing therefore being properly either Goodness or Illness 
 , in a Creature, except what is from natural Temper; 'A good 
 Creature is such a one as by the natural Temper or Bent of his 
 Affections is carry'd primarily and immediately, and not 
 secondarily and accidentally, to Good, and against 111 : ' And an 
 *'// Creature is just the contrary ; viz. ' One who is wanting in 
 right Affections, of force enough to carry him directly towards 
 Good, and bear him out against 111; or who is carry'd by 
 other Affections directly to 111, and against Good.' 
 
 When in general, all the Affections or Passions are suted to 
 the publick Good, or good of the Species, as above-mention'd ; 
 then is the natural Temper intirely good. If, on the contrary, 
 any requisite Passion be wanting ; or if there be any one super- 
 numerary, or weak, or any-wise disserviceable, or contrary to 
 that main End ; then is the natural Temper, and consequently 
 the Creature himself, in some measure corrupt and *'//. 
 
 There is no need of mentioning either Envy, Malice, 
 Frowardness, or other such hateful Passions ; to shew in what 
 manner they are ill, and constitute an /// Creature. But it 
 may be necessary perhaps to remark, that even as to Kindness
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 1 1 
 
 and Love of the most natural sort, (such as that of any Creature 
 for its Offspring) if it be immoderate and beyond a certain 
 degree, it is undoubtedly vitious. For thus over-great Tender- 
 ness destroys the Effect of Love, and excessive Pity renders us 
 uncapable of giving succour. Hence the Excess of motherly 
 Love is own'd to be a vitious Fondness ; over-great Pity, Effemi- 
 nacy and Weakness; over-great Concern for Self-preservation, 
 Meanness and Coivardice ; too little, Rashness; and none at 
 all, or that which is contrary, (viz. a Passion leading to Self- 
 destruction) a mad and desperate Depravity. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 11 But to proceed from what is esteem'd mere Goodness, and 
 lies within the reach and capacity of all sensible Creatures, to 
 that which is call'd VIRTUE or MERIT, and is allow'd to Man 
 only. 
 
 In a Creature capable of forming general Notions of Things, 
 not only the. outward Beings which offer themselves to the 
 Sense, are the Objects of the Affection ; but the very Actions 
 themselves, and the Affections of Pity, Kindness, Gratitude, 
 and their Contrarys, being brought into the Mind by Reflection, 
 become Objects. So that, by means of this reflected Sense, 
 there arises another kind of Affection towards those very 
 Affections themselves, which have been already felt, and are 
 now become the Subject of a new Liking or Dislike. 
 
 12 The Case is the same in mental or moral Subjects, as in 
 ordinary Bodys, or the common Subjects of Sense. The 
 Shapes, Motions, Colours, and Proportions of these latter 
 being presented to our Eye ; there necessarily results a * Beauty 
 or Deformity, according to the different Measure, Arrangement 
 and Disposition of their several Parts. So in Behaviour and 
 Actions, when presented to our Understanding, there must be 
 found, of necessity, an apparent Difference, according to the 
 Regularity or Irregularity of the Subjects. 
 
 1 Infra, 67.
 
 12 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 The Mind, which is Spectator or Auditor of other Minds, 
 cannot be without its Eye and Ear; so as to discern Pro- 
 portion, distinguish Sound, and scan each Sentiment or 
 Thought which comes before it. It can let nothing escape its 
 Censure. It feels the Soft and Harsh, the Agreeable and 
 Disagreeable, in the Affections ; and finds a Foul and Fair, 
 a Harmonious and a Dissonant, as really and truly here, as in 
 any musical Numbers, or in the outward Forms or Representa- 
 tions of sensible Things. Nor can it ] with-hold its Admiration 
 and Extasy, its Aversion and Scorn, any more in what relates 
 to one than to the other of these Subjects. So that to deny 
 the common and natural Sense of a SUBLIME and BEAUTIFUL 
 in Things, will appear an Affectation merely, to any-one who 
 considers duly of this Affair. 
 
 Now as in the sensible kind of Objects, the Species or 
 Images of Bodys, Colours, and Sounds, are perpetually moving 
 before our Eyes, and acting on our Senses, even when we 
 sleep ; so in the moral and intellectual kind, the Forms and 
 Images of Things are no less active and incumbent on the 
 Mind, at all Seasons, and even when the real Objects them- 
 selves are absent. 
 
 In these vagrant Characters or Pictures of Manners, which 
 the Mind of necessity figures to it-self, and carrys still about 
 with it, the Heart cannot possibly remain neutral ; but con- 
 stantly takes part one way or other. However false or corrupt 
 it be within it-self, it finds the difference, as to Beauty and 
 Comeliness, between one Heart and another, one Turn of 
 Affection, one Behaviour, one Sentiment and another ; and 
 accordingly, in all disinterested Cases, must approve in some 
 measure of what is natural and honest, and disapprove what is 
 dishonest and corrupt. 
 
 Thus the several Motions, Inclinations, Passions, Dis- 
 positions, and consequent Carriage and Behaviour of Creatures 
 in the various Parts of Life, being in several Views or Per- 
 1 Infra, 67.
 
 Part 1 1.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 13 
 
 spectives represented to the Mind, which readily discerns the 
 Good and 111 towards the Species or Publick ; there arises 
 a new Trial or Exercise of the Heart : which must either 
 rightly and soundly affect what is just and right, and disaffect 
 what is contrary ; or, corruptly affect what is ill. and disaffect 
 what is worthy and good. 
 
 13 And in this Case alone it is we call any Creature worthy or 
 virtuous, when it can have the Notion of a publick Interest, 
 and can attain the Speculation or Science of what is morally 
 good or ill, admirable or blameable, right or wrong. For tho 
 we may vulgarly call an ill Horse vitious, yet we never say 
 of a good one, nor of any mere Beast, Idiot, or Changeling, 
 tho ever so good-natur'd, that he is worthy or virtuous. 
 
 So that if a Creature be generous, kind, constant, com- 
 passionate ; yet if he cannot reflect on what he himself does, 
 or sees others do, so as to take notice of what is worthy or 
 honest; and make that Notice or Conception of Worth and 
 Honesty to be an Object of his Affection ; he has not the 
 Character of being virtuous : for thus, and not otherwise, he is 
 capable of having a Sense of Right or Wrong; a Sentiment or 
 Judgment of what is done, thro' just, equal, and good Affection, 
 or the contrary. 
 
 Whatsoever is done thro' any unequal Affection, is iniquous, 
 wicked, and wrong. If the Affection be equal, sound, and 
 good, and the Subject of the Affection such as may with 
 advantage to Society be ever in the same manner prosecuted, 
 or affected ; this must necessarily constitute what we call 
 Equity and Right in any Action. For, WRONG is not such 
 Action as is barely the Cause of Harm, (since at this rate 
 a dutiful Son aiming at an Enemy, but by mistake or ill chance 
 happening to kill his Father, wou'd do a Wrong) but when any 
 thing is done thro' insufficient or unequal Affection, (as when 
 a Son shews no Concern for the Safety of a Father ; or, where 
 there is need of Succour, prefers an indifferent Person to him, 
 this is the nature of Wrong).
 
 14 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 14 Neither can any Weakness or Imperfection in the Senses 
 be the occasion of Iniquity or Wrong', if the Object of the 
 Mind it-self be not at any time absurdly fram'd, nor any way 
 improper, but sutable, just, and worthy of the Opinion and 
 Affection apply'd to it. For if we will suppose a Man, who 
 being sound and intire both in his Reason and Affection, has 
 nevertheless so deprav'd a Constitution or Frame of Body, 
 that the natural Objects are, thro' his Organs of Sense, as thro' 
 ill Glasses, falsly convey'd and misrepresented ; 'twill be soon 
 observed, in such a Person's case, that since his Failure is not 
 in his principal or leading Part; he cannot in himself be 
 esteem'd iniquous, or unjust. 
 
 15 'Tis otherwise in what relates to Opinion, Belief, or Specu- 
 lation. For as the Extravagance of Judgment or Belief is such, 
 that in some Countrys even Monkeys, Cats, Crocodiles, and 
 other vile or destructive Animals, have been esteem'd holy, 
 and worshipp'd even as Deitys ; shou'd it appear to any-one of 
 the Religion or Belief of those Countrys, that to save such 
 a Creature as a Cat, preferably to a Parent, was Right ; and 
 that other Men, who had not the same religious Opinion, were 
 to be treated as Enemys, till converted ; this wou'd be certainly 
 Wrong, and wicked in the Believer : and every Action, 
 grounded on this Belief, wou'd be an iniquous, wicked, and 
 vitious Action. 
 
 And thus whatsoever causes a Misconception or Mis- 
 apprehension of the Worth or Value of any Object, so as to 
 diminish a due, or raise any undue, irregular, or unsocial 
 Affection, must necessarily be the occasion of Wrong. Thus 
 he who affects or loves a Man for the sake of something which 
 is reputed honourable, but which is in reality vitious, is himself 
 vitious and ill. The beginnings of this Corruption may be 
 noted in many Occurrences : As when an ambitious Man, by 
 the Fame of his high Attempts, a Conqueror or a Pirate by 
 his boasted Enterprizes, raises in another Person an Esteem 
 and Admiration of that immoral and inhuman Character,
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 15 
 
 which deserves Abhorrence : 'tis then that the Hearer becomes 
 corrupt, when he secretly approves the 111 he hears. But on 
 the other side, the Man who loves and esteems another, as 
 believing him to have that Virtue which he has not, but 
 only counterfeits, is not on this account either vitious or 
 corrupt. 
 
 16 A Mistake therefore in Fact being no Cause or Sign of ill 
 Affection, can be no Cause of Vice. But a Mistake of Right 
 being the Cause of unequal Affection, must of necessity be the 
 Cause of vitious Action, in every intelligent or rational Being. 
 
 But as there are many Occasions where the matter of Right 
 may even to the most discerning part of Mankind appear 
 difficult, and of doubtful Decision, 'tis not a slight Mistake of 
 this kind which can destroy the Character of a virtuous or 
 worthy Man. But when, either thro' Superstition or ill 
 Custom, there come to be very gross Mistakes in the assign- 
 ment or application of the Affection ; when the Mistakes are 
 either in their nature so gross, or so complicated and frequent, 
 that a Creature cannot well live in a natural State ; nor with 
 due Affections, compatible with human Society and civil Life ; 
 then is the Character of VIRTUE fofeited. 
 
 17 And thus we find how far WORTH and VIRTUE depend on 
 a knowledg of Right and Wrong, and on a use of Reason, 
 sufficient to secure a right application of the Affections ; that 
 nothing horrid or unnatural, nothing unexemplary, nothing 
 destructive of that natural Affection by which the Species or 
 Society is upheld, may, on any account, or thro' any Principle 
 or Notion of Honour or Religion, be at any time affected or 
 prosecuted as a good and proper object of Esteem. For such 
 a Principle as this must be wholly vitious : and whatsoever is 
 acted upon it, can be no other than Vice and Immorality. 
 And thus if there be any thing which teaches Men either 
 Treachery, Ingratitude, or Cruelty, by divine Warrant; or 
 under colour and pretence of any present or future Good to 
 Mankind : if there be any thing which teaches Men to per-
 
 
 1 6 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 secute their Friends thro' Love ; or to torment Captives of 
 War in sport; or to offer human Sacrifice; or to torment, 
 macerate, or mangle themselves, in a religious Zeal, before 
 their God ; or to commit any sort of Barbarity, or Brutality, as 
 amiable or becoming : be it Custom which gives Applause, or 
 Religion which gives a Sanction ; this is not, nor ever can be 
 Virtue, of any kind, or in any sense ; but must remain still 
 horrid Depravity, notwithstanding any Fashion, Law, Custom, 
 or Religion ; which may be ill and vitious it-self, but can 
 never alter the eternal Measures, and immutable independent 
 Nature of Worth and VIRTUE. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 
 18 Upon the whole. As to those Creatures which are only 
 capable of being mov'd by sensible Objects ; they are accordingly 
 good or vitious, as the sensible Affections stand with them. 
 'Tis otherwise in Creatures capable of framing rational 
 Objects of moral Good. For in one of this kind, shou'd the 
 sensible Affections stand ever so much amiss ; yet if they prevail 
 
 t, because of those other rational Affections spoken of; 'tis 
 evident, the Temper still holds good in the main ; and the 
 Person is with justice esteem'd virtuous by all Men. 
 
 19 More than this. If by Temper any one is passionate, 
 angry, fearful, amorous ; yet resists these Passions, and not- 
 withstanding the force of their Impression, adheres to Virtue ; 
 we say commonly in this case, that the Virtue is the greater : 
 and we say well. Tho if that which restrains the Person, and 
 holds him to a virtuous-like Behaviour, be no Affection 
 towards Goodness or Virtue it-self, but towards private Good 
 merely, he is not in reality the more virtuous ; as has been 
 shewn before. But this still is evident, that if voluntarily, and 
 without foreign Constraint, an angry Temper bears, or an 
 amorous one refrains, so that neither any cruel or immodest 
 Action can be forc'd from such a Person, tho ever so strongly 
 tempted by his Constitution ; we applaud his Virtue above 
 what we shou'd naturally do, if he were free of this Temptation,
 
 Part 1 1.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 17 
 
 and these Propensitys. At the same time, there is no body 
 will say that a Propensity to Vice can be an Ingredient in 
 Virtue, or any way necessary to compleat a virtuous Character. 
 There seems therefore to be some kind of difficulty in the 
 Case : but it amounts only to this. If there be any part of 
 the Temper in which ill Passions or Affections are seated> 
 whilst in another part the Affections towards moral Good are 
 such as absolutely to master those Attempts of their Antagonists; 
 this is the greatest Proof imaginable, that a strong Principle of 
 Virtue lies at the bottom, and has possess'd it-self of the 
 natural Temper. Whereas if there be no ill Passions stiwing, 
 a Person may be indeed more cheaply virtuous ; that is to say, 
 he may conform himself to the known Rules of Virtue, without 
 sharing so much of a virtuous Principle as another. Yet if 
 that other Person, who has the Principle of Virtue so strongly 
 implanted, comes at last to lose those contrary Impediments 
 suppos'd in him, he certainly loses nothing in Virtue; but on 
 the contrary, losing only what is vitious in his Temper, is left 
 more intire to Virtue, and possesses it in a higher degree. 
 20 Thus is Virtue shar'd in different degrees by rational 
 Creatures ; such at least as are call'd rational ; but who come 
 short of that sound and well-establish'd Reason, which alone 
 can constitute a just Affection, a uniform and steddy Will and 
 Resolution. And thus Vice and Virtue are found variously 
 mix'd, and alternately prevalent in the several Characters of 
 Mankind. For it seems evident from our Inquiry, that how ill 
 soever the Temper or Passions may stand with respect either 
 to the sensible or the moral Objects ; however passionate, 
 furious, lustful, or cruel any Creature may become; however 
 vitious the Mind be, or whatever ill Rules or Principles it goes 
 by ; yet if there be any Flexibleness or favourable Inclination 
 towards the least moral Object, the least appearance of moral 
 Good, (as if there be any such thing as Kindness, Gratitude, 
 Bounty, or Compassion] there is still something of Virtue left ; 
 and the Creature is not wholly vitious and unnatural.
 
 1 8 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 Thus a Ruffian, who out of a sense of Fidelity and Honour 
 of any kind, refuses to discover his Associates ; and rather 
 than betray them, is content to endure Torments and Death ; 
 has certainly some Principle of Virtue, however he may mis- 
 apply it. 'Twas the same Case with that Malefactor, who rather 
 than do the Office of Executioner to his Companions, chose to 
 keep 'em company in their Execution. 
 
 In short : As it seems hard to pronounce of any Man, ' That 
 he is absolutely an Atheist ; ' so it appears altogether as hard 
 to pronounce of any Man, ' That he is absolutely corrupt or 
 vitious ; ' there being few, even of the horridest Villains, who 
 have not something of Virtue in this imperfect sense. Nothing 
 is more just than a known saying, ' That it is as hard to find 
 a Man wholly III, as wholly Good : ' because wherever there is 
 any good Affection left, there is certainly some Goodness or 
 Virtue still in being. 
 
 And, having consider'd thus of VIRTUE, What it is in it-self ; 
 we may now consider how it stands with respect to the Opinions 
 concerning a DEITY, as above-mention'd. 
 
 BOOK I. PART III. 
 
 21 The Nature of VIRTUE consisting (as has been explain'd) in 
 a certain just Disposition, or proportionable Affection of a rational 
 Creature towards the moral Objects of Right and Wrong; 
 nothing can possibly in such a Creature exclude a Principle 
 of Virtue, or render it ineffectual, except what, 
 
 1. Either takes away the natural and just Sense of Right ^^, 
 and Wrong : 
 
 2. Or creates a wrong Sense of it : 
 
 3. Or causes the right Sense to be oppos'd, by contrary 
 Affections. 
 
 On the other side, nothing "can assist, or advance the 
 Principle of Virtue, except what either in some manner 
 nourishes and promotes a Sense of Right and Wrong ; or
 
 Part III.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 19 
 
 preserves it genuine and uncorrupt ; or causes it, when such, 
 to be obey'd, by subduing and subjecting the other Affections 
 to it. 
 
 We are to consider, therefore, how any of the above- 
 mention'd Opinions on the Subject of a DEITY, may influence 
 in these Cases, or produce either of these three Effects. 
 
 I. As to the first Case ; THE TAKING AWAY THE NATURAL 
 SENSE OF RIGHT AND WRONG. 
 
 It will not surely be understood, that by this is meant the 
 taking away the Nation of what is good or ill in the Species, or 
 Society. For of the Reality of such a Good and ///, no rational 
 Creature can possibly be insensible. Every one discerns and 
 owns a publick Interest, and is conscious of what affects his 
 Fellowship or Community. When we say therefore of a 
 Creature, ' That he has wholly lost the Sense of Right and 
 Wrong ; ' we suppose that being able to discern the Good and 
 /// of his Species, he has at the same time no Concern for 
 either, nor any Sense of Excellency or Baseness in any moral 
 Action, relating to one or the other. So that except merely 
 with respect to a private and narrowly confin'd Self-good, 'tis 
 suppos'd there is in such a Creature no Liking or Dislike of 
 Manners ; no Admiration, or Love of any thing as morally 
 good ; nor Hatred of any thing as morally ill, be it ever so 
 unnatural or deform'd. 
 
 There is in reality no rational Creature whatsoever, who 
 knows not that when he voluntarily offends or does harm to 
 anyone, he cannot fail to create an Apprehension and Fear of 
 like harm, and consequently a Resentment and Animosity in 
 every Creature who observes him. So that the Offender must 
 needs be conscious of being liable to such Treatment from 
 every-one, as if he had in some degree offended All. 
 
 Thus Offence and Injury are always known as punishable 
 by every-one ; and equal Behaviour, which is therefore call'd 
 MERIT, as rewardable and well-deserving from every-one. Of 
 this even the wickedest Creature living must have a Sense. So 
 
 c 2
 
 20 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 that if there be any further meaning in this Sense of Right and 
 Wrong ; if in reality there be any Sense of this kind which an 
 absolute wicked Creature has not; it must consist in a real 
 Antipathy or Aversion to Injustice or Wrong, and in a real 
 Affection or Love towards Equity and Right, for its own sake, 
 and on the account of its own natural Beauty and Worth. 
 
 22 Tis impossible to suppose a mere sensible Creature origin- 
 ally so ill-constituted, and unnatural, as that from the moment 
 he comes to be try'd by sensible Objects, he shou'd have no 
 one good Passion towards his Kind, no foundation either of 
 Pity, Love, Kindness, or social Affection. 'Tis full as im- 
 possible to conceive, that a rational Creature coming first to be 
 try'd by rational Objects, and receiving into his Mind the 
 Images or Representations of Justice, Generosity, Gratitude, or 
 other Virtue, shou'd have no Liking of these, or Dislike of 
 their contrarys; but be found absolutely indifferent towards 
 whatsoever is presented to him of this sort. A Soul, indeed, 
 may as well be without Sense, as without Admiration in the 
 Things of which it has any knowledg. Coming therefore to 
 a Capacity of seeing and admiring in this new way, it must 
 needs find a Beauty and a Deformity as well in Actions, Minds, 
 and Tempers, as in Figures, Sounds, or Colours. If there be 
 no real Amiableness or Deformity in moral Acts, there is at 
 least an imaginary one of full force. Tho perhaps the Thing 
 itself shou'd not be allow'd in Nature, the Imagination or 
 Fancy of it must be allow'd to be from Nature alone. Nor 
 can any thing besides Art and strong Endeavour, with Icing 
 Practice and Meditation, overcome such a natural Prevention, 
 or Prepossession of the Mind, in favour of this moral Distinction. 
 
 23 Sense of Right and Wrong therefore being as natural to us 
 as natural Affection itself, and being a first Principle in our 
 Constitution and Make ; there is no speculative Opinion, 
 Persuasion or Belief, which is capable immediately or directly 
 to exclude or destroy it. That which is of original and pure 
 Nature, nothing beside contrary Habit and Custom (a second
 
 Part III.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 21 
 
 Nature) is able to displace. And this Affection being an 
 original one of earliest rise in the Soul or affectionate Part ; 
 nothing beside contrary Affection, by frequent check and 
 controul, can operate upon it, so as either to diminish it in part, 
 or destroy it in the whole. 
 
 "Pis evident in what relates to the Frame and Order of our 
 Bodys that no particular odd Mein or Gesture, which is either 
 natural to us, and consequent to our Make, or accidental and 
 by Habit acquir'd, can possibly be overcome by our immediate 
 Disapprobation, or the contrary Bent of our Will, ever so 
 strongly set against it. Such a Change cannot be effected 
 without extraordinary Means, and the intervention of Art and 
 Method, a strict Attention, and repeated Check. And even 
 thus, Nature, we find, is hardly master'd ; but lies sullen, and 
 ready to revolt, on the first occasion. Much more is this the 
 Mind's Case in respect of that natural Affection and antici- 
 pating Fancy, which makes the sense of Right and Wrong. 
 'Tis impossible that this can instantly, or without much Force 
 and Violence, be effac'd, or struck out of the natural Temper, 
 even by means of the most extravagant Belief or Opinion in 
 the World. 
 
 Neither Theism therefore, nor Atheism, nor Damonism, )/ 
 nor any religious or irreligious Belief of any kind, being able to 
 operate immediately or directly in this Case, but indirectly, by 
 the intervention of opposite or of favourable Affections casually 
 excited by any such Belief; we may consider of this Effect in 
 our last Case, where we come to examine the Agreement or 
 Disagreement of other Affections with this natural and moral 
 one which relates to Right and Wrong. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 24 II. As to the second Case, viz. THE WRONG SENSE OR 
 FALSE IMAGINATION OF RIGHT AND WRONG. 
 
 This can proceed only from the Force of Custom and 
 Education in opposition to Nature ; as may be noted in those 
 Countrys where, according to Custom or politick Institution,
 
 22 SHAFTESBURY. [Book I. 
 
 certain Actions naturally foul and odious are repeatedly view'd 
 with Applause, and Honour ascrib'd to them. For thus 'tis 
 possible that a Man, forcing himself, may eat the Flesh of his 
 Enemys, not only against his Stomach, but against his Nature ; 
 and think it nevertheless both right and honourable ; as 
 supposing it to be of considerable service to his Community, 
 and capable of advancing the Name, and spreading the Terror 
 of his Nation. 
 
 But to speak of the Opinions relating to a DEITY; and 
 what effect they may have in this place. As to Atheism, it 
 does not seem that it can directly have any effect at all towards 
 the setting up a false Species of Right or Wrong. For notwith- 
 standing a Man may thro' Custom, or by licentiousness of 
 Practice, favour'd by Atheism, come in time to lose much of 
 his natural moral Sense ; yet it does not seem that Atheism 
 shou'd of it-self be the cause of any estimation or valuing of 
 any thing as fair, noble, and deserving, which was the contrary. 
 It can never, for instance, make it be thought that the being able 
 to eat Man's Flesh, or commit Bestiality, is good and excellent 
 in it-self. But this is certain, that by means of corrupt Re- 
 ligion^ or SUPERSTITION^ many things the most horridly 
 unnatural and inhuman, come to be receiv'd as excellent, good, 
 and laudable in themselves. 
 
 ******* 
 
 As to this second Case therefore ; RELIGION (according as 
 the kind may prove) is capable of doing great Good, or Harm ; 
 and ATHEISM nothing positive in either way. For however it 
 may be indirectly an occasion of Mens losing a good and 
 sufficient Sense of Right and Wrong ; it will not, as Atheism 
 merely, be the occasion of setting up a false Species of it; 
 which only false Religion, or fantastical Opinion, deriv'd 
 commonly from Superstition and Credulity, is able to effect. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 25 Now as to the last Case, THE OPPOSITION MADE BY OTHER 
 AFFECTIONS TO THE NATURAL SENSE OF RIGHT AND WRONG. 
 
 L / 
 
 '
 
 Part III.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 23 
 
 Tis evident, that a Creature having this sort of SENSE or 
 good Affection in any degree, must necessarily act according to 
 it ; if it happens not to be oppos'd, either by some settled sedate 
 Affection towards a conceiv'd private Good, or by some sudden, 
 strong and forcible Passion, as of Lust or Anger ; which may 
 not only subdue the Sense of Right and Wrong, but the 
 very Sense of private Good itself; and overrule even the 
 most familiar and receiv'd Opinion of what is conducing to 
 Self-interest. 
 
 But it is not our business in this place to examine the 
 several Means or Methods by which this Corruption is intro- 
 duc'd or increas'd. We are to consider only how the 
 Opinions concerning a Deity can influence one way or another. 
 
 That it is possible for a Creature capable of using Reflection, 
 to have a Liking or Dislike of moral Actions, and consequently 
 a Sense of Right and Wrong, before such time as he may have 
 any settled Notion of A GOD, is what will hardly be question'd : 
 it being a thing not expected, or any-way possible, that a Crea- 
 ture such as Man, arising from his Childhood, slowly and 
 gradually, to several degrees of Reason and Reflection, shou'd, 
 at the very first, be taken up with those Speculations, or more 
 refin'd sort of Reflections, about the Subject of GOD'S 
 Existence. 
 
 Let us suppose a Creature, who wanting Reason, and being 
 unable to reflect, has, notwithstanding, many good Qualitys 
 and Affections ; as Love to his Kind, Courage, Gratitude, or 
 Pity. 'Tis certain that if you give to this Creature a reflecting 
 Faculty, it will at the same instant approve of Gratitude, Kind- 
 ness, and Pity ; be taken with any shew or representation of 
 the social Passion, and think nothing more amiable than this, 
 or more odious than the contrary. And this is to be capable of 
 VIRTUE, and to have a Sense <?/" RIGHT and WRONG. 
 
 Before the time, therefore, that a Creature can have any 
 plain or positive Notion one way or other, concerning the 
 Subject of a GOD, he may be suppos'd to have an Apprehension
 
 24 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 or Sense of Right and Wrong, and be possess'd of Virtue and 
 Vice in different degrees ; as we know by Experience of those, 
 who having liv'd in such places, and in such a manner as never 
 to have enter'd into any serious Thoughts of Religion, are 
 nevertheless very different among themselves, as to their 
 Characters of Honesty and Worth : some being naturally 
 modest^ kind, friendly, and consequently Lovers of kind and 
 friendly Actions ; others proud, harsh, cruel, and consequently 
 inclin'd to admire rather the Acts of Violence and mere Power. 
 
 BOOK II. PART I. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 26 We have consider'd what VIRTUE is, and to whom the 
 Character belongs. It remains to inquire, What Obligation 
 there is to VIRTUE ; or rvhat Reason to embrace it. 
 
 We have found, that to deserve the name of good or virtuous, 
 a Creature must have all his Inclinations and Affections, his 
 Dispositions of Mind and Temper, sutable, and agreeing with 
 the Good of his Kind, or of that System in which he is included, 
 and of which he constitutes a PART. To stand thus well 
 affected, and to have one's Affections right and intire, not 
 only in respect of one's self, but of Society and the Publick : 
 This is Rectitude, Integrity, or VIRTUE. And to be wanting 
 in any of these, or to have their Contrarys, is Depravity, 
 Corrtiption, and VICE. 
 
 It has been already shewn, that in the Passions and Affec- 
 tions of particular Creatures, there is a constant relation to 
 the Interest of a Species, or common Nature. This has been 
 demonstrated in the case of natural Affection, parental 
 Kindness, Zeal for Posterity, Concern for the Propagation 
 and Nurture of the Young, Love of Fellowship and Company, 
 Compassion, mutual Succour, and the rest of this kind. Nor 
 will any-one deny that this Affection of a Creature towards the 
 Good of the Species or common Nature, is as proper and
 
 Part I.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 25 
 
 natural to him, as it is to any Organ, Part or Member of 
 an Animal-Body, or mere Vegetable, to work in its known 
 Course, and regular way of Growth. 'Tis not more natural 
 for the Stomach to digest, the Lungs to breathe, the Glands 
 to separate Juices, or other Intrails to perform their several 
 Offices ; however they may by particular Impediments be 
 sometimes disorder'd, or obstructed in their Operations. 
 
 27 There being allow'd therefore in a Creature such Affections 
 as these towards the common Nature, or System of the Kind, 
 together with those other which regard the private Nature, or 
 Self-system ; it will appear that in following the first of these 
 Affections, the Creature must on many Occasions contradict 
 and go against the latter. How else shou'd the Species be 
 preserv'd ? Or what wou'd signify that implanted natural 
 Affection, by which a Creature thro' so many Difficultys and 
 Hazards preserves its Offspring, and supports its Kind ? 
 
 It may therefore be imagin'd, perhaps, that there is a plain 
 and absolute Opposition between these two Habits or Affec- 
 tions. It may be presum'd, that the pursuing the common 
 Interest or publick Good thro' the Affections of one kind, must 
 be a hindrance to the Attainment of private Good thro' the 
 Affections of another. For it being taken for granted, that 
 Hazards and Hardships, of whatever sort, are naturally the /// 
 of the private State ; and it being certainly the Nature of 
 those publick Affections to lead often to the greatest Hardships 
 and Hazards of every kind ; 'tis presently infer'd, ' That 'tis 
 the Creature's Interest to be without any publick Affection 
 whatsoever.' 
 
 28 This we know for certain ; That all social Love, Friendship, 
 Gratitude, or whatever else is of this generous kind, does by 
 its nature take place of the self-interesting Passions, draws 
 us out of ourselves, and makes us disregardful of our own 
 Convenience and Safety. So that according to a known way 
 of reasoning on Self-interest, that which is of a social kind in 
 us, shou'd of right be abolish'd. Thus Kindness of every sort,
 
 26 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 Indulgence, Tenderness, Compassion, and in short, all natural 
 Affection shou'd be industriously suppress'd, and, as mere 
 Folly, and Weakness or Nature, be resisted and overcome ; 
 that, by this means, there might be nothing remaining in us, 
 which was contrary to a direct Self-end ; nothing which might 
 stand in opposition to a steddy and deliberate Pursuit of the 
 most narrowly confin'd Self-interest. 
 
 According to this extraordinary Hypothesis, it must be taken 
 for granted, 'That in the System of a Kind or Species, 
 the Interest of the private Nature is directly opposite to 
 that of the common one ; the Interest of Particulars directly 
 opposite to that of the Publick in general? A strange Consti- 
 tution ! in which it must be confess'd there is much Disorder 
 and Untowardness ; unlike to what we observe elsewhere in 
 Nature. As if in any vegetable or animal Body, the Part or 
 Member cou'd be suppos'd in a good and prosperous State as 
 to it-self, when under a contrary Disposition, and in an unnatural 
 Growth or Habit as to its WHOLE. 
 
 Now that this is in reality quite otherwise, we shall endeavour 
 to demonstrate; so as to make appear, 'That what Men 
 represent as an ill Order and Constitution in the Universe, by 
 making moral Rectitude appear the III, and Depravity the 
 Good or Advantage of a Creature, is in Nature just the contrary. 
 That to be well affected towards the Publick Interest and one's 
 own, is not only consistent, but inseparable ; and that moral 
 Rectitude, or Virtue, must accordingly be the Advantage, and 
 Vice the Injury and Disadvantage of every Creature.' 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 29 There are few perhaps, who when they consider a Creature 
 void of natural Affection, and wholly destitute of a communi- 
 cative or social Principle, will suppose him, at the same time, 
 either tolerably happy in himself, or as he stands abroad, with 
 respect to his Fellow-Creatures or Kind. 'Tis generally 
 thought, that such a Creature as this, feels slender Joy in Life, 
 and finds little Satisfaction in the mere sensual Pleasures
 
 Parti.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 27 
 
 which remain with him, after the Loss of social Enjoyment, 
 and whatever can be call'd Humanity or Good-nature. We 
 know that to such a Creature as this, 'tis not only incident, to 
 be morose, rancorous and malignant ; but that, of necessity, 
 a Mind or Temper thus destitute of Mildness and Benignity, 
 must turn to that which is contrary, and be wrought by 
 Passions of a different kind. Such a Heart as this must be 
 a continual Seat of perverse Inclinations and bitter Aversions, 
 rais'd from a constant ill Humour, Sourness, and Disquiet. 
 The Consciousness of such a Nature, so obnoxious to Man- 
 kind, and to all Beings which approach it, must overcloud the 
 Mind with dark Suspicion and Jealousy, alarm it with Fears 
 and Horror, and raise in it a continual Disturbance, even in the 
 most seeming fair and secure State of Fortune, and in the 
 highest degree of outward Prosperity. 
 
 This, as to the compleat immoral State, is what, of their own 
 accord, Men readily remark. Where there is this absolute 
 Degeneracy, this total Apostacy from all Candour, Equity, 
 
 Trust, Sociableness, or Friendship ; there are few who do not 
 see and acknowledg the Misery which is consequent. Seldom 
 is the Case misconstru'd, when at worst. The misfortune is, 
 we look not on this Depravity, nor consider how it stands, in 
 less degrees. The Calamity, we think, does not of necessity 
 hold proportion with the Injustice or Iniquity. As if to be 
 absolutely immoral and inhuman, were indeed the greatest 
 misfortune and misery ; but that to be so, in a little degree, 
 shou'd be no misery nor harm at all ! Which to allow, is just 
 as reasonable as to own, that 'tis the greatest 111 of a Body to 
 be in the utmost manner distorted and maim'd ; but that to 
 lose the use only of one Limb, or to be impair'd in some one 
 single Organ or Member, is no Inconvenience or 111 worthy 
 the least notice. 
 
 30 The Parts and Proportions of the Mind, their mutual Relation 
 and Dependency, the Connexion and Frame of those Passions 
 which constitute the Soul or Temper, may easily be understood
 
 28 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 by any-one who thinks it worth his while to study this inward 
 Anatomy. Tis certain that the Order or Symmetry of this 
 inward Part is, in it-self, no less real and exact, than that of 
 the Body. However, 'tis apparent that few of us endeavour 
 to become Anatomists of this sort. Nor is any-one asham'd of 
 the deepest Ignorance in such a Subject. For tho the greatest 
 Misery and 111 is generally own'd to be from Disposition, and 
 Temper; tho 'tis allow'd that Temper may often change, and 
 that it actually varys on many occasions, much to our dis- 
 advantage ; yet how this Matter is brought about, we inquire 
 not. We never trouble our-selves to consider thorowly by 
 what means or methods our inward Constitution comes at any 
 time to be impair'd or injur'd. The Solutio Continui, which 
 bodily Surgeons talk of, is never apply'd in this case, by 
 Surgeons of another sort. The Notion of a Whole and Parts 
 is not apprehended in this Science. We know not what the 
 effect is, of straining any Affection, indulging any wrong Passion, 
 or relaxing any proper and natural Habit, or good Inclination. 
 Nor can we conceive how a particular Action shou'd have such 
 a sudden Influence on the whole Mind, as to make the Person 
 an immediate Sufferer. We suppose rather that a Man may 
 violate his Faith, commit any Wickedness unfamiliar to him 
 before, engage in any Vice or Villany, without the least prejudice 
 to himself, or any Misery naturally following from the ill Action. 
 'Tis thus we hear it often said, ' Such a Person has done ill 
 indeed : But what is he the worse for it ? ' Yet speaking of 
 any Nature thorowly savage, curst, and inveterate, we say 
 truly, ' Such a one is a plague and torment to himself : ' And 
 we allow, ' That thro' certain Humours, or Passions, and from 
 Temper merely, a Man may be compleatly miserable ; let his 
 outward Circumstances be ever so fortunate.' These different 
 Judgments sufficiently demonstrate that we are not accustom'd 
 to think with much coherency on these moral Subjects ; and 
 that our Notions, in this respect, are not a little confus'd, and 
 contradictory.
 
 Parti.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 29 
 
 Now if the Fabrick of the Mind or Temper appear'd such to 
 us as it really is ; if we saw it impossible to remove hence any 
 one good or orderly Affection, or introduce any ill or disorderly 
 one, without drawing on, in some degree, that dissolute State, 
 which at its height is confess'd to be so miserable : 'twou'd 
 then undoubtedly be own'd, that since no ill, immoral, or unjust 
 Action cou'd be committed without either a new inroad and 
 breach on the Temper and Passions, or a farther advancing of 
 that Execution already begun ; whoever did ill, or acted in 
 prejudice of his Integrity, Good-nature, or Worth, wou'd of 
 necessity act with greater Cruelty towards himself, than he 
 who scrupled not to swallow what was poisonous, or who with 
 his own hands shou'd voluntarily mangle or wound his outward 
 Form or Constitution, natural Limbs or Body. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 31 It has been shewn before, that no Animal can be said 
 properly to act, otherwise than thro' Affections or Passions, 
 such as are proper to an Animal. For in convulsive Fits, where 
 a Creature strikes either himself or others, 'tis a simple Mech- 
 anism, an Engine, or Piece of Clock-work, which acts, and not 
 the Animal. 
 
 Whatsoever therefore is done or acted by any Animal as such, 
 is done only thro' some Affection or Passion, as of Fear, Love, 
 or Hatred moving him. 
 
 32 And as it is impossible that a weaker Affection shou'd over- 
 come a stronger, so it is impossible but that where the Affec- 
 tions or Passions are strongest in the main, and form in general 
 the most considerable Party, either by their Force or Number ; 
 thither the Animal must incline : And according to this Balance 
 he must be govern'd, and led to Action. 
 
 The Affections or Passions which must influence and govern 
 the Animal, are either, 
 
 i. The natural Affections, which lead to the Good of THE 
 PUBLICK.
 
 30 SHAFTESBURY. Book II. 
 
 2. Or the Self -affections, which lead only to the Good of THE 
 PRIVATE. 
 
 3. Or such as are neither of these ; nor tending either to any 
 Good of THE PUBLICK or PRIVATE ; but contrary-wise : and 
 which may therefore be justly styl'd unnatural Affections. 
 
 So that according as these Affections stand, a Creature must 
 be virtuous or vitious, good or ill. 
 
 The latter sort of these Affections, 'tis evident, are wholly 
 vitious. The two former may be vitious or virtuous, according 
 to their degree. 
 
 33 It may seem strange, perhaps, to speak of natural Affections 
 as too strong, or of Self-affections as too weak. But to clear 
 this Difficulty, we must call to mind what has been already 
 explain'd, ' That natural Affection may, in particular Cases, be 
 excessive, and in an unnatural degree : ' As when Pity is so 
 overcoming as to destroy its own End, and prevent the Succour 
 and Relief requir'd ; or as when Love to the Offspring proves 
 such a Fondness as destroys the Parent, and consequently the 
 Offspring it-self. And notwithstanding it may seem harsh to 
 call that unnatural and vitious, which is only an Extreme of 
 some natural and kind Affection ; yet 'tis most certain, that 
 where-ever any single good Affection of this sort is over-great, 
 it must be injurious to the rest, and detract in some measure 
 from their Force and natural Operation. For a Creature 
 possess'd with such an immoderate Degree of Passion, must of 
 necessity allow too much to that one, and too little to others of 
 the same Character, and equally natural and useful as to their 
 End. And this must necessarily be the occasion of Partiality 
 and Injustice, whilst only one Duty or natural Part is earnestly 
 follow'd ; and other Parts or Dutys neglected, which shou'd 
 accompany it, and perhaps take place and be prefer'd. 
 
 ******* 
 
 34 Now as in particular Cases, publick Affection, on the one 
 hand, may be too high ; so private Affection may, on the other 
 hand, be too weak. For if a Creature be self-neglectful, and
 
 Parti.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 31 
 
 insensible of Danger ; or if he want such a degree of Passion 
 in any kind, as is useful to preserve, sustain, or defend himself; 
 this must certainly be esteem'd vitious, in regard of the Design 
 and End of Nature. She her-self discovers this in her known 
 Method and stated Rule of Operation. Tis certain, that her 
 provisionary Care and Concern for the whole Animal, must at 
 least be equal to her Concern for a single Part or Member. 
 Now to the several Parts she has given, we see proper Affections, 
 sutable to their Interest and Security ; so that even without our 
 Consciousness, they act in their own Defense, and for their 
 own Benefit and Preservation. Thus an Eye, in its natural 
 State, fails not to shut together, of its own accord, unknowingly 
 to us, by a peculiar Caution and Timidity ; which if it wanted, 
 however we might intend the Preservation of our Eye, we 
 shou'd not in effect be able to preserve it, by any Observation 
 or Forecast of our own. To be wanting therefore in those 
 principal Affections, which respect the Good of the whole 
 Constitution, must be a Vice and Imperfection, as great surely 
 in the principal part, (the Soul or Temper) as it is in any of 
 those inferior and subordinate parts, to want the self-preserving 
 Affections which are proper to them. 
 
 And thus the Affections towards private Good become 
 necessary and essential to Goodness. For tho no Creature 
 can be call'd good, or virtuous, merely for possessing these 
 Affections ; yet since it is impossible that the publick Good, or 
 Good of the System, can be preserv'd without them ; it follows 
 that a Creature really wanting in them, is in reality wanting in 
 some degree to Goodness and natural Rectitude ; and may thus 
 be esteem'd vitious and defective. 
 
 'Tis thus we say of a Creature, in a kind way of Reproof, 
 that he is too good; when his Affection towards others is so 
 warm and zealous, as to carry him even beyond his Part ; or 
 when he really acts beyond it, not thro' too warm a Passion of 
 that sort, but thro' an over-cool one of another, or thro' want 
 of some Self-passion to restrain him within due Bounds.
 
 32 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 35 It may be objected here, that the having the natural Affections 
 too strong, (where the Self-affections are over-much so) or the 
 having the Self-affections defective or weak, (where the natural 
 Affections are also weak) may prove upon occasion the only 
 Cause of a Creature's acting honestly and in moral proportion. 
 For, thus, one who is to a fault regardless of his Life, may with 
 the smallest degree of natural Affection do all which can be 
 expected from the highest Pitch of social Love, or zealous 
 Friendship. And thus, on the other hand, a Creature ex- 
 cessively timorous may, by as exceeding a degree of natural 
 Affection, perform whatever the perfectest Courage is able to 
 inspire. 
 
 To this it is answer'd, That whenever we arraign any Passion 
 as too strong, or complain of any as too weak ; we must speak 
 with respect to a certain Constitution or (Economy of a par- 
 ticular Creature, or Species. For if a Passion, leading to any 
 right end, be only so much the more serviceable and effectual, 
 for being strong ; if we may be assur'd that the strength of it 
 will not be the occasion of any disturbance within, nor of any 
 disproportion between it-self and other Affections ; then con- 
 sequently the Passion, however strong, cannot be condemn'd 
 as vitious. But if to have all the Passions in equal proportion 
 with it, be what the Constitution of the Creature cannot bear ; 
 so that only some Passions are rais'd to this height, whilst others 
 are not, nor can possibly be wrought up to the same propor- 
 tion ; then may those strong Passions, tho of the better kind, 
 be call'd excessive. For being in unequal proportion to the 
 others, and causing an /// Balance in the Affection at large, 
 they must of course, be the occasion of Inequality in the 
 Conduct, and incline the Party to a wrong moral Practice. 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 36 But having shewn what is meant by a Passion's being in too 
 high, or in too low a degree ; and that, ' To have any natural 
 Affection too high, or any Self-affection too low,' tho it be often 
 approv'd as Virtue, is yet, strictly speaking, a Vice and Imper-
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 33 
 
 fection : we come now to the plainer and more essential part of 
 VICE, and which alone deserves to be consider'd as such : that 
 is to say, 
 
 1. 'When either the publick Affections are weak or defi- 
 cient. 
 
 2. ' Or the private and Self-affections too strong. 
 
 3. ' Or that such Affections arise as are neither of these, nor 
 in any degree tending to the Support either of the publick or 
 private System.' 
 
 Otherwise than thus, it is impossible any Creature can be 
 such as we call ILL or VITIOUS. So that if once we prove that 
 it is really not the Creature's Interest to be thus vitiously 
 affected, but contrariwise ; we shall then have prov'd, ' That it 
 is his Interest to be wholly GOOD and VIRTUOUS : ' Since in a 
 wholesom and sound State of his Affections, such as we have 
 describ'd, he cannot possibly be other than sound, good and 
 virtuous, in his Action and Behaviour. 
 
 37 Our Business, therefore, will be, to prove ; 
 
 I. 'That to have THE NATURAL, KINDLY, or GENEROUS 
 AFFECTIONS strong and powerful towards the Good of the Publick, 
 is to have the chief Means and Power of Self -enjoyment! And, 
 ' That to want them, is certain Misery and III! 
 
 II. ' That to have THE PRIVATE or SELF-AFFECTIONS too 
 strong, or beyond their degree of Subordinacy to the kindly and 
 natural, is also miserable? 
 
 III. And, 'That to have THE UNNATURAL AFFECTIONS (viz. 
 such as are neither founded on the Interest of the Kind, or 
 Publick ; nor of the private Person, or Creature himself) is to be 
 miserable in the highest degree.' 
 
 PART II. 
 Sect. I. 
 
 38 To begin therefore with this Proof, ' THAT TO HAVE THE 
 NATURAL AFFECTIONS (such as are founded in Love, Com- 
 placency, Good-will, and in a Sympathy with the Kind or
 
 34 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 Species) is TO HAVE THE CHIEF MEANS AND POWER OF SELF- 
 ENJOYMENT : And THAT TO WANT THEM is CERTAIN MISERY 
 AND ILL.' 
 
 We may inquire, first, what those are, which we call Pleasures 
 or Satisfactions ; from whence happiness is generally computed. 
 They are (according to the common distinction) Satisfactions 
 and Pleasures either of the Body, or of the Mind. 
 39 That the latter of these Satisfactions are the greatest, is allow'd 
 by most People, and may be prov'd by this : That whenever 
 the Mind, having conceiv'd a high Opinion of the Worth of 
 any Action or Behaviour, has receiv'd the strongest Impression 
 of this sort, and is wrought up to the highest pitch or degree 
 of Passion towards the Subject ; at such time it sets itself 
 above all bodily Pain as well as Pleasure, and can be no-way 
 deverted from its purpose by Flattery or Terror of any kind. 
 Thus we see Indians, Barbarians, Malefactors, and even the 
 most execrable Villains, for the sake of a particular Gang or 
 Society, or thro' some cherish'd Notion or Principle of Honour 
 or Gallantry, Revenge, or Gratitude, embrace any manner of 
 Hardship, and defy Torments and Death. Whereas, on the 
 other hand, a Person being plac'd in all the happy Cir- 
 cumstances of outward Enjoyment, surrounded with every 
 thing which can allure or charm the Sense, and being then actu- 
 ally in the very moment of such a pleasing Indulgence ; yet no 
 sooner is there any thing amiss within, no sooner has he 
 conceiv'd any internal Ail or Disorder, any thing inwardly 
 vexatious or distemper'd, than instantly his Enjoyment ceases, 
 the pleasure of sense is at an end ; and every means of that 
 sort becomes ineffectual, and is rejected as uneasy, and subject 
 to give Distaste. 
 
 The Pleasures of the Mind being allow'd, therefore, superior to 
 those of the Body ; it follows, ' That whatever can create in 
 any intelligent Being a constant flowing Series or Train of 
 mental Enjoyment, or Pleasures of the Mind, is more con- 
 siderable to his Happiness, than that which can create to him
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 35 
 
 a like constant Course or Train of sensual Enjoyments, or 
 Pleasures of the Body.' 
 
 40 Now the mental Enjoyments are either actually the very 
 natural Affections themselves in their immediate Operation : Or 
 they wholly in a manner proceed from them, and are no other 
 than their Effects. 
 
 If so ; it follows, that the natural Affections duly establish'd 
 in a rational Creature, being the only means which can procure 
 him a constant Series or Succession of the mental Enjoyments, 
 they are the only means which can procure him a certain and 
 solid Happiness. 
 
 41 Now, in the first place, to explain, ' How much the natural 
 Affections are in themselves the highest Pleasures and En- 
 joyments : ' There shou'd methinks be little need of proving this 
 to any-one of human Kind, who has ever known the Condition 
 of the Mind under a lively Affection of Love, Gratitude, 
 Bounty, Generosity, Pity, Succour, or whatever else is of a social 
 or friendly sort. He who has ever so little Knowledg of human 
 Nature, is sensible what pleasure the Mind perceives when it 
 is touch'd in this generous way. The difference we find be- 
 tween Solitude and Company, between a common Company 
 and that of Friends ; the reference of almost all our Pleasures 
 to mutual Converse, and the dependence they have on Society 
 either present or imagin'd; all these are sufficient Proofs in 
 our behalf. 
 
 How much the social Pleasures are superior to any other, 
 may be known by visible Tokens and Effects. The very outward 
 Features, the Marks and Signs which attend this sort of Joy, 
 are expressive of a more intense, clear, and undisturb'd Pleasure, 
 than those which attend the Satisfaction of Thirst, Hunger, 
 and other ardent Appetites. But more particularly still may 
 this Superiority be known, from the actual Prevalence and 
 Ascendency of this sort of Affection over all besides. Where- 
 ever it presents it-self with any advantage, it silences and appeases 
 every other Motion of Pleasure. No Joy, merely of Sense, 
 
 D 2
 
 36 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 can be a Match for it. Whoever is Judg of both the Pleasures, 
 will ever give the preference to the former. But to be able to 
 judg of both, 'tis necessary to have a Sense of each. The 
 honest Man indeed can judg of sensual Pleasure, and knows its 
 utmost Force. For neither is his Taste, or Sense the duller ; 
 but, on the contrary, the more intense and clear, on the 
 account of his Temperance, and a moderate Use of Appetite. 
 But the immoral and profligate Man can by no means be allow'd 
 a good Judg of social Pleasure, to which he is so mere 
 a Stranger by his Nature. 
 
 Nor is it any Objection here ; That in many Natures the 
 good Affection, tho really present, is found to be of insufficient 
 force. For where it is not in its natural degree, 'tis the same 
 indeed as if it were not or had never been. The less there is of 
 this good Affection in any untoward Creature, the greater the 
 wonder is, that it shou'd at any time prevail ; as in the very 
 worst of Creatures it sometimes will. And if it prevails but 
 for once, in any single Instance ; it shews evidently, that if the 
 Affection were thorowly experienc'd or known, it wou'd prevail 
 in all. 
 
 Thus the CHARM of kind Affection is superior to all other 
 Pleasure : since it has the power of drawing from every other 
 Appetite or Inclination. And thus in the Case of Love to 
 the Offspring, and a thousand other Instances, the Charm is 
 found to operate so strongly on the Temper, as, in the midst 
 of other Temptations, to render it susceptible of this Passion 
 alone ; which remains as the Master- Pleasure and Conqueror 
 of the rest. 
 
 42 There is no-one who, by the least progress in Science or 
 Learning, has come to know barely the Principles otMatkema- 
 ticks, but has found, that in the exercise of his Mind on the 
 Discoverys he there makes, tho merely of speculative Truths, 
 he receives a Pleasure and Delight superior to that of Sense. 
 When we have thorowly search'd into the nature of this con- 
 templative Delight, we shall find it of a kind which relates not
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 37. 
 
 in the least to any private Interest of the Creature, nor has for 
 its Object any Self-good or Advantage of the private System. 
 The Admiration, Joy, or Love, turns wholly upon what is 
 exterior, and foreign to our-selves. And tho the reflected 
 Joy or Pleasure, which arises from the notice of this Pleasure 
 once perceiv'd, may be interpreted a Self-passion, or interested 
 Regard: yet the original Satisfaction can be no other than 
 what results from the Love of Truth, Proportion, Order, and 
 Symmetry, in the Things without. If this be the Case, the 
 Passion ought in reality to be rank'd with natural Affection. 
 For having no Object within the compass of the private System; 
 it must either be esteem'd superfluous and unnatural, (as having 
 no tendency towards the Advantage or Good of any thing in 
 Nature) or it must be judg'd to be, what it truly is, ' A natural 
 Joy in the Contemplation of those Numbers, that Harmony, 
 Proportion, and Concord, which supports the universal Nature, 
 and is essential in the Constitution and Form of every particular 
 Species, or Order of Beings.' 
 
 But this speculative Pleasure, however considerable and 
 valuable it may be, or however superior to any Motion of mere 
 Sense ; must yet be far surpass'd by virtuous Motion, and the 
 Exercise of Benignity and Goodness ; where, together with the 
 most delightful Affection of the Soul, there is join'd a pleasing 
 Assent and Approbation of the Mind to what is acted in this 
 good Disposition and honest Bent. For where is there on 
 Earth a fairer Matter of Speculation, a goodlier View or Con- 
 templation, than that of a beautiful, proportioned, and becoming 
 Action ? Or what is there relating to us, of which the Con- 
 sciousness and Memory is more solidly and lastingly enter- 
 taining? 
 
 We may observe, that in the Passion of Love between the 
 Sexes, where, together with the Affection of a vulgar sort, 
 there is a mixture of the kind and friendly, the Sense or Feeling 
 of this latter is in reality superior to the former ; since often 
 thro' this Affection, and for the sake of the Person belov'd,
 
 38 SHAFTESBURY. [Rook II. 
 
 the greatest Hardships in the World have been submitted to, 
 and even Death it-self voluntarily imbrac'd, without any ex- 
 pected Compensation. For where shou'd the Ground of such 
 an Expectation lie ? Not here, in this World surely ; for Death 
 puts an end to all. Nor yet hereafter, in any other : for who 
 has ever thought of providing a Heaven or future Recompence 
 for the suffering Virtue of Lovers ? 
 
 We may observe, withal, in favour of the natural Affections, 
 that it is not only when Joy and Sprightliness are mix'd with 
 them, that they carry a real Enjoyment above that of the 
 sensual kind. The very Disturbances which belong to natural 
 Affection, tho they may be thought wholly contrary to Pleasure, 
 yield still a Contentment and Satisfaction greater than the 
 Pleasures of indulg'd Sense. And where a Series or continu'd 
 Succession of the tender and kind Affections can be carry'd 
 on, even thro' Fears, Horrors, Sorrows, Griefs ; the Emotion of 
 the Soul is still agreeable. We continue pleas'd even with 
 this melancholy Aspect or Sense of Virtue. Her Beauty sup- 
 ports it-self under a Cloud, and in the midst of surrounding 
 Calamitys. For thus, when by mere Illusion, as in a Tragedy, 
 the Passions of this kind are skilfully excited in us ; we prefer 
 the Entertainment to any other of equal duration. We find 
 by our-selves, that the moving our Passions in this mournful 
 way, the engaging them in behalf of Merit and Worth, and the 
 exerting whatever we have of social Affection, and human 
 Sympathy, is of the highest Delight ; and affords a greater 
 Enjoyment in the way of Thought and Sentiment, that any thing 
 besides can do in a way of Sense and common Appetite. And 
 after this manner it appears, ' How much the mental Enjoyments 
 are actually the very natural Affections themselves? 
 43 Now, in the next place, to explain, 'How they proceed from 
 them, as their natural Effects;' we may consider first, That the 
 EFFECTS of Love or kind Affection, in a way of mental 
 Pleasure, are, ' An Enjoyment of Good by Communication : 
 A receiving it, as it were by Reflection, or by way of Participa-
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 39 
 
 tion in the Good of others : ' And 1 A pleasing Consciousness of 
 the actual Love, merited Esteem or Approbation of others? 
 
 How considerable a part of Happiness arises from the former 
 of these Effects, will be easily apprehended by one who is not 
 exceedingly ill natur'd. It will be consider'd how many the 
 Pleasures are, of sharing Contentment and Delight with others ; 
 of receiving it in Fellowship and Company ; and gathering it, 
 in a manner, from the pleas'd and happy States of those around 
 us, from accounts and relations of such Happinesses, from the 
 very Countenances, Gestures, Voices and Sounds, even of 
 Creatures foreign to our Kind, whose Signs of Joy and Con- 
 tentment we can anyway discern. So insinuating are these 
 Pleasures of Sympathy, and so widely diffus'd thro' our whole 
 Lives, that there is hardly such a thing as Satisfaction or Con- 
 tentment, of which they make not an essential part. 
 
 As for that other Effect of social Love, viz. the Consciousness 
 of merited Kindness or Esteem ; 'tis not difficult to perceive 
 how much this avails in mental Pleasure, and constitutes the 
 chief Enjoyment and Happiness of those who are, in the 
 narrowest sense, voluptuous. How natural is it for the most 
 selfish among us, to be continually drawing some sort of Satis- 
 faction from a Character, and pleasing our-selves in the Fancy 
 of deserv'd Admiration and Esteem? For tho it be mere 
 Fancy, we endeavour still to believe it Truth ; and flatter 
 our-selves, all we can, with the Thought of Merit of some 
 kind, and the Persuasion of our deserving well from some few 
 at least, with whom we happen to have a more intimate and 
 familiar Commerce. 
 
 What Tyrant is there, what Robber, or open Violater of the 
 Laws of Society, who has not a Companion, or some particular 
 Sect, either of his own Kindred, or such as he calls Friends ; 
 with whom he gladly shares his Good; in whose Welfare he 
 delights ; and whose Joy and Satisfaction he makes his oivn ? 
 What Person in the world is there, who receives not some 
 Impressions from the Flattery or Kindness of such as are
 
 40 SHAFTESBURY. [?ook II. 
 
 familiar with him ? Tis to this soothing Hope and Expectation 
 of Friendship, that almost all our Actions have some reference. 
 'Tis this which goes thro' our whole Lives, and mixes it-self 
 even with most of our Vices. Of this, Vanity, Ambition, and 
 Luxury, have a share ; and many other Disorders of our Life 
 partake. Even the unchastest Love borrows largely from this 
 Source. So that were Pleasure to be computed in the same 
 way as other things commonly are ; it might properly be said, 
 that out of these two Branches (viz. Community or Participation 
 in the Pleasures of others, and Belief of meriting well from 
 others) wou'd arise more than nine Tenths of whatever is en- 
 joy'd in Life. And thus in the main Sum of Happiness, there 
 is scarce a single Article, but what derives it-self from social 
 Love, and depends immediately on the natural and kind 
 Affections. 
 
 Now such as CAUSES are, such must be their EFFECTS. And 
 therefore as natural Affection or social Love is perfect, or im- 
 perfect ; so must be the Content and Happiness depending on it. 
 44 But lest any shou'd imagine with themselves that an inferior 
 Degree of natural Affection, or an imperfect partial Regard of 
 this sort, can supply the place of an intire, sincere, and truly 
 moral one ; lest a small Tincture of social Inclination shou'd 
 be thought sufficient to answer the End of Pleasure in Society, 
 and give us that Enjoyment of Participation and Community 
 which is so essential to our Happiness ; we may consider first, 
 That PARTIAL AFFECTION, or social Love in part, without 
 regard to a compleat Society or Whole, is in it-self an Incon- 
 sistency, and implies an absolute Contradiction. Whatever 
 Affection we have towards any thing besides our-selves ; if it be 
 not of the natural sort towards the System, or Kind ; it must 
 be, of all other Affections, the most dissociable, and destructive 
 of the Enjoyments of Society : If it be really of the natural 
 sort, and apply'd only to some one Part of Society, or of 
 a Species, but not to the Species or Society it-self; there can 
 be no more account given of it, than of the most odd/capricious,
 
 Part 1 1.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 4 1 
 
 or humoursom Passion which may arise. The Person, there- 
 fore, who is conscious of this Affection, can be conscious of no 
 Merit or Worth on the account of it. Nor can the Persons on 
 whom this capricious Affection has chanc'd to fall, be in any 
 manner secure of its Continuance or Force. As it has no 
 Foundation or Establishment in Reason ; so it must be easily 
 removable, and subject to alteration, without Reason. Now 
 the Variableness of such sort of Passion, which depends solely 
 on Capriciousness and Humour, and undergoes the frequent 
 Successions of alternate Hatred and Love, Aversion and In- 
 clination, must of necessity create continual Disturbance 
 and Disgust, give an allay to what is immediately enjoy'd in 
 the way of Friendship and Society, and in the end extinguish, 
 in a manner, the very Inclination towards Friendship and 
 human Commerce. Whereas, on the other hand, INTIRE 
 AFFECTION (from whence Integrity has its name) as it is 
 answerable to it-self, proportionable, and rational; so it is ir- 
 refragable, solid, and durable. And as in the case of Partiality, 
 or vitious Friendship, which has no rule or order, every Reflec- 
 tion of the Mind necessarily makes to its disadvantage, and 
 lessens the Enjoyment ; so in the case of Integrity, the Con- 
 sciousness of just Behaviour towards Mankind in general, 
 casts a good reflection on each friendly Affection in particular, 
 and raises the Enjoyment of Friendship still the higher, in the 
 way of Community or Participation above-mention'd. 
 
 And in the next place, as PARTIAL AFFECTION is fitted only 
 to a short and slender Enjoyment of those Pleasures of 
 Sympathy or Participation with others; so neither is it able 
 to derive any considerable Enjoyment from that other 
 principal Branch of human Happiness, viz. Consciousness of the 
 actual or merited Esteem of others. From whence shou'd this 
 Esteem arise? The Merit, surely, must in it-self be mean 
 whilst the Affection is so precarious and uncertain. What Trust 
 can there be to a mere casual Inclination or capricious Liking ? 
 Who can depend on such a Friendship as is founded on no
 
 42 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 moral Rule, but fantastically assign 'd to some single Person, or 
 small Part of Mankind, exclusive of Society, and the Whole ? 
 
 It may be consider'd, withal, as a thing impossible ; that 
 they who esteem or love by any other Rule than that of Virtue, 
 shou'd place their Affection on such Subjects as they can long 
 esteem or love. 'Twill be hard for them, in the number of 
 their so belov'd Friends, to find any, in whom they can heartily 
 rejoice ; or whose reciprocal Love or Esteem they can sincerely 
 prize and enjoy. Nor can those Pleasures be sound or lasting, 
 which are gather'd from a Self-flattery, and false Persuasion of 
 the Esteem and Love of others, who are incapable of any 
 sound Esteem or Love. It appears therefore how much the 
 Men of narrow or partial Affection must be Losers in this 
 sense, and of necessity fall short in this second principal part 
 of mental Enjoyment. 
 
 45 Mean while intire Affection has all the opposite advantages. 
 It is equal, constant, accountable to it-self, ever satisfactory, 
 and pleasing. It gains Applause and Love from the best ; and 
 in all disinterested cases, from the very -worst of Men. We 
 may say of it, with justice, that it carry with it a Consciousness 
 of merited Love and Approbation from all Society, from all 
 intelligent Creatures, and from whatever is original to all other 
 Intelligence. And if there be in Nature any such Original ; we 
 may add, that the Satisfaction which attends intire Affection, 
 is full and noble, in proportion to its final Object, which con- 
 tains all Perfection ; according to the Sense of Theism above- 
 noted. For this, as has been shewn, is the result of Virtue. 
 And to have this INTIRE AFFECTION or INTEGRITY of Mind, is to 
 live according to Nature, and the Dictates and Rules of supreme 
 Wisdom, This is Morality, Justice, Piety, and natural Religion. 
 
 46 But lest this Argument shou'd appear perhaps too scholasti- 
 cally stated, and in Terms and Phrases, which are not of 
 familiar use ; we may try whether possibly we can set it yet in 
 a plainer light. 
 
 Let any-one, then, consider well those Pleasures which he
 
 Part ii.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 43 
 
 receives either in private Retirement, Contemplation, Study 
 and Converse with himself; or in Mirth, Jollity, and Entertain- 
 ment with others; and he will find, That they are wholly 
 founded in An easy Temper, free of Harshness, Bitterness, or 
 Distaste ; and in A Mind or Reason well composed, quiet, easy 
 within itself, and such as can freely bear its oivn Inspection and 
 Review. Now such A MIND, and such A TEMPER, which fit 
 and qualify for the Enjoyment of the Pleasures mention'd, 
 must of necessity be owing to the natural and good Affections. 
 47 As to what relates to TEMPER, it may be consider'd thus. 
 There is no State of outward Prosperity, or flowing Fortune, 
 where Inclination and Desire are always satisfy'd, Fancy and 
 Humour pleas'd. There are almost hourly some Impediments 
 or Crosses to the Appetite ; some Accidents or another from 
 without ; or something from within, to check the licentious 
 Course of the indulg'd Affections. They are not always to be 
 satisfy'd by mere Indulgence. And when a Life is guided by 
 Fancy only, there is sufficient ground of Contrariety and 
 Disturbance. The very ordinary Lassitudes, Uneasinesses, 
 and Defects of Disposition in the soundest Body; the in- 
 terrupted Course of the Humours, or Spirits, in the healthiest 
 People ; and the accidental Disorders common to every Con- 
 stitution, are sufficient, we know, on many occasions, to breed 
 Uneasiness and Distaste. And this, in time, must grow into 
 a Habit; where there is nothing to oppose its progress, and 
 hinder its prevailing on the Temper. Now the only sound 
 Opposite to ILL HUMOUR, is natural and kind Affection. For 
 we may observe, that when the Mind, upon reflection, resolves 
 at any time to suppress this Disturbance already risen in the 
 Temper, and sets about this reforming Work with heartiness, 
 and in good earnest ; it can no otherwise accomplish the Under- 
 taking, than by introducing into the affectionate Part some 
 gentle Feeling of the social and friendly kind ; some enlivening 
 Motion of Kindness, Fellowship, Complacency, or Love, to allay 
 and convert that contrary Motion of Impatience and Discontent.
 
 44 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 If it be said perhaps, that in the case before us, Religious 
 Affection or Devotion is a sufficient and proper Remedy ; we 
 answer, That 'tis according as the Kind may happily prove. 
 For if it be of the pleasant and chearful sort, 'tis of the very 
 kind of natural Affection it-self : if it be of the dismal or fearful 
 sort ; if it brings along with it any Affection opposite to Man- 
 hood, Generosity, Courage, or Free-thought; there will be 
 nothing gain'd by this Application ; and the Remedy will, in the 
 issue, be undoubtedly found worse than the Disease. The 
 severest Reflections on our Duty, and the Consideration merely 
 of what is by Authority and under Penaltys enjoin'd, will not 
 by any means serve to calm us on this occasion. The more 
 dismal our Thoughts are on such a Subject, the worse our 
 Temper will be, and the readier to discover it-self in Harshness, 
 and Austerity. If, perhaps, by Compulsion, or thro' any 
 Necessity or Fear incumbent, a different Carriage be at any time 
 effected, or different Maxims own'd ; the Practice at the bottom 
 will be still the same. If the Countenance be compos'd ; the 
 Heart, however, will not be chang'd. The ill Passion may for 
 the time be with-held from breaking into Action ; but will not 
 be subdu'd, or in the least debilitated against the next occasion. 
 So that in such a Breast as this, whatever Devotion there 
 may be; 'tis likely there will in time be little of an easy 
 Spirit, or good Temper remaining ; and consequently few and 
 slender Enjoyments of a mental kind. 
 
 If it be objected, on the other hand, that tho in melancholy 
 Circumstances ill Humour may prevail, yet in a Course of 
 outward Prosperity, and in the height of Fortune, there can 
 nothing probably occur which shou'd thus sour the Temper^ 
 and give it such disrelish as is suggested ; we may consider, 
 that the most humour'd and indulg'd State is apt to receive the 
 most disturbance from every Disappointment or smallest Ail. 
 And if Provocations are easiest rais'd, and the Passions of 
 Anger, Offence, and Enmity, are found the highest in the most 
 indulg'd State of Will and Humour ; there is still the greater
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 45 
 
 need of a Supply from social Affection, to preserve the Temper 
 from running into Savageness and Inhumanity. And this, the 
 Case of Tyrants, and most unlimited Potentates, may sufficiently 
 verify and demonstrate. 
 
 48 Now as to the other part of our Consideration, which relates 
 to a MIND or Reason well composed and easy within it-self; 
 upon what, account this Happiness may be thought owing to 
 natural Affection, we may possibly resolve our-selves, after this 
 manner. It will be acknowledg'd that a Creature, such as 
 Man, who from several degrees of Reflection has risen to that 
 Capacity which we call Reason and Understanding ; must in 
 the very use of this his reasoning Faculty, be forc'd to receive 
 Reflections back into his Mind of what passes in itself, as well 
 as in the Affections, or Will ; in short, of whatsoever relates to 
 his Character, Conduct, or Behaviour amidst his P'ellow- 
 Creatures, and in Society. Or shou'd he be of himself unapt ; 
 there are others ready to remind him, and refresh his Memory, 
 in this way of Criticism. We have all of us Remembrancers 
 enow to help us in this work. Nor are the greatest Favourites 
 of Fortune exempted from this Task of Self-inspection. Even 
 Flattery itself, by making the View agreeable, renders us more 
 attentive this way, and insnares us in the Habit. The vainer 
 any Person is, the more he has his Eye inwardly fix'd upon 
 himself; and is, after a certain manner, employ 'd in this home- 
 Survey. And when a true Regard to our-selves cannot oblige 
 us to this Inspection, a false Regard to others, and a Fondness 
 for Reputation raises a watchful Jealousy, and furnishes us 
 sufficiently with Acts of Reflection on our own Character and 
 Conduct. 
 
 In whatever manner we consider of this, we shall find still 
 that every reasoning or reflecting Creature is, by his Nature, 
 forc'd to endure the Review of his own Mind, and Actions ; 
 and to have Representations of himself, and his inward Affairs, 
 constantly passing before him, obvious to him, and revolving 
 in his Mind. Now as nothing can be more grievous than this
 
 46 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 is, to one who has thrown off natural Affection ; so nothing can 
 be more delightful to one who has preserv'd it with sincerity. 
 49 There are TWO Things, which to a rational Creature must 
 be horridly offensive and grievous ; viz. ' To have the 
 Reflection in his Mind of any unjust Action or Behaviour, 
 which he knows to be naturally odious and ill-deserving : Or, 
 of any foolish Action or Behaviour, which he knows to be 
 prejudicial to his own Interest or Happiness? 
 
 The former of these is alone properly call'd CONSCIENCE^ 
 whether in a moral, or religious Sense. For to have Awe and 
 Terror of the Deity, does not, of itself, imply Conscience. 
 No one is esteem'd the more conscientious for the fear of evil 
 Spirits, Conjurations, Enchantments, or whatever may proceed 
 from any unjust, capricious, or devilish Nature. Now to fear 
 GOD any otherwise than as in consequence of some justly 
 blameable and imputable Act, is to fear a devilish Nature, not 
 a divine one. Nor does the Fear of Hell, or a thousand 
 Terrors of the DEITY, imply Conscience ; unless where there 
 is an Apprehension of what is wrong, odious, morally deform 'd 
 and ill-deserving. And where this is the Case, there Conscience 
 must have effect, and Punishment of necessity be apprehended ; 
 even tho it be not expressly threaten'd. 
 
 And thus religious .Conscience supposes moral or natural 
 Conscience. And tho the former be understood to carry with it 
 the Fear of divine Punishment ; it has its force however from 
 the apprehended moral Deformity and Odiousness of any 
 Act, with respect purely to the Divine Presence, and the 
 natural Veneration due to such a suppos'd Being. For in such 
 a Presence, the Shame of Villany or Vice must have its force, 
 independently on that farther Apprehension of the magisterial 
 Capacity of such a Being, and his Dispensation of particular 
 Rewards or Punishments in a future State. 
 
 It has been already said, that no Creature can maliciously 
 and intentionally do ill, without being sensible, at the same 
 time, that he deserves ill. And in this respect, every sensible
 
 Part 11.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 47 
 
 Creature may be said to have Conscience. For with all Man- 
 kind, and all intelligent Creatures this must ever hold, ' That 
 what they know they deserve from every-one, that they 
 necessarily must fear and expect from all.' And thus Suspi- 
 cions and ill Apprehensions must arise, with Terror both of 
 Men and of the DEITY. But besides this, there must in every 
 rational Creature, be yet farther Conscience ; viz. from Sense 
 of Deformity in what is thus ill-deserving and unnatural \ and 
 from a consequent Shame or Regret of incurring what is odious, 
 and moves Aversion. 
 
 50 There scarcely is, or can be any Creature, whom Con- 
 sciousness of Villany, as such merely, does not at all offend ; 
 nor any thing opprobrious or heniously imputable, move, or 
 affect. If there be such a one ; 'tis evident he must be 
 absolutely indifferent towards moral Good or 111. If this 
 indeed be his Case ; 'twill be allow'd he can be no-way capable 
 of natural Affection : If not of that, then neither of any social 
 Pleasure, or mental Enjoyment, as shewn above ; but on the 
 contrary, he must be subject to all manner of horrid, unnatural, 
 and ill Affection. So that to want CONSCIENCE, or natural 
 Sense of the Odiousness of Crime and Injustice, is to be most 
 of all miserable in Life : but where Conscience, or Sense of this 
 sort, remains; there, consequently, whatever is committed 
 against it, must of necessity, by means of Reflection, as we 
 have shewn, be continually shameful, grievous and offensive. 
 
 A man who in a Passion happens to kill his Companion, 
 r.elents immediately on the sight of what he has done. His 
 Revenge is chang'd into Pity, and his Hatred turn'd against 
 himself. And this merely by the Power of the Object. On 
 this account he suffers Agonys; the Subject of this con- 
 tinually occurs to him; and of this he has a constant ill 
 Remembrance and displeasing Consciousness. If on the 
 other side, we suppose him not to relent or suffer any real 
 Concern or Shame; then, either he has no Sense of the 
 Deformity of the Crime and Injustice, no natural Affection, and
 
 48 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 consequently no Happiness or Peace within : or if he has 
 any Sense of moral Worth or Goodness, it must be of a per- 
 plex'd, and contradictory kind. He must pursue an incon- 
 sistent Notion, idolize somefa/se Species of Virtue ; and affect 
 as noble, gallant, or worthy, that which is irrational and absurd. 
 And how tormenting this must be to him, is easy to conceive. 
 For never can such a Phantom as this be reduc'd to any 
 certain Form. Never can this PROTEUS of Honour be held 
 steddy, to one Shape. The Pursuit of it can only be vexatious 
 and distracting. There is nothing beside real Virtue, as has 
 been shewn, which can possibly hold any proportion to Esteem, 
 Approbation, or good Conscience. And he who, being led 
 by false Religion or prevailing Custom, has learnt to esteem or 
 admire any thing as Virtue which is not really such; must 
 either thro' the Inconsistency of such an Esteem, and the 
 perpetual Immoralitys occasion'd by it, come at last to lose all 
 Conscience ; and so be miserable in the worst way : or, if 
 he retains any Conscience at all, it must be of a kind never 
 satisfactory, or able to bestow Content. For 'tis impossible 
 that a cruel Enthusiast, or Bigot, a Persecutor, a Murderer, 
 a Bravo, a Pirate, or any Villain of less degree, who is false to 
 the Society of Mankind in general, and contradicts natural 
 Affection ; shou'd have any fix'd Principle at all, any real 
 Standard or Measure by which he can regulate his Esteem, or 
 any solid Reason by which to form his Approbation of any one 
 moral Act. And thus the more he sets up Honour, or 
 advances Zeal; the worse he renders his Nature, and the more 
 detestable his Character. The more he engages in the Love 
 or Admiration of any Action or Practice, as great and glorious, 
 which is in it-self morally ill and vitious ; the more Contra- 
 diction and Self-disapprobation he must incur. For there 
 being nothing more certain than this, ' That no natural 
 Affection can be contradicted, nor any unnatural one advanc'd, 
 without a prejudice in some degree to all natural Affection in 
 general : ' it must follow, ' That inward Deformity growing
 
 Part II ] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE, 49 
 
 greater, by the Incouragement of unnatural Affection ; there 
 must be so much the more Subject for dissatisfactory Reflec- 
 tion, the more any false Principle of Honour, any false Religion, 
 or Superstition prevails.' 
 
 So that whatever Notions of this kind are cherish'd ; or 
 whatever Character affected, which is contrary to moral Equity, 
 and leads to Inhumanity, thro' a false Conscience, or wrong 
 Sense of Honour, serves only to bring a Man the more under 
 the lash of real and just Conscience, Shame, and Self-reproach. 
 Nor can any one, who, by any pretended Authority, commits 
 one single Immorality, be able to satisfy himself with any 
 Reason, why he shou'd not at another time be carry'd further 
 into all manner of Villany ; such perhaps as he even abhors 
 to think of. And this is a Reproach which a Mind must of 
 necessity make to it-self upon the least Violation of natural 
 Conscience; in doing what is morally defornfd, and ill-deserving; 
 tho warranted by any Example or Precedent amongst Men, 
 or by any suppos'd Injunction or Command of higher Powers. 
 51 Now as for that other part of Conscience, viz. the remem- 
 brance of what was at any time unreasonably and foolishly done, 
 in prejudice of one's real Interest or Happiness: This dissatis- 
 factory Reflection must follow still and have effect, wheresoever 
 there is a Sense of moral Deformity, contracted by Crime, and 
 Injustice. For even where there is no Sense of moral 
 Deformity, as such merely ; there must be still a Sense of the 
 ill Merit of it with respect to God and Man. Or tho there 
 were a possibility of excluding for ever all Thoughts or 
 Suspicions of any superior Powers, yet considering that this 
 Insensibility towards moral Good or 111 implies a total Defect 
 in natural Affection, and that this Defect can by no Dis- 
 simulation be conceal'd ; 'tis evident that a Man of this 
 unhappy Character must suffer a very sensible Loss in the 
 Friendship, Trust, and Confidence of other Men ; and conse- 
 quently must suffer in his Interest and outward Happiness. 
 Nor can the Sense of this Disadvantage fail to occur to 
 * E
 
 50 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 him ; when he sees, with Regret, and Envy, the better 
 and more grateful Terms of Friendship, and Esteem, on 
 which better People live with the rest of Mankind. Even 
 therefore where natural Affection is wanting ; 'tis certain still, 
 that by Immorality, necessarily happening thro' want of such 
 Affection, there must be disturbance from Conscience of this 
 sort, viz. from Sense of what is committed imprudently, and 
 contrary to real Interest and Advantage. 
 
 52 From all this we may easily conclude, how much our 
 Happiness depends on natural and good Affection. For if the 
 chief Happiness be from the MENTAL PLEASURES ; and the 
 chief mental Pleasures are such as we have describ'd, and are 
 founded in natural Affection ; it follows, ' That to have 
 the natural Affections, is to have the chief Means and Power of 
 Self -enjoyment, the highest Possession and Happiness of Life? 
 
 53 Now as to the Pleasures of THE BODY, and the Satisfactions 
 belonging to mere SENSE ; 'tis evident, they cannot possibly 
 have their Effect, or afford any valuable Enjoyment, otherwise 
 than by the means of social and natural Affection. 
 
 To live well, has no other meaning with some People, than 
 to eat and drink well. And methinks 'tis an unwary Concession 
 we make in favour of these pretended good Livers, when we 
 join with 'em, in honouring their way of Life with the Title 
 of living fast. As if they liv'd the fastest who took the greatest 
 pains to enjoy least of Life : For if our Account of Happiness 
 be right ; the greatest Enjoyments in Life are such as these 
 Men pass over in their haste, and have scarce ever allow'd 
 themselves the liberty of tasting. 
 
 But as considerable a Part of Voluptuousness as is founded 
 in the Palat ; and as notable as the Science is, which depends 
 on it ; one may justly presume that the Ostentation of Elegance, 
 and a certain Emulation and Study how to excel in this 
 sumptuous Art of Living, goes very far in the raising such 
 a high Idea of it, as is observ'd among the Men of Pleasure. 
 For were the Circumstances of a Table and Company,
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 51 
 
 Equipages, Services, and the rest of the Management with- 
 drawn ; there wou'd be hardly left any Pleasure worth 
 acceptance, even in the Opinion of the most debauch'd 
 themselves. 
 
 The very Notion of a Debauch (which is a Sally into what- 
 ever can be imagin'd of Pleasure and Voluptuousness) carrys 
 with it a plain reference to Society, or Fellowship. It may be 
 call'd a Surfeit, or Excess of Eating and Drinking, but hardly 
 a Debauch of that kind, when the Excess is committed 
 separately, out of all Society, or Fellowship. And one who 
 abuses himself in this way, is often call'd a Sot but never 
 a Debauchee. The Courtizans, and even the commonest of 
 Women, who live by Prostitution, know very well how 
 necessary it is, that every-one whom they entertain with their 
 Beauty, shou'd believe there are Satisfactions reciprocal ; and 
 that Pleasures are no less given than received. And were this 
 Imagination to be wholly taken away, there wou'd be hardly 
 any of the grosser sort of Mankind, who wou'd not perceive their 
 remaining Pleasure to be of slender Estimation. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Thus, therefore, not only the Pleasures of the Mind, but 
 even those of the Body, depend on natural Affection : insomuch 
 that where this is wanting, they not only lose their Force, but 
 are in a manner converted into Uneasiness and Disgust. 
 The Sensations which shou'd naturally afford Contentment 
 and Delight, produce rather Discontent and Sourness, and 
 breed a Wearisomness and Restlesness in the Disposition. 
 This we may perceive by the perpetual Inconstancy, and Love 
 of Change, so remarkable in those who have nothing communi- 
 cative or friendly in their Pleasures. Good Fellowship, in 
 its abus'd Sense, seems indeed to have something more constant 
 and determining. The Company supports the Humour. 'Tis 
 the same in Love. A certain Tenderness and Generosity of 
 Affection supports the Passion, which otherwise wou'd instantly 
 be chang'd. The perfectest Beauty cannot, of it-self, retain, 
 
 2
 
 52 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 or fix it. And that Love which has no other Foundation, but 
 relies on this exterior kind, is soon turn'd into Aversion. 
 Satiety, perpetual Disgust, and Feverishness of Desire, attend 
 those who passionately study Pleasure. They best enjoy it, 
 who study to regulate their Passions. And b'y this they will 
 come to know how absolute an Incapacity there is in any 
 thing sensual to please, or give contentment, where it depends 
 not on something friendly or social, something conjoin'd, and 
 in affinity with kind or natural Affection. 
 
 64 But ere we conclude this Article of social or natural Affection, 
 we may take a general View of it, and bring it, once for all, into 
 the Scale ; to prove what kind of BALANCE it helps to make 
 within and what the Consequence may be, of its Deficiency, 
 or light Weight. 
 
 There is no-one of ever so little Understanding in what 
 belongs to a human Constitution, who knows not that without 
 Action, Motion, and Employment, the Body languishes, and is 
 oppress'd ; its Nourishment turns to Disease ; the Spirits, 
 unimploy'd abroad, help to consume the Parts within ; and 
 Nature, as it were, preys upon her-self. In the same manner, 
 the sensible and living Part, the Soul or Mind, wanting its 
 proper and natural Exercise, is burden'd and diseas'd. Its 
 Thoughts and Passions being unnaturally with-held from their 
 due Objects, turn against itself, and create the highest Im- 
 patience and Ill-humour. 
 
 ******* 
 
 It happens with Mankind, that whilst some are by necessity 
 confin'd to Labour, others are provided with abundance of 
 all things, by the Pains and Labour of Inferiors. Now, if 
 among the superior and easy sort, there be not something of 
 fit and proper Imployment rais'd in the room of what is 
 wanting in common Labour and Toil ; if instead of an 
 Application to any sort of Work, such as has a good and 
 honest End in Society, (as Letters, Sciences, Arts, Husbandry, 
 publick Affairs, (Economy, or the like) there be a thorow
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 53 
 
 Neglect of all Duty or Imployment ; a settled Idleness, 
 Supineness, and Inactivity : this of necessity must occasion 
 a most relax'd and dissolute State ; It must produce a total 
 Disorder of the Passions, and break out in the strangest 
 Irregularity imaginable. 
 
 We see the enormous Growth of Luxury in capital Citys, 
 such as have been long the Seat of Empire. We see what 
 Improvements are made in Vice of every kind, where numbers 
 of Men are maintain'd in lazy Opulence, and wanton Plenty. 
 'Tis otherwise with those who are taken up in honest and due 
 Imployment, and have been well inur'd to it from their 
 Youth. This we may observe in the hardy remote Provin- 
 cials, the Inhabitants of smaller Towns, and the industrious 
 sort of common People ; where 'tis rare to meet with any 
 Instances of those Irregularitys, which are known in Courts 
 and Palaces, and in the rich Foundations of easy and pamper'd 
 Priests. 
 
 Now if what we have advanc'd concerning an inward 
 Constitution be real and just ; if it be true that Nature works 
 by a just Order and Regulation as well in the Passions and 
 Affections, as in the Limbs and Organs which she forms ; if it 
 appears withal, that she has so constituted this inward Part, 
 that nothing is so essential to it as Exercise ; and no Exercise 
 so essential as that of social or natural Affection : it follows, 
 that where this is remov'd or weaken'd, the inward Part must 
 necessarily suffer and be impair'd. Let Indolence, Indifference 
 or Insensibility, be study'd as an Art, or cultivated with the 
 utmost Care; the Passions thus restrain'd will force their 
 Prison, and in one way or other procure their Liberty, and find 
 full Employment. They will be sure to create to themselves 
 unusual and unnatural Exercise, where they are cut off from 
 such as is natural and good. And thus in the room of orderly 
 and natural Affection, new and unnatural must be rais'd, and 
 all imvard Order and (Economy destroy'd.
 
 54 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 55 Thus it may appear, how much NATURAL AFFECTION is pre- 
 dominant ; how it is inwardly join'd to us, and implanted in 
 our Natures ; how interwoven with our other Passions ; and how 
 essential to that regular Motion and Course of our Affections, 
 on which our Happiness and Self-enjoyment so immediately 
 depend. 
 
 And thus we have demonstrated, That as, on one side, To 
 
 HAVE THE NATURAL AND GOOD AFFECTIONS, IS TO HAVE THE 
 
 CHIEF MEANS AND POWER OF SELF-ENJOYMENT: So, on the 
 other side, TO WANT THEM, is CERTAIN MISERY, AND ILL. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 56 We are now to prove, That BY HAVING THE SELF-PASSIONS 
 
 TOO INTENSE OR STRONG, A CREATURE BECOMES MISERABLE. 
 
 In order to this, we must, according to Method, enumerate 
 those Home-affections which relate to the private Interest or 
 separate CEconomy of the Creature : such as Love of Life; 
 Resentment of Injury ; Pleasure, or Appetite toivards Nourish- 
 ment, and the Means of Generation ; Interest, or Desire of 
 those Conveniences, by which we are all well provided for, and 
 maintained ; Emulation, or Love of Praise and Honour ; 
 Indolence, or Love of Ease and Rest. These are the Affections 
 which relate to the private System, and constitute whatever 
 we call Interestedness or Self-love. 
 
 Now these Affections, if they are moderate, and within 
 certain bounds, are neither injurious to social Life, nor 
 a hindrance to Virtue : but being in an extreme degree, 
 they become Cowardice, Revengefulness, Luxury, Avarice, 
 Vanity and Ambition, Sloth ; and, as such, are own'd 
 vitious and ill, with respect to human Society. How they are 
 ill also with respect to the private Person, and are to his 
 own disadvantage as well as that of the Publick, we may 
 consider, as we severally examine them. 
 
 57 If there were any of these Self-passions which for the 
 Good and Happiness of the Creature might be oppos'd to 
 Natural Affection, and allow'd to over-balance it ; THE DESIRE
 
 Part II.] A N INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 55 
 
 AND LOVE OF LIFE wou'd have the best Pretence. But it 
 will be found perhaps, that there is no Passion which, by 
 having much allow'd to it, is the occasion of more Disorder 
 and Misery. 
 
 There is nothing more certain, or more universally agreed 
 than this ; ' That Life may sometimes be even a Misfortune 
 and Misery.' To inforce the continuance of it in Creatures 
 reduc'd to such Extremity, is esteem'd the greatest Cruelty. 
 And tho Religion forbids that any-one shou'd be his own 
 Reliever; yet if by some fortunate accident, Death offers of 
 it-self, it is embrac'd as highly welcome. And on this account 
 the nearest Friends and Relations often rejoice at the Release 
 of one intirely belov'd ; even tho he himself may have been so 
 weak as earnestly to decline Death, and endeavour the utmost 
 Prolongment of his own un-eligible State. 
 
 Since Life, therefore, may frequently prove a Misfortune 
 and Misery ; and since it naturally becomes so, by being only 
 prolong'd to the Infirmitys of old Age ; since there is nothing, 
 withal, more common than to see Life over-valu'd, and purchas'd 
 at such a Cost as it can never justly be thought worth : it 
 follows evidently, that the Passion itself (viz. the Love of Life, 
 and Abhorrence or Dread of Death) if beyond a certain degree, 
 and over-balancing in the Temper of any Creature, must lead 
 him directly against his own Interest ; make him, upon occasion, 
 become the greatest Enemy to himself ; and necessitate him to 
 act as such. 
 
 But tho it were allow'd the Interest and Good of a Creature, 
 by all Courses and Means whatsoever, in any Circumstances, 
 or at any rate, to preserve Life; yet wou'd it be against his 
 Interest still to have this Passion in a high degree. For it 
 wou'd by this means prove ineffectual, and no-way conducing 
 to its End. Various Instances need not be given. For what 
 is there better known, than that at all times an excessive Fear 
 betrays to danger, instead of saving from it? 'Tis impossible 
 for any-one to act sensibly, and with Presence of Mind, even
 
 56 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II 
 
 in his own Preservation and Defense, when he is strongly 
 press'd by such a Passion. On all extraordinary Emergences, 
 'tis Courage and Resolution saves ; ' whilst Cowardice robs us of 
 the means of Safety, and not only deprives us of our defensive 
 Facultys, but even runs us to the brink of Ruin, and makes us 
 meet that Evil which of it-self wou'd never have invaded us. 
 
 But were the Consequences of this Passion less injurious 
 than we have represented ; it must be allow'd still that in it-self 
 it can be no other than miserable; if it be Misery to feel 
 Cowardice, and be haunted by those Specters and Horrors, 
 which are proper to the Character of one who has a thorow 
 Dread of Death. For 'tis not only when Dangers happen, and 
 Hazards are incurr'd, that this sort of Fear oppresses and dis- 
 tracts. If it in the least prevails, it gives no quarter, so much 
 as at the safest stillest hour of Retreat and Quiet. Every 
 Object suggests Thought enough to employ it. It operates 
 when it is least observ'd by others ; and enters at all times into 
 the pleasantest parts of Life ; so as to corrupt and poison all 
 Enjoyment, and Content. One may safely aver, that by reason 
 of this Passion alone, many a Life, if inwardly and closely 
 view'd, wou'd be found to be thorowly miserable, tho attended 
 with all other Circumstances which in appearance render it 
 happy. But when we add to this, the Meannesses, and base 
 Condescensions, occasion'd by such a passionate Concern for 
 living ; when we consider how by means of it we are driven to 
 Actions we can never view without Dislike, and forc'd by 
 degrees from our natural Conduct, into still greater Crooked- 
 nesses and Perplexity ; there is no-one, surely, so disingenuous 
 as not to allow, thatZ^e, in this case, becomes a sorry Purchase, 
 and is pass'd with little Freedom or Satisfaction. For how 
 can this be otherwise, whilst every thing which is generous and 
 worthy, even the chief Relish, Happiness, and Good of Life, is 
 for Life's sake abandon'd and renounc'd. 
 
 And thus it seems evident, ' That to have this Affection of 
 DESIRE and LOVE OF LIFE, too intense, or beyond a moderate
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 57 
 
 degree, is against the Interest of a Creature, and contrary to 
 his Happiness and Good' 
 
 58 There is another Passion very different from that of Fear, 
 and which in a certain degree is equally preservative to us, and 
 conducing to our Safety. As that is serviceable, in prompting 
 us to shun Danger ; so is this, in fortifying us against it, and 
 enabling us to repel Injury, and resist Violence when offer'd. 
 Tis true, that according to strict Virtue, and a just Regulation 
 of the Affections in a wise and virtuous Man, such Efforts 
 towards Action amount not to what is justly styl'd Passion or 
 Commotion. A Man of Courage may be cautious without real 
 Fear. And a Man of Temper may resist or punish without 
 Anger. But in ordinary Characters there must necessarily be 
 some Mixture of the real Passions themselves ; which however, 
 in the main, are able to allay and temper one another. And 
 thus ANGER in a manner becomes necessary. 'Tis by this 
 Passion that one Creature offering Violence to another, is 
 deter'd from the Execution; whilst he observes how the 
 Attempt affects his Fellow; and knows by the very Signs 
 which accompany this rising Motion, that if the Injury be 
 carry'd further, it will not pass easily or with impunity. * * * 
 As to this Affection therefore, notwithstanding its immediate 
 Aim be indeed the III or Punishment of another, yet it is plainly 
 of the sort of those which tend to the Advantage and Interest 
 of the Self-system, the Animal himself; and is withal in other 
 respects contributing to the Good and Interest of the Species. 
 
 * * * V * * * 
 
 Now as to that Passion which is esteem'd peculiarly 
 interesting; as having for its Aim the Possession of Wealth, 
 and what we call a Settlement or Fortune in the World : If the 
 Regard towards this kind be moderate, and in a reasonable 
 degree; if it occasions no passionate Pursuit, nor raises any 
 ardent Desire or Appetite ; there is nothing in this Case which 
 is not compatible with Virtue, and even sutable and beneficial 
 to Society. The publick as well as private System is advanc'd
 
 58 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 by the Industry, which this Affection excites. But if it grows 
 at length into a real Passion ; the Injury and Mischief it does 
 the Publick, is not greater than that which it creates to the 
 Person himself. Such a one is in reality a Self-oppressor, and 
 lies heavier on himself than he can ever do on Mankind. 
 ******* 
 
 59 Thus have we consider'd the Self-passions; and what the 
 Consequence is of their rising beyond a moderate degree. 
 These Affections, as self-interesting as they are, can often, we 
 see, become contrary to our real Interest. They betray us 
 into most Misfortunes, and into the greatest of Unhappinesses, 
 that of a profligate and abject Character. As they grow im- 
 perious and high, they are the occasion that a Creature in 
 proportion becomes mean and low. They are original to that 
 which we call Selfishness, and give rise to that sordid Disposition 
 of which we have already spoken. It appears there can be 
 nothing so miserable in it-self, or so wretched in its Con- 
 sequence, as to be thus impotent in Temper, thus master'd by 
 Passion, and by means of it, brought under the most servile 
 Subjection to the World. 
 
 'Tis evident withal, that as this Selfishness increases in us, so 
 must a certain Subtlety, and feignedness of Carriage, which 
 naturally accompanys it. And thus the Candour and Ingenuity 
 of our Natures, the Ease and Freedom of our Minds must be 
 forfeited ; all Trust and Confidence, in a manner lost ; and 
 Suspicions, Jealousy s, and Envys multiply'd. A separate End 
 and Interest must be every day more strongly form'd in us ; 
 generous Views and Motives laid aside : And the more we are 
 thus sensibly disjoin'd every day from Society and our Fellows ; 
 the worse Opinion we shall have of those uniting Passions, 
 which bind us in strict Alliance and Amity with others. Upon 
 these Terms we must of course endeavour to silence and 
 suppress our natural and good Affections : since they are such 
 as wou'd carry us to the good of Society, against what we fondly 
 conceive to be our private Good and Interest; as has been shewn.
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 59 
 
 Now if these SELFISH PASSIONS, besides what other 111 they 
 are the occasion of, are withal the certain means of losing us 
 our natural Affections ; then (by what has been prov'd before) 
 'tis evident, ' That they must be the certain means of losing us 
 the chief Enjoyment of Life, and raising in us those horrid 
 and unnatural Passions, and that Savageness of Temper, which 
 makes THE GREATEST OF MISERYS, and the most wretched 
 State of Life : ' as remains for us to explain. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 60 The Passions therefore, which, in the last place, we are to 
 examine, are those which lead neither to a pub lick nor a private 
 Good ; and are neither of any advantage to the Species in 
 general, or the Creature in particular. These, in opposition to 
 the social and natural, we call the UNNATURAL AFFECTIONS. 
 
 Of this kind is that UNNATURAL and INHUMAN DELIGHT in 
 beholding Torments, and in viewing Distress, Calamity, Blood, 
 Massacre and Destruction, with a peculiar Joy and Pleasure. 
 This has been the reigning Passion of many Tyrants, and 
 barbarous Nations ; and belongs, in some degree, to such 
 Tempers as have thrown off that Courteousness of Behaviour, 
 which retains in us a just Reverence of Mankind, and prevents 
 the Growth of Harshness and Brutality. This Passion enters 
 not where Civility or affable Manners have the least place. 
 Such is the Nature of what we call good Breeding, that in the 
 midst of many other Corruptions, it admits not of INHUMANITY, 
 or savage Pleasure. To see the Sufferance of an Enemy with 
 cruel Delight, may proceed from the height of Anger, Revenge, 
 Fear, and other extended Self-passions : But to delight in the 
 Torture and Pain of other Creatures indifferently, Natives or 
 Foreigners, of our own or of another Species, Kindred or no 
 Kindred, known or unknown ; to feed, as it were, on Death, 
 and be entertain'd with dying Agonys ; this has nothing in it 
 accountable in the way of Self-interest or private Good above- 
 mention'd, but is wholly and absolutely unnatural, as it is horrid 
 and miserable.
 
 60 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 There is also among these, a sort of HATRED OF MANKIND 
 AND SOCIETY ; a Passion which has been known perfectly 
 reigning in some Men, and has had a peculiar Name given to it. 
 A large share of this belongs to those who have long indulg'd 
 themselves in a habitual Aforoseness, or who by force of ill 
 Nature, and ill Breeding, have contracted such a Reverse of 
 Affability, and civil Manners, that to see or meet a Stranger is 
 offensive. The very Aspect of Mankind is a disturbance to 
 'em, and they are sure always to hate at first sight. The 
 Distemper of this kind is sometimes found to be in a manner 
 National; but peculiar to the more savage Nations, and a plain 
 Characteristick of unciviliz'd Manners, and Barbarity. This 
 is the immediate Opposite to that noble Affection, which 
 in antient Language, was term'd Hospitality \ viz. extensive 
 Love of Mankind, and Relief of Strangers. 
 
 ******* 
 
 TREACHERY and INGRATITUDE are in strictness mere negative 
 Vices ; and, in themselves, no real Passions ; having neither 
 Aversion or Inclination belonging to them ; but are deriv'd 
 from the Defect, Unsoundness, of Corruption of the Affections 
 in general. But when these Vices become remarkable in 
 a Character, and arise in a manner from Inclination and 
 Choice ; when they are so forward and active, as to appear of 
 their own acqord, without any pressing occasion ; 'tis apparent 
 they borrow something of the mere unnatural Passions, and are 
 deriv'd from Malice, nvy, and Inveteracy ; as explain'd above. 
 61 It may be objected here, that these Passions, unnatural as 
 they are, carry still a sort of Pleasure with them ; and that 
 however barbarous a Pleasure it be, yet still it is a Pleasure 
 and Satisfaction which is found in Pride, or Tyranny, Revenge, 
 Malice, or Cruelty exerted. Now if it be possible in Nature, 
 that any-one can feel a barbarous or malicious Joy, otherwise 
 than in consequence of mere Anguish and Torment, then may 
 we perhaps allow this kind of Satisfaction to be call'd Pleasure
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 6 1 
 
 or Delight. But the Case is evidently contrary. To love, and 
 to be kind ; to have social or natural Affection, Complacency 
 and Good-will, is to feel immediate Satisfaction and genuine 
 Content. Tis in it-self original Joy, depending on no preceding 
 Pain or Uneasiness ; and producing nothing beside Satisfaction 
 merely. On the other side, Animosity, Hatred, and Bitterness, 
 is original Misery and Torment, producing no other Pleasure 
 or Satisfaction, than as the unnatural Desire is for the instant 
 satisfy'd by something which appeases it. How strong soever 
 this Pleasure, therefore, may appear ; it only the more implies 
 the Misery of that State which produces it. For as the cruel- 
 lest bodily Pains do by intervals of Assuagement, produce (as 
 has been shewn) the highest bodily Pleasure ; so the fiercest 
 and most raging Torments of the Mind, do, by certain 
 Moments of Relief, afford the greatest of mental Enjoyments 
 to those who know little of the truer kind. 
 
 62 The Men of gentlest Dispositions, and best of Tempers, 
 have at some time or other been sufficiently acquainted with 
 those Disturbances, which, at ill hours, even small occasions 
 are apt to raise. From these slender Experiences of Harshness 
 and Ill-humour, they fully know and will confess the ill 
 Moments which are pass'd, when the Temper is ever so little 
 gall'd or fretted. How must it fare, therefore, with those who 
 hardly know any better hours in Life ; and who, for the greatest 
 part of it, are agitated by a thorow active Spleen, a close and 
 settled Malignity, and Rancour ? How lively must be the Sense 
 of every thwarting and controuling Accident? How great 
 must be the Shocks of Disappointment, the Stings of Affront, 
 and the Agonys of a working Antipathy, against the multiply'd 
 Objects of Offence ; Nor can it be wonder'd at, if to Persons 
 thus agitated and oppress'd, it seems a high Delight to appease 
 and allay for the while those furious and rough Motions, by an 
 Indulgence of their Passion in Mischief and Revenge. 
 
 Now as to the Consequences of this unnatural State, in 
 respect of Interest, and the common Circumstances of Life ;
 
 62 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 upon what Terms a Person who has in this manner lost all 
 which we call Nature, can be suppos'd to stand, in respect of 
 the Society of Mankind ; how he feels himself in it ; what 
 Sense he has of his own Disposition towards others, and of the 
 mutual Disposition of others towards himself; this is easily 
 conceiv'd. 
 
 What Injoyment or Rest is there for one, who is not 
 conscious of the merited Affection or Love, but, on the contrary 
 of the Ill-will and Hatred of every human Soul ? What ground 
 must this afford for Horror and Despair ? What foundation of 
 Fear, and continual Apprehension from Mankind, and from 
 superior Powers ? How thorow and deep must be that 
 Melancholy, which being once mov'd, has nothing soft or 
 pleasing from the side of Friendship, to allay or divert it? 
 Wherever such a Creature turns himself ; whichever way he casts 
 his Eye ; every thing around must appear ghastly and horrid ; 
 every thing hostile, and, as it were, bent against a private and 
 single Being, who is thus divided from every thing, and at 
 defiance and war with the rest of Nature. 
 
 'Tis thus, at last, that A MIND becomes a Wilderness; 
 where all is laid waste, every thing fair and goodly remov'd, 
 and nothing extant beside what is savage and deform'd. Now 
 if Banishment from one's Country, Removal to a foreign Place, 
 or any thing which looks like Solitude or Desertion, be so heavy 
 to endure ; what must it be to feel this inward Banishment, 
 this real Estrangement from human Commerce ; and to be 
 after this manner in a Desart, and in the horridest of Solitudes, 
 even when in the midst of Society ? What must it be to live 
 in this Disagreement, with everything, this Irreconcilableness 
 and Opposition to the Order and Government of the Universe ? 
 
 Hence it appears, That the greatest of Miserys accompanys 
 that State which is consequent to the Loss of natural Affection ; 
 and That TO HAVE THOSE HORRID, MONSTROUS, AND UN- 
 NATURAL AFFECTIONS, is TO BE MISERABLE IN THE HIGHEST 
 DEGREE.
 
 Part II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 63 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 63 Thus have we endeavour'd to prove what was propos'd in 
 the beginning. And since in the common and known Sense 
 of Vice and Illness, no-one can be vitious or ill except either, 
 
 i. By the Deficiency or Weakness of natural Affections ; 
 
 Or, 2. by the Violence of the selfish ; 
 
 Or, 3. by such as are plainly unnatural: 
 
 It must follow, that if each of these are pernicious and de- 
 structive to the Creature, insomuch that his compleatest State 
 of Misery is made from hence ; To BE WICKED OR VITIOUS, is 
 
 TO BE MISERABLE AND UNHAPPY. 
 
 And since every vitious Action must in proportion, more or 
 less, help towards this Mischief, and Self-ill; it must follow, 
 
 That EVERY VITIOUS ACTION MUST BE SELF-INJURIOUS AND ILL. 
 
 64 On the other side ; the Happiness and Good of VIRTUE has 
 been prov'd from the contrary Effect of other Affections, such 
 as are according to Nature, and the (Economy of the Species 
 or Kind. We have cast up all those Particulars, from whence 
 (as by way of Addition and Subtraction) the main Sum or 
 general Account of Happiness, is either augmented or dimi- 
 nish'd. And if there be no Article exceptionable in this Scheme 
 of Moral Arithmetick ; the Subject treated may be said to 
 have an Evidence as great as that which is found in Numbers, 
 or Mathematicks. For let us carry Scepticism ever so far, let 
 us doubt, if we can, of every thing about us ; we cannot doubt 
 of what passes within ourselves. Our Passions and Affections 
 are known to us. They are certain, whatever the Objects may 
 be, on which they are employ'd. Nor is it of any concern to 
 our Argument, how these exterior Objects stand ; whether they 
 are Realitys, or mere Illusions ; whether we wake or dream. 
 For /// Dreams will be equally disturbing. And a good Dream, 
 if Life be nothing else, will be easily and happily pass'd. In 
 this Dream of Life, therefore, our Demonstrations have the 
 same force ; our Balance and (Economy hold good, and our 
 Obligation to VIRTUE is in every respect the same.
 
 64 SHAFTESBURY. Book II. 
 
 65 Upon the whole : There is not, I presume, the least degree 
 of Certainty wanting in what has been said concerning the Pre- 
 ferableness of the mental Pleasures to the sensual; and even of 
 the sensual, accompany' d with Good Affection, and under a tem- 
 perate and right use, to those which are no ways restrained, nor 
 supported by any thing social or affectionale. 
 
 Nor is there less Evidence in what has been said, of the 
 united Structure and Fabrick of the Mind, and of those Passions 
 which constitute the Temper, or Soul; and on which its 
 Happiness or Misery so immediately depend. It has been 
 shewn, That in this Constitution, the impairing of any one 
 Part must instantly tend to the disorder and ruin of other 
 Parts and of the Whole it-self; thro' the necessary Connexion 
 and Balance of the Affections : That those very Passions thro' 
 which Men are vitious, are of themselves a Torment and 
 Disease ; and that whatsoever is done which is knowingly ///, 
 must be of /// Consciousness ; and in proportion, as the Act is 
 ill, must impair and corrupt social Enjoyment, and destroy 
 both the Capacity and kind Affection, and the Consciousness of 
 meriting any such. So that neither can we participate thus in 
 Joy or Happiness with others, or receive Satisfaction from the 
 mutual Kindness or imagined Love of others : on which, however, 
 the greatest of all our Pleasures are founded. 
 
 If this be the Case of moral Delinquency ; and if the State 
 which is consequent to this Defection from nature, be of all 
 other the most horrid, oppressive, and miserable ; 'twill appear, 
 ' That to yield or consent to any thing ill or immoral, is a Breach 
 of Interest, and leads to the greatest Ills :' and, 'That on the 
 other side, Every thing which is an Improvement of Virtue, or 
 an Establishment of right Affection and Integrity, is an Advance- 
 ment of Interest, and leads to the greatest and most solid Happi- 
 ness and Enjoyment.' 
 
 C3 Thus the Wisdom of what rules, and is FIRST and CHIEF in 
 Nature, has made it to be according to the private Interest and 
 Good of every-one, to work towards the general Good ; which
 
 Part. II.] AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE. 65 
 
 if a Creature ceases to promote, he is actually so far wanting 
 to himself, and ceases to promote his own Happiness and 
 Welfare. He is, on this account, directly his own Enemy : 
 Nor can he any otherwise be good or useful to himself, than as 
 he continues good to Society, and to that Whole of which he 
 is himself a Part. So that VIRTUE, which of all Excellencys 
 and Beautys is the chief, and most amiable ; that which is the 
 Prop and Ornament of human Affairs ; which upholds Com- 
 munitys, maintains Union, Friendship, and Correspondence 
 amongst Men; that by which Countrys, as well as private 
 Familys, flourish and are happy ; and for want of which, every- 
 thing comely, conspicuous, great and worthy, must perish, and 
 go to ruin ; that single Quality, thus beneficial to all Society, 
 and to Mankind in general, is found equally a Happiness and 
 Good to each Creature in particular ; and is that by which 
 alone Man can be happy, and without which he must be 
 miserable. 
 
 And, thus VIRTUE is the Good, and VICE the III of everyone. 
 
 [EXTRACT FROM 'THE MORALISTS, A RHAPSODY.' 
 PART III. Sect. II. 
 
 67 Is there then, said he, a natural Beauty of Figures ? and is 
 there not as natural a one of ACTIONS * ? No sooner the Eye 
 opens upon figures, the Ear to Sounds, than straight the 
 Beautiful results, and Grace and Harmony are known and 
 acknowledg'd. No sooner are ACTIONS view'd, no sooner the 
 human Affections and Passions discern'd (and they are most of 
 'em as soon discern'd as felt), than straight an inward EYE 
 distinguishes, and sees the Fair and Shapely, the Amiable and 
 Admirable, apart from the Deform' d, the Foul, the Odious, or 
 the Despicable. How is it possible therefore not to own, ' That 
 as these Distinctions have their Foundation'//? Nature, the 
 Discernment it-self is natural, and from NATURE alone ? ' 
 
 1 Supra, 12. 
 * F
 
 66 SHAFTESBURY. [Book II. 
 
 If this, I told him, were as he represented it ; there cou'd 
 never, I thought, be any Disagreement among Men concerning 
 Actions and Behaviour : as which was Base, which Worthy ; 
 which Handsom, and which Deformed. But now we find per- 
 petual Variance among Mankind ; whose Differences were 
 chiefly founded on this Disagreement in Opinion ; 'The one 
 affirming the other denying that this, or ' that, was fit or decent? 
 
 Even by this then, reply'd he, it appears there is Fitness and 
 Decency in Actions ; since the Fit and Decent is in this Con- 
 troversy ever pre-suppos'd : And whilst Men are at odds about 
 the Subjects, the Thing it-self is universally agreed. For 
 neither is there agreement in Judgments about other Beautys. 
 'Tis controverted ' Which is the finest Pile, the loveliest Shape, 
 or Face : ' But without controversy, 'tis allow'd ' There is 
 a BEAUTY of each kind.' This no-one goes about to teach : nor 
 is it learnt by any ; but confessedly All. All own the Standard, 
 Rule, and Measure : But in applying it to Things, Disorder 
 arises, Ignorance prevails, Interest and Passion breed Distur- 
 bance. Nor can it otherwise happen in the Affairs of Life, 
 whilst that which interests and engages Men as Good, is thought 
 different from that which they admire and praise as Honest. 
 But with us, PHILOCLES ! 'tis better settled ; since for our parts, 
 we have already decreed, ' That Beauty and Good are still 
 the same.']
 
 HUTCHESON 
 
 AN INQUIRY CONCERNING THE 
 ORIGINAL OF OUR IDEAS OF 
 VIRTUE OR MORAL GOOD 
 
 F 2
 
 [First edition 1725. Reprinted here from the second edition, 
 London 1726, omitting the author's italics.]
 
 HUTCHESON 
 
 An Inquiry concerning Moral Good 
 and Evil 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 68 THE Word MORAL GOODNESS, in this Treatise, denotes our 
 Idea of some Quality apprehended in Actions, which procures 
 Approbation, and Love toward the Actor, from those who 
 receive no Advantage by the Action. MORAL EVIL, denotes 
 our Idea of a contrary Quality, which excites Aversion, and 
 Dislike toward the Actor, even from Persons unconcern'd in 
 its natural Tendency. We must be contented with these im- 
 perfect Descriptions, until we discover whether we really have 
 such Ideas, and what general Foundation there is in Nature 
 for this Difference of Actions, as morally Good or Evil. 
 
 These Descriptions seem to contain an universally ac- 
 knowledg'd Difference of Moral Good and Evil, from Natural. 
 All Men who speak of moral Good, acknowledge that it 
 procures Love toward those we apprehend possess'd of it; 
 whereas natural Good does not. In this matter Men must 
 consult their own Breasts. How differently are they affected 
 toward those they suppose possess'd of Honesty, Faith, 
 Generosity, Kindness, even when they expect no Benefit from 
 these admir'd Qualitys ; and those who are possess'd of the
 
 70 HUTCHESON. [Introd. 
 
 natural Goods, such as Houses, Lands, Gardens, Vineyards, 
 Health, Strength, Sagacity? We shall find that we necessarily 
 love and approve the Possessors of the former; but the 
 Possession of the latter procures no Love at all toward 
 the Possessor, but often contrary Affections of Envy and 
 Hatred. In the same manner, whatever Quality we apprehend 
 to be morally Evil, raises our Hatred toward the Person 
 in whom we observe it, such as Treachery, Cruelty, Ingratitude, 
 even when they are no way hurtful to our selves ; whereas 
 we heartily love, esteem, and pity many who are expos'd 
 to natural Evils, such as Pain, Poverty, Hunger, Sickness, 
 Death, even when we our selves suffer Inconveniencies, by 
 these natural Evils of others. 
 
 69 Now the first Question on this Subject is, ' Whence arise 
 these different Ideas of Actions.' 
 
 Because we shall afterwards frequently use the Words 
 Interest, Advantage, natural Good, it is necessary here to 
 fix their Ideas. The Pleasure in our sensible Perceptions 
 of any kind, gives us our first Idea of natural Good, or 
 Happiness; and then all Objects which are apt to excite 
 this Pleasure are call'd immediately Good. Those Objects 
 which may procure others immediately pleasant, are call'd 
 Advantageous : and we pursue both Kinds from a View of 
 Interest, or from Self-Love. 
 
 Our Sense of Pleasure is antecedent to Advantage or 
 Interest, and is the Foundation of it. We do not perceive 
 Pleasure in Objects, because it is our Interest to do so ; but 
 Objects or Actions are Advantageous, and are pursu'd or 
 undertaken from Interest, because we receive Pleasure from 
 them. Our Perception of Pleasure is necessary, and nothing 
 is Advantageous or naturally Good to us, but what is apt 
 to raise Pleasure mediately, or immediately. Such Objects 
 as we know, either from Experience of Sense, or Reason> 
 to be immediately, or mediately Advantageous, or apt to 
 minister Pleasure, we are said to pursue from Self-interest,
 
 Introd.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 71 
 
 when our Intention is only to enjoy this Pleasure, which 
 they have the Power of exciting. Thus Meats, Dpink, 
 Harmony, fine Prospects, Painting, Statues, are perceiv'd by 
 our Senses to be immediately Good ; and our Reason shews 
 Riches and Power to be mediately so, that is, apt to furnish 
 us with Objects of immediate Pleasure : and both Kinds 
 of these natural Goods are pursu'd from Interest, or Self- Love. 
 
 70 Now the greatest part of our latter Moralists establish 
 it as undeniable, 'That all moral Qualitys have necessarily 
 some Relation to the Law of a Superior, of sufficient Power 
 to make us Happy or Miserable ; ' and since all Laws operate 
 only by Sanctions of Rewards, or Punishments, which 
 determine us to Obedience by Motives of Self-interest, they 
 suppose, ' that it is thus that Laws do constitute some Actions 
 mediately Good, or Advantageous, and others the same way 
 Disadvantageous.' They say indeed, ' That a benevolent Legis- 
 lator constitutes no Actions Advantageous to the Agent by 
 Law, but such as in their own Nature tend to the natural 
 Good of the Whole, or, at least, are not inconsistent with it ; 
 and that therefore we approve the Virtue of others, because 
 it has some small Tendency to our Happiness, either from 
 its own Nature, or from this general Consideration, That 
 Obedience to a benevolent Legislator, is in general Advan- 
 tageous to the Whole, and to us in particular ; and that for the 
 contrary Reasons alone, we disapprove the Vice of others, 
 that is, the prohibited Action, as tending to our particular 
 Detriment in some degree.' But then they maintain, ' That 
 we are determin'd to Obedience to Laws, or deterr'd from 
 Disobedience, merely by Motives of Self-interest, to obtain 
 either the natural Good arising from the commanded Action, 
 or the Rewards promised by the Sanction ; or to avoid the 
 natural evil Consequences of Disobedience, or at least the 
 Penaltys of the Law.' 
 
 71 Some other Moralists suppose ' an immediate natural Good 
 in the Actions call'd Virtuous ; that is, That we are determin'd
 
 72 HUTCHESON. [Introd. 
 
 to perceive some Beauty in the Actions of others, and to 
 love the Agent, even without reflecting upon any Advantage 
 which can any way redound to us from the Action ; that 
 we have also a secret Sense of Pleasure accompanying such 
 of our own Actions as we call Virtuous, even when we expect 
 no other Advantage from them.' But they alledge at the 
 same time, 'That we are excited to perform these Actions, 
 even as we pursue, or purchase Pictures, Statues, Landskips, 
 from Self-interest, to obtain this Pleasure which accompanys 
 the very Action, and which we necessarily enjoy in doing it.' 
 The Design of the following Sections is to enquire into this 
 matter ; and perhaps the Reasons to be offer'd may prove, 
 
 72 I. l That some Actions have to Men an immediate Goodness ; 
 or, that by a superior Sense, which I call a Moral one, we 
 perceive Pleasure in the Contemplation of such Actions 
 in others, and are determin'd to love the Agent, (and much 
 more do we perceive Pleasure in being conscious of having 
 done such Actions our selves) without any View of further 
 natural Advantage from them.' 
 
 II. It may perhaps also appear, 'That what excites us to 
 these Actions which we call Virtuous, is not an Intention 
 to obtain even this sensible Pleasure ; much less the future 
 Rewards from Sanctions of Laws, or any other natural Good, 
 which may be the Consequence of the virtuous Action ; but 
 an entirely different Principle of Action from Interest or 
 Self-Love.' 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 OF THE MORAL SENSE BY WHICH WE PERCEIVE VIRTUE AND 
 VICE, AND APPROVE OR DISAPPROVE THEM IN OTHERS. 
 
 73 I. That the Perceptions of moral Good and Evil, are 
 perfectly different from those of natural Good, or Advantage 
 every one must convince himself, by reflecting upon the 
 different Manner in which he finds himself affected when
 
 Sect. I.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 73 
 
 these Objects occur to him. Had we no Sense of Good 
 distinct from the Advantage or Interest arising from the 
 external Senses, and the Perceptions of Beauty and Harmony ; 
 our Admiration and Love toward a fruitful Field, or commodious 
 Habitation, would be much the same with what we have 
 toward a generous Friend, or any noble Character; for both 
 are, or may be advantageous to us : And we should no more 
 admire any Action, or love any Person in a distant Country, 
 or Age, whose Influence could not extend to us, than we love 
 the Mountains of PERU, while we are unconcern'd in the 
 Spanish Trade. We should have the same Sentiments and 
 Affections toward inanimate Beings, which we have toward 
 rational Agents ; which yet every one knows to be false. 
 Upon Comparison, we say, 'Why should we admire or love 
 with Esteem inanimate Beings? They have no Intention 
 of Good to us ; their Nature makes them fit for our Uses, 
 which they neither know nor study to serve. But it is not 
 so with rational Agents : they study our Interest, and delight 
 in our Happiness, and are Benevolent toward us.' 
 74 We are all then conscious of the Difference between that 
 Love and Esteem, or Perception of moral Excellence, which 
 Benevolence excites toward the Person in whom we observe 
 it, and that Opinion of natural Goodness, which only raises 
 Desire of Possession toward the good Object. Now 'what 
 should make this Difference, if all Approbation, or Sense 
 of Good be from Prospect of Advantage ? Do not inanimate 
 Objects promote our Advantage, as well as Benevolent Persons 
 who do us Offices of Kindness, and Friendship ? Should we 
 not then have the same endearing Sentiments of both ? or 
 only the same cold Opinion of Advantage in both?' The 
 Reason why it is not so, must be this, 'That we have 
 a distinct Perception of Beauty, or Excellence in the kind 
 Affections of rational Agents; whence we are determin'd 
 to admire and love such Characters and Persons.' 
 Suppose we reap the same Advantage from two Men, one of
 
 74 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 whom serves us from Delight in our Happiness, and Love to- 
 ward us; the other from Views of Self-interest, or by Con- 
 straint : both are in this Case equally beneficial or advantageous 
 to us, and yet we shall have quite different Sentiments of them. 
 We must then certainly have other Perceptions of moral 
 Actions than those of Advantage : And that Power of receiving 
 these Perceptions may be call'd a MORAL SENSE, since the 
 Definition agrees to it, viz. a Determination of the Mind, to 
 receive any Idea from the Presence of an Object which occurs 
 to us, independent on our Will. 
 
 75 This perhaps will be equally evident from our Ideas of Evil, 
 done to us designedly by a rational Agent. Our Senses of 
 natural Good and Evil would make us receive, with equal 
 Serenity and Composure, an Assault, a Buffet, an Affront from 
 a Neighbour, a Cheat from a Partner, or Trustee, as we would 
 an equal Damage from the Fall of a Beam, a Tile, or a Tem- 
 pest ; and we should have the same Affections and Sentiments 
 of both. Villany, Treachery, Cruelty, would be as meekly 
 resented as a Blast, or Mildew, or an overflowing Stream. But 
 I fancy every one is very differently affected on these Occasions, 
 tho there may be equal natural Evil in both. Nay, Actions no 
 way detrimental, may occasion the strongest Anger, and In- 
 dignation, if they evidence only impotent Hatred, or Contempt. 
 And, on the other hand, the Intervention of moral Ideas may 
 prevent our Hatred of the Agent, or bad moral Apprehension 
 of that Action, which causes to us the greatest natural Evil. 
 Thus the Opinion of Justice in any Sentence, will prevent 
 all Ideas of moral Evil in the Execution, or Hatred toward 
 the Magistrate, who is the immediate Cause of our greatest 
 Sufferings. 
 
 76 II. In our Sentiments of Actions which affect our selves, there 
 is indeed a Mixture of the Ideas of natural and moral Good, 
 which require some Attention to separate them. But when we 
 reflect upon the Actions which affect other Persons only, we 
 may observe the moral Ideas unmix'd with those of natural
 
 Sect. I.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 75 
 
 Good, or Evil. For let it be here observ'd, that those Senses 
 by which we perceive Pleasure in natural Objects, whence they 
 are constituted Advantageous, could never raise in us any 
 Desire of publick Good, but only of what was good to our 
 selves in particular. Nor could they ever make us approve an 
 Action because of its promoting the Happiness of others. 
 And yet as soon as any Action is represented to us as flowing 
 from Love, Humanity, Gratitude, Compassion, a Study of the 
 good of others, and a Delight in their Happiness, altho it 
 were in the most distant Part of the World, or in some past 
 Age, we feel Joy within us, admire the lovely Action, and 
 praise its Author. And on the contrary, every Action re- 
 presented as flowing from Hatred, Delight in the Misery of 
 others, or Ingratitude, raises Abhorrence and Aversion. 
 
 77 It is true indeed, that the Actions we approve in others, are 
 generally imagin'd to tend to the natural Good of Mankind, or 
 of some Parts of it. /But whence this secret Chain between 
 each Person and Mankind ? How is my Interest connected 
 with the most distant Parts of it? And yet I must admire 
 Actions which are beneficial to them, and love the Author. 
 Whence this Love, Compassion, Indignation and Hatred toward 
 even feign'd Characters, in the most distant Ages, and Nations, 
 according as they appear Kind, Faithful, Compassionate, or of 
 the opposite Dispositions, toward their imaginary Contempo- 
 raries ? If there is no moral Sense, which makes rational 
 Actions appear Beautiful, or Deform'd ; if all Approbation be 
 from the Interest of the Approver, 
 
 What's HECUBA to us, or we to HECUBA l ? 
 
 78 III. Some refin'd Explainers of Self-Love may tell us, 
 ' That we hate, or love Characters, according as we apprehend 
 we should have been supported, or injur'd by them, had we 
 liv'd in their Days.' But how obvious is the Answer, if we 
 only observe, that had we no Sense of moral Good in Humanity, 
 
 1 Tragedy of Hamlet.
 
 76 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 Mercy, Faithfulness, why should not Self-Love, and our Sense 
 of natural Good engage us always to the victorious Side, and 
 make us admire and love the successful Tyrant, or Traitor? 
 Why do not we love SINON, or PYRRHUS, in the ^Eneid ? for 
 had we been GREEKS, these two would have been very ad- 
 vantageous Characters. Why are we affected with the Fortunes 
 of PRIAMUS, POLITES, CHOROEBUS or ^NEAS ? It is plain we 
 have some secret Sense which determines our Approbation 
 without regard to Self-interest ; otherwise we should always 
 favour the fortunate Side without regard to Virtue, and suppose 
 our selves engaged with that Party. 
 
 Suppose any great Destruction occasion'd by mere Accident, 
 without any Design, or Negligence of the Person who casually 
 was the Author of it : This Action might have been as dis- 
 advantageous to us as design'd Cruelty, or Malice ; but who 
 will say he has the same Idea of both Actions, or Sentiments 
 of the Agents ? ' Whence then this Difference ? ' 
 
 And further, Let us make a Supposition, which perhaps is 
 not far from Matter of Fact, to try if we cannot approve even 
 disadvantageous Actions, and perceive moral Good in them. 
 A few ingenious Artisans, persecuted in their own Country, 
 flee to ours for Protection ; they instruct us in Manufactures 
 which support Millions of Poor, increase the Wealth of almost 
 every Person in the State, and make us formidable to our 
 Neighbours. In a Nation not far distant from us, some 
 resolute Burgomasters, full of Love ' to their Country, and 
 Compassion toward their Fellow-Citizens, opprest in Body 
 and Soul by a Tyrant, and Inquisition, with indefatigable 
 Diligence, public Spirit, and Courage, support a tedious perilous 
 War against the Tyrant, and form an industrious Republick, 
 which rivals us in Trade, and almost in Power. All the 
 World sees whether the former or the latter have been more 
 advantageous to us : and yet let every Man consult his own 
 Breast, which of the two Characters he has the most agreeable 
 Idea of? whether of the useful Refugee, or the public-spirited
 
 Sect. I.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 77 
 
 Burgomaster, by whose Love to his own Country, we have 
 often suffer'd in our Interests? and I am confident he will 
 find some other Foundation of Esteem than Advantage, and 
 will see a just Reason, why the Memory of our Artisans is so 
 obscure among us, and yet that of our Rivals is immortal. 
 79 IV. Some Moralists, who will rather twist Self- Love into 
 a thousand Shapes, than allow any other Principle of Ap- 
 probation than Interest, may tell us, ' That whatever profits 
 one Part without detriment to another, profits the Whole, and 
 then some small Share will redound to each Individual ; that 
 those Actions which tend to the Good of the Whole, if 
 universally perform'd, would most effectually secure to each 
 Individual his own Happiness; and that consequently, we 
 may approve such Actions, from the Opinion of their tending 
 ultimately to our own Advantage. 
 
 We need not trouble these Gentlemen to shew by their nice 
 Train of Consequences, and Influences of Actions by way of 
 Precedent in particular Instances, that we in this Age reap any 
 Advantage from ORESTES'S killing the treacherous ^EGYSTHUS, 
 or from the Actions of CODRUS or DECIUS. Allow their 
 Reasonings to be perfectly good, they only prove, that after 
 long Reflection, and Reasoning, we may find out some ground, 
 even from Views of Interest, to approve the same Actions which 
 every Man admires as soon as he hears of them ; and that too 
 under a quite different Conception. 
 
 Should any of our Travellers find some old Grecian Treasure 
 the Miser who hid it, certainly perform'd an Action more to 
 the Traveller's Advantage than CODRUS or ORESTES; for he 
 must have but a small Share of Benefit from their Actions, 
 whose Influence is so dispers'd, and lost in various Ages, and 
 Nations : Surely then this Miser must appear to the Traveller 
 a prodigious Hero in Virtue ! For Self-Interest will make us 
 only esteem Men according to the Good they do to our Selves, 
 and not give us high Ideas of public Good, but in proportion 
 to our Share of it. But must a Man have the Reflection of
 
 78 HUTCHES ON. [Sect. I. 
 
 CUMBERLAND, or PUFFENDORF, to admire Generosity, Faith, 
 Humanity, Gratitude ? Or reason so nicely to apprehend the 
 Evil in Cruelty, Treachery, Ingratitude ? Do not the former 
 excite our Admiration, and Love, and Study of Imitation, 
 wherever we see them, almost at first View, without any such 
 Reflection ; and the latter, our Hatred, Contempt, and Ab- 
 horrence ? Unhappy would it be for Mankind, if a Sense of 
 Virtue was of as narrow an Extent, as a Capacity for such 
 Metaphysicks. 
 
 80 V. This moral Sense, either of our own Actions, or of those 
 of others, has this in common with our other Senses, that how- 
 ever our Desire of Virtue may be counterballanc'd by Interest, 
 our Sentiment or Perception of its Beauty cannot ; as it 
 certainly might be, if the only Ground of our Approbation 
 were Views of Advantage. Let us consider this both as to our 
 own Actions and those of others. 
 
 A Covetous Man shall dislike any Branch of Trade, how 
 useful soever it may be to the Publick, if there is no Gain for 
 himself in it; here is an Aversion from Interest. Propose 
 a sufficient Premium, and he shall be the first who sets about 
 it, with full Satisfaction in his own Conduct. Now is it the 
 same way with our Sense of moral Actions ? Should any one 
 advise us to wrong a Minor, or Orphan, or to do an un- 
 grateful Action toward a Benefactor ; we at first View abhor 
 it : Assure us that it will be very advantageous to us, propose 
 even a Reward ; our Sense of the Action is not alter'd. It is 
 true, these Motives may make us undertake it ; but they have 
 no more Influence upon us to make us approve it, than 
 a Physician's Advice has to make a nauseous Potion pleasant 
 to the Taste, when we perhaps force our selves to take it for 
 the Recovery of Health. 
 
 81 Had we no Notion of Actions, beside our Opinion of their 
 Advantage, or Disadvantage, could we ever chuse an Action 
 as Advantageous, which we are conscious is still Evil? as it 
 too often happens in human Affairs. Where would be the
 
 Sect. I.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 79 
 
 need of such high Bribes to prevail with Men to abandon the 
 Interests of a ruin'd Party, or of Tortures to force out the 
 Secrets of their Friends? Is it so hard to convince Mens 
 Understandings, if that be the only Faculty we have to do 
 with, that it is probably more advantageous to secure present 
 Gain, and avoid present Evils, by joining with the prevalent 
 Party, then to wait for the remote Possibility of future Good, 
 upon a Revolution often improbable, and sometimes unex- 
 pected ? And when Men are overpersuaded by Advantage, do 
 they always prove their own Conduct ? Nay, how often is 
 their remaining Life odious, and shameful, in their own sense of 
 it, as well as in that of others, to whom the base Action was 
 profitable ? 
 
 If any one becomes satisfy'd with his own Conduct in such 
 a Case, upon what Ground is it ? How does he please himself, 
 or vindicate his Actions to others ? Never by reflecting upon his 
 private Advantage, or alledging this to others as a Vindication ; 
 but by gradually warping into the moral Principles of his new 
 Party ; for no Party is without them. And thus Men become 
 pleas'd with their Actions under some Appearance of moral 
 Good, distinct from Advantage. 
 
 82 It may perhaps be alledg'd, ' That in those Actions of our 
 own which we call Good, there is this constant Advantage, 
 superior to all others, which is the Ground of our Approbation, 
 and the Motive to them from Self-love, viz. That we suppose, 
 the DEITY will reward them.' This will be more fully 
 consider'd 1 afterwards : At present it is enough to observe, 
 that many have high Notions of Honour, Faith, Generosity, 
 Justice, who have scarce any Opinions about the DEITY, or any 
 Thoughts of future Rewards ; and abhor any thing which is 
 Treacherous, Cruel, or Unjust, without any regard to future 
 Punishments. 
 
 But further, tho these Rewards, and Punishments, may 
 make my own Actions appear advantageous to me, and make 
 
 1 See Sect. ii. Art. 7.
 
 8o HUTCHESON. [Sect I. 
 
 me approve them from Self-Love, yet they would never make 
 me approve, and love another Person for the like Actions, 
 whose Merit would not be imputed to me. Those Actions 
 are advantageous indeed to the Agent ; but his Advantage is 
 not my Advantage : and Self-Love could never influence me to 
 approve Actions as advantageous to others, or to love the 
 Authors of them on that account. 
 
 83 This is the second thing to be consider'd, c Whether our 
 Sense of the moral Good or Evil, in the Actions of others, can 
 be over-ballanc'd, or brib'd by Views of Interest.' Now I may 
 indeed easily be capable of wishing, that another would do an 
 Action I abhor as morally Evil, if it were very Advantageous 
 to me : Interest in that Case may overballance my Desire of 
 Virtue in another. But no Interest to my self will make me 
 approve an Action as morally Good, which, without that 
 Interest to my self, would have appear'd morally Evil ; if, upon 
 computing its whole Effects, it appears to produce as great 
 a moment of Good in the Whole, when it is not beneficial to 
 me, as it did before when it was. In our Sense of moral Good 
 or Evil, our own private Advantage of Loss is of no more 
 moment, than the Advantage or Loss of a third Person, to 
 make an Action appear Good or Evil. This Sense therefore 
 cannot be over-ballanc'd by Interest. How ridiculous an 
 Attempt wou'd it be, to engage a Man by Rewards, or to 
 threaten him into a good Opinion of an Action, which was 
 contrary to his moral Notions ? We may procure Dissimulation 
 by such means, and that is all. 
 
 84 VI. A late witty Author 1 says, ' That the Leaders of 
 Mankind do not really admire such Actions as those of REGULUS, 
 or DECIUS, but only observe, that Men of such Dispositions 
 are very useful for the Defence of any State ; and therefore by 
 Panegyricks, and Statues, they encourage such Tempers in 
 others, as the most tractable, and useful.' Here first let us 
 consider, If a Traitor, who would sell his own Country to us, 
 
 1 See the Fable of the Bees,/a^j 34, 36, yd Ed.
 
 Sect. I.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 8 1 
 
 may not often be as advantageous to us, as a Hero who defends 
 us : And yet we can love the Treason, and hate the Traitor. 
 We can at the same time praise a gallant Enemy, who is very 
 pernicious to us. Is there nothing in all this but an Opinion 
 of Advantage ? 
 
 Again, upon this Scheme what could a Statue or Panegyrick 
 effect? Men love Praise They will do the Actions which 
 they observe to be praised. Praise, with Men who have no 
 other Idea of Good but Self-interest, is the Opinion which 
 a Nation or Party have of a Man as useful to them REGULUS, 
 or CATO, or DECIUS, had no Advantage by the Actions which 
 profited their Country, and therefore they themselves could 
 not admire them, however the Persons who reap'd the 
 Advantage might praise such Actions. REGULUS or CATO 
 could not possibly praise or love another Hero for a virtuous 
 Action ; for this would not gain them the Advantage of Honour ; 
 and their own Actions they must have look'd upon as the 
 hard Terms on which Honour was to be purchas'd, without 
 any thing amiable in them, which they could contemplate or 
 reflect upon with Pleasure. Now how unlike is this to what 
 the least Observation would teach a Man concerning such 
 Characters ? 
 
 But says he J , ' These wondrous cunning Governours made 
 Men believe, by their Statues and Panegyricks, that there 
 was publick Spirit, and that this was in it self Excellent ; and 
 hence Men are led to admire it in others, and to imitate it in 
 themselves, forgetting the Pursuit of their own Advantage.' So 
 easy a matter it seems to him, to quit judging of others by 
 what we feel in our selves ! for a Person who is wholly selfish, 
 to imagine others to be publick-spirited ! for one who has no 
 Ideas of Good but in his own Advantage, to be led, by the 
 Persuasions of others, into a Conception of Goodness in what 
 is avowedly detrimental to himself, and profitable to others ; 
 nay so entirely, as not to approve the Action thorowly, but so 
 1 See the same Author in the same Place.
 
 82 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 far as he was conscious that it proceeded from a disinterested 
 Study of the Good of others ! Yet this it seems Statues and 
 Panegyricks can accomplish ! 
 
 Nil intra est oleam, nil extra est in mice duri 1 ! 
 
 85 It is an easy matter for Men to assert any thing in Words ; 
 but our own Hearts must decide the Matter, ' Whether some 
 moral Actions do not at first View appear amiable, even to 
 those who are unconcern'd in their Influence ? Whether we do 
 not sincerely love a generous kind Friend, or Patriot, whose 
 Actions procure Honour to him only, without any Advantage 
 to our selves ? ' It is true, that the Actions which we approve, 
 are useful to Mankind ; but not always to the Approver. It 
 would perhaps be useful to the Whole, that all Men agreed in 
 performing such Actions ; and then every one would have his 
 Share of the Advantage : But this only proves, that Reason and 
 calm Reflection may recommend to us, from Self-interest, those 
 Actions, which at first View our moral Sense determines us to 
 admire, without considering this Interest. Nay, our Sense shall 
 operate even where the Advantage to our selves does not hold. 
 We can approve the Justice of a Sentence against our selves : 
 A condemn'd Traitor may approve the Vigilance of a CICERO 
 in discovering Conspiracies, tho it had been for the Traitor's 
 Advantage, that there never had been in the World any Men of 
 such Sagacity. To say that he may still approve such Conduct 
 as tending to the publick Good, is a Jest from one whose only 
 Idea of Good is Self-interest. Such a Person has no Desire of 
 publick Good further than it tends to his own Advantage, which 
 it does not at all in the present Case. 
 
 86 VII. If what is said makes it appear, that we have some 
 other amiable Idea of Actions than that of Advantageous to our 
 selves, we may conclude, ' That this Perception of moral Good 
 is not deriv'd from Custom, Education, Example, or Study.' 
 These give us no new Ideas : They might make us see 
 
 1 Hor. Ep. i. Lib. 2. v. 31.
 
 Sect. II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 83 
 
 Advantage to our selves in Actions whose Usefulness did not 
 at first appear ; or give us Opinions of some Tendency of 
 Actions to our Detriment, by some nice Deductions of Reason, 
 or by a rash Prejudice, when upon the first View of the Action 
 we should have observ'd no such thing : but they never could 
 have made us apprehend Actions as amiable or odious, without 
 any Consideration of our own Advantage. 
 
 87 VIII. It remains then, ' That as the AUTHOR of Nature has 
 determin'd us to receive, by our external Senses, pleasant or 
 disagreeable Ideas of Objects, according as they are useful or 
 hurtful to our Bodys ; and to receive from uniform Objects the 
 Pleasures of Beauty and Harmony, to excite us to the Pursuit of 
 Knowledge, and to reward us for it ; or to be an Argument to 
 us of his Goodness, as the Uniformity it self proves his Exist- 
 ence, whether we had a Sense of Beauty in Uniformity or not : 
 in the same manner he has given us a MORAL SENSE, to direct 
 our Actions, and to give us still nobler Pleasures ; so that 
 while we are only intending the Good of others, we ' undesignedly 
 promote our own greatest private Good.' 
 
 88 We are not to imagine, that this moral Sense, more than the 
 other Senses, supposes any innate Ideas, Knowledge, or prac- 
 tical Proposition : We mean by it only a Determination of our 
 Minds to receive amiable or disagreeable Ideas of Actions, when 
 they occur to our Observation, antecedent to any Opinions 
 of Advantage or Loss to redound to our selves from them ; even 
 as we are pleas'd with a regular Form, or an harmonious 
 Composition, without having any Knowledge of Mathematicks, 
 or seeing any Advantage in that Form, or Composition, different 
 from the immediate Pleasure. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 CONCERNING THE IMMEDIATE MOTIVED TO VIRTUOUS 
 ACTIONS. 
 
 89 The Motives of human Actions, or their immediate Causes, 
 would be best understood after considering the Passions and 
 
 G 2
 
 84 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 Affections ; but here we shall only consider the Springs of the 
 Actions which we call virtuous, as far as it is necessary to 
 settle the general Foundation of the Moral Sense. 
 
 I. Every Action, which we apprehend as either morally 
 good or evil, is always suppos'd to flow from some Affection 
 toward rational Agents ; and whatever we call Virtue or Vice, 
 is either some such Affection, or some Action consequent upon 
 it. Or it may perhaps be enough to make an Action, or 
 Omission, appear vitious, if it argues the Want of such Affec- 
 tion toward rational Agents, as we expect in Characters counted 
 morally good. All the Actions counted religious in any 
 Country, are suppos'd, by those who count them so, to flow 
 from some Affections toward the DEITY ; and whatever we call 
 social Virtue, we still suppose to flow from Affections toward 
 our Fellow-Creatures : for in this all seem to agree, ' That 
 external Motions, when accompany'd with no Affections to- 
 ward GOD or Man, or evidencing no Want of the expected Affec- 
 tions toward either, can have no moral Good or Evil in them.' 
 
 Ask, for instance, the most abstemious Hermit, if Temperance 
 of it self would be morally good, supposing it shew'd no 
 Obedience toward the DEITY, made us no fitter for Devotion, 
 or the Service of Mankind, or the Search after Truth, than 
 Luxury ; and he will easily grant, that it would be no moral 
 Good, tho still it might be naturally good or advantageous to 
 Health : And mere Courage, or Contempt of Danger, if we 
 conceive it to have no regard to the Defence of the Innocent, 
 or repairing of Wrongs, or Self-interest, wou'd only entitle its 
 Possessor to Bedlam. When such sort of Courage is some- 
 times admir'd, it is upon some secret Appehension of a good 
 Intention in the use of it, or as a natural Ability capable of an 
 useful Application. Prudence, if it was only employ'd in 
 promoting private Interest, is never imagined to be a Virtue : 
 and Justice, or observing a strict Equality, if it has no regard to 
 the Good of Mankind, the Preservation of Rights, and securing 
 Peace, is a Quality properer for its ordinary Gestamen, a Beam
 
 Sect. II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 85 
 
 and Scales, than for a rational Agent. So that these four 
 Qualitys, commonly call'd Cardinal Virtues, obtain that Name, 
 because they are Dispositions universally necessary to promote 
 publick Good, and denote Affections toward rational Agents ; 
 otherwise there would appear no Virtue in them. 
 
 90 II. Now if it can be made appear, that none of these Affec- 
 tions which we call virtuous, spring from Self-love, or Desire of 
 private Interest ; since all Virtue is either some such Affections, 
 or Actions consequent upon them ; it must necessarily follow, 
 ' That Virtue is not pursued from the Interest or Self-love of 
 the Pursuer, or any Motives of his own Advantage.' 
 
 The Affections which are of most Importance in Morals, are 
 LOVE and HATRED : All the rest seem but different Modifica- 
 tions of these two original Affections. Now in discoursing of 
 Love toward rational Agents, we need not be caution'd not to 
 include that Love between the Sexes, which, when no other 
 Affections accompany it, is only Desire of Pleasure, and is 
 never counted a Virtue. Love toward rational Agents, is sub- 
 divided into Love of Complacence or Esteem, and Love of 
 Benevolence : And Hatred is subdivided into Hatred of Displi- 
 cence or Contempt, and Hatred of Malice. Concerning each of 
 these separately we shall consider, ' Whether they can be 
 influenc'd by Motives of Self-Interest.' 
 
 91 Love of Complacence, Esteem, or Good-liking, at first view 
 appears to be disinterested, and so the Hatred of Displicence or 
 Dislike; and are entirely excited by some moral Qualitys, 
 Good or Evil, apprehended to be in the Objects ; which 
 Qualitys the very Frame of our Nature determines us to love 
 or hate, to approve or disapprove, according to the moral Sense 
 above explain'd '. Propose to a Man all the Rewards in the ^ 
 World, or threaten all the Punishments, to engage him to love 
 with Esteem and Complacence, a third Person entirely unknown, 
 or if known, apprehended to be cruel, treacherous, ungrateful ; , 
 you may procure external Obsequiousness, or good Offices, or I 
 
 1 See Sect. i.
 
 86 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 Dissimulation of Love ; but real Love of Esteem no Price can 
 purchase. And the same is obvious as to Hatred of Contempt, 
 which no Motive of Advantage can prevent. On the contrary, 
 represent a Character as generous, kind, faithful, humane, tho 
 in the most distant Parts of the World, and we cannot avoid 
 loving it with Esteem, and Complacence. A Bribe may make 
 us attempt to ruin such a Man, or some strong Motive of 
 Advantage may excite us to oppose his Interest; but it can 
 never make us hate him, while we apprehend him as morally 
 excellent. Nay, when we consult our own Hearts, we shall find, 
 that we can scarce ever persuade our selves to attempt any 
 Mischief against such Persons, from any Motive of Advantage, 
 nor execute it, without the strongest Reluctance, and Remorse, 
 until we have blinded our selves into a bad Opinion of the 
 Person in a moral Sense. 
 
 92 HI. As to the Love of Benevolence, the very Name excludes 
 Self-interest. We never call that Man benevolent, who is in 
 fact useful to others, but at the same time only intends his own 
 Interest, without any desire of, or delight in, the Good of 
 others. If there be any Benevolence at all, it must be dis- 
 interested; for the most useful Action imaginable, loses all 
 appearance of Benevolence, as soon as we discern that it only 
 flowed from Self-Love or Interest. Thus, never were any 
 human Actions more advantageous, than the Inventions of 
 Fire, and Iron ; but if these were casual, or if the Inventor 
 only intended his own Interest in them, there is nothing which 
 can be call'd Benevolent in them. Wherever then Benevolence 
 is suppos'd, there it is imagin'd disinterested, and design'd for 
 the Good of others. 
 
 93 But it must be here observ'd, That as all Men have Self- 
 Love, as well as Benevolence, these two Principles may jointly 
 excite a Man to the same Action ; and then they are to be 
 consider'd as two Forces impelling the same Body to Motion ; 
 sometimes they conspire, sometimes are indifferent to each 
 other, and sometimes are in some degree opposite. Thus, if
 
 Sect. II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 87 
 
 a Man have such strong Benevolence, as would have produc'd 
 an Action without any Views of Self-interest ; that such a Man 
 has also in View private Advantage, along with publick Good, 
 as the Effect of his Action, does no way diminish the Benevo- 
 lence of the Action. When he would not have produc'd so 
 much publick Good, had it not been for Prospect of Self-interest, 
 then the Effect of Self-Love is to be deducted, and his Benevo- 
 lence is proportion'd to the remainder of Good, which pure 
 Benevolence would have produc'd. When a Man's Benevolence 
 is hurtful to himself, then Self-Love is opposite to Benevolence, 
 and the Benevolence is proportion'd to the Sum of the Good 
 produc'd, added to the Resistance of Self-Love surmounted by 
 it. In most Cases it is impossible for Men to know how far 
 their Fellows are influenc'd by the one or other of these 
 Principles ; but yet the general Truth is sufficiently certain, 
 That this is the way in which the Benevolence of Actions is to 
 be computed. Since then, no Love to rational Agents can 
 proceed from Self-interest, every Action must be disinterested, 
 as far as it flows from Love to rational Agents. 
 
 94 If any enquire, ' Whence arises this Love of Esteem, or 
 Benevolence, to good Men, or to Mankind in general, if not 
 from some nice Views of Self-interest ? Or, how we can be 
 mov'd to desire the Happiness of others, without any View to 
 our own ? ' It may be answer'd, ' That the same Cause which 
 determines us to pursue Happiness for our selves, determines 
 us both to Esteem and Benevolence on their proper Occasions ; 
 even the very Frame of our Nature, or a generous Instinct, 
 which shall be afterwards explain'd. 
 
 95 IV. Here we may observe, That as Love of Esteem and 
 Complacence is always join'd with Benevolence, where there is 
 no strong Opposition of Interest ; so Benevolence seems to pre- 
 suppose some small degree of Esteem, not indeed of actual 
 good Qualitys ; for there may be strong Benevolence, where 
 there is the Hatred of Contempt for actual Vices ; as a Parent 
 may have great Benevolence to a most abandon'd Child, whose
 
 88 HUTCHESON. [Sect. ll. 
 
 Manners he hates with the greatest Displicence : but Benevolence 
 supposes a Being capable of Virtue. We judge of other rational 
 Agents by our selves. The human Nature is a lovely Form ; 
 we are all conscious of some morally good Qualitys and In- 
 clinations in our selves, how partial and imperfect soever they 
 may be ; we presume the same of every thing in human Form, 
 nay almost of every living Creature : so that by this suppos'd 
 remote Capacity of Virtue, there may be some small degree of 
 Esteem along with our Benevolence, even when they incur our 
 greatest Displeasure by their Conduct. 
 
 96 As to Malice, Human Nature seems scarce capable of 
 malicious disinterested Hatred, or a sedate Delight in the 
 Misery of others, when we imagine them no way pernicious 
 to us, or opposite to our Interest : And for that Hatred 
 which makes us oppose those whose Interests are opposite 
 to ours, it is only the effect of Self-Love, and not of disinterested 
 Malice. A sudden Passion may give us wrong Representations 
 of our Fellow-Creatures, and for a little time represent them 
 as absolutely Evil ; and during this Imagination perhaps we 
 may give some Evidences of disinterested Malice : but as 
 soon as we reflect upon human Nature, and form just Concep- 
 tions, this unnatural Passion is allay'd, and only Self-Love 
 remains, which may make us, from Self-interest, oppose our 
 
 Adversarys. 
 
 ******* 
 
 97 V. Having offer'd what may perhaps prove, That our Love 
 either of Esteem, or Benevolence, is not founded on Self-Love, 
 or views of Interest; let us see 'if some other Affections, 
 in which Virtue may be plac'd, do arise from Self-Love ; ' 
 such as Fear, or Reverence, arising from an Apprehension 
 of Goodness, Power, and Justice. For no body apprehends 
 any Virtue in base Dread and Servitude toward a powerful 
 Evil Being : This is indeed the meanest Selfishness. Now 
 the same Arguments which prove Love of Esteem to be 
 disinterested, will prove this honourable Reverence to be so
 
 Sect II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL, 89 
 
 too ; for it plainly arises from an Apprehension of amiable 
 Qualitys in the Person, and Love toward him, which raises an 
 Abhorrence of offending him. Could we reverence a Being 
 because it was our Interest to do so, a third Person might 
 bribe us into Reverence toward a Being neither Good, nor 
 Powerful, which every one sees to be a Jest. And this we 
 might shew to be common to all other Passions, which have 
 rational Agents for their Objects. 
 
 98 VI. There is one Objection against disinterested Love, which 
 occurs from considering, 'That nothing so effectually excites 
 our Love toward rational Agents, as their Beneficence to us ; 
 whence we are led to imagine, that our Love of Persons, 
 as well as irrational Objects, flows intirely from Self-interest.' 
 But let us here examine our selves more narrowly. Do we 
 only love the Beneficent, because it is our Interest to love 
 them? Or do we chuse to love them, because our Love 
 is the means of procuring their Bounty ? If it be so, then 
 we could indifferently love any Character, even to obtain 
 the Bounty of a third Person ; or we could be brib'd by 
 a third Person to love the greatest Villain heartily, as we 
 may be brib'd to external Offices : Now this is plainly 
 impossible. 
 
 99 But further, is not our Love always the Consequent of 
 Bounty, and not the Means of procuring it ? External Shew, 
 Obsequiousness, and Dissimulation may precede an Opinion 
 of Beneficence ; but real Love always presupposes it, and shall 
 necessarily arise even when we expect no more, from con- 
 sideration of past Benefits. Or can any one say he only 
 loves the Beneficent, as he does a Field or Garden, because 
 of its Advantage ? His Love then must cease toward one 
 who has ruin'd himself in kind Offices to him, when he can 
 do him no more; as we cease to love an inanimate Object 
 which ceases to be useful, unless a Poetical Prosopopoeia 
 animate it, and raise an imaginary Gratitude, which is indeed 
 pretty common. And then again, our Love would be the
 
 90 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 same towards the worst Characters that 'tis towards the best, 
 if they were equally bountiful to us, which is also false. 
 Beneficence then must raise our Love as it is an amiable moral 
 Quality : and hence we love even those who are beneficent to 
 others. 
 
 100 It may be further alledg'd, 'That Bounty toward our selves 
 is a stronger Incitement to Love, than equal Bounty toward 
 others.' This is true for a Reason to be offer'd below * : 
 but it does not prove, that in this Case our Love of Persons 
 is from Views of Interest ; since this Love is not prior to 
 the Bounty, as the means to procure it, but subsequent upon 
 it, even when we expect no more. In the Benefits which 
 we receive our selves, we are more fully sensible of their 
 Value, and of the Circumstances of the Action which are 
 Evidences of a generous Temper in the Donor; and from 
 the good Opinion we have of our selves, we are apt to look 
 upon the Kindness as better employ'd, than when it is 
 bestow'd on others, of whom perhaps we have less favourable 
 Sentiments. It is however sufficient to remove the Objection, 
 that Bounty from a Donor apprehended as morally Evil, 
 or extorted by Force, or conferr'd with some View of Self- 
 interest, will not procure real Love ; nay, it may raise Indigna- 
 tion, if we suspect Dissimulation of Love, or a Design to 
 allure us into any thing Dishonourable : whereas wisely 
 employ'd Bounty is always approv'd, and gains love to the 
 Author from all who hear of it. 
 
 If then no Love toward Persons be influenc'd by Self- 
 Love, or Views of Interest, and all Virtue flows from Love 
 toward Persons, or some other Affection equally disinterested ; 
 it remains, 'That there must be some other Motive than 
 Self-Love, or Interest, which excites us to the Actions we call 
 Virtuous.' 
 
 101 VII. There may perhaps still remain another Suspicion 
 of Self-interest in our Prosecution of Virtue arising from 
 1 See Sect, v. Art. 2.
 
 Sect. II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. gi 
 
 this, 'That the whole Race of Mankind seems persuaded of 
 the Existence of an Almighty Being, who will certainly secure 
 Happiness either now, or hereafter, to those who are Virtuous, 
 according to their several Notions of Virtue in various Places : 
 and upon this Persuasion, Virtue may in all Cases be pursu'd 
 from Views of Interest V Here again we might appeal to 
 all Mankind, whether there be no Benevolence but what flows 
 from a View of Reward from the DEITY? Nay, do we not 
 see a great deal of it among those who entertain few if any 
 Thoughts of Devotion at all ? Not to say that this Benevolence 
 scarce deserves the Name, when we desire not, nor delight 
 in the Good of others, further than it serves our own Ends. 
 
 But if we have no other Idea of Good, than Advantage 
 to our selves, we must imagine that every rational Being 
 acts only for its own Advantage ; and however we may call 
 a beneficent Being, a good Being, because it acts for our 
 Advantage, yet upon this Scheme we should not be apt to 
 think there is any beneficent Being in Nature, or a Being 
 who acts for the Good of others. Particularly, if there is 
 no Sense of Excellence in publick Love, and promoting the 
 Happiness of others, whence should this Persuasion arise, 
 'That the DEITY will make the Virtuous happy?' Can we 
 prove that it is for the Advantage of the DEITY to do so? 
 This I fancy will be look'd upon as very absurd, unless 
 we suppose some beneficent Dispositions essential to the 
 DEITY, which determine him to consult the publick Good 
 of his Creatures, and reward such as cooperate with his 
 kind Intention. And if there be such Dispositions in the 
 DEITY, where is the impossibility of some small degree of 
 this publick Love in his Creatures? And why must they 
 be suppos'd incapable of acting but from Self-Love ? 
 102 In short, without acknowledging some other Principle of 
 Action in rational Agents than Self-Love, I see no Foundation 
 to expect Beneficence, or Rewards from God, or Man, further 
 
 1 See above Sect. i. Art. 5. Par. 5.
 
 92 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 than it is the Interest of the Benefactor ; and all Expectation 
 of Benefits from a Being whose Interests are independent 
 on us, must be perfectly ridiculous. What should engage 
 the DEITY to reward Virtue? Virtue is commonly suppos'd, 
 upon this Scheme, to be only a consulting our own Happiness 
 in the most artful way, consistently with the Good of the Whole ; 
 and in Vice the same thing is foolishly pursu'd, in a manner 
 which will not so probably succeed, and which is contrary 
 to the Good of the Whole. But how is the DEITY concern'd 
 in this Whole, if every Agent always acts from Self-Love? 
 And what Ground have we, from the Idea of a God it self, 
 to believe the DEITY is good in the Christian Sense, that is, 
 studious of the Good of his Creatures ? Perhaps the Misery 
 of his Creatures may give him as much Pleasure, as their 
 Happiness : And who can find fault, or blame such a Being 
 to study their Misery ; for what else should we expect ? 
 A Manichean Evil God, is a Notion which Men would as 
 readily run into, as' that of a Good one, if there is no Excellence 
 in disinterested Love, and no Being acts but for its own 
 Advantage ; unless we prov'd that the Happiness of Creatures 
 was advantageous to the DEITY. 
 
 103 VIII. The last, and only remaining Objection against 
 what has been said, is this, ' That Virtue perhaps is pursu'd 
 because of the concomitant Pleasure.' To which we may 
 answer, first, by observing, that this plainly supposes a Sense of 
 Virtue antecedent to Ideas of Advantage, upon which this 
 Advantage is founded ; and that from the very Frame of our 
 Nature we are determin'd to perceive Pleasure in the practice 
 of Virtue, and to approve it when practis'd by our selves, or 
 others. 
 
 104 But further, may we not justly question, whether all Virtue 
 is pleasant ? Or, whether we are not determin'd to some amiable 
 Actions in which we find no Pleasure ? 'Tis true, all the Passions, 
 and Affections justify themselves ; or, we approve our being 
 affected in a certain manner on certain Occasions, and condemn
 
 Sect. II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 93 
 
 a Person who is otherwise affected. So the Sorrowful, the 
 Angry, the Jealous, the Compassionate, think it reasonable they 
 should be so upon the several Occasions which move these 
 Passions ; but we should not therefore say that Sorrow, Anger, 
 Jealousy, or Pity are pleasant, and that we chuse to be in 
 these Passions because of the concomitant Pleasure. The 
 matter is plainly this. The Frame of our Nature, on such 
 Occasions as move these Passions, determines us to be thus 
 affected, and to approve our being so : Nay, we dislike any 
 Person who is not thus affected upon such occasions, notwith- 
 standing the uneasiness of these Passions. This uneasiness 
 determines us to endeavour an Alteration in the state of the 
 Object ; but not otherwise to remove the painful Affection, 
 while the occasion is unalter'd : which shews that these 
 Affections are neither chosen for their concomitant Pleasure, 
 nor voluntarily brought upon our selves with a view to private 
 Good. The Actions which these Passions move us to, tend 
 generally to remove the uneasy Passion by altering the state of 
 the Object ; but the Removal of our Pain is seldom directly 
 intended in the uneasy Benevolent Passions : nor is the 
 Alteration intended in the State of the Objects by such Passions, 
 imagin'd to be a private Good to the Agent, as it always is in 
 the selfish Passions. If our sole Intention, in Compassion or 
 Pity, was the Removal of our Pain, we should run away, 
 shut our Eyes, divert our Thoughts from the miserable Object, 
 to avoid the Pain of Compassion, which we seldom do : nay, 
 we croud about such Objects, and voluntarily expose our selves 
 to Pain, unless Reason, and Reflection upon our Inability to 
 relieve the Miserable, countermand our Inclination ; or some 
 selfish Affection, as fear of Danger, overbalances it. 
 
 Now there are several morally amiable Actions, which flow 
 from these Passions which are so uneasy ; such as Attempts of 
 relieving the Distress'd, of defending the Injur'd, of repairing of 
 Wrongs done by ourselves. These Actions are often accom- 
 pany'd with no Pleasure in the mean time, nor have they any
 
 94 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 subsequent Pleasure, except as they are successful ; unless it be 
 that which may arise from calm Reflection, when the Passion is 
 over, upon our having been in a Disposition, which to our moral 
 Sense appears lovely and good: but this Pleasure is never intended 
 in the Heat of Action, nor is it any Motive exciting to it. 
 
 105 Besides, In the pleasant Passions, we do not love, because it 
 is pleasant to love ; we do not chuse this State, because it is 
 an advantageous, or pleasant State : This Passion necessarily 
 arises from seeing its proper Object, a morally good Character. 
 And if we could love, whenever we see it would be our Interest 
 to love, Love could be brib'd by a third Person ; and we 
 could never love Persons in Distress, for then our Love gives us 
 Pain. The same Observation may be extended to all the other 
 Affections from which Virtue is suppos'd to flow : And from 
 the whole we may conclude, ' That the virtuous Agent is never 
 apprehended by us as acting only from Views of his own Interest, 
 but as principally influenc'd by some other Motive.' 
 
 106 IX. Having remov'd these false Springs of virtuous Actions, 
 let us next establish the true one, viz. some Determination of 
 our Nature to study the Good of others ; or some Instinct, ante- 
 cedent to all Reason from Interest, which influences us to the 
 Love of others ; even as the moral Sense above explain'd ] , 
 determines us to approve the Actions which flow from this 
 Love in our selves or others. This disinterested Affection, may 
 appear strange to Men impress'd with Notions of Self-Love, 
 as the sole Motive of Action, from the Pulpit, the Schools, the 
 Systems, and Conversations regulated by them : but let us 
 consider it in its strongest, and simplest Kinds ; and when we 
 see the Possibility of it in these Instances, we mayeasilydiscover 
 its universal Extent. 
 
 An honest Farmer will tell you, that he studies the Preser- 
 vation and Happiness of his Children, and loves them without 
 any design of Good to himself. But say some of our Philo- 
 sophers, ' The Happiness of their Children give Parents 
 
 1 See Sect. i.
 
 Sect. II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 95 
 
 Pleasure, and their Misery gives them Pain ; and therefore to 
 obtain the former, and avoid the latter, they study, from Self- 
 Love, the Good of their Children.' Suppose several Merchants 
 join'd in Partnership of their whole Effects ; one of them is 
 employ'd abroad in managing the Stock of the Company ; his 
 Prosperity occasions Gain to all, and his Losses give them Pain 
 from their Share in the Loss : is this then the same Kind of 
 Affection with that of Parents to their Children ? Is there the 
 same tender, personal Regard ? I fancy no Parent will say so. 
 In this Case of Merchants there is a plain Conjunction of 
 Interest ; but whence the Conjunction of Interest between the 
 Parent and Child ? Do the Child's Sensations give Pleasure or 
 Pain to the Parent ? Is the Parent hungry, thirsty, sick, when 
 the Child is so ? ' No, but his Love to the Child makes him 
 affected with his Pleasures or Pains.' This Love then is 
 antecedent to the Conjunction of Interest, and the Cause of it, 
 not the Effect : this Love then must be disinterested. ' No, says 
 another Sophist, Children are Parts of our selves, and in loving 
 them we but love our selves in them.' A very good Answer ! 
 Let us carry it as far as it will go. How are they Parts of our 
 selves ? Not as a Leg or an Arm : We are not conscious of 
 their Sensations. ' But their Bodys were form'd from Parts of 
 ours.' So is a Fly, or a Maggot which may breed in any 
 discharg'd Blood or Humour : Very dear Insects surely ! There 
 must be something else then which makes Children Parts of 
 our selves ; and what is this but that Affection which NATURE 
 determines us to have towards them ? This Love makes them 
 Parts of our selves, and therefore does not flow from their 
 being so before. This is indeed a good Metaphor; and 
 wherever we find a Determination among several rational 
 Agents to mutual Love, let each Individual be look'd upon as 
 a Part of a great Whole, or System, and concern himself in the 
 publick Good of it. 
 107 But a later Author observes 1 , 'That natural Affection in 
 
 1 See the Fable of the Bees, page 68. ird Ed.
 
 96 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 Parents is weak, till the Children begin to give Evidences of 
 Knowledge and Affections.' Mothers say they feel it strong from 
 the very first : and yet I could wish for the Destruction of his 
 Hypothesis, that what he alledges was true ; as I fancy it is in 
 some measure, tho we may find in some Parents an Affection 
 towards Idiots. The observing of Understanding and Affections 
 in Children, which make them appear moral Agents, can increase 
 Love toward them without prospect of Interest; for I hope 
 this Increase of Love, is not from Prospect of Advantage from 
 the Knowledge or Affections of Children, for whom Parents 
 are still toiling, and never intend to be refunded their Ex- 
 pences, or recompens'd for their Labour, but in Cases of extreme 
 Necessity. If then the observing a moral Capacity can be the 
 occasion of increasing Love without Self-interest even from 
 the Frame of our Nature ; pray, may not this be a Founda- 
 tion of weaker degrees of Love where there is no preceding 
 tie of Parentage, and extend it to all Mankind ? 
 108 X. And that this is so in fact, will appear by considering some 
 more distant Attachments. If we observe any Neighbours, 
 from whom perhaps we have receiv'd no good Offices, form'd 
 into Friendships, Familys, Partnerships, and with Honesty and 
 Kindness assisting each other ; pray ask any Mortal if he 
 would not be better pleas'd with their Prosperity, when their 
 Interests are no way inconsistent with his own, than with their 
 Misery, and Ruin ; and you shall find a Bond of Benevolence 
 further extended than a Family and Children, altho the Ties 
 are not so strong. Again, suppose a Person, for Trade, had 
 left his native Country, and with all his Kindred had settled 
 his Fortunes abroad, without any view of returning ; and only 
 imagine he had receiv'd no Injurys from his Country : ask 
 such a Man, would it give him no Pleasure to hear of the 
 Prosperity of his Country ? Or could he, now that his Interests 
 are separated from that of his Nation, as gladly hear that it was 
 laid waste by Tyranny or a foreign Power ? I fancy his Answer 
 would show us a Benevolence extended beyond Neighbourhoods
 
 Sect. II.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 97 
 
 or Acquaintances. Let a Man of a compos'd Temper, out of the 
 hurry of private Affairs, only read of the Constitution of a foreign 
 Country, even in the most distant parts of the Earth, and 
 observe Art, Design, and a Study of publick Good in the Laws 
 of this Association ; and he shall find his Mind mov'd in their 
 favour ; he shall be contriving Rectifications and Amendments 
 in their Constitution, and regret any unlucky part of it which 
 may be pernicious to their Interest ; he shall bewail any Disaster 
 which befalls them, and accompany all their Fortunes with the 
 Affections of a Friend. Now this proves Benevolence, to be in 
 some degree extended to all mankind, where there is no 
 interfering Interest, which from Self-Love may obstruct it. 
 And had we any Notions of rational Agents, capable of moral 
 Affections, in the most distant Planets, our good Wishes would 
 still attend them, and we should delight in their Happiness. 
 109 XL Here we may transiently remark the Foundation of 
 what we call national Love, or LOVE of one's native Country. 
 Whatever place we have liv'd in for any considerable time, 
 there we have most distinctly remark'd the various Affections 
 of human Nature ; we have known many lovely Characters ; 
 we remember the Associations, Friendships, Familys, natural 
 Affections, and other human Sentiments : our moral Sense 
 determines us to approve these lovely Dispositions where we 
 have most distinctly observ'd them; and our Benevolence 
 concerns us in the Interests of the Persons possess'd of them. 
 When we come to observe the like as distinctly in another 
 Country, we begin to acquire a national Love toward it also ; 
 nor has our own Country any other preference in our Idea, 
 unless it be by an Association of the pleasant Ideas of our 
 Youth, with the Buildings, Fields, and Woods where we 
 receiv'd them. This may let us see, how Tyranny, Faction, 
 a Neglect of Justice, a Corruption of Manners, or any thing 
 which occasions the Misery of the Subjects, destroys this 
 national Love, and the dear Idea of a COUNTRY. 
 
 We ought here to observe, That the only Reason of that
 
 98 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 apparent want of natural Affection among collateral Relations, 
 is, that these natural Inclinations, in many Cases, are over- 
 power'd by Self-Love, where there happens any Opposition 
 of Interests ; but where this does not happen, we shall find 
 all Mankind under its Influence, tho with different degrees 
 of Strength, according to the nearer or more remote Relations 
 they stand in to each other ; and according as the natural 
 Affection of Benevolence is join'd with and strengthen'd by 
 Esteem, Gratitude, Compassion, or other kind Affections ; or on 
 the contrary, weaken'd by Displicence, Anger, or Envy. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 THE SENSE OF VIRTUE, AND THE VARIOUS OPINIONS ABOUT 
 IT, REDUCIBLE TO ONE GENERAL FOUNDATION. THE 
 MANNER OF COMPUTING THE MORALITY OF ACTIONS. 
 
 110 I. If we examine all the Actions which are counted amiable 
 any where, and enquire into the Grounds upon which they 
 are approv'd, we shall find,' that in the Opinion of the Person 
 who approves them, they always appear as BENEVOLENT, or 
 flowing from Love of others, and a Study of their Happiness, 
 whether the Approver be one of the Persons belov'd, or 
 profited, or not ; so that all those kind Affections which incline 
 us to make others happy, and all Actions suppos'd to flow 
 from such Affections, appear morally Good, if while they are 
 benevolent toward some Persons, they be not pernicious to 
 others. Nor shall we find any thing amiable in any Action 
 whatsoever, where there is no Benevolence imagin'd ; nor in 
 any Disposition, or Capacity, which is not suppos'd applicable 
 to, and design'd for benevolent Purposes. Nay, as we before 
 observ'd 1 , the Actions which in fact are exceedingly useful, 
 shall appear void of moral Beauty, if we know they proceeded 
 from no kind Intentions toward others; and yet an un- 
 successful Attempt of Kindness, or of promoting publick Good, 
 1 See Sect. ii. Art. 3. Par. i. ( 92) ; Art. 6. Par. 3. ( 100).
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 99 
 
 shall appear as amiable as the most successful, if it flow'd from 
 as strong Benevolence. 
 
 111 II. Hence those Affections which would lead us to do good 
 to our Benefactor, shall appear amiable, and the contrary 
 Affections odious, even when our Actions cannot possibly 
 be of any advantage or hurt to him. Thus a sincere Love 
 and Gratitude toward our Benefactor, a? chearful Readiness 
 to do whatever he shall require, how burdensom soever, 
 a hearty Inclination to comply with- his Intentions, and 
 Contentment with the State he has plac'd us in, are the 
 strongest Evidences of Benevolence we can shew to such 
 a Person ; and therefore they must appear exceedingly amiable. 
 And under these is included all the rational Devotion, or 
 Religion toward a DEITY apprehended as Good, which- we can 
 
 possibly perform. 
 
 ******* 
 
 112 III. Again, that we may see how Love, or Benevolence, is 
 the Foundation of all apprehended Excellence in social Virtues, 
 let us only observe, That amidst the diversity of Sentiments 
 on this Head among various Sects, this is still allow'd to 
 be the way of deciding the Controversy about any disputed 
 Practice, viz. to enquire whether this Conduct, or the contrary, 
 will most effectually promote the publick Good. The Morality 
 is immediately adjusted, when the natural Tendency, or 
 Influence of the Action upon the universal natural Good 
 of Mankind is agreed upon. That which produces more 
 Good than Evil in the Whole, is acknowledg'd Good; and 
 what does not, is counted Evil. In this Case, we no other 
 way regard the good of the Actor, or that of those who are 
 thus enquiring, than as they make a Part of the great System. 
 
 In our late Debates about Passive Obedience, and the Right 
 of Resistance in Defence of Privileges, the Point disputed 
 among Men of Sense was, 'whether universal Submission 
 would probably be attended with greater natural Evils, than 
 temporary Insurrections, when Privileges are invaded; and 
 
 H 2
 
 100 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 not, whether what tended in the Whole to the publick natural 
 Good, was also morally Good?' And if a divine Command 
 was alledg'd in favour of the Doctrine of Passive Obedience, 
 this would, no doubt, by its eternal Sanctions cast the ballance 
 of natural Good to its own side, and determine our Election 
 from Interest ; and yet our Sense of the moral Good in Passive 
 Obedience, would still be founded upon some Species of 
 Benevolence, such as Gratitude toward the DEITY, and Sub- 
 mission to his Will to whom we are so much oblig'd. But 
 I fancy those, who believe the DEITY to be Good, would 
 not rashly alledge such a Command, unless they also asserted, 
 that the thing commanded did tend more to the universal 
 Good, than the contrary, either by preventing the external Evils 
 of Civil War, or by enuring Men to Patience, or some other 
 Quality which they apprehended necessary to their everlasting 
 Happiness. And were it not so, Passive Obedience might be 
 recommended as an inglorious Method of escaping a greater 
 Mischief, but could never have any thing morally amiable in it. 
 113 But let us quit the Disputes of the Learned, on whom, 
 it may be alledg'd, Custom and Education have a powerful 
 Influence; and consider upon what Grounds, in common 
 Life, Actions are approv'd or condemn'd, vindicated or excus'd. 
 We are universally asham'd to say an Action is Just, because 
 it tends to my Advantage, or to the Advantage of the Actor : 
 And we as seldom condemn a beneficent kind Action, because 
 it is not advantageous to us, or to the Actor. Blame, and 
 Censure, are founded on a Tendency to publick Evil, or 
 a Principle of private Malice in the Agent, or Neglect at least 
 of the Good of others; on Inhumanity of Temper, or at 
 least such strong Selfishness as makes the Agent careless 
 of the Sufferings of others : and thus we blame and censure 
 when the Action no way affects our selves. All the moving 
 and persuasive Vindications of Actions, which may, from 
 some partial evil Tendency, appear evil, are taken from this, 
 that they were necessary to some greater Good which counter-
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. IOI 
 
 ballanc'd the Evil : ' Severity toward a few, is Compassion 
 toward multitudes. Transitory Punishments are necessary 
 for avoiding more durable Evils, Did not some suffer on 
 such Occasions, there would be no living for honest Men.' 
 and such like. And even when an Action cannot be entirely 
 justify'd, yet how greatly is the Guilt extenuated, if we can 
 alledge ; ' That it was only the Effect of Inadvertence without 
 Malice, or of partial good Nature, Friendship, Compassion, 
 natural Affection, or Love of a Party ? ' All these Considera- 
 tions shew what is the universal Foundation of our Sense of 
 moral Good, or Evil, viz. Benevolence toward others on one 
 hand, and Malice, or even Indolence, and Unconcernedness 
 about the apparent publick Evil on the other. And let it 
 be here observ'd, that we are so far from imagining all Men 
 to act only from Self-Love, that we universally expect in 
 others a Regard for the Publick; and do not look upon 
 the want of this, as barely the absence of moral Good, or 
 Virtue, but even as positively evil and hateful. 
 114 IV. Contrarys may illustrate each other; let us therefore 
 observe the general Foundation of our Sense of moral Evil 
 more particularly. Disinterested Malice, or Delight in the 
 Misery of others, is the highest pitch of what we count vitious ; 
 and every Action appears evil, which is imagin'd to flow from 
 any degree of this Affection. Perhaps a violent Passion may 
 hurry Men into it for a few Moments, and our rash angry 
 Sentiments of our Enemys, may represent them as having 
 such odious Dispositions; but it is very probable, from the 
 Reasons offer'd above 1 , that there is no such degree of 
 Wickedness in human Nature, as, in cold blood, to be pleas'd 
 with the Misery of others, when it is conceiv'd no way useful 
 to our Interests. 
 
 The Story of NERO and PLEXUS may be alledg'd against 
 this, but perhaps unjustly, even allowing the Fact to be true. 
 NERO was conscious he was hated by those whom the World 
 1 See Sect. ii. Art. 4. ( 95).
 
 102 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 call'd good Men, and that they were dangerous to him ; he 
 fancy'd his best Security lay in being terrible, and appearing 
 such on all Occasions, by making others miserable when 
 he pleas'd, to let his Enemys see, that they should have 
 no Security from that Compassion which a NERO would 
 imagine argu'd Weakness. This unfortunate Gentleman's 
 Happiness might by some foolish Courtier be so related, as to 
 carry a Reproof of the Tyrant's unnatural Pursuits, whereby 
 his Passion might be excited to cut off the Person admir'd, 
 and prefer'd before him. Any of these Motives of apparent 
 Interest seem more probably to have influenc'd him, than 
 that we should in him, and a few others, suppose a Principle 
 of calm Malice without Interest, of which the rest of Mankind 
 seem entirely incapable. 
 
 The Temper of a Tyrant seems probably to be a continu'd 
 state of Anger, Hatred, and Fear. To form our Judgment 
 then of his Motives of Action, and those of Men of like 
 Tempers in lower Stations, let us reflect upon the Appre- 
 hensions we form of Mankind, when we are under any of 
 those Passions which to the Tyrant are habitual. When 
 we are under the fresh Impressions of an Injury, we plainly 
 find, that our Minds are wholly fill'd with Apprehensions 
 of the Person who injur'd us, as if he was absolutely Evil, 
 and delighted in doing Mischief: We overlook the Virtues, 
 which, when calm, we could have observ'd in him : we forget 
 that perhaps only Self- Love, and not Malice, was his Motive ; 
 or it may be some generous or kind Intention toward others. 
 These, probably, are the Opinions which a Tyrant constantly 
 forms concerning Mankind ; and having very much weaken'd 
 all kind Affections in himself, however he may pretend to 
 them, he judges of the Tempers of others by his own. And 
 were Men really such as he apprehends them, his Treatment 
 of them would not be very unreasonable. We shall generally 
 find our Passions arising suitably to the Apprehensions we 
 form of others : if these be rashly form'd upon some sudden
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 103 
 
 slight Views, it is no wonder if we find Dispositions following 
 upon them, very little suited to the real State of human 
 Nature. 
 
 115 The ordinary Springs of Vice then among Men, must be 
 a mistaken Self-Love, made so violent as to overcome 
 Benevolence; or Affections arising from false, and rashly 
 form'd Opinions of Mankind, which we run into thro the 
 weakness of our Benevolence. When Men, who had good 
 Opinions of each other, happen to have contrary Interests, 
 they are apt to have their good Opinions of each other abated, 
 by imagining a design'd Opposition from Malice; without 
 this, they can scarcely hate one another. Thus two Candidates 
 for the same Office wish each other dead, because that is 
 an ordinary way by which Men make room for each other; 
 but if there remains any Reflection on each other's Virtue, 
 as there sometimes may in benevolent Tempers, then their 
 Opposition may be without Hatred ; and if another better 
 Post, where there is no Competition, were bestow'd on one 
 of them, the other shall rejoice at it. 
 
 116 V. The Actions which flow solely from Self-Love, and yet 
 evidence no Want of Benevolence, having no hurtful Effects 
 upon others, seem perfectly indifferent in a moral Sense, and 
 neither raise the Love or Hatred of the Observer. Our 
 Reason can indeed discover certain Bounds, within which 
 we may not only act from Self-Love, consistently with the 
 Good of the Whole, but every Mortal's acting thus within 
 these Bounds for his own Good, is absolutely necessary for 
 the Good of the Whole; and the Want of such Self-Love 
 would be universally pernicious. Hence, he who pursues 
 his own private Good, with an Intention also to concur with 
 that Constitution which tends to the Good of the Whole ; 
 and much more he who promotes his own Good, with a direct 
 View of making himself more capable of serving GOD, or 
 doing good to Mankind ; acts not only innocently, but also 
 honourably, and virtuously ; for in both these Cases, a Motive
 
 104 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 of Benevolence concurs with Self-Love to excite him to the 
 Action. And thus a Neglect of our own Good, may be 
 morally evil, and argue a Want of Benevolence toward the 
 Whole. But when Self-Love breaks over the Bounds above- 
 mention'd, and leads us into Actions detrimental to others, 
 and to the whole; or makes us insensible of the generous 
 kind Affections ; then it appears vitious, and is disapprov'd. 
 So also, when upon any small Injurys, or sudden Resentment, 
 or any weak superstitious Suggestions, our Benevolence becomes 
 so faint, as to let us entertain odious Conceptions of Men, 
 or any Part of them, without just Ground, as if they were 
 wholly Evil, or Malicious, or as if they were a worse Sort of 
 Beings than they really are; these Conceptions must lead 
 us into malevolent Affections, or at least weaken our good ones, 
 and make us really Vitious, 
 
 117 VI. Here we must also observe, that every moral Agent 
 justly considers himself as a Part of this rational System, 
 which may be useful to the Whole; so that he may be, 
 in part, an Object of his own Benevolence. Nay further, 
 as we hinted above, he may see, that the Preservation of the 
 System requires every one to be innocently sollicitous about 
 himself. Hence he may conclude, that an Action which 
 brings greater Evil to the Agent, than Good to others, however 
 it may evidence strong Benevolence or a virtuous Disposition 
 in the Agent, yet it must be founded upon a mistaken Opinion 
 of its Tendency to publick Good, when it has no such 
 Tendency : so that a Man who reason'd justly, and consider'd 
 the Whole, would not be led into it, were his Benevolence 
 ever so strong ; nor would he recommend it to the Practice 
 of others ; however he might acknowledge, that the Detriment 
 arising to the Agent from a kind Action, did evidence a strong 
 Disposition to Virtue. Nay further, if any Good was propos'd 
 to the Pursuit of an Agent, and he had a Competitor in every 
 respect only equal to himself; the highest Benevolence possible 
 would not lead a wise Man to prefer another to himself,
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 105 
 
 were there no Ties of Gratitude, or some other external 
 Circumstance to move him to yield to his Competitor. 
 A Man surely of the strongest Benevolence, may just treat 
 himself as he would do a third Person, who was a Competitor 
 of equal Merit with the other; and as his preferring one 
 to another, in such a Case, would argue no Weakness of 
 Benevolence ; so, no more would he evidence it by preferring 
 himself to a Man of only equal Abilitys. 
 
 118 Wherever a Regard to my self, tends as much to the good 
 of the Whole, as Regard to another ; or where the Evil 
 to my self, is equal to the Good obtain'd for another; tho 
 by acting, in such Cases, for the good of another, I really 
 shew a very amiable Disposition ; yet by acting in the contrary 
 manner, from Regard to my self, I evidence no evil Disposi- 
 tion, nor any want of the most extensive Benevolence ; since 
 the Moment of good to the Whole is, in both Cases, exactly 
 equal. And let it be here observ'd, that this does not supersede 
 the necessity of Liberality, and gratuitous Gifts, altho in such 
 Actions the Giver loses as much as the other receives ; since 
 the Moment of Good to any Person, in any given Case, is in 
 a compound Ratio of the Quantity of the Good it self, and 
 the Indigence of the Person. Hence it appears, that a Gift 
 may make a much greater Addition to the happiness of 
 the Receiver, than the Diminution it occasions in the happiness 
 of the Giver : And that the most useful and important Gifts 
 are those from the Wealthy to the Indigent. Gifts from 
 Equals are not useless neither, since they often increase 
 the Happiness of both, as they are strong Evidences of 
 mutual Love: but Gifts from the Poor to the Wealthy are 
 really foolish, unless they be only little Expressions of 
 Gratitude, which are also fruitful of Joy on both Sides : for 
 these Expressions of Gratitude are really delightful and 
 acceptable to the Wealthy, if they have any Humanity ; 
 and their Acceptance of them is matter of Joy to the poor 
 Giver.
 
 106 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 119 In like manner, when an Action does more Harm to 
 the Agent, than Good to the Publick ; the doing it evidences 
 an amiable and truly virtuous Disposition in the Agent, tho 
 'tis plain he acts upon a mistaken View of his Duty. But 
 if the private Evil to the Agent be so great, as to make him 
 incapable at another time, of promoting a publick Good of 
 greater moment than what is attain'd by this Action ; the 
 Action may really be Evil, so far as it evidences a prior 
 Neglect of a greater attainable publick Good for a smaller 
 one; tho at present this Action also flows from a virtuous 
 Disposition. 
 
 120 VII. The moral Beauty, or Deformity of Actions, is not 
 alter'd by the moral Qualitys of the Objects, any further than 
 the Qualitys of the Objects increase or diminish the Benevolence 
 of the Action, or the publick Good intended by it. Thus 
 Benevolence toward the worst Characters, or the Study of 
 their Good, may be as amiable as any whatsoever ; yea often 
 more so than that toward the Good, since it argues such 
 a strong Degree of Benevolence as can surmount the greatest 
 Obstacle, the moral Evil in the Object. Hence the Love of 
 unjust Enemys, is counted among the highest Virtues. Yet 
 when our Benevolence to the Evil, encourages them in their 
 bad Intentions, or makes them more capable of Mischief; 
 this diminishes or destroys the Beauty of the Action, or even 
 makes it evil, as it betrays a Neglect of the Good of others 
 more valuable ; Beneficence toward whom, would have tended 
 more to the publick Good, than that toward our Favourites : 
 But Benevolence toward evil Characters, which neither 
 encourages them, nor enables them to do Mischief, nor diverts 
 our Benevolence from Persons more useful, has as much 
 moral Beauty as any whatsoever. 
 
 121 VIII. In comparing the moral Qualitys of Actions, in 
 order to regulate our Election among various Actions propos'd, 
 or to find which of them has the greatest moral Excellency, 
 we are led by our moral Sense of Virtue to judge thus ; that
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 107 
 
 in equal Degrees of Happiness, expected to proceed from the 
 Action, the Virtue is in proportion to the Number of Persons 
 to whom the Happiness shall extend ; (and here the Dignity, 
 or moral Importance of Persons, may compensate Numbers) 
 and in equal Numbers, the Virtue is as the Quantity of the 
 Happiness, or natural Good ; or that the Virtue is in a com- 
 pound Ratio of the Quantity of Good, and Number of 
 Enjoyers. In the same manner, the moral Evil, or Vice, 
 is as the Degree of Misery, and Number of Sufferers ; so that, 
 that Action is best, which procures the greatest Happiness for 
 the greatest Numbers ; and that, worst, which, in like manner, 
 occasions Misery. 
 
 122 IX. Again, when the Consequences of Actions are of a mix'd 
 Nature, partly Advantageous, and partly Pernicious; that 
 Action is good, whose good Effects preponderate the evil, 
 by being useful to many, and pernicious to few; and that, 
 evil, which is otherwise. Here also the moral Importance 
 of Characters, or Dignity of Persons may compensate Numbers ; 
 as may also the Degrees of Happiness or Misery : for to 
 procure an inconsiderable Good to many, but an immense Evil 
 to few, may be Evil ; and an immense Good to few, may 
 preponderate a small Evil to many. 
 
 But the Consequences which affect the Morality of Actions, 
 are not only the direct and natural Effects of the Actions 
 themselves ; but also all those Events which otherwise would 
 not have happen'd. For many Actions which have no 
 immediate or natural evil Effects, nay, which actually produce 
 good Effects, may be evil; if a man foresees that the evil 
 Consequences, which will probably flow from the Folly of 
 others, upon his doing of such Actions, are so great as to 
 overbalance all the Good produc'd by those Actions, or 
 all the Evils which would flow from the Omission of them : 
 And in such Cases the Probability is to be computed on both 
 sides. Thus if an Action of mine will probably, thro the 
 Mistakes or Corruption of others, be made a Precedent in
 
 io8 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 unlike Cases, to very evil Actions; or when my Action, 
 tho good in it self, will probably provoke Men to very evil 
 Actions, upon some mistaken Notion of their Right; any 
 of these Considerations foreseen by me, may make such an 
 Action of mine evil, whenever the Evils which will probably 
 be occasion'd by the Action, are greater than the Evils 
 occasion'd by the Omission. 
 
 And this is the Reason that many Laws prohibit Actions 
 in general, even when some particular Instances of those 
 Actions would be very useful ; because an universal Allowance 
 of them, considering the Mistakes Men would probably fall 
 into, would be more pernicious than an universal Prohibition ; 
 nor could there be any more special Boundarys fix'd between 
 the right and wrong Cases. In such Cases, it is the Duty 
 of Persons to comply with the generally useful Constitution ; 
 or if in some very important Instances, the Violation of 
 the Law would be of less evil Consequence than Obedience 
 to it, they must patiently resolve to undergo those Penalties, 
 which the State has, for valuable Ends to the Whole, 
 appointed : and this Disobedience will have nothing criminal 
 in it. 
 
 123 X. From the two last Observations, we may see what 
 Actions our moral Sense would most recommend to our 
 Election, as the most perfectly Virtuous : viz. such as appear 
 to have the most universal unlimited Tendency to the greatest 
 and most extensive Happiness of all the rational Agents, to 
 whom our Influence can reach. All Benevolence, even toward 
 a Part, is amiable, when not inconsistent with the Good of 
 the Whole: But this is a smaller Degree of Virtue, unless 
 our Beneficence be restrain'd by want of Power, and not 
 want of Love to the Whole. All strict Attachments to Partys, 
 Sects, Factions, have but an imperfect Species of Beauty, 
 unless when the Good of the Whole requires a stricter Attach- 
 ment to a Part, as in natural Affection, or virtuous Friendships ; 
 or when some Parts are so eminently useful to the Whole,
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 109 
 
 that even universal Benevolence would determine us with 
 special Care and Affection to study their Interests. Thus 
 universal Benevolence would incline us to a more strong 
 Concern for the Interests of great and generous Characters 
 in a high Station, or make us more earnestly study the 
 Interests of any generous Society, whose whole Constitution 
 was contriv'd to promote universal Good. Thus a good 
 fancy in Architecture, would lead a Man, who was not able 
 to bear the Expence of a compleatly regular Building, to 
 chuse such a Degree of Ornament as he could keep uniformly 
 thro the Whole, and not move him to make a vain unfinished 
 Attempt in one Part, of what he foresaw he could not succeed 
 in as to the Whole. And the most perfect Rules of Architecture 
 condemn an excessive Profusion of Ornament on one Part, 
 above the Proportion of the Whole, unless that Part be some 
 eminent Place of the Edifice, such as the chief Front, or 
 publick Entrance ; the adorning of which, would beautify 
 the Whole more than an equal Expence of Ornament on 
 any other Part. 
 
 124 This Increase of the moral Beauty of Actions, or Dispositions, 
 according to the Number of Persons to whom the good Effects 
 of them extend, may shew us the Reason why Actions which 
 flow from the nearer Attachments of Nature, such as that 
 between the Sexes, and the Love of our Offspring, are not so 
 amiable, nor do they appear so virtuous as Actions of equal 
 Moment of Good towards Persons less attach'd to us. The 
 Reason is plainly this. These strong Instincts are by Nature 
 limited to small Numbers of Mankind, such as our Wives or 
 Children ; whereas a Disposition, which would produce a like 
 Moment of Good to others, upon no special Attachment, if it 
 was accompany'd with natural Power to accomplish its Intention, 
 would be incredibly more fruitful of great and good Effects to 
 the Whole. 
 
 125 From this primary Idea of moral Good in Actions, arises the 
 Idea of Good in those Dispositions, whether natural or acquir'd,
 
 110 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 which enable us to do good to others ; or which are presum'd 
 to be design'd, and acquir'd or cultivated for that purpose. 
 And hence those Abilitys, while nothing appears contrary to 
 our Presumption, may increase our Love to the Possessor of 
 them ; but when they are imagin'd to be intended for publick 
 Mischief, they make us hate him the more : Such are a pene- 
 trating Judgment or tenacious Memory, a quick Invention; 
 Patience of Labour, Pain, Hunger, Watching ; a Contempt of 
 Wealth, Rumour, Death. These may be rather call'd natural 
 Abilitys, than moral Qualitys. Now, a Veneration for these 
 Qualitys, any further than they are employ'd for the publick 
 Good, is foolish, and flows from our moral Sense, grounded 
 upon a false Opinion ; for if we plainly see them maliciously 
 employ'd, they make the Agent more detestable. 
 126 XL To find a universal Canon to compute the Morality of 
 any Actions, with all their Circumstances, when we judge of 
 the Actions done by our selves, or by others, we must observe 
 the following Propositions or Axioms. 
 
 1. The moral Importance of any Agent, or the Quantity of 
 publick Good produc'd by him, is in a compound Ratio of his 
 Benevolence and Abilitys : or (by substituting the initial Letters 
 for the Words, as M = Moment of Good, and u= Moment of 
 Evil)M=BxA. 
 
 2. In like manner, the Moment of private Good, or Interest 
 produc'd by any Person to himself, is in a compound Ratio of 
 his Self-Love, and Abilitys : or (substituting the initial Letters) 
 I=SxA. 
 
 3. When in comparing the Virtue of two Actions, the Abilitys 
 of the Agents are equal ; the Moment of publick Good produc'd 
 by them in like Circumstances, is as the Benevolence : or M = 
 Bx i. 
 
 4. When Benevolence in two Agents is equal, and other 
 Circumstances alike ; the Moment of publick Good is as the 
 Abilitys : or M= A x i. 
 
 5. The Virtue then of Agents, or their Benevolence, is always
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. in 
 
 directly as the Moment of Good produc'd in like Circumstances, 
 and inversly as their Ability s : or B=-. 
 
 6. But as the natural Consequences of our Actions are 
 various, some good to our selves, and evil to the Publick ; and 
 others evil to our selves, and good to the Publick ; or either 
 useful both to our selves and others, or pernicious to both ; the 
 entire Motive to good Actions is not always Benevolence alone ; 
 or Motive to Evil, Malice alone ; (nay, this last is seldom any 
 Motive at all) but in most Actions we must look upon Self- 
 Love as another Force, sometimes conspiring with Benevolence, 
 and assisting it, when we are excited by Views of private 
 Interest, as well as publick Good; and sometimes opposing 
 Benevolence, when the good Action is any way difficult or 
 painful in the Performance, or detrimental in ks Consequences 
 to the Agent. In the former Case, M =B + S x A= BA + SA ; 
 
 M I 
 
 and therefore BA = M SA = M I, and B = . In the 
 
 latter Case, M = B S x A= BA SA ; therefore BA =M + 
 SA = M + I, andB = '. 
 
 A 
 
 These selfish Motives shall be l hereafter more fully explain' d ; 
 here we may in general denote them by the Word Interest : 
 which when it concurs with Benevolence, in any Action capable 
 of Increase, or Diminution, must produce a greater Quantity of 
 Good, than Benevolence alone in the same Abilitys ; and 
 therefore when the Moment of Good, in an Action partly in- 
 tended for the Good of the Agent, is but equal to the Moment 
 of Good in the Action of another Agent, influenc'd only by 
 Benevolence, the former is less virtuous : and in this Case the 
 Interest must be deducted to find the true Effect to the Benevo- 
 lence, or Virtue. In the same manner, when Interest is opposite 
 to Benevolence, and yet is surmounted by it ; this Interest must 
 be added to the Moment, to increase the Virtue of the Action, 
 or the Strength of the Benevolence : Or thus, in advantageous 
 1 Vide Sect. v.
 
 1 1 2 HUTCHESON. [Sect III. 
 
 Virtue, B = . And in laborious, painful, dangerous or 
 
 A 
 
 expensive Virtue, B = . By Interest, in this last Case, is 
 
 A 
 
 understood all the Advantage which the Agent might have 
 obtain'd by omitting the Action, which is a negative Motive to 
 it ; and this, when subtracted, becomes positive. 
 
 But here we must observe, that no Advantage, not intended, 
 altho casually, or naturally redounding to us from the Action, 
 does at all affect its Morality to make it less amiable ; nor does 
 any Difficulty or Evil unforeseen, or not resolved upon, make 
 a kind Action more virtuous ; since in such Cases Self- Love 
 neither assists nor opposes Benevolence. Nay, Self-interest 
 then only diminishes the Benevolence, when without this View 
 of Interest the Action would not have been undertaken, or so 
 much Good would not have been produc'd by the Agent ; and 
 it extenuates the Vice of an evil Action, only when without 
 this Interest the Action would not have been pleasing to the 
 Agent, or so much Evil have been produc'd by him. 
 
 The sixth Axiom only explains the external Marks by which 
 Men must judge, who do not see into each others Hearts ; for 
 it may really happen in many Cases, that Men may have 
 Benevolence sufficient to surmount any Difficulty, and yet they 
 may meet with none at all : And in that Case, it is certain there 
 is as much Virtue in the Agent, tho he does not give such 
 Proof of it to his Fellow-Creatures, as if he had surmounted 
 Difficultys in his kind Actions. And this too must be the Case 
 with the DEITY, to whom nothing is difficult. 
 
 Since then Benevolence, or Virtue in any Agent, is as -, or 
 
 A 
 
 as - , and no Being can act above his natural Ability ; 
 
 A 
 
 that must be the Perfection of Virtue where M = A, or when 
 the Being acts to the utmost of his Power for the publick Good ; 
 
 and hence the Perfection of Virtue in this Case, or -, is as 
 
 A
 
 Sect. III.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 113 
 
 Unity. And this may shew us the only Foundation for the 
 boasting of the Stoicks, 'That a Creature suppos'd Innocent 
 by pursuing Virtue with his utmost Power, may in Virtue equal 
 the Gods.' For in their Case, if [A] or the Ability be Infinite, 
 unless [M] or the Good to be produc'd in the whole, be so too, 
 the Virtue is not absolutely perfect ; and the Quotient can never 
 surmount Unity. 
 
 127 XII. The same Axioms may be apply'd to compute the 
 moral Evil in Actions ; that is, calling the Disposition which 
 leads us to Evil, Hatred, tho it is oftner only Self-Love, with 
 Inadvertence to its Consequences : then, 
 
 i st. The Moment of Evil produc'd by any Agent, is as the 
 Product of his Hatred into his Ability, or /*=H x A. And, 
 
 adly. In equal Abilitys, /*= H x I. 
 
 3dly. When Hatred is equal; /*=Ax i : And, 
 
 4thly. The Degree of moral Evil, or Vice, which is equal to the 
 Hatred or Neglect of publick Good, is thus express'd, H = -. 
 
 A 
 
 5thly. The Motives of Interest may co-operate with Hatred , 
 or oppose it the same way as with Benevolence; and then 
 according as Self-interest may partly excite to the Action, and 
 so diminish the Evil ; or dissuade from it, and so increase it 
 
 MI 
 the Malice which surmounts it, or H= r-> in like manner as 
 
 in the Case of moral Good. 
 
 But we must observe, that not only Innocence is expected 
 from all Mortals, but they are presum'd from their Nature, in 
 some measure inclin'd to publick Good ; so that a bare Absence 
 of this Desire is enough to make an Agent be reputed Evil : 
 Nor is a direct Intention of publick Evil necessary to make an 
 Action evil, it is enough that it flows from Self-Love, with 
 a plain Neglect of the Good of others, or an Insensibility of 
 their Misery, which we either actually foresee, or have a 
 probable Presumption of. 
 
 It is true indeed, that that publick Evil which I neither
 
 1 1 4 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 certainly foresee, nor have actual Presumptions of, as the Con- 
 sequence of my Action, does not make my present Action 
 Criminal, or Odious ; even altho I might have foreseen this 
 Evil by a serious Examination of my own Actions ; because 
 such Actions do not, at present, evidence either Malice, or 
 want of Benevolence. But then it is also certain, that my prior 
 Negligence, in not examining the Tendency of my Actions, is 
 a plain Evidence of the want of that Degree of good Affections 
 which is necessary to a virtuous Character ; and consequently 
 the Guilt properly lies in this Neglect, rather than in an Action 
 which really flows from a good Intention. Human Laws how- 
 ever, which cannot examine the Intentions, or secret Knowledge 
 of the Agent, must judge in gross of the Action itself; pre- 
 supposing all that Knowledge as actually attain'd, which we are 
 oblig'd to attain. 
 
 In like manner, no good Effect which I did not actually 
 foresee and intend, makes my Action morally Good ; however 
 Human Laws or Governours, who cannot search into Men's 
 Intentions, or know their secret Designs, justly reward Actions 
 which tend to the publick Good, altho the Agent was engag'd 
 to those Actions only by selfish Views ; and consequently had 
 no virtuous Disposition influencing him to them. 
 
 The difference in degree of Guilt between Crimes of Ignorance 
 when the Ignorance is Vincible, and Faulty, as to the natural 
 Tendency of the Action ; and Crimes of Malice, or direct evil 
 Intention, consists in this ; that the former, by a prior Neglect, 
 argues a want of the due degree of Benevolence, or right 
 Affections ; the latter, evidences direct evil Affections, which 
 are vastly more odious. 
 
 128 XIII. From Axiom the 5th, we may form almost a de- 
 monstrative Conclusion, ' that we have a Sense of Goodness and 
 moral Beauty in Actions, distinct from Advantage ; ' for had 
 we no other Foundation of Approbation of Actions, but the 
 Advantage which might arise to us from them, if they were 
 done toward our selves, we should make no Account of the
 
 Sect. III. CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 115 
 
 Abilitys of the Agent, but would barely esteem them according 
 to their Moment. The Abilitys come in only to shew the 
 Degree of Benevolence, which supposes Benevolence necessarily 
 amiable. Who was ever the better pleas'd with a barren rocky 
 Farm, or an inconvenient House, by being told that the poor 
 Farm gave as great Increase as it could; or that the House 
 accommodated its Possessor as well as it could ? And yet in 
 our Sentiments of Actions, whose Moment is very inconsider- 
 able, it shall wonderfully increase the Beauty to alledge, ' That 
 it was all the poor Agent could do for the Publick, or his Friend.' 
 
 129 XIV. The moral Beauty of Characters arises from their 
 Actions, or sincere Intentions of the publick Good, according to 
 their Power. We form our Judgment of them according to 
 what appears to be their fix'd Disposition, and not according 
 to any particular Sallys of unkind Passions ; altho these abate 
 the Beauty of good Characters, as the Motions of the kind 
 Affections diminish the Deformity of the bad ones. What then 
 properly constitutes a virtuous Character, is not some few 
 accidental Motions of Compassion, natural Affection, or 
 Gratitude ; but such a fix'd Humanity, or Desire of the 
 publick Good of all, to whom our Influence can extend, as 
 uniformly excites us to all Acts of Beneficence, according to our 
 utmost Prudence and Knowledge of the Interests of others : 
 and a strong Benevolence will not fail to make us careful of 
 informing our selves right, concerning the truest Methods of 
 serving the Interests of Mankind. Every Motion indeed of 
 the kind Affections appears in some degree amiable ; but we 
 denominate the Character from the prevailing Principle. 
 
 130 XV. I Know not for what Reason some will not allow that to 
 be Virtue, which flows from Instincts, or Passions ; but how do 
 they help themselves ? They say, 'Virtue arises from Reason.' 
 What is Reason but that Sagacity we have in prosecuting any 
 End ? The ultimate End propos'd by the common Moralists 
 is the Happiness of the Agent himself, and this certainly he is 
 determin'd to pursue from Instinct. Now may not another 
 
 I 2
 
 Il6 HUTCHESON. [Sect. III. 
 
 Instinct toward the Publick, or the Good of others, be as 
 proper a Principle of Virtue, as the Instinct toward private 
 Happiness? And is there not the same Occasion for the 
 Exercise of our Reason in pursuing the former, as the latter ? 
 This is certain, that whereas we behold the selfish Actions of 
 others, with Indifference at best, we see something amiable in 
 every Action which flows from kind Affections or Passions 
 toward others ; if they be conducted by Prudence, so as any 
 way to attain their End. Our passionate Actions, as we shew'd l 
 above, are not always Self-interested ; since our Intention is 
 not to free our selves from the Uneasiness of the Passion, but 
 to alter the State of the Object. 
 
 131 If it be said, ' That Actions from Instinct, are not the Effect 
 of Prudence and Choice ; ' this Objection holds full as strongly 
 against the Actions which flow from Self-Love ; since the use 
 of our Reason is as requisite, to find the proper Means of 
 promoting publick Good, as private Good. And as it must be 
 an Instinct, or a Determination previous to Reason, which 
 makes us pursue private Good, as well as publick Good, as our 
 End ; there is the same occasion for Prudence and Choice, in 
 the Election of proper Means for promoting of either. I see 
 no harm in supposing, ' that Men are naturally dispos'd to 
 Virtue, and not left merely indifferent, to be ingag'd in Actions 
 only as they appear to tend to their own private Good.' Surely, 
 the Supposition of a benevolent universal Instinct, would 
 recommend human Nature, and its AUTHOR, more to the Love 
 of a good Man, and leave room enough for the Exercise of our 
 Reason, in contriving and settling Rights, Laws, Constitutions ; 
 in inventing Arts, and practising them so as to gratify, in the 
 most effectual manner, that generous Inclination. And if we 
 must bring in Self-Love to make Virtue Rational, a little Re- 
 flection will discover, as shall appear hereafter, that this 
 Benevolence is our greatest Happiness ; and thence we may 
 resolve to cultivate, as much as possible, this sweet Disposition, 
 1 See Sect, ii. Art. 8 ( 104).
 
 Sect.III.l CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 117 
 
 and to despise every opposite Interest. Not that we can be 
 truly Virtuous , if we intend only to obtain the Pleasure which 
 accompanies Beneficence, without the Love of others : 'Nay, this 
 very Pleasure is founded on our being conscious of disinterested 
 Love to others, as the Spring of our Actions. But Self-interest 
 may be our Motive, in chusing to continue in this agreeable 
 State, tho it cannot be the sole, or principal Motive of any 
 Action, which to our moral Sense appears Virtuous. 
 132 The applying a mathematical Calculation to moral Subjects, 
 will appear perhaps at first extravagant and wild ; but some 
 Corollarys, which are easily and certainly deduc'd below \ may 
 shew the Conveniency of this Attempt, if it could be further 
 pursu'd. At present, we shall only draw this one, which seems 
 the most joyful imaginable, even to the lowest rank of Mankind, 
 viz. ' That no external Circumstances of Fortune, no involuntary 
 Disadvantages, can exclude any Mortal from the most heroick 
 Virtue.' For how small soever the Moment of publick Good be, 
 which any one can accomplish, yet if his Abilitys are pro- 
 portionably small, the Quotient, which expresses the Degree of 
 Virtue, may be as great as any whatsoever. Thus, not only 
 the Prince, the Statesman, the General, are capable of true 
 Heroism, tho these are the chief Characters, whose Fame is 
 diffus'd thro various Nations and Ages ; but when we find in 
 an honest Trader, the kind Friend, the faithful prudent Adviser, 
 the charitable and hospitable Neighbour, the tender Husband 
 and affectionate Parent, the sedate yet chearful Companion, the 
 generous Assistant of Merit, the cautious Allayer of Contention 
 and Debate, the Promoter of Love and good Understanding 
 among Acquaintances ; if we consider, that these were all the 
 good Offices which his Station in the World gave him an 
 Opportunity of performing to Mankind, we must judge this 
 Character really as amiable, as those, whose external Splendor 
 dazzles an injudicious World into an Opinion, ' that they are 
 the only Heroes in Virtue.' 
 
 1 See Sect. vii. Art. 8, 9 ( 180, 181).
 
 Il8 HUTCHESON. [Sect IV. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 
 ALL MANKIND AGREE IN THIS GENERAL FOUNDATION OF THEIR 
 APPROBATION OF MORAL ACTIONS. THE GROUNDS OF THE 
 DIFFERENT OPINIONS ABOUT MORALS. 
 
 133 I. To shew how far Mankind agree in that which we have 
 made the universal Foundation of this moral Sense, viz. 
 BENEVOLENCE, we have observ'd already 1 , that when we are 
 ask'd the Reason of our Approbation of any Action, we 
 perpetually alledge its Usefulness to the Publick, and not to the 
 Actor himself. If we are vindicating a censur'd Action, and 
 maintaining it lawful, we always make this one Article of our 
 Defence, 'That it injur'd no body, or did more Good than 
 Harm.' On the other hand, when we blame any piece of 
 Conduct, we shew it to be prejudicial to others, besides the 
 Actor ; or to evidence at least a Neglect of their Interest, when 
 it was in our power to serve them ; or when Gratitude, natural 
 Affection, or some other disinterested Tye should have rais'd in 
 us a Study of their Interest. If we sometimes blame foolish 
 Conduct in others, without any reflection upon its Tendency 
 to publick Evil, it is still occasion'd by our Benevolence, which 
 makes us concern'd for the Evils befalling the Agent, whom we 
 must. always look upon as a part of the System. We all know 
 how great an Extenuation of Crimes it is, to alledge, ' That the 
 poor Man does harm to no body but himself ; ' and how often 
 this turns Hatred into Pity. And yet if we examine the 
 Matter well, we shall find, that the greatest part of the Actions 
 which are immediately prejudicial to our selves, and are often 
 look'd upon as innocent toward others, do really tend to the 
 publick Detriment, by making us incapable of performing the 
 good Offices we could otherwise have done, and perhaps would 
 have been inclin'd to do. This is the Case of Intemperance 
 and extravagant Luxury. 
 
 134 II. And further, we may observe, that no Action of any 
 other Person was ever approv'd by us, but upon some Appre- 
 1 See above Sect. iii. Art. 3. Par. 3 ( 113).
 
 Sect. IV.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 119 
 
 hension, well or ill grounded, of some really good moral 
 Quality. If we observe the Sentiments of Men concerning 
 Actions, we shall find, that it is always some really amiable and 
 benevolent Appearance which engages their Approbation. We 
 may perhaps commit Mistakes, in judging that Actions tend 
 to the publick Good, which do not ; or be so stupidly in- 
 advertent, that while our Attention is fix'd on some partial good 
 Effects, we may quite over-look many evil Consequences which 
 counter-ballance the Good. Our Reason may be very deficient 
 in its Office, by giving us partial Representations of the 
 tendency of Actions ; but it is still some apparent Species of 
 Benevolence which commands our Approbation. And this 
 Sense, like our other Senses, tho counter-acted from Motives of 
 external Advantage, which are stronger than it, ceases not to 
 operate, but has Strength enough to make us uneasy and 
 dissatisfy'd with our selves ; even as the Sense of Tasting makes 
 us loath, and dislike the nauseous Potion which we may force 
 our selves, from Interest, to swallow. 
 
 It is therefore to no purpose to alledge here, ' That many 
 Actions are really done, and approv'd, which tend to the 
 universal Detriment.' For the same way, Actions are often 
 perform'd, and in the mean time approv'd, which tend to the 
 Hurt of the Actor. But as we do not from the latter, infer the 
 Actor to be void of Self- Love, or a Sense of Interest ; no more 
 should we infer from the former, that such Men are void of a 
 Sense of Morals, or a desire of publick Good. The matter is 
 plainly this. Men are often mistaken in the Tendency of 
 Actions either to publick, or private Good : Nay, sometimes 
 violent Passions, while they last, will make them approve very 
 bad Actions in a moral Sense, or very pernicious ones to the 
 Agent, as advantageous: But this proves only, 'That some 
 times there may be some more violent Motive to Action, than 
 a Sense of moral Good ; or that Men, by Passion, may become 
 blind even to their own Interest.' 
 
 But to prove that Men are void of a moral Sense, we should
 
 120 HUTCH ESON. [Sect. IV. 
 
 find some Instances of cruel, malicious Actions, done, and 
 approv'd in others, when there is no Motive of Interest, real or 
 apparent, save gratifying that very Desire of Mischief to 
 others : We must find a Country where Murder in cold blood, 
 Tortures, and every thing malicious, without any Advantage, is, 
 if not approv'd, at least look'd upon with indifference, and raises 
 no Adversion toward the Actors in the unconcern'd Spectators : 
 We must find Men with whom the Treacherous, Ungrateful, 
 Cruel, are in the same account with the Generous, Friendly, 
 Faithful, and Humane ; and who approve the latter, no more 
 than the former, in all Cases where they are not affected by the 
 Influence of these Dispositions, or when the natural Good or 
 Evil befals other Persons. And it may be question'd, whether 
 the Universe, tho large enough, and stor'd with no inconsiderable 
 variety of Characters, will yield us any Instance, not only of a 
 Nation, but even of a Club, or a single Person, who will think all 
 Actions indifferent, but those which regard his own Concerns. 
 136 III. From what has been said, we may easily account for 
 the vast Diversity of moral Principles, in various Nations, and 
 Ages ; which is indeed a good Argument against innate Ideas, 
 or Principles, but will not evidence Mankind to be void of a 
 moral Sense to perceive Virtue or Vice in Actions, when they 
 occur to their Observation. 
 
 The Grounds of this Diversity are principally these : 
 i st. Different Opinions of Happiness, or natural Good, and 
 of the most effectual Means to advance it. Thus in one 
 Country, where there prevails a courageous Disposition, where 
 Liberty is counted a great Good, and War an inconsiderable 
 Evil, all Insurrections in Defence of Privileges, will have the 
 Appearance of moral Good to our Sense, because of their 
 appearing benevolent ; and yet the same Sense of moral Good in 
 Benevolence, shall in another Country, where the Spirits of Men 
 are more abject and timorous, where Civil War appears the 
 greatest natural Evil, and Liberty no great Purchase, make the 
 same Actions appear odious. So in SPARTA, where, thro'
 
 Sect. IV.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 121 
 
 Contempt of Wealth, the Security of Possessions was not much 
 regarded, but the thing chiefly desir'd, as naturally good to the 
 State, was to abound in a hardy shifting Youth ; Theft, if 
 dexterously perform'd, was so little odious, that it receiv'd the 
 Countenance of a Law to give it Impunity. 
 
 But in these, and all other Instances of the like nature, the 
 Approbation is founded on Benevolence because of some real, 
 or apparent Tendency to the publick Good. For we are not to 
 imagine, that this Sense should give us, without Observation, 
 Ideas of complex Actions, or of their natural Tendencys to 
 Good or Evil : It only determines us to approve Benevolence, 
 whenever it appears in any Action, and to hate the contrary. 
 So our Sense of Beauty does not, without Reflection, In- 
 struction, or Observation, give us Ideas of the regular Solids, 
 Temples, Cirques, and Theatres ; but determines us to approve 
 and delight in Uniformity amidst Variety, wherever we observe 
 it. Let us read the Preambles of any Laws we count unjust, 
 or the Vindications of any disputed Practice by the Moralists, 
 and we shall find no doubt, that Men are often mistaken in 
 computing the Excess of the natural Good, or evil Consequences 
 of certain Actions ; but the Ground on which any Action is 
 approv'd, is still some Tendency to the greater natural Good 
 of others, apprehended by those who approve it. 
 137 The same Reason may remove also the Objections against 
 the Universality of this Sense, from some Storys of Travellers, 
 concerning strange Crueltys practis'd toward the Aged, or 
 Children, in certain Countrys. If such Actions be done in 
 sudden angry Passions, they only prove, that other Motives, or 
 Springs of Action, may overpower Benevolence in its strongest 
 Ties ; and if they really be universally allow'd, look'd upon as 
 innocent, and vindicated ; it is certainly under some Appear- 
 ance of Benevolence ; such as to secure them from Insults of 
 Enemys, to avoid the Infirmitys of Age, which perhaps appear 
 greater Evils than Death, or to free the vigorous and useful 
 Citizens from the Charge of maintaining them, or the Troubles
 
 122 HUTCHESON. [Sect IV. 
 
 of Attendance upon them. A love of Pleasure and Ease, may, 
 in the immediate Agents, be stronger in some Instances, than 
 Gratitude toward Parents, or natural Affection to Children. 
 But that such Nations are continu'd, notwithstanding all the 
 Toil in educating their Young, is still a sufficient Proof of 
 natural Affection : For I fancy we are not to imagine any nice 
 Laws in such places, compelling Parents to a proper Education 
 of some certain number of their Offspring. We know very 
 well that an Appearance of publick Good, was the Ground of 
 Laws, equally barbarous, enacted by LYCURGUS and SOLON, of 
 killing the deform'd, or weak, to prevent a burdensome Croud 
 of useless Citizens. 
 
 ******* 
 
 138 Men have Reason given them, to judge of the Tendencys 
 of their Actions, that they may not stupidly follow the first 
 Appearance of publick Good ; but it is still some Appearance 
 of Good which they pursue. And it is strange, that Reason 
 is universally allow'd to Men, notwithstanding all the stupid, 
 ridiculous Opinions receiv'd in many Places, and yet absurd 
 Practices, founded upon those very Opinions, shall seem an 
 Argument against any moral Sense ; altho the bad Conduct 
 is not owing to any Irregularity in the moral Sense, but 
 to a wrong Judgment or Opinion. If putting the Aged to 
 death, with all its Consequences, really tends to the publick 
 Good, and to the lesser Misery of the Aged, it is no doubt 
 justifiable; nay, perhaps the Aged chuse it, in hopes of 
 a future State. If a deform'd, or weak Race, could never, 
 by Ingenuity and Art, make themselves useful to Mankind, 
 but should grow an absolutely unsupportable Burden, so as 
 to involve a whole State in Misery, it is just to put them 
 to death. This all allow to be just, in the Case of an over- 
 loaded Boat in a Storm. And as for killing of their Children, 
 when Parents are sufficiently stock'd, it is perhaps practis'd, 
 and allow'd from Self-love ; but I can scarce think it passes 
 for a good Action any where. If Wood, or Stone, or Metal
 
 Sect. IV.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 123 
 
 be a DEITY, have Government, and Power, and have been 
 the Authors of Benefits to us ; it is morally amiable to praise 
 and worship them. Or if the true DEITY be pleas'd with 
 Worship before Statues, or any other Symbol of some more 
 immediate Presence, or Influence ; Image- Worship is virtuous. 
 If he delights in Sacrifices, Penances, Ceremonys, Cringings; 
 they are all laudable. Our Sense of Virtue, generally leads us 
 exactly enough according to our Opinions ; and therefore the 
 absurd Practices which prevail in the World, are much better 
 Arguments that Men have no Reason, than that they have no 
 moral Sense of Beauty in Actions. 
 
 139 IV. The next Ground of Diversity in Sentiments, is the 
 Diversity of Systems, to which Men, from foolish Opinions, 
 confine their Benevolence. We insinuated above 1 , that it is 
 regular and beautiful to have stronger Benevolence, toward 
 the morally good Parts of Mankind, who are useful to the 
 Whole, than toward the useless or pernicious. Now if Men 
 receive a low, or base Opinion of any Body, or Sect of Men ; 
 if they imagine them bent upon the Destruction of the more 
 valuable Parts, or but useless Burdens of the Earth ; Benevo- 
 lence itself will lead them to neglect the Interests of such, and 
 to suppress them. This is the Reason, why, among Nations 
 who have high Notions of Virtue, every Action toward an 
 Enemy may pass for just ; why ROMANS, and GREEKS, could 
 approve of making those they call'd Barbarians, Slaves. 
 
 A late ingenious Author 2 justly observes, ' That the various 
 Sects, Partys, Factions, Cabals of Mankind in larger Societys, 
 are all influenced by a publick Spirit : That some generous 
 Notions of publick Good, some strong friendly Dispositions, 
 raise them at first, and excite Men of the same Faction or 
 Cabal to the most disinterested mutual Succour and Aid : 
 That all the Contentions of the different Factions, and even 
 the fiercest Wars against each other, are influenc'd by a sociable 
 
 1 See Sect. iii. Art. to. Par. i ( I23\ 
 
 2 Ld. Shaftesbury's Essay on Wit and Humour, Part. iii. Sect. ii.
 
 124 HUTCHESON. [Sect. IV. 
 
 publick Spirit in a limited System.' But certain it is, that 
 Men are little oblig'd to those, who often artfully raise and 
 foment this Party Spirit ; or cantonize them into several Sects 
 for the Defence of very trifling Causes. 
 
 ******* 
 
 140 Were we freely conversant with Robbers, who shew a moral 
 Sense in the equal or proportionable Division of their Prey, 
 and in Faith to each other, we should find they have their 
 own sublime moral Ideas of their Party, as Generous, 
 Courageous, Trusty, nay Honest too; and that those we 
 call Honest and Industrious, are imagin'd by them to be 
 Mean-spirited, Selfish, Churlish, or Luxurious ; on whom that 
 Wealth is ill bestow'd which therefore they would apply to 
 better Uses, to maintain gallanter Men, who have a Right 
 to a Living as well as their Neighbours, who are their profess'd 
 Enemys. Nay, if we observe the Discourse of our profess'd 
 Debauchees, our most dissolute Rakes, we shall find their Vices 
 cloth'd, in their Imaginations, with some amiable Dress of 
 Liberty, Generosity, just Resentment against the Contrivers of 
 artful Rules to enslave Men, and rob them of their Pleasures. 
 
 141 Perhaps never any Men pursu'd Vice long with Peace 
 of Mind, without some such deluding Imagination of moral 
 Good *, while they may be still inadvertent to the barbarous 
 and inhuman Consequences of their Actions. The Idea of 
 an ill-natur'd Villain, is too frightful ever to become familiar 
 to any Mortal. Here we shall find, that the basest Actions 
 are dress'd in some tolerable Mask. What others call Avarice, 
 appears to the Agent a prudent Care of a Family, or Friends ; 
 Fraud, artful Conduct ; Malice and Revenge, a just Sense 
 of Honour and a Vindication of our Right in Possessions, 
 of Fame ; Fire and Sword, and Desolation among Enemys, 
 a just thorow Defence of our Country ; Persecution, a Zeal 
 for the Truth, and for the eternal Happiness of Men, which 
 Hereticks oppose. In all these Instances, Men generally 
 1 See below, Sect. vi. Art. 2. Par. 2 ( 161).
 
 Sect. IV.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. I2g 
 
 act from a Sense of Virtue upon false Opinions, and mistaken 
 Benevolence ; upon wrong or partial Views of publick Good, 
 and the means to promote it ; or upon very narrow Systems 
 form'd by like foolish Opinions. It is not a Delight in the 
 Misery of others, or Malice, which occasions the horrid Crimes 
 which fill our Historys ; but generally an injudicious unreason- 
 able Enthusiasm for some kind of limited Virtue. 
 Insani sapiens nomen ferat, sequus iniqui, 
 Ultra, quam satis est, VIRTUTEM si petat ipsam l . 
 
 142 V. The last Ground of Diversity which occurs, are the 
 false Opinions of the Will or Laws of the DEITY. To obey 
 these we are determin'd from Gratitude, and a Sense of Right 
 imagin'd in the DEITY, to dispose at pleasure the Fortunes 
 of his Creatures. This is so abundantly known to have 
 produc'd Follys, Superstitions, Murders, Devastations of King- 
 doms, from a Sense of Virtue and Duty, that it is needless 
 to mention particular Instances. Only we may observe, 
 'That all those Follys, or Barbaritys, rather confirm than 
 destroy the Opinion of a moral Sense;' since the DEITY 
 is believ'd to have a Right to dispose of his Creatures ; 
 and Gratitude to him, if he be conceiv'd good, must move 
 us to Obedience to his Will : if he be not conceiv'd good, 
 Self-Love may overcome our moral Sense of the Action which 
 we undertake to avoid his Fury. 
 
 As for the Vices which commonly proceed from Love 
 of Pleasure, or any violent Passion, since generally the Agent 
 is soon sensible of their Evil, and that sometimes amidst 
 the heat of the Action, they only prove, 'That this moral 
 Sense, and Benevolence, may be overcome by the more 
 importunate Solicitations of other Desires.' 
 
 143 VI. Before we leave this Subject, it is necessary to remove 
 one of the strongest Objections against what has been said 
 so often, viz. 'That this Sense is natural, and independent 
 on Custom and Education.' The Objection is this, 'That 
 
 1 Hor. Ep. 6. Lib. i. v. 15.
 
 126 HUTCHESON. [Sect. IV 
 
 we shall find some Actions always attended with the strongest 
 Abhorrence, even at first View, in some whole Nations, 
 in which there appears nothing contrary to Benevolence ; and 
 that the same Actions shall in another Nation be counted 
 innocent, or honourable. Thus Incest, among Christians, is 
 abhorr'd at first appearance as much as Murder; even by 
 those who do not know or reflect upon any necessary ten- 
 dency of it to the detriment of Mankind. Now we generally 
 allow, that what is from Nature in one Nation, would be so in 
 all. This Abhorrence therefore cannot be from Nature, since 
 in GREECE, the marrying half Sisters was counted honourable ; 
 and among the Persian MAGI, the marrying of Mothers. Say 
 they then, may not all our Approbation or Dislike of Actions 
 arise the same way from Custom and Education ? ' 
 
 The Answer to this may be easily found from what is already 
 said. Had we no moral Sense natural to us, we should only 
 look upon Incest as hurtful to our selves, and shun it, and 
 never hate other incestuous Persons, more than we do a broken 
 Merchant ; so that still this Abhorrence supposes a Sense of 
 moral Good. And further, it is true, that many who abhor 
 Incest do not know, or reflect upon the natural tendency of 
 some sorts of Incest to the publick Detriment ; but wherever it 
 is hated, it is apprehended as offensive to the DEITY, and that 
 it exposes the Persons concern'd to his just Vengeance. Now 
 it is universally acknowledg'd to be the grossest Ingratitude 
 and Baseness, in any Creature, to counteract the Will of the 
 DEITY, to whom it is under such Obligations. This then is 
 plainly a moral evil Quality apprehended in Incest, and re- 
 ducible to the general Foundation of Malice, or rather Want of 
 Benevolence. Nay further, where this Opinion, ' that Incest is 
 offensive to the DETTY,' prevails, Incest must have another 
 direct Contrariety to Benevolence ; since we must apprehend 
 the Incestuous, as exposing an Associate, who should be dear 
 to him by the Ties of Nature, to the lowest State of Misery 
 and Baseness, Infamy and Punishment. But in those Countrys
 
 Sect.V.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 127 
 
 where no such Opinion prevails of the DEITY'S abhorring or 
 prohibiting Incest ; if no obvious natural Evils attend it, it may 
 be look'd upon as innocent. And further, as Men who have 
 the Sense of Tasting, may, by Company and Education, have 
 Prejudices against Meats they never tasted, as unsavoury ; so 
 may Men, who have a moral Sense, acquire an Opinion by 
 implicit Faith, of the moral Evil of Actions, altho they do not 
 themselves discern in them any tendency to natural Evil ; 
 imagining that others do : or, by Education, they may have 
 some Ideas associated, which raise an abhorrence without 
 Reason. But without a moral Sense, we could receive no 
 Prejudice against Actions, under any other View than as 
 naturally disadvantageous to our selves. 
 
 144 VII. The Universality of this moral Sense, and that it is 
 antecedent to Instruction, may appear from observing the 
 Sentiments of Children, upon hearing the Storys with which 
 they are commonly entertain'd as soon as they understand 
 Language. They always passionately interest themselves on 
 that side where Kindness and Humanity are found ; and 
 detest the Cruel, the Covetous, the Selfish, or the Treacherous. 
 How strongly do we see their passions of Joy, Sorrow, Love, 
 and Indignation, mov'd by these moral Representations, even 
 tho there has been no pains taken to give them Ideas of 
 a DEITY, of Laws, of a future State, or of the more intricate 
 Tendency of the universal Good to that of each Individual ! 
 
 Sect. V. 
 
 A FURTHER CONFIRMATION THAT WE HAVE PRACTICAL DIS- 
 POSITIONS TO VIRTUE IMPLANTED IN OUR NATURE; WITH 
 A FURTHER EXPLICATION OF OUR INSTINCT TO BENEVOLENCE 
 IN ITS VARIOUS DEGREES ; WITH THE ADDITIONAL MOTIVES 
 OF INTEREST, VIZ. HONOUR, SHAME AND PlTY. 
 
 145 I. We have already endeavour'd to prove, ' That there is 
 a universal Determination to Benevolence in Mankind, even 
 toward the most distant parts of the Species : ' But we are not
 
 128 HUTCH ESON. [Sect. V. 
 
 to imagine that this Benevolence is equal, or in the same 
 degree toward all. There are some nearer and stronger 
 Degrees of Benevolence, when the Objects stand in some 
 nearer relations to our selves, which have obtain'd distinct 
 Names ; such as natural Affection, and Gratitude ; or when 
 Benevolence is increas'd by greater Love of Esteem. 
 
 One Species of natural Affection, viz, that in Parents towards 
 their Children, has been consider'd already ' ; we shall only 
 observe further, that there is the same kind of affection among 
 collateral Relations, tho in a weaker degree; which is universally 
 observable where no Opposition of Interest produces contrary 
 Actions, or counterbalances the Power of this natural affec- 
 tion. 
 
 We may also observe, that as to the Affection of Parents, it 
 cannot be entirely founded on Merit or Acquaintance ; not only 
 because it is antecedent to all Acquaintance, which might 
 occasion the Love of Esteem ; but because it operates where 
 Acquaintance would produce Hatred, even toward Children 
 apprehended to be vitious. And this Affection is further 
 confirm'd to be from NATURE, because it is always observ'd 
 to descend, and not ascend from Children to Parents mutually. 
 NATURE, who seems sometimes frugal in her Operations, has 
 strongly determin'd Parents to the Care of their Children, 
 because they universally stand in absolute need of Support 
 from them ; but has left it to Reflection, and a Sense of 
 Gratitude, to produce Returns of Love in Children, toward 
 such tender kind Benefactors, who very seldom stand in such 
 absolute need of Support from their Posterity, as their Children 
 did from them. Now did Acquaintance, or Merit produce 
 natural Affection, we surely should find it strongest in Children, 
 on whom all the Obligations are laid by a thousand good 
 Offices ; which yet is quite contrary to Observation. Nay, this 
 Principle seems not confin'd to Mankind, but extends to other 
 Animals, where yet we scarcely ever suppose any Ideas of 
 
 1 See above, Sect, ii. Art. 9. Par. 2, 3 ( 122).
 
 Sect.V.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 129 
 
 Merit ; and is observ'd to continue in them no longer than the 
 Necessitys of their Young require. Nor could it be of any 
 service to the Young that it should, since when they are grown 
 up, they can receive little Benefit from the Love of their Dams, 
 But as it is otherwise with rational Agents, so their Affections 
 are of longer continuance, even during their whole lives. 
 146 II. But nothing will give us a juster Idea of the wise Order 
 in which human Nature is form'd for universal Love, and 
 mutual good Offices, than considering that strong attraction of 
 Benevolence, which we call Gratitude. Every one knows that 
 Beneficence toward our selves makes a much deeper Impression 
 upon us, and raises Gratitude, or a stronger Love toward the 
 Benefactor, than equal Beneficence toward a third Person J . 
 Now because of the vast Numbers of Mankind, their distant 
 Habitations, and the Incapacity of any one to be remarkably 
 useful to vast Multitudes ; that our Benevolence might not be 
 quite distracted with a multiplicity of Objects, whose equal 
 Virtues would equally recommend them to our regard; or 
 become useless, by being equally extended to Multitudes at 
 vast distances, whose Interests we could not understand, nor be 
 capable of promoting, having no Intercourse of Offices with 
 them ; NATURE has more powerfully determin'd us to admire, 
 and love the moral Qualitys of others which affect our selves, 
 and has given us more powerful Impressions of Good-will 
 toward those who are beneficent to our selves. This we call 
 Gratitude. And thus a Foundation is laid for joyful Associa- 
 tions in all kinds of Business, and virtuous Friendships. 
 
 By this Constitution also the Benefactor is more encourag'd 
 in his Beneficence, and better secur'd of an increase of Happi- 
 ness by grateful Returns 2 , than if his Virtue were only to be 
 honour'd by the colder general Sentiments of Persons un- 
 concern'd, who could not know his Necessitys, nor how to be 
 profitable to him ; especially, when they would all be equally 
 
 1 See above, Sect. ii. Art. 6. Par. 3 ( 100). 
 
 2 See above, Sect. iii. Art. 2. Par. 2 ( 93). 
 
 * K
 
 130 HUTCHESON. [Sect.V. 
 
 determin'd to love innumerable Multitudes, whose equal 
 Virtues would have the same Pretensions to their Love, were 
 there not an increase of Love, according as the Object is more 
 nearly attach'd to us, or our Friends, by good Offices which 
 affect our selves, or them. 
 
 147 This universal Benevolence toward all Men, we may compare 
 to that Principle of Gravitation, which perhaps extends to all 
 Bodys in the Universe; but, like the Love of Benevolence, 
 increases as the Distance is diminish'd, and is strongest when 
 Bodys come to touch each other. Now this increase of At- 
 traction upon nearer Approach, is as necessary to the Frame 
 of the Universe, as that there should be any Attraction at all. 
 For a general Attraction, equal in all Distances, would by the 
 Contrariety of such multitudes of equal Forces, put an end to 
 all Regularity of Motion, and perhaps stop it altogether. 
 
 This increase of Love toward the Benevolent, according to 
 their nearer Approaches to our selves by their Benefits, is 
 observable in the high degree of Love, which Heroes and Law- 
 givers universally obtain in their own Countrys, above what 
 they find abroad, even among those who are not insensible of 
 their Virtues; and in all the strong Ties of Friendship, Ac- 
 quaintance, Neighbourhood, Partnership; which are exceedingly 
 necessary to the Order and Happiness of human Society. 
 
 148 III. From considering that strong Determination in our 
 Nature to Gratitude, and Love toward our Benefactors, which 
 was already shewn to be disinterested ' ; we are easily led to 
 consider another Determination of our Minds, equally natural 
 with the former, which is to delight in the good Opinion and 
 Love of others, even when we expect no other Advantage from 
 them, except what flows from this Constitution, whereby 
 HONOUR is made an immediate Good. This Desire of Honour 
 I would call AMBITION, had not Custom join'd some evil Ideas 
 to that Word, making it denote such a violent desire of Honour, 
 and of Power also, as will make us stop at no base Means 
 
 1 See above, Sect. ii. Art. 6 ( 98-100).
 
 Sect.V.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 131 
 
 to obtain them. On the other hand, we are by NATURE 
 subjected to a grievous Sensation of Misery, from the unfavour- 
 able Opinions of others concerning us, even when we dread no 
 other Evil from them. This we call SHAME ; which in the same 
 manner is constituted an immediate Evil, as we said Honour 
 was an immediate Good. 
 
 Now were there no moral Sense, or had we no other Idea of 
 Actions but as advantageous or hurtful, I see no reason why 
 we should be delighted with Honour, or subjected to the un- 
 easiness of Shame ; or how it could ever happen, that a Man, 
 who is secure from Punishment for any Action, should ever be 
 uneasy at its being known to all the World. The World may 
 have the worse Opinion of him for it ; but what subjects my 
 Ease to the Opinion of the World ? Why, perhaps, we shall 
 not be so much trusted henceforward in Business, and so suffer 
 Loss. If this be the only reason of Shame, and it has no 
 immediate Evil, or Pain in it, distinct from Fear of Loss ; 
 then wherever we expose ourselves to Loss, we should be 
 asham'd and endeavour to conceal the Action : and yet it is 
 quite otherwise. 
 
 A Merchant, for instance, lest it should impair his Credit, 
 conceals a Shipwrack, or a very bad Market, which he has 
 sent his Goods to. But is this the same with the Passion of 
 SHAME ? Has he that Anguish, that Dejection of Mind, and 
 Self-condemnation, which one shall have whose Treachery is 
 detected ? Nay, how will Men sometimes glory in their Losses, 
 when in a Cause imagin'd morally good, tho they really weaken 
 their Credit in the Merchant's Sense ; that is, the Opinion of 
 their Wealth, or fitness for Business? Was any Man ever asham'd 
 of impoverishing himself to serve his Country, or his Friend ? 
 149 IV. The Opinions of our Country are by some made the 
 first Standard of Virtue. They alledge, ' That by comparing 
 Actions to them, we first distinguish between moral Good, and 
 Evil : And then, say they, AMBITION, or the Love of HONOUR, 
 is our chief Motive/ But what is Honour ? It is not the being 
 
 K 2
 
 132 HUTCHESON. [Sect. V. 
 
 universally known, no matter how. A covetous Man is not 
 honour'd by being universally known as covetous ; nor a weak, 
 selfish, or luxurious Man, when he is known to be so : Much 
 less can a treacherous, cruel, or ungrateful Man, be said to be 
 honour'd for his being known as such. A Posture-master, 
 a Fire-eater, or Practiser of Leger-de-main, is not honour'd for 
 these publick Shews, unless we consider him as a Person 
 capable of giving the Pleasures of Admiration and Surprize to 
 Multitudes. Honour then is the Opinion of others concerning 
 our morally good Actions, or Abilitys presum'd to be apply'd 
 that way ; for Abilitys constantly apply'd to other Purposes, 
 procure the greatest Infamy. Now, it is certain, that Ambition, 
 or Love of Honour is really selfish ; but then this Determina- 
 tion to love Honour, presupposes a Sense of moral Virtue, 
 both in the Persons who confef the Honour, and in him 
 who pursues it. 
 
 And let it be observ'd, that if we knew an Agent had no 
 other Motive of Action than Ambition, we should apprehend 
 no Virtue even in his most useful Actions, since they flow'd 
 not from any Love to others, or Desire of their Happiness. 
 When Honour is thus constituted by NATURE pleasant to us, 
 it may be an additional Motive to Virtue, as we said above *, 
 the Pleasure arising from Reflection on our Benevolence was : 
 but the Person whom we imagine perfectly virtuous, acts 
 immediately from the Love of others ; however these refin'd 
 Interests may be joint Motives to him to set about such 
 a Course of Actions, or to cultivate every kind Inclination, 
 and to despise every contrary Interest, as giving a smaller 
 Happiness than Reflection on his own Virtue, and Conscious- 
 ness of the Esteem of others. 
 
 Shame is in the same manner constituted an immediate 
 Evil, and influences us the same way to abstain from moral 
 Evil ; not that any Action or Omission would appear virtuous, 
 where the sole Motive was Fear of Shame. 
 
 1 See Sect. iii. Art. 15. Par. 2 ( 131).
 
 Sect.V.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 133 
 
 150 V. But to enquire further, how far the Opinions of our 
 Company can raise a Sense of moral Good or Evil. If any 
 Opinion be universal in any Country, Men of little Reflec- 
 tion will probably embrace it. If an Action be believ'd to 
 be advantageous to the Agent, we may be led to believe so 
 too, and then Self-Love may make us undertake it ; or may, 
 the same way, make us shun an Action reputed pernicious 
 to the Agent. If an Action pass for advantageous to the 
 Publick, we may believe so too ; and what next ? If we 
 have no disinterested Benevolence, what shall move us to 
 undertake it ? ' Why, we love Honour ; and to obtain this 
 Pleasure, we will undertake the Action from Self-Interest.' Now, 
 is Honour only the Opinion of our Country that an Action is 
 advantageous to the Publick ? No : we see no Honour paid 
 to the useful Treachery of an Enemy whom we have brib'd to 
 our Side, to casual undesign'd Services, or to the most useful 
 Effects of Compulsion on Cowards ; and yet we see Honour 
 paid to unsuccessful Attempts to serve the Publick from sincere 
 Love to it. Honour then presupposes a Sense of something 
 amiable besides Advantage, viz. a Sense of Excellence in 
 a publick Spirit ; and therefore the first Sense of moral Good 
 must be antecedent to Honour, for Honour is founded upon it. 
 The Company we keep may lead us, without examining, to 
 believe that certain Actions tend to the publick Good ; but that 
 our Company honours such Actions, and loves the Agent, 
 must flow from a Sense of some Excellence in this Love of 
 the Publick, and serving its Interests. 
 
 151 ' We therefore, say they again, pretend to love the Publick, 
 altho we only desire the Pleasure of Honour; and we will 
 applaud all who seem to act in that manner, either that we may 
 reap Advantage from their Actions, or that others may believe 
 we really love the Publick.' But shall any Man ever really love 
 the Publick, or study the Good of others in his heart, if Self- 
 love be the only spring of his Actions ? No : that is impos- 
 sible. Or, shall we ever really love Men who appear to love
 
 134 HUTCH ESON. [Sect. v. 
 
 the Publick, without a moral Sense ? No : we could form no 
 Idea of such a Temper ; and as for these Pretenders to publick 
 Love, we should hate them as Hypocrites, and our Rivals in 
 Fame. Now this is all which could be effected by the Opinions 
 of our Country, even supposing they had a moral Sense, 
 provided we had none our selves : They never could make us 
 admire Virtue, or virtuous Characters in others; but could 
 only give us Opinions of Advantage, or Disadvantage in 
 Actions, according as they tended to procure us the Pleasures 
 of Honour, or the Pain of Shame. 
 
 But if we suppose that Men have, by NATURE, a moral 
 Sense of Goodness in Actions, and that they are capable of 
 disinterested Love ; all is easy. The Opinions of our Company 
 may make us rashly conclude, that certain Actions tend to the 
 universal Detriment, and are morally Evil, when perhaps they 
 are not so ; and then our Sense may determine us to have an 
 Aversion to them, and their Authors ; or we may, the same 
 way, be led into implicit Prejudices in favour of Actions as 
 good ; and then our desire of Honour may co-operate with 
 Benevolence, to move us to such Actions : but had we no 
 Sense of moral Qualitys in Actions, nor any Conceptions of 
 them, except as advantageous or hurtful, we never could have 
 honour'd or lov'd Agents for publick Love, or had any regard 
 to their Actions, further than they affected our selves in 
 particular. We might have form'd the metaphysical Idea of 
 publick Good, but we had never desir'd it, further than it tended 
 to our own private Interest, without a Principle of Benevolence; 
 nor admir'd and lov'd those who were studious of it, without 
 a moral Sense. So far is Virtue from being (in the Language 
 of a late ' Author) the Offspring of Flattery, begot upon Pride ; 
 that Pride, in the bad meaning of that Word, is the spurious 
 Brood of Ignorance by our moral Sense, and Flattery only an 
 Engine, which the Cunning may use to turn this moral Sense 
 in others, to the Purposes of Self-love in the Flatterer. 
 1 Author of the Fable of the Bees, pag. 37. $rd Ed.
 
 Sect.v.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 135 
 
 152 VI. To explain what has been said of the Power of Honour. 
 Suppose a STATE or PRINCE, observing the Money which is 
 drawn out of England by Italian Musicians, should decree 
 Honours, Statues, Titles, for great Musicians : This would 
 certainly excite all who had hopes of Success, to the Study of 
 Musick ; and Men of a good Ear would approve of the good 
 Performers as useful Subjects, as well as very entertaining. 
 But would this give all Men a good Ear, or make them delight 
 in Harmony? Or could it ever make us really love a Musician, 
 who study 'd nothing but his own Gain, in the same manner we 
 do a Patriot, or a generous Friend ? I doubt not. And yet 
 Friendship, without the Assistance of Statues, or Honours, can 
 make Persons appear exceedingly amiable. 
 
 Let us take another Instance. Suppose Statues, and 
 triumphal Arches were decreed, as well as a large Sum of 
 Money, to the Discoverer of the Longitude, or any other 
 useful Invention in Mathematicks : This would raise a universal 
 Desire of such Knowledge from Self- Love; but would Men 
 therefore love a Mathematician as they do a virtuous Man ? 
 Would a Mathematician love every Person who had attain'd 
 Perfection in that Knowledge, wherever he observ'd it, altho 
 he knew that it was not accompany'd with any Love to 
 Mankind, or Study of their Good, but with Ill-nature, Pride, 
 Covetousness ? In short, let us honour other Qualitys by 
 external Shew as much as we please, if we do not discern 
 a benevolent Intention in the Application, or presume upon it; 
 we may look upon these Qualitys as useful, enriching, or 
 otherwise advantageous to any one who is possess'd of them ; 
 but they shall never meet with those endearing Sentiments of 
 Esteem and Love, which our Nature determines us to appro- 
 priate to Benevolence, or Virtue. 
 
 153 Love of Honour, and Aversion to Shame, may often move 
 us to do Actions for which others profess to honour us, even 
 tho we see no Good in them our selves : And Compliance with 
 the Inclinations of others, as it evidences Humanity, may
 
 136 HUTCHESON. [Sect. V. 
 
 procure some Love to the Agent, from Spectators who see no 
 moral Good in the Action it self. But without some Sense of 
 Good in the Actions, Men shall never be fond of such Actions 
 in Solitude, nor ever love any one for Perfection in them, or 
 for practising them in Solitude ; and much less shall they be 
 dissatisfy'd with themselves when they act otherwise in Solitude. 
 Now this is the case with us, as to Virtue ; and therefore we 
 must have, by NATURE, a moral Sense of it antecedent to Honour. 
 This will shew us with what Judgment a late - 1 Author com- 
 pares the Original of our Ideas of Virtue, and Approbation of 
 it, to the manner of regulating the Behaviour of aukard Children 
 by Commendation. It shall appear afterward 2 , that our 
 Approbation of some Gestures, and what we call Decency in 
 Motion, depends upon some moral Ideas in People of advanc'd 
 Years. But before Children come to observe this Relation, it 
 is only good Nature, an Inclination to please, and Love of 
 Praise, which makes them endeavour to behave as they are 
 desir'd; and not any Perception of Excellence in this Behaviour. 
 Hence they are not sollicitous about Gestures when alone, 
 unless with a View to please when they return to Company ; 
 nor do they ever love or approve others for any Perfection of 
 this kind, but rather envy or hate them ; till they either discern 
 the Connexion between Gestures, and moral Qualitys ; or 
 reflect on the good Nature, which is evidenc'd by such a Com- 
 pliance with the desire of the Company. 
 
 154 VII. The considering Honour in the manner above explain'd, 
 may shew us the reason, why Men are often asham'd for things 
 which are not vitious, and honour'd for what is not virtuous. 
 For, if any Action only appears vitious to any Persons or 
 Company, altho it be not so, they will have a bad Idea of the 
 Agent ; and then he may be asham'd, or suffer Uneasiness in 
 being thought morally Evil. The same way, those who look 
 upon an Action as morally good, will honour the Agent, and he 
 
 1 See the Fable of the Bees,/az 38. yd Ed. 
 
 2 See Sect. vi. Art. 4 ( 163).
 
 Sect.V.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 137 
 
 may be pleas'd with the Honour, altho he does not himself 
 perceive any moral Good in what has procur'd it. 
 
 Again, we shall be asham'd of every Evidence of moral 
 Incapacity, or Want of Ability ; and with good ground, when 
 this Want is occasion'd by our own Negligence. Nay further, 
 if any Circumstance be look'd upon as indecent in any Country, 
 offensive to others, or deform 'd ; we shall, out of our Love to 
 the good Opinions of others, be asham'd to be found in such 
 Circumstances, even when we are sensible that this Indecency 
 or Offence is not founded on Nature, but is merely the Effect 
 of Custom. Thus being observ'd in those Functions of Nature 
 which are counted indecent and offensive, will make us uneasy, 
 altho we are sensible that they really do not argue any Vice or 
 Weakness. But on the contrary, since moral Abilitys of any 
 kind, upon the general Presumption of a good Application, 
 procure the Esteem of others, we shall value our selves upon 
 them, or grow proud of them, and be asham'd of any Discovery 
 of our want of such Abilitys. This is the reason that Wealth 
 and Power, the great Engines of Virtue, when presum'd to be 
 intended for benevolent Purposes, either toward our Friends or 
 our Country, procure Honour from others, and are apt to beget 
 Pride in the Possessor ; which, as it is a general Passion which 
 may be either good or evil, according as it is grounded, we may 
 describe to be the Joy which arises from the real or imagin'd 
 Possession of Honour, or Claim to it. The same are the 
 Effects of Knowledge, Sagacity, Strength ; and hence it is that 
 Men are apt to boast of them. 
 
 But whenever it appears that Men have only their private 
 Advantage in view, in the application of these Abilitys, or 
 natural Advantages, the Honour ceases, and we study to 
 conceal them, or at least are not fond of displaying them ; and 
 much more when there is any Suspicion of an ill-natur'd 
 Application. Thus some Misers are asham'd of their Wealth, 
 and study to conceal it ; as the malicious or selfish do their 
 Power : Nay, this is very often done where there is no positive
 
 138 HUTCHESON. [Sect. V. 
 
 evil Intention; because the diminishing their Abilitys, increases 
 the moral Good of any little kind Action, which they can find 
 in their hearts to perform. 
 
 In short, we always see Actions which flow from publick 
 Love, accompany'd with generous Boldness and Openness; 
 and not only malicious, but even selfish ones, the matter of 
 Shame and Confusion ; and that Men study to conceal them. 
 The Love of private Pleasure is the ordinary occasion of Vice ; 
 and when Men have got any lively Notions of Virtue, they 
 generally begin to be asham'd of every thing which betrays 
 Selfishness, even in Instances where it is innocent. We are apt 
 to imagine, that others observing us in such Pursuits, form 
 mean Opinions of us, as too much set on private Pleasure ; 
 and hence we shall find such Enjoyments, in most polite 
 Nations, conceal'd from those who do not partake with us. 
 Such are venereal Pleasures between Persons marry'd, and 
 even eating and drinking alone, any nicer sorts of Meats or 
 Drinks; whereas a hospitable Table is rather matter of 
 boasting ; and so are all other kind, generous Offices between 
 marry'd Persons, where there is no Suspicion of Self-love in the 
 Agent ; but he is imagin'd as acting from Love to his Associate. 
 This, I fancy, first introduc'd Ideas of Modesty in polite Nations, 
 and Custom has strengthen'd them wonderfully ; so that we 
 are now asham'd of many things, upon some confus'd implicit 
 Opinions of moral Evil, tho we know not upon what account. 
 
 Here too we may see the reason, why we are not asham'd of 
 any of the Methods of Grandeur, or high-Living. There is 
 such a Mixture of moral Ideas, of Benevolence, of Abilitys 
 kindly employ'd ; so many Dependants supported, so many 
 Friends entertain'd, assisted, protected ; such a Capacity 
 imagin'd for great and amiable Actions, that we are never 
 asham'd, but rather boast of such things : We never affect 
 Obscurity or Concealment, but rather desire that our State and 
 Magnificence should be known. Were it not for this Con- 
 junction of moral Ideas, no Mortal could bear the Drudgery of
 
 Sect.V.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 139 
 
 State, or abstain from laughing at those who did. Could any 
 Man be pleas'd with a Company of Statues surrounding his 
 Table, so artfully contriv'd as to consume his various Courses, 
 and inspir'd by some Servant, like so many Puppets, to give the 
 usual trifling Returns in praise of their Fare ? Or with so many 
 Machines to perform the Cringes and Whispers of a Levee ? 
 
 The Shame we suffer from the Meanness of Dress, Table, 
 Equipage, is entirely owing to the same reason. This Mean- 
 ness is often imagin'd to argue Avarice, Meanness of Spirit, 
 want of Capacity, or Conduct in Life, of Industry, or moral 
 Abilitys of one kind or other. To confirm this, let us observe 
 that Men will glory in the Meanness of their Fare, when it was 
 occasion'd by a good Action. How many would be asham'd 
 to be surpriz'd at a Dinner of cold Meat, who will boast of their 
 having fed upon Dogs and Horses at the Siege of Derry ? And 
 they will all tell you that they were not, nor are asham'd of it. 
 
 This ordinary Connexion in our Imagination, between 
 external Grandeur, Regularity in Dress, Equipage, Retinue, 
 Badges of Honour, and some moral Abilitys greater than 
 ordinary, is perhaps of more consequence in the World than 
 some recluse Philosophers apprehend, who pique themselves 
 upon despising these external Shews. This may possibly be 
 a great, if not the only Cause of what some count miraculous, 
 viz. That Civil Governors of no greater Capacity than their 
 Neighbours, by some inexpressible Awe, and Authority, quell 
 the Spirits of the Vulgar, and keep them in subjection by such 
 small Guards, as might easily be conquer'd by those Associa- 
 tions which might be rais'd among the Disaffected, or Factious 
 of any State ; who are daring enough among their Equals, 
 and shew a sufficient Contempt of Death for undertaking such 
 an Enterprize. 
 
 155 Hence also we may discover the reason, why the gratifying 
 our superior Senses of Beauty and Harmony, or the Enjoy- 
 ment of the Pleasures of Knowledge, never occasions any 
 Shame or Confusion, tho our Enjoyment were known to all
 
 1 40 HUTCHESON. [Sect. V. 
 
 the World. The Objects which furnish this Pleasure, are of 
 such a nature, as to afford the same Delights to multitudes ; 
 nor is there any thing in the Enjoyment of them by one, which 
 excludes any Mortal from a like Enjoyment. So that altho we 
 pursue these Enjoyments from Self-love, yet, since our Enjoy- 
 ment cannot be prejudicial to others, no Man is imagin'd any 
 way inhumanly selfish, from the fullest Enjoyment of them 
 which is possible. The same Regularity or Harmony which 
 delights me, may at the same time delight multitudes; the 
 same Theorem shall be equally fruitful of Pleasure, when it 
 has entertain'd thousands. Men therefore are not asham'd of 
 such Pursuits, since they never, of themselves, seduce us into 
 any thing malicious, envious, or ill-natur'd ; nor does any one 
 apprehend another too selfish, from his pursuing Objects of 
 unexhausted universal Pleasure. 
 
 This View of Honour and Shame may also let us see the 
 reason, why most Men are uneasy at being prais'd, when they 
 themselves are present. Every one is delighted with the 
 Esteem of others, and must enjoy great Pleasure when he 
 hears himself commended ; but we are unwilling others should 
 observe our Enjoyment of this Pleasure, which is really 
 selfish ; or that they should imagine us fond of it, or influenc'd 
 by hopes of it in our good Actions : and therefore we chuse 
 Secrecy for the Enjoyment of it, as we do with respect to other 
 Pleasures, in which others do not share with us. 
 156 VIII. Let us next consider another Determination of our 
 Mind, which strongly proves Benevolence to be natural to us, 
 and that is COMPASSION ; by which we are dispos'd to study 
 the Interest of others, without any Views of private Advantage. 
 This needs little Illustration. Every Mortal is made uneasy 
 by any grievous Misery he sees another involv'd in, unless the 
 Person be imagin'd evil, in a moral Sense : Nay, it is almost 
 impossible for us to be unmov'd, even in that Case. Advan- 
 tage may make us do a cruel Action, or may overcome Pity; 
 but it scarce ever extinguishes it. A sudden Passion of Hatred
 
 SectV.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 14! 
 
 or Anger may represent a Person as absolutely evil, and so 
 extinguish Pity ; but when the Passion is over, it often returns. 
 Another disinterested View may even in cold blood overcome 
 Pity; such as Love to our Country, or Zeal for Religion. 
 Persecution is generally occasion'd by Love of Virtue, and 
 a Desire of the eternal Happiness of Mankind, altho our Folly 
 makes us chuse absurd Means to promote it; and is often 
 accompany'd with Pity enough to make the Persecutor uneasy, 
 in what, for prepollent Reasons, he chuses ; unless his Opinion 
 leads him to look upon the Heretick as absolutely and 
 entirely evil. 
 
 We may here observe how wonderfully the Constitution of 
 human Nature is adapted to move Compassion. Our Misery 
 or Distress immediately appears in our Countenance, if we do 
 not study to prevent it, and propagates some Pain to all 
 Spectators ; who from Observation, universally understand the 
 meaning of those dismal Airs. We mechanically send forth 
 Shrieks and Groans upon any surprizing Apprehension of 
 Evil ; so that no regard to Decency can sometimes restrain 
 them. This is the voice of NATURE, understood by all Nations, 
 by which all who are present are rous'd to our Assistance, 
 and sometimes our injurious Enemy is made to relent. 
 157 We observ'd above *, that we are not immediately excited by 
 Compassion to desire the Removal of our own Pain : we think 
 it just to be so affected upon the Occasion, and dislike those 
 who are not so. But we are excited directly to desire the 
 Relief of the Miserable ; without any imagination that this 
 Relief is a private Good to our selves: And if we i see this 
 impossible, we may by Reflection discern it to be vain for us 
 to indulge our Compassion any further ; and then Self-love 
 prompts us to retire from the Object which occasions our Pain, 
 and to endeavour to divert our Thoughts. But where there is 
 no such Reflection, People are hurry'd by a natural, kind 
 Instinct, to see Objects of Compassion, and expose themselves 
 1 See Sect. ii. Ait. 8. Par. 2 ( 104).
 
 142 HUTCHESON. [Sect. V. 
 
 to this Pain when they can give no reason for it ; as in the 
 Instance of publick Executions. 
 
 This same Principle leads men to Tragedys ; only we are to 
 observe, that another strong reason of this, is the moral Beauty 
 of the Characters and Actions which we love to behold. For 
 I doubt, whether any Audience would be pleas'd to see 
 fictitious Scenes of Misery, if they were kept strangers to the 
 moral Qualitys of the Sufferers, or their Characters and Actions. 
 As in such a case, there would be no Beauty to raise Desire of 
 seeing such Representations, I fancy we would not expose our 
 selves to Pain alone, from Misery which we knew to be fictitious. 
 
 It was the same Cause which crouded the Roman Theatres 
 to see Gladiators. There the People had frequent Instances 
 of great Courage, and Contempt of Death, two great moral 
 Abilitys, if not Virtues. Hence CICERO looks upon them as 
 great Instructions in Fortitude. The Antagonist Gladiator 
 bore all the blame of the Cruelty committed, among People of 
 little Reflection ; and the courageous and artful one, really 
 obtain'd a Reputation of Virtue, and Favour among the 
 Spectators, and was vindicated by the Necessity of Self-defence. 
 In the mean time they were inadvertent to this, that their 
 crouding to such Sights, and favouring the Persons who 
 presented them with such Spectacles of Courage, and with 
 Opportunitys of following their natural Instinct to Compassion, 
 was the true occasion of all the real Distress, or Assaults which 
 they were sorry for. 
 
 What Sentiments can we imagine a Candidate would have 
 rais'd of himself, had he presented his Countrymen only with 
 Scenes of Misery ; had he drain'd Hospitals and Infirmarys of 
 all their pityable Inhabitants, or had he bound so many Slaves, 
 and without any Resistance, butcher'd them with his own 
 Hands? I should very much question the Success of his 
 Election, (however Compassion might cause his Shews still to 
 be frequented) if his Antagonist chose a Diversion apparently 
 more virtuous, or with a Mixture of Scenes of Virtue.
 
 Sect. VI.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 143 
 
 How independent this Disposition to Compassion is on 
 Custom, Education, or Instruction, will appear from the Pre- 
 valence of it in Women and Children, who are less influenc'd 
 by these. That Children delight in some Actions which are 
 cruel and tormenting to Animals which they have in their 
 Power, flows not from Malice, or want of Compassion, but 
 from their Ignorance of those signs of Pain which many 
 Creatures make ; together with a Curiosity to see the various 
 Contortions of their Bodys. For when they are more ac- 
 quainted with these Creatures, or come by any means to know 
 their Sufferings, their Compassion often becomes too strong for 
 their Reason as it generally does in beholding Executions, 
 where as soon as they observe the evidences of Distress, or 
 Pain in the Malefactor, they are apt to condemn this necessary 
 Method of Self-defence in the State. 
 
 Sect. VI. 
 
 CONCERNING THE IMPORTANCE OF THIS MORAL SENSE TO 
 THE PRESENT HAPPINESS OF MANKIND, AND ITS INFLUENCE 
 ON HUMAN AFFAIRS. 
 
 158 It may now probably appear, that notwithstanding the 
 Corruption of Manners so justly complain'd of every where, 
 this moral Sense has a greater Influence on Mankind than is 
 generally imagin'd, altho it is often directed by very partial 
 imperfect Views of publick Good, and often overcome by Self- 
 love. But we shall offer some further Considerations, to prove, 
 ' That it gives us more Pleasure and Pain than all our other 
 Facultys.' And to prevent Repetitions, let us observe, ' That 
 wherever any morally good Quality gives Pleasure from Reflec- 
 tion, or from Honour, the contrary evil one will give proportion- 
 able Pain, from Remorse and Shame.' Now we shall consider 
 the moral Pleasures, not only separately, but as they are the 
 most delightful Ingredient in the ordinary Pleasures of Life. 
 
 159 All Men seem persuaded of some Excellency in the Pos- 
 session of good moral Qualitys, which is superior to all other
 
 144 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VI. 
 
 Enjoyments ; and on the contrary, look upon a State of moral 
 Evil, as worse and more wretched than any other whatsoever. 
 We must not form our Judgment in this matter from the 
 Actions of Men ; for however they may be influenc'd by moral 
 Sentiments, yet it is certain, that Self-interested Passions 
 frequently overcome them, and partial Views of the Tendency 
 of Actions, make us do what is really morally evil, appre- 
 hending it to be good. But let us examine the Sentiments 
 which Men universally form of the State of others, when they 
 are no way immediately concern'd ; for in these Sentiments 
 human Nature is calm and undisturb'd, and shews its true Face. 
 
 Now should we imagine a rational Creature in a sufficiently 
 happy State, tho his Mind was, without Interruption, wholly 
 occupy'd with pleasant Sensations of Smell, Taste, Touch, &c. 
 if at the same time all other Ideas were excluded ? Should we 
 not think the State low, mean and sordid, if there were no 
 Society, no Love or Friendship, no Good Offices ? What then 
 must that State be wherein there are no Pleasures but those of 
 the external Senses, with such long Intervals as human Nature 
 at present must have ? Do these short Fits of Pleasure make 
 the Luxurious happy ? How insipid and joyless are the Reflec- 
 tions on past Pleasure ? And how poor a Recompence is the 
 Return of the transient Sensation, for the nauseous Satietys, 
 and Languors in the Intervals? This Frame of our Nature, so in- 
 capable of long Enjoyments of the external Senses, points out 
 to us, ' That there must be some other more durable Pleasure, 
 without such tedious Interruptions, and nauseous Reflections.' 
 
 Let us even join with the Pleasures of the external Senses, 
 the Perceptions of Beauty, Order, Harmony. These are no 
 doubt more noble Pleasures, and seem to inlarge the Mind ; 
 and yet how cold and joyless are they, if there be no moral 
 Pleasures of Friendship, Love and Beneficence ? Now if the 
 bare Absence of moral Good, makes, in our Judgment, the 
 State of a rational Agent contemptible ; the Presence of 
 contrary Dispositions is always imagin'd by us to sink him into
 
 Sect. VI.] CONCERNING 'MORAL GOOD AND EVIL, 146 
 
 a degree of Misery, from which no other Pleasures can relieve 
 him. Would we ever wish to be in the same Condition with 
 a wrathful, malicious, revengeful, or envious Being, tho we 
 were at the same time to enjoy all the Pleasures of the external 
 and internal Senses? The internal Pleasures of Beauty and 
 Harmony, contribute greatly indeed toward soothing the Mind 
 into a forgetfulness of Wrath, Malice or Revenge ; and they 
 must do so, before we can have any tolerable Delight or 
 Enjoyment : for while these Affections possess the Mind, 
 there is nothing but Torment and Misery. 
 
 What Castle-builder, who forms to himself imaginary Scenes 
 of Life, in which he thinks he should be happy, ever made 
 acknowledg'd Treachery, Cruelty, or Ingratitude, the Steps by 
 which he mounted to his wish'd for Elevation, or Parts of his 
 Character, when he had attain'd it ? We always conduct our 
 selves in such Resveries, according to the Dictates of Honour, 
 Faith, Generosity, Courage; and the lowest we can sink, is 
 hoping we may be enrich'd by some innocent Accident. 
 
 , O si urnam Argenti FORS qua mihi monstret J ! 
 
 But Labour, Hunger, Thirst, Poverty, Pain, Danger, have 
 nothing so detestable in them, that our Self-love cannot allow 
 us to be often expos'd to them. On the contrary, the Virtues 
 which these give us occasions of displaying, are so amiable and 
 excellent, that scarce ever is any imaginary Hero in Romance, 
 or Epic, brought to his highest Pitch of Happiness, without 
 going thro them all. Where there is no Virtue, there is 
 nothing worth Desire or Contemplation; the Romance, or 
 Epos must end. Nay, the Difficulty 2 , or natural Evil, does 
 so much increase the Virtue of the good Action which it 
 accompanys, that we cannot easily sustain these Works after 
 the Distress is over ; and if we continue the Work, it must be 
 by presenting a new Scene of Benevolence in a prosperous 
 Fortune. A Scene of external Prosperity or natural Good, 
 
 1 Hor. Lib. i. Sat. 6. v. 10. 
 3 Sect. Hi. Art. n. Axiom 6 ( 126). 
 * L
 
 146 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VI. 
 
 without any thing moral or virtuous, cannot entertain a Person 
 of the dullest Imagination, had he ever so much interested 
 himself in the Fortunes of his Hero ; for where Virtue ceases, 
 there remains nothing worth wishing to our Favourite, or 
 which we can be delighted to view his Possession of, when we 
 are most studious of his Happiness. 
 
 160 Let us take a particular Instance, to try how much we prefer 
 the Possession of Virtue to all other Enjoyments, and how 
 we look upon Vice as worse than any other Misery. Who 
 could ever read the History of REGULUS, without concerning 
 himself in the Fortunes of that gallant Man, sorrowing at his 
 Sufferings, and wishing him a better Fate ? But how a better 
 Fate ? Should he have comply'd with the Terms of the CAR- 
 THAGINIANS, and preserv'd himself from the intended Tortures, 
 tho to the detriment of his Country? Or should he have 
 violated his plighted Faith and Promise of returning? Will any 
 Man say, that either of these is the better Fate he wishes his 
 Favourite ? Had he acted thus, that Virtue would have been 
 gone, which interests every one in his Fortunes. ' Let him , 
 take his Fate like other common Mortals.' What else do we 
 wish then, but that the CARTHAGINIANS had relented of their 
 Cruelty, or that PROVIDENCE, by some unexpected EVENT, had 
 rescued him out of their hands. 
 
 Now may not this teach us, that we are indeed determin'd 
 to judge Virtue with Peace and Safety, preferable to Virtue 
 with Distress ; but that at the same time we look upon the 
 State of the Virtuous, the Publick-spirited, even in the utmost 
 natural Distress, as preferable to all affluence of other Enjoy- 
 ments ? For this is what we chuse to have our Favourite Hero 
 in, notwithstanding all its Pains and natural Evils. We should 
 never have imagin'd him happier, had he acted otherwise ; or 
 thought him in a more eligible State, with Liberty and Safety, 
 at the expence of his Virtue. We secretly judge the Purchase 
 too dear ; and therefore we never imagine he acted foolishly 
 in securing his Virtue, his Honour, at the expence of his Ease,
 
 Sect. VI.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 147 
 
 his Pleasure, his Life. Nor can we think these latter Enjoy- 
 ments worth the keeping, when the former are entirely lost. 
 161 II. Let us in the same manner examine our Sentiments of 
 the Happiness of others in common Life. WEALTH AND 
 EXTERNAL PLEASURES bear no small bulk in our Imaginations ; 
 but does there not always accompany this Opinion of Hap- 
 piness in Wealth, some suppos'd beneficent Intention of doing 
 good Offices to Persons dear to us, at least to our Familys, or 
 Kinsmen? And in our imagin'd Happiness from external 
 Pleasure, are not some Ideas always included of some moral 
 Enjoyments of Society, some Communication of Pleasure, 
 something of Love, of Friendship, of Esteem, of Gratitude ? 
 Who ever pretended to a Taste of these Pleasures without 
 Society ? Or if any seem violent in pursuit of them, how base 
 and contemptible do they appear to all Persons, even to 
 those who could have no expectation of Advantage from their 
 having a more generous Notion of Pleasure ? 
 
 Now were there no moral Sense, no Happiness in Benevo- 
 lence, and did we act from no other Principle than Self-love ; 
 sure there is no Pleasure of the external Senses, which we 
 could not enjoy alone, with less trouble and expence than in. 
 Society. But a Mixture of the moral Pleasures is what gives 
 the alluring Relish ; 'tis some Appearance of Friendship, of 
 Love, of communicating Pleasure to others, which preserves 
 the Pleasures of the Luxurious from being nauseous and 
 insipid. And this partial Imagination of some good moral 
 Qualitys, some Benevolence, in Actions which have many 
 cruel, inhuman, and destructive Consequences toward others, 
 is what has kept Vice more in countenance than any other 
 Consideration l . 
 
 But to convince us further wherein the Happiness of Wealth, 
 
 and external Pleasure lies ; let us but suppose Malice, Wrath, 
 
 Revenge ; or only Solitude, Absence of Friendship, of Love, 
 
 of Society, of Esteem, join'd with the Possession of them; 
 
 1 See above, Sect. iv. Art. 4. Par. 4, 5 ( 141). 
 
 L 2
 
 148 HUTCH ESON. [Sect. VI. 
 
 and all the Happiness vanishes like a Dream. And yet Love, 
 Friendship, Society, Humanity, tho accompany'd with Poverty 
 and Toil, nay even with smaller degrees of Pain, such as do 
 not wholly occupy the Mind, are not only the Object of Love 
 from others, but even of a sort of Emulation : which plainly 
 shews, ' That Virtue is the chief Happiness in the Judgment of 
 all Mankind.' 
 
 162 III. There is a further Consideration which must not be 
 pass'd over, concerning the EXTERNAL BEAUTY of Persons, 
 which all allow to have a great Power over human Minds. Now 
 it is some apprehended Morality, some natural or imagin'd 
 Indication of concomitant Virtue, which gives it this powerful 
 Charm above all other kinds of Beauty. Let us consider 
 the Characters of Beauty, which are commonly admir'd in 
 Countenances, and we shall find them to be Sweetness, Mild- 
 ness, Majesty, Dignity, Vivacity, Humility, Tenderness, Good- 
 nature ; that is, that certain Airs, Proportions, je ne scai quoy's 
 are natural Indications of such Virtues, or of Abilitys or 
 Dispositions toward them. As we observ'd above 1 of Misery, 
 or Distress appearing in Countenances ; so it is certain, almost 
 all habitual Dispositions of Mind, form the Countenance in 
 such a manner, as to give some Indications of them to the 
 Spectator. Our violent Passions are obvious at first view in 
 the Countenance ; so that sometimes no Art can conceal 
 them : and smaller degrees of them give some less obvious 
 Turns to the Face, which an accurate Eye will observe. Now 
 when the natural Air of a Face approaches to that which any 
 Passion would form it unto, we make a conjecture from this 
 concerning the leading Disposition of the Person's Mind. 
 
 As to those Fancys which prevail in certain Countrys toward 
 large Lips, little Noses, narrow Eyes ; unless we knew from 
 themselves under what Idea such Features are admir'd, 
 whether as naturally beautiful in Form, or Proportion to the 
 rest of the Face ; or as presum'd Indications of some moral 
 1 See Sect. v. Art. 8. Par. 2 ( 156).
 
 Sect. VI.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 149 
 
 Qualitys ; we may more probably conclude that it is the latter ; 
 since this is so much the Ground of Approbation, or Aversion 
 towards Faces among our selves. And as to those Features 
 which we count naturally disagreeable as to Form, we know 
 the Aversion on this account is so weak, that moral Qualitys 
 shall procure a liking, even to the Face, in Persons who are 
 sensible of the Irregularity, or want of that Regularity which 
 is common in others. With us, certain Features are imagin'd 
 to denote Dulness ; as hollow Eyes, large Lips ; a Colour of 
 Hair, Wantonness : and may we not conclude the like Associ- 
 ation of Ideas, perhaps in both Cases without Foundation in 
 Nature, to be the Ground of those Approbations which appear 
 unaccountable to us ? 
 
 In the same manner, when there is nothing grosly dispro- 
 portion'd in any Face, what is it we dispraise ? It is Pride, 
 Haughtiness, Sourness, Ill-nature, Discontent, Folly, Levity, 
 Wantonness ; which some Countenances discover in the manner 
 above hinted at ? And these Airs, when brought by Custom 
 upon the most regular Set of Features, have often made them 
 very disagreeable ; as the contrary Airs have given the strongest 
 Charms to Countenances, which were far from Perfection in 
 external Beauty. 
 
 One cannot but observe the Judgment of HOMER, in his 
 Character of HELEN. Had he ever so much rais'd our Idea 
 of her external Beauty, it would have been ridiculous to have 
 engag'd his Countrymen in a War for such a HELEN as VIRGIL 
 has drawn her. He therefore still retains something amiable 
 in a moral Sense, amidst all her Weakness, and often suggests 
 to his Reader, 
 
 'EXeV^y opfjainara re ffova^as re ', 
 
 as the Spring of his Countrymens Indignation and Revenge. 
 
 This Consideration may shew us one Reason, among many 
 others, for Mens different Fancys, or Relishes of Beauty. The 
 Mind of Man, however generally dispos'd to esteem Benevo- 
 1 See Homer, Iliad 2. v. 356, 590.
 
 150 HUTCHESON. [Sect.vi. 
 
 lence and Virtue, yet by more particular Attention to some 
 kinds of it than others, may gain a stronger Admiration of 
 some moral Dispositions than others. Military Men, may 
 admire Courage more than other Virtues ; Persons of smaller 
 Courage, may admire Sweetness of Temper ; Men of Thought 
 and Reflection, who have more extensive Views, will admire 
 the like Qualitys in others ; Men of keen Passions, expect 
 equal Returns of all the kind Affections, and are wonderfully 
 charm'd by Compliance : the Proud, may like those of higher 
 Spirit, as more suitable to their Dignity; tho Pride, join'd 
 with Reflection and good Sense, will recommend to them 
 Humility in the Person belov'd. Now as the various Tempers 
 of Men make various Tempers of others agreeable to them, so 
 they must differ in their Relishes of Beauty, according as it 
 denotes the several Qualitys most agreeable to themselves. 
 
 This may also shew us, 'how in virtuous Love there may be 
 the greatest Beauty, without the least Charm to engage a 
 Rival. Love it self gives a Beauty to the Lover, in the Eyes 
 of the Person belov'd, which no other Mortal is much affected 
 with. And this perhaps is the strongest Charm possible, and 
 that which will have the greatest Power, where there is not 
 some very great Counter-ballance from worldly Interest, Vice, 
 or gross Deformity. 
 
 163 IV. This same Consideration may be extended to the whole 
 Am and MOTION of any Person. Every thing we count agree- 
 able, some way denotes Chearfulness, Ease, a Condescension 
 and Readiness to oblige, a Love of Company, with a Freedom 
 and Boldness which always accompanys an honest, undesigning 
 Heart. On the contrary, what is shocking in Air, or Motion, 
 is Roughness, Ill-nature, a Disregard to others, or a foolish 
 Shame-facedness, which evidences a Person to be unexperienc'd 
 in Society, or Offices of Humanity. 
 
 With relation to these Airs, Motions, Gestures, we may 
 observe, that considering the different Ceremonys, and Modes 
 of shewing respect, which are practis'd in different Nations, we
 
 Sect. VI.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 151 
 
 may indeed probably conclude that there is no natural Con- 
 nexion between any of these Gestures, or Motions, and the 
 Affections of Mind which they are by Custom made to express. 
 But when Custom has made any of them pass for Expressions 
 of such Affections, by a constant Association of Ideas, some 
 shall become agreeable and lovely, and others extremely offen- 
 sive, altho they were both, in their own Nature, perfectly 
 indifferent. 
 
 164 V. Here we may remark the manner in which NATURE leads 
 Mankind to the Continuance of their Race, and by its 
 strongest Power engages them to what occasions the greatest 
 Toil and Anxiety of Life ; and yet supports them under it 
 with an inexpressible delight. We might have been excited 
 to the Propagation of our Species, by such an uneasy Sensation 
 as would have effectually determined us to it, without any great 
 prospect of Happiness ; as we see Hunger and Thirst deter- 
 mine us to preserve our Bodys, tho few look upon eating and 
 drinking as any considerable Happiness. The Sexes might have 
 been engag'd to Concurrence, as we imagine the Brutes are, 
 by Desire only, or by a Love of sensual Pleasure. But how 
 dull and insipid had Life been, were there no more in 
 MARRIAGE ? Who would have had Resolution enough to bear 
 all the Cares of a Family, and Education of Children ? Or who, 
 from the general Motive of Benevolence alone, would have 
 chosen to subject himself to natural Affection toward an Off- 
 spring, when he could so easily foresee what Troubles it might 
 occasion ? 
 
 This Inclination therefore of the Sexes, is founded on 
 something stronger, and more efficacious and joyful, than the 
 Sollicitations of Uneasiness, or the bare desire of sensible 
 Pleasure. BEAUTY gives a favourable Presumption of good 
 moral Dispositions, and Acquaintance confirms this into a real 
 Love of Esteem, or begets it, where there is little Beauty. 
 This raises an expectation of the greatest moral Pleasures along 
 with the sensible, and a thousand tender Sentiments of
 
 152 HUTCH ESON. [Sect. VI. 
 
 Humanity and Generosity ; and makes us impatientfor a Society 
 which we imagine big with unspeakable moral Pleasures : 
 where nothing is indifferent, and every trifling Service, being 
 an Evidence of this strong Love of Esteem, is mutually received 
 with the Rapture and Gratitude of the greatest Benefit, and of 
 the most substantial Obligation. And where Prudence and 
 Good-nature influence both sides, this Society may answer all 
 their Expectations. 
 
 165 Nay, let us examine those of looser Conduct with relation 
 to the fair Sex, and we shall find, that Love of sensible Plea- 
 sure is not the chief Motive of Debauchery, or false Gallantry. 
 Were it so, the meanest Prostitutes would please as much as 
 any. But we know sufficiently, that Men are fond of Good- 
 nature, Faith, Pleasantry of Temper, Wit, and many other 
 moral Qualitys, even in a Mistress. And this may furnish us 
 with a Reason for what appears pretty unaccountable, viz. 
 ' That Chastity it self has a powerful Charm in the Eyes of the 
 Dissolute, even when they are attempting to destroy it.' 
 
 This powerful Determination even to a limited Benevolence, 
 and other moral Sentiments, is observ'd to give a strong biass 
 to our Minds toward a universal Goodness, Tenderness, 
 Humanity, Generosity, and Contempt of private Good in our 
 whole Conduct ; besides the obvious Improvement it occasions 
 in our external Deportment, and in our relish of Beauty, Order, 
 and Harmony. As soon as a Heart, before hard and obdurate, 
 is soften'd in this Flame, we shall observe, arising along with it, 
 a Love of Poetry, Musick, the Beauty of Nature in rural Scenes, 
 a Contempt of other selfish Pleasures of the external Senses, 
 a neat Dress, a humane Deportment, a Delight in and Emula- 
 tion of every thing which is gallant, generous and friendly. 
 
 In the same manner we are determin'd to common Friend- 
 ships and Acquaintances, not by the sullen Apprehensions of 
 our Necessitys, or Prospects of Interest ; but by an incredible 
 variety of little agreeable, engaging Evidences of Love, Good- 
 nature, and other morally amiable Qualitys in those we
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 153 
 
 converse with. And among the rest, none of the least con- 
 siderable is an Inclination to Chearfulness, a Delight to raise 
 Mirth in others, which procures a secret Approbation and 
 Gratitude toward the Person who puts us in such an agreeable, 
 innocent, good-natur'd, and easy state of Mind, as we are 
 conscious of while we enjoy pleasant Conversation, enliven'd 
 by moderate Laughter. 
 
 Sect. VII. 
 
 A DEDUCTION OF SOME COMPLEX MORAL IDEAS, VIZ. OF OBLIGA- 
 TION, AND RIGHT, PERFECT, IMPERFECT, AND EXTERNAL, 
 ALIENABLE, AND UNALIENABLE, FROM THIS MORAL SENSE. 
 
 I. To conclude this Subject, we may, from what has been 
 said, see the true Original of moral Ideas, viz. This moral 
 Sense of Excellence in every Appearance, or Evidence of 
 Benevolence. It remains to be explain'd, how we acquire 
 more particular Ideas of Virtue and Vice, abstracting from any 
 Law, Human, or Divine. 
 
 If any one ask, Can we have any Sense of OBLIGATION, 
 abstracting from the Laws of a Superior ? We must answer 
 according to the various Senses of the word Obligation. If by 
 Obligation we understand a Determination, without regard to 
 our own Interest, to approve Actions, and to perform them; 
 which Determination shall also make us displeas'd with our 
 selves, and uneasy upon having acted contrary to it ; in this 
 meaning of the word Obligation, there is naturally an Obliga- 
 tion upon all Men to Benevolence ; and they are still under its 
 Influence, even when by false, or partial Opinions of the 
 natural Tendency of their Actions, this moral .Sense leads 
 them to Evil ; unless by long inveterate Habits it be exceed- 
 ingly weaken'd. For it scarce seems possible wholly to 
 extinguish it. Or, which is to the same purpose, this internal 
 Sense, and Instinct toward Benevolence, will either influence 
 our Actions, or else make us very uneasy and dissatisfy'd ; and 
 we shall be conscious that we are in a base unhappy State, even
 
 154 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 without considering any Law whatsoever, or any external 
 Advantages lost, or Disadvantages impending from its Sanc- 
 tions. And further, there are still such Indications given us of 
 what is in the whole benevolent, and what not ; as may 
 probably discover to us the true Tendency of every Action? and 
 let us see, some time or other, the evil Tendency of what upon 
 a partial View appear'd benevolent : or if we have no Friends 
 so faithful as to admonish us, the Persons injur'd will not fail 
 to upbraid us. So that no Mortal can secure to himself 
 a perpetual Serenity, Satisfaction, and Self-approbation, but 
 by a serious Inquiry into the Tendency of his Actions, and 
 a perpetual Study of universal Good, according to the justest 
 Notions of it. 
 
 167 But if by Obligation, we understand a Motive from Self- 
 interest, sufficient to determine all those who duly consider it, 
 and pursue their own Advantage wisely, to a certain Course of 
 Actions; we may have a Sense of such an Obligation, by 
 reflecting on this Determination of our Nature to approve 
 Virtue, to be pleas'd and happy when we reflect upon our 
 having done virtuous Actions, and to be uneasy when we are 
 conscious of having acted otherwise ; and also by considering 
 how much superior we esteem the Happiness of Virtue to any 
 other Enjoyment 1 . We may likewise have a Sense of this sort 
 of Obligation, by considering those Reasons which prove a con- 
 stant Course of benevolent and social Actions, to be the most 
 probable means of promoting the natural Good of every 
 Individual ; as CUMBERLAND and PUFFENDORF have prov'd : 
 And all this without Relation to a Law. 
 
 But further, if our moral Sense be suppos'd exceedingly 
 weaken'd, and the selfish Passions grown strong, either thro 
 some general Corruption of Nature, or inveterate Habits ; if 
 our Understanding be weak, and we be often in danger of being 
 hurry'd by our Passions into precipitate and rash Judgments, 
 that malicious Actions shall promote our Advantage more than 
 1 See above, Sect. vi. Art. I, 2 ( 158-161).
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 155 
 
 Beneficence ; in such a Case, if it be inquir'd what is necessary 
 to engage Men to beneficent Actions, or induce a steady Sense 
 of an Obligation to act for the publick Good ; then, no doubt, 
 ' A Law with Sanctions, given by a superior Being, of sufficient 
 Power to make us happy or miserable, must be necessary to 
 counter-ballance those apparent Motives to Interest, to calm 
 our Passions, and give room for the recovery of our moral 
 Sense, or at least for a just View of our Interest.' 
 168 II. Now the principal Business of the moral Philosopher is 
 to shew, from solid Reasons, ' That universal Benevolence 
 tends to the Happiness of the Benevolent, either from the 
 Pleasures of Reflection, Honour, natural Tendency to engage 
 the good Offices of Men, upon whose Aid we must depend for 
 our Happiness in this World ; or from the Sanctions of divine 
 Laws discover'd to us by the Constitution of the Universe ; ' 
 that so no apparent Views of Interest may counteract this 
 natural Inclination : but not to attempt proving, ' That 
 Prospects of our own Advantage of any kind, can raise in us 
 real Love to others.' Let the Obstacles from Self-love be only 
 remov'd, and NATURE it self will incline us to Benevolence. 
 Let the Misery of excessive Selfishness, and all its Passions, 
 be but once explain'd, that so Self-love may cease to counteract 
 our natural Propensity to Benevolence, and when this noble 
 Disposition gets loose from these Bonds of Ignorance, and 
 false Views of Interest, it shall be assisted even by Self-love, 
 and grow strong enough to make a noble virtuous Character. 
 Then he is to enquire, by Reflection upon human Affairs, what 
 Course of Action does most effectually promote the universal 
 Good, what universal Rules or Maxims are to be observ'd, and 
 in what Circumstances the Reason of them alters, so as to 
 admit Exceptions ; that so our good Inclinations may be 
 directed by Reason, and a just Knowledge of the Interests of 
 Mankind. But Virtue it self, or good Dispositions of Mind, 
 are not directly taught, or produc'd by Instruction ; they must 
 be originally implanted in our Nature, by its great AUTHOR ;
 
 156 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 and afterwards strengthen'd and confirm'd by our own Cultiva- 
 tion. 
 
 169 HI. We are often told, 'That there is no need of supposing 
 such a Sense of Morality given to Men, since Reflection, and 
 Instruction would recommend the same Actions from Argu- 
 ments of Self-interest, and engage us, from the acknowledg'd 
 Principle of Self-love, to the Practice of them, without this un- 
 intelligible Determination to Benevolence, or the occult Quality 
 of a moral Sense.' 
 
 It is perhaps true, that Reflection and Reason might lead us 
 to approve the same Actions as advantageous. But would not 
 the same Reflection and Reason likewise, generally recommend 
 the same Meats to us which our Taste represents as pleasant ? 
 And shall we thence conclude that we have no Sense of 
 Tasting ? Or that such a Sense is useless ? No : The use is 
 plain in both Cases. Notwithstanding the mighty Reason we 
 boast of above other Animals, its Processes are too slow, too 
 full of doubt and hesitation, to serve us in every Exigency, 
 either for our own Preservation, without the external Senses, 
 or to direct our Actions for the Good of the Whole, without 
 this moral Sense. Nor could we be so strongly determin'd at 
 all times to what is most conducive to either of these Ends, 
 without these expeditious Monitors, and importunate Sollicitors; 
 nor so nobly rewarded, when we act vigorously in pursuit of 
 these Ends, by the calm dull Reflections of Self-interest, as by 
 those delightful Sensations. 
 
 170 This natural Determination to approve and admire, or hate 
 and dislike Actions, is no doubt an occult Quality. But is it 
 any way more mysterious that the Idea of an Action should 
 raise Esteem, or Contempt, than that the motion, or tearing of 
 Flesh should give Pleasure, or Pain ; or the Act of Volition 
 should move Flesh and Bones ? In the latter Case, we have 
 got the Brain, and elastic Fibres, and animal Spirits, and 
 elastic Fluids, like the Indian's Elephant, and Tortoise, to bear 
 the Burden of the Difficulty : but go one step further, and you
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 157 
 
 find the whole as difficult as at first, and equally a Mystery 
 with this Determination to love and approve, or hate and 
 despise Actions and Agents, without any Views of Interest, as 
 they appear benevolent, or the contrary. 
 
 171 When they offer it as a Presumption that there can be no 
 such Sense, antecedent to all Prospect of Interest, ' That these 
 Actions for the most part are really advantageous, one way or 
 other, to the Actor, the Approver, or Mankind in general, by 
 whose Happiness our own State may be some way made 
 better ; ' may we not ask, supposing the DEITY intended to 
 impress such a Sense of something amiable in Actions, (which 
 is no impossible Supposition) what sort of Actions would 
 a good GOD determine us to approve? Must we deny the 
 possibility of such a Determination, if it did not lead us to 
 admire Actions of no Advantage to Mankind, or to love Agents 
 for their being eminent Triflers ? If then the Actions which 
 a wife and good GOD must determine us to approve, if he give 
 us any such Sense at all, must be Actions useful to the Publick, 
 this Advantage can never be a Reason against the Sense it 
 self. After the same manner, we should deny all Revelation 
 which taught us good Sense, Humanity, Justice, and a rational 
 Worship, because Reason and Interest confirm and recommend 
 such Principles, and Services ; and should greedily embrace 
 every Contradiction, Foppery, and Pageantry, as a truly divine 
 Institution, without any thing humane, or useful to Mankind. 
 
 172 IV. The Writers upon opposite Schemes, who deduce all 
 Ideas of Good and Evil from the private Advantage of the 
 Actor, or from Relation to a Law and its Sanctions, either 
 known from Reason, or Revelation, are perpetually recurring 
 to this moral Sense which they deny ; not only in calling the 
 Laws of the DEITY just and good, and alledging Justice and 
 Right in the DEITY to govern us ; but by using a set of Words 
 which import something different from what they will allow to 
 
 be their only meaning. Obligation, with them, is only such 
 a Constitution, either of Nature, or some governing Power, as
 
 158 HUTCH ESON. [Sect VII. 
 
 makes it advantageous for the Agent to act in a certain manner. 
 Let this Definition be substituted, wherever we meet with the 
 words, ought, should, must, in a moral Sense, and many of 
 their Sentences would seem very strange ; as that the DEITY 
 must act rationally, must not, or ought not to punish the 
 Innocent, must make the state of the Virtuous better than that 
 of the Wicked, must observe Promises ; substituting the 
 Definition of the Words, must, ought, should, would make 
 these Sentences either ridiculous, or very disputable. 
 173 v. But that our first Ideas of moral Good depend not on 
 Laws, may plainly appear from our constant Inquirys into the 
 Justice of Laws themselves ; and that not only of human Laws, 
 but of the divine. What else can be the meaning of that 
 universal Opinion, ' That the Laws of GOD are just, and holy, 
 and good ? ' Human Laws may be call'd good, because of 
 their Conformity to the Divine. But to call the Laws of the 
 supreme DEITY good, or holy, or just, if all Goodness, Holiness, 
 and Justice be constituted by Laws, or the Will of a Superior 
 any way reveal'd, must be an insignificant Tautology, amount- 
 ing to no more than this, 'That GOD wills what he wills.' 
 
 It must then first be suppos'd, that there is something in 
 Actions which is apprehended absolutely good; and this is 
 Benevolence, or a Tendency to the publick natural Happiness 
 of rational Agents ; and that our moral Sense perceives this 
 Excellence : and then we call the Laws of the DEITY good, 
 when we imagine that they are contriv'd to promote the publick 
 Good in the most effectual and impartial manner. And the 
 DEITY is call'd good, in a moral Sense, when we apprehend 
 that his whole Providence tends to the universal Happiness of 
 his Creatures ; whence we conclude his Benevolence, and 
 Delight in their Happiness. 
 
 Some tell us, 'That the Goodness of the divine Laws, 
 consists in their Conformity to some essential Rectitude of 
 his Nature.' But they must excuse us from assenting to this, 
 till they make us understand the meaning of this Metaphor,
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 159 
 
 essential Rectitude, and till we discern whether any thing 
 more is meant by it than a perfectly wise, uniform, impartial 
 Benevolence. 
 
 174 Hence we may see the Difference between Constraint, and 
 Obligation. There is indeed no difference between Constraint, 
 and the second Sense of the word Obligation, viz. a Constitu- 
 tion which makes an Action eligible from Self-interest, if we 
 only mean external Interest, distinct from the delightful 
 Consciousness which arises from the moral Sense. The 
 Reader need scarcely be told, that by Constraint, we do not 
 understand an external Force moving our Limbs without our 
 Consent, for in that Case we are not Agents at all; but 
 that Constraint which arises from the threatning and presenting 
 some Evil, in order to make us act in a certain manner. And 
 yet there seems a universally acknowledg'd Difference between 
 even this sort of Constraint, and Obligation. We never say 
 we are oblig'd to do an Action which we count base, but 
 we may be constrain'd to it ; we never say that the divine 
 Laws, by their Sanctions, constrain us, but oblige us ; nor do 
 we call Obedience to the DEITY Constraint, unless by 
 a Metaphor, tho many own they are influenc'd by fear of 
 Punishments. And yet supposing an almighty evil Being 
 should require, under grievous Penaltys, Treachery, Cruelty, 
 Ingratitude, we would call this Constraint. The difference 
 is plainly this. When any Sanctions co-operate with our 
 moral Sense, in exciting us to Actions which we count morally 
 good, we say we are oblig'd ; but when Sanctions of Rewards 
 or Punishments oppose our moral Sense, then we say we are 
 brib'd or constrain'd. In the former Case we call the Lawgiver 
 good, as designing the publick Happiness ; in the latter we 
 call him evil, or unjust, for the suppos'd contrary Intention. 
 But were all our Ideas of moral Good or Evil, deriv'd solely 
 from Opinions of private Advantage or Loss in Actions, I see 
 no possible difference which could be made in the meaning of 
 these words.
 
 160 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 175 VI. From this Sense too we derive our Ideas of RIGHTS. 
 Whenever it appears to us, that a Faculty of doing, demand- 
 ing, or possessing any thing, universally allow'd in certain 
 Circumstances, would in the whole tend to the general Good, 
 we say that any Person in such Circumstances, has a Right 
 to do, possess, or demand that Thing. And according as this 
 Tendency to the publick Good is greater or less, the Right is 
 greater or less. 
 
 The Rights call'd perfect, are of such necessity to the 
 publick Good, that the universal Violation of them would 
 make human Life intolerable ; and it actually makes those 
 miserable, whose Rights are thus violated. On the contrary, 
 to fulfil these Rights in every Instance, tends to the publick 
 Good, either directly, or by promoting the innocent Advantage 
 of a Part. Hence it plainly follows, ' That to allow a violent 
 Defence, or Prosecution of such Rights, before Civil Govern- 
 ment be constituted, cannot in any particular Case be more 
 detrimental to the Publick, than the Violation of them with 
 Impunity.' And as to the general Consequences, the universal 
 Use of Force in a State of Nature, in pursuance of perfect 
 Rights, seems exceedingly advantageous to the Whole, by 
 making every one dread any Attempts against the perfect 
 Rights of others. 
 
 This is the moral Effect which attends proper Injury, 
 or a Violation of the perfect Rights of others, viz. A Right 
 to War, and all Violence which is necessary to oblige the 
 Injurious to repair the Damage, and give Security against 
 such Offences for the future. This is the sole Foundation 
 of the Rights of punishing Criminals, and of violent Prosecu- 
 tions of our Rights, in a State of Nature. And these Rights, 
 belonging originally to the Persons injur'd, or their voluntary, 
 or invited Assistants, according to the Judgment of indif- 
 ferent Arbitrators, in a State of Nature, being by the Consent 
 of the Persons injur'd, transferr'd to the Magistrate in a Civil 
 State, are the true Foundation of his Right of Punishment.
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 161 
 
 Instances of perfect Rights are those to our Lives ; to the 
 Fruits of our Labours ; to demand Performance of Contracts 
 upon valuable Considerations, from Men capable of performing 
 them; to direct our own Actions either for publick, or 
 innocent private Good, before we have submitted them to 
 the Direction of others in any measure ; and many others of 
 like nature. 
 
 176 Imperfect Rights are such as, when universally violated, 
 would not necessarily make Men miserable. These Rights 
 tend to the improvement and increase of positive Good in any 
 Society, but are not absolutely necessary to prevent universal 
 Misery. The Violation of them, only disappoints Men of the 
 Happiness expected from the Humanity or Gratitude of 
 others ; but does not deprive Men of any Good which they 
 had before. From this Description it appears, ' That a violent 
 Prosecution of such Rights, would generally occasion greater 
 Evil than the Violation of them.' Besides, the allowing of 
 Force in such Cases, would deprive Men of the greatest 
 Pleasure in Actions of Kindness, Humanity, Gratitude ; which 
 would cease to appear amiable, when Men could be constrain'd 
 to perform them. Instances of imperfect Rights are those 
 which the Poor have to the Charity of the Wealthy ; which all 
 Men have to Offices of no trouble or expence to the 
 Performer; which Benefactors have to returns of Gratitude, 
 and such like. 
 
 The Violation of imperfect Rights, only argues a Man 
 to have such weak Benevolence, as not to study advancing 
 the positive Good of others, when in the least opposite 
 to his own : but the Violation of perfect Rights, argues the 
 injurious Person to be positively evil or cruel ; or at least so 
 immoderately selfish, as to be indifferent about the positive 
 Misery and Ruin of others, when he imagines he can find 
 his Interest in it. In violating the former, we shew a weak 
 Desire of publick Happiness, which every small view of private 
 Interest over-ballances ; but in violating the latter, we shew 
 * M
 
 1 62 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 our selves so entirely negligent of the Misery of others, that 
 Views of increasing our own Good, overcome all our Com- 
 passion toward their Sufferings. Now as the absence of 
 Good, is more easily born than the presence of Misery ; so 
 our good Wishes toward the positive Good of others, are 
 weaker than our Compassion toward their Misery. He then 
 who violates imperfect Rights, shews that his Self-love over- 
 comes only the Desire of positive Good to others ; but he 
 who violates perfect Rights, betrays such a selfish Desire of 
 advancing his own positive Good, as overcomes all Compassion 
 toward the Misery of others. 
 
 177 Beside these two sorts of Rights, there is a third call'd 
 External; as when the doing, possessing, or demanding of 
 any thing is really detrimental to the Publick in any particular 
 Instance, as being contrary to the imperfect Right of another ; 
 but yet the universally denying Men this Faculty of doing, 
 possessing, or demanding that Thing, or of using Force in 
 pursuance of it, would do more mischief than all the Evils 
 to be fear'd from the Use of this Faculty. And hence it 
 appears, 'That there can be no' Right to use Force in 
 opposition even to external Rights, since it tends to the 
 universal Good to allow Force in pursuance of them.' 
 
 CIVIL Societys substitute Actions in Law, instead of the 
 Force allow'd in the State of Nature. 
 
 Instances of external Rights are these ; that of a wealthy 
 Miser to recal his Loan from the most industrious poor 
 Tradesman at any time ; that of demanding the Performance 
 of a Covenant too burdensom on one side; the Right of 
 a wealthy Heir to refuse Payment of any Debts which were 
 contracted by him under Age, without Fraud in the Lender ; 
 the Right of taking advantage of a positive Law, contrary to 
 what was Equity antecedent to that Law ; as when a register'd 
 Deed takes place of one not register'd, altho prior to it, and 
 known to be so before the second Contract. 
 
 178 Now whereas no Action, Demand, or Possession, can at
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 163 
 
 once be either necessary to the publick Good, or conducive 
 to it, and at the same time its contrary be either necessary or 
 conducive to the same end ; it follows, ' That there can be no 
 Opposition of perfect Rights among themselves, of imperfect 
 among themselves, or between perfect and imperfect Rights.' 
 But it may often tend to the publick Good, to allow a Right 
 of doing, possessing, or demanding, and of using Force in 
 pursuance of it, while perhaps it would have been more 
 humane and kind in any Person to have acted otherwise, 
 and not have claim'd his Right. But yet a violent Opposition 
 to these Rights, would have been vastly more pernicious 
 than all the Inhumanity in the use of them. And therefore, 
 tho external Rights cannot be opposite among themselves ; 
 yet they may be opposite to imperfect Rights ; but imperfect 
 Rights, tho violated, give no Right to Force. Hence it 
 appears, ' That there can never be a Right to Force on both 
 Sides, or a just War on both Sides at the same time.' 
 179 VII. There is another important Difference of Rights, ac- 
 cording as they are Alienable, or Unalienable. To deter- 
 mine what Rights are alienable, and what not, we must take 
 these two Marks : 
 
 i st. If the Alienation be within our natural Power, so that 
 it be possible for us in Fact to transfer our Right ; and if it 
 be so, then, 
 
 2dly. It must appear, that to transfer such Rights may serve 
 some valuable Purpose. 
 
 By the first Mark it appears, ' That the Right of private 
 Judgment, or of our inward Sentiments, is unalienable ; ' since 
 we cannot command ourselves to think what either we our 
 selves, or any other Person pleases. So are also our internal 
 Affections, which necessarily arise according to our Opinions 
 of their Objects. By the second Mark it appears, ' That our 
 Right of serving GOD, in the manner which we think accept- 
 able, is not alienable ; ' because it can never serve any valuable 
 purpose, to make Men worship him in a way which seems to 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 them displeasing to him. The same way, a direct Right over 
 our Lives or Limbs, is not alienable to any Person ; so that he 
 might at Pleasure put us to death, or maim us. We have 
 indeed a Right to hazard our Lives in any good Action which 
 is of importance to the Publick ; and it may often serve a most 
 valuable end, to subject the direction of such perilous Actions 
 to the Prudence of others in pursuing a publick Good ; as 
 Soldiers do to their General, or to a Council of War : and so 
 far this Right is alienable. These may serve as Instances to 
 shew the Use of the two Marks of alienable Rights, which must 
 both concur to make them so, and will explain the manner of 
 applying them in other Cases. 
 
 180 VIII. That we may see the Foundation of some of the more 
 important Rights of Mankind, let us observe, that probably 
 nine Tenths, at least, of the things which are useful to Man- 
 kind, are owing to their Labour and Industry ; and conse- 
 quently, when once Men become so numerous, that the natural 
 Product of the Earth is not sufficient for their Support, or Ease, 
 or innocent Pleasure ; a necessity arises, for the support of the 
 increasing System, that such a Tenour of Conduct be observ'd, 
 as shall most effectually promote Industry ; and that Men 
 abstain from all Actions which would have the contrary effect. 
 It is well known, that general Benevolence alone, is not a Motive 
 strong enough to Industry, to bear Labour and Toil, and many 
 other Difficultys which we are averse to from Self-love. For 
 the strengthning therefore our Motives to Industry, we have 
 the strongest Attractions of Blood, of Friendship, of Gratitude, 
 and the additional Motives of Honour, and even of external 
 Interest. Self-love is really as necessary to the Good of the 
 Whole, as Benevolence ; as that Attraction which causes the 
 Cohesion of the Parts, is as necessary to the regular State of 
 the Whole, as Gravitation. Without these additional Motives, 
 Self-love would generally oppose the Motions of Benevolence, 
 and concur with Malice, or influence us to the same Actions 
 which Malice would. ' That Tenour of Action then, which
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 165 
 
 would take away the stronger Ties of Benevolence, or the 
 additional Motives of Honour and Advantage, from our Minds, 
 and so hinder us from pursuing industriously that Course which 
 really increases the Good of the Whole, is evil ; and we are 
 oblig'd to shun it.' 
 
 First then, the depriving any Person of the Fruits of his own 
 innocent Labour, takes away all Motives to Industry from 
 Self-love, or the nearer Ties ; and leaves us no other Motive 
 than general Benevolence : nay, it exposes the Industrious as 
 a constant Prey to the Slothful, and sets Self-love against 
 Industry. This is the Ground of our Right of Dominion and 
 Property in the Fruits of our Labours ; without which Right, 
 we could scarce hope for any Industry, or any thing beyond 
 the Product of uncultivated Nature. Industry will be confin'd 
 to our present Necessitys, and cease when they are provided 
 for; at least it will only continue from the weak Motive of 
 general Benevolence, if we are not allow'd to store up beyond 
 present Necessity, and to dispose of what is . above our 
 Necessitys, either in Barter for other kinds of Necessarys, or 
 for the Service of our Friends or Familys. And hence appears 
 the Right which Men have to lay up for the future, the Goods 
 which will not be spoil'd by it ; of alienating them in Trade ; 
 of Donation to Friends, Children, Relations : otherwise we 
 deprive Industry of all the Motives of Self-love, Friendship, 
 Gratitude, and natural Affection. The same Foundation there 
 is for the Right of Disposition by Testament. The Presumption 
 of this Disposition, is the Ground of the Right of Succession to 
 the Intestate. 
 
 The external Right of the Miser to his useless Hoards, is 
 founded also on this, that allowing Persons by Violence, or 
 without Consent of the Acquirer, to take the Use of his 
 Acquisitions, would discourage Industry, and take away all the 
 Pleasures of Generosity, Honour, Charity, which cease when 
 Men can be forc'd to these Actions. Besides, there is no 
 determining in many Cases, who is a Miser, and who is not.
 
 1 66 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 Marriage must be so constituted as to ascertain the Offspring ; 
 otherwise we take away from the Males one of the strongest 
 Motives to publick Good, viz. natural Affection ; and discourage 
 Industry, as has been shewn above. 
 
 The Labour of each Man cannot furnish him with all 
 Necessarys, tho it may furnish him with a needless Plenty of 
 one sort : Hence the Right of Commerce, and alienating our 
 Goods ; and also the Rights from Contracts and Promises, 
 either to the Goods acquir'd by others, or to their Labours. 
 
 The great Advantages which accrue to Mankind from 
 unprejudic'd Arbitrators, impower'd to decide the Controversys 
 which ordinarily arise, thro the partiality of Self-love, among 
 Neighbours ; as also from prudent Directors, who should not 
 only instruct the Multitude in the best Methods of promoting 
 the publick Good, and of defending themselves against mutual 
 or foreign Injurys ; but also be arm'd with Force sufficient to 
 make their Decrees or Orders effectual at home, and the 
 Society formidable abroad : these Advantages, I say, sufficiently 
 shew the Right Men have to constitute Civil Government, and 
 to subject their alienable Rights to the Disposal of their 
 Governours, under such Limitations as their Prudence suggests. 
 And as far as the People have subjected their Rights, so far 
 their Governours have an external Right at least, to dispose of 
 them, as their Prudence shall direct, for attaining the Ends of 
 their Institution ; and no further. 
 
 181 IX. These Instances may shew how our moral Sense, by 
 a little Reflection upon the tendencys of Actions, may adjust 
 the Rights of Mankind. Let us now apply the general Canon 
 laid down above 1 , for comparing the Degrees of Virtue and 
 Vice in Actions, in a few Corollarys besides that one already 
 deduc'd 2 . 
 
 i. The Disappointment, in whole or in part, of any Attempt, 
 Good or Evil, if it be occasion'd only by external Force, or 
 
 1 See Sect. iii. Art. n, 12. ( 126, 127). 
 a See Sect. iii. Art. 15. Par. 3. (132).
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 167 
 
 any unforeseen Accident, does not vary the moral Good, or 
 Evil ; for as in good Attempts, the Moment of Good, or 
 [M] is diminished, or vanishes in such a case, so does the 
 Ability, or [A] likewise : The Quotient then may still be the 
 same. This holds equally in evil Attempts. So that Actions 
 are not to be judg'd good or evil by the Events, and further 
 than they might have been foreseen by the Agent in evil At- 
 tempts ; or were actually intended, if they were good, in good 
 Actions ; for then only they argue either Love or Hatred in the 
 Agent. 
 
 2. Secular Rewards annex'd to Virtue, and actually in- 
 fluencing the Agent further than his Benevolence would, 
 diminish the moral Good as far as they were necessary to move 
 the Agent to the Action, or to make him do more Good than 
 otherwise he would have done ; for by increasing the Interest, 
 or [I] positive, to be subtracted, they diminish the Benevolence. 
 But additional Interests which were not necessary to have 
 mov'd the Agent, such as the Rewards of a good Being for 
 Actions which he would have undertaken without a Reward, 
 do not diminish the Virtue. In this however no Mortal is 
 capable of judging another. Nor do the Prospects of grateful 
 Returns for Benefits which we would have conferr'd gratuitously, 
 diminish the Generosity. This Corollary may be apply'd to 
 the Rewards of a future State, if any Person conceives them 
 distinct from the Pleasures of Virtue itself: If they be not 
 conceiv'd as something distinct from those Pleasures, then the 
 very Desire of them is a strong Evidence of a virtuous Dis- 
 position. 
 
 3. External Advantage exciting us to Actions of evil 
 Tendency to others, if without this Prospect of Advantage 
 we would not have undertaken them, diminishes the Evil of 
 the Action ; such as the Prospects of great Rewards, of avoiding 
 Tortures, or even the uneasy Sollicitations of violent selfish 
 Passions. This is commonly call'd the greatness of Tempta- 
 tion. The reason of this is the same with that in the former
 
 1 68 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 Case, since H=^ We may here also remember again, 
 
 A * 
 
 that we are more uneasy upon the presence of Pain, than upon 
 the absence of Good ; and hence Torture is a more extenuating 
 Circumstance than Bribes, engaging us to Evil, because [I] is 
 greater. 
 
 4. The surmounting the uneasy Sollicitations of the selfish 
 Passions, increases the Virtue of a benevolent Action, and 
 much more worldly Losses, Toil, &c. for now the Interest 
 becomes negative ; the Subtraction of which increases the 
 Quantity. 
 
 5. A malicious Action is made the more odious by all its 
 foreseen Disadvantages to the Agent, for the same reason : 
 particularly, 
 
 6. The Knowledge of a Law prohibiting an evil Action, 
 increases the Evil by increasing the negative Interest to be 
 subtracted ; for then the ill-natur'd Inclination must be so 
 strong as to surmount all the Motives of Self-love, to avoid 
 the Penaltys, and all the Motives of Gratitude toward the 
 Law-giver. This is commonly call'd sinning against Con- 
 science. 
 
 7. Offices of no Toil or Expence, have little Virtue generally, 
 because the Ability is very great, and there is no contrary 
 Interest surmounted. 
 
 8. But the refusing of them may be very vitious, as it argues 
 an absence of good Affection, and often produces a great 
 enough Moment of natural Evil. And, 
 
 9. In general, the fulfilling the perfect Rights of others has 
 little Virtue in it ; for thereby no Moment of Good is produc'd 
 more than there was before ; and the Interest engaging to the 
 Action is very great, even the avoiding all the Evils of War in 
 a State of Nature. 
 
 10. But the violating perfect, or even external Rights, is 
 always exceedingly evil, either in the immediate, or more 
 remote Consequences of the Action ; and the selfish Motives
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 169 
 
 surmounted by this vitious Inclination, are the same with those 
 in the former Case. 
 
 11. The truest Matter of Praise are those Actions or Offices 
 which others claim from us by an imperfect Right ; and 
 generally, the stronger their Right is, there is the less Virtue 
 in fulfilling it, but the greater Vice in violating it. 
 
 LEMMA. The stronger Ties of Benevolence, in equal Abilitys, 
 must produce a greater Moment of Good, in equally good 
 Characters, than the weaker Ties. Thus, natural Affections, 
 Gratitude, Friendship, have greater Effects than general Bene- 
 volence. Hence, 
 
 12. In equal Moments of Good produc'd by two Agents, 
 when one acts from general Benevolence, and the other from 
 a nearer Tie; there is greater Virtue in the Agent, who 
 produces equal Good from the weaker Attachment, and less 
 Virtue, where there is the stronger Attachment, which yet 
 produces no more. 
 
 13. But the Omission of the good Offices of the stronger 
 Ties, or Actions contrary to them, have greater Vice in them, 
 than the like Omissions or Actions contrary to the weaker 
 Ties ; since our Selfishness or Malice must appear the greater, 
 by the strength of the contrary Attachment which it surmounts. 
 Thus, in co-operating with Gratitude, natural Affection, or 
 Friendship, we evidence less Virtue in any given Moment of 
 Good produc'd, than in equally important Actions of general 
 Benevolence : But Ingratitude to a Benefactor, Negligence of 
 the Interests of a Friend, or Relation ; or Returns of evil 
 Offices, are vastly more odious, than equal Negligence, or evil 
 Offices toward Strangers. 
 
 14. When we cannot at once follow two different Inclinations 
 of Benevolence, we are to prefer gratifying the stronger In- 
 clination ; according to the wise Order of NATURE, who has 
 constituted these Attachments. Thus, we are rather to be 
 Grateful than Liberal, rather serve a Friend, or Kinsman, than 
 a Stranger of only equal Virtue, when we cannot do both.
 
 1 70 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII. 
 
 15. Or more generally, since there can be no Right, Claim, 
 or Obligation to Impossibilitys ; when two Actions to be done 
 by any Agent, would both tend to the good of Mankind, but 
 they cannot be perform'd both at once ; that which occasions 
 most Good is to be done, if the Omission of the other 
 occasions no prepollent Evil. If the omission of either, will 
 occasion some new natural Evil, that is to be omitted, whose 
 Omission will occasion the least Evil. Thus, if two Persons 
 of unequal Dignity be in Danger, we are to relieve the more 
 valuable, when we cannot relieve both. Ingratitude, as it 
 evidences a worse Temper than neglect of Beneficence ; so it 
 raises worse Sentiments in the Benefactor, and greater 
 Diffidence, and Suspicion of his Fellow-Creatures, than an 
 Omission of an Act of Beneficence : we ought therefore to be 
 Grateful, rather than Beneficent, when we cannot (in any 
 particular Case) evidence both Dispositions. If omitting of 
 one Action will occasion new positive Evil, or continuance in 
 a State of Pain, whereas the Omission of another would only 
 prevent some new positive Good; since a State of Pain is 
 a greater Evil, than the absence of Good, we are to follow 
 Compassion, rather than Kindness ; and relieve the Distressed, 
 rather than increase the Pleasures of the Easy; when we 
 cannot do both at once, and other Circumstances of the 
 Objects are equal. In such Cases, we should not suppose 
 contrary Obligations, or Dutys ; the more important Office is 
 our present Duty, and the Omission of the less important in- 
 consistent Office at present, is no moral Evil. 
 182 X. From Art. vii. it follows, 'That all human Power, or 
 Authority, must consist in a Right transferr'd to any Person or 
 Council, to dispose of the alienable Rights of others, and that 
 consequently, there can be no Government so absolute, as to 
 have even an external Right to do or command every thing.' 
 For wherever any Invasion is made upon unalienable Rights, 
 there must arise either a perfect, or external Right to Re- 
 sistance. The only Restraints of a moral Kind upon Subjects
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 171 
 
 in such cases, are, when they foresee that, thro their want of 
 Force, they shall probably by Resistance occasion greater Evils 
 to the Publick, than those they attempt to remove ; or when 
 they find that Governours, in the main very useful to the 
 Publick, have by some unadvised Passion, done an Injury too 
 small to overbalance the Advantages of their Administra- 
 tion, or the Evils which Resistance would in all likelihood 
 occasion ; especially when the Injury is of a private Nature, 
 and not likely to be made a Precedent to the ruin of others. 
 Unalienable Rights are essential Limitations in all Govern- 
 ments. 
 
 But by absolute Government, either in Prince, or Council, 
 or in both jointly, we understand a Right to dispose of the 
 natural Force, and Goods of a whole People, as far as they are 
 naturally alienable, according to the Prudence of the Prince, 
 Council, or of both jointly, for the publick Good of the State, 
 or whole People ; without any Reservation as to the Quantity 
 of the Goods, manner of Levying, or the proportion of the 
 Labours of the Subject, which they shall demand. But in all 
 States this tacit Trust is presuppos'd, ' that the Power conferr'd 
 shall be employ'd according to the best Judgment of the 
 Rulers for the publick Good.' So that whenever the Govern- 
 ours openly profess a Design of destroying the State, or act in 
 such a manner as will necessarily do it ; the essential Trust, 
 suppos'd in all conveyance of Civil Power, is violated, and the 
 Grant thereby made void. 
 
 A Prince, or Council, or both jointly, may be variously 
 Limited ; either when the Consent of the one may be necessary 
 to the validity of the Acts of the other ; or when, in the very 
 Constitution of this supreme Power, certain Affairs are expressly 
 exempted from the Jurisdiction of the Prince, or Council, or 
 both jointly : as when several independent States uniting, form 
 a general Council, from whose Cognizance they expressly 
 reserve certain Privileges, in the very Formation of this 
 Council; or when in the very Constitution of any State,
 
 I 7 2 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VII . 
 
 a certain Method of Election of the Person of the Prince, or 
 of the Members of the supreme Council is determin'd, and the 
 Intention of their Assembling declar'd. In all such cases, it is 
 not in the Power of such Prince, Council, or both jointly, to 
 alter the very Form of Government, or to take away that Right 
 which the People have to be govern'd in such a manner, by 
 a Prince, or Council thus elected, without the universal Con- 
 sent of the very People who have subjected themselves to this 
 Form of Government. So that there may be a very regular 
 State, where there is no universal absolute Power, lodg'd either 
 in one Person, or Council, or in any other Assembly beside 
 that of the whole People associated into that State. To say, 
 that upon a Change attempted in the very Form of the Govern- 
 ment, by the supreme Power, the People have no Remedy 
 according to the Constitution itself, will not prove that the 
 supreme Power has such a Right ; unless we confound all 
 Ideas of Right with those of external Force. The only 
 Remedy indeed in that Case, is an universal Insurrection 
 against such perfidious Trustees. 
 
 Despotick Power, is that which Persons injur'd may acquire 
 over those Criminals, whose Lives, consistently with the 
 publick Safety, they may prolong, that by their Labours they 
 may repair the Damages they have done ; or over those who 
 stand oblig'd to a greater Value, than all their Goods and 
 Labours can possibly amount to. This Power itself, is limited 
 to the Goods and Labours only of the Criminals or Debtors ; 
 and includes no Right to Tortures, Prostitution, or any 
 Rights of the Governed which are naturally Unalienable ; 
 or to any thing which is not of some Moment toward Repair 
 of Damage, Payment of Debt, or Security against future 
 Offences. The Characteristick of despotick Power, is this, 
 'that it is solely intended for the good of the Governours, 
 without any tacit Trust of consulting the good of the 
 Governed.' Despotick Government, in this Sense, is directly 
 inconsistent with the Notion of Civil Government.
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 173 
 
 183 From the Idea of Right, as above explain'd, we must 
 necessarily conclude, ' that there can be no Right, or Limita- 
 tion of Right, inconsistent with, or opposite to the greatest 
 publick Good.' And therefore in Cases of extreme Necessity, 
 when the State cannot otherwise be preserv'd from Ruin, 
 it must certainly be Just and Good in limited Governours, 
 or in any other Persons who can do it, to use the Force of 
 the State for its own preservation, beyond the Limits fix'd by 
 the Constitution, in some transitory Acts, which are not to be 
 made Precedents. And on the other hand, when an equal 
 Necessity to avoid Ruin requires it, the Subjects may justly 
 resume the Powers ordinarily lodg'd in their Governours, 
 or may counteract them. This Privilege of flagrant Necessity, 
 we all allow in defence of the most perfect private Rights : 
 And if publick Rights are of more extensive Importance, 
 so are also publick Necessitys. These Necessitys must be 
 very grievous and flagrant, otherwise they can never over- 
 ballance the Evils of violating a tolerable Constitution, by an 
 arbitrary act of Power, on the one hand ; or by an Insurrec- 
 tion, or Civil War, on the other. No Person, or State can be 
 happy, where they do not think their important Rights are 
 secur'd from the Cruelty, Avarice, Ambition, or Caprice of 
 their Governours. Nor can any Magistracy be safe, or 
 effectual for the ends of its Institution, where there are 
 frequent Terrors of Insurrections. Whatever temporary Acts 
 therefore may be allow'd in extraordinary Cases ; whatever 
 may be lawful in the transitory Act of a bold Legislator, who 
 without previous Consent should rescue a slavish Nation, and 
 place their Affairs so in the Hands of a Person, or Council, 
 elected, or limited by themselves, that they should soon have 
 Confidence in their own Safety, and in the Wisdom of the 
 Administration; yet, as to the fixed State which should 
 ordinarily obtain in all Communitys, since no Assumer of 
 Government, can so demonstrate his superior Wisdom or 
 Goodness to the satisfaction and security of the Governed,
 
 1 7 4 HUTCHES ON. [Sect. VI I . 
 
 as is necessary to their Happiness; this must follow, That 
 except when Men, for their own Interest, or out of publick 
 Love, have by Consent subjected their Actions, or their 
 Goods within certain Limits to the Disposal of others ; no 
 Mortal can have a Right from his superior Wisdom, or Good- 
 ness, or any other Quality, to give Laws to others without 
 their Consent, express or tacit ; or to dispose of the Fruits 
 of their Labours, or of any other Right whatsoever.' And 
 therefore superior Wisdom, or Goodness, gives no Right to 
 Men to govern others. 
 
 184 But then with relation to the DEITY, suppos'd omniscient 
 and benevolent, and secure from Indigence, the ordinary 
 Cause of Injurys toward others ; it must be amiable in such 
 a Being, to assume the Government of weak, inconstant 
 Creatures, often misled by Selfishness; and to give them 
 Laws. To these Laws every Mortal should submit from 
 publick Love, as being contriv'd for the Good of the Whole, 
 and for the greatest private Good consistent with it ; and 
 every one may be sure, that he shall be better directed how 
 to attain these Ends by the Divine Laws, than by his own 
 greatest Prudence and Circumspection. Hence we imagine, 
 'That a good and wise GOD must have a perfect Right to 
 govern the Universe; and that all Mortals are oblig'd to 
 universal Obedience.' 
 
 The Justice of the DEITY is only a Conception of his 
 universal impartial Benevolence, as it shall influence him, 
 if he gives any Laws, to attemper them to the universal Good, 
 and inforce them with the most effectual Sanctions of Rewards 
 and Punishments. 
 
 185 XI. Some imagine that the Property the Creator has in all 
 his Works, must be the true Foundation of his Right to 
 govern. Among Men indeed, we find it necessary for the 
 publick Good, that none should arbitrarily dispose of the 
 Goods acquir'd by the Labour of another, which we call his 
 Property; and hence we imagine that Creation is the only
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 175 
 
 Foundation of GOD'S Dominion. But if the Reason 1 of 
 establishing the Rights of Property does not hold against 
 a perfectly wise and benevolent Being, I see no Reason why 
 Property should be necessary to his Dominion. Now the 
 Reason does not hold : For an infinitely wise and good 
 Being, could never employ his assumed Authority to counter- 
 act the universal Good. The tie of Gratitude is stronger 
 indeed than bare Benevolence ; and therefore supposing two 
 equally wise and good Beings, the one our Creator, and 
 the other not, we should think our selves more oblig'd to 
 obey our Creator. But supposing our Creator malicious, 
 and a good Being condescending to rescue us, or govern 
 us better, with sufficient Power to accomplish his kind Inten- 
 tions; his Right to govern would be perfectly good. But 
 this is rather matter of curious Speculation than Use ; since 
 both Titles of Benevolence and Property concur in the one 
 only true DEITY, as far as we can know, join'd with infinite 
 Wisdom and Power. 
 
 186 XII. If it be here enquir'd 'Could not the DEITY have 
 given us a different or contrary determination of Mind, viz. 
 to approve Actions upon another Foundation than Benevo- 
 lence?' It is certain, there is nothing in this surpassing the 
 natural Power of the DEITY. But as in the first Treatise, 
 we resolv'd the Constitution of our present Sense of Beauty 
 into the divine Goodness, so with much more obvious Reason 
 may we ascribe the present Constitution of our moral Sense 
 to his Goodness. For if the DEITY be really benevolent, or 
 delights in the Happiness of others, he could not rationally 
 act otherwise, or give us a moral Sense upon another Founda- 
 tion, without counteracting his own benevolent Intentions. 
 For, even upon the Supposition of a contrary Sense, every 
 rational Being must still have been sollicitous in some degree 
 about his own external Happiness : Reflection on the Circum- 
 stances of Mankind in this World would have suggested, that 
 1 See Art. 10. Par. 6. of this Section ( 184).
 
 1 76 HUTCHESON. [Sect. VI I. 
 
 universal Benevolence and a social Temper, or a certain 
 Course of external Actions, would most effectually promote 
 the external Good of every one, according to the Reasonings 
 of CUMBERLAND and PUFFENDORF ; while at the same time 
 this perverted Sense of Morality would have made us uneasy 
 in such a Course, and inclin'd us to the quite contrary, 
 viz. Barbarity, Cruelty, and Fraud ; and universal War, accord- 
 ing to Mr. HOBBS, would really have been our natural State ; 
 so that in every Action we must have been distracted by two 
 contrary Principles, and perpetually miserable, and dissatisfy'd 
 when we follow'd the Directions of either. 
 
 187 XIII. It has often been taken for granted in these Papers, 
 ' That the DEITY is morally good ; ' tho the Reasoning is not 
 at all built upon this Supposition. If we enquire into the 
 Reason of the great Agreement of Mankind in this Opinion, 
 we shall perhaps find no demonstrative Arguments a priori, 
 from the Idea of an Independent Being, to prove his Good- 
 ness. But there is abundant Probability, deduc'd from the 
 whole Frame of Nature, which seems, as far as we know, 
 plainly contriv'd for the Good of the Whole ; and the casual 
 Evils seem the necessary Concomitants of some Mechanism 
 design'd for vastly prepollent Good. Nay, this very moral 
 Sense, implanted in rational Agents, to delight in, and admire 
 whatever Actions flow from a Study of the Good of others, 
 is one of the strongest Evidences of Goodness in the AUTHOR 
 of Nature. 
 
 But these Reflections are no way so universal as the 
 Opinion, nor are they often inculcated by any one. What 
 then more probably leads Mankind into that Opinion, is 
 this. The obvious Frame of the World gives us Ideas of 
 boundless Wisdom and Power in its AUTHOR. Such a Being 
 we cannot conceive indigent, and must conclude happy, and 
 in the best State possible, since he can still gratify himself. 
 The best State of rational Agents, and their greatest and 
 most worthy Happiness, we are necessarily led to imagine
 
 Sect. VII.] CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. 177 
 
 must consist in universal efficacious Benevolence : and hence 
 we conclude the DEITY benevolent in the most universal 
 impartial manner. Nor can we well imagine what else 
 deserves the Name of Perfection but Benevolence, and those 
 Capacitys or Abilitys which are necessary to make it effectual ; 
 such as Wisdom, and Power : at least we can have no other 
 valuable Conception of it. 
 
 N
 
 BUTLER 
 
 SERMONS AND DISSERTATION 
 UPON VIRTUE 
 
 N 2
 
 Sermons, first edition, 1726: reprinted here from the second edition, 1729. 
 (Preface dated Sept. 16, 1729.) 
 
 Dissertation upon Virtue appended to the ' Analogy,' first edition, 1 736.
 
 BUTLER 
 
 Sermons 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ******* 
 
 188 THERE are two ways in which the subject of morals may be 
 treated. One begins from inquiring into the abstract relations 
 of things : the other from a matter of fact, namely, what the 
 particular nature of man is, its several parts, their economy or 
 constitution; from whence it proceeds to determine what 
 course of life it is, which is correspondent to this whole nature. 
 In the former method the conclusion is expressed thus, that 
 vice is contrary to the nature and reason of things : in the 
 latter, that it is a violation or breaking in upon our own nature. 
 Thus they both lead us to the same thing, our obligations to 
 the practice of virtue ; and thus they exceedingly strengthen 
 and enforce each other. The first seems the most direct 
 formal proof, and in some respects the least liable to cavil and 
 dispute : the latter is in a peculiar manner adapted to satisfy 
 a fair mind ; and is more easily applicable to the several 
 particular relations and circumstances in life. 
 
 189 The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter 
 method. The three first wholly. They were intended to 
 explain what is meant by the nature of man, when it is said
 
 1 82 BUTLER. [Preface. 
 
 that virtue consists in following, and vice in deviating from it ; 
 and by explaining to shew that the assertion is true. That 
 the ancient moralists had some inward feeling or other, which 
 they chose to express in this manner, that man is born to 
 virtue, that it consists in following nature, and that vice is 
 more contrary to this nature than tortures or death, their works 
 in our hands are instances. Now a person who found no 
 mystery in this way of speaking of the ancients ; who, without 
 being very explicit with himself, kept to his natural feeling, 
 went along with them, and found within himself a full con- 
 viction, that what they laid down was just and true ; such an 
 one would probably wonder to see a point, in which he never 
 perceived any difficulty, so laboured as this is, in the second 
 and third Sermons ; insomuch perhaps as to be at a loss for 
 the occasion, scope, and drift of them. But it need not be 
 thought strange that this manner of expression, though familiar 
 with them, and, if not usually carried so far, yet not uncommon 
 amongst ourselves, should want explaining; since there are 
 several perceptions daily felt and spoken of, which yet it may 
 not be very easy at first view to explicate, to distinguish from 
 all others, and ascertain exactly what the idea or perception is. 
 The many treatises upon the passions are a proof of this ; since 
 so many would never have undertaken to unfold their several 
 complications, and trace and resolve them into their principles, 
 if they had thought, what they were endeavouring to shew was 
 obvious to every one, who felt and talked of those passions. 
 Thus, though there seems no ground to doubt, but that the 
 generality of mankind have the inward perception expressed so 
 commonly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more than 
 to doubt whether they have those passions ; yet it appeared of 
 use to unfold that inward conviction, and lay it open in a more 
 explicit manner, than I had seen done ; especially when there 
 were not wanting persons, who manifestly mistook the whole 
 thing, and so had great reason to express themselves dissatis- 
 fied with it. A late author of great and deserved reputation
 
 Preface.] SERMONS. 183 
 
 says, that to place virtue in following nature, is at best a loose 
 way of talk. And he has reason to say this, if what I think he 
 intends to express, though with great decency, be true, that 
 scarce any other sense can be put upon those words, but 
 acting as any of the several parts, without distinction, of a 
 man's nature happened most to incline him l . 
 
 190 Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this matter 
 thoroughly, should begin with stating to himself exactly the 
 idea of a system, economy, or constitution of any particular 
 nature, or particular any thing : and he will, I suppose, 
 find, that it is an one or a whole, made up of several 
 parts ; but yet, that the several parts even considered as 
 a whole do not complete the idea, unless in the notion of 
 a whole you include the relations and respects which those 
 parts have to each other. Every work both of nature and 
 of art is a system : and as every particular thing, both 
 natural and artificial, is for some use or purpose out of and 
 beyond itself, one may add, to what has been already brought 
 into the idea of a system, its conduciveness to this one or more 
 ends. Let us instance in a watch Suppose the several parts 
 of it taken to pieces, and placed apact from each other : let 
 a man have ever so exact a notion of these several parts, unless 
 he considers the respects and relations which they have to each 
 other, he will not have any thing like the idea of a watch. 
 Suppose these several parts brought together and anyhow 
 united : neither will he yet, be the union ever so close, have 
 an idea which will bear any resemblance to that of a watch. 
 But let him view those several parts put together, or consider 
 them as to be put together in the manner of a watch ; let him 
 form a notion of the relations which those several parts have to 
 each other all conducive in their respective ways to this 
 purpose, shewing the hour of the' day ; and then he has the 
 idea of a watch. Thus it is with regard to the inward frame 
 of man. Appetites, passions, affections, and the principle of 
 1 Rel. of Nature Delin., i. art. ix. pp. 22, 23, edit. 1725.
 
 1 84 BUTLER. [Preface. 
 
 reflection, considered merely as the several parts of our inward 
 nature, do not at all give us an idea of the system or constitu- 
 tion of this nature; because the constitution is formed by 
 somewhat not yet taken into consideration, namely, by the 
 relations which these several parts have to each other ; the 
 chief of which is the authority of reflection or conscience. It 
 is from considering the relations which the several appetites 
 and passions in the inward frame have to each other, and, 
 above all, the supremacy of reflection or conscience, that we 
 get the idea of the system or constitution of human nature. 
 And from the idea itself it will as fully appear, that this our 
 nature, i. e. constitution, is adapted to virtue, as from the idea 
 of a watch it appears, that its nature, i. e. constitution or 
 system, is adapted to measure time. What in fact or event 
 commonly happens is nothing to this question. Every work 
 of art is apt to be out of order : but this is so far from being 
 according to its system, that let the disorder increase, and it 
 will totally destroy it. This is merely by way of explanation, 
 what an economy, system, or constitution is. And thus far 
 the cases are perfectly parallel. If we go further, there is 
 indeed a difference, nothing to the present purpose, but too 
 important a one ever to be omitted. A machine is inanimate 
 and passive : but we are agents. Our constitution is put in 
 our own power. We are charged with it ; and therefore are 
 accountable for any disorder or violation of it. 
 191 Thus nothing can possibly be more contrary to nature than 
 vice ; meaning by nature not only the several parts of our 
 internal frame, but also the constitution of it. Poverty and 
 disgrace, tortures and death, are not so contrary to it. Misery 
 and injustice are indeed equally contrary to some different 
 parts of our nature taken singly : but injustice is moreover 
 contrary to the whole constitution of the nature. 
 
 If it be asked, whether this constitution be really what those 
 philosophers meant, and whether they would have explained 
 themselves in this manner ; the answer is the same, as if it
 
 Preface.] SERMONS. 185 
 
 should be asked, whether a person, who had often used the 
 word resentment, and felt the thing, would have explained this 
 passion exactly in the same manner, in which it is done in one 
 of these Discourses. As I have no doubt, but that this is 
 a true account of that passion, which he referred to and 
 intended to express by the word resentment ; so I have no 
 doubt, but that this is the true account of the ground of that 
 conviction which they referred to, when they said, vice was 
 contrary to nature. And though it should be thought that they 
 meant no more than that vice was contrary to the higher and 
 better part of our nature ; even this implies such a constitution as 
 I have endeavoured to explain. For the very terms, higher and 
 better, imply a relation or respect of parts to each other ; and 
 these relative parts, being in one and the same nature, form a con- 
 stitution, and are the very idea of it. They had a perception that 
 injustice was contrary to their nature, and that pain was so also. 
 They observed these two perceptions totally different, not in 
 degree, but in kind : and the reflecting upon each of them, as 
 they thus stood in their nature, wrought a full intuitive conviction, 
 that more was due and of right belonged to one of these inward 
 perceptions, than to the other ; that it demanded in all cases to 
 govern such a creature as man. So that, upon the whole, this 
 is a fair and true account of what was the ground of their con- 
 viction ; of what they intended to referto, when they said, virtue 
 consisted in following nature : a manner of speaking not loose 
 and undeterminate, but clear and distinct, strictly just and true. 
 192 Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is felt 
 by almost every one yet since, considered as an argument 
 and put in words, it appears somewhat abstruse, and since the 
 connexion of it is broken in the three first Sermons, it may not be 
 amiss to give the reader the whole argument here in one view. 
 Mankind has various instincts and principles of action, as 
 brute creatures have ; some leading most directly and imme- 
 diately to the good of the community, and some most directly 
 to private good.
 
 1 86 BUTLER. [Preface. 
 
 Man has several which brutes have not ; particularly reflec- 
 tion or conscience, an approbation of some principles or actions, 
 and disapprobation of others. 
 
 Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action, according 
 to certain rules ; suppose the constitution of their body, and 
 the objects around them. 
 
 The generality of mankind also obey their instincts and 
 principles, all of them ; those propensions we call good, as well 
 as the bad, according to the same rules ; namely, the constitu- 
 tion of their body, and the external circumstances which they 
 are in. [Therefore it is not a true representation of mankind 
 to affirm, that they are wholly governed by self-love, the love 
 of power and sensual appetites : since, as on the one hand they 
 are often actuated by these, without any regard to right or 
 wrong ; so on the other it is manifest fact, that the same persons, 
 the generality, are frequently influenced by friendship, com- 
 passion, gratitude; and even a general abhorrence of what is 
 base, and liking of what is fair and just, takes its turn amongst 
 the other motives of action. This is the partial inadequate 
 notion of human nature treated of in the first Discourse : and 
 it is by this nature, if one may speak so, that the world is in 
 fact influenced, and kept in that tolerable order, in which it is.] 
 193 Brutes in acting according to the rules before mentioned, 
 their bodily constitution and circumstances, act suitably to 
 their whole nature. [It is however to be distinctly noted, that 
 the reason why we affirm this is not merely that brutes in fact 
 act so ; for this alone, however universal, does not at all 
 determine, whether such course of action be correspondent to 
 their whole nature : but the reason of the assertion is, that as 
 in acting thus they plainly act conformably to somewhat in 
 their nature, so, from all observations we are able to make upon 
 them, there does not appear the least ground to imagine them 
 to have any thing else in their nature, which requires a different 
 rule or course of action.] 
 
 Mankind also in acting thus would act suitably to their
 
 Preface.] SERMONS. 187 
 
 whole nature, if no more were to be said of man's nature 
 than what has been now said ; if that, as it is a true, were also 
 a complete, adequate account of our nature. 
 
 194 But that is not a complete account of man's nature. 
 Somewhat further must be brought in to give us an adequate 
 notion of it ; namely, that one of those principles of action, 
 conscience or reflection, compared with the rest as they all 
 stand together in the nature of man, plainly bears upon it 
 marks of authority over all the rest, and claims the absolute 
 direction of them all, to allow or forbid their gratification : 
 a disapprobation of reflection being in itself a principle 
 manifestly superior to a mere propension. And the conclusion 
 is, that to allow no more to this superior principle or part 
 of our nature, than to other parts; to let it govern and 
 guide only occasionally in common with the rest, as its turn 
 happens to come, from the temper and circumstances one 
 happens to be in ; this is not to act comformably to the 
 constitution of man : neither can any human creature be 
 said to act conformably to his constitution of nature, unless 
 he allows to that superior principle the absolute authority 
 which is due to it. And this conclusion is abundantly con- 
 firmed from hence, that one may determine what course 
 of action the economy of man's nature requires, without 
 so much as knowing in what degrees of strength the several 
 principles prevail, or which of them have actually the greatest 
 influence. 
 
 195 The practical reason of insisting so much upon this natural 
 authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is, that 
 it seems in great measure overlooked by many, who are 
 by no means the worse sort of men. It is thought sufficient 
 to abstain from gross wickedness, and to be humane and kind 
 to such as happen to come in their way. Whereas in reality 
 the very constitution of our nature requires, that we bring 
 our whole conduct before this superior faculty; wait its de- 
 termination ; enforce upon ourselves its authority, and make
 
 1 88 BUTLER. [Preface. 
 
 it the business of our lives, as it is absolutely the whole 
 business of a moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is 
 the true meaning of that ancient precept, Reverence thyself. 
 
 The not taking into consideration this authority, which 
 is implied in the idea of reflex approbation or disapprobation, 
 seems a material deficiency or omission in lord Shaftesbury's 
 Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shewn beyond all con- 
 tradiction, that virtue is naturally the interest or happiness, 
 and vice the misery, of such a creature as man, placed in 
 the circumstances which we are in this world. But suppose 
 there are particular exceptions ; a case which this author was 
 unwilling to put, and yet surely it is to be put : or suppose 
 a case which he has put and determined, that of a sceptic not 
 convinced of this happy tendency of virtue, or being of 
 a contrary opinion. His determination is, that it would be 
 without remedy \ One may say more explicitly, that leaving 
 out the authority of reflex approbation or disapprobation, such 
 an one would be under an obligation to act viciously ; since 
 interest, one's own happiness, is a manifest obligation, and 
 there is not supposed to be any other obligation in the case. 
 ' But does it much mend the matter, to take in that natural 
 authority of reflection ? There indeed would be an obligation 
 to virtue ; but would not the obligation from supposed interest 
 on the side of vice remain ? ' If it should, yet to be under 
 two contrary obligations, i. e. under none at all, would not 
 be exactly the same, as to be under a formal obligation 
 to be vicious, or to be in circumstances in which the constitu- 
 tion of man's nature plainly required that vice should be 
 preferred. But the obligation on the side of interest really 
 does not remain. For the natural authority of the principle 
 of reflection is an obligation the most near and intimate, 
 the most certain and known : whereas the contrary obligation 
 can at the utmost appear no more than probable; since no 
 man can be certain in any circumstances that vice is his 
 1 ' Inquiry,' B. i. part 3, 3.
 
 Preface.] SERMONS. 1 89 
 
 interest in the present world, much less can he be certain 
 against another : and thus the certain obligation would entirely 
 supersede and destroy the uncertain one ; which yet would 
 have been of real force without the former. 
 
 196 In truth, the taking in this consideration totally changes 
 the whole state of the case; and shews, what this author 
 does not seem to have been aware of, that the greatest degree 
 of scepticism which he thought possible will still leave men 
 under the strictest moral obligations, whatever their opinion 
 be concerning the happiness of virtue. For that mankind 
 upon reflection felt an approbation of what was good, and 
 disapprobation of the contrary, he thought a plain matter 
 of fact, as it undoubtedly is, which none could deny, but 
 from. mere affectation. Take in then that authority and obli- 
 gation, which is a constituent part of this reflex approbation, 
 and it will undeniably follow, though a man should doubt 
 of every thing else, yet, that he would still remain under 
 the nearest and most certain obligation to the practice of 
 virtue; and obligation implied in the very idea of virtue, 
 in the very idea of reflex approbation. 
 
 And how little influence soever this obligation alone can 
 be expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one may 
 appeal even to interest and self-love, and ask, since from 
 man's nature, condition, and the shortness of life, so little, 
 so very little indeed, can possibly in any case be gained 
 by vice ; whether it be so prodigious a thing to sacrifice 
 that little to the most intimate of all obligations ; and which 
 a man cannot transgress without being self-condemned, and, 
 unless he has corrupted his nature, without real self-dislike : 
 this question, I say, may be asked, even upon supposition 
 that the prospect of a future life were ever so uncertain. 
 
 The observation, that man is thus by his very nature 
 a law to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of the 
 utmost importance ; because from it it will follow, that though 
 men should, through stupidity or speculative scepticism, be
 
 190 BUTLER. [Preface. 
 
 ignorant of, or disbelieve, any authority in the universe to 
 punish the violation of this law; yet, if there should be 
 such authority, they would be as really liable to punishment, 
 as though they had been beforehand convinced, that such 
 punishment would follow. For in whatever sense we under- 
 stand justice, even supposing, what I think would be very 
 presumptuous to assert, that the end of divine punishment 
 is no other than that of civil punishment, namely, to prevent 
 future mischief; upon this bold supposition, ignorance or 
 disbelief of the sanction would by no means exempt even 
 from this justice: because it is not foreknowledge of the 
 punishment which renders us obnoxious to it; but merely 
 violating a known obligation. 
 
 197 And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a manifest 
 error or mistake in the author now cited, unless perhaps 
 he has incautiously expressed himself so as to be misunder- 
 stood ; namely, that it is malice only, and not goodness, which 
 can make us afraid. Whereas in reality, goodness is the 
 natural and just object of the greatest fear to an ill man. 
 Malice may be appeased or satiated; humour may change, 
 but goodness is a fixed, steady, immovable principle of action. 
 If either of the former holds the sword of justice, there 
 is plainly ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for 
 impunity : but if it be goodness, there can be no possible 
 hope, whilst the reasons of things, or the ends of government, 
 call for punishment. Thus every one sees how much greater 
 chance of impunity an ill man has in a partial administration, 
 than in a just and upright one. It is said, that the interest 
 or good of the whole must be the interest of the universal 
 Being, and that he can have no other. Be it so. This author 
 has proved, that vice is naturally the misery of mankind 
 in this world. Consequently it was for the good of the 
 whole that it should be so. What shadow of reason then 
 is there to assert, that this may not be the case hereafter? 
 Danger of future punishment (and if there be danger, there
 
 Preface.] SERMONS. igl 
 
 is ground of fear) no more supposes malice, than the present 
 feeling of punishment does. 
 
 198 The chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to state the 
 notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order to shew that 
 benevolence is not more unfriendly to self-love, than any other 
 particular affection whatever. There is a strange affectation in 
 many people of explaining away all particular affections, and 
 representing the whole of life as nothing but one continued 
 exercise of self-love. Hence arises that surprising confusion 
 and perplexity in the Epicureans l of old, Hobbes, the author 
 of Reflexions, Sentences, et Maximes Morales, and this whole 
 set of writers ; the confusion of calling actions interested which 
 are done in contradiction to the most manifest known interest, 
 merely for the gratification of a present passion. Now all this 
 confusion might easily be avoided, by stating to ourselves 
 wherein the idea of self-love in general consists, as distinguished 
 from all particular movements towards particular external 
 objects ; the appetites of sense, resentment, compassion, 
 curiosity, ambition, and the rest 2 . When this is done, if the 
 words selfish and interested cannot be parted with, but must be 
 applied to every thing ; yet, to avoid such total confusion of 
 all language, let the distinction be made by epithets : and the 
 first may be called cool or settled selfishness, and the other 
 passionate or sensual selfishness. But the most natural way of 
 speaking plainly is, to call the first only, self-love, and the 
 actions proceeding from it, interested : and to say of the latter, 
 that they are not love to ourselves, but movements towards 
 
 1 One need only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean system, 
 in Cicero's first book De Finibus, to see in what a surprising manner this 
 was done by them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being beloved, he 
 explains to be no other than desire of safety : regard to our country, even 
 in the most virtuous character, to be nothing but regard to ourselves. The 
 author of Reflexions, 6-v. Morales, says, Curiosity proceeds from interest or 
 pride ; which pride also would doubtless have been explained to be self- 
 love. Page 85, ed. 1725. As if there were no such passions in mankind as 
 desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge. Hobbes's account 
 of the affections of good-will and pity are instances of the same kind. 
 
 2 Inf. 228 9.
 
 192 BUTLER. [Preface. 
 
 somewhat external : honour, power, the harm or good of 
 another : and that the pursuit of these external objects, so far 
 as it proceeds from these movements, (for it may proceed from 
 self-love ',) is no otherwise interested, than as every action of 
 every creature must, from the nature of the thing, be ; for no 
 one can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference of 
 his own. 
 
 199 Self-love and any particular passion may be joined together ; 
 and from this complication, it becomes impossible in numberless 
 instances to determine precisely, how far an action, perhaps 
 even of one's own, has for its principle general self-love, or 
 some particular passion. But this need create no confusion in 
 the ideas themselves of self-love and particular passions. We 
 distinctly discern what one is, and what the other are : though 
 we may be uncertain how far one or the other influences us. 
 And though, from this uncertainty, it cannot but be that there 
 will be different opinions concerning mankind, as more or less 
 governed by interest ; and some will ascribe actions to self-love, 
 which others will ascribe to particular passions : yet it is absurd 
 to say that mankind are wholly actuated by either ; since it is 
 manifest that both have their influence. For as, on the one 
 hand, men form a general notion of interest, some placing it in 
 one thing, and some in another, and have a considerable regard 
 to it throughout the course of their life, which is owing to self- 
 love ; so, on the other hand, they are often set on work by the 
 particular passions themselves, and a considerable part of life 
 is spent in the actual gratification of them, i. e. is employed, not 
 by self-love, but by the passions. 
 
 Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit necessarily 
 presupposes particular passions or appetites; since the very 
 idea of interest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite 
 or affection enjoys its object. It is not because we love 
 ourselves that we find delight in such and such objects, but 
 because we have particular affections towards them. Take 
 1 See the note, 205, pp. 199-200.
 
 Preface.] SERMONS. 1 93 
 
 away these affections, and you leave self-love absolutely nothing 
 at all to employ itself about 1 ;' no end or object for it to pursue, 
 excepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed the Epicureans, 
 who maintained that absence of pain was the highest happiness, 
 might, consistently with themselves, deny all affection, and, if 
 they had so pleased, every sensual appetite too ; but the very 
 idea of interest or happiness other than absence of pain implies 
 particular appetites or passions ; these being necessary to con- 
 stitute that interest or happiness. 
 
 20O The observation, that benevolence is no more disinterested 
 than any of the common particular passions 2 , seems in itself 
 worth being taken notice of; but is insisted upon to obviate 
 that scorn, which one sees rising upon the faces of people who 
 are said to know the world, when mention is made of a dis- 
 interested, generous, or public-spirited action. The truth of 
 that observation might be made appear in a more formal 
 manner of proof: for whoever will consider all the possible 
 respects and relations which any particular affection can have 
 to self-love and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably, 
 that benevolence is not in any respect more at variance with 
 self-love, than any other particular affection whatever, but that 
 it is in every respect, at least, as friendly to it. 
 
 If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and 
 benevolence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed, but 
 only to be distinguished from each other ; in the same way as 
 virtue and any other particular affection, love of arts, suppose, 
 are to be distinguished. Every thing is what it is, and not 
 another thing. The goodness or badness of actions does not 
 arise from hence, that the epithet, interested or disinterested, 
 may be applied to them, any more than that any other in- 
 different epithet, suppose inquisitive or jealous, may or may 
 not be applied to them ; not from their being attended with 
 present or future pleasure or pain ; but from their being what 
 they are ; namely, what becomes such creatures as we are, 
 
 1 231. 2 233, &C.
 
 194 BUTLER. [Preface. 
 
 what the state of the case requires, or the contrary. Or in 
 other words, we may judge and determine, that an action is 
 morally good or evil, before we so much as consider, whether 
 it be interested or disinterested. This consideration no more 
 comes in to determine whether an action be virtuous, than to 
 determine whether it be resentful. Self-love in its due degree 
 is as just and morally good, as any affection whatever. Bene- 
 volence towards particular persons may be to a degree of 
 weakness, and so be blamable : and disinterestedness is so far 
 from being in itself commendable, that the utmost possible 
 depravity which we can in imagination conceive, is that of dis- 
 interested cruelty. 
 
 201 Neither does there appear any reason to wish self-love were 
 weaker in the generality of the world than it is. The influence 
 which it has seems plainly owing to its being constant and 
 habitual, which it cannot but be, and not to the degree 
 or strength of it. Every caprice of the imagination, every 
 curiosity of the understanding, every affection of the heart ? 
 is perpetually shewing its weakness, by prevailing over it. Men 
 daily, hourly sacrifice the greatest known interest, to fancy, 
 inquisitiveness, love, or hatred, any vagrant inclination. The 
 thing to be lamented is, not that men have so great regard to 
 their own good or interest in the present world, for they have 
 not enough 1 ; but that they have so little to the good of others. 
 And this seems plainly owing to their being so much engaged 
 in the gratification of particular passions unfriendly to bene- 
 volence, and which happen to be most prevalent in them, much 
 more than to self-love. As a proof of this may be observed, 
 that there is no character more void of friendship, gratitude, 
 natural affection, love to their country, common justice, or 
 more equally and uniformly hard-hearted, than the abandoned 
 in, what is called, the way of pleasure hard-hearted and totally 
 without feeling in behalf of others ; except when they cannot 
 escape the sight of distress, and so are interrupted by it in 
 
 1 22.
 
 Preface.] . SERMONS. 1 95 
 
 their pleasures. And yet it is ridiculous to call such an 
 abandoned course of pleasure interested, when the person 
 engaged in it knows beforehand, and goes on under the feeling 
 and apprehension, that it will be as ruinous to himself, as to 
 those who depend upon him. 
 
 Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were to 
 cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if they 
 were to accustom themselves often to set down and consider, 
 what was the greatest happiness they were capable of attaining 
 for themselves in this life, and if self-love were so strong and 
 prevalent, as that they would uniformly pursue this their 
 supposed chief temporal good, without being diverted from it 
 by any particular passion; it would manifestly prevent num- 
 berless follies and vices. This was in a great measure the 
 Epicurean system of philosophy. It is indeed by no means 
 the religious or even moral institution of life. Yet, with all 
 the mistakes men would fall into about interest, it would be 
 less mischievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will, 
 and pleasure : for certainly self-love, though confined to the 
 interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide than 
 passion J , which has absolutely no bound or measure, but what 
 is set to it by this self-love, or moral considerations. 
 202 From the distinction above made between self-love, and the 
 several particular principles or affections in our nature, we may 
 see how good ground there was for that assertion, maintained 
 by the several ancient schools of philosophy against the 
 Epicureans, namely, that virtue is to be pursued as an end, 
 eligible in and for itself. For, if there be any principles or 
 affections in the mind of man distinct from self-love, that the 
 things those principles tend towards, or that the objects of those 
 affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to be 
 pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in as an end, 
 is implied in the very idea of such principle or affection. 
 They indeed asserted much higher things of virtue, and with 
 
 1 217- 
 
 O 2
 
 ig6 BUTLER. -[Serin. I. 
 
 very good reason ; but to say thus much of it, that it is to be 
 pursued for itself, is to say no more of it, than may truly be 
 said of the object of every natural affection whatever. 
 
 The question, which was a few years ago disputed in France, 
 concerning the love of God, which was there called enthusiasm, 
 as it will every where by the generality of the world ; this ques- 
 tion, I say, answers in religion to that old one in morals now men- 
 tioned. And both of them are, I think, fully determined by 
 the same observation, namely, that the very nature of affection, 
 
 the idea itself, necessarily implies resting in its object as an end. 
 
 ****** 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 UPON THE SOCIAL NATURE OF MAN. 
 
 For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the 
 same office : so we being many are one body in Christ, and every one 
 members one of another. ROM. xii. 4, 5. 
 
 ****** 
 
 203 The relation which the several parts or members of the 
 natural body have to each other and to the whole body, is 
 here compared to the relation which each particular person in 
 society has to other particular persons and to the whole 
 society; and the latter is intended to be illustrated by the 
 former, And if there be a likeness between these two relations, 
 the consequence is obvious : that the latter shews us we were 
 intended to do good to others, as the former shews us that the 
 several members of the natural body were intended to be 
 instruments of good to each other and to the whole body. 
 But as there is scarce any ground for a comparison between 
 society and the mere material body, this without the mind 
 being a dead unactive thing ; much less can the comparison 
 be carried to any length. And since the apostle speaks of the 
 several members as having distinct offices, which implies the 
 mind ; it cannot be thought an unallowable liberty ; instead of 
 the body and its members, to substitute the ^vhole nature of man,
 
 Serm. I.] SERMONS. K)*J 
 
 and all the variety of internal principles which belong to it. 
 And then the comparison will be between the nature of man 
 as respecting self, and tending to private good, his own preser- 
 vation and happiness ; and the nature of man as having respect 
 to society, and tending to promote public good, the happiness 
 of that society. These ends do indeed perfectly coincide ; 
 and to aim at public and private good are so far from being 
 inconsistent, that they mutually promote each other : yet in 
 the following discourse they must be considered as entirely 
 distinct ; otherwise the nature of man as tending to one, or as 
 tending to the other cannot be compared. There can no com- 
 parison be made, without considering the things compared as 
 distinct and different. 
 
 From this review and comparison of the nature of man as 
 respecting self, and as respecting society, it will plainly appear, 
 that there are as real and the same kind of indications in human 
 nature, that we were made for society and to do good to our 
 fellow-creatures ; as that we were intended to take care of our 
 own life and health and private good: and that the same objec- 
 tions lie against one of these assertions, as against the other. For, 
 204 First, there is a natural principle of benevolence 1 in man ; 
 
 1 Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon human 
 nature, and to shew in several parts of it that he had an insight into the 
 subject he was considering; amongst other things, the following one would 
 require to be accounted for ; the appearance of benevolence or good-will 
 in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, and in 
 others *. Cautious of being deceived with outward show, he retires within 
 himself to see exactly, what that is in the mind of man from whence this 
 appearance proceeds; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in 
 the mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. 
 Would not every body think here was a mistake of one word for another ? 
 that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting for some other 
 human actions, some other behaviour of man to man ? And could any one 
 be thoroughly satisfied, that what is commonly called benevolence or 
 good-will was really the affection meant, but only by being made to 
 understand that this learned person had a general hypothesis, to which the 
 appearance of good-will could no otherwise be reconciled ? That what 
 has this appearance is often nothing but ambition ; that delight in 
 superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with benevolence, only 
 makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger, of the two : but 
 * Hobbes of Human Nature, c. ix. 7.
 
 198 BUTLER. [Serm. I. 
 
 which is in some degree to society, what self-love is to the 
 individual. And if there be in mankind any disposition to 
 
 in reality that passion does no more account for the whole appearances 
 of good-will, than this appetite does. Is there not often the appearance 
 of one man's wishing that good to another, which he knows himself unable 
 to procure him ; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed by a third person ? 
 And can love of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire 
 or delight? Is there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing 
 between two or more persons, preferring one before another, to do good 
 to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least account for the 
 distinction and preference ? For this principle can no otherwise distinguish 
 between objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion of power 
 to do good to one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will 
 in the mind of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power : 
 men might indeed be restrained by distant and accidental consideration ; 
 but these restraints being removed, they would have a disposition to, 
 and delight in mischief as an exercise and proof of power : and this 
 disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same principle in the 
 mind, as a disposition to, and delight in' charity. Thus cruelty, as distinct 
 from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same in the mind of man 
 as good- will : that one tends to the happiness, the other to the misery 
 of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, 
 which the mind has not the least regard to. These are the absurdities 
 which even men of capacity run into, when they have occasion to belie 
 their nature, and will perversely disclaim that image of God which was 
 originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however faint, are plainly 
 discernible upon the mind of man. 
 
 If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as 
 good-will in one man towards another ; (for the question is not concerning 
 either the degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself:) 
 let it be observed, that whether man be thus, or otherwise constituted, -what 
 is the inward frame in this particular, is a mere question of fact or natural 
 history, not proveable immediately by reason. It is therefore to be judged 
 of and determined in the same way other facts or matters of natural history 
 are : by appealing to the external senses, or inward perceptions, respectively, 
 as the matter under consideration is cognizable by one or the other : by 
 arguing from acknowledged facts and actions ; for a great number of 
 actions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different 
 objects, will prove, to a certainty, what principles they do not, and, to the 
 greatest probability, what principles they do proceed from : and lastly, 
 by the testimony of mankind. Now that there is some degree of benevo- 
 lence amongst men, may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these 
 ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was this affection 
 in bur nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment in 
 the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our 
 own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, 
 could be shewn in no other ways than those in which it may be shewn, 
 that there is such a thing in some degree as real good-will, in man towards 
 man. It is sufficient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by 
 God. There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon our own heart
 
 Serm. I.] SERMONS. 199 
 
 friendship ; if there be any such thing as compassion, for com- 
 passion is momentary love ; if there be any such thing as the 
 paternal or filial affections ; if there be any affection in human 
 nature, the object and end of which is the good of another, 
 this is itself benevolence, or the love of another. Be it ever so 
 short, be it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily con- 
 fined ; it proves the assertion, and points out what we were 
 designed for, as really as though it were in a higher degree and 
 more extensive. I must, however, remind you that though 
 benevolence and self-love are different ; though the former tends 
 most directly to public good, and the latter to private : yet they 
 are so perfectly coincident that the greatest satisfactions to 
 ourselves depend upon our having benevolence in a due degree ; 
 and that self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour 
 towards society. It may be added, that their mutual coin- 
 ciding, so that we can scarce promote one without the other, is 
 equally a proof that we were made for both. 
 
 205 Secondly, This will further appear, from observing that the 
 several passions and affections, which are distinct 1 both from 
 
 and temper ; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in 
 a steady, uniform manner. This is our work : this is virtue and religion. 
 
 1 Every body makes a distinction between self-love, and the several par- 
 ticular passions, appetites, and affections ; and yet they are often confounded 
 again. That they are totally different, will b'e seen by any one who will 
 distinguish between the passions and appetites themselves, and endeavouring 
 after the means of their gratification. Consider the appetite of hunger, 
 and the desire of esteem : these being the occasion both of pleasure and 
 pain, the coolest self-love, as well as the appetites and passions themselves, 
 may put us upon making use of the proper methods of obtaining that 
 pleasure, and avoiding that pain ; but the feelings themselves, the , pain 
 of hunger and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love 
 than they are any thing in the world. Though a man hated himself, he 
 would as much feel the pain of hunger as he would that of the gout : 
 and it is plainly supposable there may be creatures with self-love in 
 them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible and indifferent 
 (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those, upon 
 whom their happiness does not in some further respects depend. And 
 as self-love and the several particular passions and appetites are in them- 
 selves totally different ; so, that some actions proceed from one, and 
 some from the other, will be manifest to any who will observe the two 
 following very supposable cases. One man rushes upon certain ruin for 
 the gratification of a present desire : nobody will call the principle of this
 
 200 BUTLER. [Senn. I. 
 
 benevolence and self-love, do in general contribute and lead us 
 to public good as really as to private. It might be thought too 
 minute and particular, and would carry us too great a length, 
 to distinguish between and compare together the several 
 passions or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose primary 
 use and intention is the security and good of society; and 
 the passions distinct from self-love, whose primary intention 
 and design is the security and good of the individual *. It is 
 enough to the present argument, that desire of esteem from 
 others, contempt and esteem of them, love of society as distinct 
 from affection to the good of it, indignation against successful 
 vice, that these are public affections or passions ; have an 
 immediate respect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our 
 behaviour in such a manner as will be of service to our fellow- 
 creatures. If any or all of these may be considered likewise 
 as private affections, as tending to private good ; this does not 
 hinder them from being public affections too, or destroy the 
 good influence of them upon society, and their tendency to 
 public good. It may be added, that as persons without any 
 conviction from reason of the desirableness of life, would yet of 
 
 action self-love. Suppose another man to go through some laborious 
 work upon promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what 
 the reward will be : this course of action cannot be ascribed to any 
 particular passion. The former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to 
 some particular passion or affection, the latter as plainly to the general 
 affection or principle of self-love. That there are some particular pursuits 
 or actions concerning which we cannot determine how far they are owing 
 to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this, that the two principles 
 are frequently mixed together, and run up into each other. This distinction 
 is further explained in the eleventh sermon. 
 
 1 If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a particular 
 instance, the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for one. 
 Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite ; because the end for 
 which it was given us is the preservation of the individual. Desire of 
 esteem is a public passion ; because the end for which it was given us 
 is to regulate our behaviour towards society. The respect which this has 
 to private good is as remote as the respect that has to public good : and 
 the appetite is no more self-love, than the passion is benevolence. The 
 object and end of the former is merely food ; the object and end of the 
 latter is merely esteem : but the latter can no more be gratified, without 
 contributing to the good of society; than the former can be gratified, 
 without contributing to the preservation of the individual.
 
 Serra. I.) SERMONS. 2OI 
 
 course preserve it merely from the appetite of hunger ; so by 
 acting merely from regard (suppose) to reputation, without any 
 consideration of the good of others, men often contribute to 
 public good. In both these instances they are plainly instru- 
 ments in the hands of another, in the hands of Providence, to 
 carry on ends, the preservation of the individual and good of 
 society, which they themselves have not in their view or inten- 
 tion. The sum is, men have various appetites, passions, and 
 particular affections, quite distinct both from self-love and from 
 benevolence : all of these have a tendency to promote both 
 public and private good, and may be considered as respecting 
 others and ourselves equally and in common : but some of them 
 seem most immediately to respect others, or tend to public 
 good ; others of them most immediately to respect self, or tend 
 to private good : as the former are not benevolence, so the 
 latter are not self-love : neither sort are instances of our love 
 either to ourselves or others ; but only instances of our Maker's 
 care and love both of the individual and the species, and 
 proofs that he intended we should be instruments of good to 
 each other, as well as that we should be so to ourselves. 
 206 Thirdly, There is a principle of reflection in men, by which 
 they distinguish between, approve and disapprove their own 
 actions. We are plainly constituted such sort of creatures as 
 to reflect upon our own nature. The mind can take a view 
 of what passes within itself, its propensions, aversions, passions, 
 affections, as respecting such .objects, and in such degrees ; and 
 of the several actions consequent thereupon. In this survey 
 it approves of one, disapproves of another, and towards a third 
 is affected in neither of these ways, but is quite indifferent. 
 This principle in man, by which he approves or disapproves 
 his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience ; for this is the 
 strict sense of the word, though sometimes it is used so as to 
 take in more. And that this faculty tends to restrain men 
 from doing mischief to each other, and leads them to do good, 
 is too manifest to need being insisted upon. Thus a parent
 
 202 BUTLER. [Serm. I. 
 
 ha's the affection of love to his children : this leads him to take 
 care of, to educate, to make due provision for them; the 
 natural affection leads to this : but the reflection that it is his 
 proper business, what belongs to him, that it is right and com- 
 mendable so to do ; this added to the affection becomes a 
 much more settled principle, and carries him on through more 
 labour and difficulties for the sake of his children, than he 
 would undergo from that affection alone, if he thought it, and 
 the course of action it led to, either indifferent or criminal. 
 This indeed is impossible, to do that which is good and not to 
 approve of it ; for which reason they are frequently not con- 
 sidered as distinct, though they really are : for men often 
 approve of the actions of others, which they will not imitate, 
 and likewise do that which they approve not. It cannot pos- 
 sibly be denied, that there is this principle of reflection or 
 conscience in human nature. Suppose a man to relieve an 
 innocent person in great distress; suppose the same man 
 afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the greatest mischief to 
 a person who had given no just cause of offence ; to aggravate 
 the injury, add the circumstances of former friendship, and ob- 
 ligation from the injured person ; let the man who is supposed to 
 have done these two different actions, coolly reflect upon them 
 afterwards, without regard to their consequences to himself: 
 to assert that any common man would be affected in the same 
 way towards these different actions, that he would make no 
 distinction between them, but approve or disapprove them 
 equally, is too glaring a falsity to need being confuted. There 
 is therefore this principle of reflection or conscience in man- 
 kind. It is needless to compare the respect it has to private 
 good, with the respect it has to public ; since it plainly tends 
 as much to the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought 
 to tend chiefly to the latter. This faculty is now mentioned 
 merely as another part in the inward frame of man, pointing 
 out to us in some degree what we are intended for, and as 
 what will naturally and of course have some influence. The
 
 Serm. I.] SERMONS. 203 
 
 particular place assigned to it by nature, what authority it has, 
 and how great influence it ought to have, shall be hereafter 
 considered. 
 
 207 From this comparison of benevolence and self-love, of our 
 public and private affections, of the courses of life they lead to, 
 and of the principle of reflection or conscience as respecting 
 each of them, it is as manifest, that we were made for society, 
 and to promote the happiness of it ; as that we were intended 
 to take care of our own life, and health, and private good. 
 
 And from this whole review must be given a different 
 draught of human nature from what we are often presented 
 with. Mankind are by nature so closely united, there is such 
 a correspondence between the inward sensations of one man 
 and those of another, that disgrace is as much avoided as 
 bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem and love as much 
 desired as any external goods : and in many particular cases 
 persons are carried on to do good to others, as the end their 
 affection tends to and rests in ; and manifest that they find 
 real satisfaction and enjoyment in this course of behaviour. 
 There is such a natural principle of attraction in man towards 
 man, that having trod the same tract of land, having breathed 
 in the same climate, barely having been born in the same 
 artificial district or division, becomes the occasion of contracting 
 acquaintances and familiarities many years after : for any thing 
 may serve the purpose. Thus relations merely nominal are 
 sought and invented, not by governors, but by the lowest of 
 the people ; which are found sufficient to hold mankind 
 together in little fraternities and copartnerships : weak ties 
 indeed, and what may afford fund enough for ridicule, if they 
 are absurdly considered as the real principles of that union : 
 but they are in truth merely the occasions, as any thing may be 
 of any thing, upon which our nature carries us on according to 
 its own previous bent and bias ; which occasions therefore 
 would be nothing at all, were there not this prior disposition 
 and bias of nature. Men are so much one body, that in
 
 204 BUTLER. [Serm. I. 
 
 a peculiar manner they feel for each other, shame, sudden 
 danger, resentment, honour, prosperity, distress ; one or another, 
 or all of these, from the social nature in general, from benevo- 
 lence, upon the occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, 
 protection, dependence ; each of these being distinct cements 
 of society. And therefore to have no restraint from, no regard 
 to others in our behaviour, is the speculative absurdity of 
 considering ourselves as single and independent, as having 
 nothing in our nature which has respect to our fellow-creatures, 
 reduced to action and practice. And this is the same absurdity, 
 as to suppose a hand, or any part to have no natural respect to 
 any other, or to the whole body. 
 
 208 But allowing all this, it may be asked, ' Has not man dis- 
 positions and principles within, which lead him to do evil to 
 others, as well as to do good? Whence come the many 
 miseries else, which men are the authors and instruments of to 
 each other? ' These questions, so far as they relate to the fore- 
 going discourse, may be answered by asking, Has not man also 
 dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do evil 
 to himself, as well as good ? Whence come the many miseries 
 else, sickness, pain, and death, which men are instruments 
 and authors of to themselves? 
 
 It may be thought more easy to answer one of these 
 questions than the other, but the answer to both is really 
 the same; that mankind have ungoverned passions which 
 they will gratify at any rate, as well to the injury of others, 
 as in contradiction to known private interest : but that as 
 there is no such thing as self-hatred, so neither is there any 
 such thing as ill-will in one man towards another, emulation 
 and resentment being away ; whereas there is plainly benevo- 
 lence or good-will : there is no such thing as love of injustice, 
 oppression, treachery, ingratitude ; but only eager desires 
 after such and such external goods ; which, according to 
 a very ancient observation, the most abandoned would choose 
 to obtain by innocent means, if they were as easy, and as
 
 Serm. I.] SERMONS. 2O5 
 
 effectual to their end : that even emulation and resentment, 
 by any one who will consider what these passions really 
 are in nature *, will be found nothing to the purpose of this 
 objection : and that the principles and passions in the mind 
 of man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevolence, 
 primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour with 
 regard to others as well as himself, and only secondarily and 
 accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men, to avoid 
 the shame of one villany, are sometimes guilty of a greater, 
 yet it is easy to see, that the original tendency of shame 
 is to prevent the doing of shameful actions ; and its leading 
 men to conceal such actions when done, is only in consequence 
 of their being done ; i. e. of the passion's not having answered 
 its first end. 
 
 209 If it be said, that there are persons in the world, who 
 are in great measure without the natural affections towards 
 their fellow-creatures : there are likewise instances of persons 
 without the common natural affections to themselves : but 
 the nature of man is not to be judged of by either of these, but 
 by what appears in the common world, in the bulk of mankind. 
 I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to confirm 
 the truth of this account of human nature, and make out the 
 justness of the foregoing comparison, it should be added, 
 that, from what appears, men in fact as much and as often 
 contradict that part of their nature which respects self, and 
 which leads them to their own private good and happiness ; 
 
 1 Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or superiority 
 over others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not appear 
 to be any other grief in the natural passion, but only that want which 
 is implied in desire. However this may be so strong as to be the occasion 
 of great grief. To desire the attainment of this equality or superiority 
 by the particular means of others, being brought down to our own level, 
 or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of envy. From whence it is easy 
 to see, that the real end, which the natural passion emulation, and which 
 the unlawful one envy aims at, is exactly the same ; namely, that equality 
 or superiority : and consequently, that to do mischief is not the end of envy, 
 but merely the means it makes use of to attain its end. As to resentment, see 
 the eighth sermon.
 
 206 BUTLER. [Serm. I. 
 
 as they contradict that part of it which respects society, and 
 tends to public good : that there are as few persons, who 
 attain the greatest satisfaction and enjoyment which they 
 might attain in the present world; as who do the greatest 
 good to others which they might do; nay, that there are 
 as few who can be said really and in earnest to aim at one, 
 as at the other. Take a survey of mankind : the world in 
 general, the good and bad, almost without exception, equally 
 are agreed, that were religion out of the case, the happiness 
 of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in riches, 
 honours, sensual gratifications ; insomuch that one scarce 
 hears a reflection made upon prudence, life, conduct, but 
 upon this supposition. Yet on the contrary, that persons 
 in the greatest affluence of fortune are no happier than such 
 as have only a competency; that the cares and disappoint- 
 ments of ambition for the most part far exceed the satisfactions 
 of it; as also the miserable intervals of intemperance and 
 excess, and the many untimely deaths occasioned by a dissolute 
 course of life : these things are all seen, acknowledged, by 
 every one acknowledged; but are thought no objections 
 against, though they expressly contradict, this universal 
 principle, that the happiness of the present life consists in 
 one or other of them Whence is all this absurdity and 
 contradiction ? Is not the middle way obvious ? Can any 
 thing be more manifest, than that the happiness of life consists 
 in these possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree ; 
 that to pursue them beyond this degree, is always attended 
 with more inconvenience than advantage to a man's self, 
 and often with extreme misery and unhappiness. Whence 
 then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradiction? It is 
 really the result of consideration in mankind, how they may 
 become most easy to themselves, most free from care, and 
 enjoy the chief happiness attainable in this world? Or is 
 it not manifestly owing either to this, that they have not 
 cool and reasonable concern enough for themselves to consider
 
 Serin. I.] SERMONS. 2 07 
 
 wherein their chief happiness in the present life consists ; 
 or else, if they do consider it, that they will not act con- 
 formably to what is the result of that consideration : i. e. 
 reasonable concern for themselves, or cool self-love is prevailed 
 over by passion and appetite. So that from what appears, 
 there is no ground to assert that those principles in the 
 nature of man, which most directly lead to promote the 
 good of our fellow-creatures, are more generally or in a greater 
 degree violated, than those, which most directly lead us to 
 promote our own private good and happiness. 
 210 The sum of the whole is plainly this. The nature of man 
 considered in his single capacity, and with respect only to 
 the present world, is adapted and leads him to attain the 
 greatest happiness he can for himself in the present world. 
 The nature of man considered in his public or social capacity 
 leads him to a right behaviour in society, to that course 
 of life which we call virtue. Men follow or obey their nature 
 in both these capacities and respects to a certain degree, 
 but not entirely : their actions do not come up to the whole 
 of what their nature leads them to in either of these capacities 
 or respects : and they often violate their nature in both, 
 i. e. as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow- 
 creatures, to which their nature leads them ; and are injurious, 
 to which their nature is abhorrent; so there is a manifest 
 negligence in men of their real happiness or interest in the 
 present world, when that interest is inconsistent with a present 
 % gratification ; for the sake of which they negligently, nay, 
 even knowingly, are the authors and instruments of their 
 own misery and ruin. Thus they are as often unjust to 
 themselves as to others, and for the most part are equally so to 
 both by the same actions.
 
 208 BUTLER. [Sertn. II. 
 
 SERMON II, III. 
 
 UPON THE NATURAL SUPREMACY OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things 
 contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto 
 themselves. ROM. ii. 14. 
 
 211 As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof, so 
 likewise moral obligations may be shewn by different methods. 
 If the real nature of any creature leads him and is adapted 
 to such and such purposes only, or more than to any other ; 
 this is a reason to believe the author of that nature intended it 
 for those purposes. Thus there is no doubt the eye was 
 intended for us to see with. And the more complex any 
 constitution is, and the greater variety of parts there are which 
 thus tend to some one end, the stronger is the proof that such 
 end was designed. However, when the inward frame of man is 
 considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution must be 
 used that none make peculiarities in their own temper, or any 
 thing which is the effect of particular customs, though observ- 
 able in several, the standard of what is common to the species ; 
 and above all, that the highest principle be not forgot or 
 excluded, that to which belongs the adjustment and correction 
 of all other inward movements and affections : which principle 
 will of course have some influence, but which being in nature 
 supreme, as shall now be shewn, ought to preside over and 
 govern all the rest. The difficulty of rightly observing the 
 two former cautions ; the appearance there is of some small 
 diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty, with 
 respect to their natural sense of moral good and evil ; and 
 the attention necessary to survey with any exactness what 
 passes within, have occasioned that it is not so much agreed 
 what is the standard of the internal nature of man, as of his 
 external form. Neither is this last exactly settled. Yet we 
 understand one another when we speak of the shape of a 
 human body : so likewise we do when we speak of the heart
 
 Serm. II.] SERMONS. 209 
 
 and inward principles, how far soever the standard is from 
 
 212 being exact or precisely fixed. There is therefore ground for 
 an attempt of shewing men to themselves, of shewing them 
 what course of life and behaviour their real nature points out 
 and would lead them to. Now obligations of virtue shewn, 
 and motives to the practice of it enforced, from a review of 
 the nature of man, are to be considered as an appeal to 
 each particular person's heart and natural conscience : as the 
 external senses are appealed to for the proof of things cogniz- 
 able by them. Since then our inward feelings, and the per- 
 ceptions we receive from our external senses, are equally real ; 
 to argue from the former to life and conduct is as little 
 liable to exception, as to argue from the latter to absolute 
 speculative truth. A man can as little doubt whether his eyes 
 were given him to see with, as he can doubt of the truth of the 
 science of optics, deduced from ocular experiments. And 
 allowing the inward feeling, shame ; a man can as little doubt 
 whether it was given him to prevent his doing shameful actions, 
 as he can doubt whether his eyes were given him to guide his 
 steps. And as to these inward feelings themselves ; that 
 they are real, that man has in his nature passions and 
 affections, can no more be questioned, than that he has 
 external senses. Neither can the former be wholly mistaken ; 
 though to a certain degree liable to greater mistakes than the 
 latter. 
 
 213 There can be no doubt but that several propensions or 
 instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry him to 
 society, and to contribute to the happiness of it, in a sense 
 and a manner in which no inward principle leads him to evil. 
 These principles, propensions, or instincts which lead him to 
 do good, are approved of by a certain faculty within, quite 
 distinct from these propensions themselves. All this hath 
 been fully made out in the foregoing discourse. 
 
 But it may be said, ' What is all this, though true, to the 
 purpose of virtue and religion ? these require, not only that we 
 * t P
 
 210 BUTLER. [Serin. II. 
 
 do good to others when we are led this way, by benevolence 
 or reflection, happening to be stronger than other principles, 
 passions, or appetites; but likewise that the whole character 
 be formed upon thought and reflection ; that every action be 
 directed by some determinate rule, some other rule than the 
 strength and prevalency of any principle or passion. What 
 sign is there in our nature (for the inquiry is only about what 
 is to be collected from thence) that this was intended by its 
 Author ? Or how does so various and fickle a temper as that of 
 man appear adapted thereto ? It may indeed be absurd and 
 unnatural for men to act without any reflection ; nay, without 
 regard to that particular kind of reflection which you call 
 conscience ; because this does belong to our nature. For as 
 there never was a man but who approved one place, prospect, 
 building, before another : so it does not appear that there ever 
 was a man who would not have approved an action of 
 humanity rather than of cruelty ; interest and passion being 
 quite out of the case. But interest and passion do come in, 
 and are often too strong for and prevail over reflection and 
 conscience. Now as brutes have various instincts, by which 
 they are carried on to the end the Author of their nature 
 intended them for : is not man in the same condition ; with 
 this difference only, that to his instincts (i. e. appetites and 
 passions) is added the principle of reflection or conscience? 
 And as brutes act agreeably to their nature, in following that 
 principle or particular instinct which for the present is strongest 
 in them : does not man likewise act agreeably to his nature, or 
 obey the law of his creation, by following that principle, be it 
 passion or conscience, which for the present happens to be 
 strongest in him ? Thus different men are by their particular 
 nature hurried on to pursue honour or riches or pleasure : 
 there are also persons whose temper leads them in an un- 
 common degree to kindness, compassion, doing good to their 
 fellow-creatures : as there are others who are given to suspend 
 their judgment, to weigh and consider things, and to act upon
 
 Serm. II.] SERMONS. 211 
 
 thought and reflection. Let every one then quietly follow 
 his nature; as passion, reflection, appetite, the several parts 
 of it, happen to be strongest : but let not the man of virtue 
 take upon him to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the 
 dissolute ; since these equally with him obey and follow 
 their nature. Thus, as in some cases we follow our nature 
 in doing the works contained in the law, so in other cases 
 we follow nature in doing contrary.' 
 
 214 Now all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a supposi- 
 tion, that men follow their nature in the same sense, in 
 violating the known rules of justice and honesty for the 
 sake of a present gratification, as they do in following those 
 rules when they have no temptation to the contrary. And 
 if this were true, that could not be so which St. Paul asserts, 
 that men are by nature a law to themselves. If by following 
 nature were meant only acting as we please, it would indeed 
 be ridiculous to speak of nature as any guide in morals : 
 nay the very mention of deviating from nature would be 
 absurd; and the mention of following it, when spoken by 
 way of distinction, would absolutely have no meaning. For 
 did ever any one act otherwise than as he pleased? And 
 yet the ancients speak of deviating from nature as vice ; and 
 of following nature so much as a distinction, that according 
 to them the perfection of virtue consists therein. So that 
 language itself should teach people another sense to the words 
 following nature, than barely acting as we please. Let it 
 however be observed, that though the words human nature 
 are to be explained, yet the real question of this discourse 
 is not concerning the meaning of words, any other than 
 as the explanation of them may be needful to make out and 
 explain the assertion, that every man is naturally a law to 
 himself, that every one may find within himself the rule of 
 right, and obligations to follow it. This St. Paul affirms in the 
 words of the text, and this the foregoing objection really 
 denies by seeming to allow it. And the objection will be 
 
 p 2
 
 212 BUTLER. [Serm.II. 
 
 fully answered, and the text before us explained, by observing 
 that nature is considered in different views, and the word 
 used in different "senses ; and by shewing in what view it 
 is considered, and in what sense the word is used, when 
 intended to express and signify that which is the guide of life, 
 that by which men are a law to themselves. I say, the 
 explanation of the term will be sufficient, because from thence 
 it will appear, that in some senses of the word nature cannot 
 be, but that in another sense it manifestly is, a law to us. 
 
 215 I. By nature is often meant no more than some principle 
 in man, without regard either to the kind or degree of it. 
 Thus the passion of anger, and the affection of parents to 
 their children, would be called equally natural. And as 
 the same person hath often contrary principles, which at the 
 same time draw contrary ways, he may by the same action 
 both follow and contradict his nature in this sense of the 
 word ; he may follow one passion and contradict another. 
 
 II. Nature is frequently spoken of as consisting in those 
 passions which are strongest, and most influence the actions ; 
 which being vicious ones, mankind is in this sense naturally 
 vicious, or vicious by nature. Thus St. Paul says of the 
 Gentiles, who were dead in trespasses and sins, and walked 
 according to the spirit of disobedience, that they were by nature 
 the children of wrath '. They could be no otherwise children 
 of wrath by nature, than they were vicious by nature. 
 
 Here then are two different senses of the word nature, 
 in neither of which men can at all be" said to be a law 
 to themselves. They are mentioned only to be excluded ; to 
 prevent their being confounded, as the latter is in the 
 objection, with another sense of it, which is now to be 
 inquired after and explained. 
 
 216 III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by NATURE 
 the things contained in the law. Nature is indeed here put 
 by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it is not a mere 
 
 1 Ephes. ii. 3.
 
 Serm. II.] SERMONS. 2 1 3 
 
 negative. He intends to express more than that by which 
 they did not, that by which they did the works of the law ; 
 namely, by nature. It is plain the meaning of the word 
 is not the same in this passage as in the former, where it is 
 spoken of as evil ; for in this latter it is spoken of as good ; 
 as that by which they acted, or might have acted virtuously. 
 What that is in man by which he is naturally a law to himself, 
 is explained in the following words : Which shew the work 
 of the laiu written in their hearts, their consciences also bearing 
 witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or else 
 excusing one another. If there be a distinction to be made 
 between the works written in their hearts, and the witness 
 of conscience ; by the former must be meant the natural 
 disposition to kindness and compassion, to do what is of 
 good report, to which this apostle often refers : that part 
 of the nature of man, treated of in the foregoing discourse, 
 which with very little reflection and of course leads him to 
 society, and by means of which he naturally acts a just and 
 good part in it, unless other passions or interest lead him 
 astray. Yet since other passions, and regards to private 
 interest, which lead us (though indirectly, yet they lead us) 
 astray, are themselves in a degree equally natural, and often 
 most prevalent; and since we have no method of seeing 
 the particular degrees in which one or the other is placed 
 in us by nature ; it is plain the former, considered merely 
 as natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a law 
 to us than the latter. But there is a superior principle of 
 reflection or conscience in every man, which distinguishes 
 between the internal principles of his heart, as well as his 
 external actions : which passes judgment upon himself and 
 them ; pronounces determinately some actions to be in them- 
 selves just, right, good; others to be in themselves evil, 
 wrong, unjust : which, without being consulted, without being 
 advised with, magisterially exerts itself, and approves or 
 condemns him the doer of them accordingly : and which,
 
 214 BUTLER. [Serm. II. , 
 
 if not forcibly stopped, naturally and always of course goes 
 on to anticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which 
 shall hereafter second and affirm its own. But this part 
 of the office of conscience is beyond my present design 
 explicitly to consider. It is by this faculty, natural to man, 
 that he is a^moral agent, that he is a law to himself: but 
 this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely as a principle 
 in his heart, which is to have some influence as well as 
 others; but considered as a faculty in kind and in nature 
 supreme over all others, and which bears its own authority 
 of being so. 
 
 217 This prerogative, this natural supremacy, of the faculty 
 which surveys, approves or disapproves the several affections 
 of our mind and actions of our lives, being that by which men 
 are a law to themselves, their conformity or disobedience 
 to which law of our nature renders their actions, in the highest 
 and most proper sense, natural or unnatural ; it is fit it be 
 further explained to you : and I hope it will be so, if you 
 will attend to the following reflections. 
 
 Man may act according to that principle or inclination 
 which for the present happens to be strongest, and yet act 
 in a way disproportionate to, and violate his real proper 
 nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to be allured 
 into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He plainly followed 
 the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite : 
 there is an entire correspondence between his whole nature 
 and such an action : such action therefore is natural. But 
 suppose a man, foreseeing the same danger of certain ruin, 
 should rush into it for the sake of a present gratification ; 
 he in this instance would follow his strongest desire, as 
 did the brute creature : but there would be as manifest 
 a disproportion, between the nature of a man and such an 
 action, as between the meanest work of art and the skill of 
 the greatest master in that art : which disproportion arises, 
 not from considering the action singly in itself^ or in its
 
 Serm. II.] SERMONS. 215 
 
 consequences; but from comparison of it with the nature of 
 the agent. And since such an action is utterly dispropor- 
 tionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest and most 
 proper sense unnatural ; this word expressing that dispropor- 
 tion. Therefore instead of the words disproportionate to his 
 nature, the word unnatural may now be put ; this being more 
 familiar to us : but let it be observed, that it stands for the 
 same thing precisely. 
 
 Now what is it which renders such a rash action unnatural ? 
 Is it that he went against the principle of reasonable and 
 cool self-love, considered merely as a part of his nature ? 
 No : for if he had acted the contrary way, he would equally 
 have gone against a principle, or part of his nature, namely, 
 passion or appetite. But to deny a present appetite, from 
 foresight that the gratification of it would end in immediate 
 ruin or extreme misery, is by no means an unnatural action : 
 whereas to contradict or go against cool self-love for the 
 sake of such gratification, is so in the instance before us. 
 Such an action then being unnatural; and its being so not 
 arising from a man's going against a principle or desire barely, 
 nor in going against that principle or desire which happens 
 for the present to be strongest ; it necessarily follows, that 
 there must be some other difference or distinction to be 
 made between these two principles, passion and cool self-love, 
 than what I have yet taken notice of. And this difference, 
 not being a difference in strength or degree, I call a difference 
 in nature and in kind. And since, in the instance still before 
 us, if passion prevails over self-love, the consequent action is 
 unnatural; but if self-love prevails over passion, the action 
 is natural : it is manifest that self-love is in human nature 
 a superior principle to passion. This may be contradicted 
 without violating that nature; but the former cannot. So 
 that, if we will act conformably to the economy of man's 
 nature, reasonable self-love must govern. Thus, without 
 particular consideration of conscience, we may have a clear
 
 2l6 BUTLER. [Serm. II. 
 
 conception of the superior nature of one inward principle 
 to another ; and see that there really is this natural superiority, 
 quite distinct from degrees of strength and prevalency. 
 
 218 Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as consist- 
 ing partly of various appetites, passions, affections, and partly 
 of the principle of reflection or conscience ; leaving quite out 
 all consideration of the different degrees of strength, in which 
 either of them prevail, and it will further appear that there 
 is this natural superiority of one inward principle to another, 
 and that it is even part of the idea of reflection or conscience. 
 
 Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency towards 
 such and such objects, without distinction of the means by 
 which they are to be obtained. Consequently it will often 
 happen there will be a desire of particular objects, in cases 
 where they cannot be obtained without manifest injury to 
 others. Reflection or conscience comes in, and disapproves 
 the pursuit of them in these circumstances; but the desire 
 remains. Which is to be obeyed, appetite or reflection? 
 Cannot this question be answered, from the economy and 
 constitution of human nature merely, without saying which 
 is strongest ? Or need this at all come into consideration ? 
 Would not the question be intelligibly and fully answered 
 by saying, that the principle of reflection or conscience being 
 compared with the various appetites, passions, and affections 
 in men, the former is manifestly superior and chief, without 
 regard to strength ? And how often soever the latter happens 
 to prevail, it is mere usurpation : the former remains in nature 
 and in kind its superior; and every instance of such pre- 
 valence of the latter is an instance of breaking in upon and 
 violation of the constitution of man. 
 
 219 All this is no more than the distinction, which every body 
 is acquainted with, between mere power and authority : only 
 instead of being intended to express the difference between 
 what is possible, and what is lawful in civil government ; here 
 it has been shewn applicable to the several principles in the
 
 Serm. II.] SERMONS. 217 
 
 mind of man. Thus that principle, by which we survey, and 
 either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper, and 
 actions, is not only to be considered as what is in its turn to 
 have some influence ; which may be said of every passion, of 
 the lowest appetites ; but likewise as being superior ; as from 
 its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all others : 
 insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this faculty, 
 conscience, without taking in judgment, direction, superinten- 
 dency. This is a constituent part of the idea, that is, of 
 the faculty itself: and, to preside and govern, from the very 
 economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it 
 strength, as it had right ; had it power, as it had manifest 
 authority, it would absolutely govern the world. 
 
 This gives us a further view of the nature of man ; shews us 
 what course of life we were made for : not only that our real 
 nature leads us to be influenced in some degree by reflection 
 and conscience ; but likewise in what degree we are to be 
 influenced by it, if we will fall in with, and act agreeably to the 
 constitution of our nature : that this faculty was placed within 
 to be our proper governor ; to direct and regulate all under 
 principles, passions, and motives of action. This is its right 
 and office : thus sacred is its authority. And how often soever 
 men violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for supposed 
 interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or for the sake of 
 passion which they cannot otherwise gratify ; this makes no 
 alteration as to the natural right and office of conscience. 
 220 Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and 
 suppose there was no such thing at all as this natural supremacy 
 of conscience ; that there was no distinction to be made 
 between one inward principle and another, but only that of 
 strength and see what would be the consequence. 
 
 Consider then what is the latitude and compass of the 
 actions of man with regard to himself, his fellow-creatures, and 
 the Supreme Being ? What are their bounds, besides that of 
 our natural power ? With respect to the two first, they are
 
 218 BUTLER. [Serm. II. 
 
 plainly no other than these : no man seeks misery as such for 
 himself; and no one unprovoked does mischief to another 
 for its own sake. For in every degree within these bounds, 
 mankind knowingly from passion or wantonness bring ruin 
 and misery upon themselves and others. And impiety and 
 profaneness, I mean, what every one would call so who 
 believes the being of God, have absolutely no bounds at all. 
 Men blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words 
 renounce their allegiance to their Creator. Put an instance 
 then with respect to any one of these three. Though we 
 should suppose profane swearing, and in general that kind of 
 impiety now mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it implies wanton 
 disregard and irreverence towards an infinite Being, our 
 Creator ; and is this as suitable to the nature of man, as 
 reverence and dutiful submission of heart towards that 
 Almighty Being ? Or suppose a man guilty of parricide, with 
 all the circumstances of cruelty which such an action can 
 admit of. This action is done in consequence of its principle 
 being for the present strongest ; and if there be no difference 
 between inward principles, but only that of strength; the strength 
 being given, you have the whole nature of the man given, so 
 far as it relates to this matter. The action plainly corresponds 
 to the principle, the principle being in that degree of strength 
 it was ; it therefore corresponds to the whole nature of the 
 man. Upon comparing the action and the whole nature, there 
 arises no disproportion, there appears no unsuitableness 
 between them. Thus the murder of a father and the nature of 
 man correspond to each other, as the same nature and an act 
 of filial duty. If there be no difference between inward 
 principles, but only that of strength ; we can make no distinc- 
 tion between these two actions considered as the actions of 
 such a creature ; but in our coolest hours must approve or dis- 
 approve them equally : than which nothing can be reduced to 
 a greater absurdity.
 
 Serm. III.] SERMONS. 219 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 221 THE natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being 
 thus established ; we may from it form a distinct notion of 
 what is meant by human nature, when virtue is said to consist 
 in following it, and vice in deviating from it. 
 
 As the idea of a civil constitution implies in it united 
 strength, various subordinations, under one direction, that of 
 the supreme authority ; the different strength of each particular 
 member of the society not coming into the idea ; whereas, 
 if you leave out the subordination, the union, and the one 
 direction, you destroy and lose it : so reason, several appetites, 
 passions, and affections, prevailing in different degrees of 
 strength, is not that idea or notion of human nature ; but that 
 nature consists in these several principles considered as having 
 a natural respect to each other, in the several passions being 
 naturally subordinate to the one superior principle of reflec- 
 tion or conscience. Every bias, instinct, propension within, is 
 a natural part of our nature, but not the whole : add to these 
 the superior faculty, whose office it is to adjust, manage, and 
 preside over them, and take in this its natural superiority, 
 and you complete the idea of human nature. And as in civil 
 government the constitution is broken in upon, and violated 
 by power and strength prevailing over authority ; so the con- 
 stitution of man is broken in upon and violated by the 
 lower faculties or principles within prevailing over that which 
 is in its nature supreme over them all. Thus, when it is said 
 by ancient writers, that tortures and death are not so contrary 
 to human nature as injustice ; by this to be sure is not meant, 
 that the aversion to the former in mankind is less strong and 
 prevalent than their aversion to the latter : but that the former 
 is only contrary to our nature considered in a partial view, and 
 which takes in only the lowest part of it, that which we have in 
 common with the brutes ; whereas the latter is contrary to our
 
 220 BUTLER. Senn. III. 
 
 nature, considered in a higher sense, as a system and constitu- 
 tion contrary to the whole economy of man 1 . 
 222 And from all these things put together, nothing can be more 
 evident, than that, exclusive of revelation, man cannot be 
 considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at random, 
 and live at large up to the extent of his natural power, as 
 passion, humour, wilfulness, happen to carry him ; which is 
 the condition brute creatures are in : but that from his make, 
 constitution, or nature, he is in the strictest and most proper 
 sense a law to himself. He hath the rule of right within : what 
 is wanting is only that he honestly attends to it. 
 
 1 Every man in his physical nature is one individual single agent. He 
 has likewise properties and principles, each of which may be considered 
 separately, and without regard to the respects which they have to each 
 other. Neither of these are the nature we are taking a view of. But it 
 is the inward frame of man considered as a system or constitution : whose 
 several parts are united, not by a physical principle of iniividuation, but 
 by the respects they have to each other ; the chief of which is the subjection 
 which the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the one 
 supreme principle of reflection or conscience. The system or constitution 
 is formed by and consists in these respects and this subjection. Thus the 
 body is a system or constitution : so is a tree : so is every machine. 
 Consider all the several parts of a tree without the natural respects they 
 have to each other, and you have not at all the idea of a tree ; but add 
 these respects, and this gives you the idea The body may be impaired 
 by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be out of order, and yet the 
 system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly 
 somewhat which answers to all this in the moral constitution of man. 
 Whoever will consider his own nature, will see that the several appetites, 
 passions, and particular affections, have different respects among themselves. 
 They are restraints upon, and are in a proportion to each other. This 
 proportion is just and perfect, when all those under principles are perfectly 
 coincident with conscience, so far as their nature permits, and in all cases 
 under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or defect, the 
 least alteration of the due proportions amongst themselves, or of their 
 coincidence with conscience, though not proceeding into action, is some 
 degree of disorder in the moral constitution. But perfection, though 
 plainly intelligible and unsupposable, was never attained by any man. If 
 the higher principle of reflection maintains its place, and as much as it can 
 corrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out into action, this is 
 all that can be expected in such a creature as man. And though the 
 appetites and passions have not their exact due proportion to each other ; 
 though they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection : yet, 
 since the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief respect 
 which forms the constitution, so far as this superiority is maintained, the 
 character, the man, is gcod, worthy, virtuous.
 
 Serm. III.] SERMONS. 221 
 
 The inquiries which have been made by men of leisure after 
 some general rule, the conformity to, or disagreement from 
 which, should denominate our actions good or evil, are in 
 many respects of great service. Yet let any plain honest man, 
 before he engages in any course of action, ask himself, Is this 
 I am going about right, or is it wrong? Is it good, or is it 
 evil ? I do not in the leas,t doubt, but that this question would 
 be answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any fair 
 man in almost any circumstance. Neither do there appear 
 any cases which look like exceptions to this ; but those of 
 superstition, and of partiality to ourselves. Superstition may 
 perhaps be somewhat of an exception : but partiality to our- 
 selves is not ; this being itself dishonesty. For a man to judge 
 that to be the equitable, the moderate, the right part for him 
 to act, which he would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in 
 another ; this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great 
 unfairness of mind. 
 
 223 But allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within 
 himself, yet it may be asked, ' What obligations are we under 
 to attend to and follow it ? ' I answer : it has been proved 
 that man by his nature is a law to himself, without the 
 particular distinct consideration of the positive sanctions of 
 that law; the rewards and punishments which we feel, and 
 those which from the light of reason we have ground to 
 believe, are annexed to it. The question then carries its 
 own answer along with it. Your obligation to obey this law, 
 is its being the law of your nature. That your conscience 
 approves of and attests to such a course of action, is itself 
 alone an obligation. Conscience does not only offer itself to 
 shew us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its 
 own authority with it, that it is our natural guide ; the guide 
 assigned us by the Author of our nature : it therefore belongs 
 to our condition of being, it is our duty to walk in that path, 
 and follow this guide, without looking about to see whether we 
 may not possibly forsake them with impunity.
 
 222 SUTLER. [Serm.III. 
 
 224 However, let us hear what is to be said against obeying this 
 law of our nature. And the sum is no more than this : ' Why 
 should we be concerned about any thing out of and beyond 
 ourselves ? If we do find within ourselves regards to others, 
 and restraints of we know not how many different kinds ; yet 
 these being embarrassments, and hindering us from going the 
 nearest way to our own good, why should we not endeavour to 
 suppress and get over them ? ' 
 
 Thus people go on with words, which, when applied to 
 human nature, and the condition in which it is placed in this 
 world, have really no meaning. For does not all this kind of 
 talk go upon supposition, that our happiness in this world 
 consists in somewhat quite distinct from regard to others ; and 
 that it is the privilege of vice to be without restraint or confine- 
 ment? Whereas, on the contrary, the enjoyments, in a manner 
 all the common enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice, 
 depend upon these regards of one kind or another to our 
 fellow-creatures. Throw off all regards to others, and we 
 should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honour; there 
 could be no such thing at all as ambition; and scarce any 
 such thing as covetousness ; for we should likewise be equally 
 indifferent to the disgrace of poverty, the several neglects and 
 kinds of contempt which accompany this state ; and to the 
 reputation of riches, the regard and respect they usually 
 procure. Neither is restraint by any means peculiar to one 
 course of life ; but our very nature, exclusive of conscience 
 and our condition, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. 
 We cannot gain any end whatever without being confined to 
 the proper means, which is often the most painful and uneasy 
 confinement. And in numberless instances a present appetite 
 cannot be gratified without such apparent and immediate 
 ruin and misery, that the most dissolute man in the world 
 chooses to forego the pleasure, rather than endure the pain. 
 
 225 Is the meaning then, to indulge those regards to our fellow- 
 creatures, and submit to those restraints, which upon the whole
 
 Serm. 1 1 1 .] SERMONS. 22$ 
 
 are attended with more satisfaction than uneasiness, and get 
 over only those which bring more uneasiness and inconveni- 
 ence than satisfaction ? ' Doubtless this was our meaning.' 
 You have changed sides then. Keep to this; be consistent 
 with yourselves ; and you and the men of virtue are in general 
 perfectly agreed. But let us take care and avoid mistakes. 
 Let it not be taken for granted that the temper of envy, rage, 
 resentment, yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness, 
 compassion, and good-will ; especially when it is acknowledged 
 that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves mere misery ; 
 and the satisfaction arising from the indulgence of them is 
 little more than relief from that misery; whereas the temper 
 of compassion and benevolence is itself delightful; and the 
 indulgence of it, by doing good, affords new positive delight 
 and enjoyment. Let it not be taken for granted, that the 
 satisfaction arising from the reputation of riches and power, 
 however obtained, and from the respect paid to them, is 
 greater than the satisfaction arising from the reputation of 
 justice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally 
 acknowledged to be their due. And if it be doubtful which of 
 these satisfactions is the greatest, as there are persons who 
 think neither of them very considerable, yet there can be no 
 doubt concerning ambition and covetousness, virtue and a good 
 mind, considered in themselves, and as leading to different 
 courses of life ; there can, I say, be no doubt, which temper 
 and which course is attended with most peace and tranquillity 
 of mind, which with most perplexity, vexation, and inconveni- 
 ence. And both the virtues and vices which have been now 
 mentioned, do in a manner equally imply in them regards 
 of one kind or another to our fellow-creatures. And with 
 respect to restraint and confinement : whoever will consider 
 the restraints from fear and shame, the dissimulation, mean 
 arts of concealment, servile compliances, one or other of which 
 belong to almost every .course of vice, will soon be convinced 
 that the man of virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage in
 
 224 BUTLER. [Serm, III. 
 
 this respect. How many instances are there in which men 
 feel and own and cry aloud under the chains of vice with 
 which they are enthralled, and which yet they will not shake 
 off! How many instances, in which persons manifestly go 
 through more pains and self-denial to gratify a vicious passion, 
 than would have been necessary to the conquest of it ! To 
 this is to be added, that when virtue is become habitual, when 
 the temper of it is' acquired, what was before confinement 
 ceases to be so, by becoming choice and delight. Whatever 
 restraint and guard upon ourselves may be needful to unlearn 
 any unnatural distortion or odd gesture ; yet, in all propriety 
 of speech, natural behaviour must be the most easy and 
 unrestrained. It is manifest that, in the common course of 
 life, there is seldom any inconsistency between our duty and 
 what is called interest : it is much seldomer that there is an 
 inconsistency between duty and what is really our present 
 interest ; meaning by interest, happiness and satisfaction. 
 Self-love then, though confined to the interest of the present 
 world, does in general perfectly coincide with virtue ; and leads 
 us to one and the same course of life. But, whatever excep- 
 tions there are to this, which are much fewer than they are 
 commonly thought, all shall be set right at the final distribu- 
 tion of things. It is a manifest absurdity to suppose evil 
 prevailing finally over good, under the conduct and adminis- 
 tration of a perfect mind. 
 
 226 The whole argument, which I have been now insisting upon, 
 may be thus summed up, and given you in one view. The 
 nature of man is adapted to some course of action or other. 
 Upon comparing some actions with this nature, they appear 
 suitable and correspondent to it : from comparison of other 
 actions with the same nature, there arises to our view some 
 unsuitableness or disproportion. The correspondence of 
 actions to the nature of the agent renders them natural : 
 their disproportion to it, unnatural. That an action is 
 correspondent to the nature of the agent, does not arise
 
 Serm. XI.] SERMONS. 225 
 
 from its being agreeable to the principle which happens to 
 be the strongest: for it may be so, and yet be quite dis- 
 proportionate to the nature of the agent. The correspondence 
 therefore, or disproportion, arises from somewhat else. This 
 can be nothing but a difference in nature and kind, altogether 
 distinct from strength, between the inward principles. Some 
 then are in nature and kind superior to others. And the 
 correspondence arises from the action being conformable to 
 the higher principle; and the unsuitableness from its being 
 contrary to it. Reasonable self-love and conscience are the 
 chief or superior principles in the nature of man : because 
 an action may be suitable to this nature, though all other 
 principles be violated ; but becomes unsuitable, if either of 
 those are. Conscience and self-love, if we understand our 
 true happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty and 
 interest are perfectly coincident; for the most part in this 
 world, but entirely and in every instance if we take in the 
 future, and the whole ; this being implied in the notion of 
 a good and perfect administration of things. Thus they 
 who have been so wise in their generation as to regard only 
 their own supposed interest, at the expense and to the injury 
 of others, shall at last find, that he who has given up all the 
 advantages of the present world, rather than violate his con- 
 science and the relations of life, has infinitely better provided 
 for himself, and secured his own interest and happiness. 
 
 SERMONS XI, XII. 
 
 UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 
 
 And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this 
 saying, namely, Thou shall Icve thy neighbour as thyself. ROM. xiii. 9. 
 
 227 IT is commonly observed, that there is a disposition in men 
 to complain of the viciousness and corruption of the age in 
 which they live, as greater than that of former ones ; which 
 
 Q
 
 226 BUTLER. [Serm. XI. 
 
 is usually followed with this further observation, that mankind 
 has been in that respect much the same in all times. Now, not 
 to determine whether this last be not contradicted by the 
 accounts of history ; thus much can scarce be doubted, that 
 vice and folly takes different turns, and some particular kinds 
 of it are more open and avowed in some ages than in others ; 
 and, I suppose, it may be spoken of as very much the distinc- 
 tion of the present to profess a contracted spirit, and greater 
 regards to self-interest, than appears to have been done for- 
 merly. Upon this account it seems worth while to inquire, 
 whether private interest is likely to be promoted in propor- 
 tion to the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and pre- 
 vails over all other principles ; or whether the contracted affection 
 may not possibly be so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and even 
 contradict its own end, private good. 
 
 And since, further, there is generally thought to be some 
 peculiar kind of contrariety between self-love and the love of 
 our neighbour, between the pursuit of public and of private 
 good ; insomuch that when you are recommending one of these, 
 you are supposed to be speaking against the other ; and from 
 hence arises a secret prejudice against, and frequently open 
 scorn of all talk of public spirit, and real good-will to our 
 fellow-creatures; it will be necessary to inquire what respect 
 benevolence hath to self-love, and the pursuit of private interest 
 to the pursuit of public : or whether there be any thing of that 
 peculiar inconsistence and contrariety between them, over and 
 above what there is between self-love and other passions and 
 particular affections, and their respective pursuits. 
 
 These inquiries, it is hoped, may be favourably attended 
 to : for there shall be all possible concessions made to the 
 favourite passion, which hath so much allowed to it, and whose 
 cause is so universally pleaded : it shall be treated with the 
 utmost tenderness and concern for its interests. 
 228 In order to this, as well as to determine the forementioned 
 questions, it will be necessary to consider the nature, the object,
 
 Serm. XI.] SERMONS. 
 
 227 
 
 and end of that self-love, as distinguished from other principles 
 or affections in the mind, and their respective objects. 
 
 Every man hath a general desire of his own happiness ; and 
 likewise a variety of particular affections, passions, and appe- 
 tites to particular external objects. The former proceeds 
 from, or is self-love ; and seems inseparable from all sensible 
 creatures, who can reflect upon themselves and their own 
 interest or happiness, so as to have that interest an object to 
 their minds : what is to be said of the latter is, that they 
 proceed from, or together make up that particular nature, 
 according to which man is made. The object the former 
 pursues it somewhat internal, our own happiness, enjoyment, 
 satisfaction ; whether we have, or have not, a distinct particular 
 perception what it is, or wherein it consists : the objects of the 
 latter are this or that particular external thing, which the affec- 
 tions tend towards, and of which it hath always a particular 
 idea or perception. The principle we call self-love never seeks 
 any thing external for the sake of the thing, but only as a means 
 of happiness or good : particular affections rest in the external 
 things themselves. One belongs to man as a reasonable 
 creature reflecting upon his own interest or happiness. The 
 other, though quite distinct from reason, are as much a part of 
 human nature. 
 
 229 That all particular appetites and passions are towards external 
 things themselves, distinct from the pleasiire arising from them, 
 is manifested from hence ; that there could not be this plea- 
 sure, were it not for that prior suitableness between the object 
 and the passion : there could be no enjoyment or delight from 
 one thing more than another, from eating food more than from 
 swallowing a stone, if there were not an affection or appetite to 
 one thing more than another. 
 
 Every particular affection, even the love of our neighbour, is 
 as really our own affection, as self-love; and the pleasure 
 arising from its gratification is as much my own pleasure, as 
 the pleasure self-love would have, from knowing I myself 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 BUTLER. [Serm.XI. 
 
 should be happy some time hence, would be my own pleasure. 
 And if, because every particular affection is a man's own, and 
 the pleasure arising from its gratification his own pleasure, or 
 pleasure to himself, such particular affection must be called 
 self-love ; according to this way of speaking, no creature what- 
 ever can possibly act but merely from self-love ; and every action 
 and every affection whatever is to be resolved up into this one 
 principle. But then this is not the language of mankind : or 
 if it were, we should want words to express the difference, 
 between the principle of an action, proceeding from cool con- 
 sideration that it will be to my own advantage ; and an action, 
 suppose of revenge, or of friendship, by which a man runs 
 upon certain ruin, to do evil or good to another. It is 
 manifest the principles of these actions are totally different, 
 and so want different words to be distinguished by : all that 
 they agree in is, that they both proceed from, and are done to 
 gratify an inclination in a man's self. But the principle 
 or inclination in one case is self-love ; in the other, hatred or 
 love of another. There is then a distinction between the cool 
 principle of self-love, or general desire of our own happiness, 
 as one part of our nature, and one principle of action; and 
 the particular affections towards particular external objects, as 
 another part of our nature, and another principle of action. 
 How much soever therefore is to be allowed to self-love, yet it 
 cannot be allowed to be the whole of our inward constitution ; 
 because, you see, there are other parts or principles which 
 come into it. 
 
 23O Further, private happiness or good is all which self-love can 
 make us desire, or be concerned about : in having this consists 
 its gratification : it is an affection to ourselves ; a regard to our 
 own interest, happiness, and private good : and in the pro- 
 portion a man hath this, he is interested, or a lover of himself. 
 Let -this be kept in mind ; because there is commonly, as 
 I shall presently have occasion to observe, another sense put 
 upon these words. On the other hand, particular affections
 
 Serm. XL] SERMONS. 22<) 
 
 tend towards particular external things : these are their objects : 
 having these is their end : in this consists their gratification : 
 no matter whether it be, or be not, upon the whole, our 
 interest or happiness. An action done from the former of 
 these principles is called an interested action. An action 
 proceeding from any of the latter has its denomination of 
 passionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, from 
 the particular appetite or affection from which it proceeds. 
 Thus self-love as one part of human nature, and the several 
 particular principles as the other part, are, themselves, their 
 objects and ends, stated and shewn. 
 
 231 From hence it will be easy to see, how far, and in what 
 ways, each of these can contribute and be subservient to the 
 private good of the individual. Happiness does not consist 
 in self-love. The desire of happiness is no more the thing 
 itself, than the desire of riches is the possession or enjoyment 
 of them. People may love themselves with the most entire 
 and unbounded affection, and yet be extremely miserable. 
 Neither can self-love any way help them out, but by setting 
 them on work to get rid of the causes of their misery, to gain 
 or make use of those objects which are by nature adapted to 
 afford satisfaction. Happiness or satisfaction consists only in 
 the enjoyment of those objects, which are by nature suited to 
 our several particular appetites, passions, and affections. So 
 that if self-love wholly engrosses us, and leaves no room for 
 any other principle, there can be absolutely no such thing at 
 all as happiness, or enjoyment of any kind whatever ; since 
 happiness consists in the gratification of particular passions, 
 which supposes the having of them. Self-love then does not 
 constitute this or that to be our interest or good ; but, our 
 interest or good being constituted by nature and supposed, 
 self-love only puts us upon obtaining and securing it. There- 
 fore, if it be possible, that self-love may prevail and exert itself 
 in a degree or manner which is not subservient to this end ; 
 then it will not follow, that our interest will be promoted in
 
 230 BUTLER. [Serm. XI. 
 
 proportion to the degree in which that principle engrosses us, 
 and prevails over others. Nay further, the private and con- 
 tracted affection, when it is not subservient to this end, private 
 good, may, for any thing that appears, have a direct contrary 
 tendency and effect. And if we will consider the matter, we 
 shall see that it often really has. Disengagement is absolutely 
 necessary to enjoyment : and a person may have so steady 
 and fixed an eye upon his own interest, whatever he places it 
 in, as may hinder him from attending to many gratifications 
 within his reach, which others have their minds free and open 
 to. Over-fondness for a child is not generally thought to be 
 for its advantage : and, if there be any guess to be made from 
 appearances, surely that character we call selfish is not the 
 most promising for happiness. Such a temper may plainly be, 
 and exert itself in a degree and manner which may give 
 unnecessary and useless solicitude and anxiety, in a degree 
 and manner which may prevent obtaining the means and 
 materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use of them. 
 Immoderate self-love does very ill consult its own interest: 
 and, how much soever a paradox it may appear, it is certainly 
 true, that even from self-love we should endeavour to get over 
 all inordinate regard to, and consideration of ourselves. Every 
 one of our passions and affections hath its natural stint and 
 bound, which may easily be exceeded ; whereas our enjoyments 
 can possibly be but in a determinate measure and degree. 
 Therefore such excess of the affection, since it cannot procure 
 any enjoyment, must in all cases be useless ; but is generally 
 attended with inconveniences, and often is downright pain and 
 misery. This holds as much with regard to self-love as to all 
 other affections. The natural degree of it, so far as it sets us 
 on work to gain and make use of the materials of satisfaction, 
 may be to our real advantage ; but beyond or besides this, it 
 is in several respects an inconvenience and disadvantage. 
 Thus it appears, that private interest is so far from being likely 
 to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love
 
 Serm. XL] SERMONS. 23! 
 
 engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles ; that the 
 contracted affection may be so prevalent as to disappoint itself, 
 and even contradict its own end, private good. 
 
 232 ' But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever thought 
 there was any rivalship between the love of greatness, honour, 
 power, or between sensual appetites, and self-love ? No, there 
 is a perfect harmony between them. It is by means of these 
 particular appetites and affections that self-love is gratified in 
 enjoyment, happiness, and satisfaction. The competition and 
 rivalship is between self-love and the love of our neighbour : 
 that affection which leads us out of ourselves, makes us 
 regardless of our own interest, and substitute that of another in 
 its stead.' Whether then there be any peculiar competition 
 and contrariety in this case, shall now be considered. 
 
 Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in or be an 
 affection to ourselves, a regard to our own private good : it is 
 therefore distinct from benevolence, which is an affection to 
 the good of our fellow-creatures. But that benevolence is 
 distinct from, that is, not the same thing with self-love, is no 
 reason for its being looked upon with any peculiar suspicion ; 
 because every principle whatever, by means of which self-love 
 is gratified, is distinct from it : and all things which are distinct 
 from each other are equally so. A man has an affection or 
 aversion to another : that one of these tends to, and is gratified 
 by doing good, that the other tends to, and is gratified by 
 doing harm, does not in the least alter the respect which either 
 one or the other of these inward feelings has to self-love. We 
 use the word property so as to exclude any other persons 
 having an interest in that of which we say a particular man has 
 the property. And we often use the word selfish so as to 
 exclude in the same manner all regards to the good of others. 
 But the cases are not parallel : for though that exclusion is 
 really part of the idea of property; yet such positive exclusion, 
 or bringing this peculiar disregard to the good of others into 
 the idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or changing
 
 232 BUTLER. [Serm.XI. 
 
 it from what it was before stated to consist in, namely, in an 
 
 233 affection to ourselves l . This being the whole idea of self-love, 
 
 it can no otherwise exclude good-will or love of others, than 
 
 merely by not including it, no otherwise, than it excludes love 
 
 of arts or reputation, or of any thing else. Neither on the 
 
 other hand does benevolence, any more than love of arts or of 
 
 reputation, exclude self-love. Love of our neighbour then has 
 
 just the same respect to, is no more distant from, self-love, 
 
 than hatred of our neighbour, or than love or hatred of any 
 
 thing else. Thus the principles, from which men rush upon 
 
 certain ruin for the destruction of an enemy, and for the 
 
 preservation of a friend, have the same respect to the private 
 
 affection, and are equally interested, or equally disinterested : 
 
 and it is of no avail, whether they are said to be one or the 
 
 other. Therefore to those who are shocked to hear virtue 
 
 spoken of as disinterested, it may be allowed that it is indeed 
 
 absurd to speak thus of it; unless hatred, several particular 
 
 instances of vice, and all the common affections and aversions 
 
 in mankind, are acknowledged to bfe disinterested too. Is 
 
 there any less inconsistence, between the love of inanimate 
 
 things, or of creatures merely sensitive, and self-love; than 
 
 between self-love and the love of our neighbour ? Is desire of 
 
 and delight in the happiness of another any more a diminution 
 
 of self-love, than desire of and delight in the esteem of another ? 
 
 They are both equally desire of and delight in somewhat 
 
 external to ourselves : either both or neither are so. The 
 
 object of self-love is expressed in the term self : and every 
 
 appetite of sense, and every particular affection of the heart, 
 
 are equally interested or disinterested, because the objects 
 
 of them all are equally self or somewhat else. Whatever 
 
 ridicule therefore the mention of a disinterested principle or 
 
 action may be supposed to lie open to, must, upon the matter 
 
 being thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appetite and 
 
 particular affection, as much as to benevolence. And indeed 
 
 1 P. 228.
 
 Serm. XI.] SEXMONS. 233 
 
 all the ridicule, and all the grave perplexity, of which this 
 subject hath had its full share, is merely from words. The 
 most intelligible way of speaking of it seems to be this : that 
 self-love and the actions done in consequence of it (for the"se 
 will presently appear to be the same as to this question) are 
 interested ; that particular affections towards external objects, 
 and the actions done in consequence of those affections, are 
 not so. But every one is at liberty to use words as he pleases. 
 All that is here insisted upon is, that ambition, revenge, 
 benevolence, all particular passions whatever, and the actions 
 they produce, are equally interested or disinterested. 
 234 Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety 
 between self-love and benevolence ; no greater competition 
 between these, than between any other particular affections 
 and self-love. This relates to the affections themselves. Let 
 us now see whether there be any peculiar contrariety between 
 the respective courses of life which these affections lead to ; 
 whether there be any greater competition between the pursuit 
 of private and of public good, than between any other par- 
 ticular pursuits and that of private good. 
 
 There seems no other reason to suspect that there is any 
 such peculiar contrariety, but only that the course of action 
 which benevolence leads to, has a more direct tendency to 
 promote the good of others, than that course of action which 
 love of reputation, suppose, or any other particular affection 
 leads to. But that any affection tends to the happiness of' 
 another, does not hinder its tending to one's own happiness too. 
 That others enjoy the benefit of the air and the light of the 
 sun, does not hinder but that these are as much one's own 
 private advantage now, as they would be if we had the 
 property of them exclusive of all others. So a pursuit which 
 tends to promote the good of another, yet may have as great 
 tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit which 
 does not tend to the good of another at all, or which is mis- 
 chievous to him. All particular affections whatever, resentment,
 
 234 BUTLER. [Serm. XI. 
 
 benevolence, love of arts, equally lead to a course of action for 
 their own gratification, i. e. the gratification of ourselves ; and 
 the gratification of each gives delight : so far then it is manifest 
 they have all the same respect to private interest. Now take 
 into consideration further, concerning these three pursuits, 
 that the end of the first is the harm, of the second, the good 
 of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent ; and is there any 
 necessity, that these additional considerations should alter the 
 respect, which we before saw these three pursuits had to private 
 interest ; or render any one of them less conducive to it, than 
 any other ? Thus one man's affection is to honour as his end ; 
 in order to obtain which he thinks no pains too great. Suppose 
 another, with such a singularity of mind, as to have the same 
 affection to public good as his end, which he endeavours with 
 the same labour to obtain. In case of success, surely the man 
 of benevolence hath as great enjoyment as the man of 
 ambition ; they both equally having the end their affections, in 
 the same degree, tended to : but in case of disappointment, 
 the benevolent man has clearly the advantage ; since endeavour- 
 ing to do good considered as a virtuous pursuit, is gratified 
 by its own consciousness, i. e. is in a degree its own reward. 
 235 And as to these two, or benevolence and any other particular 
 passions whatever, considered in a further view, as forming 
 a general temper, which more or less disposes us for enjoyment 
 of all the common blessings of life, distinct from their own 
 gratification : is benevolence less the temper of tranquillity and 
 freedom than ambition or covetousness ? Does the bene- 
 volent man appear less easy with himself, from his love to his 
 neighbour ? Does he less relish his being ? Is there any 
 peculiar gloom seated on his face ? Is his mind less open 
 to entertainment, to any particular gratification ? Nothing is 
 more manifest, than that being in good humour, which is 
 benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself the temper of satisfaction 
 and enjoyment. 
 
 Suppose then a man sitting down to consider how he might
 
 Serm. XL] SERMONS. 235 
 
 become most easy to himself, and attain the greatest pleasure 
 he could ; all that which is his real natural happiness. This 
 can only consist in the enjoyment of those objects, which are 
 by nature adapted to our several faculties. These particular 
 enjoyments make up the sum total of our happiness : and they 
 are supposed to arise from riches, honours, and the gratifica- 
 tion of sensual appetites : be it so : yet none profess them- 
 selves so completely happy in these enjoyments, but that there 
 is room left in the mind for others, if they were presented to 
 them : nay, these, as much as they engage us, are not thought 
 so high, but that human nature is capable even of greater. 
 Now there have been persons in all ages, who have professed 
 that they found satisfaction in the exercise of charity, in the 
 love of their neighbour, in endeavouring to promote the happi- 
 ness of all they had to do with, and in the pursuit of what is 
 just and right and good, as the general bent of their mind, and 
 end of their life; and that doing an action of baseness or 
 cruelty, would be as great violence to their self, as much 
 breaking in upon their nature, as any external force. Persons 
 of this character would add, if they might be heard, that they 
 consider themselves as acting in the view of an infinite Being, 
 who is in a much higher sense the object of reverence and of 
 love, than all the world besides ; and therefore they could 
 have no more enjoyment from a wicked action done under his 
 eye, than the persons to whom they are making their apology 
 could, if all mankind were the spectators of it ; and that the 
 satisfaction of approving themselves to his unerring judgment, 
 to whom they thus refer all their actions, is a more continued 
 settled satisfaction than any this world can afford ; as also that 
 they have, no less than others, a mind free and open to all the 
 common innocent gratifications of it, such as they are. And 
 if we go no further, does there appear any absurdity in this ? 
 Will any one take upon him to say, that a man cannot find his 
 account in this general course of life, as much as in the most 
 unbounded ambition, and the excesses of pleasure ? Or that
 
 236 BUTLER. [Serm. XI. 
 
 such a person has not consulted so well for himself, for the 
 satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious or 
 dissolute man ? And though the consideration, that God him- 
 self will in the end justify their taste, and support their cause, 
 is not formally to be insisted upon here ; yet thus much comes 
 in, that all enjoyments whatever are much more clear and 
 unmixed from the assurance that they will end well. Is it 
 certain then that there is nothing in these pretensions to 
 happiness? especially when there are not wanting persons, 
 who have supported themselves with satisfactions of this kind 
 in sickness, poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death ; 
 whereas it is manifest all other enjoyments fail in these cir- 
 cumstances. This surely looks suspicious of having somewhat 
 in it. Self-love methinks should be alarmed. May she not 
 possibly pass over greater pleasures, than those she is so 
 wholly taken up with ? 
 
 236 The short of the matter is no more than this. Happiness 
 consists in the gratification of certain affections, appetites, 
 passions, with objects which are by nature adapted to them. 
 Self-love may indeed set us on work to gratify these : but 
 happiness or enjoyment has no immediate connection with 
 self-love, but arises from such gratification alone. Love of our 
 neighbour is one of those affections. This, considered as 
 a virtuous principle^ is gratified by a consciousness of endea- 
 vouring to promote the good of others ; but considered as 
 a natural affection, its gratification consists in the actual 
 accomplishment of this endeavour. Now indulgence or grati- 
 fication of this affection, whether in that consciousness or this 
 accomplishment, has the same respect to interest, as indul- 
 gence of any other affection ; they equally proceed from or do 
 not proceed from self-love, they equally include or equally 
 exclude this principle. Thus it appears, that benevolence and 
 the pursuit of public good hath at least as great respect to self- 
 love and the pursuit of private good, as any other particular 
 passions ^ and their respective pursuits.
 
 Serm. XL] SERMONS. 237 
 
 237 Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper or pursuit, any 
 exception to this. For if by covetousness is meant the desire 
 and pursuit of riches for their own sake, without any regard to, 
 or consideration of, the uses of them ; this hath as little to do 
 with self-love, as benevolence hath. But by this word is 
 usually meant, not such madness and total distraction of mind, 
 but immoderate affection to and pursuit of riches as pos- 
 sessions in order to some further end; namely, satisfaction, 
 interest, or good. This therefore is not a particular affection, 
 or particular pursuit, but it is the general principle of self-love, 
 and the general pursuit of our own interest ; for which reason, 
 the word selfish is by every one appropriated to this temper 
 and pursuit. Now as it is ridiculous to assert, that self-love 
 and the love of our neighbour are the same ; so neither is it 
 asserted, that following these different affections hath the same 
 tendency and respect to our own interest. The comparison is 
 not beween self-love and the love of our neighbour ; between 
 pursuit of our own interest, and the interest of others ; but 
 between the several particular affections in human nature 
 towards external objects, as one part of the comparison ; and 
 the one particular affection to the good of our neighbour, as 
 the other part of it : and it has been shewn, that all these have 
 the same respect to self-love and private interest. 
 
 238 There is indeed frequently an inconsistence or interfering 
 between self-love or private interest, and the several particular 
 appetites, passions, affections, or the pursuits they lead to. 
 But this competition or interfering is merely accidental ; and 
 happens much oftener between pride, revenge, sensual gratifi- 
 cations, and private interest, than between private interest and 
 benevolence. For nothing is more common, than to see men 
 give themselves up to a passion or an affection to their known 
 prejudice and ruin, and in direct contradiction to manifest and 
 real interest, and the loudest calls of self-love : whereas the 
 seeming competitions and interfering, between benevolence 
 and private interest, relate much more to the materials or
 
 238 BUTLER. [Serm.XI. 
 
 means of enjoyment, than to enjoyment itself. There is often 
 an interfering in the former, when there is none in the latter. 
 Thus as to riches : so much money as a man gives away, so 
 much less will remain in his possession. Here is a real inter- 
 fering. But though a man cannot possibly give without 
 lessening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might give 
 without lessening their own enjoyment; because they may 
 have more than they can turn to any real use or advantage to 
 themselves. Thus, the more thought and time any one 
 employs about the interests and good of others, he must 
 necessarily have less to attend his own ; but he may have so 
 ready and large a supply of his own wants, that such thought 
 might be really useless to himself, though of great service and 
 assistance to others. 
 
 The general mistake, that there is some greater inconsistence 
 between endeavouring to promote the good of another and 
 self-interest, than between self-interest and pursuing any thing 
 else, seems, as hath already been hinted, to arise from our 
 notions of property ; and to be carried on by this property's 
 being supposed to be itself our happiness or good. People 
 are so very much taken up with this one subject, that they 
 seem from it to have formed a general way of thinking, which 
 they apply to other things that they have nothing to do with. 
 Hence, in a confused and slight way, it might well be taken 
 for granted, that another's having no interest in an affection 
 (i. e. his good not being the object of it), renders, as one may 
 speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater ; and that if another 
 had an interest in it, this would render his less, or occasion 
 that such affection could not be so friendly to self-love, or 
 conducive to private good, as an affection or pursuit which has 
 not a regard to the good of another. This, I say, might be 
 taken for granted, whilst it was not attended to, that the object 
 of every particular affection is equally somewhat external to 
 ourselves ; and whether it be the good of another person, or 
 whether it be any other external thing, makes no alteration
 
 Serm. XL] SERMONS. 239 
 
 * 
 
 with regard to its being one's own affection, and the gratifica- 
 tion of it one's own private enjoyment. And so far as it is 
 taken for granted, that barely having the means and materials 
 of enjoyment is what constitutes interest and happiness ; that 
 our interest or good consists in possessions themselves, in 
 having the property of riches, houses, lands, gardens, not 
 in the enjoyment of them ; so far it will even more strongly 
 be taken for granted, in the way already explained, that an 
 affection's conducing to the good of another, must even 
 necessarily occasion it to conduce less to private good, if not 
 to be positively detrimental to it. For, if property and happi- 
 ness are one and the same thing, as by increasing the property 
 of another you lessen your own property, so by promoting the 
 happiness of another you must lessen your own happiness. 
 But whatever occasioned the mistake, I hope it has been fully 
 proved to be one; as it has been proved, that there is no 
 peculiar rivalship or competition between self-love and bene- 
 volence : that as there may be a competition between these 
 two, so there may also between any particular affection what- 
 ever and self-love ; that every particular affection, benevolence 
 among the rest, is subservient to self-love by being the instru- 
 ment of private enjoyment ; and that in one respect benevolence 
 contributes more to private interest, i. e. enjoyment or satis- 
 faction, than any other of the particular common affections, as 
 it is in a degree its own gratification. 
 
 239 And to all these things may be added, that religion, from 
 whence arises our strongest obligation to benevolence, is so 
 far from disowning the principle of self-love, that it often 
 addresses itself to that very principle, and always to the mind 
 in that state when reason presides ; and there can no access 
 be had to the understanding, but by convincing men, that the 
 course of life we would persuade them to is not contrary 
 to their interest. It may be allowed, without any prejudice to 
 the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness 
 and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important
 
 240 BUTLER, [Serm. XII. 
 
 i* 
 
 to us ; that they will, nay, if you please, that they ought to 
 prevail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and 
 proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there 
 ever should be, any inconsistence between them : though these 
 last too, as expressing the fitness of actions, are real as truth 
 itself. Let it be allowed, though virtue or moral rectitude 
 does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is right 
 and good, as such ; yet, that when we sit down in a cool hour, 
 we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, 
 till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or at 
 least not contrary to it. 
 
 Common reason and humanity will have some influence 
 upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations ; but, so far 
 as the interests of virtue depend upon the theory of it being 
 secured from open scorn, so far its very being in the world 
 depends upon its appearing to have no contrariety to private 
 interest and self-love. The foregoing observations, therefore, 
 it is hoped, may have gained a little ground in favour of the 
 precept before us ; the particular explanation of which shall be 
 the subject of the next discourse. 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 ******* 
 
 240 I PROCEED to consider, lastly, what is affirmed of the precept 
 now explained, that it comprehends in it all others ; i. e. that 
 to love our neighbour as ourselves includes in it all virtues. 
 
 Now the way in which every maxim of conduct, or general 
 speculative assertion, when it is to be explained at large, should 
 be treated, is, to shew what are the particular truths which were 
 designed to be comprehended under such a general observa- 
 tion, how far it is strictly true ; and then the limitations, 
 restrictions, and exceptions, if there be exceptions, with which 
 it is to be understood. But it is only the former of these ;
 
 Serm. XII.] SERMONS. 24! 
 
 namely, how far the assertion in the text holds, and the 
 ground of the pre-eminence assigned to the precept of it, which 
 in strictness comes into our present consideration. 
 
 However, in almost every thing that is said, there is some- 
 what to be understood beyond what is explicitly laid down, and 
 which we of course supply ; somewhat, I mean, which would 
 not be commonly called a restriction, or limitation. Thus, 
 when benevolence is said to be the sum of virtue, it is not 
 spoken of as a blind propension, but as a principle in reason- 
 able creatures, and so to be directed by their reason : for 
 reason and reflection comes into our notion of a moral agent. 
 And that will lead us to consider distant consequences, as well 
 as the immediate tendency of an action : it will teach us, that 
 the care of some persons, suppose children and families, is 
 particularly committed to our charge by Nature and Providence ; 
 as also that there are other circumstances, suppose friendship 
 or former obligations, which require that we do good to some, 
 preferably to others. Reason, considered merely as subservient 
 to benevolence, as assisting to produce the greatest good, will 
 teach us to have particular regard to these relations and cir- 
 cumstances ; because it is plainly for the good of the world that 
 they should be regarded. And as there are numberless cases, 
 in which, notwithstanding appearances, we are not competent 
 judges, whether a particular action will upon the whole do 
 good or harm ; reason in the same way will teach us to be 
 cautious how we act in these cases of uncertainty. It will 
 suggest to our consideration, which is the safer side ; how 
 liable we are to be led wrong by passion and private interest ; 
 and what regard is due to laws, and the judgment of mankind. 
 All these things must come into consideration, were it only in 
 order to determine which way of acting is likely to produce 
 the greatest good. Thus, upon supposition that it were in the 
 strictest sense true, without limitation, that benevolence includes 
 in it all virtues ; yet reason must come in as its guide and director, 
 in order to attain its own end, the end of benevolence, the 
 
 * R
 
 242 BUTLER. [Serm. XII. 
 
 greatest public good. Reason then being thus included, let 
 us now consider the truth of the assertion itself. 
 241 First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence to 
 mankind or any creature, but happiness. This then is all 
 which any person can, in strictness of speaking, be said to have 
 a right to. We can therefore owe no man any thing, but only 
 to further and promote his happiness, according to our abilities. 
 And therefore a disposition and endeavour to do good to all 
 with whom we have to do, in the degree and manner which 
 the different relations we stand in to them require, is a dis- 
 charge of all the obligations we are under to them. 
 
 As human nature is not one simple uniform thing, but 
 a composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, particular 
 passions, and affections ; for each of which reasonable self-love 
 would lead men to have due regard, and make suitable 
 provision : so society consists of various parts, to which we 
 stand in different respects and relations ; and just benevolence 
 would as surely lead us to have due regard to each of these, 
 and behave as the respective relations require. Reasonable 
 good-will, and right behaviour towards our fellow-creatures, are 
 in a manner the same : only that the former expresseth the 
 principle as it is in the mind; the latter, the principle as it 
 were become external, i. e. exerted in actions. 
 
 And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in 
 sensual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any respect to 
 our fellow-creatures, any influence upon their quiet, welfare, 
 and happiness ; as they always have a real, and often a near 
 influence upon it ; so far it is manifest those virtues may be 
 produced by the love of our neighbour, and that the con- 
 trary vices would be prevented by it. Indeed if men's regard 
 to themselves will not restrain them from excess; it may 
 be thought little probable, that their love to others will be 
 sufficient : but the reason is, that their love to others is not, 
 any more than their regard to themselves, just, and in its due 
 degree. There are however manifest instances of persons kept
 
 Serrn. XII.] SERMONS. 243 
 
 sober and temperate from regard to their affairs, and the 
 welfare of those who depend upon them. And it is obvious to 
 every one, that habitual excess, a dissolute course of life, 
 implies a general neglect of the duties we owe towards our 
 friends, our families, and our country. 
 
 242 From hence it is manifest that the common virtues, and the 
 common vices of mankind, may be traced up to benevolence, 
 or the want of it. And this entitles the precept, Thou shalt 
 love thy neighbour as thyself, to the preeminence given to it ; 
 and is a justification of the apostle's assertion, that all other 
 commandments are comprehended in it; whatever cautions 
 and restrictions 1 there are, which might require to be con- 
 sidered, if we were to state particularly and at length, what is 
 virtue and right behaviour in mankind. But, 
 
 1 For instance : as we are not competent judges, what is upon the whole 
 for the good of the world, there may be other immediate ends appointed 
 us to pursue, besides that one of doing good, or producing happiness. 
 Though the good of the creation be the only end of the Author of it, 
 yet he may have laid us under particular obligations, which we may discern 
 and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a perception, that the 
 observance or violation of them is for the happiness or misery of our 
 fellow-creatures. And this is in fact the case. For there are certain dis- 
 positions of mind, and certain actions, which are in themselves approved 
 or disapproved by mankind, abstracted from the consideration of their 
 tendency to the happiness or misery of the world ; approved or disapproved 
 by reflection, by that principle within, which is the guide of life, the judge 
 of right and wrong. Numberless instances of this kind might be mentioned. 
 There are pieces of treachery, which in themselves appear base and 
 detestable to every one. There are actions, which perhaps can scarce 
 have any other general name given them than indecencies, which yet are 
 odious and shocking to human nature. There is such a thing as meanness, 
 a little mind ; which, as it is quite distinct from incapacity, so it raises 
 a dislike and disapprobation quite different from that contempt, which 
 men are too apt to have, of mere folly. On the other hand ; what we 
 call greatness of mind is the object of another sort of approbation, than 
 superior understanding. Fidelity, honour, strict justice, are themselves 
 approved in the highest degree, abstracted from the consideration of their 
 tendency. Now, whether it be thought that each of these are connected 
 with benevolence in our nature, and so may be considered as the same 
 thing with it ; or whether some of them be thought an inferior kind of 
 virtues and vices, somewhat like natural beauties and deformities ; or 
 lastly, plain exceptions to the general rule ; thus much however is certain, 
 that the things now instanced in, and numberless others, are approved 
 or disapproved by mankind in general, in quite another view than as 
 conducive to the happiness or misery of the world. 
 
 R 2
 
 244 BUTLER. [Serm. XII. I 
 
 243 Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and more 
 general way of consideration, leaving out the particular nature 
 of creatures, and the particular circumstances in which they are 
 placed, benevolence seems in the strictest sense to include in 
 it all that is good and worthy ; all that is good, which we have 
 any distinct particular notion of. We have no clear conception 
 of any positive moral attribute in the supreme Being, but what 
 may be resolved up into goodness. And, if we consider 
 a reasonable creature or moral agent, without regard to the 
 particular relations and circumstances in which he is placed ; 
 we cannot conceive any thing else to come in towards deter- 
 mining whether he is to be ranked in an higher or lower class 
 of virtuous beings, but the higher or lower degree in which 
 that principle, and what is manifestly connected with it, prevail 
 in him. 
 
 That which we more strictly call piety, or the love of God, 
 and which is an essential part of a right temper, some may 
 perhaps imagine no way connected with benevolence : yet 
 surely they must be connected, if there be indeed in being an 
 object infinitely good. Human nature is so constituted, that 
 every good affection implies the love of itself; i. e. becomes 
 the object of a new affection in the same person. Thus, to be 
 righteous, implies in it the love of righteousness ; to be benevo- 
 lent, the love of benevolence ; to be good, the love of goodness ; 
 whether this righteousness, benevolence, or goodness, be viewed 
 as in our own mind, or in another's : and the love of God as 
 a being perfectly good, is the love of perfect goodness contem- 
 plated in a being or person. Thus morality and religion, virtue 
 and piety, will at last necessarily coincide, run up into one and 
 the same point, and love will be in all senses the end of thi 
 commandment.
 
 Diss. II.] D1SSER TA TION. 245 
 
 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 
 
 244 THAT which renders beings capable of moral government, is 
 their having a moral nature, and moral faculties of perception 
 and of action. Brute creatures are impressed and actuated by 
 various instincts and propensions : so also are we. But 
 additional to this, we have a capacity of reflecting upon 
 actions and characters, and making them an object to our 
 thought; and on doing this, we naturally and unavoidably 
 approve some actions, under the peculiar view of their being 
 virtuous and of good desert ; and disapprove others, as vicious 
 and of ill desert. That we have this moral approving and 
 disapproving 1 faculty, is certain from our experiencing it in 
 ourselves, and recognising it in each other. It appears from 
 our exercising it unavoidably, in the approbation and dis- 
 approbation even of feigned characters : from the words, right 
 and wrong, odious and amiable, base and worthy, with many 
 others of like signification in all languages, applied to actions 
 and characters : from the many written systems of morals 
 which suppose it ; since it cannot be imagined, that all these 
 authors, throughout all these treatises, had absolutely no 
 meaning at all to their words, or a meaning merely chimerical : 
 from our natural sense of gratitude, which implies a distinction 
 between merely being the instrument of good, and intending it : 
 
 1 This way of speaking is taken from Epictetus,* and is made use of as 
 seeming the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral faculty 
 may be understood to have these two epithets, SoKipaffTiKf) and airodoKt- 
 HaariKT), upon a double account ; because, upon a survey of actions, 
 whether before or after they are done, it determines them to be good or 
 evil ; and also because it determines itself to be the guide of action and of 
 life, in contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural principles of 
 action : in the very same manner as speculative reason directly and 
 naturally judges of speculative truth and falsehood ; and at the same time 
 is attended with a consciousness upon reflection, that the natural right to 
 judge of them belongs to it. 
 
 * Arr. Epict. lib. i. cap. I.
 
 2^46 BUTLER. [Diss. ii. 
 
 from the like distinction, every one makes, between injury and 
 mere harm, which Hobbes says, is peculiar to mankind ; and 
 between injury and just punishment, a distinction plainly 
 natural, prior to the consideration of human laws. It is 
 manifest great part of common language, and of common 
 behaviour over the world, is formed upon supposition of such 
 a moral faculty ; whether called conscience, moral reason, 
 moral sense, or divine reason ; whether considered as a senti- 
 ment of the understanding, or as a perception of the heart ; or, 
 which seems the truth, as including both. Nor is it at all 
 doubtful, in the general, what course of action this faculty, or 
 practical discerning power within us, approves, and what it 
 disapproves. For as much as it has been disputed wherein 
 virtue consists, or whatever ground for doubt there may be 
 about particulars ; yet, in general, there is in reality an 
 universally acknowledged standard of it. It is that which 
 all ages and all countries have made profession of in public ; 
 it is that which every man you meet puts on the show of; it is 
 that which the primary and fundamental laws of all civil con- 
 stitutions over the face of the earth make it their business and 
 endeavour to enforce the practice of upon mankind ; namely, 
 justice, veracity, and regard to common good. It being 
 manifest then, in general, that we have such a faculty or dis- 
 cernment as this, it may be of use to remark some things more 
 distinctly concerning it. 
 
 245 First, It ought to be observed, that the object of this faculty 
 is actions 1 , comprehending under that name active or practical 
 principles; those principles from which men would act, if 
 occasions and circumstances gave them power; and which, 
 when fixed and habitual in any person, we call his character. 
 It does not appear that brutes have the least reflex sense of 
 actions, as distinguished from events ; or that will and design, 
 which constitute the very nature of actions as such, are at all 
 
 1 OvSe 17 dper}/ /cal Koala \v irficrfi, d\\ci evfpyeia. M. Anton, lib. ix. 16. 
 Virtutis laus omnis in actione consistit. Cic. Off. lib. i. cap. 6.
 
 Diss. II.] DISSER TA TION. 247 
 
 an object to their perception. But to ours they are ; and they 
 are the object, and the only one, of the approving and dis- 
 approving faculty. Acting, conduct, behaviour, abstracted 
 from all regard to what is, in fact and event, the consequence 
 of it, is itself the natural object of the moral discernment, 
 as speculative truth and falsehood is of speculative reason. 
 Intention of such and such consequences, indeed, is always 
 included ; for it is part of the action itself : but though the 
 intended good or bad consequences do not follow, we have 
 exactly the same sense of the action as if they did. In like 
 manner, we think well or ill of characters, abstracted from all 
 consideration of the good or the evil, which persons of such 
 characters have it actually in their power to do. We never, in 
 the moral way, applaud or blame either ourselves or others, for 
 what we enjoy or what we suffer, or for having impressions 
 made upon us which we consider as altogether out of our 
 power ; but only for what we do, or would have done, had it 
 been in our power ; or for what we leave undone, which we 
 might have done, or would have left undone, though we could 
 have done it. 
 
 246 Secondly : Our sense or discernment of actions as morally 
 good or evil, implies in it a sense or discernment of them as of 
 good or ill desert. It may be difficult to explain this percep- 
 tion, so as to answer all the questions which may be asked 
 concerning it ; but every one speaks of such and such actions 
 as deserving punishment ; and it is not, I suppose, pretended, 
 that they have absolutely no meaning at all to the expression. 
 Now the meaning plainly is not, that we conceive it for the 
 good of society, that the doer of such actions should be made 
 to suffer. For if unhappily it were resolved, that a man who, 
 by some innocent action, was infected with the plague, should 
 be left to perish, lest, by other people's coming near him, the 
 infection should spread ; no one would say he deserved this 
 treatment. Innocence and ill desert are inconsistent ideas. 
 Ill desert always supposes guilt ; and if one be no part of the
 
 248 BUTLER. [Diss. II. 
 
 other, yet they are evidently and naturally connected in our 
 mind. The sight of a man in misery raises our compassion 
 towards him ; and, if this misery be inflicted on him by another, 
 our indignation against the author of it. But when we are in- 
 formed that the sufferer is a villain, and is punished only for 
 his treachery or cruelty, our compassion exceedingly lessens, 
 and in many instances our indignation wholly subsides. Now 
 what produces this effect is the conception of that in the 
 sufferer, which we call ill desert. Upon considering then, or 
 viewing together, our notion of vice and that of misery, there 
 results a third, that of ill desert. And thus there is in human 
 creatures an association of the two ideas, natural and moral 
 evil, wickedness and punishment. If this association were 
 merely artificial or accidental, it were nothing ; but being most 
 unquestionably natural, it greatly concerns us to attend to it, 
 instead of endeavouring to explain it away. 
 
 It may be observed further, concerning our perception of 
 good and of ill desert, that the former is very weak with respect 
 to common instances of virtue. One reason of which may be, 
 that it does not appear to a spectator, how far such instances 
 of virtue proceed from a virtuous principle, or in what degree 
 this principle is prevalent : since a very weak regard to virtue 
 may be sufficient to make men act well in many common 
 instances. And on the other hand, our perception of ill desert 
 in vicious actions lessens in proportion to the temptations men 
 are thought to have had to such vices. For vice in human 
 creatures consisting chiefly in the absence or want of the 
 virtuous principle ; though a man be overcome, suppose, by 
 tortures, it does not from thence appear to what degree the 
 virtuous principle was wanting. All that appears is, that he had 
 it not in such a degree as to prevail over the temptation ; but 
 possibly he had it in a degree which would have rendered him 
 proof against common temptations. 
 
 247 Thirdly : Our perception of vice and ill desert arises from, 
 and is the result of, a comparison of actions with the nature and
 
 Diss. II.) DISSERTATION. 249 
 
 capacities of the agent. For the mere neglect of doing what 
 we ought to do would, in many cases, be determined by all men 
 to be in the highest degree vicious. And this determination 
 must arise from such comparison, and be the result of it ; 
 because such neglect would not be vicious in creatures of other 
 natures and capacities, as brutes. And it is the same also with 
 respect to positive vices, or such as consist in doing what we 
 ought not. For every one has a different sense of harm done 
 by an idiot, madman, or child, and by one of mature and 
 common understanding ; though the action of both, including 
 the intention, which is part of the action, be the same ; as it 
 may be, since idiots and madmen, as well as children, are 
 capable not only of doing mischief, but also of intending it. 
 Now this difference must arise from somewhat discerned in 
 the nature or capacities of one, which renders the action 
 vicious ; and the want of which, in the other, renders the same 
 action innocent or less vicious: and this plainly supposes 
 a comparison, whether reflected upon or not, between the 
 action and capacities of the agent, previous to our determining 
 an action to be vicious. And hence arises a proper application 
 of the epithets, incongruous, unsuitable, disproportionate, 
 unfit, to actions which our moral faculty determines to be 
 vicious. 
 
 248 Fourthly : It deserves to be considered, whether men are 
 more at liberty, in point of morals, to make themselves 
 miserable without reason, than to make other people so ; or 
 dissolutely to neglect their own greater good, for the sake 
 of a present lesser gratification, than they are to neglect the 
 good of others, whom nature has committed to their care. 
 It should seem, that a due concern about our own interest 
 or happiness, and a reasonable endeavour to secure 'and 
 promote it, which is, I think, very much the meaning of 
 the word prudence in our language; it should seem that 
 this is virtue, and the contrary behaviour faulty and blame- 
 able ; since, in the calmest way of reflection, we approve
 
 250 BUTLER. ' [Diss. II. 
 
 of the first, and condemn the other conduct, both in 
 ourselves and others. This approbation and disapprobation 
 are altogether different from mere desire of our own, or 
 of their happiness, and from sorrow upon missing it. For 
 the object or occasion of this last kind of perception is 
 satisfaction or uneasiness ; whereas the object of the first 
 is active behaviour. In one case, what our thoughts fix 
 .upon is our condition ; in the other, our conduct. It is true, 
 indeed, that nature has not given us so sensible a disappro- 
 bation of imprudence and folly, either in ourselves or others, 
 as of falsehood, injustice, and cruelty; I suppose, because 
 that constant habitual sense of private interest and good, 
 which we always carry about with us, renders such sensible 
 disapprobation less necessary, less wanting, to keep -us from 
 imprudently neglecting our own happiness, and foolishly 
 injuring ourselves, than it is necessary and wanting to keep 
 us from injuring others, to whose good we cannot have so 
 strong and constant a regard ; and also, because imprudence 
 and folly, appearing to bring its own punishment more 
 immediately and constantly than injurious behaviour, it less 
 needs the additional punishment, which would be inflicted 
 upon it by others, had they the same sensible indignation 
 against it, as against injustice, and fraud, and cruelty. 
 Besides, unhappine'ss being in itself the natural object of 
 compassion, the unhappiness which people bring upon them- 
 selves, though it be wilfully, excites in us some pity for 
 them ; and this, of course, lessens our displeasure against 
 them. But still it is matter of experience, that we are 
 formed so as to reflect very severely upon the greater instances 
 of imprudent neglects and foolish rashness, both in ourselves 
 and others. In instances of this kind, men often say of 
 themselves with remorse, and of others with some indignation, 
 that they deserved to suffer such calamities, because they 
 brought them upon themselves, and would not take warning. 
 Particularly when persons come to poverty and distress by
 
 Diss. II.] DISSER TA TION. 251 
 
 a long course of extravagance, and after frequent admonitions, 
 though without falsehood or injustice ; we plainly do not 
 regard such people as alike objects of compassion with those 
 who are brought into the same condition by unavoidable 
 accidents. From these things it appears, that prudence is 
 a species of virtue, and folly of vice : meaning by folly > 
 somewhat quite different from mere incapacity ; a thoughtless 
 want of that regard and attention to our own happiness, 
 which we had capacity for. And this the word properly 
 includes ; and, as it seems, in its usual acceptation ; for we 
 scarcely apply it to brute creatures. 
 
 However, if any person be disposed to dispute the matter, 
 I shall very willingly give him up the words virtue and vice, as 
 not applicable to prudence and folly ; but must beg leave to 
 insist, that the faculty within us, which is the judge of actions, 
 approves of prudent actions, and disapproves imprudent ones ; 
 I say prudent and imprudent actions as such, and considered 
 distinctly from the happiness or misery which they occasion. 
 And by the way, this observation may help to determine what 
 justness there is in that objection against religion, that it 
 teaches us to be interested and selfish. 
 
 249 Fifthly : Without inquiring how far, and in what sense, 
 virtue is resolvable into benevolence, and vice into the want 
 of it ; it may be proper to observe, that benevolence, and the 
 want of it, singly considered, are in no sort the whole of virtue 
 and vice. For if this were the case, in the review of one's 
 own character, or that of others, our moral understanding and 
 moral sense would be indifferent to every thing, but the 
 degrees in which benevolence prevailed, and the degrees in 
 which it was wanting. That is, we should neither approve 
 of benevolence to some persons rather than to others, nor 
 disapprove injustice and falsehood upon any other account, 
 than merely as an overbalance of happiness was foreseen 
 likely to be produced by the first, and of misery by the 
 second. But now, on the contrary, suppose two men com-
 
 252 B UTLER. [Diss. II. 
 
 petitors for any thing whatever, which would be of equal 
 advantage to each of them ; though nothing, indeed, would 
 be more impertinent, than for a stranger to busy himself to 
 get one of them preferred to the other ; yet such endeavour 
 would be virtue, in behalf of a friend or benefactor, ab- 
 stracted from all consideration of distant consequences : as 
 that examples of gratitude, and the cultivation of friendship, 
 would be of general good to the world. Again, suppose 
 one man should, by fraud or violence, take from another 
 the fruit of his labour, with intent to give it to a third, 
 who he thought would have as much pleasure from it as 
 would balance the pleasure which the first possessor would 
 have had in the enjoyment, and his vexation in the loss of 
 it ; suppose, also, that no bad consequences would follow ; 
 yet such an action would surely be vicious. Nay, further, 
 were treachery, violence, and injustice, no otherwise vicious, 
 than as foreseen likely to produce an overbalance of misery 
 to society ; then, if in any case a man could procure to 
 himself as great advantage by an act of injustice, as the 
 whole foreseen inconvenience, likely to be brought upon 
 others by it, would amount to, such a piece of injustice 
 would not be faulty or vicious at all; because it would be 
 no more than, in any other case, for a man to prefer his 
 own satisfaction to another's in equal degrees. The fact 
 then appears to be, that we are constituted so as to condemn 
 falsehood, unprovoked violence, injustice, and to approve of 
 benevolence to some preferably to others, abstracted from all 
 consideration, which conduct is likeliest to produce an over- 
 balance of happiness or misery. And therefore, were the 
 Author of nature to propose nothing to himself as an end 
 but the production of happiness, were his moral character 
 merely that of benevolence; yet ours is not so. Upon that 
 supposition, indeed, the only reason of his giving us the 
 above-mentioned approbation of benevolence to some persons 
 rather than others, and disapprobation of falsehood, unpro-
 
 Diss.II.] DISSERTATION. 253 
 
 voked violence, and injustice, must be, that he foresaw this 
 constitution of our nature would produce more happiness, 
 than forming us with a temper of mere general benevolence. 
 But still, since this is our constitution, falsehood, violence, 
 injustice, must be vice in us, and benevolence to some, 
 preferably to others, virtue ; abstracted from all considera- 
 tion of the overbalance of evil or good, which they may 
 appear likely to produce. 
 
 Now if human creatures are endued with such a moral 
 nature as we have been explaining, or with a moral faculty, 
 the natural object of which is actions; moral government 
 must consist in rendering them happy and unhappy, in 
 rewarding and punishing them, as they follow, neglect, or 
 depart from, the moral rule of action interwoven in their 
 nature, or suggested and enforced by this moral faculty ; in 
 rewarding and punishing them upon account of their so doing. 
 250 I am not sensible that I have, in this fifth observation, 
 contradicted what any author designed to assert. But some 
 of great and distinguished merit have, I think, expressed 
 themselves in a manner, which may occasion some danger, 
 to careless readers, of imagining the whole of virtue to consist 
 in singly aiming, according to the best of their judgment, at 
 promoting the happiness of mankind in the present state ; 
 and the whole of vice, in doing what they foresee, or might 
 foresee, is likely to produce an overbalance of unhappiness 
 in it; than which mistakes none can be conceived more 
 terrible. For it is certain, that some of the most shocking 
 instances of injustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of 
 persecution, may, in many supposable cases, not have the 
 appearance of being likely to produce an overbalance of 
 misery in the present state ; perhaps sometimes may have 
 the contrary appearance. For this reflection might easily 
 
 be carried on, but I forbear The happiness of the world 
 
 is the concern of him who is the lord and the proprietor of it ; 
 nor do we know what we are about, when we endeavour to
 
 254 SUTLER. 
 
 promote the good of mankind in any ways but those which 
 he has directed ; that is, indeed, in all ways not contrary to 
 veracity and justice. I speak thus upon supposition of persons 
 really endeavouring, in some sort, to do good without regard 
 to these. But the truth seems to be, that such supposed 
 endeavours proceed, almost always, from ambition, the spirit 
 of party, or some indirect principle, concealed perhaps in 
 great measure from persons themselves. And though it is 
 our business and our duty to endeavour, within the bounds 
 of veracity and justice, to contribute to the ease, convenience, 
 and even cheerfulness and diversion of our fellow creatures; 
 yet from our short views, it is greatly uncertain, whether this 
 endeavour will, in particular instances, produce an overbalance 
 of happiness upon the whole; since so many and distant things 
 must come into the account. And that which makes it our 
 duty is, that there is some appearance that it will, and no 
 positive appearance sufficient to balance this, on the contrary 
 side ; and also, that such benevolent endeavour is a cultivation 
 of that most excellent of all virtuous principles, the active 
 principle of benevolence. 
 
 However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to be our rule 
 of life, it must be added, otherwise a snare will be laid in the way 
 of some plain men, that the use of common forms of speech, 
 generally understood, cannot be falsehood; and, in general, 
 that there can be no designed falsehood without designing 
 to deceive. It must likewise be observed, that in numberless 
 cases, a man may be under the strictest obligations to what he 
 foresees will deceive, without his intending it. For it is 
 impossible not to foresee, that the words and actions of men, 
 in different ranks and employments, and of different educa- 
 tions, will perpetually be mistaken by each other; and it 
 cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with the utmost careless- 
 ness, as they daily do, of what they are not, perhaps, enough 
 informed to be competent judges of, even though they con- 
 sidered it with great attention.
 
 ADAM SMITH 
 
 THE 
 THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS
 
 [First published, 1759. Reprinted here from the 6th edition, 1790.]
 
 SMITH 
 
 The Theory of Moral Sentiments 
 
 PART I. 
 
 OF THE PROPRIETY OF ACTION. 
 
 SECTION I. OF THE SENSE OF PROPRIETY. 
 CHAPTER I. OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 251 How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are 
 evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him 
 in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary 
 to him, though he derives nothing from it except the pleasure 
 of seeing it. Of this kind is pity or compassion, the emotion 
 which we feel for the misery of others, when we either see it, 
 or are made to conceive it in a very lively manner. That we 
 often derive sorrow from the sorrow of others, is a matter of 
 fact too obvious to require any instances to prove it ; for this 
 sentiment, like all the other original passions of human 
 nature, is by no means confined to the virtuous and humane, 
 though they perhaps may feel it with the most exquisite 
 sensibility. The greatest ruffian, the most hardened violator 
 of the laws of society, is not altogether without it. 
 
 252 As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, 
 we can form no idea of the manner in which they are 
 
 s
 
 258 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 affected, but by conceiving what we ourselves should feel in 
 the like situation. Though our brother is upon the rack, 
 as long as we ourselves are at our ease, our senses will never 
 inform us of what he suffers. They never did, and never can, 
 carry us beyond our own person, and it is by the imagination 
 only that we can form any conception of what are his sensa- 
 tions. Neither can that faculty help us to this any other way, 
 than by representing to us what would be our own, if we were 
 in his case. It is the impressions of our own senses only, 
 not those of his, which our imaginations copy. By the 
 imagination we place ourselves in his situation, we conceive 
 ourselves enduring all the same torments, we enter as it were 
 into his body, and become in some measure the same person 
 with him, and thence form some idea of his sensations, and 
 even feel something which, though weaker in degree, is not 
 altogether unlike them. His agonies, when they are thus 
 brought home to ourselves, when we have thus adopted and 
 made them our own, begin at last to affect us, and we then 
 tremble and shudder at the thought of what he feels. For as to 
 be in pain or distress of any kind excites the most excessive 
 sorrow, so to conceive or to imagine that we are in it, 
 excites some degree of the same emotion, in proportion to 
 the vivacity or dulness of the conception. 
 
 253 That this is the source of our fellow-feeling for the misery of 
 others, that it is by changing places in fancy with the sufferer, 
 that we come either to conceive or to be affected by what 
 he feels, may be demonstrated by many obvious observations, 
 if it should not be thought sufficiently evident of itself. 
 When we see a stroke aimed and just ready to fall upon the 
 leg or arm of another person, we naturally shrink and draw 
 back our own leg or our own arm ; and when it does fall, 
 we feel it in some measure, and are hurt by it as well as the 
 sufferer. The mob, when they are gazing at a dancer on the 
 slack rope, naturally writhe and twist and balance their own 
 bodies, as they see him do, and as they feel that they themselves
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 259 
 
 must do it in his situation. Persons of delicate fibres, and 
 a weak constitution of body, complain, that in looking on the 
 sores and ulcers which are exposed by beggars in the streets, 
 they are apt to feel an itching or uneasy sensation in the 
 correspondent part of their own bodies. The horror which 
 they conceive at the misery of those wretches affects that parti- 
 cular part in themselves more than any other; because that 
 horror arises from conceiving what they themselves would 
 suffer, if they really were the wretches whom they are looking 
 upon, and if that particular part in themselves was actually 
 affected in the same miserable manner. The very force of 
 this conception is sufficient, in their feeble frames, to produce 
 that itching or uneasy sensation complained of. Men of the 
 most robust make observe, that in looking upon sore eyes they 
 often feel a very sensible soreness in their own, which 
 proceeds from the same reason ; that organ being in the 
 strongest man more delicate than any other part of the body 
 is in the weakest. 
 
 Neither is it those circumstances only, which create pain 
 or sorrow, that call forth our fellow-feeling. Whatever is the 
 passion which arises from any object in the person principally 
 concerned, an analogous emotion springs up, at the thought 
 of his situation, in the breast of every attentive spectator. 
 Our joy for the deliverance of those heroes of tragedy or 
 romance who interest us, is as sincere as our grief for their 
 distress, and our fellow-feeling with their misery is not more 
 real than that with their happiness. We enter into their 
 gratitude towards those faithful friends who did not desert 
 them in their difficulties ; and we heartily go along with their 
 resentment against those perfidious traitors who injured, 
 abandoned, or deceived them. In every passion of which the 
 mind of man is susceptible, the emotions of the by-stander 
 always correspond to what, by bringing the case home to 
 himself, he imagines should be the sentiments of the sufferer. 
 
 Pity and compassion are words appropriated to signify our 
 
 S 2
 
 260 SMITH, [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 fellow-feeling with the sorrow of others. Sympathy, though 
 its meaning was, perhaps, originally the same, may now, how- 
 ever, with much impropriety, be made use of to denote our 
 fellow-feeling with any passion whatever. 
 
 254 Upon some occasions sympathy may seem to arise merely 
 from the view of a certain emotion in another person. The 
 passions, upon some occasions, may seem to be transfused 
 from one man to another, instantaneously, and antecedent 
 to any knowledge of what excited them in the person 
 principally concerned. Grief and joy, for example, strongly 
 expressed in the look and gestures of any one, at once affect 
 the spectator with some degree of a like painful or agreeable 
 emotion. A smiling face is, to every body that sees it, 
 a cheerful object ; as a sorrowful countenance, on the other 
 hand, is a melancholy one. 
 
 This, however, does not hold universally, or with regard to 
 every passion. There are some passions of which the expres- 
 sions excite no sort of sympathy, but before we are acquainted 
 with what gave occasion to them, serve rather to disgust 
 and provoke us against them. The furious behaviour of an 
 angry man is more likely to exasperate us against himself than 
 against his enemies. As we are unacquainted with his 
 provocation, we cannot bring his case home to ourselves, nor 
 conceive any thing like the passions which it excites. But 
 we plainly see what is the situation of those with whom he is 
 angry, and to what violence they may be exposed from so 
 enraged an adversary. We readily, therefore, sympathize with 
 their fear or resentment, and are immediately disposed to take 
 part against the man from whom they appear to be in so much 
 danger. 
 
 255 If the very appearances of grief and joy inspire us with some 
 degree of the like emotions, it is because they suggest to us 
 the general idea of some good or bad fortune that has befallen 
 the person in whom we observe them : and in these passions 
 this is sufficient to have some little influence upon us. The
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 261 
 
 effects of grief and joy terminate in the person who feels those 
 emotions, of which the expressions do not, like those of 
 resentment, suggest to us the idea of any other person for 
 whom we are concerned, and whose interests are opposite 
 to his. The general idea of good or bad fortune, therefore, 
 creates some concern for the person who has met with it, but 
 the general idea of provocation excites no sympathy v/ith the 
 anger of the man who has received it. Nature, it seems, 
 teaches us to be more averse to enter into this passion, and, 
 till informed of its cause, to be disposed rather to take part 
 against it. 
 
 Even our sympathy with the grief or joy of another, before 
 we are informed of the cause of either, is always extremely 
 imperfect. General lamentations, which express nothing but 
 the anguish of the sufferer, create rather a curiosity to inquire 
 into his situation, along with some disposition to sympathize 
 with him, than any actual sympathy that is very sensible. 
 The first question which we ask is, What has befallen you ? 
 Till this be answered, though we are uneasy both from the vague 
 idea of his misfortune, and still more from torturing ourselves 
 with conjectures about what it may be, yet our fellow-feeling 
 is not very considerable. 
 
 256 Sympathy, therefore, does not arise so much from the view 
 of the passion, as from that of the situation which excites it. 
 We sometimes feel for another, a passion of which he himself 
 seems to be altogether incapable ; because, when we put 
 ourselves in his case, that passion arises in our breast from the 
 imagination, though it does not in his from the reality. We 
 blush for the impudence and rudeness of another, though he 
 himself appears to have no sense of the impropriety of his 
 own behaviour; because we cannot help feeling with what 
 confusion we ourselves should be covered had we behaved in 
 so absurd a manner. 
 
 Of all the calamities to which the condition of morality 
 exposes mankind, the loss of reason appears, to those who
 
 262 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 have the least spark of humanity, by far the most dreadful ; 
 and they behold that last stage of human wretchedness with 
 deeper commiseration than any other. But the poor wretch, 
 who is in it, laughs and sings perhaps, and is altogether 
 insensible of his own misery. The anguish which humanity 
 feels, therefore, at the sight of such an object, cannot be the 
 reflection of any sentiment of the sufferer. The compassion 
 of the spectator must arise altogether from the consideration 
 of what he himself would feel if he was reduced to the same 
 unhappy situation, and, what perhaps is impossible, was at 
 the same time able to regard it with his present reason and 
 judgment. 
 
 What are the pangs of a mother when she hears the 
 meanings of her infant that during the agony of disease 
 cannot express what it feels ? In her idea of what it suffers, 
 she joins, to its real helplessness, her own consciousness of that 
 helplessness, and her own terrors for the unknown consequences 
 of its disorder; and, out of all these, forms, for her own 
 sorrow, the most complete image of misery and distress. The 
 infant, however, feels only the uneasiness of the present 
 instant, which can never be great. With regard to the future, 
 it is perfectly secure, and in its thoughtlessness and want of 
 foresight, possesses an antidote against fear and anxiety, the 
 great tormentors of the human breast, from which reason and 
 philosophy will, in vain, attempt to defend it, when it grows 
 up to a man. 
 
 | 257 We sympathize even with the dead, and overlooking what is 
 of real importance in their situation, that awful futurity which 
 awaits them, we are chiefly affected by those circumstances 
 which strike our senses, but can have no influence upon their 
 happiness. It is miserable, we think, to be deprived of the 
 light of the sun ; to be shut out from life and conversation ; 
 to be laid in the cold grave, a prey to corruption and the 
 reptiles of the earth ; to be no more thought of in this world, 
 but to be obliterated, in a little time, from the affections, and
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 263 
 
 almost from the memory, of their dearest friends and relations. 
 Surely, we imagine, we can never feel too much for those who 
 have suffered so dreadful a calamity. The tribute of our 
 fellow-feeling seems doubly due to them now, when they are in 
 danger of being forgot by every body ; and, by the vain honours 
 which we pay to their memory, we endeavour, for our own 
 misery, artificially to keep alive our melancholy remembrance 
 of their misfortune. That our sympathy can afford them no 
 consolation seems to be an addition to their calamity ; and to 
 think that all we can do is unavailing, and that, what alleviates 
 all other distress, the regret, the love, and the lamentations of 
 their friends, can yield no comfort to them, serves only to 
 exasperate our sense of their misery. The happiness of the 
 dead, however, most assuredly, is affected by none of these 
 circumstances ; nor is it the thought of these things which can 
 ever disturb the profound security of their repose. The idea 
 of that dreary and endless melancholy which the fancy 
 naturally ascribes to their condition, arises altogether from 
 our joining to the change which has been produced upon 
 them, our own consciousnes of that change, from our putting 
 ourselves in their situation, and from our lodging, if I may 
 be allowed to say so, our own living souls in their inanimated 
 bodies, and thence conceiving what would be our emotions 
 in this case. It is from this very illusion of the imagination, 
 that the foresight of our own dissolution is so terrible to us, 
 and that the idea of those circumstances, which undoubtedly 
 can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miserable 
 while we are alive. And from thence arises one of the most 
 important principles in human nature, the dread of death, the 
 great poison to the happiness, but the great restraint upon 
 the injustice of mankind, which, while it afflicts and mortifies 
 the individual, guards and protects the society.
 
 264 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF THE PLEASURE OF MUTUAL 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 258 BUT whatever may be the cause of sympathy, or however 
 it may be excited, nothing pleases us more than to observe 
 in other men a fellow-feeling with all the emotions of our own 
 breast ; nor are we ever so much shocked as by the appear- 
 ance of the contrary. Those who are fond of deducing all 
 our sentiments from certain refinements of self-love, think 
 themselves at no loss to account, according to their own 
 principles, both for this pleasure and this pain. Man, say 
 they, conscious of his own weakness, and of the need which 
 he has for the assistance of others, rejoices whenever he 
 observes that they adopt his own passions, because he is then 
 assured of that assistance ; and grieves whenever he observes 
 the contrary, because he is then assured of their opposition. 
 But both the pleasure and the pain are always felt so instanta- 
 neously, and often upon such frivolous occasions, that it 
 seems evident that neither of them can be derived from any 
 such self-interested consideration. A man is mortified when, 
 after having endeavoured to divert the company, he looks 
 round and sees that nobody laughs at his jests but himself. 
 On the contrary, the mirth of the company is highly agreeable 
 to him, and he regards this correspondence of their sentiments 
 with his own as the greatest applause. 
 
 259 Neither does his pleasure seem to arise altogether from 
 the additional vivacity which his mirth may receive from 
 sympathy with theirs, nor his pain from the disappointment 
 he meets with when he misses this pleasure ; though both the 
 one and the other, no doubt, do in some measure. When we 
 have read a book or poem so often that we can no longer 
 find any amusement in reading it by ourselves, we can still 
 take pleasure in reading it to a companion. To him it has 
 all the graces of novelty ; we enter into the surprise and
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 26$ 
 
 admiration which it naturally excites in him, but which it is 
 no longer capable of exciting in us ; we consider all the ideas 
 which it presents, rather in the light in which they appear 
 to him, than in that in which they appear to ourselves, and 
 we are amused by sympathy with his amusement, which thus 
 enlivens our own. On the contrary, we should be vexed if 
 he did not seem to be entertained with it, and we could no 
 longer take any pleasure in reading it to him. It is the same 
 case here. The mirth of the company, no doubt, enlivens 
 our own mirth ; and their silence, no doubt, disappoints us. 
 But though this may contribute both to the pleasure which 
 we derive from the one, and to the pain which we feel from 
 the other, it is by no means the sole cause of either ; and this 
 correspondence of the sentiments of others with our own 
 appears to be a cause of pleasure, and the want of it a cause 
 of pain, which cannot be accounted for in this manner. 
 The sympathy, which my friends express with my joy, might 
 indeed give me pleasure by enlivening that joy : but that 
 which they express with my grief could give me none, if it 
 served only to enliven that grief. Sympathy, however, 
 enlivens joy and alleviates grief. It enlivens joy by presenting 
 another source of satisfaction ; and it alleviates grief by 
 insinuating into the heart almost the only agreeable sensation 
 which it is at that time capable of receiving. 
 
 260 It is to be observed, accordingly, that we are still more 
 anxious to communicate to our friends our disagreeable, than 
 our agreeable passions, that we derive still more satisfaction 
 from their sympathy with the former than from that with 
 the latter, and that we are still more shocked by the want 
 of it. 
 
 How are the unfortunate relieved when they have found 
 out a person to whom they can communicate the cause of 
 their sorrow? Upon his sympathy they seem to disburthen 
 themselves of a part of their distress : he is not improperly 
 said to share it with them. He not only feels a sorrow of
 
 266 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 the same kind with that which they feel, but as if he had 
 derived a part of it to himself, what he feels seems to alleviate 
 the weight of what they feel. Yet by relating their misfortunes 
 they in some measure renew their grief. They awaken in 
 their memory the remembrance of those circumstances which 
 occasion their affliction. Their tears accordingly flow faster 
 than before, and they are apt to abandon themselves to all 
 the weakness of sorrow. They take pleasure, however, in 
 all this, arid, it is evident, are sensibly relieved by it ; because 
 the sweetness of his sympathy more than compensates the 
 bitterness of that sorrow, which, in order to excite this 
 sympathy, they had thus enlivened and renewed. The 
 crudest insult, on the contrary, which can be offered to the 
 unfortunate, is to appear to make light of their calamities. 
 To seem not to be affected with the joy of our companions, 
 is but want of politeness ; but not to wear a serious coun- 
 tenance when they tell us their afflictions, is real and gross 
 inhumanity. 
 
 Love is an agreeable ; resentment, a disagreeable passion ; 
 and accordingly we are not half so anxious that our friends 
 should adopt our friendships, as that they should enter into 
 our resentments. We can forgive them though they seem to 
 be little affected with the favours which we may have received, 
 but lose all patience if they seem indifferent about the 
 injuries which may have been done to us : nor are we half 
 so angry with them for not entering into our gratitude, as 
 for not sympathizing with our resentment. They can easily 
 avoid being friends to our friends, but can hardly avoid being 
 enemies to those with whom we are at variance. We seldom 
 resent their being at enmity with the first, though upon that 
 account we may sometimes affect to make an awkward 
 quarrel with them ; but we quarrel with them in good earnest 
 if they live in friendship with the last. The agreeable 
 passions of love and joy can satisfy and support the heart 
 without any auxiliary pleasure. The bitter and painful emotions
 
 Chap. III.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 267 
 
 of grief and resentment more strongly require the healing 
 consolation of sympathy. 
 
 261 As the person who is principally interested in any event is 
 pleased with our sympathy, and hurt by the want of it, so we, 
 too, seem to be pleased when we are able to sympathize with 
 him, and to be hurt when we are unable to do so. We run 
 not only to congratulate the successful, but to condole with the 
 afflicted ; and the pleasure which we find in the conversation 
 of one whom in all the passions of his heart we can entirely 
 sympathize with, seems to do more than compensate the 
 painfulness of that sorrow with which the view of his situation 
 affects us. On the contrary, it is always disagreeable to feel 
 that we cannot sympathize with him, and instead of being 
 pleased with this exemption from sympathetic pain, it hurts us 
 to find that we cannot share his uneasiness. If we hear 
 a person loudly lamenting his misfortunes, which however, 
 upon bringing the case home to ourselves, we feel, can produce 
 no such violent effect upon us, we are shocked at his grief; 
 and, because we cannot enter into it, call it pusillanimity and 
 weakness. It gives us the spleen, on the other hand, to see 
 another too . happy, or too much elevated, as we call it, with 
 any little piece of good fortune. We are disobliged even with 
 his joy ; and, because we cannot go along with it, call it levity 
 and folly. We are even put out of humour if our companion 
 laughs louder or longer at a joke than we think it deserves ; 
 that is, than we feel that we ourselves could laugh at it. 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF THE MANNER IN WHICH WE JUDGE OF 
 THE PROPRIETY OR IMPROPRIETY OF THE AFFECTIONS 
 OF OTHER MEN BY THEIR CONCORD OR DISSONANCE 
 WITH OUR OWN. 
 
 262 WHEN the original passions of the person principally con- 
 cerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions 
 of the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and
 
 268 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 proper, and suitable to their objects ; and, on the contrary, 
 when, upon bringing the case home to himself, he finds that 
 they do not coincide with what he feels, they necessarily appear 
 to him unjust and improper, and unsuitable to the causes which 
 excite them. To approve of the passions of another, therefore, 
 as suitable to their objects, is the same thing as to observe 
 that we entirely sympathize with them ; and not to approve of 
 them as such, is the same thing as to observe that we do not 
 entirely sympathize with them. The man who resents the 
 injuries that have been done to me, and observes that I resent 
 them precisely as he does, necessarily approves of my resent- 
 ment. The man whose sympathy keeps time to my grief, 
 cannot but admit the reasonableness of my sorrow. He who 
 admires the same poem, or the same picture, and admires them 
 exactly as I do, must surely allow the justness of my admiration. 
 He who laughs at the same joke, and laughs along with me, 
 cannot well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the con- 
 trary, the person who, upon these different occasions, either 
 feels no such emotion as that which I feel, or feels none that 
 bears any proportion to mine, cannot avoid disapproving my 
 sentiments on account of their dissonance with his own. If 
 my animosity goes beyond what the indignation of my friend 
 can correspond to ; if my grief exceeds what his most tender 
 compassion can go along with ; if my admiration is either too 
 high or too low to tally with his own ; if I laugh loud and 
 heartily when he only smiles, or, on the contrary, only smile 
 when he laughs loud and heartily ; in all these cases, as soon 
 as he comes from considering the object, to observe how I am 
 affected by it, according as there is more or less disproportion 
 between his sentiments and mine, I must incur a greater or less 
 degree of his disapprobation : and upon all occasions his own 
 sentiments are the standards and measures by which he judges 
 of mine. 
 
 263 To approve of another man's opinions is to adopt those 
 opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of them. If the
 
 Chap. III.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 269 
 
 same arguments which convince you, convince me likewise, 
 I necessarily approve of your conviction ; and if they do not, 
 I necessarily disapprove of it : neither can I possibly conceive 
 that I should do the one without the other. To approve or 
 disapprove, therefore, of the opinions of others is acknowledged, 
 by every body, to mean no more than to observe their agree- 
 ment or disagreement with our own. But this is equally the 
 case with regard to our approbation or disapprobation of the 
 sentiments, or passions of others. 
 
 264 There are, indeed, some cases in which we seem to approve 
 without any sympathy or correspondence of sentiments, and in 
 which, consequently, the sentiment of approbation would seem 
 to be different from the perception of this coincidence. A little 
 attention, however, will convince us that even in these cases 
 our approbation is ultimately founded upon a sympathy or 
 correspondence of this kind. I shall give an instance in things 
 of a very frivolous nature, because in them the judgments of 
 mankind are less apt to be perverted by wrong systems. We 
 may often approve of a jest, and think the laughter of the com- 
 pany quite just and proper, though we ourselves do not laugh, 
 because, perhaps, we are in a grave humour, or happen to have 
 our attention engaged with other objects. We have learned, 
 however, from experience, what sort of pleasantry is upon most 
 occasions capable of making us laugh, and we observe that this 
 is one of that kind. We approve, therefore, of the laughter of 
 the company, and feel that it is natural and suitable to its 
 object ; because, though in our present mood we cannot easily 
 enter into it, we are sensible that upon most occasions we should 
 very heartily join in it. 
 
 The same thing often happens with regard to all the other 
 passions. A stranger passes by us in the street with all the 
 marks of the deepest affliction ; and we are immediately told 
 that he has just received the news of the death of his father. 
 It is impossible that, in this case, we should not approve of his 
 grief. Yet it may often happen, without any defect of humanity
 
 270 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 on our part, that, so far from entering into the violence of his 
 sorrow, we should scarce conceive the first movements of 
 concern upon his account. Both he and his father, perhaps, 
 are entirely unknown to us, or we happen to be employed 
 about other things, and do not take time to picture out in 
 our imagination the different circumstances of distress which 
 must occur to him. We have learned, however, from ex- 
 perience, that such a misfortune naturally excites such a degree 
 of sorrow, and we know that if we took time to consider his 
 situation fully and in all its parts, we should without doubt 
 most sincerely sympathize with him. It is upon the conscious- 
 ness of this conditional sympathy, that our approbation of his 
 sorrow is founded, even in those cases in which that sympathy 
 does not actually take place ; and the general rules derived 
 from our preceding experience of what our sentiments would 
 commonly correspond with, correct upon this, as upon many 
 other occasions, the impropriety of our present emotions. 
 
 265 The sentiment or affection of the heart from which any 
 action proceeds, and upon which its whole virtue or vice must 
 ultimately depend, may be considered under two different 
 aspects, or in two different relations; first, in relation to the 
 cause which excites it, or the motive which gives occasion to 
 it ; and secondly, in relation to the end which it proposes, or 
 the effect which it tends to produce. 
 
 In the suitableness or unsuitableness, in the proportion or 
 disproportion which the affection seems to bear to the cause or 
 object which excites it, consists the propriety j)r impropriety, 
 the decency or ungracefulness of the consequent action. 
 
 In the beneficial or hurtful nature of the effects which the 
 affection aims at, or tends to produce, consists the merit or 
 demerit of the action, the qualities by which it is entitled to 
 reward, or is deserving of punishment. 
 
 266 Philosophers have, of late years, considered chiefly the 
 tendency of affections, and have given little attention to the 
 relation which they stand in to the cause which excites them.
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 271 
 
 In common life, however, when we judge of any person's 
 conduct, and of the sentiments which directed it, we constantly 
 consider them under both these aspects. When we blame in 
 another man the excesses of love, of grief, of resentment, we 
 not only consider the ruinous effects which they tend to 
 produce, but the little occasion which was given for them. 
 The merit of his favourite, we say, is not so great, his mis- 
 fortune is not so dreadful, his provocation is not so extra- 
 ordinary as to justify so violent a passion. We should have 
 indulged, we say; perhaps, have approved of the violence of 
 his emotion, had the cause been in any respect proportioned 
 to it. 
 
 267 When we judge in this manner of any affection as pro- 
 portioned or disproportioned to the cause which excites it, it is 
 scarce possible that we should make use of any other rule or 
 canon but the correspondent affection in ourselves. If upon 
 bringing the case home to our own breast, we find that the 
 sentiments which it gives occasion to, coincide and tally with 
 our own, we necessarily approve of them, as proportioned and 
 suitable to their objects; if otherwise, we necessarily disapprove 
 of them, as extravagant and out of proportion. 
 
 Every faculty in one man is the measure by which he judges 
 of the like faculty in another. I judge of your sight by my 
 sight, of your ear by my ear, of your reason by rny reason, 
 of your resentment by my resentment, of your love by 
 my love. I neither have, nor can have, any other way of 
 judging about them. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
 
 268 WE may judge of the propriety or impropriety of the 
 sentiments of another person by their correspondence or 
 disagreement with our own, upon two different occasions ; 
 either, first, when the objects which excite them are considered 
 without any particular relation either to ourselves or to the
 
 272 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 person whose sentiments we judge of; or, secondly, when they 
 are considered as peculiarly affecting one or other of us. 
 
 i. With regard to those objects which are considered without 
 any peculiar relation either to ourselves or to the person whose 
 sentiments we judge of; wherever his sentiments entirely 
 correspond with our own, we ascribe to him the qualities of 
 taste and good judgment. The beauty of a plain, the greatness 
 of a mountain, the ornaments of a building, the expression of 
 a picture, the composition of a discourse, the conduct of 
 a third person, the proportions of different quantities and 
 numbers, the various appearances which the great machine 
 of the universe is perpetually exhibiting, with the secret wheels 
 and springs which produce them ; all the general subjects of 
 science and taste, are what we and our companions regard as 
 having no peculiar relation to either of us. We both look at 
 them from the same point of view, and we have no occasion 
 for sympathy, or for that imaginary change of situations from 
 which it arises, in order to produce, with regard to these, 
 the most perfect harmony of sentiments and affections. If, 
 notwithstanding, we are often differently affected, it arises 
 either from the different degrees of attention which our 
 different habits of life allow us to give easily to the several 
 parts of those complex objects, or from the different degrees 
 of natural acuteness in the faculty of the mind to which they 
 are addressed. 
 
 269 When the sentiments of our companion coincide with our 
 own in things of this kind, which are obvious and easy, and in 
 which, perhaps, we never found a single person who differed 
 from us, though we, no doubt, must approve of them, yet he 
 seems to deserve no praise or admiration on account of them. 
 But when they not only coincide with our own, but lead and 
 direct our own ; when in forming them he appears to have 
 attended to many things which we had overlooked, and to 
 have adjusted them to all the various circumstances of their 
 objects ; we not only approve of them, but wonder and are
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 273 
 
 surprised at their uncommon and unexpected acuteness and 
 comprehensiveness, and he appears to deserve a very high 
 degree of admiration and applause. For approbation, height- 
 ened by wonder and surprise, constitutes the sentiment which 
 is properly called admiration, and of which applause is the 
 natural expression. The decision of the man who judges that 
 exquisite beauty is preferable to the grossest deformity, or 
 that twice two are equal to four, must certainly be approved of 
 by all the world, but will not, surely, be much admired. It is 
 the acute and delicate discernment of the man of taste, who 
 distinguishes the minute, and scarce perceptible differences 
 of beauty and deformity ; it is the comprehensive accuracy of 
 the experienced mathematician, who unravels with ease the 
 most intricate and perplexed proportions ; it is the great leader 
 in science and taste, the man who directs and conducts our 
 own sentiments, the extent and superior justness of whose 
 talents astonish us with wonder and surprise, who excites our 
 admiration, and seems to deserve our applause ; and upon this 
 foundation is grounded the greater part of the praise which 
 is bestowed upon what are called the intellectual virtues. 
 
 270 The utility of those qualities, it may be thought, is what 
 first recommends them to us ; and, no doubt, the considera- 
 tion of this, when we come to attend to it, gives them a new 
 value. Originally,, however, we approve of another man's 
 judgment, not as something useful, but as right, as accurate, 
 as agreeable to truth and reality : and it is evident we attribute 
 those qualities to it for no other reason but because we find 
 that it agrees with our own. Taste, in the same manner, 
 is originally approved of, not as useful, but as just, as delicate, 
 and as precisely suited to its object. The idea of the utility 
 of all qualities of this kind, is plainly an after-thought, and not 
 what first recommends them to our approbation. 
 
 271 2. With regard to those objects, which affect in a particular 
 manner either ourselves or the person whose sentiments we 
 judge of, it is at once more difficult to preserve this harmony
 
 274 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 and correspondence, and, at the same time, vastly more 
 important. My companion does not naturally look upon the 
 misfortune that has befallen me, or the injury that has been 
 done me, from the same point of view in which I consider 
 them. They affect me much more nearly. We do not view 
 them from the same station, as we do a picture, or a poem, or 
 a system of philosophy, and are, therefore, apt to be very 
 differently affected by them. But I can much more easily 
 overlook the want of this correspondence of sentiments with 
 regard to such indifferent objects as concern neither me nor my 
 companion, than with regard to what interests me so much as 
 the misfortune that has befallen me, or the injury that has 
 been done me. Though you despise that picture, or that 
 poem, or even that system of philosophy, which I admire, 
 there is little danger of our quarrelling upon that account. 
 Neither of us can reasonably be much interested about them. 
 They ought all of them to be matters of great indifference to 
 us both ; so that, though our opinions may be opposite, our 
 affections may still be very nearly the same. But it is quite 
 otherwise with regard to those objects by which either you or 
 I are particularly affected. Though your judgments in matters 
 of speculation, though your sentiments in matters of taste, are 
 quite opposite to mine, I can easily overlook this opposition ; 
 and if I have any degree of temper, I may still find some enter- 
 tainment in your conversation, even upon those very subjects. 
 But if you have either no fellow-feeling for the misfortunes 
 I have met with, or none that bears any proportion to the grief 
 which distracts me ; or if you have either no indignation at the 
 injuries I have suffered, or none that bears any proportion to 
 the resentment which transports me, we can no longer converse 
 upon these subjects. We become intolerable to one another. 
 I can neither support your company, nor you mine. You are 
 confounded at my violence and passion, and I am enraged 
 at your cold insensibility and want of feeling. 
 272 In all such cases, that there may be some correspondence of
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 275 
 
 sentiments between the spectator and the person principally 
 concerned, the spectator must, first of all, endeavour, as much as 
 he can, to put himself in the situation of the other, and to bring 
 home to himself every little circumstance of distress which can 
 possibly occur to the sufferer. He must adopt the whole case 
 of his companion with all its minutest incidents ; and strive to 
 render as perfect as possible that imaginary change of situation 
 upon which his sympathy is founded. 
 
 273 After all this, however, the emotions of the spectator will 
 still be very apt to fall short of the violence of what is felt 
 by the sufferer. Mankind, though naturally sympathetic, 
 never conceive, for what has befallen another, that degree 
 of passion which naturally animates the person principally 
 concerned. That imaginary change of situation, upon which 
 their sympathy is founded, is but momentary. The thought of 
 their own safety, the thought that they themselves are not 
 really the sufferers, continually intrudes itself upon them ; 
 and though it does not hinder them from conceiving 
 a passion somewhat analogous to what is felt by the 
 sufferer, hinders them from conceiving any thing that 
 approaches to the same degree of violence. The person 
 principally concerned is sensible of this, and at the same 
 time passionately desires a more complete sympathy. He 
 longs for that relief which nothing can afford him but the 
 entire concord of the affections of the spectators with his 
 own. To see the emotions of their hearts, in every respect, 
 beat time to his own, in the violent and disagreeable passions, 
 constitutes his sole consolation. But he can only hope to 
 obtain this by lowering his passion to that pitch in which the 
 spectators are capable of going along with him. He must 
 flatten, if I may be allowed to say so, the sharpness of its 
 natural tone, in order to reduce it to harmony and concord 
 with the emotions of those who are about him. What they 
 feel, will indeed always be, in some respects, different from 
 what he feels, and compassion can never be exactly the 
 
 T 2
 
 276 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 same with original sorrow ; because the secret consciousness 
 that the change of situations, from which the sympathetic 
 sentiment arises, is but imaginary, not only lowers it in degree, 
 but, in some measure, varies it in kind, and gives it a quite 
 different modification. These two sentiments, however, may, 
 it is evident, have such a correspondence with one another, 
 as is sufficient for the harmony of society. Though they will 
 never be unisons, they may be concords, and this is all that 
 is wanted or required. 
 
 274 In order to produce this concord, as nature teaches the 
 spectators to assume the circumstances of the person principally 
 concerned, so she teaches this last in some measure to assume 
 those of the spectators. As they are continually placing them- 
 selves in his situation, and thence conceiving emotions similar 
 to what he feels ; so he is as constantly placing himself in 
 theirs, and thence conceiving some degree of that coolness 
 about his own fortune, with which he is sensible that they will 
 view it. As they are constantly considering what they them- 
 selves would feel, if they actually were the sufferers, so he is as 
 constantly led to imagine in what manner he would be affected 
 if he was only one of the spectators of his own situation. As 
 their sympathy makes them look at it, in some measure, with 
 his eyes, so his sympathy makes him look at it, in some 
 measure, with theirs, especially when in their presence and 
 acting under their observation : and as the reflected passion, 
 which he thus conceives, is much weaker than the original one, 
 it necessarily abates the violence of what he felt before he 
 came into their presence, before he began to recollect in what 
 manner they would be affected by it, and to view his situation 
 in this candid and impartial light. 
 
 275 The mind, therefore, is rarely so disturbed but that the 
 company of a friend will restore it to some degree of tranquillity 
 and sedateness. The breast is, in some measure, calmed and 
 composed the moment we come into his presence. We are 
 immediately put in mind of the light in which he will view
 
 Chap.VJ THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 277 
 
 our situation, and we begin to view it ourselves in the same 
 light ; for the effect of sympathy is instantaneous. We expect 
 less sympathy from a common acquaintance than from a friend : 
 we cannot open to the former all those little circumstances 
 which we can unfold to the latter : we assume, therefore, more 
 tranquillity before him, and endeavour to fix our thoughts 
 upon those general outlines of our situation which he is willing 
 to consider. We expect still less sympathy from an assembly 
 of strangers, and we assume, therefore, still more tranquillity 
 before them, and always endeavour to bring down our passion 
 to that pitch, which the particular company we are in may be 
 expected to go along with. Nor is this only an assumed 
 appearance : for if we are at all masters of ourselves, the presence 
 of a mere acquaintance will really compose us still more than 
 that of a friend ; and that of an assembly of strangers, still more 
 than that of an acquaintance. 
 
 Society and conversation, therefore, are the most powerful 
 remedies for restoring the mind to its tranquillity, if, at any 
 time, it has unfortunately lost it ; as well as the best preserva- 
 tives of that equal and happy temper, which is so necessary 
 to self-satisfaction and enjoyment. Men of retirement and 
 speculation, who are apt to sit brooding at home over either 
 grief or resentment, though they may often have more humanity, 
 more generosity, and a nicer sense of honour, yet seldom 
 possess that equality of temper which is so common among 
 men of the world. 
 
 CHAPTER V. OF THE AMIABLE AND RESPECTABLE VIRTUES. 
 
 276 UPON these two different efforts, upon that of the spectator 
 to enter into the sentiments of the person principally concerned, 
 and upon that of the person principally concerned, to bring 
 down his emotions to what the spectator can go along with, 
 are founded two different sets of virtues. The soft, the gentle, 
 the amiable virtues, the virtues of candid condescension and
 
 278 SMITH. [Ft. I. Sec. I. 
 
 indulgent humanity, are founded upon the one : the great, the 
 awful and respectable, the virtues of self-denial, of self-govern- 
 ment, of that command of the passions which subjects all the 
 movements of our nature to what our own dignity and honour, 
 and the propriety of our own conduct require, take their origin 
 from the other. 
 
 How amiable does he appear to be, whose sympathetic heart 
 seems to re-echo all the sentiments of those with whom he 
 converses, who grieves for their calamities, who resents their 
 injuries, and who rejoices at their good fortune ! When we 
 bring home to ourselves the situation of his companions, we 
 enter into their gratitude, and feel what consolation they must 
 derive from the tender sympathy of so affectionate a friend. 
 And for a contrary reason, how disagreeable does he appear 
 to be, whose hard and obdurate heart feels for himself only, 
 but is altogether insensible to the happiness or misery of 
 others ! We enter, in this case too, into the pain which his 
 presence must give to every mortal with whom he converses, 
 to those especially with whom we are most apt to sympathize, 
 the unfortunate and the injured. 
 
 277 On the other hand, what noble propriety and grace do we 
 feel in the conduct of those who, in their own case, exert that 
 recollection and self-command which constitute the dignity of 
 every passion, and which bring it down to what others can 
 enter into ? We are disgusted with that clamorous grief which, 
 without any delicacy, calls upon our compassion with sighs 
 and tears and importunate lamentations. But we reverence 
 that reserved, that silent and majestic sorrow, which discovers 
 itself only in the swelling of the eyes, in the quivering of the 
 lips and cheeks, and in the distant, but affecting coldness of 
 the whole behaviour. It imposes the like silence upon us. 
 We regard it with respectful attention, and watch with anxious 
 concern over our whole behaviour, lest by any impropriety we 
 should disturb that concerted tranquillity, which it requires so 
 great an effort to support.
 
 Chap.V.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 279 
 
 The insolence and brutality of anger, in the same manner 
 when we indulge its fury without check or restraint, is, of all 
 objects, the most detestable. But we admire that noble and 
 generous resentment which governs its pursuit of the greatest 
 injuries, not by the rage which they are apt to excite in the 
 breast of the sufferer, but by the indignation which they 
 naturally call forth in that of the impartial spectator ; which 
 allows no word, no gesture, to escape it beyond what this more 
 equitable sentiment would dictate; which never, even in 
 thought, attempts any greater vengeance, nor desires to inflict 
 any greater punishment, than what every indifferent person 
 would rejoice to see executed. 
 
 278 And hence it is, that to feel much for others and little for 
 ourselves, that to restrain our selfish, and to indulge our 
 benevolent affections, constitutes the perfection of human 
 nature ; and can alone produce among mankind that harmony 
 of sentiments and passions in which consists their whole grace 
 and propriety. As to love our neighbour as we love ourselves 
 is the great law of Christianity, so it is the great precept of 
 nature to love ourselves only as we love our neighbour, or 
 what comes to the same thing, as our neighbour is capable of 
 loving us. 
 
 As taste and good judgment, when they are considered as 
 qualities which deserve praise and admiration, are supposed to 
 imply a delicacy of sentiment and an acuteness of understanding 
 not commonly to be met with ; so the virtues of sensibility 
 and self-command are not apprehended to consist in the 
 ordinary, but in the uncommon degrees of those qualities. 
 The amiable virtue of humanity requires, surely, a sensibility 
 much beyond what is possessed by the rude vulgar of mankind. 
 The great and exalted virtue of magnanimity undoubtedly 
 demands much more than that degree of self-command, which 
 the weakest of mortals is capable of exerting. As in the 
 common degree of the intellectual qualities, there are no 
 abilities ; so in the common degree of the moral, there is no
 
 280 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. I. 
 
 virtue. Virtue is excellence, something uncommonly great 
 and beautiful, which rises far above what is vulgar and ordinary. 
 The amiable virtues consist in that degree of sensibility which 
 surprises by its exquisite and unexpected delicacy and tender- 
 ness : the awful and respectable, in that degree of self-command 
 which astonishes by its amazing superiority over the most 
 ungovernable passions of human nature. 
 
 279 There is, in this respect, a considerable difference between 
 virtue and mere propriety ; between those qualities and 
 actions which deserve to be admired and celebrated, and 
 those which simply deserve to be approved of. Upon many 
 occasions, to act with the most perfect propriety, requires no 
 more than that common and ordinary degree of sensibility or 
 self-command which the most worthless of mankind are possest 
 of, and sometimes even that degree is not necessary. Thus, 
 to give a very low instance, to eat when we are hungry, is 
 certainly, upon ordinary occasions, perfectly right and proper, 
 and cannot miss being approved of as such by every body. 
 Nothing, however, could be more absurd than to say it was 
 virtuous. 
 
 On the contrary, there may frequently be a considerable de- 
 gree of virtue in those actions which fall short of the most perfect 
 propriety ; because they may still approach nearer to perfection 
 than could well be expected upon occasions on which it was 
 so extremely difficult to attain it : and this is very often the 
 case upon these occasions which require the greatest exertions 
 of self-command. There are some situations which bear so 
 hard upon human nature, that the greatest degree of self- 
 government, which can belong to so imperfect a creature as 
 man, is not able to stifle, altogether, the voice of human 
 weakness, or reduce the violence of the passions to that pitch 
 of moderation, in which the impartial spectator can entirely 
 enter into them. Though in those cases, therefore, the 
 behaviour of the sufferer fall short of the most perfect 
 propriety, it may still deserve some applause, and, even, in
 
 Chap. V. THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 281 
 
 a certain sense, may be denominated virtuous. It may still 
 manifest an effort of generosity and magnanimity of which the 
 greater part of men are incapable ; and though it fails of 
 absolute perfection, it may be a much nearer approximation 
 towards perfection, than what, upon such trying occasions, is 
 commonly either to be found or to be expected. 
 
 280 In cases of this kind, when we are determining the degree 
 of blame or applause which seems due to any action, we very 
 frequently make use of two different standards. The first is 
 the idea of complete propriety and perfection, which, in those 
 difficult situations, no human conduct ever did, or ever can 
 come up to ; and in comparison with which the actions of all 
 men must for ever appear blameable and imperfect. The 
 second is the idea of that degree of proximity or distance 
 from this complete perfection, which the actions of the greater 
 part of men commonly arrive at. Whatever goes beyond this 
 degree, how far soever it may be removed from absolute perfec- 
 tion, seems to deserve applause ; and whatever falls short of it, 
 to deserve blame. 
 
 281 It is in the same manner that we judge of the productions 
 of all the arts which address themselves to the imagination. 
 When a critic examines the work of any of the great masters 
 in poetry or painting, he may sometimes examine it by an 
 idea of perfection, in his own mind, which neither that nor 
 any other human work will ever come up to ; and as long as 
 he compares it with this standard, he can see nothing in it but 
 faults and imperfections. But when he comes to consider the 
 rank which it ought to hold among other works of the same 
 kind, he necessarily compares it with a very different standard, 
 the common degree of excellence which is usually attained in 
 this particular art ; and when he judges of it by this new 
 measure, it may often appear to deserve the highest applause, 
 upon account of its approaching much nearer to perfection 
 than the greater part of those works which can be brought into 
 competition with it.
 
 282 SMITH. [Pt. I. Sec. II. 
 
 SECTION II. OF THE DEGREES OF THE DIFFERENT 
 
 PASSIONS WHICH ARE CONSISTENT WITH 
 
 PROPRIETY. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 282 THE propriety of every passion excited by objects peculiarly 
 related to ourselves, the pitch which the spectator can go along 
 with, must lie, it is evident, in a certain mediocrity. If the 
 passion is too high, or if it is too low, he cannot enter into it. 
 Grief and resentment for private misfortunes and injuries may 
 easily, for example, be too high, and in the greater part of 
 mankind, they are so. They may likewise, though this more 
 rarely happens, be too low. We denominate the excess, 
 weakness and fury : and we call the defect, stupidity, insen- 
 sibility, and want of spirit. We can enter into neither of 
 them, but are astonished and confounded to see them. 
 
 This mediocrity, however, in which the point of propriety 
 consists, is different in different passions. It is high in some, 
 and low in others. There are some passions which it is in- 
 decent to express very strongly, even upon those occasions, in 
 which it is acknowledged that we cannot avoid feeling them 
 in the highest degree. And there are others of which the 
 strongest expressions are upon many occasions extremely 
 graceful, even though the passions themselves do not, perhaps, 
 arise so necessarily. The first are those passions with which, 
 for certain reasons, there is little or no sympathy : the second 
 are those with which, for other reasons, there is the greatest. 
 And if we consider all the different passions of human nature, 
 we shall find that they are regarded as decent or indecent, just 
 in proportion as mankind are more or less disposed to 
 sympathize with them.
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 283 
 
 CHAPTER IV. OF THE SOCIAL PASSIONS. 
 
 283 As it is a divided sympathy which renders the whole set of 
 passions just now mentioned, upon most occasions, so un- 
 graceful and disagreeable ; so there is another set opposite 
 to these, which a redoubled sympathy renders almost always 
 peculiarly agreeable and becoming. Generosity, humanity, 
 kindness, compassion, mutual friendship, and esteem, all 
 the social and benevolent affections, when expressed in the 
 countenance or behaviour, even towards those who are not 
 peculiarly connected with ourselves, please the indifferent 
 spectator upon almost every occasion. His sympathy with 
 the person who feels those passions exactly coincides with 
 his concern for the person who is the object of them. The 
 interest, which, as a man, he is obliged to take in the happiness 
 of this last, enlivens his fellow-feeling with the sentiments of 
 the other, whose emotions are employed about the same object. 
 We have always, therefore, the strongest disposition to sym- 
 pathize with the benevolent affections. They appear in every 
 respect agreeable to us. We enter into the satisfaction both 
 of the person who feels them, and of the person who is the 
 object of them. For as to be the object of hatred and indignation 
 gives more pain than all the evil which a brave man can fear 
 from his enemies ; so there is a satisfaction in the consciousness 
 of being beloved, which, to a person of delicacy and sensibility, 
 is of more importance to happiness than all the advantage 
 which he can expect to derive from it. What character is so 
 detestable as that of one who takes pleasure to sow dissension 
 among friends, and to turn their most tender love into mortal 
 hatred ? Yet wherein does the atrocity of this so much 
 abhorred injury consist ? Is it in depriving them of the 
 frivolous good offices, which, had their friendship continued, 
 they might have expected from one another ? It is in depriving 
 them of that friendship itself, in robbing them of each other's 
 affections, from which both derived so much satisfaction ; it is
 
 284 SMITH. [Pt. 1 1. Sec. I . 
 
 in disturbing the harmony of their hearts, and putting an end 
 to that happy commerce which had before subsisted between 
 them. These affections, that harmony, this commerce, are felt, 
 not only by the tender and the delicate, but by the rudest vulgar 
 of mankind, to be of more importance to happiness than all 
 the little services which could be expected to flow from them. 
 284 The sentiment of love is, in itself, agreeable to the person 
 who feels it. It soothes and composes the breast, seems to 
 favour the vital motions, and to promote the healthful state 
 of the human constitution ; and it is rendered still more 
 delightful by the consciousness of the gratitude and satisfaction 
 which it must excite in him who is the object of it. Their 
 mutual regard renders them happy in one another, and sym- 
 pathy, with this mutual regard, makes them agreeable to every 
 other person. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 OF MERIT AND DEMERIT ; OR, OF THE OBJECTS 
 ~~OF REWARD AND PUNISHMENT. 
 
 SECTION I. OF THE SENSE OF MERIT AND DEMERIT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. THAT WHATEVER APPEARS TO BE THE PROPER 
 OBJECT OF GRATITUDE, APPEARS TO DESERVE REWARD; 
 AND THAT, IN THE SAME MANNER, WHATEVER APPEARS 
 TO BE THE PROPER OBJECT OF RESENTMENT., APPEARS TO 
 DESERVE PUNISHMENT. 
 
 285 To iis, therefore, that action must appear to deserve reward, 
 which appears to be the proper and approved object of that 
 sentiment, which most immediately and directly prompts us to 
 reward, or to do good to another. And in the same manner, 
 that action must appear to deserve punishment, which appears 
 to be the proper and approved object of that sentiment which
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 285 
 
 most immediately and directly prompts us to punish, or to 
 inflict evil upon another. 
 
 The sentiment which most immediately and directly prompts 
 us to reward, is gratitude ; that which most immediately and 
 directly prompts us to punish, is resentment. 
 
 To us, therefore, that action must appear to deserve reward, 
 which appears to be the proper and approved object of 
 gratitude ; as, on the other hand, that action must appear to 
 deserve punishment, which appears to be the proper and 
 approved object of resentment. 
 
 To reward is to recompense, to remunerate, to return good 
 for good received. To punish, too, is to recompense, to 
 remunerate, though in a different manner ; it is to return evil 
 for evil that has been done. 
 
 286 There are some other passions, besides gratitude and 
 resentment, which interest us in the happiness or misery 
 of others ; but there are none which so directly excite us to ; 
 be the instruments of either. The love and esteem which 
 grow upon acquaintance and habitual approbation, necessarily 
 lead us to be pleased with the good fortune of the man who 
 is the object of such agreeable emotions, and consequently, 
 to be willing to lend a hand to promote it. Our love, however, 
 is fully satisfied, though his good fortune should be brought 
 about without our assistance. All that this passion desires 
 is to see him happy, without regarding who was the author 
 of his prosperity. But gratitude is not to be satisfied in this 
 manner. If the person to whom we owe many obligations 
 is made happy without our assistance, though it pleases our 
 love, it does not content our gratitude. Till we have recom- 
 pensed him, till we ourselves have been instrumental in 
 promoting his happiness, we feel ourselves still loaded with 
 that debt which his past services have laid upon us. 
 
 287 The hatred and dislike, in the same manner, which grow 
 upon habitual disapprobation, would often lead us to take 
 a malicious pleasure in the misfortune of the man whose
 
 286 SMITH. [Pt. II. Sec. I. 
 
 conduct and character excite so painful a passion. But 
 | though dislike and hatred harden us against all sympathy, 
 and sometimes dispose us even to rejoice at the distress 
 of another, yet, if there is no resentment in the case, if neither 
 we nor our friends have received any great personal provoca- 
 tion, these passions would not naturally lead us to wish to be 
 instrumental in bringing it about. 
 
 ******* 
 
 288 But it is quite otherwise with resentment : if the person 
 who has done us some great injury, who had murdered our 
 father or our brother, for example, should soon afterwards 
 die of a fever, or even be brought to the scaffold upon 
 account of some other crime, though it might sooth our 
 hatred, it would not fully gratify our resentment. Resentment 
 would prompt us to desire, not only that he should be pun- 
 ished, but that he should be punished by our means, and 
 upon account of that particular injury which he had done 
 to us. Resentment cannot be fully gratified unless the 
 offender is not only made to grieve in his turn, but to grieve 
 for that particular wrong which we have suffered from him. 
 He must be made to repent and be sorry for this very action, 
 that others, through fear of the like punishment, may be 
 terrified from being guilty of the like offence. The natural 
 gratification of this passion tends, of its own accord, to produce 
 all the political ends of punishment; the correction of the 
 criminal, and the example to the public. 
 
 289 Gratitude and resentment, therefore, are the sentiments 
 which most immediately and directly prompt to reward and 
 to punish. To us, therefore, he must appear to deserve 
 reward, who appears to be the proper and approved object 
 of gratitude; and he to deserve punishment, who appears 
 to be that of resentment.
 
 Chap, ii.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 287 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF THE PROPER OBJECTS OF GRATITUDE 
 AND RESENTMENT. 
 
 290 To be the proper and approved object either of gratitude 
 or resentment, can mean nothing but to be the object of that 
 gratitude, and of that resentment which naturally seems proper, 
 and is approved of. 
 
 But these, as well as all the other passions of human nature, 
 seem proper and are approved of, when the heart of every im- 
 partial spectator entirely sympathizes with them, when every 
 indifferent by-stander entirely enters into, and goes along 
 with them. 
 
 291 He, therefore, appears to deserve reward, who, to some 
 person or persons, is the natural object of a gratitude which 
 every human heart is disposed to beat time to, and thereby 
 applaud : and he, on the other hand, appears to deserve punish- 
 ment, who in the same manner is to some person or persons 
 the natural object of a resentment which the breast of every 
 reasonable man is ready to adopt and sympathize with. To 
 us, surely, that action must appear to deserve reward which 
 every body who knows of it would wish to reward, and 
 therefore delights to see rewarded : and that action must 
 as surely appear to deserve punishment which every body 
 who hears of it is angry with, and upon that account rejoices 
 to see punished. 
 
 292 i. As we sympathize with the joy of our companions when 
 in prosperity, so we join with them in the complacency and 
 satisfaction with which they naturally regard whatever is the 
 cause of their good fortune. We enter into the love and 
 affection which they conceive for it, and begin to love it too. 
 We should be sorry for their sakes if it was destroyed, or even 
 if it was placed at too great a distance from them, and out 
 of the reach of their care and protection, though they should 
 lose nothing by its absence except the pleasure of seeing it.
 
 288 SMITH. [Pt. II. Sec. I. 
 
 If it is man who has thus been the fortunate instrument of the 
 happiness of his brethren, this is still more peculiarly the case. 
 When we see one man assisted, protected, relieved by another, 
 our sympathy with the joy of the person who receives the 
 benefit serves only to animate our fellow-feeling with his 
 gratitude towards him who bestows it. When we look upon 
 the person who is the cause of his pleasure with the eyes with 
 which we imagine he must look upon him, his benefactor 
 seems to stand before us in the most engaging and amiable 
 light. We readily therefore sympathize with the grateful 
 affection which he conceives for a person to whom he has 
 been so much obliged ; and consequently applaud the returns 
 which he is disposed to make for the good offices conferred 
 upon him. As we entirely enter into the affection from which 
 these returns proceed, they necessarily seem every way proper 
 and suitable to their object. 
 
 293 2. In the same manner, as we sympathize with the sorrow 
 of our fellow-creature whenever we see his distress, so we 
 likewise enter into his abhorrence and aversion for whatever 
 has given occasion to it. Our heart, as it adopts and beats 
 time to his grief, so it is likewise animated with that spirit 
 by which he endeavours to drive away or destroy the cause 
 of it. The indolent and passive fellow-feeling by which we 
 accompany him in his sufferings, readily gives way to that 
 more vigorous and active sentiment by which we go along 
 with him in the effort he makes, either to repel them, or to 
 gratify his aversion to what has given occasion to them. This 
 is still more peculiarly the case, when it is man who has 
 caused them. When we see one man oppressed or injured 
 by another, the sympathy which we feel with the distress 
 of the sufferer seems to serve only to animate our fellow-feeling 
 with his resentment against the offender. We are rejoiced 
 to see him attack his adversary in his turn, and are eager and 
 ready to assist him whenever he exerts himself for defence, 
 or even for vengeance within a certain degree. If the injured
 
 Chap, ill.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 289 
 
 should perish in the quarrel, we not only sympathize with the 
 real resentment of his friends and relations, but with the 
 imaginary resentment which in fancy we lend to the dead, who 
 is no longer capable of feeling or any other human sentiment. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The horrors which are supposed to haunt the bed of the 
 murderer, the ghosts which superstition imagines rise from 
 their graves to demand vengeance upon those who brought 
 them to an untimely end, all take their origin from this natural 
 sympathy with the imaginary resentment of the slain. And with 
 regard, at least, to this most dreadful of crimes, Nature, ante- 
 cedent to all reflections upon the utility of punishment, has in 
 this manner stamped upon the human heart, in the strongest 
 and most indelible characters, an immediate and instinctive 
 approbation of the sacred and necessary law of retaliation. 
 
 CHAPTER III. THAT WHERE THERE is NO APPROBATION OF 
 THE CONDUCT OF THE PERSON WHO CONFERS THE BENEFIT, 
 THERE IS LITTLE SYMPATHY WITH THE GRATITUDE OF 
 HIM WHO RECEIVES IT: AND THAT, ON THE CONTRARY, 
 WHERE THERE IS NO DISAPPROBATION OF THE MOTIVES 
 OF THE PERSON WHO DOES THE MISCHIEF, THERE is NO 
 SORT OF SYMPATHY WITH THE RESENTMENT OF HIM WHO 
 SUFFERS IT. 
 
 294 IT is to be observed, however, that, how beneficial soever 
 on the one hand, ' or how hurtful soever on the other, the 
 actions or intentions of the person who acts may have been 
 to the person who is, if I may say so, acted upon, yet if in the 
 one case there appears to have been no propriety in the 
 motives of the agent, if we cannot enter into the affections 
 which influenced his conduct, we have little sympathy with 
 the gratitude of the person who receives the benefit : or if, 
 in the other case, there appears to have been no impropriety 
 in the motives of the agent, if, on the contrary, the affections 
 which influenced his conduct are such as we must necessarily
 
 290 SMITH. [Pt. II. Sec. I. 
 
 enter into, we can have no sort of sympathy with the resentment 
 of the person who suffers. Little gratitude seems due in the 
 one case, and all sort of resentment seems unjust in the other. 
 The one action seems to merit little reward, the other to 
 deserve no punishment. 
 
 295 i. First, I say, That wherever we cannot sympathize with 
 the affections of the agent, wherever there seems to be no 
 propriety in the motives which influenced his conduct, we are 
 less disposed to enter into the gratitude of the person who 
 received the benefit of his actions. A very small return seems 
 due to that foolish and profuse generosity which confers the 
 greatest benefits from the most trivial motives, and gives an 
 estate to a man merely because his name and sirname happen 
 to be the same with those of the giver. Such services do not 
 seem to demand any proportionable recompense. Our con- 
 tempt for the folly of the agent hinders us from thoroughly 
 entering into the gratitude of the person to whom the good 
 office has been done. His benefactor seems unworthy of it. 
 As when we place ourselves in the situation of the person 
 obliged, we feel that we could conceive no great reverence 
 for such a benefactor, we easily absolve him from a great deal 
 of that submissive veneration and esteem which we should 
 think due to a more respectable character ; and provided he 
 always treats his weak friend with kindness and humanity, 
 we are willing to excuse him from many attentions and regards 
 which we should demand to a worthier patron. Those 
 Princes, who have heaped, with the greatest profusion, wealth, 
 power, and honours, upon their favourites, have seldom 
 excited that degree of attachment to their persons which has 
 often been experienced by those who were more frugal of 
 their favours. The well-natured, but injudicious prodigality 
 of James the First of Great Britain seems to have attached 
 nobody to his person ; and that Prince, notwithstanding his 
 social and harmless disposition, appears to have lived and 
 died without a friend. The whole gentry and nobility of
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 291 
 
 England exposed their lives and fortunes in the cause of his 
 more frugal and distinguishing son, notwithstanding the cold- 
 ness and distant severity of his ordinary deportment. 
 
 296 2. Secondly, I say, That wherever the conduct of the agent 
 appears to have been entirely directed by motives and affec- 
 tions which we thoroughly enter into and approve of, we 
 can have no sort of sympathy with the resentment of the 
 sufferer, how great soever the mischief which may have been 
 done to him. When two people quarrel, if we take part with, 
 and entirely adopt the resentment of one of them, it is im- 
 possible that we should enter into that of the other. Our 
 sympathy with the person whose motives we go along with, 
 and whom therefore we look upon as in the right, cannot but 
 harden us against all fellow-feeling with the other, whom we 
 necessarily regard as in the wrong. Whatever this last, 
 therefore, may have suffered, while it is no more than what 
 we ourselves should have wished him to suffer, while it 
 is no more than what our own sympathetic indignation 
 would have prompted us to inflict upon him, it cannot either 
 displease or provoke us. When an inhuman murderer is 
 brought to the scaffold, though we have some compassion for 
 his misery, we can have no sort of fellow-feeling with his 
 resentment, if he should be so absurd as to express any 
 against either his prosecutor or his judge. The natural 
 tendency of their just indignation against so vile a criminal 
 is indeed the most fatal and ruinous to him. But it is im- 
 possible that we should be displeased with the tendency of 
 a sentiment, which, when we bring the case home to ourselves, 
 we feel that we cannot avoid adopting. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. RECAPITULATION OF THE FOREGOING 
 CHAPTERS. 
 
 297 i. WE do not, therefore, thoroughly and heartily sympathize V 
 with the gratitude of one man towards another, merely because 
 this other has been the cause of his good fortune, unless he 
 
 u 2
 
 2 9 2 SMITH, [Pt. 1 1. Sec. I. 
 
 has been the cause of it from motives which we entirely go 
 along with. Our heart must adopt the principles of the 
 agent, and go along with all the affections which influenced 
 his conduct, before it can entirely sympathize with, and beat 
 time to, the gratitude of the person who has been benefited 
 by his actions. If in the conduct of the benefactor there 
 appears to have been no propriety, how beneficial soever its 
 effects, it does not seem to demand, or necessarily to require, 
 any proportionable recompense. 
 
 298 But when to the beneficent tendency of the action is joined 
 the propriety of the affection from which it proceeds, when 
 we entirely sympathize and go along with the motives of the 
 agent, the love which we conceive for him upon his own 
 account, enhances and enlivens our fellow-feeling with the 
 gratitude of those who owe their prosperity to his good 
 conduct. His actions seem then to demand, and, if I may 
 say so, to call aloud for a proportionable recompense. We 
 then entirely enter into that gratitude which prompts to bestow 
 it. The benefactor seems then to be the proper object of 
 "reward, when we thus entirely sympathize with, and approve 
 of, that sentiment which prompts to reward him. When we 
 approve of, and go along with, the affection from which the 
 action proceeds, we must necessarily approve of the action, and 
 regard the person towards whom it is directed as its proper 
 and suitable object. 
 
 CHAPTER V. THE ANALYSIS OF THE SENSE OF MERIT AND 
 DEMERIT. 
 
 299 i. As our sense, therefore, of the propriety of conduct arises 
 from what I shall call a direct sympathy with the affections 
 and motives of the person who acts, so our sense of its merits 
 arises from what I shall call an indirect sympathy with the 
 gratitude of the person who is, if I may say so, acted upon.
 
 Chap.V.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 293 
 
 As we cannot indeed enter thoroughly into the gratitude of 
 the person who receives the benefit, unless we beforehand 
 approve of the motives of the benefactor, so, upon this 
 account, the sense of merit seems to be a compounded 
 sentiment, and to be made up of two distinct emotions; 
 a direct sympathy with the sentiments of the agent, and an 
 indirect sympathy with the gratitude of those who receive the 
 benefit of his actions. 
 
 300 We may, upon many different occasions, plainly distinguish 
 those two different emotions combining and uniting together 
 in our sense of the good desert of a particular character or 
 action. When we read in history concerning actions of proper 
 and beneficent greatness of mind, how eagerly do we enter into 
 such designs? How much are we animated by that high- 
 spirited generosity which directs them ? How keen are we 
 for their success? How grieved at their disappointment? 
 In imagination we become the very person whose actions 
 are represented to us : we transport ourselves in fancy to the 
 scenes of those distant and forgotten adventures, and imagine 
 ourselves acting the part of a Scipio or a Camillus, a Timeleon 
 or an Aristides. So far our sentiments are founded upon the 
 direct sympathy with the person who acts. Nor is the indirect 
 sympathy with those who receive the benefit of such actions 
 less sensibly felt. Whenever we place ourselves in the situation 
 of these last, with what warm and affectionate fellow-feeling do 
 we enter into their gratitude towards those who served them 
 so essentially ? We embrace, as it were, their benefactor along 
 with them. Our heart readily sympathizes with the highest 
 transports of their graceful affection. No honours, no rewards, 
 we think, can be too great for them to bestow upon him. 
 When they make this proper return for his services, we heartily 
 applaud and go along with them ; but are shocked beyond all 
 measure, if by their conduct they appear to have little sense of 
 the obligations conferred upon them. Our whole sense, in 
 short, of the merit and good desert of such actions, of the
 
 294 SMITH. [Pt. II. Sec. I. 
 
 propriety and fitness of recompensing them, and making the 
 person who performed them rejoice in his turn, arises from 
 the sympathetic emotions of gratitude and love, with which, 
 when we bring home to our own breast the situation of those 
 principally concerned, we feel ourselves naturally transported 
 towards the man who could act with such proper and noble 
 beneficence. 
 
 301 2. In the same manner, as our sense of the impropriety of 
 conduct arises from a want of sympathy, or from a direct 
 antipathy to the affections and motives of the agent, so our 
 sense of its demerit arises from what I shall here too call an 
 indirect sympathy with the resentment of the sufferer. 
 
 As we cannot indeed enter into the resentment of the 
 sufferer, unless our heart beforehand disapproves the motives 
 of the agent, and renounces all fellow-feeling with them ; so 
 upon this account the sense of demerit, as well as that of merit, 
 seems to be a compounded sentiment, and to be made up of 
 two distinct emotions; a direct antipathy to the sentiments 
 of the agent, and an indirect sympathy with the resentment 
 of the sufferer. 
 
 302 Note. To ascribe in this manner our natural sense of the ill desert of 
 human actions to a sympathy with the resentment of the sufferer, may seem, 
 to the greater part of people, to be a degradation of that sentiment. Re- 
 sentment is commonly regarded as so odious a passion, that they will be apt to 
 think it impossible that so laudable a principle, as the sense of the ill desert 
 of vice, should in any respects be founded upon it. They will be more 
 willing, perhaps, to admit that our sense of the merit of good actions is 
 founded upon a sympathy with the gratitude of the persons who receive the 
 benefit of them ; because gratitude, as well as all the other benevolent 
 passions, is regarded as an amiable principle, which can take nothing from the 
 worth of whatever is founded upon it. Gratitude and resentment, however, 
 are, in every respect, it is evident, counterparts to one another ; and if our 
 sense of merit arises from a sympathy with the one, our sense of demerit 
 can scarce miss to proceed from a fellow-feeling with the other. 
 
 303 Let it be considered too that resentment, though, in the degrees in 
 which we too often see it, the most odious, perhaps, of all the passions, is 
 not disapproved of when properly humbled and entirely brought down to the 
 level of the sympathetic indignation of the spectator. When we, who are 
 the by-standers, feel that our own animosity entirely corresponds with that 
 of the sufferer, when the resentment of this last does not in any respect go 
 beyond our own, when no word, no gesture escapes him that denotes an
 
 Chap. V.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 295 
 
 emotion more violent than what we can keep time to, and when he never 
 aims at inflicting any punishment beyond what we should rejoice to see 
 inflicted, or what we ourselves would upon this account even desire to be 
 the instruments of inflicting, it is impossible that we should not entirely 
 approve of his sentiments. Our own emotion in this case must, in our eyes, 
 undoubtedly justify his. And as experience teaches us how much the greater 
 part of mankind are incapable of this moderation, and how great an effort 
 must be made in order to bring down the rude and undisciplined impulse of 
 resentment to this suitable temper, we cannot avoid conceiving a consider- 
 able degree of esteem and admiration for one who appears capable of 
 exerting so much self-command over one of the most ungovernable passions 
 of his nature. When indeed the animosity of the sufferer exceeds, as it 
 almost always does, what we can go along with, as we cannot enter into 
 it, we necessarily disapprove of it. We even disapprove of it more than we 
 should of an equal excess of almost any other passion derived from the 
 imagination. And this too violent resentment, instead of carrying us along 
 with it, becomes itself the object of our resentment and indignation. We 
 enter into the opposite resentment of the person who is the object of this 
 unjust emotion, and who is in danger of suffering from it. Revenge, there- 
 fore, the excess of resentment, appears to be the most detestable of all the 
 passions, and is the object of the horror and indignation of every body. And 
 as in the way in which this passion commonly discovers itself among 
 mankind, it is excessive a hundred times for once that it is moderate, we 
 are very apt to consider it as altogether odious and detestable, because in 
 its most ordinary appearance it is so. Nature, however, even in the present 
 depraved state of mankind, does not seem to have dealt so unkindly with us, 
 as to have endowed us with any principle which is wholly and in every 
 respect evil, or which, in no degree and in no direction, can be the proper 
 object of praise and approbation. Upon some occasions we are sensible 
 that this passion, which is generally too strong, may likewise be too weak. 
 We sometimes complain that a particular person shows too little spirit, and 
 has too little sense of the injuries that have been done to him ; and we are 
 as ready to despise him for the defect, as to hate him for the excess of this 
 passion. 
 
 The inspired writers would not surely have talked so frequently or so 
 strongly of the wrath and anger of God, if they had regarded every degree 
 of those passions as vicious and evil, even in so weak and imperfect a 
 creature as man. 
 
 304 Let it be considered too, that the present inquiry is not concerning a 
 matter of right, if I may say so, but concerning a matter of fiyjt. We are 
 not at present examining upon what principles a perfect being would 
 approve of the punishment of bad actions ; but upon what principles so 
 weak and imperfect a creature as man actually and in fact approves of it. 
 The principles which I have just now mentioned, it is evident, have a very 
 great effect upon his sentiments ; and it seems wisely ordered that it should 
 be so. The very existence of society requires that unmerited and unprovoked 
 malice should be restrained by proper punishments ; and consequently, 
 that to inflict those punishments should be regarded as a proper and laud- 
 able action. Though man, therefore, be naturally endowed with a desire 
 of the welfare and preservation of society, yet the Author of Nature has not 
 entrusted it to his reason to find out that a certain application of punish- 
 ments is the proper means of attaining this end ; but has endowed him with
 
 296 SMITH. [Pt. II. Sec. I. Chap. V. 
 
 an immediate and instinctive approbation of that very application which is 
 most proper to attain it. The oeconomy of Nature is in this respect exactly 
 of a piece with what it is upon many other occasions. With regard to all 
 those ends which, upon account of their peculiar importance, may be 
 regarded, if such an expression is allowable, as the favourite ends of Nature, 
 she has constantly in this manner not only endowed mankind with an 
 appetite for the end which she proposes, but likewise with an appetite for 
 the means by which alone this end can be brought about, for their own 
 sakes, and independent of their tendency to produce it. Thus self-preserva- 
 tion, and the propagation of the species, and the great ends which Nature 
 seems to have proposed in the formation of all animals. Mankind are 
 endowed with a desire of those ends, and an aversion to the contrary ; with 
 a love of life, and a dread of dissolution ; with a desire o'f the continuance 
 and perpetuity of the species, and with an aversion to the thoughts of its 
 I entire extinction. But though we are in this manner endowed with a very 
 strong desire of those ends, it has not been intrusted to the slow and 
 uncertain determinations of our reason, to find out the proper means of 
 bringing them about. Nature has directed us to the greater part of these 
 , by original and immediate instincts. Hunger, thirst, the passion which 
 unites the two sexes, the~"love of pleasure and the dread of pain, prompt us 
 to apply those means for their own sakes, and without any consideration of 
 their tendency to those beneficent ends which the great Director of nature 
 intended to produce by them. 
 
 305 Before I conclude this note, I must take notice of a difference between 
 the approbation of propriety and that of merit or beneficence. Before we 
 approve of the sentiments of any person as proper and suitable to their objects, 
 wemust not only be affected in the same manner as he is, but we must perceive 
 this harmony and correspondence of sentiments between him and ourselves. 
 Thus, though upon hearing of a misfortune that had befallen my friend, I 
 should conceive precisely that degree of concern which he gives way to ; 
 yet till I am informed of the manner in which he behaves, till I perceive the 
 harmony between his emotions and mine, I cannot be said to approve of the 
 sentiments which influence his behaviour. The approbation of propriety 
 therefore requires, not only that we should entirely sympathize with the 
 : person who acts, but that we should perceive this present concord between 
 his sentiments and our own. On the contrary, when I hear of a benefit 
 that has been bestowed upon another person, let him who has received it 
 be affected in what manner he pleases, if, by bringing his case home to 
 myself, I feel gratitude arise in my own breast, I necessarily approve of 
 the conduct of his benefactor, and regard it as meritorious, and the 
 proper object of reward. Whether the person who has received the benefit 
 conceives gratitude or not, cannot, it is evident, in any degree alter our 
 sentiments with regard to the merit of him who has bestowed it. No 
 actual correspondence of sentiments, therefore, is here required. It is 
 sufficient that if he was grateful, they would correspond ; and our sense of 
 merit is often founded upon one of those illusive sympathies, by which, 
 when we bring home to ourselves the case of another, we are often affected 
 in a manner in which the person principally concerned is incapable of being 
 affected. There is a similar difference between our disapprobation of 
 demerit, and that of impropriety.
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 297 
 
 PART III. 
 
 OF THE FOUNDATION OF OUR JUDGMENTS CONCERNING 
 OUR OWN SENTIMENTS AND CONDUCT, AND OF THE 
 SENSE OF DUTY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. OF THE PRINCIPLE OF SELF-APPROBATION 
 AND OF SELF-DISAPPROBATION. 
 
 306 IN the two foregoing parts of this discourse, I have chiefly 
 considered the origin and foundation of our judgments con- 
 cerning the sentiments and conduct of others. I come now 
 to consider more particularly the origin of those concerning 
 our own. 
 
 The principle by which we naturally either approve or dis- 
 approve of our own conduct seems to be altogether the same 
 with that by which we exercise the like judgments concerning 
 the conduct of other people. We either approve or disapprove 
 of the conduct of another man according as we feel that, when 
 we bring his case home to ourselves, we either can or cannot 
 entirely sympathize with the sentiments and motives which 
 directed it. And, in the same manner, we either approve 
 or disapprove of our own conduct, according as we feel that, 
 when we place ourselves in the situation of another man, and 
 view it, as it were, with his eyes, and from his station, we 
 either can or cannot entirely enter into and sympathize with the 
 sentiments and motives which influenced it. We can never 
 survey our own sentiments and motives, we can never form 
 any judgment concerning them ; unless we remove ourselves, 
 as it were, from our own natural station, and endeavour to 
 view them as at a certain distance from us. But we can do 
 this in no other way than by endeavouring to view them with 
 the eyes of other people, or as other people are likely to view 
 them. Whatever judgment we can form concerning them, 
 accordingly, must always bear some secret reference, either to
 
 298 SMITH. [Part III. 
 
 what are, or to what, upon a certain condition, would be, or 
 to what, we imagine, ought to be the judgment of others. 
 We endeavour to examine our own conduct as we imagine any 
 other fair and impartial spectator would examine it. If, upon 
 placing ourselves in his situation, we thoroughly enter into all 
 the passions and motives which influenced it, we approve of 
 it, by sympathy with the approbation of this supposed equit- 
 able judge. If otherwise, we enter into his disapprobation, 
 and condemn it. 
 
 307 Were it possible that a human creature could grow up to 
 manhood in some solitary place, without any communication 
 with his own species, he could no more think of his own 
 character, of the propriety or demerit of his own sentiments 
 and conduct, of the beauty or deformity of his own mind, 
 than of the beauty or deformity of his own face. All these 
 are objects which he cannot easily see, which naturally he 
 does not look at, and with regard to which he is provided 
 with no mirror which can present them to his view. Bring 
 him into society, and he is immediately provided with the 
 mirror which he wanted before. It is placed in the counte- 
 nance and behaviour of those he lives with, which always 
 mark when they enter into, and when they disapprove of 
 his sentiments; and it is here that he first views the pro- 
 priety and impropriety of his own passions, the beauty and 
 deformity of his own mind. To a man who from his birth 
 was a stranger to society, the objects of his passions, the 
 external bodies which either pleased or hurt him, would 
 occupy his whole attention. The passions themselves, the 
 desires or aversions, the joys or sorrows, which those objects 
 excited, though of all things the most immediately present 
 to him, could scarce ever be the objects of his thoughts. 
 The idea of them could never interest him so much as to 
 call upon his attentive consideration. The consideration of 
 his joy could in him excite no new joy, nor that of his 
 sorrow any new sorrow, though the consideration of the
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS, 299 
 
 causes of those passions might often excite both. Bring 
 him into society, and all his own passions will immediately 
 become the causes of new passions. He will observe that 
 mankind approve of some of them, and are disgusted by 
 others. He will be elevated in the one case, and cast down 
 in the other ; his desires and aversions, his joys and sorrows, 
 will now often become the causes of new desires and new 
 aversions, new joys and new sorrows : they will now, there- 
 fore, interest him deeply, and often call upon his most atten- 
 tive consideration. 
 
 308 Our first ideas of personal beauty and deformity are drawn 
 from the shape and appearance of others, not from our own. 
 We soon become sensible, however, that others exercise the 
 same criticism upon us. We are pleased when they approve of 
 our figure, and are disobliged when they seem to be disgusted. 
 We become anxious to know how far our appearance deserves 
 either their blame or approbation. We examine our persons 
 limb by limb, and by placing ourselves before a looking-glass, 
 or by some such expedient, endeavour, as much as possible, 
 to view ourselves at the distance and with the eyes of other 
 people. If, after this examination, we are satisfied with our 
 own appearance, we can more easily support the most dis- 
 advantageous judgments of others. If, on the contrary, we 
 are sensible that we are the natural objects of distaste, every 
 appearance of their disapprobation mortifies us beyond all 
 measure. A man who is tolerably handsome, will allow you to 
 laugh at any little irregularity in his person ; but all such jokes 
 are commonly unsupportable to one who is really deformed. 
 It is evident, however, that we are anxious about our own 
 beauty and deformity, only upon account of its effect upon 
 others. If we had no connexion with society, we should be 
 altogether indifferent about either. 
 
 309 In the same manner our first moral criticisms are exercised 
 upon the characters and conduct of other people ; and we are 
 all very forward to observe how each of these affects us. But
 
 300 SMITH. [Part III. 
 
 we soon learn, that other people are equally frank with regard 
 to our own. We become anxious to know how far we deserve 
 their censure or applause, and whether to them we must 
 necessarily appear those agreeable or disagreeable creatures 
 which they represent us. We begin, upon this account, to 
 examine our own passions and conduct, and to consider how 
 these must appear to them, by considering how they would 
 appear to us if in their situation. We suppose ourselves the 
 spectators of our own behaviour, and endeavour to imagine 
 what effect it would, in this light, produce upon us. This is 
 the only looking-glass by which we can, in some measure, with 
 the eyes of other people, scrutinize the propriety of our own 
 conduct. If in this view it pleases us, we are tolerably 
 satisfied. We can be more indifferent about the applause, 
 and, in some measure, despise the censure of the world ; 
 secure that, however misunderstood or misrepresented, we are 
 the natural and proper objects of approbation. On the con- 
 trary, if we are doubtful about it, we are often upon that very 
 account, more anxious to gain their approbation, and provided 
 we have not already, as they say, shaken hands with infamy, 
 we are altogether distracted at the thoughts of their censure, 
 which then strikes us with double severity. 
 
 310 When I endeavour to examine my own conduct, when 
 I endeavour to pass sentence upon it, and either to approve or 
 condemn it, it is evident that, in all such cases, I divide myself, 
 as it werCj into two persons; and that I, the examiner and 
 judge, represent a different character from that other I, the 
 person whose conduct is examined into, and judged of. The 
 first is the spectator, whose sentiments with regard to my own 
 conduct I endeavour to enter into, by placing myself in his 
 situation, and by considering how it would appear to me, 
 when seen from that particular point of view. The second 
 is the agent, the person whom I properly call myself, and of 
 whose conduct, under the character of a spectator, I was 
 endeavouring to form some opinion. The first is the judge ;
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 301 
 
 the second the person judged of. But that the judge should, 
 in every respect, be the same with the person judged of, is as 
 impossible, as that the cause should, in every respect, be the 
 same with the effect. 
 
 To be amiable and to be meritorious ; that is, to deserve 
 love and to deserve reward, are the great characters of virtue ; 
 and to be odious and punishable, of vice. But all these 
 characters have an immediate reference to the sentiments of 
 others. Virtue is not said to be amiable, or to be meritorious, 
 because it is the object of its own love, or of its own gratitude ; 
 but because it excites those sentiments in other men. The 
 consciousness that it is the object of such favourable regards, 
 is the source of that inward tranquillity and self-satisfaction 
 with which it is naturally attended, as the suspicion of the 
 contrary, gives occasion to the torments of vice. What so 
 great happiness as to be beloved, and to know that we deserve 
 to be beloved ? What so great misery as to be hated, and to 
 know that we deserve to be hated ? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. OF THE NATURE OF SELF-DECEIT, AND 
 
 OF THE ORIGIN AND USE OF GENERAL RULES. 
 
 ******* 
 
 311 THERE are two different occasions upon which we examine 
 
 our own conduct, and endeavour to view it in the light in which 
 
 the impartial spectator would view it : first, when we are 
 
 about to act ; and secondly, after we have acted. Our views 
 
 are apt to be very partial in both cases ; but they are apt to be 
 
 most partial when it is of most importance that they should 
 
 be otherwise. 
 
 When we are about to act, the eagerness of passion will 
 seldom allow us to consider what we are doing, with the 
 candour of an indifferent person. The violent emotions which 
 at that time agitate us, discolour our views of things, even
 
 302 SMITH. [Part III. 
 
 when we are endeavouring to place ourselves in the situation 
 of another, and to regard the objects that interest us in the 
 light in which they will naturally appear to him. The fury of 
 our own passions constantly calls us back to our own place, 
 where every thing appears magnified and misrepresented by 
 self-love. Of the manner in which those objects would appear 
 to another, of the view which he would take of them, we can 
 obtain, if I may say so, but instantaneous glimpses, which 
 vanish in a moment, and which, even while they last, are not 
 altogether just. We cannot even for that moment divest 
 ourselves entirely of the heat and keenness with which our 
 peculiar situation inspires us, nor consider what we are about 
 to do with the complete impartiality of an equitable judge. 
 The passions, upon this account, as father Malebranche says, 
 all justify themselves, and seem reasonable and proportioned 
 to their objects, as long as we continue to feel them. 
 
 312 When the action is over, indeed, and the passions which 
 prompted it have subsided, we can enter more coolly into the 
 sentiments of the indifferent spectator. What before interested 
 us is now become almost as indifferent to us as it always was 
 to him, and we can now examine our own conduct with his 
 candour and impartiality. The man of to-day is no longer 
 agitated by the same passions which distracted the man of 
 yesterday : and when the paroxysm of emotion, in the same 
 manner as when the paroxysm of distress, is fairly over, we can 
 identify ourselves, as it were, with the ideal man within the 
 breast, and, in our own character, view, as in the one case, 
 our own situation, so in the other, our own conduct, with the 
 severe eyes of the most impartial spectator. But our judgments 
 now are often of little importance in comparison of what they 
 were before ; and can frequently produce nothing but vain 
 regret and unavailing repentance ; without always securing us 
 from the like errors in time to come. 
 
 ******* 
 
 313 So partial are the views of mankind with regard to the
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 303 
 
 propriety of their own conduct, both at the time of action and 
 after it ; and so difficult is it for them to view it in the light in 
 which any indifferent spectator would consider it. But if it 
 was by a peculiar faculty, such as the moral sense is supposed 
 to be, that they judged of their own conduct, if they were 
 endued with a particular power of perception, which distin- 
 guished the beauty or deformity of passions and affections; 
 as their own passions would be more immediately exposed to 
 the view of this faculty, it would judge with more accuracy 
 concerning them, than concerning those of other men, of which 
 it had only a more distant prospect. 
 
 314 This self-deceit, this fatal weakness of mankind, is the 
 source of half the disorders of human life. If we saw ourselves 
 in the light in which others see us, or in which they would see 
 us if they knew all, a reformation would generally be unavoid- 
 able. We could not otherwise endure the fight. 
 
 Nature, however, has not left this weakness, which is of so 
 much importance, altogether without a remedy ; nor has she 
 abandoned us entirely to the delusions of self-love. Our 
 continual observations upon the conduct of others, insensibly 
 lead us to form to ourselves certain general rules concerning 
 what is fit and proper either to be done or to be avoided. 
 Some of their actions shock all our natural sentiments. We 
 hear every body about us express the like detestation against 
 them. This still further confirms, and even exasperates our 
 natural sense of their deformity. It satisfies us that we view 
 them in the proper light, when we see other people view them 
 in the same light. We resolve never to be guilty of the like, 
 nor ever, upon any account, to render ourselves in this manner 
 the objects of universal disapprobation. We thus naturally 
 lay down to ourselves a general rule, that all such actions are 
 to be avoided, as tending to render us odious, contemptible, 
 or punishable, the objects of all those sentiments for which we 
 have the greatest dread and aversion. Other actions, on the 
 contrary, call forth our approbation, and we hear every body
 
 304 SMITH. [Part III. 
 
 around us express the same favourable opinion concerning 
 them. Every body is eager to honour and reward them. They 
 excite all those sentiments for which we have by nature the 
 strongest desire ; the love, the gratitude, the admiration of man- 
 kind. We become ambitious of performing the like ; and thus 
 naturally lay down to ourselves a rule of another kind, that every 
 opportunity of acting in this manner is carefullyto be sought after. 
 315 It is thus that the general rules of morality are formed. 
 They are ultimately founded upon experience of what, in 
 particular instances, our moral faculties, our natural sense of 
 merit and propriety, approve, or disapprove of. We do not 
 originally approve or condemn particular actions; because, 
 upon examination, they appear to be agreeable or inconsistent 
 with a certain general rule. The general rule, on the contrary, 
 is formed, by finding from experience, that all actions of 
 a certain kind, or circumstanced in a certain manner, are 
 approved or disapproved of. To the man who first saw an 
 inhuman murder, committed from avarice, envy, or unjust 
 resentment, and upon one too that loved and trusted the 
 murderer, who beheld the last agonies of the dying person, 
 who heard him, with his expiring breath, complain more of 
 the perfidy and ingratitude of his false friend, than of the 
 violence which had been done to him, there could be no 
 occasion, in order to conceive how horrible such an action 
 was, that he should reflect, that one of the most sacred rules 
 of conduct was what prohibited the taking away the life of an 
 innocent person, that this was a plain violation of that rule, 
 and consequently a very blameable action. His detestation 
 of this crime, it is evident, would arise instantaneously and 
 antecedent to his having formed to himself any such general 
 rule. The general rule, on the contrary, which he might 
 afterwards form, would be founded upon the detestation which 
 he felt necessarily arise in his own breast, at the thought 
 of this, and every other particular action of the same kind.
 
 Chap. IV.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 305 
 
 316 When these general rules, indeed, have been formed, when 
 they are universally acknowledged and established, by the 
 concurring sentiments of mankind, we frequently appeal to 
 
 them as to the 'standards of judgment, in debating concerning 
 the degree of praise or blame that is due to certain actions of 
 a complicated and dubious nature. They are upon these 
 occasions commonly cited as the ultimate foundations of what 
 is just and unjust in human conduct ; and this circumstance 
 seems to have misled several very eminent authors, to draw up 
 their systems in such a manner, as if they had supposed that 
 the original judgments of mankind with regard to right and 
 wrong, were formed like the decisions of a court of judicatory, 
 by considering first the general rule, and then, secondly, 
 whether the particular action under consideration fell properly 
 within its comprehension. 
 
 317 Those general rules of conduct, when they have been fixed 
 in our mind by habitual reflection, are of great use in correcting 
 the misrepresentations of self-love concerning what is fit and 
 proper to be done in our particular situation. The man of 
 furious resentment, if he was to listen to the dictates of that 
 passion, would perhaps regard the death of his enemy, as but 
 a small compensation for the wrong, he imagines, he has 
 received ; which, however, may be no more than a very slight 
 provocation. But his observations upon the conduct of others, 
 have taught him how horrible all such sanguinary revenges 
 appear. Unless his education has been very singular, he has 
 laid it down to himself as an inviolable rule, to abstain from 
 them upon all occasions. This rule preserves its authority 
 with him, and renders him incapable of being guilty of such 
 a violence. Yet the fury of his own temper may be such, that 
 had this been the first time in which he considered such an 
 action, he would undoubtedly have determined it to be quite 
 just and proper, and what every impartial spectator would 
 approve of. But that reverence for the rule which past expe- 
 rience has impressed upon him, checks the impetuosity of his
 
 306 SMITH. [Part IV. 
 
 passion, and helps him to correct the too partial views which 
 self-love might otherwise suggest, of what was proper to be done 
 in his situation. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 OF THE EFFECT OF UTILITY UPON THE 
 SENTIMENT OF APPROBATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. OF THE BEAUTY WHICH THE APPEARANCE OF 
 UTILITY BESTOWS UPON ALL THE PRODUCTIONS OF ART, 
 AND OF THE EXTENSIVE INFLUENCE OF THIS SPECIES OF 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 318 THAT utility is one of the principal sources of beauty has 
 been observed by every body, who has considered with any 
 attention what constitutes the nature of beauty. The con- 
 veniency of a house gives pleasure to the spectator as well 
 as its regularity, and he is as much hurt when he observes 
 the contrary defect, as when he sees the correspondent windows 
 of different forms, or the door not placed exactly in the middle 
 of the building. That the fitness of any system or machine 
 to produce the end for which it was intended, bestows a certain 
 propriety and beauty upon the whole, and renders the very 
 thought and contemplation of it agreeable, is so very obvious 1 
 that nobody has overlooked it. 
 
 319 The cause too, why utility pleases, has of late been assigned 
 by an ingenious and agreeable philosopher, who joins the 
 greatest depth of thought to the greatest elegance of expres- 
 sion, and possesses the singular and happy talent of treating 
 the abstrusest subjects not only with the most perfect per- 
 spicuity, but with the most lively eloquence. The utility of 
 any object, according to him, pleases the master by perpetually 
 suggesting to him the pleasure or conveniency which it is fitted
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 307 
 
 to promote. Every time he looks at it, he is put in mind of 
 this pleasure ; and the object in this manner becomes a source 
 of perpetual satisfaction and enjoyment. The spectator enters 
 by sympathy into the sentiments of the master, and necessarily 
 views the object under the same agreeable aspect. When we 
 visit the palaces of the great, we cannot help conceiving the 
 satisfaction we should enjoy if we ourselves were the masters, 
 and were possessed of so much artful and ingeniously contrived 
 accommodation. A similar account is given why the appear- 
 ance of inconveniency should render any object disagreeable 
 both to the owner and to the spectator. 
 
 320 But that this fitness, this happy contrivance of any produc- 
 tion of art, should often be more valued, than the very end 
 for which it was intended ; and that the exact adjustment of 
 the means for obtaining any conveniency or pleasure, should 
 frequently be more regarded, than that very conveniency or 
 pleasure, in the attainment of which their whole merit would 
 seem to consist, has not, so far as I know, been yet taken 
 notice of by any body. That this however is very frequently 
 the case, may be observed in a thousand instances, both in 
 the most frivolous and in the most important concerns of 
 human life. 
 
 When a person comes into his chamber, and finds the 
 chairs all standing in the middle of the room, he is angry with 
 his servant, and rather than see them continue in that disorder, 
 perhaps takes the trouble himself to set them all in their places 
 with their backs to the wall. The whole propriety of this new 
 situation arises from its superior conveniency in leaving the 
 floor free and disengaged. To attain this conveniency he 
 voluntarily puts himself to more trouble than all he could 
 have suffered from the want of it ; since nothing was more 
 easy, than to have set himself down upon one of them, which 
 is probably what he does when his labour is over. What he 
 wanted therefore, it seems, was not so much this conveniency, 
 as that arrangement of things which promotes it. Yet it is 
 
 x 2
 
 308 SMITH. [Part IV. 
 
 this conveniency which ultimately recommends that arrange- 
 ment, and bestows upon it the whole of its propriety and beauty. 
 
 * * * . * * * * 
 
 321 Nor is it only with regard to such frivolous objects that our 
 conduct is influenced by this principle ; it is often the secret 
 motive of the most serious and important pursuits of both 
 private and public life. 
 
 The poor man's son, whom heaven in its anger has visited 
 with ambition, when he begins to look around him, admires 
 the condition of the rich. 
 
 ******* 
 
 It appears in his fancy like the life of some superior rank of 
 beings, and, in order to arrive at it, he devotes himself for ever 
 to the pursuit of wealth and greatness. To obtain the con- 
 veniencies which these afford, he submits in the first year, nay 
 in the first month of bis application, to more fatigue of body 
 and more uneasiness of mind than he could have suffered 
 through the whole of his life from the want of them. He 
 studies to distinguish himself in some laborious profession. 
 With the most unrelenting industry he labours night and day 
 to acquire talents superior to all his competitors. He endea- 
 vours next to bring those talents into public view, and with 
 equal assiduity solicits every opportunity of employment. For 
 this purpose he makes his court to all mankind; he serves 
 those whom he hates, and is obsequious to those whom he 
 despises. Through the whole of his life he pursues the idea 
 of a certain artificial and elegant repose which he may never 
 arrive at, for which he sacrifices a real tranquillity that is at 
 all times in his power, and which, if in the extremity of old age 
 he should at last attain to it, he will find to be in no respect 
 preferable to that humble security and contentment which he 
 had abandoned for it. It is then, in the last dregs of life, his 
 body wasted with toil and diseases, his mind galled and ruffled 
 by the memory of a thousand injuries and disappointments 
 which he imagines he has met with from the injustice of his
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 309 
 
 enemies, or from the perfidy and ingratitude of his friends, that 
 he begins at last to find that wealth and greatness are mere 
 trinkets of frivolous utility, no more adapted for procuring ease 
 of body or tranquillity of mind than the tweezer-cases of the 
 lover of toys ; and like them too, more troublesome to the 
 person who carries them about with him than all the advantages 
 they can afford him are commodious. 
 
 ******* 
 
 322 If we examine, however, why the spectator distinguishes 
 with such admiration the condition of the rich and the great, 
 we shall find that it is not so much upon account of the 
 superior ease or pleasure which they are supposed to enjoy, 
 as of the numberless artificial and elegant contrivances for 
 promoting this ease or pleasure. He does not even imagine 
 that they are really happier than other people : but he imagines 
 that they possess more means of happiness. And it is the 
 ingenious and artful adjustment of those means to the end 
 for which they were intended, that is the principal source 
 of his admiration. But in the languor of disease and the 
 weariness of old age, the pleasures of the vain and empty 
 distinctions of greatness disappear. To one, in this situation, 
 they are no longer capable of recommending those toilsome 
 pursuits in which they had formerly engaged him. In his 
 heart he curses ambition, and vainly regrets the ease and the 
 indolence of youth, pleasures which 'are fled for ever, and 
 which he has foolishly sacrificed for what, when he has got it, 
 can afford him no real satisfaction. In this miserable aspect 
 does greatness appear to every man when reduced either by 
 spleen or disease to observe with attention his own situation, 
 and to consider what it is that is really wanting to his happiness. 
 Power and riches appear then to be, what they are, enormous 
 and operose machines contrived to produce a few trifling con- 
 veniencies to the body, consisting of springs the most nice and 
 delicate, which must be kept in order with the most anxious 
 attention, and which in spite of all our care are ready every
 
 310 SMITH. [Part IV. 
 
 moment to burst into pieces, and to crush in their ruins their 
 
 unfortunate possessor. They are immense fabrics, which it 
 
 requires the labour of a life to raise, which threaten every 
 
 moment to overwhelm the person that dwells in them, and 
 
 which while they stand, though they may save him from some 
 
 smaller inconveniencies, can protect him from none of the 
 
 severer inclemencies of the season. They keep off the summer 
 
 shower, not the winter storms, but leave him always as much, 
 
 and sometimes more exposed than before, to anxiety, to fear, 
 
 and to sorrow ; to diseases, to danger, and to death. 
 
 823 But though this splenetic philosophy, which in time of 
 
 sickness or low spirits is familiar to every man, thus entirely 
 
 depreciates those great objects of human desire, when in 
 
 better health and in better humour, we never fail to regard 
 
 them under a more agreeable aspect. Our imagination, which 
 
 in pain and sorrow seems to be confined and cooped up within 
 
 our own persons, in times of ease and prosperity expands 
 
 itself to every thing around us. We are then charmed with the 
 
 beauty of that accommodation which reigns in the palaces and 
 
 ceconomy of the great ; and admire how every thing is adapted 
 
 to promote their ease, to prevent their wants, to gratify their 
 
 wishes, and to amuse and entertain their most frivolous desires. 
 
 If we consider the real satisfaction which all these things are 
 
 capable of affording, by itself and separated from the beauty 
 
 of that arrangement which is fitted to promote it, it will always 
 
 appear in the highest degree contemptible and trifling. But 
 
 we rarely view it in this abstract and philosophical light. We 
 
 naturally confound it in our imagination with the order, the 
 
 regular and harmonious movement of the system, the machine 
 
 or oeconomy by means of which it is produced. The pleasures 
 
 of wealth and greatness, when considered in this complex view, 
 
 strike the imagination as something grand and beautiful and 
 
 noble, of which the attainment is well worth all the toil and 
 
 anxiety which we are so apt to bestow upon it.
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 311 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF THE BEAUTY WHICH THE APPEARANCE OF 
 UTILITY BESTOWS UPON THE CHARACTERS AND ACTIONS 
 OF MEN ; AND HOW FAR THE PERCEPTION OF THIS BEAUTY 
 MAY BE REGARDED AS ONE OF THE ORIGINAL PRINCIPLES 
 OF APPROBATION. 
 
 324 THE characters of men, as well as the contrivances of art, 
 or the institutions of civil government, may be fitted either to 
 promote or to disturb the happiness both of the individual and 
 of the society. The prudent, the equitable, the active, resolute, 
 and sober character promises prosperity and satisfaction, both 
 to the person himself and to every one connected with him. 
 The rash, the insolent, the slothful, effeminate, and voluptuous, 
 on the contrary, forebodes ruin to the individual, and misfortune 
 to all who have any thing to do with him. The first turn of 
 mind has at least all the beauty which can belong to the most 
 perfect machine that was ever invented for promoting the 
 most agreeable purpose : and the second, all the deformity of 
 the most awkward and clumsy contrivance. What institution 
 of government could tend so much to promote the happiness of 
 mankind as the general prevalence of wisdom and virtue? 
 All government is but an imperfect remedy for the deficiency 
 of these. Whatever beauty, therefore, can belong to civil 
 government upon account of its utility, must in a far superior 
 degree belong to these. On the contrary, what civil policy 
 can be so ruinous and destructive as the vices of men ? The 
 fatal effects of bad government arise from nothing, but that it 
 does not sufficiently guard against the mischiefs which human 
 wickedness gives occasion to. 
 
 325 This beauty and deformity which characters appear to derive 
 from their usefulness or inconveniency, are apt to strike, in 
 a peculiar manner, those who consider, in an abstract and 
 philosophical light, the actions and conduct of mankind. 
 When a philosopher goes to examine why humanity is approved
 
 312 SMITH. [PartlV. 
 
 of or cruelty condemned, he does not always form to himself, 
 in a very clear and distinct manner, the conception of any one 
 particular action either of cruelty or of humanity, but is 
 commonly contented with the vague and indeterminate idea 
 which the general names of those qualities suggest to him. 
 But it is in particular instances only that the propriety or 
 impropriety, the merit or demerit of actions is very obvious 
 and discernible. It is only when particular examples are given 
 that we perceive distinctly either the concord or disagreement 
 between our own affections and those of the agent, or feel a social 
 gratitude arise towards him in the one case, or a sympathetic 
 resentment in the other. When we consider virtue and vice 
 in an abstract and general manner, the qualities by which they 
 excite these several sentiments seem in a great measure to 
 disappear, and the sentiments themselves become less obvious 
 and discernible. On the contrary, the happy effects of the 
 one and the fatal consequences of the other seem then to rise 
 up to the view, and as it were to stand out and distinguish 
 themselves from all the other qualities of either. 
 326 The same ingenious and agreeable author who first explained 
 why utility pleases, has been so struck with this view of things, 
 as to resolve our whole approbation of virtue into a perception 
 of this species of beauty which results from the appearance of 
 utility. No qualities of the mind, he observes, are approved 
 of as virtuous, but such as are useful or agreeable either to the 
 person himself or to others ; and no qualities are disapproved 
 of as vicious, but such as have a contrary tendency. And 
 Nature, indeed, seems to have so happily adjusted our senti- 
 ments of approbation and disapprobation, to the conveniency 
 both of the individual and of the society, that after the strictest 
 examination it will be found, I believe, that this is universally 
 the case. But still I affirm, that it is not the view of this 
 utility or hurtfulness which is either the first or principal source 
 of our approbation and disapprobation. These sentiments are 
 no doubt enhanced and enlivened by the perception of the
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 313 
 
 beauty or deformity which results from this utility or hurtful- 
 ness. But still, I say, they are originally and essentially 
 different from this perception. 
 
 827 For first of all, it seems impossible that the approbation of 
 virtue should be a sentiment of the same kind with that by 
 which we approve of a convenient and well-contrived building; 
 or that we should have no other reason for praising a man 
 than that for which we commend a chest of drawers, 
 
 328 And secondly, it will be found, upon examination, that the 
 usefulness of any disposition of mind is seldom the first ground 
 of our approbation ; and that the sentiment of approbation 
 always involves in it a sense of propriety quite distinct from 
 the perception of utility. We may observe this with regard to 
 all the qualities which are approved of as virtuous, both those 
 which, according to this system, are originally valued as 
 useful to ourselves, as well as those which are esteemed on 
 account of their usefulness to others. 
 
 329 The qualities most useful to ourselves are, first of all, 
 superior reason and understanding, by which we are capable of 
 discerning the remote consequences of all our actions, and 
 of foreseeing the advantage or detriment which is likely to 
 result from them : and secondly, self-command, by which we 
 are enabled to abstain from present pleasure or to endure 
 present pain, in order to obtain a greater pleasure or to avoid 
 a greater pain in some future time. In the union of those two 
 qualities consists the virtue of prudence, of all the virtues that 
 which is most useful to the individual. 
 
 With regard to the first of those qualities, it has been 
 observed on a former occasion, that superior reason and 
 understanding are originally approved of as just and right and 
 accurate, and not merely as useful or advantageous. It is in 
 the abstruser sciences, particularly in the higher parts of 
 mathematics, that the greatest and most admired exertions 
 of human reason have been displayed. But the utility of those 
 sciences, either to the individual or to the public, is not very
 
 314 SMITH. [Part IV. 
 
 obvious, and to prove it, requires a discussion which is not 
 always very easily comprehended. It was not, therefore, their 
 utility which first recommended them to the public admiration. 
 This quality was but little insisted upon, till it became necessary 
 to make some reply to the reproaches of those, who, having 
 themselves no taste for such sublime discoveries, endeavoured 
 to depreciate them as useless. 
 
 330 That self-command, in the same manner, by which we 
 restrain our present appetites, in order to gratify them more 
 fully upon another occasion, is approved of, as much under 
 the aspect of propriety, as under that of utility. When we act 
 in this manner, the sentiments which influence our conduct 
 seem exactly to coincide with those of the spectator. The 
 spectator does not feel the solicitations of our present appetites. 
 To him the pleasure which we are to enjoy a week hence, or 
 a year hence, is just as interesting as that which we are to 
 enjoy this moment. When for the sake of the present, there- 
 fore, we sacrifice the future, our conduct appears to him absurd 
 and extravagant in the highest degree, and he cannot enter 
 into the principles which influence it. On the contrary, when 
 we abstain from present pleasure, in order to secure greater 
 pleasure to come, when we act as if the remote object interested 
 us as much as that which immediately presses upon the senses, 
 as our affections exactly correspond with his own, he cannot 
 fail to approve of our behaviour : and as he knows from 
 experience, how few are capable of this self-command, he looks 
 upon our conduct with a considerable degree of wonder and 
 admiration. Hence arises that eminent esteem with which all 
 men naturally regard a steady perseverance in the practice of 
 frugality, industry, and application, though directed to no other 
 purpose than the acquisition of fortune. The resolute firmness 
 of the person who acts in this manner, and, in order to obtain 
 a great though remote advantage, not only gives up all present 
 pleasures, but endures the greatest labour both of mind and 
 body, necessarily commands our approbation. That view of
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 315 
 
 his interest and happiness which appears to regulate his conduct, 
 exactly tallies with the idea which we naturally form of it. 
 There is the most perfect correspondence between his senti- 
 ments and our own, and at the same time, from our experience 
 of the common weakness of human nature, it is a correspon- 
 dence which we could not reasonably have expected. We not 
 only approve, therefore, but in some measure admire his 
 conduct, and think it worthy of a considerable degree of 
 applause. It is the consciousness of this merited approbation 
 and esteem which is alone capable of supporting the agent in 
 this tenour of conduct. The pleasure which we are to enjoy 
 ten years hence interests us so little in comparison with that 
 which we may enjoy to-day, the passion which the first excites, 
 is naturally so weak in comparison with that violent emotion 
 which the second is apt to give occasion to, that the one could 
 never be any balance to the other, unless it was supported by 
 the sense of propriety, by the consciousness that we merited 
 the esteem and approbation of every body, by acting in the 
 one way, and that we became the proper objects of their con- 
 tempt and derision by behaving in the other. 
 
 331 Humanity, justice, generosity, and public spirit, are the , 
 qualities most useful to others. Wherein consists the pro- ' 
 priety of humanity and justice has been explained upon a 
 former occasion, where it was shewn how much our esteem 
 and approbation of those qualities depended upon the con- 
 cord between the affections of the agent and those of the 
 spectators. 
 
 The propriety of generosity and public spirit is founded 
 upon the same principle with that of justice. Generosity is 
 different from humanity. Those two qualities, which at first 
 sight seem so nearly allied, do not always belong to the same 
 person. Humanity is the virtue of a woman, generosity of 
 a man. The fair-sex, who have commonly much more tender- 
 ness than ours, have seldom so much generosity. That women 
 rarely make considerable donations, is an observation of the
 
 3l6 SMITH. [Part IV. 
 
 civil law \ Humanity consists merely in the exquisite fellow- 
 feeling which the spectator entertains with the sentiments of 
 the persons principally concerned, so as to grieve for their 
 sufferings, to resent their injuries, and to rejoice at their good 
 fortune. The most humane actions require no self-denial, no 
 self-command, no great exertion of the sense of propriety. 
 They consist only in doing what this exquisite sympathy would 
 of its own accord prompt us to do. But it is otherwise with 
 generosity. We never are generous except when in some 
 respect we prefer some other person to ourselves, and sacrifice 
 some great and important interest of our own to an equal 
 interest of a friend or of a superior. The man who gives up 
 his pretensions to an office that was the great object of his 
 ambition, because he imagines that the services of another 
 are better entitled to it; the man who exposes his life to 
 defend that of his friend, which he judges to be of more 
 importance, neither of them act from humanity, or because 
 they feel more exquisitely what concerns that other person 
 than what concerns themselves. They both consider those 
 opposite interests, not in the light in which they naturally 
 appear to themselves, but in that in which they appear to 
 others. To every by-stander, the success or preservation of 
 this other person may justly be more interesting than their 
 own; but it cannot be so to themselves. When to the 
 interest of this other person, therefore, they sacrifice their 
 own, they accommodate themselves to the sentiments of the 
 spectator, and by an effort of magnanimity act according to those 
 views of things which they feel, must naturally occur to any 
 third person. The soldier who throws away his life in order 
 to defend that of his officer, would perhaps be but little affected 
 by the death of that officer, if it should happen without any 
 fault of his own ; and a very small disaster which had befallen 
 himself might excite a much more lively sorrow. But when 
 he endeavours to act so as to deserve applause, and to make 
 1 Raro mulieres donare solent.
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS, 317 
 
 the impartial spectator enter into the principles of his conduct, 
 he feels, that to every body but himself, his own life is a trifle 
 compared with that of his officer, and that when he sacrifices 
 the one to the other, he acts quite properly and agreeably to 
 what would be the natural apprehensions of every impartial 
 bystander. 
 
 332 It is the same case with the greater exertions of public 
 spirit. When a young officer exposes his life to acquire some 
 inconsiderable addition to the dominions of his sovereign, it is 
 not because the acquisition of the new territory is, to himself, 
 an object more desirable than the preservation of his own life. 
 To him his own life is of infinitely more value than the 
 conquest of a whole kingdom for the state which he serves. 
 But when he compares those two objects with one another, 
 he does not view them in the light in which they naturally 
 appear to himself, but in that in which they appear to the 
 nation he fights for. To them the success of the war is 
 of the highest importance; the life of a private person of 
 scarce any consequence. When he puts himself in their situa- 
 tion, he immediately feels that he cannot be too prodigal 
 of his blood, if, by shedding it, he can promote so valuable 
 a purpose. In thus thwarting, from a sense of duty and 
 propriety, the strongest of all natural propensities, consists 
 the heroism of his conduct. There is many an honest 
 Englishman, who, in his private station, would be more 
 seriously disturbed by the loss of a guinea, than by the loss 
 of Minorca, who yet, had it been in his power to defend that 
 fortress, would have sacrificed his life a thousand times rather 
 than, through his fault, have let it fall into the hands of the 
 enemy. When the first Brutus led forth his own sons to 
 a capital punishment, because they had conspired against the 
 rising liberty of Rome, he sacrificed what, if he had consulted 
 his own breast only, would appear to be the stronger to the 
 weaker affection. Brutus ought naturally to have felt much 
 more for the death of his own sons, than for all that probably
 
 31 8 SMITH. [Part IV. 
 
 Rome could have suffered from the want of so great an example. 
 But he viewed them, not with the eyes of a father, but with 
 those of a Roman citizen. He entered so thoroughly into the 
 sentiments of this last character, that he paid no regard to that 
 tie, by which he himself was connected with them ; and to a 
 Roman citizen, the sons even of Brutus seemed contemptible, 
 when put into the balance with the smallest interest of 
 Rome. In these and in all other cases of this kind, our 
 admiration is not so much founded upon the utility, as upon 
 the unexpected, and on that account the great, the noble, and 
 exalted propriety of such actions. This utility, when we come 
 to view it, bestows upon them, undoubtedly, a new beauty, 
 and upon that account still further recommends them to our 
 approbation. This beauty, however, is chiefly perceived by 
 men of reflection and speculation, and is by no means the 
 quality which first recommends such actions to the natural 
 sentiments of the bulk of mankind. 
 
 333 It is to be observed, that so far as the sentiment of appro- 
 bation arises from the perception of this beauty of utility, it 
 has no reference of any kind to the sentiments of others. If 
 it was possible, therefore, that a person should grow up to 
 manhood without any communication with society, his own 
 actions might, notwithstanding, be agreeable or disagreeable 
 to him on account of their tendency to his happiness or 
 disadvantage. He might perceive a beauty of this kind in 
 prudence, temperance, and good conduct, and a deformity 
 in the opposite behaviour ; he might view his own temper and 
 character with that sort of satisfaction with which we consider 
 a well contrived machine, in the one case ; or with that sort 
 of distaste and dissatisfaction with which we regard a very 
 aukward and clumsy contrivance, in the other. As these per- 
 ceptions, however, are merely a matter of taste, and have all the 
 feebleness and delicacy of that species of perceptions, upon 
 the justness of which what is properly called taste is founded, 
 they probably would not be much attended to by one in his
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 319 
 
 solitary and miserable condition. Even though they should 
 occur to him, they would by no means have the same effect 
 upon him, antecedent to his connexion with society, which 
 they would have in consequence of that connexion. He 
 would not be cast down with inward shame at the thought of 
 this deformity ; nor would he be elevated with secret triumph 
 of mind from the consciousness of the contrary beauty. He 
 would not exult from the notion of deserving reward in the 
 one case, nor tremble from the suspicion of meriting punish- 
 ment in the other. All such sentiments suppose the idea of 
 some other being, who is the natural judge of the person that 
 feels them ; and it is only by sympathy with the decisions of 
 this arbiter of his conduct, that he can conceive, either the 
 triumph of self-applause, or the shame of self-condemnation. 
 
 PART VII. 
 
 OF SYSTEMS OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 SECTION III. OF THE DIFFERENT SYSTEMS WHICH HAVE 
 
 BEEN FORMED CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLE OF APPRO- 
 BATION. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 334 AFTER the inquiry concerning the nature of virtue, the next 
 question of importance in Moral Philosophy is concerning the 
 principle of approbation, concerning the power or faculty of 
 the mind which renders certain characters agreeable or dis- 
 agreeable to us, makes us prefer one tenour of conduct to 
 another, denominate the one right and the other wrong, and 
 consider the one as the object of approbation, honour, and 
 reward ; the other as that of blame, censure and punishment.
 
 320 SMITH. [Pt. VII. Sec. III. 
 
 Three different accounts have been given of this principle 
 of approbation. According to some, we approve and dis- 
 approve both of our own actions and of those of others, from 
 self-love only, or from some view of their tendency to our own 
 happiness or disadvantage : according to others, reason, the 
 same faculty by which we distinguish between truth and false- 
 hood, enables us to distinguish between what is fit and unfit 
 both in actions and affections : according to others this dis- 
 tinction is altogether the effect of immediate sentiment and 
 feeling, and arises from the satisfaction or disgust with which 
 the view of certain actions or affections inspires us. Self-love, 
 reason, and sentiment, therefore, are the three different sources 
 which have been assigned for the principle of approbation. 
 335 Before I proceed to give an account of those different 
 systems, I must observe, that the determination of this second 
 question, though of the greatest importance in speculation, is 
 of none in practice. The question concerning the nature of 
 virtue necessarily has some influence upon our notions of right 
 and wrong in many particular cases. That concerning the 
 principle of approbation can possibly have no such effect. To 
 examine from what contrivance or mechanism within, those 
 different notions or sentiments arise, is a mere matter of 
 philosophical curiosity. 
 
 CHAPTER I. OF THOSE SYSTEMS WHICH DEDUCE THE 
 PRINCIPLE OF APPROBATION FROM SELF-LOVE. 
 
 336 THOSE who account for the principle of approbation from 
 self-love, do not all account for it in the same manner, and 
 there is a good deal of confusion and inaccuracy in all their 
 different systems. According to Mr. Hobbes, and many of 
 his followers 1 , man is driven to take refuge in society, not 
 by any natural love which he bears to his own kind, but 
 
 1 Puffendorff, Mandeville.
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 321 
 
 because without the assistance of others he is incapable of 
 subsisting with ease or safety. Society, upon this account, 
 becomes necessary to him, and whatever tends to its support 
 and welfare, he considers as having a remote tendency to his 
 own interest; and, on the contrary, whatever is likely to disturb 
 or destroy it, he regards as in some measure hurtful or per- 
 nicious to himself. Virtue is the great support and vice the 
 great disturber of human society. The former, therefore, is 
 agreeable and the latter offensive to every man ; as from the 
 one he foresees the prosperity, and from the other the ruin and 
 disorder of what is so necessary for the comfort and security 
 of his existence. 
 
 337 That the tendency of virtue to promote, and of vice to 
 disturb the order of society, when we consider it coolly and 
 philosophically, reflects a very great beauty upon the one, 
 and a very great deformity upon the other, cannot, as I have 
 observed upon a former occasion, be called in question. 
 Human society, when we contemplate it in a certain abstract 
 and philosophical light, appears like a great, an immense 
 machine, whose regular and harmonious movements produce 
 a thousand agreeable effects. As in any other beautiful and 
 noble machine that was the production of human art, what- 
 ever tended to render its movements more smooth and easy, 
 would derive a beauty from this effect, and, on the contrary, 
 whatever tended to obstruct them would displease upon that 
 account : so virtue, which is, as it were, the fine polish to the 
 wheels of society, necessarily pleases ; while vice, like the vile 
 rust, which makes them jar and grate upon one another, is as 
 necessarily offensive. This account, therefore, of the origin of 
 approbation and disapprobation, so far as it derives them from 
 a regard to the order of society, runs into that principle which 
 gives beauty to utility, and which I have explained upon 
 a former occasion ; and it is from thence that this system 
 derives all that appearance of probability which it possesses. 
 When those authors describe the innumerable advantages of
 
 322 SMITH. [Pt. VII. Sec. III. 
 
 a cultivated and social, above a savage and solitary life ; when 
 they expatiate upon the necessity of virtue and good order for 
 the maintenance of the one, and demonstrate how infallibly 
 the prevalence of vice and disobedience to the laws tend to 
 bring back the other, the reader is charmed with the novelty 
 and grandeur of those views which they open to him : he sees 
 plainly a new beauty in virtue, and a new deformity in vice, 
 which he had never taken notice of before, and is commonly 
 so delighted with the discovery, that he seldom takes time to 
 reflect, that this political view having never occurred to him in 
 his life before, cannot possibly be the ground of that appro- 
 bation and disapprobation with which he has always been 
 accustomed to consider those different qualities. 
 338 When those authors, on the other hand, deduce from self- 
 love the interest which we take in the welfare of society, and 
 the esteem which upon that account we bestow upon virtue, 
 they do not mean, that when we in this age applaud the virtue 
 of Cato, and detest the villany of Catiline, our sentiments are 
 influenced by the notion of any benefit we receive from the 
 one, or of any detriment we suffer from the other. It was not 
 because the prosperity or subversion of society, in those remote 
 ages and nations, was apprehended to have any influence upon 
 our happiness or misery in the present times ; that according 
 to those philosophers, we esteemed the virtuous, and blamed 
 the disorderly character. They never imagined that our 
 sentiments were influenced by any benefit or damage which 
 we supposed actually to redound to us, from either; but by 
 that which might have redounded to us, had we lived in 
 those distant ages and countries ; or by that which might still 
 redound to us, if in our own times we should meet with char- 
 acters of the same kind. The idea, in short, which those 
 authors were groping about, but which they were never able to 
 unfold distinctly, was that indirect sympathy which we feel 
 with the gratitude or resentment of those who received the 
 benefit or suffered the damage resulting from such opposite
 
 Chap. I.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 323 
 
 characters : and it was this which they were indistinctly 
 pointing at, when they said, that it was not the thought of 
 what we had gained or suffered which prompted our applause 
 or indignation, but the conception or imagination of what we 
 might gain or suffer if we were to act in society with such 
 associates. 
 
 339 Sympathy, however, cannot, in any sense, be regarded as 
 a selfish principle. When I sympathize with your sorrow 
 or your indignation, it may be pretended, indeed, that my 
 emotion is founded in self-love, because it arises from 
 bringing your case home to myself, from putting myself 
 in your situation, and thence conceiving what I should feel 
 in the like circumstances. But though sympathy is very 
 properly said to arise from an imaginary change of situations 
 with the person principally concerned, yet this imaginary 
 change is not supposed to happen to me in my own person 
 and character, but in that of the person with whom I sym- 
 pathize. When I condole with you for the loss of your only 
 son, in order to enter into your grief I do not consider what 
 I, a person of such a character and profession, should suffer, 
 if I had a son, and if that son was unfortunately to die : but 
 I consider what I should suffer if I was really you, and I not 
 only change circumstances with you, but I change persons 
 and characters. My grief, therefore, is entirely upon your 
 account, and not in the least upon my own. It is not, 
 therefore, in the least selfish. How can that be regarded 
 as a selfish passion, which does not arise even from the 
 imagination of any thing that has befallen, or that relates 
 to myself, in my own proper person and character, but which 
 is entirely occupied about what relates to you ? A man may 
 sympathize with a woman in child-bed ; though it is impossible 
 that he should conceive himself as suffering her pains in his own 
 proper person and character. That whole account of human 
 nature, however, which deduces all sentiments and affections 
 from self-love, which has made so much noise in the world, 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 SMITH. [Pt. VII. Sec. lit. 
 
 but which, so far as I know, has never yet been fully and 
 distinctly explained, seems to me to have arisen from some 
 confused misapprehension of the system of sympathy. 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF THOSE SYSTEMS WHICH MAKE REASON 
 THE PRINCIPLE OF APPROBATION. 
 
 340 IT is well known to have been the doctrine of Mr. Hobbes, 
 that a state of nature is a state of war ; and that antecedent 
 to the institution of civil government, there could be no 
 safe or peaceable society among men. To preserve society, 
 therefore, according to him, was to support civil government, 
 and to destroy civil government was the same thing as to put 
 an end to society. But the existence of civil government 
 depends upon the obedience that is paid to the supreme 
 magistrate. The moment he loses his authority, all govern- 
 ment is at an end. As self-preservation, therefore, teaches 
 men to applaud whatever tends to promote the welfare of 
 society, and to blame whatever is likely to hurt it; so the 
 same principle, if they would think and speak consistently, 
 ought to teach them to applaud upon all occasions obedience 
 to the civil magistrate, and to blame all disobedience and 
 rebellion. The very ideas of laudable and blameable, ought 
 to be the same with those of obedience and disobedience. 
 The laws of the civil magistrate, therefore, ought to be 
 regarded as the sole ultimate standards of what was just and 
 unjust, of what was right and wrong. 
 
 341 It was the avowed intention of Mr. Hobbes, by propagating 
 these notions, to subject the consciences of men immediately 
 to the civil, and not to the ecclesiastical powers, whose 
 turbulence and ambition, he had been taught, by the example 
 of his own times, to regard as the principal source of the 
 disorders of society. His doctrine, upon this account, was 
 peculiarly offensive to theologians, who accordingly did not 
 fail to vent their indignation against him with great asperity
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 325 
 
 and bitterness. It was likewise offensive to all sound moralists, 
 as it supposed that there was no natural distinction between 
 right and wrong, that these were mutable and changeable, and 
 depended upon the mere arbitrary will of the civil magistrate. 
 This account of things, therefore, was attacked from all quarters 
 and by all sorts of weapons, by sober reason as well as by 
 furious declamation. 
 
 342 In order to confute so odious a doctrine, it was necessary 
 to prove, that antecedent to all law or positive institution, 
 the mind was naturally endowed with a faculty, by which 
 it distinguished in certain actions and affections, the qualities 
 of right, laudable, and virtuous, and in others those of wrong, 
 blameable, and vicious. 
 
 Law, it was justly observed by Dr. Cudworth 1 , could not 
 be the original source of those distinctions ; since, upon the 
 supposition of such a law, it must either be right to obey it, 
 and wrong to disobey it, or indifferent whether we obeyed it, 
 or disobeyed it. That law which it was indifferent whether 
 we obeyed or disobeyed, could not, it was evident, be the 
 source of those distinctions ; neither could that which it was 
 right to obey and wrong to disobey, since even this still 
 supposed the antecedent notions or ideas of right and wrong, 
 and that obedience to the law was conformable to the idea 
 of right, and disobedience to that of wrong. 
 
 343 Since the mind, therefore, had a notion of those distinctions, 
 antecedent to all law, it seemed necessarily to follow, that it 
 derived this notion from reason, which pointed out the 
 difference between right and wrong, in the same manner 
 in which it did that between truth and falsehood : and this 
 conclusion, which, though true in some respects, is rather 
 hasty in others, was more easily received at a time when 
 the abstract science of human nature was but in its infancy, 
 and before the distinct offices and powers of the different 
 faculties of the human mind had been carefully examined 
 
 1 Immutable Morality, 1. i.
 
 326 SMITH. [Pt. VII. Sec. III. 
 
 and distinguished from one another. When this controversy 
 with Mr. Hobbes was carried on with the greatest warmth 
 and keenness, no other faculty had been thought of from 
 which any such ideas could possibly be supposed to arise. 
 It became at this time, therefore, the popular doctrine, that 
 the essence of virtue and vice did not consist in the conformity 
 or disagreement of human actions with the law of a superior, 
 but in their conformity or disagreement with reason, which 
 was thus considered as the original source and principle of 
 approbation and disapprobation. 
 
 344 That virtue consists in conformity to reason, is true in some 
 respects, and this faculty may very justly be considered as, 
 in some sense, the source and principle of approbation and 
 disapprobation, and of all solid judgments concerning right 
 and wrong. It is by reason that we discover those general 
 rules of justice by which we ought to regulate our actions : 
 and it is by the same faculty that we form those more vague 
 and indeterminate ideas of what is prudent, of what is decent, 
 of what is generous or noble, which we carry constantly about 
 with us, and according to which we endeavour, as well as we 
 can, to model the tenour of our conduct. The general maxims 
 of morality are formed, like all other general maxims, from 
 experience and induction. We' observe in a great variety 
 of particular cases what pleases or displeases our moral 
 faculties, what these approve or disapprove of, and, by 
 induction from this experience, we establish those general 
 rules. But induction is always regarded as one of the 
 operations of reason. From reason, therefore, we are very 
 properly said to derive all those general maxims and ideas. 
 It is by these, however, that we regulate the greater part of 
 our moral judgments, which would be extremely uncertain 
 and precarious if they depended altogether upon what is 
 liable to so many variations as immediate sentiment and 
 feeling, which the different states of health and humour are 
 capable of altering so essentially. As our most solid judg-
 
 Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 327 
 
 ments, therefore, with regard to right and wrong, are regulated 
 by maxims and ideas derived from an induction of reason, 
 virtue may very properly be said to consist in a conformity 
 to reason, and so far this faculty may be considered as the 
 source and principle of approbation and disapprobation. 
 345 But though reason is undoubtedly the source of the general 
 rules of morality, and of all the moral judgments which we form 
 by means of them ; it is altogether absurd and unintelligible 
 to suppose that the first perceptions of right and wrong 
 can be derived from reason, even in those particular cases 
 upon the experience of which the general rules are formed. 
 These first perceptions, as well as all other experiments upon 
 which any general rules are founded, cannot be the object 
 of reason but of immediate sense and feeling. It is by 
 finding in a vast variety of instances that one tenour of conduct 
 constantly pleases in a certain manner, and that another as 
 constantly displeases the mind, that we form the general 
 rules of morality. But reason cannot render any particular 
 object either agreeable or disagreeable to the mind for its own 
 'sake. Reason may show that this object is the means of 
 obtaining some other which is naturally either pleasing or 
 displeasing, and in this manner may render it either agreeable 
 or disagreeable for the sake of something else. But nothing 
 can be agreeable or disagreeable for its own sake, which is not 
 rendered such by immediate sense and feeling. If virtue, 
 therefore, in every particular instance, necessarily pleases for 
 its own sake, and if vice as certainly displeases the mind, 
 it cannot be reason, but immediate sense and feeling, which, 
 in this manner, reconciles us to the one, and alienates us 
 from the other. 
 
 Pleasure and pain are the great objects of desire and 
 aversion : but these are distinguished not by reason, but 
 by immediate sense and feeling. If virtue, therefore, be de- 
 sirable for its own sake, and if vice be, in the same manner, 
 the object of aversion, it cannot be reason which originally
 
 328 SMITH. [Pt.VII. Sec. III. 
 
 distinguishes those different qualities, but immediate sense 
 and feeling. 
 
 346 As reason, however, in a certain sense, may justly be 
 considered as the principle of approbation and disapprobation, 
 these sentiments were, through inattention, long regarded 
 as originally flowing from the operations of this faculty. 
 Dr. Hutcheson had the merit of being the first who distin- 
 guished with any degree of precision in what respect all 
 moral distinctions may be said to arise from reason, and in 
 what respect they are founded upon immediate sense and 
 feeling. In his illustrations upon the moral sense he has 
 explained this so fully, and, in my opinion, so unanswerably, 
 that, if any controversy is still kept up about this subject, 
 I can impute it to nothing, but either to inattention to what 
 that gentleman has written, or to a superstitious attachment to 
 certain forms of expression, a weakness not very uncommon 
 among the learned, especially in subjects so deeply interesting 
 as the present, in which a man of virtue is often loath to 
 abandon, even the propriety of a single phrase which he has 
 been accustomed to. 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF THOSE SYSTEMS WHICH MAKE SENTI- 
 MENT THE PRINCIPLE OF APPROBATION. 
 
 347 THOSE systems which make sentiment the principle of 
 approbation may be divided into two different classes. 
 
 I. According to some, the principle of approbation is 
 founded upon a sentiment of a peculiar nature, upon a 
 particular power of perception exerted by the mind at the 
 view of certain actions or affections ; some of which affecting 
 this faculty in an agreeable and others in a disagreeable 
 manner, the former are stamped with the characters of right, 
 laudable, and virtuous ; the latter with those of wrong, 
 blameable, and vicious. This sentiment being of a peculiar 
 nature distinct from every other, and the effect of a particular
 
 Chap. III.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 329 
 
 power of perception, they give it a particular name, and call it 
 a moral sense. 
 
 II. According to others, in order to account for the principle 
 of approbation, there is no occasion for supposing any new 
 power of perception which had never been heard of before : 
 Nature, they imagine, acts here, as in all other cases, with 
 the strictest oeconomy, and produces a multitude of effects 
 from one and the same cause ; and sympathy, a power which 
 has always been taken notice of, and with which the mind 
 is manifestly endowed, is, they think, sufficient to account 
 for all the effects ascribed to this peculiar faculty. 
 
 348 I. Dr. Hutcheson l had been at great pains to prove that 
 the principle of approbation was not founded on self-love. 
 He had demonstrated too that it could not arise from any 
 operation of reason. Nothing remained, he thought, but to 
 suppose it a faculty of a peculiar kind, with which Nature 
 had endowed the human mind, in order to produce this one 
 particular and important effect. When self-love and reason 
 were both excluded, it did not occur to him that there was 
 any other known faculty of the mind which could in any respect 
 answer this purpose. 
 
 ******* 
 
 349 But notwithstanding all the pains which this ingenious 
 philosopher has taken to prove that the principle of ap- 
 probation is founded in a peculiar power of perception, 
 somewhat analogous to the external senses, there are some 
 consequences which he acknowledges to follow from this 
 doctrine, that will, perhaps, be regarded by many as a sufficient 
 confutation of it. The qualities, he allows 2 , which belong to 
 the objects of any sense, cannot, without the greatest ab- 
 surdity, be ascribed to the sense itself. Who ever thought of 
 calling the sense of seeing black or white, the sense of hearing 
 loud or low, or the sense of tasting sweet or bitter? And, 
 
 1 Inquiry concerning Virtue. 
 
 2 Illustrations upon the Moral Sense, sect. i.
 
 33 SMITH. [Pt. VII. Sec. III. 
 
 according to him, it is equally absurd to call our moral 
 faculties virtuous or vicious, morally good or evil. These 
 qualities belong to the objects of those faculties, not to the 
 faculties themselves. If any man, therefore, was so absurdly 
 constituted as to approve of cruelty and injustice as the highest 
 virtues, and to disapprove of equity and humanity as the most 
 pitiful vices, such a constitution of mind might indeed be 
 regarded as inconvenient both to the individual and to the 
 society, and likewise as strange, surprising, and unnatural in 
 itself; but it could not, without the greatest absurdity, be 
 denominated vicious or morally evil. 
 
 350 Yet surely if we saw any man shouting with admiration and 
 applause at a barbarous and unmerited execution, which 
 some insolent tyrant had ordered, we should not think we 
 were guilty of any great absurdity in denominating this 
 behaviour vicious and morally evil in the highest degree, 
 though it expressed nothing but depraved moral faculties, or 
 an absurd approbation of this horrid action, as of what was 
 noble, magnanimous, and great. Our heart, I imagine, at 
 the sight of such a spectator, would forget for a while its 
 sympathy with the sufferer, and feel nothing but horror and 
 detestation, at the thought of so execrable a wretch. We 
 should abominate him even more than the tyrant who might 
 be goaded on by the strong passions of jealousy, fear, and 
 resentment, and upon that account be more excusable. But 
 the sentiments of the spectator would appear altogether 
 without cause or motive, and therefore most perfectly and 
 completely detestable. There is no perversion of sentiment 
 or affection which our heart would be more averse to enter 
 into, or which it would reject with greater hatred and indigna- 
 tion than one of this kind ; and so far from regarding such 
 a constitution of mind as being merely something strange or 
 inconvenient, and not in any respect vicious or morally evil, 
 we should rather consider it as the very last and most dreadful 
 stage of moral depravity.
 
 Chap. III.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 331 
 
 351 Correct moral sentiments, on the contrary, naturally appear 
 in some degree laudable and morally good. The man, whose 
 censure and applause are upon all occasions suited with the 
 greatest accuracy to the value or unworthiness of the object, 
 seems to deserve a degree even of moral approbation. We 
 admire the delicate precision of his moral sentiments : they 
 lead our own judgments, and, upon account of their un- 
 common and surprising justness, they even excite our wonder 
 and applause. We cannot indeed be always sure that the 
 conduct of such a person would be in any respect cor- 
 respondent to the precision and accuracy of his judgments 
 concerning the conduct of others. Virtue requires habit and 
 resolution of mind, as well as delicacy of sentiment; and 
 unfortunately the former qualities are sometimes wanting, 
 where the latter is in the greatest perfection. This dispo- 
 sition of mind, however, though it may sometimes be attended 
 with imperfections, is incompatible with any thing that is 
 grossly criminal, and is the happiest foundation upon which 
 the superstructure of perfect virtue can be built. There are 
 many men who mean very well, and seriously purpose to 
 do what they think their duty, who notwithstanding are 
 disagreeable on account of the coarseness of their moral 
 sentiments. 
 
 352 It may be said, perhaps, that though the principle of ap- 
 probation is not founded upon any power of perception that is 
 in any respect analogous to the external senses, it may still 
 be founded upon a peculiar sentiment which answers this 
 one particular purpose and no other. Approbation and dis- 
 approbation, it may be pretended, are certain feelings or 
 emotions which arise in the mind upon the view of different 
 characters and actions ; and as resentment might be called 
 a sense of injuries, or gratitude a sense of benefits, so these 
 may very properly receive the name of a sense of right and 
 wrong, or of a moral sense. 
 
 But this account of things, though it may not be liable to
 
 33 2 SMITH. [Pt. VII. Sec. III. 
 
 the same objections with the foregoing, is exposed to others 
 which are equally unanswerable. 
 
 353 First of all, whatever variations any particular emotion may 
 undergo, it still preserves the general features which distinguish 
 it to be an emotion of such a kind, and these general features 
 are always more striking and remarkable than any variation 
 which it may undergo in particular cases. Thus anger is an 
 emotion of a particular kind : and accordingly its general features 
 are always more distinguishable than all the variations it under- 
 goes in particular cases. Anger against a man is, no doubt, 
 somewhat different from anger against a woman, and that again 
 from anger against a child. In each of those three cases, the 
 general passion of anger receives a different modification from 
 the particular character of its object, as may easily be observed 
 by the attentive. But still the general features of the 
 passion predominate in all these cases. To distinguish these, 
 requires no nice observation : a very delicate attention, on 
 the contrary, is necessary to discover their variations, every 
 body takes notice of the former; scarce any body observes 
 the latter. If approbation and disapprobation, therefore, 
 were, like gratitude and resentment, emotions of a particular 
 kind, distinct from every other, we should expect that 
 in all the variations which either of them might undergo, it 
 would still retain the general features which mark it to be an 
 emotion of such a particular kind, clear, plain, and easily 
 distinguishable. But in fact it happens quite otherwise. If 
 we attend to what we really feel when upon different occasions 
 we either approve or disapprove, we shall find that our emotion 
 in one case is often totally different from that in another, 
 and that no common features can possibly be discovered 
 between them. Thus the approbation with which we view 
 a tender, delicate, and humane sentiment, is quite different 
 from that with which we are struck by one that appears great, 
 daring, and magnanimous. Our approbation of both may, 
 upon different occasions, be perfect and entire ; but we are
 
 Chap. III.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 333 
 
 softened by the one, and we are elevated by the other, and 
 there is no sort of resemblance between the emotions which 
 they excite in us. But, according to that system which I have 
 been endeavouring to establish, this must necessarily be the 
 case. As the emotions of the person whom we approve 
 of, are, in those two cases, quite opposite to one another, and 
 as our approbation arises from sympathy with those opposite 
 emotions, what we feel upon the one occasion, can have no 
 sort of resemblance to what we feel upon the other. But this 
 could not happen if approbation consisted in a peculiar 
 emotion which had nothing in common with the sentiments 
 we approved of, but which arose at the view of those 
 sentiments, like any other passion at the view of its proper 
 object. The same thing holds true with regard to disap- 
 probation. Our horror for cruelty has no sort of resemblance 
 to our contempt for mean-spiritedness. It is quite a different 
 species of discord which we feel at the view of those two 
 different vices, between our own minds and those of the 
 person whose sentiments and behaviour we consider. 
 354 Secondly, I have already observed, that not only the 
 different passions or affections of the human mind which are 
 approved or disapproved of, appear morally good or evil, but 
 that proper and improper approbation appear to our natural 
 sentiments, to be stamped with the same characters. I would 
 ask, therefore, how it is, that, according to this system, we 
 approve or disapprove of proper or improper approbation? 
 To this question there is, I imagine, but one reasonable 
 answer, which can possibly be given. It must be said, that 
 when the approbation with which our neighbour regards the 
 conduct of a third person coincides with our own, we approve 
 of his approbation, and consider it as, in some measure, 
 morally good ; and that on the contrary, when it does not 
 coincide with our own sentiments, we disapprove of it, and 
 consider it as, in some measure, morally evil. It must 
 be allowed, therefore, that, at least in this one case, the
 
 334 SMITH. [Pt. VII. Sec. I1L 
 
 coincidence or opposition of sentiments, between the observer 
 and the person observed, constitutes moral approbation or 
 disapprobation. And if it does so in this one case, I would 
 ask, why not in every other? to what purpose imagine 
 a new power of perception in order to account for those 
 sentiments ? 
 
 355 Against every account of the principle of approbation, 
 which makes it depend upon a peculiar sentiment, distinct 
 from every other, I would object ; that it is strange that 
 this sentiment, which Providence undoubtedly intended to be 
 the governing principle of human nature, should hitherto 
 have been so little taken notice of, as not to have got a name 
 in any language. The word moral sense is of very late 
 formation, and cannot yet be considered as making part of 
 the English tongue. The word approbation has but within 
 these few years been appropriated to denote peculiarly any 
 thing of this kind. In propriety of language we approve 
 of whatever is entirely to our satisfaction, of the form of 
 a building, of the contrivance of a machine, of the flavour 
 of a dish of meat. The word conscience does not immediately 
 denote any moral faculty by which we approve or disapprove. 
 Conscience supposes, indeed, the existence of some such 
 faculty, and properly signifies our consciousness of having 
 acted agreeably or contrary to its directions. When love, 
 hatred, joy, sorrow, gratitude, resentment, with so many other 
 passions which are all supposed to be the subjects of 
 this principle, have made themselves considerable enough to 
 get titles to know them by, is it not surprising that the 
 sovereign of them all should hitherto have been so little 
 heeded, that, a few philosophers excepted, nobody has yet 
 thought it worth while to bestow a name upon it. 
 
 356 When we approve of any character or action, the sentiments 
 which we feel are, according to the foregoing system, derived 
 from four sources, which are in some respects different from 
 one another. First, we sympathize with the motives of the
 
 Chap. III.] THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS. 335 
 
 agent ; secondly, we enter into the gratitude of those who 
 receive the benefit of his actions ; thirdly, we observe that his 
 conduct has been agreeable to the general rules by which 
 those two sympathies generally act ; and, last of all, when 
 we consider such actions as making a part of a system of 
 behaviour which tends to promote the happiness either of the 
 individual or of the society, they appear to derive a beauty 
 from this utility, not unlike that which we ascribe to any 
 well-contrived machine. After deducting, in any one particular 
 case, all that must be acknowledged to proceed from some 
 one or other of these four principles, I should be glad to 
 know what remains, and I shall freely allow this overplus to 
 be ascribed to a moral sense, or to any other peculiar faculty, 
 provided any body will ascertain precisely what this overplus 
 is. It might be expected, perhaps, that if there was any such 
 peculiar principle, such as this moral sense is supposed to 
 be, we should feel it, in some particular cases, separated and 
 detached from every other, as we often feel joy, sorrow, hope, 
 and fear, pure and unmixed with any other emotion. This 
 however, I imagine, cannot even be pretended. I have never 
 heard any instance alleged in which this principle could be said 
 to exert itself alone and unmixed with sympathy or antipathy^ 
 with gratitude or resentment, with the perception of the 
 agreement or disagreement of any action to an established 
 rule, or last of all with that general taste for beauty and 
 order which is excited by inanimated as well as by animated 
 objects. 
 
 357 II. There is another system which attempts to account for 
 the origin of our moral sentiments from sympathy, distinct 
 from that which I have been endeavouring to establish. It 
 is that which places virtue in utility, and accounts for the 
 pleasure with which the spectator surveys the utility of any 
 quality from sympathy with the happiness of those who are 
 affected by it. This sympathy is different both from that 
 by which we enter into the motives of the agent, and from
 
 336 SMITH. 
 
 that by which we go along with the gratitude of the persons 
 who are benefited by his actions. It is the same principle 
 with that by which we approve of a well-contrived machine. 
 But no machine can be the object of either of those two 
 last-mentioned sympathies. I have already, in the fourth 
 part of this discourse, given some account of this system.
 
 BENTHAM 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO THE PRIN- 
 CIPLES OF MORALS AND 
 LEGISLATION
 
 [First printed, 1780; first published, 1789. 
 Reprinted here from the corrected edition, London, 1823.]
 
 BENTHAM 
 
 An Introduction to the Principles of 
 Morals and Legislation 
 
 CHAPTER I. OF THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY. 
 
 358 i. NATURE has placed mankind under the governance of two 
 sovereign masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them alone to 
 point out what we ought to do, as well as to determine what 
 we shall do. On the one hand the standard of right and 
 wrong, on the other the chain of causes and effects, are 
 fastened to their throne. They govern us in all we do, in all 
 we say, in all we think : every effort we can make to throw 
 off our subjection, will serve but to demonstrate and confirm 
 it. In words a man may pretend to abjure their empire : 
 but in reality he will remain subject to it all the while. The 
 principle of utility^ recognises the subjection, and assumes 
 
 1 Note by the Author, July 1812. 
 
 To this denomination has of late been added, or substituted, the greatest 
 happiness or greatest felicity principle : this for shortness, instead of saying 
 at length that principle which states the greatest happiness of all those 
 whose interest is in question, as being the right and proper, and only right 
 and proper and universally desirable, end of human action : of human 
 action in every situation, and in particular in that of a functionary or set of 
 functionaries exercising the powers of government. The word ittility does 
 not so clearly point to the ideas of pleasure and pain as the words happiness 
 and felicity do : nor does it lead us to the consideration of the number, of 
 
 Z 2
 
 340 BE NTH AM. [Chap. I. 
 
 it for the foundation of that system, the object of which is to 
 rear the fabric of felicity by the hands of reason and of law. 
 Systems which attempt to question it, deal in sounds instead 
 of sense, in caprice instead of reason, in darkness instead 
 of light. 
 
 But enough of metaphor and declamation : it is not by 
 such means that moral science is to be improved. 
 
 359 n. The principle of utility is the foundation of the present 
 work : it will be proper therefore at the outset to give an 
 explicit and determinate account of what is meant by it. By 
 the principle l of utility is meant that principle which approves 
 or disapproves of every action whatsoever, according to the 
 tendency which it appears to have to augment or diminish 
 the happiness of the party whose interest is in question : 
 or, what is the same thing in other words, to promote or to 
 oppose that happiness. I say of every action whatsoever ; 
 and therefore not only of every action of a private individual, 
 but of every measure of government. 
 
 360 Hi- By utility is meant that property in any object, whereby 
 it tends to produce benefit, advantage, pleasure, good, or 
 happiness, (all this in the present case comes to the same 
 thing) or (what comes again to the same thing) to prevent 
 the happening of mischief, pain, evil, or unhappiness to the 
 party whose interest is considered : if that party be the com- 
 munity in general, then the happiness of the community : if a 
 particular individual, then the happiness of that individual. 
 
 the interests affected ; to the number, as being the circumstance, which 
 contributes, in the largest proportion, to the formation of the standard here 
 in question ; the standard of right and wrong, by which alone the propriety 
 of human conduct, in every situation, can with propriety be tried. This want of 
 a sufficiently manifest connexion between the ideas of happiness send, pleasure 
 on the one hand, and the idea of utility on the other, 1 have every now and 
 then found operating, and with but too much efficiency, as a bar to the 
 acceptance, that might otherwise have been given, to this principle. 
 
 1 * * * The principle here in question may be taken for an act of the 
 mind ; a sentiment ; a sentiment of approbation ; a sentiment which, when 
 applied to an action, approves of its utility, as that quality of it by which 
 the measures of approbation or disapprobation bestowed upon it ought to 
 be governed.
 
 Chap. I.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 341 
 
 361 iv. The interest of the community is one of the most general 
 expressions that can occur in the phraseology of morals : 
 no wonder that the meaning of it is often lost. When it has 
 a meaning, it is this. The community is a fictitious body, 
 composed of the individual persons who are considered as 
 constituting as it were its members. The interest of the com- 
 munity then is, what ? the sum of the interests of the several 
 members who compose it. 
 
 v. It is in vain to talk of the interest of the community, 
 without understanding what is the interest of the individual \ 
 A thing is said to promote the interest, or to be for the 
 interest, of an individual, when it tends to add to the sum 
 total of his pleasures : or, what comes to the same thing, 
 to diminish the sum total of his pains. 
 
 362 vi. An action then may be said to be conformable to the 
 principle of utility, or, for shortness sake, to utility, (meaning 
 with respect to the community at large) when the tendency 
 it has to augment the happiness of the community is greater 
 than any it has to diminish it. 
 
 vn. A measure of government (which is but a particular 
 kind of action, performed by a particular person or persons) 
 may be said to be conformable to or dictated by the prin- 
 ciple of utility, when in like manner the tendency which it 
 has to augment the happiness of the community is greater 
 than any which it has to diminish it. 
 
 vin. When an action, or in particular a measure of govern- 
 ment, is supposed by a man to be conformable to the principle 
 of utility, it may be convenient, for the purposes of discourse, 
 to imagine a kind of law or dictate, called a law or dictate 
 of utility : and to speak of the action in question, as being 
 conformable to such law or dictate. 
 
 ix. A man may be said to be a partizan of the principle of 
 utility, when the approbation or disapprobation he annexes 
 
 1 Interest is one of those words, which not having any superior genus, 
 cannot in the ordinary way be defined.
 
 342 BENTHAM. [Chap. I. 
 
 to any action, or to any measure, is determined by and 
 proportioned to the tendency which he conceives it to have 
 to augment or to diminish the happiness of the community : 
 or in other words, to its conformity or unconformity to the 
 laws or dictates of utility. 
 
 363 x. Of an action that is conformable to the principle of utility, 
 one may always say either that it is one that ought to be done, 
 or at least that it is not one that ought not to be done. One 
 may say also, that it is right it should be done ; at least that 
 it is not wrong it should be done : that it is a right action ; 
 at least that it is not a wrong action. When thus interpreted, 
 the words ought, and right and wrong, and others of that 
 stamp, have a meaning : when otherwise, they have none. 
 
 364 xi. Has the rectitude of this principle been ever formally 
 contested? It should seem that it had, by those who have 
 not known what they have been meaning. Is it susceptible 
 of any direct proof? It should seem not : for that which is 
 used to prove every thing else, cannot itself be proved : 
 a chain of proofs must have their commencement somewhere. 
 To give such proof is as impossible as it is needless. 
 
 xii. Not that there is or ever has been that human creature 
 breathing, however stupid or perverse, who has not on many, 
 perhaps on most occasions of his life, deferred to it. By the 
 natural constitution of the human frame, on most occasions 
 of their lives men in general embrace this principle, without 
 thinking of it : if not for the ordering of their own actions, 
 yet for the trying of their own actions, as well as of those 
 of other men. There have been, at the same time, not many, 
 perhaps, even of the most intelligent, who have been disposed 
 to embrace it purely and without reserve. There are even 
 few who have not taken some occasion or other to quarrel 
 with it, either on account of their not understanding always 
 how to apply it, or on account of some prejudice or other 
 which they were afraid to examine into, or could not bear 
 to part with. For such is the stuff that man is made of:
 
 Chap. I.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 343 
 
 in principle and in practice, in a right track and in a wrong 
 one, the rarest of all human qualities is consistency. 
 
 385 xiii. When a man attempts to combat the principle of utility, 
 it is with reasons drawn, without his being aware of it, from 
 that very principle itself 1 . His arguments, if they prove any 
 thing, prove not that the principle is wrong, but that, according 
 to the applications he supposes to be made of it, it is mis- 
 applied. Is it possible for a man to move the earth ? Yes ; 
 but he must first find out another earth to siand upon. 
 
 366 To disprove the propriety of it by arguments is impossible ; 
 but, from the causes that have been mentioned, or from some 
 confused or partial view of it, a man may happen to be 
 disposed not to relish it. Where this is the case, if he thinks 
 the settling of his opinions on such a subject worth the trouble, 
 let him take the following steps, and at length, perhaps, he 
 may come to reconcile himself to it. 
 
 1. Let him settle with himself, whether he would wish to 
 discard this principle altogether ; if so, let him consider what 
 it is that all his reasonings (in matters of politics especially) 
 can amount to ? 
 
 2. If he would, let him settle with himself, whether he would 
 judge and act without any principle, or whether there is any 
 other he would judge and act by ? 
 
 3. If there be, let him examine and satisfy himself whether 
 the principle he thinks he has found is really any separate 
 intelligible principle ; or whether it be not a mere principle in 
 words, a kind of phrase, which at bottom expresses neither 
 more nor less than the mere averment of his own unfounded 
 sentiments ; that is, what in another person he might be apt 
 to call caprice ? 
 
 4. If he is inclined to think that his own approbation or 
 
 1 ' The principle of utility, (I have heard it said") is a dangerous principle : 
 it is dangerous on certain occasions to consult it. This is as much as to 
 say, what ? that it is not consonant to utility, to consult utility : in short, 
 that it is not consulting it, to consult it.
 
 344 BENTHAM. [Chap. I. 
 
 disapprobation, annexed to the idea of an act, without any 
 regard to its consequences, is a sufficient foundation for him to 
 judge and act upon, let him ask himself whether his sentiment 
 is to be a standard of right and wrong, with respect to every 
 other man, or whether every man's sentiment has the same 
 privilege of being a standard to itself? 
 
 5. In the first case, let him ask himself whether his 
 principle is not despotical, and hostile to all the rest of human 
 race? 
 
 6. In the second case, whether it is not anarchial, and 
 whether at this rate there are not as many different standards 
 of right and wrong as there are men ? and whether even to 
 the same man, the same thing, which is right to-day, may not 
 (without the least change in its nature) be wrong to-morrow ? 
 and whether the same thing is not right and wrong in the 
 same place at the same time ? and in either case, whether all 
 argument is not at an end ? and whether, when two men have 
 said, ' I like this,' and ' I don't like it,' they can (upon such 
 a principle) have any thing more to say ? 
 
 7. If he should have said to himself, No : for that the 
 sentiment which he proposes as a standard must be grounded 
 on reflection, let him say on what particulars the reflection is to 
 turn ? if on particulars having relation to the utility of the act, 
 then let him say whether this is not deserting his own principle, 
 and borrowing assistance from that very one in opposition to 
 which he sets it up : or if not on those particulars, on what 
 other particulars ? 
 
 8. If he should be for compounding the matter, and 
 adopting his own principle in part, and the principle of utility 
 in part, let him say how far he will adopt it ? 
 
 9. When he has settled with himself where he will stop, 
 then let him ask himself how he justifies to himself the 
 adopting it so far? and why he will not adopt it any 
 
 arther ? 
 
 10. Admitting any other principle than the principle of
 
 Chap. II j THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 345 
 
 utility to be a right principle, a principle that it is right for 
 a man to pursue ; admitting (what is not true) that the word 
 right can have a meaning without reference to utility, let him 
 say whether there is any such thing as a motive that a man can 
 have to pursue the dictates of it : if there is, let him say what 
 that motive is, and how it is to be distinguished from those 
 which enforce the dictates of utility : if not, then lastly let him 
 say what it is this other principle can be good for ? 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF PRINCIPLES ADVERSE TO THAT OF 
 UTILITY. 
 
 367 i. IF the principle of utility be a right principle to be 
 governed by, and that in all cases, it follows from what has 
 been just observed, that whatever principle differs from it in 
 any case must necessarily be a wrong one. To prove any 
 other principle, therefore, to be a wrong one, there needs no 
 more than just to show it to be what it is, a principle of which 
 the dictates are in some point or other different from those of 
 the principle of utility : to state it is to confute it. 
 
 ii. A principle may be different from that of utility in two 
 ways: i. By being constantly opposed to it: this is the case 
 with a principle which may be termed the principle of asceti- 
 cism. 2. By being sometimes opposed to it, and sometimes 
 not, as it may happen : this is the case with another, which 
 may be termed the principle of sympathy and antipathy. 
 
 368 in. By the principle of asceticism I mean that principle, 
 which, like the principle of utility, approves or disapproves 
 of any action, according to the tendency which it appears to 
 have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose 
 interest is in question ; but in an inverse manner : approving 
 of actions in as far as they tend to diminish his happiness ; 
 disapproving of them in as far as they tend to augment it. 
 
 ******* 
 
 ix. The principle of asceticism seems originally to have been 
 the reverie of certain hasty speculators, who having perceived,
 
 34 6 BENTHAM. [Chap. II. 
 
 or fancied, that certain pleasures, when reaped in^ certain 
 circumstances, have, at the long run, been attended with pains 
 more than equivalent to them, took occasion to quarrel with 
 every thing that offered itself under the name of pleasure. 
 Having then got thus far, and having forgot the point which 
 they set out from, they pushed on, and went so much further 
 as to think it meritorious to fall in love with pain. Even this 
 we see, is at bottom but the principle of utility misapplied. 
 
 x. The principle of utility is capable of being consistently 
 pursued ; and it is but tautology to say, that the more con- 
 sistently it is pursued, the better it must ever be for human- 
 kind. The principle of asceticism never was, nor ever can 
 be, consistently pursued by any living creature. Let but one 
 tenth part of the inhabitants of this earth pursue it consistently, 
 and in a day's time they will have turned it into a hell. 
 
 369 xi. Among principles adverse to that of utility, that which at 
 this day seems to have most influence in matters of govern- 
 ment, is what may be called the principle of sympathy and 
 antipathy. By the principle of sympathy and antipathy, I 
 mean that principle which approves or disapproves of certain 
 actions, not on account of their tending to augment the 
 happiness, nor yet on account of their tending to diminish 
 the happiness of the party whose interest is in question, but 
 merely because a man finds himself disposed to approve or 
 disapprove of them : holding up that approbation or dis- 
 approbation as a sufficient reason for itself, and disclaiming 
 the necessity of looking out for any extrinsic ground. Thus 
 far in the general department of morals : and in the particular 
 department of politics, measuring out the quantum (as well as 
 determining the ground) of punishment, by the degree of the 
 disapprobation. 
 
 370 xii. It is manifest, that this is rather a principle in name 
 than in reality : it is not a positive principle of itself, so much 
 as a term employed to signify the negation of all principle. 
 What one expects to find in a principle is something that
 
 Chap, n.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 347 
 
 points out some external consideration, as a means of warranting 
 and guiding the internal sentiments of approbation and dis- 
 approbation : this expectation is but ill fulfilled by a proposition, 
 which does neither more nor less than hold up each of those 
 sentiments as a ground and standard for itself. 
 
 xin. In looking over the catalogue of human actions (says 
 a partizan of this principle) in order to determine which of 
 them are to be marked with the seal of disapprobation, you 
 need but to take counsel of your own feelings : whatever you 
 find in yourself a propensity to condemn, is wrong for that very 
 reason. For the same reason it is also meet for punishment : 
 in what proportion it is adverse to utility, or whether it be 
 adverse to utility at all, is a matter that makes no difference. 
 In that same proportion also is it meet for punishment : if you 
 hate much, punish much : if you hate little, punish little : 
 punish as you hate. If you hate not at all, punish not at all : 
 the fine feelings of the soul are not to be overborne and 
 tyrannized by the harsh and rugged dictates of political utility. 
 
 371 xiv. The various systems that have been formed concerning 
 the standard of right and wrong, may all be reduced to the 
 principle of sympathy and antipathy. One account may 
 serve for all of them. They consist all of them in so many con- 
 trivances for avoiding the obligation of appealing to any 
 external standard, and for prevailing upon the reader to accept 
 of the author's sentiment or opinion as a reason for itself. 
 The phrases different, but the principle the same \ 
 
 372 l It is curious enough to observe the variety of inventions men have hit 
 upon, and the variety of phiases they have brought forward, in order to 
 conceal from the world, and, if possible, from themselves, this very general 
 and therefore very pardonable self-sufficiency. 
 
 1. One man says, he has a thing made on purpose to tell him what is 
 right and what is wrong ; and that it is called a moral sense : and then 
 he goes to work at his ease, and says, such a thing is right, and such 
 a thing is wrong why ? ' because my moral sense tells me it is.' 
 
 2. Another man comes and alters the phrase : leaving out moral, and 
 putting in common, in the room of it. He then tells you, that his common 
 sense teaches him what is right and wrong, as surely as the other's moral 
 sense did : meaning by common sense, a sense of some kind or other,
 
 
 348 BENTHAM. [Chap. II. 
 
 which, he says, is possessed by all mankind : the sense of those, whose 
 sense is not the same as the author's, being struck out of the account as not 
 worth taking. This contrivance does better than the other ; for a moral 
 sense, being a new thing, a man may feel about him a good while without 
 being able to find it out : but common sense is as old as the creation ; and 
 there is no man but would be ashamed to be thought not to have as much 
 of it as his neighbours. It has another great advantage : by appearing to 
 share power, it lessens envy : for when a man gets up upon this ground, 
 in order to anathematize those who differ from him, it is not by a sic volo 
 sic jubeo, but by a velitis jubeatis . 
 
 3. Another man comes, and says, that as to a moral sense indeed, he 
 cannot find that he has any such thing : that however he has an under- 
 standing, which will do quite as well. This understanding, he says, is the 
 standard of right and wrong : it tells him so and so. All good and wise 
 men understand as he does : if other men's understandings differ in any 
 point from his, so much the worse for them : it is a sure sign they are 
 either defective or corrupt. 
 
 4. Another man says, that there is an eternal and immutable Rule of 
 Right : that that rule of right dictates so and so : and then he begins 
 giving you his sentiments upon any thing that comes uppermost : and these 
 sentiments (you are to take for granted) are so many branches of the 
 eternal rule of right. 
 
 5. Another man, or perhaps the same man (it 's no matter) says, that 
 there are certain practices conformable, and others repugnant, to the 
 Fitness of Things ; and then he tells you, at his leisure, what practices are 
 conformable and what repugnant : just as he happens to like a practice 
 or dislike it. 
 
 6. A great multitude of people are continually talking of the Law of 
 Nature ; and then they go on giving you their sentiments about what is 
 right and what is wrong : and these sentiments, you are to understand, are 
 so many chapters and sections of the Law of Nature. 
 
 7. Instead of the phrase, Law of Nature, you have sometimes, Law of 
 Reason, Right Reason, Natural Justice, Natural Equity, Good Order. 
 Any of them will do equally well. This latter is most used in politics. 
 The last three are much more tolerable than the others, because they do 
 not very explicitly claim to be any thing more than phrases ; they insist 
 but feebly upon the being looked upon as so many positive standards of 
 themselves, and seem content to be taken, upon occasion, for phrases 
 expressive of the conformity of the thing in question to the proper standard, 
 whatever that may be. On most occasions, however, it will be better to say 
 utility : utility is clearer, as referring more explicitly to pain and pleasure. 
 
 8. We have one philosopher, who says, there is no harm in any thing 
 in the world but in telling a lie : and that if, for example, you were to murder 
 your own father, this would only be a particular way of saying, he was not 
 your father. Of course, when this philosopher sees any thing that he does 
 not like, he says, it is a particular way of telling a lie. It is saying, 
 that the act ought to be done, or may be done, when, in truth, it ought not 
 to be done. 
 
 9. The fairest and openest of them all is that sort of man who speaks 
 out, and says, I am of the number of the Elect : now God himself takes 
 care to inform the Elect what is right : and that with so good effect, that 
 let them strive ever so, they cannot help not only knowing it but practising
 
 Chap. II.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 349 
 
 it. If therefore a man wants to know what is right and what is wrong, he 
 has nothing to do but to come to me. 
 
 373 It is upon the principle of antipathy that such and such acts are often 
 reprobated on the score of their being unnatural : the practice of exposing 
 children, established among the Greeks and Romans, was an unnatural 
 practice. Unnatural, when it means any thing, means unfrequent : and 
 there it means something ; although nothing to the present purpose. But 
 here it means no such thing : for the frequency of such acts is perhaps the 
 great complaint. It therefore means nothing; nothing. I mean, which 
 there is in the act itself. All it can serve to express is, the disposition of 
 the person who is talking of it : the disposition he is in to be angry at the 
 thoughts of it. Does it merit his anger ? Very likely it may : but whether 
 it does or no is a question, which, to be answered rightly, can only be 
 answered upon the principle of utility. 
 
 Unnatural, is as good a word as moral sense, or common sense ; and 
 would be as good a foundation for a system. Such an act is unnatural ; 
 that is, repugnant to nature : for I do not like to practise it ; and, con- 
 sequently, do not practise it. It is therefore repugnant to what ought to be 
 the nature of every body else. 
 
 ******** 
 
 374 ' But is it never, then, from any other considerations than those of utility, 
 that we derive our notions of right and wrong ? ' I do not know : I do not 
 care. Whether a moral sentiment can be originally conceived from any 
 other source than a view of utility, is one question : whether upon examina- 
 tion and reflection it can, in point of fact, be actually persisted in and 
 justified on any other ground, by a person reflecting within himself, is 
 another : whether in point of right it can possibly be justified on any other 
 ground, by a person addressing himself to the community, is a third. The 
 two first are questions of speculation : it matters not, comparatively 
 speaking, how they are decided. The last is a question of practice : the 
 decision of it is of as much importance as that of any can be. 
 
 'I feel in myself,' (say yonl ' a disposition to approve of such or such an 
 action in a moral view : but this is not owing to any notions I have of its 
 being a useful one to the community. I do not pretend to know whether it 
 be an useful one or not : it may be, for aught I know, a mischievous one.' 
 ' But is it then,' (say I) ' a mischievous one ? examine ; and if you can 
 make yourself sensible that it is so, then, if duty means any thing, that is, 
 moral duty, it is your duty at least to abstain from it : and more than 
 that, if it is what lies in your power, and can be done without too great 
 a sacrifice, to endeavour to prevent it. It is not your cherishing the notion 
 of it in your bosom, and giving it the name of virtue, that will excuse you.' 
 
 ' I feel in myself,' (say you again) ' a disposition to detest such or such 
 an action in a moral view ; but this is not owing to any notions I have of 
 its being a mischievous one to the community. I do not pretend to know 
 whether it be a mischievous one or not : it may be not a mischievous one : 
 it may be, for aught I know, an useful one ? ' ' May it indeed,' (say I) ' an 
 useful one ? but let me tell you then, that unless duty, and right and wrong, 
 be just what you please to make them, if it really be not a mischievous one, 
 and any body has a mind to do it, it is no duty of your's, but, on the contrary, 
 it would be very wrong in you, to take upon you to prevent him : detest it 
 within yourself as much as you please ; that may be a very good reason 
 (unless it be also a useful one) for your not doing it yourself : but if you go
 
 35 BENTHAM. [Chap. II. 
 
 about, by word or deed, to do any thing to hinder him, or make him suffer 
 for it, it is you, and not he, that have done wrong : it is not your setting 
 yourself to blame his conduct, or branding it with the name of vice, that 
 will make him culpable, or you blameless. Therefore, if you can make 
 yourself content that he shall be of one mind, and you of another, about 
 that matter, and so continue, it is well : but if nothing will serve you, but that 
 you and he must needs be of the same mind, I'll tell you what you have to do: 
 it is for you to get the better of your antipathy, not for him to truckle to it.' 
 
 375 xv. It is manifest, that the dictates of this principle will 
 frequently coincide with those of utility, though perhaps without 
 intending any such thing. Probably more frequently than not : 
 and hence it is that the business of penal justice is carried on 
 upon that tolerable sort of footing upon which we see it carried 
 on in common at this day. For what more natural or more 
 general ground of hatred to a practice can there be, than the 
 mischievousness of such practice ? What all men are exposed 
 to suffer by, all men will be disposed to hate. It is far yet, 
 however, from being a constant ground: for when a man 
 suffers, it is not always that he knows what it is he suffers by. 
 A man may suffer grievously, for instance, by a new tax, 
 without being able to trace up the cause of his sufferings to 
 the injustice of some neighbour, who has eluded the payment 
 of an old one. 
 
 ******* 
 
 376 xvin. It may be wondered, perhaps, that in all this while no 
 mention has been made of the theological principle ; meaning 
 that principle which professes to recur for the standard of 
 right and wrong to the will of God. But the case is, this is 
 not in fact a distinct principle. It is never anything more or 
 less than one or other of the three before-mentioned principles 
 presenting itself under another shape. The will of God here 
 meant cannot be his revealed will, as contained in the sacred 
 writings : for that is a system which nobody ever thinks of 
 recurring to at this time of day, for the details of political 
 administration : and even before it can be applied to the 
 details of private conduct, it is universally allowed, by the 
 most eminent divines of all persuasions, to stand in need of
 
 Chap. II.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 351 
 
 pretty ample interpretations ; else to what use are the works 
 of those divines ? And for the guidance of these interpre- 
 tations, it is also allowed, that some other standard must be 
 assumed. The will then which is meant on this occasion, is 
 that which may be called \hojpresumfitive will : that is to say, 
 that which is presumed to be his will on account of the con- 
 formity of its dictates to those of some other principle. What 
 then may be this other principle ? it must be one or other of 
 the three mentioned above : for there cannot, as we have seen, 
 be any more. It is plain, therefore, that, setting revelation 
 out of the question, no light can ever be thrown upon the 
 standard of right and wrong, by any thing that can be said 
 upon the question, what is God's will. We may be perfectly 
 sure, indeed, that whatever is right is conformable to the will 
 of God : but so far is that from answering the purpose of 
 showing us what is right, that it is necessary to know first 
 whether a thing is right, in order to know from thence whether 
 it be conformable to the will of God '. 
 
 377 xix. There are two things which are very apt to be con- 
 founded, but which it imports us carefully to distinguish : the 
 motive or cause, which, by operating on the mind of an indi- 
 vidual, is productive of any act : and the ground or reason which 
 
 1 The principle of theology refers every thing to God's pleasure. But 
 what is God's pleasure ? God does not, he confessedly does not now, either 
 speak or write to us. How then are we to know what is his pleasure ? By 
 observing what is our own pleasure, and pronouncing it to be his. Accord- 
 ingly, what is called the pleasure of God, is and must necessarily be (revelation 
 apart) neither more nor less than the good pleasure of the person, whoever 
 he be, who is pronouncing what he believes, or pretends, to be God's 
 pleasure. How know you it to be God's pleasure that such or such an act 
 should be abstained from ? whence come you even to suppose as much ? 
 ' Because the engaging in it would, I imagine, be prejudicial upon the 
 whole to the happiness of mankind ; ' says the partizan of the principle 
 of utility : ' Because the commission of it is attended with a gross and 
 sensual, or at least with a trifling and transient satisfaction ; ' says the 
 partizan of the principle of asceticism : ' Because I detest the thoughts of it ; 
 and I cannot, neither ought I to be called upon to tell why ; ' says he who 
 proceeds upon the principle of antipathy. In the words of one or other of 
 these must that person necessarily answer (revelation apart) who professes to 
 take for his standard the will of God.
 
 35 2 BE NTH AM. [Chap. II. 
 
 warrants a legislator, or other by-stander, in regarding that act 
 with an eye of approbation. When the act happens, in the parti- 
 cular instance in question,'to be productive of effects which we 
 approve of, much more if we happen to observe that the same 
 motive may frequently be productive, in other instances, of the 
 like effects, we are apt to transfer our approbation to the motive 
 itself, and to assume, as the just ground for the approbation 
 we bestow on the act, the circumstance of its originating from 
 that motive. It is in this way that the sentiment of antipathy 
 has often been considered as a just ground of action. 
 Antipathy, for instance, in such or such a case, is the cause 
 of an action which is attended with good effects : but this 
 does not make it a right ground of action in that case, any 
 more than in any other. Still farther. Not only the effects 
 are good, but the agent sees beforehand that they will be so. 
 This may make the action indeed a perfectly right action : 
 but it does not make antipathy a right ground for action. For 
 the same sentiment of antipathy, if implicitly deferred to, may 
 be, and very frequently is, productive of the very worst effects. 
 Antipathy, therefore, can never be a right ground of action. 
 No more, therefore, can resentment, which, as will be seen 
 more particularly hereafter, is but a modification of antipathy. 
 The only right ground of action, that can possibly subsist, is, 
 after all, the consideration of utility, which, if it is a right prin- 
 ciple of action, and of approbation, in any one case, is so in 
 every other. Other principles in abundance, that is, other 
 motives, may be the reasons why such and such an act has 
 been done : that is, the reasons or causes of its being done : 
 but it is this alone that can be the reason why it might or 
 ought to have been done. Antipathy or resentment requires 
 always to be regulated, to prevent its doing mischief : to be 
 regulated by what ? always by the principle of utility. The 
 principle of utility neither requires nor admits of any other 
 regulator than itself.
 
 Chap. III.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 353 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF THE FOUR SANCTIONS OR SOURCES OF 
 PAIN AND PLEASURE. 
 
 378 i. IT has been shown that the happiness of the individuals, of 
 whom a community is composed, that is their pleasures and 
 their security, is the end and the sole end which the legislator 
 ought to have in view : the sole standard, in conformity to 
 which each individual ought, as far as depends upon the legis- 
 lator, to be made to fashion his behaviour. But whether it be 
 this or any thing else that is to be done, there is nothing by 
 which a man can ultimately be made to do it, but either pain 
 or pleasure. Having taken a general view of these two grand 
 objects (viz. pleasure, and what comes to the same thing, 
 immunity from pain) in the character of final causes ; it will 
 be necessary to take a view of pleasure and pain itself, in the 
 character of efficient causes or means. 
 
 379 ii. There are four distinguishable sources from which pleasure 
 and pain are in use to flow : considered separately, they may 
 be termed the physical, the political, the jnoral, and the 
 religious-,, and inasmuch as the pleasures and pains belonging 
 to each of them are capable of giving a binding force to any 
 law or rule of conduct, they may all of them be termed 
 sanctions \ 
 
 in. If it be in the present life, and from the ordinary course 
 of nature, not purposely .modified by the interposition of the 
 will of any human being, nor by any extraordinary interposition 
 of any superior invisible being, that the pleasure or the pain 
 takes place or is expected, it may be said to issue from or to 
 belong to the physical sanction. 
 
 1 Sanctio, in Latin, was used to signify the act of binding, and, by 
 a common grammatical transition, any thing -which serves to bind a man : 
 to wit, to the observance of such or such a mode of conduct. 
 
 ******** 
 
 A Sanction then is a source of obligatory powers or motives : that is, of 
 fains and pleasures ; which, according as they are connected with such or 
 such modes of conduct, operate, and are indeed the only things which can 
 operate, as motives. See Chap. x. [Motives]. 
 
 * Aa
 
 354 BENTHAM. [Chap. III. 
 
 iv. If at the hands of a particular person or set of persons in 
 the community, who under names correspondent to that of 
 judge, are chosen for the particular purpose of dispensing it, 
 according to the will of the sovereign or supreme ruling power 
 in the state, it may be said to issue from the political sanction. 
 
 v. If at the hands of such chance persons in the community, 
 as the party in question may happen in the course of his life 
 to have concerns with, according to each man's spontaneous 
 disposition, and not according to any settled or concerted rule, 
 it may be said to issue from the moral or popular sanction '. 
 
 vi. If from the immediate hand of a superior invisible being, 
 either in the present life, or in a futute, it may be said to issue 
 from the religious sanction. 
 
 380 vii. Pleasures or pains which may be expected to issue from 
 the physical, political, or moral sanctions, must all of them be 
 expected to be experienced, if ever, in the present life : those 
 which may be expected to issue from the religious sanction, 
 may be expected to be experienced either in the present life or 
 in a future. 
 
 viii. Those which can be experienced in the present life, can 
 of course be no others than such as human nature in the course 
 of the present life is susceptible of : and from each of these 
 sources may flow all the pleasures or pains of which, in the 
 course of the present life, human nature is susceptible. With 
 regard to these then (with which alone we have in this place 
 any concern) those of them which belong to any one of those 
 sanctions, differ not ultimately in kind from those which belong 
 to any one of the other three : the only difference there is among 
 
 them lies in the circumstances that accompany their production. 
 
 ***** * * 
 
 1 Better termed popular, ns more directlyindicative of its constituent cause ; 
 as likewise of its relation to the more common phrase public opinion, in 
 French opinion publique, the name there given to that tutelary power, of 
 which of late so much is said, and by which so much is done. The latter 
 appellation is however unhappy and inexpressive ; since if opinion is 
 material, it is only in virtue of the influence it exercises over action, through 
 the medium of the affections and the will.
 
 Chap. III.-, THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 355 
 
 381 ix. A man's goods, or his person, are consumed by fire. If 
 this happened to him by what is called an accident, it was a 
 calamity : if by reason of his own imprudence (for instance, 
 from his neglecting to put his candle out) it may be styled 
 a punishment of the physical sanction : if it happened to him by 
 the sentence of the political magistrate, a punishment belonging 
 to the political sanction ; that is, what is commonly called a 
 punishment : if for want of any assistance which his neighbour 
 withheld from him out of some dislike to his moral character, 
 a punishment of the moral sanction : if by an immediate act 
 of God's displeasure, manifested on account of some sin com- 
 mitted by him, or through any distraction of mind, occasioned 
 by the dread of such displeasure, a punishment of the religious 
 sanction \ 
 
 382 x. As to such of the pleasures and pains belonging to the 
 religious sanction, as regard a future life, of what kind these 
 may be we cannot know. These lie not open to our observa- 
 tion. During the present life they are matter only of ex- 
 pectation : and, whether that expectation be derived from 
 natural or revealed religion, the particular kind of pleasure or 
 pain, if it be different from all those which lie open to our 
 observation, is what we can have no idea of. The best ideas 
 we can obtain of such pains and pleasures are altogether 
 unliquidated in point of quality. In what other respects our 
 ideas of them may be liquidated will be considered in another 
 place 2 . 
 
 383 xi. Of these four sanctions the physical is altogether, we may 
 observe, the ground-work of the political and the moral : so is 
 it also of the religious, in as far as the latter bears relation to the 
 present life. It is included in each of those other three. This 
 may operate in any case, (that is, any of the pains or pleasures 
 
 1 A suffering conceived to befal a man by the immediate act of God, as 
 above, is often, for shortness sake, called a judgment : instead of saying, 
 a suffering inflicted on him in consequence of a special judgment formed, 
 and resolution thereupon taken, by the Deity. 
 
 2 See ch. xiii. [Cases unmeet] par. 2. Note. 
 
 A a 2
 
 35 6 BENTHAM. [Chap. III. 
 
 belonging to it may operate) independently of them : none of 
 them can operate but by means of this. In a word, the powers 
 of nature may operate of themselves ; but neither the magis- 
 trate, nor men at large, can operate, nor is God in the case 
 in question supposed to operate, but through the powers of 
 nature. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. VALUE OF A LOT OF PLEASURE OR PAIN, 
 
 HOW TO BE MEASURED. 
 
 384 i. PLEASURES then, and the avoidance of pains, are the ends 
 which the legislator has in view : it behoves him therefore to 
 understand their value. Pleasures and pains are the instru- 
 ments he has to work with : it behoves him therefore to 
 understand their force, which is again, in other words, their 
 vglge. 
 
 385 ii. To a person considered by himself, the value of a pleasure 
 or pain considered by itself, will be greater or less, according 
 to the four following circumstances * : 
 
 1. Its intensity. 3. Its certainty or uncertainty. 
 
 2. Its duration. 4. Its propinquity or remoteness. 
 
 386 in. These are the circumstances which are to be considered in 
 estimating a pleasure or a pain considered each of them by 
 itself. But when the value of any pleasure or pain is con- 
 
 1 These circumstances have since been denominated elements or dimensions 
 
 of value in a pleasure or a pain. 
 
 Not long after the publication of the first edition, the following memoriter 
 
 verses were framed, in the view of lodging more effectually, in the memory, 
 
 these points, on which the whole fabric of morals and legislation may be 
 
 seen to rest. 
 
 Intense, long, certain, speedy, fruitful, pure 
 Such marks in pleasures and in pains endure. 
 Such pleasures seek, \iprivate be thy end : 
 If it be public, wide let them extend. 
 Suchflains avoid, whichever be thy view : 
 If pains must come, let them extend to few.
 
 Chap. IV.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 357 
 
 sidered for the purpose of estimating the tendency of any act 
 by which it is produced, there are two other circumstances 
 to be taken into the account ; these are, 
 
 5. Its fecundity, or the chance it has of being followed 
 by sensations of the same kind : that is, pleasures, if it be 
 a pleasure : pains, if it be a pain. 
 
 6. Its purity, or the chance it has of not being followed 
 by sensations of the opposite kind : that is, pains, if it be a 
 pleasure : pleasures, if it be a pain. 
 
 These two last, however, are in strictness scarcely to be 
 deemed properties of the pleasures or the pain itself; they are 
 not, therefore, in strictness to be taken into the account of the 
 value of that pleasure or that pain. They are in strictness 
 to be deemed properties only of the act, or other event, by 
 which such pleasure or pain has been produced; and ac- 
 cordingly are only to be taken into the account of the tendency 
 of such act or such event. 
 
 387 iv. To a number of persons, with reference to each of whom the 
 value of a pleasure or a pain is considered, it will be greater or 
 less, according to seven circumstances : to wit, the six preceding 
 ones; viz. 
 
 i. Its intensity. 4. \\s> propinquity or remoteness, 
 
 z. Its duration. 5. \\sfecundity. 
 
 3. Its certainty or uncertainty. 6. \\spurity. 
 
 And one other ; to wit : 
 
 7. Its extent; that is, the number of persons to whom it 
 extends ; or (in other words) who are affected by it. 
 
 388 v. To take an exact account then of the general tendency 
 of any act, by which the interests of a community are affected, 
 proceed as follows. Begin with any one person of those 
 whose interests seem most immediately to be affected by it : 
 and take an account, 
 
 i. Of the value of each distinguishable pleasure which 
 appears to be produced by it in the first instance.
 
 358 BENTHAM. [Chap. IV. 
 
 2. Of the value of each pain which appears to be produced 
 by it in \hefirst instance. 
 
 3. Of the value of each pleasure which appears to be pro- 
 duced by it after the first. This constitutes the fecundity of 
 the first pleasure and the impurity of the first pain. 
 
 4. Of the value of each// which appears to be produced 
 by it after the first. This constitutes the fecundity of the first 
 pain, and the impurity of the first pleasure. 
 
 5. Sum up all the values of all the pleasures on the one side, 
 and those of all the pains on the other. The balance, if it be 
 on the side of pleasure, will give the good tendency of the act 
 upon the whole, with respect to the interests of that individual 
 person ; if on the side of pain, the bad tendency of it upon 
 the whole. 
 
 6. Take an account of the number of persons whose interests 
 appear to be concerned ; and repeat the above process with 
 respect to each. Sum up the numbers expressive of the de- 
 grees of good tendency, which the act has, with respect to each 
 individual, in regard to whom the tendency of it is good upon 
 the whole : do this again with respect to each individual, in 
 regard to whom the tendency of it is bad upon the whole. 
 Take the balance ; which, if on the side of pleasure, will give 
 the general good tendency of the act, with respect to the total 
 number or community of individuals concerned ; if on the 
 side of pain, the general evil tendency, with respect to the 
 same community. 
 
 389 vi. It is not to be expected that this process should be strictly 
 pursued previously to every moral judgment, or to every legis- 
 lative or judicial operation. It may, however, be always kept 
 in view : and as near as the process actually pursued on these 
 occasions approaches to it, so near will such process approach 
 to the character of an exact one. 
 
 vn. The same process is alike applicable to pleasure and plain 
 in whatever shape they appear : and by whatever denomination 
 they are distinguished : to pleasure, whether it be called good
 
 Chap. VIII.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 359 
 
 (which is properly the cause or instrument of pleasure) or 
 profit (which is distant pleasure, or the cause or instrument of 
 distant pleasure,) or convenience, or advantage, benefit, emolu- 
 ment, happiness, and so forth : to pain, whether it be called evil, 
 (which corresponds to good] or mischief, or inconvenience, or 
 disadvantage, or loss, or unhappiness, and so forth. 
 390 vin. Nor is this a novel and unwarranted, any more than it is 
 a useless theory. In all this there is nothing but what the 
 practice of mankind, wheresoever they have a clear view of 
 their own interest, is perfectly conformable to. An article 
 of property, an estate in land, for instance, is valuable, on what 
 account? On account of the pleasures of all kinds which it 
 enables a man to produce, and what comes to the same thing 
 the pains of all kinds which it enables him to avert. But the 
 value of such an article of property is universally understood to 
 rise or fall according to the length or shortness of the time which 
 a man has in it : the certainty or uncertainty of its coming into 
 possession : and the nearness or remoteness of the time at 
 which, if at all, it is to come into possession. As to the 
 intensity of the pleasures which a man may derive from it, this 
 is never thought of, because it depends upon the use which 
 each particular person may come to make of it ; which cannot 
 be estimated till the particular pleasures he may come to derive 
 from it, or the particular pains he may come to exclude by 
 means of it, are brought to view. For the same reason, 
 neither does he think of the fecundity or purity of those 
 pleasures. 
 
 ******* 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. OF INTENTIONALITY. 
 
 391 I. So much with regard to the two first of the articles upon 
 which the evil tendency of an action may depend : viz. the act 
 itself, and the general assemblage of the circumstances with 
 which it may have been accompanied. We come now to
 
 360 BENTHAM. [Chap. VIII. 
 
 consider the ways in which the particular circumstances of 
 intention may be concerned in it. 
 
 ii. First, then, the intention or will may regard either of two 
 objects: i. The act itself : or, 2. Its consequences. Of these 
 objects, that which the intention regards may be styled 
 intentional. If it regards the act, then the act may be said to 
 be intentional * : if the consequences, so also then may the 
 consequences. If it regards both the act and consequences, 
 the whole action may be said to be intentional. Whichever of 
 those articles is not the object of the intention, may of course 
 be said to be unintentional. 
 
 392 in. The act may very easily be intentional without the con- 
 sequences ; and often is so. Thus, you may intend to 
 touch a man, without intending to hurt him : and yet, as 
 the consequences turn out, you may chance to hurt him. 
 
 iv. The consequences of an act may also be intentional, with- 
 out the act's being intentional throughout ; that is, without its 
 being intentional in every stage of it : but this is not so frequent 
 a case as the former. You intend to hurt a man, suppose, by 
 running against him, and pushing him down : and you run 
 towards him accordingly : but a second man coming in on 
 a sudden between you and the first man, before you can stop 
 yourself, you run against the second man, and by him push 
 down the first. 
 
 1 On this occasion the words voluntary and involuntary are commonly 
 employed. These, however, I purposely abstain from, on account of the 
 extreme ambiguity of their signification. By a voluntary act is meant 
 sometimes, any act, in the performance of which the will has had any 
 concern at all ; in this sense it is synonymous to intentional : sometimes 
 such acts only, in the production of which the will has been determined by 
 motives not of a painful nature ; in this sense it is synonymous to uncon- 
 strained, or uncoerced: sometimes such acts only, in the production of 
 which the will has been determined by motives, which, whether of the 
 pleasurable or painful kind, occurred to a man himself, without being 
 suggested by any body else ; in this sense it is synonymous to spontaneous. 
 The sense of the word involuntary does not correspond completely to that 
 of the word voluntary. Involuntary is used in opposition to intentional ; 
 and to unconstrained : but not to spontaneous. It might be of use to 
 confine the signification of the words voluntary and involuntary to one 
 single and very narrow case, which will be mentioned in the next note.
 
 Chap. VIII.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 361 
 
 393 v. But the consequences of an act cannot be intentional, with- 
 out the act's being itself intentional in at least the first stage. 
 If the act be not intentional in the first stage, it is no act of 
 your's : there is accordingly no intention on your part to 
 produce the consequences : that is to say, the individual 
 consequences. All there can have been on your part is 
 a distant intention to produce other consequences, of the 
 same nature, by some act of your's, at a future time : or 
 else, without any intention, a bare wish to see such event 
 take place. The second man, suppose, runs of his own 
 accord against the first, and pushes him down. You had 
 intentions of doing a thing of the same nature : viz. To run 
 against him, and push him down yourself; but you had done 
 nothing in pursuance of those intentions : the individual 
 consequences therefore of the act, which the second man 
 performed in pushing down the first, cannot be said to have 
 been on your part intentional 1 . 
 
 1 To render the analysis here given of the possible states of the mind 
 in point of intentionality absolutely complete, it must be pushed to such 
 a farther degree of minuteness, as to some eyes will be apt to appear 
 trifling. On this account it seemed advisable to discard what follows, from 
 the text to a place where any one who thinks proper may pass by it. An 
 act of the body, when of the positive kind, is a motion : now in motion 
 there are always three articles to be considered : i. The quantity of matter 
 that moves: 2. The direction in which it moves: and, 3. The velocity with 
 which it moves. Correspondent to these three articles, are so many modes of 
 intentionality, with regard to an act, considered as being only in its first 
 stage. To be completely unintentional, it must be unintentional with 
 respect to every one of these three particulars. This is the case with those 
 acts which alone are properly termed involuntary : acts, in the per- 
 formance of which the will has no sort of share : such as the contraction 
 of the heart and arteries. 
 
 Upon this principle, acts that are unintentional in their first stage, may 
 be distinguished into such as are completely unintentional, and such as are 
 incompletely unintentional : and these again may be unintentional, either in 
 point of quantity of matter alone, in point of direction alone, in point of 
 velocity alone, or in any two of these points together. 
 
 The example given further on may easily be extended to this part of the 
 analysis, by any one who thinks it worth the while. 
 
 There seem to be occasions in which even these disquisitions, minute as 
 they may appear, may not be without their use in practice. In the case of
 
 362 BENTHAM. [Chap. VIII. 
 
 394 xii. It is to be observed, that an act may be unintentional in 
 any stage or stages of it, though intentional in the pre- 
 ceding : and, on the other hand, it may be intentional in 
 any stage or stages of it, and yet unintentional in the suc- 
 ceeding 1 . But whether it be intentional or no in any 
 preceding stage, is immaterial, with respect to the conse- 
 quences, so it be unintentional in the last. The only point, 
 with respect to which it is material, is the proof. The more 
 stages the act is unintentional in, the more apparent it will 
 commonly be, that it was unintentional with respect to the 
 last. If a man, intending to strike you on the cheek, strikes 
 you in the eye, and puts it out, it will probably be difficult for 
 him to prove that it was not his intention to strike you in the 
 eye. It will probably be easier, if his intention was really not 
 to strike you, or even not to strike at all. 
 
 395 xin. It is frequent to hear men speak of a good intention, of 
 a bad intention ; of the goodness and badness of a man's 
 intention : a circumstance on which great stress is generally 
 laid. It is indeed of no small importance, when properly 
 understood : but the import of it is to the last degree 
 ambiguous and obscure. Strictly speaking, nothing can be 
 said to be good or bad, but either in itself; which is the 
 case only with pain or pleasure : or on account of its effects ; 
 which is the case only with things that are the causes or 
 preventives of pain and pleasure. But in a figurative and 
 less proper way of speech, a thing may also be styled good 
 or bad, in consideration of its cause. Now the effects of an 
 
 homicide, for example, and other corporal injuries, all the distinctions here 
 specified may occur, and in the course of trial may, for some purpose or 
 other, require to be brought to mind, and made the subject of discourse. 
 \Vhat may contribute to render the mention of them pardonable, is the use 
 that might possibly be made of them in natural philosophy. In the hands 
 of an expect metaphysician, these, together with the foregoing chapter on 
 human actions, and the section on facts in general, in title Evidence of the 
 Book of Procedure, might, perhaps, be made to contribute something towards 
 an exhaustive analysis of the possible varieties of mechanical inventions. 
 1 See ch. vii. [Actions] par. 14.
 
 Chap. IX.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 363 
 
 intention to do such or such an act, are the same objects 
 which we have been speaking of under the appellation of its 
 consequences : and the causes of intention are called motives. 
 A man's intention then on any occasion may be styled good 
 or bad, with reference either to the consequences of the act, 
 or with reference to his motives. If it be deemed good or 
 bad in any sense, it must be either because it is deemed to be 
 productive of good or of bad consequences, or because it is 
 deemed to originate from a good or from a bad motive. But 
 the goodness or badness of the consequences depend upon the 
 circumstances. Now the circumstances are no objects of the 
 intention. A man intends the act : and by his intention pro- 
 duces the act : but as to the circumstances, he does not intend 
 them : he does not, inasmuch as they are circumstances of it, 
 produce them. If by accident there be a few which he has 
 been instrumental in producing, it has been by former in- 
 tentions, directed to former acts, productive of those circum- 
 stances as the consequences : at the time in question he takes 
 them as he finds them. Acts, with their consequences, are 
 objects of the will as well as of the understanding : circum- 
 stances, as such, are objects of the understanding only. All 
 he can do with these, as such, is to know or not to know them : 
 in other words, to be conscious of them, or not conscious. To 
 the title of Consciousness belongs what is to be said of the 
 goodness or badness of a man's intention, as resulting from 
 the consequences of the act : and to the head of Motives, what 
 is to be said of his intention, as resulting from the motive. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 ******* 
 
 396 XIIL In ordinary discourse, when a man does an act of which 
 
 the consequences prove mischievous, it is a common thing to 
 
 speak of him as having acted with a good intention or with 
 
 a bad intention, of his intention's being a good one or a bad 
 
 one. The epithets good and bad are all this while applied,
 
 364 BENTHAM. [Chap. IX. 
 
 we see, to the intention : but the application of them is most 
 commonly governed by a supposition formed with regard to 
 the nature of the motive. The act, though eventually it prove 
 mischievous, is said to be done with a good intention, when it 
 is supposed to issue from a motive which is looked upon 
 as a good motive : with a bad intention, when it is supposed 
 to be the result of a motive which is looked upon as a bad 
 motive. But the nature of the consequences intended, and 
 the nature of the motive which gave birth to the intention, 
 are objects which, though intimately connected, are perfectly 
 distinguishable. The intention might therefore with perfect 
 propriety be styled a good one, whatever were the motive. 
 It might be styled a good one, when not only the con- 
 sequences of the act prove mischievous, but the motive which 
 gave birth to it was what is called a bad one. To warrant 
 the speaking of the intention as being a good one, it is sufficient 
 if the consequences of the act, had they proved what to the 
 agent they seemed likely to be, would have been of a beneficial 
 nature. And in the same manner the intention may be bad, 
 when not only the consequences of the act prove beneficial, 
 but the motive which gave birth to it was a good one. 
 397 xiv. Now, when a man has a mind to speak of your intention 
 as being good or bad, with reference to the consequences, if 
 he speaks of it at all he must use the word intention, for 
 there is no other. But if a man means to speak of the motive 
 from which your intention originated, as being a good or 
 a bad one, he is certainly not obliged to use the word 
 intention : it is at least as well to use the word motive. By 
 the supposition he means the motive ; and very likely he 
 may not mean the intention. For what is true of the one 
 is very often not true of the other. The motive may be good 
 when the intention is bad : the intention may be good when 
 the motive is bad : whether they are both good or both 
 bad, or the one good and the other bad, makes, as we shall 
 see hereafter, a very essential difference with regard to the
 
 Chap. X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 
 
 consequences l . It is therefore much better, when motive is 
 meant, never to say intention. 
 
 xv. An example will make this clear. Out of malice a man 
 prosecutes you for a crime of which he believes you to be 
 guilty, but of which in fact you are not guilty. Here the 
 consequences of his conduct are mischievous : for they are 
 mischievous to you at any rate, in virtue of the shame and 
 anxiety which you are made to suffer while the prosecution 
 is depending : to which is to be added, in case of your being 
 convicted, the evil of the punishment. To you therefore 
 they are mischievous; nor is there any one to whom they 
 are beneficial. The man's motive was also what is called 
 a bad one : for malice will be allowed by every body to be 
 a bad motive. However, the consequences of his conduct, 
 had they proved such as he believed them likely to be, 
 would have been good : for in them would have been 
 included the punishment of a criminal, which is a benefit to 
 all who are exposed to suffer by a crime of the like nature. 
 The intention therefore, in this case, though not in a common 
 way of speaking the motive, might be styled a good one. But 
 of motives more particularly in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER X. MOTIVES. 
 
 i. Different Senses of the word Motive*. 
 
 ******* 
 
 398 in. The motives with which alone we have any concern, 
 
 are such as are of a nature to act upon the will. By a motive 
 
 then, in this sense of the word, is to be understood any 
 
 thing whatsoever, which, by influencing the will of a sensitive 
 
 being, is supposed to serve as a means of determining him 
 
 1 See ch. xii. [Consequences]. 
 
 2 Note by the author, July 1822. 
 
 The word inducement has of late presented itself, as being in its 
 signification more comprehensive than the word motive, and on some 
 occasions more apposite.
 
 366 BE NTH AM. [Chap. X. 
 
 to act, or voluntarily to forbear to act *, upon any occasion. 
 Motives of this sort, in contradistinction to the former, may 
 be styled practical, motives, or motives applying to practice. 
 
 309 iv. Owing to the poverty and unsettled state of language, the 
 word motive is employed indiscriminately to. denote two kinds 
 of objects, which, for the better understanding of the subject, 
 it is necessary should be distinguished. On some occasions 
 it is employed to denote any of those really existing incidents 
 from whence the act in question is supposed to take its rise. 
 The sense it bears on these occasions may be styled its literal 
 or unfigurative sense. On other occasions it is employed to 
 denote a certain fictitious entity, a passion, an affection of 
 the mind, an ideal being which upon the happening of any 
 such incident is considered as operating upon the mind, and 
 prompting it to take that course, towards which it is impelled 
 by the influence of such incident. Motives of this class are 
 Avarice, Indolence, Benevolence, and so forth ; as we shall 
 see more particularly farther on. This latter may be styled the 
 figurative sense of the term motive. 
 
 400 v. As to the real incidents to which the name of the motive 
 is also given, these too are of two very different kinds. They 
 may be either, i. The internal perception of any individual lot 
 of pleasure or pain, the expectation of which is looked upon 
 as calculated to determine you to act in such or such a manner ; 
 as the pleasure of acquiring such a sum of money, the pain of 
 exerting yourself on such an occasion, and so forth : Or, 2. Any 
 external event, the happening whereof is regarded as having 
 a tendency to bring about the perception of such pleasure or 
 
 1 When the effect or tendency of a motive is to determine a man to 
 forbear to act, it may seem improper to make use of the term motive : since 
 motive, properly speaking, means that which disposes an object to move. 
 We must however use that improper term, or a term which, though proper 
 enough, is scarce in use, the word determinative. By way of justification, 
 or at least apology, for the popular usage in this behalf, it may be ob- 
 served, that even forbearance to act, or the negation of motion (that is, of 
 bodily motion) supposes an act done, when such forbearance is voluntary. 
 It supposes, to wit, an act of the will, which is as much a positive act, as 
 much a motion, as any other act of the thinking substance.
 
 Chap. X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 367 
 
 such pain : for instance, the coming up of a lottery ticket, 
 by which the possession of the money devolves to you ; or 
 the breaking out of a fire in the house you are in, which makes 
 it necessary for you to quit it. The former kind of motives may 
 be termed interior, or internal : the latter exterior, or external. 
 401 vi. Two other senses of the term motive need also to be 
 distinguished. Motive refers necessarily to action. It is a 
 pleasure, pain, or other event, that prompts to action. Motive 
 then, in one sense of the word, must be previous to such 
 event. But, for a man to be governed by any motive, he 
 must in every case look beyond that event which is called his 
 action; he must look to the consequences of it : and it is only 
 in this way that the idea of pleasure, of pain, or of any other 
 event, can give birth to it. He must look, therefore, in every 
 case, to some event posterior to the act in contemplation : 
 an event which as yet exists not, but stands only in prospect. 
 Now, as it is in all cases difficult, and in most cases unneces- 
 sary, to distinguish between objects so intimately connected, 
 as the posterior possible object which is thus looked forward 
 to, and the present existing object or event which takes place 
 upon a man's looking forward to the other, they are both of 
 them spoken of under the same appellation, motive. To 
 distinguish them, the one first mentioned may be termed 
 a motive in prospect, the other a motive in esse : and under 
 each of these denominations will come as well exterior as 
 internal motives. A fire breaks out in your neighbour's 
 house : you are under apprehension of its extending to your 
 own : you are apprehensive, that if you stay in it, you will 
 be burnt : you accordingly run out of it. This then is the 
 act : the others are all motives to it. The event of the fire's 
 breaking out in your neighbour's house is an external motive, 
 and that in esse : the idea or belief of the probability of the 
 fire's extending to your own house, that of your being burnt 
 if you continue, and the pain you feel at the thought of such 
 a catastrophe, are all so many internal events, but still in
 
 368 BENTHAM. [Chap. X. 
 
 esse : the event of the fire's actually extending to your own 
 house, and that of your being actually burnt by it, external 
 motives in prospect : the pain you would feel at seeing your 
 house a burning, and the pain you would feel while you 
 yourself were burning, internal motives in prospect : which 
 events, according as the matter turns out, may come to be in 
 esse : but then of course they will cease to act as motives. 
 
 402 vu. Of all these motives, which stand nearest to the act, 
 to the production of which they all contribute, is that internal 
 motive in esse which consists in the expectation of the internal 
 motive in prospect : the pain or uneasiness you feel at the 
 thoughts of being burnt \ All other motives are more or less 
 remote: the motives in prospect, in proportion as the period 
 at which they are expected to happen is more distant from the 
 period at which the act takes place, and consequently later in 
 point of time : the motives in esse, in proportion as they also 
 are more distant from that period, and consequently earlier 
 in point of time 2 . 
 
 2. No motives either constantly good ', or constantly bad. 
 
 403 ix. In all this chain of motives, the principle or original link 
 seems to be the last internal motive in prospect ; it is to this 
 that all the other motives in prospect owe their materiality: 
 
 1 Whether it be the expectation of being burnt, or the pain that 
 accompanies that expectation, that is the immediate internal motive spoken 
 of, may be difficult to determine. It may even be questioned, perhaps, 
 whether they are distinct entities. Both questions, however, seem to be 
 mere questions of words, and the solution of them altogether immaterial. 
 Even the other kinds of motives, though for some purposes they demand 
 a separate consideration, are, however, so intimately allied, that it will 
 often be scarce practicable, and not always material, to avoid confounding 
 them, as they have always hitherto been confounded. 
 
 2 Under the term esse must be included as well fast existence, with 
 reference to a given period, as present. They are equally real, in com- 
 parison with what is as yet but future. Language is materially deficient, 
 in not enabling us to distinguish with precision between existence as opposed 
 to unreality, and present existence as opposed to past. The word existence 
 in English, and esse, adopted by lawyers from the Latin, have the incon- 
 venience of appearing to confine the existence in question to some single 
 period considered as being present.
 
 Chap. X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 369 
 
 and the immediately acting motive its existence. This motive 
 in prospect, we see, is always some pleasure, or some pain ; 
 some pleasure, which the act in question is expected to be 
 a means of continuing or producing : some pain which it is 
 expected to be a means of discontinuing or preventing. 
 A motive is substantially nothing more than pleasure or pain, 
 operating in a certain manner. 
 
 x. Now, pleasure is in itself 'a good : nay, even setting aside 
 immunity from pain, the only good : pain is in itself an evil ; 
 and, indeed, without exception, the only evil ; or else the words 
 good and evil have no meaning. And this is alike true of every 
 sort of pain, and of every sort of pleasure. It follows, therefore, 
 immediately and incontestably, that there is no such thing as any 
 sort of motive that is in itself a bad one 1 . 
 
 404 xi. It is common, however, to speak of actions as proceeding 
 from good or bad motives : in which case the motives meant 
 are such as are internal. The expression is far from being an 
 accurate one ; and as it is apt to occur in the consideration of 
 almost every kind of offence, it will be requisite to settle the 
 precise meaning of it, and observe how far it quadrates with 
 the truth of things. 
 
 xii. With respect to goodness and badness, as it is with every 
 thing else that is not itself either pain or pleasure, so is it with 
 motives. If they are good or bad, it is only on account of 
 their effects : good, on account of their tendency to produce 
 pleasure, or avert pain : bad, on account of their tendency to 
 produce pain, or avert pleasure. Now the case is, that from 
 one and the same motive, and from every kind of motive, 
 may proceed actions that are good, others that are bad, 
 and others that are indifferent. This we shall proceed to 
 
 1 Let a man's motive be ill-will ; call it even malice, envy, cruelty ; it is 
 still a kind of pleasure that is his motive : the pleasure he takes at the 
 thought of the pain which he sees, or expects to see, his adversary undergo. 
 Now even this wretched pleasure, taken by itself, is good : it may be faint ; 
 it may be short : it must at any rate be impure : yet while it lasts, and 
 before any bad consequence arrive, it is as good as any other that is not 
 more intense. See ch. iv. [Value]. 
 * Bb
 
 37 BENTHAM. [Chap. X. 
 
 shew with respect to all the different kinds of motives, as 
 determined by the various kinds of pleasures and pains. 
 405 xin. Such an analysis, useful as it is, will be found to be 
 a matter of no small difficulty ; owing, in great measure, to 
 a certain perversity of structure which prevails more or less 
 throughout all languages. To speak of motives, as of any thing 
 else, one must call them by their names. But the misfortune is 
 that it is rare to meet with a motive of which the name expresses 
 that and nothing more. Commonly along with the very name 
 of the motive, is tacitly involved a proposition imputing to it a 
 certain quality ; a quality which, in many cases, will appear to 
 include that very goodness or badness, concerning which we 
 are here inquiring whether, properly speaking, it be or be not 
 imputable to motives. To use the common phrase, in most 
 cases, the name of the motive is a word which is employed 
 either only in a good sense, or else only in a dad sense. Now, 
 when a word is spoken of as being used in a good sense, all 
 that is necessarily meant is this : that in conjunction with the 
 idea of the object it is put to signify, it conveys an idea of 
 approbation : that is, of a pleasure or satisfaction, entertained 
 by the person who employs the term at the thoughts of such 
 object. In like manner, when a word is spoken of as being 
 used in a bad sense, all that is necessarily meant is this : that, 
 in conjunction with the idea of the object it is put to signify, it 
 conveys an idea of disapprobation : that is, of a displeasure 
 entertained by the person who employs the term at the 
 thoughts of such object. Now, the circumstance on which 
 such approbation is grounded will, as naturally as any other, 
 be the opinion of the goodness of the object in question, as 
 above explained : such, at least, it must be, upon the principle 
 of utility : so, on the other hand, the circumstance on which 
 any such disapprobation is grounded, will, as naturally as any 
 other, be the opinion of the badness of the object : such, at 
 least, it must be, in as far as the principle of utility is taken for 
 the standard.
 
 Chap.X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 371 
 
 Now there are certain motives which, unless in a few parti- 
 cular cases, have scarcely any other name to be expressed by 
 but such a word as is used only in a good sense. This is the 
 case, for example, with the motives of piety and honour. The 
 consequence of this is, that if, in speaking of such a motive, 
 a man should have occasion to apply the epithet bad to any 
 actions which he mentions as apt to result from it, he must 
 appear to be guilty of a contradiction in terms. But the 
 names of motives which have scarcely any other name to be 
 expressed by, but such a word as is used only in a bad sense, 
 are many more 1 . This is the case, for example, with the 
 motives of lust and avarice. And accordingly, if in speaking 
 of any such motive, a man should have occasion to apply the 
 epithets good or indifferent to any actions which he mentions 
 as apt to result from it, he must here also appear to be guilty 
 of a similar contradiction 2 . 
 
 3. Catalogue of motives corresponding to that of Pleasures 
 
 and Pains. 
 
 ******* 
 
 406 xxv. To the pleasures of sympathy 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 
 
 1 For the reason, see chap. xi. [Dispositions] par. xvii. note. 
 
 2 To this imperfection of language, and nothing more, are to be attri- 
 buted, in great measure, the violent clamours that have from time to time 
 been raised against those ingenious moralists, who, travelling out of the 
 beaten tract of speculation, have found more or less difficulty in disen- 
 tangling themselves from the shackles of ordinary language : such as Roche- 
 foucault, Mandeville, and Helvetius. To the unsoundness of their opinions, 
 and, with still greater injustice, to the corruption of their hearts, was often 
 imputed, what was most commonly owing either to a want of skill, in matters 
 of language on the part of the author, or a want of discernment, possibly 
 now and then in some instances a want of probity, on the part of the com- 
 mentator. 
 
 B b 2
 
 372 BENTHAM. [Chap. X. 
 
 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 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 sometimes 
 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 cor- 
 poration spirit, corporation attachment, or corporation zeal. 
 
 i. A man who has set a town on fire is apprehended and 
 committed : out of regard or compassion 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 to applaud it : those who condemn your conduct, will be 
 disposed rather to impute it to some other motive : if they 
 style it benevolence or compassion, they will be for prefixing 
 an epithet, and calling it false benevolence or false compas- 
 sion 1 . 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 
 
 1 Among the Greeks, perhaps the motive, and the conduct it gave birth 
 to, would, in such a case, have been rather approved 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 acknow- 
 ledged under that character, the respect paid at that time of day does not 
 seem to have been very profound, or well-settled ; at present, the respect 
 paid to it is profound and settled enough, though the name of it is but 
 too often applied to dictates which could have had no other origin than the 
 worst sort of human caprice. , .
 
 Chap.X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 373 
 
 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 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 these cases the motive is 
 the same : it is neither more nor less than the motive of 
 good-will. 
 
 407 xxvi. To the pleasures of malevolence, or antipathy, corre- 
 sponds the motive which, in a neutral sense, is termed antipathy 
 or displeasure : and, in particular cases, dislike, aversion, 
 abhorrence, and indignation : in a neutral sense, or perhaps 
 a sense leaning a little to the bad side, ill-will : and, in 
 particular cases, anger, wrath, and enmity. In a bad sense 
 it is styled, in different cases, wrath, spleen, ill-humour, hatred, 
 malice, rancour, rage, fury, cruelty, tyranny, envy, jealousy, 
 revenge, misanthropy, and by other names, which it is hardly 
 worth while to endeavour to collect 1 . Like good-will, it is 
 used with epithets expressive of the persons who are the 
 objects of the affection. Hence we hear of party enmity, 
 
 1 Here, as elsewhere, it may be observed, that the same words which are 
 mentioned as names of motives, are also many of them names of passions, 
 appetites, and affections : fictitious entities, which are framed only by con- 
 sidering pleasures or pains in some particular point of view. Some of 
 them are also names of moral qualities. This branch of nomenclature is 
 remarkably entangled : to unravel it completely would take up a whole 
 volume ; not a syllable of which would belong properly to the present 
 design.
 
 374 BE NTH AM. [Chap. X. 
 
 party rage, and so forth. In a good sense there seems to 
 be no single name for it. In compound expressions it may 
 be spoken of in such a sense, by epithets, such as just and 
 laudable, prefixed to words that are used in a neutral or nearly 
 neutral sense. 
 
 i. You rob a man: he prosecutes you, and gets you 
 punished : out of resentment you set upon him, and hang him 
 with your own hands. In this case your motive will univer- 
 sally be deemed detestable, and will be called malice, cruelty, 
 revenge, and so forth. 2. A man has stolen a little money 
 from you : out of resentment you prosecute him, and get him 
 hanged by course of law. In this case people will probably be 
 a little divided in their opinions about your motive : your friends 
 will deem it a laudable one, and call it a just or laudable 
 resentment: your enemies will perhaps be disposed to deem 
 it blameable, and call it cruelty, malice, revenge, and so forth : 
 to obviate which, your friends will try perhaps to change the 
 motive, and call it public spirit. 3. A man has murdered your 
 father : out of resentment you prosecute him, and get him put 
 to death in course of law. In this case your motive will be 
 universally deemed a laudable one, and styled, as before, 
 a just or laudable resentment : and your friends, in order to 
 bring forward the more amiable principle from which the 
 malevolent one, which was your immediate motive, took its 
 rise, will be for keeping the latter out of sight, speaking of 
 the former only, under some such name as filial piety. Yet 
 in all these cases the motive is the same : it is neither more 
 
 nor less than the motive of ill-will. 
 
 ******* 
 
 408 xxix. It appears then that there is no such thing as any sort of 
 motive which is a bad one in itself: nor, consequently, any 
 such thing as a sort of motive, which in itself is exclusively 
 a good one. And as to their effects, it appears too that these 
 are sometimes bad, at other times either indifferent or good: 
 and this appears to be the case with every sort of motive.
 
 Chap.X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 375 
 
 If any sort of motive then is either good or bad on the score of 
 its effects, this is the case only on individual occasions, and with 
 individual motives ; and this is the case with one sort of 
 motive as well as with another. If any sort of motive then 
 can, in consideration of its effects, be termed with any propriety 
 a bad one, it can only be with reference to the balance of 
 all the effects it may have had of both kinds within a given 
 period, that is, of its most usual tendency. 
 
 409 xxx. What then ? (it will be said) are not lust, cruelty, 
 avarice, bad motives ? Is there so much as any one individual 
 occasion, in which motives like these can be otherwise than 
 bad ? No, certainly : and yet the proposition, that there is 
 no one sort of motive but what will on many occasions be 
 a good one, is nevertheless true. The fact is, that these 
 are names which, if properly applied, are never applied but 
 in the cases where the motives they signify happen to be bad. 
 The names of these motives, considered apart from their 
 effects, are sexual desire, displeasure, and pecuniary interest. 
 To sexual desire, when the effects of it are looked upon as 
 bad, is given the name of lust. Now lust is always a bad 
 motive. Why ? Because if the case be such, that the effects 
 of the motive are not bad, it does not go, or at least ought 
 not to go, by the name of lust. The case is, then, that when 
 I say, ' Lust is a bad motive,' it is a proposition that merely 
 concerns the import of the word lust ; and which would be 
 false if transferred to the other word used for the same motive, 
 sexual desire. Hence we see the emptiness of all those 
 rhapsodies of common-place morality, which consist in the 
 taking of such names as lust, cruelty, and avarice, and branding 
 them with marks of reprobation : applied to the thing, they 
 are false ; applied to the name, they are true indeed, but 
 nugatory. Would you do a real service to mankind, shew 
 them the cases in which sexual desire merits the name of 
 lust ; displeasure, that of cruelty ; and pecuniary interest, that 
 of avarice.
 
 376 BE NTH AM. [Chap.x. 
 
 410 xxxi. If it were necessary to apply such denominations as 
 good, bad, and indifferent to motives, they might be classed 
 in the following manner, in consideration of the most frequent 
 complexion of their effects. In the class of good motives 
 might be placed the articles of, i. Good-will. 2. Love of repu- 
 tation. 3. Desire of amity. And, 4. Religion. In the class 
 of bad motives, 5. Displeasure. In the class of neutral or 
 indifferent motives, 6. Physical desire. 7. Pecuniary interest. 
 8. Love of power. 9. Self-preservation ; as including the 
 fear of the pains of the senses, the love of ease, and the love 
 of life. 
 
 xxxii. This method of arrangement, however, cannot but be 
 imperfect ; and the nomenclature belonging to it is in danger 
 of being fallacious. For by what method of investigation can 
 a man be assured, that with regard to the motives ranked 
 under the name of good, the good effects they have had, from 
 the beginning of the world, have, in each of the four species 
 comprised under this name, been superior to the bad? still 
 more difficulty would a man find in assuring himself, that 
 with regard to those which are ranked under the name of 
 neutral or indifferent, the effects they have had have exactly 
 balanced each other, the value of the good being neither 
 greater nor less than that of the bad. It is to be considered, 
 that the interests of the person himself can no more be left 
 out of the estimate, than those of the rest of the community. 
 For what would become of the species, if it were not for the 
 motives of hunger and thirst, sexual desire, the fear of pain, 
 and the love of life ? Nor in the actual constitution of human 
 nature is the motive of displeasure less necessary, perhaps, 
 than any of the others : although a system, in which the 
 business of life might be carried on without it, might possibly 
 be conceived. It seems, therefore, that they could scarcely, 
 without great danger of mistakes, be distinguished in this 
 manner even with reference to each other. 
 
 411 xxxin. The only way, it should seem, in which a motive can
 
 Chap.X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 377 
 
 with safety and propriety be styled good or bad, is with refer- 
 ence to its effects in each individual instance ; and principally 
 from the intention it gives birth to : from which arise, as 
 will be shewn hereafter, the most material part of its effects. 
 A motive is good, when the intention it gives birth to is 
 a good one ; bad, when the intention is a bad one : and 
 an intention is good or bad, according to the material conse- 
 quences that are the objects of it. So far is it from the 
 goodness of the intention's being to be known only from the 
 species of the motive. But from one and the same motive, 
 as we have seen, may result intentions of every sort of 
 complexion whatsoever. This circumstance, therefore, can 
 afford no clue for the arrangement of the several sorts of 
 motives. 
 
 412 xxxiv. A more commodious method, therefore, it should 
 seem, would be to distribute them according to the influence 
 which they appear to have on the interests of the other members 
 of the community, laying those of the party himself out of the 
 question : to wit, according to the tendency which they appear 
 to have to unite, or disunite, his interests and theirs. On this 
 plan they may be distinguished into social, dissocial, and self- 
 regarding. In the social class may be reckoned, i. Good-will. 
 2. Love of reputation. 3. Desire of amity. 4. Religion. In 
 the dissocial may be placed, 5. Displeasure. In the self- 
 regarding class, 6. Physical desire. 7. Pecuniary interest- 
 8. Love of power. 9. Self-preservation ; as including the fear 
 of the pains of the senses, the love of ease, and the love 
 of life. 
 
 413 xxxv. With respect to the motives that have been termed 
 social, if any farther distinction should be of use, to that of 
 good-will alone may be applied the epithet of purely-social; 
 while the love of reputation, the desire of amity, and the 
 motive of religion, may together be comprised under the 
 division of semi-social: the social tendency being much more 
 constant and unequivocal in the former than in any of the three
 
 378 BENTHAM. [Chap. X. 
 
 latter. Indeed these last, social as they may be termed, are 
 self-regarding at the same time '. 
 
 4. Order of pre-eminence among motives. 
 
 414 xxxvi. Of all these sorts of motives, good-will is that of 
 which the dictates 2 , taken in a general view, are surest of coin- 
 ciding with those of the principle of utility. For the dictates of 
 utility are neither more nor less than the dictates of the most 
 extensive 3 and enlightened (that is well-advised 4 ) benevolence. 
 The dictates of the other motives may be conformable to 
 those of utility, or repugnant, as it may happen. 
 
 xxxvu. In this, however, it is taken for granted, that in 
 the case in question the dictates of benevolence are not con- 
 tradicted by those of a more extensive, that is enlarged, 
 benevolence. Now when the dictates of benevolence, as 
 respecting the interests of a certain set of persons, are repugnant 
 to the dictates of the same motive, as respecting the more im- 
 portant 5 interests of another set of persons, the former dictates, 
 it is evident, are repealed, as it were, by the latter : and a man, 
 were he to be governed by the former, could scarcely, with pro- 
 priety, be said to be governed by the dictates of benevolence. 
 On this account, were the motives on both sides sure to be 
 alike present to a man's mind, the case of such a repugnancy 
 would hardly be worth distinguishing, since the partial bene- 
 volence might be considered as swallowed up in the more 
 extensive : if the former prevailed, and governed the action, it 
 must be considered as not owing its birth to benevolence, 
 but to some other motive : if the latter prevailed, the former 
 
 1 ' Religion,' says the pious Addison, somewhere in the Spectator, ' is 
 the highest species of self-love.' 
 
 2 When a man is supposed to be prompted by any motive to engage, or 
 not to engage, in such or such an action, it may be of use, for the con- 
 venience of discourse, to speak of such motive as giving birth to an imaginary 
 kind of law or dictate, enjoining him to engage, or not to engage, in it. 
 
 3 See ch. iv. [Value] and ch. vi. [Sensibility] xxi. 
 * See ch. ix. [Consciousness]. 
 
 '" Or valuable. See ch. iv. [Value].
 
 Chap.X.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 379 
 
 might be considered as having no effect. But the case is, that 
 a partial benevolence may govern the action, without entering 
 into any direct competition with the more extensive bene- 
 volence, which would forbid it ; because the interests of the 
 less numerous assemblage of persons may be present to a 
 man's mind, at a time when those of the more numerous are 
 either not present, or, if present, make no impression. It is 
 in this way that the dictates of this motive may be repugnant 
 to utility, yet still be the dictates of benevolence. What 
 makes those of private benevolence conformable upon the 
 whole to the principle of utility, is, that in general they stand 
 .unopposed by those of public : if they are repugnant to them, 
 it is only by accident. What makes them the more conform- 
 able, is, that in a civilized society, in most of the cases in 
 which they would of themselves be apt to run counter to 
 those of public benevolence, they find themselves opposed by 
 stronger motives of the self-regarding class, which are played off 
 against them by the laws ; and that it is only in cases where 
 they stand unopposed by the other more salutary dictates, 
 that they are left free. An act of injustice or cruelty, committed 
 by a man for the sake of his father or his son, is punished, 
 and with reason, as much as if it were committed for his own. 
 415 xxxvni. After good-will, the motive of which the dictates 
 seem to have the next best chance for coinciding with those of 
 utility, is that of the love of reputation. There is but one 
 circumstance which prevents the dictates of this motive from 
 coinciding in all cases with those of the former. This is, that 
 men in their likings and dislikings, in the dispositions they mani- 
 fest to annex to any mode of conduct their approbation or their 
 disapprobation, and in consequence to the person who ap- 
 pears to practise it, their good or their ill will, do not govern 
 themselves exclusively by the principle of utility. Sometimes 
 it is the principle of asceticism they are guided by : sometimes 
 the principle of sympathy and antipathy. There is another 
 circumstance, which diminishes, not their conformity to the
 
 380 BE NTH AM. [Chap.X. 
 
 principle of utility, but only their efficacy in comparison with 
 the dictates of the motive of benevolence. The dictates of 
 this motive will operate as strongly in secret as in public : 
 whether it appears likely that the conduct which they recom- 
 mend will be known or not : those of the love of reputation 
 will coincide with those of benevolence only in proportion as 
 a man's conduct seems likely to be known. This circum- 
 stance, however, does not make so much difference as at first 
 sight might appear. Acts, in proportion as they are material, 
 are apt to become known l : and in point of reputation, the 
 slightest suspicion often serves for proof. Besides, if an act be 
 a disreputable one, it is not any assurance a man can have of 
 the secrecy of the particular act in question, that will of course 
 surmount the objections he may have against engaging in it. 
 Though the act in question should remain secret, it will go 
 towards forming a habit, which may give birth to other acts, 
 that may not meet with the same good fortune. There is no 
 human being, perhaps, who is at years of discretion, on whom 
 considerations of this sort have not some weight : and they 
 have the more weight upon a man, in proportion to the strength 
 of his intellectual powers, and the firmness of his mind. Add 
 to this, the influence which habit itself, when once formed, has 
 in restraining a man from acts towards which, from the view of 
 the disrepute annexed to them, as well as from any other cause, 
 he has contracted an aversion. The influence of habit, in such 
 cases, is a matter of fact, which, though not readily accounted 
 for, is acknowledged and indubitable. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. OF HUMAN DISPOSITIONS IN GENERAL. 
 
 416 i. In the foregoing chapter it has been shewn at large, that 
 goodness or badness cannot, with any propriety, be predicated 
 of motives. Is there nothing then about a man that can 
 
 1 See B. II. tit. [Evidence].
 
 Chap. XI.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 381 
 
 properly be termed good or bad, when, on such or such an 
 occasion, he suffers himself to be governed by such or such 
 a motive ? Yes, certainly : his disposition. Now disposition 
 is a kind of fictitious entity, feigned for the convenience of 
 discourse, in order to express what there is supposed to be 
 permanent in a man's frame of mind, where, on such or such 
 an occasion, he has been influenced by such or such a motive, 
 to engage in an act, which, as it appeared to him, was of such 
 or such a tendency. 
 
 417 n. It is with disposition as with every thing else : it will be 
 good or bad according to its effects : according to the effects 
 it has in augmenting or diminishing the happiness of the 
 community. A man's disposition may accordingly be con- 
 sidered in two points of view : according to the influence it 
 has, either, i. on his own happiness: or, 2. on the happiness 
 of others. Viewed in both these lights together, or in either 
 of them indiscriminately, it may be termed, on the one hand, 
 good; on the other, bad; or, in flagrant cases, depraved 1 . 
 Viewed in the former of these lights, it has scarcely any 
 peculiar name, which has as yet been appropriated to it. It 
 might be termed, though but inexpressively, frail or infirm, 
 on the one hand : sound or firm, on the other. Viewed in 
 the other light, it might be termed beneficent, or meritorious, 
 on the one hand : pernicious or mischievous on the other. 
 Now of that branch of a man's disposition, the effects of which 
 regard in the first instance only himself, there needs not much 
 to be said here. To reform it when bad, is the business rather 
 
 1 It might also be termed virtuous, or vicious. The only objection to the 
 use of those terms on the present occasion is, the great quantity of good 
 and bad repute that respectively stand annexed to them. The inconvenience 
 of this is, their being apt to annex an ill-proportioned measure of disrepute 
 to dispositions which are ill-constituted only with respect to the party himself: 
 involving them in such a degree of ignominy as should be appropriated to 
 such dispositions only as are mischievous with regard to others. To exalt 
 weaknesses to a level with crimes, is a way to diminish the abhorrence which 
 ought to be reserved for crimes. To exalt small evils to a level with great 
 ones, is the way to diminish the share of attention which ought to be paid 
 to great ones.
 
 382 BE NTH AM. [Chap. XI. 
 
 of the moralist than the legislator: nor is it susceptible of 
 those various modifications which make so material a differ- 
 ence in the effects of the other. Again, with respect to that 
 part of it, the effects whereof regard others in the first instance, 
 it is only in as far as it is of a mischievous nature that the 
 penal branch of law has any immediate concern with it : in as 
 far as it may be of a beneficent nature, it belongs to a hitherto 
 but little cultivated, and as yet unnamed branch of law, which 
 might be styled the remuneratory. 
 
 418 in. A man then is said to be of a mischievous disposition, 
 when, by the influence of no matter what motives, he is 
 presumed to be more apt to engage, or form intentions of 
 engaging, in acts which are apparently of a pernicious ten- 
 dency, than in such as are apparently of a beneficial tendency : 
 of a meritorious or beneficent disposition in the opposite 
 case. 
 
 iv. I say presumed : for, by the supposition, all that appears 
 is one single action, attended with one single train of circum- 
 stances: but from that degree of consistency and uniformity 
 which experience has shewn to be observable in the different 
 actions of the same person, the probable existence (past or 
 future) of a number of acts of a similar nature, is naturally and 
 justly inferred from the observation of one single one. Under 
 such circumstances, such as the motive proves to be in one 
 instance, such is the disposition to be presumed to be in 
 others. 
 
 v. I say apparently mischievous : that is, apparently with 
 regard to him : such as to him appear to possess that ten- 
 dency : for from the mere event, independent of what to him 
 it appears beforehand likely to be, nothing can be inferred on 
 either side. If to him it appears likely to be mischievous, in 
 such case, though in the upshot it should prove innocent, or 
 even beneficial, it makes no difference; there is not the less 
 reason for presuming his disposition to be a bad one : if to 
 him it appears likely to be beneficial or innocent, in such case,
 
 Chap. XI.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 383 
 
 though in the upshot it should prove pernicious, there is not 
 the more reason on that account for presuming his disposition 
 to be a good one. And here we see the importance of the 
 circumstances of intentionality l , consciousness 2 , unconscious- 
 ness 2 , and mis-supposal 2 . 
 
 419 vi. The truth of these positions depends upon two others, 
 both of them sufficiently verified by experience : the one is, that 
 in the ordinary course of things the consequences of actions 
 commonly turn out conformable to intentions. A man who 
 sets up a butcher's shop, and deals in beef, when he intends 
 to knock down an ox, commonly does knock down an ox ; 
 though by some unlucky accident he may chance to miss his 
 blow and knock down a man : he who sets up a grocer's shop, 
 and deals in sugar, when he intends to sell sugar, commonly 
 does sell sugar: though by some unlucky accident he may 
 chance to sell arsenic in the room of it. 
 
 vn. The other is, that a man who entertains intentions of 
 doing mischief at one time is apt to entertain the like intentions 
 at another 3 . 
 
 420 vin. There are two circumstances upon which the nature of 
 the disposition, as indicated by any act, is liable to depend : 
 i. The apparent tendency of the act : 2. The nature of the 
 motive which gave birth to it. This dependency is subject to 
 different rules, according to the nature of the motive. In 
 stating them, I suppose all along the apparent tendency of the 
 act to be, as it commonly is, the same as the real. 
 
 421 ix. i. Where the tendency of the act is good, and the motive 
 
 1 See ch. viii. " See ch. ix. 
 
 3 To suppose a man to be of a good disposition, and at the same time likely, 
 in virtue of that very disposition, to engage in an habitual train of mis- 
 chievous actions, is a contradiction in terms : nor could such a proposition 
 ever be advanced, but from the giving, to the thing which the word dis- 
 position is put for, a reality which does not belong to it. If then, for 
 example, a man of religious disposition should, in virtue of that very 
 disposition, be in the habit of doing mischief, for instance, by persecuting 
 his neighbours, the case must be, either that his disposition, though good 
 in certain respects, is not good upon the whole : or that a religious dis- 
 position is not in general a good one.
 
 384 BENTHAM. [Chap. XI. 
 
 is of the self-regarding kind. In this case the motive affords 
 no inference on either side. It affords no indication of a good 
 disposition : but neither doesitafford any indication of a bad one. 
 A baker sells his bread to a hungry man who asks for it. 
 This, we see, is one of those acts of which, in ordinary cases, 
 the tendency is unquestionably good. The baker's motive is 
 the ordinary commercial motive of pecuniary interest. It is 
 plain, that there is nothing in the transaction, thus stated, that 
 can afford the least ground for presuming that the baker is 
 a better or a worse man than any of his neighbours. 
 
 422 x. 2. Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the motive, 
 as before, is of the self-regarding kind. In this case the dis- 
 position indicated is a mischievous one. 
 
 A man steals bread out of a baker's shop : this is one of 
 those acts of which the tendency will readily be acknowledged 
 to be bad. Why, and in what respects it is so, will be stated 
 farther on. His motive, we will say, is that of pecuniary 
 interest; the desire of getting the value of the bread for 
 nothing. His disposition, accordingly, appears to be a bad 
 one : for every one will allow a thievish disposition to be 
 a bad one. 
 
 423 xi. 3. Where the tendency of the act is good, and the 
 motive is the purely social one of good-will. In this case the 
 disposition indicated is a beneficent one. 
 
 A baker gives a poor man a loaf of bread. His motive is 
 compassion ; a name given to the motive of benevolence, in 
 particular cases of its operation. The disposition indicated by 
 the baker, in this case, is such as every man will be ready 
 enough to acknowledge to be a good one. 
 
 424 xii. 4. Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the 
 motive is the purely social one of good-will. Even in this 
 case the disposition which the motive indicates is dubious : 
 it may be a mischievous or a meritorious one, as it happens ; 
 according as the mischievousness of the act is more or less 
 apparent.
 
 Chap. XI.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 385 
 
 xni. It may be thought, that a case of this sort cannot 
 exist ; and that to suppose it, is a contradiction in terms. For 
 the act is one, which, by the supposition, the agent knows to be 
 a mischievous one. How then can it be, that good-will, that 
 is, the desire of doing good, could have been the motive that 
 led him into it? To reconcile this, we must advert to the 
 distinction between enlarged benevolence and confined x . The 
 motive that led him into it, was that of confined benevolence. 
 Had he followed the dictates of enlarged benevolence, he 
 would not have done what he did. Now, although he fol- 
 lowed the dictates of that branch of benevolence, which in 
 any single instance of its exertion is mischievous, when 
 opposed to the other, yet, as the cases which call for the 
 exertion of the former are, beyond comparison, more numerous 
 than those which call for the exertion of the latter, the dis- 
 position indicated by him, in following the impulse of the 
 former, will often be such as in a man, of the common run 
 of men, may be allowed to be a good one upon the whole. 
 
 xiv. A man with a numerous family of children, on the point 
 of starving, goes into a baker's shop, steals a loaf, divides it 
 all among the children, reserving none of it for himself. It 
 will be hard to infer that that man's disposition is a mischievous 
 one upon the whole. Alter the case, give him but one child, 
 and that hungry perhaps, but in no imminent danger of starving : 
 and now let the man set fire to a house full of people, for the 
 sake of stealing money out of it to buy the bread with. The 
 disposition here indicated will hardly be looked upon as 
 
 a good one. 
 
 ******* 
 
 425 xvii. 5. Where the tendency of the act is good, and the 
 motive is a semi-social one, the love of reputation. In this 
 case the disposition indicated is a good one. 
 
 In a time of scarcity, a baker, for the sake of gaining the 
 esteem of the neighbourhood, distributes bread gratis among 
 
 1 See ch. x. [Motives]. 
 * C C
 
 386 BENTHAM. [Chap. XI. 
 
 the industrious poor. Let this be taken for granted : and let 
 it be allowed to be a matter of uncertainty, whether he had any 
 real feeling for the sufferings of those whom he has relieved, or 
 no. His disposition, for all that, cannot, with any pretence of 
 reason, be termed otherwise than a good and beneficent one. 
 It can only be in consequence of some very idle prejudice, if 
 it receives a different name *. 
 
 426 xvin. 6. Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the 
 motive, as before, is a semi-social one, the love of reputation. 
 In this case, the disposition which it indicates is more or less 
 good or bad : in the first place, according as the tendency of 
 the act is more or less mischievous : in the next place, according 
 as the dictates of the moral sanction, in the society in ques- 
 tion, approach more or less to a coincidence with those of utility. 
 It does not seem probable, that in any nation, which is in a 
 state of tolerable civilization, in short, in any nation in which 
 such rules as these can come to be consulted, the dictates 
 of the moral sanction will so far recede from a coincidence with 
 
 1 The bulk of mankind, ever ready to depreciate the character of their 
 neighbours, in order, indirectly, to exalt their own, will take occasion to 
 refer a motive to the class of bad ones as often as they can find one still 
 better, to which the act might have owed its birth. Conscious that his own 
 motives are not of the best class, or persuaded that if they be, they will not 
 be referred to that class by others ; afraid of being taken for a dupe, and 
 anxious to show the reach of his penetration ; each man takes care, in the 
 first place, to impute the conduct of every other man to the least laudable 
 of the motives that can account for it : in the next place, when he has gone 
 as far that way as he can, and cannot drive down the individual motive to 
 any lower class, he changes his battery, and attacks the very class itself. To 
 the love of reputation he will accordingly give a bad name upon every 
 occasion, calling it ostentation, vanity, or vain-glory. 
 
 Partly to the same spirit of detraction, the natural consequence of the 
 sensibility of men to the force of the moral sanction, partly to the influence of 
 the principle of asceticism, may, perhaps, be imputed the great abundance of 
 bad names of motives, in comparison of such as are good or neutral : and, in 
 particular, the total want of neutral names for the motives of sexual desire, 
 physical desire in general, and pecuniary interest. The superior abundance, 
 even of good names, in comparison of neutral ones, would, if examined, be 
 found rather to confirm than disprove the above remark. The language of 
 a people on these points may, perhaps, serve in some measure as a key 
 to their moral sentiments. But such speculative disquisitions are foreign to 
 the purpose of the present work.
 
 Chap. XI.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 387 
 
 those of utility (that is, of enlightened benevolence) that 
 the disposition indicated in this case can be otherwise than 
 a good one upon the whole. 
 
 xix. An Indian receives an injury, real or imaginary, from an 
 Indian of another tribe. He revenges it upon the person of 
 his antagonist with the most excruciating torments : the case 
 being, that cruelties inflicted on such an occasion, gain him 
 reputation in his own tribe. The disposition manifested in 
 such a case can never be deemed a good one, among a people 
 ever so few degrees advanced, in point of civilization, above 
 the Indians. 
 
 xx. A nobleman (to come back to Europe) contracts a debt 
 with a poor tradesman. The same nobleman, presently 
 afterwards, contracts a debt, to the same amount, to another 
 nobleman, at play. He is unable to pay both : he pays the 
 whole debt to the companion of his amusements, and no part 
 of it to the tradesman. The disposition manifested in this 
 case can scarcely be termed otherwise than a bad one. It is 
 certainly, however, not so bad as if he had paid neither. The 
 principle of love of reputation, or (as it is called in the case 
 of this partial application of it) honour, is here opposed to the 
 worthier principle of benevolence, and gets the better of it. 
 But it gets the better also of the self-regarding principle of 
 pecuniary interest. The disposition, therefore, which it indi- 
 cates, although not so good a one as that in which the 
 principle of benevolence predominates, is better than one in 
 which the principle of self-interest predominates. He would 
 be the better for having more benevolence : but would he be 
 the better for having no honour? This seems to admit of 
 great dispute a . 
 
 427 xxi. 7. Where the tendency of the act is good, and the motive 
 is the semi-social one of religion. In this case, the disposition 
 indicated by it (considered with respect to the influence of it 
 
 1 See the case of Duels discussed in B. I. tit. [Homicide]. 
 C C 2
 
 388 BENTHAM. [Chap. XI. 
 
 on the man's conduct towards others) is manifestly a beneficent 
 and meritorious one. 
 
 A baker distributes bread gratis among the industrious poor. 
 It is not that he feels for their distresses : nor is it for the sake 
 of gaining reputation among his neighbours. It is for the sake 
 of gaining the favour of the Deity : to whom, he takes for 
 granted, such conduct will be acceptable. The disposition 
 manifested by such conduct is plainly what every man would 
 call a good one. 
 
 428 xxn. 8. Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the motive 
 is that of religion, as before. In this case the disposition is 
 dubious. It is good or bad, and more or less good or bad, 
 in the first place as the tendency of the act is more or less 
 mischievous ; in the next place, according as the religious 
 tenets of the person in question approach more or less to 
 a coincidence with the dictates of utility. 
 
 ******* 
 
 429 xxiv. 9. Where the tendency of the act is good, and the 
 motive (as before) is the dissocial one of ill-will. In this case 
 the motive seems not to afford any indication on either side. 
 It is no indication of a good disposition ; but neither is it 
 any indication of a bad one. 
 
 You have detected a baker in selling short weight: you 
 prosecute him for the cheat. It is not for the sake of gain 
 that you engaged in the prosecution ; for there is nothing to 
 be got by it : it is not from public spirit : it is not for the sake 
 of reputation ; for there is no reputation to be got by it : it is 
 not in the view of pleasing the Deity : it is merely on account 
 of a quarrel you have with the man you prosecute. From the 
 transaction, as thus stated, there does not seem to be any 
 thing to be said either in favour of your disposition or against 
 it. The tendency of the act is good : but you would not have 
 engaged in it, had it not been from a motive which there seems 
 no particular reason to conclude will ever prompt you to engage 
 in an act of the same kind again. Your motive is of that
 
 Chap. XL] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 389 
 
 sort which may, with least impropriety, be termed a bad one : 
 but the act is of that sort, which, were it engaged in ever so 
 often, could never have any evil tendency; nor indeed any 
 other tendency than a good one. By the supposition, the 
 motive it happened to be dictated by was that of ill-will : 
 but the act itself is of such a nature as to have wanted nothing 
 but sufficient discernment on your part in order to have been 
 dictated by the most enlarged benevolence. Now, from a 
 man's having suffered himself to be induced to gratify his 
 resentment by means of an act of which the tendency is good, 
 it by no means follows that he would be ready on another 
 occasion, through the influence of the same sort of motive, to 
 engage in any act of which the tendency is a bad one. The 
 motive that impelled you was a dissocial one : but what social 
 motive could there have been to restrain you? None, but 
 what might have been outweighed by a more enlarged motive 
 of the same kind. Now, because the dissocial motive prevailed 
 when it stood alone, it by no means follows that it would 
 prevail when it had a social one to combat it. 
 430 xxv. 10. Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the motive 
 is the dissocial one of malevolence. In this case the disposition 
 it indicates is of course a mischievous one. 
 
 The man who stole the bread from the baker, as before, did 
 it with no other view than merely to impoverish and afflict 
 him : accordingly, when he had got the bread, he did not eat, 
 or sell it ; but destroyed it. That the disposition, evidenced 
 by such a transaction, is a bad one, is what every body must 
 perceive immediately.
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 HUTCHESON 
 
 I. AN ESSAY ON THE NATURE AND CONDUCT OF THE 
 PASSIONS AND AFFECTIONS. 
 
 II. ILLUSTRATIONS UPON THE MORAL SENSE. 
 
 [First edition, 1728 ; reprinted here from the third edition, 1742.] 
 
 III. A SYSTEM OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Reprinted here from the first edition, 1755.]
 
 HUTCHESON 
 
 On the Nature and Conduct of the 
 Passions and Affections 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ******** 
 431 SOME strange Love of Simplicity in the Structure of human 
 Nature, or Attachment to some favourite Hypothesis, has engaged 
 many Writers to pass over a great many simple Perceptions, 
 which we may find in ourselves. We have got the number Five 
 fixed for our external Senses, though a larger Number might 
 perhaps as easily be defended. We have Multitudes of Perceptions 
 which have no relation to any external Sensation ; if by it we 
 mean Perceptions immediately occasioned by Motions or Impres- 
 sions made on our Bodies, such as the Ideas of Number, Duration, 
 Proportion, Virtue, Vice, Pleasures of Honour, of Congratulation ; 
 the Pains of Remorse, Shame, Sympathy, and many others. It 
 were to be wished, that those who are at such Pains to prove 
 a beloved Maxim, that ' all Ideas arise from Sensation and Reflec- 
 tion,' had so explained themselves, that none should take their 
 Meaning to be, that all our Ideas are either external Sensations, 
 or reflex Acts upon external Sensations : Or if by Reflection they 
 mean an inward Power of Perception, as Mr. Locke declares 
 expressly, calling it internal Sensation, that they had as carefully 
 examined into the several kinds of internal Perceptions, as they 
 have done into the external Sensations : that we might have seen 
 whether the former be not as natural and necessary and ultimate, 
 without reference to any other, as the latter. Had they in like 
 manner considered our Affections without a previous Notion, that
 
 ON THE PASSIONS. 393 
 
 they were all from Self-Love, they might have felt an ultimate 
 Desire of the Happiness of others as easily conceivable, and as 
 certainly implanted in the human Breast, though perhaps not so 
 strong as Self- Love. 
 
 ******** 
 
 432 One may easily see from the great variety of Terms, and diver- 
 sity of Schemes invented, that all Men feel something in their own 
 Hearts recommending Virtue, which yet it is difficult to explain. 
 This Difficulty probably arises from our previous Notions of a small 
 Number of Senses, so that we are unwilling to have recourse in 
 our Theories to any more ; and rather strain out some Explication 
 of moral Ideas, with relation to some of the natural Powers of 
 Perception universally acknowledged. The like difficulty attends 
 several other Perceptions, to the Reception of which Philosophers 
 have not generally assigned their distinct Senses ; such as natural 
 Beauty, Harmony, the Perfection of Poetry, Architecture, Designing, 
 and such like affairs of Genius, Taste, or Fancy ; The Explications 
 or Theories on these Subjects are in like manner full of Confusion 
 and Metaphor. 
 
 SECTION I. A general Account of our several Senses and Desires, 
 
 Selfish or Publick. 
 
 * ******* 
 
 433 I. If we may call 'every Determination of our Minds to receive 
 Ideas independently of our Will, and to have Perceptions of 
 Pleasure and Pain, a Sense' we shall find many other Senses 
 beside those commonly explained. Though it is not easy to assign 
 accurate Divisions on such Subjects, yet we may reduce them 
 to the following Classes, leaving it to others to arrange them as 
 they think convenient. A little Reflection will shew that there 
 are such Natural Powers in the human Mind, in whatever Order 
 we place them. In the ist Class are the External Senses, univer- 
 sally known. In the 2nd, the Pleasant Perceptions arising from 
 regular, harmonious, uniform Objects ; as also from Grandeur and 
 Novelty. These we may call, after Mr. Addison, the Pleasures of 
 the Imagination ; or we may call the Power of receiving them, 
 an Internal Sense. Whoever dislikes this Name may substitute 
 another. 3. The next Class of Perceptions we may call a
 
 394 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 Publick Sense, viz. 'our Determination to be pleased with the 
 Happiness of others, and to be uneasy at their Misery.' This is 
 found in some degree in all Men, and was sometimes called 
 KoivovoT]fioavvri, or Sensus Communis by some of the Antients. 
 This inward Pain of Compassion cannot be called a Sensation 
 of Sight. It solely arises from an Opinion of Misery felt by 
 another, and not immediately from a visible Form. The same 
 Form presented to the Eye by the exactest Painting, or the Action 
 of a Player, gives no Pain to those who remember that there is 
 no Misery felt. When Men by Imagination conceive real Pain 
 felt by an Actor, without recollecting that it is merely feigned, 
 or when they think of the real Story represented, then, as there 
 is a confused Opinion of real Misery, there is also Pain in Com- 
 passion. 4. The fourth Class we may call the Moral Sense, by 
 which ' we perceive Virtue or Vice, in ourselves, or others.' This 
 is plainly distinct from the former Class of Perceptions, since 
 many are strongly affected with the Fortunes of others, who 
 seldom reflect upon Virtue or Vice, in themselves, or others, as 
 an Object : as we may find in Natural Affection, Compassion, 
 Friendship, or even general Benevolence to Mankind, which 
 connect our Happiness or Pleasure with that of others, even when 
 we are not reflecting upon our own Temper, nor delighted with 
 the Perception of our own Virtue. 5. The fifth Class is a Sense 
 of Honour, which makes the Approbation, or Gratitude of others, 
 for any good Actions we have done, the necessary occasion 
 of pleasure ; and their Dislike, Condemnation, or Resentment of 
 Injuries done by us, the occasion of that uneasy Sensation called 
 Shame, even when we fear no further evil from them. 
 434 There are perhaps other Perceptions distinct from all these 
 Classes, such as some Ideas 'of Decency, Dignity, Suitableness to 
 human Nature in certain Actions and Circumstances ; and of an 
 Indecency, Meanness, and Unworthiness, in the contrary Actions 
 or Circumstances, even without any conception of Moral Good, or 
 Evil.' Thus the Pleasures of Sight, and Hearing, are more esteemed 
 than those of Taste or Touch : The Pursuits of the Pleasures of the 
 Imagination, are more approved than those of simple external Sensa- 
 tions. Plato makes one of his Dialogists * account for this difference 
 
 1 Hippias Major. See also Treat. II. Sect. 5. Art. 7.
 
 Sect. I.] ON THE PASSIONS. 395 
 
 from a constant opinion of Innocence in this sort of Pleasures, 
 which would reduce this Perception to the Moral Sense. Others 
 may imagine that the difference is not owing to any such Reflection 
 upon their Innocence, but that there is a different sort of Percep- 
 tions in these cases, to be reckoned another Class of Sensations. 
 
 435 II. Desires arise in our Mind, from the Frame of our Nature, 
 upon Apprehension of Good or Evil in Objects, Actions, or Events, 
 to obtain for ourselves or others the agreeable Sensation, when 
 the Object or Event is good : or to prevent the uneasy Sensation, 
 when it is evil. Our original Desires and Aversions may there- 
 fore be divided into five Classes, answering to the Classes of our 
 Senses. I. The Desire of sensual Pleasure, (by which we mean 
 that of the external Senses, of Taste and Touch chiefly) ; and 
 Aversion to the opposite Pains. 2. The Desires of the Pleasures 
 of Imagination or Internal Sense l , and Aversion to what is dis- 
 agreeable to it. 3. Desires of the Pleasures arising from Public 
 Happiness, and Aversion to the Pains arising from the Misery of 
 others. 4. Desires of Virtue, and Aversion to Vice, according to 
 the Notions we have of the Tendency of Actions to the Public 
 Advantage or Detriment. 5. Desires of Honour, and Aversion 
 to Shame 2 . 
 
 436 And since we are capable of Reflection, Memory, Observation, 
 and Reasoning about the distant Tendencies of Objects and Actions, 
 and not confined to things present, there must arise, in consequence 
 of our original Desires, ' secondary Desires of every thing imagined 
 useful to gratify any of the primary Desires, and that with strength 
 proportioned to the several original Desires, and the imagined 
 Usefulness, or Necessity of the advantageous Object.' Thus as 
 soon as we come to apprehend the Use of Wealth or Power to 
 gratify any of our original Desires, we must also desire them. 
 Hence arises the Universality of these Desires of Wealth and 
 Power since they are the Means of gratifying all other Desires. 
 How foolish then is the Inference, some would make, from the 
 universal Prevalence of these Desires, that human Nature is wholly 
 selfish, or that each one is only studious of his own Advantage ; 
 since Wealth or Power are as naturally fit to gratify our Publick 
 Desires, or to serve virtuous Purposes, as the selfish ones ? ' 
 
 ******** 
 
 1 See Treat. I. a See Treat. II. Sect. 5. Art. 3-8.
 
 396 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 437 Let it be premised, that there is a certain Pain or Uneasiness 
 accompanying most of our violent Desires. Though the Object 
 pursued be Good, or the Means of Pleasure, yet the Desire of it 
 generally is attended with an uneasy Sensation. When an Object 
 or Event appears Evil, we desire to shun or prevent it. This 
 Desire is also attended with uneasy Sensation of Impatience : 
 Now this Sensation immediately connected with the Desire, is 
 a distinct Sensation from those which we dread, and endeavour to 
 shun. It is plain then, 
 
 I. 'That no Desire of any Event is excited by any view of 
 removing the uneasy Sensation attending this Desire itself.' Uneasy 
 Sensations previously felt, will raise a Desire of whatever will 
 remove them : and this Desire may have its concomitant Uneasi- 
 ness. Pleasant Sensations expected from any Object may raise 
 our Desire of it ; this Desire too may have its concomitant 
 uneasy Sensations : But the uneasy Sensation, accompanying and 
 connected with the Desire itself, cannot be a Motive to that Desire 
 which it presupposes. The Sensation accompanying Desire is 
 generally uneasy, and consequently our Desire is never raised with 
 a view to obtain or continue it ; nor is the Desire raised with a view 
 to remove this uneasy Sensation, for the Desire is raised previously 
 to it. This holds concerning all Desire publick or private. 
 
 There is also a peculiar pleasant Sensation of Joy, attending the 
 Gratification of any Desire, beside the Sensation received from the 
 Object itself, which we directly intended. ' But Desire does never 
 arise from a View of obtaining that Sensation of Joy, connected 
 with the Success or Gratification of Desire ; otherwise the strongest 
 Desires might arise toward any Trifle, or an Event in all respects 
 indifferent : Since, if Desire arose from this View, the stronger the 
 Desire were, the higher would be the Pleasure of Gratification ; and 
 therefore we might desire the turning of a Straw as violently as we 
 do Wealth or Power.' This Expectation of that Pleasure which 
 merely arises from gratifying of Desire, would equally excite us to 
 desire the Misery of others as their Happiness ; since this Pleasure 
 of Gratification might be obtained from both Events alike. 
 
 438 2. It is certain that ' that Desire of the Happiness of others which 
 we account virtuous, is not directly excited by prospects of any 
 secular Advantage, Wealth, Power, Pleasure of the external Senses, 
 Reward from the Deity, or future Pleasures of Self-Approbation.'
 
 Sect. I.] ON THE PASSIONS. 397 
 
 To prove this let us consider, ' That no Desire of any Event can 
 arise immediately or directly from an Opinion in the Agent, that his 
 having such a Desire will be the Means of private Good.' This 
 Opinion would make us wish or desire to have that advantageous 
 Desire or Affection ; and would incline us to use any means in our 
 power to raise that Affection : but no Affection or Desire is raised in 
 us, directly by our volition or desiring it. That alone which raises 
 in us from Self-Love the Desire of any Event, is an Opinion that 
 that Event is the Means of private Good. As soon as we form this 
 Opinion, a Desire of the Event immediately arises : But if having 
 the Desire, or the mere Affection, be imagined the Means of private 
 Good, and not the Existence of the Event desired, then from Self- 
 Love we should only desire or wish to have the Desire of that 
 Event, and should not desire the Event itself, since the Event is not 
 conceived as the Means of Good. 
 
 ******** 
 439 3- ' There are in Men Desires of the Happiness of others, when 
 they do not conceive this Happiness as the Means of obtaining any 
 sort of Happiness to themselves.' Self-Approbation, or Rewards 
 from the Deity, might be the Ends, for obtaining which we might 
 possibly desire or will from Self-Love, to raise in ourselves kind 
 Affections ; but we could not from Self-Love desire the Happiness 
 of others, except we imagined their Happiness to be the Means of 
 our own. Now it is certain that sometimes we may have this subor- 
 dinate Desire of the Happiness of others, conceived as the Means 
 of our own ; as suppose one had laid a Wager upon the Happiness 
 of a Person of such Veracity, that he would own sincerely whether 
 he were happy or not ; when Men are Partners in Stock, and share 
 in Profit or Loss ; when one hopes to succeed to, or some way to 
 share in the Prosperity of another ; or if the Deity had given such 
 Threatnings, as they tell us Telamon gave his Sons when they went 
 to War, that he would reward or punish one according as others 
 were happy or miserable : In such Cases one might have this 
 subordinate Desire of another's Happiness from Self-Love. But as 
 we are sure the Deity has not given such Comminations, so we 
 often are conscious of the Desire of the Happiness of others, with- 
 out any such Conception of it as the Means of our own ; and are 
 sensible that this subordinate Desire is not that virtuous Affection 
 which we approve. The virtuous Benevolence must be an ultimate
 
 398 HUTCHES ON. [Sect. I. 
 
 Desire, which would subsist without view to private Good. Such 
 ultimate publick Desires we often feel, without any subordinate 
 Desire of the same Event, as the Means of private Good. The 
 subordinate may sometimes, nay often does concur with the 
 ultimate ; and then indeed the whole Moment of these conspiring 
 Desires may be greater than that of either alone : But the subor- 
 dinate alone is not that Affection which we approve as virtuous. 
 440 Art. IV. This will clear our Way to answer the chief Difficulty : 
 ' May not our Benevolence be at least a Desire of the Happiness of 
 others, as the Means of obtaining the Pleasure of the publick Sense, 
 from the Contemplation of their Happiness ?' If it were so, it is 
 very unaccountable, that we should approve this subordinate Desire 
 as virtuous, and yet not approve the like Desire upon a Wager, or 
 other Considerations of Interest. Both Desires proceed from Self- 
 Love in the same manner : In the latter case the Desires might be 
 extended to multitudes, if any one would wager so capriciously ; and, 
 by increasing the Sum wagered, the Motive of Interest might, with 
 many Tempers, be made stronger than that from the Pleasures of 
 the publick Sense. 
 
 Do not we find that we often desire the Happiness of others 
 without any such selfish Intention ? How few have thought upon 
 this part of our Constitution which we call a Publick Sense ? Were 
 it our only View, in Compassion to free ourselves from the Pain of 
 the publick Sense ; should the Deity propose it to our Choice, either 
 to obliterate all Ideas of the Person in Distress, or to harden our 
 Hearts against all feelings of Compassion, on the one hand, while 
 yet the Object continued in Misery; or on the other hand to relieve 
 him from it ; should we not upon this Scheme be perfectly indifferent, 
 and chuse the former as soon as the latter? Should the Deity 
 assure us that we should be immediately annihilated, so that we 
 should be incapable of either Pleasure or Pain, but that it should 
 depend upon our Choice at our very Exit, whether our Children, 
 our Friends, or our Country should be happy or miserable ; should 
 we not upon this Scheme be entirely indifferent ? Or, if we should 
 even desire the pleasant Thought of their Happiness, in our last 
 Moment, would not this Desire be the faintest imaginable ? 
 
 It is true, our Publick Sense might be as acute at our Exit as 
 ever ; as a Man's Taste of Meat or Drink and his Sensations of 
 Hunger and Thirst might be as lively the instant before his
 
 Sect. II.] ON THE PASSIONS. 399 
 
 Dissolution as in any part of his Life. But would any Man have 
 as strong Desires of the Means of obtaining these Pleasures, only 
 with a view to himself, when he was to perish the next Moment ? 
 Is it supposable that any Desire of the Means of private Pleasure 
 can be as strong when we only expect to enjoy it a Minute, as 
 when we expect the Continuance of it for many Years ? And yet, 
 it is certain, any good Man would as strongly desire at his Exit 
 the Happiness of others, as in any part of his Life, which must be 
 the Case with those who voluntarily hazard their Lives, or resolve 
 on Death for their Country or Friends. We do not therefore desire 
 it as the Means of private Pleasure. 
 
 ******** 
 441 The Occasion of the imagined Difficulty in conceiving disin- 
 terested Desires, has probably been from the attempting to define 
 this simple Idea, Desire. It is called an uneasy Sensation in the 
 absence of Good \ Whereas Desire is as distinct from any Sensa- 
 tion, as the Will is from the Understanding or Senses. This 
 every one must acknowledge, who speaks of desiring to remove 
 Uneasiness or Pain. 
 
 SECTION II. Of the Affections and Passions: The natural 
 Laws of pure Affection : The confused Sensations of the Passions 
 with their final Causes. 
 
 ******** 
 442 There is a Distinction to be observed on this Subject, between 
 ' the calm Desire of Good, and Aversion to Evil, either selfish or 
 publick, as they appear to our Reason or Reflection ; and the 
 particular Passions towards Objects immediately presented to 
 some Sense.' Thus nothing can be more distinct than the general 
 calm Desire of private Good of any kind, which alone would incline 
 us to pursue whatever Objects were apprehended as the Means of 
 Good, and the particular selfish Passions, such as Ambition, 
 Covetousness, Hunger, Lust, Revenge, Anger, as they arise upon 
 particular Occasions. In like Manner our publick Desires may be 
 distinguished into the general calm Desire of the Happiness of 
 others, or Aversion to their Misery upon Reflection; and the 
 
 1 See Mr. Locke's Essay on Human Understanding in the Chap, on the 
 Passions.
 
 400 HUTCHESON. [Sect. II. 
 
 particular Affections or Passions of Love, Congratulation, Com- 
 passion, natural Affection. 
 
 ******** 
 We obtain Command over the particular Passions, principally 
 by strengthening the general Desires through frequent Reflection, 
 and making them habitual, so as to obtain Strength superior to the 
 particular Passions l . 
 
 ******** 
 
 443 If it seems too rash to assert a Distinction between Affections 
 and Passions, or that Desire may subsist without any uneasiness, 
 since perhaps we are never conscious of any Desire absolutely free 
 from all uneasiness ; ' let it be considered, that the simple Idea of 
 Desire is different from that of Pain of any kind, or from any 
 Sensation whatsoever : Nor is there any other Argument for their 
 Identity than this, that they occur to us at once : But this Argument 
 is inconclusive, otherwise it would prove Colour and Figure to be 
 the same, or Incision and Pain.' 
 
 - ******** 
 
 SECTION III. Particular Divisions - of the Affections and 
 
 Passions. 
 ******** 
 
 444 Since our Moral Sense represents Virtue as the greatest Happi- 
 ness to the Person possessed of it, our publick Affections will natu- 
 rally make us desire the Virtue of others. When the Opportunity 
 of a great Action occurs to any Person against whom we are no way 
 .prejudiced, we wish he would attempt it, and desire his good Suc- 
 cess. If he succeeds we feel Joy ; if he is disappointed, or quits the 
 
 1 The Schoolmen express this Distinction by the Appetitus rationalis, 
 and the Appetitus Sensttivus. All Animals have in common the External 
 Senses suggesting notions of things as pleasant or painful : and have also 
 the Appetitus Sensitivus, or some instinctive Desires and Aversions. 
 Rational Agents have, superadded to these, two higher analogous Powers : 
 viz. the Understanding, or Reason, presenting farther notions, and attended 
 with an higher sort of Sensations ; and the Appetitus rationalis. This 
 latter is a ' constant natural Disposition of Soul to desire what the Under- 
 standing, or these sublimer Sensations, represent as Good, and to shun what 
 they represent as Evil, and this either when it respects ourselves or others.' 
 This many call the Will as distinct from the Passions. Some later Writers 
 seem to have forgot it, by ascribing to the Understanding not only Ideas, 
 Notions, Knowledge ; but Action, Inclinations, Desires, Prosecution, and 
 their Contraries.
 
 Sect. IV.] ON THE PASSIONS. 401 
 
 Attempt, we feel Sorrow. Upon like Opportunity of, or Temptation 
 to a base Action, we have Aversion to the Event : If he resists the 
 Temptation, we feel Joy ; if he yields to it, Sorrow. Our Affections 
 toward the Person arise jointly with our Passions about this Event, 
 according as he acquits himself virtuously or basely. 
 
 SECTION IV. How far our several Affections and Passions are 
 in our Power, either to govern them when raised, or to prevent 
 their arising : with some general Observations about their Objects. 
 ******** 
 
 445 II. The Government of our Passions must then depend much 
 upon our Opinions : But we must here observe an obvious 
 Difference among our Desires, viz. that ' some of them have 
 a previous, painful, or uneasy Sensation, antecedently to any 
 Opinion of Good in the Object ; nay, the Object is often chiefly 
 esteemed good, only for its allaying this Pain or Uneasiness ; or 
 if the Object gives also positive Pleasure, yet the uneasy Sensation 
 is previous to, and independent of this Opinion of Good in the 
 Object.' ' These Desires we may call Appetites.' ' Other Desires 
 and Aversions necessarily pre-suppose an Opinion of Good and Evil 
 in their Objects ; and the Desires or Aversions, with their con- 
 comitant uneasy Sensations, are produced or occasioned by this 
 Opinion or Apprehension.' Of the former kind are Hunger and 
 Thirst, and the Desires between the Sexes ; to which Desires there 
 is an uneasy Sensation previous, even in those who have little other 
 Notion of Good in the Objects, than allaying this Pain or Uneasi- 
 ness. There is something like to this in the Desire of Society, 
 or the Company of our Fellow-creatures. 
 
 ******** 
 
 446 In other Desires the Case is different. No Man is distressed 
 for want of fine Smells, harmonious Sounds, beautiful Objects, 
 Wealth, Power, or Grandeur, previously to some Opinion formed 
 of these things as good, or some prior Sensation of their Pleasures. 
 In like manner, Virtue and Honour as necessarily give us Pleasure, 
 when they occur to us, as Vice and Contempt give us Pain ; but, 
 antecedently to some Experience or Opinion of this Pleasure, there 
 is no previous uneasy Sensation in the Absence, as there is in the 
 Absence of the Objects of Appetite. The Necessity of these 
 
 * D d
 
 402 HUTCHESON. 
 
 Sensations previous to our Appetites, has been considered already ] . 
 The Sensations accompanying or subsequent to our other Desires, 
 by which they are denominated Passions, keep them in a just 
 Ballance with our Appetites, as was before observed. 
 
 But this holds in general, concerning all our Desires or Aversions, 
 that according to the Opinion or Apprehension of Good or Evil, 
 the Desire or Aversion is increased or diminished : Every Grati- 
 fication of any Desire gives at first Pleasure ; and Disappointment 
 Pain, generally proportioned to the Violence of the Desire. In like 
 manner, the escaping any Object of Aversion, tho' it makes no 
 permanent Addition to our Happiness, gives at first a pleasant 
 Sensation, and relieves us from Misery, proportioned to the 
 Degree of Aversion or Fear. So when any Event, to which we 
 had an Aversion, befals us, we have at first Misery proportioned 
 to the Degree of Aversion. So that some Pain is subsequent upon 
 all Frustration of Desire or Aversion, but it is previous to those. 
 Desires only, which are called Appetites. 
 
 ******** 
 
 1 Sect. 2. Art. 6.
 
 Illustrations upon the Moral Sense 
 
 447 THE Words Election and Approbation seem to denote simple 
 Ideas known by Consciousness ; which can only be explained by 
 synonimous Words, or by concomitant or consequent Circumstances. 
 Election is purposing to do an Action rather than its contrary, or 
 than being inactive. Approbation of our own Action denotes, or is 
 attended with; a pleasure in the Contemplation of it, and in Reflec- 
 tion upon the Affections which inclined us to it. Approbation of 
 the Action of another has some little Pleasure attending it in the 
 Observer, and raises Love toward the Agent, in whom the Quality 
 approved is deemed to reside, and not in the Observer, who has 
 a Satisfaction in the Act of approving. 
 
 The Qualities moving to Election, or exciting to Action, are 
 different from those moving to Approbation : We often do Actions 
 which we do not approve, and approve Actions which we omit : We 
 often desire that an Agent had omitted an Action which we approve ; 
 and wish he would do an Action which we condemn. Approbation 
 is employed about the Actions of others, where there is no room for 
 our Election. 
 
 SECTION I. Concerning the Character of Virtue, agreeable to 
 Truth or Reason. 
 
 448 Since Reason is understood to denote our Power of finding out 
 true Propositions, Reasonableness must denote the same thing, with 
 Conformity to true Propositions, or to Truth. 
 
 Reasonableness in an Action is a very common Expression, but 
 yet upon inquiry, it will appear very confused, whether we suppose 
 it the Motive to Election, or the Quality determining Approbation. 
 
 D d 2
 
 404 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 There is one sort of Conformity to Truth which neither determines 
 to the one or the other ; viz. that Conformity which is between 
 every true Proposition and its Object. This sort of Conformity can 
 never make us chuse or approve one Action more than its contrary, 
 for it is found in all Actions alike : Whatever Attribute can be 
 ascribed to a generous kind Action, the contrary Attribute may as 
 truly be ascribed to a selfish cruel Action : Both Propositions are 
 equally true, and the two contrary Actions, the Objects of the two 
 Truths are equally conformable to their several Truths, with that 
 sort of Conformity which is between a Truth and its Object. This 
 Conformity then cannot make a Difference among Actions, or 
 recommend one more than another either to Election or Approba- 
 tion, since any Man may make as many Truths about Villany, 
 as about Heroism, by ascribing to it contrary Attributes. 
 
 ******** 
 449 But what is this Conformity of Actions to Reason ? When we ask 
 the Reason of an Action, we sometimes mean, ' What Truth shews 
 a Quality in the Action, exciting the Agent to do it ? ' Thus, why 
 does a Luxurious Man pursue Wealth ? The Reason is given by 
 this Truth, ' Wealth is useful to purchase Pleasures.' Sometimes 
 for a Reason of Actions we shew the Truth expressing a Quality, 
 engaging our Approbation. Thus the Reason of hazarding Life in 
 just War, is, that ' it tends to preserve our honest Countrymen, or 
 evidences publick Spirit : ' The Reason for Temperance, and against 
 Luxury is given thus, ' Luxury evidences a selfish base Temper.' 
 The former sort of Reasons we will call exciting, and the latter 
 justifying 1 . Now we shall find that all exciting Reasons pre- 
 suppose Instincts and Affections ; and the justifying pre-suppose 
 a Moral Sense. 
 
 As to exciting Reasons, in every calm rational Action some end is 
 desired or intended ; no end can be intended or desired previously 
 to some one of these Classes of Affections, Self- Love, Self-Hatred, 
 or desire of private Misery, (if this be possible) Benevolence toward 
 others, or Malice : All Affections are included under these : no end 
 can be previous to them all ; there can therefore be no exciting 
 Reason previous to Affection. 
 
 We have indeed many confused Harangues on this Subject, telling 
 
 1 Thus Grotius distinguishes the Reasons of War, into the Justifies, and 
 Suasoricz, or these, sub ratione utilis.
 
 Sect. I.] ILL USTRA TIONS. 405 
 
 us, ' We have two Principles of Action, Reason, and Affection or 
 Passion : the former in common with Angels, the latter with Brutes : 
 No Action is wise, or good, or reasonable, to which we are not 
 excited by Reason, as distinct from all Affections ; or, if any such 
 Actions as flow from Affections be good, it is only by chance, or 
 materially and not formally.' As if indeed Reason, or the Know- 
 ledge of the Relations of things, could excite to Action when we 
 proposed no End, or as if Ends could be intended without Desire or 
 Affection. 
 
 450 Writers on these Subjects should remember the common Divi- 
 sions of the Faculties of the Soul. That there is i. Reason pre- 
 senting the natures and relations of things, antecedently to any Act 
 of Will or Desire : 2. The Will, or Appetitus Rationalis, or the 
 disposition of Soul to pursue what is presented as good, and to shun 
 Evil. Were there no other Power in the Soul, than that of mere 
 contemplation, there would be no Affection, Volition, Desire, Action. 
 Nay without some motion of Will no Man would voluntarily per- 
 severe in Contemplation. There must be a Desire of Knowledge, 
 and of the Pleasure which attends it : this too is an Act of Willing. 
 Both these Powers are by the Antients included under the Aoyor or 
 \oyiKuv p.epos. Below these they place two other powers dependent 
 on the Body, the Sensus, and the Appetitus Sensitivus, in which 
 they place the particular Passions : the former answers to the 
 Understanding, and the latter to the Will. But the Will is forgot 
 of late, and some ascribe to the Intellect, not only Contemplation or 
 Knowledge, but Choice, Desire, Prosecuting, Loving. Nay some 
 are grown so ingenious in uniting the Powers of the Soul, that con- 
 templating with Pleasure, Symmetry and Proportion, an Act of the 
 Intellect as they plead, is the same thing with Goodwill or the 
 virtuous Desire of publick Happiness. 
 
 451 But are there not also exciting Reasons, even previous to any end, 
 moving us to propose one end rather than another? To this 
 Aristotle long ago answered, ' that there are ultimate Ends desired 
 without a view to any thing else, and subordinate Ends or Objects 
 desired with a view to something else.' To subordinate Ends those 
 Reasons or Truths excite, which shew them to be conducive to the 
 ultimate End, and shew one Object to be more effectual than 
 another : thus subordinate Ends may be called reasonable. But as 
 to the ultimate Ends, to suppose exciting Reasons for them, would
 
 406 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 infer, that there is no ultimate End, but that we desire one thing 
 for another in an infinite Series. 
 
 Thus ask a Being who desires private Happiness, or has Self- 
 Love, ' what Reason excites him to desire Wealth ? ' He will give 
 this Reason, that 'Wealth tends to procure Pleasure and Ease.' 
 Ask his Reason for desiring Pleasure or Happiness : One cannot 
 imagine what Proposition he could assign as his exciting Reason. 
 This Proposition is indeed true, 'There is an Instinct or Desire 
 fixed in his Nature, determining him to pursue his Happiness ;' but 
 it is not this Reflection on his own Nature, or this Proposition which 
 excites or determines him, but the Instinct itself. This is a Truth, 
 'Rhubarb strengthens the Stomach :' But it is not a Proposition 
 which strengthens the Stomach, but the Quality in that Medicine. 
 The Effect is not produced by Propositions shewing the Cause, but 
 by the Cause itself. 
 
 ******** 
 452 We may transiently observe a Mistake some fall into; They 
 suppose, because they have formed some Conception of an infinite 
 Good, or greatest possible Aggregate, or Sum of Happiness, under 
 which all particular Pleasures may be included ; that there is also 
 some one great ultimate End, with a view to which every particular 
 Object is desired ; whereas, in truth, each particular Pleasure is 
 desired without farther view, as an ultimate End in the selfish 
 Desires. It is true, the Prospect of a greater inconsistent Pleasure 
 may surmount or stop this Desire ; so may the Fear of a prepollent 
 Evil. But this does not prove ' that all Men have formed Ideas of 
 infinite Good, or greatest possible Aggregate, or that they have any 
 Instinct or Desire, actually operating without an Idea of its Object. 
 Just so in the benevolent Affections, the Happiness of any one 
 Person is an ultimate End, desired with no farther view : and yet 
 the observing its Inconsistency with the Happiness of another more 
 beloved, or with the Happiness of many, though each one of them 
 were but equally beloved, may overcome the former Desire. Yet 
 this will not prove, that in each kind Action Men form the abstract 
 Conception of all Mankind, or the System of Rationals. Such 
 Conceptions are indeed useful, that so we may gratify either our 
 Self-Love or kind Affections in the fullest manner, as far as our 
 Power extends ; and may not content ourselves with smaller Degrees 
 either of private or publick Good, while greater are in our power :
 
 Sect. I.] ILLUSTRATIONS. 407 
 
 But when we have formed these Conceptions, we do not serve the 
 Individual only from Love to the Species, no more than we desire 
 Grapes with an Intention of the greatest Aggregate of Happiness, or 
 from an Apprehension that they make a Part of the General Sum 
 of our Happiness. These Conceptions only serve to suggest greater 
 Ends than would occur to us without Reflection ; and by the Pre- 
 pollency of one Desire toward the greater Good, to either private or 
 publick, to stop the Desire toward the smaller Good, when it 
 appears inconsistent with the greater. 
 
 ******** 
 
 453 If any alledge as the Reason exciting us to pursue publick Good, 
 this Truth, that the Happiness of a System, a Thousand, or a 
 Million, is a greater Quantity of Happiness than that of one 
 Person : and consequently, if Men desire Happiness, they must 
 have stronger Desires toward the greater Sum, than toward the 
 less.' This Reason still supposes an Instinct toward Happiness 
 as previous to it : And again, To whom is the Happiness of 
 a System a greater Happiness ? To one Individual, or to the 
 System ? If to the Individual, then his Reason exciting his Desire 
 of a happy System supposes Self-Love : If to the System, then 
 what Reason can excite to desire the greater Happiness of 
 a System, or any Happiness to be in the Possession of others ? 
 None surely which does not presuppose publick Affections. 
 Without such Affections this Truth, ' that an hundred Felicities 
 is a greater Sum than one Felicity,' will no more excite to 
 study the Happiness of the Hundred, than this Truth, 'an 
 hundred Stones are greater than one,' will excite a Man, who 
 has no desire of Heaps, to cast them together. 
 
 ******* 
 
 454 This leads to consider Approbation of Actions, whether it be 
 for Conformity to any Truth, or Reasonableness, that Actions are 
 ultimately approved, independently of any moral Sense ? Or if all 
 justifying Reasons do not presuppose it ? 
 
 If Conformity to Truth, or Reasonableness, denote nothing else 
 but that '.an Action is the Object of a true Proposition,' it is plain, 
 that all Actions should be approved equally, since as many 
 Truths may be made about the worst, as can be made about the 
 best. See what was said above about exciting Reasons. 
 
 But let the Truths commonly assigned as justifying be examined.
 
 408 HUTCH ESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 Here it is plain, 'A Truth shewing an Action to be fit to attain 
 an End,' does not justify it ; nor do we approve a subordinate 
 End for any Truth, which only shews it to be fit to promote the 
 ultimate End ; for the worst Actions may be conducive to their 
 Ends, and reasonable in that Sense. The justifying Reasons then 
 must be about the Ends themselves, especially the ultimate Ends. 
 The Question then is, ' Does a Conformity to any Truth make 
 us approve an ultimate End, previously to any moral Sense ? ' 
 For example, we approve pursuing the publick Good. For what 
 Reason ? Or what is the Truth for Conformity to which we call 
 it a reasonable End ? I fancy we can find none in these Cases, 
 
 more than we could give for our liking any pleasant Fruit 1 . 
 
 ******* 
 
 455 When we say one is obliged to an Action, we either mean, I. 
 That the Action is necessary to obtain Happiness to the Agent, 
 or to avoid Misery : Or, 2. That every Spectator, or he himself 
 upon Reflection, must approve his Action, and disapprove his 
 omitting it, if he considers fully all its Circumstances. The 
 former Meaning of the Word Obligation presupposes selfish 
 Affections, and the Senses of private Happiness : The latter 
 Meaning includes the moral Sense. Mr. Barbeyrac, in his 
 Annotations upon Grotius 2 , makes Obligation denote an indis- 
 pensable Necessity to act in a certain manner. Whoever observes 
 his Explication of this Necessity, (which is not natural, otherwise no 
 Man could act against his Obligation) will find that it denotes 
 only ' such a Constitution of a powerful Superior, as will make it 
 impossible for any Being to obtain Happiness, or avoid Misery, 
 but by such a Course of Action.' This agrees with the former 
 Meaning, though sometimes he also includes the latter. 
 
 Many other confused Definitions have been given of Obligation, 
 by no obscure Names in the learned World. But let any one give 
 a distinct Meaning, different from the two above-mentioned. To 
 pursue them all would be endless ; only let the Definitions be 
 substituted in place of the Word Obligation, in other parts of each 
 Writer, and let it be observed whether it makes good Sense or not. 
 
 1 This is what Aristotle so often asserts that the npoaifxrov or 
 is not the End, but the Means. 
 " Lib. I. chap. i. sect. 10.
 
 Sect. I.] ILLUSTRATIONS. 409 
 
 456 We may transiently observe what has occasioned the Use of 
 the Word reasonable, as an Epithet of only virtuous Actions. 
 Tho' we have Instincts determining us to desire Ends, without 
 supposing any previous Reasoning ; yet it is by use of our Reason 
 that we find out the Means of obtaining our Ends. When we do 
 not use our Reason, we often are disappointed of our End. We 
 therefore call those Actions which are effectual to their Ends, 
 in one Sense reasonable of that Word. 
 
 Again, in all Men there is probably a moral Sense, making 
 publickly useful Actions and kind Affections grateful to the Agent, 
 and to every Observer : Most Men who have thought of human 
 Actions, agree, that the publickly useful are in the whole also 
 privately useful to the Agent, either in this Life or the next : We 
 conclude, that all Men have the same Affections and Senses : 
 We are convinced by our Reason, that it is by publickly useful 
 Actions alone that we can promote all our Ends. Whoever then 
 acts in a contrary manner, we presume is mistaken, ignorant of, or 
 inadvertent to, these Truths which he might know ; and say he 
 acts unreasonably. Hence some have been led to imagine, some 
 Reasons either exciting or justifying previously to all Affections or 
 a moral Sense. 
 
 467 Two Arguments are brought in defence of this Epithet, as 
 antecedent to any Sense, viz. ' That we judge even of our Affections 
 and Senses themselves, whether they are morally Good or Evil.' 
 
 The second Argument is, that ' if all moral Ideas depend upon 
 the Constitution of our Sense, then all Constitutions would have 
 been alike reasonable and good to the Deity, which is absurd.' 
 
 As to the first Argument, it is plain we judge of our own Affec- 
 tions, or those of others by our moral Sense, by which we approve 
 kind Affections, and disapprove the contrary. But none can 
 apply moral Attributes to the very Faculty of perceiving moral 
 Qualities ; or call his moral Sense morally Good or Evil, any more 
 than he calls the Power of Tasting, sweet or bitter ; or of Seeing, 
 strait or crooked, white or black. 
 
 Every one judges the Affections of others by his own Sense ; so 
 that it seems not impossible that in these Senses Men might differ 
 as they do in Taste. A Sense approving Benevolence would 
 disapprove that Temper, which a Sense approving Malice would 
 delight in. The former would judge of the latter by his own
 
 410 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 Sense, so would the latter of the former. Each one would at first 
 view think the Sense of the other perverted. But then, is there no 
 difference ? Are both Senses equally good ? No certainly, any Man 
 who observed them would think the Sense of the former more 
 desirable than of the latter : but this is, because the moral 
 Sense of every Man is constituted in the former manner. But 
 were there any Nature with no moral Sense at all observing these 
 two Persons, would he not think the State of the former preferable 
 to that of the latter ? Yes, he might : but not from any Perception 
 of moral Goodness in the one Sense more than in the other. Any 
 rational Nature observing two Men thus constituted, with opposite 
 Senses, might by reasoning see, not moral Goodness in one Sense 
 more than in the contrary, but a Tendency to the Happiness of the 
 Person himself, who had the former Sense in the one Constitution, 
 and a contrary Tendency in the opposite Constitution : nay, the 
 Persons themselves might observe this ; since the former Sense 
 would make these Actions grateful to the Agent which were useful 
 to others ; who, if they had a like Sense, would love him, and 
 return good Offices ; whereas the latter Sense would make all such 
 Actions as are useful to others, and apt to engage their good 
 Offices, ungrateful to the Agent ; and would lead him into publickly 
 hurtful Actions, which would not only procure the Hatred of others, 
 if they had a contrary Sense, but engage them out of their Self- 
 Love, to study his Destruction, tho' their Senses agreed. Thus 
 any Observer, or the Agent himself with this latter Sense, might 
 perceive that the Pains to be feared, as the Consequence of 
 malicious Actions, did over-ballance the Pleasures of this Sense ; 
 so that it would be to the Agent's Interest to counteract it. Thus 
 one Constitution of the moral Sense might appear to be more 
 advantageous to those who had it, than the contrary ; as we may 
 call that Sense of Tasting healthful, which made wholsome Meat 
 pleasant ; and we would call a contrary Taste pernicious. And 
 yet we should no more call the moral Sense morally good or evil, 
 than we call the Sense of Tasting savoury or unsavoury, sweet 
 or bitter. 
 
 458 But must we not own, that we judge of all our Senses by our 
 Reason, and often correct their Reports of the Magnitude, Figure, 
 Colour, Taste of Objects, and pronounce them right or wrong, 
 as they agree or disagree with Reason ? This is true. But does it
 
 Sect. I.] ILL USTRA T10NS. 4 1 1 
 
 then follow, that Extension, Figure, Colour, Taste, are not sensible 
 Ideas, but only denote Reasonableness, or Agreement with 
 Reason? Or that these Qualities are perceivable antecedently to 
 any Sense, by our Power of finding out Truth ? Just so a com- 
 passionate Temper may rashly imagine the Correction of a Child, 
 or the Execution of a Criminal, to be cruel and inhuman : but by 
 reasoning may discover the superior Good arising from them in 
 the whole ; and then the same moral Sense may determine the 
 Observer to approve them. But we must not hence conclude, that 
 it is any reasoning antecedent to a moral Sense, which determines 
 us to approve the Study of publick Good, any more than we can 
 in the former Case conclude, that we perceive Extension, Figure, 
 Colour, Taste, antecedently to a Sense. All these Sensations are 
 often corrected by Reasoning, as well as our Approbations of 
 Actions as Good or Evil * : and yet no body ever placed the 
 Original idea of Extension, Figure, Colour, or Taste, in Conformity 
 to Reason. 
 
 ******** 
 459 As to the second Argument, What means [alike reasonable or 
 good to the Deity ?] Does it mean, ' that the Deity could have 
 had no Reasons exciting him to make one Constitution rather 
 than another ? ' 'Tis plain, if the Deity had nothing essential to 
 his Nature, resembling or analogous to our sweetest and most 
 kind Affections, we can scarce suppose he could have any Reason 
 exciting him to any thing he has done : but grant such a Disposi- 
 tion in the Deity, and then the manifest Tendency of the present 
 Constitution to the Happiness of his Creatures was an exciting 
 Reason for chusing it before the contrary. Each sort of Con- 
 stitution might have given Men an equal immediate Pleasure in 
 present Self- Approbation for any sort of Action ; but the Actions 
 approved by the present Sense, procure all Pleasures of the other 
 Senses ; and the Actions which would have been approved by a 
 contrary moral Sense, would have been productive of all Torments 
 of the other Senses. 
 
 If it be meant, that ' upon this Supposition, that all our 
 Approbation presupposes in us a moral Sense, the Deity could not 
 have approved one Constitution more than another : ' where is the 
 
 1 See Sect. 4 of this Treatise.
 
 412 HUTCHESON. [Sect. I. 
 
 Consequence? Why may not the Deity have something of 
 a superior Kind, analogous to our moral Sense, essential to him ? 
 How does any Constitution of the Senses of Men hinder the 
 Deity to reflect and judge of his own Actions ? How does it 
 affect the divine Apprehension, which way soever moral Ideas 
 arise with Men ? 
 
 If it means, ' that we cannot approve one Constitution more than 
 another, or approve the Deity for making the present Constitution : ' 
 This Consequence is also false. The present Constitution of our 
 moral Sense determines us to approve all kind Affections : This 
 Constitution the Deity must have foreseen as tending to the 
 Happiness of his Creatures ; it does therefore evidence kind 
 Affection or Benevolence in the Deity, this therefore we must 
 
 approve. 
 
 ******** 
 
 460 Some farther perplex this Subject, by asserting, that ' the same 
 Reasons determining Approbation, ought also to excite to Election.' 
 Here, i. We often see justifying Reasons where we can have no 
 Election ; viz. when we observe the Actions of others, which were 
 even prior to our Existence. 2. The Quality moving us to Election 
 very often cannot excite Approbation ; viz. private usefulness, not 
 publickly pernicious. This both does and ought to move Election, 
 and yet I believe few will say, 'they approve as virtuous the 
 eating a Bunch of Grapes, taking a Glass of Wine, or sitting down 
 when one is tired. Approbation is not what we can voluntarily 
 bring upon ourselves. When we are contemplating Actions, we do 
 not chuse to approve, because Approbation is pleasant ; otherwise 
 we would always approve, and never condemn any Action ; because 
 this is some way uneasy. Approbation is plainly a Perception 
 arising without previous Volition, or Choice of it, because of any 
 concomitant Pleasure. The Occasion of it is the Perception of 
 benevolent Affections in ourselves, or the discovering the like in 
 others, even when we are incapable of any Action or Election. 
 The Reasons determining Approbation are such as shew that an 
 Action evidenced kind Affections, and that in others, as often as in 
 ourselves. Whereas the Reasons moving to Election are such as 
 shew the Tendency of an Action to gratify some Affection in the 
 Agent. 
 The Prospect of the Pleasure of Self-Approbation, is indeed
 
 Sect. IV.] ILL USTRA TIONS. 4 1 3 
 
 often a Motive to chuse one Action rather than another ; but this 
 supposes the moral Sense, or Determination to approve, prior to the 
 Election. Were Approbation voluntarily chosen, from the Prospect 
 of its concomitant Pleasure, then there could be no Condemnation 
 of our own Actions, for that is unpleasant. 
 
 As to that confused Word [ought] it is needless to apply to it 
 again all that was said about Obligation. 
 
 SECTION IV. Shewing the Use of Reason concerning Virtue 
 and Vice, upon Supposition that we receive these Ideas by 
 a Moral Sense. 
 
 ******** 
 
 461 Perhaps what has brought the Epithet Reasonable, or flowing 
 from Reason, in opposition to what flows from Instinct, Affection, 
 or Passion, so much into use, is this, ' That it is often observed, 
 that the very best of our particular Affections or Desires, when they 
 are grown violent and passionate, through the confused Sensations 
 and Propensities which attend them, make us incapable of con- 
 sidering calmly the whole Tendency of our Actions, and lead us 
 often into what is absolutely pernicious, under some Appearance 
 of relative or particular Good.' This indeed may give some 
 ground for distinguishing between passionate Actions, and those 
 from calm Desire or Affection which employs our Reason freely : 
 But can never set rational Actions in Opposition to those from 
 Instinct, Desire or Affection. And it must be owned, that the 
 most perfect Virtue consists in the calm, impassionate Benevolence, 
 rather than in particular Affections. 
 
 462 If one asks ' how do we know that our Affections are right when 
 they are kind ? ' What does the Word [right] mean ? Does it 
 mean what we approve ? This we know by Consciousness of our 
 Sense. Again, how do we know that our Sense is right, or that 
 we approve our Approbation ? This can only be answered by 
 another Question, viz. How do we know we are pleased when 
 we are pleased ? ' Or does it mean, ' how do we know that we 
 shall always approve what we now approve ? ' To answer this, 
 we must first know that the same Constitution of our Sense shall 
 always remain : And again, that we have applied ourselves care- 
 fully to consider tha natural Tendency of our Actions. Of the
 
 4H HUTCHESON. [Sect. IV. 
 
 Continuance of the same Constitution of our Sense, we are as sure as 
 of the Continuance of Gravitation, or any other Law of Nature : 
 The Tendency of our own Actions we cannot always know ; but 
 we may know certainly that we heartily and sincerely study to 
 act according to what, by all the Evidence now in our Power to 
 obtain, appears as most probably tending to publick Good. When 
 we are conscious of this sincere Endeavour, the evil Consequences 
 which we could not have foreseen, never will make us condemn 
 our Conduct. But without this sincere Endeavour, we may often 
 approve at present what we shall afterwards condemn. 
 
 463 If the Question means, ' How are we sure that we approve, 
 all others shall also approve ? ' Of this we can be sure upon no 
 Scheme ; but it is highly probable that the Senses of all Men are 
 pretty uniform : That the Deity also approves kind Affections, other- 
 wise he would not have implanted them in us, nor determined us by 
 a moral Sense to approve them. Now since the Probability that 
 Man shall judge truly, abstracting from any presupposed Prejudice, 
 is greater than that they shall judge falsly ; it is more probable, 
 when our Actions are really kind and publickly useful, that all 
 Observers shall judge truly of our Intentions, and of the Tendency 
 of our Actions, and consequently approve what we approve our- 
 selves, than that they shall judge falsly and condemn them. 
 
 464 If the Meaning of the Question be, ' Will the doing what our 
 moral Sense approves tend to our Happiness, and to the avoiding 
 Misery ? ' It is thus we call a Taste wrong, when it makes that 
 Food at present grateful, which shall occasion future Pains, or 
 Death. This Question concerning our Self-interest must be 
 answered by such Reasoning as was mentioned above, to be 
 well managed by our Moralists both antient and modern. 
 
 Thus there seems no part of that Reasoning which was ever 
 used by Moralists, to be superseded by supposing a moral Sense. 
 And yet without a moral Sense there is no Explication can be 
 given of our Ideas of Morality ; nor of that Reasonableness 
 supposed antecedent to all Instincts, Affections, or Sense. 
 
 465 ' But may there not be a right or wrong State of our moral 
 Sense, as there is in our other Senses, according as they represent 
 their Objects to be as they really are, or represent them otherwise ? ' 
 So may not our moral Sense approve that which is vicious, and 
 disapprove Virtue, as a sickly Palate may dislike grateful Food, or
 
 Sect. IV.] ILL US TRA TIONS. 4 1 5 
 
 a vitiated Sight misrepresent Colours or Dimensions ? Must we 
 not know therefore antecedently what is morally Good or Evil 
 by our Reason, before we can know that our moral Sense is right ? 
 To answer this, we must remember that of the sensible Ideas, 
 some are allowed to be only Perceptions in our Minds, and not 
 Images of any like external Quality, as Colours, Sounds, Tastes, 
 Smells, Pleasure, Pain. Other Ideas are Images of something 
 external, as Duration, Number, Extension, Motion, Rest : These 
 latter, for distinction, we may call concomitant Ideas of Sensation, 
 and the former purely sensible. As to the purely sensible Ideas, 
 we know they are altered by any Disorder in our Organs, and 
 made different from what arise in us from the same Objects at 
 other times. We do not denominate Objects from our Perceptions 
 during the Disorder, but according to our ordinary Perceptions, or 
 those of others in good Health : Yet nobody imagines that there- 
 fore Colours, Sounds, Tastes, are not sensible Ideas. In like 
 manner many Circumstances diversify the concomitant Ideas : 
 But we denominate Objects from the Appearances they make to 
 us in an uniform Medium, when our Organs are in no disorder, 
 and the Object not very distant from them. But none therefore 
 imagines that it is Reason and not Sense which discovers these 
 concomitant Ideas, or primary Qualities. 
 
 466 Just so in our Ideas of Actions. These three Things are to 
 be distinguished, I. The Idea of the external Motion, known first 
 by Sense, and its Tendency to the Happiness or Misery of some 
 sensitive Nature, often inferred by Argument or Reason, which 
 on these Subjects, suggests as invariable eternal or necessary 
 Truths as any whatsoever. 2. Apprehension or Opinion of the 
 Affections in the Agent, inferred by our Reason : So far the Idea 
 of an Action represents something external to the Observer, really 
 existing whether he had perceived it or not, and having a real 
 Tendency to certain Ends. 3. The Perception of Approbation 
 or Disapprobation arising in the Observer, according as the 
 Affections of the Agent are apprehended kind in their just Degree, 
 or deficient, or malicious. This Approbation cannot be supposed 
 an Image of any thing external, more than the Pleasures of 
 Harmony, of Taste, of Smell. But let none imagine, that calling 
 the Ideas of Virtue and Vice Perceptions of a Sense, upon appre- 
 hending the Actions and Affections of another does diminish
 
 416 HUTCHESON. [Sect. IV. 
 
 their Reality, more than the like Assertions concerning all Pleasure 
 and Pain, Happiness or Misery. Our Reason often corrects the 
 Report of our Senses, about the natural Tendency of the external 
 Action, and corrects rash Conclusions about the Affections of the 
 Agent. But whether our moral Sense be subject to such a Disorder, 
 as to have different Perceptions, from the same apprehended Affec- 
 tions in an Agent, at different times, as the Eye may have of the 
 Colours of an unaltered Object, it is not easy to determine : Perhaps 
 it will be hard to find any Instances of such a Change. What 
 Reason could correct, if it fell into such a Disorder, I know not ; 
 except suggesting to its Remembrance its former Approbations, 
 and representing the general Sense of Mankind. But this does not 
 prove Ideas of Virtue and Vice to be previous to a Sense, more 
 than a like Correction of the Ideas of Colour in a Person under 
 the Jaundice, proves that Colours are perceived by Reason, pre- 
 viously to Sense. 
 
 467 If any say, 'this moral Sense is not a Rule : ' What means that 
 Word ? It is not a strait rigid Body : It is not a general Proposi- 
 tion, shewing what Means are fit to obtain an end : It is not 
 a Proposition, asserting, that a Superior will make those happy 
 who act one way. and miserable who act the contrary way. If 
 these be the Meanings of Rule, it is no Rule ; yet by reflecting 
 upon it our Understanding may find out a Rule. But what Rule 
 of Actions can be formed, without Relation to some End proposed ? 
 Or what End can be proposed, without presupposing Instincts, 
 Desires, Affections, or a moral Sense, it will not be easy to explain. 
 
 SECTION V. Shewing that Virtue may have whatever is meant 
 by Merit; and be rewardable upon the Supposition, that it is 
 perceived by a Sense, and elected from Affection or Instinct. 
 
 468 Some will not allow any Merit in Actions flowing from kind 
 Instincts : ' Merit, say they, attends Actions to which we are 
 excited by Reason alone, or to which we freely determine ourselves. 
 The Operation of Instincts or Affections is necessary, and not 
 voluntary ; nor is there more Merit in them than in the Shining 
 of the Sun, the Fruitfulness of a Tree, or the Overflowing of 
 a Stream, which are all publickly useful.' 
 
 But what does Merit mean ? or Praiseworthiness ? Do these 
 Words denote the ' Quality Actions, which gains Approbation
 
 Sect.V.] UPON THE MORAL SENSE. 417 
 
 from the Observer, according to the present Constitution of the 
 human Mind?' Or, 2dly, Are these Actions called meritorious, 
 1 which, when any Observer does approve, all other , Observers 
 approve him for his Approbation of it ; and would condemn any 
 Observer who did not approve these Actions ?' These are the only 
 Meanings of meritorious, which I can conceive as distinct from 
 rewardable, which is considered hereafter separately. Let those 
 who are not satisfied with either of these Explications of Merit, 
 endeavour to give a Definition of it reducing it to its simple Ideas : 
 and not, as a late Author has done, quarrelling these Descriptions, 
 tell us only that it is Deserving or being worthy of Approbation, 
 which is defining by giving a synonimous Term. 
 
 ******** 
 469 But it may be said, that to make an Action meritorious, it is 
 necessary not only that the Action be publickly useful, but that 
 it be known or imagined to be such, before the Agent freely chuses 
 it. But what does this add to the former Scheme ? Only a Judg- 
 ment or Opinion in the Understanding, concerning the natural 
 Tendency of an Action to the publick Good : Few, it may be pre- 
 sumed, will place Virtue in Assent or Dissent, or Perceptions. 
 And yet this is all that is superadded to the former Case. The 
 Agent must not desire the publick Good, or have any kind 
 Affections. This would spoil the Freedom of Choice, according to 
 their Scheme, who insist on a Freedom opposite to Affections or 
 Instincts : But he must barely know the Tendency to publick Good 
 and without any Propensity to, or Desire of the Happiness of others, 
 by an arbitrary Election, acquire his Merit. Let every man judge 
 for himself, whether these are the qualities which he approves. 
 
 What has probably engaged many into this way of speaking, 
 ' that Virtue is the Effect of rational Choice, and not of Instincts or 
 Affections,' is this ; they find, that ' some Actions flowing from par- 
 ticular kind Affections, are sometimes condemned as evil,' because 
 of their bad Influence upon the State of larger Societies ; and that 
 the Hurry and confused Sensation of any of our Passions, may 
 divert the Mind from considering the whole Effect of its Actions : 
 They require therefore to Virtue a calm and undisturbed Temper. 
 ******** 
 
 470 Some alledge, that Merit supposes, beside kind Affection, that 
 the Agent has a moral Sense, reflects upon his own Virtue, delights 
 
 * EC
 
 4i8 HUTCHESON. 
 
 in it, and chuses to adhere to it for the Pleasure which attends it l . 
 We need not debate the Use of this Word Merit : it is plain, we 
 approve a generous kind Action, tho' the Agent had not made 
 this Reflection. This Reflection shews to him a Motive of Self- 
 Love, the joint View to which does not increase our Approbation ; 
 But then it must again be owned, that we cannot form a just 
 Conclusion of a Character from one or two kind, generous Actions, 
 especially where there has been no very strong Motives to the 
 contrary. Some apparent Motives of Interest may afterwards 
 overbalance the kind Affections, and lead the Agent into vicious 
 Actions. But the Reflection on Virtue, the being once charmed 
 with the lovely Form, will discover an Interest on its side, which, 
 if well attended to, no other Motive will overbalance. This 
 Reflection is a great Security to the Character ; and must be sup- 
 posed in such creatures as Men are, before we can well depend 
 upon a Constancy in Virtue. 
 
 1 See Lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue, vol. i. pt. ii. 3, p. 28.
 
 A System of Moral Philosophy 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 ******* 
 
 471 II. The calm self-love, or the determination of each indiv dual 
 toward his own happiness, is a motion of the will without any 
 uneasy sensation attending it. But the several selfish desires, 
 terminating on particular objects, are generally attended with 
 some uneasy turbulent sensations in very different degrees : yet 
 these sensations are different from the act of the will to which 
 they are conjoined ; and different too from the motives of desire. 
 The motive is some good apprehended in an object or event, 
 toward which good the desire tends ; and, in consequence of desire, 
 some uneasiness arises, till the good is obtained. To aversion, 
 the motive is some evil apprehended or feared, and perhaps 
 not yet felt. Uneasiness too attends the aversion, untill the evil 
 is repelled. Prospects of the pleasures or powers attending 
 opulence are the motives to the desire of wealth, and never 
 the uneasy feelings attending the desire itself. These feelings 
 are, in nature, subsequent to the desire. 
 
 Again, when we obtain the thing desired ; beside the pleasures 
 to be obtained from this object, which were the motives of the 
 desire, and often before we enjoy them, there is one pleasure 
 immediatly arising from the success, at least in those cases 
 where there was any difficulty in the pursuit, or fear of disap- 
 pointment. It would be absurd to say that this joy in the success 
 was the motive to the desire. We should have no joy in the 
 success, nor could we have had any desire, unless the prospect 
 
 E e 2
 
 420 HUTCH ESON. [Book I. 
 
 of some other good had been the motive. This holds in all our 
 desires, benevolent or selfish, that there is some motive, some 
 end intended, distinct from the joy of success, or the removal 
 of the pain of desire ; otherways all desires would be the most 
 fantastick things imaginable, equally ardent toward any trifle, 
 as toward the greatest good ; since the joy of success, and the 
 removal of the uneasiness of desire, would be alike in both sorts 
 of desires. 'Tis trifling therefore to say that all desires are selfish, 
 because by gratifying them we obtain the joy of success, and free 
 ourselves from the uneasy feelings of desire. 
 
 ******** 
 
 472 VI. This moral sense from its very nature appears to be designed 
 for regulating and controlling all our powers. This dignity and 
 commanding nature we are immediatly conscious of, as we are 
 conscious of the power itself. Nor can such matters of immediate 
 feeling be otherways proved but by appeals to our hearts. It does 
 not estimate the good it recommends as merely differing in degree, 
 tho' of the same kind with other advantages recommended by 
 other senses, so as to allow us to practise smaller moral evils 
 acknowledged to remain such, in order to obtain some great 
 advantages of other sorts ; or to omit what we judge in the present 
 case to be our duty or morally good, that we may decline great 
 evils of another sort. But as we immediatly perceive the difference 
 in kind, and that the dignity of enjoyment from fine poetry, painting, 
 or from knowledge is superior to the pleasures of the palate, were 
 they never so delicate ; so we immediatly discern moral good 
 to be superior in kind and dignity to all others which are perceived 
 by the other perceptive powers. 
 
 ******** 
 
 473 But of all such dispositions of our nature, different from all our 
 kind affections, none is so nearly connected with them, none so 
 natural an evidence of them, none so immediatly and necessarily 
 subservient to them, as an acute moral sense itself, a strong desire 
 of moral excellence, with an high relish of it wherever it is observed. 
 We do not call the power or sense itself virtuous ; but the having 
 this sense in a high degree naturally raises a strong desire of having 
 all generous affections ; it surmounts all the little obstacles to them, 
 and determines the mind to use air the natural means of raising 
 them. Now, as the mind can make any of its own powers the
 
 Book I.] A SYSTEM OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 421 
 
 object of its reflex contemplation, this high sense of moral 
 excellence is approved above all other abilities. 
 
 ******** 
 
 474 That disposition therefore which is most excellent, and naturally 
 gains the highest moral approbation, is the calm, stable, universal 
 good-will to all, or the most extensive benevolence. And this 
 seems the most distinct notion we can form of the moral excellency 
 of the Deity. 
 
 Another disposition inseparable from this in men, and probably 
 in all beings who are capable of such extensive affection, is the 
 relish or approbation of this affection, and a naturally consequent 
 desire of this moral excellence, and an esteem and good-will of an 
 higher kind to all in whom it is found. This love of moral 
 excellence is also an high object of approbation, when we find 
 it in ourselves by reflection, or observe it in another. It is a pretty 
 different affection from benevolence or the desire of communicating 
 happiness ; and is as it were in another order of affection ; so that 
 one cannot well determine whether it can be compared with the 
 other. It seems co-ordinate, and the highest possible of that kind ; 
 never in opposition to benevolence, nay always conspiring with and 
 assisting it. This desire of moral excellence, and love to the 
 mind where it resides, with the consequent acts of esteem, venera- 
 tion, trust, and resignation, are the essence of true piety toward 
 
 God. 
 
 ******** 
 
 475 To discover wherein our true happiness consists we must com- 
 pare the several enjoyments of life, and the several kinds of misery, 
 that we may discern what enjoyments are to be parted with, 
 or what uneasiness to be endured, in order to obtain the highest 
 and most beatifick satisfactions, and to avoid the most distressing 
 sufferings. 
 
 As to pleasures of the same kind, 'tis manifest their values 
 are in a joint proportion of their intenseness and duration. In 
 estimating the duration, we not only regard the constancy of 
 the object, or its remaining in our power, and the duration of the 
 sensations it affords, but the constancy of our fancy or relish : 
 for when this changes it puts an end to the enjoyment. 
 
 476 In comparing pleasures of different kinds, the value is as the 
 duration and dignity of the kind jointly. We have an immediate 
 
 EC 3
 
 422 HUTCHESON. [Book I. 
 
 sense of a dignity 1 , a perfection, or beatifick quality in some kinds, 
 which no intenseness of the lower kinds can equal, were they also 
 as lasting as we could wish. No intenseness or duration of any 
 external sensation gives it a dignity or worth equal to that of the 
 improvement of the soul by knowledge, or the ingenious arts ; 
 and much less is it equal to that of virtuous affections and actions. 
 We never hesitate in judging thus about the happiness or perfection 
 of others, where the impetuous cravings of appetites and passions 
 do not corrupt our judgments, as they do often in our case. By 
 this intimate feeling of dignity, enjoyments and exercises of some 
 kinds, tho' not of the highest degree of those kinds, are incom- 
 parably more excellent and beatifick than the most intense and 
 lasting enjoyments of the lower kinds. Nor is duration of such 
 importance to some higher kinds, as it is to the lower. The 
 exercise of virtue for a short period, provided it be not succeeded 
 by something vicious, is of incomparably greater value than the 
 most lasting sensual pleasures. Nothing destroys the excellence 
 and perfection of the state but a contrary quality of the same 
 kind defacing the former character. The peculiar happiness of the 
 virtuous man is not so much abated by pain, or an early death, 
 as that of the sensualist ; tho' his complex state which is made 
 up of all his enjoyments and sufferings of every kind is in some 
 'degree affected by them. Nor is it a view of private sublime 
 pleasures in frequent future reflections which recommends virtue 
 to the soul. We feel an impulse, an ardour toward perfection, 
 toward affections and actions of dignity, and feel their immediate 
 excellence, abstracting from such views of future pleasures of long 
 duration. Tho' no doubt these pleasures, which are as sure as our 
 existence, are to be regarded in our estimation of the importance 
 of virtue to our happiness. 
 
 477 Now if we denote by intenseness, in a more general meaning, 
 the degree in which any perceptions or enjoyments are beatifick, 
 then their comparative values are in a compound proportion of their 
 intenseness and duration. But to retain always in view the grand 
 differences of the kinds, and to prevent any imaginations, that the 
 intenser sensations of the lower kinds with sufficient duration may 
 compleat our happiness ; it may be more convenient to estimate 
 
 1 See above, chap. iv. 10.
 
 Book I.] A SYSTEM OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 423 
 
 enjoyments by their dignity and duration : dignity denoting the 
 excellence of the kind, when those of different kinds are compared ; 
 and the intenseness of the sensations, when we compare those 
 of the same kind. 
 
 ******** 
 
 478 Thus different men have different tastes. What one admires 
 as the supreme enjoyments, another may despise. Must we not 
 examine these tastes ? Are all persons, all orders of beings equally 
 happy if each obtains the enjoyments respectively most relished ? 
 At this rate the meanest brute or insect may be as happy as the 
 wisest hero, patriot, or friend can be. What may make a brute 
 as happy as that low order is capable of being, may be but 
 despicable to an order endued with finer perceptive powers, and 
 a nobler sort of desires. Beings of these higher orders are 
 immediately conscious of the superior dignity and importance to 
 happiness in their peculiar enjoyments, of which lower orders are 
 incapable. Nature has thus distinguished the different orders by 
 different perceptive powers, so that the same objects will not be 
 sufficient for happiness to all ; nor have all equal happiness when 
 each can gratify all the desires and senses he has. 
 
 The superior orders in this world probably experience all the 
 sensations of the lower orders, and can judge of them. But the 
 inferior do not experience the enjoyments of the superior. Nay 
 in the several stages of life each one finds different tastes and 
 desires. We are conscious in our state of mature years that the 
 happiness of our friends, our families, or our country are incom- 
 parably nobler objects of our pursuit, and administer proportionably 
 a nobler pleasure than the toys which once abundantly entertained 
 us when we had experienced nothing better. God has assigned 
 to each order, and to the several stages of life in the same person, 
 their peculiar powers and tastes. Each one is as happy when its 
 taste is gratified as it can then be. But we are immediately 
 conscious that one gratification is more excellent than another, 
 when we have experienced both. And then our reason and obser- 
 vation enables us to compare the effects, and consequences, and 
 duration. One may be transitory, and the occasion of great 
 subsequent misery, tho' for the present the enjoyment be intense : 
 another may be lasting, safe, and succeeded by no satiety, shame, 
 disgust, or remorse.
 
 424 HUTCHESON. [Book I. 
 
 Superior beings by diviner faculties and fuller knowledge may, 
 without experience of all sorts, immediately discern what are the 
 noblest. They may have some intuitive knowledge of perfection 
 and some standard of it, which may make the experience of some 
 lower sorts useless to them. But of mankind these certainly are 
 the best judges who have full experience, with their tastes or senses 
 and appetites in a natural vigorous state. Now it never was 
 alledged that social affections, the admiration of moral excellence, 
 the desire of esteem, with their attendant and guardian temperance, 
 the pursuits of knowledge, or a natural activity, impared any sense 
 or appetite. This is often charged with great justice upon luxury, 
 and surfeiting, and indolence. The highest sensual enjoyments 
 may be experienced by those who employ both mind and body 
 vigorously in social virtuous offices, and allow all the natural 
 appetites to recur in their due seasons. Such certainly are the 
 best judges of all enjoyments. Thus according to the maxim 
 often inculcated by Aristotle, ' The good man is the true judge 
 and standard of every thing.' 
 
 ** ****** 
 
 479 The most benign and wise constitution of a rational system 
 is that in which the degree of selfish affection most useful to the 
 individual is consistent with the interest of the system ; and where 
 the degree of generous affections most useful to the system is 
 ordinarily consistent with or subservient to the greatest happiness 
 of the individual. A mean low species may indeed be wholly 
 subjected to the interests of a superior species, and have affections 
 solely calculated for these higher interests. But in the more noble 
 systems it would be a blemish if in fact there was an established 
 inconsistence between the two grand ends to each rational being, 
 personal enjoyment and publick happiness, and in consequence, 
 an irreconcilable variance between the affections destined for the 
 
 pursuit of them. 
 
 ******** 
 
 BOOK II. 
 ******** 
 
 480 II. The righteousness or goodness of actions is not indeed the 
 same notion with their tendency to universal happiness, or flowing 
 from the desire of it. This latter is the highest species of the
 
 Book II.] A SYSTEM OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 425 
 
 former. Our moral sense has also other immediate objects of 
 approbation, many narrower affections, which we must immediately 
 approve without thinking of their tendency to the interest of 
 
 a system. 
 
 ******** 
 
 481 VI. To each right there corresponds an obligation, perfect or 
 imperfect, as the right is. The term obligation is both complex 
 and ambiguous. We primarily say one is obliged to an action 
 'when he must find from the constitution of human nature that 
 he and every attentive observer must disapprove the omission 
 of it as morally evil.' The word is sometimes taken for ' a strong 
 motive of interest constituted by the will of some potent superior 
 to engage us to act as he requires.' In the former meaning, 
 obligation is founded on our moral faculty ; in the latter, it seems 
 to abstract from it. But in describing the superior who can 
 constitute obligation, we not only include sufficient force or power, 
 but also a just right to govern ; and this justice or right will lead 
 us again to our moral faculty. Through this ambiguity 1 ingenious 
 men have contradicted each other with keenness ; some asserting 
 an obligation antecedent to all views of interest, or laws ; others 
 deriving the original source of all obligation from the law or will 
 of an omnipotent Being. 
 
 1 See Leibnitz's censure on Puffendorf, and Barbeyaque's defence of him.
 
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